Reprinted and adapted from 2020
My father was proud he was born on the July 4, 1919. Jerome Blaska served in WW2, was elected to the state legislature where he chaired the Highway Committee building the Interstate, and raised six children with our mother, Helen (Curl). He was also proud of his field crops. One of nine siblings, father shared his birth date on Independence Day with older sister Evelyn (Owens) (1910) and younger sister Juanita “Dolly” Blaska (1920).
As a result, Independence Day was an even more consequential event at the John M. and Rose (Schuster) Blaska farm house on County VV east of Sun Prairie dating at least to 1910. In my very young years, the celebration was held on that farm, then at Angell Park in Sun Prairie.
My Boomer generation of the family mostly associates the celebration of our nation’s birth date — for it was a celebration (not an occasion to denounce) — with Uncle Cy’s stewardship of the tradition.
Deal the cards
Cyril and Grace (Counsell) Blaska hosted annual Independence Day parties at their farm north of Watertown full of beer, buttered sweet corn and peas. And red, white and blue flags, balloons, and streamers. Everywhere! After eating the younger set played volleyball and the older generation settled into euchre — the ladies at one card table, the four brothers at another table.
Aunt Evelyn, who became an associate professor of social work at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, titled her autobiography: Deal the Cards. Her book relates how Grandma Rose, well into her 90s, is told that son John Jr. has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She thinks on that for awhile, then announces “Deal the cards.”
Cy Blaska was known as the King of Corn and the Prince of Peas, given his leadership role in Wisconsin vegetable processing. Cy liked to direct the operation through a bullhorn. One year Bulgarians situated at Uncle Greg and Cousin John’s dairy operation were invited. They loved waving the American flag. Cy barked into the bullhorn: “Would someone please feed the foreigners. Feed the foreigners.”
Among the family were a smattering of priests and ancient religious nuns. Still remember Cy’s amplified voice commanding “Feed the priest. Will someone please feed the priest.” Father Val Schuster — kin to Grandma Rose (1885-1979) — of Oconomowoc married us. His brother Wilfred started St. Maria Goretti Church here in Orchard Ridge, Madison. They grew up on the farm across the road from ours 1½ miles east of Sun Prairie.
Boil the sweet corn
Brother Mike, Cousin John and cousin-in-law Gordie Howe (Margaret Blaska) boiled the sweet corn. Cy chased various blood relatives out of the kitchen because they were not preparing the peas properly. He paid my wife the ultimate complement, “You’re the best Blaska of them all” after he approved of her peas.
Uncle Greg liked to gig his older brother by transplanting a stalk of field corn from his farm — it came up to a man’s armpit — into Cy’s field, which was only knee-high, then tease him about it. It was a competitive family.
Also political, which meant a lot of speechifying. The various members had run for and served on city councils, town boards, county boards of supervisors, school boards, and the state legislature. As well as farm and veterans organizations. Cy co-chaired WI Democrats for Nixon in 1972.
As darkness fell on Cy and Grace’s farm, a huge pile of brush chock-a-block with high grade explosives was doused in gasoline and then lit. For good measure, your correspondent retrieved his father’s firearm and fired into the exploding fury.
This photograph was taken 40 years ago!
The last of the Greatest Generation left us in December 2016 — Laura (Klein) Blaska (Mrs. Gregory) formidable in her own right. They farmed great-grandpa’s land. The nine Blaska siblings, most of whom came of age during the Great Depression and five of whom served in WW2, were raised Catholic, Democrat and close to the soil. Our Boomer generation was indeed privileged to learn from the Greatest Generation before us. We were taught that one worked for what they got. It was expected that you serve the larger community.
Blaska’s Bottom Line: Remember my father saying “Nobody tells me what to think.” Maybe that’s my problem.
Greetings and Happy Independence Day from Atlanta.
David, Thank you for taking us back to Uncle Cy’s memorable July 4th parties. We were fortunate to have that one time each year to celebrate family, birthdays, corn and peas, and patriotism. Enjoy the day!
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Slow day; Happy 4th of July…and many more!
Family, that is what it is all about. Reading this I think of my elders who I spent some time with as I grew up. My grandfather sitting on the sunporch at the home on Kessler Blvd. in Indianapolis giving me wise advise on how to live my life.
My grandmother in North Salem N.Y. who was a saint in my eyes as she said the rosary every day.
My uncles who were devoted to Christ and gave their lives to serve him.
What it means to be an American is what my family embraced. We all might have not agreed on many an issue but we all had faith in God. We all had faith in the freedoms our forefathers had given us as we were thought to respect the rule of law and the constitution that gave the rule of law it’s moral force.
On this 4th of July, pray for those who lost their lives, those who were wounded in the shooting in Highland Park Ill. Such a sad time to see those of my fellow Americans die or be wounded while celebrating the 4th of July.
My father, also born in 1919, served in WWII–came ashore in Normandy on D-Day, won a Bronze Star and Purple Heart. He didn’t have a lot of war stories in his repertoire, but the few he told were spellbinding. I’m grateful he died (in 2006) without having to witness the headlong plunge into rancor and decadence of the county he fought for so bravely. My 4th of July memories are of gatherings at the family cottage on a small lake in northern Wisconsin. Motorboats with water skiers waving the flag, pre-vegan cookouts with no limit on the hamburgers and hot dogs, catching endless numbers of panfish from the dock, a modest fireworks display at dusk. Now we’re treated to mass shootings and pro-abortion demonstrations to commemorate our nation’s birth.
I like your history better than I like our present. Amen to you father, a world war two vet who came ashore at Normandy.
At five years old, during the 4th of July parade and veterans day parade, I and many other boys of my age saluted men who came back from WWII and Korea, even though we were not supposed to.
We honored their sacrifice even if we didn’t understand the magnitude of their sacrifice. We saluted them as our fathers did.
I remember standing in front of my dad and the dads of many others boys in Fanwood N.J. saluting the veterans who paraded in front of us as they, who were all vets saluted our veterans of Korea and Viet Nam.
If I were a vet, I would salute him along with all the others who came ashore on that day and many days thereafter.
My father served state side during the Korean war. I am always amazed at how the veterans of WWII came through the war and put down their guns and got to work on building the society I grew up in.
Many thanks to your dad and his sacrifice to our freedom. I can only hope to pass it along to future generations.