I now longer have teenagers in the house. Ross our youngest turned twenty today. It is hard to believe it has been 20 years since he has been born. The happy, active baby has turned into a happy active young man. He has successfully finished two years of college at Valpo has good friends and enjoys being with his family. When your child is born you have so many hopes and dreams for them. Ross, we are so proud of the man you have become and the person you will be in the future. Happy Birthday and may God continue to bless you.
Love,
Mom
Monday, June 30, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Moving on
I was reading Liz's post on Blonde moment. She is in her last weeks of pregnancy. It made me think of when I was pregnant with Ross about this time 20 years ago. I remember lumbering around in the heat and humidity extremely uncomfortable. I was ready to star the next phase of my life. Come to think of it, when Ned left for college I was ready for him to go to college because he was making it very uncomfortable to be around him. Guess that is God's way of preparing us for our next phase. We become uncomfortable and ready to move on. Someone once said that the pain of remaining the same becomes greater then the fear of change, that is when change happens. I have found in my life that I am becoming more and more comfortable with change because I have learned that I can't control most things anyways, so I might as well embrace it.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
A Dad's Dad
I found this article by Kevin Helliker very moving and scary where did he get that picture of my parents wedding? But the similarity's don't end with the picture. He could have been writing about my Dad or Mark's Dad or any other Dad of the Greatest Generation. As a child, I was scared of him, as a teenager I baffled him (flit flit) and as an adult I admire adn respect him.
Dad intimidated not only his children, but nieces , nephews and any other child who wandered in his path. My children figured out far earlier in their lives that beneath that gruffness was someone who loved them for who they were , not for what they did (or didn't do). His gruff and loud voice would reverberate across the room until my Mom would hush him "Bob, your scaring the grandkids." I suppose we came by our exuberance naturally. We were all mystified when my sister Cindy reported overhearing a friend's Mom say "Those Etzler girls are nice, but they are so loud." Us we thought, loud? It wasn't until years later when we were at a family reunion and my son commented "Boy Mom, your family is sure emotional". Yes, I thought we are, we tend to
My Dad is Civil Engineer I graduated from college with a journalism degree. I never had a math course I liked (in fact I was able to graduate from college without taking one math course), my father lived to work with math. It was orderly and made sense. I remember sitting at the kitchen table with my math book on one side and Dad on the other. "Let's see..." he would mumble. Then we would be on the rollicking journey of logic vs. emotion. He would clearly lay out the problem and I would struggle to follow along. The story problems were the worst for me. I had trouble grasping the concepts of train A and train B. I would tend to get more wrapped up in what did Mr. Brown bring back from Chicago then the miles per hour etc. Dad was frustrated that a child of his could not grasp simple math concepts. These sessions usually ended up with him raising his voice my crying and my mom offering ice cream to settle down both of us.
Music was a language we all understood. All six kids played a musical instrument and my mom sang in the choir. Dad was a frustrated piano player, he always regretted stopping lessons when he was a child. After unsuccessfully trying to mold my younger brothers into young Bach's he took up piano lessons himself. His weekly lesson with was Mrs. Wahnwitz (sp). I think they spent more time talking about world politics, and current events then piano. Dad was diligent about practicing every day. He found playing the piano relaxing although somewhat jarring for the listener.
When he retired, he never slowed down. In 1995 he was recognized by the NE Indiana Engineering week Citizen Engineer of the year which recognized not only his professional but also his civic leadership. He continutes to volunteer at the local grade school, church and social areana. He is an inspiration to all who meet him. I have no doubt that when God calls him home he will hear "Well done, good and faithful servent."
Dad intimidated not only his children, but nieces , nephews and any other child who wandered in his path. My children figured out far earlier in their lives that beneath that gruffness was someone who loved them for who they were , not for what they did (or didn't do). His gruff and loud voice would reverberate across the room until my Mom would hush him "Bob, your scaring the grandkids." I suppose we came by our exuberance naturally. We were all mystified when my sister Cindy reported overhearing a friend's Mom say "Those Etzler girls are nice, but they are so loud." Us we thought, loud? It wasn't until years later when we were at a family reunion and my son commented "Boy Mom, your family is sure emotional". Yes, I thought we are, we tend to
My Dad is Civil Engineer I graduated from college with a journalism degree. I never had a math course I liked (in fact I was able to graduate from college without taking one math course), my father lived to work with math. It was orderly and made sense. I remember sitting at the kitchen table with my math book on one side and Dad on the other. "Let's see..." he would mumble. Then we would be on the rollicking journey of logic vs. emotion. He would clearly lay out the problem and I would struggle to follow along. The story problems were the worst for me. I had trouble grasping the concepts of train A and train B. I would tend to get more wrapped up in what did Mr. Brown bring back from Chicago then the miles per hour etc. Dad was frustrated that a child of his could not grasp simple math concepts. These sessions usually ended up with him raising his voice my crying and my mom offering ice cream to settle down both of us.
Music was a language we all understood. All six kids played a musical instrument and my mom sang in the choir. Dad was a frustrated piano player, he always regretted stopping lessons when he was a child. After unsuccessfully trying to mold my younger brothers into young Bach's he took up piano lessons himself. His weekly lesson with was Mrs. Wahnwitz (sp). I think they spent more time talking about world politics, and current events then piano. Dad was diligent about practicing every day. He found playing the piano relaxing although somewhat jarring for the listener.
When he retired, he never slowed down. In 1995 he was recognized by the NE Indiana Engineering week Citizen Engineer of the year which recognized not only his professional but also his civic leadership. He continutes to volunteer at the local grade school, church and social areana. He is an inspiration to all who meet him. I have no doubt that when God calls him home he will hear "Well done, good and faithful servent."
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Out on the Farm
This blog article by Penelope Trunk, made me think of summers when I was a kid visiting my grandparents farm. I loved going out to the farm; although my cousins, who lived next door could never understand why. When I was about 11, my parents allowed me to ride my bike out to the farm, which took about 45 minutes. I would go out almost every week even though my grandmother scared me. She had a lot to do, and didn't need someone jsut hanging around. She wasn't afraid to shoo me out of the house if I was in her way (which was most of the time).
If I went out on Saturday's especially in the morning I could take part in the bread making ritual. She would bake 10-12 loaves of bread and coffee cake every week. If there is anything better the melted butter on a piece of warm homemade bread, I don't know what it is. She also made strawberry jam, applesauce and apple butter.
I loved the farm because there were so many cool places to hide and read a book. I could go down to the apple orchard and climb one of the trees, or sit on the swing on the front porch. I could go out the the barn and play in the hayloft or run through the fields with their dog Queenie an old collie. Going through the old smokehouse or summerhouse always were treasure troves. The best part was going down to the river in the spring after it flooded and finding arrowheads. I once found a musket ball.
There was plenty to explore inside also. The basement was always dank and dark, full of spiders and mice. The upstairs closets held party dresses from my Mom and her sisters. And of course the mounted deer head that was always looking down upon us in the front bedroom closet.
It was a time of exploration, and fun, but also a time to just curl up and read. My cousin John lives in the old farmhouse now. He has bee a good steward of the house, that holds so many memories for my sibling and I.
If I went out on Saturday's especially in the morning I could take part in the bread making ritual. She would bake 10-12 loaves of bread and coffee cake every week. If there is anything better the melted butter on a piece of warm homemade bread, I don't know what it is. She also made strawberry jam, applesauce and apple butter.
I loved the farm because there were so many cool places to hide and read a book. I could go down to the apple orchard and climb one of the trees, or sit on the swing on the front porch. I could go out the the barn and play in the hayloft or run through the fields with their dog Queenie an old collie. Going through the old smokehouse or summerhouse always were treasure troves. The best part was going down to the river in the spring after it flooded and finding arrowheads. I once found a musket ball.
There was plenty to explore inside also. The basement was always dank and dark, full of spiders and mice. The upstairs closets held party dresses from my Mom and her sisters. And of course the mounted deer head that was always looking down upon us in the front bedroom closet.
It was a time of exploration, and fun, but also a time to just curl up and read. My cousin John lives in the old farmhouse now. He has bee a good steward of the house, that holds so many memories for my sibling and I.
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