‘Touch, talk’ kept Fargo woman alive; now she helps others through massage therapy - INFORUM

[Roxane B. Salonen]

FARGO— It was Feb. 11, 1957, and the town of Hankinson, North Dakota, was abuzz with the news. Twin girls from Lidgerwood had been born there, 10 weeks early, and weighed less than five pounds together.

“They had to drag the incubator out of storage to get the dust off of it,” said Noreen Clarke, the youngest twin by 21 minutes. The nurses weren’t sure how to use it.





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In those days, premature babies sometimes went blind due to incubator heat and had other health issues, but the Clarke twins, who weren’t even expected to live, seemed to have divine providence on their side.

Noreen, left, and Eileen were born prematurely and spent their first months of life in incubators at St. Gerards Hospital in Hankinson, North Dakota following their birth in February 1957.

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When word reached the religious sisters at the Franciscan convent just across the street from the hospital, they scrambled to visit the babies.

“They set up their own schedule and would take turns sitting next to the incubator,” Clarke said. “If we quit breathing or turned blue, they’d put their hands in, tap us and pray over us: ‘C’mon baby! Take a breath!’”

This continued until the tiny girls were strong enough to go home. “It was just the power of touch and prayer,” Clarke said.

She went on to dedicate 47 years of her life to nursing, many of them caring for premature babies, and ultimately became a massage therapist for cancer patients, employing the same “touch and talk” method to bring life to others.

In 2021, Clarke was diagnosed with cancer herself. “When I traded my scrubs for a patient gown, it changed my perspective,” she said.

Though currently in remission, Clarke suffers effects of the treatment, including osteoporosis, which causes fatigue and bone pain.





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“I’m on a five-year regimen and I’m on the downslide now,” she said. “I try to put it all in perspective. It’s not forever.”

Mary Tiedeman, left, was a patient Noreen offered therapy to, and the pair became friends before Mary died in November 2019.

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Patient positivity​

Valorie Steichen, Dilworth, met Clarke in 2009 when she first began breast-cancer treatment for a stage-4 diagnosis. “She just popped her head in my room and offered a massage. Who would say no?”

They soon developed a friendship. “I think she’s one of the most positive people I know,” Steichen said. “She’s always had a cheery demeanor about her, and it made sitting there doing cancer treatments kind of fun.”

When Clarke was diagnosed, Steichen was able to offer something back. “It was uplifting to be able to support her in ways she’d done for me,” she said.

The two are part of a support group called FM Breast Friends. “When Noreen was diagnosed and invited into the group, she already knew about three-fourths of the people because of her work in massage. And she’s still an active member, even though she’s done with treatments.”

Steichen said Clarke keeps things fun, like dressing up on Halloween and other special events, at her job. “She always puts a smile on her face. She’s one of those people who is just a bright light.”





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Norma Flores, Moorhead, met Noreen around February 2023 when she was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer, and was offered a massage by Clarke at the Roger Maris Cancer Center in Fargo.

“At first, I said, ‘No,’ but she insisted, and I’m glad she did. Maybe I said ‘No’ at first because I was scared,” Flores said.

Flores didn’t know at the time that Clarke was also dealing with cancer. “When she comes and does the massage, it’s not just the massage, but getting to visit with her, and talking about what we do” besides cancer. “And that helps a lot,” she said.

A week before Flores’ diagnosis, her mom received a stage-4 diagnosis, too, passing away four months later. Soon thereafter, her great-nephew was diagnosed with cancer. It was a lot to take in. “But all these things," she said, "I can share with Noreen, and she shares things, too.”

During one of her many Mission Jamaica trips, Noreen offered care to this Jamaican mother and her child.

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Forwarding All Issues To Heaven​

Life hasn’t been without challenges. Soon after learning she was pregnant with her only child, Mallari, Clarke’s marriage unraveled, and she faced life as a single mom.

Instead of falling apart, Clarke did what she learned growing up on a farm, figuring out a way to provide, returning to college for more education.





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“I learned so much about work ethic and working hard. If you don’t make ends meet, you just work harder,” she said, noting, “I live very frugally. You don’t need much to survive. You get to know your priorities and what is important.”

She also leaned hard on God — the same God who entered her life in that hospital all those years ago when she and her sister, Eileen, received an emergency baptism.

Noreen is shown with her daughter Mallari in a 2016 photo.

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Though they grew up Missouri Synod Lutheran, Clarke began attending Hope Lutheran Church when she and Mallari moved to Fargo in 1989.

“When life gets hard, you fix your life on (God),” she said, noting that she’d come to discover her job was “just to love.” “When I think of the word 'faith,' I think of it like this: Forwarding All Issues To Heaven.”

She committed to motherhood and not doing anything if she couldn’t bring her daughter along.

The two even ended up taking several mission trips together through Hope Lutheran, inspiring Mallari toward mission work later. Clarke has been involved with Mission Jamaica for 35 years.

But her second career — massage therapy — is what she calls her “heart job.”





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“It really is a mission, too. I never know who I’m going to run into, and it’s interesting, the paths I cross,” she said.

When people tell her how she’s impacted their lives, it often surprises her.

“You never know when your quiet kindness might save a life," she said.

Penny Beckstrom, left, is a friend who has become a member of her "framily".

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Friends are family​

Growing up in a small community with family all around, Clarke now cultivates the same through collecting dear people she calls “framily.”

Penny Beckstrom of Rutland is among them. She grew up outside of Lidgerwood near the Clarkes and was several years younger than the twins; however, their mothers were friends, and as adults, the two became reacquainted.

“Noreen is such a doll, such a good soul,” Beckstrom said. “She’s just been there for me.”





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When her mother was suffering with late-stage dementia, Noreen frequently checked in, bringing out the best in her mom, whose sense of humor had faded over time. “Noreen could get her smiling, laughing and joking," she said.

Just moments from her mom’s passing in her home, Noreen walked in the door.

“She’s not afraid to do the hard stuff, and that teaches me as well,” Beckstrom said. “She also very genuine; it’s not put on. She just really goes out of her way for others, even if it makes her look silly. She’ll do whatever she can to make someone’s day.”

Clarke said life’s challenges have made her more, not less, grateful. She seeks peace in simplicity and observing nature, and, as she did as a child, capturing the best moments — like flowers and sunrises — on her phone camera. “If we cannot see God in all, we cannot see God at all,” she said. “It’s everywhere, but you have to open your eyes.”

Noreen, left, and Eileen are pictured as toddlers celebrating their birthday.

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A mailbox meeting​

Occasionally, God shows up in a particularly surprising way.

One summer, about a decade ago, the Clarke sisters were walking in Fargo and came upon two women near a residential mailbox. Striking up a conversation, the women mentioned they used to live at the convent in Hankinson. It turned out they’d helped care for two twin sisters from Lidgerwood in February 1957.

“You’re those twins?!” one gasped, Clarke said, recalling her words, “We were so intrigued with those tiny little babies. Those little fingers and hands. We’d just reach in, and if you weren’t taking a breath, we’d say, ‘Come on baby,’ and tap you on the bottom or rub your feet.”

“It wasn’t medical technology, so much as touch and prayer,” Clarke said in awe. “That’s how I’m here. Talk about gratitude.”