Hi, Karla,

 

As an update to the DAR information I sent in 2006, the DAR Genealogical Research Database now has a flag on the lines for Thomas Camp and his son John Camp.  A note in the database says that future applicants must prove correct service.  The GRC is a searchable online database of many patriot and descendant names submitted on DAR applications since 1950.

 

For those who descend through Joseph Burleson, it may be noted that his father Aaron is credited with patriotic service in the Revolution, giving many family members another DAR ancestral line.

 

Thanks for the email.  I had a little trouble navigating the blogs so I'm just sending this directly to you for posting.

 

s.

I  Remember  Carl  Aden

 

August 7, 2007

100 hundred years ago today, my father, Carl William Aden, was born in Fort Collins, Colorado. 
 
He was raised in Saratoga, Wyoming on a cattle and sheep ranch.  Dad and his siblings rode in a horse drawn buggy or, in winter, a sleigh, 6 miles to school.  Throughout his life, he loved hunting, fishing, and almost anything out doors.  He was one of six graduates, the only boy, in his high school class.  He and Elda, his younger sister, graduated in the same class because Dad was held back one year.  He starred in the high school opera with his resonant, booming, voice.  To earn money for school, he trapped, skinned, and sold wolf, beaver, muskrat, and other pelts.  This meant rising at 4 AM, saddling his horse, Jep, and running the traps in freezing weather.  He often bragged about killing 13 Coyotes one year with his cyanide traps (coyotes killed sheep and therefore were the ranchers’ prey).  Dad told the story many times about how he "pulled the wool over the Eastern fur trader’s eyes".  His beloved sheep dog ran away, and Dad assumed he had been killed or stolen.  About a year later though, Dad's traps began to yield an unusual fur -- something he had never seen before.  The Eastern fur traders were wild about the unusual fur and wrote Dad requesting "all he could get" at very attractive prices.  He complied.  However, another letter arrived saying, "Quit sending us those half-wolf, half-dog pelts."  Apparently, Dad's faithful dog had opted for mating with the wolves rather than chasing the sheep. 

Whenever we complained about the Colorado winters, Dad would chime in with the story about nearly freezing to death in a sheep herder’s trailer one Wyoming winter night despite staying awake to feed the pot belly stove (many sheep actually froze to death that night).
 
There are so many stories! You have probably heard several versions of the same tales.  Gary and Karla committed their versions to paper.  However, none are as accurate as those related by Aunt Elda in her autobiography.  Dad, Aunt Elda, Uncle Lloyd, and Uncle Ray grew up in a dynamic era, accented by two world wars, a boom, a depression, invention of telephone, radio, automobile, devices for human destruction, and life-saving devices, chemicals and processes.  I truly believe they left a better world than the one they entered.  I hope we will be able to say the same.  My memories of those Adens who came before leave me with a full spectrum of emotions, including admiration, laughter, sadness, pride, and appreciation.   I am in awe of them.
 
Dad attended six months of business school in Lincoln, NB.  He paid 100% of his keep.  I believe he loved the ranch and wanted to return to Saratoga, but prospects for making his mark in Denver won out.  One of his jobs was ushering at the Tabor Theater (moving pictures were just becoming popular).  Ushers were inspected prior to commencement of the shift to ensure that each Usher was clean shaven and his uniform, cap, and white gloves were perfect. 
 
Dad learned that his 500 head of cattle, his parents’ ranch and properties had been seized by the bank.  The Great Depression that began in the late 1920s was crippling the nation.  Returning to Saratoga was no longer an option.  Dad had a job, even though the soup lines were enjoying brisk business.  He read a classified ad for a service station attendant.  During his lunch hour, he ran down to apply for this coveted position.  When he arrived, he discovered there was already a long line of men stretching around the building.  When telling this tale, he would laugh and claim that he didn’t know why the other men were there.  He marched to the front of the line, stuck his head in the door, interrupted the interviewer, and informed him that he needed to be interviewed immediately or he would be late returning to his job.  The guy was upset, but very impressed with Dad's aggressiveness.  He was hired and thus began his career with Continental Oil Company (Conoco).
 
As a service station attendant on 15th and Colorado Blvd (I believe) in Denver, he was robbed at gun point late one night and instructed to lie on his stomach in a restroom.  I recall that Dad was instrumental in the criminal’s capture, because he identified the make of car by the sound it made during the getaway.  However, his lingering fear could be heard in his voice when he told this story.
 
Dad was promoted to a traveling position as a company representative, responsible for ensuring proper operation of retail outlets.  While at a station in Colorado Springs, a pretty girl with a southern accent captured his attention.  I guess his assertive nature resulted in introductions, a date, and heaven only knows what else.  Using his hunter/trapper instincts, he immediately stalked his prey in his Model A (or T) Ford for several days to Fort Worth, Texas.  Days later, Mom and Dad were married in a friend’s home.  You see, Mom’s father would not endorse the wedding, nor would attend the ceremony, as he objected to the marriage.  According to Dad, Grandpa Allen's parting words were, "You've made your bed of nails, now you can lie in it."  Dad told this tale over and over and over, and the language could not be repeated in a church.  Although he treated Grandpa Allen with respect in subsequent decades, he never forgave him, and openly criticized his father-in-law behind his back.
 
Mom and Dad returned to Denver and Dad resumed his employment with Conoco.  Gary was born in Denver in 1933.  The stories of these early years in Denver were many.  With the improving economy toward the end of the 1930's, Dad was transferred to Alamosa to be a District Manager over the Independent Bulk Plants in towns in the San Luis Valley.  This promotion was clear evidence of his "fast track" with Conoco.  However, his entrepreneurial gene kicked in.  Del Norte’s retiring bulk distributor agent worked a deal with Dad and Mom, and fortunately Conoco approved the transfer.  This meant Dad would give up a salary and career path in favor of a commission-only opportunity.  Dad and Mom had saved enough to buy the 250 gallon tank wagon.  Hot tubs hold more volume than this truck.  At first, there was no pump on the truck; thus, Dad carried a ten-gallon can (80 lbs. each) in each hand and poured fuel into customers’ barrels.  Gravity hoses were used to deliver product to the service stations.  Mom kept the books and was the "woman behind the man."  They lived with Gary in a rented house on Main Street in Del Norte. 
 
I came along in 1942.  Mom and Dad always laughed about how I got the nickname of "Mike."  They thought the names of Gary Carl (after Dad) and Gregory Allen (after Mom) would be perfect for their boys.  Gary had just started school and his best friend was "Mike."  Gary almost always got his way -- enough said. 

Dad didn't serve in WW II for two reasons: 1) he had a family, and more importantly, 2) he was in a critical civilian position as a distributor of petroleum products.  He often recalled with pride that he was responsible for control and distribution of gas rationing coupons.  This meant that his ass became accustomed to frequent kissing.  Grandma Aden died in 1942, and was to be buried in Fort Collins.  Due gas rationing, attending distant events was out of the question.  Dad was not beyond bending the rules a little.  Using T coupons (issued to truckers for commercial transportation of goods), all of the family members were able to convene in Fort Collins.

As a side note, Mom and Dad liked nice cars.  Toward the end of WW II, they ordered a 1942 Mercury with floor stick shift and 4 doors.  Cars were in short supply and the catch was that they would have to pick it up at the factory in Detroit.  On the trip back to Colorado, they could not exceed 40 mph in order to "break-in" the engine.  In 1950, they purchased an Olds 88, which had one of the first automatic transmissions.  This vehicle served us well, and Gary drove it during medical school and in the following years.  When Uncle Ray returned from his Army Air Corps service in Post War Japan, they purchased his black and white 1957 Ford Fairlane, complete with clear plastic seat covers.  Dad’s last car was a maroon 1963 Ford Thunderbird which he drove long after it became a classic.  However, his automotive mechanical skills were limited to checking tire pressure, oil level, radiator level, and filling the car with lead based premium directly off the tank wagon. Dad always wore gloves—the cotton kind—filed his nails daily, and as a result had septic-clean surgeon hands.  Carl Aden was always well groomed and highly polished.  Even his footwear was stylish.
 
Eventually, we moved to 760 Pine St.  I am not sure if they initially rented the house from the neighbors.  No one has ever explained to me why Dad and Mom feuded with these neighbors during the time we lived there.  In any event, they purchased this paradise.  Downstairs, there was a large oil stove in the living room, big dining room, large kitchen complete with oil flat top stove/oven and hot water tank floor to ceiling, one bath (later with a shower in the tub), an office, and a large "master bedroom."  The crowning glory was the sink and toilet that adjoined the master bedroom.  This was at least 6 steps from the bed.  However, this didn't cure Dad's ranch habit of taking a Folger’s one-gallon coffee can to bed for those midnight releases.  I trust this is one area in which Aden men have evolved.  Upstairs was a large bedroom shared by Gary and me.  Attached was a "sleeping porch", complete with screens, but certainly not winterized.  Our bedroom was heated in the winter by opening the stair way door (that is where I learned that warmer air rises).  Life didn’t stay the same.
 
Early one morning in 1947, I came down the stairs to find Gary reading the Denver Post (a habit he formed early in life).  Mom and Dad were gone.  My older and wiser brother informed me that Mom and Dad were at the hospital and they would be home with a baby.  Hell, no one had warned me!  In fact, I don’t recall if I even knew what a baby was and certainly no idea where they originated.  Where was the psychological preparation?  No wonder I have been scarred for life.  Carla (after Dad) Rae came home.  I don't recall much about that period, nor do I know why she changed the spelling of her name to Karla.  I'm not even sure where she slept as an infant.  I do have memories of Mom and Dad doting over her.  Obviously, she was the favorite child.  When Gary went to college in1953, the sleeping porch was winterized (still no heat) for Gary and me (bunk beds in a tiny space), and Carla Rae took over our big bedroom.  Since we had to pass through her room to the sleeping porch, we developed the art of "snapping her bra", which she began wearing in the first grade.  Life included adjustment to a changing environment.
 
Mom and Dad began violating child labor laws early on.  We each had our chores, such as, grocery store, trash, snow shoveling, making our beds (Gary never did).  We all eventually had the chore of spreading newspapers on the back porch for Cho Cho's “business”.  Removal was required the next morning, which is probably the reason I have never been a fan of house pets.  .  Life included responsibilities.
 
If we proved ourselves, we were promoted to jobs in the family business.  By this time, the folks had purchased two retail service stations.  We could not have received better training for later in life.  None of the Aden children lacked for personality, self confidence, or drive.  We did not receive an allowance.  However, none of us lacked for money, as the folks believed in paying top wages in exchange for production.  We were paid by beautifully hand written checks, not cash.  Of course, income tax was not yet a dream in any politician's eye, so "skim" hadn't become a practice.  We were expected to deposit our checks in our individual savings account at the Rio Grande County Bank.  When Mom took me down to open my savings account, she made it clear this was college money.  However, with some parental resistance, we were allowed to make withdrawals for special things.  Mom was always the money manager.  Mom—not Dad—was the one who insisted on music lessons, top grades, a college education, and marrying a rich woman.  Her saying was, "It is just as easy to love a rich woman, as it is a poor one."  I suspect that she told Carla to marry a rich man.  Apparently, Mom skipped a couple of chapters in the book.  Life lessons were not always equally communicated.
 
Del Norte had a population of about 1,500.  Del Norte means “Of the North.”  I am probably wrong, but I recall that this was the most Northern point of exploration by Cortez.  About half of the population was Hispanic.  We referred to them as Spanish.  A sure fire way to get beaten up, was to call them Mexicans.  Words like Latino and Hispanic had definitely not reach our part of the world.  Neither Dad nor Mom ever learned Spanish.  Gary was the only child who learned the language.  He loved to match his dirty word vocabulary with contemporaries.  The Spanish citizens really liked Mom and Dad, and this was good for business.  I suspect that Dad and Mom were some of the few business people who extended credit to the Spanish.  Consumer loans and credit cards hadn’t been invented yet as a way to fleece America’s wage earners. 

Dating between the races was a No-No.  Generally, the Spanish were Catholic, and the Anglos were protestant.  All positions of power were controlled by the Anglos, as were the businesses.  Neighborhoods were generally segregated, but in close proximity of each other.  I don’t recall ever being invited to a Spanish person’s house.  I only recall one of my Spanish friends coming to my house.  Dad had some Spanish drinking buddies who would privately party with him.  Occasionally, Dad wouldn’t make it home.  When I was about 12, Mom sent me to a Spanish friend’s house to see if Dad was there – he was.  The visit was very embarrassing for me.  I’m sure the Village learned this, which would have embarrassed Mom beyond words.  Life could be embarrassing.

The schools were totally integrated.  During our occasional trips to Fort Worth, Texas (on the Texas Zephyr), I experienced segregation.  At age ten I asked my cousin why certain water fountains had a sign reading, “Colored.”  The water was clear as could be.  Of course, the terms used then were Colored or Negro, not Black or African American.  I don’t recall ever seeing a lack person in Del North.  In my senior year we played Walzenburg in basketball and I was surprised that their team a Black player.  At Gary’s invitation around 1957, Dad and I attended the CU vs. OU football game in Boulder.  The big news that year was that the first Black football player ever to play for OU was on the field.  CU hadn’t progressed that far yet.   Needless to say, OU won.  Mom and Dad never talked about segregation or integration.  It was a non-issue in our home.  We were expected to get along.   Life required cooperation and accommodation.

English was the only language in schools, public notices, or signs.  My first grade had three sections, each with 20+ kids.  Gary's graduation class had 21, and mine had 33.  We were in a small pond.  It was easy to be a big fish in a small pond.  Likewise, nothing we did went unnoticed.  We were truly raised by the Village.  Our transgressions were generally known by Dad or Mom as we were committing them.  Discipline was swift, proportional, and certainly not open to negotiation.  Likewise, accomplishments were recognized.  Life included phrases like, “Son, you know this hurts me more than it does you.”

Bottom line, as kids we didn’t want for much.  I guess the standard of living was lower than in the cities, but in Del Norte, the Adens were in the upper crust.  We had a family car and the tank wagon.  Doctors and Judges were the most respected professions.  Close behind were school teachers, most of whom were lifers.  School administrators were expected to be tough and exercise their authority.  One of my male teachers in the eighth grade paddled misbehavers in front of the class.  I learned after graduating, that three students in my class were expelled their Junior year for smoking in the alley behind a school board member’s house.  I don’t believe Dad or Mom, or other community leaders would have concurred with the severity of this punishment.  However, the Superintendant ruled and such matters were not public.  The parents of two of my classmates moved to another town and their sons graduated.  However, the third boy never attended school again and ultimately met an early demise.  Life was not always fair.
 
Dad loved to fish.  He loved it even more when he felt like he was sneaking away from Mom.  She loved that Dad and I fished together.  Mom would get furious with Dad, and for good reason.  All she wanted was advance notice so that her customary six-course dinner would not dry up in the oven.  As I later developed marital relationship skills, I often reflected on this.  As a family, we ate two or three meals together every day.  Mom was a great cook.  Needless to say, dietary concerns were not an issue (except starvation).  Typical meals included deep fried french fries (we had a dedicated “potato” deep fryer), deep fried Swanson shrimp (we had a second dedicated “shrimp”deep fryer), eggs, vegetables loaded with butter, bacon, whole milk,--well, you get the picture.  Groceries were ordered over the phone and delivered within a couple hours to our kitchen.  Dad took a nap every day after lunch.  After his nap, Dad’s ritual was to go to MacDonalds Malt Shop (not the MD you know) for a strawberry or vanilla milk shake.  By then it was 3 PM and time to start the afternoon deliveries.  Of course, this meant he wouldn’t be home until dark, unless of course, we snuck off fishing.  Life included deception.

Gary was only 17 when he left for college.  He was so excited and told wild tales when he came home at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter.  However, when he left, Mom and Dad switched their focus to me.  Gary had been an academic star.  All of a sudden, Mom was as much as saying, “What’s wrong with you?”  In Elementary and Junior High, I had been a slightly above-average student.  I recall Mom having one of her “come to Jesus talks” with me in the sixth grade.  She informed me that Mr. Wall, my sixth grade teacher, said I wasn’t using my gray matter.  What the hell was gray matter?  She devoted hours showing me how to do a research for unique subject.  My chosen topic was camels, and I received an “A.”  Of course, Mom did most of it.  I did learn that “A’s” required a lot of effort.  I still couldn’t bring myself to endure the pain for better grades.  Furthermore, I was still convinced many of the other kids were smarter than me.  Not one time did Dad ever comment one way or the other about my grades.  I guessed he didn’t feel he could since his academic performance hadn’t been exactly stellar.  For reasons I cannot identify, a switch (probably more accurately described as a decision) was triggered during the Eighth Grade Awards Day.  The only thing I took away from that ceremony was envy, jealousy, and anger.  I suppose I decided to change.  Beginning in my Freshman year, I focused on the books, continued piano lessons, and actively participated in band, basketball, football, and track.  Gary had set the bar pretty high, and I figured the folks would shower me with praise if I achieved Valedictorian, as Gary had done.  I was the Valedictorian for my class of only 33 graduates.  Mom and Dad’s praise seemed far less important than the personal pride I felt for my accomplishment.  At that time, and still today, I felt that at least two classmates were smarter than me.  Dad and Mom were right—achievements result from hard work and persistence—a core value that has served me well throughout my life.  Life had its ups and its downs with plenty of adventures thrown in for free. 

Gary’s shoes were not easy to fill.  He was popular, Valedictorian, super bright, oboe player, drum major, piano player, and (according to him) a ladies man.  Even the doctors were inviting him to observe operations.  However, Mom and Dad both expected Gary to pull his own weight.  That meant working in the service station with his able assistant—me—during the college summer breaks.  These were really fun times.  Gary and I bonded during those summers, mainly because I would pull his shifts so he could chase tourist chicks in Creede.  I wished Karla and I could have shared similar memories.  She was a lot younger than me.  I could point out that Mom and Dad pampered her since she was a girl.  However, I doubt that she would concur.  Mom often remarked that the station made enough money during the summer months to pay for the next year’s education.  Apparently this was the case, as I didn’t owe anything upon graduation and neither did the folks.  I believe Gary entered a financial arrangement with the Navy in exchange for active duty service following Residency.  Keep in mind that Mom pushed for college.  Dad, more or less, gave it lip service.  Dad accepted Gary’s ambitions to be a doctor.  I believe he always thought that I would return to Del Norte and takeover the family business.  Thus, the need for college was not a requirement.  Life was fun.

Even prior to high school Dad and I had grown close.  Since the age of seven I had worked for him, helped him on the truck, performed the less desirable jobs, and played with him.  He was an incredible teacher.  Dad would let you tackle any task you believed you could accomplish.  Failure was acceptable, quitting was not.  He taught me how start the truck, operate all the power equipment, and later how to shift the gears and drive.  These skills came in handy later.  I was about 13 or 14 when Dad suffered a serious bout with ulcers, which were common due to his drinking and hypertension.  However, this attack landed him in the hospital.  Gary certainly could have taken up the slack, but he was away at college.  Dad and Mom were not ones to hire help, not even a driver.  It was a family business.  I could drive the truck and do all the required tasks (except invoicing), but I was years away from the age for a commercial license.  Once again the Village helped out.  Mom called our local policeman and explained the situation.  Believe it or not, the answer was, “Tell Mike he can only drive in the alleys within the city and the dirt roads in the country, not US 160 or city streets.  I had to fudge some, but after all Del Norte only had one cop.  Talk about a confidence builder!  Life was like a ladder.

I continued to work for Dad and Mom during the summers.  I didn’t have a curfew and only Mom and Dad had a key to the house as the doors were locked only on rare occasions.  If I came home late and found the doors locked, it meant either Mom or Dad had discovered my absence, and were probably angry.  Since they had taken to locking me out, I had to improvise.  Dad detected and removed my strategically positioned ladder for roof access.  Later, I discovered that I could jump and grab the lowest point on the roof, chin myself up, and get on the roof.  I don’t think Mom or Dad ever figured this one out.  Except for literally kicking me out of bed very early the next morning, Mom and Dad hardly ever jumped my case for prowling at night.  Del Norte was small and not exactly a hot bed of sin.  Alcohol and drugs were a non-issue.  We didn’t have the influences of X-rated and violent films.   The racy movie, A Summer Place, hit the silver screen my junior year, and Sandra Dee got pregnant in the movie.  Wow!  This was terrifying for us.  The pill hadn’t been invented.  Life had many opportunities to innovate.

Dad wasn’t opposed to taking advantage of people, even family.  Near the end of the summer of 1963, Sally and I married.  Dad still owed me $1,000 for summer work.  He asked if he could pay in January for some reason that I don’t remember.  Sally and I had purchased a used Italian made car, a Fiat (“Fix It Again Tony”), for $400.  In October, it pooped out.  We negotiated to purchase a new Chevy 2-door with 6,000 miles for $2,300, and the dealer arranged financing provided we could put at least $1,000 down.  No problem.  I called Dad and explained the situation.  His response – “Well, you were due the money in January, but since you want it three months early, will you agree to reduce the amount I owe you to $700 total.”  I agreed.  Perhaps, Dad was teaching me the meaning of The Golden Rule - “He who has the Gold, makes the Rule” or “Don’t trust anyone with your money.”  I doubt Mom ever knew about this.  I would have been $300 ahead if I had called her first.  Life was totally renegotiable.

I always felt like Mom and Dad were with me, pushing, applauding, correcting, and second-guessing, usually forcefully.  Mom absolutely had a cow when I informed her that Sally and I were buying a $27,000 home, $1,000 cash down from Army separation, and $202/mo total payment.  This was understandable as they paid Dr. Rupp $10,000 cash on the barrel head for one the finest homes (15 rooms) in Del Norte.

Mom and Dad elected not to attend many of our major events.  For example,  my surgery for ruptured appendix in Boulder and subsequent 12 day hospitalization; my graduation for BA or MA; Gary and Jeanne’s wedding – Dad and I didn’t attend; and the birth or post-birth of any of their seven grandchildren.  In fairness to them, mobility was limited to bus, train, and car.  No freeways.  I didn’t fly on a commercial airline until 1967.  However, their objective was to rear self-sufficient, independent, and confident adults.  It was clear to me, and probably to Gary and Karla, that when you left home, you were on your own.  Life had goals.

On the other hand, Dad and Mom attended every piano recital, our high school graduations, major DeMolay or Rainbow Girls formal ceremonies, and occasional CU football games.  I don’t fault them for not attending my athletic events – I was terrible.  Whether they were there or not, I was confident that they were there in spirit.  In my opinion, the parent mould was broken and never replicated when their generation was created.  Their heartfelt desire was that things would be better for their children, than it had been for them.  They did this not by giving material things, but by imparting core values.  Life demanded independence.

Surely, Karla, Gary, and I must be the legacy for Carl William Aden, who was born exactly 100 years ago today, and grew up on the Wyoming frontier, and his life partner, Bobbie Irene Allen Aden, the pretty, big-city girl whom he pursued across two giant states. 

 

Thanks Dad and Mom,

Mike Gregory Allen Aden
October 9, 2007