Written by Thompson Family History
This timeline traces the history of the Thompson family, my family, through my grandparents and sometimes great-grandparents on both my father’s side (the Thompsons) and my mother’s side (the Woods).
The Thompsons
I have always felt a sense of pride in being a Finlander. It helps to have historical links to both Grandma and Grandpa Thompson. After visiting Cokato’s Historical Society I will post a video of my tour of the oldest sauna in Cokato shared by three families including the Salmonson family, which Grandma or Ida Salmonson was a member of. And Temperance Hall where Grandpa Thompson taught gym classes to help keep kids and adults from drinking. A picture of the class includes Aunt Tina Salmonson, Grandma’s sister, who lived to be 105 and went bowling at 100. She often said she thought God forgot about her as she went to funerals of friends and family. As far as I know she never drank
Grandpa Thompson was my dad’s namesake. He was held in high esteem by the family, friends and the community. He was very strong and did feats of strength like a bending horseshoe. I had a picture of this, but I am sorry to say that I lost it. Grandpa was against drinking which explains his work at Temperance Hall.
My grandpa’s dad, Henry Thompson, was born in Norway in 1833 and died in Cokato in 1900.
I was told Rautio was the original last name, but the captain changed it to Thompson on the ship from Norway to America. My grandpa was born in Cokato in 1875.
My dad was the only child of Grandma Ida Thompson, Grandpa’s second wife. Grandpa remarried after his first wife passed away. I remember hearing Dad’s older brothers, Reino, Herman, and Hank, say that they tested Grandma and were not ready to take her in as their mother. But Grandma’s demeanor changed that rather quickly. She soon won them over with motherly love. She became Ma. The three brothers and their youngest sister Elsie were all heavy drinkers; the brothers were binge drinkers
They all worked but went on drinking binges. Hank, whom I visited in his home in Phoenix, had his “thirsty night” every Thursday night, when he buy a bottle and get ripped. Dad’s brother Reino and his wife Josie lived next door to us, renting from us in the other half of our double bungalow. Reino also liked to drink to the point of not being able to walk. I remember my dad carrying him into his home.
Herman binge drank also, but I never saw him as bad as Reino or Hank. He did say he got Be did get telephonetitus when he drank. I remember walking with him at lake front property in Annandale, Minnesota, where he’d go to visit his neighbors, who would offer him a drink. Herman was my favorite uncle, a ditch-digger for a plumbing company. He was short and round in the middle, but very strong. He worked hard labor jobs well into his 60s. Like all of the brothers, he had a great sense of humor. Every April 1st he would play an April fool’s joke on my mom, who fell for it every time.
The Thompson family were all good storytellers. Reino was a steamfitter. He told stories about how he would get on a soapbox and give political speeches. He had polio as a kid, and Grandpa massaged his legs daily. He walked with a slight limp on one side. With the help of Grandpa’s healing hands. He was able to recover.
Reino had great big hands like his father. Despite having a a thinner frame he was very strong like his brothers. Because of his big hands and long arms, Reino was a very good arm wrestler. His older brother Hank was quick on his feet and had a quick wit. I remember him telling jokes and doing magic tricks. He also traveled internationally with a men’s choir. He often would bring slide shows of his adventures for us to see.
Elsie, the youngest of dads older siblings, was fun to be around when she was sober. I remember her playing Mrs. Claus one Christmas. We would go to her home every year to watch a parade that went down her street. Unfortunately, her drinking got the best of her by the end of family events.
She carried a big purse and would go to the bathroom and come back with her face completely plastered in makeup, like a whole new person. She had two kids, Kathy and Sherman, a few years older than I. I lived with Sherman later in my life as a roommate. He was very intelligent and worked for the railroad. Unfortunately, he inherited his mom’s drinking.
Elsie talked a little about the beatings she took with her first husband who was the father of her children. She would say there was no help or recognition of domestic abuse as a problem back in her time.
Elma was the oldest of dad’s siblings and was the only one who didn’t drink. She was very nice and sweet and proper. We’d go to her and Uncle Ernie’s house as kids. Their only daughter Susan often appeared on television playing the piano. She married a good-looking librarian at a college in southern Minnesota. They had 4 or 5 cute daughters. They seemed like a perfect family until Susan.came out as lesbian This didn’t go over well with Aunt Elma. Their relationship was strained until Elma died in her 90s from fall and had a brain hemorrhage that caused her to lose mental functioning. Susan, her executor, didn’t authorize surgery that was suggested to drain fluid off of Aunt Elma’s brain. I wondered if she did that to get back at her mother.
All of Dad’s siblings held their father in high esteem, often talking about his feats of strength and his spiritual intuition. He was quite a man. I think the kids never were able to live up to his high standards. But when they got together, it was nonstop storytelling.
Grandma Ida was born Ida Salmonson in Cokato, Minnesota, on December 19, 1884. She had three sisters: Mary, Tina, and Minnie. The Salmonsons shared their historic sauna with the two other Finnish families.
Her mother, my great-grandmother and Dad’s grandmother, I later found out, had a mental illness, possibly schizophrenia like Dad had, as it often skips a generation. I know Dad and Mom visited her at her homestead. Mom thought she was funny smoking weed laughing while sitting on a chair on her porch. I wonder, Dad, if you ever made that genetic connection with your grandmother.
Dad
My dad was the youngest and only child of my Grandpa and Grandma. He was 20 years or so younger than his older siblings. Dad was born in Cokato where he lived on his dads farm until it got wiped out by a tornado. The family then moved to Minneapolis at 601 Humboldt Ave North, just a few blocks from where our Thompson family later lived. Then, it was a Finnish neighborhood. My uncles and aunts often talked about Dad playing with a multi-culture of kids, many, like my dad, speaking their native tongue. Somehow they understood each other. Later in life, my dad spoke only broken Finnish, losing fluent Finnish through assimilation in the public schools. Dad graduated from vocational high school. As his brothers gravitated towards trades and blue collar jobs
Dad was born on September 20, 1927. He was part of the Beat generation. I am sure he was inspired by Beat poets like Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. He had an interest in writing and was an avid artist and painter.
Being both Grandpa’s namesake and the youngest child, I am sure he faced pressure to live up to his dad’s legacy. He had big shoes to fill. While dad did drink, he vowed sobriety to raise a family. A vow he pretty well kept except for a few slips. Dad also took an interest in lifting weights. In our basement he had a barbell with concrete blocks as weights. This one of the weights dad said Grandpa could lift high in the air, throw it up, and catch it with the other arm. It weighed about 90 lbs. At 18 I finally could lift it over my head with two arms.
Dad’s favorite picture of himself was the one where he was wearing a cowboy hat. Dad, I think, loved the freedom of a cowboy.
Dad told a few stories of riding the rails and eating and living with the other bums. He told the story of meeting millionaire Howard Hughes at the black ack table. At this time dad was nearly penniless and looking for a handout, but there was none to be found with Mr. Hughes. Dad looked at this part of his life as an adventure. When he came home from his adventure wanting to make his dad proud of him, he enlisted in the Navy. He served in the last t year of World War II, 1945 and 1946. Sometime after the war and before he married Mom, his mom and dad moved to 427 Russell Ave North, which just happened to be next to the Wood family.
Wood Family History
I know a lot less about the Wood family than the Thompsons. Mom being a Catholic who married a Protestant had a lot to do with this. We were left out of most family gatherings. Christmas at Aunt Lorraine’s was the exception. I don’t remember going to Mom’s aunts’ or uncles’ homes either. The one exception was Grandpa Wood’s twin brother Norris. He delivered eggs; I called him the egg man A couple of times a year he would deliver eggs to our home.
From what I know, Grandfather Wood was French, most likely French Canadian. I have a picture of my great-great-grandfather wearing what looks like a Civil War uniform.
My great grandfather was Philip Wood, born in 1877 and died at age 52 in 1929. I have a picture of Grandpa and his siblings, Violet, Clyde, Warren, and his twin brother Norris.
Grandmother and Grandfather were both German as far as I know, John and Mary Baur. They resided in Pine City, Minnesota.
They had I believe 5 kids: John. Joe, Agnes. Ann (my grandmother), and Andy. My mother always said Andy was her favorite uncle. He married very late in life. I have pictures of him and his bride.
From everything I heard or saw, my mom lived a normal Catholic life growing up in the 1940s and 50s, a middle child, the third of four kids. Grandma Woods was a stay-at-home mom who loved to sew. Grandma and Grandpa bought a lake cabin. That was where she felt most at home. She loved to sit on the dock and fish. Grandpa saved his fishing days for when he had guests. He would take the pontoon boat out and catch northern pike. They caught many trophy sized fish in that lake, while Grandma was satisfied with the little sunfish she caught and fileted no matter how small.
Grandfather Floyd Wood was a hard worker with several jobs. Mom asked me to talk to him about his work history, but I didn’t. I do know he was a ball player in his youth and a softball umpire till his death. He owned a bar and worked in warehouses, and when he got older he mowed grass for the neighbors.
Mom had an older brother she looked up to. Uncle Denny was a small business owner and self-proclaimed Republican. I would tell him, “I am sorry, but your capitalistic system works only for a few. We need a system that works for all of us. He had a business making wood products in Banger, Wisconsin. I think he wanted to find a relative to take over the business at some point, but I had no interest. He has a beautiful home and a nice piece of land in the countryside. I have one picture of most of the Wood family minus the Thompsons. Also Mom’s sister Loraine’s husband Bob wasn’t there. Those two never did get along.
I know Mom was close to her older sister, Lorraine. She may have been the one person Mom confided in when in stress over Dad’s illness.
Lorraine married an Archie Bunker-like racist. On those Christmas Days we spent at their home, I wish I had told him, “You are not funny. Please stop spreading your racial hate.” She also had a younger brother, Tommy who went on fishing trips with Dad. Tom was very easy to talk to except when around his wife, who talked nearly nonstop.
Mom
Looking through Mom’s old high school yearbooks and scrapbook of old newspaper clippings of her school football and basketball teams, I can see that she had a lot of friends and she had a great and fun time. I think she expected the same experience for me. Unfortunately, with everything going on around me, both junior high and high school were a very forgettable time for me.
Mom Meets Dad
I never heard Mom or Dad talk about how they met. I know at the time of Mom’s graduation from high school, the Woods and the Thompsons were next door neighbors. Dad was eight years older than Mom. He was honorably discharged from the Navy in 1946 after serving one year [above you said he was in two years] in World War II. He spent some time traveling the rails and living with the bums. He most likely spent some time at his parents’ home, at least long enough to meet Mom. By nature he didn’t have aspirations to reach great monetary success. He had a free-flowing spirit that mixed his interests as an entrepreneur, artist, and lover of the outdoors. Physical exercise and spiritual curiosity were important to him.
Mom Meets Dad and has a family
He was not a typical boy that lived next door. He was different. Because of that I don’t think he was readily approved by Mom’s family. After all, he was not Catholic, he was Protestant. Mom must have known that by marrying him she would always remain in the shadows of her family. Yet in 1955, at 20 years of age, she married him. My brother Andy surmised that he was born illegitimate and was the reason they got married. Andy was born in November and the marriage was in May of that year, just six months earlier. There was no formal wedding; they went to a justice of the peace and had two friends as witnesses. So I am guessing they got married to avoid the scorn of the Catholic church, Mom’s family, and society at large.
Mom herself was a rebel of sorts who wanted to live a life that was full of adventure. I heard from her siblings that as a kid she was a tomboy who wanted to be part of the action, not afraid to bump heads with the boys. She even played football with them. She must have felt at home with the odd collection of Dad’s friends, which included Denny Butler, Dad’s partner in his rubbish business he named the Butler Rubbish Service.
He painted a picture of a butler on the side of the rubbish truck. He designed and built a hydraulic front-end loader that worked differently from the ones on the other garbage trucks that were loaded from the back. He made Mom part of the business. He made her the bookkeeper and put her through business school.
Mom’s life was not destined to be boring! As a good Catholic she started a family. Three boys, Andy, Mark, and Paul, each one year apart. A girl, Lisa, would come 5 years after Paul was born. I remember Aunt Jo, married to Dad’s brother, Reino, who lived next door in the other half of our double bungalow, scolding you to stop being a good Catholic and take birth control pills. Mom was not the typical stay-at-home mother as her mother had been.
My elementary school, Harrison, was looking for community members to work in the school as teacher’s aides. Mom progressed through the ranks and was well regarded and soon became a social worker aide. She was friends with the principal, the teachers and the other aides. When there was a school function, she often had my dad draw pictures to help illustrate a sale or event for the school.
I know she appreciated and loved Dad.
My Relationship with Mom
I know she was seeing changes in Dad, too. She must have felt the weight of the world on her. She alone was responsible for saving the man she loved. But things got worse and Dad, in the midst of his illness, cold-cocked a man. That brought us to that moment I will never forget.
A plainclothes policeman came to pick up my dad. The man who Dad hit agreed not to press charges if Dad got help. My dad was going to the Veterans (VA) Hospital in St. Cloud, Minnesota. Mom asked us kids to come say goodbye to our dad. I felt like I had lost my friend and mentor forever.
Mom, looking back today I realize you have felt much like I did. You lost the man you fell in love with and had a family to take care of .
A Day I Will Never Forget
I came home from school for supper. My mother was there to greet me opening the porch door. She had on the dress she wore when she wanted to dress up.
I just remember feeling like something bad was going to happen to her. Mom and my sister Lisa were going downtown shopping. But they had to come home because of excruciating pain in Mom’s arms and shoulders.
As always, Mom made us dinner. I was silent when she promised my brother Andy that she would see a doctor in the morning. I just sat there and was sad. Mom asked me what was wrong, but I wasn’t able to tell her about the bad omen I was feeling.
We woke up in the morning and my sister was yelling, “Mom, wake up!” We called 911, but the fireman’s look was all I needed to know that Mom didn’t make it. I am sorry I wasn’t there for her at the times when she needed me. I wish I could go back. I would give Mom a hug and tell her what a great mom she was. Mom carried burdens she shouldn’t have had to carry. I thank you for all your love and attention, Mom, even when it was misguided. I know you always tried to be the best wife and mother you could be.
Racism
I remember proudly bringing home a couple of friends who happened to be black. When we got inside, my mother yelled at me from the basement to come downstairs. She made it clear I was not to bring black kids home. I went upstairs and my friends were gone. I have never been so disappointed in my mother as I was that day.
When my Grandma died, my dad had the job to hire a realtor and sell the home. I remember hearing discussions telling the realtor not to sell to anyone black.
My time in junior high school was throttled with racial tension. I was walking to a school a block from the race riot in Plymouth Ave. Although I had friends who I grew up with that went to Lincoln Junior High,with other unfamiliar black kids I was a white boy who was seen as the enemy. We walked to school each day in uncharted territory, walking through largely black areas and getting calmed out.
Inside Lincoln Junior High things were much worse. In my English class if the teacher left the room, it would soon be terrorized by black kids. In my band class the band instructor, who was black, would leave the room and the lights would go out. As my friend said, this was our signal to duck under a desk or table as the chairs were thrown and overturned. Most kids received lunch tickets so I was no different. I went to the line for lunch and more times than not was threatened to give up my lunch ticket which I did. These events happened nearly every day in my first year of junior high.
What made things worse was that as I walked home from these terrorizing times, I knew I had no sanctuary at home. Going home to a house filled with sadness and fear of what my dad may do or say made it very uncomfortable 24 hours a day.
The last day of the seventh grade at Lincoln Junior High School my brother, a friend, and I got to school a little early. The front door inside and out was surrounded by a swarm of black youth. We asked the hall guard who was also black if we could come in early. He said no. So we went down the stairs and started walking back towards home. We were followed by 30 or so youths who asked my friend about his watch. Then we all jumped and beat on. I got a fat lip. We got free and went home. I wasn’t sure how my mother would react, so we stopped at my friend’s house first. When we got to my home, my mother was crying when she saw me. I think we went to the hospital to get checked out. Later on I heard from some of my black friends who were inside the school and watched us get beat up.
I think this kind of retaliation got police officer Charles Stenvig elected mayor of Minneapolis Law and order was now the mantra for Minneapolis. Interesting that Lincoln was about 50-50 black to white students. But that day was not so different from other days in that 20% to 30% of white kids played hooky on any given day.
My mom had connections as a social worker aide and got us to Sheridan Junior High in Northeast Minneapolis for my 8th and 9th grades. Northeast was 100% white, mostly of Polish and eastern European descent. My mother’s sister married a Polish man who was a Archie Bunker-like racist. Heplayed around like it was a big joke to me. But I had to put up with him every Christmas because that was where we spent Christmas. The Broadway Ave. Bridge has been called the longest bridge in the world, going from Africa to Poland. The first thing I noticed in school at Sheridan was that no one asked me for my lunch ticket. There were two black kids who were bussed to Sheridan. There were some kids there that even noticed how I was nervous and fearful and tried to pull me out of myself. Things at home were still tense but I was thankful for a little less stress at school.
Mom and me
Mom, in addition to her work at school which she loved, and caretaking for my Dad, took on the role of mother and father to us kids. I think that she had such a good time going to high school herself, at least socially, that she couldn’t understand why I was having such a hard time! She didn’t know what to do for me. What I really needed and wanted was someone to just listen and try to understand me.
Instead she tried to push me to get out more. She became my nemesis, and I slowly began to hate her for getting in my face and going behind my back and repeating what I said to my teachers. She watched everything I did and kept me from myself. In the Harvey Milk story, Milk answered a young boy who was paralyzed who had written to him. He said, “Come to San Francisco!” I needed someone to tell me to go there so I could escape a very suffocating life. Funny, I was at the YMCA after watching that movie and a guy who came with his wheelchair to swim told us that it was him that Milk was talking to.
Sexuality Discovery
I was in the 7th or 8th grade looking porn in the basement and I remember saying to myself that the men, not the women, turned me on. I knew I was gay but just didn’t know how to come out. It really was too much to do on my own. I remember my mom caught me watching David Bowie. She was mad and made me shut the TV off and go to bed. All through elementary school I had a crush on a guy. I finally got my courage up and was ready to go to his house. That was when she came out trans and I backed off. I was more attracted to her as a guy. She went on to be one of the first people to have a sex change operation at the University of Minnesota.
Possibilities
I am thinking about my youth minister who was a radical. He married Jack Baker and McConnell. He got excommunicated from church for a while for marrying two gay guys in the 1970s. It made me realize that there were mentors around me to help guide. If I only had gotten out of my depression and anger about losing my dad. Years after my Grandma Thompson passed, I heard my Aunt Elma talk about how Grandma felt when she saw her mother be taken away for treatment of a mental Illness, possibly schizophrenia. I just remember how her feelings were very similar to mine with my dad. It made me want to cry and wished I could hug her. She also lived in a commune in San Francisco during the 1906 earthquake.
I am starting to realize that neither my dad nor my mom were the reason for my problems. How I reacted to them was the real problem. I wasn’t there for myself, but I also wasn’t there for my mom or dad.
My mother pushed herself to stay busy at work and at home. Her last year was very trying. My dad in the midst of his illness cornered her downstairs one night, accusing her of having an affair with one of Dad’s friends. We kids were upstairs, the boys in one room and my sister in another room. My mom knew things could turn ugly fast so she kept her composure and told my older brother to call the police on the phone in her room. I remember that night how my dads voice was loud and angry. It wasn’t long before he erupted violently, hitting my mom. Kind of crazy, but I was thinking of sneaking downstairs and getting big pots and hitting my dad over the head. But the police got there and settled him down.
Thank goodness it was back then and not today: the way the police are today, they probably would have kille my dad. A neighbor called my Grandfather Wood. The police were there when he came, but I shudder to think what would have happened if he faced my dad alone.
My dad was again committed to the VA hospital. This time while he was away he filed for divorce. As my mom was about to celebrate her 40th birthday on May 20, 1975, she was beginning to suffer excruciating pain in her left arm and shoulder, to the point of crying. I.think she didn’t want to miss work or not be there for her family, But if she had called a doctor, I think she should have been in the hospital. My mother wanted to be strong; that was her weakness.
I had walked in on her crying because of the emotional pain of my dad’s illness. I remember seeing her cry and wanting to hug and cry with her. But there was a big chasm between us and it would break all the rules for me to change our roles around to be her caretaker.
I was 18 and going to Metropolitan community college. I had a Spanish teacher who was fun but very I came my mother about this teacher. I just thought it was fun, although Spanish instruction was kind of forgotten. I found out from my teacher, who told the class without saying anything to me first, how my mom went to the principal and told on the teacher. I never felt so embarrassed. That was part of her sickness.
That summer my mom got up early to take our dog Tiger out to pee. She opened the porch door ready to let Tiger out when she looked down and saw a man sleeping on the porch with a gun next to him. I think he shot someone, probably drunk, and needed a place to sleep. She kept Tiger from barking and called the police. My dad happened to be home for a visit. He walked up to the porch and grabbed the gun. My mom a few months later went to court to testify about the incident.
My Last Day with Mom
I came home from school for supper. My mother was there to greet me by opening the porch door. She had the one dress she wore when she wanted to dress up.
I just remember feeling like something bad will happen mother sister Lisa were going downtown shopping But my mom started to have pain in her arm again and they came home early
She made some dinner and she promised my brother that she would see a dr in the morning
I just sat there and was sad cut quite my mom asked me what was wrong but I wasn’t able to tell her about the bad omen I was feeling
We woke in the morning and my sister was yelling mom wake up we called 911 but. The fireman’s look was all I needed to know that she didn’t make it A Day I Will Never Forget. Sadly, I am crying now 40-plus years later. Finally it has hit me how this tragedy happened. Our family was dysfunctional, as was my relationship with my mom. We all were doing the best we could. But my mom took on more than she could.
Dad
Dad, you were the youngest in your family by 12 to 20 years. You were Grandpas protégé—you lifted weights because of him, while when you drank, you drank too much You were unlike your siblings in that you had some pretty dry periods as you vowed to be a good father to us kids.
Your favorite picture of yourself was the one where you were wearing a cowboy hat. I think you loved the freedom of a cowboy. I am pretty sure you were familiar with the ears that grew up around the same time as you. I know you tried writing as well as oil painting. And you rode the rails and stayed with the other bums. I am not sure if you really enjoyed this or if you were looking for an escape from the real world. I think you wanted to make your dad proud of you when you enlisted in the Navy and served during WW II.
You also boxed. Your body, though not as big and strong as Grandpa’s, was nothing to shake a stick at.
My Relationship with Dad
I loved visiting Grandma Thompson with a house filled with Finlanders. Grandma herded us kids to the kitchen where she sweetened us up. I remember one day you got us kids up early and we drove to the back of Grandma’s house with six wooden ducks you painted. We carried them to in her garden and waited for her to be surprised.
I know you tried to teach us weight lifting and exercise like your dad taught you. You taught us to box, but I had enough of my older brother beating me up so I took off the gloves and walked away. I watched you box our renting neighbor, Chuck, in our back yard. You gave him a bloody face! You wanted to stop, but he came back for more punishment.
One of the things I remember was you bringing us boys in the basement and have us cuss without using four-letter swear words. I am Mink Fink the basest guy in town! Blasted blazes! By zing! Don’t ever get me mad. You took us fishing and hunting. I enjoyed target practice with an old twenty-two you got me. I remember you taking us boys to Mink Lake to fish. We caught sunfish, crappies and yuck dog fish.
I loved Dad as a small businessman with the .Butler Rubbish Service he named after his partner Dennis Butler. I was told that I would go outside with my trucks and play in the sand saying I am playing Pete and Denny.
Of course playing on the Ringers softball team was a highlight of my young years. We played at Bassets Creek ballfields and you told us that if anyone hit it into the creek on a fly, they get a box of Wheaties. It was an all-ages team from me at 7 to 17-year-olds. And Dad was a player coach. I remember playing center field when someone hit the ball in the creek. I went to get a tree branch to fetch the ball out but the older right fielder called me off and dove head first into the creek and got the ball. He said he owed it to dad to play all out. We lost all our games including one against a women’s team. But we all had fun.
And we had Champ, our cocker spaniel, who was free to roam the neighborhood. He made friends with the mailman and the butcher, where he got a fresh bone. Dad always made sure Champ got out into a nearby woods to chase squirrels and pheasants.
I never asked dad or mom how they met. Both grandparents lived side by side. Dad was eight years older and was honorably discharged from the Navy in 1946 with the end of World War II. At that time Dad’s parents were living at 601 Humboldt, the house that Grandma and Grandpa moved to after a tornado blew down their house in Cokato. Sometime after that they moved to the house next to Mom’s family. Perhaps you were visiting and your eyes met one day, and that set everything else off.
I know Grandma was pushing my mom to get dad professional help. I also recognized that his temper was getting short. He favored me and asked me to be with him riding on his truck and when we did other projects around the home. I felt privileged at first, but as things progressed I became scared of him and didn’t want to be alone with him.
That brings us to that day when a plainclothes policeman picked my dad up to bring him to the VA hospital . He had hit a man put the man withheld charges if dad would get help. This was the first of many times dad got committed. My mom made sure Dad took his pills when he came back home. But every two years or so, Dad had a relapse and it was on Mom’s shoulders to commit him. After Mom died, that role was passed onto me.
I often wondered if Dad’s illness was partly set off by watching his dad, whom he loved, lose his memory and even became violent with Grandma. Dad visited him and took him for walks, but I know he was becoming more and more agitated with him.
I know it must have been hard on Dad while in the hospital, you had mom o sell the rubbish business. I had a sinking field that I lost a mentor and life would never be the same again for anyone in the Thompson family.
I want to give Dad a big shout out that he was able to find work as a truck driver first for a private company and then he worked for the city of Minneapolis as a truck driver until 1979, when he got a disability pension. Also I was impressed by a letter he received from the mayor’s office following up on dad’s proposal to build a playground where a vacant lot was.
I am sorry about my self-centered reaction to your mental illness, Dad. It never was the same again for me after your first time in the VA. I became depressed and often went inward dreaming that you wouldn’t ever be the same. I think that became true. The psychotic meds like thorazine made you anxious. Maybe more than that I think you lost your self-esteem.
The truth is, Dad, that I was never the same. I know you liked me and you were looking for me to pick you up.
,When you came back from the V.A I didn’t know how to respond to you when you got released from the VA. In fact I felt better when you were gone. When you came home my depression returned.
Dad, I know you felt guilty that Mom died while you were in the hospital.
Mom’s Last Letter to Dad (Audio Recording of letter read by myself)
Dad, I know you were mad and upset at me when I told you I was dropping out of the U of Minnesota for a social work degree. I know you had a lot of pride in me and wanted to see me do good, but I was sick and needed to heal myself first. Interestingly, I gave up my dreams and began working for the government. One of my first jobs was a custodial worker at Hennepin County Hospital, then for the US Postal Service mail clerk and later as a mail carrier.I regret not listening and supporting you, Dad, after your accident while driving the city truck. You hit and killed a bicyclist whose family went on to sue you and the city. I am sorry this happened. From what I can see, this was an accident with no clear idea of who was at fault. I know you felt bad for taking a life no matter if you were at fault or not. I know that was hard on you. I only wish I could have been more supportive of you and taken the time to listen to you and be with you in your darkest moments.
I understand why you ended your life, DadI know the pressures on you were too much. You had gone through so much with your mental illness, then the loss of your wife while you were in the hospital. I know you felt that if you were home, you might have saved her. Then the accidental killing of a young man. I only wish I had been able to listen and support Dad and take some of those burdens at least temporarily away from him. Dad, you suffered a lot–too much for any one man to bear.
Dad, I just want to say I love you and wish you were with me today.
Mark