It was late March,1965. Johnson was president. I was preparing to go home to Chicago for Easter break. It was the first trip I would be taking alone since coming to St. Paul. My excitement was overwhelming. My Dad had said to take the train but, I insisted that I drive. It would give me an experience. I thought of it as an adventure.
All my bags were packed the night before and my friend, Nicole, had helped me map out my route. It would take me a day to get home if I drove straight through. I was allowing myself two and stop at my friends house in Madison and spend the night there.
I put on my favorite blue coat, grabbed my keys and left my dorm room on an adventure that would last the rest of my life.
Getting out of the city was easy and now I faced the open road for eight hours. My mind started to wander, would Adam still be there when I got home? Does he still love me? He said he would wait for me.
I needed to get out of my mind and pay attention to the road so, I turned on the radio. Elvis was belting out “Don’t be Cruel” and I started to sing along.
My first stop would be in LaCrosse, Wisconsin. Nicole had said there was a nice diner next to a service station. I could get a nice meal, fuel up and head back on the road.
Nicole was right. The diner was a small place but, the waitress was really nice. I had a burger, fries and a chocolate milkshake then went on to fill up on gas. I think I ate too much because when I got back to driving, I became very sleepy. I should have had a cup of coffee before I got on the road but, it was too late now.
About 20 minutes from LaCrosse I happened on a terrible accident.I craned my neck to see out my window and what I saw looked like a horse drawn buggy on it’s side had collided with a car. That was not something I would see in the city.
An officer walked up to my car and told me that the road would be closed for some time and gave me an alternate route that would take me to a town called Sparta. He assured me that it was a safe route but had many hills and curves so I should still be careful.
I turned my car around and took the next left road just like I was told. It seemed so peaceful here. About 5 miles on this road, I came to the hills and turns the officer had warned me about. I was so tired that it was hard for me to stay focused. I was nearly tempted to pull off and take a nap but, I knew I was expected on the other side of the state by dinner.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The Interview
“Are you ready Grandma?”
Her voice was a distant echo in the back of my mind. I wanted to tell my story so badly but, also was afraid to. Will they hunt me down again? Who would I be putting in danger?
“Grandma, are you OK?”
I could feel fear slowly taking over my body and I began to shake. My precious grand daughter wanted to finish this project and I was the only person she knew that could help her do that.
My name is Mary-Anne Neste, although I was born Julie Dufree. I have lived a simple but comfortable life in Toronto with my adopted brother. This is at least what everbody knows about us. I am very close to my immediate family but, have no contact with my parents. In fact, I don’t know whether or not they are still alive. I have a son Isaac who works in politics. This is not what I had wanted him to do but, in the end, his persistance paid off. He was born with natural leadership qualities. Elizabeth is his daughter. She doesn’t want to follow in her fathers footsteps and has been attending the Unniversity to become a journalist, which leads us to where we are today.
She is doing a paper on life in the 60’s. I told her that I thought I wouldn’t make a good candidate but, she insisted saying that it would give us some time together alone. In the end, I gave in to her and here we are.
“Grandma, are you ready?”
This time I answered her, “Yes, dear, but, remember, what I tell you may change your life.”
She giggled, “As long your family is not of the alien nature, I am sure nothing can be that bad.” With that she took out her recorder and reminded me to speak clearly. She started speaking into the recorder, “My name is Julie Neste. I am here with my Grnadmother Mary Neste. She was born on May 28, 1947 in Chicago, Illinois and this is her story.”
“ All right. Grandma, tell me a little about the period of time you grew up in. What was it like to go to school? What were the styles? Who was President?”
I took a deep breath and began to tell her my story…….
Her voice was a distant echo in the back of my mind. I wanted to tell my story so badly but, also was afraid to. Will they hunt me down again? Who would I be putting in danger?
“Grandma, are you OK?”
I could feel fear slowly taking over my body and I began to shake. My precious grand daughter wanted to finish this project and I was the only person she knew that could help her do that.
My name is Mary-Anne Neste, although I was born Julie Dufree. I have lived a simple but comfortable life in Toronto with my adopted brother. This is at least what everbody knows about us. I am very close to my immediate family but, have no contact with my parents. In fact, I don’t know whether or not they are still alive. I have a son Isaac who works in politics. This is not what I had wanted him to do but, in the end, his persistance paid off. He was born with natural leadership qualities. Elizabeth is his daughter. She doesn’t want to follow in her fathers footsteps and has been attending the Unniversity to become a journalist, which leads us to where we are today.
She is doing a paper on life in the 60’s. I told her that I thought I wouldn’t make a good candidate but, she insisted saying that it would give us some time together alone. In the end, I gave in to her and here we are.
“Grandma, are you ready?”
This time I answered her, “Yes, dear, but, remember, what I tell you may change your life.”
She giggled, “As long your family is not of the alien nature, I am sure nothing can be that bad.” With that she took out her recorder and reminded me to speak clearly. She started speaking into the recorder, “My name is Julie Neste. I am here with my Grnadmother Mary Neste. She was born on May 28, 1947 in Chicago, Illinois and this is her story.”
“ All right. Grandma, tell me a little about the period of time you grew up in. What was it like to go to school? What were the styles? Who was President?”
I took a deep breath and began to tell her my story…….
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
The call
It was late April, 1956, the rain had finally let up. I was packing the last of my belongings to move to the east coast. I had grown tired of the Twin Cities and needed a change of scenery. That was when I got the call…
“Detective Arnold?” said the voice on the other end of the line.
I didn’t get a chance to respond when the man continued, “This is Officer Abrahms from LaCrosse, Wisconsin. I was directed from my superiors to call you. We have a missing persons case and have come to a dead end and need your help.”
I have been in this business for 20 years and was well known in the mid west as the detective to call when your leads ran dry. I could never pass on a missing persons case so, I took the officers information, finished packing my car and headed to LaCrosse, Wisconsin.
That afternoon I was greeted by a tall man, a little on the thin side with graying near his temples. He led me into a back room and began to tell me of a young girl who was headed home for spring break from St Paul to Chicago. Her car was found along the interstate just out of town but, there was no trace of her.
I took all of the information from the Officer, left the building and went on to find a hotel in the area. That night I read all of the case details of this young lady and her family unknowing that I was about to embark on an investigation that would not be solved for over 50 years.
“Detective Arnold?” said the voice on the other end of the line.
I didn’t get a chance to respond when the man continued, “This is Officer Abrahms from LaCrosse, Wisconsin. I was directed from my superiors to call you. We have a missing persons case and have come to a dead end and need your help.”
I have been in this business for 20 years and was well known in the mid west as the detective to call when your leads ran dry. I could never pass on a missing persons case so, I took the officers information, finished packing my car and headed to LaCrosse, Wisconsin.
That afternoon I was greeted by a tall man, a little on the thin side with graying near his temples. He led me into a back room and began to tell me of a young girl who was headed home for spring break from St Paul to Chicago. Her car was found along the interstate just out of town but, there was no trace of her.
I took all of the information from the Officer, left the building and went on to find a hotel in the area. That night I read all of the case details of this young lady and her family unknowing that I was about to embark on an investigation that would not be solved for over 50 years.
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