We're proud to present this paper written by Noah, 21, for his Phil 3307 class at the University of Minnesota, where he's a junior this year. We can't help but notice that the scrapblog was a partial source.
Noah Johnson
Family History Paper
Phil 3307 (Social Justice and Community Service)
November 16, 2010
"Look unto the rock whence ye were hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence ye were digged."
Isaiah 51:1
When thinking of a single person, be it a great hero, despicable despot, or everyday acquaintance, people tend to think of that person as an individual, a whole made up of the sum of his or her experiences. Sometimes people neglect to think that each individual is also a product of the lives of many others, his or her progenitors, and is shaped by their experiences, too. We are raised by our parents, who were raised by their parents, etc., and it is important to remember that even the smallest of events in the lives of one of our ancestors, particularly recent ancestors, may have had a profound influence on who we are as individuals. It is with this in mind that I offer an account of my own family's history, in an effort to see how what my f
amily has been has shaped me.
For practical purposes, the story of my family begins with my mother's mother's father, Claus Sprick. Soon after he was born in the newly unified German Empire in 1874, his father attempted to enlist in the Imperial German Army, but was turned away due to
pes planus (commonly known as flat feet) [Pam notes: Mom used to tell us this, but I'm not sure we heard it quite right], a hereditary condition which I, generations later, also bear. Because the army would not have him, he brought his family to the United States. They sailed into New York Harbor on July 4th, 1976. It was America's centennial, and the family thought the spectacular, luminous fireworks display that greeted them was an everyday occurrence in America.
The family settled in rural southeastern Minnesota, and Claus Sprick worked as a farmhand when he reached adulthood. In 1907, he married Maria Augustin, who also came from a German immigrant family. Together, they had 12 children, of whom 11 survived into adulthood. The ninth child of Claus and Maria Sprick, born on July 23, 1924, was Alverna Edna Sprick, who would become my grandmother.
Alverna and her siblings grew up in Lake City, Minnesota, on the banks of Lake Pepin, the widest part of the Mississippi River. The farming lifestyle of the area had a profound effect in shaping the kind of people the Spricks became. When they were still young children, they were routinely expected to perform laborious chores, including milking cows, planting and picking crops, and rising at the first light of dawn. These responsibilities, combined with the family's devout Lutheran faith and work ethic, guided Alverna and her siblings from children into hard-working, self-reliant adults.
Alverna became a first-generation college graduate when she earned a degree in English education from Winona State Univer
sity in 1946. After college, she joined the USO and traveled to West Germany It was during this time that she met Sergeant First Class William Alton Miller, who was also stationed in the country. Miller was a Southerner -- he had been raised in Winston-Salem, North Carolina -- of Scottish ancestry, and the cultural differences between him and the German-American Northern must have been numerous at first. Regardless, they were both Americans in a foreign land, and they fell in love. They were married in 1953 in Hessenthal, West Germany.
After the birth of three children and William's Army service in Korea and Vietnam, they settled in Old Frontenac, Minn., near Lake City, where Alverna taught at Lincoln High School. The oldest of their three children is Pamela Marian Miller, my mother. During my mother's childhood, she learned the importance of moral values and education from William and Alverna. Their patriotism and history of military service contrasted with their relatively liberal political views, and these things all had an impact in Pamela's formative years. William, who had fought in World War II, then left and rejoined the Army, served in Korea
during her early childhood, and left in the late 1960s for the Vietnam War, as well. Family letters show a correspondence between William and his children, which include reports of their progress in school and play-by-play updates of Minnesota Twins baseball games, which would have been weeks old by the time they reached him in Vietnam.
William Miller returned to his family from Vietnam, his last wartime military service, unharmed. Pamela attended Lincoln High School, where she had her own mother as a teacher, and was involved in numerous extra-curricular activities, including serving as editor of her school newspaper, as I would do years later at my own high school (Robbinsdale Cooper High School in New Hope, Minnesota). She graduated in 1974, and moved to Minneapolis to attend the University of Minnesota after two years at the University of Minnesota Duluth. She did well in her studies and worked for the Minnesota Daily, which, again was something I would eventually do, as well. She earned her degree in journalism and anthropology, and soon found herself in Duluth working as a copy editor and reporter for the Duluth News-Tribune. While taking a graduate-level sociolinguistics course at UMD, she met a fellow student named Steven Robert Johnson, who would become my father.
The third son of Robert Raymond Johnson, a U.S. Air Force and later commercial pilot of Swedish and Irish ancestry, and Barbara Brown Johnson, a homemaker of English descent, Steve Johnson grew up in the Chicago metropolitan area. In his teenage years, he found a great sense of empowerment in his first experiences working and earning wages. By the time he graduated from high school, he had already proudly earned enough money to own two cars, a motorcycle, and what he purports to be "the best stereo system of anyone I knew." He had no intention of starting college. He worked for four years as a construction worker and carpenter. After this, he decided that higher education would multiply his opportunities and be another source of empowerment. He began studying philosophy and English at UMD in 1978.
Steve Johnson and Pamela Miller were married in Duluth in 1986. Steve would eventually earn a master's degree, as Pamela had. They both felt a connection with nature, and
spent two years living in Alaska. In 1988 they moved to the Minneapolis area, where I was born on June 17, 1989.
Everyone's life is a product of the history of many, the most recent thread on a rich tapestry stretching back millennia, even if only the most recent few centuries are ever remembered. My life is no exception. The qualities that make up my personality, my tastes, my beliefs, and my desires have all been influenced by those of my forebears. To them I can trace my strong work ethic, my belief in the importance of justice and education, my progressive attitude and my fondness for philosophy, music, art, history and journalism, to name but a few of a whole host of qualities. Without the experiences of each of these individuals who share my genetic identity, I would no doubt have a profoundly different personal identity, as well.
We're proud to present this paper written by Noah, 21, for his Phil 3307 class at the University of Minnesota, where he's a junior this year. We can't help but notice that the scrapblog was a partial source.
Noah Johnson
Family History Paper
Phil 3307 (Social Justice and Community Service)
November 16, 2010
"Look unto the rock whence ye were hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence ye were digged."
Isaiah 51:1
When thinking of a single person, be it a great hero, despicable despot, or everyday acquaintance, people tend to think of that person as an individual, a whole made up of the sum of his or her experiences. Sometimes people neglect to think that each individual is also a product of the lives of many others, his or her progenitors, and is shaped by their experiences, too. We are raised by our parents, who were raised by their parents, etc., and it is important to remember that even the smallest of events in the lives of one of our ancestors, particularly recent ancestors, may have had a profound influence on who we are as individuals. It is with this in mind that I offer an account of my own family's history, in an effort to see how what my f
amily has been has shaped me.
For practical purposes, the story of my family begins with my mother's mother's father, Claus Sprick. Soon after he was born in the newly unified German Empire in 1874, his father attempted to enlist in the Imperial German Army, but was turned away due to pes planus (commonly known as flat feet) [Pam notes: Mom used to tell us this, but I'm not sure we heard it quite right], a hereditary condition which I, generations later, also bear. Because the army would not have him, he brought his family to the United States. They sailed into New York Harbor on July 4th, 1976. It was America's centennial, and the family thought the spectacular, luminous fireworks display that greeted them was an everyday occurrence in America.
The family settled in rural southeastern Minnesota, and Claus Sprick worked as a farmhand when he reached adulthood. In 1907, he married Maria Augustin, who also came from a German immigrant family. Together, they had 12 children, of whom 11 survived into adulthood. The ninth child of Claus and Maria Sprick, born on July 23, 1924, was Alverna Edna Sprick, who would become my grandmother.
Alverna and her siblings grew up in Lake City, Minnesota, on the banks of Lake Pepin, the widest part of the Mississippi River. The farming lifestyle of the area had a profound effect in shaping the kind of people the Spricks became. When they were still young children, they were routinely expected to perform laborious chores, including milking cows, planting and picking crops, and rising at the first light of dawn. These responsibilities, combined with the family's devout Lutheran faith and work ethic, guided Alverna and her siblings from children into hard-working, self-reliant adults.
Alverna became a first-generation college graduate when she earned a degree in English education from Winona State Univer
sity in 1946. After college, she joined the USO and traveled to West Germany It was during this time that she met Sergeant First Class William Alton Miller, who was also stationed in the country. Miller was a Southerner -- he had been raised in Winston-Salem, North Carolina -- of Scottish ancestry, and the cultural differences between him and the German-American Northern must have been numerous at first. Regardless, they were both Americans in a foreign land, and they fell in love. They were married in 1953 in Hessenthal, West Germany.
After the birth of three children and William's Army service in Korea and Vietnam, they settled in Old Frontenac, Minn., near Lake City, where Alverna taught at Lincoln High School. The oldest of their three children is Pamela Marian Miller, my mother. During my mother's childhood, she learned the importance of moral values and education from William and Alverna. Their patriotism and history of military service contrasted with their relatively liberal political views, and these things all had an impact in Pamela's formative years. William, who had fought in World War II, then left and rejoined the Army, served in Korea 
during her early childhood, and left in the late 1960s for the Vietnam War, as well. Family letters show a correspondence between William and his children, which include reports of their progress in school and play-by-play updates of Minnesota Twins baseball games, which would have been weeks old by the time they reached him in Vietnam.
William Miller returned to his family from Vietnam, his last wartime military service, unharmed. Pamela attended Lincoln High School, where she had her own mother as a teacher, and was involved in numerous extra-curricular activities, including serving as editor of her school newspaper, as I would do years later at my own high school (Robbinsdale Cooper High School in New Hope, Minnesota). She graduated in 1974, and moved to Minneapolis to attend the University of Minnesota after two years at the University of Minnesota Duluth. She did well in her studies and worked for the Minnesota Daily, which, again was something I would eventually do, as well. She earned her degree in journalism and anthropology, and soon found herself in Duluth working as a copy editor and reporter for the Duluth News-Tribune. While taking a graduate-level sociolinguistics course at UMD, she met a fellow student named Steven Robert Johnson, who would become my father. 
The third son of Robert Raymond Johnson, a U.S. Air Force and later commercial pilot of Swedish and Irish ancestry, and Barbara Brown Johnson, a homemaker of English descent, Steve Johnson grew up in the Chicago metropolitan area. In his teenage years, he found a great sense of empowerment in his first experiences working and earning wages. By the time he graduated from high school, he had already proudly earned enough money to own two cars, a motorcycle, and what he purports to be "the best stereo system of anyone I knew." He had no intention of starting college. He worked for four years as a construction worker and carpenter. After this, he decided that higher education would multiply his opportunities and be another source of empowerment. He began studying philosophy and English at UMD in 1978.
Steve Johnson and Pamela Miller were married in Duluth in 1986. Steve would eventually earn a master's degree, as Pamela had. They both felt a connection with nature, and 
spent two years living in Alaska. In 1988 they moved to the Minneapolis area, where I was born on June 17, 1989.
Everyone's life is a product of the history of many, the most recent thread on a rich tapestry stretching back millennia, even if only the most recent few centuries are ever remembered. My life is no exception. The qualities that make up my personality, my tastes, my beliefs, and my desires have all been influenced by those of my forebears. To them I can trace my strong work ethic, my belief in the importance of justice and education, my progressive attitude and my fondness for philosophy, music, art, history and journalism, to name but a few of a whole host of qualities. Without the experiences of each of these individuals who share my genetic identity, I would no doubt have a profoundly different personal identity, as well.
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