By Kristine Thomas
Silverton resident Morris Jones doesn’t understand why his daughter, Lynn Jenks, is making such a big deal about his birthday on Aug. 19.
“To me, it’s just another day,” Morris said while sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen counter of the home he shares with his daughter and son-in-law. “I don’t know why they are making such a fuss about it.”
Yes, it’s just another day when an intelligent, spry, humble and a bit feisty gentleman turns 100.
Born on Aug. 19, 1913 to Elizabeth and William Jones in Illinois, Morris has stories to tell that could entertain a guest for hours. Community members will have a chance to visit and celebrate with Morris at his birthday party Sunday, Aug. 18, 1 to 3 p.m. at Silver Creek Fellowship, 822 Industrial Way NE, Silverton.
“Even though he tries to downplay this party, I think he truly is excited and is looking forward to it,” Lynn said.
Morris has done a little bit of everything in his lifetime, from farming and fishing to volunteering as a firefighter and serving in the U.S. Army Air Force in World War II.
When he was 13 months old, his parents left their farm in Illinois because “my dad had three crops of sugar beets burn up.” The family moved to Canada where they homesteaded. Morris has a faded black and white photograph of the log cabin he lived in with his parents and two sisters. He remembers being 7 years old when his father hooked a horse to a plow and told him to plow the field.
“It was an old walking plow, that I can remember,” he said. “My dad told me it was about time I started plowing fields.”
He had a trap line where he caught rabbits and sometimes a fox and sold the skins and carcasses.
When he was 12 the family moved to Portland, Ore., where he attended grade school and graduated from Benson High School.
“I got a job as an apprentice at a cabinet shop in high school,” he said. “Back in those days there wasn’t things to clean the air and get rid of the dust. My lungs filled up with dust and I had to leave that job and took a job doing electrical work.”
During World War II, he was stationed at Sheppard Field in Wichita Falls, Texas with the U.S. Army Air Force.
“I remember going there in 1941 and it was nothing but mud,” he said.
He took all the classes for flight training and received the highest grades but when it came time to decide who would fly, Morris wasn’t chosen.
“I was told I was too old because I was 28 years old,” he said. “I never did get to fly a plane.”
He remembers a sergeant told him he needed to report to headquarters to meet with the commander.
“The commander told me I was a good soldier with good grades and everything and then he told me to shut the door,” he said. “He asked me if I wanted to be part of the S2 – Secret Service.”
Laughing, Lynn Jenks said she learned her father worked for the Secret Service about 10 years ago. The irony, she said, is she worked for the Silverton Police Department and now works for the Mount Angel Police Department
“At the time you were growing up, it wasn’t safe for me to talk about what I did,” he said.
When asked what he did, his blue eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as he replies “A little bit of everything.”
Where you like James Bond, he was asked.
“Pretty much,” he said laughing. “There are stories I can’t tell but here’s one. One day 700 men went to the hospital and one passed away. What we learned was there was strychnine in the soup they had ate.”
His job was to figure out how it got there and who did it.
While in the mess hall, he watched two men stirring the soup in the kitchen and noticed one man had his left hand over the kettle. He knew it wasn’t necessary to use two hands to stir the soup and became suspicious of his actions. He asked the man for a bowl of soup and took it to the captain. The contents were quickly analyzed.
“There was enough poison in there to kill every man who had a spoonful,” he said. “I went out and told the men who were making the soup that the captain wanted to know how they made such a good soup. Turns out they were spies from Germany.”
When a friend invited him to Bowie, Texas for a weekend break, he went along and met the love of his life, Mildred.
“Our first date we went to a movie,” he said. “For our second date, I drove there, knocked on her door and asked her out.”
A dashing young fellow with dark brown hair and blue eyes, he courted Mildred in a whirlwind romance. They were married six months later – after Morris properly asked for Mildred’s hand from her mother and her older brother. They were married on Dec. 6, 1942.
“Everyone in that small town thought they knew why they had to get married,” Lynn said. “Then I came along 23 months later.”
Morris and Mildred were married 63 years. She died in 2005 from Alzheimer’s disease. Morris still wears his gold wedding band. They have two children – Lynn and Barry, three grandchildren, five great grandchildren and 16 great, great grandchildren.
Now Morris enjoys watching sports on the television and plays games on his computer. He has a “flip” cell phone because he said he doesn’t need anything fancier. He marvels at the inventions during his lifetime – from indoor plumbing for all homes to computers and digital televisions.
From winning a buckle and money for riding a wild bronco to fishing to his different career moves, Morris says he has enjoyed it all. Lynn said her father had a knack for fixing things.
“We never had to hire anyone to do jobs around the house because dad could always fix anything,” she said.
Through life’s ups and downs, Morris says he always has been blessed with good friends and family. And most importantly, his faith. “I was baptized in the Pudding River when I was 15 years old,” he said, pointing upward he continues, “He is my strength.”
“My dad is one of the most generous people I know,” Lynn said. “Last year, we told him we wanted to give him a party and he said no. This year, he doesn’t have a say.”
For Morris, he does what he does because he was raised to help others. “If someone needs my help, that is what I am supposed to do,” he said.
