Joy Neal Kidney's Blog, page 33

Happy Birthday Music Box, a Family Tradition

When son Dan was a kid, we’d wind up the Fisher-Price Happy Birthday music box and let it play for each person in the family. It took the place of the traditional crank one Mom played when my sister and I were little.

She also played it over the phone to us when we were grown. After each time she played the tune forward, she’d wind it backward just for fun. She eventually wore out the thing.

But yes, I can still hear the tune forward and backward.

Sis Gloria’s note: “Give to me by Grpa/Grma Neal 1952?”

“Quit working June 4, 2010.” It must have given up while Mom was playing it for me.

Copyright 1952, Mattel Incorporated, Los Angeles, California, USA

All Those Cousins at a 4-year-olds’ Birthday Party

Although the Wilson children eventually moved to California, the rest of these cousins grew up around Dexter, Iowa. This photo was taken in July 1950 on the farm NW of Dexfield Park where Dad rented after the war, a birthday party for my sister, Gloria Neal.

Leora Darlene Wilson (born during the war) is on the left in back. Her sister Donna is in the front row looking at the camera. They were the children of Delbert and Evelyn Wilson.

I’m next in the back row, then Susan Shepherd, oldest daughter of John and Nadine (Neal) Shepherd, also born during the war. (Nadine played the organ for my folks’ wedding.) Her brother Kenny is looking at my sister Gloria, who is holding her birthday puppy.

Richard Scar, son of Sam and Darlene (Wilson) Scar and the oldest of the “Wilson cousins” is in the center back, holding his brother Dennis. Robert Scar is next. He and Richard were born during the war.

Judy Neal with the braids, daughter of Willis (Bill) and Helen Neal, was born while her dad was flying over “the Hump” during WWII. Her sister Jane is in the front, watching the crying baby.

Vincent Wells, born during the war, son of Mervin and Betty (Neal) Wells is on the end. His sister Patty is in the middle of the front row.

Emily Neal, on the right in front, is the only daughter of Grandpa Kenneth Neal’s brother MM Neal, so a cousin of my dad’s.

I guess about half of these cousins are true Baby Boomers, and the rest of us are too old for such a moniker.

90th Anniversary of the Barrow Gang Capture – Special Program Sunday

July 24, 2023, is the 90th anniversary of the infamous shootout in Dexfield Park between a posse the Barrow Gang, better known as Bonnie and Clyde.

There will be a special program by local historian Rod Stanley the afternoon of Sunday, July 23, at the Dexter Museum.

The Dexter Museum has extensive displays about the shootout, the days the gang camped at the park before the confrontation, and a large map of the mayhem the couple caused after they escaped.

A little history of the shootout.

The Dexter Museum Facebook page.

 

Four Generations at a Child’s Fourth Birthday Party

This was the fourth birthday party for my sister, Gloria Neal, who is in the center on her tricycle. Candy the Cocker Spaniel was her gift, but it looks like I took a liking to the puppy.

Not only are their four generations of my motherline in this photo, on the left are my dad’s sister, mother, and his grandmother. Two of these ladies are my grandmothers, and two are my great grandmothers!

Near Dexter, Iowa, July 1950

Betty (Neal) Wells sang at my folks’ 1943 wedding. Her children are Vincent (in front of her) and Patty (on the other trike).

Ruby (Blohm) Neal was Dad’s mother. Her folks were German immigrants, her dad was a grocer and butcher in Dexter. Grandma Ruby was famous for her quilts and crocheted afghans. And kuchen bread at Christmastime.

Nellie (Keith) Neal was Dad’s grandmother, married to O.S. Neal. They were neighbors to the Clabe and Leora Wilson family during the Depression, so most of my stories about them are from my mother. (According to my mother, who was 10 at the time, Nellie made the most wonderful ham and beans for the Wilson family when their twins died of whooping cough in 1929.) I don’t remember my great grandmother Nellie Neal, whose mother came from Ireland.

Laura (Jordan) Goff, who was born in a log cabin west of Monteith, Iowa, three years after the end of the Civil War. Great Grandmother lived with her oldest daughter, Leora, in Guthrie Center, the whole time I knew her. She died when I was a freshman in college. After her daughter died, I became the keeper of a quilt top, which I completed decades after she began it.

Leora (Goff) Wilson, whose stories are told in the “Leora books,” which takes readers through her pioneer ancestors and early years through shortly after WWII.

Doris (Wilson) Neal, Leora’s oldest daughter and Gloria’s and my mother.

Guy’s Grandma Walker’s Appliqued Tulips Quilt

One of my “past lives” was as an avid quilter. Family members seemed to like passing on scraps of fabric, miscellaneous quilt squares, and even unquilted patchwork.

The ingredients for this one came from my mother-in-law’s attic.

Her mother, Teresa (Runkle) Walker, had cut out and even basted all the tulip petals, the stems and the leaves. She had appliqued the design on over half the squares, which she’d collected in a stack.

After figuring out how many squares would be needed for a decent-sized quilt, I carefully washed everything and finished appliqueing sprigs of tulips. By then, I’d decided to give it to Guy’s sister Lois, who loves the color blue, so I found a dusty blue fabric for the sashing.

The top was set together in 1991. I hand-quilted it (my favorite part), using a quilting frame, in 1992. That June, we took the quilt to California with us to visit Lois and Dave. Lois uses the quilt on their guest bed in Concord, California.

Lois does tons of sewing on the machine but I guess she hadn’t realized that Grandma Walker and I had done ours all by hand. One of their guests gushed over her hand-made quilt.

The only thing better than an heirloom is one with a story!

Did Vaccinations Trigger My Fibromyalgia?

I recently found a list of triggers for fibromyalgia. Vaccinations was on the list and the only one that fit my timeline.

Because I was preparing for a trip to Bosnia, with a family who’d come to Iowa as refugees of their war, I began vaccinations early in order to have all three Hepatitis B vaccinations spaced as suggested. Because we would be in rural areas, with homes destroyed in the war, a typhoid shot was recommended.

So between June of 2000 and January of 2021, I had nine vaccinations. (I didn’t get the pneumonia shot until November of 2021.)

Joy, Samir, Adis (not quite 2), Zlatka (with another baby due in October), and Dzenaela (age 5). Near Skokovi, Bosnia, June 2001

 

I may have begun to have symptoms while in Bosnia, in June of 2001, sometimes going to bed early from exhaustion. But we were in a mountainous area so I figured that was why.

When we returned home, I went downhill quickly, having a puzzling and difficult summer. That August I also endured a bout of shingles. I was 56 years old.

It’s amazing that people I’ve met since that time have never known me as a well person. In spite of working with various medical people over the years, nothing has helped. I’ve lived with unwellness a quarter of my life! I’m so thankful for my husband (Guy) who has graciously seen me through all these years, giving up traveling and things he’d enjoy because I can no longer take part.

Symptoms: All-over pain (bones, muscles, joints), exhaustion (during the worst days, taking a shower was a huge undertaking), and brain fog. I’m so thankful the brain fog lifted enough a few years ago so I could write again! This last year has been challenging, but I’m not giving up.

I wanted to link the site where vaccinations was listed as a trigger, but so far I haven’t located it again.

 

Browse for Books. Authors, List You Own!

Shepherd: Browse for Books

Love to wander the aisles of bookstores? Shepherd.com is a fairly new website where you can browse books by topic. 

More than 8,000 authors have shared five of their favorite books around a topic, theme, or mood on the site. Shepherd makes it easy to find the books they recommend through a book you already love, an author you adore, or a Wikipedia topic that interests you.

You might want to check it out.

Shepherd for Authors

How does Shepherd work for authors? They feature the author and one of their books, along with five books recommended by the author around a topic or theme, along with why they recommend each of those books. Then Shepherd promotes the author, their book, and their book list throughout their website and marketing channels.

If you’re an author, choose a topic, theme, or mood in an area related to your book. By making recommendations, readers will get acquainted with your voice/personality, which may interest them in you and your book.

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I’ve created a list for all three “Leora books.” I’ll list the books I chose, but please go to the website to read why I picked them.

Best Books on Surprising and Compelling WWII History

My list: U-505 by James E. Wise, Jr.
Typhoon: The Other Enemy - Capt. C. Raymond Calhoun
Crosses in the Wind - Joseph James Shomon
LST 388: A World War II Journal - Robert Von Der Osten and daughter Barbara Von Der Osten
Soldiers' Stories, Vol. II - Myra Miller

Best Books of Surprising Stories About the Great Depression

Joe Dew: A Glorious Life - Elaine Briggs
This is Grant Wood Country - Joan Liffring-Zug
Cinderella Man - Jeremy Schapp (boxing)
WPA Guide to 1930s Iowa - Federal Writers Project
The Boys in the Boat - Daniel James Brown

Best Books Based on Family History

The Horse Whisperers of the Anaconda - Allen Rizzi
An Old Settlers Story - Larry Dean Reese
Pioneer Girl - Andrea Warren
Two Sisters' Secret - Diane T. Holmes
Three Little Things - Patti Stockdale

It was a delight to learn that author Paul E. Kotz recently registered one of his books, and recommended Leora’s Letters as one of his five.

Later this year, Shepherd will launch a way to promote your book by sharing three of your favorites for the year. I’d enjoy getting in on that one.

 

 

There is No Understanding Suicide by Michael Walrod

Michael Walrod, who lost his own son to suicide, wrote this in 2020 after officiating a celebration of life service for another young man who’d taken his own life.

This quote from Mother Teresa was part of his Facebook post, January 19, 2020:

By Reverend Michael “Wombat” Walrod:

Good morning my brothers and sisters.

After officiating at a Celebration of Life yesterday for a young man who took his life thought this to be very befitting. Was a very sad and emotional day for many. Did have some humorous moments and hope that some how those in attendance found some comfort, peace, and somewhat of an understanding.

To stand there and hug a father whose pain you know and understand, to hug a sobbing mother who found comfort knowing you have been through what she is going through, to hugging and talking with a 13 year old boy who is hurting, confused, and feeling guilt over his dad’s death, to having a 4 year daughter of the deceased giving you a hug because she knows you need one, to hugging his friend after he eulogized his dead friend, to hugging people you don’t know but are in pain and they need comfort, to meeting a brother and son who has the best behaved children and great wife to support him, to talking with a man who found his son before it was too late.

Yesterday, on the way over to Adel for service a lot of memories from 17 years and 4 months ago started flooding back. The time when my family went through this with Clint. I prayed for strength, for Clint to stand beside me and he did, for understanding. And suddenly something hit me that l think l have actually known all this time but just have never grasped it.

I finally realized in understanding suicide, one must get to the point of understanding there is no understanding it. And when you do you will find some peace. I found that yesterday.

As l looked out my window after this hit me I watched a bald eagle fly over and stop and hover as l passed. The Spirit was speaking. Always remember, it gets better no matter what.

Hope all can find some peace and happiness today. Stay warm and GO CHIEFS. Peace and enjoy life.

Oh yeah also at service l screwed up when l was talking about how a child’s death is harder on the mother. How their bond starts before birth, how she carried him for 9 months, fed him, and then l said she nurtured him but l slipped up and said neutered him. One lady corrected me right away. A lot of laughter filled the room after that one.

RIP Cade Long!

—–

Michael Walrod has a heart of gold. Since his ordination six years ago, he’s held dozens of celebrations of life services. Working through many losses in his own life has given him such empathy for grieving families.

—–

2023 note from Michael: To all that have helped in the past with donations for the Clint Walrod Memorial Race, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. I have informed Mike V at Stuart Speedway that I want this to be the last year for this race.

It is time for me to move on and let go of some things and this is one. We are looking for donations for this last event. . . .  Hope to make it the biggest ever. Thanks for the support. Love you all. Peace

Please make out checks to Stuart Speedway and mail to the above address, or use Mike’s Venmo account.

Michael Walrod is suffering from depression and said he might not even be able to attend this last race named for the son he lost in 2002.

 

Bananas–everything you wanted to know about them and more

My daughter-in-law brought three books she thought I might enjoy. One was called Banana: The Fate of the Fruit That Changed the World. Well, it’s everything you wanted to know about bananas and then some! (Short review below)

But it reminded me of a couple of banana stories, a Depression Era one from my mother, and one from my trip to Bosnia in 2001.

The Goff Reunion

The summer of 1931, one of Leora’s brothers drove their widowed mother, along with cousins Doris Wilson and and Maxine Goff to the Goff reunion. Grandmother Goff took bananas to share. They were not common in Dexter, Iowa, in those days, so were a real treat. She cut them in half to serve at the potluck. Mostly the kids chose them, and someone ate so many he got sick. Doris, almost 13, had never tasted a banana before. Bananas had been shipped to the US for years, but probably wasn’t common in Dexter, population 748, during the Depression. 

Bosnia

I visited Bosnia in 2001 with a family who came to Iowa as refugees of the Bosnian war. I’d helped teach English as a Second Language (ESL) and accompanied Zlatka to the doctor for prenatal visits, even being with her during labor and delivery when Adis was born in 1997.

It was still common for the breadwinner of a family in Bosnia to have a job in another country. Zlatka’s father, who worked in Austria, returned home to Skokovi while we were there, bringing bananas (among other things) with him. At least four of his grandchildren were there that day. The room became so quiet as they settled down to enjoy those bananas. I’ll always remember how their grandfather beamed as watched his grandchildren savor those treats.

Cousins Dzemal Kovacevic (age 6), Adis (almost 2) and Dzenaela Dogic (5), Rifet Kovacevic (5), near Skokovi, BiH, June 2001

The Book

My thoughts on Banana: The Fate of the Fruit that Changed the World: This book is everything you ever wanted to know about the ubiquitous banana, and then some. Besides why banana peels are funny, the history of the popular fruit is fascinating and horrifying, from dodging diseases, cruel economics, and complicated politics.

Belgium is the center of studies by banana scientists, with dozens of varieties grown on several continents. At the end of this very thorough book, written by Dan Koeppel, is a banana timeline, a bibliography, and an index.

Doris’s story is from Leora’s Dexter Stories: The Scarcity Years of the Great Depression. The 1931 Goff reunion was a memorable one for Doris, for two more reasons than her first banana.

A Fork(lift) in the Road by Robert Frohlich

A Fork(lift) in the Roadby Robert Frohlich

It seemed straightforward enough. The Appalachia Service Project (ASP) needed a new forklift for their warehouse in Johnson city, Tennessee. My friend Jack was in the used equipment business, so all we had to do was raise about eight thousand dollars and find a good used forklift for that price.

I obtained a mailing list from ASP headquarters, and sent letters to all the churches that had sent mission teams to work with ASP in the past. The necessary money flowed in, and Jack found the ideal forklift right here in our hometown, Racine, Wisconsin. Then it got complicated.

One cold December afternoon, we loaded the forklift onto a flatbed trailer, hooked on to Jack’s old International tractor truck, and headed for Tennessee. About three hours into our journey, somewhere in Indiana, Jack said, “Something doesn’t sound right.” I trusted Jack to know what he was talking about, because to me, that old diesel truck always sounded as if something was about to break. We turned into a huge truck stop where Jack listened to the engine, and declared it to be near terminal. Meandering into the dining facility, we found a seat and Jack called his wife to come rescue us. Three hours in a truck stop, eating bad chili and drinking strong coffee; not what I had in mind when we left Racine. Charlotte, Jack’s wife, was probably not thrilled either about heading out at night to drive through Chicago to pick up two grumpy men. Arriving back in Racine after midnight, Jack said he’d figure out what to do, and call me in the morning.

Early the next day, I picked up Jack at his house, and drove to Milwaukee where he rented a tractor, an International COE (Cab Over Engine) with a very hard to shift transmission (more about that later). We came back to my house to drop off my car, and then drove off in a blinding snowstorm back to Indiana and Tennessee. I clearly recall seeing my wife, two daughters, and my mother (who was visiting us at the time) staring out the living room widow as we departed. Were they filled with trepidation or were they simply astonished by our foolishness? Jack, looking at the snow coming down, said, “You’d better buckle up and hang on.” Fun times.

Back at the truck stop, we unhooked the trailer and attached it to the rental truck. We traveled without further incident all the way to Corbin, Kentucky where we stopped for the night. Good thing too, because the next day would be a long one.

Try not to hit anything

Next day, we made our way to Johnson City, arriving at the ASP warehouse around mid-morning. The forklift got unloaded, but the new operators promptly got it stuck in the mud. So Jack used his truck to get it unstuck, and we left the happy ASP crew to play with their new toy. I think Jack mumbled something about Louisville but I was a little surprised when we pulled off there on the way back north. I found that his objective was a used articulated front end loader that he had purchased for one of his customers. We got that big thing onto the flatbed, and headed out once more. I started thinking about supper and another motel room. It soon became evident that that was not the plan. Somewhere in southern Indiana, Jack pulled off to the side of the road and said, “I need you to drive for a while so I can think. Try not to hit anything, because I didn’t put your name on the rental agreement.” OK. It’s winter. There’s icy spots on the road. It’s dark out. The stupid shift lever is hard to move and, oh by the way, I’ve never driven a truck like this! So you go ahead and think, while I death-grip the steering wheel, try to shift without grinding the gears, and pray.

About an hour later, I pulled into the truck stop which was beginning to feel a little too much like home. It was then I noticed that the pavement looked kind of shiny; ice shiny. We were approaching a building, behind which was parked Jack’s old truck. I hit the brakes to slow down to turn. Trucks, especially big trucks loaded with heavy equipment, operate somewhat less responsively than my car does. The whole mess was just sliding along on the ice, my death grip exerting maximum force until the truck shuddered to a halt and the engine stalled. “I’ll take it from here” Jack said.

Behind the building, we saw another driver having ice trouble; basically his tractor-trailer was not moving though the wheels were spinning. Jack said, “Go tell that guy to hang on, we’ll help him in a minute or two..” A chain and a good tug, and the other driver was free. Then I found out what Jack was planning. He moved the front end loader as far forward on the trailer as it would go. Then he lowered the ramps and drove his truck up onto the trailer; its rear wheels just inches from the back end of the trailer. He snugged everything down tight, climbed back into the cab, and we drove off into that dark and slippery night. Surely, we must have stopped for coffee first, but I really don’t remember.

We got back to Racine about midnight. Our simple plan to buy a good forklift for ASP turned into a long (and for Jack, costly) adventure. One of Jack’s frequent sayings was, “No good deed goes unpunished..” This story is just one example of how this became his catch phrase.

Jesus said it differently however. “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 (NIV)

Robert has shared three stories on Our American Stories, two more about adventures with big trucks, one about his German-born grandfather who helped build the “Arsenal of Democracy” during WWII.

Robert Frohlich has written a compelling autobiography, Aimless Life, Awesome God.