PFC Ed Emberg in Korea, 1951-52.

clay county histories

Markus Krueger | Program Director  HCSCC

I started making canoe paddles. It lets me dream about summer all winter, and by spending time with my tools, I spend time with family. I’ve never had much money, so my wood shop is a collection of family heirlooms and hand-me-downs – my grandpa’s table saw, my wife’s grandpa’s planes, chisels from four generations. Even the slabs of wood contain memories.

I called my dad for forgiveness. The plant stand he built in the 1970s broke, but I repurposed its black walnut wood along with some maple to make a really nice paddle. That plant stand broke many times, Dad reassured me, and he’s glad I found use for the wood. The black walnut, he said, came from Uncle Eddie.

I never met my Great Uncle Ed Emberg, but Uncle Eddie’s ghost surrounds my family. He was my Grandma Karin’s beloved younger brother, and Grandma was the family storyteller. My sister and I grew up sitting at the foot of Grandma’s big red recliner, listening to stories of her and Eddie growing up Proctor, MN, during the Great Depression. Eddie loved the outdoors as a kid, hunting, canoeing, camping, and doing all the other things that Eagle Scouts do. Like many Eagle Scouts, Eddie joined the service. 

Eddie was a Marine machine gunner during the Korean War. He survived but came home with scars. Eddie got a job at the Proctor railroad yard, where he sometimes played his opera records over the loudspeaker for fun. He went to college, remained at home with his mother, and doted on his sisters’ kids. Grandma’s stories were always optimistic and bright. My father, the current keeper of family history, includes the dark parts. Dad witnessed his favorite uncle having violent nightmares, saw him dig shrapnel out of his leg from an old wound, and recognized that Uncle Eddie had a drinking problem. 

Eddie bought the black walnut to make a gun cabinet, but he never finished the project. He gave up hunting after Korea. When his brother-in-law (my grandpa) survived polio and took up woodworking as physical therapy, Eddie gave him those black walnut boards. Years later, Eddie’s nephew made the boards into a plant stand. Decades later, I made them into a canoe paddle, bright maple contrasting with strips of dark walnut.  

I have no tools from Uncle Eddie. The house fire that took his life in 1977 destroyed almost everything. But his memory survived. As a kid, my favorite little green army man was Uncle Eddie. Some years ago, when my little nephew Mark visited my wood shop, we made at his request a wooden machine gun so he could be Uncle Eddie. Mark inherited the Uncle Eddie stories, as he will inherit, if he wishes, his forefathers’ tools in my keeping. If I made it good enough to last, maybe he’ll get this canoe paddle, too.