Ernest Saxowsky 2ns4q

Ernest Saxowsky He sat on a sandstone, head cradled in his muscular calloused hands. The North Dakota breeze was cooling as the sun deepened into the west. It had been a good day, up until he discovered his loss. He had known loss and disappointment. At age three, his namesake father died, leaving him with only his mother, siblings, and the house in which he was born. He missed a full education as he worked to help his mother. Most every boy in the village had a chance to work in the fields around the village. Some worked at the flour mill on the stream just upstream from his house. He also had had opportunities to work with local masons learning the trade of stone masonry as well as farming. At age twenty-one he married Louise Diederman, his senior by seven years. Louise grew up in Frille a comparable village a long hour's walk south along the Weser River. As they faced a grim future with little to no hope of ever getting any land or trade for themselves, they decided to move to America. That decision was affirmed when a minister who had visited the Dakota Territory in America came through the village and talked about all the opportunities and available land. Between the instinct for adventure, the inspiration of the minister and the lack of a better life in , they decided to emigrate. Thoughts of leaving his home and mother in flashed through his memory; his six-year old daughter Stina and four-year old son Karl giving their grandmother Marie a final hug as they boarded a Bremenbound boat on the Weser. While they knew that they would probably never see her again, when the letter came from nine years later that she had died, it was still a moment of shock and sadness. In Bremen they boarded a ship headed to New York. Every stop was new and strange as they moved among the crowds of similar minded travelers. After a couple days in Baltimore trying to work through all the paperwork of immigrants, they took a train to Chicago. They discovered that others were traveling inspired and guided by the minister from Hebron. Chicago was much like Baltimore with all the hustle and bustle. They heard stories of the Dakota Territory and purchased supplies that wouldn't be available in the territory: a plow, tools and seed. Once they arrived in Hebron the freight car they rode in was set on a side track so they could stay there and unload until they found a place to settle. Much of the land was already claimed by homesteaders and farmers or the railroad. After a visit to the patent office they headed

out to find the army surveyed markers for the land that seemed available for homesteading. Certain memories linger longer. The first walk to his land is one of those. No trails or paths existed, only endless prairie of knee deep grass on rolling hills. The spring grass was green and presented an optimistic view of the future, a farm with cattle, grain, corn and vegetables, and flowers too. Louise dreamed of flowers along with fresh vegetables. It was a two-hour walk, after all there was a pregnant woman and two eager but adventurous children. He ed looking at his pocket watch, a wedding gift from his wife, as they started the walk and again when they found the survey marker of their land. Yes, it would be their land with some hard work and good luck. There was talk in town about a road coming out this way so settling near the edge of the land seemed sensible. The high ground was suitable for a house with a gully nearby where water could be dammed for the livestock. Puddles from an earlier rain gave evidence of where water would flow and gather. Ernest lifted his head from hands looking at the field he had spent the day plowing. Maybe it was out there that he lost his pocket watch. He ed the first field he plowed. He chose an area not far from where they would build their house and stepped it off stacking the corners. He talked to Louise about how to walk a straight line by keeping an eye on a set point in the distance. She would walk in front of the oxen he had bought for $100 while he guided the plow. It was an exciting day as the plow slipped into the sod for the first time. Stina and Karl were close behind running and jumping in and out of the furrow created by the plow. After awhile smelling and touching the fresh dirt became old and a game of war with clods of sod as flying weapons started. Louise plopped herself in the tall spring grass to watch as he used the previous furlough to guide the oxen. By the end of the week enough ground was prepared and planted with corn. It was too late in the spring to plant wheat; that would have to wait until the following year, besides they needed to build a house as soon as possible. "Where could it be?" He had it this morning, he had checked the time earlier in the day. But it's not in his pocket now. He'd have to retrace his steps of the day, but he'd been everywhere. The chances of finding it seemed hopeless. He sighed a sigh of resignation as he looked

beyond the field to the highest conical hill topped with boulder-sized sandstone. That first winter he started planning their first real house beyond the sod house they were living in. There were small hills also topped with smaller sandstones that they could use to build a real house that would be solid and warm with real wood floors instead of just the dirt. They would add a new stove for heat and cooking. The coal they found nearby would be an excellent source of heat. The winter snow was a great help for sliding the stones to the location of the house. He could hear laughter from the house as the still of the evening came with the setting of the sun. It was time, time to go home to Louise's tasty awaiting supper. It was time to acknowledge that his watch that he cherished because it was a special with his name engraved on the back from the one he married was lost. It was time to move on. It was time to leave the watch wherever it may be and continue the Amerian adventure. Epilogue Ernest turned the farm over to his son Henry in 1916 and died in 1918. About two decades later, his grandson, Erwin saw something bright as he was plowing a field. When he stopped to check it out, he discovered it to be the pocket watch his grandfather lost years earlier. And no, it did not display the correct time. The watch is now in the possession of Ernest's great-grandson who continues to farm the same land.