Some of the best memories are those which are triggered by some insignificant event which may happen today. It may be a smell, a sound, a taste, or a comment made by someone else which brings back a rush of memories of an event which took place in your childhood. A memory is your recollection of something, an event, a time or place influenced by your personal and subjective interpretation of the event. Someone else may have observed the same event but from his perspective the memory may be different. It doesn't mean your memory is wrong, it is just a different perception of the same event. I remember a couple of years ago (1995 maybe) being in a small town in northern Minnesota in the fall. I caught the smell of burning leaves. Ah, what memories it brought back of growing up in Bird Island. Burning leaves on the curb or in the back yard is now prohibited in most places but was common "in the old days." We all have these memories (maybe the smell of a cigar?) and the purpose of this section is to share them - maybe a comment made by someone here will trigger a fond memory of your own. As a pilot on a Northwest flight once announced as our plane took off and we were heading for some exotic vacation, "Sit back, build yourself a nest, and enjoy yourself."

Contributions by Bob Frazee

Lutefisk anyone? As you have seen from above, my dad, Russell L. Frazee, held the longest record for being elected as County Attorney as anyone in the entire state. The prevalence of Lutheran churches is important to this story. Renville county is a rural area with lots of farmers of Norwegian and Swedish heritage. For a Norwegian to marry a Swede was often referred to as "mixed marriage". They could be good friends but when it came to religion they each had their own Lutheran churches. Small congregations, with churches to match, would dot the rural countryside. Each township would have at least one, if not two Lutheran churches. It wasn't like that for the Methodists or Catholics. The Frazee family was Methodist and, as I think back, that might be because this was "neutral ground" for everyone else. The only time I remember my father ever actively campaigning for County Attorney was in the late fall when each of the Lutheran Churches would have a Lutefisk dinner as a fund raiser. It seems like between Thanksgiving and Christmas there would be at least two every weekend. These dinners provided Dad with a great opportunity to campaign in the rural areas because there would be a large number of farmers gathered together in a small space for a short period. I don't remember how old I was but I started accompanying Dad to these dinners and developed a real taste for Lutefisk smothered in butter and Lefse, lightly buttered and sprinkled with a generous portion of sugar before it was rolled up for eating. As it became closer to Christmas the dinner fare would also include many of those hard to make Norwegian and Swedish cookies. Dad would go around and shake hands and visit and I don't remember if he ever ate any of the fish. This was such an important part of Dad's campaign that I remember one year a Lutefisk dinner was scheduled in Franklin, MN, on a Friday night. Dad and I drove through a snowstorm to attend the dinner. On the door of the church was a sign, "Lutefisk dinner postponed because of the snow. It will be held on Saturday night." We got back into the car, drove home to Bird Island about 20 miles away, and made the return trip on Saturday night for Lutefisk.

My Mother and Father were married twice. Dad had met Mom when he was going to law school in Minneapolis. Upon graduation he returned to Bird Island to start his practice. He decided to run for country attorney but he was quick to learn that as a single man his chances of winning the election were diminished. So he proposed to Mom and they went out to Bird Island and got married. Joe and Laurene Sester were at the wedding. Grandma and Grandpa Knudson, in Minneapolis, were never told about the marriage. After Dad had won the election and he was sworn in as the Renville County Attorney he and Mom had a second wedding in Minneapolis which was attended by the Knudson family and friends. The wedding picture seen above was not discovered until after both Mom and Dad had died and it has Mom's best friend as her maid of honor but no one knows her name because no one knew about it.

As long as I can remember, my dad, Russell always wore glasses but for the rest of the family having the need for glasses came late in life. Donald, being the second oldest was the first one to buy a pair of "reading glasses". You couldn't get glasses in the local drug store or grocery stores at that time. They had to be specially ordered and were not cheap. Accordingly it was not unheard of for everyone to "make do." When Donald, Wilma, and Jeanette gathered together in the living room it was not uncommon for Jeanette to say, "Donald, pass the glasses" when she wanted to read the TV guide. The only set of glasses would be passed around from person to person as they wanted to read the newspaper, TV guide, or the latest farm magazine.

John Denver's song, "The Old Feather Bed" stirs a particular warm memory for me. Donald and Wilma had a comfortable, but small, farm house. It was not long on amenities to which we have become accustom. There was a large master bedroom and Betty had a small bedroom which was closed off with a curtain for privacy. There was an "upstairs" but to my recollection, until after I was married, no one ever used the upstairs bedrooms. I think it was because of the limited output of the oil furnace in the basement. But we had something better; the largest softest most comfortable feather bed in the world which Wilma had made. I don't remember ever sleeping with a "piggy we stole from the shed" but my head swarms with memories of the feather bed being hauled from the closet and spread out on the living room floor where I fell off to sleep with my brothers Terry and Jimmy.

Russell and Donald's favorate story was to talk about growing up as poor country kids on the farm and wanting rubber to make sling shots. Automobiles were not common and paths used by mules pulling wagons filled with farm produce left deep ruts. Gravel roads were not very common and the horse less carriage had to made its way using these same routes. Russell and Donald would take a board and after pounding some long nails through the board would be statically placed in a deep rut and covered with dirt or mud. Eventually a car would hit the board causing a flat tire. The tire would be replaced on the spot and the old inner tube discarded only to be salvaged by Russell and Donald thus providing a new source of materials for their sling shots. I don't know how true it was, or how many times it might have happened before Grandpa caught them and surely would have given them a "talking to" behind the woodshed, but Russell and Donald never tired of telling the story.

Grandma Frazee was the bread maker. Grandma and Grandpa Frazee lived in Olivia only 5 miles from Bird Island so we would visit them often. It was not uncommon to come to Grandma's house when she was baking bread in a wood burning stove. She made the best bread and the whole house smelled like a bakery. She would have loaves of hot bread sitting on the kitchen selves cooling. When we arrived she would take out a fresh loaf, slice very thick pieces of bread and cover them with butter. We were then allowed to add sugar on top of the butter. Hot buttered bread covered with sugar is the best treat for a small boy - much better than anything the bakery can make today.

As a small boy of 5 or 6 I idealized Grandpa Frazee and believed every word he said. One day he told me about what it was like growing up on the farm with no one to play with. When he wanted to play baseball he had to be the whole team and very fast. He told me that he could pitch the softball, run up to home plate, grab the bat and hit the ball into the field. He then ran out into the field to catch the ball and was able to throw himself out at first base. Grandpa was without question the first superman.

Grandma and Grandpa Knudson had a cabin on Big Lake, west of Minneapolis. It was a rustic place with no running water, just a cold water pump in the kitchen, which means there was no toilet, just an outhouse in the back. There was a large eating area with a long table, a small bedroom for Grandma and Grandpa, and a large screened in porch with lots of couches which served as beds for everyone else. Because the porch only had screens every night they had to be covered with plywood in the event of rain.

We had two, maybe three, favorite past times: playing croquet, fishing, swimming, and the plague.
• Playing Croquet: It isn't a strenuous sport but took a great deal of skill hitting the round colored ball around a backyard which was mostly like playing in a sand trap. Everyone played, Grandma, Grandpa, Howard, Mom, Dad, Terry, Bobby, Jimmy, Shannon and Tommy. Young and old were able to play together at the same game. When we couldn't go swimming we headed to the back yard to play croquet.
• Fishing: Grandpa had a small wooden flat bottom fishing boat with long oars. He owned a 2 horsepower motor but hardly ever used it. Big Lake, unlike its name, is quite small. We could row the boat anywhere. Fishing for sunfish with drop lines, or perhaps a long bamboo pool was really the thing. With a drop line you could feel the fish nibbling on your worm. Bluegill sunfish were pretty and plentiful. When I went fishing with Grandpa and it started to rain we had nothing remotely resembling a rain jacket or rain suit. You just sat and got wet. I remember Grandpa always reassuring me that it would stop raining when you could see a patch of blue sky the size of a pair of Dutchman's pants - these were the large balloon pants that everyone recognized in those days. So it couldn't be a small patch of blue sky, it had to be big enough to make a pair of Dutchmen's pants. To this day, in 2010, when I am out riding on my motorcycle that is still my yardstick of telling if the rain will stop. Right next to the outhouse Grandpa had built a screened in fish cleaning station. As we cleaned the fish a billion flies would swarm around the fish scales. of course we all knew the flies just came over from the outhouse next door. Between the fish cleaning house and the outhouse this area didn't always smell the best. Maybe I shouldn't say any more. .
• Swimming: The third favorate activity at Big Lake was swimming. Our parents had a rule, "You can't go swimming until one hour after you eat otherwise you will get the stomach cramps and drown." It seemed reasonable at the time and he faithfully abided by the rule. Now I wonder if the reason for the admonition was that it gave the adults some time to clear the table and do the dishes before they had to escort us to the beach and serve lifeguard duty. I remember we would go down to the lake and wait for that long hour to pass - challenging the rule little by little as we would first wade into the water ankle deep to see if anything happened. The next thing you know we were knee deep and then up to our stomachs. No one ever got the cramps or died.
• The Itch: What we did get, though, was "the itch". No one knew what it was but during certain times of the year going swimming in Big Lake would cause the swimmer to break out into the worst case of "the itch". It was like mosquito bites without the mosquitos. The only cure was to put that gosh awful pink calamine lotion over the whole body and stay out of the water. For a bunch of kids just waiting the whole summer to go to Grandma's cabin this was a sentence worse than death. Many years later it was discovered that "the itch" was caused by some small parasite in the water which burrowed under the skin to lay their eggs.

J.D. was someone different to everyone. Raised by Oliver and Elizabeth Frazee of Olivia, MN, he was more of a son than grandchild. J.D. worked side by side with Donald Frazee on his farm and was like a son to Donald and Wilma Frazee. To my father, Russell Frazee, he was more like a brother. To me, he was an uncle. I remember when Grandma Frazee died and the funeral director was telling people how to line up he said the children should follow behind the hearse and then the grandchildren. J.D. said to me, "I don't know where I am suppose to line up." At the time it was clear to me that J.D. lined up with the children, Russell, Donald, George, Hazel, and Vivian. I guess it pointed out his confusion of a family identity. I know one thing, if I could be anyone in the family I would want to be J.D. because he was liked by everyone.

When I was in the 4th Armored Division stationed in Germany J.D. Latham told me that he had also served in Germany during WWII. He told me about having been in the signal corps and at one time his post was a castle outside Bamberg, Germany. Castles were great for the signal corp because they were well protected and usually high on a mountain which meant the radio signals could be sent a long way. I do recall him mentioning that he was present when Dachau, the Jewish concentration camp near Munich, German, was liberated - or shortly thereafter. J.D. also told me that not having a real first name caused all sorts or problems with the army. It couldn't stand to have someone with only initials for a first name. Accordingly his army records all list him as Jay Dee Frazee. The army hadn't changed much from the time of his discharge until my enlistment in 1966.

Visiting Grandma and Grandpa Knudson in Minneapolis was always a big event. Since they only had one bedroom the grandchildren would sleep on the floor of the living room. Grandpa had a large mantel clock which bonged on the hour and went "tick tock" all night long. I remember waking up at night and listening to the "tick tock" and the warmth and security I felt at Grandpa's house. To this day the sound of a clock ticking brings back all sorts of memories of Grandma and Grandpa Knudson.

Remember polio? When I was in grade school Bird Island didn't have any curbs and gutters or storm sewers. Instead there was a ditch on each side of the gravel streets to carry away the rain water. Some ditches were deeper than others and when it rained hard the ditches at the bottom of the hills would fill with water and we could go swimming - or at least splish splash in the water. We would put on our swimming suits and go out and play in the rain. But every summer the time came when polio would show up. No one knew what caused it or how to prevent it but it seemed like everyone knew someone who had contracted the disease or, even worse, was in an "iron lung." When polio season showed up he were no longer allowed to swim in the ditches during the rain storms.

I remember one time J.D. Latham telling the story about growing up in the small home in Olivia with Grandpa and Grandma Frazee. His bedroom was upstairs. As a teenager he would sneak out at night by crawling out his window. Coming home created a different sort of problem because there was no way to get back in through that same window. Often the only open window was in the bedroom where Grandma and Grandpa's were sound asleep. He remembered how careful he was when he crawled back into the bedroom. He didn't know how he managed to do it so many times without getting caught.

After I was discharged from the army and moved back to Minneapolis I bought a Goldwing motorcycle. I loved riding to the Black Hills every year to go to the Harley rally in Sturges. I always drove out Hwy 212, the Yellowstone Highway as it was known, through Bird Island and Olivia. Donald, Wilma, George and Bertie Mae made it a habit of going to the restaurant/gas station on the west end of town for breakfast. They would sit and watch the motorcycles heading west and I would stop and have breakfast with them. They loved to show off my bike to their friends in the restaurant.

Marlin Boozier, Vivian Frazee's husband, worked at the Pillsbury Flour mill in Minneapolis. I don't know exactly what he did but it had something to do with the development of the flour for baking purposes. I remember that when he used to come to Bird Island or Olivia for a visit he would bring a sack full of the best hard rolls you can imagine. The sack was the size of 100 pound flour sack. The hard crusted rolls spread with butter and strawberry jam were almost as good, but not quite, as the home made bread made by Grandma Frazee.

Contributions by Jim Frazee

Things I remember about Donald and Wilma. I remember how as a child we liked to go out to the farm and climb up into the hay barn and make forts out of the bales of hay and have wars. We also had a rope that we would tie to the rafters and swing from one side to the other. I also remember building the tree house out in the grove that was nothing more some boards nailed between two branches. But as a child it was a castle. And then there were the winter days when we would walk down to the ditch, put on our ice skates and skate up and down the creek, going as far as the Schimelpfenigs. I remember the large weeping willow in the front yard where you could hide in the branches, and the lilac bushes that smelled so good in the spring. I remember talking to Wilma once and she told me that for the first 6 months after she and Donald were married they lived in a tent until the house was ready.

Contributions by Shannon Welch nee Frazee

Grandma and Grandpa Knudson living at 2402 12th Ave. South, Minneapolis, MN, on the second floor above a MOM and POP store. Uncle Howard (Knudson- Mom's brother) drove for American Fruit and Produce. I remember the only time I got banana's was when he would drop them off at Grandma Knudson's apartment when he knew we would be there. Mom would tell us, "Banana's were too expensive in Bird Island for a family of seven." Bob remembers that his route sometimes took him to western Minnesota which included Granite Falls which means he had to drive through Bird Island. From time to time he would stop and drop off some fresh fruit. Bob remembers him dropping off watermelon - his favorate.

The second floor apartment in Minneapolis where Mom grew up had only one bedroom for four people. Howard slept on the back, an unheated, porch, and Mom's bedroom was a walk-in closet.

I have a picture of Grandpa Knudson on his retirement day from Honeywell. He got a portable radio and has such a large smile on his face. He intended to retire at 65 but his foreman told him not to voluntarily retire but wait for Honeywell to fire him because it had a mandatory retirement age of 65. This way he could draw unemployment for several months in addition to his retirement pension. I don't know for sure what he did at Honeywell but it had to do with building thermostats.

Grandma Knudson was employed as a cook in an elementary school not to far from where they lived.

Grandma & Grandpa Knudson had a cabin on Big Lake. In the kitchen they didn't have a refrigerator, they had an "ice box". This means they had an old fashion wooden box that held a block of ice on the top and the cold from the melting ice cooled the food in the box below. You couldn't get ice in Big Lake, the town was too small so we had to drive to Monticello to get ice every two or three days.

We always went to Grandma Knudson's for Thanksgiving. Grandma cooked on a wood burning stove but she owned an electric broiler which was used only to cook the Thanksgiving turkey - which she bought fresh, no frozen foods in those days. They always bought special ice cream from Bridgeman's for dessert which was kept frozen on the back porch in a box filled with dry ice. I remember the treat of going downtown Minneapolis on Thanksgiving Day to look in Dayton's store windows decorated for Christmas.

Whenever Mom and Dad went to Minneapolis he would always pick up Chow Mien from the Nankin and drive it back to Bird Island - a two hour plus drive - for us to enjoy. It was such a treat and they never let us down. No one got sick from food poisoning.

Taking a bath at Donald and Wilma's house with no bath tub. They had no running water and only cold water was obtained from a hand pump over the kitchen sink. A big metal tub was placed in the middle of the kitchen floor and the water heated by Wilma on the stove. Donald got to get in first and the rest of us used the same water until the last of us was clean. We survived.

J.D. Latham lived in North Dakota and whenever he would come to Oliva he would "smuggle" in colored oleo margarine since it was illegal to sell it in Minnesota. At that time the dairy industry was successfully fighting the sale of "imitation butter" in Minnesota. Eventually we could buy white oleo in a plastic bag which contained a small color button which could be squeezed to color the oleo yellow.

I remember cutting weeds in Grandpa Frazee's farm in Olivia with a scythe, hoeing sugar beets for a dollar a row, and de-tasselling corn for the seed company. We were a strong bunch.

Contributions by Betty Magnuson nee Frazee

One of my fondest memories is of all the Christmas Eves at Russell and Jeanette homes with the Frazee and Hyndman families. We would all gather, eat, open presents, and what a wonderful time we had. Russell had an 8 mm movie camera and he filmed a lot of those holidays and family events. Bob has placed the movies on DVD's so they could be shared with everyone in the family.

Contributions by Linda Hanely nee Latham

I remember both of your parents [Russell & Jeanette Frazee]. I was terrified of your father and remember him sitting in his chair smoking (a pipe? a cigar?) I just remember it was stinky. I adored your mother and remember her as having a big chest (not sure if this was true). I also swear that one summer Jim had bugs in the fridge as part of his college work and I was so impressed that Jeanette let him keep them in her fridge.

If you want to contribute any family stories or significant medical histories let me know. I want this information to be accurate. If you have any additions or corrections please bring them to my attention.