Our dear father, grandfather, and great-grandfather once said after a family gathering, “I am a rich man”. He was not talking about money, but rather of relationships. He was always happiest when surrounded by his family, eagerly looking forward to visits from family members and hearing about family gatherings even when he was unable to be there. He died February 6, 2020, less than a week short of his 98th birthday.
He was born February 15, 1922 to Abram and Helena Toews in a farmhouse about 20 miles north of Frazer, Montana. The middle child of thirteen, he had one brother and eleven sisters. After elementary school he attended two years at Lustre Bible School and then went to high school, first in Glasgow and then Tabor Academy in Hillsboro, Kansas. When he was drafted, he spent two years in alternate service in Glacier Park.
Church activities played a large part in his life as a young person. He accepted Christ as his personal Savior, responding to an altar call during an evangelistic meeting when he was a teenager. He was baptized and joined the Lustre M.B. Church the following year and after that he said he always looked forward to Sundays when he could go to church. Music played a major part of his involvement in church; he was for many years the choir director of both the adults and children at Lustre M.B.
He and Clara Tieszen, his neighbor and classmate at Lustre Bible School, were married October 7, 1946, in the midst of a blizzard so severe that they were unable to leave for their honeymoon. They spent their wedding night in a hastily-cleaned-up attic room at the parental Tieszen home.
When asked, Dad said the happiest years of his life were the next 30 when he and Clara farmed, he drove school bus, milked cows, sold milk to the neighbors, and they raised nine children. They sent every one of the children to Lustre Christian High School and then to college or Bible school.
He also loved to write. He kept up regular correspondence with his children, two family round letters and his sisters. In 2002 as part of his retirement project he wrote his life story as a short book: This is My Story, This is My Song, quoting many songs that have been meaningful to him over the years.
About the time Rudy and Clara were thinking about retirement and turning over the farming operation to their youngest son, John, Clara began having symptoms of what would later be diagnosed as progressive MS and dementia. At first Rudy used travel as a way to continue family interactions. He bought a wheelchair-accessible van and made several trips to visit family, sometimes taking along two or three of his widowed sisters. Within a few years Clara became unable to travel and required full-time care, provided at first by Rudy and later by daughter Karen. During her last year of life Clara was in Valley View nursing home in Glasgow where she died in 1988.
On November 25, 1988, he married Frankie Kellar, from Tacoma, Washington. They moved into the house on the Tieszen homestead, enjoying gardening, landscaping and traveling. They took several major trips, both national and international – Lima, Peru, Paris, New York, Missouri and Arkansas — always to visit or travel with family.
They were married almost 22 years when a tragic car accident claimed the life of Frankie. Dad moved into Nemont Manor, where he lived for three years before moving into Prairie Ridge Village where he lived until his death.
Even though he was not living in Lustre, Dad maintained a lively interest in activities there. For years he attended the annual fundraiser, Schmeckfest, held every March at LCHS and was often asked to be a ticket-taker/greeter because he knew so many people. He was known to be a valuable source of history about the community.
His life can be summed up in the words of a song that was particularly meaningful in his last year:
Living by faith in Jesus above,
Trusting, confiding in His great love,
From all harm safe in His sheltering arm,
I’m living by faith and feel no alarm.
He was preceded in death by his parents, his wife, Clara, his second wife, Frankie, his brother, ten sisters and a great-grandchild. He is survived by one sister, Viola Fast of Denver, CO; his nine children, Janet (Al)Berg, of Seattle, WA, Dennis (Eileen) of Billings, Leroy (Sharon) of Sullivan, MO, Eldon (Carol) of Miles City, Ellen Miller of Phoenix, AZ, Leon (Jeanne) of Meade, KS, John (Lavonne) of Lustre, Karen (Brad)Hallock of Bremen, IN, and Violet (Kenton)Vix of Minot, ND; 27 grandchildren; 36 great-grandchildren and numerous nieces and nephews.
Service Schedule
Family Receiving Friends
6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m.
Wednesday February 12, 2020
Bell Mortuary
701 2nd Ave. So.
Glasgow, Montana 59230
Funeral Service
11:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.
Thursday February 13, 2020
MB Church
95 MB Church Rd.
Lustre, Montana 59225
Burial
12:00 p.m.
Thursday February 13, 2020
MB Cemetery
95 MB Church Rd.
Lustre, Montana 59225
Luncheon
12:30 p.m.
Thursday February 13, 2020
MB Church
95 MB Church Rd.
Lustre, Montana 59225
Service Schedule
Family Receiving Friends
6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m.
Wednesday February 12, 2020
Bell Mortuary
701 2nd Ave. So.
Glasgow, Montana 59230
Funeral Service
11:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.
Thursday February 13, 2020
MB Church
95 MB Church Rd.
Lustre, Montana 59225
Burial
12:00 p.m.
Thursday February 13, 2020
MB Cemetery
95 MB Church Rd.
Lustre, Montana 59225
Luncheon
12:30 p.m.
Thursday February 13, 2020
MB Church
95 MB Church Rd.
Lustre, Montana 59225
Lowell Tieszen says
Uncle Rudy
Montana lost a good man this week. He was ninety-seven years old. His family will be gathering for a memorial service and funeral next week in Glasgow and Lustre, Montana, respectively.
To me and more that fifty other boomers, he was “Uncle Rudy.” Rudy was born in Lustre and lived his entire life there, except for a time during WWII when he was deployed in an alternate service for conscientious objectors, and, of course, his final few years in a retirement home in Glasgow. The farm on which he spent his life was homesteaded in 1916 by his parents. He farmed there until he retired and turned the farm over to his youngest son, John. This story is not unusual. If you are from anywhere in rural America, chances are your family history is quite similar. As the children of the homesteaders came of age, they found their spouses at church or in the local schools. Newly married young couples would take the reins of the family’s farm and the family name would continue to run with the land.
This was Lustre. This was Uncle Rudy’s life. Uncle Rudy was a leader, due in part to circumstances, but also because of his natural ability and personality. He served on school boards and church councils. He was gifted in music and often led the church choir, congregational singing and participated in men’s quartets. He and Aunt Clara’s nine children made up a small choir themselves. They often sang in church, complete with four part harmony. Those were the days of Sunday evening services and community hymn sings, part of Americana (and Mennonite culture) now lost. At our family gatherings (not really reunions, per se, for most of us saw each other every Sunday at church), Uncle Rudy was the Master of Ceremonies. While his mother, his many sisters and a sister-in-law laid out the feast, Uncle Rudy would lead the singing and say the prayer before the meal. With so many people involved, these family gatherings would usually be held in church basements or outdoor campgrounds. Many and vivid are the memories of his strong tenor voice and the crisp direction of his uplifted arm.
But he was so much more. In addition to his farming and family responsibilities, he played other important roles in the community. Farming was not all that lucrative as he was raising his family in the ’50’s and ’60’s. And nine children, even during that post-homestead era, were a lot of mouths to feed. For supplemental income throughout many of those years he held a part-time bus driving gig. After milking a few cows with his boys every morning, and leading his entire family in Bible devotions before breakfast, he would hurriedly dart out the door to start the bus. He would take it to the south edge of the school district and begin collecting kids.
When he got to his own farm along the county road, his own kids would pile on. It seems a bit humorous now, but for quite a few of those years, the bus doubled as a milk distribution vehicle. As his kids would get on the bus they would carry heavy milk containers to be left at the homes of their milk customers. It was a great system, actually. When the bus arrived at our house I would jump on, grab the milk pail (the one with a piece of masking tape stuck on the lid) sitting right by the gearshift and set it down by the REA pole in the middle of our farmyard. After the bus was gone, and we were on our way to school, Dad would take the two gallon jug to the house.
Only after becoming a full-time farmer myself in the 1980’s did I realize what a sacrificial hassle it must have been for him to interrupt his farm work every afternoon to get onto that bus. He’d leave his work, whether on the tractor or in the shop, to deliver the kids home after school—then get back to work for the evening shift. Some of the driveways along his bus route extended quite a distance off the main road, all gravel, and often very rough. In winter the bus sometimes served as a snow plow, crashing through hard snow drifts the homeowners had not yet attempted. And in spring, the muddy ruts threw the bus back and forth, but Uncle Rudy never failed to get through safely. All of us children trusted him completely. He was our uncle. He was Uncle Rudy! And often were the times, when the roads were otherwise safely dry and dusty, after getting home he would conscientiously make a dreaded phone call. He dutifully and regretfully informed the residents at the end of one of those driveways that he had accidentally driven over their dog—those dogs which could not be, or would not be, restrained from chasing the school bus. To my knowledge, there was no blame and no shame. Just a courtesy call, met with a grateful shrug and a “Thanks for telling us.” It was just life. This, another lost piece of Americana.
Another circumstance which bestowed upon him a certain leadership role, whether he wanted it or not, was that of a brother to eleven sisters and a brother. They all looked up to him and looked to him when emergencies or tragedies of any kind struck their own families. When they did, Uncle Rudy’s phone would be the first to ring. He never failed to answer the call to step in and step up to comfort and to minister. He always filled this informal patriarchal role with grace and dignity. He was a pillar in more ways than one. He was sympathetic and strong in the face of any crushing blow, regardless of how natural or bizarre the disease or accident happened to be. My immediate family experienced one of each of these events and Uncle Rudy was a dependable, stabilizing factor in both. We owed him much.
Another remarkable thing about Uncle Rudy was that despite making his living with ancient dirt and modern machinery, as all farmers do, he was as much or more interested in people than he was in the nuts and bolts of farming. He had a remarkable mind when it came to remembering people and the branches of their extended family trees. It wasn’t just his own family that he remembered, but seemingly all the families of the Lustre community. He remembered who married who and how many kids each couple had—and often their names and where they lived. He was a walking Ancestry.com before there was such a thing. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the whole community of northeastern Montana has lost a significant historian in the passing of this enthusiastic, engaged and loyal citizen.
Uncle Rudy’s sons and daughters grew up and had families of their own. His children’s children are now raising their own families. I believe it is extremely rare for a man to maintain such a high level of respect and love from his grown children and grandchildren as did Uncle Rudy. They saw him as a man of exemplary faith, strength and character. It was a wonderful thing, indeed, to see how he lived out his sunset years. He lived them with an optimistic and enthusiastic joy in his Savior—and was not shy about telling of it. More than three generations of family members, community members and other loved ones experienced it, observed it, and have nothing other than praise for the life of this man, a life well-lived.
Lowell Tieszen
02/08/2020
Vicki Tieszen says
The LeVern Tieszen family want to express our deepest sympathy to the Toews family. We always enjoyed visits to his farm and especially enjoyed visiting with him this past summer. We pray that God will give you comfort and strength. Love and blessing to you all.
Elaine Kauffman says
Rudy Toews was a memorable man, even though I was only at LBA (now LCHS) for 4 years. I had the advantage of coming there from Kalispell (Mountain View Mennonite Church) where Rudy was remembered by the generation that knew the CPS men from Belton (West Glacier Park).
And thanks to Lowell for the tribute he offered. What a slice of history!
God be with you all as you continue to remember, honor and live out the heritage you have received as Rudy’s children, grand and great-grand children.