Thursday July 2, 2026 Memories of Clair A. Baldner: An Iowa Road Trip

   My late brother-in-law, Clair Baldner, who is survived by his wife Ann Marie Reynolds Baldner, walked on in February this year. A Celebration of Life gathering is to be held on his 5th generation farmstead in Dallas County, Iowa; my daughter Bonny and her family, along with myself, will be attending. I wrote this memory of him, initially in a sympathy card to his family.

  Clair and Ann Marie got married at The Stover Memorial Church of the Brethren in Des Moines in 1956, when I was five years old. Nonetheless, they pressed me into service as their familial ‘Ring Bearer’ who, as AI describes now is “... often a close relative ... who carries the wedding rings down the aisle on a pillow ...; whose role adds charm and sentimentality to the ceremony; (I nailed that.) Dress them in a mini version of the groomsman’s suit, or suspenders and a bow tie for a cute look; keep the walk short; help them feel special and behave well.” 

  Clair’s niece, Susan, was their ‘Flower Girl.’ AI, again: “The flower girl walks down the aisle ... scattering flower petals, herbs, or confetti ... symbolizing the future of the new family or a younger version of the bride; often wears a white or colored dress, sometimes similar to the bride's, with comfortable shoes.”

  Clair and Ann lived out on ‘the farm’ near Dallas Center. When I think about that wonderful old place on the hill, childhood memories come rushing in one atop another from years ago, like exploring the farm and its buildings with ‘Skip,’ their blonde-haired cow-dog collie who used to go with me.

 I spent a few weekends a year with Clair and Ann before their daughter, Janel, was born. Sometimes I rode out there from Des Moines with Clair’s dad, Lawrence Baldner, who after retiring from farming had worked at Lutheran Hospital there as a maintenance man a few years. My Dad (aka ‘Popoo,’ as Janel coined him) would drive me there so I could hitch a ride. I remember 'Mr. Baldner,' drove a big old gray Cadillac; and smoked a cigar. He was a large friendly man, quick to smile, or laugh at a joke. I have no memories of him as a farmer; and but a few with his brother Oval, and Oval's son, Bud.

  Clair may have started milking using a stanchion set-up and Surge/pulsator-type milkers. Later on he went ‘modern’ and got a 3-cow herringbone milk parlor, pipeline, and bulk tank. I remember the radio playing during milking and being told,“ Be quiet now. Shush, or you’ll scare the cows...”

  I remember being on hand (only one time thankfully) to watch Clair castrate a bull calf. He used a long-handled ‘squeeze mechanism,’ that OMG! left as big of an impression on me as it did that poor calf. I declined to watch him do another; I didn’t know a calf that small could make a noise that big. I don’t think that was Clair’s favorite method either; and he started using castration rings afterward.

  Clair taught me how to drive the Ford 8N tractor to crimp hay one summer; I may have been about 12. I think that was the only time I ever did that in my life!

 I remember he was very patient with me. Speaking of which, I dropped the wooden lid of the cistern, into it, after being told not to open it. To a little kid that’s like saying, “I dare you to open this here little door...” ‘Ka-ploosh!’ (I was mortified) I remember Clair, not getting mad, and afterward saying something like, “Oh that’s okay. It’s happened before, I can fish it out.” Despite that episode, gambling that I had learned my lesson, he showed me the hand-crank elevator in the summer kitchen that in the old days the family lowered butter & cream containers into for cold storage. No refrigerators in those days. To learn more about them check out:

I remember walking bean rows cutting out weeds and volunteer corn; maybe detasseling corn too, once. I really enjoyed helping bale hay, but I was very little help being just a boy. Maybe being on the hayrack with Oval or Bud? Climbing into the hay loft; bales moving up the angled elevator; helping stack bales the best I could -- then spending the rest of day on couch gasping for breath with my asthma. When he’d come to the house, Clair would always check on me, “How you doin,’ Squirt?”

Using Lava soap to wash hands and face before lunch; felt like using sandpaper.

I remember sometimes helping him hook-up wagons (drawbar & pin) to the tractor before the days of Quick-Hitch connections. Likely Ann/or my mother eventually put a stop to that. Never heard, but can imagine it was something about it not being safe. Geesh Mom! Farming is among the very safest occupations ever!!

  I honestly envied farm kids back then. They were given responsibilities at real young ages and expected to follow through. Some drove tractors and pickups before they were ten years old, just like farm kids were doing when my mom was growing up in Minnesota -- except doing it with horse and wagons. (She was born in 1909; my dad in 1905) Her dad, Wilhelm Palm was kicked in the head by a horse and killed in 1937. So, Mom was overly protective of me, I thought. (But Clair let me do stuff.)

  Going to Ellis’s with Clair ‘for water’ with the old dark-blue 1942 Ford pickup (?). Then one time, walking back from Ellis’s after being teased by two brothers (older than I was) for my apparent non-existent athletic ability playing any position in baseball. Not a happy camper, I might’ve got an eighth of a mile down the road when Clair picked me up on his way home. “What’s wrong, bud?” probably knowing the whole story.

  Didn’t Clair play softball after he was married? Maybe in an intramural town league or something? I think I remember him participating in a game in Dallas Center ... Anybody? [Many of my memories were beyond his children's generation knowledge, I later learned.] Am I that old?

  Clair was always nicely dressed. He was handsome. Kind. Friendly. Curious. Modest. In my experience, he had a good reputation among his neighbors and local businesses.

  There were ice cream socials/social gatherings at The Church of The Brethren in Dallas Center. They were fun. When the adults were cleaning up inside the church and out and out i.e., folding chairs, washing dishes, gathering trash, etc, we'd be outside playing 'hide /go seek' with other kids after dark when outdoor lighting was just incandescent bulbs strung over picnic tables, etc. or lights from inside the church.

  Clair made going to Dallas Center for ice cream cones a real treat, a BIG deal! He made homemade ice cream too, with a wood-sided tub-affair and a heavy-duty hand-powered crank that was clamped down on top of it. The wonders of modern engineering! Clair was the first guy I ever knew who cooked outdoors on a charcoal grill at family gatherings and had fun doing it.

  When I came to the farm as a kid, or even many years later when I would drive down from Minnesota, he and I would go to Dallas Center, or Granger, or Perry, or Grimes for something; occasionally meeting someone he knew in the interim, Clair would always introduce me, "This is Steven, Ann’s brother ... ”

  I only heard Clair swear once, that I can remember, saying “Damn,” in reference to some neighbors who were in a rush to the elevator in Dallas Center, just as he was doing; and no one stopping to help him; this was in the mid-1970s before the days of cellphones. Strangely, I happened by, thirty-five some miles from where I lived in Des Moines. I could have been on a road-trip out and about, and stopped at the farm; then learned he was going to 'town' with grain and so headed in his general direction. 

 I don’t know. I remember the incident but not the conclusion. It seems we were north of Hwy 44 on a east/west gravel road northwest of The Brethren Cemetery. I always carried tools, jacks, and such with me. I may have helped him take the tire off the wagon? Maybe it was some other problem, but he couldn’t move.  Did we go to DC to get it fixed? Go back to the farm for a spare? I don’t remember. 

 Clair A. Baldner was a great role model. Not to say that I tried to adhere to his fine example all the sixty-nine-some years I was related to him; (never even came close obviously), but I did buy a Massey-Ferguson tractor because he used to own one. In fact, I called him 38 years ago about the 1966 Massey-Ferguson 180 Diesel I was thinking about buying. He thought a minute and said, “I think that’s a little bigger model than the one I had.”

  Buying that Massey was a good investment. [Still have it; still use it.] A few years later I told him I bought a 7-foot snowblower for it and he jokingly boasted that he had a nine footer. That’s when Ann told him to tell me about the time he filled the bathroom in the house using his. That was a fun story that I’ve retold as recently as January this year. 

  

And what does this memory matter or any I have shared here in the almanac, I wonder, except to just 'talk' about Clair Allison Baldner as a human being I long admired.