Monthly Archives: November 2025
You may have heard of “the charge of the light brigade” and maybe even read the poem on that subject, but this was not a fictional event. The charge actually took place during the Crimean War. The war was fought between the Russian Empire and an alliance of troops from the French, British, Ottoman, and Sardinian forces. The war began in the Fall of 1853 and ended in March 1856 with the signing of the Treaty of Paris. The war claimed many lives and left lasting impacts for countless people.
The Charge of the Light Brigade was a daring but disastrous attack by British light cavalry against Russian forces during the Battle of Balaclava in the Crimean War, leading to heavy losses. On October 25, 1854, Lord Cardigan led the Brigade in a head-on assault against a well-defended Russian artillery position with clear fields of fire. The charge stemmed from a misinterpreted order by commander-in-chief Lord Raglan, who had meant for them to target a different position better suited for light cavalry, to stop the Russians from removing captured guns from Turkish lines. Despite braving intense fire and reaching the guns, scattering some defenders, the Brigade was forced into a swift retreat.
The Light Brigade of the British cavalry was made up of the 4th and 13th Light Dragoons, the 17th Lancers, and the 8th and 11th Hussars, led by Major General James Brudenell, 7th Earl of Cardigan. Also on the field that day, was the Heavy Brigade, commanded by Major General James Yorke Scarlett, which included the 4th Royal Irish Dragoon Guards, the 5th Dragoon Guards, the 6th Inniskilling Dragoons, and the Scots Greys. These two brigades were the only British cavalry at the battle. The Light Brigade, riding unarmored, fast, and agile horses, carried lances and sabers. Designed for speed and mobility, they specialized in reconnaissance, skirmishing, and swiftly cutting down infantry and artillery as they tried to retreat. They were simply not suited for head-on battle against a heavily armored enemy force.
The Light Brigade rode into the valley with Cardigan at the front, leading the charge on his horse, Ronald. Suddenly, Nolan dashed across, cutting in front of Cardigan. Perhaps he realized they were charging the wrong target and tried to halt or redirect them, but an artillery shell struck and killed him, and the cavalry pressed on undeterred. Captain Godfrey Morgan was close by and stated, “The first shell burst in the air about 100 yards in front of us. The next one dropped in front of Nolan’s horse and exploded on touching the ground. He uttered a wild yell as his horse turned round, and, with his arms extended, the reins dropped on the animal’s neck, he trotted towards us, but in a few yards dropped dead off his horse. I do not imagine that anybody except those in the front line of the 17th Lancers saw what had happened.”
Heavy fighting continued, but in the end, the British were soundly defeated. The brigade was not completely destroyed, but did suffer terribly, with 118 men killed, 127 wounded, and about 60 taken prisoner. After regrouping, only 195 men were still with horses. The futility of the action and its reckless bravery prompted the French Marshal Pierre Bosquet to state: “C’est magnifique, mais ce n’est pas la guerre.” (“It is magnificent, but it is not war.”) He continued, in a rarely quoted phrase: “C’est de la folie” (“It is madness.”) The Russian commanders are said to have initially believed that the British soldiers must have been drunk. No, just terribly misinformed and horribly unprepared for the battle.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson told of the events in his narrative poem “The Charge of the Light Brigade” (1854), 
published just six weeks after the battle took place. The verses highlight the bravery of the cavalry as they followed orders despite the danger. The blame for the miscommunication remains unclear, as the order was vague, and Captain Louis Nolan…who delivered it with some added oral explanation…was killed within the first minute of the charge. Wars bring with them killing and injuring, but rarely is such carried out in such an insane manner.
Veteran’s Day is a time to reflect on sacrifice, honor, duty, dedication, war, and peace, but for me it’s also a day filled with thoughts of my dad and how much I miss him. I know my sisters feel the same, as does the rest of our family. For anyone who’s lost a loved one who was a veteran, this day brings their memory close. I think of my Grandpa Byer, my uncles Ted Byer, Cliff Byer, Larry Byer, and Jim Wolfe, and my cousin Larry Wolfe…all gone now, but thankfully not lost in war. I remember those in World War II who couldn’t serve in combat but contributed at home in the shipyards and Rosie the Riveters, like my Aunt Ruth Wolfe, Aunt 
Laura Fredrick, and Uncle Bill Spencer…who was kept from service by a hernia and flat feet. And I think of so many others…too many to name…who have fought and returned, and those still serving to protect our nation and prevent terrorism around the world.
Their sacrifice is beyond measure, a debt we can never repay. Every day in service, they work without knowing if they’ll return to their loved ones or if this will be the day a bullet, rocket, or bomb claims them. They face fear as if it’s their constant companion, and yet they know it’s no friend at all. They push past that fear and do their job because it’s necessary—because they are necessary…without them, our nation stands unprotected. Most of us sleep peacefully at night, confident in what tomorrow will bring, because we live in a country where freedom is for everyone. But we must remember, it doesn’t come free. Over the years, we’ve lost countless young lives to war…young people who were our hope for the future, full of promise, with plans and dreams…all gone now.
War is a terrible thing, and none of us truly wish to take part in it. Yet, evil exists and works tirelessly to bring chaos to the world. If we stand by and do nothing, countless innocent lives will be lost. That’s why God created 
soldiers…people of honor and dedication, with a strong sense of duty and love for others. They are individuals of courage and bravery, able to push back the fear surrounding them. God knew they would have to be heroes, and that’s exactly what every veteran is, was, and always will be. Today, we honor those who have sacrificed so much to keep us free. Thank you for your service, and God bless every one of you.
Buried treasure…the phrase always makes us picture a treasure map that eventually leads us to a place in the middle of nowhere, where we will be digging a hole in the ground, all the while hoping the treasure map was correct and the treasure is almost in our hands. Just the thought of it brings excitement, but what if the treasure is not buried underground, but rather under water. The treasure of the San Miguel is a remarkable trove. Thought to be located on Amelia Island, Florida, in the Nassau Sound, it is estimated to be worth at least $2 billion. The problem…finding it.
The San Miguel was a Spanish ship that was part of a fleet sent from Cuba to Spain in 1715. After the Peace of Utrecht treaty ended Spain’s conflicts with France in 1714, the Spanish King found himself broke after years of war. Desperate for funds, he ordered a huge treasure of American gold and silver to be gathered in Cuba and shipped back to Spain. The colonial government complied, loading 11 ships with 14 million pesos worth of gold and silver in various forms. The San Miguel was one of those ships.
Because the San Miguel was the fastest ship of the fleet, the most capable of outmaneuvering pirates, and thus the most likely to arrive home safely, it carried a bigger load of treasure than any other vessel in the fleet. According to historical records, the San Miguel, because it was heavier, also disembarked a day before the other 10 ships. They should have caught up with it at some point. Unfortunately, summer weather in the West Indies is temperamental. No one on shore could have predicted that a hurricane would start blowing just as the main treasure fleet was departing. The fierce winds smashed the fleet off the Florida coast, capsizing or wrecking the ships as they passed Vero Beach. An estimated 1,000 people drowned. After the storm, the Spanish colonial government managed to salvage about half of the treasure; the rest remained sunk too deep, buried in the sand under gloom waters. Nevertheless, over the years seven of the ships and some of their treasure have been found.
The San Miguel, however, has never been found. It is assumed the San Miguel sank, mostly because no one ever heard from it again. It is unknown just how far ahead of the main fleet the San Miguel might have gotten. 
Treasure hunters believe it is located off Amelia Island, mainly because gold coins, cannons and even a jeweler’s furnace have been discovered near the southern part of Amelia Island. They all believe that the wreck of the San Miguel, and all its long-lost treasure, can’t be far. Still, why can’t they find it, even with all of our modern-day technology. Even in the face of all these years, treasure hunters have not given up. Periodically they “make another run” at finding the long-lost ship. Who knows, maybe just maybe someone will finally be the one to solve this bizarre 310-year-old mystery…and get rich for their efforts.
Our uncle, Butch Schulenberg is one of the sweetest, most caring people you would ever want to know. Uncle Butch became my uncle when I married my husband, but for many of those early years, I didn’t know him well. When I married my husband, Bob, Uncle Butch who is my father-in-law, Walt Schulenberg’s half-brother on their father’s side, became my uncle too. At first, I only met him once at a family reunion when my girls Corrie Petersen and Amy Royce were 5 and 4 years old. After that, there were a number of years that passed without visiting Uncle Butch and his sweet wife, Charlys. There was no real reason for that, it just happened. Then, after my father-in-law passed away, I called Uncle Butch to let him know, and we became fast friends. A couple of visits to Forsyth, Montana followed to see them, and I think another one is due pretty soon.
The past couple of years have found Butch taking care of his sweet wife, after an dropped pot of spaghetti landed on her legs. Butch and their grandson, took excellent care of Charlys, and today she is doing well. Butch was a great caregiver, when she needed him most, but then that is what forever love does. Butch and Charlys have been married for almost 60 years on their way to “together forever” and life just keeps getting better and better. Their kids and grandkids are all a great blessing to them, and they cherish every moment they get to spend with them.
For his birthday weekend, they had the special treat of having their daughter, Andi Schulenberg spend the 
weekend. She and Charlys did some holiday prep dishes, and then they all went out to have a nice birthday dinner for Uncle Butch’s “85 and still alive” birthday, as Andi dubbed it. Uncle Butch just doesn’t seem like he’s 85 to me. He is young at heart, possibly from his avid support of the Forsyth High School sports teams. He knows the kids and they know him. It keeps a guy young, and I hope he stays young at heart for a long, long time to come. Today is Uncle Butch’s 85th birthday. Happy birthday Uncle Butch!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
My mom, Collene Spencer, had a lot in common with her older sister, Evelyn Hushman. While she was close to all her sisters, she and Aunt Evelyn had a special bond, possibly because their husbands got along so well. Even before my mom married, my parents, Al and Collene Spencer, would double date with Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George. After both couples were married and had children, we spent a lot of time together. I remember playing with the Hushman kids, who, being a bit older than me, often set the tone for our games. It didn’t matter, though…it was always fun.
Later, my parents joined the same bowling team with Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George on Monday nights. They bowled together for years until they decided to stop, except for Aunt Evelyn, who continued bowling for many more years. I even got to substitute on her team when she bowled with her daughters, which I enjoyed because it kept our families connected in an enjoyable way.
Over time, as life got busier, I saw Aunt Evelyn less and less, which made me sad. Time seems to slip away so 
quickly, and before you know it, loved ones age and life changes. Eventually, I only saw her at family events like Christmas parties and picnics, and then not even those. When Aunt Evelyn passed away on May 4, 2015, just over two months after my mom, I felt a deep sadness and loneliness. Losing them both so close together was hard, but I like to think the sisters, who had so much in common, are together again, enjoying their new chapter. Today would have been Aunt Evelyn’s 97th birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Aunt Evelyn. We love and miss you dearly.
We always loved when Aunt Ruth and Uncle Jim Wolfe came to town for visits. They were fun-loving people who kept things lively and had us laughing all the time. They usually brought their three kids…Shirley Cameron, Larry Wolfe (who passed away in 1976), and Terry Wolfe. Sometimes they came with friends of Larry and Terry or with Shirley’s husband Wayne “Shorty” Cameron, and children, Tonnya Cameron, and Larry Cameron. It was especially fun when the kids were there. The boys were rowdy and rambunctious, and while my sisters and I couldn’t “take” them in a wrestling match, that didn’t stop us from trying…or them from pretending we might win. The boys’ style was just like Aunt Ruth’s. Their whole family was full of laughter, and I dearly miss those who have gone on to Heaven. 
Aunt Ruth was a talented musician who could play any instrument she picked up, which was a favorite memory of her daughter Shirley’s. Shirley loved her mom’s talent in both music and art, and she was so proud of her mom. I had no idea Aunt Ruth was so gifted until we visited Shirley and Shorty after Uncle Jim passed away. Shirley showed us some of Aunt Ruth’s paintings. Sadly, many of Aunt Ruth’s belongings were lost in a fire that destroyed the home she had shared with Uncle Jim. By then, Aunt Ruth had passed, but Uncle Jim still lived there, next door to Shirley and her family. The fire marked the moment it became clear Uncle Jim, who now had Alzheimer’s, needed to move to a nursing home. It was a difficult time for everyone, not just because of the lost pictures, paintings, and instruments, but also because Shirley could no longer visit her dad every day 
since the nursing home was too far away. Aunt Ruth was also a skilled equestrienne and often raced her horses.
Aunt Ruth passed away much too soon at the age of 66. She had a fast-growing form of cancer, and before any of us could fully process the fact that she had Cancer, she was gone. It was such a heartbreaking time, and we all miss her deeply. She passed away on May 11, 1992, and it’s hard to believe how much time has passed since then. Today would have been her 100th birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Aunt Ruth. We love and miss you dearly.
As another birthday rolls around, I find it hard to believe that my great grandnephew, Asa Balcerzak is four years old. Asa is a sweet, happy little boy, who wants to be a motorcycle rider. He loves any and every sport and wants to play them all. Being the son on my grandnephew, Keifer Balcerzak, I expect that he will be good at a number of sports. He comes from a sports loving family, so it’s only natural. At this age, Asa still likes to do pretty much anything his parents and big sis, Reece are doing, but as time goes on, I know that he will develop his own ideas, career paths, and leisure activities.
This year, Asa got to follow in another of his sister’s paths…school. At the tender age of three, going on four, Asa started pre-school in September. He was so happy about going to school. He likes his teacher, and the things he is learning. For a little boy, getting to do some other the same things, like school, that his big sister gets to do, is the ultimate indication that he is a big boy now. For now, following in his sister’s footsteps might be enough for Asa, but because he is his daddy’s boy, and loves all sports, I see a long future of playing sports with his dad and of course, watching sports with his dad. Asa likes pretty much all sports, but like his dad, I’m sure softball and football will be on the top of his list.
Asa and his family love to take family trips to places like Denver and of course, Disneyland. Anyplace his family is going makes for a great trip for Asa. He loves his family and loves being with them, no matter where they go. He also loves his aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. He might be a little shy around strangers, but once he knows people, he is very social. I’m sure he is having a great time at his new school, and everyone he plays with. Today is Asa’s 4th birthday. Happy birthday Asa!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
Our uncle, Eddie Hein, spent most of his life in Forsyth, Montana, except for the years he worked in Casper, Wyoming, at Rocky Mountain Pack while attending night classes at Casper College to earn his mechanics degree, and the time he served in the US Army during the Vietnam War. He was honorably discharged in 1966, which was when he met his future wife, Pearl Krueger. They married on July 15, 1967…a day they always cherished as the happiest of their lives. Their marriage was blessed with two children, Larry Hein and Kim Arani, and three grandchildren. One of those grandchildren, Destiny Hein, was born on Eddie’s birthday, creating a unique and special bond between them. They were best friends for the rest of his life. It’s so hard for me to believe that Eddie has been in Heaven for just over six years now.
On my first trip to Forsyth, Montana, with my husband and Bob Schulenberg’s family, I was introduced to his 
relatives there, including Uncle Eddie, Bob’s uncle and his dad’s half-brother. That initial visit turned into an annual tradition for many years. We loved those trips, always feeling warmly welcomed. Eddie was a quiet, soft-spoken man with a big heart, who made everyone feel accepted. His big smile and contagious laugh were unforgettable, and he truly loved to laugh. I will always miss his smile and his kind, generous nature. There was never the formality of calling Eddie and Pearl “uncle” and “aunt” since they were close in age to many nieces and nephews. Although we hadn’t seen them as often as the years went by and the grandparents went to Heaven, it was always nice to know Eddie was there. Then, suddenly, six years ago, he was gone. It was and still is such a shock to me. He had always seemed so vibrant and full of life.
On October 16, 2019, Uncle Eddie suffered a heart attack while working in his yard. Despite the efforts of friends, neighbors, his wife Pearl, and their grandson Dalton, it was too late. Eddie passed away, but his memory will live on with his many friends and family. Eddie was a kind man with a heart of gold, always willing 
to help those in need. He loved vintage cars and had his own 55 Chevy that he thoroughly enjoyed. It wasn’t just the cars either, because he loved old tractors too. The people of Forsyth, Montana, knew Eddie well. He was a friend to everyone, always offering a wave as he drove by. Eddie was known as someone you could always count on, no matter the situation. Whether it was a smile, a hug, a wave, or a helping hand, Eddie was there. Someone once said Eddie was one of God’s great ones, and I couldn’t agree more. Today would have been Eddie’s 82nd birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven. We love and miss you very much.
The Federal Bureau of Investigation was founded in 1908. It was created to combat corruption and crime on a national scale. Initially, there were no real federal crimes, so the agency basically concentrated on cases known to have involved national banking, bankruptcy, naturalization, antitrust, and land fraud. At the time, there was no systematic method for enforcing the law across the vast expanse of the United States. This shifted significantly with the start of Prohibition enforcement in 1920.
When the FBI was first established, there were over 100 cities with populations exceeding 50,000, where crime had grown alongside urban expansion. These crowded cities, filled with impoverished and disillusioned residents, often faced ethnic tensions that contributed to frequent outbursts of anger. Violent clashes between striking workers and factory bosses became increasingly common. Still, none of that really fit into the general purpose of the FBI.
During the late 1920s and through the 1930s, high-profile crimes and notorious criminals captured the public’s attention. J Edgar Hoover and his agents, famously called “G-Men,” took center stage. Gangsters like “Machine Gun” Kelly, “Pretty Boy” Floyd, “Baby Face” Nelson, John Dillinger, Al Capone, and “Ma” Barker became larger-than-life figures, idolized by many Americans. Hoover rose to the occasion, using Hollywood and detective fiction writers to craft an image of his agents (and himself) as heroic foes of these criminals. While gangsters were painted as public enemies, the G-Men were celebrated as heroic cops, with J Edgar Hoover as their iconic leader. While I don’t condone illegal activity, the fact that producing and drinking alcoholic beverages became illegal overnight, actually turned otherwise law-abiding citizens into criminals. It’s hard to say how many of them wouldn’t have become criminals anyway, or how many weren’t into criminal activity already, but the Prohibition Act cemented their activities into crimes. Moonshining came about after Prohibition began, and all 
those moonshiners were criminals caused by the Prohibition Act.
Throughout their history, the integrity and reputation of the FBI have plunged as different scandals and breeches of protocol have plagued the agency. These days, the question of who is investigated and who isn’t, usually based on political affiliation, is a sore spot with me and many others. The agency has a long way to go to ever earn my respect again.
In 1862, the Dakota Indians were found guilty of joining in the so-called “Minnesota Uprising,” which was actually part of the wider Indian wars occurring throughout the West during the second half of the 19th century. The Minnesota uprising in 1862, also known as the Dakota War, was a conflict between the Dakota Sioux and the United States. The battle was driven by broken treaties, starvation, and desperation. For almost fifty years, Anglo settlers encroached on Dakota territory in the Minnesota Valley, while government pressure steadily pushed Native peoples to move to smaller reservations along the Minnesota River. On the reservations, the Dakota faced severe mistreatment by corrupt federal Indian agents and contractors. By July 1862, the agents had brought the Native Americans to the verge of starvation by withholding food supplies until they received their usual kickbacks. Meanwhile, the contractors heartlessly dismissed the Dakota’s desperate pleas for assistance.
The Dakota Indians were outraged by the corruption, and very quickly found themselves at the limits of their endurance. So finally, they struck back, killing Anglo settlers and taking women as hostages. The United States Army’s first attempts to stop the Dakota warriors were unsuccessful, with the battle at Birch Coulee resulting in the deaths of 13 American soldiers and injuries to 47 more. But on September 23rd, General Henry H Sibley led a force that defeated the main Dakota warriors at Wood Lake, freeing many hostages and compelling most of the Native Americans to surrender.
The subsequent trials of the prisoners barely acknowledged the injustices Native Americans had endured on the reservations. Instead, they focused on satisfying the widespread call for revenge. The proceedings were unfair, with Carol Chomsky, an associate professor at the University of Minnesota Law School, noting that the evidence was weak, the tribunal was biased, the defendants lacked representation, the process was unfamiliar and conducted in a foreign language, and the tribunal itself lacked proper authority.
In Minnesota, after five weeks of trials addressing the events of the United States-Dakota War of 1862, over 300 Dakota men were convicted of assaulting and killing Anglo settlers and sentenced to death by hanging. 
President Abraham Lincoln later commuted all but 39 of these sentences. While one Dakota man was granted a last-minute reprieve, the remaining 38 were executed simultaneously on December 26, in front of a large crowd of Minnesotans. President Lincoln’s decision to commute most of the death sentences was a reflection on his recognition that the Minnesota Uprising stemmed from a long history of Anglo mistreatment of the Dakota people. He couldn’t allow 300 men to be hung based on a lie.
