It’s coming up on the last part of August, and naturally my thoughts turn to my folks, Norman and Evie Busk. My dad was born on August 21 1916; my mother on August 30, 1914. When it came time to set a date for their wedding, she didn’t want to be called a “cradle robber” and refused to marry him while he was still a teenager. As a result, they married on August 24, 1936—three days after he turned twenty.
My father grew up in an entirely dysfunctional family. Mary and Henry Busk from Marvin, South Dakota, were not nice people. On the other hand, the Andersons—Cecelia and A.G, from Summit, South Dakota, ten miles away—were wonderfully normal.
I’m not sure exactly how my parents met. They didn’t go to school together because they were from different towns. My father graduated from high school and did a year of normal school before going back home determined to be a farmer because being a teacher didn’t pay enough to raise a family. My mother came down with rheumatic fever in seventh grade, so she had to repeat the same grade the following year. That was enough of that. At age fourteen, she dropped out of school and went to Minneapolis where she went to work as a maid caring for the invalid wife of the man who drew the Red Ryder comics.
Eventually Norman and Evie did meet, and when my father encountered normalcy at age eighteen, he was smart enough to grab hold of it and hang on for dear life. The way Grandpa Anderson liked to tell it, originally my father came to their house courting one of my mother’s two younger sisters. “I told him, Norman, in this house we eat the old bread first, and that’s how he ended up with your mother.”
However that happened, they were a matched pair in a marriage that lasted for sixty-eight years. I heard them quarrel exactly once. After being pregnant nine times and giving birth to seven children over the course of twenty years, Evie allowed as how it was time my father did something about that. He demurred. The next thing I knew, our mother had piled the five kids remaining at home into her Dodge Coronet, and off we went—home to her mother IN SOUTH DAKOTA!
My father got the message. Soon after we left town, he went to see Dr. Saba who performed the “snip-snip.” My father was in the contracting business at the time, and when the procedure was over, he asked if there was anything he should avoid doing. “Just take it easy,” Dr. Saba told him.
My father, and his partner, Lloyd Coon, were in the process of remodeling a house at the time, and they were about to lay tile. As far as my dad was concerned, laying tile was easy. When he ended up with an unfortunate and spectacular case of swelling, he went back to Dr. Saba who looked at him and said, “My, God, man. What have you been doing? Crawling around on your hands and knees?” Yup. My dad’s idea of what was easy and Dr. Saba’s were worlds apart.
My mother may have been in a huff when we left for South Dakota, but once we got there, it was a good thing because Grandma Anderson’s health was failing. We ended up staying longer than we would have otherwise. Meanwhile, back in Bisbee, while working on another job, my father was injured when a scaffold broke, leaving him on crutches with two broken heels. When he learned that Grandma Anderson had passed away, he caught a train from Benson to South Dakota. The train wasn’t supposed to stop in Summit, but when they got there, the conductor pulled the emergency brake and let my dad get off. That trip home is the only one I ever remember where my mother was at the wheel while my father was in Evie’s usual co-pilot’s seat managing the road atlas.
My mother was a bit of a tomboy growing up and loved working with tools with her dad. When there were jobs to be done at our house, Evie wasn’t afraid of putting on a pair of coveralls and going to work. When a remodeling job on our Yuma Trail house was slow getting off the ground, she enlisted my younger brother one day when he came home from KINDERGARTEN!! Armed with a crowbar and a sledge hammer, the two of them proceeded to take down the block wall separating the living room from the sun room. That night when my dad came home for supper (We had suppers not dinners!) that long-delayed remodeling job was officially underway. When my mother turned seventy she announced that she was no longer going to help him with roofing. And around that same time, when they were about to leave on a cruise and their passports ended up locked in the garage? She was the one who figured out how to take the garage door off its hinges to retrieve those necessary documents.
Some of my favorite memories from growing up stem from all nine of us sitting around the gray Formica kitchen table eating the evening meals my mother created from scratch each day, using her trusty pressure cooker. The three boys sat on a bench with their backs to the windows, the three girls sat on chairs on the far side of the table facing the boys, with the baby, Janie, in a high chair next to Evie’s end of the table. During those meals there was lots of joking and laughter going on, but there was also a lot of incidental education.
Our father was interested in all kinds of things and he liked to hold forth during those evening meals. It was from him telling us about Pompeii that I first heard the term pyroclastic blast which didn’t resurface in my life until Mt. St. Helens blew her stack decades later. Norman talked about the ancient pyramids and other structures around the world that couldn’t have been built without the help of outside architectural and astronomical knowledge from some alien source. And he was full of stories about the commonalities in world-wide folklore. Every culture it seems has some legend featuring the Great Flood. Oh, and did I happen to mention that as a youth, my father was tossed out of the Lutheran church back home in Marvin because when the Bible said Ezekiel saw a wheel “way up in the middle of the air,” what he was seeing really was a wheel and most likely a UFO.
For their 50th wedding anniversary, the folks decided to spend their kids’ inheritance by partying in a big way. They celebrated by chartering three busses and took three loads of friends and relations on a grand tour of northern Arizona, including the Grand Canyon, the Painted Desert, Meteor Crater, and the Petrified Forest.
On the occasion of their 60th anniversary, it was just our family, and we celebrated in a small reception room at a hotel in Bisbee. It was the last time all seven of us were together since our brother Jim passed away suddenly from an undiagnosed heart ailment shortly thereafter. But that night we sat around singing all the songs Evie had taught us—Sweet Violets, Vivi La Cookery Maid, The Old Pine Tree–while we were on long road trips or cleaning house or doing the dishes.
By the way, our father never participated in those singalongs. As my brother, Arlan, once said, “There are 88 keys on the piano, and Daddy sings in the cracks.” Norman Busk may have created great batches of hot cereal for school-year breakfasts, but he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.
But back to that 60th anniversary party. As Bill and I were leaving and walking back to our car, he asked, “How did all of you learn to sign in harmony?” I turned to him in astonishment and asked, “Doesn’t everybody?” Evidently not, and the reason we did? That was entirely due to Evelyn Anderson Busk who never had a formal music lesson in her life!
So this coming week, as the days tick off my parents’ two birthdays and their wedding anniversary, I’ll be thinking about Norman and Evie Busk, all the while being grateful for the wonderful life they gave me.
I’m willing to bet some of you will be too.
Another great blog, bringing memories of my own family from reading about yours. My parents too had birthdays and anniversary in August. As did my little sister and myself. August was a busy month in our house. I remember celebrating the birthdays outside under the old walnut tree to a BBQ my father would tend to. I now realize it was partially due to the August heat making the kitchen unbearable.
Thank you for sharing your family story, it brought pleasant memories of my own.
Thanks for putting a smile on my face. Have a great day!
(Lived over 40 years in Tucson)
I’m sure you’ve already heard that you mother’s birthday year was wrong! Glad to know even an experienced writer sometimes misses something. I know I have to recheck all my emails in case I, or AI has made a mistake.
Yes, where’s my copyeditor when I need it.
Thank you this was awesome!
Thank you for sharing Such wonderful memories of your parents. It sounds like your family had some marvelous times. I love the idea of the 50th anniversary caravan road trip!!! I wonder if you have shared snippets of your parents lives in your books. Sure would make some interesting reading!
What lovely memories!
Your family sounds similar to how we grewup. As the oldest of six and we are from the same Era, although I grew up in New York State we have a ton of relatives in South Dakota. We spent many happy times visiting cousins in South Dakota and loving their ranch. So different from city life!
My mother had a lovely voice and my Dad was tone-deaf. We took many Sunday drives, always singing.
Happy Heavenly Birthday today, Norman Busk. My anniversary date was also August 24th, and my son and granddaughter’s birthday’s are in August. So, August is a big celebration month for us also. Love the stories about your family. Keep them coming please.
Blessing to you and Bill
Yes, my parents married on September 4, 1937. They were older than yours, but he was 26 and she was 30. My mom was divorced and had two little daughters, whom my dad adopted. My parents gave us all a wonderful upbringing and were supportive of us all of their lives. They were married 56 years when my father passed away. My mom lived with me for another 10 years. So, I think of them often at this time of year.
Thanks for your commentary.
Thanks for the wonderful stories. All of them.
You brought up a good question. How did your parent meet? My wife always wondered how her folks met as they had an age difference of 20 years and different religions. My folk were close in age and the same religion but I did not know how they met.
I have detailed how we met and why we got married on my wife’s 18th birthday and how we fell in love for my kids and I have encouraged my children to do the same.
Thank you for this wonderful story.
So enjoy the stories! What a couple.
Our 58th anniversary is this Aug 24.
August seems to be wedding month in our family – brother, sister, daughter,
uncle, and nephew….
Sweet story. I didn’t know they did vascectomies (sp) back then.
By now u must hv heard from countless friends regarding yr mom’s birthdate of 2014!
Waiting breathlessly for yr latest book!!!
Crying, laughing, and rejoicing…thanks for all the memories and stores, Judy.
YES!!! We WILL be grateful!!!
I just love this story! It reminds me of my childhood and the seven of us sitting around the yellow Formica-topped kitchen table, my baby brother in the Baby Tenda high chair next to my mom. I sat by my dad so I could read the ‘funny papers’ upside down. Comforting memories.
Thank you!
Jackie O
In the first paragraph I don’t think your mom was born in 2014! LOL
Norman beat me by a day – I also got married to an older woman, but on my fourth day after my 20th birthday. And we are still going strong after 56 years!
I love this one because I love family. That was great about Pima Hall; it was like family, and we ate supper together. With 9 kids in the family, we always had extras. I grew up with 6 brothers; my sisters were born when I was in high school. In my senior year of high school, we took a foreign exchange student from Australia. Penny had 5 brothers and was from a dairy family, like mine. She was my maid of honor. My Gary and I went to Australia, so I was her matron of honor. She was 6′ tall, so she fit in with our family well.
Thanks for your blogs, for having the Pima reunion in Tucson, and for letting me stay with you in Tucson and in Washington,
Hugs,
Sharon Rovey Petterson
Thanks for another fine reminiscence. Your family background is very different from mine except for the singing in harmony part. When we were on long road trips our mother sometimes kept us distracted by getting that going and as Dad also couldn’t sing he contributed his vocal imitation of Louis Armstrong’s trumpet on “When The Saints Go Marching In.”
Great memories of your growing up years. Hope the remainder of August brings many more happy memories bask.
I love your family stories. This post made my day! THANK YO!
This entire blog has brought such happiness. Reminds me to be grateful for my upbringing even though many times when I was younger, I thought I had a hard life. In reality, I was selfish. I look back now and see how hard my parents worked to bring up 5 kids on a very slim budget. How I wish I could go back and thank them for everything. I love your family stories, Judy.
Janice Molina
What a great story . Thank you ,
Joy Hughes
Your Norman and Evie stories always make me smile with tears in my eyes. Thank you for sharing them.
Yes, I’m grateful for the life you had with Norman and Evie Busk! And no, not everybody sings in harmony. In the church I attend, there were 3 of us who harmonized, and then 2 of the harmonizers moved away, so now there’s only me. And though I DID take music lessons, I didn’t learn to harmonize from them. It was in residential school, with a bunch of us sitting around Dorothy Jean Butler and her guitar, that I experimented until I could find a harmony above or below the melody. I don’t know whether I could teach it to someone else, though–I have my doubts.
Oh, my goodness! You took me back to my mother who, after I married and left home, took out the wall between the living room and my old bedroom, unbeknownst to my Dad until he came home that night. I still can picture that gap. Then they added a new bedroom for guests at the rear of the house. Thanks for the memory!!
Thanks for the wonderful memories of your folks. Evie had a tremendous effect on my life. I don’t know how I would have survived having a child or two or three or four without her ability to teach me basics. The best family has always been very special to me throughout the years. Thanks again for all the memories. I know Evie loved me. When I went to see her in Coolidge shortly before she died, she smiled, and I knew she was very happy to see me.
Jay used to call me her older.Sista. Wanda
Thank you this most wonderful real life blog. It was one of your best yet. Please keep more of your real life stories coming as I look forward to reading them all. This note comes to you from Fuller Brush Man land as I live only 90 minutes from where he was born, in Nova Scotia, Canada. All the best to you & Bill.
Regards. Alex Leonard.
Beautiful memories shared beautifully. Thank you for sharing your storytelling skills with us. I so enjoy reading everything you write.
Another great memory, JA! Some days memories keep me going longer than I thought I could. Thanks for sharing.
Best to you and Bill <3
I so enjoy your family stories. Thank you for sharing.
What a beautiful story.
I think your Mom was born in 1914!!
Also, my daddy was 6 days older than your father.
Growing up in the midwest, our evening meal was also supper.
I think your mom was born in 1914, not 2014! AND my daddy was 6 days older than your father.
Growing up in Minnesota, our evening meal was also supper.
There are many similarities between your life and mine!