Recipes for Living Lloyd Dale and Jeri Lytton

Dale and Jeri Lytton moved to Osceola in 2003 from Truro, where Dale had been a community leader and businessman. Jeri taught school. Both are retired. For their children, Dale wrote his life story complete with pictures, the account of his military service, and historical facts about the development of Truro. He has given permission to condense it for Recipes for Living.

Dale wrote: I was born at home, on May 22, 1924 in a community known as Elm Grove in Madison County. My parents were Arthur J. and Elsie (Grimes) Lytton, and our family home was a big square house about five miles southwest of St. Charles, Iowa, and 12 miles southeast of Winterset, Iowa. I am the youngest of four children. My sister Thelma is 12 years older, Harold 10 years older, and Wayne four years older. Brother Wayne died in 2000 and sister Thelma died in 2004. I am now the only member of my family still living. Like many others, my folks were just plain farmers trying to make a living and raise a family. My memory goes back to 1928 or 1929 when we lived at the north edge of Truro. A birthday gift which I received and treasured for a long time was a new baseball suit, a forecast of a pursuit developed later in my life.

When I started to school, we were living about 1 mile northwest of Truro, on the main road to Peru. I walked to and from school each day, occasionally alone. Our neighbor had several tame and gentle cows in a pasture close to the road. Their comparative size made me most uneasy, causing me to walk very fast and as far from them as the road would permit.

More intense snow storms than happen today were quite common. The most memorable was Election Day in 1930, when Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected and served as president all my teenage years and during part of my Navy career. I remember that to get to the polls, my parents and some neighbors went in a bobsled pulled by a team of horses. Sometimes the road was drifted so high we had to go across fields. I was thrilled to be permitted to go along.

When I was between six and nine years of age, I learned from my uncles and brothers to trap and hunt. I am still learning about Mother Nature's way of protecting her wildlife. Another lesson came from the time a wolf ran out in front of us. It would have given them an easy shot if I hadn't been in the way. They let me know my place was behind them and made sure I stayed there. I learned to shoot a gun when I was about seven. It was an old single shot 22 that was not too accurate, but Wayne and I managed to get some squirrels with it.

A popular recreation in those days was baseball. There were quite a few kids, and when we were 10 or 12 years old, every day all summer long, we would meet at the ball diamond and play a game we called "ginniger." We all became quite good at bunting and getting to first base. One of my father's friends took on the task of organizing kids my age into a ball team, and we played other small town teams in the area.

Many communities had adult town teams. This was the most exciting spectator sport on Sunday afternoons or at celebrations. I had two uncles who were quite good and even though I didn't get to watch them, I always knew when they were playing and fashioned my own way to predict the outcome. If there was no way to get to town for a team baseball game, I walked the three miles just to chase foul balls or do anything else to get to watch the games.

The terrain around our home provided enjoyment for me and my friend Fred Reed, Jr., but mechanics used it as a testing ground. If they could pull up the hill in high gear, starting from our driveway, the Model T Ford was working pretty well. Sometimes they would go in reverse so the gas would feed into the motor from the gas tank which was mounted in front of the windshield above the engine. Muddy roads made it necessary to have chains on the tires.

To my best recollection, the first natural gas pipeline was laid from Texas to Chicago in 1934. It passed a hundred feet north of our house and drew a lot of interest, particularly watching the trucks try to maneuver over the narrow roads, transporting pipes that arrived by train, to the site where they would be used. It also gave employment to "hand laborers" - mainly Indians and Mexicans. Mother raised chickens and decided to make chicken sandwiches and home-made pie available for sale. These were Depression years so all this was helpful to supplement farm income. It was also the year of the great drought. Farmers' crops were either burned by hot weather or eaten by chinch bugs. Many people worked for $1 a day or $30 a month, or even less. A new Chevy sold for $650-$700. Many times I cut a cardboard sole to put inside my shoe to cover a hole that had worn through. My dad painted houses and mom helped hang wallpaper to help raise us two younger boys. Harold had graduated and gone to live with our uncle.

I graduated from eighth grade in 1937 and entered high school. There were many changes that year. My parents separated and I went to live with my mother. Our family had moved to town and Wayne graduated from high school. He went to Atlantic, where Thelma lived and went to work for a plumber. Harold had joined the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corp). They set up camp in Indianola and helped in the construction of Lake Aquabi. Later he purchased a truck to go into the trucking business in Truro. He lived with us and helped make it possible for all of us to eat regularly and wear decent clothes. These still were hard times and living was pretty simple. We always had a cow or two for our own milk, and I had the job of doing the milking and delivering milk to help make a living. I delivered the milk for sale to customers in Truro - four cents a pint and eight cents a quart. It was sold in glass bottles at that time, so I took the empty bottles back home to wash and reuse the next time. Each noon I went home from school for lunch, got the cow and brought her home for water, then took her to a new place for afternoon grazing.

I was still trapping and my mother and I sold the furs to a buyer who came to Truro occasionally. Another early business venture was catching and selling pigeons. The going price was about 25¢ a bird. There was no cause for self-pity because everyone was in the same circumstances. I'm sure merchants had a hard time staying in business, banks went broke, and farmers lost their farms. All the hardships brought people closer together, depending more on one another.

I learned to drive an automobile when I was ten, beginning with a Model T Ford and advancing to my brother's truck or vehicles belonging to people for whom I worked. When I was 14 or 15, I went with my brother to haul livestock or grain and he occasionally let me drive while he took a nap.

The high school years, between 1937-'41 were formative years. Going to visit relatives was the most popular outing. That kept us to pretty wholesome standards. It was emphasized that to be a loyal friend and keep a promise or a secret was very important. There didn't seem to be as many temptations as now, but they were there. However, my mother used to tell me that we are born clean as a freshly washed sheet and it was up to me to keep the soiled spots off throughout my lifetime. I felt the worst thing I could ever do was to bring shame or embarrassment to my family. My hopes now are that my children have the same thoughts about their lives.

Surely young people today would feel our family was quite deprived. Even if we could have afforded it, there was no TV available. None of us ever had a bicycle or car, never went out of state, and never went on a vacation. I can't remember going to Des Moines until high school days. When I graduated, I wore a suit loaned to me by Wayne, and I couldn't afford a graduation ring, but did get graduation pictures. In spite of all that, my high school days were the best! Sliding parties, class parties, ball games, school plays, and noonday games in the school yard or inside according to the weather. I regard these simple pleasures as having given us something young people now are missing.

Through the last three years, my coach, Alan Colbert, was also a dear friend. He came to Truro in 1938, the same year the new gymnasium was built onto the school house. He had the task of teaching boys’ and girls' basketball in the new gym to a group of kids who hadn't had an inside court to play on until that time. I think often of many of our teachers and feel sure they all tried their best of make us kids better people and prepare us for our unpredictable futures. Coach Colbert and I lost touch with one another through the years, but he came to my 50th class reunion, and we were reacquainted. Since then, we have kept in touch through Christmas cards and phone calls.

While I was still in high school, I had the opportunity to play baseball during the summer months with the American Legion baseball team at Indianola. We gave a good account of ourselves wherever we played and were invited to play in the tournament leading to the state tournament. It was a round robin tournament in which each team played the other teams. Although we did not win the tournament, we did manage to beat the team that did win, so we were pleased about that. I also had several personal honors. An all tournament team was chosen and I was picked as the left fielder. I was also the individual batting champion for the tournament with a better than 500 average for the three games.

I had the opportunity to attend college on a scholarship, but I didn't think I could handle the offer. Instead, I worked with Harold in his trucking business. However, in the summer of 1941, I had the opportunity to go to Des Moines and play baseball with a semi-pro team. The sponsor was a rather wealthy insurance man who also loved baseball. He invited me to a Sunday game being played at the former home of the Des Moines Demons professional ball team. Their field was one of the first ball diamonds in the country to have lights for night games, an outfield fence, dressing and shower-rooms, and the big time features. Harold went with me and I will never forget the feeling of walking into that park! This was like Yankee Stadium to me! It took a bit of time to make connection with the manager who had invited me, George Haskell, but when we found each other, he welcomed me and explained the situation if I joined them. He introduced me to some of the team, and I made plans to come that week for a try out. I finally found out that the initial contact with this insurance man had been made by my father.

I did go and became friends with team members, most of whom were older than I. I don't remember much about the practices that first week, but I do remember the first game that Sunday afternoon. The manager decided to put me in center field. It was near the end of the game and we were losing by a few runs. The batters before me got on base and it was my turn to bat. The runners on base would tie the game if I could get a hit. Somehow I managed a single and two runs came in tying the score!! The next batter also got a hit and I managed to score the winning run. What a day that was for me!

In late summer of 1942 I attended a St. Louis Cardinal baseball tryout game at the ball park in Des Moines. Approximately 200 boys tried out, and when it was over, I was one of 25 chosen to move up to an advanced camp the following spring in St. Louis. I could hardly wait until spring, but Uncle Sam's invitation took precedence. Uncle Sam informed me that in May 1943, I would be called to go to war. I was 18 years old at the time.

The day finally came. Three other guys and I from Truro went to Des Moines and were inducted into the military along with fellows from all over the state. We were given a few instructions and put on a train for Camp Dodge. In the shuffle, I was separated from my Truro friends and we were sent into different rooms. I ended up in a room to be inducted into the Army. A bit later I discovered my Truro friends were going into the Navy, and we decided maybe I could get shifted to that branch of the service, too. It was arranged, and it is possible I am unique in being in the Army and Navy all in the same day!

All of us Navy inductees were loaded on a train and sent to Minneapolis, on to Spokane, Washington, and later to a Navy boot camp at Faragut, Idaho. I was seeing country very different from Truro, Iowa. There was nothing but mountains and lakes on all sides of the training station. One of the first things I remember was the routine procedure all of us went through - getting our hair all cut off and our heads shaved. I met a lot of new guys from all over the United States, and began to realize that we don't all live alike or believe in the same things.

After two months of training, physical exams, shots, and discipline, we were "graduated" and sent home for 10 days. The ride back was much sweeter than the ride out and how good it seemed to see Truro again! We had two weeks at home and were sent to Camp Shoemaker, California, for further assignment. This camp was a distribution point for Navy trainees and also a "brig" or prison for sailors - and maybe marines - who had committed some crime. There were several hundred of those kept in an area surrounded by barbed wire fences. I was put to work in the mess hall part-time and helped serve food for all the camp including the prisoners. The guards who marched them up and back were armed with machine guns to prevent anyone from escaping. I saw my first case of a human being clubbed to the ground by the guards for throwing his food on the floor and refusing to clean it up. This was an eye-opener for me at age 19. Another was the precaution we had to take to prevent our property from being stolen. There were thousands of people in and out of there every day or so, and anything of value might be taken. Some of my clothing was stolen practically from under my nose while I was reading a book as I was doing my laundry.

I was at this camp long enough to get a pass and visit San Jose, Stockton, and other nearby cities. Finally some of us received orders to be sent to San Francisco to board a ship for Pearl Harbor and further assignment. On the way out of San Francisco Bay, we passed Alcatraz Island, a federal prison reputed to be escape-proof because it was surrounded by shark-infested water. As we passed beneath the Golden Gate bridge, I was amazed by its structure, length, and size. I had read about the task of building it.

Watching San Francisco fade into the horizon as we headed across the ocean aroused some deep-seated emotions for me. It dawned on me that, as in life, I was on the back end of the ship and all that was behind me was past. My future was at the front end of the ship, and I had better get up to see that end and look ahead. I realized it would be a long time, and maybe never, before I would see my homeland again. All my hometown Navy buddies had gone other directions and I was on my own. Everyone was a stranger to me.

We were three or four days en route to Pearl Harbor and, as happened before when I saw new areas, the first sight of Pearl Harbor, Ford Island, Honolulu, awed me. It was beautiful with the sun shining brightly, the grass and trees bright green, and the beaches white as snow - but then it happened! I saw signs of the destruction the Japanese had caused during their surprise attack on December 7, 1941! As we docked, I stood almost in shock as I viewed the remains of sunken ships, buildings, and other facilities of this Navy base. There I was in the center of the famous "Pearl Harbor" that I'd read about, had seen pictures and heard radio reports of. This was the place where thousands of Americans had died suddenly, with little warning of the attack. It was nearly two years after that infamous day, and yet every day more bodies were found in ship compartments that were sealed under the water. It was nearly unbelievable!

My mind wrestled with the temptation to hate the sneaky, slant-eyed Japanese that had carried out this outlandish act. Yet in my mind I knew it was not the average Japanese citizen who caused it, but as in any country, only the minority was to blame. Thousands of innocent people had already died, were dying, and were to die before it would finally end. Countless lives were lost all over the world before the end finally came in 1945. Three and one half years of killing took place. Millions of families, friend or foe, were affected by this war.

After my arrival at Pearl Harbor, I spent time at various duties while waiting for my ship, the Heavy Cruiser USS San Francisco, to arrive from the ship yards in California. It had been there for several months being repaired from damage it had received in the battle of the Solomon Islands in the South Pacific. Over 350 men had been killed during one engagement with ships of the Japanese Navy in a famous night battle. It had been repaired, refitted with new equipment, and sent back to join the US Navy in the Pacific Ocean. People like me were put on board to take the place of sailors who were killed or injured during the battle. Altogether there were over 1200 sailors, marines, pilots, and officers in the ships company. The USS San Francisco was a peace time ship and was several years old when the war started. It had for armament: nine 8" guns, ten 5" guns, six 40-mm anti-aircraft batteries, several 20-mm AA guns as well as two airplanes. About 50 marines, 100 officers, and various sailors made up the ship's crew. For its gallant performance in the battles with the Japanese Navy, it was awarded the Presidential Citation by President Roosevelt and was the only cruiser to win that award during WWII. A battle ribbon was issued to anyone aboard that ship to wear as a symbol of the ship's gallantry.

I was received aboard the ship in October 1943. The war had been going on strong for almost two years in the South Pacific and the US Navy had been strengthened with new ships which were built since the attack. About this time, the United States felt it had become able to go on the offensive. Several new aircraft carriers, battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and submarines had been commissioned. Along with thousands of sailors and marines, soldiers were sent to various bases in the Pacific. Immediately a task force of carriers, battleships, cruisers, and destroyers was assembled and headed for Wake Island, which the Japanese had taken from the United States. It was the closest island to Pearl Harbor and was the starting point of reclaiming the Pacific Ocean. To many of the ships and crews, it was not the first time they had engaged in battle. To me it was the first of many to come.

I had been stationed above deck on the ship as a telephone relay talker. Many sailors and officers were stationed at various parts of the ship to operate guns, observe for airplanes, torpedoes, and other things that take place during battle action in war. My telephone consisted of a set of receiving headphones and a microphone which was fastened around my neck with a heavy strap. A cord was run to a jack which was mounted on a bulkhead. As we approached the island, the firing ships formed a battle line and proceeded to start firing their guns at enemy targets. Having never taken part in such an operation, I was totally at a loss as to what was about to happen.

Suddenly there were flashes of fire on the Japanese held island. Before I had time to evaluate these flashes, large splashes in the water occurred close to our ship as well as others in our group. Something hit the water close to our ship and I heard a thump, thump, thump pass by our ship. Suddenly I realized that those Japs were shooting their shore batteries (guns) back at us, and those splashes and thumps were large projectiles aimed at us. About that time, our ships' nine 8" guns fired back and the shock or concussion from the guns shook the ship so violently that it trembled like a leaf It happened that I had the telephone cord pulled rather tightly and the shock from the guns tore the cord loose from my headset and nearly broke my neck! No one had to tell me not to ever have the cord pulled that tightly when the guns were firing again. That was my first experience at fighting back at the Japanese, who surprised America with that sneak attack.

From that day on, it was a march across the Pacific Ocean in pursuit of the Jap forces who had taken all the previous American Islands and outposts since December 7. Most of our ship's action was operating with other ships in attacks and landings on islands and inland towards Japan. These islands were: Marshall, Gilbert, Guam, Philippines, Okinawa, Iwo Jima, as well as China and numerous places in the Pacific. We were attacked by many Japanese planes and submarines but never really engaged any Jap ships, mainly because our superior Navy, Army, and Marine Air Forces knocked them out of commission whenever the opportunity occurred.

Shortly after I was sent on board the USS San Francisco, my name was called over the ship's PA system. It asked me to report to the ship's offices. My record had been examined and it disclosed that I had taken typing in high school. The ship needed people like me to help make up for some vacant positions. My first reaction was, "What a heck of a way to fight a war!" Actually I had no choice but to accept their offer and do as they said. I was assigned to the Gunnery Office and worked there with two other men and several officers who were in the ship's Gunnery Department.

When I entered the Navy, I was an Apprentice Seaman. Upon graduation from boot camp, I was automatically advanced to Seaman Second Class. After I was aboard ship a short time, I was advanced to Seaman First Class. After a few months in the Gunnery Department Office, I was advanced to Yeoman Third Class. This was the classification of all office workers and it was possible to advance to higher positions as vacancies came up. At the time of the war's end in 1945, I had advanced to Yeoman Second Class and had served in several other offices on the ship. It turned out there were many advantages to the office job, and I was glad the opportunity had come along.

Besides working in the office, I took my turn "standing watch" on the ship which is everybody's duty. My watch time was spent in four-hour shifts for most of my career. Instead of being a "deck hand," my watch time was spent on the "bridge" of the ship. This is where the ship's control officer is stationed and from where the ship is steered and its speed controlled. Most of the time three officers and four enlisted men were on duty together. Most of the officers in this group were pretty good guys and they respected the enlisted men, such as myself, as much as they did the fellow officers. My job was to operate the speed control as directed by the officer in charge of the ship, and I was also stationed next to the sailor (called a boatswain's mate) who steered the ship. We made up sort of a special part of the ship. In time of Battle Quarters and Special Docking of the ship in ports, or any special event, I was stationed at this part of the ship.

We were always "in the know" as far as radio messages that came to all ships with information for our ship's captain regarding important happenings of the day. During one battle station duty, we were attacked by Japanese airplanes and I was struck several places by shrapnel from exploding bullets from the planes. I was taken to the ship's hospital and given aid for the wounds. Several others were wounded and some less fortunate were killed. It was very difficult for me to see the boys who were killed and buried at sea, as is the Navy tradition in war time. Several torpedoes were launched during the attack, but none of them caused any damage to our ship. Everyone who was wounded that day was awarded the Purple Heart medal. Mine is a treasured possession from my Navy days.

While I was in the Navy, I had the opportunity to meet people from all parts of the United States, and I learned a great deal about how others lived and what they believed in. I felt rather fortunate to have grown up in a small town in Iowa rather than in a city like Los Angeles, Chicago, or New York City. Somehow I got the feeling those who came from the city really didn't know much about what life was really meant to be. There are so many things we have here that they didn't know existed, and they couldn't really comprehend when we tried to tell them. I'm sure they had the same thoughts of us small town Iowa or Midwestern boys. Anyway, I never for one minute felt I would want to trade places with them. Some of the boys from the southern states had lived in really bad conditions, being from poor families in a poor part of the country. I remember some of them thinking that common white bread was cake and they ate it like it was a real treat.

Life in the service during war time was a very maturing experience for a boy in his late teens and early 20s. I felt it taught me more in a short time than anything that could have happened to me. It was a rewarding experience for those who were fortunate enough to survive it and come home healthy and well.

During my time in the Navy I saw several foreign countries: Hawaii, Philippines, China, Korea, and Panama were the main ones. It seemed to me the people in those countries were all poor and overpopulated. Their living conditions appeared to be much worse than any I had seen in this country. At the same time I realized their country had been tom by war and invaded by many foreign people. Do we ever stop to realize that our own homeland has never experienced the effects of being a battlefield? It might change our minds about war if this ever happened to us.

My two years on board the USS San Francisco was an experience that will never be forgotten. We spent many months at sea, seeing only an occasional island and other ships. A lot of close friends were made and much time was spent exchanging stories of our lives before the war started. About half of the ship's company was boys and men who had been "Navy Regulars," which meant they were in the Navy before the war. Some of the officers had spent 20 years or more in the peace time Navy. Most of these officers who had a long time in the Navy were guys who had started as seamen and advanced through the years to become commissioned officers. They were pretty good guys and were easy to please and get along with. On the other hand, some of the "Six Month Wonders" were guys who had gone to college to learn how to run a ship or do other Navy jobs. They were quite often not too well accepted aboard ship when they came directly from college and were given an officer's commission. It was hard for the 20-year men who had been through several real hostile battles, and knew what war really was like, to take orders from these new bosses. It took awhile for the crew to "break them in" as to what the war and ship life was really like. Some adapted easily and some never did. Life was not too pleasant for the ones who didn't.

One of the most important times aboard ship in the middle of the ocean was when the day's mail from home arrived. This could be once in two or three months. Gertrude, my girlfriend from back home, made sure I got my share of letters and news from home. Also, my mother sent a lot of letters. Normally I wrote quite often and kept the home folks advised as much as was permitted as to what I was doing as a sailor boy. Instead of writing letters home, a lot of guys I knew spent all their spare time playing cards or gambling. They were always quite envious of me when I had a stack of letters to read and they had very few. Also, once in awhile a package of food or drink would arrive. Sometimes it had been en route way too long and was beyond eating when it arrived. At least you knew you were not forgotten, even if it was too late.

World War II ended on September 2, 1945. I was discharged from the Navy at Minneapolis in January 1946 at the age of 21. Upon my return to Truro I had no idea what was in my future. When I received my draft notice, I was driving a truck for Harold and living with my mother. I knew I didn't want those to be my future plans, but I didn't know what I wanted. A few months of doing nothing began to get boring. A good friend, Ralph Brammer, built a new oil station in town, and an opportunity came for someone to operate it. That seemed to be an answer, so in May 1946, I began my career as a businessman in Truro.

On December 21, 1946, I married Gertrude Johnson at her home church near Spring Hill. Gertrude was teaching school in Truro when we were married and continued to teach until our first child, Gary, was born July 21, 1949. Robert, our second child, was born September 12, 1951. In 1950 we purchased a home in which we lived for 25 years. Our third son, Dennis, was born February 23, 1958, and our only daughter was born December 18, 1963, the same year my mother passed away during the summer.

While I operated the gas station, I was ambitious and took on other side jobs - school bus driver, and substitute rural mail carrier. In 1948, I owned a half interest in a corn shelling business with Fred Reed Jr. In 1949, I bought my first hound dog and have owned many since, sometimes having 15-17 at the same time. Because my nights were free, I started playing baseball on a Truro team and semi-pro ball. I was chosen for an all-state tournament team in 1948 and on the all-tournament team in 1954. On several occasions, when Bob Feller was playing with the Cleveland Indians, I was chosen to play at his annual homecoming game at Van Meter.

Two events in 1952 significantly impacted my life. (1) I sold the station to Bill Green later it was Jones Oil Company. (2) In May, a fire destroyed a long-time business, Kale's Hardware and Furniture Store, and I was offered the opportunity to buy their LP Gas business which consisted of approximately 300 customers. I expanded that into the appliance business, selling gas ranges and Maytag appliances. At that time Gertrude began helping in the business and we expanded into hardware, plumbing, and heating. She kept the books while I, with Harold's help, delivered gas and installed plumbing. Her involvement expanded as time went on until she was not only doing the book-work but the cleaning, hardware buying and other related duties. Our business kept expanding, although we were not without misfortune. Lightning struck the store in 1954 and much damage was done to our merchandise in the resulting fire. We were grateful that the building was saved, and with the help of many friends, we were soon back to our normal business practice. In the ensuing years, we continually expanded our service.

My father passed away in 1951 while I was in the gas station business, and Harold, who had been an ardent fisherman, suffered a heart attack in August 1955 while fishing in Minnesota and passed away there. Before he died, we spent every weekend and any other possible time fox hunting. Even after all these years, many memories linger from those days. Hunting without Harold was never the same.

I found many ways to be involved in community service. While I was the gas station operator, I was elected to the City Council and served for 11 years. From 1946 to 1976, I was on the Volunteer Fire Department and was assistant chief half of those years. Truro underwent continual improvement: streets drain ditches and culverts, city water, street lights, a new fire house for the new fire truck. I was even a grave digger for some years, which entailed harder and more emotional work than I expected. Because my business might give an appearance of conflict of interest when city water was installed, I resigned as Councilman at that time.

In 1974 Truro installed its city sewer system. In the course of its construction, there was a very bad accident. A trench caved in, injuring several and killing one young man. He was a teacher and left a wife and two small children. I was there in the middle of the entire series of events and it will never be erased from my mind.

My belief has always been, "If it's worth doing, do it the best way you can." People with whom I did business knew I was reliable. I kept my word, and it has served me well. Drastic changes have taken place during my lifetime - in the operation of business including farming, in the upgrading of our town, and in family structures and lifestyles. I was fortunate to be on the cutting edge of many of them.

In May 1967, Gertrude became ill. After a series of examinations by several different doctors, a lump in her left breast was discovered. Surgery revealed cancer but in the upcoming months she seemed to be doing well. Even the doctors were impressed and felt that there was a chance we would have no more problems. We all went on a trip to Wyoming in the summer of 1968, after which complications developed. More operations and hospital stays were necessary. She had to go nearly every day to Des Moines for treatments. If I was unable to take her, many of our friends provided transportation. The treatments were called "Cobalt" at that time. They were very harsh and severe on a person's body. Gertrude was sick most of the time, but was able to be home for Christmas 1970. She passed away on January 15, 1971. Her main concern throughout her illness was her family. She wanted to live to see her children grown and happy.

All our children graduated from Interstate 35 at Truro. Gary graduated from high school and attended school in Minneapolis in 1968 and 1969, then was called to serve in Viet Nam. Robert graduated in 1969 and attended Centerville Community College. Dennis and Crystal were still in grade school when Gertrude became ill. Grandma Johnson provided much help in any way that was needed. Friends and neighbors helped us through this time when we didn't feel it was possible to go on. Perhaps it is at times such as these when we appreciate relationships formed and solidified in small towns.

I felt the weight of attempting to be both father and mother to our children and after two years I began to think of remarriage. There were times I thought it would be selfish to ask someone to accept my family and me without being willing to accept theirs if they happened to be in the same situation - being left with children through a circumstance similar to mine. I became acquainted with Jeri Sutton, Crystal's first grade teacher. She worked for us the summer after Gertrude died. She was several years younger than me - 24 to be exact, but we liked each other's company and decided we could overcome the age difference. I discussed my decision with both boys who were no longer at home and they left me with the feeling they would accept my conclusion. Our marriage has lasted many years.

In 1977, on April 17, we became the parents of a son, Russell Harold. He had some mighty big shoes to fill to compare with his older brothers and sister, and discovered that his teachers expected a great deal of him. I enjoyed having more time to spend with him than in earlier years when my first children were young at the same time I was expanding the business. But I know that what I had written of those children applies to him - I never raised a kid I wasn't proud of when asked to do any kind of work. I treasure that when Gary worked at Firestone, an older man said, "Lytton, somewhere along the line someone taught you to work!" I consider that the very essence of life!

I am pleased to remember that I was a business man on Truro Main Street for over 50 years, which is a record. Through those years and afterward, I was active in the Truro UCC (United Church of Christ) and then Peru UMC (United Methodist Church). I was on the boards of those churches and involved in work projects for the church buildings and parsonages. I was involved in Lions Club and the yearly manager for Truro Community Developers, Inc. for 33 years, and many other civic projects. I believe we who are retired still have something to contribute and I am pleased to be asked to serve as a Green Thumb volunteer to see what improvements we can suggest for my new home community, Osceola.

I was born Jeri Lou Sutton on September 12, 1947 at the Indianola Hospital. My parents were Gerald (Jerry) and Doris Brown Sutton. I have an older sister, Sandra Sue (1940) and I had an older brother, Joey Ray (1942-1999). We lived on East Ashland Street in Indianola, and my dad worked for the Warren County DX Oil Company. Mom was a homemaker.

When my parents were first married, Dad worked for a well drilling company in Iowa and Illinois. The family followed his job, and were living in a little house trailer when my sister was born in Stanhope, Iowa and my brother in Dubuque, Iowa.

Dad's growing up years was difficult. He was born in 1910 in Warren County, Iowa to Charles and Leora Sutton. He had an older brother, Claude, and older sisters, Belva, Bertha, Faye, and Helen. Helen died at age 10. Dad's parents divorced and part of the time the children were put in an orphanage to live. Dad eventually was able to leave and went to live with an older married sister.

He had to quit school after eighth grade to go to work. He hated it that he didn't have more education, but he earned his diploma for high school and college through life's experiences in the "School of Hard Knocks." I thought he knew everything, and he did keep up to date through reading the newspaper, lots of hard work, and lessons learned throughout the years.

Dad had no good memories of those years or his family life. I can understand how some folks who have such experiences can become bitter or let them become a cause for making bad decisions in their lives. Dad never wanted to talk much about it, but he never seemed bitter about his past. That was the reason, however, I never knew much about my Sutton side of the family, and now, when I see the name, or meet someone named Sutton, I just claim them as my cousin!

My mom's parents were William Gaylord "Gail" and Ethel Batten Brown. Mom was born in the Motor Community (Warren County, Iowa) in 1913. She had a younger brother, Ray (1915-1991) and a sister, Emma Brown Sutherland (1919). The family grew up in the town of Beech, Iowa. Grandfather Gail was a carpenter, but died of tuberculosis at the early age of 54 years. Grandmother Ethel was deaf at age four, caused by her being stung in the ears by bees. She was very conscious of her speech and didn't think she spoke correctly. She sent my mom to stay with Grandma's sister, Florence, and her husband, Fred Goss, during her early years so she could learn to speak plainly, having their voices as an example.

At age four, Mom wanted to learn to sew. Aunt Florence gave her one of Uncle Fred's old shirts. Mom cut it up, and without a pattern or much help from Aunt Florence, she made herself a dress. At age 10 she made a quilt. She seemed to have a natural talent, ability, and love to sew. Throughout the years, she continually sewed for family and friends. She also sewed dance costumes for recitals of Ellen Belle Foster's dance pupils, crocheted, and knitted expertly. I'd like to have inherited her talent, but it went instead to my sister. At least we kept it in the family. My mother, Doris, graduated from Beech High School in 1931. She loved school and wanted to go on to college, but times were hard and money was in short supply in her family. She worked as a seamstress for Nina Neal in Des Moines following graduation. Nina Neal's son took swimming lessons from Johnny Weismuller of the "Tarzan" movies, and he later became a coach for a Des Moines high school.

In 1950 our family moved to Uncle Fred Goss' farm a mile north and 3 1/4 miles east of Indianola. Fred had won this farm in a poker game years before. My father, Jerry, farmed and raised livestock in partnership with Fred. Dad wanted to serve his country in WW II but wasn't able to pass the physical due to surgery and an ulcer. It made him feel a little bit less of an American male, but he had to abide by his 4-F rating and do his part for the war on the home-front.

Doris loved to garden and raise flowers, always canned and preserved all the produce from the garden with a large surplus for family and friends. She loved to cook and entertain. Whoever her guests, there was always a delicious meal, lots of visiting, and sometimes card games. Mom's sister, Aunt Emma and family, as well as Dad's sister, Aunt Faye and her family, lived in Indianola, so we got to spend lots of time with them. Aunt Emma's daughter, Rena Lou, and I were a year apart and we had lots of fun times. We grew up almost like sisters. I didn't get to know my paternal grandmother, Grandma Sutton, or my maternal grandmother, Grandma Brown. But their sisters, Aunt Florence and Aunt Gertie, were like grandmothers to me, and we also spent lots of time with them. They shared many stories about growing up in their Batten family. Holidays were always special times at our house with our family. Even though the house was small, there was lots of good food and fun!

Following the deaths of Fred Goss in 1956, and his wife, Florence, in 1968, the farm ground was divided and sold. They had no children, so the estate was divided among the three Brown children, who were nieces and nephews. My father, Jerry, no longer farmed full-time and raised only a few Angus cattle. He worked part-time for a local carpenter, Burt Spence. This came in very handy when our farm home was modernized in the 1960s with the addition of a full basement, indoor plumbing, and enlarged kitchen. I remember how interesting it was to watch the house being raised and the basement dug. Jerry later went to work at Montgomery Ward's Warehouse in Des Moines until retirement. He died in 1986. His last few years he lived alone and missed my mom a great deal. She died in 1979, just at retirement age.

Doris took employment at Simpson College in the 1960s - laundry services, janitor work at Mary Berry Hall, manager of the Wigwam snack bar, and food services manager and cook. She later was employed at the JC Penney Company store in Indianola as a sales clerk. We weren't a very rich family, but we were wealthy in love and family togetherness. Living on the farm, we always had plenty to eat and Mom made most of our clothes. We felt very fortunate that we got to grow up with a stay-at-home mom.

I started to kindergarten in 1951. My class was the "war babies." So far in the schools' history, we were the largest class to enter school in Indianola, and in 1965 we were the largest class to graduate. I attended Hawthorne Elementary for kindergarten, first, and sixth grades, and Irving Elementary for second through fifth grades.

In 1953 I started taking tap and ballet lessons with Ellen Belle Foster and continued for five or six years. We performed at annual dance recitals, 4th of July celebrations in Milo, Iowa, the State Fair and Veterans' Hospital in Knoxville, Iowa. I got to see Betty Lou on the Magic Window Show, and in the 1950s I saw Roy Rogers, Dale Evans, and Pat Brady at the Grandstand at the State Fair. We shook their hands! Wow! I'd met my first real live celebrities!

I belonged to Blue Birds and Camp Fire Girls in third and fourth grades. In fifth grade through the eighth, I played the clarinet in the band, using the clarinet my sister had used when she was in band.

In junior high and high school, I belonged to the Be-Square 4-H Club with the project of horses, a Palomino mare and her Strawberry Roan Appaloosa gelding. The gelding was shown two years at the Warren County Fair.

My freshman year was spent in the old high school building. The new high school was being built and my class was the first sophomore class to attend there. During my junior and senior year, my summer jobs were detassling corn for my neighbors, the Henry Brothers. I also did some babysitting and helped Mom in the garden. I loved to mow the lawn with the push-mower, and even more when we got a riding lawn mower.

Becoming an aunt in 1960 was pretty special. I finally got the little sister I always wanted! My brother's daughters: Shelly (1960) and Sherry (1962); my sister's children: Jeffrey (1962-1968), Tracey (1964) and Douglas (1965); second marriage, my brother's daughters: Sheryl (1967) and Shawna (1977). My brother's choices of names for his girls kept me on my toes to speak their names carefully and slowly so as not to get tongue-tied! I have since become a great-aunt four times. We suffered a terrible loss when my nephew was hit and killed by a drunk driver on Labor Day 1968. He had just started kindergarten, so we didn't get to see him grow up but I often wonder what he would have become as an adult.

I attended Simpson College, graduating in 1969 with a BA degree in elementary education. My parents were very proud of me. I was their only child to go to college and this was something neither of them was able to do. I accepted a job with the Interstate 35 schools as a first grade teacher at the Truro Center. I really enjoyed small town Truro life. I knew everyone, all their relatives, and probably more of their business than I should have known! It was just like a big family. While employed by the I-35 school, I also came to know lots of folks from St. Charles and New Virginia, which was also a plus.

Kindergarten, first, and second grades were in the high school building at Truro. I came to know a lot ofl-35 high school kids, also. Several of the high school girls came to the elementary rooms during their study halls to help as an aide. We teachers were grateful for the extra help; the students loved the girls and the extra attention they received. I taught at the Truro building three years, and then the elementary was moved out of the high school building to St. Charles Elementary, where I taught two more years. I retired from full-time to substitute teaching for 15 years. Those were good years which gave me the opportunity to go to all the I-35 buildings - Truro, St. Charles, and New Virginia.

The Lytton children were involved in sports and other school activities, so this became a part of my life in 1972. Now as we go to the events of the grandchildren, it is almost like a family reunion getting together with newer families and the families of the kid's friends from years ago. I feel like I-35 school is another of my families. I have especially enjoyed seeing former students grow up through the school years and become parents of I-35 students.

The father of one of my first grade students, Crystal, was Dale Lytton. I came to know the Lytton family when their mother died. Gertrude Lytton was such a special person to her family and to the community. She was a cousin of my neighbor, Jeanne Woodruff, in the Farmer's Chapel neighborhood, and also a niece of my friend, Edith Fetters, from my Baptist Church family. Sometimes it seems like a very small world. Mutual friends, Rev. Richard and Deloda Hempenius, also helped instigate a romance with Dale Lytton, and stood up with us when we were married in 1972. I was 24 years younger than Dale and our marriage was quite a scandalous event in the small town of Truro! His family was so kind to accept me into their midst. Dale's friends also treated me fairly and included me in their lives as well. Dale has been my best friend and partner for over 30 years. We have made many beautiful memories together.

Dale's children are: Gary (1949), Robert (1951), Dennis (1958), and Crystal (1963). Gary was just getting out of the service and Robert was in college, so our family numbered four most of the time. I didn't ever want to replace their mother in their lives. I just wanted to try to be there for them and help take care of their daily needs and comforts. I feel very sad that their mother didn't get to see all of them grow into adulthood and enjoy their accomplishments. I have been able to do this and get a share of the joys of her grandchildren. I still get a little teary-eyed when I think of the joy she missed and those I have received from her children.

We built a new home in 1975, on a hill west of Truro where Dale used to roam, hunt, and trap. He loved it there and hoped someday to have a house there. This was his dream come true, and we shared many good years there. One of the good years was when our son was born in 1977. I was a very nervous first-time mom and he taught me a lot about motherhood! I could be a stay-at home mom most of his growing up years. It has been a pleasure to watch him grow into a fine adult.

I helped Dale in his hardware store as bookkeeper and clerk for several years. When he closed the store and worked out of our home, I still did the book-work, but I was promoted to his "go-for" on various jobs. Who would have thought a college educated girl would some day be cleaning drains?? For five years I was Deputy Clerk for the city of Truro and for 5 1/2 years I was the clerk at the Truro post office. This was during the time of their brand new building and I had the pleasure of being the first clerk there.

While in Truro, in addition to my church volunteer work, I belonged to Sweet Adelines in Winterset for two years, was a Truro library board member four years, and volunteered for story hour four five years. I served on the Truro Centennial committee two years, the Fall Festival and South River Festival committees 14 years, was a Lion's Club member, later a volunteer for 10 years, and was honored to receive their Melvin Jones Award for volunteerism in 1995. I was secretary of the Truro Community Developers, Inc. 20 years, officer and volunteer for the Truro Alumni Association 25 years, Madison-Warren Ecumenical Associate member and officer 10 years, Truro Meal Site officer and volunteer 12 years, Madison County Museum volunteer 12 years, Truro First Responder three years, Volunteer of the Veterans' flags at the cemeteries six years. I served on three committees for the I-35 School Board. One committee, on which Dale and I both served from 1996-99, helped plan a K-8 addition for the present I-35 high school.

In May 1995, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My doctor, Dr. Thomas Lower, discovered the lump in my breast during my yearly exam, and thanks to his care and concern, I became one of the lucky ones to be a survivor for ten years. This was one of my toughest life assignments. I had a good life and all I asked of God was that I could live to see our son, Russell, graduate that May. I had surgery before his graduation, so I could enjoy the event and all that went with it. There was follow-up surgery in June, with chemotherapy for the following six months and radiation for 28 days. The John Stoddard Cancer Center was a wonderful place to be sent for treatments, and the caring doctors and staff were a great help to me. I guess God wasn't finished with me yet in 1995!

We moved to Osceola in 2003. It was past time for Dale to be completely retired. He was still working quite remarkably at age 75 and had felt very well. The next five years, with all his combined health concerns, physical labor became more difficult. We needed a smaller home, less expense, fewer stair steps and a smaller yard. We were thinking of an apartment in Osceola, where we had always doctored, liked to shop, and knew a few local folks. Dale's good friend, Noel Friday, suggested we invest in a small house. He contacted Rilma Muller and she found the perfect house for us. We are enjoying Osceola and this chapter of our lives.

Presently I am retired and volunteering at the hospital and school. It is very fulfilling and helps me get acquainted in a new place with lots of new folks to meet. I have joined TOPS club, Women's Club, CARSPA, and Miriam Circle at the Osceola United Methodist Church. Sometimes my schedule gets a little hectic, but it is very satisfying.

I have enjoyed making photo albums for our family and others, also making for them memory books with other articles and information. I have made over 50 of them! Dale used to complain that I took way too many photos and spent way too much money on film and developing. Now he gets to reap the harvest as he has many hours of pleasure going back through these albums and the memories involved. The rest of my time is devoted to the pleasure of our families, reading mysteries/humor, all kinds of music, movies, puzzles, and our friends. Ever since he was four, Dale has always had dogs, and we continue to have dogs in our family. Since the children have left home, we have to have a dog in the house to be our "child," a special part of the family.

My Faith Journey

I have belonged to three churches and three denominations so far in my life. Dad wasn't a regular church attendee. He always went on Christmas and Easter, but he was a faithful servant of God, a good husband, provider, and father. My mother was a woman of great faith. She always attended church and was a good worker in the church. Growing up, she belonged to the Christian Church in Beech, Iowa, and in Indianola she belonged to the First Baptist Church.

We children attended Sunday school and Vacation Bible School at the first Baptist Church. There were several times when my brother and I wanted to go (and did) to our neighborhood church, Farmers' Chapel, because our best friends attended there. It was a country church filled with caring and friendly folks. Farmers' Chapel (United Methodist) was burned by an arsonist in 2000; a tragedy for the community and church family. It has since been rebuilt and recently I had an opportunity to visit. It is a beautiful and very functional church.

In 1959, while I was in junior high, I was baptized by immersion at the First Baptist Church, and this became very important to me. I made special efforts to attend regularly, joined the choir, and while I was in college, I taught some Sunday School classes.

I have mentioned Rev. Richard and Deloda Hempenius. I met them when I came to Truro in 1969 to teach school. She was our school aide, and their daughter, Michelle, was in my first class. Richard was the minister for the Truro Yoke Parish, consisting of Truro UCC (United Church of Christ), Truro UMC (United Methodist Church), and Peru UMC. I began attending, and later joined the Truro UCC, sang in the choir, taught Sunday School classes, and served several years on the Board. Dale and Gertrude and family were also members of this church as was a Dale's mother in the years when he was growing up.

Deloda and Rev. Richard, and their children Craig and Michelle, became very special friends to me. They included me in a lot of their family activities and outings. Being new in a community and single, I appreciated their friendship very much. Dale and his family had already been taken in by the Hempenius' charms! Richard used to help Dale a lot on his plumbing jobs. Deloda and Gertrude were very good friends and active in the women's Jolly Fun Club. After Dale and I were married, we spent a lot of time together as couples and as families in Truro. Since then they have moved to serve other churches in Iowa. Now in retirement years we try to get together as couples once a year.

Dale became a little unhappy about some incidents that happened in the church and we changed our membership in 1990 to the Peru UMC. It is such a friendly church and we fell in love with the people there. It reminded me so much of the small country church (Farmers Chapel) of my growing up years. I became active in the choir, Sunday School, and the Board. Most recently I have tried to help with the music for the Sunday worship services.

Due to issues that couldn't be resolved, in July 1990, the Yoke between the three churches was dissolved, and Truro UCC remains a single parish. The Truro UMC and Peru UMC is a joint parish.

Since October 2003, when we moved to Osceola, we haven't yet moved our Peru UMC membership. They are a church struggling with finances and attendance. We try to attend two Sundays a month. The other times of the month we have been going to the 11 Osceola churches. I have enjoyed this so much. There are so many fine people in Osceola and I want to meet them all and worship with them. We regularly attend the Osceola UMC Wednesday Wonderful Worship services and they are a delight - warm, friendly, and informal.

Belonging to a church family and being a regular, active member has been very important and rewarding to me. Starting with Sunday worship is the greatest way to begin a week. Dale's children and our son attended Sunday school and church while growing up. Not all of them are faithful members of a church as adults. Hopefully some time in their futures they can find their way back to a church family and enjoy the rewards there, too.