Russ to the Rescue

As told by Susan at Russ’s wake and edited by Kathy

July 9,  1953 was a beautiful, warm summer day. I was 6 ½ years old, Barb was 5, Russ 4, and I think Kathy was about 2. Gramma ‘Del gathered us up to go down the street so she could visit with her friend Rose Palmquist. Mom took Kathy with her into the house to visit with Mrs. Palmquist and sent the three of us out to play in the backyard with Michael Palmquist.

Now Michael was about 10 years old, and we kids knew him to be the neighborhood bully. He had built a treehouse in the back yard, which to us was kind of high and scary, and he asked us to climb up into the treehouse. When we got up there, he pulled out a knife, and told us we were going to have to jump to get down. We refused, and he insisted, and the argument continued until we saw something strange falling out of the skies. It couldn’t be snow – this was July, after all — and it really didn’t quite look like snow, but it had us all mystified and more than a little freaked out. 

As we stared and worried about what was falling from the skies, little Russ took quietly started down the ladder before Michael could catch him. He ran across the yard, into the house and told Mom about the knife. She came running out to the yard, and I can’t remember quite what she said, but when she saw what was coming from the skies, she gathered us up and we all hurried home.

It turns out the mysterious stuff falling from the skies was volcanic ash from Mt. Spurr across the Inlet, and by noon, it was dark as midnight. By the next day, the ash was 6 inches deep all over town, and the worst ashfall in Anchorage history. I’m not likely to forget that volcano. And I will never forget little Russ, as hero, scrambling down that ladder to get help.