To the community of Rock County:What a moment it was to stand among the crowd at the Relay For Life on Friday night and hear Vivian Holst announce that not only had we beat our "stretch goal" but we had exceeded even her expectations ($45,000) to raise an amazing $50,000 for the American Cancer Society!! And that number, as we know from prior years, will continue to grow over the next couple of weeks. To be a part of such an incredible county-wide community that cares so deeply and is willing to share not only financially but with time, talents, encouragement and support is a wonderful thing. I hope everyone will congratulate our hard working teams — some business groups, some families, some gatherings of friends — who feel so passionately about this cause. Glenda Schomacker, was a FABULOUS honorary chair. We had a hard-working committee of dedicated individuals who pulled together as one, and the City of Luverne Public Works Department worked tirelessly to make our move to the park such a success. Finally, thank you to the residents of Rock County for your support for this event. Our sincere hope is that it will continue to grow each year, and that one day soon there WILL be a cure for cancer. What a celebration that will be!Vicki BaartmanNancy KaczrowskiRFL Co-Chairs

Our local hospital officials are addressing basic issues of safety and security, and as I worked on those stories this week, it occurred to me these are issues we all should be thinking about.In Minnesota, and especially here in Rock County, we’re simply too nice and too naïve.It took a rash of home burglaries a couple years ago to get people to think about locking their homes and most still don’t. Plenty don’t even lock their cars.To be trusting isn’t a bad thing, necessarily, because it means we prefer to see the good in all people, and we want to believe no one will take advantage of us.The truth of the matter, though, is that no one who’s ever been taken advantage of that way leaves a home or vehicle unlocked.So why do the rest of us insist on waiting our turn? We assume it happens to other people — until it happens to us.Maybe that’s why urban New Yorkers think we’re dumb.They’ve been educated since youth to distrust strangers, so it’s odd for them to connect with friendly Minnesotans who, in turn, think New Yorkers are rude.I’d like to think we can keep our Minnesota Nice image, but act a lot smarter when it comes to stranger danger.It’s great that our hospital employees are on the alert for would-be harm doers. We should all be so smart.They’ve been taught if someone is looking or acting out of place, it’s their job to ask the stranger questions — for their protection and the protection of the patients.They need to risk being rude to ensure safety and security.We can take our own cues from this.If someone strange is poking around our neighborhood, we should risk being rude, and ask some questions — nicely, of course.It’s hard for Minnesotans, who have been raised to mind their own business, but I also wonder how many child abductions or other crimes could be prevented if more people were paying attention and weren’t so scared of being rude.I’m certainly not advocating that we become cynical, skeptical New York snobs, but we sure don’t want our Minnesota Nice to make us easy targets.

Sunshine Special comes to LuverneThe following article was printed in the Rock County Herald on Friday, Aug. 22, 1924:Large delegation from business institutions of City to pay visit to Luverne"Sioux Falls Commercial Club’s ‘Sunshine Special,’ composed of a delegation of more than 135 people from the wholesale and retail business establishments of Sioux Falls, will pay a visit to Luverne next Wednesday, Aug. 27. The Sunshine Special train will arrive over the Omaha at 9:30 o’clock Wednesday morning, and after remaining here for 30 minutes, will leave over the Doon line for Rock Rapids. With the businessmen’s delegation will be the Sioux Falls Municipal band, and a number of vocalists of splendid ability. The main purpose of the visit is to enable members of the delegation to meet the people connected with the business houses of Luverne to the end that they may better understand their requirements and needs in a commercial way. Next most important mission is to spread sunshine and promote fellowship. Members of the Sunshine Special desire to meet just as many people from this section as possible, and Sec. Chas. McCaffree, of the Sioux Falls Commercial Club has asked the Herald to state that the delegation especially desires to have just as many children as possible, present when the special arrives. There will be souvenirs for all of them."Donations to the Rock County Historical Endowment Fund can be sent to the Rock County Historical Society, P.O. Box 741, Luverne, MN 56156.Mann welcomes correspondence sent to mannmade@iw.net.

"Sometimes they’re in the corner, sometimes they’re by the door, sometimes they’re all a-standin’ in the middle uv the floor." (From "Seein’ Things" by Eugene Field, 1850-95) Seeing scary things in the black velvet world between dusk and dawn isn’t just for small children, such as the boy in Field’s poem. When it’s dark, you’re not wearing your glasses and you’re in a strange place, it’s easy to imagine seeing things. That’s only a partial list of possible reasons for adults who continue to experience eerie visions at night. I should know. I’m one of them. Washington Post subscribers must have laughed when they read the following item in a police blotter column this spring — "Mount Olivet Road N.E., 1200 block, March 30. An animal control officer responding to a call about a snake in a bathroom reported that the snake was actually a hair band." Had it not been for my own encounter with gigantic, menacing, one-eyed snails during a vacation with my husband only a few weeks before the D.C. snake report, I might have laughed, too. My excuses might have included jet lag, replacing frigid weather from home with tropical heat and humidity, or lack of sleep. "Sometimes they are a-sittin’ down, sometimes they’re walkin’ round so softly and so creepy-like they never make a sound!" (Ibid) We had arrived at the hotel only a few hours before bedtime and there hadn’t been much time to familiarize ourselves with our surroundings. During a middle-of-the-night trip to the bathroom, I cautiously worked my way across the room, which was partially illuminated by the full moon outside. I was fully aware that toes can only be stubbed, broken or slammed into furniture a limited number of times before they resemble limp flags on windless days. After years of midnight mishaps, mine were already dangling at half-mast. With my arms held straight out in front of me, I must have resembled one of the zombies in George A. Romero’s classic, "Night of the Living Dead." Not even that movie could have prepared me for what waited on the bathroom floor. The bathroom was also dimly lit by the tropical moon, but the two one-eyed snails, gray and black against the white tile floor, sitting perfectly still and staring up at me, were as clear as day. With terror-drenched courage I reached down and lightly touched the top of the one closest to the door, and the snail felt cold and damp. It quivered slightly. Screaming my husband’s name, I literally flew to the bed where he lay sound asleep. "Wake up! Wake up," I shouted and shook him awake. "What I’m going to show you is really going to gross you out!" "Wha? Wha?" he murmured as he was pushed ahead of me to the bathroom. I don’t know how I found the strength to push him, but I’ve read somewhere that people under great stress are miraculously granted remarkable powers. I flipped on the bathroom light and warned him, "Watch your step! They could be anyplace!" Instead of stomping on the creatures with his bare feet and defending my life, my husband began to laugh. "They’re only doorstops, Carole." That’s all they were. "Sometimes they’re as black as ink, an’ other times they’re white — but color ain’t no difference when you see things at night!" (Ibid)

I was born in Hills to Mr. and Mrs. Sundal (he was my father). After I graduated from the University of Minnesota and married, I did not visit Hills very much. My father was the town druggist and I often, at high school age, worked at the soda fountain in his drug store. Other associations brought me to friendship with the whole town and farm surroundings. When I went to the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis, I rode on the Great Northern Railroad whose train station was on the Great Northern Railroad.I am thinking of visiting Hills, although at age 93 this might seem silly. The Hills I knew had two banks, two grocery stores, hardware store, barber shop, pool hall, etc. I have now found that the Great Northern Railroad, which gave the town the reservoir where we swam, doesn’t exist any longer. If you have any suggestions for a visit, I would appreciate hearing from you. Cynthia (Sundal) Olmsted2950 Westridge Place, Apt. #222Carbondale, IL 62901

I guess I pulled the trigger a little early in regard to digging up those World War II bits of memorabilia. I learned on Monday, June 23, that Florentine Films is only interested in covering Luverne in World War II. Obviously, they have the final call as to what they want to cover. It does seem a bit ironic that with a county population in the 1940s of 8,000 and 3,000 of them in Luverne that Florentine Films is only covering Luverne. That is what they want to do and that is the way it is. I hope this hasn’t caused any of you any unnecessary problems. Maybe just looking for memorabilia from that era is worth the reminding we all need once in awhile. Col. Jim FlemingEdina

"Sometimes they’re in the corner, sometimes they’re by the door, sometimes they’re all a-standin’ in the middle uv the floor." (From "Seein’ Things" by Eugene Field, 1850-95) Seeing scary things in the black velvet world between dusk and dawn isn’t just for small children, such as the boy in Field’s poem. When it’s dark, you’re not wearing your glasses and you’re in a strange place, it’s easy to imagine seeing things. That’s only a partial list of possible reasons for adults who continue to experience eerie visions at night. I should know. I’m one of them. Washington Post subscribers must have laughed when they read the following item in a police blotter column this spring — "Mount Olivet Road N.E., 1200 block, March 30. An animal control officer responding to a call about a snake in a bathroom reported that the snake was actually a hair band." Had it not been for my own encounter with gigantic, menacing, one-eyed snails during a vacation with my husband only a few weeks before the D.C. snake report, I might have laughed, too. My excuses might have included jet lag, replacing frigid weather from home with tropical heat and humidity, or lack of sleep. "Sometimes they are a-sittin’ down, sometimes they’re walkin’ round so softly and so creepy-like they never make a sound!" (Ibid) We had arrived at the hotel only a few hours before bedtime and there hadn’t been much time to familiarize ourselves with our surroundings. During a middle-of-the-night trip to the bathroom, I cautiously worked my way across the room, which was partially illuminated by the full moon outside. I was fully aware that toes can only be stubbed, broken or slammed into furniture a limited number of times before they resemble limp flags on windless days. After years of midnight mishaps, mine were already dangling at half-mast. With my arms held straight out in front of me, I must have resembled one of the zombies in George A. Romero’s classic, "Night of the Living Dead." Not even that movie could have prepared me for what waited on the bathroom floor. The bathroom was also dimly lit by the tropical moon, but the two one-eyed snails, gray and black against the white tile floor, sitting perfectly still and staring up at me, were as clear as day. With terror-drenched courage I reached down and lightly touched the top of the one closest to the door, and the snail felt cold and damp. It quivered slightly. Screaming my husband’s name, I literally flew to the bed where he lay sound asleep. "Wake up! Wake up," I shouted and shook him awake. "What I’m going to show you is really going to gross you out!" "Wha? Wha?" he murmured as he was pushed ahead of me to the bathroom. I don’t know how I found the strength to push him, but I’ve read somewhere that people under great stress are miraculously granted remarkable powers. I flipped on the bathroom light and warned him, "Watch your step! They could be anyplace!" Instead of stomping on the creatures with his bare feet and defending my life, my husband began to laugh. "They’re only doorstops, Carole." That’s all they were. "Sometimes they’re as black as ink, an’ other times they’re white — but color ain’t no difference when you see things at night!" (Ibid)

I guess I pulled the trigger a little early in regard to digging up those World War II bits of memorabilia. I learned on Monday, June 23, that Florentine Films is only interested in covering Luverne in World War II. Obviously, they have the final call as to what they want to cover. It does seem a bit ironic that with a county population in the 1940s of 8,000 and 3,000 of them in Luverne that Florentine Films is only covering Luverne. That is what they want to do and that is the way it is. I hope this hasn’t caused any of you any unnecessary problems. Maybe just looking for memorabilia from that era is worth the reminding we all need once in awhile. Col. Jim FlemingEdina

Villagers, like everyone else, like to know where the fire truck or the ambulance is off to. Excitement prevails but your heart skips a beat when someone you know is involved. That’s what happened this week when Einar T. (Shorty) fell in the parking lot. The rescue squad came offering first aid and the ambulance transported Shorty to the hospital. There it was learned no bones were broken but you should see his facial cuts and bruises. He’s the butt of lots of jokes about what does the other guy look like. Peonies are beautiful this year. Blooms are so big and lovely colors, dark reds, pinks and white. Their aroma fills our dining room for we’ve been blessed with flowers from Grace’s garden, Ruth Jackson and Arla Bakken.Kitty Helgeson reported another kind deed from Friendship Days done by a teenager. Kitty, her husband and two other couples were watching the parade when a young man came up with a handful of candy and offered them a treat. How about that?The men of the Village were honored with a cookout for Father’s Day. Staff grilled steak and the men reported it was an excellent meal. We do like the grill and the garden room patio. We can look to the east and see the fields growing and green everywhere. The women were not neglected for they ate French dip au juice sandwiches, on homemade hoagie buns. Three trees, donated by Wally’s Nursery, were planted at the Village in memory of the three persons who lived here and had died, Edna Hetland, Edith Leslie and Obed Bakken. There was also a dedication program. This is not to be confused with the Tree of Lights celebration we have each year as a memorial to all who have passed throughout the years. At this time, trees will be planted in seven area locations for the 75 deceased. Dan Smith, the Hospice Chaplain, spoke at the program on "bringing back to nature." We sang "The Trees of the Field" with words that went like this:"You shall go out with joyAnd be led forth with peace.The mountains and the hillsWill break forth before you.There’s to be shouts of joy,And the trees in the fieldWill clap, will clap their hands.And all the trees in the fieldWill clap their hands, While we go out with joy."Wednesday we had an informational program. Jolene Brackey, author of "Creating Moments of Joy," spoke of her experiences of dementia care to the staff in the afternoon and in the evening addressed the topics of family caregivers. About 50 people came to hear her. Alzheimer’s is the most common form of this disease that causes nerve cells to disintegrate in the brain making the brain shrink. The audience found her information interesting and helpful. We had a watermelon spitting contest. However, we ate a lot but didn’t spit much. Mr. and Mrs. Al Gore of the Klondike area visited Signe. The Village Circle met in the garden room. I’ll keep you posted.