by jphilo | Nov 11, 2014 | Uncategorized
The Top Ten Tuesday list will be back next week. This week’s Tuesday post is dedicated to remembering the veterans in our family with an updated version of a piece written for Veteran’s Day, 2012.
Yesterday was Veteran’s Day, and in my world it went out with more of a whimper than a bang. However our state’s major newspaper, The Des Moines Register, in a moving salute to World War II vets, had the soldiers tell their stories in their own words.
That story, combined with the passing of my husband’s Uncle Harold, a World War 2 pilot in October of 2012, was a reminder of how little time remains for our nation to say thank you to the men and women who risked their lives in that great war. Here are the heroes in our family–some still living and some gone in the past few years–I am proud to call my uncles, and for whom I am grateful today.
Harold Walker, Hiram’s storyteller uncle, and pilot in the Pacific Theater near the end of the war. He died in October of 2012.
Marvin Conrad, my piano-playing and very musical uncle. I believe he served in the Navy in World War 2. He died in 2010, only a few months after visiting Washington, DC on one of the Freedom Flights.
Ordel Rogen, my cattle-raising uncle. He served in some branch of the armed forces in World War 2, though I’m not sure of the details. He died several years ago in December.
Leo Hess, who told harrowing tales of fighting during the Battle of the Bulge in World War 2.
Jim Hoey is my history-loving uncle. He was also a dedicated friend to my dad during his long struggle with multiple sclerosis. Jim served as a Navy medic in the Korean War. He turned 80 in June of 2012 and still loves to travel and write letters to his grandkids and great-nephews and nieces.
Dear uncles, our thanks for your service is not enough, but it’s all I have to give. Thank you for fighting for freedom.
Because of you, our shared family histories continue.
Because of your sacrifice, our family is able to reunite in the summer to reminisce about old memories and create new ones.
Because of you, little children play without fear.
Because of you, elderly men and women are cared for and safe.
Because of you, we live in peace.
Because of you, we are who we are.
Because of you, we are blessed.
Because of you.
by jphilo | Jun 12, 2014 | Three Thoughts for Thursday
- How can we possibly give the remaining World War 2 vets who took part in the D-Day invasion proper thanks for what they did, for risking their lives to make our world a better place?
- Back in the 1950s and 60s, little girls watched westerns set in the olden days to learn how to boil water, to gather clean sheets, and to wring their hands while hardy pioneer women birthed their babies. In 2014, girls watch Call the Midwife set in the olden days of the 1950s and 60s to learn how to boil water, to gather clean sheets, and to coach women who are birthing their babies. I fervently hope that in the 2050s and 60s, little girls don’t learn how to boil water and gather clean sheets by watching grainy cell phone videos of their mothers giving birth to them. Talk about TMI!
- At the risk of tooting my own horn, I recently discovered my latent green thumb. Turns out I have particular talent for growing weeds.
What’s your greatest gardening talent? Leave a comment.
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by jphilo | Nov 12, 2012 | Family
Yesterday was Veteran’s Day, and in my world it went out with more of a whimper than a bang. However our state’s major newspaper, The Des Moines Register, in a moving salute to World War II vets, had the soldiers tell their stories in their own words.
That story, combined with the passing of my husband’s Uncle Harold, a World War 2 pilot last week, was a reminder of how little time remains for our nation to say thank you to the men and women who risked their lives in that great war. Here are the heroes in our family–some still living and some gone in the past few years–I am proud to call my uncles, and for whom I am grateful today.
Harold Walker, Hiram’s story telling uncle, and pilot in the Pacific Theater near the end of the war. He died a little over a week ago.
Marvin Conrad, my piano-playing and very musical uncle. I believe he served in the Navy in World War 2. He died a little over two years ago, only a few months after visiting Washington, DC on one of the Freedom Flights.
Ordel Rogen, my cattle-raising uncle. He served in some branch of the armed forces in World War 2, though I’m not sure of the details. He died several years ago in December.
Leo Hess, who tells harrowing tales of fighting during the Battle of the Bulge in World War 2. He celebrated his 90th birthday in August and still lives in his own home.
Jim Hoey is my history-loving uncle. He was also a dedicated friend to my dad during his long struggle with multiple sclerosis. Jim served as a Navy medic in the Korean War. He turned 80 in June and still loves to travel and write letters to his grandkids and great-nephews and nieces.
Dear uncles, our thanks for your service is not enough, but it’s all we have to give. Thank you for fighting for freedom.
Because of you, our shared family histories continue.
Because of your sacrifice, our family is able to reunite in the summer to reminisce about old memories and create new ones.
Because of you, little children play without fear.
Because of you, elderly men and women are cared for and safe.
Because of you, we live in peace.
Because of you, we are who we are.
Because of you, we are blessed.
Because of you.
by jphilo | Dec 20, 2011 | Family, Reviews
My future husband and I hadn’t been dating for long before he started talking about Uncle Harold, his mother’s older brother.
Uncle Harold lived in the Idaho mountains.
Uncle Harold was a World War 2 pilot.
Uncle Harold had bowed legs.
Uncle Harold had an amazing singing voice.
Uncle Harold.
Uncle Harold.
Uncle Harold.
Before meeting Uncle Harold for the first time, I wondered how any man could live up to such hero worship. But after meeting him, I better understood my boyfriend (and his mother Elsie’s) opinion of him. Uncle Harold was, and still is, a remarkable man.
In the past few weeks, I’ve come to know him better through his most recent book, The Preacher’s Kid. Its pages chronicle Harold’s life from his early remembrances until shortly before he enlisted to serve in World War 2. (He’s recorded that story in a previous book, Yes Sir, No Sir.)
I don’t want to give away the good stuff about Harold’s childhood in two small Kansas towns, Clayton and Norway. Or the summers and one school year spent living with his Uncle Ross and Aunt Alma near Hope, Idaho. But, I do want to share a few conclusions drawn from reading about his childhood exploits in the the late 1920s and throughout the 1930s Great Depression years:
- It is a miracle that Uncle Harold is still alive.
- I am very thankful never to have been Harold’s teacher.
- If Harold’s family had been Catholic instead of United Brethren, his mother, Mary Anne Walker (affectionately known as Grandma Annie to our generation) would have been nominated for sainthood.
- His Kansas Great Depression in Kansas stories are as grim as my mom’s Minnesota Great Depression stories, though they involve considerably less snow.
- Harold really did love his little sister, Elsie.
- I had never heard the story of Harold being chased by armed bank robbers before.
Okay, so the last one gave away a little of the good stuff. But, there’s plenty more. So much, that even though you don’t know Uncle Harold, you might like to read The Preacher’s Kid. It’s kind of like a movie where so many things happen to the protagonist you begin to think it’s all made up. Only this story isn’t made up. It’s true and so amazing that my opinion of Uncle Harold now matches that of my husband and my mother-in-law Elsie.
Harold Walker is a most remarkable man.
by jphilo | Jul 4, 2011 | Family
This being a holiday weekend, I had no intention of blogging today. But, all weekend, Uncle Leo has been on my mind. He’s my mother’s brother, the only one of her eight siblings to serve in World War II.
Now eighty-eight, he lives alone on the old family farm since his wife died earlier this year. How often, I wonder, with nothing to distract him, do his horrible war memories return?
- The memory of being drafted and going off to war instead of fulfilling his dream of studying history in college.
- The memory of being a foot soldier in the Battle of the Bulge.
- The memory of being left behind because the shrapnel in his foot didn’t allow him to march fast enough.
- The memory of following behind, with only his gun, in the direction the rest of the soldiers were going, wondering if he would make it.
- The memory of two showers in six months.
- The memory of wet feet and being issued dry socks.The memory of coming home with untreated trench foot.
And does he sometimes remember the good things that came after those hard years?
- The memory of his five children on the family farm, running free because so many from his generation protected our freedom.
- The memory of his nieces and nephews playing ball in the pasture, using cow pies for bases.
- The memory of picking sweet corn and sending burlap bags full of it home with his city sisters.
- The memories of his mother’s rhubarb patch and peonies, rose bushes and huge garden.
- The memories family picnics in the shady Pipestone parks that continue to this very day.
- The memory of my sister and I finally hearing his story decades later, and offering inadequate but heartfelt thanks for his sacrifice.
Because of Uncle Leo and many others from his generation, including three of Mom’s brothers-in-law, we are able to celebrate another Fourth of July as free and independent citizens. My husband is able to mow the lawn and I can blog away, without concern or fear, because of brave men like Uncle Leo, Uncle Marvin, Uncle Ordel, and Uncle Jim.
Thank you, dear uncles, for another Independence Day.
