by jphilo | Mar 8, 2013 | Family
Mom’s last living brother, my Uncle Leo, died peacefully yesterday after 90 years of hard work on this earth. He was the fourth of his parents’ eight children and the youngest boy. Leo took over the family farm, though his father had a hard time handing over the reins. Single-handedly, but with considerable help from his mom, he raised five children on the farm where he’d grown up.
Leo was a farmer and a father, a son and a brother, but he was much more than the sum of those things. He was also a World War 2 vet. He took shrapnel in his foot during the Battle of the Bulge. His injury slowed his fellow soldiers, and finally, they gave him a gun. “We’re going that way.” One of them pointed toward a building in the distance. “Find us if you can,” and left him on his own. He bottled up the terror of that day, and all the terrible days of war he experienced, until decades later a counselor at the VA Hospital encouraged him to tell his stories.
But Leo was more than a a survivor of World War 2. Mom said he’d been an eager student during his years in country school and an avid reader. In one of my last conversations with Uncle Leo, he said he’d always dreamed of going to college and studying history. Family obligations thwarted his dream, but he read voraciously. He loved history, and he loved maps, and his pleasure in them didn’t dim until after his 90th birthday.
But Leo was more than a World War 2 vet. He was royalty, crowned Pipestone County Health King at some point in his school career. The crown earned him a trip to the Minnesota State Fair, where he competed in and won the title of Minnesota Health King. That title made him eligible to compete in the national Health King Contest at the Chicago World Fair, but he caught a cold on the train to the Windy City and had to go back home.
Even so, Leo proved himself worthy of the Health King title during the long years when he cared for his wife, Anna, who suffered from Alzheimer’s. After she died he continued to live alone on the home place, worrying all who loved him, until he was over 90 years old. In December, during a visit at his son and daughter-in-law’s home, he fell. He went to the hospital and never rallied enough to return home.
In a few days, my brother and mom and I will make the long drive to Pipestone for the funeral. I’ll look forward to seeing his children and their spouses and their children, to seeing my remaining aunts and uncles, and many cousins. I’ll look forward to reminiscing about the old home place with everyone. I’ll go teary-eyed in anticipation the sad playing of Taps, the color guard, and the flag-draped coffin. And all the while, deep inside my heart where my inner child who wants to be a princess lives, I’ll be hoping an official crown will be on Leo’s head, a kingly sash will grace his chest, and his hands will grasp a royal scepter.
Good-by, Uncle Leo, father, brother, uncle, farmer, World War 2 vet, historian, and Minnesota health king. Long live our memories of the king!
by jphilo | Aug 17, 2012 | Family
Tomorrow Mom’s oldest living brother, Uncle Leo, turns 90. Not an unusual feat in their long-lived family. What is unusual is that Uncle Leo lives on the Pipestone County farm his parents bought and moved to in the late 1920s, and he’s lived there ever since.
Except for two historic exceptions. The first came after he was crowned Pipestone County Health King* after which he traveled to the Minnesota State Fair to compete in the State Health King competition. He won that competition, too, which qualified him to compete in the national competition at the Chicago World’s Fair, but his father put the kibosh on the trip.
The Vernon and Josephine Hess Family 1941
Front Row: Josephine, Donna, and Vernon
Second Row: Lois, Ruth, Dorothea, Letha
Back Row: Leo, Wayne, Ralph
But, Leo saw the world a few years later during World War 2. He served in the European theater where he fought in the Battle of the Bulge. He was well into his 70s before he finally started talking and shared the horrific things he experienced in Germany.
When the war ended, Leo returned to the farm, where he raised five children, corn, soybeans, milk cows, pigs, and a huge vegetable garden – with the help of his parents. After their health failed in the 70s and 80s and his children grew up and moved away, Leo kept farming. Probably well beyond when he should have turned things over to someone younger. But that’s not easy for most men, especially health kings and soldiers, to do.
So he kept farming until he absolutely couldn’t anymore. But he still lives on the farm. He still loves to read. He still loves to study history and maps. He still recognizes and remembers the names of his nieces and nephews – all 30+ of them. He still cries when he talks about the Battle of the Bulge. He still makes it to family reunions.
And still, when he smiles and the dashing young man he once was peeks past his grin, it’s easy to understand why Uncle Leo was crowned Minnesota State Health King over 70 years ago. It’s easy to see why he’s reached the age of 90 in relatively good health. And it will be a joy for those who love him to wish him a happy birthday and many more on August 18, 2012.
Happy 90th birthday, Uncle Leo. Long live the king!
*I am not making this up. In the 1920s and 1930s, each county’s health nurse went to all the elementary schools to weigh, measure, and otherwise assess the health of all the students. A boy and girl in each county were christened County Health King and Princess. I know this because a few years after Leo’s brush with the royal life, Mom was crowned Pipestone County Health Princess. Which means that the sibs and I are descended from royalty. Next time you see me, feel free to bow or curtsey.
by jphilo | Sep 29, 2009 | Family
My IRS agent Garnett Morris (left) died last night. Up until last year she worked incognito, at Ieast from my perspective. I learned of her former occupation last October when my mother (center) and Garnett’s sister Jeannie (right) visited Garnett at the nursing home she’d recently moved into.
Garnett’s mind was sharp, and she shared stories about her life in Des Moines during and after World War II. My parents always had great respect for Garnett, who was my dad’s cousin, a career woman and mother in an era when most women stayed home with their children. But they never mentioned (or more likely I never paid attention when they did) that she worked for the IRS.
My retelling of the details may be fuzzy since Garnett’s revelation left me shell shocked. Dad’s faithful older cousin who sent him birthday cards year after year was with the Feds? This comfortable woman, whose Christmas letters were full of exceedingly average family news, was an IRS agent? How could I pay attention to what she said after a bombshell like that?
If what I remember is anything close to accurate, she started as an office worker, not as an agent. But eventually, she was promoted and in charge of a whole lot of office workers. And she traveled to be trained and to train other people, which I figure could have been her story while she did secret tax audits. So I think she really was an IRS agent, but the government doesn’t want her to blow her cover.
Ever since that day, I’ve wanted to visit her again and get the skinny on her job, under the guise of taking Mom and Jeannie to see her again. But I never got around to it, and now it’s too late.
I’m a little sad today, not because my overactive imagination didn’t get fresh fodder. I’m sad because Garnett would have enjoyed our visit. So in honor of Garnett, I’m going to conduct a time audit and straighten out my priorities. If I inherited the same accountant gene she did, it will be easy. More likely, my overactive imagination is messing with my head, and it’s going to be a chore.
Whichever it is, I know that while I’m tidying up my Day Planner, Dad and Garnett will enjoy a good talk. Because everybody in my dad’s family inherited the visiting gene. No exceptions.
