Motorcycle carries woman's ashes to cemetery
By Tim Gallagher Journal staff writer | Posted: Sunday, July 20, 2008
Kirk Mansfield, of Faribault, Minn., carries the cremated remains of his grandmother, Helen Mansfield, on the back of his motorcycle Saturday as family members follow behind after leaving the Marcus Fairgrounds and head to the cemetery. (Staff photo by Jim Lee)
MARCUS, Iowa -- Helen Mansfield once gave birth by herself, then milked a cow at the front door of her sod home because husband Dale's hands were too big for one cow's utters.
Months later a team of runaway horses pulled Helen through a field, bouncing her on and off an old metal planter.
Helen Mansfield, a tomboy, her kids confirm, was prairie tough, weathered and wise.
But she never rode a motorcycle.
Until Saturday.
Mansfield got the ride of a lifetime Saturday in Marcus, strapped to the back of grandson Kirk Mansfield's Harley-Davidson.
Somewhere, she laughed.
Mansfield was 97 when she died April 23. Her 10 children delayed Mom's interment until Saturday, when 200 family members gathered for the annual family reunion at the fairgrounds near her home of 40 years.
At 3:10 p.m., they poured Mom's ashes into a green two-quart mason jar, the kind with a zinc lid.
"That's the kind of jar she always canned with," said son Richard Mansfield of Sioux City.
They wrapped her favorite black sweatshirt around the jar. "Original Mansfield Outlaws," the sweatshirt read. Like most items associated with this giant clan, there's a story. The "Outlaw" legend counters someone's in-laws. The story, a confusing one, rises and falls to a chorus of Mansfield laughter.
The sweatshirt, the jar and Helen's ashes then went to grandson Kirk Mansfield, who proudly gave his grandmother her first -- and last -- ride on a Harley. They cruised six blocks to Marcus Cemetery alongside other family cycles and an antique fire truck, the kind this Mansfield matriarch rode for her 95th birthday. The fire truck carried some of her 40 grandchildren and many more great-grandchildren.
"We had the kids ride a fire truck to give them a way to remember this day," said Helen's daughter Betty Schmidt of Early, Iowa. (Betty was the baby Helen delivered alone. It was 1940 and father Dale had an appointment to keep in Winner, S.D. Helen cut the umbilical chord herself, kept baby Betty warm and later milked a cow at the front door of their sod home near Vetal, S.D.)
The story remains a source of immense pride for the Mansfield kids.
"Mom was adventurous; this motorcycle ride is the kind of thing she'd like," Richard Mansfield added.
At 95, Helen Mansfield attended the circus, met Mickey Mouse and petted an elephant for the first time. The woman who milked cows until age 58 liked to tell the story about sneaking away from home as a little girl and riding a horse to a friend's house.
"She picked up her friend and let the friend sit in the saddle," Schmidt said. "Mom rode that horse for three miles while standing up."
The two girls were bucked off at day's end. And Helen never allowed her friend to ride again.
And she never, for some reason, rode a motorcycle. She was crazy about cycles, anxious for the next adventure. She loved being out in the open air.
But couldn't bring herself to climb on a cycle.
"She was either afraid she couldn't get off it or that she might break something while she was on it," Richard Mansfield said.
So, the Mansfield children gave Mom her first and last ride Saturday. They eventually placed her remains in a vault within a wooden apple box next to the grave site of Dale, who died in 1991.
They prayed and they cried. Then, they started their cycles and the fire truck and did what big families do: The Outlaw Mansfields headed back to the park for a summer potluck long on meats, sweets, fresh salads and laughs.
Months later a team of runaway horses pulled Helen through a field, bouncing her on and off an old metal planter.
Helen Mansfield, a tomboy, her kids confirm, was prairie tough, weathered and wise.
But she never rode a motorcycle.
Until Saturday.
Mansfield got the ride of a lifetime Saturday in Marcus, strapped to the back of grandson Kirk Mansfield's Harley-Davidson.
Somewhere, she laughed.
Mansfield was 97 when she died April 23. Her 10 children delayed Mom's interment until Saturday, when 200 family members gathered for the annual family reunion at the fairgrounds near her home of 40 years.
At 3:10 p.m., they poured Mom's ashes into a green two-quart mason jar, the kind with a zinc lid.
"That's the kind of jar she always canned with," said son Richard Mansfield of Sioux City.
They wrapped her favorite black sweatshirt around the jar. "Original Mansfield Outlaws," the sweatshirt read. Like most items associated with this giant clan, there's a story. The "Outlaw" legend counters someone's in-laws. The story, a confusing one, rises and falls to a chorus of Mansfield laughter.
The sweatshirt, the jar and Helen's ashes then went to grandson Kirk Mansfield, who proudly gave his grandmother her first -- and last -- ride on a Harley. They cruised six blocks to Marcus Cemetery alongside other family cycles and an antique fire truck, the kind this Mansfield matriarch rode for her 95th birthday. The fire truck carried some of her 40 grandchildren and many more great-grandchildren.
"We had the kids ride a fire truck to give them a way to remember this day," said Helen's daughter Betty Schmidt of Early, Iowa. (Betty was the baby Helen delivered alone. It was 1940 and father Dale had an appointment to keep in Winner, S.D. Helen cut the umbilical chord herself, kept baby Betty warm and later milked a cow at the front door of their sod home near Vetal, S.D.)
The story remains a source of immense pride for the Mansfield kids.
"Mom was adventurous; this motorcycle ride is the kind of thing she'd like," Richard Mansfield added.
At 95, Helen Mansfield attended the circus, met Mickey Mouse and petted an elephant for the first time. The woman who milked cows until age 58 liked to tell the story about sneaking away from home as a little girl and riding a horse to a friend's house.
"She picked up her friend and let the friend sit in the saddle," Schmidt said. "Mom rode that horse for three miles while standing up."
The two girls were bucked off at day's end. And Helen never allowed her friend to ride again.
And she never, for some reason, rode a motorcycle. She was crazy about cycles, anxious for the next adventure. She loved being out in the open air.
But couldn't bring herself to climb on a cycle.
"She was either afraid she couldn't get off it or that she might break something while she was on it," Richard Mansfield said.
So, the Mansfield children gave Mom her first and last ride Saturday. They eventually placed her remains in a vault within a wooden apple box next to the grave site of Dale, who died in 1991.
They prayed and they cried. Then, they started their cycles and the fire truck and did what big families do: The Outlaw Mansfields headed back to the park for a summer potluck long on meats, sweets, fresh salads and laughs.
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Jo An Ehlers wrote on Aug 2, 2008 6:03 PM:
By the way cows have udders, not utters. Utter is when you say something. Udders are what are under the cow. LOL
Not the first mistake I have found and certainly not the last. But I am sure Helen Mansfield would have gotten a kick out of it. "
Sara wrote on Jul 28, 2008 11:19 AM:
Cortni wrote on Jul 25, 2008 3:35 PM:
Beth wrote on Jul 23, 2008 8:04 AM:
Bobett L Kriech wrote on Jul 22, 2008 8:29 AM:
God Bless your entire Family and watch over you always. "