Frank J Schledorn 1922 - 2021 Photo by Thomas Lee
The wisdom of our forests relies upon the contributions of each individual tree, who know to share not only the shade of their canopy but attend to the soil for future generations to also flourish.
The things Frank believed in were family, church, and good citizenship and he leaves behind a legacy of helping others. His presence in the lives that he touched was steady and grounded. Frank was a tall and gentle giant, and despite his towering physical presence, he was a quiet, methodical speaker. His cadence in both how he moved and how he spoke reflected a thoughtfulness and a patience no doubt honed from his nearly one century in this world.
“My contribution now after all these years, I feel, is to help other people.” –Frank Schledorn
When a person of Frank’s generation leaves us, we are often called to recollect their individual lives amid the greatest stories of modern history. The pandemic of 1918, the Great Depression, WWII, and the technological advancements of our collective cultures all frame Frank’s life as a first generation American born on a small farm in North Dakota. His father, Franz Nicholas Schledorn, immigrated from the Netherlands at the turn of the 20th century and, after meeting his wife Marie Vander Heiden, raised four boys in the cold, snowy, Northeastern landscape of the Dakotas during the Great Depression. “As kids, brother Frank and brother Bob, were farming with horses. They worked very hard back then - putting up hay, working the fields, harvesting with threshing machines and milking the cows before walking a mile into school. I think the reason they didn’t fight or argue as siblings was that they were too tired!” Ted Schledorn, Frank’s youngest brother.
Frank, the eldest of four, was born at home on September 19th, 1922, on a farm in the Cato Township near Edmore, North Dakota. He and his siblings grew up knowing the labor and responsibility of farm chores amid focusing on academics. Frank attended Edmore High School and the North Dakota School of Science in Wahpeton for two years before enlisting in the army in 1942. It was in Wahpeton that Frank fell in love with Doris Mollerud and their courtship remained steady as he prepared to deploy overseas. She followed Frank out to Syracuse, New York, by train and took up work at General Electric doing military manufacturing and, on an autumn day in 1943, they married. Leading up to Frank’s deployment, they held a standing tradition to meet at a park bench on Staten Island in the evenings. Years later he wrote to her:
The things Frank believed in were family, church, and good citizenship and he leaves behind a legacy of helping others. His presence in the lives that he touched was steady and grounded. Frank was a tall and gentle giant, and despite his towering physical presence, he was a quiet, methodical speaker. His cadence in both how he moved and how he spoke reflected a thoughtfulness and a patience no doubt honed from his nearly one century in this world.
“My contribution now after all these years, I feel, is to help other people.” –Frank Schledorn
When a person of Frank’s generation leaves us, we are often called to recollect their individual lives amid the greatest stories of modern history. The pandemic of 1918, the Great Depression, WWII, and the technological advancements of our collective cultures all frame Frank’s life as a first generation American born on a small farm in North Dakota. His father, Franz Nicholas Schledorn, immigrated from the Netherlands at the turn of the 20th century and, after meeting his wife Marie Vander Heiden, raised four boys in the cold, snowy, Northeastern landscape of the Dakotas during the Great Depression. “As kids, brother Frank and brother Bob, were farming with horses. They worked very hard back then - putting up hay, working the fields, harvesting with threshing machines and milking the cows before walking a mile into school. I think the reason they didn’t fight or argue as siblings was that they were too tired!” Ted Schledorn, Frank’s youngest brother.
Frank, the eldest of four, was born at home on September 19th, 1922, on a farm in the Cato Township near Edmore, North Dakota. He and his siblings grew up knowing the labor and responsibility of farm chores amid focusing on academics. Frank attended Edmore High School and the North Dakota School of Science in Wahpeton for two years before enlisting in the army in 1942. It was in Wahpeton that Frank fell in love with Doris Mollerud and their courtship remained steady as he prepared to deploy overseas. She followed Frank out to Syracuse, New York, by train and took up work at General Electric doing military manufacturing and, on an autumn day in 1943, they married. Leading up to Frank’s deployment, they held a standing tradition to meet at a park bench on Staten Island in the evenings. Years later he wrote to her:
Doris, |
Doris and Frank
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After participating in the second front operations of what is now known as D-Day, which began in June of 1944, Frank continued inland as part of an engineering unit. His team would travel out ahead of the infantry troops rebuilding bridges, removing landmines, rewiring lights, and getting water turned on. They would often find shelter in abandoned homes as they worked their way towards Berlin. His work was not without risk however, and his convoy suffered casualties from an unmarked landmine in France, of which he was the only survivor. Frank recovered in Belgium and earned a Purple Heart before reuniting with his unit.
Like many veterans, Frank was comfortable talking about some of his experiences more than others and often shared a story from his time working in the countryside of Germany when he shared war rations with a starving young mother. She and her baby were found hiding in the basement of an abandoned house. After several months his unit moved further inland, but the mail still arrived at the countryside post. Among the letters arriving that spring was a birth announcement from Doris. The young woman, knowing how much that news would mean to Frank, bravely traveled 20 miles by bicycle to hand deliver the baby blue announcement informing him that his son Richard (Rick) had arrived.
“A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees.” – Amelia Earhart
Returning to Wahpeton, Frank started as an engineering aid in 1946, the same year his first of three daughters, Patricia (Patti) was born. Doris and Frank would welcome two more children, Lynn and Laurel (Laurie) over the next decade and as a young family of six they moved every few years as Frank’s work in the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Soil Conservation Service spanned the state. He worked part time while completing a degree in civil engineering from the University of North Dakota. After graduation, Frank became an agricultural, civil and construction engineer in the Soil Conservation Service field and area offices throughout North Dakota until 1960. His time was spent working directly with farmers and ranchers planning shelterbelts (windbreaks) and planting trees.
“A society grows great when men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.” –Greek Proverb
In 1960, Frank transferred to Bozeman, MT and became closely associated with water resource projects. The first five years were spent directing watershed planning activities and helping local groups plan and finance the building of small or medium size dams. Frank was promoted to assistant state conservationist in 1965 where he took overall responsibility for the watershed planning program and other activities which involved river basin studies. Frank felt his association with watershed projects was the most rewarding job he held in Montana. During his time with the SCS watershed program, he oversaw six watersheds planned and constructed. All of which earned him an outstanding performance award. Frank dedicated nearly 35 years of federal service, and upon retirement reflected, “You feel better about this work if you can see something planned and built [...] I can remember planning shelterbelts and planting trees in North Dakota; I could see what I was accomplishing. Thirty years later those trees are still there. That’s getting conservation on the land.” Amid those years he watched his four children grow up and enter the world as young citizens - starting families and planting roots of their own. When a forest grows, it grows exponentially and the generosity and character that was so much an integral part of Frank’s life is represented in each of his children.
“Give the ones you love wings to fly, roots to come back, and reasons to stay.” —The Dalai Lama
Like many veterans, Frank was comfortable talking about some of his experiences more than others and often shared a story from his time working in the countryside of Germany when he shared war rations with a starving young mother. She and her baby were found hiding in the basement of an abandoned house. After several months his unit moved further inland, but the mail still arrived at the countryside post. Among the letters arriving that spring was a birth announcement from Doris. The young woman, knowing how much that news would mean to Frank, bravely traveled 20 miles by bicycle to hand deliver the baby blue announcement informing him that his son Richard (Rick) had arrived.
“A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees.” – Amelia Earhart
Returning to Wahpeton, Frank started as an engineering aid in 1946, the same year his first of three daughters, Patricia (Patti) was born. Doris and Frank would welcome two more children, Lynn and Laurel (Laurie) over the next decade and as a young family of six they moved every few years as Frank’s work in the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Soil Conservation Service spanned the state. He worked part time while completing a degree in civil engineering from the University of North Dakota. After graduation, Frank became an agricultural, civil and construction engineer in the Soil Conservation Service field and area offices throughout North Dakota until 1960. His time was spent working directly with farmers and ranchers planning shelterbelts (windbreaks) and planting trees.
“A society grows great when men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.” –Greek Proverb
In 1960, Frank transferred to Bozeman, MT and became closely associated with water resource projects. The first five years were spent directing watershed planning activities and helping local groups plan and finance the building of small or medium size dams. Frank was promoted to assistant state conservationist in 1965 where he took overall responsibility for the watershed planning program and other activities which involved river basin studies. Frank felt his association with watershed projects was the most rewarding job he held in Montana. During his time with the SCS watershed program, he oversaw six watersheds planned and constructed. All of which earned him an outstanding performance award. Frank dedicated nearly 35 years of federal service, and upon retirement reflected, “You feel better about this work if you can see something planned and built [...] I can remember planning shelterbelts and planting trees in North Dakota; I could see what I was accomplishing. Thirty years later those trees are still there. That’s getting conservation on the land.” Amid those years he watched his four children grow up and enter the world as young citizens - starting families and planting roots of their own. When a forest grows, it grows exponentially and the generosity and character that was so much an integral part of Frank’s life is represented in each of his children.
“Give the ones you love wings to fly, roots to come back, and reasons to stay.” —The Dalai Lama
Lynn, Patti, Rick, Laurie circa 1975
The quietness of retirement did not last for long and in the 1980s he found a passionate second career in the sales and distribution of Shaklee products. If you knew Frank in the 80s and 90s, he had talked to you about Shaklee. His enthusiasm and earnest salesmanship contributed to opportunities to travel abroad and connect with family in the Netherlands and to travel with Doris across the United States in their Holiday Rambler camper. Frank and Doris filled their home and their days with family and friends. Frank and Doris’ home was open to anyone passing through and often the base camp for trips to Yellowstone National Park, skiing Bridger Bowl, and holiday meals. Grandkids, nieces, and friends all stopped by to share a meal, spend the night, or say a quick hello. When they weren’t at home they were filling up their dance cards square dancing, dropping their sailboat in Canyon Ferry Lake, backpacking and cross country skiing in the Montana mountains, and traveling to Minnesota to see family at Stuart Lake.
Frank’s sense of kinship expanded beyond family. Frank and Doris were among a small group of founders for the Pilgrim Congregational Church in Bozeman, MT. Over the years, Frank served in nearly every capacity of the church and found lasting fellowship in those he shared time with. Retired Reverend, Glover Wagner, remarked, “There is no one word to say what Frank meant to Pilgrim Church. Frank was like a father to me and my life was so enriched by his presence.”
In 2008, after 64 years together, Frank said “goodnight,” and “goodbye” to his bride Doris. In the days before her passing, he would stroke her hair gently with his palm, his hand gently trembling. Grief has a way of bringing clarity and piercing the vulnerable love we hold to. In his grief he was humbled, "when you experience the loss of a spouse like I did, I think it makes you realize that some of the things you were probably worried about or concerned about are really pretty trivial compared to values of friendship and companionship [from] all those years with an individual.”
Frank’s sense of kinship expanded beyond family. Frank and Doris were among a small group of founders for the Pilgrim Congregational Church in Bozeman, MT. Over the years, Frank served in nearly every capacity of the church and found lasting fellowship in those he shared time with. Retired Reverend, Glover Wagner, remarked, “There is no one word to say what Frank meant to Pilgrim Church. Frank was like a father to me and my life was so enriched by his presence.”
In 2008, after 64 years together, Frank said “goodnight,” and “goodbye” to his bride Doris. In the days before her passing, he would stroke her hair gently with his palm, his hand gently trembling. Grief has a way of bringing clarity and piercing the vulnerable love we hold to. In his grief he was humbled, "when you experience the loss of a spouse like I did, I think it makes you realize that some of the things you were probably worried about or concerned about are really pretty trivial compared to values of friendship and companionship [from] all those years with an individual.”
Frank and Brigitte
“Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water." –Brian Jacques, Taggerung
Alone in a home that once raised his family, it was his feeling that someone needed the space more than him, and he opened his home to a family of four and became one of the first residents at The Lodge, a retirement community for active seniors in Bozeman. It was at The Lodge that Frank met Brigitte Yearman, who had also lost her spouse and was considering relocating to Montana to be closer to one of her daughters. With no one to give Brigitte a tour of The Lodge, Frank volunteered to show her around. Like young kids, both Brigitte and Frank were aglow in each other’s company - each finding a brightness in one another and their days ahead. Frank and Brigitte shared a loving companionship that spanned nearly a decade together. They remained busy traveling to visit family in North Carolina, Washington, California, and even traveled to Brigitte’s home in Germany to meet extended relatives. They soaked up the sun in Hawaii and sailed on not one, but two Alaskan cruise trips.
Among those years, Frank participated in the Big Sky WWII Honor Flight back to Washington D.C. to visit the memorials dedicated to honoring those who served and sacrificed. Frank also encouraged Brigitte to write her memoir, Don’t Say Anything to Anybody, about her German childhood surviving World War II, Russian military occupation, the refugee experience, and the harsh reconstruction years. It was a story Brigitte had considered sharing for a long time, and her daughter Mary Ann felt it was synchronistic that in meeting Frank she found the support and connections to sit down and write it.
Frank often reflected that he found himself incredibly fortunate to have found love and companionship twice in his lifetime and in so doing shared his wisdom and generous heart with Brigitte’s daughters. “He was so good to us, to me. He always made me feel special, and he was so encouraging and supportive. I feel so blessed to have known him and if it wasn’t for Frank, my mom might not have had the years she did.” –Mary Ann Staab
Frank said goodbye to Brigitte in the winter of 2018 and in the remaining years, he spent time at the Brookdale Senior Living community in Bozeman, MT and in Bellingham, WA. Before moving to Bellingham, he was an avid fan and attendee of the Montana State University Women’s Basketball games. Frank often set goals for his health and wellness so he could travel to visit family, celebrate birthdays, and even attended his youngest grandchild’s wedding in Utah. He looked forward to the biennial “brothers reunions” his kids put together so that he could share extended time with his siblings Bob and Ted. Amid the pandemic, the staff kept Frank and the community incredibly safe and he even found a way to sneak a few visits with his daughter Lynn and her husband Fred at Birch Bay. Among the brightness in his final days Frank met his youngest great grandchild and namesake Easton Frank Schledorn.
Poet Herman Hesse believed trees to be the most penetrating preachers. “Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth.” They do not preach rules and guidelines they show us, undeterred by commotion, the ancient law of life. “A tree says: My strength is trust.” If we look to our elders as forests, their wisdom teaches us that patience is the work we can till into the soil. Amid the highest boughs the world may rustle, but our roots rest in infinity. The quiet wisdom, if we listen, is in the lives of those who have shown us what good citizenship is.
Alone in a home that once raised his family, it was his feeling that someone needed the space more than him, and he opened his home to a family of four and became one of the first residents at The Lodge, a retirement community for active seniors in Bozeman. It was at The Lodge that Frank met Brigitte Yearman, who had also lost her spouse and was considering relocating to Montana to be closer to one of her daughters. With no one to give Brigitte a tour of The Lodge, Frank volunteered to show her around. Like young kids, both Brigitte and Frank were aglow in each other’s company - each finding a brightness in one another and their days ahead. Frank and Brigitte shared a loving companionship that spanned nearly a decade together. They remained busy traveling to visit family in North Carolina, Washington, California, and even traveled to Brigitte’s home in Germany to meet extended relatives. They soaked up the sun in Hawaii and sailed on not one, but two Alaskan cruise trips.
Among those years, Frank participated in the Big Sky WWII Honor Flight back to Washington D.C. to visit the memorials dedicated to honoring those who served and sacrificed. Frank also encouraged Brigitte to write her memoir, Don’t Say Anything to Anybody, about her German childhood surviving World War II, Russian military occupation, the refugee experience, and the harsh reconstruction years. It was a story Brigitte had considered sharing for a long time, and her daughter Mary Ann felt it was synchronistic that in meeting Frank she found the support and connections to sit down and write it.
Frank often reflected that he found himself incredibly fortunate to have found love and companionship twice in his lifetime and in so doing shared his wisdom and generous heart with Brigitte’s daughters. “He was so good to us, to me. He always made me feel special, and he was so encouraging and supportive. I feel so blessed to have known him and if it wasn’t for Frank, my mom might not have had the years she did.” –Mary Ann Staab
Frank said goodbye to Brigitte in the winter of 2018 and in the remaining years, he spent time at the Brookdale Senior Living community in Bozeman, MT and in Bellingham, WA. Before moving to Bellingham, he was an avid fan and attendee of the Montana State University Women’s Basketball games. Frank often set goals for his health and wellness so he could travel to visit family, celebrate birthdays, and even attended his youngest grandchild’s wedding in Utah. He looked forward to the biennial “brothers reunions” his kids put together so that he could share extended time with his siblings Bob and Ted. Amid the pandemic, the staff kept Frank and the community incredibly safe and he even found a way to sneak a few visits with his daughter Lynn and her husband Fred at Birch Bay. Among the brightness in his final days Frank met his youngest great grandchild and namesake Easton Frank Schledorn.
Poet Herman Hesse believed trees to be the most penetrating preachers. “Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth.” They do not preach rules and guidelines they show us, undeterred by commotion, the ancient law of life. “A tree says: My strength is trust.” If we look to our elders as forests, their wisdom teaches us that patience is the work we can till into the soil. Amid the highest boughs the world may rustle, but our roots rest in infinity. The quiet wisdom, if we listen, is in the lives of those who have shown us what good citizenship is.
“Overall as I look back, I think maybe the thing I’ve learned is to be patient with life. You need to think things through, not just react to them, and think about what might happen five years from now … ten years from now.” –Frank Schledorn.
Frank visiting with daughter Lynn in 2020
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Frank left this world peacefully in the pre-dawn hours of March 23rd, 2021 and is survived by two siblings Bob Schledorn, Ted Schledorn (Judy); his son Rick Schledorn (Betty); daughters, Patti Marshall, Lynn Speakman (Fred), Laurie Lint; grandchildren Mike Marshall (Sabrina), Tom Marshall (Michelle), Krista Pasini (Mike), Jennifer Toney, Beth Hicks (Allan), Mack Schledorn (Danielle); and great grandchildren Alys, Cayley, Meagan, Stefan, Casey, Kariann, Bailey, Landon, and Easton; many nieces, nephews, and a wealth of friends including extended family: Prabhakar and Vijaya (daughter Veena and her family), Mary Ann Staab, Christina Yearman, Angelica Yearman, Evelyn Morales.
He is preceded in death by his parents Franz (Frank) Nicholas Schledorn and Marie Clara Vander Heiden Schledorn, and brother Bernard Schledorn, wife Doris Mollerud Schledorn, loving companion Brigitte Zobel Yearman. Memorial services will be held in Bozeman, MT at 1:00pm on Saturday, June 19th at Pilgrim Congregational United Church of Christ (COVID protocols may apply). In lieu of flowers, please consider sending donations to the Pilgrim Congregational UCC (uccbozeman.org). The family would like to thank the staff and community of The Lodge in Bozeman, MT and Brookdale Senior Living both in Bozeman, MT and Bellingham, WA. To all the essential workers who provided diligent care for Frank over the past several years, we thank you. Please send condolences to the family and consider sharing a story, memory, or photo through this virtual memorial. |