Empty Nest: Dutch Schakel

Dutch Schakel, of Farmington, is 95. With his trademark beret, he has the timeless look of an artist years younger. He is tall and slim and can still get into his WWII military uniform, which he does occasionally, for parades and veterans celebrations. Dutch has lived in the same two-story house for 58 years. He taught high school English for 37 years, most of it in Farmington, now called Harmony. His house is like a museum, with artwork, sculptures, and artifacts covering every inch of wall space, from floor to ceiling.

He was married to Margaretta for 65 years, with a love as deep as the Des Moines River that flows by Farmington. She died seven years ago. She is the one who named him Dutch, and the name stuck. His real name is Cornelius, but Margaretta had a brother with the same name, so she wasn't about to call him Cornelius.

Dutch's hands are still steady, and his handwriting school-teacher neat. With a deep baritone voice, he still sings occasionally at church. From memory, he sings a song he wrote for Margaretta on their 50th wedding anniversary. ?I remember Margaretta, singing at St. Andrew's door, silver songs into the sunset, I remember evermore. Hushed with reverence was the churchyard, and the whippoorwills were still, I fell in love with Margaretta, and I love her still. We are growing old together, fifty years have passed and more, but I still remember Margaretta, singing at St. Andrew's door.?

Iowa doesn't have a waltz, like Tennessee does. According to Dutch, that's a shame. So he wrote ?The Iowa Waltz.? During WWII, while waiting in Des Moines for a train, Margaretta and he danced at the famed Val Air Ballroom. ?They were playing the Iowa Waltz that night, in Des Moines at the old Val Air, and I danced with my love 'til the morning light, we were young and without a care. Many years have gone by since that magical night, and I long for my love so fair. She is gone, but I still see her eyes so bright, when they played that beautiful air. Now, the Iowa Waltz still plays in my mind, and I dance with a memory. She is gone, but I wonder if somewhere again, she will dance that waltz with me.?

And poetry! Dutch walks into his bedroom and lays his hands on a sheaf of writing, like he laid it there yesterday. Some of it he wrote for his high school English students more than 30 years ago. ?Here's one of my favorites,? he says, ?I Called Heaven.? Dutch recites from memory, ?I dreamt I called heaven last night, to see if my baby's all right, if we can't take a walk, I just want to talk, so I dreamt I called heaven last night. I dreamt I called heaven last night, she told me that she was all right, she said that she loved me, she remembers, you see, when I talked to my baby last night. She left on a day I was gone, how can I now carry on? She's no longer here, she's not in her chair, I'll have to call heaven tonight.?

Farmington is littered with Dutch's former students, as is SE Iowa, and the world, really. He has former students who are now great-grandparents. His son is 72, and is a retired English teacher, also. Dutch's daughter lives a couple of blocks away.

While having lunch at the Bridge Cafe in Farmington, Dutch talks to Rick, the owner and one of his former students. ?Remember when we put on that play, Rick, ?Bridger Calling Cinderella?? Rick remembers, and gives him a thumbs up.

After retirement, Margaretta and Dutch directed ?The Last Supper? for 21 years, at Easter time, all over Iowa and Missouri. After Margaretta passed away, Dutch didn't have the stomach for it. But the play goes on.

He also sings ?Silent Night? in German, every Christmas Eve.

Will Dutch make 100? That and more, I hope.

Have a good story? Call or text Curt Swarm in Mt. Pleasant at 319-217-0526, or email him at curtswarm@yahoo.com. Curt also reads his stories at www.lostlakeradio.com and 106.3 FM in Farmington.