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A Famous Relative

Oct9

Excited to attend the fair, my two daughters, Niki, Tammie and their neighborhood friend Dee-Dee, raced ahead of me through the parking lot toward the entry gate. I stopped to make sure my car was locked and was amazed that even this far from the midway, I could hear the screams of people enjoying the carnival rides. A gentle, easterly breeze carried the smell of deep-fried foods to us, but also the smell of animals that were entered at the fair. The unique combination of smells didn’t bother me because through the years I’d grown used to them.  

Of all the Marshfield fairground buildings, the first one and easiest to see from a distance is the huge red one that has a sign on it announcing that it is, “the world’s largest round barn.”  Tammie, my younger daughter, proudly informed her friend Dee-Dee, “My great uncle and his brothers built that round barn!” I smiled to hear my daughter repeating what I tell my children each year when attending the fair.

Knowing that my uncle, Henry Felhofer, and his brothers built this local landmark has always made me feel proud to be related to them. What they achieved was remarkable for so many reasons. The Felhofer brothers bid to the Central Wisconsin Holstein Breeders Association for the job was lower than any of the other bids because the brothers planned to do without using scaffolding.

Although the Felhofer brothers were thoroughly experienced in the building trade, this was the only round barn they ever built. They began to work on Thanksgiving Day, in 1915. Working through a bitterly cold winter, they cut the fingers off their gloves to keep warm and yet be able to handle the nails. Since the building had a round roof, the brothers were not sure how many shingles to order. They made an educated guess which turned out to be spot-on! They had only a handful of shingles left when they were done working. The 150-foot wide, 70-foot-tall barn was completed in the spring of 1916 and used for the fair that summer and ever since.

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Watch Me Dance

Sep25

The smaller grandchildren tumbled about on the living room floor like happy little puppies, while the eldest girl tried to organize the bedlam. Anne kept repeating, “Let’s put on a dance for Grandma!” I smiled. The younger children were lost when Anne wasn’t home to direct their play.

 A golden ray of late afternoon sunshine found its way into the room through a slight opening in the drapes. The wayward shaft of light was like a spotlight on each towheaded child as they obediently trooped out of the room through the light to put on dress-up clothes.

Before the children were dressed and ready to put on a floor show, their mother and youngest sibling returned from town. I got up and walked into the dining room to talk to my daughter. When the children came back downstairs from their visit to my dress-up box, they were wearing prom dresses, scarves, petticoats, and lacy kerchiefs pinned in their hair. Anne begged over and over, “Mom, Grandma, come into the living room and watch us dance!”

We all returned to the living room, and Anne lined her siblings up. I took a picture of the performers. When she said, “Ok” they all began to twirl, jump and leap. If enthusiasm indicates a superior performance, my daughter Niki and I were watching the world’s best dancers.

“Watch me dance” was a demand I heard Anne make often when she was a small girl. It didn’t seem to matter if her siblings danced with her or not. In her mind, she seemed to feel she was on a stage, and that her leaps and twirls were flawlessly choreographed movements.

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A Career Change

Oct18

I looked forward to attending the Rochester Silo convention because for me it was a vacation from my job as a nursing assistant. My husband Arnie and I would stay at a hotel and attend catered events. A few months earlier, Arnie had decided to go into business with a man from Indiana. They named their joint operation, ‘R&R Sales and Services.’ This career change came as a surprise to me. Up until then, my husband had been a welder and had never expressed an interest in becoming a salesman. The new business sold farm equipment and Rochester Siloes. So far, Arnie hadn’t sold a single silo.

All the activities at the convention appeared to be geared toward pumping the salesmen up to a fever-pitch of excitement. The company claimed Rochester Silos were the best silos in the Midwest. They pointed out with pride how their logo could be seen on top of new silos all throughout the countryside. Everyone attending the silo convention was lavished generously with fine foods and drinks.           

To encourage stronger sales, the Rochester company handed out rewards to their most productive salesmen. The pinnacle of the evening was when the top salesman was presented with a briefcase stuffed with cash.

On our long drive home, Arnie uncharacteristically began talking about what he needed to do to become a good salesman. I suspected he was worried about being a good provider for me and the baby we had on the way. At one point he glanced over at me and admitted, “I need to be able to talk to people as easily as you do.” After a slight pause he added, “I want to be able to start conversations with people in elevators like you do.”

I was surprised.. Did he really admire my crazy ability to talk to anyone who would listen?

In the months that followed, Arnie and I were very busy. He worked on making sales and I was entirely wrapped up in all things that had to do with our newly arrived baby daughter. His business papers piled up on the dining room table because we didn’t have a desk. I wanted the use of the table back, so I made two shelves, one on top of the other along a wall next to the table using four boxes and two planks.

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Tweeting Photos

Sep13

I entered the farmhouse and sprinted up the three entryway steps, calling out, “Hello…It’s me, Kathy!”

Mom answered, “I’m in the living room.”

My daughters, Niki and Tammie followed me as I crossed the hall and entered the living room. The young girls happily greeted their “Grammie” and settled down on the floor beside her rocking chair. Dropping down onto the sofa across from where Mom sat in her rocking chair, I inquired, “How are you doing today?”

Adjusting her lap Afghan, Mom admitted, “I’m okay, just saying prayers and listening to the birds.”

Macular degeneration had robbed my mother of her eyesight a few years earlier, so she was no longer able to crochet or read magazines. Cooking meals for herself and my two bachelor brothers who lived with her, was also a thing of the past. Mom would listen to birds feeding at the birdfeeders alongside the house as a happy pastime during the day when “her boys” were out of the house.

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Night Skies

Sep6

Something woke me up from a deep sleep. I tensed up, remembering that I had a four-day-old baby in the next bedroom. Alongside me, my husband slept soundly. He appeared to have no worries about being a new parent. Looking around the dark bedroom, my eyes turned to the windows. The darkness of the yard outside our mobile home appeared less dark than the darkness of the room.

Despite knowing for months that I had a baby on the way, the birth of Niki made me feel surprised and scared! The responsibility of motherhood intimidated me. I wasn’t wise and all-knowing as a mother should be. The bottom line was that I felt like I still needed MY mother!

From the next room, I heard the soft movements of my baby squirming in her crib. Was it that tiny little sound which had awakened me? I held my breath. A moment later, Niki cried. The sound made me leap out of bed like there were springs under me. In a panic, I knew that although it was the middle of the night, I had to feed her and change her diaper. I was responsible for not only her comfort, but her well-being.

The minute I lifted Niki out of her crib, a calm came over me. The smell of her skin, the warmth of her body against mine felt so right. After feeding her, I placed my baby over my shoulder and patted her back. Standing at one of the windows waiting for Niki to burp, I marveled at the beauty of the night sky. Stars sparkled across the great expanse overhead. To the north I saw a tongue of green light licking the sky. I gasped. Northern lights! At first the moving wave looked green, then blue and later I saw a tinge of pink.

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Who Knew?

Jul26

 I glanced out the kitchen window and saw a school bus crossing the bridge near our house. Its red lights began to flash as it slowed down to stop at our driveway. Looking into the dining room, where my two grade-school-aged daughters sat eating breakfast, I informed them, “Your bus is here.”

Niki and Tammie popped the last of their toast into their mouths, picked up their school bags and rushed out the back door, yelling, “Bye, Mom!”

From our bedroom above the kitchen, I could hear my husband, Arnie, moving around. He liked it when I made breakfast for him on my days off from the hospital. I gathered what I needed from the refrigerator, set the table for us in the dining room, and began frying bacon.

Arnie walked into the kitchen just as I broke the last egg into the skillet. He gave me a peck on the cheek and asked, “What do you plan to do today?”

Turning away from the stove, I said, “Our garden gets planted today. I’m happy with the nice weather this morning. All week I’ve been worrying that it would be rainy on my day off. What are you planning to do today?”

While buttering his toast, Arnie listed the customers he needed to see after working his day shift at the plant, adding, “I need to pick up supplies, so I’ll see you when I swing by to pick them up this afternoon.”

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Bat Bouncer

Jul5

I lifted the lid off a pan on the stove, and a cloud of steam billowed up from it along with the mouthwatering smell of well-seasoned meat. I turned the burner off so that it wouldn’t burn. My husband walked into the kitchen just as I was checking the other kettles on the stove. Arnie exclaimed, “Supper smells great! How soon do we get to eat?”

Turning to face him, I announced, “The carrots and potatoes are tender, so we can eat right now if you’re ready.”

While Arnie washed his hands, I called our middle-school aged children to join us in the dining room and placed our meal on the table. I had worked all day at the hospital, so I was happy that I had been able to produce an appealing meal for the family before anyone became grumpy.

Just as I finished my meal, a dark shadow swooped through the room. It was there and then gone in the blink of an eye. Frowning, I wondered what I had seen. Arnie had been about to take a bite of the buttered bread in his hand. Still holding the bread close to his lips, he looked around and concluded, “There’s a bat in the house.” Fourth grader Tammie and eighth grader Niki screamed.

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Naughty Fingers

May24

New technologies challenge me. Until 2016 I was afraid I wouldn’t know how to use a smart phone. When I finally took the plunge, my daughter Niki set it up and trained me. Very carefully, she explained and demonstrated how to open the apps I wanted. She showed me how to use the calculator, flashlight, and camera. There was so much more to learn, like how to get back to the homepage, and how to recognize the sound the cell phone made when a text came in. My daughter also helped me pick out a notification sound for phone calls.

As my daughter was preparing to go home, I noticed the cell phone’s screen was black. Hoping to wake it up, I shook it. Niki took it out of my hands, again. After swiping up, a keypad appeared. She punched in the numbers we agreed would be my secret code. Suddenly, my phone was awake and interactive again. I nodded, happy that I knew what to do when I needed to use the device.

An hour later I decided to sit down and play with my new toy. I swiped up on the black screen and the keypad appeared. I typed in my secret code and waited, but nothing happened. The numbers just sat there like small numeral guards protecting Fort Knox. I fretted, “Why won’t it open for me? Did I somehow break the phone?”

Driving to my daughter’s house, I tearfully explained, “Niki, I think I broke it.” She took the cell phone from my hands and tapped in my code. It instantly opened for her. I stuttered, “But, but, if there isn’t anything wrong with the phone, why couldn’t I get it to open?”

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The Rowboat

May17

I stepped out onto the back deck and realized I didn’t need a jacket. The sunny spring afternoon was warm despite there being a few drifts of leftover winter snow dotting the yard. Folding my jacket over my arm, I commented to my daughter, Tammie, “I’m bringing the coat with me. When the sun goes down, it’ll get chilly.”

Tammie, who was a few steps ahead of me, turned and asked, “Which car should we take? Yours or mine?”

I apologized, “I’m sorry, I should have filled my car’s gas tank when I was in town the other day. As it is right now, my car doesn’t have enough gas to get to Wausau and back. Let’s use your car tonight and mine for the rest of the weekend.”

Niki, my other daughter, had invited Tammie and me to join her at a cooking class put on by Grebe’s store in Wausau. We happily looked forward to attending without a stop for gas first. Without another thought, we got into Tammie’s 2016 Mazda.

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Dark Anniversaries

Mar29

The sound of the ringing phone dragged me out of a deep sleep. Before I knew what I was doing, I was on my feet and stumbling in the dark mobile home hallway toward the living room to answer the phone. I felt heavy with a strange nagging dread. Arnie, my young husband was two steps behind me.

Two months earlier, I had given birth to a baby girl named Christy, who had a rare birth defect. We brought her home twice but were forced to return her to the hospital within days. Having no childcare experience and feeling terrified by her special needs, I felt like a failure as a mother. Yesterday evening Arnie and I had visited our little girl at the hospital. Reaching through the bars of her crib, I gently patted her back. I didn’t know what else to do.

The voice on the other end of the line was Christy’s pediatrician. He said, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your daughter has just passed away.” Handing the phone to Arnie, I sank onto the sofa and cried. Christy’s death was our first experience with losing someone dear to us. My husband and I had celebrated out 20th birthdays a few months earlier.

The call from Christy’s doctor at 2 a.m. on April 2nd, 1971, introduced me to days that I have come to call dark anniversaries. Unlike a birthday where you celebrate the person’s birth, the death date is a day you remember them and miss what might have been. Dark anniversaries are seared into your memory forever.

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