About 70 years ago, Milton Schmida graduated from high school in Mitchell, South Dakota, and joined the Navy.  He was assigned a classified position in communications, and completed five years of service, from 1952 to 1957.  He spent time stationed in Italy and traveled Europe while on leave. 

Military ID tags are part of the uniform worn by military personnel, so that Milton had a set is no surprise.  However, the personal history of the rosary that was found with his ID tag seems to have been lost.

“Uncle Bobby said you brought rosaries back from the Vatican, that you brought rosaries back from Italy when you were stationed there,” daughter Heather Gudenkauf says as she and her parents consider the black-beaded strand in question.  “They were blessed by the Pope, but we just don’t know if that was one of them.”

“They were together when they found them,” wife Patricia says of the ID tag and rosary.  “So, he must have chosen that one or had it with him.  I can see his mother giving it to him when he left for the service.  She would do that.” 

The fact that Milton, 88, and Patricia, 83, residents of Wellman since Milton’s retirement in the mid 2000’s, are currently contemplating these long-lost keepsakes is some kind of miracle.

A few weeks ago, Milton’s nephew was traveling through Mitchell while visiting colleges with his daughter.  He decided to stop at his grandmother’s old house to show his daughter where her grandpa grew up.  The pair knocked on the door, introduced themselves to the current owner, and asked if they could walk around the house. 

The man who answered the door immediately retreated into his home, and emerged minutes later with Milton’s rosary and ID tag.  He had found them while removing a wall during a remodeling project.

“His brother called me and told me the story, and his brother was so excited,” Patricia recounts.  “And we have no idea how they got where they found them.”

At some point after Milton was discharged from the Navy, before he married Patricia, the dog tag and rosary were left behind inside his childhood home and disappeared from his life.  He now holds them again in his hands.

“I really just get little shivers,” Patricia says. “And the dog tags, especially.  There’s even dirt on them.”

Everyone laughs, speculating that the dirt probably came from the home remodeling project.

“We prefer to think that you were going through mud and sand after getting off the submarine,” Heather says, imagining her dad a young hero.

So much living happened in the 65 years the precious items were missing.  Milton went to college at Dakota Wesleyan University, where he studied education.  Patricia, who grew up in Sioux Falls, moved to Mitchell to study nursing.

“I was in nurse’s training, and he evidently stopped at the VFW after classes and after he studied,” Patricia recalls. “And, being a nurse, nurses gathered there, too.  And so, I was there with another boyfriend, and I was supposed to marry him.  And I said, ‘Who is that?’  I saw him walk across the room, and he said, ‘Well, that’s Milt Schmida, do you want me to introduce you to him?’ And I said, ‘Sure.’  And he did.  I saw him walk across the floor and I knew.  I knew at the time that that’s who I loved.”

Was it love at first sight?

“It truly was,” Patricia says.

Was it love at first sight for Milton?

“It was not,” Patricia laughs. 

Patricia worked her way into Milton’s life and heart, and pair married in 1959. 

Milton taught at the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota until protests and unrest in the early 1970s made the community they loved unsafe for their growing family.  The Schmidas moved to Mason City, where Milton became director of the Gerard School of Iowa.  When he needed heart surgery, his doctor advised him to change professions, so Milton went back to school at Iowa State University and earned a degree in Child Psychology.  He retired from a career in educational psychology, working in schools with kids.

“They always really respected Dad,” Heather says before turning to him.  “Your students from Rosebud made you a toy box to give to the family.  Your students at Girard loved to come to our house and trick-or-treat and say hi.  The kids always really liked you.”

Patricia pursued her own career in nursing, retiring from the profession after more than 50 years.  The couple raised six children, and now enjoy their many grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Today, back in the Schmida’s living room in Wellman, Milton lives with dementia and has recently been diagnosed with cancer.  As hospice care keeps him comfortable, his family takes comfort in the return of his lost treasures.

“It is delightful that that happened,” Patricia says.  “We are so grateful that this all happened while he’s with us.”

While they contemplate the returned rosary and ID tag, Milton reflects on his favorite part of serving in the Navy.

“I think the comradeship,” he says.  “You belong to something.”

Patricia considers the 63 years she and Milton have been married. 

“I knew where we were going.  I really did.  And I knew when the priest said our vows to us, I knew there was no getting out of it.  This was the way it was,” she says.

Time has done nothing to lessen the way she feels about her great love.

“I still really, really like him,” she says, smiling.  “I love him, but I like him.”