ANNA MARGARET

SKRAMSTAD BERG4 October 1921-25 December 2000

In Loving Memoryof

Anna Margaret Skramstad Berg

Dear family and friends,

After writing the first draft of mother's eulogy, I sent it to daddyand a few friends for recommendations. There were suggestedchanges as well as the comment that this eulogy should be handedout after the memorial on 21 April 2001 since it was a story so filledwith love. Also, there was the concern as to whether I would be ableto deliver the words because of the emotion of the moment. Abackup person to read it was planned.

With that one comment, I thought it would be best to include thewonderful tributes delivered by Marianne Rollings and GloriaDoughty. Since Marianne referred to mother's valedictory from1935, then that should be printed, also. Due to the 90 mile distanceof the countryside cemetery from Fargo, and knowing that mostpeople would never be able to visit the site, I thought the design ofthe marker that daddy had been working on with the stone carvershould go along with the words spoken at the memorial.

Therefore, that one comment initiated the creation of thisbooklet with Norwegian Rosemaling (painting) woven among thepages. The photo on the cover is daddy's favorite picture of hertaken 29 November 2000 and it showed her happiness and her lovefor Christmas. To end this compilation, those words filled withthankfulness that mother spoke so often in Norwegian were chosen.

Please enjoy this booklet. It is in honor of my mama!

Love,

Mary Jaylene Berg

MAMA

by

Mary Jaylene Berg

of

Iowa City, Iowa

MAMABy

Mary Jaylene Berg

The following is a tribute to my mother, Anna Margaret Skramstad Berg. We shared anincredible journey on this earth for fifty years. We both knew how blessed we were tohave each other. I never experienced those rebellious teenage years that most kids gothrough and neither did I have a rivalry with her. To me she was the epitome of love. Shemolded most of me and taught my father, Ordean Berg, to cherish me as she did. I wastheir little "tow-headed, braided" Norwegian-American daughter known lovingly as"Bösa" and filled with dreams. In living with these parents, I was trained to do both thescience and the arts, for they were woven into my daily life. My mama taught me theirconnection.

She was truly an exemplary individual. I asked her why she never lectured me on how toact? She said, "I had to be the example." She told me three years ago that she did notalways agree with the way I had lived my life, but that I had to learn certain things on myown. That was mama! She truly was the old expression, "do as I do, not do as I say!" SoI will try to present a bit of her life to show you how she was that peaceful-loving-livingexample by weaving the influences of her parents, her favorite teacher and her husband.

Anna Margaret Skramstad Berg was born 79 years ago as a little Norwegian-Americangirl to two unusual older parents: a mother named, Marie Onsager Skramstad, then 32years old and a nurse in World War I, and a 36 year old father, Anton Skramstad, a farmertotally dependent upon his kind and bright wife, Marie. Little Anna was named after hergrandmother, Anna Skramstad, who came to this country from eastern Norway in a regioncalled Østerdalen in 1884 when Anton was one year old. She never met her grandmother,who died of tuberculosis approximately five years before little Anna was born. Mymother was called "Anna Margaret" when she was growing up. Those who knew herbefore 1939 called her by that and those who met her after that date called her "Ann."Her native language was Norwegian. She was an only child.

Anna Margaret gained her independence and curiosity for traveling from her mother. Hermother ventured to Chicago after obtaining her nursing degree in 1911 from theNorthwood Deaconess Hospital in Northwood, North Dakota. She was the valedictorianof the first nursing class. She was stationed in Denver, Colorado and Vancouver,Washington during World War I as an Army nurse. She was ready to go overseas;however, the Armistice was called on 11 November 1918. She was the last nurse to leavethe Vancouver post, as she was considered the most capable and trustworthy of that Armynursing corps. So there were other traits that were passed on to Anna Margaret.

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On a humorous note, Marie's father used to be asked in the early teens of the last century,"why don't you control that daughter of yours?" My great-grandfather would answer,"she is an adult and can live her own life!" Now just imagine those words with aNorwegian accent and taking place on these prairies of North Dakota 85 years ago! Mygrandmother, whom I am named after, was ahead of her times. She knew she hadcontributions to make and she was going to make them!! It did not matter that she was awoman! She did much of that before she gained the right to vote in 1920, the year shewas 30 years old and newly married. Today, I am wearing the Norwegian Bunad(costume) in honor of Marie. It represents the part of Norway called Vest Oppland,which is 60 miles northwest of Oslo.

My mother's father, Anton Skramstad, was a natural musician. He organized theneighborhood rural band of Norwegian men and played the clarinet. He could ripple thekeyboard of the upright grand piano that he played in his family's farmhouse in Grigg'scounty. He bought that piano from the family estate. Anna Margaret learned to play onthat piano and she too rippled that same keyboard. That piano was so special that thehouse that my mother and father built in 1965 in Fargo, had not only a special place forthis piano, but the piano had to be moved into the house before the stairway leading to thebedroom area could be built. The reason was that the space for the turning of that grandinstrument around the corner leading to the basement stairs was limited. Motherengineered the whole process, of course. I remember having to practice RandallThompson's music of Robert Frost's seventh poem, "Choose Something Like a Star" in acollection entitled "Frostiana." The Norwegian craftsmen worked two levels above me inlate September and early October of 1965. That piano was last played when we threeBergs celebrated the Millenium by watching the New Year appear on television aroundthe globe until 3:00 in the morning. How appropriate that the last piece that we heardtogether as a family was the first piece played in that house 35 years prior. Yes, it wasRobert Frost's. The end of it is the following:

"....It asks a little of us here.It asks of us a certain height,

So when at times the mob is swayedTo carry praise or blame too far,We choose something like a star

To stay our minds on and be staid."

An important note to add. Not only was mother an excellent pianist, but she also playedorgan in the country churches in Grigg's county. Additionally, she played the coronet andsang alto. She also sang in one of the choirs at Concordia College and was asked by PaulChristianson to sing in his concert choir, but she believed she could not devote therequired time. She totally supported my music. As a little girl starting at age 3, I wouldsing myself to sleep every night. Sometimes, guests would be visiting after I had alreadybeen tucked into bed. I would be singing so loud that guests would remark, "Mary Jay issinging to the top of her lungs." Mother would calmly say, "yes, and it will stop in mid-

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sentence." And it always did. By the time I was 8, she encouraged my conducting with areal conductor's baton, to the orchestra music playing on the big records spinning on thephonograph. Together, we played the piano, we sang at the piano and we attendedconcerts. During her last three months, we sang songs, made up tunes and tapped outrhythms until 4 days prior to her passing. At the time of her physical death, the music ofEdvard Grieg with its wonderful theme of nature was playing and surrounded her.

Even though she only had 12 and 13 years at home with her mother and father,respectively, they instilled in little Anna Margaret the following: a love for humanity, asense of service out of that love, a spirituality that extended beyond the Lutheran religion,a great endless thirst for learning, a love for music, a love for words, a love for the simplethings, a sense of adventure, and a great feeling of justice and the wanting of women'svoices to be not only heard, but respected.

Ah! I see some of you nodding. Now, you are understanding me, the daughter. I want toadd what I further witnessed about my dear mother these last 50 years. That was hermarriage to my father, Ordean Kenneth Berg, the son of Oscar and Tilla Berg of Sharon,North Dakota. My parents were devoted to each other. They eloped over 60 years ago on7 August 1940 and were married in Thief River Falls, Minnesota. As my father saidapproximately two weeks after her passing away with both smiles and tears, "she choseme." As daddy said, "people probably thought we had to get married, but that was not thecase. We just had no money for a wedding." There is a beautiful photo taken of them bythe Hoff Studio in Grand Forks, North Dakota to mark that day. Daddy looked like a littleNorwegian boy and mama looked like Hollywood. Daddy said, "she was always goodlooking." In the photo, she was wearing the cameo brooch that her mother wore on herwedding day, 1 January 1920. I am wearing that brooch today.

What I noticed over the years was that both kept their independence and had great respectfor each other. They spoke Norwegian to each other on a daily basis. As father said, "shewas so interested in everything from local to national to international!" They would bothtease each other. There was freedom. They liked spending time with each other, evenwhen nothing needed to be said. He said of her, "she was so talented and born twentyyears ahead of her time. She could have been anything!" They loved each other moreeach day!

For mother's last birthday on 4 October 2000, daddy bought a special card and presentedit to her while she was on the "Transitional Care Unit" of Merit Care Hospital in Fargo,North Dakota. Mother read it out loud while dad looked up at the ceiling. I observed andlistened while sitting eight feet away. It was their special circle and I was meant to take itall in as the voyeur. My mother was lying in that hospital bed with a red sweater peekingthrough the top of the covers. When I close my eyes, I can hear her reading in the voice

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that all of you remember. The words from that store-bought card that she read are thefollowing:

"What is a Wife?

A wife is that someone a husband is proud of, someone to share every day,She brings so much joy with her warm tender smile and her thoughtful considerate

way......A wife is that someone a husband depends on to be understanding and true,

With her patience and warm sense of humor, she always can see problems through...A wife is that someone to talk over plans with, no matter how foolish they seem,

To enjoy happy times with and take special moments to share every hope and new dream.Loving you has filled my heart with joy beyond compare,

Nothing has meant more to me than knowing that you care-And deep within my heart I know that through the future, too,

I'll find my greatest happiness in sharing life with you.Happy Birthday

With All My LoveOrdean"

My mother was touched by such kind words since she knew daddy was "more Norwegianthan her." For those of us who are of that ethnic background, know that means thatfeelings are more difficult to express, even though they are really there!

I would be remiss if I did not mention my mother's beautiful handwriting. Most of yousaw it through her beautiful, individualized letters that she wrote you. She did not believein those "form" letters. Yet she understood why some people wrote them. I wonderedwhere she developed such beautiful writing. I went back to her report cards and saw adramatic change in her grades that also corresponded with her penmanship. Her favoriteGriggs County elementary school teacher for grades 5, 6 and 7, Loal Johnson Tufte, whomI believe is here today from Valley City, was the one who shaped that beautifulhandwriting. Thank you for being a great teacher to little Anna Margaret. My motherprided herself with her beautiful script and it was devastating to her that she lost a goodportion of it when she had her moderate stroke on the first day of summer, 1994. I workedwith her on this by having her use a World War II Royal typewriter to strengthen her righthand while at the same time she was still able to communicate on paper which was soimportant. With continual daily practice over three months by her and trips on NorthwestAirlines between Fargo and Iowa on my part, she was able to regain her penmanship andwrite her Christmas cards in November of that year in order to post them by her traditional1st of December. She wanted to be sure that she was able to communicate on a personallevel to everyone. That was her style. For me, I miss her "weekly squeaks" as she would

6.

call them and of course the use of the word, "ha!" My 50th birthday present was ahandwritten letter from her; the best gift I have ever received!

Mother dared to go against tradition, when it did not make any sense. In 1941, when sheand daddy were attending Beaver Creek Lutheran Church outside of Hatton, North Dakota,she went and sat with him on the "men's side." Oh, the whispers! The words with aNorwegian lilt went like this, "did you see what Ordean's wife did? Can you imaginethat?" I heard that story even 50 years after it happened! Mother created quite a scandalthat day and daddy thought it was great! So you see where the daughter gets her boldness.Mother made for my office in the early 1980's a needlepoint piece where the colorscrescendo from "puff-pink" to "bold red" and it reads,

"A Woman's Place is Everywhere!"

My dear mother was my best friend. We got criticized for being so close and I was toldhow hard it would be for me the day she would pass away. We did not listen to thosecomments since our relationship was "divinely driven." And our last three monthstogether were the best of my life to date. It was truly the icing on the cake. She bathedme in love. On 21st of November she said, "I love you, I love you, I love you. There is noend to my love." Or on 1st of December, she stated, "I love you, I love you, I love youand that is only scratching the surface." On 4th of December, after returning home in theearly evening, I ran up to her bed. She cupped my face in her hands and her eyesemotionally spoke to mine and then said, "I love you more than the world and all!" Everyday I would nuzzle her left side of the face and say, "I love my mama!" She would alwaysserenely smile. Some mornings, I would start the day out with, "You're beautiful!" Shewould respond by saying, "You're adorable!"

We had an evening ritual, entitled in baby talk, "a huk, a twees, a tis," that started when Iwas 18 months old. The childish English translated into "a hug, a squeeze and a kiss."When our right cheek touched, that was "a huk," the left "a twees," and the smackingsound of our lips "a tis!" We expanded this ritual to several times a day during her lastmonths and the very last time those words were spoken with those corresponding actionswas within an hour of the beginning of her passing on Christmas morning.

While sitting on the davenport on 30th of November, I heard her praying the followingwords, "Thank you dear Lord for sending Mary to Ordean and me. Thank you, thank you,thank you." She said on 28th of November, "We were born to take care of each other."And we did.

She reminded me of my purposes: both professional and personal. Professionally, shesaid, "Continue working with women and get them recognized." That also meant thewomen's health which meant working on "gender analysis" to show how men and women

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respond differently to medications. For my personal life, she had a dream on 12th ofDecember and woke me up to tell me about it. Her clarity of vision and truth was striking!She knew me better at that point than I knew myself. That is the way it is before oneleaves this life. Nothing is hidden; there is only truth. She wanted the very best for meand she clearly saw it. There is some "catching up" that is to be done on my part since shewas ahead of me! She nudged me to get back on my journey.

Some say, "How sad it was that she passed away on Christmas." It was really part of thedivine plan and I was happy for her. She went to "Jesus' birthday party!" Christmas is thegreatest day of light in the Christian calendar. Mother loved Christmas and when she was7, she wrote in her mother's Norwegian Birthday book the following, "December is themonth of Christmas. May we all be happy at Christmas time too. Christmas is to make ushappy." The last photos taken of her show how happy she was whether in front of theChristmas tree or wearing her "Christmas sweater."

Anna Margaret Skramstad Berg, as written by my poet cousin, Earl Vincent Berg stated,"Our solace is in her full and good life. Surely she would agree, her most potent andexcellent legacy is you, Mary. By that alone her life was magnificently spent." I knowthose words are true, because as you can see by the telling of her story, so tied with hermother, her father and her husband, I became me.

On the headstone for the Beaver Creek Lutheran Church Cemetery, there is a heart thattells the date of their "elopement" that lasted 60 years and below that engraved sign of loveare the words, "PARENTS OF MARY JAYLENE." Anna Margaret Skramstad Berg wasa devoted wife and mother, and in that order. She "got it right!"

In closing, I am happy to know that someday, I will really be with her again. The joy ofthat is overwhelming, but I must remember to live the joy of this life before I go on to thenext to meet up with my dear mama again. I have both loving personal and professionallives to live out here. It is that "divine plan" stuff. And I know it really works. In themeantime, my dear mother remains in my heart. Her spirit answered the question I hadwritten at the end of a poem in 1978 where I asked, "Is there a forever after time?" Andnow I know there is!

To mama, I would say in English, "thank you for 50 beautiful years of unconditional loveon this earth. Oh we had so much fun! The Almighty lent you to daddy and me. You andI lived the "ultimate mother/daughter relationship." We dared to live "the dream!" And Iwill continue to have the courage to live my life and live "those other dreams!"

In Norwegian I would say, "Godt ab dú kan ha dine naermeste rúndt deg" (God is near youand surrounds you). "Mor, jeg elsker deg!"(Mother, I love you) And of course,

“MANGE TUSEN TAKK!!” (many thousand thanks)8.

EAGLE EYE (ha!)

by

Marianne Rollings

of

Richmond, Virginia

Eagle Eye (ha!)

The day of June 14, 1935, on a country school stage a 13 year old of precocious wisdom

gave the valedictory for her 8th grade class. Her father was destined to enter a TB

Sanitarium almost immediately after and her mother had died a year and one day before,

yet Anna Margaret Skramstad stood tall and spoke proudly the following words:

"You are here with us this afternoon, kind friends, to witness the close of another

scholastic year, to see the barges of another eighth grade class set out upon the world's

great sea."

She spoke in farewell to the early days of her education and looked to the future by saying

on behalf of her peers:

"The realization of this very hour has been the star of hope, the high aspiration of our

childhood lives. Standing as it were in this middle existence looking upon the world

which is soon to become the theater of our activity, we cannot help but be more or less

distrusting of our ability. Are we competent to steer into safety or through weakness shall

we be lost?"

Deep ponderings from a child! Yet Anna Margaret was old beyond her years on that day.

She spoke of concerns for a life ahead and wished for a safe journey for herself and her

classmates.

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I met Ann in Washington, D.C. many years later. Her journey had not always been easy,

but she had steered a course of her own design and she was a serene and loving presence

with her daughter Mary as we prepared for an international meeting of pharmacists. Her

infectious laughter and enthusiasm for whatever we proposed made the event easy to

remember. It was there that Ann first became a favorite of the world community of

pharmacy. By her quiet devotion to the needs of a symposium we were presenting at the

World Congress of the Fédération International Pharmaceutique, she made the time we

spent together one of hard work and gentle laughter. I can close my eyes and see her

crawling around a hotel room floor strewn with posters after the event. She was cutting

the posters into packable size, so we could save the information for a book of

proceedings. She was using cuticle scissors!

Mabel Torongo of Zimbabwe remembers Ann. Mabel had lost part of her presentation en

route from Harare. Ann helped calm her concerns and acted as the command center

officer to coordinate the comings and goings of the rest of us who gathered poster board

and glue, intercepted faxes from Zimbabwe and helped recreate the story of healthcare in

that foreign land.

After the Congress, we began to edit the material presented during the symposium. Mary

and I spent many, many hours in coordinating documentation of the event. The writings

were technical and sometimes the English needed "translating". It was a task of daunting

proportions. Mary shared some of the product with her mom and that's when the term

"Eagle Eye" was coined as a nickname for this delightful lady. Working from home in

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Fargo, Ann began a perusal of the proceedings as they were being set for print. She had

an uncanny knack to find the errant comma or to untwist a convoluted phrase. From that

time until her final days, we counted Ann as a part of the editorial team, which operated

as Leadership International: Women for Pharmacy. She had her own way of saying

"Eureka!" It was her trademark parenthetical exclamation "(Ha!)".

The artwork chosen for the International Women's Forum luncheon this year was Ann's

choice from the offerings of Piero Maimone of Basel, Switzerland. She had a good eye

for art as well as for editing.

Mary was encouraged by her parents to become competent to steer a safe course in life. I

believe Ann gave her permission and the example to do that joyfully and with good grace.

But Mary also speaks of a "duality in regards to living". She tells of parents who lived a

somewhat unconventional life for the world they lived in, a daring to be different in order

to open new vistas to their only child.

Ann was serene in her knowledge that she was loved by her daughter with a fierce

passion and supported lovingly by her devoted husband, who took pleasure in watching

"his girls" in action together. They were a formidable team!

We have heard from colleagues in Australia, Canada, Denmark, England, Finland,

France, Germany, Greece, Holland, Japan, Korea, Northern Ireland, Norway, Scotland,

Singapore, South Africa, Sweden, Switzerland, Wales and Zimbabwe, all parts of the

12.

world that mourn Ann's passing. Mary, though distraught, has stated repeatedly that her

mother gave her a final gift of love by spending her last days with her whole family

around her.

Holidays were always special to Ann and the ties to her Norwegian heritage were strong.

She reared her daughter to respect the traditions of her forbearers, as you can see today.

The gatherings in the home in which Mary grew up were documented with love through

photographs and writings.

A permissive and encouraging promotion of culture was a perspective-broadening part of

the daily life in the Berg home. So those last days together, spanning Thanksgiving and

culminating with Christmas Eve, were filled with remembrances of years past. Ann

smiled and sang with her family and prepared herself for the journey she was about to

embark upon.

Mary could paraphrase to Ann some remarks close to the finale of that valedictory with

which we began this tribute:

“..your words of counsel true will ever light (my) way whatever path (I) may pursue.

(My) heart is overflowing with gratitude for your ceaseless interest which you have

manifested in our studies and the tireless efforts you have exerted in our behalf”

As for Eagle Eye, I have a feeling the term now becomes a double entendre, a wordsmith

exercise she enjoyed. Ann has undergone a metamorphosis. I feel Ann has furled her

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earthly sails and now spreads her celestial wings, launched into a new adventure. She has

risen above the binding billows of her voyage on earth and now soars on the wings of an

eagle with strength, and a clear vision through her eagle's eye. And, finally, I can hear

her joyous exclamation, "Ha!"

14.

PRAISE to the WOMENon my

JOURNEY

by

Gloria Doughty

of

Lexington, Kentucky

Today we celebrate the life of Ann Skramstad Berg, a woman of consummate stature whose lifeof leadership in discipline and love is an example for all of us.

My name is Gloria Doughty. Ann Berg was my contemporary, but I did not meet her until herdaughter, Mary, came to the University of Kentucky to pursue her Pharm.D. degree.

My husband, Dick, was Director of Admissions for the College of Pharmacy; I was a pharmacistat the University Hospital. We organized the social activities for the college so the studentswould feel that they had a home away from home. We were there if they needed a friend. Aneed arose for Mary and she came to live with us.

Ann and Ordean Berg came to Kentucky to visit Mary, and we all became life friends. In turn,we visited with them here in Fargo, celebrated a 4th of July in Oslo, Norway, and joined thefamily in Des Moines when Mary was inducted into the Iowa Women's Hall of Fame.

Ann and I corresponded for 30 years, sharing happiness and difficult times together. Ann sharedher book of meditation with me. I would like to share a page of that book with you. It expressesAnn's faith in the Creator and a work ethic she passed on to her daughter

"When you are given responsibilities to carry, shoulder them joyously and not be bowed down bythem. See that they are carried out to the letter, and never fail to see them through, no matter howseemingly difficult or heavy they may appear to be at the time. Always remember that I nevergive you more than you are able to carry without giving you help and strength to do it. As youshoulder your responsibilities, you grow in stature and strength and become dependable andreliable so that I can give you even greater responsibilities to carry. I need more and morereliable and dependable souls to carry the load. I need you willing and able to do it. Never atany time be a defeatist. You can do anything you make up your mind you can, and even refuse tocontemplate failure. Simply know that you will succeed and you will." (E. Findhorn)

I was privileged to spend some of the last days with her. We read and talked and prayed together.She was ever "up-beat", loved to hear a good story and had a marvelous sense of humor. In herlast days she was an inspiration to me.

I Give Praise to the Women on My Journey

To the women on my journeyWho showed me ways to go and not to go

Whose strength and compassionHeld up the torch of light and beckoned me to follow.

To the women on my journeyWho showed me how to live and not to live,

Whose grace, success and gratitudeLifted me into the fullness of surrender to God.

To the women on my journeyWho showed me what I am and what I am notWhose love, encouragement and confidence

Held me tenderly and nudged me gently.

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To these women I say bless you and thank youFrom the depths of my heart

For I have been healed and set freeThrough your joy and through your sacrifice.

I am grateful for the blessing Ann Berg was to me.

And now, as I close, let us focus on the flowers which surround us today in tribute to Ann Berg,who loved her beautiful garden.

For Mary:

My MotherBy V. R. Lehman

Bright flowers I wear today, MotherAnd a loving tribute pay, MotherIf the good in me were weighed,

And my gift before you laid,Still my debt could not be paid

To you, Mother.

Each day I love you more and more, Mother,Each day until this life is o'er, Mother,

I shall thank the God above,For the blessing of your love,

Which the years can ne'er remove, Mother, my Mother.

Bright flowers I'll ever wear, Mother,When you dwell in mansions fair, Mother;

Love will pierce the curtain through,I shall look beyond the blue ---

Finding still the great and true, in you, Mother.

Each day I love you more and more, Mother,Each day until this life is o'er, Mother,

I shall thank the God above,For the blessing of your love,

Which the years can ne'er remove, Mother, my Mother.

April 21, 2001

17.

VALEDICTORY

by

Anna Margaret SkramstadGriggs County 8th Grade Commencement

14 June 1935

Valedictory

You are with us this afternoon, kind friends, to witness the close of another scholastic year, tosee the barges of another eighth grade class sent out upon the world's great sea.

For years past you have watched us as we wended our way through Learning's sacreddomain. And now we have reached the goal assigned to us in this race. We feel a determinedpurpose to so guide our lives throughout the future years as to reflect credit upon theinstitutions from which we have been graduated and make you, our friends and patrons, proudof us.

It has been admitted that on the eve of graduation an important era is reached by the studentnever before realized as then. And he fills as it were a middle existence between the past andthe future.

The realization of this very hour has been the star of hope, the high aspiration of ourchildhood lives. Standing as it were in this middle existence looking out upon the worldwhich is soon to become the theater of our activity. We cannot help more or less distrustingour ability. Are we competent to steer into safety or through weakness shall we be lost?

Parents, teachers and friends, your words of counsel true will ever light our way whateverpath we nay pursue. Our hearts are overflowing with gratitude for your ceaseless interestwhich you have manifested in our studies and the tireless efforts you have exerted in ourbehalf.

Oh, you who sailed before us in the good ship long ago,We followed where you led us, stars above and sea below.You led us like a beacon that lit the seething foam,You led us like the glitter of a star that pointed home.

Oh, you who shall come after, we give you all God-speed!Stand by the good ship Education and serve her at her need,Till you, too, pass the billows that hold you from the shore,Till you, too, ride at anchor, and plough the waves no more.

19.

BEAVER CREEK LUTHERANCEMETERY

Hatton, North Dakota

Grave Marker

for

Anna Margaret Skramstad Berg

and

Her husband, Ordean Kenneth Berg,who will join her some day

21.

AsAnna Margaret Skramstad

Bergwould say. . . . . . . . .

“MANGE

TUSEN

TAKK!!”

(Many Thousand Thanks)