Truth Be Told Valentine Edition: Trevor Hovde

By LeAnn R. Ralph

COLFAX —  The third installment of Truth Be Told, the Valentine edition, was held in the Colfax Municipal Building auditorium the evening of February 11. The event started with music by the Colfax High School chamber choir under the direction of Carrie Christensen. Featured storytellers were Michelle Knutson, Lisa Bragg-Hurlburt, Jaci Ackerlund and Trevor Hovde.

The Truth Be Told events are hosted by Kobi Shaw and Steve Russell of Colfax.

Trevor Hovde is the principal at Colfax Elementary. His wife, Nancy, is a third grade teacher in Colfax.  

Trevor grew up on a farm in northern Wisconsin and has 11 brothers and sisters. His mother, Jean Hovde, is the author of three published fictional stories.

Here is Trevor’s story:

I’m going to share a little bit about what it was like growing up on a farm.

I came into the family in 1966. I was number 10 in line.

It was a unique experience growing up on a dairy farm at that time. I was born between two sets of twins. I had a set of twin brothers who were a year older than me, and a set of twin sisters who were two years younger than  me.

To set the background a little bit, my mom and dad had seven pre-schoolers at one time.

We attended the Catholic school at Haugen. At the time, we had 63 students at the school, so we made up 10 percent of the population.

I remember one of the nuns one time called my mom to tell her my sister had been hurt and had a great big bump on her head, and she thought she should probably go to the doctor. She said the kids were outside playing, and a couple of them ran into each other, and Cindy got the worst end of it.

My mom said, “Well, how’s the other one doing?” And she said, “Jerry’s doing okay.”

Jerry was my brother.

Duncan Hines

Back in 1966, we had kindergarten, and it was only half days.

I headed off to kindergarten in the morning, and my mom believed in having a full meal every night.

My job, when I got home from school, was to bake a Duncan Hines cake.

That was my first job when I got off the bus. That was before you added oil to the cake like you do now. That’s how I started when I got home to prepare the meal for that evening.

My mom taught me about volume and things like that, and I flourished in math.

But reading came hard for me. She took time at night to have me crawl up on her bed, and she’d spend about a half an hour every night, helping me practice my reading.

I got a lot better at reading.

Shirts

We would always go to church on Sunday. Mom did not believe in not going to church. Dad was always dressed up in his vest.

One Sunday, we were getting ready to go, and my brother Tim, who was one of the older boys, had a tendency to be the last one in the shower. 

Keep in mind, there were 14 people living in the same house, and we had one bathroom. You can imagine what that was like getting ready for church in the morning.

On this particular morning, Tim was the last one in the shower, and he was the last one into the Mercury station wagon.

I don’t know if you remember what those Mercury station wagons were like, but they had these fold up seats in the back, and you could open them up, and you could get two kids in each one of those, and this was before there were seat belts. We didn’t have to wear seat belts back then.

Two of my brothers and sisters would sit in each of those, and then there was the bench in the back where three more sat. Then in the middle row there were four, and then Mom and Dad in the front, and usually somebody in the middle (of the front seat). Usually a littler person.

On this particular Sunday, Tim grabbed a shirt as we headed out, and he sat down in the middle of the seat and put the shirt in his lap.

About halfway to church — we went to Holy Trinity Catholic Church in Haugen — about halfway, we lived up by Long Lake — but about halfway there, Tim went to put the shirt on — and the shirt didn’t fit.

It was my shirt. And I was the smallest one.

My mom always had a way to handle situations that were tough. She said, “No worries, this is what we’re going to do. Thad, you’re going to take your shirt off, and you’re going to give yours to Tim. Jerry I want you to take your shirt off, and you’re going to give it to Jeff. Jeff I want you to take your shirt off, and you’re going to give it to Jerry, and Trevor, you take your shirt off and give it to Jeff, and you get this one.”

I was a little ticked because we played for the Long Lake Lutheran Church, and my stallion shirt was all dirty, and I hated going to church with a dirty shirt on.

I said to Mom, “Yeah, sure, I get the dirty shirt.”

And she said, “Just hold your hands in front (clasped over your chest, as if in prayer) and no one will ever know.”

Boots and socks

Mom did a lot of things in my life, and in my family’s life, that showed us unconditional love.

For example, we had our boots that we wore out to the barn, and a lot of times, those boots had holes in them.

She kept all of our (bread) bags, and she would have us slide these bags over our socks, and slide our feet into the boots, so that way our socks would remain dry.

We had a dresser drawer full of unclaimed socks.

You can imagine with 14 people living in the same house, there were a ton of socks laying around.

And during haying season, she would have us take those, when our hands were hurting from the twine, and she’d say, “go in there and grab a couple of socks and put them on your hands, and they will protect you from the twine.”

She was always thinking about how to use resources in a way that was really simple that we take for granted today.

I know my first love was my mom. There is no doubt that I loved her more than anybody else.

I asked her one day, “Mom, how come when it comes time to serve the cake, I always get the raunchiest piece.”

I wasn’t a person who complained a lot, and she said, “I’ll make sure you don’t anymore.”

And to this day, she (always has made sure).

It was a great place to grow up. I had lots of brothers and sisters I learned to play with and to live with. Christmas was always kind of unique. You’d get presents, and a few minutes after you got your presents, they’d belong to everybody. We didn’t fight over them. We were just glad to have a few presents to play with.

Senior

So as I started to get older —  I was the youngest of seven boys with five sisters — when I got to be a senior, around February, my dad got ill.

My mom came to me, and she said, “Trevor, I have to ask a favor of you. Your dad is ill and I don’t know how to milk cows. I need you to help me for a year, on the farm, until I can get this situation situated.”

I thought about that, just for a split second, and I said, “Absolutely.”

My parents had given me 18 years of my life. They’d taken care of me. I’d never gone hungry. I’d never not had anything. It was the least I could do.

So I spent about 17 months on the farm. I grew closer and closer to my folks. I had great conversations with Mom. I had great conversations with Dad.

One of things that happened, because they were in some financial difficulties, they couldn’t pay me.

I wasn’t concerned about that. I took a job at Birchwood in the lumber mill.

When I was about in middle school or so, my dad had told me about these girls that lived in Birchwood.

I thought to myself, “What possibly would my dad know about girls?” Even though he had fallen in love with the lady he had married. He was a lot older than I was, too, so I thought he probably wouldn’t have a real good idea of what I’d be looking for.  

I started working over there, and I saw Nancy, my wife, one day.

She had come back from college, and she was working there as well. 

I took some time the first couple of weeks she was there to eye her up and size her up. She looked to me like a person who was a lot like my mother. She was sweet with the people she interacted with. She had a beautiful smile. Gorgeous brown hair. Just a really, what seemed to me, a really caring person.

I came home, and I woke Mom up. (Nancy) worked the midnight shift to 8 o’clock in the morning, and I got off at midnight.

I came home, and I said to Mom, “Mom, I found the girl I’m going to marry.”

And she said, “Well, what’s she like?”

And I said, “She’s just like you. She’s pretty. She’s smart. Beautiful blue eyes. She’s just gorgeous.”

And she said, “Have you talked to her yet?”

And I said — “No, not yet!”

It took me most of the summer. We got rid of the cows in the beginning of August. And we went on our first date on August 28.

Unconditional love

I would say a couple of things that I’ve learned from my mom.

First of all, she taught me unconditional love, something that I think is innate to females. I think they understand that better.

I’d say to Mom, “How do you know who to love?”

And she’d say, “I take the one that I feel needs it the most, and I make sure I give them the love that they need.”

I really believe that I married (a woman just like) my mom. I remember when I would come from the barn, and I’d smell the good stuff she was baking in the oven. Raspberry pie. Apple pie. Sweet rolls.

As I walked through the house, I’d think, “I’m loved. I’m loved by my mom.”

The same thing happens to me when I come home now.

Nancy’s got something baking, and it smells sweet, and the boys are always fired up for it.

As I thought about it, this is the conclusion I’ve come to.

God doesn’t do everything for you. But many times he shows you the way. You can choose to go down one way or go down another way, but it’s probably going to impact you for a lifetime.

I made a decision with my parents to try to support them at a time when they were really having a difficult time.

I was kind of forced into working at another job, which introduced me to my wife.

I always look at it that I’ve had a blessing every day since then because of that decision I made.

And I think a lot of times, our life is kind of like that.

We make decisions, and sometimes, when we are the most unselfish in our decision, and we make it with no strings attached, God blesses it over and over and over again.

So I would say, at one time, I probably did get the raunchiest piece (of cake).

But I sure didn’t end up with it.