Wednesday, May 11, 2016

A Change in Life

I enjoy looking out my window at the birds - I find it both entertaining and relaxing. I feed them and bought them a bird bath, all of which I placed out by the Dogwood tree in the backyard. The one my dad planted. Now the tree creates a little haven for the various birds that visit the yard. Once in a while I have to chase out a neighbor cat. They enjoy the birds too but for a different reason than me.

The Dogwood tree
My life has slowed down immensely in the past two years since I retired. Now I get to enjoy things I never would have notice in my past busy schedule of working three jobs and taking a weekend course. I have time to do what I want to do. I like it.

My dad, Alvin, died in 2008 after a three year struggle with Myelofibrosis, a disorder of the bone marrow. It affects the red blood cells and people get anemic. It started with him complaining about being tired all the time. I watched my once energetic father struggle to move, lose weight, get infusions (a type of transfusion) progressively until he was getting them every couple of weeks. He was a trooper. I remember him carrying the water can from plant to plant outside on hot days. Watering the few plants that managed to survive his slow health decline. He continued to maintain the house with my mother Louise’s help. But then my mom wasn’t doing that great either and she ended up in the hospital with a lung infection, after that they put her on oxygen so when she got back home she had to drag her little tank around everywhere she went.

My home, at that time, was in Burbank, CA where I worked in the transportation department of Warner Brother’s Studio. I had been there 19 years and had an opportunity for early retirement after 20 years, since I would be 55 years old. My son, Ryan, was 25 years old, still living at home, between jobs but working part time as an extra in T.V. and movies. We were all suffering through a writer’s strike and the job situation and economy were fast going south.

Me in the garden
And that’s what happened. One day the thought hit me to ask my son if he would go to Oregon for a year and help out my parents. Before I ran this by mom and dad, I felt I should “try to convince” Ryan how important this was - I knew he would say “no way.”  That night when I mentioned it to him. I was surprised when his face brightened, he sat up straighter and actually got excited. He didn’t even need to think about it. Wow.  I really didn’t know my son. He was close to his friends and L.A. lifestyle and I never imagined he might want to leave all that. Plus, he would be biting off a lot to take care of ailing grandparents, who he had met maybe six times since he was five years old.

Mom and Ryan

The next day my mom told me Social Services wanted to talk to her. They were concerned she wouldn’t be able to take care of herself. They wanted to set an appointment. There was my mom, driving to see my dad every day with her mobile oxygen tank. It was tiring her out, no doubt. She thought they were being helpful but I don’t always trust government agencies and I had heard horror stories of elderly abuse, drugs, setting up guardians, taking their money, selling their home and personal belongings, putting them in a home - you get the picture.  I told my mom not to meet with them. I said, “Tell them your grandson’s coming to stay for a while and help out. My parents were so excited and my dad even offered to pay Ryan for his help (money was always king in my household). 

In two days Ryan had his one-way ticket and was gone to Oregon. Over the next weeks my dad’s health deteriorated. Soon I bought a plane ticket because I felt I needed to be there at his side. I took a week’s vacation and was so grateful I did because my dad died midnight of the morning I was scheduled to fly back home. He was just a few days past his 80th birthday. He had always said he wanted to live to be 80. I thought, “Be careful what you wish for.”

A lot took place in that week before my dad died that brought me to a place of peace with regards to personal issues that I hadn’t faced and held onto all my life. In the end I was left with renewed love and closeness - cherished loving memories of self-sacrifice, knowing I helped my father in his time of need, knowing I made amends.  It’s amazing how quickly people can change in the face of hardships and emotional trauma. How viewpoints can shift and minds once hard and set can soften. Hearts can do the same. 

Mom and Dad
I stayed for another week on my bereavement leave from work and reconnected with family and friends. My dad had set up his entire funeral in advance and paid for everything. I can’t put enough emphasis on how important that was to his loved ones left behind to not have to make those kinds of decisions. And we knew everything was as he wanted it. The only things we had to select were the clothes he would wear and the day of the funeral.

I had lived away from my family since I was 18, always anxious to leave, just get away, sometimes angry, and for the first time in my life when I flew back to L.A. I felt like I was not coming home. I wanted and needed to stay in Oregon near my mom and son.  That’s where I now belonged. 

As I watched the brilliant sunset from the plane’s window I cried and thought of the song my dad had selected to be played at his funeral - It was about, somewhere over the sunset, that’s where he would be going. An old song from his era I had never heard. I stared out the plane window toward the sunset knowing he must be there somewhere and aware of me watching. I said goodbye and promised to take care of mother.

The next year I called “home” every day. I began wrapping up the loose ends, selling all my belongings on Craigslist, saving my money and getting rid of useless accumulated crap. It felt good and as the process continued I began to feel free and unencumbered. I flew home over Christmas, helped paint the living room, sorted through belongings with mom and knew this was where I belonged. 

Over that year I helped my mom work with her health issues - she in Oregon me in California.  I helped her buy an air filtration system. Had her take out the carpets and put in oak floors. Told her to get rid of dust traps that weren’t helping her lung condition. We spoke of diet and nutrition, not running the furnace but finding another heat source. She was making changes. 

A person has to have a reason to live, something to look forward to, in order to survive. I wanted my mother to survive. I tried to get her interested in her genealogy again because she had set it aside and it was her favorite past time.

Ryan helped her every step of the way and it was an invaluable lesson in responsibility.  I was so proud of him. I know many young adults would not do what he did. After we were sure my mom could manage better, she had cut down on the oxygen, Ryan went looking for a job and got the first one he applied for. One day when we were talking on the phone he said, “I’m not coming back to L.A.  I’ve discovered my personality is more suited to Oregon.” Hearing that was like a ray of light in my world.

Mom with her brothers and their wives

I left L.A. July 1, 2009 to drive to Portland, Oregon with my friend Mark. He had helped me paint my apartment, clean, pack and finally drive there in one day. I was home. I moved back into my old bedroom (odd) and for the first time in 30 years I was living in someone else’s home - I had lived here throughout my high school years - but it in no way represented me.  It was my mother’s home and I soon found out we lived on opposite ends of the equator when it came to how we did things. But I was ready to step up to the plate.  I knew, no matter what lay ahead, I was doing the right thing.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Mariah's Miracle

Story by Lorita OLeary

(This story was originally written in 2010)

Mariah Evans, one of the triplets born to my niece Melanie and her husband Mike Evans in Virginia, turned nine this April along with her brother Ethan and sister Savannah. Mariah was the largest but eventually the weakest of the triplets. Because of a prolapsed umbilical cord during pregnancy and possibly labor, and attorneys belief that there was negligent prenatal care while Melanie was hospitalized, Ethan and Mariah were born with Cerebral Palsy. 

Melanie said it started “with the fact that I had only one ultrasound for monitoring the entire 4 weeks I was in the hospital in preterm labor and ending with the fact that Savannah was the only one of the three who received oxygen at birth, and she is the only one not affected [with Cerebral Palsy].”  Mariah suffered severe symptoms and had more problems than her brother Ethan. In her early days Mariah spent much of her time in the hospital and had several operations. Doctors told Melanie and Mike she would never walk or talk.

Triplets - Ethan, Savannah, Mariah
Her triplet sister Savannah was normal in every way and a bundle of energy. She looked just like her mother did when she was her age. Her brother Ethan who was also born with Palsy could now talk in whole sentences, hold his head up and will possibly walk one day. He’s a very smart little guy with a high IQ and gets around in a motorized wheel chair.

Mariah & Ethan
Mariah could not hold her head up or move around like her siblings although she is very alert and understands all that is said. The Palsy seemed to affect her muscles most. What is evident is her happy and lovable spirit in spite of her handicaps. Since getting on Facebook my mom and I have come to realize how many people Mariah has touched.

When Mariah was around two-years-old the whole family, including my sister-in-law Wilda and her entire family except her oldest daughter Crystal, up and moved to Savannah Tennessee where they bought a twenty acre farm. The property was inexpensive and had a large house, a duplex and a trailer house included. Mike’s parents also moved there from Virginia and they all shared the property. After they got there they built Wilda a three bedroom pre-fabricated house with an attached porch on a section of the property.  

While there, Mariah always had nurses to help her and she had physical therapy to exercise her muscles daily. Her parents eventually got her a special wheelchair as she got older that helped to hold up her head. She loved her wheelchair as she could now sit up and see what was going on around her. It allowed her to be more involved with the family. From that point she blossomed. Mike and Melanie had two other children before the triplets – Jeremy who is a couple of years older and Andrew who was ten years older.  All the children loved Mariah and helped her in any way they could. 

Savannah, Ethan, Mariah with older brothers Andrew & Jeremy

After several years Melanie and Mike decided they wanted to move back to Virginia. They prayed about the move because it would disrupt all their lives as they were quite established now in Tennessee. They had not sold their previous house in Virginia but had rented it out.  One day shortly after they had decided they were going to move in October they got a call from their tenants telling them they were moving and would be out on October first. Melanie and Mike hadn’t even told them about their plans so it was obvious to them that God had answered their prayers.

At the Beach

Now, moved back into their home in Virginia which they always loved, Melanie had to make new arrangements for the triplet’s care. Melanie’s older brother Scott had come back to Virginia with them and moved into the bungalow on their property. Melanie found out she could get government subsidy for the triplet’s care so she could now pay Scott to help out. Eventually her sister Crystalee, who is a trained caregiver, offered to help also and did so until she had two children of her own.  But it has always been a family endeavor based on a strong faith in God. That family also extends out into the community now since Mike sometimes takes the pastor’s place in his absence. Because of this they have many supportive friends from their church.
Mike & Melanie with the gang

One day I was looking at Facebook, where we can keep in touch with the whole family daily, and Melanie had a short video clip of Mariah walking. We were so excited we had to turn that video on to see what was happening.  Soon we saw Mariah taking baby steps with the help of her mom Melanie. We could hear her squeals of delight as she put one foot in front of the other, a big smile on her face, as the rest of the family cheered her on. Mariah looked so determined and proud. Mike held the camera, giving words of encouragement as Melanie moved back and walked Mariah toward the camera again.  One of the most moving moments of this brief video was when her sister Savannah briefly appeared on the screen as a blur of excitement pushing Melanie and Mariah back to their starting point so they could walk toward the camera for a third time. You couldn’t see Savannah’s face but you could tell how thrilled she was because of her sister’s accomplishment. 

So, that made two blessings we experienced that day – the first because we were able to see this at all across all those miles, the second because everyone was so happy to witness what we would never have expected – Mariah walking. In the past we wouldn’t have been able to share this event on the same evening as the rest of the family –  Mariah's miracle brought to us by modern conveniences.

The triplets just celebrated their 9th birthday

Mariah "WALKING" tonight!! Please excuse my yelling, but needless to say she made me one proud enthusiastic mommy! Hahaha! Thanks for watching! (click the link on "Walking" to see it)

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

More Than Coincidence

Story by Lorita O'Leary & Wilda Lahmann

Randy with three of his children - Jon, Alissa & Crystalee

My husband, Randy, shook me awake, It must have been 2:00 A.M. He was hunched over, holding a hand to his chest. “Wilda, I need to get to the hospital,” he said, gasping. “Can’t breathe.”

“I’ll call 911,” I said, jumping out of bed.

“No time,” he gasped again. “Drive me. Now.”

I helped him up and got him in our van. Randy slumped against the passenger-side door. Fifteen miles to the hospital. Too far, I thought. We’re not going to make it. Send help, Lord.

We tore out of the driveway, engine roaring in the still night air. Could Randy hold on? About a mile down the road, at the bottom of a hill, I saw something in the street. We’re my eyes playing tricks on me? No, it was real. An ambulance!

“Look, Randy!” I shouted. A paramedic stood outside the vehicle. Like he was waiting for us. How did he know?

I slammed on the brakes, leaped out of the van and ran over to the ambulance, screaming for help. The paramedic and his partner went right to work. “Possible cardiac,” one said. They strapped an oxygen mask onto Randy and started treatment. Then they loaded him onto a stretcher and into the ambulance, unconscious. “Follow us,” one of them told me.

The next three days were touch-and-go. I never left Randy’s bedside, praying he’d wake up and be okay. Finally, he did. “What happened?” he asked.

“You mean you don’t remember?”

“Nothing after the ambulance,” he said.

“You had a massive heart attack. The EMTs said another minute or two and...” I squeezed his hand tight.

“You called them?” Randy asked.

“No,” I told him. “They received a report of a car crash at that intersection. They even called in to make sure that they were at the right location. They were. And then we came along seconds later.”

Fifteen miles on empty roads in the middle of the night. Randy’s heart attack would have been fatal if those paramedics hadn’t been there. I’d say they were in the perfect location.

Wilda & Randy

This story was published in Guidepost Aug 2005 issue

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Glacial Erratic Rock - Willamette Valley

Story by Lorita OLeary

Louise and grandson Ryan head up the trail to the site

Back during the last Ice Age (12,000 to 18,000 years ago) the Missoula Floods, originating in southwest Montana, deposited vast amounts of earthly debris over portions of Idaho, Washington and Oregon - eventually spilling into the Pacific Ocean.  Because of these floods, the Willamette Valley in Oregon became one of the most fertile regions in the state.  Vineyards sprung up - some 40,000 acres of grapes - which now produce some of the finest wines in the French Burgundy style.

At the top

When the 3,000 square mile prehistoric Glacial Lake Missoula flooded, the waters coursed through the Columbia River Gorge at 60-miles-per-hour carrying huge boulders with it.  Eventually the cataclysmic waters receded and what remained were “glacial erratics” stranded where they had come to rest. 

One such 90-ton boulder stands atop a hillside in McMinnville, Oregon surrounded by rich farmland and vineyards below. You can hike the 1/4 mile paved path year-round up to the site and see the largest glacial erratic found in the Willamette Valley. In fact, the only other place rocks like this have been found are in Canada. 

Soaking up the sun, taking in the view

My mother was raised on this hilltop in Yamhill County, her family moved there in the early 40s when she was 12, and she used to hike to the Rock throughout her childhood. It hadn’t been “discovered” yet and she knew it only as a cool rock and a good place to hang out (my slang, not hers). I also loved the rock as a child and remember finding it one day when I was at grandpa and grandma’s farm. It was a warm day and I climbed up on it’s sunny surface to daydream. I remember the rock seemed out of place here (being the only thing like it in the area) and I thought it was a special find, but I imagined it coming from outer space - like a meteor.

Over the years I traveled and moved to other states but was surprised to discover recently that the rock is somewhat famous and an Oregon State Park called Erratic Rock State Natural Site. Now anyone can climb to the top of the 250 foot hill to enjoy the scenery, the sun-soaked surface of this glacial erratic, and daydream.

After parking along Oldsville Road, there's an interpretive sign which allows visitors to learn about the rock. Once on top of the hill, there's a picnic table in case anyone brings a lunch.  On a warm day its nice to sit or lie on the rock and soak up the warmth. You will also be rewarded with spectacular vistas -vineyards, orchards, farms and the Oregon coast range.

Enjoy the behemoth, which is composed of metamorphic rock called argillite but leave it there because it seems to be shrinking. The reason: geologists estimate visitors have removed more than 70 tons of the rock over the years.

Park along Oldsville Road off of Highway 18 to reach this park. From Oldsville Road, you'll need to walk up the quarter-mile paved path to the rock itself. The trail becomes steep briefly as you near the rock. There is no fee to use this park.

Monday, January 7, 2013

Nephew John Lahmann

Story by Louise Lahmann

In late April of 2010 I got a call from my sister-in-law Hilda Jones from Kansas. She told me our nephew John Lahmann had died in Nebraska. He was 62, two years older than my son, and had been ill for some time. Hilda and I spoke occasionally over the next few weeks and John often was a part of these conversations.  

John Stanley Lahmann 1947-2010
His early life was complicated with drugs and drinking. He may have been somewhat of a rebel - arising from the Easy Rider days (he even had a motorcycle). He served in the United States Army right out of high school. Following his discharge he owned and operated Mutha's Autobody in Wahoo, Nebraska where he specialized in automotive body repair and painting. He married his first wife, Beverly Bohaty in 1968 and they had a son named John. Her family never approved of the marriage, and soon after the baby’s birth, Beverly and the baby were whisked away by her parents. John never really got over this and only saw his son a couple other times before he was two years old.

Unfortunately John sold drugs from his business and local complaints and fear of retaliation from police caused him to move to California. Here he married his second wife, Carol Krueger, in 1976. The marriage only lasted two years. Someone told me he didn’t want children. He may have been worried about losing them, as he had his first son, since this was a very hurtful experience for him. 

John's first marriage
Somewhere during this time he was involved in a hit and run accident where a pedestrian was killed. He left California and went to Arizona, where his second wife was originally from. The only reason I knew about the accident was I happened to see the article his mother Phyllis had cut out of the newspaper when I was visiting one time. I don’t know what ever became of this situation.

Bad luck followed John to Arizona where someone intentionally ran him off the road while he was riding his motorcycle. He skidded down the embankment and hit a telephone pole. The accident left him paralyzed from the waist down. John had started another automotive business in Arizona and his father Henry (my husband’s older brother) sold the business and moved John back to Nebraska to live with them.

John had to go through therapy and it was a long time recuperating. He had to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. His parents fixed the house to make it wheelchair accessible and built a pulley system so he could easily move from room to room and in and out of bed. His arms were strong and soon he was driving with a hand control device.

John in his device
After automotive school he decided to open another business in Wahoo. He hired young boys to help him do the jobs he was unable to do because of his condition. One day I saw an article in the newspaper advertising a motorized piece of equipment that allowed paraplegics to stand upright or lie in a reclining position. I sent the article back to John’s mother and he purchased it so he could work on his cars more easily. He could be upright and move around or slide under the cars. Later, Phyllis told me he considered it one of his most important pieces of working equipment. Mutha’s Autobody grew into a thriving business and John was somewhat famous in his home town. He also did all of his own ordering and bookwork.

John's dad Henry with Cisco
Over the years John had physical problems from continually sitting in the wheelchair. He was thin and had lots of pressure points that created sores. He also had poor circulation and eventually had one of his legs amputated. John’s dad died from heart trouble in 1985. Years later, in 2007, John unexpectantly lost his younger sister Maxine. She’d lived in California and left four children who hardly knew their uncle. Then a year later his mom Phyllis died of cancer in a nursing home.

John’s last few years were plagued with infections. Finally, he had to sell his automotive business when he could no longer do the work. 
Through it all, John was a cheerful, kind man who had made many friends in Wahoo over the years. One day he passed out and someone found him on the floor in his home. 
Sister Maxine, John, mom Phyllis

After that he was hospitalized and then spent months in a nursing home. Doctors never thought he would be well enough to go back home but one day it was decided he could, under a nurse’s daily care. 

In his last days he found pleasure rolling his wheelchair down the street and getting out of the house for short jaunts. Hilda told me when John was very sick and on oxygen, he mentioned his son that he never saw,  and said someday my son will know who I am.  On April 30, 2010 his nurse found him dead of a severe infection from a bed sore that wouldn’t heal. He was buried at Sunrise Cemetery and Military Funeral Honors were conducted by Wahoo American Legion.

Monday, December 17, 2012

The Five-Span Bridge

My interest was fixated on a bridge my grandfather Stephen Jackson helped build in my hometown of Paulding, Ohio. The adventure began when my husband Al and I made a trip across country in the late 70's or early 80’s to visit friends and relatives in various states and one of our stops was to see my childhood girlfriend, Gladys, in Holgate, Ohio. We reminisced about old times, we hadn’t seen each other since we were nine-years-old, but we had written back and forth over the years. 

Stephen Jackson
The next day we took a road trip with her and her husband Bob.  They took us to Defiance, Ohio to the last place where I lived in Ohio. I had been nine at the time my family of seven moved to Oregon so the area had really changed. It had been country and now was developed with houses. The old house had been torn down and someone had built a new home so it looked different, like nothing I remembered.

Me with brother James and Edwin in front of the house in Defiance, OH

We then went to see the bridge my grandfather had helped to build. Gladys said it was called The Five-Span Bridge. I had known about the bridge from my father talking about it but I never knew its name. The bridge crossed the Auglaize River in northwestern Ohio.  When we arrived, we got out of the car and looked at the plaque at the top of the bridge with my grandfather’s name on it. I took a picture with my old box camera but the plaque was far away and it didn’t really show up in the picture. 

Gladys told me the bridge was going to be torn down and a new one built in its place. I was disappointed because a landmark that my grandfather was somewhat responsible for would be gone. While we were standing there looking at the bridge, an old man in a pickup stopped and called out to us, “It will hold you, never fear. It is well built.” We all started laughing and couldn’t quit. The man drove off and probably thought we were nuts. 

Five-Span Bridge
Many years later I got curious about the bridge and wondered what had happened to the plaque with my grandfather’s name on it. I called several cousins that lived in Michigan but they had forgotten about the bridge. I called Gladys and she told me they had built the new bridge but she didn’t know what happened to the plaque - she was going to inquire about it. I called my cousin Paul, who lived in Finlay, Ohio, and he said he might have a cousin on his mother’s side who knew something about it because he had lived there a long time. I told him it might be in a historical museum and if he found it would he take a picture.  He said he would get together with his cousin and find out.

Soon, all I was thinking and talking about was the bridge.  My daughter and I searched the Internet for five-span bridges in Paulding, OH that crossed the Auglaize River.  All we found was information and pictures about the new bridge - no mention of my grandfather’s bridge, except that it had been replaced. We found out the new bridge was on US 127 north of Paulding and that they were doing work on its road. It's called 637 Bridge 5-span over the Auglaize River. It was built by Vernon Nagel Construction.

I wrote to Marilyn Smith, editor of Paulding Pathways, a quarterly historical newsletter published by an old Paulding County Genealogy Society. I also wrote a construction company that might know something about it but I seemed to hit a dead end.

Then one day, months later, I got a call from my cousin Paul and he said his cousin had found the plaque at the Paulding County Historical Society and they had gone together to take a picture of it. I had gotten Paul as excited as I was about the bridge. He sent me the picture of the plaque and I sent him a copy of the picture of the bridge I had taken those years ago.

Shortly after this Marilyn Smith from Paulding Pathways contacted me and said she hadn’t found the plaque but had discovered one of the members lived in the area when the bridge was torn down and her pictures said August 1983 for tearing it down and November 1983 (and some 1984) for building the new bridge. Marilyn also contacted Ohio Department of Transportation and the man in charge said the records of when the old bridge was built had been destroyed.

I decided the old bridge must have been built between 1908 and 1912 because my grandfather’s obituary said he was county commissioner of Paulding County, Ohio during that time and the plaque that had been at each end of the bridge had my grandfather’s name and that title on it. I also had the information on the plaque to go by and it said the bridge was built by the Oregonia Bridge Company from Lebanon, Ohio. It had the date 1912 above it so that might have been when it was completed.

Old family photo of bridge

Recently I found an old family picture of a five-span bridge in an envelope amongst all my stacks of genealogy materials.  It must have been my grandfather’s picture because it's from that era and looks like the region. When I found the photo I was thrilled because I felt it was my grandfather’s picture of the bridge he had built. The family had always been really proud of it.  Here was a gift after all I had gone through. With a little help from others I solved the mystery of the five-span bridge and the plaque with my grandfather’s name on it.

Then in 2010 my daughter Lorita and I drove back east for a family wedding. On the way home we stopped in Ohio and we stayed with my friend Gladys and her husband Bob for a few days. I told them the story about finding the plaques and they drove us out there to see the new bridge.  As we stood there on the bank of the Auglaize River and Lorita took a picture I thought how neat it was to bring this story to its completion.

New bridge 

Gladys and I in 2010

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Home is Where the Heart Is

Story by Louise Lahmann

After being remodeled
We moved into the home where I live in Oak Grove in 1963. The house was in need of lots of repairs and my husband Al being a handy man went right to work. There was a big hole in the front porch. When the previous owner left they took the kitchen cupboards and the sink with them. I had to wash the dishes in the bath tub until Al and his brother Ray built new cupboards and a new sink in.

Al did so many things to fix this house up it’s hard to remember now. He remodeled every room and built on to the bathroom and kitchen. He changed the stairway downstairs into a closet and made a new stairway down to the basement out of a little kitchen nook that wasn’t good for much else.

There was a partial basement (more of a dirt cellar) and Al dug more than half of it out and made a laundry room, huge bedroom and closet and a large family room. That was a lot of work and it turned out beautifully as he changed everything to suit him and he was a perfectionist so everything had to be just so. He took pride in his work and I had great admiration for all the things he did. He was quite a wonderful person.
Al & me later in life, after his illness took hold

I never liked the construction phase with all the dust and noise (even though he cleaned up afterwards) but it was worth it as it was so much nicer when the work was done. I helped him when I could.

He remade the front wood porch by pouring a cement slab. He built a small patio off the back door coming from the basement and another patio off the kitchen. There was no foundation on the north side of the house so he had to jack the house up so he could put a new foundation under it. I helped him with that, whew, a lot of work. It was all a labor of love.

He did all this work on his time off from his regular job as he worked full time at Publishers Paper Company. It was not an easy job at the mill either as he worked a different shift each week so had to keep adjusting to a new schedule. I know it was difficult for him but he hardly ever complained. He was a good provider.

Off to work
Later he built a fence around the property to keep out the neighbors dogs, as back then dogs roamed free. He put in three gates and paved the driveway back to the garage. He put in a gravel drive on the other side of the house and a carport so we could have a place to park our other car. Later, we put in an electric garage door. It seemed there was always some improvement and Al was up for the job. Sometimes I wondered where he got all of his energy.

Besides building and remodeling, Al was a master woodcrafter and had many tools to work on his different projects.  He built book cases, closets, lamps, picture frames, file cabinets and even grandfather clocks. He could make anything to order and designed and made up his own patterns many times. Anything he could see he could turn around and create. He had a good sense of humor and liked to build whimsical toys, whirligigs and a variety of windmills.

File cabinet he made
But after a while he got too sick to do much around the house and after he broke both of his ankles (at different times) it was difficult to stand for long hours in his workshop.  I know he missed being able to make new things and left many projects unfinished. He would get frustrated because he just couldn’t do it like he used to.

I love this house and all it means to me because of or shared labors. Every place I look is a reminder of my life with Al.  He was so talented and capable and left me with a beautiful home and thousands of wonderful memories.