When Laura graduated from school she was hired as a "copy preparer" by West Publishing Company in St. Paul. They published legal and medical books. She met Ludvig while he was studying at the United Church Seminary, majoring in Theological Studies. One of their favorite activites was ice skating. (I have copies of many of their letters--they are sweet. It's obvious they were very much in love.) They married October 27, 1896--right after Ludvig's graduation.
Ludvig was assigned two rural churches in South Dakota. It was there they raised their family: Einar Oswald, Harold Edward, Sigmund Immanuel, Clement Victor, Rolf Walter, and Laura Louise.
This picture was probably taken in 1913. Standing: Rolf, Sigmund, red-haired Clement. Seated: Einar, Laura, Laura Louise, Ludvig, and dapper Harold.
The year the banks closed, I think it was 1934, we lived with my grandparents in Faribault, Minnesota. They had lost all their savings and so we were able to help with expenses. The little brick house is now a National Treasure, but then it was just home. I think it was hard on my mother as Grandpa would say, "Oh, let Marguerite do that. She's young and strong." He pampered grandma--always had and always would. But I loved living there. Grandma was my first piano teacher (she taught all of her children to play the piano. I have fond memories of my father sitting at the piano, head thrown back, pounding out The Mareilles. He always went back to the beginning when he made a mistake. I never did hear the ending.) Grandma taught me how to knit and I still have the little bone knitting needles. (She taught all of her children to knit, crochet, sew on a button, and darn a sock.) She was a remarkable woman and a good role model for me. A tiny thing, I doubt she ever weighed more than a hundred pounds. She was a terrible cook, fair housekeeper, but she loved to read and felt it important to keep informed about what was going on in the world. She and Grandpa were always loving with each other. They took a nap after lunch (which they called dinner). I remember peeking into their bedroom and seeing them stretched out side by side on their three-quarter bed, hands clasped, eyes closed. Makes me teary-eyed just remembering.
There was one thing Grandma cooked that I loved. They were a molasses cookie she called "Mary Anns"-- strong, and dark covered with her version of frosting--powdered sugar and water. I still have never found a recipe that tastes as good as they did.
It was the depression and Grandma's house had been "marked." Bums came daily. Grandma never turned anyone away. She always had some small chore for them. When finished, they sat on the back screened porch. Grandma brought them a basin of hot water, soap, and a clean towel. She always said a prayer, blessing the food, the man, and his family. Her voice was frail, high and soft. The men bowed their heads reverently, as if they were again boys with a loving mother.
On summer nights, we kids all met under the corner streetlight and played Truth or Dare. About 8:30, Grandma came onto the porch and called me in to practice. I always had mixed feelings for as much as I liked being with the kids, I treasured sitting beside her on the paino bench playing the simple tunes she taught me. There was always a little moral lesson tucked in between the notes. Grandma belonged to the WCTU--Women's Christian Temperance Union, which was against strong drink. But she held her beliefs gently. I remember when my children were very small, Uncle Lee and Aunt Laura brought Grandma to visit. It was a hot summer afternoon. Grandma sighed and said, "It's so hot, a cold beer would taste so good." Dick and Uncle Lee raced to the refrigerator. Grandma drank lemonade.
One of my favorite stories came from Uncle Sigmund. When he was about ten he built a telegraph in the cellar, the wires ending in the kitchen. Grandma learned the Morse Code so he'd have someone to send messages to. Let the cooking and cleaning wait. It was activities like this that were important.
I was her first grandchild, and my second name is hers--Laura. They lived on a very limited pension, but she sent me birthday gifts--books from their library. Oliver Twist, Tale of Two Cities, Wordsworth's poems, Milton. The books were well-worn, for all of her children could read before they entered school. By the time my father entered first grade he was in the middle of "The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire."
Grandpa adored her. We all did. She flew to my wedding--her first flight (she was 77) and arrived carrying a book about the Communist Manifesto. I was shocked. "One needs to keep up with what's happening," she said. She was suffering from a mild dementia and sometimes got lost trying to find her way home from the market, but she was still reading the latest books. She hemmed the slip I wore under my bridal dress and gave me a precious little seed-pearl ring she had received from her father on her sixteenth birthday. Bad cook, poor housekeeper, strong mother, loving wife, she left a lasting legacy.
Ludvig Erickson & Laura Olsdatter Anderson Hammer on their 50th wedding anniversary, 1946.
