Author Archives: iinadia

Hung the snowmobile up on a spruce

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1970s Skidoo

Norman flew over the windshield

Tuesday, November 13, 1979—serviced the snowmobile track and found the track adjusting bolt is lost. I have no replacement, so I drove over a 110 miles to Wasilla to get it and a spare belt and some material for the cabin and trapping license. Roads were icy and foggy. Got home late.

Wednesday, November 14, 1979—got up early and worked on the snowmobile, got trap gear ready, cut up some wood and Henry and I checked part of the trapline. Didn’t find anything in any of the traps. Helped Tim haul logs with my snowmobile and sled. It was a beautiful sunset. It’s dark enough here now that we need lights on the snowmobile after 4:00 p.m.

Thursday, November 15, 1979—while pulling a heavy load of wood out, I came to a turn and couldn’t get around it quickly enough. I hung the snowmobile up on a spruce and I went out over the windshield and piled over in the snow. Didn’t get hurt. Things like that happen every once in a while. We went down to Cal’s this evening to weigh out some gold. He’d gotten a black wolf already, and a nice wolverine, a mink and a marten so far on his trapline. He’s doing very well. Checked my trapline and I had two rabbits in snares and one had been eaten by something. I set a snare for a lynx and then when I got back to Nelchina, worked on the cabin floor and started the door—been living without a door.

Friday, November 16, 1979—it started snowing and is still snowing lightly. We got about 8 inches, but the temperature is quite warm. I got wet getting a load of wood. Ate, then went out on the trapline, but no fur is moving in this weather. Picked up some sets that weren’t producing and saw a cow moose and calf.

Saturday, November 17, 1979—last night was Jackie’s birthday and Tim, Mike, Jim and Blake came over here for a while. Then we went over to the lodge for a small party. I tended the bar. Dan Billman was there. He had brought me back four dozen traps that he had gotten for me when he went into Anchorage.

Norman returns to Alaska, Sylvia stays in Minnesota

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Alaska Highway sign at Dawson Creek

Entering the Alaska Highway at Dawson Creek.

Friday, November 2, 1979—Sylvia doesn’t want to go to Alaska for the winter so she will stay in Minneapolis with Nadia’s family.

Saturday, November 3, 1979—deer season opened as I left for Alaska. I got up the road about a hundred miles and the tongue on the trailer broke at Thief River Falls. Every place was closed except one implement dealer. He had no one there to weld it, but he let me do the welding. I drove back to the farm in Cass County and slept for 12 hours.

Sunday November 4, 1979—got up well rested and got a better trailer tongue, (better metal and stronger). I left at noon, drove 435 miles (some ice on the road), got to Brandon Manitoba and slept in the truck on the seat.

Monday November 5, 1979—started out before daylight and had a flat tire on the trailer about noon. Saw a flock of swans and one of honkers near Defoe Saskatchewan. The tongue in that trailer gave more trouble. (I had loaned that trailer out one time, and this person that borrowed it had pulled a heavy load over a curb in town and tweaked the axel. It was never quite right after that.) I jury-rigged up the tongue and got going again, made it to Lloydminster a little after 9:00 p.m. (Minnesota time). Got a room in a motel there and got a good rest.

Tuesday November 6, 1979—got up at 6:30 and went downtown, gassed up and serviced the truck, headed for Edmonton. Lots of fog and light snow. Bought a few groceries in Edmonton and I had two more ruined tires on the trailer. I’ve got to stop and switch out a lot of spare tires and wheels. Every time one of them goes bad, it takes time to stop, jack it up and get another wheel and tire on. Bought more tires and had them mounted as spares for this doggone trailer. The trees are all white from an ice storm here around Edmonton. I reached Dawson Creek at 8:35 p.m. and got a room. It’s too cold to sleep in the cab of the truck and I can sleep better in a bed, so that’s what I did.

Wednesday November 7, 1979—I left at 7:30, saw a cow and a calf moose just outside Fort Nelson. There’s lots of dust on the road here. I always think of the air cleaner on the pickup when I have to drive in dusty places. I’ll have to watch the air filter in case it needs to be changed. Reached Watson Lake at 12:15 a.m. November 8th.

Thursday, November 8, 1979—left Watson at 7:05 a.m. Saw a moose right away on the highway. It’s quite warm here, and more dust. It makes my sinus run and throat sore. Stopped at High Country Safaris (Ed Dolhan) for an hour—more dust there. Visited with them and then went on toward the Alaska border. I was out about 60 miles past Ed’s and I stopped and slept for a while, then went on to customs. From there I went to Tok and slept a little and ate.

Friday, November 9, 1979—about 4:00 a.m. I left Tok and got to Nelchina just before the sun came up. It’s great to be here. As I was driving down the road, I felt like I was going home. I really like Alaska. Unloaded the pickup and then went to a birthday party for Dan Billman. Met lots of new people, had a good time and got home late. The folks in the neighborhood all gather for this sort of thing and everyone always has a good time.

Saturday, November 10, 1979—left late and hauled in some wood with the snowmobile for me and for the shop at the Nelchina station. Then Henry and I went out making a trapline. Saw signs of fur—moose and caribou. Went to bed early.

Visit to Minnesota, Fall 1979

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Minneapolis skyline 1979

Minneapolis Skyline 1979

Saturday, October 20, 1979—worked on the Cat, got it ready for winter. We packed our luggage to go to Minnesota and left Nelchina about noon. We met Karn Rudbeck’s friend at the airport in Anchorage and gave her their sleeping bags. Got on the plane at 6:45 p.m. Three hours later we were in Seattle. We had a three hour layover there, then 2 ½ hours later we were at Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport. Paul, my son and his wife Ruth came to meet us and we got to see Steven our grandson. He’s a new grandson, we hadn’t seen him yet. Later, my daughters Beverly Volk and Nadia, Darrell Breider (Nadia’s husband) and my granddaughter Laura came over to Paul and Ruth’s late. We had a nice visit. Of course we don’t have a vehicle here in Minnesota, so Roger and Bridgette came down from Motley and drove us to our home here in Minnesota. Real tired.

Sunday, October 21, 1979—went to Brainerd and saw my daughter Theresa Austin and her son and daughter, Lee and Darcy and hubby Larry. Stopped to see Bob and Karn (Karen) Rudbeck who live west of Brainerd.

Monday, October 22, 1979—saw Lee, Roger, Taymond and Clara and Theresa’s family and Everett gave me a tire, took Theresa’s family out for supper.

Tuesday, October 23, 1979—went over to Ernie’s and butchered that lamb that we were getting from him. We shopped in Staples, fixed some tires and took the pickup in to fix the heater. Roger and Bridgette went out to supper with us.

Wednesday, October 24, 1979—did some more shopping and cut up the lamb. Went to see the Rollins family. We have been friends for a long time and it was good to see them again.

Thursday, October 25, 1979—fixed tires on the pickup, put newer tires on. Shopped in Brainerd and Staples and visited Al and his mother.

Friday, October 26, 1979—Some time ago, I had gone to Iowa, cut some hickory logs and brought them up to Minnesota. I wanted them sawed so I could build a dog sled. They had been lying at a sawmill for a long time and hadn’t been touched. I was disappointed about that. Roger knew of another sawmill we might use so we loaded up the untouched logs and hauled them to this other sawmill.

Saturday, October 27, 1979—we loaded some gear and did some visiting. Went grouse hunting and I made a nice shot on a grouse. They make a good meal.

Sunday, October 28, 1979—it’s raining. I worked on my snowmobile trailer and then went to Brainerd and saw Theresa and family

Monday, October 29, 1979—got some supplies and worked on snowmobile trailer some more, packed gear and did some farm business.

Building shelter for the first winter

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cabin-1

The first cabin

Thursday, October 11, 1979—I started building the plywood cabin (for Sylvia and I) to live in for the winter. This cabin is 12’ x 16’ with 8’ walls and a plywood floor. Over the ceiling, we had a place for storage. I got the floor done today and got both ends done. A couple of fellas that were over at the lodge came and helped me. We turned it upside down and I put the insulation in the floor and nailed plywood over it. Then we flopped it back over on the skids.

Friday, October 12, 1979—got both ends of the cabin done (left a door opening on one end that would be on the south when the cabin is finished) and started one side.

Saturday, October 13, 1979—finished the framing and got the cabin sheeted. Really tired tonight. Geese have been flying all day. They are quite high, but that brings the work to a halt—wish I was hunting geese somewhere.

Sunday, October 14, 1979—worked on the cabin a little and Henry and I went to where the Cat was parked and loaded it on a trailer. We had to use load binders and pull in on a length or two at a time. We got back too late to put roofing on the cabin. It was a sunny day—would have been a good day to do that job. Saw trumpeter swans flying. They were quite high.

Monday, October 15, 1979—it was nice, but quite cool. We got the roofing on the cabin. I used roll roofing. Laid it out on a strip of blacktop from the old highway. The sun warmed it up, and I cut it into 16 foot strips to go over the roof of the cabin. The roof was 8 feet on each side and we had to work like the dickens to get the sealer where it joins and get the roofing nailed down, but we got it done.

Tuesday, October 16, 1979—went to Anchorage for some parts and insulation for the walls on the cabin. We also needed grub and other things.

Wednesday, October 17, 1979—worked on the Cat all day.

Thursday, October 18, 1979—put the insulation in and covered it up. The weather is very nice, 18-20 degrees above zero at night.

Friday, October 19, 1979—worked on the cabin putting in windows and making a door, a table and a bunk. We’re really working hard to get everything done. Getting ready to go outside (to Minnesota).

Mud Flying

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a truck with big wheels and chains

The Swamp Buggy, also called the Mean Machine

Wednesday, October 3, 1979—took the buggy down to Gunsight Mountain Trail (about 25 miles). Henry went with me. The trail there goes over Ballenger Pass. He had some guys mining back on Alfred Creek and when they were moving equipment out, his Cat broke apart in the rear end. They had to leave it behind.

We are going in to pull his Cat out over the mountain and across a swamp to get it to the highway. Everything went well. Where the sun hadn’t been shining, the trail was frozen and icy, but I had chained up all four tires on the swamp buggy and it pulled this small Cat up the mountain.

When we got down to the swamp, I really put the pedal down on the swamp buggy. Henry was riding the Cat back behind me, steering and trying to keep it in the trail, mud flying. It was quite a ride for him. We got through the swamp and down a steep hill to an old lodge where we had a trailer parked. We planned to load the Cat on it. We had chains and load binders with us. We worked the load binders one after the other, one length of chain at a time. It took us a long time—and was hard work.

Henry and I were really tired by the time we got that Cat loaded and back to his lodge at Nelchina. (The next day, we were stiff and sore.) I did a few odd jobs around here at the lodge.

Caribou hanging on a meat pole

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map of river

Old Man Creek at Little Nelchina

Sunday, September 30, 1979—got the Cat track on and went down the river. Saw a caribou hanging on a meat pole where some hunters had their camp during caribou season. We stopped there and Tim goes over and sniffs the meat and sure enough, it has spoiled. There was a sign posted there saying to take the meat if you want it, but of course, no one would want to eat that.

We went on down the river, and just around the bend, near an old cabin, I had to clean the carburetor on the Cat pony motor before it would start.

At lunch, where Old Man Creek comes into the Little Nelchina River, we stopped near a campground at the highway that goes to Nelchina Lodge. Henry and Ken get there a few minutes later. Henry’s been working up on a gold claim in the Yukon and he’s brought home mastodon tusks and bones from the Yukon.

When we got to the highway, Ken loaded the Cat on the trailer and Tim drove the swamp buggy. We got the Cat up on the trailer and we were going down the highway when a state trooper pulled us over. He looked the whole outfit over and turned to us and asked whose outfit this was. I told him it was mine and he said, “I could fill out several tickets with everything I see that is wrong here.” We asked him what we should be doing differently and he said, “Mud flaps on the trailer—you don’t have mud flaps and the floor of that trailer is not in very good shape.” I told him the Cat had busted the planks in the trailer and we’re just coming out from the back country and I hadn’t had a chance to replace the mud flaps that had gotten torn off traveling. He kind of accepted that, and this conversation went on over different things for a while and finally he told us, “Well, you can go on now.”

We got to Nelchina—glad this trip was over.

Bear in camp and a rollover

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trees-300pixFriday, August 31, 1979—in the morning, we heard pans rattling outside the tent where we’d been cooking. Jerry, he rolled out of his sack. His tent has a zipper on the door and It had been raining and snowing and had frozen during the night and the zipper was frozen shut. Jerry wiggled it until he finally got it opened a little bit and he looked out at this grizzly bear and yelled, “Bear in camp!” I got out of my sleeping bag and grabbed the shotgun and looked out the window from my end. It was just getting light outside and I’m looking out the tent window just in time to see the bear come and pick up a chunk of ham and gobble it. He was standing about twelve feet away looking me in the eye. He was really a beautiful bear. He looked to be about three years old, didn’t have the large head yet, and he appeared to have a long neck. (That tells a person that he’s not a mature bear.) I’ve got every confidence in the 12-gage. Jerry yells at him and tells him to get out of there and he bounds over the hill towards Tyone Creek.

I take the radiator out of the buggy and draw a picture and measure it and Jerry fixes breakfast—he’s a good cook. I take a small lunch and a raincoat and start walking out to the highway (It’s about 26 to 27 miles out there). I say so long to Jerry, from the top of the first hill. He has the flu and I tell him to sleep in the buggy in case the bear comes back. Flushed ptarmigan from off the trail and two miles later, two nice caribou bulls at about 200 yards. Then at three miles, a snow track, pulling a trailer, he had the tongue broke out. They planned to chain the tongue and the trailer and the snow track all together and continued to the hunt. I walk on to Little Nelchina and get a good drink of water and I tie my pant legs tight to my boots (loosened the boot strings and tied the pants tight to the boots) and then wade the river as fast as I can. That keeps most of the water from getting in my boots. It works real well. I get across the river and there’s more bear droppings and the more along the river I walked, I see more. Two miles later the trail over Monument Mountain, I eat half of my food. Two thirds up the mountain, I smell carrion. I talk out loud and move on. (Talking helps avoid the possibility of startling a bear that might be in the vicinity.) No water here—small dip with snow and it doesn’t taste good. I stop and rest a little coming down the other side of the mountain. Get a drink at Crooked Creek and I’m getting quite tired now.

I’m 4 ½ miles from the highway when a fellow gives me a ride. He’s got a brand new Ranger track hunting vehicle and he’s got a new trailer behind it. The guy is really thorough; he has built a ROP on it (rollover protection). When we come to the top of a big hill, I ask him if he wants me to get off and walk down the hill and he says, no, he thought it would be alright. We get down the hill about a third of the way and all of a sudden, the trailer hitch comes unhooked from the Ranger. It’s a new outfit and he hadn’t snugged up the bolt that keeps the hitch fastened to the Ranger and it ran ahead into the track and threw the track off of the Ranger. The Ranger went over on its side and on up on its top and is sliding down the trail, upside down. We didn’t slide so awfully far, but it finally got stopped. He had safety belts on the seats and we were both strapped in and hanging upside down off of the seats. He asked if I’m all right. I told him yes, I was not hurt. So he undid his belt and dropped out and got out of the frame and I got mine unhooked and got out of the Ranger. We’re standing there looking at it and telling each other how lucky we are we aren’t hurt and I look at my rifle—it’s got 4 inches of mud on the muzzle from where it had dragged in the trail coming down.

There was nothing left to do but try to get the Ranger up on its tracks. He had a come-along with him and a really good strong rope. Luckily the rope reached some willows that were big enough to use as an anchor. It was a nylon rope and the darned thing stretched quite a bit. We had to unhook the come-along and re-hook and hook and re-hook. I’d hold the rope tight as I could while he would be changing it. We finally got the Ranger rolled upright—and it’s crooked in the trail. We have to get it pulled around and blocked so it won’t roll on down this hill. We get it jacked up off of the ground and we loosen the adjustments for the track and we get the track on there and then readjust the tracks. We discover what caused the accident when we went to hook it up to the Ranger; it was obvious that this bolt had gotten loose and let the whole thing happen. So we tightened that bolt. When he went to try to start the motor then, it wouldn’t start. On closer inspection, we find that when the Ranger was rolling down the hill, it got to going really fast and he was using the gears and its compression to help with the brakes. It was going so fast that the pressure stretched the bolts that held the head on the motor. He did have a toolbox with all the tools he needed to work on it, so he re-tightened the head bolts. Then it started and ran well and we got out to the gravel pit at the highway (what everyone calls the trailhead).

He had a vehicle there and gave me a ride to the Nelchina Lodge and then all that was left for the evening was to eat, drink and sleep. I was really tired.

Sylvia’s cold bath in a creek

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front tire of truck

The 1964 Freightliner

Wednesday July 11, 1979 continued…

We got about 80 miles from Whitehorse and came across a nice creek and a gravel pit. Sylvia says, “I need a bath, let’s pull in here and I’ll go down to the creek and take a bath.” While she is down at the creek taking a bath, I check all the tires. And darn, I have a couple more flat tires.

I was nearly done changing my flat tires when a motor home pulls in with a boat trailer behind it. This guy had broken a tongue out of his boat trailer. He had an axe with him and he had cut a tree down and tied the tree to the frame and to the tongue. He was dragging this off of the highway to see if he could do something about it. He and his family were going fishing at a lake and this was their holiday and this had happened. I told him, “Wait just a bit and I’ll have this last wheel back on my trailer. Then you can pull up along the left-hand side of my outfit. I have a welder up there and we’ll see if we can weld it”. I got ready for him and he pulled alongside the truck and we looked it over. I am gonna try to weld his tongue back into the boat trailer.

He was concerned about what I might charge him. I told him I wouldn’t charge him anything; I’d just do it for him. So we get started. At some time in its history, this trailer had been near salt water and the rust has eaten it out. It was extremely hard to try to get it welded. I had some extra steel for repairs on my trailers and truck and I had some steel that would work to weld this frame together. I get that stuff out and cut it and heat it and bend it and get it to fit his tongue and got it welded onto his frame and onto the tongue of his trailer.

We get it all fixed up and he still wanted to pay me. I told him I didn’t want any pay. I had mentioned to him that Sylvia being down at the creek taking a bath. He said, “Well you can have a bath here, we’ve got a shower in the motor home and you can have a nice hot shower.” That sounded good. I took a nice hot shower and he gave me a bottle of beer. Then Sylvia comes walking in. She’d just had a cold bath in the creek. We all thought that was kind of comical.

It turns out he was a railroad engineer for Whitehorse Railroad. He told us that anytime we were going through Whitehorse to be sure and stop and see him. Sorry to say, we never did do that.

Dangerous Detour – The Adventure Begins

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Norman and Sylvia, June 1979 with the Freightliner, Cat, and Swamp Buggy

Norman and Sylvia June 1979 with Freightliner, Cat, and swamp buggy (the mean machine).

Friday, June 29, 1979—after eight months of work and planning we leave Motley, Minnesota with a fully loaded rig. The truck is a 1964 Freightliner semi-tractor with the frame extended. The bed on it measured 24 feet—and we were pulling a 20 foot pup trailer. The entire load of gear and equipment weighed 73,000 lbs.

The welding work on the swamp buggy we were hauling (nicknamed the “mean machine”) was done by Glen Peterson. We rushed all morning, then met Roger Shequen at the El Ray and had dinner. He has been a very big help. There were a lot of other people that gave me help and encouragement. My truck batteries were low and Roger pulled me with the truck he was driving.

When we got to Wadena, we stopped and checked the load and tires. Everything was alright, just had to add a little air to a few tires. When we got near Detroit Lakes, it was raining hard. The heater hose broke, so I pulled over to the side of the road and cut the bad end off and re-clamped the hose into place. Then we started out again. Stopped on the west side of town, camped and slept in the cab of the truck.

We continued on, but the entire week was not without its tribulations. Not far into Canada, we had problems with the truck’s transmission and had to make repairs in Edmonton.

Saturday, On July 7, 1979—we left Edmonton at 6:00 a.m. and the road was really hilly. We saw two deer and two large black bear. The bear we saw near McBride was very tall and thin. Both the bears we saw were big and it’s not unusual to see them feeding along this highway. We learned a bridge was washed out on the normal road we would have taken to Alaska, so to get around it, we took a detour to Prince George and on up to Cassiar highway. Twenty miles east of Prince George we saw a twoyear-old bull moose grazing in the ditch and one dead deer. We had a flat tire on an inside wheel of the truck near the top of a steep hill. I put blocks under the truck wheels and the trailer and changed it.

Coming in to Prince George there is a steep hill that goes down to the river there. Then you meet the railroad track and cross the river on a railroad bridge barely wide enough to accommodate a narrow road on each side of the tracks for vehicles. As I started down the hill, the heavy load we were carrying was pushing the truck hard. The engine is a Cummins 250 and it is to be run at 1,800 to 2,200 RPMs. If you push it over 2,200 RPMs the engine can fail. So as the RPMs increased, I would kick it up another gear to help save the engine—but we would run a little faster each time I did that. It was awfully windy and one of the mud flaps got to really flapping around, knocking the valve open on the air tank causing our brakes to overheat. Suddenly we didn’t have brakes.

I knew once we got to the bottom of this hill, we were going to have to make an extremely sharp turn onto the bridge. I’m kickin’ it up another gear—and another gear—and another gear. We are picking up speed alarmingly fast. Thinking we wouldn’t make it, I told Sylvia to jump while she had the chance but she wouldn’t do it. Instead, she said, “I’m ridin’ it down with you.” I have to give her a lot of credit she never even screamed.

We were careening faster and faster down the hill and finally at the15th gear, the truck reaches 2,800 RPMs. I expected it to blow any second. When we go to the sharp turn approaching that narrow lane, we were looking right down into the river. I made up my mind I was gonna put that truck across the bridge. Going through the turn, our rig leaned dangerously out, threatening to go over, but it held. The trailer cracked the whip behind us and I put her right into that slot—never even touched a mirror on either side. There were only inches.

Still moving much too fast, the trailer slid over and we blew out the two outside tires on the right side of it. Once across the bridge, we saw a dirt road straight ahead. We went down that for at least the equivalent of a couple of city blocks, finally coming to a stop. We pulled it over to the side and just sat there and talked a little bit to regroup ourselves. I said to Sylvia, “You know, I think maybe we should dig that bottle of whiskey out of the grub barrel. We haven’t had a drink in a week. Maybe now’s the time.” She thought that was a good idea and we each had a drink. We stayed put and slept there at Prince George for the night.

Taken from the manuscript of Norman’s book, 10,000 DAYS IN ALASKA.

Introduction

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From their log cabin overlooking Scoter Lake at Nelchina, to Glennallen, Anchorage, Wasilla, Copper Center, Tok, Palmer, Fairbanks, Denali, Matanuska, Susitna, Valdez, Cordova and other arctic communities, Norman Wilkins recorded daily journal entries throughout the 25+ years he and his wife Sylvia spent carving out a life on the Alaskan tundra.

Norman Wilkins and Slovenia-born Ladislava Kolenc (Sylvia to those who know her) met in postwar Gorizia Italy in 1946, marrying there in 1948. They moved to Iowa where Norman grew up, and farmed in several communities until 1957 when they moved to Motley, Minnesota and built the Tamarack Dell dairy farm. There, they raised their family and farmed until the late 1970s.

Norman had long felt the pull of the north, drawn to the mystique of Alaska—“The Last American Frontier” many said, and once the children were on their own, that desire to go north grew stronger. He made more than one hunting trip to Alaska before the 1978 expedition included in this book, and as the trips unfolded, so did Norman’s desire to make Alaska his permanent home—to be a part of the expansive wilderness and yes, explore for gold!

Sylvia was not so enthusiastic in the beginning. (Bear in mind, those first few years they lived in a one-room, 12’x16’ plywood cabin with no indoor toilet, no electricity and no running water.) Once, after they settled in Nelchina, Sylvia was asked how she liked Alaska, to which she replied, “I really like the people here, but you can take Alaska and give it back to the Eskimos!” They did eventually build a larger, nicer cabin (pictured here).

They did find gold in Alaska. They found it in the air, the mountains, the wildlife and especially in the people—the people they worked shoulder to shoulder with and shared their table with, each one weaving an independent piece of the tapestry of everyday life along the Glenn Highway during those years.

The contents of the books were transcribed from Norman’s notebook-style pages as originally written with the exception of occasional edits and insertions for clarity. Books two and three are already nearing completion.

Every effort has been made to maintain Norman’s unique personal style so as not to lose the naturalness of the voice, nor the meaning of his words. His entries are simple, natural, and to the point—bringing to mind another well-known, long time Alaska resident, Dick Proenneke, whose self-documented story, Alone in the Wilderness: An Alaskan Odyssey (written by Sam Keith), has been much celebrated among outdoorsmen and self-sufficiency enthusiasts.

Norman and Sylvia moved back to Minnesota in 2005 because Norman felt that something was wrong with him, (thinking along the lines that he was getting too old to live the Alaskan life without becoming a burden on his friends there and his family at home).

November 2016 update: Somewhere around 2010, Norman was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. In the fall of 2011, he sustained a fall and broken hip which resulted in some time spent in a care facility. He eventually went home but the next year, Norman suffered more illness and cognitive deterioration. He is now in a care facility in Little Falls, Minnesota. His wife Sylvia and two of his three daughters, Theresa and Beverly, all live nearby and monitor his care. His other daughter Nadia (the publisher of his journals) lives in Minneapolis and also visits frequently.

—Nadia Giordana, Cloud 9 Publishing