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.

A beach across the street. Come on, let’s walk to it.

Someone said that I was bragging about being in balmy sunny Hawaii, while many people are stuck in the snow, lots of it, and frigid weather in the States. That’s true. I’m bragging, boasting and laughing about your plight. It is flippin’ cold, windy and wintry in many areas of the country. I’m really not bragging. I feel sorry- no, I don’t on second thought. I’m having too much fun in Kauai. It is, after all Paradise,

Come with me, let’s imagine that we are there. Come out onto the lanai. It’s early morning. Oops, first get your sandals on or your flip flops and grab your morning tea – or coffee or – Mai tai. Slide the screen door open. It’s okay to wear what you had on yesterday or even wear pjs. Step down onto the carpets outside and sit on one of the comfy chairs. Set your drink down.

Do you feel it, that warm air? That almost heavy tropical breath of fresh atmosphere? Then you start to relax even though you just slept solidly like a baby.

It’s paradise. It’s beyond description. It’s the island life. Look out there beyond the railing of the deck.

The lanai out your backdoor.

A little green gecko crawls on the plant below and you look out at the lush green yard and up to the mountain and waterfall beyond.

A picture cannot picture it like the real image.

Oops- this picture is out of order. It’s not in our backyard but it is nearby in a park for which you need reservations. We will get to that in Part 3.

This house is at the end of the highway almost and across the highway is the beach.

It’s called sand, different than snow.

This is another beach farther away. But you get the idea.

This was taken on our first morning as we had arrived in the dark the night before. We were in awe. The beach and ocean kinda work their magic on your psyche… if you let it.

Makes you want to just stare and take time to take it all in.

I’m unable to find words. If I’m bragging, then that’s what happens when you fall under the spell of Hawaii. I won’t apologize. This island in particular was mesmerizing. It’s called The Garden Island for a reason.

Aloha til next time.

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!

Harsh life…

Call me crazy. At least I fit into this crazy world.

I think our SANDERSON family, meaning Grandparents and their six children, went through harsh, difficult, stressful times on the prairie and experiencing small town prairie life in the first part of the 1900’s. They were lucky to have a Model T, a couple horses and a wagon. After my grandparents, M.E. and Mary, were married in Iowa they headed to South Dakota around 1911 crossing the Missouri River precariously with the help of ropes and river navigators willing and ready. I imagine that was a scary way to get across a major river.

They lived through the uncertain times of young newly wed life, having six children, the dirty 1930’s which were challenging in their times, and life on the farm with minimal farm equipment and no technology in sight. They knew the meaning of hard times, little money and harsh realities.The harsh life strangely brought out more goodness, kindness and resolve in their hearts, buried more love in their souls. It did cause depression to which my Mom, Ella and Aunt Elna attested. My Mom often told me that her Dad, M.E. Sanderson would get discouraged and later maybe in his mid-thirties would spend hours in a dark root cellar just to himself out on their Horse Creek farm. This was unusual for him because he had to constantly be working or caring for livestock and crops. The family knew this was not the normal behavior from the head of a household of eight individuals. Aunt Elna told someone once that they wouldn’t have all survived growing up if Uncle Wayne, the oldest of the six children, hadn’t stepped up and worked hard as a kid to get money from the sale of crows and skins from trapping animals some state agency paid him for since the animals were a hindrance to farmers. All the kids were put to work on the farms in those days.

I think all our heritage, our history, our past bloodline follows us in both small and large ways, weaving life into a fine fabric, its threads taken from this grandmother’s line or that grandfather’s or from an uncle or an ancient cousin from far away lands. We derive our strength from their strength with their bloodline trickling into ours. You might take after a particularly lovely relative with beautiful big hazel eyes from someone far back in your family tree, like someone you never knew.

You carry a million years of history in your DNA from humans who lived thousands of years ago, yet we often just say, “You take after your Mother with your dark hair and hazel eyes.” Perhaps we didn’t go back far enough in the family tree. We narrow down the years. Naturally there are a myriad of different traits and characteristics from our entire past.

Grandma and Grandpa Sanderson had traits that weren’t just physical. They showed their strength and resilience which came from deep within their souls and hearts. All these things were part of their personalities yet the harsh lives they endured played a part as well. Who they were was formed from what they had lived through, why they were so strong, and where they had lived. The prairie life can be brutal and forge what you are from tough times.

My cousin, Mary, often recalls how our SANDERSON grandparents never once yelled nor disciplined us as young children running around their house, yelling and screaming, eating their food or playing dress up with grandma’s clothes and hiding in their bedroom closet. They led by example and kindnesses. They showed us what to become as they had become.

Sure, I might be crazy saying all this. Harsh reality can either make us rise up to become our best version of ourselves or knock us down. Do we stay down? I would like to think that we stay the course and follow our grandparent’s example.