Those 70ish Girls

GREAT AUNT TET WAS GREAT by Mary McNinch and Valerie Halla

Mary and I decided to ask our cousins what they remember about one of our Grandpa Sanderson’s sisters who saw most of us 13 cousins grow up. We are writing about her today because we have overlooked her while we have covered many family members, neglecting to offer dear memories of her.

We asked several cousins to tell us what they recall about “Aunt Tet” and will include their thoughts along with our own recollections of her.

Cousins Bobby, Suanne, Blake and Jeff H. met recently at the Martin Mason Hotel in Deadwood, South Dakota on July 9, 2024 and had these memories of Tet:

Great Aunt Tet was a lifelong loving younger sister of her brother, Maynard Evan Sanderson. She was a true, dedicated professional business partner and manager of the Sanderson General Store in Murdo for much of the time her brother and later his son, Jeff Sanderson, owned the store. She resided in the second story apartment above the store.

The involvement and support of various family members was truly recognized and was highly appreciated in the Sanderson family.

She was born in Burgess, Iowa in 1890. The town was unofficially known as Smithtown in Sharon Township.

She was one of twelve children fathered by Frank Sanderson. His first wife was Ella Current Sanderson. Their first two children, Mabel and Eben, died of a highly contagious disease prior to the birth of Maynard Evan Sanderson in June 1886. Frank had four children by his second wife. He died tragically in 1918.

Aunt Tet never owned nor operated a motorized vehicle. She was thought to have been a teacher in her early years with two years of advanced schooling in Iowa. She never drank nor smoked nor swore. Our cousins that day during their mini-reunion remembered her to be very pleasant and professional.

When the out-of-town relatives visited South Dakota, they weren’t accustomed to the severe Great Plains direct sunlight, Aunt Tet was quick to assure them that we all knew where to find wide-brimmed hats to protect from sunburn. The SANDERSON cousins concluded that day that, “Our dermatologists are still smiling on their way to the bank.”

COUSIN ANDREA’S THOUGHTS:

Cousin Andrea emailed her recollections to me of Aunt Tet in June of this year. She wrote:

When I think back on Aunt Tet, I remember her making caramel apples for Halloween. She would hang them on a rope clothesline with clothespins, just off the kitchen and they looked delicious.

She loved sports and watched the games at Grandpa and Grandma’s house on Sunday afternoon. She would ride down to their house after church and have Sunday noon meal. Then she usually walked back home as she enjoyed the exercise uphill to her apartment on Main Street.

I don’t remember her being vocal about things, rather she was interested and thoughtful.

MY MEMORY OF AUNT TET:

During our summer visits to Murdo and living there for my 7-8th grade years in school, I remember seeing Aunt Tet in her apartment hallway going in and out of the bathroom because during those two years, we lived in the front apartment above Sanderson Store while she lived across in the back apartment. We shared the one bathroom. She kept to herself mostly. She seemed shy and of the personality where you didn’t speak until spoken to.

She was always at the store working or on a raised platform at a desk doing paperwork and it seemed quite dark and mysterious when I would see her there at the back of the old store, bent over heavy account books or maybe writing something.

She wore sensible print shirtwaist dresses with narrow belts, and practical heavy shoes, and she had short gray hair and old fashioned glasses. She wasn’t slim nor heavy but solidly built. She would smile at 12-13 year-old me and make pleasant small talk. My mom made extra dinner for her and I took it over to Aunt Tet- homemade chicken pot pie or ham and bean soup or fried chicken with mashed potatoes. Sometimes even pie, fantastic, scrumptious home baked fruit pies, or tapioca pudding.

My mom, named after Tet’s own mother, and everyone in our family and Murdo respected and liked her. One guy named Tuffy would come in for a banana or a snack from his shift at the auto museum. He had no teeth and ate soft foods, and he would tease her calling her an “old maid”. She would snap back, “ Old bachelor!” Or maybe she would shorten it to “old batch”. My Dad, who also worked at the store for two years, laughed at that.

It was sad when Sanderson Store had to close. Aunt Tet decided to move back to her home town in Iowa to live near her relatives. She adored her brother Sandy who lived in Iowa. In 1971 my new husband and I honeymooned across country and stopped to stay with her overnight. She was a gracious kind person and took us the next morning to her sister’s, my Great Aunt Melitha’s house, for a large hot breakfast Iowa style. We drove off the next morning after our goodbyes and I wrote her letters for many years but never saw her again. She passed away in the later 1970’s close by to where she had been born.

MEMORIES FROM BILLY FRANCIS:

I worked with Aunt Tet for four summers in Sandersons Store.  The first thing we did when we got to work was to discuss the baseball games we had listened to (Aunt Tet – Kansas City, Bill – St Louis Cardinals).  She and I were huge baseball fans!  Aunt Tet was also a fan of Murdo sports.  She went to every basketball (home game) and most of the road games if she could get a ride.

She was the bookkeeper for grandpa Sanderson and later Uncle Jeff until he closed the store.  

Aunt Tet took the last lunch hour because she didn’t want to miss the kids when they stopped off for their penny candy on their way back to school from lunch.  She knew all of the kids by name!

Aunt Tet was my best friend.  She was the first person I visited when I came home from college.  I truly loved that lady!

Aunt Tet never married. She was an amazing part of our family and greatly loved by family and the people of Murdo.

A big thank you to all our cousins who contributed to memories of Great Aunt Tet. Let us know if you have anything to add, you who were fortunate to have known her.

ONCE A JOKESTER ALWAYS A JOKESTER

Valerie Halla

When I was teaching elementary school, about 16 years ago, a couple great teachers had playground duty with me each Friday at 8:00 am sharp. We were always excited because the weekend was coming and we got a break from the routine. The two teachers and I came up with a joke plan. We decided we would each share a new joke every Friday. We even had another teacher who we liked, come out onto the yard to tell us a joke now and then and he did not even have an 8:00 am scheduled recess duty. He just liked us because we were laughing so much. So our joke challenge started. It would be an end of week challenge to make the other two laugh. Sometimes we would retell jokes, but that was all right with us because we had forgotten the joke and it would seem fresh enough to laugh again like mad.

I’m still close friends to this day with these now retired teachers and we are all in our 70’s, and we still tell jokes, silly ones, short ones, long winded complicated jokes, you name it.

As I care for my husband who has brain cancer, I am realizing how powerful and helpful laughter can be although it’s not a cure. Jokes, humor and giggles are a stress reliever. They can get his mind off his health. A sense of humor goes a long way in taking him to a fun place even temporarily. Relief from pain, anxiety and stress can come in the form of a belly laugh and sharing silliness. I got the idea to have him join the elderly jokesters.

In fact, I set up coffee or lunch meetups with these two friends and my husband often goes with us using his walker to get around . He starts smiling as soon as the joking and goofy stuff starts. He is lifted up and away from the depression, isolation and stress of his cancer and the immunotherapy treatments, blood tests, doctor appointments, medical advice, and all that. They are gone while we tell jokes and laugh.

It’s a laugh fest with a group of 70ish old timers telling jokes and sharing funny stories like this:

“Where does a bad rainbow go?” One friend starts after greetings and coffee orders are placed.

“I don’t know! Where?”

“To the prism so it can reflect on what it’s done.”

…Laughs and coffee all around.

“Hey, my first therapist said I am too vindictive! Well,” punching my one fist into the palm of my other hand, “we will see about that.” My friends burst out in laughter, knowing I’m just making this all up as I go.

Take another shot of coffee.

Then I continue, “My new therapist says I am overly condescending.” Then I turn and look down my nose at everyone seated around the table. “That means I talk down to people.”

We also tell true funny stories about our lives which are even better than a made up joke. Our good pal, whose wife passed away about a year ago, gave us his recollections of driving a rented camper through New Zealand on a trip with his wife many years ago. She was driving and naturally the driver’s seat is on the opposite side of the vehicle from American vehicles. They came to a one way bridge over a deep ravine. In New Zealand on a one way bridge, you allow the car which arrives first to cross. His wife looked then drove over the narrow bridge, but she could not find the brake as they were speeding along. She drove up one side of the bridges edge then criss-crossed over driving up onto the other side. They were careening all around the edges of this bridge. His wife had on big boots and she was flailing in the oversized boots screaming out: “WHERES THE BRAKE PEDAL? HELP!”

He said he just thought to himself : we are going to die right here on this one lane bridge. He was speechless. He tried not to look.

Finally his wife found the brake pedal and slowed down. She just looked over at him and calmly said, “Everything is under control” as she kept on driving.

He told us in conclusion, “I drove the entire rest of that trip.” We knew he held that special time deep in his heart because it was a memory of a trip with his wife of 54 years. He laughed as he told it.

“Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl go potty in the middle of the forest?“

“Why?”

“Because the pee is silent.”

The jokes roll on.

“I’ve been frustrated shopping for a camouflage jacket. I can’t find one anywhere.”

This one is kinda mean:

“What does DNA stand for?”

“I dunno!“

“National Association for Dyslexia.”

~~ So if you’re having a down day or someone you know is sad and needs help, tell them a joke or ask them their favorite joke. Best of all, get out for a meetup with friends. They say, “Laughter is the best medicine.” I think that’s true. Socializing also helps.

By the way, I am running out of jokes, so please send me some or let’s meet soon for a jokester chat.

Billy just turned 80.  There’s still lots he hasn’t done. I know that he’ll be going strong when he turns 81.

The horses will be racing, and he’ll bet on one or two. Please, Lord, let him win before he turns 82.

There are lots of Netflix movies that he hasn’t had time to see. Please let him view a few more… beyond age 83.

He’s made lots of friends and he’ll need time to make some more. For that he’ll have to stick around until he’s 84.

In all his 80 years he’s been glad to be alive. He’ll still be really grateful when he turns 85.

If his body holds together and there won’t be lots to fix. I know he’ll still enjoy his life when he turns 86.

To him, life on earth is close enough to heaven. He’ll behave as much as possible when he turns 87.

And if he can continue on this side of Heaven’s gate. He’ll look forward to enjoying turning 88.

I could go on and on, but why all the fuss? Let’s skip right to 93 when he’ll be as old as Gus.

I hope you know this poem is really all in jest. As far as brothers go, you really are the best!

My favorite little Billy story…He said, “I’m not going to tell you what I got you for Christmas Dad, but you’re not going to have to use that old knife anymore.”

We lost our beautiful dog, Nellie. We had to have her put to sleep. We’re really feeling the loss, but the one I feel sorriest for is our other little dog, Rylie. He doesn’t understand why his buddy for all these years isn’t around anymore.

When we had the two of them, they could be left alone for several hours at a time. We left Rylie alone for a couple of hours this morning to see how he would do. We were able to watch him on our security camera, and he propped himself up on the arm of the couch and kept his eyes on the door the whole time we were gone. When we finally came through the door, he cried in relief. We didn’t go to church last Sunday because it was only the day after we lost Nellie, and we didn’t want to leave him alone that long. We’ll be going to church this Sunday as we realize he’s going to have to adjust to not having his buddy by his side.

Is it worth it to have pets when you have to go through the heartbreak of letting them go? It’s a resounding, yes. They add so much to the quality of our lives, and their unconditional love is too amazing to live without.

Nellie had so many endearing personality traits. We’ll always miss her.

Kip and I have owned 17 dogs in our almost 43 years of marriage. Usually 2 at a time, but once when we lived in the country, we had 6. All but 3 of the 17 have been rescued dogs, so some were older when we got them. All still have a place in our hearts where we store fond memories.

Goodbye, sweet Nellie. Thank you for being our faithful friend.

BREAKING DOWN LITTLE BY LITTLE

By Valerie Halla

Being older and having challenges thrown at us more and more, I’ve been thinking about how that can be a good thing. I am talking about physical and mental challenges.

First of all, these aches, pains, health and mental problems often can come at us over time and gradually. That’s a positive thing, because when they all get dumped on us at once, it’s just too much, as my Aunts used to say, just TOO. much. We can take one negative thing and deal with it maybe before another comes along. Humans can bounce back. When you are 70ish, it’s harder.

Secondly, it could be worse. I overheard- (of course I wasn’t eavesdropping) – someone say, “Oh no. She’s looking stooped and older. Sad.”

I’d rather be stooped than stupid.

My Mom and her sisters, when they were 70ish and older, were surprised when a good friend became hunched over in old age. They were sad at how she looked, but true friends stick by one another. They were close and communicated with Sugar, her nickname, til the end. That’s a plus, kind of, being stooped, but if you’re stupid you might not know it. That is a positive thing also. You can go gleefully through life and be oblivious to the consequences. When you’re stooped you can look down at your path forward. When you’re stupid, you don’t really know what the path is.

A dear friend I have known for decades and who knows that Ken and I are going through tough times with his melanoma brain cancer diagnosis, last August, texted me lately:

—-“Valerie- Just a reminder to you to take care of yourself through this. Sleep, exercise, social life, relaxation techniques…I know you know all this but stress is insidious…love you .”

I had to look up that word, insidious. It means:

So beware if you are a caregiver or just seeing yourself stressed out over and over. All this stress or effects from aging might not seem to be dangerous or harmful, but they’re INSIDIOUS. My longtime friend opened my eyes to my situation as a caregiver. My time caring for my husband can break me down maybe before he even gets worse. This could be harmful. The caregiver can pass away before the patient. That’s why taking breaks, going to the gym, or for walks and socializing often can ease the harm of caregivers and aging. Take care of yourself.

Changes can be gradual. Decline can be gradual. Pain and mental fatigue can creep up. Take care of yourself so you can take care of others you love.

Getting old is a challenge. Keep fighting it little by little.

WHEN YOU GOTTA TAKE THE KEYS AWAY by Valerie Halla

It’s inevitable and most likely that a cancer patient will have his/her driving privileges taken away. My husband had seizures a few months after being diagnosed with metastatic brain cancer so the doctor had to let the DMV know and they suspended his license. We never questioned this nor followed up to check if his license was intact or revoked permanently or temporarily. We were just glad medication was prescribed that halted the frightening crippling seizures. Driving wasn’t important.

However, being the nice person I am, I never took away my husband’s car key fob. It sat on the counter and once when I was out with friends, my husband took the fob and escaped and drove to the larger town 10 miles away. He got lectured by me when he returned. He could’ve gotten in an accident and killed someone. Our insurance costs could sky rocket. I thought it was over. He wouldn’t cheat again. Then a few weeks ago he really started to improve his walking and talking abilities. We attributed it to the steroids he had started. I was having a colonoscopy and foolishly didn’t set up any friend or neighbor to drive me home. You guessed it. I had Ken drive me home. He did well. But after admitting to my daughter, since she asked who drove me home, I got the totally royal, “you are guilty, Mom, this is your adult-kid-lecture and you should be ashamed treatment”. WOW. ZOW. POW.

All three of our adult kids told me to hide his key fob so I finally did. It’s in the cupboard in Great Grandma’s gravy boat. I don’t think my husband will be making gravy in the near future and find it.

Other people have been telling me stories of how they had to take charge and hide a loved one’s keys. My Grandpa Sanderson was in his nineties when his two sons talked to him first and then had to take his car away. He was reasonable. They put his car in the driveway of one of their homes. He knew it was safe. He took it well. He told us that he was driving the interstate once and fell asleep at the wheel of his white Ford. He woke up to find himself on the shoulder of the busy highway. He often drove up one side of the burm of a road and down the other side pretty recklessly . It had been apparent to many of us that he shouldn’t be driving for a long time, but someone had to make the final decision. It’s for the best. Some people take it calmly and others fight it. No matter; it far surpasses the alternative of killing yourself or someone else in an accident.

Aunt Loretta knew, too. She had not driven much in Southern California having been a country gal and used to the more tame roads and highways of South Dakota. Moving to California was a big change. She went to get donuts one morning and accidentally drove onto a ramp heading onto one of the busiest Southern California freeways in the state. It was rush hour. It was crazy. She was ill prepared to say the least. She got in one lane and tried to maneuver into a slower lane but California drivers don’t know slow. She panicked and tried using the blinker to get over to the right and exit. Drivers don’t always let you get over and you’re often stuck in a lane going insane. (There are about a thousand lanes on CA freeways.)She swore to herself that if she got off the freeway and back home again, she would never drive again. And she didn’t. No one had to take her keys. She surrendered them gladly.

If you know someone maybe close to you who shouldn’t be driving, please talk to them. Follow the little voice inside you which might give you advice or a warning to take the responsibility of making your community safe by making an unsafe driver stop driving – at least temporarily. The unsafe driver may not even realize they aren’t capable of driving. Or maybe you can talk it over with a friend, your pastor or a relative who can give you counsel on taking the keys away. It’s also done with drinking and driving situations. Take the keys and take an unsafe driver off our streets.

I’m sure there must be an enormous number of 70ish people out there who play Wordle. A friend of mine recently suggested I give it a try and now I’m hooked. If you haven’t played, Google it. It’s a New York Times word game. You have 6 chances to guess a 5 letter word. It has all the letters of the alphabet at the bottom so you can keep track of the letters you have used. If you get a letter right, a gold tile turns over. If it is in the right place, a green tile turns over. It is addictive. It usually only takes a few minutes, and there is only one word each day. When you get the correct word, all the tiles turn over green, and it is such a thrill. At least it is for easily entertained, me.

So what do I do with the rest of my day? Of course, it varies. Sometimes, I do mundane things like housework and laundry. I usually bake something once a week, and I have recently started reading again.

We have been doing some yard work but only to further our goal to make our yard low maintenance because we still have some long RV trips planned.

I don’t do a lot of things with friends, which I miss, but since our move, I live 40 miles from my old stomping grounds. Kip and I only have one car right now, and it seems silly to get another one because we usually go everywhere together. We still make the drive to church each Sunday, but that’s about it as far as going to Mabank.

For the first time in my life, and now in my early 70ish years, I do find myself getting bored. My writer’s block persists. The poetry won’t come to me. What I need to do is find a local fitness class and maybe do some volunteer work, whatever that may be.

Kip stays super busy with projects I can’t help him with so I’m left to my own resources. Yes, as I write this I realize I need to get involved in my new community. I will search things out keeping in mind that we still plan to travel as soon as we get some things on the RV fixed. To be honest, the high temperatures keep us from doing much outside after noon. The dogs hate it. They keep asking to go out, forgetting it’s hot so it’s a constant in and out for them.

So have I rambled on enough? What can I say? I’m 70ish. At least I wrote something.

THINGS GET LOOSER IN YOUR SEVENTIES

By Valerie Halla

I’m not one to write toilet humor nor about disgusting physical failings that are often unmentionable but it hits us all including my dog. Incontinence is no fun.

One morning recently it seemed like my life was full of cleanups. I had to help my husband, who has melanoma brain cancer, to the bathroom but he didn’t make it in time. In fact I already had two pair of his sweatpants in the wash from previous accidents. So I did a couple loads of laundry then went to check the dog pad on our front room floor. What a mess met me there as I looked on the floor. Nincompoop had peed not only on top of the pad but urine had flowed under the edge of the pad also. It was a poodle – er – puddle of wetness. She had also let loose over in a corner on the hardwood floor and then moved onto an electric cord with poop. She was living up to her name! It was poop galore. It was one dirty mess after another. It was stinky. It was ugly. It was old age.

I started the cleanup, all the while knowing my old dog can’t help it since she’s almost 13. It was not only incontinence in my husband’s case but also in my dog’s. It might hit us all. We might have to clean it up for ourselves or get help. The physical therapist who helped my husband said to use briefs. I remembered my mom calling them “adult diapers”. It did sound kinder to say “briefs.”Accidents in our 70’s do happen, so briefs are insurance. You pay for it not just for your car or house or boat, but just in case an accident happens even in embarrassing circumstances with loose bowels or kidneys. Although it’s more fun to think of your car, house or boat needing insurance instead of your pants.

I’m not an expert at discussing the medical aspects of incompetence or incontinence or incompleteness or infidelity or any “in” words. A lot is being done for we 70ish kids in the medical field. If you have incontinence, see your doctor. If your dog has it, see a vet or buy doggie diapers…uh…. briefs. Your dog won’t care what you call them. Just don’t let it go, so to speak. You don’t want to be in a store with a puddle suddenly surrounding you on the floor. Nor do you want your dog lifting his leg on a stranger’s pants. My mom used to say, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” That’s true about people also. I will probably have trouble learning to use briefs but when that day comes, I’m sure things like muscles won’t he so strict and tight. I’m sure things will be loose and flowing along. Just go with it the best you can. And seek help.

It’s just a part of life in our 70’s. Our body parts get looser and our brains get weaker. You can take care of yourself by exercising more and eating right but research shows that socializing also is a big benefit to anti-aging. My Aunt Loretta used to discuss either taking care of her figure or her face but she couldn’t do both she said, so she was going to sit around mostly. She had a strong social network and was great at socializing. Nowadays there are even armchair exercises and physical therapists who can help you tighten those muscles. There are apps to help you find the nearest restrooms if you’re traveling and need to get to one fast. There are portable commodes to put next to your bed and I could go on but just know that you’re not alone in this incontinence problem. (You’re not even safe laughing at a good joke.)

My cousin on my Dad’s side who is ten years older, told me she got a nice set of bowls as a gift for her first wedding long ago. She was writing her thank you notes, like we did in the 1950’s, and wrote to the gift giver: Thank you for the pretty bowels.

Here’s hoping our bowels are pretty and work for a while longer.