The Eulogy Harley Anderson Dec 4, 1916 - Nov 16, 2014 Harley Anderson died on Nov 16, 2014, at the age of 97 years 11 ½ months, just short of his 98th birthday. But, 35,776 days before that, Harley Anderson was born on Dec 4, 1916, in Almont, ND, in a sod covered house, just as winter was setting in. The second child, the first son, of Sam Anderson and Regina Knutson Anderson. Almont is a small farming and ranching community of only a couple hundred people, in a beautiful, but hard land. Average temp on Dec 4 is 20dF, low 10dF. And then winter comes. I noticed this morning, it was 12 degrees in Almont. I’m not sure if that is just above zero, or above absolute zero, but we can all agree it’s cold, either way. Woodrow Wilson, our 28th president, was in the White House. World War I had just reached its midpoint; our boys were still over there. The 48-star United States flag was only 4 years old. Dad grew up working on the farm with his father, learning the great upper-mid-west work ethic, and spending time with relatives, lots and lots of relatives. The only family I have ever seen with more relatives than my Dads family...is my Moms family! He drove his siblings to school at the age of 10 in a Model T Ford. He was 11 years old when Lindbergh flew the Atlantic. He was not quite 13 when the Great Depression hit. Like many of that era, he learned the conservation of a dollar. And he attended dances. Many, many dances. The cold winters and the nearby Heart River created an opportunity that would positively affect the rest of his life. Ice would be harvested from the river and stored underground in a straw lined pit, then brought out during the heat of a ND summer. The purpose? Primarily, to make ice-cream. My brother Greg asked Dad about it, and Dad said they used ice for a few other things, but mostly to make ice cream. Greg asked how often, and he replied, “Every day.” Now, you understand Dad’s love of vanilla ice cream. Imagine planning six months in advance to make ice-cream. During this period he learned patience. His grandparents, Hans and Rachel Anderson had earlier moved to Oregon, and he and some of his siblings and cousins made trips west in search of work, working in Walla Walla and Yakima, and the Willamette Valley, to pick fruit, and do farm work where they could. Eventually, the entire family moved to Carlton/Yamhill prior to the outbreak of World War II. When his country called he entered service at Ft Lewis, WA, and his ability to drive a crawler tractor moved him to armor and training as a tank driver in the 756th Tank Battalion, and a later promotion to tank commander. In November of 1942, he landed in North Africa at Casablanca with Gen. George Patton. Attached to the 3rd Inf Div, he fought in North Africa, landed again in Italy, fought in the battle of Monte Cassino, where he earned his first BRONZE STAR for volunteering to go back into the battle zone, on foot, under fire, to retrieve the radios from a disabled tank to keep the enemy from being able to monitor Allied radio communication. He participated in the capture of Rome, and had already been in combat for 18 months when the invasion of Normandy occurred (JUNE 6, 1944). He sometimes referred to that date as “Their D-Day,” as he had already experienced two D-Days, and still had one to go. Dad landed again in the south of France, his third amphibious landing, fought through France to the Battle of the Colmar Pocket, crossed the Rhine River, fought in the Battle of Nuremberg, where he earned his second BRONZE STAR for VALOR, by taking his tank down a street where two previous tanks had already been destroyed, throwing fire into every building where enemy positions were found, creating a safe environment for the infantry to advance. He went through Munich, and was in Salzburg, Austria, when the German Army surrendered. During this time he earned the Bronze Star with Oak Leaf Clusters for Valor, the French Croix DeGurre, Croix DeGurre with Palm, the Bronze Arrowhead for amphibious assault landing, a Presidential Unit Citation for almost 9 straight months of combat leading up to Colmar, covered 3000 miles of terrain, lost at least two tanks in combat, and many friends. He was in Africa and Europe for every single day, and in combat for 28 of the 32 months of American involvement in the Western Theater. And somehow, in the middle of all that…he earned the Good Conduct Medal. The tank dad commanded was built by the Cadillac division of GM, and was powered by two Cadillac V-8s. Dad liked to remark that he drove a Cadillac… on the Autobahn. He returned from the war a true hero, and asked for nothing in return, simply took up his life where he left off, with the calmest of demeanor. He never bragged, and would not talk about the war, but was proud that he did his duty. The members of the Greatest Generation didnt feel that they had sacrificed, simply did what needed to be done, but they certainly did sacrifice. Back home, working around Carlton again, Dad returned from a dance to his good friend, Hubert Bernards family farm house, and saw a picture of a lovely young woman on the mantle. Having asked who that was, Hubert said, Thats just my little sister. Would you like to meet her? To which Dad answered in the affirmative. Hubert walked down the hall and threw open his little sisters bedroom door, startling her to sit bolt upright in bed, in pajamas with curlers in her hair, absolutely mortified. Other encounters went better, and Harley Anderson married the love of his life, Mary Theresa Bernards, at St James Catholic Church, in McMinnville, on Nov 21, 1948. Gregory Harland was born exactly 9 months later. Then Douglas Robert was born, then Kristen Marie was born, then Kevin Mark was born, then Laurie Margaret was born, then Jeffrey Lynn was born, then Patrick Joel was born, then Marilu Elizabeth was born, and then…they rested. During this time Dad transferred from the Carlton mill to the Willamette Industries mill at Dallas, where he ran the Barker and worked as a millwright until retirement in 1978. He missed only three days in 33 years of service. Mom worked as a cook, eventually becoming head cook at the high school. She was famous for her cooking, and when asked how she came up with “from-scratch” recipes for some 200 lunches per day, she remarked that she simply took her home recipes… and cut them in half. Together Dad and Mom raised the eight kids with all the best efforts the two could muster on a millworkers and cooks wages, divided among 10 people. But, we were never hungry, we were never cold, and we were surely never alone. With 10 people in a house, you were never alone. Dad and Mom were a great team, always had each others backs, and showed what love, patience, determination, patience, hard work and patience can accomplish. Dad had maybe a bit more patience than Mom, but he also worked the swing shift. Or, maybe it was that six-month process of making ice-cream. Dad lost Mom to cancer just a couple of years after the last of us kids graduated high school. But, the 35 years they had together produced eight kids, who produced 15 grandkids, who produced 11 great-grandkids...so far. The youngest, Asa, just joined us last month. So, both Dad and Mom live on through these connections. Dad stayed active as a founding member and helped build the Keizer-Salem Area Seniors center. (KSAS) Many of the members are here today, and the family thanks you for your attendance. It has been noticed that the senior center had a rejuvenating effect on Dad. My sisters noted that they would drop off a 97 year old at the dance, and return to pick up a 70 year old. We believe that the friends and activities at the center surely contributed to his remarkable longevity. Dad loved dancing from his days in North Dakota, and would never refuse an offer to dance. The daughters, granddaughters, and now great-granddaughters, have had a chance to waltz with one of the greats. A quick poll here, could everyone who has ever danced with Dad please raise your hand? (SAR) He was still dancing just a few weeks ago. We will be having a dance later, here at the church in honor of his love of dancing, and all are invited to attend. In honor of his love of ice cream, we will be serving homemade ice cream right after the mass, along with a lunch generously provided by St Annes Alter Society. Harley Anderson never wasted a dollar. He never wasted a word. He never bought a vowel. When he got his first answering machine, the outgoing message was this: “You’ve reached Harley Anderson…please leave a message, and I’ll call you back…if necessary.” He was efficient in the things he did. This he learned from his life on the farm and during the depression. Dad wouldnt buy new dancing shoes until there was a sufficiently sized hole in one of the current shoes. And he went through lots of dancing shoes. During his lifetime, Harley Anderson never shied away from life, he took whatever came his way, he never panicked, and lead like a tank commander. He never complained, he pulled his weight, and helped others pull theirs. He knew that honor and honesty have the same root word. As a young boy, he took a personal, private vow to lead an honorable life, and like everything else, he fulfilled that commitment. He saw Lindbergh fly solo across the Atlantic in 34 hours, and he watched as men walked on the moon. He drove a Model T on the dirt roads of North Dakota and drove a Cadillac on the Autobahn. He later crossed the Atlantic himself in 5 hours at 38,000 ft. He was tempered in war, and held his temper the rest of his life. He used hand-crank party-line telephones and he had his own Facebook page. He took a selfie. He lived through the Great Depression and helped define the Greatest Generation. Altogether, you could say he had a pretty good run. When its all said and done, we should all be so very, very lucky. The world is certainly a lessor place today in his absence, but a far better place for his having been here at all. I would like to close with a quote from Dads old boss, George Patton, It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather, we should thank God that such men lived.
Posted on: Thu, 04 Dec 2014 06:06:51 +0000
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