Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
Characterization: by Ransom Tone
We had good times playing ping pong Harry and I vs. Ralph and Ned. We were pretty evenly matched. We met for a half-hour twice weekly, sometimes at Ried's, sometimes at Hammer's, but oftenest at Harry's new house where there was plenty of room. Our dining table was round. we could not play on it. We agreed there was to be no refreshments. At Ried's, Ralph's mother, plate of cookies in hand, would watch the games. She sometimes got in the way. She knew Ralph was the best. And the score piling up through the weeks, much to Harry's stubborn unwillingness did favor our opponents.
I saw Harry's mom, Sylvia for the first time at one of our ping pong games. She brought a plate of fudge into the dining room. Her coming broke up our game. But it was already late. She said, "You are scratching up my floor." Harry answered, "Yes, I guess we are, Mom." "But," she went on, smiling broadly, "I guess it's something we can't help. I guess the game must go on."
However on closer examination it was plenty evident our games must in future be played either at Ried's or Hammer's.
It was the winter of 1902-1903. Harry being my classmate, since my recent return to school, had suddenly and to my liking become by favorite bosom pal. We studied together, listened to and prompted each other in our preparations for debate and oratory which, under Prof. French, neared eloquent. In all our classes Harry and I teamed up. My keen respect and increasing admiration for Harry Ericson cannot express, he was that different from anyone else I've ever known.
And then almost of a sudden he was gone, -injured beyond recovery in the tragic base ball game at Ponca. He nearly bled to death that 15th day in June.
His father and mother came in the surrey by ferry across the River. His mother remained to care for and bring Harry home by train when he could be moved. I returned home with his father who, preoccupied, hardly spoke to me the whole way.
Though everything possible was done permitious anemia took Harry early in November. If they had only known then about blood transfusions, but they did not. We all stood by and waited. And then we buried him. His great souled father grieved openly and, I can almost say, was never again a happy man. Seven years later he too was resting beside his only son. With Sylvia it was worse, much worse. I came to know her silent suffering as perhaps no one else.
Written about 1944 by Ransom Tone (Harry's future brother-in-law)
I saw Harry's mom, Sylvia for the first time at one of our ping pong games. She brought a plate of fudge into the dining room. Her coming broke up our game. But it was already late. She said, "You are scratching up my floor." Harry answered, "Yes, I guess we are, Mom." "But," she went on, smiling broadly, "I guess it's something we can't help. I guess the game must go on."
However on closer examination it was plenty evident our games must in future be played either at Ried's or Hammer's.
It was the winter of 1902-1903. Harry being my classmate, since my recent return to school, had suddenly and to my liking become by favorite bosom pal. We studied together, listened to and prompted each other in our preparations for debate and oratory which, under Prof. French, neared eloquent. In all our classes Harry and I teamed up. My keen respect and increasing admiration for Harry Ericson cannot express, he was that different from anyone else I've ever known.
And then almost of a sudden he was gone, -injured beyond recovery in the tragic base ball game at Ponca. He nearly bled to death that 15th day in June.
His father and mother came in the surrey by ferry across the River. His mother remained to care for and bring Harry home by train when he could be moved. I returned home with his father who, preoccupied, hardly spoke to me the whole way.
Though everything possible was done permitious anemia took Harry early in November. If they had only known then about blood transfusions, but they did not. We all stood by and waited. And then we buried him. His great souled father grieved openly and, I can almost say, was never again a happy man. Seven years later he too was resting beside his only son. With Sylvia it was worse, much worse. I came to know her silent suffering as perhaps no one else.
Written about 1944 by Ransom Tone (Harry's future brother-in-law)
Harry Francis Timeline
Born: 15 January 1883 (headstone)
Place: Elk Point, Dakota Territory
Died: 4 November 1903
Place: Elk Point, Union, South Dakota
Father: Edward Charles Ericson
Mother: Sylvia Ann Hayes
1883 January 15th born in Elk Point, Dakota Territory. The oldest and only son of Edward Charles Ericson.
1886 Sibling, Nellie Hayes born. (3)
1894 Sibling, Sylvia Florence born. (11)
1897 Parents left for a three month trip to Europe. Harry and his sisters were taken care of by their grandmother Johannah Ericson. (14) (Florence Ericson Tone)
1902 There is no record that he graduated from high school. (Elk Point High School)
1903 Baseball accident in Ponca, Nebraska. (20) (newspaper article)
1903 November 4th Harry died from anemia. He was 20 years 11 months 11 days.
Buried in the Elk Point Cemetery. Seven years later his father, Edward Charles Ericson was buried beside him. Grave #4, Lot #63, Block #1, Section #1.
Place: Elk Point, Dakota Territory
Died: 4 November 1903
Place: Elk Point, Union, South Dakota
Father: Edward Charles Ericson
Mother: Sylvia Ann Hayes
1883 January 15th born in Elk Point, Dakota Territory. The oldest and only son of Edward Charles Ericson.
1886 Sibling, Nellie Hayes born. (3)
1894 Sibling, Sylvia Florence born. (11)
1897 Parents left for a three month trip to Europe. Harry and his sisters were taken care of by their grandmother Johannah Ericson. (14) (Florence Ericson Tone)
1902 There is no record that he graduated from high school. (Elk Point High School)
1903 Baseball accident in Ponca, Nebraska. (20) (newspaper article)
1903 November 4th Harry died from anemia. He was 20 years 11 months 11 days.
Buried in the Elk Point Cemetery. Seven years later his father, Edward Charles Ericson was buried beside him. Grave #4, Lot #63, Block #1, Section #1.
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