Within four years the war had ended, and Antone and Ragnhild
were grandparents and Antone was ready to transition into retirement.
He had purchased the property on the corner of the Eau Claire River Road and Echo Road in the Town of Easton, about 16 miles east of Wausau, Wisconsin. The Echo Cheese Factory had operated on this corner. It was a prize piece of land as it had a good well, and one of the buildings was a perfect workshop for his carpentry.
With the help of his brother Gust, Antone built a two-bedroom, one-story house on the corner property. For years, Ragnhild had squirreled away dimes and surprised Antone with $500 to put towards their new home.
Their neighbors were families Antone had known most of his
life. Next door to the west was Ed and Myrtle Hansen and their two sons, Harland and Dan. The Mortensons, Mogensons, Hansens, Stangs, Larsens, Nelsons, Thorpes,
Swensons, and Sandquists, among so many others in the neighborhood, were all members of Bethany
Lutheran church “up the road.” Following
Echo Road south about a ½ mile provided easy access to a good fishing spot on
the Eau Claire River, a favorite pastime. This home “out in the country” was
like coming home for the aging couple.
Antone and Ragnhild settled into their new home and new
life. His fine, thinning brown hair was beginning to show some gray. He succumbed
to the urge to comb over a section for better coverage. The typical 1940’s
Fedora hat became his signature accessory, even when he wore his carpenter
overalls, complete with the bright yellow carpenter’s pencil in the front
pocket.
There was a rhythm to their days in their new home. The cozy
kitchen was warmed by a wood cook stove. Antone’s signature cabinets lined two
walls giving Ragnhild a stage to work her culinary magic. If one sat in the
chair by the west window in the breakfast nook, one could look through the
windows leading to the enclosed front porch, through the living room window to
see the television set.
That was where Antone would sit on Friday nights during baseball season. He could listen to the Milwaukee Braves on the radio while watching the Friday Night Fights on TV. For the rest of the year, he sat in the big comfortable chair to watch television. Next to the chair was a humidor that had the wonderful smell of pipe tobacco. But this, like the piano in the corner, went unused, reminiscent of bygone days.
Antone and Ragnhild kept gardens all around their home. Gladiolas bloomed on the west side of the house while Dahlias graced the east side. The front planter had showy, colorful Coleus. The north side of the house had a large vegetable garden, complete with a raspberry patch.
He spent these later years dabbling in carpentry projects. The
high-pitched whine of the band saw was a sure sign that Antone was “in the shop.” There are desks and dressers, children’s furniture,
and chests in the homes of his grandchildren, a constant reminder of Grandpa
Berg.
And the laughter continued. Antone could spin a yarn without
cracking a smile, carrying the listener along to the very end. Only then, with
the punch line, would one realize he had hooked them in the very beginning. Gatherings
at the Berg home were filled with laughter. Friends from church, family from
out of town, all guests were warmly welcomed with Ragnhild’s good cooking and
Antone’s stories. Since some of his sisters, who lived close by, frowned upon
such indulgences, Antone kept a few beers in the house on Echo Corner which became
a gathering place for good conversation, lots of laughs, and “a cold one.”
A tall upright piano stood silently in the corner of the living
room, a piece from Antone’s musical past. The attic was home to a violin, a banjo,
and a guitar, all with only a string or two and in sorry need of repair,
remnants from his entertaining years. Antone had been self-taught, playing and
singing for local gatherings of family and friends.
Antone’s demeaner and repertoire of songs and stories made
him a perfect candidate to be a grandpa.
Their son, Bob had married childhood friend, Eleanora Nelson
in 1941 in Fitchburg, Massachusetts. The family, while living in several
locations around the country, never lived in Wisconsin. The family’s annual
visits were precious to Antone and Ragnhild, and the time together with both
the Berg and Nelson families was cherished.
In 1949, daughter Sylvia was planning her wedding to Glenn Lien. By 1958, there were seven grandchildren: Kareen, John, Kristine, Kathy and Janeen Berg, and Connie and Jim Lien.
Antone taught silly little songs to his grandchildren who
loved to put on performances, regaling parents and grandparents with their own
renditions of “Old Pompy Was Dead” and “Chewing Rubber Gum.” He hung a swing in
the garage part of the workshop to ensure a place to play even on rainy days. I
remember being his sidekick on trips to the Sunrise Cheese Factory and the
Hatley lumber yard.
In the summer of 1962, the family gathered to celebrate Antone and Ragnhild’s upcoming Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary.
Front: Grandpa Berg, Janeen, Jim, Grandma Berg (barely visible behind Jim)
Eldest grandson, John authored a poem to mark the event which the grandchildren recited for the gathering of friends and families. The Poem was framed and hung over a desk, made by Antone, in the dining room on Echo Corner.
Antone's life, as so many others, was marked by good times and bad. His mother dealt with mental illness, there were two world wars, pandemics of influenza and polio, and the great
depression. Yet his life was filled with a strong, fun-loving family, good friends, a good marriage and loving children and grandchildren. He wasn’t a man of great physical stature, but his character and
grace as a son, brother, husband, father, grandfather, and friend demonstrates his
stature as a man.
