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My name is Ruth Ann Steuber and I am Frieda Buenting/Hanssen’s daughter, granddaughter of Ollie and Henry Buenting.  I was born in Minnesota, and my earliest memory of Grandma Buenting was when we moved from Minnesota to “the home place” in Pomeroy, Iowa.  I was three or four years old.   I remember that upon arrival at the farmhouse, Dad or the man who followed my parents in his truck with their belongings brought in my little rocking chair, and placed it in front of the warm kitchen stove.   It was a little bit of comfort in a strange new place.

I never met my grandfather, but I’ve heard many stories about him.   I admire him a great deal for all he accomplished, coming over from Germany, I’m sure with no money.   He managed to acquire two farms, raise 13 children, build the house I grew up in, establish the gardens, orchards and vineyard there, and so much more.   He made many beautiful willow baskets – few of which have survived and stayed with the family.   He seems to have been a gentle, yet hard-working and very talented man.

After my parents and I moved back to the farm, Grandma Buenting built a house in town next to her sister and brother-in-law, Aunt Kate and Uncle Lou Gehrt.  When I started kindergarten the bus would pick me up in the morning, and as my classes were only half the day, I would go over to stay with Gram for the afternoon, and then ride the school bus home later in the afternoon when the other classes were out.   Grandma would make me lunch, I remember often having pea soup- and umm, her’s was good!   In the afternoon we would have tea and I would be allowed a cube of sugar in mine.   I can still taste the white cake she made to go with it, unless she had packaged wafer cookies – the kind that were like ice cream cone texture, with either white or pink frosting between two rectangular cookies.   She would sometimes work in her garden and I would help.   On the few occasions that I stayed overnight with her, she would tell me stories in bed.   I’d ask about the Pomeroy tornado and she’d tell me about how she was working for a family, and how after the storm they found a wagon tongue plunged into the dinner table where they had been sitting just before.   I believe she was about 14 or 15 at the time.

During those years at Pomeroy elementary and high school I lived on the farm with Mom and Dad.   I was so fortunate to finally have a baby brother, Alan, when I was seven.   I remember being thrilled!   My sister Marian arrived just less than two years later.  It seems that I did a lot of “mothering” – keeping track of my little brother and sister – teaching them to “clean up the house” and loving to “show them off” to my friends at school.   We all had chores to do at home, picking up the eggs in the chicken house, washing the eggs and packing them in large boxes to be sold in town, weeding in the garden, picking fruits or vegetables, helping to clean and prepare food for cooking or canning, etc.   There was always plenty to do.   I remember it as a happy childhood and happy life.   Looking back it seems so healthy and serene.   I think I always read books and dreamed of moving to the city, thinking that the country and on the farm wasn’t where I wanted to be.  

Since we were living on what had been Mom’s “home place” – the farm where she and her 12 brothers and sisters were raised, we often had visitors, as her siblings and their children were always happy to come “home” to see Grandma, and visit their “home place”.   The summers were always especially busy because Mom’s siblings who lived some distance away would come for their one or two week vacation and our place became an Inn, with lots of bedding and linens to wash, meals to cook, shifting from our regular bedrooms as necessary to accommodate guests.

We always had Grandma Buenting, Uncle Lou and Aunt Kate, and often Kate and Ollie’s brother, Chris, join us for Sunday dinner.   Sunday dinners were a big deal, Mom put out the best – her fresh baked pies and bread, beef roast or chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, yummy vegetables, and jello salad.   It was always a feast.   After dishes were done, Sunday afternoons were spent relaxing, as that was “the Lord’s Day” – reserved for church, visiting, gentle pursuits, and only necessary chores such as feeding animals or milking cows.

That farm was a special place, with a large garden including a large strawberry bed, raspberry bushes, cherry trees lining the back, lots of space for rows of vegetables, a center strip with grass and lilac bushes, all sorts of perennials, fenced in with wire fencing opened with a metal decorative gate.   I have so many pleasant happy memories of that garden.   To the east was an apple orchard, with a plum tree or two.   We also had a grape arbor, with grapes for jelly or homemade wine.   My father and mother worked very hard to maintain the farm, growing crops, tending to animals, and tending to the yard and garden.   We had a good life.

When I was in high school, Grandma Buenting suffered a stroke.   Mom went to stay with her at her house in town, as she was no longer able to care for herself.   After about a month or six weeks, Grandma moved back to the house on the farm so my parents could look after her there.  They took her to the hospital a number of months after her stroke, and after a turn at physical therapy, she was able to walk with a walker, and did so for most of the rest of her life.  

One drawback that few outside family members considered was that as Grandma’s capabilities lessened, someone always had to stay home with Gram, and that meant that most of the time, we kids had only one parent with us in church or at school functions, as the other one, usually Mom, had to stay home.   As I got older, I sometimes had that role.  It was always up to one of us to stay home.  

Grandmother Buenting passed away after I had married and moved away from home.   Her will necessitated an auction sale of all the furnishings of “the home place” as well as the property itself.   I think it ripped my parents’ hearts out – especially Mom’s.   It was a very sad day in our family’s history.

My parents, Peter and Frieda, moved to town.   They purchased what had been Aunt Kate and Uncle Lou’s house.   My father built an addition to the house, adding a family room with a fireplace and a double garage.   He also finished off the upstairs.   He truly insisted on perfection – and his carpentry skills and finish work were excellent.  My parents had many happy years together there.   They did a fair amount of traveling, visiting us kids wherever we happened to be living, visiting their siblings, other relatives and friends.   My father passed away nearly three years ago and my Mom still lives in Pomeroy in their home.   She is very active in her church and community, and still travels quite a lot, usually now with one of us, her “kids”.

I’ve been blessed to grow up as part of the Buenting Clan.   The years living on the “home place” and visiting with Aunts and Uncles and cousins are memories I will always cherish.