4. Four of a Kind

Gold Rush prospecters with shovels

The story began in a boy’s locker room, well… or nearly so!
 
An existing high school boy’s quartet was reorganizing. Two of the sophomore originals were looking for a new bass and first tenor to complete the quartet. There would be no auditions. All the boys in the school were friends and knew each other’s capabilities well.
 
In that time and place, most boys participated in the school’s musical ensembles—mixed chorus, men’s glee club, musicals, marching band, concert band, school plays, operettas, district and state music contests. Based on what the originals had witnessed, their choice of two new members came quickly.  The reconfigured quartet now included Gene (bass), Mike (baritone), Web (lead tenor), and Norm (first tenor). Their first appearance would be the state high school music contest.
 
This quartet of fourteen and fifteen-year-olds began their rehearsals in the only available school-day space, the boys basement locker room. The locker room was a space well suited for singing: its surfaces were tile, metal, wood, and ceramic urinals. They provided a lively acoustic space. Rehearsals served as relief from the tedious daily study halls.
 
So began their pursuit of perfect unisons and goosebump harmonies. They practiced and practiced, all without adult supervision. The sounds of their singing whirled about the locker room, with crescendos rising to the fortissimos of a twenty-voice male chorus. When speaking, their voices resonated with faux authority. This space became their favorite rehearsal venue.
 
Oh, how these four boys loved to sing. As they practiced, they learned to read each other’s facial expressions, respond to each other’s body language and note each other’s vocal cues. They repeated musical phrases until the music was to their liking.  On breaks from learning their contest music, they reveled in creating their own interpretations of popular songs, ginning up new lyrics and twisting existing lyrics to their fancy. Rehearsals often turned into joking and tease-fests with nary a scent of derision among them. Their singing skill grew through their experimentation and repetition. Their friendship deepened as their music ability refined.
 
For weeks the boys practiced in the locker room. They diligently rehearsed their contest music, tuning unisons and harmonies to near perfection. They were dogged in their pursuit of the best performance possible, hoping to take home the highest ratings from the state music contest.
 
State music contest contestants were graded on the mastery of their performance selections. They all strove to receive a #1 rating in the contest. Having won such a contest meant local prestige and the possibility of trophies, awards, and medals at the end-of-the-year school awards day. It was a matter of school pride to have large group music trophies to be displayed in the glass-encased trophy case of the gymnasium foyer.
 
The day for the state music contest arrived. The boys knew they had a good chance of earning a Division 1 rating. Dressed in their Sunday best (tweeded sport coats and contrasting narrow ties), they sang their hearts out. And so it happened that the locker room four returned home with the highest rating—number 1.
 
The boys’ confidence was affirmed as news of their ability to sing and entertain spread. Public enthusiasm for this yet unnamed local commodity was growing.
 
The quartet’s performance schedule picked up pace. They were often featured at the mid-week band shell concerts in the park. Invitations came from local churches to provide “special music” in their morning or evening services; soon they were booked for five or six services throughout the area every month.
 
The church services required a change of repertoire, a little less ‘Sha-na-na,’ ‘Get A Job,’ and ‘Tom Dooley,’ and instead more tonally and harmonically rich gospel music. Their religious repertoire included songs like ‘Beyond The Sunset,’ ‘Just A Little Talk With Jesus,’ ‘Dry Bones,’ and ‘Ride The Chariot.’ Hymns and gospel music now stood side-by-side with their popular music repertoire.
 
Still, the group had no name. What should it be?
 
At the time it was common to include “Four” in the title of male quartets, for obvious reasons. There were The Four Freshmen, The Brothers Four, The Four Lads, The Four Aces, The Four Preps, The Four Tops, and others. Inspiration was also added to the male singing scene by the songs of the Everly Brothers, Simon and Garfunkel, The Beach Boys and the Hollies.
 
There were popular gospel-singing groups that didn’t have a ‘four’ in the name. Aspiring male singers were inspired by the songs of the Everly Brothers, Simon and Garfunkel, The Beach Boys and the Hollies. The Blackwood Brothers, The Ames Brothers, 16 Singing Men, Cavalrymen, and The Christian Brothers were also household names for many Americans.
 
Soon the choice became obvious for these locker room practitioners who hailed from the same school, the same community, and the same culture. What better name than to call themselves “Four of a Kind?”
 
By the beginning of their senior year, the now-named group’s rehearsals extended well beyond the school day and into the after-school hours, conflicting with sports and farm chores. They needed an evening home for their music-making. Good fortune smiled upon them when the local photographer and sound recorder, Doc B, offered his studio as a place to rehearse in the evenings.
 
His studio was complete with the best microphones and recording equipment available at the time—a Roberts reel-to-reel dual recorder and player. Now, they didn’t have to rely upon the sounds bouncing around the locker room. Using Doc B’s equipment, they could hear themselves as others might hear them. Soon, they were rehearsing and having fun at Doc’s studio two to four evenings every week.
 
The almost unlimited rehearsal time made space for other shenanigans. There was time to make up crazy lyrics to popular songs, rehearsal segments peppered with interludes of delirious laughing. On singing breaks they occasional engaged in risky behaviors: black-top car racing, firework explosions inside an automobile, pissing matches, an all-night trip to Minneapolis, and late-night trips to the local sand pit for some birthday-suit swimming.
 
But the glue that attracted and held them together was music.
 
Sometime in the spring of their 1961 senior year, they heard about a contest celebrating the Centennial of the Dakota territory. The contest was open to all persons within the three-state viewing area of Kelo-Land TV, a Sioux Falls, South Dakota television station.

It was the winning prize that piqued the interest of the boys. The grand prize was an all-expense paid trip to New York City, and an appearance on the nationally syndicated and popular TV show, The Ted Mack Original Amateur Hour. But first, they had to compete locally with entrants from the Kelo-Land television area.

The two-part contest started with a preliminary round, competing in Sioux Falls against local people. Local contest winners would advance and compete in the finals for the big prize.

Entering the contest was a no-brainer for the boys.

Once registered, the boys concentrated more than ever before, extending their rehearsals while maintaining their local performance commitments in churches and civic events. They carved out time to prepare and cut a record of their favorite songs.
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The boys were now ready to compete in the first competition. Yes, the grand NYC prize was indeed impressive, but also was the prize at the Centennial celebration of the Dakota territory itself, a red transistor radio for the five winners of this competition. Kelo-Land held a series of eleven contests throughout the area, competitions referred to as “The Gold Rush.” Over 500 acts vied to win the big prize at the August 1961 Kelo-Land “Gold Rush” Competition.

At that local Gold Rush competition, Four of a Kind were one of the five winners.

Being one of the five winners, qualified Four of a Kind to compete in the state-wide celebration of the Centennial of the Dakota territory. The celebration would commence on November 14, 1961, in a grain field near the small town of Manchester, South Dakota. The celebration was to last for two days, with a talent show as part of the celebration. In addition to the talent show, the centennial committee had organized an on-site gold rush. Hundreds of capsules were buried in a 100’x200’ plot of ground. Five hundred contestants were given a shovel to search for $35,000 cash and prizes. Most ‘prospectors’ won something, but the grand prize winner won $10,000, an amount unimaginable at a time when one could buy a hamburger and fries at the Central Café for twenty-five cents.

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Centennial Site in Manchester, SD

The boys left their Iowa homes early in the morning for the 200-mile journey northwest to the celebration site. Upon arrival, they were surprised at the thousands of cars parked in the surrounding flat fields and the rows of cars lining roads leading to the celebration grounds.

Soon they were on stage testing the sound equipment and practicing their song. With sound checks and staging completed, the contestants waited backstage for their performance in the hot, South Dakota sun. From behind the curtain, they watched their competition rehearse their acts.

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Four of a Kind performing at Gold Rush Review

Finally, their performance time arrived. The boys walked on stage to a sea of faces. Organizers estimated the largest assembly of people ever gathered in South Dakota history to date with more than 100,000 people attending the celebration.
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There were eight contestants in this talent contest final. By late afternoon, all the performance were completed. They waited for the judges’ decision. One judge represented the Ted Mack show. Another was Clint Eastwood, star of the popular television show, Rawhide. Clint’s sidekick was Paul Brinean, who played ‘Wishbone’ on the same show.

Finally, Clint Eastwood announced that there would two winners: the baton-twirling sisters from South Dakota and the Four of a Kind boy’s quartet from Iowa.[1] The boys were ecstatic.

They were going to fly on a plane to a place they had only heard about in books and news reports.

On November 26, 1961, the Ted Mack Original Amateur Hour, a weekly national broadcast aired by CBS affiliates throughout the country, would record their weekly live show. It would be the third contest entry for the boys. The local sponsoring stations were to collect votes from the public to determine who would be the winner. Those winners were often invited back to a subsequent show for an encore appearance.

The boys readied themselves. Four of a Kind needed proper performance attire, something flashier than the tweed sport coats and solid-color skinny ties. They searched and shopped for something appropriate and affordable. They found nothing. One of the boys suggested they ask to borrow the red blazers, complete with a large school crest, from a local college. No cost! A done deal, this inexpensive but colorful choice for a black-and-white broadcast! Perhaps the live audience at The Albert Fisher Hall in New York City might like the added color.

After the Centennial of the Dakota territory contest, the boys matriculated into different colleges, suspending regular rehearsals. Four of a Kind continued to sing together at some college frat parties and other functions. Rehearsals and preparation continued when possible for the song they planned to perform in New York. There was little anxiety among them as they awaited their debut on the Ted Mack Original Amateur Hour show. As much as they anticipated the performance, they were just as excited about their first plane ride and chances to explore a big city.

On November 23, 1961, the departure date for New York City arrived. There on the tarmac sat the plane, its nose pointing up in the air, ready for boarding. The boys boarded the plane, full of wonder, apprehension, and excitement, their eyes bulging at the beautiful and colorfully dressed stewardesses who treated them like celebrities!

So… this is what luxury looks and feels like? Two more servings please!

Eventually New York City came into view through the small round window of the airplane. The young boys immediately recognized the Empire State Building, the 102-story crown of the Big Apple skyline.

They were met at the tarmac by Mrs. Beckjordan, a representative of CBS. She was tasked with wining (minus the wine) and dining the four boys and their chaperone, Doc B. She seemed just as pleased and surprised to meet four boys from the hinterland as the boys were overwhelmed by the urban chaos and impressed by a lady who could command a yellow cab to stop just with the wave of her hand. “Hmmm,” the boys thought, they were in the presence of a powerful, opinionated and resolute lady.

The first stop was at a hotel on 5th Avenue. The boys had never seen such a building façade with its intricate iron works and decked-out doormen. Mrs. Beckjordan shepherded the boys into the lobby and directed them to their rooms. Everything glistened with the luxury of brass, etched glass, and marble floors. “In 30 minutes, we’ll meet in the lobby, and I’ll be taking you to dinner at the Top of the Sixes,” she said. The boys had no reaction to her precocious announcement. Did she say dinner? We had dinner hours ago! She must have meant supper.  

Shortly after, the boys were catching their second cab ride through the streets of New York. The Top of the Sixes sat atop a skyscraper, but the most amazing part was that the restaurant slowly moved, allowing the boys to see the entire city. They had seen 60’-tall silos and five-story buildings, but nothing like a skyscraper forty stories high.

The next morning the boys met Mrs. Beckjordan in the hotel lobby. “Our dress rehearsal will be at 2:00 this afternoon at the theatre, with the orchestra and a chance to meet Mr. Mack. But this morning, I’m going to show you some New York City highlights.”

First stop: the Empire State Building. Stepping out of the cab, their necks strained to see the spire and antenna at the top. The speedy elevator ride up left their stomachs behind.

Next: the United Nations Headquarters. The boys had read about the mission and reason for the UN… now here they were, blinded by its modern glass and steel. Then, having spotted Central Park from the plane, soon they were stretching their legs in the impressive stretch of green tucked between the tall buildings. The boys were spellbound.
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For dinner (aka lunch), Mrs. Beckjordan took them to the Commodore Room of Hotel Pierre. She informed them they were being served by the head waiter of the Queen Mary. The table was exquisitely set. One of the boys asked Mrs. Beckjordan why the little ‘soup bowls’ with water in them were so tiny. She responded to this innocent but naïve question: “They are bowls to wipe you fingers.” With a hint of derision in her voice. What?
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By early afternoon, they were ready for another Yellow Cab ride to the theatre. “Whoa, this is huge!” they said, entering The Albert Fisher Hall. “Is this place going to be full of people?” they asked.  Mrs. Beckjordan nodded and guided them backstage from where they could see Mr. Mack talking with other contestants. The boys were nervous, but very excited about their good fortune as Mrs. Beckjordan signaled them to walk on stage to meet Mr. Mack, the most famous person any of them had ever met.

He was kind and rather soft-spoken. He looked exactly as he did on TV, his wavy hair, likely treated with Brylcream. He was not as tall as some of his Iowa guests, but he put them at ease immediately. “So, you are the boys who won the contest in South Dakota?” he asked. They eagerly shook our heads in affirmation.

“Who is going to be your spokesman?” he asked.  “It will be me,” answered Mike. There were a few more minutes of chatting and small talk before they left the stage as Mr. Mack went off to meet other contestants.

From backstage, Four of a Kind waited for their turn to practice their stage entrance and a one-time-through rehearsal of “Li’l Lize, I Love You.” They watched as Five Dancing Teenagers, an impersonator, a German band, more baton twirlers, and a singing patrol officer rehearsed their performances. All acts were accompanied by a live orchestra. Finally it was Four of a Kind’s turn to run through their short song. The theatre was dark and empty, but even so, they could sense it’s cavernous size.

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Sardi's Dining Room April 2026-Taken by webmaster while in New York City

Mr. Beckjordan met them backstage. “Ok, we’re going to go to Sardi’s for dinner.” she stated. Again, the boys registered a mild surprise, dinner?

She explained that Sardi’s was a place where celebrities and famous singers were often spotted and where all the waiters were singers. The boys walked through the double glass doors and looked with amazement at all the finely dressed patrons seated at tables with white table cloths. One of the waiters was singing a song from an opera without a microphone. Mrs. Beckjordan smiled at the boys’ wide-eyed attention.

The group was led to a reserved table where the waiter put cloth napkins across their laps. The boys looked at the menu with all its foreign words. Noticing their distress, Mrs. Beckjordan and Doc B offered some suggestions. Trying not to appear ignorant, the boys accepted their suggestions without question.

Somehow, the word got out, probably thanks to Mrs. Beckjordan, that there was a boys’ quartet in the house. The four teenage boys were asked to sing. Unabashedly, they stood up at their table and sang two songs.

After a modest meal, Mrs, Beckjordan was presented with the bill. Somehow, the boys saw the bill. The figure on the bottom was an outlandish amount of $54 and some cents! The boys were dumbfounded. How could six people possibly spend over $54 for one meal? Back home, they could get a broasted chicken dinner at the drive-in for $1.20.

On Sunday morning Mrs. Beckjordan met them at the hotel. She was dressed in very fancy clothes. “This your big day, boys.” The boys had grown rather fond of her “mother-henning” them.

The taping and live broadcast was scheduled for the afternoon before a live, full-capacity audience. The boys nervously waited backstage for their turn to perform on a national stage. They peeked through the curtains apprehensively. On stage were the two baton twirlers from South Dakota, who had also won the trip to New York via Kelo-Land TV. In what seemed like hours, but was only minutes, Mr. Mack announced, “And now, we have a singing group from South Dakota, Four of a Kind.”

youtube.com/shorts/D-OoeeulRRE?si=t05t5L4fzlGxoKI_
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Four of a Kind emerged from backstage to polite applause. “Well, we just had five lovely ladies calling themselves the Five Queens. Can Four of a Kind beat five queens?” Mr. Mack asked.

“Well, I don’t know if we can beat ‘em, but we’d sure like to meet ‘em,” answered Mike, with a small laugh from Mr. Mack and the audience.

“What are you boys going to sing?” asked Mr. Mack.

“We’re going to sing ‘Li’l Lize, I Love You,’” Mike answered.

There was polite clapping as Mike gave the pitch, after which they were underway performing this one minute, fifty-eight second ditty.

​The song went well for Four of a Kind. An ovation followed the song. Almost as quickly as it started, the Ted Mack Original Amateur Hour was over for Four of a Kind.

This national contest was won by another group, but nothing was over for the boys of Four of a Kind. The relationship that had begun a few years earlier would always be an important part of their lives. For that week in November of 1961, the boys of Four of a Kind lived their dream.
 

Footnotes:
[1] Thanks to Perry Groten, Curator at the Old Courthouse Museum in Sioux Falls, South Dakota for the Gold Rush information. Groten, Perry (Writer). (2025, November 14). “Striking gold at the old courthouse museum.” KELO Sioux Falls. Nexstar Media, Inc. 

CONTRIBUTORS; Gene Bonnema, Mike Oelric, Perry Groten, Historian for KELO-LAND TV; Paul Farmer, Historian and Archivist for the Old Courthouse Museum in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Albert Fisher. Historian for the Ted Mack Original Amateur Hour; Cathy Te Slaa proof reader, Caesar Orosco web master, Kim Van Es editor

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​                                       3. Then...The Pages Were Blank

The primary content of this retelling comes from a diary written by my dad, Gerrit H. Te Slaa. The entries of this 1975 diary started on January 1, when both he and my mother were 68 years old. Dad loved to write, but his diary writing was less consistent than that of my mother, who maintained many yearly diaries. Dad’s interest in writing came more in the vein of writing stories and poems for friends and family, pieces for special occasions such as wedding receptions and anniversaries, and essays on religious subjects.
 
Throughout their working years and into their retirement, Dad and Mom lived lives filled with participation. They were deeply involved in church, civic and farm matters. Throughout his many years as a farmer, Dad had built a regional reputation as an officer and state-wide leader in a national movement called the National Farmers Organization, known as the NFO. For many years he served in the consistory of the church and taught Sunday school. He was active in Kiwanis. Dad was the person to whom family and friends came for advice. He was a peacemaker, and he was generous with his financial help.
 
His diary of January, February and part of March 1975 details life activities centering around his family, siblings and relatives, the church, community and travel. Of course, being a farmer, with one eye to the sky, the weather figured predominately in his diary during those early days of 1975. Mom’s diary shows that same attention to the weather.
 
By January 1 of 1975, they had been in retirement for several years and were spending part of their winters in Arizona. They had built a new home in Hull, Iowa. Their one-level home was an easy walk to church, close to friends, family and downtown. It was common for people in Hull to see the 3020 John Deere tractor parked on the driveway of their home in town, ready for the next day of farm field work.
 
The year’s entries start from Arizona.
 
January 1: Paid rent to Mrs. Vermeer for 1974. 40 acres at $45 per acre
 
January 17: After supper we went to the 1st Assembly of God. Liked it better than Thurs night, but too many ‘amens’.  (Dad and Mom were vacationing in Mc Allen, Texas, with Pete and Gertrude Pollema.)
 
January 22: Today it rained almost all the time. Haven’t seen the sun at no time. If it was always this way it would be better in Iowa.

January 24: Tonight is letter writing night. 10:00 mom is asleep.
 
January 25: Bought gifts for kids. Renita and Glenda stationary, Harwin Bingo, Beth purse, Darwin puzzles, Lisa comfy brush, Galon key chain, Kevin bingo, Loren keys, Cheryl comb and brush.
 
January 26: Went to 1st Pres Church – Reading the first four chapters of Matthew. Seems these people are not too familiar with the Bible.
 
February 6: Waco, Texas. Mom would like to go straight home to witness the double baptism. (The baptisms of Brad and Brian Gorter)
 
February 9: On to Glenwood. Saw Glen, on to home, unloaded, supper, Peter and Gertrude left for home.
 
February 10: Lunch in Sioux City. Stopped at pet shop. Picked up two birds. One killed by cat.
 
February 12: Went to Chester De Boer. Paid for 10 bags of corn $364.91. Had a Big 4 meeting at Bill and Etta. Two main topics, snowstorm and Texas. (”Big 4” referred to Dad and his siblings)
 
From the middle of February to the middle of March 1975, diary entries were mostly taken up with weather observations, visits to and from family and friends, co-op meetings, church commitments, study groups, funerals and Kiwanis meetings. Dad was still a part-time farmer, selling 1500 bushels of corn for $2.65 a bushel. The next-door neighbor Marie and other friends and acquaintances would regularly consult with him about the progress of his poems and Yankee Dutch writings. At the time he was writing for the upcoming Koele family anniversary.
 
Mom continued as a board member of a senior citizens group, while also working with ceramics and building and refinishing furniture. Both Dad and Mom were busy with foster parent meetings and hospital visits to family, friends, and neighbors.
 
There were frequent trips to Sioux Falls for treatment of Mom’s stomach problems and recovery from a significant car accident some years prior. Mom’s surgery for a ruptured ulcer was scheduled for March 23, 1975. Dad had been recently diagnosed with a kidney infection while consulting with a doctor about cholesterol medications.
 
February 13 to February 28: Dad writes on a variety of topics.
 
Went with Cleo to buy a 706 tractor for $5300. The next day was a quiet day, no one here, went to Sioux Falls for baptism of Bradley and Brian, 3 weeks today been to Dr., must come back in 3 or 4 weeks, went to Classes to vote on women ministers, went to microwave school, I was the only man there, Ladies Aid, gave $3.00 per month for a year to Billy Graham, annual prayer service for crop and industry, I went with Howard to Miller S.D He bought 81 calves $24.50 to $26.00 got home at 1:30 a.m. Went to the first senior citizens potluck. Mom was nominated on the board. Foster parents met as SC public library. Marie Douma was here about a piece for 40th wedding anniversary.
 
March 1 to March 20:
On Friday, March 21, 1975: Significant changes began to happen. That day was their big 45th wedding anniversary celebration. To celebrate, the Te Slaa and Van Marel families and friends gathered at the First Reformed Church in Hull. The films and photos show a gathering of happy, seemingly healthy folks.
 
But even as these joyful celebrations took place, apprehension was building regarding medical  appointments the following week. Mom was scheduled for ulcer surgery in Sioux Falls. Dad’s diary reflects worries about Mom and health issues of his own.
  
Sunday, March 23:  Mom stayed home from church. Mom to enter McKennan hospital at 3:00 p.m. Left for Sioux Falls about 2:00 p.m. Mom entered hospital about 3:15 in a 3 bed, small room.

Monday, March 24: Mom got ready for surgery.

Tuesday, March 25: Mom’s surgery scheduled.  Mom left her room 6:30 a.m. I was there at 6:10. After surgery she was put into an intensive care room. Man next to her used profane language. Mom very painful.

Wednesday, March 26: Mom still painful. They say she is doing ok.

Thursday, March 27: Mom moved into a semi-private room. Her roommate had surgery today, also very painful.

Friday, March 28: Mom remains painful. Started using some liquid. Norm and Cathy and Sharon and Marv came. I babysat at C and D. Brian was cross. I went to Union Good Friday service at 1st Ref. of Sioux Falls. I slept at Norm and Cathy Sun nite to Friday nite. Had most of my meals at McKennan café.

Saturday, March 29: Mom had tubes removed today. Still painful, p.m. a little better. Jerald, Dora, Henry, Katie, Stan, Ruth and Rachel there. Also, Carolyn Cleveringa visited Mom. I went home at 5:00 oc. It was a Kiwanis Quartet program. I did not go. It’s been a cold stormy wintery weather this week. Severe storms west of Sioux Falls.
 
Saturday, March 29, 1975, was Dad’s last diary entry. There are two more entries written by a neighbor and good friend, Kate Humme. She fills in the events of the last two days of Dad’s life.
 
Sunday, March 30: Kate writes:
Walked home from church with Gerrit that morning, talked a lot, then stopped at the end of their sidewalk and talked some more, he seemed to be ok although some said they thought he looked so pale that morning. He also served communion that morning.
 
Monday, March 31: Kate writes:
Called Gerrit that morning. Asked him if he would like to go with us to Sioux Falls. He said he didn’t know yet if he was going but he said he talked with Gert this morning. Then I said something to him but got no answer. Then I said Gerritt, are you still there? But still no answer. I heard breathing then I heard the receiver fall. Thinking something happened I looked up the number of the rescue unit then ran over there. Both doors were locked but the garage door was open.  I ran in and found him lying on the floor face down. I turned him over then called the rescue unit, they were there in a few minutes but it was too late. They worked on him for 45 minutes, but he was gone.
 
EPILOGUE
It is appropriate that a friend scribed the last two entries in Dad’s diary. The lives of Garret H. Te Slaa and Gertrude Van Marel Te Slaa were very much like their friends and siblings, lives active and full of challenges. They were deeply immersed in their church and community. They communicated regularly and visited often with family and friends. They took pride in their children’s accomplishments. They were intellectually curious.  
 
People of my parents’ generation were inheritors of life’s lessons from previous generations who endured even greater hardships. They were impacted by World War I, lived and worked through the depression years and felt the devastation of World War II. They had some of the early advantages of modern medicine, yet death through disease and injury were significant life obstacles for them. They lived all their lives on farms, seldom more than a few miles from where they were born yet gave generously to human causes throughout the world.
 
They valued their heritage but spoke and wrote sparingly about it. They rarely spoke or wrote much about their feelings and experiences. What they did write offers insight into their activities but little about issues of their hearts. Even so, knowing what they did in their lives informs our understanding and fosters gratitude and appreciation for their lives. They lived consequential lives!
 
I can only encourage my contemporaries and subsequent generations to exercise inquisitiveness of the older generation and the people around you. It doesn’t have to be just family–become a good questioner and thoughtful listener to anyone intersecting with your life!
 
Personally, I have regrets for not having learned more about my parents and grandparents in fundamental and significant ways. Opportunities did exist. I could have learned so much more from them if I had only been curious and ready to listen. For example, Dad once offered to teach me how to do multiplication in my head. I pooh-poohed the idea and never listened. Consequently, I never learned that skill. That opportunity and hundreds like them are now lost for me. I regret that negligence deeply. For that, I am the poorer!

CONTRIBUTORS: Cathy Te Slaa, proofreader; Caesar Orosco, web master; Kim Van Es, editor.

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​                                         2. Infusion at the Penthouse

He checked into the clinic and was directed to the 12th floor. “We call it the penthouse,”  said the receptionist.

He knew he would like that kind of place, "Like dining on the Top of the Sixes in New York City,” he quipped.”

Just take the elevator to the 12th floor and turn left when you get off.” “Thank you,” he said, and proceeded to walk to the elevators and stepped into the first elevator going up. The elevator stopped, he stepped out and turned to the left.

A sign in big black letters hung on the wall HEMITOLOGY/ONCOLOGY!! He hesitated. I must be on the wrong floor. Should I go back down to the receptionist on the main floor and confirm the instructions from my doctor?

He decided to ask the nurse at the Oncology desk, “Is this the 12th floor?"

“Yes sir,” she answered. “This is the 12th floor” looking a bit surprised at the question. “Just have seat in the waiting room” she said, gesturing to an adjoining room.

He slowly walked into the waiting room and began to Google the word ‘Oncology.’ He read: Oncology is a branch of medicine focused on the study, diagnosis, treatment, and the prevention of cancer.

What?  There must be a mistake, he thought. I’m here for a simple shot in my arm for rheumatoid arthritis.

He had just sat down and finished reading the search definition when a nurse opened the door to the waiting room and asked: “Are you here for your nine o'clock appointment?”
“Yes,” he responded.

“Please follow me, sir."

He did as the nurse suggested and proceeded to the end of the hallway where a sign announced: ONCOLOGY.

Together they entered the room.

 It was a large room perhaps 80 x 60 feet. Around three sides of the room there were side by side recliners. All but two recliners had a person lying prone or sitting upright under white blankets.

What am I doing here, he asked himself? This is a cancer treatment center!!
With disbelief, he followed the nurse to her duty station.

The nurse handed him a pamphlet about the drug. “We are treating you with a drug called Rituximab,” she calmly explained.

“Ma'am, I need to phone my wife,” he said. “This was not what I was anticipating. I was expecting a simple shot in my arm for my rheumatoid arthritis. There must be a mistake.”
“Before I decide on this, I need to call my wife," he responded in a faltering voice.
“Sure, take your time,” she answered.

The nurse dialed the number from her duty phone, and his wife answered. The nurse proceeded to explain the meaning and use of the word ‘infusion’ and about the drug Rituximab while he eavesdropped on the conversation and read the pamphlet explanation about the drug.

The pamphlet read in part: It has been found to be effective for treatment of leukemia, lymphoma, polyangiitis, pemphigus vulgaris and rheumatoid arthritis.

Finally, he began to understand his misconception. The drug was an effective treatment for a wide range of diseases, including rheumatoid arthritis.

After a short while, all agreed to proceed with the infusion.

It was only minutes later until he was seated in one of the two vacant recliners in the treatment room, given five pills to swallow and an IV was inserted into his arm.

So began his first, seven-hour infusion in the penthouse for treatment for his rheumatoid arthritis!

                                       
​                                        1. Tribute to Web Sandbulte

My perception of Wilbur ‘Web’ Sandbulte when I knew him as upper-aged teenagers.

Web was one of God’s special creatures. He exceeded in intelligence. He led by example. He viewed himself as exceptionally average. He did not practice one upmanship with fellow humans. He had a boundless laugh. He was a good sportsman. A man with a love for music, singing and athletics. A heart that wanted to help. He played fairly with others. There were admirable streaks of adventure and risk-taking in him.

​We lost track of each other during the years of our careers. Such is my regret in our relationship, as it has happened with others. But, I know we could, at any time, pick up that relationship simply by taking the time to do so. That personal regret extends to many other relationships in which I could have done a better job in continuing to learn about others as we moved through our lives.