[Congressional Record Volume 165, Number 206 (Thursday, December 19, 2019)]
[Senate]
[Pages S7222-S7223]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                        TRIBUTE TO HAROLD THUNE

  Mr. THUNE. Mr. President, in 1906, two brothers named Nikolai and 
Matthew Gjelsvik arrived at Ellis Island from Norway. The only English 
they knew were the words ``apple pie'' and ``coffee,'' which evidently 
they learned on the boat on the way over.
  The immigration officials at Ellis Island thought that their name 
would be too difficult to spell and pronounce in this country, so they 
asked them to change their name. The names, when they got to this 
country, were Nikolai Gjelsvik, spelled G-J-E-L-S-V-I-K, and his 
brother was named Matthew.
  So the immigration officials asked them to change their name, and 
they picked the name from the farm where they worked near Bergen, 
Norway, which was called the Thune farm. So Nikolai Gjelsvik became 
Nick Thune, my grandfather.
  He and his brother worked on the railroad as they built it west 
across South Dakota. They learned English and saved up enough money to 
start a small merchandising company and then later a hardware store in 
Mitchell, SD. To this day, there is a Thune Hardware in Mitchell, 
although the family sold it many years ago.
  In 1916, Nick Thune married an Iowa girl who had moved to South 
Dakota to teach school, and they had three sons. The middle son, 
Harold, will turn 100 in a few days, and that middle son happens to be 
my dad.
  Like many of my colleagues, I send congratulatory notes to 
constituents for big birthdays and anniversaries. I never thought I 
would have the occasion to send one to my dad. I figured for this one, 
instead of writing a letter, I would come to the floor.

  My dad is a World War II veteran. He is a member of that ``greatest 
generation,'' and he shares the qualities of so many in that 
generation--humility, patriotism, quiet service. Dad was a Navy pilot 
who flew Hellcats off the USS Intrepid, and he was an excellent pilot. 
He received the Distinguished Flying Cross for shooting down four enemy 
planes in one engagement. As a side note to that, that accommodation 
was issued to him by none other than ADM John McCain, Senator John 
McCain's grandfather.
  But my dad didn't and still doesn't talk about his own exploits. In 
fact, had it not been for my mom, I am quite sure I never would have 
known about my dad's record in World War II. I did have the opportunity 
to interview him for the Library of Congress's Veterans History Project 
a few years back, and he shared some wonderful details about his 
service. As usual, his focus was never on his own achievements but on 
those of his fellow pilots.
  I also probably would never have learned what an outstanding athlete 
my dad was, had it not been for my mom. My dad grew up in the small 
town of Murdo, SD, during the Great Depression. They didn't have a lot, 
but there were a lot of basketball hoops around Murdo. They put them on 
barns, poles, garages, and my dad learned to play. In fact, he learned 
to play so well that he took his high school basketball team to the 
State championship game where, although they lost narrowly, he was 
named the tournament's most valuable player.
  My dad had hoped to attend college in South Dakota, but there was a 
doctor in Murdo named Joseph Murphy who thought my dad was good enough 
to play at the University of Minnesota and used his contacts to get my 
dad up to Hibbing Junior College in hopes that the Minnesota Gophers 
would notice him. Well, they did. He went to the Twin Cities on a 
scholarship and played three seasons for the Gophers. He was the team's 
most valuable player in his junior year. In fact, he was high point man 
in Madison Square Garden on his birthday, December 28, 1940.
  In another example of how things have changed through the years, my 
dad said that when his team came out to play for the second game that 
night at the Garden, you couldn't see the upper deck because of all the 
cigarette smoke. Some things do change for the better.
  While at the University of Minnesota, my dad met a girl who served 
sodas at a drugstore just off campus. They were married within a couple 
of years while my dad was in flight training for the Navy, and they 
spent the next almost 69 years together.
  After the war, they came back to South Dakota. My dad had been 
thinking about a career in the Navy, but his dad asked him to come back 
and run the family hardware store. My dad said that his heart sank, but 
he knew that is what he had to do. So he went home and went to work for 
his dad. The hardware store did OK for a while, but started to 
struggle. My dad sold it and went back to school and got a teaching 
degree.
  All parents are teachers for their kids, but my parents were teachers 
several times over. Kids usually get a break from their parents when 
they are at school. My dad was a teacher at my high school. He was also 
a coach and the athletic director, and he drove the bus. My mom was the 
school librarian. So I think it is safe to say that my brothers and 
sister and I were pretty much always under the watchful eye of my 
parents. I have to say that I never had my dad for a class in high 
school, but my brother Rich did. Rich was the valedictorian of his high 
school class, and the only B he got in high school was from my dad. 
That was my dad for you. He never showed any preference or gave any of 
his kids better treatment than anybody else. In fact, some of us might 
argue that he gave us a harder time because we were his kids. But he 
believed very firmly that you had to earn your achievements.
  As a coach, my dad taught us about being a team player. He made it 
clear that being on a team was not about building your personal 
statistics but about making the players around you better. It is a 
lesson I have carried throughout my life and one that I try to live by 
every day.
  A few years ago, the Jones County School District in Murdo named the 
auditorium in Murdo after my dad in recognition of his service and 
achievements at the school. It was particularly special since my dad 
was one of the volunteers who originally built the auditorium back in 
the 1950s. My dad would tell me the story that he was more scared up on 
the scaffolding of that building than he had ever been flying off a 
carrier during World War II.
  You might think that with my dad as coach and athletic director, 
sports were the main focus around our house. They certainly were a big 
part of our lives. But my mom was determined that we would grow up to 
be well-rounded people, and my dad always supported her in that. They 
worked hard to ensure that we grew up with a perspective on life that 
went beyond just the latest sporting event. Mom made us take piano 
lessons and, during the summers, come in from outside and read for an 
hour every day. We complained at the time, but I know all of us today 
are grateful to her and my father for their investments in that.
  Mom and Dad made a good team. Mom was an optimist, and Dad was a 
pessimist--or, as he would put it, a realist--and they balanced each 
other out well. We didn't have material riches growing up, but we were 
beyond rich in those things that money can't buy but that lend purpose, 
joy, and meaning to life. All of us Thune kids are very, very grateful 
for that heritage.
  I can't close without talking about something that was life-changing 
for my parents, and that was their strong faith in Christ. My dad 
always had real discernment and wisdom in no small part because of his 
daily dependence upon God in his life. God blessed him with it.

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  As we celebrate my dad's 100th birthday, I want to say thank you to 
you for the example of faith, integrity, character, and humility that 
you have given to me and to Bob and to Rich and to Karen and to Tim. 
Thank you for faithfully serving God's purpose for your generation and 
happy 100th birthday.
  I yield the floor.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator from Montana.

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