hair, on my arms, on the floor, and in the bathtub. The landlady came running again. She said, “Of course you‘ll pay for this." To which I replied, “Of course.” She didn‘t speak any more, but as she helped pick up the broken glass her venomous glances belied her tongue. I bandaged my hands and set... Show morehair, on my arms, on the floor, and in the bathtub. The landlady came running again. She said, “Of course you‘ll pay for this." To which I replied, “Of course.” She didn‘t speak any more, but as she helped pick up the broken glass her venomous glances belied her tongue. I bandaged my hands and set to work again. The nut loosened slightly so I ap- plied the wrench. I gave a tremendous yank. The wrench slipped and I fell backwards into the tub. When I regained consciousness (an hour later by my watch, which had somehow miraculously escaped destruction through it all), my landlady was standing above me with a pitcher in her hand, the late contents of which were all over me. She explained that she came up after the noise from the bathroom suddenly subsided. Then she turned on her heel and stalked away. I arose shakily and gingerly fingered the sticky welt on the back of my head. I drew my fingers away and looked at them. Blood again! Still nonplussed, however, I said to myself, “Oh well, what’s a little blood anyway?” I seized the wrench and once again commenced my task. I braced both feet against the wall and pulled mightily. Just as my arms were about to come out of their sockets, something snapped. A blinding, searing pain gripped my face. Then I remembered that I had forgotten to turn off the hot water in the basement! I ran howling out of the bathroom into the hall. The landlady came half-way up the stairs, saw the billowing clouds of steam, sur- mised that the house was on fire and fainted. I could scarcely see but I managed to catch her on my way down to the basement and deposit her on the divan. I shut off the water and slowly made my way back up. Water, water, everywhere! As I looked at the havoc I had wrought, my incentive for fix- ing the faucet swiftly dwindled. With my last morsel of sanity threatening to leave me, I called a plumber. Then I called a doctor. The plumber arrived first. He asked me what was wrong. I re- plied lamely, “Leaky faucet." I led him to the faucet. He looked at my red, beefy face, the tools on the floor, the broken mirror, my bandaged hands, the faucet and pipe, and laughed long and loud. ORLEY ANDERSON, ’4 3 DIAL 30 Show less
DIAL I Might Have Knowm Enraptured there I stood and gazed at her. She was a lovel y bit of maidenhood I/Vho stood so tall, so straight, and did not stir. Her pose portrayed a deeply pensive mood. But if she smiled or not I was not sure, F or darkness screened the view from where I stood. She... Show moreDIAL I Might Have Knowm Enraptured there I stood and gazed at her. She was a lovel y bit of maidenhood I/Vho stood so tall, so straight, and did not stir. Her pose portrayed a deeply pensive mood. But if she smiled or not I was not sure, F or darkness screened the view from where I stood. She gave no sign that I should speak to her. Should I then move? Ah yes, I knew I would. I stood before her silent form. IVe were So close, that if I wanted to, I could Reach out and touch her with my hand. A stir? Ah no! She did not tremble where she stood. Dismayed I turned my back on her to go, And left the statue standing in the row. GERALD THORSON, '43 Darkness I have let darkness come too close to me. When I reach out my hand to push it back, My icy fingers only touch a prison wall. The surly blackness hovers there and stops; It will not go beyond into the light. There is within the heart of me tonight A dream of radiant beauty, Trembling on the brink of utterance; There is within the heart of me tonight An unborn thought of God, That struggles, cries aloud in vain for life. But now the darkness is too close to me; Crushed is the dream, And gone, the thought of God ere it is born. IRENE HUGLEN, ’43 28 Show less
Where Is Last Years Class? Ardell Albertson, Ruth Aune, Harold Haugland, Olaf Johnson, Lester John- son, Lester Rood, and Thora Torvick are attending the University of Min- nesota. Vincent Mostrom is at the University of Iowa at Ames. Arthur Knudsen is attending the Minnesota Business School in... Show moreWhere Is Last Years Class? Ardell Albertson, Ruth Aune, Harold Haugland, Olaf Johnson, Lester John- son, Lester Rood, and Thora Torvick are attending the University of Min- nesota. Vincent Mostrom is at the University of Iowa at Ames. Arthur Knudsen is attending the Minnesota Business School in Minneapolis. Norman Anderson. Harold Masted, LeRoy Elster, and Palmer Wold are at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Werner Spiegel is attending Wartburg Semi- nary, Debuque, Iowa, Gordon Loren is at Augustana Seminary, Rock Island, Illinois. Lester Dahlen, Lawrence Gudmestad, Alfred Sevig, and Luther Strommen are studying at Augsburg Seminary. In addition to attending the University of Minnesota, Ruth Anne and Olaf Johnson are teaching at Augsburg. Mabel Aasen is teaching at St. Vincent’s Hospital, Crookston, Minn.; Gerald Benson at Lamberton, Minn; Lorrin 0. Dahlager at Maynard, Minn; Changes Among Teaching Alumni: Clarice Blake, 34, to Moorhead Junior High School. Reuben Lokken, '36, to Zumbrota, Minn. Arnold Sandness, '26, to Aneta, N. Dak. Else Michaelsen, ’31, to Spring Valley, Minn. Donovan Decker, ’30, to Clear Lake, Wis. Geneva Larson, '37, to Glenwood, Minn. Anker Harbo, '31, to Rugby, N. Dak. Markus Hailing, ’31, to Pine City, Minn. Una Lee, '88, to McNabb, Ill. Daisy Hanson, ’36, to Jordan, Minn. Elmer Hendrickson, ’31, to McGrath, Minn. (Alumni: If you know of others, let me know, please --N. C. A.) ‘ Thelma Emberson at Mora, Minn.; Margie Enemark at Frost, Minn.; Glen Gleane at Ellendale, Minn.; Chester Hoberg at Kensington, Minn.; Donald Holm at Humboldt, S. Dak.; Ingolf Kronstad at Canton, S. Dale; Gerald Person at Chaska, Minn.; Wendell Tjon at Renville, S. Dale; Howard Forrest at Beltrami, Minn.; Reuben Gjerde at Orrin, N. Dak. . Josephine Bale is giving music lessons at Tunbridge, N. Dak. Robert Chalmers is preaching at Mora, Minn. Sara Dixon and Marion Loud are working at the Eitel Hospital in Minneapolis. Irene Hagen and Constance Stannes are working in libraries in the Twin Cities. Anders Hanson and Jonathan Lindell are attending L. B. I. Hoyt Messerer works in a bank at Arlington, Iowa. Belma Mikkelson is a governess in Chicago. Lillian Prest- holdt works in Madison. Minn. Thea Home is working in Minneapolis. 7 Augaburp Alumni Bulletin Show less
HELLO GRADS! (Cont'd) Give the proposition some real thought, won’t you? And don’t hesitate to write us! We'd like to hear from you on it. What do you think of the idea? What suggestions have you to ofl'er? The .Executive Committee and Advisory Council will be discussing the mat- ter in its next... Show moreHELLO GRADS! (Cont'd) Give the proposition some real thought, won’t you? And don’t hesitate to write us! We'd like to hear from you on it. What do you think of the idea? What suggestions have you to ofl'er? The .Executive Committee and Advisory Council will be discussing the mat- ter in its next two meetings. At either of them we’d be grateful for your letters. That should be enough “meat” for one letter—and, besides, “Andy” is waiting to get it of! to press. By the way, worthy of special notice is our Treasurer's Report. Forth- coming dues will liquidate our small debt very nicely. Let us hear from you, Grads. Sincerely, LELAND B. SATEREN, President of the Augsburg Alumni Association. Did You Know That . . . . Coach Dan Elmer of the Auggie footballers turned down a large sum of money not so long ago oflered by a tobacco company for use of his endorse- ment in a cigarette "ad". Augsburg students employed on the National Youth Administration work program at Augsburg receive $557 per month. The State Student Aid pro- gram also furnishes $65 a month, and a large number of students are em- ployed directly by the College for janitorial, dining-hall, and other work on the campus. Over 100 students annually find employment through the Augsburg Employ- ment Bureau. Luther Strommen, now a student in the Seminary. is manager of this bureau. Warren Quanbeck, ’87. is continuing his theological studies at the Princeton .Divinity School. ' Augsburg's enrollment for ’89-'40 hit the 447 mark and kept pace with other college gains in spite of the fact that there was no definite student soli- citation program. The Alumni Executive Committee is continuing its good work and wants the support of every alumnus. Two dollars annual dues from each of you will assure a forward-going program in the year ahead. Norman Anderson, former pastor at Tacoma and now Personnel Director at Augsburg. has taken over a part of the work of the Alumni Executive Secretary. Edor Nelson. ’87. coached the Lamberton (Ilium) High School baseball team to a state championship last spring. Coach Nelson also is conducting a line intranural sports program. a Augsburg Alumni Bulletin Show less
ALUMNI TREASURER'S REPORT Receipts: Cash on hand June 1, 1939... .. ., , , ., $ 56.47 Alumni Dues , 103.00 Sale of tickets Alumni Dinner . ., 64.25 Net profit, Ice Cream Social, . , , 40.00 $263.72 Disbursements: Postage . $ 19.85 Exchange on checks - .86 Augsburg Dining Hall (Alumni Dinners) 64... Show moreALUMNI TREASURER'S REPORT Receipts: Cash on hand June 1, 1939... .. ., , , ., $ 56.47 Alumni Dues , 103.00 Sale of tickets Alumni Dinner . ., 64.25 Net profit, Ice Cream Social, . , , 40.00 $263.72 Disbursements: Postage . $ 19.85 Exchange on checks - .86 Augsburg Dining Hall (Alumni Dinners) 64.25 Dr. J. 0. Evjen, Traveling Expenses ......................... 26.00 Lutheran Free Church Publishing Co. (Prtg. Bulletin) 168.77 278.72 Deficit, December 5, 1939 ,,,,,, ......... “3 15.00 M. C. DIXEN, Treasurer. Remember, it costs money to print the Alumni Bulletin! $1630 From the Class of 1939 Augsburg's College class of ’39 will do their part to See that their Alma Mater’s building program does not cease with erection of Memorial Hall. Forty-one members of the last graduating class signed non-interest bearing promisory notes, payable over a period of five years and totalling $1,630. The money is to go to the Building Fund. It is hoped that future graduating classes will take similar action in coming years so that the loyalty of the Class of ’39 will bear much more fruit than the personal contributions of the individuals concerned. Not a few members of the College Class of ’31 made similar pledges when they graduated, but last year’s class was the first to contribute on so gen- eral a scale. Fellow Alumni: Now and again reports of good work on the part of Augsburg teaching graduates come to us. Now and then we receive reports of promotions, dif- ficult as these are to secure in these days even when well earned. The Placement Bureau can report no startling record in its work the past year, though our record is as good as the average of the other agencies. It has been a poor year for placing teachers. I should personally be pleased to receive news about teachers, whether it be in regard to promotions or other experiences. I am interested in knowing about that summer session at the University of North Dakota, that trip to Yellowstone Park. and that plunge into the matrimonial sea. Good wishes for a happy year in 1940! MARTIN Quansncx, Director of the Teachers’ Placement Bureau. Augsburg Alumni Bulletin 4 Show less
fiagshurg fllumnifiulletin Things are always "happening" in this ambitious young man’s life. Now he is married. While a student at Augsburg he was active in a wide number of activities—including football. He played a guard position on the championship team of 1928. Feel- ing a call to travel he took... Show morefiagshurg fllumnifiulletin Things are always "happening" in this ambitious young man’s life. Now he is married. While a student at Augsburg he was active in a wide number of activities—including football. He played a guard position on the championship team of 1928. Feel- ing a call to travel he took time off to make a world tour, then re- turned, and was graduated in 1935. Since graduation he has spent a large share of his time at Augs- burg. He was the moving spirit in promoting the Augsburg Quar- tette's visit to Norway. He was manager for the Augsburg Choir. Under his leadership the Employ- ment Bureau widened its services to become of great importance in the program of student help. llhat Mm" 3- B'Wden Augsburg’s enrollment increased so rapidly in 1937-38 was at least in some measure due to his “push” in the student solicitation program. When the Alumni Association needed an Executive Secretary, he was chosen, and had an important part in the successful drive for building Memorial Hall. The Lutheran Free Church Publishing Company last summer selected - Mr. Abner Batalden to manage its business. From all reports things are humming at the Cedar Avenue plant. Trinity Congregation of Duluth lost one of its most active members when Martha Bjornstad became Mrs. Batalden in December. But she still carries on her work as Executive Secretary of the Luther League Federation of the Lutheran Free Church. however, and helps her hus- band at the Publishing Company. She has already taken her place in the work of Trinity Congregation of Minneapolis. She is a busy lady. too. But then—a man who “does things" needs a wife of the same caliber. . —N. c. A. Should Augsburg Alumni create a {allowable mud tor worthy graduates who wish to continue their education? 33:}: such a policy stimulate scholastic work at Augsburg? Augsbur- Alumni rallytothesupportdsucha jsct? Isthlsaaoodhiaafnyouthtnkao.seepue3. "0 Lu. . V e Show less
Dedication Marks Homecoming Augsburg’s new Sverdrup-Oftedal Memorial Hall has been officially de- dicated. In the presence of hundreds of friends of Augsburg, in the gathering twi- light of a beautiful November day, Dr. T. O. Burntvedt spoke the solemn words of consecration, “. . . to the glory of... Show moreDedication Marks Homecoming Augsburg’s new Sverdrup-Oftedal Memorial Hall has been officially de- dicated. In the presence of hundreds of friends of Augsburg, in the gathering twi- light of a beautiful November day, Dr. T. O. Burntvedt spoke the solemn words of consecration, “. . . to the glory of God and the welfare of our fellow men. . . ." It was Augsburg’s seventieth anniversary. It was a time to celebrate; it was a time to dedicate; it was a time to face the challenge of this new day. Pastor Asmund Oftedal of Spokane, Wash., preached the Homecoming ser- mon in the morning of Dedication Day. Then in the afternoon the Rev. John A. Houkom, president of the Board of Trustees, unfolded the story of the movement which resulted in the building of the new dormitory, tracing its beginning back to the idea of a “Greater Augsburg," presented at the Golden Jubilee celebration held twenty years earlier. Dr. George Sverdrup, the speaker pointed out, became the driving force of the new venture. He gave himself unreservedly to the task until his death in 1987, and with that impetus, and the forceful leadership of Dr. T. 0. Burn- tvedt, who was chosen to direct the project to its completion, the task was completed. It remained for Dr. Bumtvedt, president of the Lutheran Free Church, in his dedicatory address to bring the audience to the high point of the entire celebration. Dr. Burntvedt stated that Sverdrup-Oftedal Memorial Hall will stand for several things: 1. As God's answer to our prayers. 2. As a testimony of the loyalty of the friends of Augsburg. .- 8. As a testimony of their loyalty to the ideals of education for which Augsburg stands. _ ' 4. As a declaration of faith in Augsburg’s future and a challenge to faceiit. Professors H. N. Hendrican and Andreas Helland each made real con- tributions to the festivities, the former at the Homecoming banquet, and the latter in a fellowship luncheon. About 360 attended the banquet and bean) how every trial in Augsburg's history had really brought a blessing in that) it brought Augsburg friends into closer fellowship with God, who is able to satisfy every need. At the fellowship luncheon guests were those who had served on special committees for the dormitory. Tethem and a large‘num: ber of others, Professor Holland gave reminiscences of his experiences with the two men for whom the dormitory is named. It was a hallowed and low: to-be-remombered moment when he, on behalf -of former students of the two, teachers, presented portraits of Sverdrup and Oftedal, which were unveiled fox-i all to see. These portraits will hang permanently on the south wall of the? dining hall so that future students and visitors (Continued on page 8)§ 5 Augsburg Alumni Bullsz Show less
The Augsburg Alumni “Steering Committee“ President: Leland Sateren Secretary: Grace Jensen Viceopresident: Kristofer Hagen Treasurer: Rev. Marius Dixen ADVISORY COUNCIL: Mr. John Blegeu Professor S. 0. Severson Dr. Bernhard Christensen Alumni Oiflce, Augsburg College and Seminary, Minneapolis.... Show moreThe Augsburg Alumni “Steering Committee“ President: Leland Sateren Secretary: Grace Jensen Viceopresident: Kristofer Hagen Treasurer: Rev. Marius Dixen ADVISORY COUNCIL: Mr. John Blegeu Professor S. 0. Severson Dr. Bernhard Christensen Alumni Oiflce, Augsburg College and Seminary, Minneapolis. Minnesota, January 1, 1940. Hello Grads! As you will gather from reading this bulletin, the Seventieth Anniversary Homecoming went a long way beyond being just a noteworthy event. So many things of vital significance were packed into those few days! But the days of this Homecoming are now quite some time past and, though we are happy for and cherish them. we step forward (I almost wrote “leap") with them as our starting point. It is probably true that the alumni organizations in many of our colleges and universities exist more in name than in concrete manifestations of their existence. It is probably equally as true that Auggie alumni don't want that statement made of them—because they feel their organization is a living thing, functioning actively in the interests of Augsburg. Last year you recall the “Eight Points of Action” which served as the basis for the Alumni Association’s work; and they were carried through in line style. The program this year is not outlined in so many points. but there are several things which the members of the Executive Committee and Alumni Advisory Council have talked about during their luncheon meetings that should be passed on to you for your consideration. One of them is mentioned in this letter—right now. It was proposed that the Alumni Association sponsor a Fellowship (or Scholarship)—each year to be awarded an especially meritorious Augsburg graduate wishing to do graduate study. Such a fellowship, of a sum not stated but recommended not less than $200, would have a number of exceedingly desirous results. It would, for instance, provide a very real chance (which might not otherwise offer itself) for the chosen graduate to continue study in his field. Surely it would be a stimulus for higher academic achievement here at Augsburg, and thus there would be a gradual raising of the academic standards of the entire school. . . . And so on. There are any number of such implications. Augsburg Alumni Bulletin , 2 Show less
Alumni Yields to Varsity 32-27 When the Alumni All-Stars bas- ketball quint, piloted by “Si” Mel- by took to the Armory floor, they pressed Cully Swanson’s Varsity boys to capacity before yielding 32-27. Alvin Severson, left, and Ossie Oudal, right, were two of the alumni that played on the... Show moreAlumni Yields to Varsity 32-27 When the Alumni All-Stars bas- ketball quint, piloted by “Si” Mel- by took to the Armory floor, they pressed Cully Swanson’s Varsity boys to capacity before yielding 32-27. Alvin Severson, left, and Ossie Oudal, right, were two of the alumni that played on the Augsburg Conference Champion- ship team’ in 1927. Six of the Alumni athletes, Kenny Schmit, Al Knutson, Lorrin Dahlager, Gerald Person, “Red” Nelson, and Ernie Anderson are coaches in the Northwest. HOMECOMING (Cont. from p. 5) must all be reminded of the men who, more than any other, were responsible for the establishment of the school on a firm basis. And so another Homecoming passed into history. Possibly in the future. Augsburg friends may mark it as one of the most significant of her anni- versaries. There were present few perhaps who were not solidly in agree- ment with the statement of Pastor John A. Houkom: “This . . . does not mark a terminal point of Augsburg’s history. It is but a mile-post. We must match steadily forward." N. C. A. Auesauaa Comma AND SEMINAIY Minneapolis, Minnesota Return Postage Guaranteed 05w! % UWg-m_ Sec. 562 P.L. a R. Augsburg Alumni Bulletin Vol. 3, No. 1 Winter Number for the Year 1939-40 Show less
Roll Harbo Heads FBI Statistical Dept. Augsburg has trained men and women for positions in all walks of life, but the work of Rolf Harbo is unique in character from that of any of her alumni, for he is head of the Division of Criminal Statistics, the Department of Justice, Washington, D. C. ~ Mr.... Show moreRoll Harbo Heads FBI Statistical Dept. Augsburg has trained men and women for positions in all walks of life, but the work of Rolf Harbo is unique in character from that of any of her alumni, for he is head of the Division of Criminal Statistics, the Department of Justice, Washington, D. C. ~ Mr. Harbo was born in Duluth on March 5. 1902. He was graduated from Augsburg Academy and entered the college department in the year 1918 at the age of sixteen. While at school he was very active in band work and toured with the band for several years, playing the comet. He was also very interested in basketball activities. He was graduated in 1922 with a B. A. degree. A few years later he obtained his Master’s degree at the University of Minnesota. After acting as Superintendent of Schools at Buffalo, North Dakota, for seven years, he entered the University of Minnesota Law School. Following his completion of the law course, he passed an examination to the Department of Justice. He has been with the F. B. I. since 1932. . The division with which Mr. Harbo is departmental head deals with crimi- nal statistics, including the photographs and fingerprints of criminals from the entire United States. Complete information of each individual is recorded and'filed. Mr. Harbo is on call for the department twenty-four hours a day. It is said that Edgar Hoover knows exactly where any of his agents are at any hour of the day or night. ' Because the work of the F.B.l. is comparatively new, several of the agents devote a greater part of their time to the promoting of interest in the de- partment. Mr. Harbo has travelled constantly during the past three years into every state, familiarizing the public with the bureau and also appearing asha government witness at trials. The F.B.I. has in its employ members from every profession, but the greater number of them are lawyers such as Mr. Harbo. The agents must pass rigid examinations for entrance and aside from being educationally trained, they must be in perfect physical condition. In order to keep fit, regular gymnasium work is required. , As for future plans—Mr. Harbo has always cherished the idea of a private law practice, but because he enjoys his work with Uncle Sam’s F.B.I., he doubts that this plan will materialize for some time. —From the Augsburg Echo. Wedding Bells ' Rolf Hal-ho, '22, to Grace Croyle, Washington, D. C. 'Marie Molvik, ’37, to Oscar Skie, Canton, South Dakota. Clarence Larson, ’39, (Seminary) to Mildred Qualheim, Racine, Wis. Hannah Mehus, ’38, to John Stensvaag, 36, Rockford, [11. Maurice Molvik. ’39, (Seminary) to Helen Quanbeck of Minneapolis. Abner Batalden, ’36, to Martha Bjornstad of Duluth. Cliflord Johnson, ’34, to Ruth‘ Pederson, Grand Forks, N. Dak. Oliver Sidney, '37, to Elizabeth Thompson, Argyle, Wis. James Peterson, ’34, to Margaret Strom, Worchester, Mass. Minibar, Alumni Bulletin 8 Show less
I-Ie obtrusiver displays this offensive wound, and pointing to it, whines— a professional whine, of course, — and mutters about his miseries to arouse sympathy. The unconcerned passers-by take no heed of his ever-present beggar’s wallet, nor bother to consider that a few coins might save him from... Show moreI-Ie obtrusiver displays this offensive wound, and pointing to it, whines— a professional whine, of course, — and mutters about his miseries to arouse sympathy. The unconcerned passers-by take no heed of his ever-present beggar’s wallet, nor bother to consider that a few coins might save him from starvation. He is worthy of nothing but curses and insults. He is merely a miserable wretch to the Chinese public and not to be regarded as a human with body, mind, and soul. EVELYN OLSON, ’41 An Ideal Conversationalist F conversation is the dress of the mind, the manner in which one converses and the essence of what he says will be a fair index to his character traits. One can learn a great deal about a person by marking thoughtfully what he says or does not say about others. A chatter-box quickly reflects his shallowness. If we desire to talk all the time we had better acquire the characteristic depicted by Mark Twain: “he had a good memory and a tongue hung in the middle of it.” A lady once remarked, “If there is nothing else to talk about there is always the weather to fall back upon.” Most people choose to avoid such talking-machines whose subjects of conversation are practically limited to weather re- ports. “The smaller the calibre of the mind, the greater the bore of the perpetually open mouth.” Conversational ability is an art and springs from the storehouse of the mind. When the words fall spontaneously and are spoken charitably and without afiectation or desire for self—elevation, one can appreciate what is said. Open-mindedness, sincerity, unselfish- ness, frankness seasoned with tact, and a good sense of humor are desirable qualities in a conversationalist. He keeps the ball rolling without condescending to gossip however true is the news bit indulged in. Since conversational ability is an art and since art pro- poses to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments, it is worth striving to attain. Surely it is within the reach of all. SYNNOVE STENBERG, ’41 DIAL 26 Show less
I Wish I Could Write I WISH I could write. I wish I could write. Reading what others have written gives me much pleasure and almost as much pain because I can’t do it. All pale blue and yellow over there behind the church steeple. The sky is beautiful this evening. God is everywhere in the quiet-... Show moreI Wish I Could Write I WISH I could write. I wish I could write. Reading what others have written gives me much pleasure and almost as much pain because I can’t do it. All pale blue and yellow over there behind the church steeple. The sky is beautiful this evening. God is everywhere in the quiet- ness about me. Strange, to feel such grandeur and solitude in the city, such majesty, and power and glory. I wish I could make you feel it. I dream and imagine things that are so interesting and real to me that I just live in them. If I try to tell them to you they be- come drab and unreal. They sound silly. There are all sorts of interesting people about me. They have the most interesting faces, and the stories behind them! Some of them I just imagine, some of them I know, but I can never convey them to you so that you can know them. Sometimes my feelings—but if I try to describe them to you, you’d think me strange or sentimental because I’d express them clumsily. There are times when it seems that that which is within me will actually smother me. Will it always be like this? “Words beat against my heart like birds with broken wings.” Sara Teas— dale expressed that for me. I never could. I wished their wings would become whole; so they could roar out from my heart into yours. I wish I could write. MABLE NELSON, ’41 DIAL 32 Show less
Prairies in Winter THE wind is bitterly cold. The elements in wild abandon hurl the snow against my face; each particle stings like the lash of a whip. My hands are almost numb and my feet, practi- cally devoid of feeling, stumble along in the drifts. I shiver in- voluntarily, and draw my coat... Show morePrairies in Winter THE wind is bitterly cold. The elements in wild abandon hurl the snow against my face; each particle stings like the lash of a whip. My hands are almost numb and my feet, practi- cally devoid of feeling, stumble along in the drifts. I shiver in- voluntarily, and draw my coat more closely around me. A few feet ahead, the lights of home shine feebly through the blackness of the night. My sigh of relief is only a gasp carried away on the wings of the storm. The scene changes. Snow is falling in soft flakes. It covers the grey old weatherbeaten buildings, ravaged by prairie wind and rain, and makes a white silhouette of the few brave poplars on our main street. The moon looks down on the prairie world, bathing it in a pale yellow light. From my position by the gate I see the raflroad tracks to the left fornnng tvvo thnn fanniy gleaming lines. The country road running parallel to them is a mere black thread winding among the hills until it fades into the hofizon. Again the scene changes. The air is crisp and cold and clear. I cannot feel the raw, penetrating wind heavy with black smoke that makes my eyes smart and almost suffocates me. The sun is shining from a sky of cloudless blue, and the reflection of its rays seem to make each snowflake sparkle with a dazzling brilliance all its own. I cannot see buildings coated with a sooty grime, rising far above me, and almost shutting out the view of God’s skies. The black snow is gone. There is a crunching sound under— neath my feet as I walk out the “Blue Trail” that leads out of our little prairie town. I do not feel treacherous, icy sidewalks be- neath rne. Why do I feel so gloriously free? Why do my spirits soar un- til they almost reach the blue sky above me? I am a child of the prairies. They call me with a call that I cannot resist. Carl Sand- burg says, “I have loved the prairies as a man with a heart shot full of pain over love.” I love them, too. To my memory will always come the thought of a moonlit night on the prairies when “the only sound’s the sweep of easy wind and downy flake.” I will see the wild winds swirling the snow in fury across the DIAL 28 Show less
On Spaghetti DANTE had his Inferno, I have my spaghetti. As a matter of fact, I think that Dante must have encountered spaghetti at one time or another previous to the writing of his masterpiece because only a person subjected to violent torture and tribula- tions could ever so magnificently... Show moreOn Spaghetti DANTE had his Inferno, I have my spaghetti. As a matter of fact, I think that Dante must have encountered spaghetti at one time or another previous to the writing of his masterpiece because only a person subjected to violent torture and tribula- tions could ever so magnificently describe that Place. Then I think that spaghetti has had something to do with the life of that eminent Italian statesman, Mussolini, he of the dour visage, for only one who has had repeated contacts with the ignominious thing could so perpetually wear such a mask of ferocity. You may wonder why I attribute these to spaghetti. I shall endeavor to show you by citing some of my experiences with the detestable animal, or fruit. After all “Truth is stranger than fiction." As a very young child (and may I add, an exceptionally [fright child) I toddled along beside my mother, happy and carefree in the knowledge that I would some day attend Augsburg and thus be an outstanding success in my chosen field. Gradually I became aware of a great weight pressing down upon my innermost being, an indefinable something that bore more heavily upon my soul as time went on. Suddenly my superior brain began to function. In a flash it dawned on me that I had an arch enemy! I began a methodical search for him, or it, or whatever else my fertile brain chose to call it in the happy past, leaving many a stone unturned ininy‘wake Then I sat down to my first plate of spaghetti. AsI looked at the spaghetti lying so serenely and plaintively on the platter, I thought that here was another dish to placate the gourmet in me. But with my first attempt at bringing the plaguy stuff to my mouth, I knew that I was wrong. The spaghetti suddenly became possessed, squirming and writhing until it finally fell back on the plate. Therein lies the tale. Every time I would take up a forkful, it would fall back in a most tantalizing manner. In some instances if I were lucky, I would manage to catch one or two strands, but these vvere feVV and far betvveen. As I vainly attempted to nourish myself, a load seemed to be lifted off my mind. I knew that I had found my arch enemy! Spaghetti! I was confused, bewildered. Then my mind began clearing and I became cool and collected, I must fight this thing, DIAL 30 Show less
treeless plains “when the icy sleet pounds on the storm windows and the house lifts to a great breath.” I will walk in fancy out the “Blue Trail” and feel myself a part of the vast glittering expanse that is the prairie in winter. IRENE HUGLEN, ’43. Trees in Autumn YESTERDAY we lived. Proudly we... Show moretreeless plains “when the icy sleet pounds on the storm windows and the house lifts to a great breath.” I will walk in fancy out the “Blue Trail” and feel myself a part of the vast glittering expanse that is the prairie in winter. IRENE HUGLEN, ’43. Trees in Autumn YESTERDAY we lived. Proudly we bore our crowns of red and gold while the happy sunbeams danced on our brilliant heads. All the world was alive and full of glory in a riotous splash of color. The air was thick with the intoxicating smoky haze of Indian summer. As if struck by the beauty of the scene below them, groups of fluffy clouds hung low in the sky while the sun rinsed them to snow—whiteness. But that was yesterday. Yester- day we lived and dreamed happily of similar autumns in the past; dreamed as we stood there on a soft carpet of bright yellows, red, and browns; stood there lazily nodding our heads in the sunlight. Today we are dead. We died last night in the deathly silence of swirling snow. Today our crowns are gone. They were torn from our heads by the mad, white rush of the snow. We are cold, for we have been standing in the snow all night. The sun does not shine on us now. The sullen clouds press down heavily upon our heads, and all the world seems to be wrapped in troubled sleep. At night, the lights of the city reflect upon the patches of snow on our stiff, black forms, while our cold, bare branches form weird figures against the sky. When you see us like this, do not think of us as despairing souls with arms appealineg outstretched upward toward the forces of nature that took away the soft rains and life-giving sun- light. We are only waiting for another spring when we shall live again, and bear new buds, new leaves, new blossoms, and new fruits. Finally, when the season is over and our work is done for another year, we shall be glorified all over again in another sym— phony of color. MYRON SANDBERG, ’42. 29 DIAL Show less
This Day l have lived this day. Today. A thousand times before and will A thousand times to come. When days are cold and dark Or things oppress me. Then will this day come again! The breath of spring. a vague elusive thing. Has wrapped itselt about the earth. The blackened snow. the ice. the... Show moreThis Day l have lived this day. Today. A thousand times before and will A thousand times to come. When days are cold and dark Or things oppress me. Then will this day come again! The breath of spring. a vague elusive thing. Has wrapped itselt about the earth. The blackened snow. the ice. the slush. The gaunt black trees have somehow Lost their ugliness and have become Part of the day. And when this day returns again It will bring back a breath of spring. The surety of lite, Of resurrection. I shall live this day again. EDNA QUANBECK, ’43 Life - A Song Life will become a beautiful song when we realize that since God is for us none can be against us, that nothing can separate us from His love, and that all things work together for good to them that love Him. In the deepest shadows or in the most brilliant sunshine of our lives the quality, be it in a major or minor key, may be rich, vibrant, and inspiring to those who hear the whole melody. O God. may music rich and rare Replace the noise in lives grown bare: May truittulness and joy abound And lite a telling message sound. SYNNOVE STENBERG, ’41 DIAL 24 Show less
Hit the Line Hard N one of his famous statements President Theodore Roosevelt once used a phrase as follows: “In life as in a football game, the principle to follow is: ‘Hit the line hard.’ ” You cannot get very far in life unless you are dead in earnest, unless you want a thing sufficiently to... Show moreHit the Line Hard N one of his famous statements President Theodore Roosevelt once used a phrase as follows: “In life as in a football game, the principle to follow is: ‘Hit the line hard.’ ” You cannot get very far in life unless you are dead in earnest, unless you want a thing sufficiently to throw every ounce of energy that you own into its gaining. Pasteur was one of the greatest successes of all time. He hit the line hard for all in which he believed—and thus he brought his ideas for the saving of human life out of the darkness and disbelief of those who laughed at his faith into the light. I i I You cannot be feeble in your attempts to master life and hope to win. I have seen many a football team gain ground steadily down the field only to be held at the last yard needed to give them the victory! With victory or defeat awaiting, the line has to be hit hard by both teams — but the one hitting it hardest, wins. Life isn’t easy. It’s a hard game. But if you do your best, there is no reason why you should be discouraged. Failure under such circumstances isn’t defeat! Defeat is something that happens in— side of one. There are those who never know that they are defeated. They make up the great of this earth—the heroes and heroines— whether recorded in song and story or not. II # *3 Objectives in this life are absolutely essential if your full share of happiness is expected. You have to keep hitting the line hard day after day, never losing sight of the thing you wish most of all. There are plenty of people with brains of a high order, but it takes more than mere brains to achieve. Within those brains must be a living, indomitable will backed by a heart on fire —one that will respond when the will says: “Hit the line hard!” VERNON BLIKSTAD, ’42 DIAL 4 Show less
fight, fight, fight. Firmly intrenched in my high chair, with my faithful fork in my trusty left hand, I thought that I would end this battle at once and prove my superiority. But it was not to be. Try as I might I could not penetrate its Maginot line, the line between the plate and my mouth. I... Show morefight, fight, fight. Firmly intrenched in my high chair, with my faithful fork in my trusty left hand, I thought that I would end this battle at once and prove my superiority. But it was not to be. Try as I might I could not penetrate its Maginot line, the line between the plate and my mouth. I tried deception, by slowly letting my fork sink in and stealtth bringing it up, but to no avail. I used a Blitzkrieg approach, jabbing my fork savagely into the spaghetti and bringing it up swiftly, but it only resulted in spaghetti showering about the room. Then I used my fingers, taking a strand of spaghetti at a time, and sucking it into my mouth with a tremendous “slu—r-r-p.” But it was contrary to all rules of etiquette, and I knew that a person of my position could not afford to take chances. Thus I lost my first encounter with spaghetti. Ever since that time in my struggles with it, it has emerged off the field tri- umphant, the whole plate of it. I am extremely grateful that I was not born an Italian. I see no hope for these hopeless people. They are doomed forever by the ravages of spaghetti. ORLEY ANDERSON, ’43 A Poet “W HAT is a poet? An unhappy man, who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when his cries and his sighs stream over them, they sound like beautiful music. . . . And men crowd about the poet and say to him: Sing for us soon again; which is as much as to say to him: My new sufferings come to torture your soul, and may your lips continue to be formed as before; for the cries would only terrify us, but the music is delicious. And the critics step upon the scene, and say: Quite correct; so it ought to be by the rules of Esthetics. To be sure, a critic resembles a poet to a hair; only he has not the anguish in his heart, nor the music upon his lips. And for this reason I would rather be a swineherd, and be understood by the swine, than be a poet and be misunderstood by men.” S¢REN KIRKEGAARD. 3I DIAL Show less
