Annie Marie Peterson was born May 12, 1905 at her home in the town of Wood River, Burnett County. She was the first child of Otto and Hulda Peterson. There were eight years between Annie and me (LaVone). It seems as if I can’t remember too much about those early years but as I became older I do remember the household chores we would do together like cleaning the lamps, dusting, and sweeping the floors etc. I did look up to her as she was my oldest sister.

When Annie and Othelia were growing up they often talked in the folks’ “mother tongue” between themselves. Maybe it was something we younger ones weren’t supposed to know. Annie’s Swedish took over some times when she started school. Her teacher asked her to tell the story of the “Three Bears” in front of the class and she could not think of the word for bed so said “säng” the Swedish word instead. Her class almost made fun of her.

They used only the Swedish language in our little Wood River Swedish Baptist Church. That little church was the first Swedish Baptist church in the state of Wisconsin. It is nice that it has been preserved at the Wood Lake Baptist Camp. One time when Annie walked into church with her family, they were singing a hymn called Hosanna. In Swedish it was pronounced almost like “O see Anna.” I guess Annie started to cry and wondered why everyone was supposed to look at her. We younger ones never got fluent in the Swedish language. I would really have liked to be able to speak it today. Today it is good to be able to speak several languages.

Annie was the first teacher in the family. She taught county schools for over 35 years. The kids loved her very much. She was firm in her discipline and the kids also learned. Some of the schools in which she taught were North Fork, Alpha, Kreeger, Green Grove, Hertel and others. At the Hertel school, they were mostly Indians. I really think that was one of her favorite school. I’m sure I don’t remember all of the schools in which she taught.

It was when she was teaching at Viola Lake that she met Fred Nelson. We kids all loved him. It seemed as if he always had “Juicy Fruit” gum. They were married in 1929. I believe it was July 18th, Daddy’s birthday. The reception was on our yard. There were no lawn mowers so daddy used the scythe to get rid of some of the grass. It turned out to be a very cold night. The corn froze and that was never expected that time of year. I also remember that the pigs were doing an awful lot of squealing, maybe because they were too cold. I was wearing a kind of light peach chiffon dress. I had sung, “I Love You Truly” at the wedding. Annie was the first one to leave home. I really missed my big sister.

When she was not teaching she was a busy farm wife and their home on highway 70 was really the true house by the side of the road. They shared with joy their hospitality (Annie and Fred truly had this gift), their farm produce with neighbors, friends, and family. They made friends with several of the summer people who lived on the area lakes. Every time we visited Annie, even after Irvin and I were married, she told us to jump in the car as she wanted us to meet some of these people. We could just plan that every time in the summer that we were there we would do this.

She was a long-time member of the Viola Lake Missionary church. The church and parsonage were very close by (those pastors didn’t realize how lucky they were). I really don’t know how some of the pastors and their families would have survived without Annie and Fred. They daily gave of their eggs, milk, and meat. I can especially remember one very humble family, the Eastmans, and how much they appreciated Annie and Fred. One of Fred’s nieces married a son of the Eastmans.

Annie was pianist at their church for many years, a job she dearly loved. She hated to give it up. If any of us came to visit when something was going on at church we always had to furnish a musical number. All of the nieces and nephews just loved going to visit Annie and Freddy as Annie lovingly called him.

She was also pianist for the Burnett County Choristers, a ladies group. Because of Annie’s friend, Ruth, Annie was able to have her own apartment in Webster for a few years.

One visit I especially remember at Annie’s was the Sunday Pearl Harbor was bombed. We were asked to come there for a late noon meal. We were listening to the radio and heard the news. Irvin and I looked at each other. We wondered what it would mean for us. The creamery board kept going up to the draft board at Siren. I don’t remember how many trips they made. They told the draft board what would happen to the milk if Irvin weren’t there to take care of it so he was never drafted. I do remember that Irvin said he felt a little guilty seeing so many of his friends having to go to war. I was happy that he was able to stay home and do his work.

In January of 1994 she moved to Long Term Care at Grantsburg. It was becoming very evident that she couldn’t live alone. The last time I saw Annie was on her birthday, May 12, 1994. I really didn’t think she would leave us in just a few days but at the same time I was happy that she didn’t have to suffer for a long time.

It was difficult for her when Fred passed away in 1985. They did not have any children and I can understand the bond that she and Fred had between themselves. Annie was a very special person. She always called me Vonie. I felt that it was just a little pet name she had just for me. I would like to dedicate this poem to both Annie and Fred.

By LaVone Olson

There are hermit’s souls that live withdrawn.

In the place of their self-content.

There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,

In a fellowless firmament.

There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths,

Where highways never run.

But let me live by the side of the road.

And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

Where the race of men go by.

The men who are good, and the men who are bad.

As good and as bad as I.

I would not sit in the scorners seat,

Or kneel at the cynics table.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

By Sam Walter Foss