Yours, Mine, and Ours

I come from a “Yours, Mine, and Ours” family. Both of my parents, Richard Byron Lohman (1924-2004) and Charlotte Pauline (Hovick) Lohman (1925-2015) were previously married and widowed.

Dad was married in 1945 to Constance Marie Stoep (1925-1952), who died very suddenly of bulbar polio, leaving him with three children: Jeanne, Douglas, and Paul.

Meanwhile, Mom was married in 1950 to Rev. Warren Lowell Thompson (1922-1951), who died of a brain hemorrhage when she was four months pregnant with their first child, Charles.

Since I was a little kid, I’ve always felt an odd connection to both Connie and Warren, for without their tragic and premature deaths, I simple wouldn’t have come into being. So my deep gratitude for life comes with it an awareness of the losses that made it possible.

At the celebration of my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, my Dad similarly remarked: “I have mixed feelings about being grateful that I have lived this long, and that [Char and I] have had these years. Because I can’t be grateful that Connie and Warren… died prematurely before they had a chance at the full gift of life that God intends for everyone.”
As the family historian, with the passing of my Mom in 2015, I inherited all the old photos and documents from these four people and their three marriages. Among them were the photo albums that chronicle the early lives of Connie and Warren.

Telling and preserving the stories of my family on this blog would be incomplete without including the lives of these two pivotal people. Sadly, few stories still live on. Only my sister Jeanne has dim memories of her birth mother, Connie. The rest of my siblings were too young. And just about everyone else who knew them are now gone. So reconstructing their lives will have to rely heavily on these precious photos and documents, and whatever public records that I can find. But, over time, I will endeavor to tell about and honor their lives as best I can.

So yes, ours is a “Yours, Mine, and Ours” family. However, my mom was always quick to add, “But really, we’re just an OURS family.”

Charlotte: Growing Up at St. John’s

My mother, Charlotte Hovick Lohman, moved from the tiny town of Madison, Minnesota (near the South Dakota border) to the college town of Northfield, Minnesota in 1926.

They very quickly became members of St. John’s Lutheran Church, a mere nine-minute walk from their home (according to Google). Founded in 1869 by Norwegian immigrants, the congregation was earlier named St. Johannes Norwegian Evangelical Lutheran Congregation. From the beginning, St. John’s, as it later became known, had close ties with St. Olaf College. My grandparents, Charles and Pauline Hovick, dedicated to providing for a good education for their daughters, spent much of their lives working at St. Olaf. (But alas, there was no tuition discount offered to children of college employees at the time.) Charles was a custodian at Mohn Hall, and Pauline was house mother at Forest Hall, an off-campus dormitory. St. John’s building was built in 1913.

Childhood
My mom enrolled in something called St. John’s Cradle Roll in 1927.

Music has always been so important in my family. My grandmother Pauline played the piano and taught her three daughters to play, and grandfather Charley played the mandolin. From the start, my mom sang in the choirs at St. John’s. 

Here’s St. John’s in 1934, about the same time as the choir picture was taken.

Confirmation

June 9, 1940. That’s her in the back row on the left, looking a bit glum, I must say. Mom was tall, so you’ll often find her in the back row of photos.

Charlotte, decked out in her white robe and carnation, alongside her proud parents, Charley and Pauline.

High School

Mom saved the bulletin from their Christmas Day service in 1943, the year she graduated from Northfield High School. Note the staggering number of people from that single congregation who were serving in the military. (And on a lighter note, how many of them were named Anderson, Arneson, Asleson, Benson, Carlson, Edwardson, Ellingson, Hanson, Jacobson, Johnson, Jorgenson, Knutson, Peterson, Swanson, Thompson, and Tollefson. But, oddly enough, not an Olson in the whole lot.)

And later…

My mom’s first marriage took place at St. John’s on the evening of May 18, 1950 (look at the candlelight!). She married Rev. Warren Thompson, who died only fourteen months later, leaving her four months pregnant with their son, Charles (who was named after both of his grandfathers).

For decades, St. John’s has been a gathering place for my extended family. So many funerals, yet they were opportunities to see beloved cousins who have spread out far and wide. 

And much later…

I had the thrill last year to go to St. John’s to co-lead a Building an Inclusive Church training. It was so wonderful to be back in that space, combining my personal and professional lives, and to spend time with the good folks of St. John’s who were so passionate about making the church one that fully welcomes LGBTQ people. Go, St. John’s!

Richard & Charlotte: Engaged on the First Date!

1952-1953: The Year That Changed My Life

By Charlotte Lohman, 1993

After the death of my first husband Warren in 1952…

…and the birth of our son Chuck in 1952…

…nursing at Fairview Hospital, together with being a single parent, became my career.

Chuck and myself, along with another recent widow, Mona Hjortland and her son David, moved in together; and with the help of our babysitter, Grandma Turk, Mona and I were able to work. Our life together was good.

One Sunday in October, 1952, Mona and I decided to eat at the then-famous Hasty Tasty Café at 50th and France [two doors down from the Edina Cinema]. 

As we looked at the people enjoying their dinner, Mona spotted a man and his young daughter, whom she had previously met. 

This man, Dick Lohman, had very recently lost his wife from bulbar polio, leaving him alone with two sons, Paul, age two, Douglas, four, and his daughter Jeanne, six.

After finishing our meals, we went over to greet them. Our hearts ached for him, knowing what he must be going through. But after a pleasant visit, we went on our way.

It wasn’t long before Dick started to come to see us after he got his children to bed – just to talk and share his grief. We understood what he was going through. [He dubbed us the “Merry Widows.”] Sometimes another recent widow friend, Merlyn, would come and join us. They were good times for us all. My “playing Cupid” instincts were being aroused, so I would encourage Dick to take Merlyn home. He willingly did, but he always immediately returned to our home to continue to visit. Playing Cupid wasn’t working, so I dropped the thought!

Time passed and our get-togethers continued. Mona was soon engaged to a seminary student, and she decided that she now wanted to play Cupid with Dick and I. I said, “Nope, he’s too short for me!” My reaction to Mona was silly, but I had always been tall for my age. My Dad and first husband Warren were both 6’4”, so this was a new experience for me. (Before I go further, I want to say that I was less than ½“ taller than Dick. How silly! I later came to just wear low-heeled shoes. What a simple solution!) 

One evening in April, 1953, I was working the 3:00-11:00 pm shift at the hospital and the phone rang. It was none other than Dick asking me for a date to see the newly released film, Martin Luther. That sounded like fun, so I said yes.

By this time, I had not wanted to admit to myself or anyone else that I was starting to like Dick, not only as a friend, but some romantic feelings were creeping in, too. So I was excited about this date – my first since 1951 when Warren died. Mona was delighted – she had been right!

The fateful night arrived and off we went and had a wonderful time [first at the Uptown Theater…

 …and then a few doors down at the Rainbow Café.]

I must have been excited when I left home, because I left my keys and Mona wasn’t home to let us in. So Dick came to the rescue, got a window opened and in we went. We talked and talked about so many things, and he finally said, “Will you marry me?” Without hesitation, I knew that I was in love and said, “Yes.” It just felt so right. Our first date and now we were engaged. This was unbelievable. Nothing slow about us! 

We went to introduce Dick to my mother. She had heard about him being short. But as she opened the door and laid eyes on him, the first thing she said was, “You’re no shrimp!” They loved each other immediately.

On August 15, 1953, our family became a “Yours and Mine” family,

 and later, in 1955 and again in 1961, a

family when our two sons Jeffrey and David were born.

But really, it’s always simply been an “Ours” family.

This was forty years ago as I write this in 1993, and we still stand in awe of how blessed we have been by God.