The steep hike goes up then up, then down then down. It goes across giant boulders blocking your steps. You climb and then you slip on the red volcanic dirt now turned into mud from recent rains. You slip, you slide, you glide, you jump, you cuss like a guy who just stepped in dog poop, only much worse.

On our recent trip to Kauai, my sons wanted to get in a couple hikes. They are used to hiking and 30 years younger than me. So being in Hawaii on vacation, naturally I hiked with them, or rather in the rear following them the best I could.

We started in the late morning checking in with rangers since had reservations for the day. We climbed up steep winding muddy, rocky, high dirt steps from the beginning. I was cool. I wasn’t sweaty. I was smiling. I was confident I could do it until about ten minutes into the hike. I was hot. I was sweaty. I was frowning. I was panicking. I was praying I could do the two miles above the Pacific Ocean with lush jungle like foliage and Gorgeous views constantly meeting our view below.

I tried to keep up with my sons. One of their girlfriends went on ahead and met us when we reached the remote and dramatic beach with its huge waves breaking right in front of us, boulders blocking the trail to your final view. The gf told us she was walking back and that this hike was too long. She would meet us back at the house.

Getting to the beach took us on a strenuous adventure. When you hiked two miles in two hours, climbed over boulders as big as your trash cans back home, and swore you couldn’t walk another step, you were there, finally, at the edge where land met violent surf. It took your breath away, pounding surf in front of you, thick jungle behind you and a river flowing down the mountain below you into the ever powerful ocean. My sons made sure I was comfy, sitting on a boulder as comfy as a cement sidewalk while they hiked four more miles up to the falls. I ate my lunch and drank a couple gallons of beer. Just kidding. I drank a water bottle of water. My clothes were wet with sweat as well as my hair which hung in spaghetti style strings all over my head.

This beach was below us until the evil hike took us there where we wanted to go, or so we thought.

I was thankful to have reached a place to rest. I tried not to think about the hike back down to the parking lot.

Could I even make it back the way we had come? No, I couldn’t make it. Yes, you can. No, my body feels like a bunch of rags that have been used to wipe up the floor, all wet and soggy and limp, and dirty.

The wind hit the bushes, trees and grass in a flash as a red rescue helicopter flew in overhead from the ocean side up to the rocks above me where a lady lay sprawled out over the rocks, a man there comforting her. The helicopter kept circling over the tight spot about fifty feet up from where I was resting and soaking my feet. Everyone who had hiked there was staring at the couple as the helicopter let down a man on a cable in special gear with a bag. He began wrapping the lady’s ankle with white tape and talking to her. I could see his helmet nodding. The red helicopter stayed aloft blowing the tree branches and leaves in a frenzy. He eventually got her into a harness and held onto her and this cable and was whisked away by the brave rescue workers.

I was shocked at this rescue that had happened right before me. How could I complain about being tired from a two hour hike when this lady had gone through much more? I began counting my blessings that I wasn’t that poor woman who had been so badly injured that a helicopter had been sent out to this remote area. I was lucky.

To be continued…

Karen Lindquist, ’77

We were fortunate to be able to vote to have an 8th Grade Graduation Ceremony or a class swimming party at the White River, we all chose the swimming party.  Only in MURDO could my Mom and Dad load up a bunch of kids in the back of our pickup and drive to the White River along with more kids in with our Teacher Mr. Daum. It was a lot of fun. Times have changed. 

One memory of Homecoming was Mr McKernan had Rattlesnake as an option at the Concession  Stand. 

One day as Juniors, we were to order the supplies for Prom decorations, one of our classmates was home sick and she had the catalogs to pick out the items.  I told my teacher I needed to drive to her house to get the catalogs.  Teacher said fine.  By the time I reached my car outside of the High School, there were 6 or 7 classmates who jumped in my car to go along.  Guess who we met on the road on the way back to High School, our Superintendent, Mr. Donahue.  When we ran to the top of the stairs at High School Mr. Applebee was standing there directing us all to go straight to his office. 

Don’t forget the Rompers the girls had to wear for P.E.  For some reason they were red and Mr. Thune handed them out at the beginning of the year.  I had to find a picture from the 40’s and 50’s online to remind you.

All and all I love my classmates and all the fun and mischief we got into!    Thanks for all the memories and I hope to see you all at the All Class Reunion this summer! 

Jim Anderson ’63

Coach Applebee arrived in Murdo my senior year in the fall of 1962.  I did not have him in class as a teacher, but I got well acquainted with him on the football field, the basketball court and on our square cornered track around the football field, located just south of the old high school. 

The Coyotes had graduated an outstanding senior class that spring—conference football champs, sixth place in the State Basketball Tourney in Sioux Falls, BUT Murdo had not medaled in the State Track Meet since 1957. That spring, Ken Poppe, and believe it or not, Jerald Applebee from Bonesteel, placed in the high jump and Duane Brooks, Ken Poppe, Doyle Elwell, and Mike Cressy placed 4^th in the medley relay.

I went out for football when I finally got up to 100 lbs my junior year.  I was about 135 lbs my senior year, so I did not have a fun time getting knocked around by the heavyweights.  We went 4-4 from the information I have in my annual.  I was the 6^th/7^th man on the basketball team my senior year, did not see a lot of action but we were several games over .500 for the season.  But come spring, I was looking forward to the track season.  I had above average speed, good legs, and had qualified for the State Track Meet (along with several others) the year before ( held at Watertown, where all of the first day events were canceled due to rain and all events were finals the following day) —but no one came home with a medal.

From day one of the 1963 track season that spring we knew that Coach Applebee was determined to get us in shape if we did not die or quit the team first. Where he came up with those torture-conditioning drills, we were not sure, but practice was completely different from the year before under coach John Pierson.  None of us had ever been worked that hard before. There was a lot of talk of quitting!!

And then there was the matter of Roger Strait, probably the best all around athlete at MHS.  As a senior, he had been caught drinking beer at the State BB tourney earlier that spring.  The punishment for this infraction of the rules—only Superintendent Madigan, coach Applebee, and maybe the school board knew for sure—the rest of us were in the dark.  Finally, rather that ruin the track season for everyone, it was decided that Rodger would sit out the first couple of weeks before joining the team. It appeared the season had been salvaged if we could survive practice!

There were not many of us left on the track team come regional meet time at Hot Springs.  Many of those who thought about quitting followed through- to end the agony/hurt/torture inflicted at practice.

Those of us that survived were rewarded by qualifying in several events at the State Track Meet to be held in Mitchell.  I recall that our track ( if you could call it that) was mud the week before the state meet, so we played volleyball to keep limbered up—we were relaxed and ready for the cinder track at Mitchell.

The five of us (Jim Anderson, Roger Strait, Ron Tedrow, Bob Brost, Jim Bares) placed 3^rd in the Mile and Medley relays and Bob Brost placed 5^th in the 180 low hurdles—and this was when there were just two classes.                                              

It is a wonder what a small piece of metal will do for your self esteem.  Coach Applebee achieved what he set out to do.  The medals were the minor part of the plan.  The self confidence instilled in all of us that spring— finding out what we were made of—putting some steel in our legs, fire in our belly and heart, sticking with a tough–go–until–the–end, we carried for the rest of our lives.  I knew that when the going got tough in army basic training, in Viet Nam, in dental school, in life, I could reach back for that toughness Coach Applebee gave us in the spring of 1963.                                     

 THANKS COACH

Jim Anderson ’63

My older brother had to stay home with either the mumps or yellow jaundice, so I was able to attend Murdo’s first game of the 1954 state tourney held in the Aberdeen Civic Center.  I can still recall a couple of          “sleeper plays” that Provo used late in the game to ice the win.  Did they allow smoking in the arena in those days?  It seemed very hazy inside that building as father and I watched the game.

 Gregg J. Brunskill ’59 Glorious Mud

I enjoyed Mrs Evelyn Kuhrt’s world history and some of the classics of English literature.  Mrs Kuhrt had a conniption in front of the principal’s office because she wanted boys to take typing instruction (normally only girls took typing).  I benefited from this conniption and decades later I was grateful to be able to touch type on computer keyboards (which were not even invented then). 

 Paul Anderson ’32 AS I REMEMBER IT

The superintendent my first two years (1928-30) was Mr Janda—6’2” and 300 pounds, at least.  No one argued with him at all.  He taught 4 classes of mathematics and coached all athletic teams besides his superintendent work.  I sang in the glee club and was out for basketball all four years.  I got to go clear to Wood with the second team once.  I also went out for football my senior year when I had grown to 110 pounds!  I got to go to Winner to run the chain, too.

 Jim Anderson ’63

How many recall hearing the explosion at the Thune house over noon one school day?  Someone blew the stuffing out of a foot stool.  Was it a .20 gauge or a 12 gauge?  Billy Sorensen did the same thing to a wall at his house—a .20 gauge I think. 

Marvin Niedan ’62

My first eight years was at Pershing School, 23 miles west of Murdo.  After registering for High School, Coach Swede (John Pierson) looked at me         ( 5’8” and 210 lbs) and said “of course, you plan on playing football?”  I said  “ I don’t  know anything about football, but I will think about it.” The first day of school I ended up faking my dad’s name to the physical slip and went out for practice.  First game of the year Chris Anderson and I dressed for the game, and Kim Graham got hurt and Coach Swede told me to go in and just “plug the hole.” I believe it was the 2ed day of school and we were excused for noon and we were going up the stairs from the science room and one of the students turned around and took a swing at me.  I ducked and took him down.  We both were sent to Superintendent Gordon Diedtrich’s office.  Luckily, there were witnesses and the other student did not get off that lucky.  Superintendent  Diedtrich’s brother, Harvey, had military obligations and started teaching a few days late.  The first day Mr. Harvey Diedtrich was there, cousin Gordon Niedan and I were sitting next to each other in the science room.  Harvey Diedtrich came into the room at the same time Gordon and I were sitting down. I kicked my right leg back outside the desk and it pushed Gordon’s desk far enough that he ended up on the floor.  Harvey had me up in his brother’s office before he even introduced himself.  Luckily, superintendent Diedtrich believed me after he had cousin Gordon up who helped me get out of that one.  Ironically, five years later, Dr . Gordon Diedtrich was the head of the education department at Northern State and was my advisor through my senior year. He convinced me to pursue my MA and Doctorate in School Administration at USD.

Ralph Thomas ’67

And Puff, you were gone.

Near the end of the school year in 1964, the junior class spokesman, Dave Beckwith spoke to the open assembly hall of all four grades (that was the last year all four grades could be addressed from on or near the steps going up into the superintendent’s office.  In the summer of 1964 the school was remodeled into homes rooms.)  Anyway, Dave started with a heart wrenching soliloquy about how the senior class was special and will hold a cherished spot in all our hearts. Dave kept going through his tears and said the junior class wanted to present the senior class with a special gift he hoped they all would cherish.  On cue, Dave’s assistants revealed the green dimpled head of Puff the Magic Dragon, the junior class’s winning float entry from the previous fall.  The senior men immediately rushed Puff’s head, took it outside, and stomped it into smithereens.  And Puff you were gone!   

Jim Anderson ’63

Under the bucket and out cold.

During basketball practice, while shooting lay-ups at the west end of the auditorium (winter of 1961) I accidentally slipped and hit my head on something.  I came to feeling a wet cloth on my forehead and face while lying on the floor under the basket.  Coach Pierson had Kip Kinsley borrow Mrs. Khurt’s car to take me uptown to see Dr. Murphy.  “How many fingers do you see Jimmy?”  I answered correctly, sat out a day of practice and had no complications.   There are some people however, that think there have been lingering effects! 

 

 Linda Anderson Nill ’68

I remember being at a rehearsal for something at school and we were waiting for instructions in the auditorium.  Steve Parish sat down at the piano and started pounding out ragtime or boogy-woogy!  I was in awe and still am!

Gregg J. Brunskill ‘ 59 from Glorious Mud.

“My grandparents bought me a new Olds Raphael Mendez trumpet, which was easier to play than my uncle’s old Silver Conn horn.”  I helped to form a school jazz band ( The Hungry Seven) so we could play for local dances in our regional small towns.  I also played Taps with the local VFW Riflemen and Color Guard at dozens of small town lonely cemeteries on Memorial Day.” 

Paul Anderson ’32 from As I Remember It.

In 1928 not very many farmer boys went to high school, but my folks always insisted that we were all to go on to school.  I really don’t know why they decided to send us boys to Murdo, instead of Draper but they did.  I was the smallest and undoubtedly the most frightened boy in Murdo that eventful fall day.  Pa had made arrangements for Bryan Schaeffer who ran Francis-Schaeffer Hardware store, for me to work for my room and board.  My big sisters had convinced me that I had to take my books home every night to study.  I did survive, however, and by the end of the week had made many new friends and hardly wanted to go home.

 Jim Anderson ’63

I can still see Harvey Deidtrich standing in front of his math, physics/chemistry classes playing his imaginary violin when we complained about homework.  And who was it that put the copy of PLAYBOY in the study hall magazine rack after they had ripped the cover off? 

Katherine Prahl Patterson ’56

Evelyn Kuhrt was our class advisor ( class of ’56).  When we built a float we worked all week on it.  We worked on the float in Kuhrt’s garage.  One night 2 or 3 boys went into the house and raided the refrigerator.  The class was in trouble the next day as they had eaten Bill’s lunch. and the Kuhrt’s could not go to the store to replace the ingredients for the lunch.

I will be publishing some  stories submitted by Murdo High School and Jones County High School alumni in anticipation of the All School Reunion to be held July 17-19.

Gregg Brunskill ’59

One of the traditions in the Murdo High School is that the juniors would decorate the school gymnasium for the senior prom dance in the spring. My class decided to decorate the gym in a jungle theme. I borrowed my father’s cattle truck and two of my classmates came with me down to the floodplains of the White River where we cut down two dozen 10-12 m high cotton wood trees, maybe 20-30 cm in base diameter. We were hauling them to town but we were intercepted by the town sheriff, Ben Arndt in his Sheriff car with sirens and flashing lights on top. Apparently we didn’t have the correct red reflectors or flags on the trees sticking out the back of the truck box. We told Ben why we were doing this. He nodded and grinned and got a big red flag out of his car trunk, tied it on the longest tree and then led us back to the school gymnasium with his sheriff car flashing lights.

Linda Anderson Nill ’68

In 1968 our senior class had a practice/student teacher for English class- Mr. Sprigler. We were winding down our final year in high school so when he asked a question, no one answered. He got very angry, upset and finally used the d**n word. His eyes got huge and he left the room. I wonder if he ever became a teacher.

Doug Tedrow ’64

In the fall of 1961 the class of 1964 as sophomores, and perhaps other classes as well, were mercilessly ill behaved towards the English teacher, whose name I have forgotten and who was nearing retirement age. The teacher resigned mid-year and was replaced by Miss Herzog for the second half of the year. In the fall of 1962 Miss Walbrecht arrived and the teacher grapevine had done its work by that time. During the first class of the fall, Miss Walbrecht delivered a 50-minute disciplinary lecture and laid down the law. Calvin Blom walked out of the room with me and said, “I came out of there feeling a little weak.” Other than that, we thought she was pretty cool as she arrived driving a two-tone yellow and white 1957 Chevrolet four door sedan. Miss Walbrecht later to become Mrs. Peter’s after marrying Howard Peters who operated the Sinclair station, finished the rest of her career at MHS/JCHS. Many years later while visiting my parents I met her in the Super Value and told her she was the best English teacher I ever had.

Please share your stories with Jim or me. I will post any stories I get and forward them to Jim.

I’m looking forward to attending the 2026 All School Reunion. I hope to see many of you there!

Those 70ish girls…Little Murdo Girl’s Doohicky Dilemma

I had to start wearing nylons. It seems that when you get to the 8th grade, you’re supposed to wear them when you dress up. We went to Winner for a music contest, and that’s when some of the girls decided it was time to start wearing “hose.” I had to play a saxophone solo, and those darn nylons ruined it.

There are boys who read this. Oh well, I don’t care. They should know what we go through.

You have to wear a garter belt to hold your nylons on your leg. It is a very weird contraption. The top of the belt goes around your waist. There are four straps hanging from the belt. On the end of the straps you have doohickys. (There are four of them.) You put the top of the nylon under the bottom part of the doohicky. It has a button-like thing on it. I think they are called garters. The top garter goes on the top and buttons to the bottom garter. That’s what keeps your nylon up. The whole thing is called a garter belt. The nylons come separately.

Right in the middle of my solo, the doohicky on the back of one leg came loose, and the nylon slipped right off, which caused the front to sag. I finally got an opportunity to glance down when the piano player who was accompanying me, had a little part that I didn’t play my saxophone to. I could see the nylon was a wrinkled mess just like Grandma’s hose (nylons) always are because they don’t make them small enough for her. Grandma wears a girdle to keep her nylons up, but it doesn’t work. Besides, you still have to deal with the doohickys attached to the girdle. (Some older ladies just roll them down over a rubber band. I wonder if that works better.) Well, at least the front doohicky on my garters never came all the way off, which was a blessing. I feared that all the doohickys would come off and I’d be standing there with my hose around my ankles.Anyway, for the very first time in my life, I didn’t get a Superior on my solo, because I was too distracted to remember all of it. I can’t even tell people about it, because it’s going to sound like an elaborate excuse, and they’ll think the real reason is that I didn’t practice my solo enough times to memorize it better.

It just wasn’t a good experience all around. Mom threw a hissy fit because I forgot to mention I volunteered her to take me and some other kids to the contest. I told her the day before. She said I hadn’t even told her I was playing a solo, although I’m pretty sure I did. She asked me when I practiced because she very seldom heard me.She didn’t even care about my doohicky dilema.

As we get older, friends seem like family and we lose some dear ones along the way, letting us know we might go next. But when it comes to the holidays we can be childlike . (You can probably remember a special gift or two you got as a kid) My friends don’t have a lot of money so some of the gifts this year were a bit strange. Six of us met for our annual gift exchange. But we took the gifts home without opening them, because we had all had lunch together and time was limited. We also got carried away with the holiday gift giving. It took me two trips to carry it all to the car. I’m not even sure what some items are for but it was still fun to unwrap and pull out colorful tissue from gift bags revealing these things:

-A plugin snowflake shaped room deodorizer pine or peppermint scented (some assembly required.)

-Friends spoon with cute poem engraved (not for use with food or beverages.)

-Bar of goat milk soap.

-Dog gift catalog with stickers.

-Fifteen individually wrapped pretzels from Pennsylvania which are crunchy and delicious.

– A 2 foot long hand-sewn hanging kitchen piece made of fabric, shaped like a house with a floppy mini-wreath sewn on the door of the house. It has a big pocket on the lower half and two loops on the top suitable for hanging up…somewhere.

-A stick with a cute little gnome at the end.

-Gift cards.

As I opened each gift and card, I kept wondering where I would put these things. The giftcards were the best because then I could go buy what I want, especially the giftcards to a coffee shop. And of course there were also the pieces of jewelry given. You can always put those in your jewelry box, never to remember who gave them to you, or when to wear them. I don’t even want to bring up necklaces getting all tangled up.

My Dad used to say, “It’s the thought that counts.” That kept going through my mind as I looked over the collection of presents. I’m just lucky to have such generous, kind people in my life. It doesn’t matter what they gave me. Their friendship is what counts. They’re probably in turn looking over the gifts I gave them: a mug, kitchen dish towels purchased at a church gift bazaar, candy, and mini scented candles. They’re thinking the same thing I am. What will I do with all these? Do I really need any of this? What were they thinking giving these to me?

It doesn’t matter what you give to others at this time of year because just the giving part is what counts. The friendship is there. There’s love inside each gift. The friends give you meaning at this time of year.

Happy holidays!