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!
