Yesterday was my father’s memorial service. He died about a week earlier on May 31st., 2019, at the age of 98 years old. He was the last of our parents to depart from us. I was asked to say a few words. I am a better writer than public speaker so I read the following as a final tribute:
I never knew dad when he was in the army during WW2, or after
the war when he stood up in his jeep to yell at a young German woman, who had
lost track of time, and was out after the military curfew. I was there,
however, to see her yell back on numerous occasions during their 64 years of
marriage.
Mom and dad had, let’s call it, an exciting relationship. But
beneath occasional friction they had a bond of love never to be broken. Dad
never missed a day visiting her at the rehab center those last months. When she
passed in January of 2012 he felt totally lost. At 91 he owned a nice three
bedroom house, the house I grew up in, with a yard that was the envy of the
neighborhood. But, it was increasingly difficult for him to take care of it. He
had friends in the neighborhood but no best friends and no family.
That fall we sold his house and moved him to his new
apartment in New Albany, Ohio. While life would never again be the same, he at
least could construct a new life and be near family. Every day, weather
permitting, he would go on a 2 mile walk through the beautiful nearby metro
park, Blendon Woods. He did his own shopping, cooking, laundry, etc. Our whole
family visited him frequently. He at least had a life again.
Dad was a very proud man and self-sufficiency was very
important. The expression pride cometh before the fall was written with him in
mind. That included the fall he took, when, at just short of 94 years old, late
in the summer of 2014, he broke his hip getting out of the swimming pool in. He
refused, as we had warned him numerous times, to use his cane.
Throughout his rehab, and subsequent move to assisted living,
we continued to offer him all of the support we could. We visited multiple times
each week, took him for walks, rides and out for meals. We included him in all
of our family events. But, as is inevitable, he continued to decline. If
nothing else, in the end, I could tell that I had made an impact in his life. I
was his guy. Even in those last days, and in his delirium, he would be seated
in his chair, stare at the ceiling, shaking, and say ‘Ron, you are going too
fast’. Another time he reached out and said ‘Here Ron, take my coat’.
But that is over now, and me greatest feeling is relief. It is like a nightmare ending. Oh don’t get me wrong, it was a privilege to help him. I learned much more about my dad, and therein myself, in those last years than I ever thought possible. But the stress of watching a man I respected decline was undeniable. It’s only through the continued support and encouragement of Crystal and my family that I could continue. His suffering is now over and I am glad. We did everything we could to give him the best life and care possible. Of that I am convinced. I want to give my special thanks to the caring staff members of Sunrise and Bickford Assisted Living Facilities and Capitol City Hospice. Finally, I am also convinced that, he is finally at peace, and glad to be back with mom. Somehow, Papa without Mimi never seemed quite right.
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As usual, Crystal had something to add on this month’s post. Enjoy!
Crystal’s Corner
Ron’s right; never stop dating. When
we were first dating at Bradley University in Peoria, Il., we walked and talked
a lot in Bradley Park, attended APO parties and dances, and went to coffee
shops at night to listen to guitar playing folk singers. Even when we had very little money to spend,
we found ways to enjoy our time together.
At Bradley University which is on a hill, couples would go to tall
buildings and up to the top floor or roof to watch the beautiful sunsets.
While we were engaged and early in
our marriage, we played tennis, miniature golf, bowled sometimes and
participated in church activities. We
noticed sometimes that other couples, especially after becoming parents, were
not having couples time together.
Fortunately, both sets of our
parents had set the example of continuing to date during their marriages. My
mom would dress up to go out with my dad; and he would wear nice clothes
too. My Dad would tell us, “I’m taking your mom out to dinner or a
movie or some event; and I expect you kids to be good for the babysitter.” The next day we would get a report usually
from Mom about what happened. As a child
and teenager I always thought about the future of having a husband like my Dad
who would be taking me out on dates. My
Dad also would buy my Mom a gardenia corsage for special occasions. Sometimes
he would buy her candy or a present.
Ron and I have continued our dating
relationship during our marriage. Just
like at school, whenever possible we still love watching a nice sunset together
while holding hands or cuddling. Both of us also enjoy photography and we go to
many parks, gardens, etc. to take pictures.
On our recent trip to the Alpaca Farm bed and breakfast, we first went
to a garden in Zanesville to see the spring flowers. We didn’t take photos there, but we did at
the Alpaca farm. I know about Alpacas
and their wool because I am a knitter and crocheter. We always look for Alpacas
and llamas while driving. There seem to be a lot of them in Ohio.
We encourage both of our married
daughters and their husbands to go on dates with each other and even have
getaway weekends together. Sometimes we
give them gift cards for restaurants. Sometimes they return the favor. We are glad they are following our
example. Life can be difficult, really
busy and exhausting. You get worn out
with work, housework, child care, etc., so it is important to plan time
together to just concentrate on each other.
I always have told the girls,
“Your Dad is my husband, but he is also my boyfriend.” And they say something like, “Oh, Mom.”
I’ll never forget Michelle and
Elizabeth, when they were little girls, watching me get ready for a date with
their Dad. They were fascinated with my makeup,
jewelry and dresses. Sometimes they
would ask me, “Are you going to wear the
red shoes?” These were my red high heels
which were very uncomfortable that I only wore for special occasions like
Valentine’s Day. If I said yes they would
have big smiles, and tell Ron that this was a special date because, Mom is
wearing her red shoes.
I can say after 41 years of marriage to Ron that he is still worth wearing the uncomfortable red shoes. He’s the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.
Three daughters and three granddaughters
I know the picture has nothing to do with the article, but isn’t it nice that, earlier this month, Lisa and Liz dropped everything in their lives to support their sister Michelle for the birth of new baby girl Ripley. Great kids!
As I have
said, on numerous occasions, I am no expert on marriage. I have no special
degrees, although my BS is as good as the next guy’s. However, our memoir is
based on three long-lived marriages totaling over 150 years. Over the years, I
have noticed some similarities or patterns. If you are reading our blog on a
consistent basis, you are probably at least a hopeful romantic. I mean, despite
the increasingly low marriage success rates, you believe that, under the right
circumstances, long term marriage success is possible. I thought it might be
helpful to share some of my observations.
Unless you have an arranged marriage, dating was part of the original process. Just a side note: arranged marriages have a fairly high success rate. I believe this is because of ‘common shared beliefs’. Spoiler alert: This is a topic for another blog.
Dating is
all about putting your best foot forward. You like someone and you want to
impress them. Typically, you breathe a little harder/more frequently when they
are close. You choose your words carefully, trying to make an impression. You
may even perform archaic acts like opening car doors and pulling out chairs.
Woman paint themselves and try to imitate odoriferousfloral arrangements. There are
also a lot of hormones involved.
I watch a
lot of nature specials. Generally, the male bird will dance, strut, puff out
his plumage, or even build a nest. The female will watch or maybe participate
in a dance. If successful, mating will occur. If not, they both go on to the
next partner. However, as is our goal, many birds have a single partner for
life. Dad and I drive by the Scioto River on most of my visits. We have both
noticed that you rarely see a single or un-partnered Canadian goose.
Truly we are not that much
different. Perpetuation of the species is the ultimate goal. However, that is
low on the list of why we stay together. Humans are a fairly intelligent
species (with some exceptions: reference Washington DC news), and as such have
higher level needs. According to Maslow, above our basic needs we have needs such
as intimacy, self-esteem or self-realization, and even self-actualization or
reaching our full potential. Ideally, a good marriage will help each partner
reach these.
I believe that if you don’t grow
together, you grow apart. A marriage takes a lot of time and commitment. It is
hard work and effort. However, if that is all there is in your marriage, you
are in for a rough and probably short ride. You need to make time for
yourselves. Have some fun and reconnect. Remind yourselves of why you committed
to each other in the first place.
Never stop dating, preferably your
spouse (kidding – only your spouse). My parents became world travelers after
dad retired. They went around the country, including eleven trips to Hawaii.
They also visited Europe half a dozen times. And they had a membership to the
Chicago Metropolitan Opera. Crystal’s parents enjoyed dining and dancing at the
Moose lodge, not unlike the USO dance where they met. They also enjoyed entertaining
and socializing with their many friends. Crystal and I have always made time to
be together. We enjoy movies, dinners, walks in nature and B&Bs. We
recently spent a night at an alpaca farm B&B near Zanesville, Ohio. It was
a great experience.
So let’s be honest. Married dating isn’t like single dating. It’s not a mating ritual. It’s about building a better bond. It’s about improving communications. It’s about getting away. It’s about having fun and relieving stress. If a little mating takes place occasionally, so be it (and Yeah!). At any rate, it’s time to stop reading and time to plan your next date.
This was my
first winter. I discovered snow! Dad took me outside and put me in it. I didn’t
like that. It looks nice, all white and fluffy, but it’s too cold and wet. It has been a confusing winter here in Warsaw,
Ohio. I noticed that sometimes it snows and is cold, other times it rains and
is warmer. Fortunately, we have a nice
heater in our living room. I sit under
it on the couch when it is cold. I also
like to look out the window on my seat and watch the birds eating at our bird
feeders. Mom got a bird feeder for
Christmas. All kinds of bird come to
the feeder: cardinals, blue jays, sparrows, doves, and other small birds,
woodpeckers, and lately starlings. It is
exciting to see all of this birds coming and going to our hanging bird feeder,
hanging planter and porch feeders. The redheaded woodpecker is so large he has
to do acrobatics, hanging on the edge of the feeder in order to eat. As many as 7 or 8 little birds can hover on
the four feeder sides. Sometimes they
just perch there to get out of the rain or snow. The bushes, pine trees and other trees near
the porch offer shelter to the birds.
On warm sunny days Mom takes me out on the porch swing. The birds scatter when they see us, but we
can hear their songs. There is this big
screen in the living room and sometimes we watch birds, tigers, whales and
other wildlife on it in color. I go up
to the screen sometimes and try to touch the birds and the animals, but mom
pulls me back. Sometimes when mom pushes
buttons on this rectangular black box the screen changes from color to black
and white. That’s when Dad and I go upstairs
to Dad’s room with a big chair and a smaller screen. He likes to watch shows where people bounce
balls and throw them around.
Occasionally I go down to see what Mom is doing. She plays with thread, yarn, fabric, and
papers which I try to take from her. I
love to push pens, pins, spools of thread, plastic forks and spoons and mom’s
glasses around the floor. I lose my cat
toys, bottle caps, and other small objects under the bookcase and shelves
holding the big screen. I think there is
a cat hiding behind the furniture that takes them and plays with them. Sometimes Mom takes a wooden ruler and pokes
it under the bookcase and TV shelves to fight with the other cat for my toys. The problem is, they seem to end up there
again and again. Sometimes they fall
into mom’s shoes or slippers. Someday, I
know I will be able to reach under the TV table and push all of those great
toys out. I keep trying.
You may notice that I have a photo with my
typewriter. One of my hobbies is pushing
the keys on this typewriter. I have
tried to take it apart with my mitten paws and my teeth, but so far I haven’t
had any success. Like many items in the
house, it is a mystery.
I know
that I am lucky to live in this house with mom and dad when I see another tabby
cat walking across our porch on a regular basis. Sometimes I make a trilling sound when I see
that cat. It is my way of laughing at
him. He should realize that this is my
house and he is not coming in while I am in charge. I have to try to get some of the toys from
under the TV table now, so this is the end of my report. Until next time,
“meow”.
A lot went
through my mind as I watched Ella’s intense gaze. Periodically, she would open
her mouth and make a soft guttural sound. It reminded me of when my car didn’t
want to start on a cold day last winter. Her sound was usually accompanied by a
quick head bob. Her unblinking stare was on Crystal’s Christmas present, the
bird feeder on the front porch. More specifically, she was watching as a small
flock of sparrows darting to and fro, apparently taking turns at the seed. Our
cat’s vigilance reminded me of something I’d just watched on the nature
channel. She was just missing some tall grass, a gazelle, and maybe a few
pounds.
As I peered
over her tabby gray shoulder, she looked up quickly to acknowledge me, then went
back to her vigil. My thoughts went to the old gospel song, “His Eye is on the
Sparrow”. It’s a tribute to the way God watches over us. Sometimes His presence
is difficult to discern.
We watch as
our adult children go through many of the same struggles we did when we were
younger. We help when we can, encourage whenever possible, and pray for them
unceasingly. One truly positive factor is that they are all well trained. They
generally know what to do to survive. I guess we did some things right to get
them to this point. Still, it’s kind of like we are watching them through a
pane of glass.
Crystal
isn’t the healthiest person in the world dealing with chronic fatigue syndrome
and sinus problems, and frequently is stuck
at home. I bought the feeder, at her request, so she could watch the various
species of birds, cardinals, blue jays, wood peckers, wrens, etc. from the
comfort of her couch as she lies down, reads, writes, or sews. Maybe this was
just God’s way of tricking me into feeding his birds.
The Bible says that God cares about
every sparrow, but much more about each one of us (Psalm 32:8, Mathew 6:26,
10:29-31). It never says He will always keep you safe or from having
difficulties. However, if you honor Him with your choices, maybe He’ll trick
your spouse into loving you, your kids into respecting you, and you into
finding some of His peace (Philippians4:7) in a world which seems so greatly lacking.
I am
currently working on a cookbook focused on cooking for family. In addition to
preserving our favorite family recipes, it will have family stories along with
a number of ‘common sense’ short cuts, money saving principles, and tips for
the main family meal preparer. This is a role which I have fulfilled for a
number of years for our family.
As
explained in the book, my primary inspiration came from my mom. For years she,
as most housewives of the fifties through seventies, was among her many roles,
the family cook. Sadly, I never showed her the proper appreciation she so
richly deserved. It wasn’t until I left for college that I realized many things
which should have been obvious. First, and I really feel stupid about this, mom
had a German accent. It was fairly strong, but I had never really noticed until
I left and returned some four or five weeks later. Second, mom was an unusually
good cook. Beyond that, she was our family chef. As I explained to Lisa
(youngest daughter) recently, the difference between a good cook and a chef is
that a good cook can flawlessly follow a recipe; a chef can take whatever they
are given and create a recipe. Mom could do either. I remember actually being
embarrassed when she was disappointed at what a restaurant passed as salad
dressing, she requested vinegar and oil. With just those two ingredients, along
with sugar, salt, and pepper, she made a better dressing than the chef. It
occasionally took dad and me to restrain her from actually going into a
restaurant kitchen when she was given subpar food. She had to settle for just embarrassing
a waiter or two.
As with her
accent, going away to college helped me appreciate her skills in the kitchen.
Cafeteria food will do that. Occasionally, I would bring friends home or
neighbors would visit, and mom would cook. They would talk about their meal for
weeks. When I finally realized that mom wouldn’t always be there to cook for me,
I knew I needed to learn. She not only helped me begin my learning process, but
inspired me with her story.
Born in
Germany in 1924, she received her initial cooking instructions just before WW2
began. In those days, it was part of the standard curriculum for young German
girls. I’m sure her lessons began with lighting the wood stove. The war years
proved almost too stressful for impoverished families, such as hers. Making
meals from scraps, government handouts, and the occasional rabbit or cheaper
cuts of meat made chefs (by my definition) of many. Little did Mimi (mom) know
that, those rough skills would someday lead to her post war job, cooking for
American Counter Intelligence officers stationed in the nearby village. The man
in charge asked whether she could cook a traditional German duck dinner. Her
mom came over to help with that first meal. The man in charge, Siegfried
Meinstein, was very impressed with the dinner, as he was with its young preparer.
Several years later, mom and dad were married. Dad gained a lot of weight those
first few years. I can’t blame him.
Now that I
am well on my way to recreating and preserving many favorite dishes, I often
think of mom. I never appreciated the skill or effort it took to make some of
those meals. I never understood the physical and mental effort needed to feed a
family day after day. I also never knew the enjoyment of watching those you
love gathered together at a meal of your creation.
While I do
regret not being more grateful for all mom did when I was young, I think she
got the message. Over the years, I cooked many meals for her and dad. She
always acted like those meals were something special. In reality, they were
just a reflection of her love.
Similarly,
with this book, I am passing something on to our girls. Their excitement about
this project hasn’t been lost on me. Every now and then one of them will ask to
make sure I haven’t forgotten any of their favorites. Occasionally, they will
suggest dishes I don’t even remember making. I will just do my best to recreate
those. After all, that’s what family is about, passing on the love.
Crystal’s Corner
I am glad
that Ron wrote this blog about cooking and his cookbook. My mom taught me how to cook when I was very
young. It was wise of her to do this
because when she became very ill, I could make many dishes. My mom was a wonderful baker and some of her recipes
will be included in the cookbook. It was
very interesting when Ron and I met at Bradley University and he told me he
could cook. I was thinking hot dogs,
toasted cheese sandwiches, and maybe some canned soup, items my brother could
make. He made a beautiful delicious dinner
for me in his apartment, and I was stunned.
He made beef scaloppini, a broccoli casserole, and a real salad. Grandma Carlson had always told me to marry a
man who can cook. She didn’t like
cooking and knew how much work went into the day to day meal preparations. What was also great about Ron being able and
interested in cooking, was that we could share recipes and techniques. My mom loved Ron’s cooking and he taught her
some of his recipes and techniques also.
Mom would get recipes from neighbors, friends, magazines and her
homemaker group and try them out on us.
Some of them were pretty good. She also encouraged me to be creative
with my cooking and baking. Ron also
attended some classes at a French Restaurant while we lived in Chicago. He can
make some delicious onion soup that we all love.
As a stay
at home mom, I was the main cook at our house for a long time. Ron worked long
hours and went to school at night, early in our marriage. He did cook on weekends and sometimes during
the week. The girls don’t remember those
years very well, but I do. After I was
diagnosed with breast cancer, my cooking slowed way down. Fortunately, Ron stepped up and also
Elizabeth at 13, could do some cooking.
Michelle and Elizabeth both learned to bake when they were young. I had them helping me when they were 3 and 4
years old. As they got older the girls
got use to Ron’s dishes and weren’t as thrilled with my spinach casserole or
baked chicken with rice dinners. Many
times, I would start dinner before Ron came home and he would finish making it
adding the spices to the main dish, and a salad dressing or sauce to a salad or
vegetables. It was almost like a dance
with Ron and me in the kitchen, and sometimes Elizabeth or Michelle helping
too.
I was glad I listened to Grandma Carlson. Not only did I end up with an Eagle Scout, experienced traveler and handyman, but also a wonderful chef. Before life with Ron, I got lost a lot, fought with the vacuum cleaner, and cooked many meals for our family. Together, we are more creative, stronger and have a lot more fun.
Christmas Dinner 2010: It looks like everyone, especially mom was having a good time.
New Years
Eve was spent alone watching an old movie, there was some sparkling cider, a
smooch or two with Crystal and then to bed shortly after midnight (cause that’s
what older couples do). I woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed on January
first. Crystal was still in bed. I decide to pick up a couple of things for dad
at Walmart (where else?). The difference struck me immediately. At ten AM the
parking lot was practically empty. I parked directly in front of the door. Gone
was the annoying (sorry) Salvation Army bell ringer; no gilt ridden Merry
Christmas today. As I walked in the contrast
from just a few days prior was amazing. Where were the multitudes of people
busting down every aisle. There were no lines or employees to speak of. I also
noted the dramatic change as I entered. All of the colorful toys, gifts, and
the multitude of candies, cookies, cakes and decorations had been replaced by
yoga mats, exercise balls, and protein powders.
Oh Walmart,
ye know us so well. We Americans are a fickle people in need of constant
direction. It is now time to give all of those New Year’s resolutions some
life, all be it temporary. I promise that by the third week or so in January
those exercise balls will once again be replaced by some less expensive TVs.
The yoga mats and protein powders will give way to valentines’ decorations and
ironically chocolates. The time for fasting will be over; we will once again be
looking for a sweet treat and an excuse to celebrate.
All year long Walmart stays one step ahead of
us. After the Valentine’s Day love fades the ugly Christmas sweaters will be
replaced by ‘Kiss Me I’m Irish’. Corned beef and cabbage will be on sale. Then
the Easter bunny will be displayed in multiple aisles and once again it will be
candy time. Though I do look forward to those Cadbury eggs and jelly beans. Then
it will be time for the Fourth of July and all of the stinky, smoky stuff,
flags and red white and blue shirts, etc. Immediately after Labor Day we will
be getting ready for Halloween. Finally, the day after Halloween out comes
Christmas. Oh Thanksgiving is in there somewhere. But how much can you do with
turkeys. The cycle is complete.
In a
consumer society, Walmart has our number, or numbers; dollars that is. Sure
it’s all about marketing and maximizing profits, but there’s more. Is Walmart
really reflecting our increasingly diverse society or telling us what they need
us to be. Are we really a culture that lives for the holidays? Do we show love
by what we buy or the number of lights and flags we display? Don’t get me
wrong; I love driving around this time of year and seeing all of the beautiful
decorations. But I wonder what goes on behind the lights. Why are marriages and
families in our country under such stress? It reminds me of the movie Elf;
when Santa’s sleigh needed extra propulsion because the true Christmas spirit
was no longer enough to magically make the sleigh fly.
I am ever
hopeful for this country. But I believe we need to spend less time believing in
Walmart and more showing actual, noncommercial love.
Just one extra note; ugly Christmas sweaters are currently 75% off at Walmart. It will be Halloween before you know it. Just sayin.
Its resolution time entering WalmartEmpty AislesUgly Sweaters 75% off
Every year Elizabeth and Brad and their five children go to the tree farm in Coshocton, Ohio to cut down a fresh Christmas tree to display in their home. This year they are moving around the middle of December (YIKES), so they didn’t know if they were going to cut down a real tree. On a very warm day early in December, Liz decided that they should go get the tree. She mistakenly believed that only a few people would be getting their trees this early. Also, she invited her friends with their new baby and foster children,her sister in law and mother in law to go.
Approaching the Christmas tree farm, they saw the longest line of cars they had ever seen in all the years they have been cutting down their own tree. The line was slowly moving forward. Elizabeth, Jazmyn (16), Bradyn (10) and Elijah (8) decide to go look for trees instead of waiting in the line with Brad. Elizabeth has Addy, who is one, along with Jazmyn and the boys climbed the hill to look at trees. Jazmyn, who is very artistic, found the perfect tree right away. The problem is you have to use an electric saw to cut it down and they were all being used. So Elizabeth followed someone else(feeling like a stalker) who had one of the saws, and watched them cut down their tree and then asked if she could use the saw.
Elizabeth ended up with her friends’ new baby in one arm and Addy in the other, waiting until they could move the tree to the car. Then she got a text on her phone from Jazmyn. I guess she used her third, ‘mother arm’, to answer it. Apparently, Jazmyn had gone to the out house on the farm and the door stuck. She couldn’t get out. Elizabeth didn’t know what to do. So with both children in her arms, she tried to find one of the adults to help. Jazmyn, who was nervously waiting in the outhouse; was stunned when a strange man kicked the door open. The man was also surprised and apologized. But Jazmyn thanked him for saving her and letting her out of the outhouse.
Brad and the boys carried the tree to their car. They strapped it to the roof and transported it home. However, because they are moving soon before Christmas, they decided to not decorating the tree. So according to Elizabeth, Brad is trying very hard to keep the tree alive so they can move it to their new place.
Ron used to take the girls for tree cutting when they were young. However, recently its been strictly artificial for us. Ron and I bought a new tree a few years ago. This tree comes in three parts and you have to “fluff” it, separating the branches to make it look like a real tree. It is much smaller than our oldtree which we had to build one branch at a time before fluffing. I had trained all of our girls and Keylan and Jazmyn to help put together our old tree. I come from my parents’ philosophy: Everything you teach your children and grandchildren to do, they take with them to use in the future.
This year I was fluffing and decorating the tree with lights and ornaments all by myself. Our new cat Ella, tried to help me by knocking the ornaments off the tree. She played with them all over the downstairs. Her favorites are a stuffed yellow Woodstock and a small green stocking. The other day she brought the green stocking back to me so I could put it back on the tree and she could knock it off again. Ella also likes to put the small decorations in our shoes. Ron made her a seat on the window ledge, right by the tree. This helps her to reach more ornaments.
We recently visited Lisa in her house in Kentucky. She has a new tree this year and guess who helped her to fluff it out and put on the lights? Yes, it was me. I must have been an elf in a former life also a psychiatrist, chauffeur, baker, teacher, nurse, janitor and more interesting occupations.
Good luck decorating your house and/or office this year. I don’t seem to have the energy to take everything down until the middle of January. Now I am in the process of wrapping the presents, sending out the cards,and making cookies. Where are those elves when you need them? “Meow” No,Ella, not you.
Hi! My name is Ella. I am six months old. I am a tabby mix with mitten paws. I am the new cat at the Meinstein house. I am very happy to be living here. I receive food, water and lots of affection and attention.
My life wasn’t always so good. I was living outside, hiding wherever I could. It was scary. There were all sorts of animals including some big dogs. The weather went from hot to rainy and cold. I caught a bad cold and still cough periodically. Food was hard to come by. I finally found a relatively safe place to hide under the Meinstein’s raspberry bushes.
Now I don’t care for raspberries, but fortunately the Meinsteins do. One day, late this summer, they were out picking along with their neighbor Susan. I was hiding and listening. They worked their way methodically around to my hiding place. They were smiling and laughing as they picked. Finally, I got up my nerve. Anything had to be better than my raspberry home. I stuck my nose out. They seemed friendly. I walked boldly right up to Mrs. Meinstein and rubbed her legs. She started petting me immediately. Then I went to Mr. Meinstein and he petted me. Then he left and brought back some food and water. I was very hungry.
Soon they were done picking and went back into their house. I went back under the raspberries. The next day however Mr. Meinstein was back. I came out immediately. He picked me up and asked if I would like to come into their house and be their kitty. I purred yes, yes, please. And that’s how I found my new mom and dad.
I’ve been here a few months now and couldn’t be happier. I eat when I want, sleep when I want, get all of the loving and snuggling any cat could want. And I play a lot. The house is full of toys. However, mom and dad get upset sometimes. I am still trying to get a handle on what toys I can play with and what toys I can’t. I am pretty sure mom’s glasses are off limits.
Mom talks a lot and apparently speaks some cat. She offered to help me write my very own blog. She is so nice. I will try to write at least monthly. I hope you enjoy it.
As far as what is new, this strange funny smelling tree showed up yesterday. Mom put on colorful lights and covered it with an assortment of exciting toys. So far I haven’t found the ones I am allowed to play with. Well that’s about it. Hope you have a purrfect day!
Dad turned 98 years old on November 15th. He is having more problems. But we got together as a family and celebrated a combined celebration which we call German Thanksgiving. We didn’t make a turkey dinner. Instead using mom’s recipes, I made all of dad’s favorite German foods featuring Sauerbraten, dumplings and red cabbage. Crystal and I, our girls, and grandkids definitely share the excitement dad and I once had when mom made them for us. It was a wonderful thanksgiving combined birthday celebration, commemorating dad’s nearly one century of life.
For me, it was also a time of reflection. Until recently I hadn’t realized that dad was born exactly two years and four days after the Armistice was signed ending WWI. His life and my mom’s began in Germany under the shadow of that ‘war to end all wars’. Even though I don’t remember much history, a subject I hated studying when I was young, I do remember learning about the horrors of trench warfare and the extremely punitive nature of the Treaty of Versailles which followed.
My parents have both witnessed to me about the prolonged years of oppression and poverty suffered by the German people. This led directly to the call to nationalism which led to a second ‘war to end all wars’. Of course, according to Hitler, the demise of the homeland was largely the fault of a minority group of which dad was a part. It didn’t help that dad’s family had been in Germany for over 300 years or that many had died fighting for Germany. Two of dad’s uncles died in WWI. None of that mattered.
Fortunately, after dad and his family escaped to America, they were safe for a couple of years. Many of dad’s relatives weren’t so fortunate, killed outright or dying in the concentration camps.
Of course, dad joined the American army and returned to Germany where, after the war, he met mom. That eventually led to me. So….happy ending?
The point I wish to make is that, in a long and full life, my father has seen so much change. As we recently celebrated Veteran’s Day, I wonder if any of today’s youth in this world of Amazon and smart phones can really picture that time.
I was recently reminded of an old poem which might help.
In Flanders Fields
By John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
I want to take this occasion to thank my dad, Crystal’s dad, and all veterans for their sacrifice and the gift of our freedom. If we fail to guard it, it will be taken away.
From all of our family ages 1 year olds, Ayla and Addy to Dad, at 98 years old,
Happy Turkey Day!
Dad opening presents 11/17/2018
Dad’s Grandfather Herman Meinstein and his wife in Dad’s hometown of Zirndorf Germany circa 1900.
