I was in kindergarten at West Ward school when Dad the took the job at Belleview. We moved to Council Bluffs because we couldn't find a place to live in the small town of Belleview. I went to school in Council Bluffs until I was in the third grade. By that time they had built a bunch of new houses, so we lived in a new house until the war was over. I continued in Council Bluffs through second grade, at which time I went to school in Belleview. I was in fourth grade when we came back to Osceola.

My folks had sold our house when we moved to the Omaha area, and after we returned, we couldn't find a house to live in anywhere in town, so we rented an apartment above Osceola Drug Store — Windrath's Drug Store at the time, and Dad set about working all of every day and half the nights building a house on West Jefferson Street. Lumber wasn't available but Junior Price was hauling grain to Arkansas and could haul lumber back for Dad to build his house.

The house didn't have a basement so Dad dug a cave, by hand. Caves were common at that time, sometimes used for shelters in case of a tornado, but commonly used for storage. Dad cemented the floor and walls, formed the top and also cemented it. He piled dirt on top of it and had greenery growing to keep it from washing off. It stayed cool in the summertime and was a good storage area. My parents put in a big garden every year and Mother did a lot of canning. Dad had 105 fruit trees — apple, pear, lots of peach trees, plum, cherry, apple, and apricot trees. We even had grape vines. All this good food we stored in the cave.

Some of what we did would be restricted now by zoning laws. There was no such thing at that time, and every year we bought 100 chickens. There was a little old building — we called it our shed, and in it we kept the chickens and had 12 old hens for eggs — all this within the city limits. It may be hard for young people to realize how important that was in those days. Bev and I didn't live through the Depression, but we were born in time to live through the end of it and our parents still lived with strong memories of how rough it had been. It had its effect on how we have lived. I won't ever forget my dad telling me, "Don't spend more than you have."

No part of plumbing appealed to me when I was a kid, and I told my dad I wasn't going to be a plumber. His reply was that he didn't care what I did but I was going to work, so I went to work at the Chevrolet Garage when it was Lewis Chevrolet. I started washing cars there when I was 13 years old. Later one of my really close friends was Pete Ahrens. He worked at the north Standard Oil Station for Shorty Twombley and I worked at the south Standard Oil Station for Bro Saner. We ran around together all the time.

I graduated from high school in 1955, and in 1956, Pete and I enlisted in the Navy together. We went to Great Lakes, Illinois for basic training, after which they sent me to machinist mate school also in Great Lakes. When I got out of there, I went aboard an aircraft carrier, the USS Princeton at our home port in Long Beach, California. Compared with what some fellows went through, mine was a good duty. I worked in the engine rooms, the boiler rooms, and on steam heat, air conditioning, and refrigeration. It was fairly comfortable. We had good food, and a warm place to sleep. With a full crew, the squadron aboard, we had approximately 3,500 people, not too far short of the population of Osceola.

I made three cruises to the Far East and the South Pacific. It was during the cold war, so there was tension between the United States and Russia but no conflict. We had one scare. A submarine chased us for 30-some days. Formosa was a problem. It was in league with Russia. We kept cruising around the island and were warned that if we came within 12 miles they would start shooting. We would pull in sometimes and they did start firing at us, but they were more warning shots than anything.

I was in service from 1956 until 1960. I was in longer than Pete because when my discharge papers came out, we were in Yokosuka, Japan, just south of Tokyo. They called me to the personnel office and said they were sending me back to the states for a discharge. I asked how I would be going back and they said I would be flying. I said, "I am not flying back. I've been on this ship for 3 1/2 years and I'm going to ride it back." They warned me, "You will have to extend for this cruise. You may be here three months or six months' I said, "Whatever. I'm going to ride it back."

When I came home in 1960, I went to work for my dad in the plumbing business. Thus began my career that at one time I wanted no part of. But Beverly, whom I married soon after my return to Osceola, and I will attest, it has been a good life.

Beverly Marie Burgus Schader

Bob and I went to school together but we didn't date. By the time we started dating I was going to UNI (now University of Northern Iowa but then Iowa State Teachers' College). That ceased, of course, when Bob went to the Navy. We got back together later.

I was born in Clarke County in 1936. My sister, Delores, was born in 1938. Our parents were Marvin and Leona Burgus. In those days, farmers who rented often moved in March. It seemed to me as a child, we moved every year. In our present mind-set, we might suppose it had to do with income tax time, but there wasn't income on which to pay taxes. It is more probable it was because of planting. They had to get settled before it is was time to put in crops.

We raised hogs and had a cow — a Guernsey that gave a lot of milk. We had chickens for eggs, geese, and big gardens. We canned to provide food for winter. Every place but one where we lived had a cave, but although we took to the cave if there were signs of a tornado or bad storm, the cave was mainly for storage of our canned goods, and those foods that would keep through winter months: carrots, potatoes, apples and the like.

My sister Delores and I had the red measles when she was five and I was seven years old. We were very ill and Delores died. I have felt that had a big impact on my parents' marriage and probably was responsible for their later divorce. They each coped in a different way with their grief, but I feel very blessed that I never had bad feelings toward either one of them. Especially my dad, I was never angry with him I was very hurt and missed him so much, not really understanding why he was not in our home. Nothing was really done officially. He just left. That was it. There was never support financially or in any other way. Because of the circumstances, at the time that was the way they dealt with it.

Losing my sister left a hole — we were so close, even though we had each other for only five years. I filled the hole with all my other friends. As I look back, I think that is probably why I felt so close to them. They were more like sisters all through my high school years, through college, and when I was teaching. They were like family.

I believe the loss also had an affect on my teaching. I felt more sensitive to the children's feelings if they were having a bad day because something hadn't gone well at home, sometimes it might be similar to what I'd gone through, and I tried to make it a better day for them at school. Someone did that for me. I don't have bad memories, and I know it was because my mom and I were sustained by my grandmother, Orah Morrow. We were so close. I stayed with my grandmother a lot while Mom was continuing her education. We also had the love of a solid community of close friends. We attended the First Christian Church in Osceola where each of us had good support.

I went to country school — the first school east of town, until the latter part of third grade. Pauline Miller was the teacher the whole time I was there. After my parents were divorced, my mom and I moved to town by the time I started fourth grade at East Ward. Leota Johnson was my fifth and sixth grade teacher. I attended junior high where the Methodist church is now and I graduated from high school in 1954.

My mother married Maurice Eddy when I was in junior high. We moved to his farm near the Leslie school. However, the Leslie school was closed so I rode the school bus to the junior high school, located where the Methodist Church now stands. I loved living in the country again! Riding the horse, gathering the eggs, bottle-feeding lambs, sledding in the pasture in winter, was so much fun.!

Four years later, we moved into town where my brother, Rick Eddy, was born. I was fifteen and loved being a big sister. Rick, his wife, Melodie, and daughter Ricquel live here in Osceola. Rick is a landscaper. I have another brother, John Burgus, who lives in Detroit. He is a meat cutter. John has three children and three grandchildren.

I had always known my chosen career. Mom being a teacher kind of got me in mood. The clincher was that they started the Future Teachers of America program at the high school, and we went to Indianola to a meeting during which they let us go to some classrooms to visit. They were so overcrowded they were holding third grade classes in a house. That made up my mind. I decided I really liked what I saw happening.

After high school, I worked at the drug store for Jerry Wolfe and I worked at Robinsons for one full summer. I saved my money and between that and Mom helping me, I went two years to Iowa State Teachers' College. At that time we could teach on a two-year pre-professional certificate, with the stipulation that we spend every summer working toward the degree. That is what I did. I taught nine months and went back to school for three. My first position was in Wellman, near Iowa City. The superintendent, who had been my high school principal here, had gone to what is now called Mid-Prairie School. I taught three years there, then three years in Grinnell. When Bob and I decided to get married, I came back to Osceola.

Bob and I were married in 1962 in the Osceola Christian Church. Clint Wolfe was the pastor. I was 26 and Bob turned 26 so we weren't married very young. I still had a year left to finish my degree so I went to Simpson and graduated from there. It took planning to accomplish that. Bob plumbed during the day and worked for Bro Saner at night to pay for the gas and tires for me to drive back and forth to Simpson. I had to use my IPERS (Iowa Public Employees Retirement) for my tuition.

The first year we were married we lived on East Fayette in an apartment owned by Dr. Harkens. We paid $55 a month, which included the water, and we paid our electricity. During the year we lived there, one night Shorty Porter's furnace went out. He called Bob, and he went over, solved the problem and started the furnace. As they sat and talked, Shorty told Bob, "My wife is not well and we plan to sell the house and shop to move to Arizona next spring." Bob said, "I'd sure like to have a house like this." That was all that was said, but when they were ready to move, Shorty called. He said, "Bob, I want to sell you this house." Bob's answer was, "Shorty, I couldn't buy the doorknob." He said, "Bring your wife over. I want to talk to you."

We went over, talked to Shorty, looked at the house, and he said, "I've got it all set up so you can afford to buy this house. I want $8,000 for it. I want $2,000 down but I'm going to loan you the $2,000, no interest. You pay me when you can, however you can. I've talked to Ernie Garris and he can get you a loan through Central Saving and Loan at Chariton." That was how we got our first house. Those were days before credit cards or even before charge accounts were popular. Debts were frowned upon generally and neither Bob nor I was raised to incur them. We worked really hard and got him paid back as quickly as we could. Our payment was $65 a month and that included the insurance, taxes and all. That was just $10 a month more than we were paying for rent. Thanks to Shorty Porter that is how we got our house and we feel very fortunate.

I didn't teach while I was working toward my degree. Before I came to Osceola I had taught fourth and first grade, but when I started teaching here in 1963, I began teaching second grade and I also taught remedial reading for 9 1/2 years. This program has grown over the years. To begin with, the school system had Carrie Evers, the first remedial reading teacher. She worked with reading and math. Then the Title 1 program, which was a grant from the Federal government, came in. It had to be applied for, and it required that there be a certain percent of the community in the lower income bracket. They had pretty strict standards. When it became available, the funds could be used for a second school nurse and another teacher. Bev Edwards, the nurse, began then and Roberta Stephenson was the additional teacher. They added another one — me. That was in 1966. Roberta had upper elementary and I had lower.

Now we have more such teachers but we have a lot more students. Class size was pretty high when I came here, compared to other schools, and they have added more sections and more teachers for individual needs. We have a huge elementary building compared to a lot of schools. We have students that are in the school system now that probably wouldn't have been when Bob and I were going to school. I can see a big change. Some of the special needs children wouldn't have been in a public school. Either they weren't sent or they might have been in the school west of town. This was a rural school, Ward Center. When other rural schools closed, this was kept open and taught by Mary Delk from Weldon. Bob went out there several years to play Santa Claus.

I went back to the classroom and taught first grade, which I had taught before, then eventually I went to third grade. I taught 41 years altogether, 35 in Osceola. Bob and I did not have children, so my children were my students. It has been interesting to stay in the same community and watch them grow up. Some of them I could recognize later when they were involved in high school activities. In a few cases, I would have been able to predict their futures —both ways, the outstanding and those who got into trouble. It is said that by third grade, you can tell who is going to end up in prison. I didn't believe it when I heard it at a meeting, but everything taken into account — the home and personalities — the longer I taught the more I thought it was true.

I retired in 1998. The time since then has gone so fast I hardly know what to say about what I've done. At first I didn't want to do anything like belonging to clubs or anything like that. I had a big long list of what I was going to do and that list isn't even half done these ten years later. All the time I taught school I didn't have any outside interests because I wanted to give my all to school. I spent every Saturday and every Sunday afternoon at the school just getting ready for Monday. Of course, I had a lot of company over there — other teachers were doing the same thing. But even my vacations I usually spent rounding up materials for the next year so it's been quite a change when school started in the fall, not to see the children or the people I had worked with.

In the intervening years I have become a little more involved — in the church, for instance. We have Bible study once a week, led by the recently deceased Donna Cully. I belong to Women's Club and I continue to belong to Delta Kappa Gamma, which I joined while I was teaching. I'm a Red Hat lady. I also enjoy meetings of the Retired School Personnel. There are times we get together and talk about our common interests, and we've had really good speakers from the community there and at Women's Club. We learn a lot from people in the community who share their interests or experiences. In our organizations, we try to support and/or participate in community projects such as Toys for Christmas.

My grandmother, Daisy Ashby, (my dad's mom) and I began spending more time together celebrating her many birthdays, shopping, attending family dinners, and going out to eat with my mother. Daisy lived on her own until she was 103. She died before her 106th birthday.

Bob and Bev

We live at the east edge of town where Roy Bailey lived. Tommy and Ethel Twombley lived the next place east of Max and Jean Oliver, and we live the first place north. We own 20 acres, which we have in pasture. Max rents the pasture for cows and calves. When we first moved out there we had three cows and calves on the side. We had chickens and a big strawberry bed. The chickens were there when we bought the place. I did all that in addition to teaching. I was canning tomatoes at a very busy time at school — just when school was starting in the fall. Then we had ten cows, the bull, and calves every spring. It was a lot of fun, but 47 years later, I wouldn't want to do that.

We have had three dogs. Bob's grandfather, father and he always liked terrier dogs. The ones they preferred were not very big, short haired, black and white. Our last dog, J.R., was a fox terrier. He weighed about 30 pounds. The others had been 11 or 12 pounds. Our dog always went with Bob in the pick-up. We lost J.R. in May and decided no more dogs. We kind of like to go somewhere on the spur of the moment, which meant we had to find some way to provide for him, preferably someone to keep him.

We enjoy having leisure time to pursue our hobbies. Bob likes old cars and restores them. He has the barn all fixed up into a workshop and can go out there and piddle around with the old cars, cleaning up car parts and that sort of thing. There is also an uninvited companion who lives there — a cat. He arrived one day with Dave Twilliger, who came to our house, pulled up, and heard something meowing under his hood. He raised the hood and here was this little bitty cat. He reached down to take him out and the cat gave a vicious meow, clawed him, and Dave gave it a swing. The cat tore into the garage and we couldn't find him. We knew he was in there but he was hiding. When we finally found him, we couldn't get him to leave.

Finally, we started feeding him, which was the wrong thing to do. Bev took it to the vet clinic and spent $100 on this stupid cat. Bob has a convertible that he was getting ready to work on, went out one morning and couldn't find the cat. It was in the top of the convertible and over time, he had riddled it, just tore it all to pieces. We named the cat Lucky and more than once he lived up to his name. He is lucky to have found a home and when he pulls a stunt like he did with the convertible top, he is lucky to be alive. Of course, he isn't really a problem to take care of. Cats pretty much take care of themselves. He has a litter box in the barn, and food and water. Bob keeps the heat on for him, and he stays in the shop. Bob admits, "I don't like cats but this one doesn't know that. He follows me around all the time."

We have a joint hobby — collecting paper weights, which is kind of a story in itself. Bob tells: "I guess I was the one who started this. We were at an Old Threshers' Reunion at Mt. Pleasant, and I was looking at the paper weights a fellow had on display. I liked them real well and I think I ended up buying a few. Bev wasn't with me. She was somewhere else but came to the same place. A young man was standing behind her and said his aunt had told him, `If you see any St. Clair paper weights, buy them.' So he had come there just to buy St. Clair paper weights and Bev's ears picked up. She saw a glass apple that she thought was just gorgeous. Her mom had been taking care of our dog while we were gone on vacation so she bought the apple for her. So each of us by ourselves bought paper weights that day then we got together and talked about them.

"That was the beginning and the individual whose art we have the most of and value the most highly is Joe St. Clair, of Elwood, Indiana, and we got to meet and talk with him about his paper weights. We told him he really should write a book. He just lived a year after that. We felt so bad because it would have been so good for him to write, but other people have written about him and his product. Now we have gotten into the habit of picking up paper weights and looking on the bottom to see who made it. Once our interest began, it snowballed.

"What is unique about these is that they are glass, but it isn't blown glass. It is formed with a heated crystal and glass with colors. They go through the same process as a glass blower except they don't blow it, they form it. We were always going to go see where these were made and never did. One time we were coming home from North Carolina and weren't very far from Elwood, Indiana, so I said, 'We'll go next year,' and Bev said, 'No, let's do it this year.' We went and arrived at 8:00 in the morning, they were just getting started to make floral paper weights.

"Joe St. Clair came over as we were standing there watching. We told him we had a lot of his paper weights. He suggested, 'Let's go over to the gift shop,' and told the fellows he would be back in a little bit. 'I'm going on break.' They hadn't even started to work and he was taking a break. We went over and he visited with us. He explained that it takes five people to make a paper weight. He said, 'Before you leave, you will have one of a kind. You are going to make a paper weight.' So Bev and I got to make a paper weight. When he turned it upside down where he always signed them, he said, 'What are we going to use for a signature?' I said, 'Just put an S in it.' He did that and then he said, "This will have to go into the Annealing oven to cool down. It will be in there for three or four days, but when it is done, I'll send it to you.' and he did.

"The next year we went out for his festival. It was just before school started so it was like going there, coming home and starting to school. We got to see him then and sometime after that he had a heart attack and died. He had retired once but he said, 'You can only do so much fishing,' so he went back to work."

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