| The Story Of Helfred Matson & Mary Garson |
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| town, out of her home, north on the valley road, a quick right to go up the hill, turn left to go down again, up the hill, and there in front her in the Beef River Valley was Strum. Sounds dramatic? I sometimes wonder if Martha looked at her walking journeys to Strum this way. She probably noticed everything along the way. She was always so happy, it never bothered her to walk. But it bothered others. I doubt it was often that Martha was allowed to walk home after making a grocery purchase. She might have walked into town, but the residents of this fine community seldom allowed her to leave town, with groceries in hand, and walk back home. I am certain that she did all of her shopping at Hulberg?s Store, I don?t know why unless it was the church connection, and I am just as certain that if another patron was not available from that direction that someone in Hulberg?s drove her back home. I witnessed these things. I remember Martha in church but with no particular or specific stories to recall about that. What could happen in and around church that would cause me to remember something this fine old woman did. Always so grateful, always so thankful, and so humble. I remember Martha at her home on the farm, on the Syver Madsen and Hellene Hansen Bjerkebakken homestead south of Strum. She always had apples. They might have had a worm or two, I doubt she used any insect chemical, she didn?t use anything to fight them, but she always had apples. And more than once my friends and I biked out there for that purpose. My older brothers, Jim and Dick, have a more vivid memory of the farm and the apples. To some kids in Strum, Martha was a strange old crippled lady. She dressed in black, I recall, and it was Martha who left an indelible impression on virtually every child of my generation and all of the adults as well. Martha did not marry, but she gave birth to one of the real stories about the people around Strum, the sort of story that my father would have included in his book, ?A History of Strum and the Town of Unity?, had the book been intended to include the 1950s. You see, Martha found a way to be remembered for generations to come. Martha Matson, my great aunt, was the ?Fire Lady?. It happened one day while school was in session, and I was probably in 5th grade, putting the date at about 1953. The town fire siren blew. Our village telephone operator had been alerted and triggered the alarm to call the volunteers. That was her job. Nothing new, another fire somewhere. Another chance to follow the fire truck on our bikes, maybe. Could we get there? The truck, volunteers and many residents drove south out of town to Martha Matson?s property. |