As is often customary among older, long-married couples, the bride's name changes with the years from "Honey" and "Sweetheart" and "Darling" to "Ma."  The audience is not confused.
"Ma was living in Victoria then on Uncle Tony's farm," continued Gordon.  "That's the Boulder Bridge farm where her dad worked for Dayton's.  My Uncle Tony was really my second cousin.  His dad was a Mike Diethelm who was also from Victoria."
Gordon had met "Ma" at a dance at St. Bonifacius, that small community less than a handful of miles north of Victoria.  And so the stage was set for another player, the one who would be at Gordon's side for the rest of his life.

Clara was born to Clarence and Rose Niccum of German heritage on September 18^th, 1918, at the family home in a rural part of Excelsior.  "There were a total of five of us kids," said Clara, "but there were just three of us for years.  Then we moved to Victoria and my mother had two more."
Clara's parents were neither farmers nor carpenters.  "My dad worked at the Country Club Golf Course right there on Old Highway 7 and #19," she said.  "It's still there.  He cut grass for the Club, and he rode a bicycle to work.  One time I got hurt on that bicycle …
"My dad was driving and I was on the handlebars.  My little brother was on the crossbar, and my older sister was on a cheese box that my dad built on the back of it for his lunch pail.  Then a car was coming and I got scared because I wasn't used to seeing cars.  I was only four years old.  I got scared and got my heel caught in the spokes and it got ground up.  You can still see the scars but I can walk fine.
"We were going swimming to Cresten Beach on Lake Minnetonka.  My grandma and grandpa were walking behind the bike.  We went swimming every night when it was hot."
When Clara was a fifth grader at the Excelsior Public School, the Niccum family moved to Minnewashta and then to the Boulder Bridge farm on Smithtown Road near Victoria where her dad worked for the owners of the famous Minneapolis department store.  Clara attended school through the 11^th grade.
As a young lady, she and a friend, Cecelia Reus, worked in Excelsior for wealthy people.  Said Clara, "We stayed in town all week and cooked and baked and cleaned for two widow ladies.  Then one time Cel and I went to a dance at St. Boni, and her cousin Gordon picked us up at the Notermann store in Victoria."
The stage was now prepared for the next scene.  In all of the whole world, Gordon and Clara had found each other.  "I was no dancer," said he.  "I went to drink beer.  At that time you could buy beer when you weren't of age.  If you had a nickel, you could get a beer."
Said she, "I loved to dance.  There were plenty of other people to dance."
Gordon called on the little dancer the following Saturday, and then again, and then again.
What was the attraction?  "Replied the smitten lady, "I just fell in love with him.  I can't explain it."
Replied the practical man, "She was a good cook.  I learned that before I married her.  Eatin' was pretty important."
So they married on January 6^th, 1937, "the coldest damn day we ever had," at St. John the Baptist Catholic Church in Excelsior.  He was 20.  She was 18.
"We got married at 6 o'clock in the morning," stated Clara, "because Father Cushen was going to Europe to see his folks.  He wasn't going to heat the church because he was going away."  Father Thomas Cushen was the founder of St. John's in Excelsior, and he remained the priest there for many years.
In addition to the temperature of the day, Gordon remembered other details.  "We got married in the priest's house.  There were only four others at the wedding.  And then we ate hamburgers at Wimpy's for our honeymoon."  Each of the Diethelms smiled today at the remem-brance.
After Wimpy's, the young couple moved into that little home, now an antique shop, once a grocery store, "in Manitou, Excelsior," and Gordon went to work as a hired man for farmers in the area.
After a short spell with each of their parents, they landed in Minnewashta where they remained for 22 years.  The next 30 years were spent in Prior Lake where they purchased a 10-acre farm.  "We had a couple cows and some beef cattle," said Gordon.
If the land helped put food on the table for themselves and their ever-growing family, it was truck driving that filled in many of the big and little cracks.
"In 1941, I went to work for Griswold Signal in Minneapolis," said Gordon.  "It's located right behind the Poor Cathedral.  They made those little stop and go lights that stood in the middle of the intersection.  Mr. Frank Griswold patented them.  He had two patents.  I drove truck between his three shops.  I drove 90 miles a day in Minneapolis.  He also made stuff for grease guns.  I drove five years for them."
Then he drove two years for Truck Crane Service in Minneapolis, two years for Lyman Lumber in Excelsior, and five or six years for Country Club Oil in Excelsior.
"Then I went back into dirt," said the manual man, "and drove heavy equipment for 38 years, for a lot of different outfits.  I was with Northern Contracting for 16 of those years.  I retired in 1979."
Clara Diethelm was also into heavy equipment, the kind it takes to build bridges and keep roads open in a large family.  "We had our rules," said the still petite and energetic woman.  "Each one had their job and they had to do it.  Our kids played outside a lot, and when they got bigger they babysat for other people."
"There was some fighting once in a while," said the father, "but it didn't last long when I was in the house."  Clara recalled an incident that demanded more than normal stamina and cooperation …
"One time Gordon was in an explosion at work and when he came home from the hospital I had to take care of him, too, besides the kids.  He needed a hotpack three times day.  He was in bed.  The doctor was going to send somebody out to help, but I had a lot of canned goods and meat."
Caused by a transport explosion, the injury kept Gordon out of work from November of 1948 to June of 1949.  It affected his knee, ankle, and arm.  He got the cast off on February 11^th, 1949, the night before daughter Edna was born. 
Incidents are often marked according to the birth of their children -- altogether 13 girls and 5 boys. 

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