Walkin man: Dale Rogers takes life in stride, By FAYE WHITBECK, Staff Writer

Now shall I walk or shall I ride?
"Ride," Pleasure said:
"Walk," Joy replied.
~W.H. Davies

“People have asked me if I prayed to be healed,” said Dale Rogers.
“But I look around and see people worse than myself. I have no pain — what’s to heal?”
Then, with typical exuberance, a grin spreads over his face as he adds: “Besides, I’d have to go to work. Better wait ‘till I’m 65 to be healed.”
In truth, Dale has always had jobs around town.
But what he loves to do is walk. Dale loves people. He loves life.
Despite being disabled on one side, the happy-spirited man walks for miles in every season — anywhere he wants to go. He also rides a bike.
The sight of the 54-year-old’s rolling gait has grown familiar in Borderland — downtown, toward the lake, out on the highways — he’s the walkin’ man.

Baby steps
Born on New Year’s Day in 1954 (a record year for local New Year’s babies, he says), Dale Helmer Rogers is the youngest of three children born to the late Betty and Charlie Rogers.
Looking back, he seemed to be okay when he was born, said his sister Sandy Netland, who Dale refers to as “the brains in the family.”
At six months old, while outside with his mother at their farm near Rogers Corner, Dale went limp and appeared to have suffered a stroke. From there on, he began to suffer seizures. His left arm and hand began to curl tightly against his body. Whether this was caused by the stroke or possibly cerebral palsy is still speculative, according to Sandy.
“They said he would never walk or talk,” she said, noting how remarkable that makes the man he is today. “By age two, he wasn’t sitting up and he hadn’t said a word, not even mum.”
His mother began taking him to local chiropractor, the late C. M. Carney. “In a few months, he seemed to improve,” said Sandy. She hasn’t forgotten the first time Dale actually spoke. “My brother Tom was pestering Dale in his crib and he was getting tired of it,” she said.
“Get your own bed, Tom” were the first astonishing words that hung in the air.
Sandy said she always knew that her brother could do things. But their mother gave in easily to a child who was different, and he became chubby and spoiled. (He delights in admitting that he faked choking on fish bones and other mischievous stunts as a child.) Dale would spend his childhood traveling with his mother to the Gillette Children’s Hospital where doctors concentrated on straightening his progressively coiling arm and hand.
“You can see that my hand is still tight,” says Dale, holding up the smaller arm which bears a long scar where doctors stabilized his wrist with a bone from his hip. He is heartily eating breakfast at Barney’s, his favorite restaurant. “But my right side is so strong, I don’t miss my left hand.”
Changes evolved in her brother when he met at the Gillette hospital other children with problems worse than his, Sandy said. “Out of many, he was the one who could walk, who could get things. That made him feel good about Dale. He had a purpose.”
And the determination Dale exhibits today was evident back then when the little boy began his trademark walking. “The doctors told him that walking would help him lose weight,” his sister said. “He began walking that circle driveway at the farm, round and round.”

A safe place to grow
Dale is a cheerfully talkative person. While he visits, he frequently cracks himself up with an amusing anecdote for every conversation.
He harbors a sweet love for his late parents who provided a loving home, he said. His father Charlie, whom he often refers to as “Daddy,” is vivid in Dale’s memory. He remembers his dad’s comforting hand squeezing his afflicted shoulder when he was small, endearingly calling him “the kid ... the kid.”
Dale said his easy-going daddy was a slow-speaking hillbilly type with tender loving ways. He grew good food for his family and often joked with Dale’s mother. But they didn’t use a lot of “I love yous” in their home, he noted. “My parents held hands and my dad would say with a smile: ‘I’m holding the old lady up so she won’t fall down.’”
Dale is joyful in recalling how his dad rubbed his mother’s favorite pansies across her nose as she would ask him, “Do you love me?”
“Daddy would say, ‘Heck no!’ — but you know he did,” Dale assures, holding onto a grin as he remembers.
Then he recited the following story regarding a childhood incident: In a restaurant as a child, Dale had taken a mouthful of horseradish thinking it was cole slaw. Gagging and sputtering ensued. “Did you know that was horseradish?” his mother accusingly asked her husband, who was smiling. “Yeah,” his father said slowly, “but the kid had to learn for himself.”
“If my daddy didn’t go to heaven, nobody will,” said Dale.

The Rogers of Ericsburg
The Rogers family is one of the oldest original families in the Ericsburg area, along with the Kuceras and the Skoglunds, said Sandy. Grandfather Joseph Rogers came from North Dakota through a Canadian route and landed at Ericsburg in 1901, she said. They helped build a corduroy road of logs between the Falls and Ericsburg, of which remnants still exist.
The area of Rogers Corner was so named after the original Rogers Store (now the site of Blais’ Korner Kwik Stop) on the curve of Highway 53 south of International Falls. Rogers Store was owned and operated for many years by Dale’s uncle Red and aunt Pearl Rogers.
Dale’s father, Charlie Rogers (1907-1984), had 10 siblings: Donald, Clarence, Ernie, Bill, Kenny, Red (Merril), Joe, Hazel, Myrtle and Grace (McClanahan.)
Dale’s mother, Betty Rogers, was adopted and grew up in the Loman-Birchdale area. Dale remained close with her until her death four years ago.

Rhythm of his life
Extremely independent, Dale has long lived in his own apartment which he keeps “very neat and organized, full of mementos and his favorite country western music,” according to his sister.
He worked at the Rex Hotel when it burned, and later on for the Elks Club. He has steadfastly saved money for trips to Nashville, out West, and concerts out of town. He shovels snow for downtown businesses with one arm, and currently vacuums for City Drug in the Falls.
Dale’s sister Sandy recently returned to the Falls with her husband Gerald after their purchase of the Voyageur Motel. She also works in St. Paul for the Department of Transportation.
“In some ways, my brother’s my hero,” she said. “He has more determination and willpower than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Dales’s not a church goer and he doesn’t read the Bible. But he frequently credits “the guy upstairs” for what he believes is a good life.
“He let me walk, let me talk, let me hear and blessed me with an appetite. I never even have a headache.”
The farthest he’s ever walked was all the way to Island View Lodge on Highway 11 East where he turned around and came back — a walk which lasted 12 hours.
It’s been written that only by walking, can a landscape “be felt.” Like a piece of music, it must be taken at the right tempo.
Dale Rogers feels the landscape everyday, with his own unique rhythm.
Rides may be offered, but he’ll usually refuse. Best just to smile, maybe honk — and wave at the walkin’ man.