‘You were willing to risk your life to maintain our freedom.' Cottage Grove World War II veteran honored for service
It's been 80 years since Don Tietz fought in World War II, but the Cottage Grove resident has never forgotten a key lesson he learned serving on the front lines.
'If they start bombing, you better start looking for foxholes,' Tietz said Thursday. 'You always have to look around to see where there was a foxhole, so you could get in them because you didn't have time to dig one.'
Tietz, 104, was honored at his house by Allina Health Hospice care team members. Hospice workers held a 'pinning ceremony' for Tietz and presented him with an American flag lapel pin, a certificate, and a red, white and blue blanket. Allina Health Hospice music therapist Julia Albers sang 'God Bless America' and played the 'Beer Barrel Polka,' one of Tietz's favorite polkas, during the ceremony.
Tietz entered hospice a few weeks ago after he was hospitalized at United Hospital in St. Paul for eight days. He went in for 'shortness of breath' and ended up contracting pneumonia, said Deb Hartung, his oldest daughter.
Tietz, who worked as a mechanic at Chrysler dealerships in the east metro until he retired in 1982, didn't start sharing stories about his service during World War II until about five years ago, said Doreen Juckel, his youngest daughter.
'It's just something, you know, he didn't want to talk about too much,' Juckel said. 'We got bits and pieces, but today I learned a little bit more from him that I didn't know. It's good to hear that stuff. It's nice to have a recording of it anyways.'
Tietz, who grew up in Winona, Minn., was the oldest of 16 children. He worked on different farms until he was drafted into the Army in 1941. He was 21 years old.
'I got a call, 'We want you,' and I took training for about four or four to six weeks, which wasn't much, in Texas,' he told the Cottage Grove Journal in November. 'They sent us to California, where I was supposed to get on a boat there to go to Japan. The boat never showed up. So, since I was there, we walked guard along Long Beach for about three, four weeks.'
When he was stationed in Long Beach, he and other soldiers were dispatched to patrol the beach area, he said Thursday. Actress Doris Day lived in a house on the beach, and she would often bring refreshments to Tietz and the other soldiers, he said Thursday.
'She would bring drinks out and coffee or whatever we wanted,' he said. 'Trouble was, at night, the fog was so heavy, you could practically cut it with a knife, and you couldn't leave the beach. At 9 in the morning, the fog still hadn't lifted, and you couldn't leave then either. You had to stay there. But then the darn seals at night, you couldn't see them. They'd come up and bump you on the leg, and several guys would start shooting. Then they took the ammunition away from them.'
After his stint in Long Beach, Tietz was sent to Camp Rucker, Ala., a World War II training facility for Army soldiers. He was shipped overseas in June 1944, one week after the D-Day operation, he said.
Tietz served in the 135th Infantry Regiment and fought under the command of Gen. George S. Patton's Third Army in the European theater of operations.
'We took training with Patton for a week, and then we spearheaded a start back to France,' Tietz said. 'We took two towns, Pont-Hébert and Saint-Lô, and we were there for about a month. Then we started spreading across France. We didn't go too far, I guess.'
Tietz, who drove a Jeep, had many close calls during the war, he said.
'You had to make sure you stayed in the center of the road when driving,' he said. 'If you got off to the side of the road, you would hit the mines that they had planted all the time.'
Many friends didn't make it home, he said.
'I was driving a lieutenant,' he said. 'He was a nice guy, but I took him up to the front lines, and then he never came back.'
Tietz was about to be deployed to Japan when the war ended, he said.
Tietz turned 104 on Nov. 14, 2024, and Cottage Grove Mayor Myron Bailey and Cottage Grove Police Chief Peter Koerner presented him with a Cottage Grove Police Department medallion and a City of Cottage Grove medallion. He also was presented with a patch that police department employees wear signifying military appreciation.
What's the secret to living such a long life? According to Tietz, diet plays a major role.
'I never had much to eat years ago,' Tietz said. 'I would grow my own food. I had a garden.'
His guilty pleasures are green bananas, sweet rolls, and the Whopper Junior from Burger King.
Before he entered hospice, his favorite activity was going to Treasure Island Casino to play slots, family members said. He also liked going fishing and spending time at the family cabin in Wisconsin, they said.
Local News | Louise Hinz appointed to South Washington County School board
Local News | Woodbury man sentenced for string of Washington County bank robberies
Local News | State hockey: Stillwater is back in the tournament, led by a deep, talented crop of seniors
Local News | Former Oakdale man treated 'like a dog' before murder in upstate New York, prosecutor says
Local News | Mahtomedi: Upscale apartment complex under construction at site of 'Fargo'-famous Lakeside Club
Tietz and his wife, Delores, were married for 49 years; she died Feb. 13, 1995, at the age of 68. The couple had three children, Donald E. Tietz, Deborah Hartung and Doreen Juckel. He has five grandchildren and 11 great-grandchildren, and twin great-great-grandchildren are due this summer.
Allina Health Hospice care team members, who organized Thursday's event, work to provide symptom management and comfort care to allow patients to spend their end of lives 'truly living and passing their legacy and story onto future generations,' said Amber Siekert, an Allina social worker.
'We want to thank you for your service to our nation,' Siekert told Tietz. 'Thank you for the sacrifices that you made and your willingness to serve our country. You endured hardships, and you were willing to risk your life to maintain our freedom. Please accept our deepest thanks and gratitude.'
Siekert said many patients are reluctant to talk about their service 'until the last part of life,' she said. 'Hospice is really about honoring legacy and creating a story, and I think you guys being here really helps them do that.'
Tietz said he was touched by the ceremony but was sorry he couldn't remember more about his World War II years. 'A lot of other stuff happened, but I can't remember what it was,' he said.
A brush with farm animals in France, however, remains crystal clear.
'While I was with Patton, I wound up with two chickens: a banty rooster and a banty hen,' he said. 'Of course, I fed them, and all they did was follow me around. But I had them for a couple of weeks.'
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Buzz Feed
3 hours ago
- Buzz Feed
With The US States In Alphabetical Order, Can You Fill In The Missing One?
This post has not been vetted or endorsed by BuzzFeed's editorial staff. BuzzFeed Community is a place where anyone can create a post or quiz. Try making your own! With The US States In Alphabetical Order, Can You Fill In The Missing One? Working my way through all 50 states in alphabetical order, can you identify which one I have left out of each question? If you're American, I expect NOTHING LESS than 10/10!
Time Business News
5 hours ago
- Time Business News
How Global Flavors Are Shaping Local Kitchens
The modern kitchen is undergoing a quiet but profound revolution, as global flavors increasingly find their way into everyday cooking. No longer are international spices, ingredients, and recipes confined to restaurants or specialty stores. From neighborhood markets to home pantries, global cuisines are redefining the palette of home cooks and professional chefs alike. This cross-cultural exchange is more than a passing trend—it's a reflection of an interconnected world where travel, technology, and curiosity fuel culinary evolution. Local kitchens are becoming melting pots of ideas, where Thai lemongrass meets Italian risotto, or Korean gochujang enhances an American BBQ marinade. These fusions are not only enriching the way we eat but also expanding our understanding of identity, heritage, and hospitality. As ingredients once considered exotic become familiar, the boundaries between global and local blur, making room for exciting new expressions of food culture in every corner of the world. One of the most influential forces behind the shift toward global flavors is the growing cultural curiosity among consumers. With easier access to travel, online recipes, and social media, people are exposed to a variety of global cuisines more frequently than ever before. This exposure fosters a sense of culinary adventure, where trying new dishes becomes a way of connecting with other cultures. Food bloggers, cooking shows, and online marketplaces now make it simple to replicate international recipes at home. Ingredients such as miso paste, harissa, or sumac are no longer niche items—they are increasingly becoming pantry staples for adventurous cooks. This trend isn't limited to urban centers; even small-town grocery stores are expanding their offerings to include a broader range of spices, sauces, and grains from around the world. Immigrant communities have always played a vital role in reshaping local food culture. Their influence is visible not just in restaurants and food trucks but also in mainstream supermarkets, school cafeterias, and family dinner tables. Through food, immigrants preserve their heritage while simultaneously introducing host communities to new culinary traditions. These communities often become the initial bridge between global flavors and local adoption. A wave of Korean immigrants might lead to an increase in kimchi availability, while a growing Indian population could result in more spice aisles stocked with turmeric, cardamom, and garam masala. This organic process enriches the local food landscape, creating a more inclusive and diverse dining experience for everyone. Technology has made it easier than ever to bring global flavors into the home kitchen. Video tutorials, virtual cooking classes, and AI-powered recipe recommendations offer tailored guidance on how to cook dishes from virtually any region in the world. With just a few clicks, users can learn how to fold dumplings like a Chinese grandmother or grill jerk chicken with authentic Caribbean spice blends. Mobile apps and grocery delivery services also support this shift. Consumers can order specialty ingredients online and have them delivered within hours, overcoming geographic limitations. Furthermore, cooking communities on social media create platforms for dialogue and idea exchange, fostering a sense of global kitchen camaraderie among amateur and professional chefs alike. Fusion cuisine exemplifies the creativity sparked by global influences in local kitchens. This approach blends elements from multiple culinary traditions to create new, innovative dishes that defy rigid categorization. Think of sushi burritos, Korean tacos, or Indian-inspired pizzas—these are the results of fearless experimentation and cultural cross-pollination. This culinary creativity is not limited to high-end establishments. Home cooks are also embracing fusion by adding international ingredients to familiar dishes, such as incorporating Japanese miso into French onion soup or using Mexican mole sauce over Italian pasta. While purists may argue against altering classic recipes, fusion represents an evolving dialogue between traditions rather than a dilution of them. Street food is often the first point of contact many people have with a new cuisine. It offers a raw, unfiltered taste of a culture's culinary identity and is frequently more approachable than formal dining experiences. Iconic street foods like Vietnamese banh mi, Turkish döner, and Thai pad Thai have inspired millions of home cooks to recreate these dishes in their kitchens. The appeal of street food lies in its bold flavors, quick preparation, and strong ties to local culture. As these dishes gain popularity, adaptations emerge to suit local ingredients and dietary preferences. This process leads to exciting new hybrids and encourages cooks to explore street-style cooking techniques like grilling, stir-frying, or flatbread baking in their own homes. Popular street food-inspired dishes now common in home kitchens include: Vietnamese banh mi sandwiches with local twists Korean bulgogi tacos with Mexican seasoning Middle Eastern shawarma wraps with fresh greens Indian chaat-style salads using local produce Global flavors introduce a rich variety of spices, herbs, and condiments that expand the flavor vocabulary of local cuisines. This has led to a boom in pairing experiments where traditional dishes are elevated or transformed with international elements. For example, adding za'atar to scrambled eggs or pairing chimichurri sauce with roasted root vegetables brings entirely new flavor dimensions to everyday meals. In this age of culinary experimentation, even non-edible experiences contribute to the sensory world of food. Many people are now incorporating complementary scent and taste pairings in their cooking environment. For instance, vape juices with fruit or dessert-inspired profiles can mirror or contrast the aromatic tones of a dish. While not a direct part of the meal, these aromas enhance the dining atmosphere, blurring the line between consumption and olfaction in creative, lifestyle-driven kitchens. The rise of celebrity chefs, influencers, and online culinary personalities has accelerated the adoption of global flavors. These figures serve as culinary ambassadors, introducing audiences to lesser-known ingredients and preparation methods. When a renowned chef highlights a Peruvian pepper or a Filipino dessert on their platform, it often sparks curiosity and demand among followers. Moreover, cooking influencers from diverse backgrounds are sharing family recipes and cultural insights, further enriching the global food conversation. These creators are not only teaching viewers how to cook but also fostering cultural appreciation and reducing stereotypes through storytelling and shared experiences. Global cuisines often align naturally with modern health and sustainability movements. For example, many traditional Asian diets emphasize vegetables, legumes, and fermented foods—principles now echoed in plant-based and gut-health-centric lifestyles. Similarly, Mediterranean diets, rich in olive oil, fish, and whole grains, are celebrated for their cardiovascular benefits. Sustainability is also a driver. Foods that are staples in certain cultures—like millet in parts of Africa or tempeh in Indonesia—are now gaining recognition for their lower environmental impact compared to mainstream Western ingredients. By embracing these elements, local kitchens become more eco-conscious and nutritionally balanced while enjoying the added benefit of global flavor depth. Sustainability-focused global ingredients making local impact: Legumes like lentils and chickpeas Fermented foods such as kimchi and sauerkraut Whole grains including quinoa and barley Plant-based proteins like tofu and tempeh More than just a practical activity, cooking has become a means of storytelling and self-expression. For people with multicultural backgrounds, blending flavors is a way to navigate their dual or multiple identities. A Nigerian-American home cook might blend jollof rice with Cajun spices, while a Japanese-Brazilian chef might serve mochi filled with tropical fruits. In families caring for aging relatives, food often becomes a way to preserve heritage and provide comfort, particularly when navigating complex caregiving needs such as those addressed through Arizona Guardianship, which helps ensure that elderly loved ones receive proper support in critical life areas. Cooking global flavors at home creates an intimate space for cultural reflection and creativity. This phenomenon turns kitchens into laboratories of identity, where people can reconnect with their roots or explore entirely new culinary frontiers. Sharing these dishes, whether on social media or around a dinner table, becomes an act of cultural exchange and personal narrative. The infusion of global flavors into local kitchens marks a significant cultural and culinary evolution. As tastes diversify and boundaries dissolve, the way we cook and eat becomes a reflection of a more connected, inclusive world. This shift is driven by curiosity, technology, migration, sustainability, and a renewed appreciation for cultural nuance. Whether inspired by a family recipe, a travel memory, or a viral cooking video, global flavors are finding their place in homes everywhere. Ultimately, the future of cooking lies not in preserving strict culinary lines but in celebrating the fluidity and fusion that global ingredients bring. As local kitchens continue to absorb and reinterpret international influences, they create something wholly unique—a personal, ever-evolving menu that reflects both the world's diversity and our shared love for flavor. TIME BUSINESS NEWS
Buzz Feed
13 hours ago
- Buzz Feed
My Husband's Bombshell Decision As Kids Left Home
We lie in bed tangled up in the sheets on a Monday night, savoring the little time we have left before my husband will leave for a month. There are piles of military uniforms folded neatly and stacked high on the dresser. His camouflage bags are scattered on the floor. My husband's decision to join the Army — at age 55, no less — is no longer an abstraction that will come to pass sometime in the distant future. He leaves in six days. We have been married for 24 years, and this is the longest we will have ever been apart. At this moment, I really do not want to let him go. I want to forget the whole thing and get back to our normal life — the one where we have launched three of our four kids off to college, with only our youngest, age 17, still at home. He's our baby boy, but that baby boy is incredibly independent now. In fact, tonight he has driven himself to hockey practice, which is why we have the luxury of lying in bed among the clothes we carelessly tossed off a little while ago. I want this experience for my husband. I know he has longed to give back to this country, which truly became a land of opportunity for his family when his parents immigrated here nearly 60 years ago. When he was 9 years old, he wrote a letter to then President-elect Jimmy Carter stating, 'Even though my skin is brown and I wear glasses, I hope to become president someday.' The letter resulted in an invitation to President Carter's inauguration, which his mother proudly took him to on a cold January afternoon in 1977. His desire to serve, born out of gratitude for a life filled with possibilities that his own parents had not had, existed long before we ever met. I want this for him. I am just not so sure I want this for me — or for us. My husband has been my 'person' for more than half my life. We met when I was fresh out of school, a 23-year-old nurse taking care of one of his patients. He was a first-year surgical resident. He asked my coworker for permission to look up my phone number on the Rolodex at the nurses' station. 'A what?' my kids would ask whenever we recounted this story. Those were the early days before we settled down and bought a house, which, over the course of seven years, gradually filled until we had four children. Raising our kids kept us busy — in so many good ways, but busy nonetheless. People, mostly parents themselves, would remind me of that old saying, 'The days are long, but the years are short.' At that time, the days mostly felt long to me. Now I look back on them with nostalgia while I sit in a very quiet house. Some nights, I miss hearing little bare feet running down the hallway to our bed after a bad dream. Time has raced by faster than I could have predicted — just as all those people promised me it would. I always thought when our nest was empty, my husband and I would have the freedom to do whatever we pleased. I fantasized about a more mature version of life in our 20s — less responsibility, more freedom. We could eat cereal for dinner or hop in the car on a Friday and see where the road took us. Perhaps I imagined doing what we are doing tonight — stripping off our clothes and jumping into bed. My husband joining the Army was never part of that vision. Everything changed one day as he and I were driving home from New York City to Boston a few years ago. We had just dropped our son off at college. At that time, we had two kids who had left the house and two still living with us. I am grateful that he was the one driving. If I had been behind the wheel when he told me he wanted to join the Army's medical corps, I might have slammed on the brakes right there in the middle of the Merritt Parkway. If I had not been what suddenly felt like trapped in that vehicle, I might have run. Maybe this is why he chose that moment to broach the topic. He explained the details of this military program for surgeons. It involved a total commitment of two years and required several one-month training sessions and one weekend away at a domestic base each month. All of these sessions would prepare him to set up a field hospital and command the unit that ran it. Sometime during those two years, my husband would be deployed for three months to implement all the skills he had learned while caring for soldiers. He would not know the location of his deployment for some time. He would keep his regular job in Boston, and we would not need to relocate. After his commitment was fulfilled, he would be given the option — not the requirement — to renew for another two years, which he assured me he would not do without my agreement. I wanted to scream. I did not want him to leave just as we were about to have more time together. It all seemed so unnecessary. The house felt as if it had been emptying so quickly already. And then there were the logistics and all of the responsibilities that would become all mine while he was gone: the dogs, the house, our kids. Beyond that, there was the danger that looms anytime someone heads off into an area of conflict — the risk of harm, or worse. I could barely stomach those thoughts. Instead, I focused on the burden — and with it came anger, which was easier to concentrate on than the fear lying just beneath it. Our conversation continued for nearly a year. My anger eventually began to fade and gave way to a new perspective. I was able to see his decision as being about generosity and sacrifice and service in its truest sense. I was able to see it as a testament to the character of the man I had married, not a mark against him. It was a reminder of why I fell in love with him in the first place and still love him all these years later. The recruiter, who looked young enough to be my son, flew across the country to meet with me. He called me 'ma'am' and answered my questions as we sat on my front porch on a hot summer afternoon. After gaining a greater understanding of what would be required, I agreed to the two-year commitment. This did not happen immediately after the recruiter's visit — first, I had to conduct a personal inventory of my own dreams and how they fit into our life going forward. When the world shut down due to COVID in 2020, I made two important changes. I ended a years-long dance with alcohol — one where I was no longer always leading the steps. My husband embraced my choice, which evolved into a lifestyle. When I turned 50 a few years later, he threw me a small surprise birthday party and served only mocktails. There was not a drop of alcohol, even though some of our guests may have enjoyed a drink. The second change I made was returning to writing, a craft I had loved when I was young. I began to hide out in my office with the door closed whenever I could and immersed myself in reading and writing. I even signed up for a writing class. One day, I mentioned to my husband I wanted to read something by William Faulkner. The next morning, as I was writing with my office door closed, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door open ever so slightly. My husband reached into the room with his tattered copy of As I Lay Dying that he has had since college and placed it on my desk. He did not speak or interrupt my creative space, he just set down his beautiful gift and left me to work. I reflected on many instances like this I've experienced during our life together. In each memory, my husband is at my side encouraging and nurturing me. He has been my most ardent supporter, and now it is my turn. He wants to use his skills in a new way — to delicately remove bullets, pack wounds, and save limbs. He wants to repair and suture those who risk injury and death to protect our country. To protect the freedom his parents were granted when they arrived in the United States in the early 1960s. I have the choice to support him or not. There is only one right answer for me. We have told our family and friends about his decision to enlist. The first question that most of them ask is, 'Will you be deployed?' We tell them what we know and explain that he could end up somewhere far from conflict where soldiers are airlifted in for surgery. He could also be sent to set up a hospital somewhere that is so close to active fighting that he could hear it from his tent. Our kids are incredibly proud of the decision. Many people thank my husband for his service. Some ask, 'Is this something you actually want to do?' His steady response to this question is always, 'I was not drafted, if that is what you are asking.' Some people turn their heads to me, and ask, 'Are you OK with this?' The truth is, I am afraid that he could be wounded, and I'm worried that my kids and I could someday be standing next to a casket draped in an American flag. Still, my honest reply is always the same: 'Yes, I am OK with it and I will support him through it all.' How could I not? That would mean standing in the way of a dream. But I am also excited for him. I see the joy on his face when he puts on that uniform. It evokes a sense of pride that can light up a room, and I get a glimpse of that 9-year-old boy with brown skin and glasses writing to President Carter. I have committed to this plan because I am committed to him, to us, and to our journey. Recently, a colleague invited my husband to a work dinner. He declined, explaining that he would be away on active orders. She congratulated him on his new role and then told him that reinventing ourselves is what keeps us living. That stuck with me. Loving him — all of the versions of him — and him loving me back in that same way is part of the reason our marriage has lasted this long. I have learned that love demands sacrifice, compromise, and risk. It means supporting your partner through moments of uncertainty, even when you feel afraid — maybe especially when you feel afraid. Standing in the way of aspirations is the opposite of love. Courtesy of Jennifer Gangadharan The author with her husband at his Army Medical Department Direct Commission Course Graduation on March 4, 2024. For tonight though, I will relish in him stroking the hair out of my face — something he has done thousands of times. I will take in the feel of my cheek against his bare chest. I will hold all of this with me when he heads off to practice drills with his platoon in six days, and then again when he is deployed overseas. And while so much of me wants to stand in the doorway — to cling to his body and not let him go — I think about his colleague's words. I think about how he only opened the door to my office a crack and how a room full of people sipped mocktails because of his love. My husband's decision to join the Army is my pen to paper. It is my sobriety. It is what keeps us living. It is what keeps us admiring each other after all these years. It is part of the reason we find ourselves tangled up in the sheets tonight. Two middle-aged adults lazing around in bed, talking about our next chapter, growing newer and older together. Jennifer Gangadharan has spent 24 years raising her kids and practicing as a registered nurse. She currently works in substance use and violence prevention in the Boston area. She is currently working on a memoir.
