Filling in the details: My parents were Walter and Ruth DeWitt. We had a large extended family. Both my Mother and Dad grew up with nine brothers and sisters. In our immediate family, I have two older brothers and an older sister. My older brother, Kenneth, is six years older than I, and the rest of us are two years apart. My sister Loretta came next, then my brother Norval and I was last, born April 23, 1930. Because Norval and I were only two years apart, we grew up together, were big buddies, and our older brother was kind of "the boss." Our parents always referred to the two of us as "the boys." Our chores were assigned to ''you boys." "Time to mow the yard, 'you boys'. - It's time for 'you boys' to work in the garden."

We had a great home life. When I look back, I know we were as well to do as anybody in the neighborhood, but we didn't really think about it. My maternal grandfather Vail was fairly wealthy, so my mother grew up quite well to do, while my dad's side grew up fairly poor. My grandfather had several farms and was on the board of the bank in Gibson, Iowa. My folks bought their farm in 1935, and I think because of the Depression, they got it fairly cheap. I guess Dad was at the right place at the right time. At relatively the same time, Norma's dad lost his farm, as many others did, through no fault of their own.

We moved to that farm before I was old enough to start to school. I remember that I could help them move because the other kids were in school. We hauled the furniture in wagons and I could ride on the wagon with my mother. I suppose it was about a two-mile drive. I'm sure we were unusual - we had one of the few modern houses. We had electricity, indoor facilities, and a refrigerator in the house. We always seemed to have cars. "We boys" noticed we didn't have a milking machine, which would have been nice. But Dad hurt his back scooping, so we had one of the first elevators, one of the first row-crop tractors, and a cultivator on our tractor, but we still farmed a lot with horses. My dad was real proud of his horses.

Like all farm kids, we did all kinds of chores but we also had a lot of "play animals." We had a pony, and I drove and played with the horses. When I was little kid, we had a blind mare. She was our pet named Betty. We rode her and did everything with her. She was a jewel.  Dad tried not to overwork her but she was part of the team when we moved . Dad broke all the colts with her. We used her in mowing hay and pulling up the fork when we were putting up hay. While I was in the field harrowing corn, she was always part of the team. We had a harrow cart, which was unusual. It was a two-wheel cart that fit behind the harrow. It had long arms that fit into the double-tree of the harrow, so we could ride behind the harrow instead of putting a plank across it and riding on the plank, as lots of people did. Because I was a little squirt, I used the harrow cart. When I was small enough that I couldn't sit in the seat, I'd stand on the crossbar but Dad would always hook me up with the old mare because she was totally dependable.

During threshing, my brother Norval and I were water boys. I suppose I was eight or nine years old. We used our blind mare and hauled water. Betty would do anything for us. She wouldn't run off, and we never had to worry about her falling. When we said, "Whoa," she'd stop. When we came to a ditch, we'd say, "Down, Betty'' and she'd step down. When we were going up the other side, we'd say, "Up, Betty," and she'd raise her hoofs like she was going to step over something. We boys thought of her as our big pet.

As I look back, I know we had a good life. I don't think we ever splurged, but we never wanted for anything. I never thought of us as being wealthy, but I grew up aware there were people really hurting. I remember the bums or hoboes walking by. Our road was built by WPA (Works Project Administration) workers. This was a program instituted to relieve the national unemployment. They graded and graveled the roads, and put up fences in our neighborhood.

I went to school at my home town of Lacey, recognizable by listeners to Connie McBurney who was born there, and her dad taught school there. It is north of Oskaloosa in the New Sharon area. Lacey was a consolidated school, first through 12 grades, with 10 to 20 kids in a class. There were 15 in my high school graduating class. People didn't seem to move around much. New kids didn't come in, and the ones there didn't leave, so the classmates we started to school with pretty much stayed with us all the way through. My extra-curricular activities were athletics-basketball in the winter, and baseball in the spring and fall, which were the only two sports we had. There wasn't much of a music department. This was during the war so they drafted everybody. The band teacher was drafted, so we didn't have band.  There were boys' and girls' choruses with the director also teaching some of the classroom subjects. That didn't interest me and I didn't interest them. I couldn't carry a tune.

Academically, we just had the core courses. Math was my favorite subject, and I enjoyed the social studies classes. Like most kids, I didn't work any harder than I had to, just hard enough to get my grades so I could be eligible for teams. I wasn't as interested in getting As and Bs as I was in passing, except for Math. In it I wasn't happy with a B.

I farmed for a year after graduation but decided I didn't want to make it a career, so I enrolled in the teachers' college, now Northeast Missouri State at Kirksville, Missouri. The reason for that choice was that my brother, two years ahead of me, had gone to William Penn at Oskaloosa. They were losing their accreditation. He tried to find an alternative and a lot of schools wouldn't accept his grades. Kirksville would if he could succeed academically. Dad wanted both of us to go to the same school so we could go home on weekends and help with farm work. We'd go home every Saturday to grind feed, pick corn, help with chores, etc. So we both went to Northeast. We were not typical because we had a car but that was its purpose.

My major was Industrial Arts. I enjoyed the classes. I had a double minor - social studies and PE (physical education), the latter choice was so I could coach. My brother did well and had taught for two years before going into the service. I had an interlude, after which I went back and got my masters' in June 1959.

The "interlude" began when I went into the service in September 1953. I reported to Camp Chaffee, Arkansas. We were supposed to have 16 weeks of basic training but after eight weeks, I was transferred to Fort Riley, Kansas, where I went through four months of intensive training for the Intelligence Service. My area in that branch was photo interpretation. We studied all the weaponry, all the different guns, maps, and photos in which we picked out objects. My preference for math was helpful because we used it to calculate how high a plane that was taking these photos was flying, figure out mathematically how large the buildings were and the size of instruments and objects on the ground. We had to study shadows to see how tall the buildings were, and the height of a flag-pole from studying the shadow and time of day. I really enjoyed that. We studied map topography, the lay of the land, so someone who had the need could look at a map and draw plans to see if we could attack in that area. If it was necessary for the Army unit to go up a hill or a cliff, we had to know how gradual was the percentage of the slope. We studied maps to know where cities were. We had to be able to pick out factories, and identify what the buildings were in the area around it. We studied trails to get an idea of what was happening.

After my four months there, I was sent to Korea. Fortunately at that time, peace negotiations were going on, the bombing runs had stopped, so there was no shooting. We went by troop ship through San Francisco. Troop ships usually stopped at Hawaii either going or coming. The one I went across on stopped on the way back, and the one I came back on stopped on the way over, so I didn't see Hawaii. It took us eight to ten days each way on a troop ship. We landed in Japan and they flew us to Korea.

It was a culture shock to land in Korea. There were no lights, and the smell was atrocious! Our camp was at Taeque, quite a distance from the 38th parallel. The area was extremely primitive. The housing was such that Dad wouldn't have kept the pigs in some of the hovels the natives lived in. There were no sidewalks, people walked in the roads and took care of nature's needs by the roadside. Whatever women carried were in bundles on their heads; their babies were on their backs like papooses. When it came time for the baby to nurse they swung them around and kept on working. They worked in the rice paddies, up to their knees in slush. Their animals were beasts of burden. The only vehicles we saw were those belonging to the U.S.

Our base was enclosed by wire with guards on duty all the time. We lived in tents. The TV "MASH" (Mobile Army Surgical Hospital) episodes give a pretty good portrayal of our quarters. There were four to eight people to a tent. That series, also, gives an idea of the cold. The wind came down from Siberia. When we went to bed, we put on everything we had. We had just one stove, and of course everybody wanted to bunk as close to the stove as possible. The new recruits got the outside bunks. We didn't have mattresses. We had old canvas cots to sleep on, covered up with everything we could find to cover up with.

The smell that our servicemen came home to tell about had two causes: their rice paddies were fertilized by human excrement, which is not uncommon in Far Eastern countries, and a dish called kimchi, defined in Webster's Dictionary as "a spicy pickled or fermented mixture containing cabbage, onions, and sometimes fish, variously seasoned with garlic, horseradish, red peppers and/or ginger." We had a Korean house boy who, if he had just eaten, brought the smell with him. We could hardly stand it. We paid him a dollar or two, but his big wages were a carton of cigarettes. I had never smoked so it was no problem to give them to him.

I was in the Army Engineer Battalion but I was assigned to the Air Force. They took care of the runways, all that sort of thing. During the peace conference there wasn't any shooting going on, so they weren't doing any photo runs, but it there had been a need, my Intelligence Training made it possible for me to study the film, read the photographs to pick out tanks, guns, etc. the Army would use. In our unit we had photographers, and we had people who took care of film in order for us to study it.

I was in Korea from March to August 1954, when we were transferred to Guam. We went by ship out of Pusan because the whole battalion was moving. What a contrast from our previous months! Guam was wonderful!  The temperature was mild-90°, no cold weather, no seasons, no humidity. We ran around in short sleeves. We went swimming New Years and Christmas Days just to say we did. We had a beach and swam in the ocean-it was nice and calm. There was a rule that we couldn't miss any duty because of sunburn. That wasn't a problem for me but some of the guys really had to be careful.

Guam had a large dense jungle.  We knew better than to wander around in there for fear of getting lost. But it was the repository for abandoned tanks, jeeps, trucks, guns and stuff left from the battles of WWII. Up in the hills were three Japanese soldiers who hadn't surrendered.  They never bothered anybody. Natives occasionally missed foodstuffs - a pie they had set out to cool or something of that nature.

Our quarters were Quonsets much like we see on farms except ours were designed with wings because of the winds and the flooring went about half-way up. There were just screens, no windows. There would be 25-26 guys in a Quonset. We had nets to keep the mosquitoes away ­ typical modern nets. We each had our own area composed of a cot, trunk, and our clothes. We were responsible for keeping them clean, and for the barracks clean-up every so often. We had really good meals in the mess hall. The Air Force ate better than we. Their choices were different. I always hurried to get to the Air Force mess.

Typhoons were not uncommon, so they had secure buildings. When there was a typhoon warning - and we had some while I was there - they'd load us in trucks and we'd go to the secure buildings in secure areas and stay there until the warning was over. During WWII, veterans told about flying the planes off the island. The pilots who had families there (Clayton and Rose Scott, for example) had to leave the families to "weather the storm."

They gave us KP rations - a box of goodies that we traded around, according to the fellows' likes and dislikes. Living on Guam was almost like peace-time, even though there were still the circumstances of war. For example, we carried live ammo on maneuvers while in Korea or on guard duty on Guam. We didn't need to. I had a friend who went to sleep on guard duty and they were going to court martial him. The punishment for that is death by hanging. That opens your eyes a little bit, but fortunately he got off. It would have been entirely different if there had been somebody shooting at us, but we were just walking our post. I had that duty twice, and it was really not bad duty.

Even though there were no seasons, we followed the ones we'd been accustomed to. We played baseball in the summer, football in the fall, and basketball in the winter. Year-round we went to outdoor theaters. We sat on benches and watched movies. We had ponchos on in case of rain, but there were just five-minute showers. We sat through them and it would be clear again. Every day was like having a summer day.

Because there were no photos to study, the difference in my duty on Guam was that I was in charge of security. In peace times the Intelligence Unit was composed of one or two men, so I was the only one in the division. My job was to do all the typing, get information and send it out. I was a courier so I got to fly documents to Okinawa, Tokyo, or the Philippines. The documents were secret but I was always glad I never had to carry anything that was top secret, which would have required that I was armed with a .45.

Because I was in the Intelligence Division, I had the title of Clearance Officer which had some benefits. When I went to Tokyo we stayed in the Palace, a nice hotel. The interesting part was that I could bump anybody. On a plane going back to Guam the lowest ranking officer was a Major, so I was flying and sitting with Generals and Majors. I once had to bump a Colonel. They chuckled that this lowly private with a brief case could bump any of them.

I was on Guam from the summer of '54 until July '55. We were supposed to be overseas 18 months, but because I had a teaching job at Ollie and school was starting in September, I was discharged a month early. I got to come home in the fall of 1955, having served 17 months. We came back on a troop ship and I can imagine the fellows in WWII going home because going under the Golden Gate Bridge was nostalgic even for us. I can hardly describe the feeling of knowing I was finally going home, and compared to so many, I really had it easy. Other than being away from home and we couldn't get in the car or go anywhere because we were on the island for a year, but that was simply an inconvenience. We weren't shooting or being shot at. We felt we were there for our country.

I saw guys coming back from Vietnam, which was very different. There was no animosity toward us like there was toward them. Other than feeling that our being there was a waste of time, we were drafted and were doing what the government told us to do. At times we wondered, "What are we here for?" But when we saw the people and thought if we could help them or do something to better their conditions, we were willing to do that. In the cities it might have been different from what we saw, and what we saw was over 50 years ago. Hopefully things are better. I have similar feelings about Iraq. We didn't cause what we were there to make better, but we are there for a noble purpose.

I learned from being in service. We always go with preconceived ideas and tend to be critical if those are not the situations we find. For me, seeing young girls starving and living in the hovels, having to put food on the table for their families, with little kids begging for candy, I understood - I couldn't go as far as condoning, but I understood why they would sell themselves.

But then I was home! We hustled around to get ready for school. I started teaching at Ollie, Iowa, which is north of Ottumwa. I taught social studies, industrial arts, phys ed, coached all the sports - boys and girls basketball, baseball and track. We stayed there for six years and moved to Farmington, Iowa, in the Harmony School District. We were there four years and again I taught social studies, industrial arts and phys ed, in addition to coaching girls' athletics - basketball, softball, and track. I was proud of my coaching record: We took two teams to state - one from Ollie and one from Farmington. The girls won over 75% of the basketball games and in Farmington they were fourth in the state in softball. From there we came to Osceola in 1965, where I became the junior high principal and girl's basketball coach until 1968.

I've seen lots of changes in the schools. When we came here in 1965, junior high was in the old high school, which is where North Main Manor is now located. Originally the old high school had a junior college on the third floor. The junior high (7th and 8th grades) was moved there in 1960 and was there until they built an addition to the high school in 1970-1971. An addition, which included an auditorium, was dedicated in 2000. The elementary school had been built in 1955. The north wing was added in 1971, and the new wing in June 1994.

I was the principal in Osceola for 28 years. There are misconceptions of a Principal' s job. Being a disciplinarian is not the primary responsibility. That is the distasteful part. The principal's role is making the school run smoothly, scheduling classes, getting teachers and kids in the right classes, running the school budget, making sure the building is in good shape. We have buses and grounds to look after. In a school situation there are lots of people working together - people with a wide variety of personalities, personal goals, and opinions. There are always conflicts that need to be resolved. The principal is called upon in those cases. A key requirement is for the principal to be organized. If not, there are lots of avoidable problems. People expect things to run smoothly, and if they don't, the principal gets blamed.

What makes it fun and all worthwhile are the kids we work with, seeing children who don't know what they want, causing problems, being mischievous in earlier years, than watching them grow up to be mature, responsible persons by the time they graduate, that is gratifying! It is always a good feeling to see who an individual is really going to be and whether or not they are going to be good citizens. There is such a variety of choices for young people in many ways, particularly in careers. Not everybody wants to be the same thing. It would not be good if everyone wanted to be a doctor and we didn't have mechanics or custodians or engineers. It is important for kids to find out what they like to do, but sometimes it is equally or more important to find out what they don't like to do so they can avoid it. There used to be more of a tendency to choose a career and stay with it, but now people have several careers in their lifetime.

The principal's job is a fun job but tough in lots of ways. There's the cliché "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen". Don't know of anyone who can do well in a job they don't like. I hear people griping about their job. My opinion is, get away from it, do something else. Every job has its ups and downs. Some people think the other guy always has the "up" jobs. Or they think the other guy has a better job. It would be a miserable life to think that way.

Being part of a school staff has been a rewarding experience. To be successful as a coach or principal it is so important to have someone working along with you. When you get to work at 7:30 a.m. and return home at 10:30 p.m., it is important to have somebody looking after the kids, running the home, bringing your supper. I couldn't have done the job I did if I didn't have a wife doing all that. I've looked back and know how fortunate I've been to have someone who recognized that my career had to come first.

During my senior year in college, I'd gone home for a weekend and got a call from a school saying their term had just started and the individual they had hired didn't make the grades. Would I be interested in coaching and teaching in Novelty, Missouri? I interviewed for the job and was hired; maybe it was because I was the only applicant. Thus, for my last year in college, I went to classes in the morning and drove to Novelty to teach during the afternoons. It wasn't long before I became aware of a high school senior, Norma Reed. We started dating in the spring and were married in the summer, before I went into the service in August. I graduated in the morning and we were married in the afternoon of the same day, August 6, 1953.

As was true of many couples, we were separated during the war except for the time I was in Camp Chaffee. My brother was in the same camp. His wife was there, also, so Norma went with me and lived in an apartment with Joan. She had been a high school classmate of mine so we all knew each other well. Norma was also with me in Kansas, but when I was sent overseas, she returned to her home and enrolled in Northeast Missouri State, my alma mater.

When my service time was coming to an end, I was given an early discharge to come home to teach. However, I was on Guam. I had an opportunity to interview with the superintendent and board at Ollie, and we had three conversations on the phone, but it was Norma who met with them in my place. She likes to tell me that may be why I got the job. It turned out to be an excellent move for me. We lived in Ollie six years, during which time, our children Linda and Gary were born. Keith was born while we were at Farmington.

My welfare and that of our children has been Norma's priority ever since. She has made lots of sacrifices for me and for the kids throughout our years together. In the first instance, I could have had jobs that doubled my teaching salary, which provided the bare essentials. But she knew I loved teaching, I loved working with kids, and she encouraged me to do that. She was willing to sacrifice and take less. To supplement our income, I worked summer jobs. I counted cars for the Highway Commission. I did painting, carpenter work, and odd jobs; and when our children were old enough to be in school. Norma started working at Robinsons store. At first it was part-time - during the Christmas season, for instance. That eventually led to a full-time job probably about 1968. Altogether she worked part- or full-time for 38 years, usually about four days a week; they were very good to give her time off to go with me when I had meetings to attend, or if the kids were sick. She gave up what she wanted or needed to make sure our kids had clothes and food, and that they could participate in activities. She was in the audience, as she was when I was coaching. She and the kids went to all the games my teams played in. She gave me a lot of confidence. When I'd get down, she was able to get me on track again.

Our youngest son developed osteomylitis when he was two years old and for five months around the clock she gave him penicillin every six hours. She set the alarm for 2:00 a.m. to get up to give him his medication. She did so many things of that nature that people other than I don't know about. She made our home and she was a true partner for me.

Norma quit in 2005. Her last day was a Wednesday and we left town on Thursday to go to South Dakota to watch the round-up of the buffalo. We spent a leisurely couple of days and early Monday morning went to Custer State Park. Norma had remarked that she didn't feel well and as the day went on, it was confirmed that she was having a heart attack. We went by ambulance to Rapid City, and by 2:30 that afternoon, they had put in a stent. It was a scary time and we were home by the end of the week. She faithfully walks at the hospital five days a week, along with continuing to care for the family that has now grown to include in-laws and grandchildren: She sews for them, stays with the children when she is needed, always making it seem her pleasure to do it.

Gary lives in Des Moines and works for Principal, and Keith lives in Waukee. He works for a concrete company and was married this past year. His wife is a medical transcriptionist in Des Moines. They have a new lifestyle ahead of them because on July 27, 2007, they had twin girls; they are now two weeks old and Grandpa and Grandma get to spend time with them. We love being free to be the backups for our children when we're needed.

Since I retired, I have had lots of opportunities. In July (2007) I taught Driver's Ed. The school didn't have a teacher and I hadn't taught for 25 years. I had 20 kids who needed it because a state law requires them to have to Drivers' Ed to get their license at 16. Without it, they have to wait until they are 18 to be licensed. They can get a school permit through the school and they have to have Drivers' Ed before they are given that. It is a wise rule. They take the drivers' test with the DOT (Department of Transportation) on certain days related to their birth date.

The Drivers' Ed cars are equipped with an additional brake (not an extra steering wheel). Somebody asked me if I still had that brake and I said, "I wouldn't teach without it." I don't need an extra steering wheel because I can reach over and grab that, but in teaching drivers' ed you have to anticipate, you have to stay ahead of the student, in case they don't see a stop sign or a possible problem. It requires paying attention every minute but I enjoy it.

I don't feel deprived of something to do. I have just finished serving on several committees. I belonged to and have been past president of Rotary; I served on a Board for the Full Harvest facility, which is a low rent housing complex. I have worked on and now chair the TODA (Today's Osceola Dynamic Action) committee. We have beautified parts of Osceola with flowers and shrubs and care of them. I was the chairperson for Osceola's committee for the Hall of Pride in Des Moines, which was a good asset. No one in the country has anything to resemble it. And with the new babies, I will always know what to do if I have extra time.

People sometimes ask why we stay in Osceola, "Aren't you going to move south?" Why? Where else would I find what I appreciate here, or a place to do what I can't do here? First of all, the people are top-notch - neighborly, caring, trustworthy, to mention a few qualities.  People are helpful. They not only will help if you ask them, they offer to help. They look after each other. There are lots of different personalities but these are good people. While I was still principal, I was walking in the halls with a salesman who remarked, "You don't have locks on your student lockers?" I said, ''No, we don't need them" He said, "That's just amazing.  Some schools have a lock on every locker. You don't miss things?" I said, "Oh, we might have something taken once in awhile, but it is very rare for that to happen."

Second, the location: Des Moines is within an hour's drive for the theater or minor league games. There is easy access of Kansas City for major league games. Minneapolis in reachable in five hours, St. Louis in six - in less than a day's time there are these cities to offer additional benefits for anyone who chooses them. It is easy for people to criticize, and normal for kids to want to move on. In every community I've heard them say, "I can't wait to get out of here," but in a few years they want to get back. They discover, when they move to another community, it's no better than or as good as the one they had. Everywhere there are problems and each person has the opportunity and, in my opinion, responsibility to get involved to make it better.

Return to main page for Recipes for Living 2007 by Fern Underwood

Last Revised October 24, 2013