Ida Adelia Reppe Ylvisaker

It is often said of someone, ‘He was born 30 years too soon”. Mother really was. I think she could have been President, or at least head of some department store that would be run with no less than top efficiency.

Mother was born January 21,1898, in the small Goodhue County town of Zumbrota Minnesota, the third of eight children, eight boys and two girls. Her parents were first generation Americans who spoke Norwegian almost exclusively in the home until she was confirmed at age fourteen. Religion was very important in the Reppe family, and all the children received thorough training in the Lutheran faith and were expected to be in church every Sunday morning barring some very unusual circumstance.

Her father did carpentry work in season and built several of the local homes with help from his sons as they grew up: in the winter months he did tailoring, and from him Mother learned the fine details of sewing, something she kept refining for the rest of her life, and passed on to her four daughters.

Her mother, Nicoline Hjertina Boraas Reppe, was born in a log cabin, one of eleven children, self-taught except for the basics, in the Norwegian language. I think she was the force behind the ambition of her children, all of whom were highly competitive and successful. We have often speculated about life in that home, especially after the father died in 1914, and Grandma was left with all those children and her aged parents to care for.

Mother and all the rest of them learned about hard work at an early age and the competition to outdo one another. When one did, another had to do better, until the last one died. Those of us who were their children never could understand this phenomenon. It seemed to be a recreational exercise for them.

Mother often talked about the daily routine of keeping five brothers clean and fed, involving things such as gardens and chickens, copper boilers and many pairs of “long johns” frozen on the backyard clothes lines, hauling wood and coal for the stoves, bathing in the wash tub by the kitchen stove on Saturday night and the order of that parade - little ones and girls first, then boys in whatever order they could work out.

Priority #1 was education, and they all graduated from high school and some college to become teachers. Today we think of women’s athletics as a new thing, but Mother played Basketball on the high school girl’s team in 1915, and was a television fan of the game as long as she lived.

Young ladies became elementary teachers by attending what was known as “Normal School”, one year or two years following three years of high school. Mother started her first teaching job in a one-room school at Roscoe Center, about five miles from home. She stayed with a farm family about a mile from the school, walked back and forth, and received her room and board in return for helping with the work there in her spare time. Rural school teachers were in charge of more than their pupils. They also took care of their building, in the winter arriving early enough to start the fire to warm the room by the time the pupils came, seeing that they had the necessary supplies, and serving as nurse when necessary. The days were long but Ida loved her work, and I wish I could remember whether she ever told me what her monthly salary was. Her association with the Finstuen family, with whom she had lived, became a lifelong friendship. Years later they entertained all our family many times for our “farm fix” every summer.

Meanwhile, across town a young man named Nils, who was about to take over his father’s large farm, thought this pretty, ambitious Ida would make the perfect companion for him, and so, on June 19,1920, they were married in her mother’s home, and moved to “Homewood”, which many people said was the most beautiful farm in the area. Dad’s father had developed it scientifically over many years, and now he was retiring and turning the place over to his second son, the only one interested in becoming a farmer. It was a large operation with more than enough work for the both of them, but everything was in top shape including a beautiful two-story, modern house, and lots of landscaped yard.

Mother adapted well to the new routine and enjoyed the activity that came with running the “home place”. There was an orchard of fruit trees and a large garden in the summer to tend to, then everything had to be canned and put away for the Winter. Potatoes, carrots and onions were packed in quantity in the cooler cellar, and pickles were made in large open crocks lined up on the cellar floor. Chickens provided both meat and eggs, which were the staple of every farm family. Sundays meant church first, then usually entertaining many of their extended families for dinner. The relatives came out on the Chicago-Great Western train the five miles from Zumbrota to Lena Station, which was located on the far corner of the “Homewood” property. Many Sundays others were invited also, relatives or even a substitute pastor and family – all seemed to be welcome.

We have a picture taken on the Sunday that Sylvia was baptized, showing a large group of people including Pastor Tverberg, his wife, and family, who had apparently been guests at the services that morning. They were missionaries in Madagascar at the time, home on furlough, and likely bringing greetings from Dad’s brother John, who was also serving in Madagascar. One of the Tverberg children was Swanee, who grew up to be the wife of Dr. Conrad Thompson, our pastor at Immanuel Lutheran in St. Paul, in the 1940’s. They are still our good friends and now our neighbors at Woodhurst West in Burnsville.

Dad was young and strong at first, but the workload of 160 acres, a dairy herd, and all the other animals was too much for the two of them, so they had a “hired man” Gust Swenson who lived on the place. In the fall at harvest time, the farmers in the area went from place to place as a team until everyone’s crops were in. Threshing time was always the busiest time of the year. The women cooked mountains of food to feed the hungry men, and every able-bodied person, including the kids, had a job to do. I don’t remember this activity at “Homewood”, but we often were present at either Post’s or Finstuen’s farm when the big threshing machine came, and it was an exciting time. I know how Don loved to go there and see the big machine and drive the tractor.

I was born on a Sunday afternoon in 1921, while Dad and his brothers played baseball out in the back pasture. When I was not quite 2 years old, our beautiful house burned to the ground one night in April. We all got out in time, but almost everything else was lost. Mother told about Dad and the hired man carrying the heavy oak upright piano out, and the drawer from the built-in buffet that held the offering from church on Sunday. Dad was the church treasurer and had to save that money. The piano had been his gift to Mother on her last birthday. A fault in the fireplace was determined to be the cause of the fire.

The house was rebuilt but, after that tragedy, Dad’s health began to deteriorate. He worked day and night to catch up, and it was too much. Four years later he was diagnosed with Tuberculosis, spent the next eight months at Mineral Springs Sanitarium in Cannon Falls, and was never able to return to farming. Mother was left to take care of two little girls, I was six and Sylvia was three, sell the farm, and figure out a way to make a living. We moved to a rented house in town, and she took in sewing for years after that. She drove the family Model A Ford to Cannon Falls to see Dad as often as possible and sometime took Sylvia and me along. We were not allowed in the Sanitarium building but had to wait on the front lawn for Dad to come out to see.

After Dad was released from the sanitarium and the farm had been sold - he was too weak to care for it - the family lived in a house on the near north side of Zumbrota. The household, with girls 3 and 6, was supported by Mom’s sewing and Dad’s running a Skelly gas station at the south end of Main Street.

In 1931 the family moved on to St. Paul where Dad took over another Skelly station. After living in an apartment and two rented houses for three years, they moved to their own house in the Groveland-Macalester District of the Citys just two blocks from his station. The house served them well for eight years - in providing a comfortable neighborhood for the family and good schools for the children.

Aside from moving four times in the early 30’s, and adding three children while the depression was in full force, Mom and Dad ensured a stable and happy family life. Friends were accumulated in this period, mostly from church contacts and the Zumbrota relatives were only 65 miles away. After Grandfather Andreas died, Grandmother was a focal point of our drives there. As well, there were many maternal relatives in Zumbrota and, along with Grandmother Reppe, we kids had a great time on such trips.

The children did well in this period though the toll on our parents cannot be measured. Dad’s health was fragile and he worked hard; Mom had some health issues herself and carried the responsibility of the (proper) care of her house and five children. Overall, we could have hardly asked for better parents.

The 40’s were crowded with big events. We moved to a larger house in time for two of our cousins to arrive, teenagers at the time, after they lost their parents. The spirit of those times is captured in Mom’s letter to Dad’s cousin following a Thanksgiving dinner. She recounted those at the occasion - the nine of us, Aunt Anna, cousin Heloise, and Uncle Paul’s family of five. She followed that with the details of getting the kids adjusted, off to correct schools, and more. One can only imagine her workload at that point.

In the Spring of 1942, Dad had a relapse of TB and wound up in Glen Lake Sanitarium, where Anna was the Head Nurse. Mom then had to commute across Minneapolis to visit him, and she did often, once along with Betty and me. Dad’s health did not improve and he was transferred to a hospital in St. Paul. There it seems likely that he was put in a testing program. A fateful call got mother to his room in time to see him and he expired shortly thereafter. Mother took it that she was guilty for allowing his treatment and she lived with that for the rest of her life.

The three of us smaller children, ages 10, 8, and 5, were met with the news of Dad’s passing at the bottom of the stairs by Aunt Anna. Betty could understand the significance of this while I could not fathom such, only that I was sent home for the day. What a future faced Mom at that point. At 44, she had no money set aside and the three off us yet to raise – our sisters and the cousins could generally get by on their own, and provide help, but the marshalling of all general matters was left to her.

Her first job was to schedule wartime newspaper and tinfoil collections. Often the time between school hours and her coming home was spent in the upstairs bedroom window on the phone with her, “Mom, what can we do?” Over the next seven years she held many jobs - working/sewing for a department store, head maid at a hotel, in town, a parish worker.

After the war years Mary and Chuck lived for a time with us and with a daughter. Some family connections dwindled in time, Dad had been popular and Mother suffered in his absence. In particular, all her greater family had less time for her, Aunt Anna being the exception on this score. In 1949, when she was a Parish worker, she took up the same job in Moorhead, 250 miles northwest of the Cities. In light of the fact that she’d never been that far from familiar grounds and our relatives, it was a momentous decision on her part.

We arrived in Moorhead in time for Betty to start college at Concordia, Don to start high school and Shirley, junior high. We found this transition easy to accept – classmates were remarkably welcoming and many were also friends at church. As Parish worker, Mother was in charge of recruiting and scheduling Sunday School teachers and of the Bulletin, seeming to enjoy her job. Life went easier on her than she’d been used to. We could not get into much trouble, kids did not smoke or drink for example, so Mom had done a fine job of removing us from a more boisterous St. Paul life to a gentler Moorhead.

In 1954, Betty got married, Don headed off to Nebraska and graduate school, Shirley was to start at St. Olaf and Mom was to be a House Mother there. By the time 1959 rolled around she was working in an insurance building not so far from where Sylvia and Mary lived, Betty, in California, had four children, Don was teaching, and Shirley was getting married.

Mom, granted freedom from childcare but for the worrying, showed her bravado once more and took a job as a house matron for a home in Chicago. She drove down there by herself, winding up in a City she didn’t know and remote from family and friends. Her move was a stunning one; indeed, she knew no fear. Her stay in Chicago lasted some three years before returning to St. Paul.

Living unto herself never suited her. She could grouse about the lack of attention from her children and show gratitude for the blessings she had been given not long after. She did enjoy herself in company and could show her good humor accordingly. Over the last 25 years of her life she continued her sewing classes when other employment was no longer viable.

She left a diary of some of the trips she took in her latter years, quite a few of which I know about first hand: three trips to the East Coast, three trips to the West Coast, and a trip to Kansas City to see old friends. Among the experiences she managed in those times was spending several weeks taking care of her last grandchild when he was a baby, she went to the Metropolitan Opera, and she took a boat ride at Disneyland. My favorite memories came in 1960 when we drove to California in my ’57 Chevrolet convertible – driving up into the sunset across a barren landscape of western South Dakota was awesome, and when she was driving in the Nevada Desert with the top down, unforgettable!

She exemplifies the women of her time in just getting to work on whatever had to be done when it came down to her. In another era she managed as a widow with many children for half of her life, but could adjust to the divorces of Betty and Don in the 70’s and, in the 80’s she could ask for, and drink, a small glass of wine.

She was a great woman.

Mary Ida Ylvisaker Cannons died in 2003, leaving this tribute to Mother unfinished. It was finished by Don Ylvisaker.

Sylvia Ruth Ylvisaker Johnson (1)

Sylvia Ruth Ylvisaker Johnson was born on July 4th, 1924 at “ Homewood” in Zumbrota, MN to parents Nils and Ida Ylvisaker. She was the 2nd oldest of 5 children. At 7 years old she moved with her family to St. Paul.

As we capture her life for others to know, “My Grandma has heart!” were one of Sylvia's grandson's words in a reflection about her on her 80th birthday. Those 4 words seem like a wonderful snapshot of who Sylvia was. Her grandson went on to say “It takes a lot of w ork and heart to build the great family that she has. I feel fortunate to have a Grandma like her!”

Sylvia was a SMART lady! Reading through her High School yearbooks, the boys wrote notes thanking her for her help in Physics. She graduated from HS 1 year early, and went to 1 year of college at Macalester College in St. Paul. Because of her father’s death Sylvia was needed at home and never finished college.

At a Luther League Church group she met Edward Johnson, recently home from serving in the Air Force. They were married in 1948. Syl and Ed had 3 children, Cheryl, Susan and Craig. As well as being a full time Mom, she worked part time at night as an admittance clerk with St.Paul- Ramsey County hospital for 50 years.

Sylvia had many talents and interests. As a young mother, she sang in a barber shop quartet, and continued her love for singing in her church choir for decades.

A homemade gift from Syl was a treasure. She was SO creative with her hands. She sewed almost everything her family wore, including winter coats, bridesmaids and prom dresses and doll clothes for her daughters. She quilted, knit, and cross stitched, and LOVED getting new ideas for various crafts. The rest of the pleasure was in sharing the latest project with others.

They honeymooned on the North Shore of Lake Superior, and that became a favorite spot that they went back to camping and vacationing with family and friends.

Sylvia lost her husband Ed in 1998. They were married 49 years. She lived in their home until her death at 93 years “young” in 2017.

Sylvia valued family and church above all else. She spent her life “making things happen”. She could get more done in a day than many could in a week! Family gatherings and traditions were an important way of life. If she could help it, she didn’t miss activities that involved her children and grandchildren. Then there were games... It wasn’t whether you were going to play, it was which ONE you were going to play!

In her opinion, life was meant to be shared and she did just that~she was there for anyone who needed her. All who knew her experienced her kindness.

Sylvia Ruth Ylvisaker Johnson (2)

Siblings might argue about which one their mother liked best, but everybody always liked Syl best. She had a a great sense of humor and a pleasant low-key disposition that could be counted on.

As a teenager she was more than helpful to Mom, and she had responsibilities in caring for her three small siblings. A game player her whole life, she was a good croquet player when young, and could play jacks with the best of them (Jack Healey, a next door neighbor, learned that the hard way). She was always teasing sister Mary when writing to her, in the manner of Aunt Anna teasing Uncle Paul when they were of similar ages. She had a way about her that attracted the three of us at an early age - sister Betty and I followed her out of our district to high school . . . after all, “Syl went to Monroe”.

When Dad died in 1942, she abandoned her college plans, continued living at home, and got a wartime job in order to help with the family’s finances. She turned 21 in 1945, just as young men were returning from wartime service, Some began to show up at the house. At the time, our church began what amounted to a Luther League for grown-ups, and Ed soon entered her life, or the other way around. Aunt Anna had things pretty well pegged when her Christmas letter of 1947 read, in pari:

“Finally looks like the real thing with Sylvia and the boy friend - his parents came over last night (after their Christmas tree) and things certainly look certain now, . Guess you’re going to have to keep that promises of coming to Syl’s wedding - Ed’s present (that’s his name - Edward Johnson) to Sylvia was a combination radio-phonograph - not bad? He’s a nice boy, seems to have a lot of horse sense.”

Starting a family with Ed proved him to be a good match for her - a close disciplinarian, in contrast to Syl, he ensured that the kids toed the iine, this to the degree that Mom would frequently counsel Ed to be easier on them. He was not persuaded to change on this point, ard the children turned out all the better for it. Their home life was the picture of stability and Sylvia worked nights for many years in hospital admissions in support of that. She inherited her formidable sewing abilities from Mom, and put them to good use. They lived in a succession of three houses in St. Paul, the last of which served them well for some 60 years. Even cars knew, instnctively, when to turn to get to 1387 W. California Street.

From the 50’s on I had the good fortune of direct contact with Syl on those numerous occasions when I came to town, being accorded the best of love and hospitality. Some times stand out in my memory: In 1958 I moved into their basement for three weeks while busy at the University, and there was a similar week forty years later: aside from Christmas celebrations, we once came to town so that Anna could participate in a “Girl’s Sleepover” in honor of Betty’s 75th birthday, and once we surprised her by showing up unexpectedly for Donut Night. On two other occasions I simply showed up at her front door from out of the blue, great fun.

In her later years, we were able to spend time with her. One year we drove down the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi to see the autumn colors, crossed the river at Winona for a fine dinner, on to Red Wing and a night at the St.James Hotel, then home. The following year the three of us drove across Wisconsin to Sister Bay to see friend Karl. Having known Karl only through me, she was much charmed by him.

Others will describe her annual birthday parties at Benson’s Bluff. Anna and I were able to attend on most of those happy occasions and, amongst her seven visits to California, two more birthday parties were accounted for. In particular, on her 75th, her children and grandchildren went along to celebrate it with her.’

In her later years we talked often on the phone. These conversations led us through a host of memories, new and old. I am forever grateful for her place in my life and for watching over son Peter in his last days.

-Don Y.