Palmer woman celebrates 100th birthday

PALMER — After almost a century of life, Gladys Briske still remembers the “old way” of living.

Born Sept. 17, 1914, in Lake Itasca, Minnesota, to Minnie and David Craig, Gladys Minnie Craig Briske grew up on a 3,000-acre ranch near the Mississippi River. They only had one set of neighbors, she said, a family who lived right on the river about a half-mile away.

“I remember my mom always warned us, ‘you can always go see the river but don’t go in it,’” Gladys said in an interview last week.

Because of this, she said, she and most of her brothers and sisters didn’t learn to swim for a long time after that.

Gladys has been the only surviving Craig for some 10 years now, she said, but back in the day there were nine children. Despite having many siblings, she didn’t recall any of them ever fighting with one another.

“We never quarreled when we were younger,” she said. “Isn’t that surprising? I guess we lived an easy life then.”

“Easy” may be a relative term for the more modern population.

Gladys said her family “never had anything with machinery” but made everything by hand. Her mother “sewed everything we needed,” she said.

As for food, of course that was covered, too. Gladys said they had chickens, cows and pigs to start, then went to strictly grain because “no one liked milking the cows.” However, their family still had no difficulty in providing for themselves, she said.

Well, maybe a little.

“We had everything, except coffee,” she said. “If they’d have raised that (in Minnesota) I suppose we would’ve had that, too.”

But there wasn’t much of anything to buy or sell in the1920s and ‘30s in the-middle-of-nowhere Minnesota, Gladys said — not that there was an uncomfortable lack, there just wasn’t any need for the frills that might come from the industrialized cities.

“There wasn’t sales then, you just used it and then you’d give it to the neighbors,” Gladys said, of the family’s crops and other homegrown resources.

Times were different then, as reflected in the general credit system on which everyone in the surrounding area operated. Gladys said they would “charge everything” during the summer and settle the debts in the fall, after the harvest — better than credit cards, maybe, because you might catch a break with your friends, but you really wouldn’t want to get on anyone’s bad side.

“We had a good reputation to pay our bills, so there was no problem with that,” Gladys said.

Around the time she graduated from Bemidji High School, Gladys married Harold “Harry” Briske on Feb. 2, 1932. She soon had a big garden like her mother’s, she said, because she “thought you had to” after getting married, and of course the new family continued to farm in Minnesota.

Soon after they had their four kids — Dean, Jerry, Diane, and Loueen — Gladys and Harry also began working as school bus drivers in the early ’40s. They stayed with it for 17 years, Gladys said, until the kids were out of school. Once the kids were out of the house, she hopped back on the tractor for a few years, then went to college in Clarkston, Washington, where she found her love for nursing.

“My best years (were) when I was a nurse,” she said.

Maybe that’s why she’s lived so long, the reader may be thinking, however…

“It never entered my mind,” she said, on living to be 100. “I was just taking in life the way it came. I took care of myself, and I got around real good…I guess I was satisfied with that.”

While nursing did take Gladys around from place to place locally, she traveled in many different states over the years, citing Arizona, Idaho, Washington and Oregon as some of her favorites. She mentioned Utah, too, then decided she didn’t “like” it so much as she found it “interesting.”

“I’ve traveled quite a little, I’ve been quite a few places,” Gladys said.

In 1964 she and her husband moved to Alaska for a little while. They traveled back and forth for a few years, Gladys said, as she worked to gain the status of licensed practical nurse, but in 1971 the couple settled in Anchorage for good.

Unfortunately, her husband didn't remain with her long. In 1972, Harry succumbed to illness and passed away. After his death, she moved to Colorado, where her daughter Loueen was living at the time. According to Gladys’ daughter-in-law, Toni Briske, it was there that Gladys attended a beautician school — adding to her already-diverse skill set, no doubt — before returning to Alaska.

In Anchorage, Gladys first took a job driving out “into the country” — Palmer and Wasilla, in other words — to deliver medicine. It wasn’t so much nursing, she said, as “just helping the doctor, really.”

She did work in an actual hospital later, she said, but she couldn’t recall which one.

Another love of Gladys’, which she discovered in Alaska, she said, is one with which many are familiar: fishing.

“I never caught too many,” she said. “There wasn’t all the equipment they have now.”

Hunting never struck her fancy, she said, but she had guns for a little while, which soon ended up in the hands of her grandchildren, some of whom soon became avid fishermen as well.

“They’re the ones who get all the fish (now),” Gladys said. “I guess (the guns) really started their outdoor life.”

Gladys said she hasn’t fished for some 20 years now, but she still enjoys doing puzzles, knitting, and crocheting, and remembers the exact number of tablecloths and bedspreads she has made over the years.

Now, she lives in the Willow Pointe Apartments in Palmer with 22 other residents.

“She’s a real kind, kind person,” said supervising manager Sharon Dwyer.

In honor of Gladys and to celebrate her 100 years of life, Dwyer said a birthday party is planned for her Sept. 15.

Toni and her husband Jerry, Gladys’ second-oldest son, currently live in Anchorage, and Toni said they both intend to attend the party.

“She taught me so much,” Toni said of her mother-in-law. “She’s a very good gardener, and also a very good seamstress.”

Gladys said that her older son, Dean, also plans to attend. He currently lives in Billingham, Washington.

Gladys voiced a concern about the noise that’s bound to come with a large group of people congregated in a small room, but still seemed excited for the event.

“It’s gonna be a blowout,” Gladys said.

Contact Caitlin Skvorc at 352-2266 or caitlin.skvorc@frontiersman.com.