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.

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.

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

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.

Autumn Trip

Story by Louise Lahmann

October 17, 2009 was my 61^st wedding anniversary and I wanted to do something special on that day. I  saw in the newspaper where there was a festival at Hood River and I told Lorita I wanted to go on  this trip and she was excited to go too. But when the day came it was cloudy and downcast. I said maybe it will be better there. So we proceeded to get ready. We got water and some food and my pills and dressed for possible showers. We decided we should go on the 205 freeway to the 84 - we were on our way. 

Al and I

It was fun to do something different but as we drove along it started to rain hard and got very dark. The wind was blowing with the rain making it difficult to drive. At times the car hydroplaned in the high water on the freeway.  Lorita said maybe we should turn back if this gets worse.  I said maybe it will get better when we get there. So we continued on and hoped it would get better.  It was a hazy day and it wasn’t as good as we had envisioned it to be. Lorita complained that she could not see the Fall colors and that was the main reason she had wanted to go. As we got closer to Hood River the rain wasn’t as heavy. They had another festival there on the river so we checked it out. We had to pay admittance there and so we decided to continue on to the original festival just outside of Odell on Highway 35. 

The day had brightened considerably and now we could see all the autumn colors of red yellow, orange and rust. Lorita said I’m taking a picture of that scene of the Hood River. So we stopped so she could take several shots of the river with its fall colors. 

Then we continued on down the road and saw many little farm stands with lots of fruit, vegetables and pumpkins galore. They called the road we were on the Fruit Loop. The flyer says it is “approximately 35 miles of orchards, forests, farmlands and friendly communities.”  We decided to stop at Cody Orchards farm stand. They had herbs, flowers, fruit, crafts and many other things. We got some apples and pears and they were 35 cents a pound, wow! We also got a piece of home made apple pie and shared it. After getting directions to the festival, we were again on the road. 

The festival was on the WyEast school grounds and had three auditoriums filled with all their arts & crafts and food items. There were Gorge wines, prepared foods, fresh fruit and produce, jewelry, clothing, flowers and more. Three women played their folk music on guitar and violin outside under a little roof. There was a salmon dinner prepared by the Native Americans. They had salmon, frybread, baked potatoes and corn on the cob. We decided on one dinner and divided it. We didn’t get the frybread so they gave us two ears of corn with our dinner.  The cook said, as you are sharing the dinner we will give you a larger piece of salmon. It was delicious and all we needed. 

After lunch we went inside to see the crafts. Lorita found a multi-colored knit cap. There were lots of artists and many beautiful paintings and photographs.  A photographer commented on my hat and then added, I can tell you are a mischievous one. I wondered who he was referring to, but no one else was there. Lorita said he was flirting with me. Lorita wanted me to mention this little tidbit but I was embarrassed. Then we went on to another booth and purchased a bottle of honey for my grandson Ryan.  He loves honey and this was fresh from the bee hive. As we were leaving we enjoyed a picturesque scene of the sun in the clouds with a rainbow.

On the way home the rain was lighter and it was brighter so now we could enjoy the autumn leaves and be glad that we continued on with our trip and hadn’t turned back. We went the scenic route for a while along the Columbia Gorge.  

Later when I got home I made applesauce and I wished I had gotten a whole lot more apples because it was so good.  They cooked up just beautiful.  

Pursuing Family History

Story by Louise Lahmann

In the late 70s my sister Josie was getting married and moving back east and on the way stopped over with an overstuffed manila envelope full of papers and pictures that were to become the beginnings of my interest in genealogy. She told me she didn’t have time to work on it now and wondered if I would like to. It sounded fun. I looked at all the stuff and realized there was so much she didn’t have and I became curious to find the missing pieces.

Mother Mildred, me and sister Josie

I started contacting family members and getting birth dates, marriages and deaths. It was a lot of work but I enjoyed the correspondence and learned a lot. I liked the letters coming in the mail because I never knew what I was going to get. It was exciting. Eventually I was interacting with people that weren’t related but they were interested in family history also. It was helpful to learn about the other genealogist because I discovered how to do it better myself. For instance, I wasn’t very good at documenting in the beginning and later I didn’t know where I got some of my data - so I corrected this.

My uncle Ben had worked on my grandmother Cora’s paternal side and he had a lot of material that was useful and my interest grew because it added a lot to the tree. He had done research since 1920 and his aunt Leona had done work on it before him so the information went way back.

About this time I found out about the Family History Center and started going to Portland and using the computer to research for free on Ancestry.com. I found the people there very helpful and they guided me so I found census and other records. I had never used a computer before so I had to learn and the staff there showed me what to do and worked with me. I developed some good friendships there.  Later I found out about the center in Gladstone and started going there since it was easier to get to.

Uncle Ben Jackson

My family tree grew and I began contacting even more people that looked like they might have data about my ancestors. I got a lot of addresses from the computer on different sites. People who had information for me but some who needed it too - we traded.  I found Shirley, a distant cousin, in Louisiana and we wrote for many years until she died. I got stacks of information from her on that side of my family.

Then I discovered Sandra, another distant cousin in Canada who sent me whole trees and gave me tons of valuable info that helped me in my search. I also found some data that she didn’t have so we exchanged much and emailed each other every so often.
                                                                           
There were two other people I became close with. Alan Potts was another very distant cousin that I exchanged info with. He sent me three informative books that he had written on the family. I was even able to fill in some missing pieces for him. Then, my cousin Leon Jackson sent me four valuable books he had written. He was a professor in Indiana and had traveled to many of the locations to research and look for records.

Cousin Sandra Janzen

A couple years ago Ancestry.com quit offering info for free at the Family History Center. The staff told me I would have to pay to access that info now. So what I could learn about my family began to dwindle. By this time Lorita had moved in with me and so I had access to a computer at home now. In my search Online I would go to open a document and discover it was Ancestry.com and I had to be a member to see it. I was upset that they wanted to charge for what I got free before. Honestly, I didn’t like Ancestry.com very much and complained about them every time. Lorita tried to get me to buy a membership but I refused because I felt it was too expensive.

Then on my birthday Lorita and Ryan bought me a one year membership for the entire world (that’s more than just the U.S.).  Now I love Ancestry.com - I have learned so much and met so many people and we email back and forth. I help them and they help me. It’s very fun because I get new information on my family tree every day, make exciting discoveries, and find people that had long been only a blank space on my tree.

My great grandfather's sister found on Ancestry.com

On my mother’s side I found great great grandparents and their families that I had never known about before and I had been searching a long time. Sometimes I’ll find an unknown husband or wife or child in a census or on someone's site and its another puzzle piece that fits in place.  Sometimes I feel like a detective.  I love to solve the mystery.                              

Another thing I love is finding photos on someone’s tree - one’s I had never seen. I have shared many of my family photos with others too and I like to help them and they appreciate it as much as I do.

Besides my mom and dad’s family line and extended family lines, I have also been working on my husband’s family tree and also my grandson Ryan. I took his tree back on one side to the 1500s. And Ryan’s dad, Bob O’Leary, who had thought all his ancestors were from Ireland found out most had come from Scotland. That was a surprise for him.

Bob O'Leary's grandparents on the Carroll side. His mom is one of the twin babies.

                                                             
Every person on the computerized tree has a place for a photo.  If I don’t have a photo of their face then maybe there’s a picture of their gravestone. I also like the time period before photos because on the place where a photo would go I can find etchings of a immigrant ship, a flag,  coat-of-arms or the likenesses of men and women and the way they dressed during that time period and put those in place of a photo.

Researching family history has been a great hobby for me.  It gives me a happy feeling to connect the people together and it helps me understand more about myself and my roots.  I’m glad I got Ancestry.com because now I’m back to finding documents and things I never would have found otherwise. I decided it’s well worth the price because it brings pleasure and gives me something to look forward to.  It’s a legacy I can leave to my descendants, if they’re interested.

Mom with all her children (I'm in the white blouse)

Angels All Around Us

Story by Wilda Lahmann

It was a warm summer evening in late August 1986.  Daily Vacation Bible school had just had its closing program. Both sets of grandparents were able to attend along with the kids and their Daddy, Randy.  I had to work that evening but I made sure the twins Jeremy and Melanie had their nice clothes set out for the program before I left.  Jeremy hadn’t wanted to wear his dress shoes. He wanted to wear his beat up, grungy looking sneakers with Velcro closures. “No, you are not wearing those shoes to church tonight,” I told him sternly.  I gave him a quick hug good bye and then I was out the door for work.

Randy was busy in the kitchen making the kids’ favorite: macaroni and cheese.  He discovered the milk was nearly gone and bread was low too, so he asked our 13-year-old son Scott if he’d mind running over to the corner market for milk and bread. “No problem,” he replied. He knew that a trip to the “GetnGo Market” usually meant a soda or candy too. Jeremy, age 7, asked if he couldn’t please go along too. Randy wasn’t sure as neither of the twins had been allowed to cross the busy street…ever. “Please Daddy,” he begged with his huge, brown “puppy dog” eyes. “I’ll stay right with Scotty.  I promise.” After a few more minutes of begging, Randy relented and said yes and gave them each extra change for a treat from the market. The boys excitedly headed out the door together, 2 brothers hand in hand. Melanie never asked to go. She stayed behind with her Daddy, fixing “mac n cheese.”

My brother Randy with Wilda, Scott, Jeremy & Melanie

It was a busy Friday night at the restaurant.  I was the evening hostess and I loved my job as it allowed me to interact with so many different people. I knew the regulars by name and I would serve them water and coffee and visit with them for a few minutes beside their tables. That is exactly what I was doing that evening when the phone call came in. My manager motioned to me from the front desk. “Phone call.”  Usually, we weren’t allowed to take personal calls while working but he must have known this was an urgent call from a frantic 13-year-old on the other end of the line.

I put the phone to my ear.  It was Scott. He was crying and breathing heavily. “Mom, there’s been a terrible accident.” More crying…. and background noise.

Instinctively I asked “Is it Jeremy? What happened?”

Jeremy Lance Lahmann

Before he could answer I heard what sounded like the whirring of helicopter blades over the phone, so loud that I wouldn’t have been able to hear Scott if he had been talking. Then “Mom, there’s a helicopter landing in the front yard!”

It hit me like a blow to my stomach: Life Flight. They come to the aid of only the worst of accidents.

After a few minutes of unsuccessfully comforting my eldest son on the phone, I knew I had to get to the hospital ASAP. I had to be with my baby, to speak words of encouragement so he would know that he had to hang on. He couldn’t leave our lives already. We had just celebrated the twins seventh birthday, fifteen days earlier.

What hospital? Emanuel. How do I get there? I’ve never driven in that part of town before. I talk with a few waiters and waitresses who tell me that I really shouldn’t be driving at a time like this anyway. But who can drive me?

A smaller dark haired lady was waitressing that night. It was her first day on the job and I didn’t know her, but she came up to me and offered to drive me to the hospital. I readily accepted and we went out to her car and began our drive. It was a beautiful night. Stars were shining, the moon was bright. How could it be possible that I was riding to the place where my youngest son was likely taking his final breaths.

I asked her name. “Anne,” she told me softly.  She had the most comforting voice. She reminded me that regardless of the outcome, Jeremy was already a child of God. She quoted scriptures for me that gave me hope for the future. She also told me that I would need to be strong for the rest of my family. When we got to the hospital she walked with me to the main doors and then told me goodbye. I asked if she maybe wanted to come inside?  She told me “no” that she knew I had family and friends waiting for me inside the hospital. She was glad she was able to give me the ride.  And then she was gone.

Jeremy made his transition from his life on earth shortly after being struck by the drunk driver in the crosswalk in front of our house. It happened so quickly he likely never knew what hit him.  He never regained consciousness. Our beautiful baby boy, Melanie’s twin brother, Scott’s little tag along … was laid to rest beneath a tall fir tree overlooking the valley and Mt Hood to the east.

Mt. Hood from Mountain View Cemetery

I returned to work a week or so later and I wanted to see Anne, to thank her again for being there for me when I needed her. I was told that Anne had never been seen again at the restaurant. She had never returned for her paycheck and they didn’t have a phone number for her.  It was then, while talking with others who had been there that Friday night, I had the feeling I had been visited by an angel.  Others agree.

Since then I have learned that a few of the meanings of the name Anne are “messenger of God”, “God’s gift” and “favored by God”.

The Anne I met that night, was every one of those … and so much more.