Ruth Gundersen Memorial Remarks

By John G. Hoeschler, May 11, 2002

Tore, Finn, Rott: and (as Aunt Ruth would say) Du:

I am honored as a non-family member to be asked to remember Ruth-but this is only a formal distinction because Aunt Ruth and Uncle Toa provided a second family to the Hoeschler children from the time I was born. As I think of Ruth, inevitably Toa also comes to mind, as they were truly a matched pair.

We lived originally at 23rd and Vine Streets in town and Aunt Ruth and Uncle Toa lived across the street. When I was born my mother, always the emancipated woman, was embarking on her own professional career - as an occasional substitute teacher at Central High School. When she got a call to work, she would leave me in the baby buggy in the backyard for the day with a bottle of milk. The neighbors would eventually take charge when I cried on end. While I have no specific memory of Aunt Ruth during this time, no doubt she did her share of the communal babysitting. Anyway, I bonded with her at an early age, and luckily not with some social worker.

My stronger memories of Aunt Ruth and the wonderful Gundersen family started when we followed their lead and moved to Ebner' s Coulee. There Aunt Ruth made a wonderful home that always had extra chairs at the table when we showed up at meal times.

Ruth was always beautiful, radiant and classy. The formal pictures of Aunt Ruth and Uncle Toa we see always symbolized their elegance and good taste for me. They also taught us about the strength and value of family traditions, heritage, and that life could be led without expletives.

After each of their trips to Norway, Aunt Ruth would always bring back wonderful Norwegian mittens. At Christmas and other holidays, she always had delicious food--crumbcakke, leftse and the like, but I never remember her forcing lutefisk on us-she just wasn't the lutefisk type.

Best of all, they introduced us to life-long memories and pursuits like skiing and sailing. They taught us to ski on a rope toe that Uncle Toa set up behind Gunnar's barn. They led us to Court d'Oreilles and Mount Telemark, then to Aspen (where Toa had served in the 10th Mountain Division). The early trips to Aspen were on the wonderful California Zephyr with its Vista Dome and breathtaking mountain scenery. We stayed at the quirky Jerome Hotel when there were unpaved streets and whole blocks of vacant land in downtown Aspen. Because mother was just a beginning skier, Aunt Ruth would take her up to Ajax lift to the easier slopes at the top and then, at the end of the day, send her back down on the lift while the rest of us skied down the tougher trails. We all regarded Uncle Toa as a somewhat older Stein Erickson figure who could ski anything ­ until we caught him doing kick turns at the edges of the very steep Silver Queens. After a few trips to Aspen, they led us to Europe for wonderful skiing holidays. Europe, of course, always had a special significance for Ruth. Her accent always became richer with each return, taking on more of a French quality over time.

The Gundersens also introduced us to sailing, at both Lake Court d'Oreilles and Lake Onalaska, where Uncle Toa had a C boat along with Harry Shroeder and Bob Ringdahl. When Jim and I got good enough to sail our own boat, Dad got a boat for himself lest Uncle Toa leave him too far behind. While Dad never did get a real feel for sailing and was perennially last, he once beat Uncle Toa in a fluky drifter. He, of course, couldn't contain himself and called out to Uncle Toa; "What do you think of that, Toa." Toa replied sotto voce, "I think I'm going to throw up."

Notwithstanding, Ruth always had a great lunch ready back on the shore.

We always tried to stop by to see Uncle Toa and Aunt Ruth when we were in Lacrosse, but our best visit came about six years ago when they stayed with us at our summer cabin in Glen Lake in St. Paul. They had come up to attend a reunion of the 10th Mountain Division in Minneapolis.

Uncle Toa was having trouble with his eyes and Aunt Ruth was starting to slip ever so slowly, with the forgetfulness that would cloud her last years. I had taken them around the Twin Cities on one of my historical/cultural tours during the day and they drove off together to the reunion that night.

They had directions on how to master the confusing and illogical quirks of the Twin Cities freeways and expected to be back by 11 p.m. We knew we were in trouble when they had not appeared by midnight and the hotel reported that the reunion had been over for some time. We were about to call the police at 2:30 when they finally appeared, having driven God knows how many miles first west (until the signs for South Dakota convinced them of their error) and then, somehow (they didn't know themselves) back to our cabin northeast of St. Paul. We all had a good laugh about it and I know they had a good time, but it was really something of a close call.

We miss them both but their memory and style live on. None ofus could ask for more.