Person:Ardis Robertson (1)

Ardis married Allen Glen Miller on April 18, 1973 at Watertown, SD Accountant From son Gary, 5 Dec 1995: Mom spent many hours entering the data into the computer program for this book, but she never would write an autobiography for it. Fortunately, I have several pieces that she wrote for a journaling class several years ago. Each begins with the date that she wrote it. 22-Jan-1987: I hated my evenings on the farm. Now, looking back, I find fond memories of the sights and sounds of those evenings. The tractor chugging in from the beet field, the men talking as they come in for supper, the dogs barking at their heels, all are pleasant to think of now. Even the hot kitchen as we dished up the food holds thoughts of working with my mother. Later in the evening the chirping of the crickets, then the quiet of the rural night always made me feel lonely, and it still does. 4-Feb-1987: As I was growing up in Montana, our area had no electricity except in the cities, so all radios were powered by batteries. Taking batteries into town to be charged was time consuming and expensive. My dad could see no reason for that nuisance, so we had no radio. When I was eight years old, our neighbors purchased a "crystal set". An orchestra was playing something, bu the reception was so faint and full of static, we couldn't identify the song. It was, even at its worst, thrilling. The next time I listened to a radio was a few years later while visiting my future in-laws. Papa always listened to the news, and we could join him, but we were not allowed to use the radio for any other program. We would "drain the batteries". Imagine my embarrassment when I turned on the radio for a musical program, not knowing the rules. Luckily, Papa thought it rather funny, but he turned off the radio. At last we did get electricity into our farm, and, at last, we had a radio. I was at the age for big band programs, but our family always gathered for "Amos and Andy" and "The First Nighters". My mother and I listened to "MaPerkins". The radio development from "crystal sets" to present day "chip" powered in less than fifty years is my favorite radio story. 05-Feb-1987: In the 1920's, usually the last week in August, it was time for the county fair in Miles City, Montana. The Cheyenne Indian families would come down the road from the reservation in wagons and on their ponies. We would ride our horses and ponies to the road to visit and trade vegetables and cigarettes for their blankets. But our greatest prize was a saddle they had made from bone which we treasured until we finally sold it to a collector. 25-Feb-1987: When I was 13 and a freshman in high school in Rosebud, Montana, the school picnic was a big event. The weather wasn't too cooperative, so our picnic was held in the gymnasium. During the afternoon, after we had eaten all the good things brought by all the parents, the sun came through. We all trooped out to the school grounds and onto the range land adjoining. Games were organized, races were run and we were all trying to imjpress each other. One boy, John Harstad, had been my secret "crush", but he wasn't in any of the games or races. He was the big shot with a bony hitched to a two wheet cart. He was giving all the boys rides, ignoring the girls. None of us would consider asking but we kept edging closer to this cart. As the picnic and day were drawing to a close, Johnny finally asked a girl to ride with him. I couldn't believe he was asking me. Oh, how thrilled I was to be the first girl asked. My first taste of courtshipo was sweet, indeed. 12-Feb-1987: It is December 15, 1945. Now it is time to get our Christmas tree up and trimmed. What a joyous holiday this will be. The war is over. My brother, Dick, will be returning from Germany. His wife will join him and we, all our family, can gather together for Christmas, as we have always done. The old tradition can be resumed. As December 25th crept closer, and the tree shone in the window, we received a letter from Dick that he was being held on Occupation Duty in Germany. A sad day in the Robertson-Jensen families. The tree was in our home, so my husband and I decided to have our usual celebration for the small children, but all the adults would save their gift openeing and celebration until Dick could be with us. Now it is January 25, 1946. The Christmas tree in all its glory waits with us for our belated celebration. Can it be February 1? Everyone is curious about the Christmas tree int he bay window of our house. As they hear the story, they all join us in the vigil. February 15 arrives and so does our City Fire Chief. He gave me a lecture on fire satety and made it very clear that our beloved tree had to go. As I told him the story about keeping it, he gradually softened, agreeing with me that it was a stately tree. He gave it his blessing to stay up as long as necessary. February 23rd and still no word from our soldier. A knock on the door, and who stands there? Dick and his wife! His letter advising us of his arrival date hat not arrived. No small thing like a delayed letter could ruin our happy homecoming celebratoin. Phone calls to all the relatives, stuff the turkey, make the pies. All was accomplished for our Christmas gathering in February. As we approach our needleless tree for the gift opening, my brother stood, with tears running down his cheeks, and said, "That is the most beautiful tree I have ever seen." 29-Jan-1987: The word "move" creates a vivid picture in my mind. From our first little apartment in Miles City, Montana, in 1937, my husband and I moved to a house in 1940, when our son was expected. From that house, after living there just eight months, we moved to Seattle, Washington. All our possessions, including our auto, were loaded into a railroad box car. We traveled via passenger train. After one year it is load up the box car again for our move back to Miles City where we lived in a nice rented house for two years. When it sold we moved to another rented house. When that house sold after six moths, we moved into our first purchased home. Six years later, we load our possessions into a box car again for a move to Chicago, Illinois. Six months and we move to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. One year later, we move again, this time to Austin, Minnesota. One more year and yet another move. This time we returned to Montana at Deer Lodge. These ten moves occurred in just seventeen years of my life, and were brought about by the railraod, which was my husband's employer. (Dated list of moves Mom drew up for this piece): 1917 - born in Nebraska; 1918 - to Montana, Buttes outside Rosebud; 1920 - to Rosebud Creek; 1931 - to Thurlow (Burgess Ranch); 1932 - Thurlow (purchased farm); 1936 - to Forsyth to attend high school; 1937 - to Miles City; 1940 - from apartment to house in Miles City; 1941 - to Seattle; 1942 - to Miles City; 1943 - house to house in Miles City; 1944 - house to purchased house in Miles City; 1950 - to Chicago; 1951 - to Milwaukee; 1952 - to Austin, Minnesota; 1953 - to Deer Lodge, Montana; 1954 - to Miles City; 1968 - house to apartment in Miles City; 1968 - to Weswt St. Paul, Minnesota; 1973 - to Inver Grove Heights, Minnesota; 1977 - to condo in West St. Paul; 1984 - to St. Louis, Missouri.