Someone I will never forget.

Yesterday , along with my favorite sister Meg, I drove to my home town. I dont go there very often, usually only on Memorial day to visit the resting place of my parents and other ancestors. We got there early and went first to the Lutheran home to visit some people.We couldnt find them right away so we drove around the old home town, past the now vacent lot where our parents last lived, and around the neighborhoods where we picked out the homes of people we remembered when we were much younger. That part of the trip was so enjoyable to the both of us. We discussed what it was like for each of us growing up in our family. It is a good thing to reminisce about those times. There were things that brought up what seemed hurtfull to us at times but which over time they became trivial compared to what our parents had to go through to raise such a large family while worrying about what to feed us during the depression years , having sons and a daughter in the war, and mom having a husband that she thought was going to die because of his bad health all at the same time. We were so blessed to have had such strong parents. We went backto the home and were able to visit the people we came to see. The one I wanted most to see was Francie Rauner. I became friends with Francie when I joined the Knights of Columbus when I turned 18. We worked together on the initiation team with the K.C's. We also played with the K.C. softball team every summer. Francie was one of those people you just had to like. I never knew anyone that had met him that didn't like and respect him.He was all the things that I would like to be as I approached manhood. He was a big man with a big heart. He was married to Megs very good friend Rose. Roses sister Kathy is also our sister in law so in that sense we are related. The Rauners were always there to support us when there was a death in our family.That always meant so much to me as we buried brothers and sisters and their spouses. Francie was a hard working farmer. He and Rose raised a beautiful family on that farm through tough times and good times. They both were hard workers on the farm and with Church functions. Francie was a roll model for many of our nephews. He was a very large and very gentle man. The reason I am writing this is that Francie is suffering from terminal cancer. He has lived longer than the doctors expectations. Soon he will be in that place God has prepared for him and will be watching down and helping his family from his heavenly home. His children are a great comfort to their mother in these difficult times. I urge anyone who reads this blog to remember this family in their prayers. You dont have to know him. When Old Irish puts his stamp of approval on someone you can take it to the bank. He definately is someone I will never forget. I dont think anyone who has had the priveledge to have met this man could ever forget him either. May he have a peaceful and happy death and may his prayers stream down from heaven on those of us who were touched with his friendship and goodness while he walked this earth.

Old Irish

Good as new...Well sorta

Now that things are pretty much back to normal I thought I should write something on my blog.First of all I am very grateful to the staff at the Nebraska heart institute Hospital for bringing me back to life after my heart failed to restart after a simple procedure. I dont remember a thing but I know I put my Swedeheart and family through hell. When Bobbie got ahold of Denny so he could get Kellie out there to be with her mom the worst was over. Kellie called some of my family and got on the forum and the prayers started enmasse. I am so glad for the reunion a year ago because the prayers came from not only my immediate family but my extended family and our adopted families. I got calls from Nieces and nephews in three states and expressions of love and prayerful concern from other nieces and nephews on the family forum. Also from our adopted families on this blog. This was so much appreciated by me. I am very fortunate to be surrounded by so much love and concern. When I got home after the pacemaker was installed I went through periods of such peace and contentment and Spiritual well being that I cannot recall ever having before. It still comes and goes. I have always been an emotional person as are many of my siblings. I think it has something to do with my Irish heritage. Every thing that I had always took for granted was somehow beautiful to me. The sky, the trees, the sun ... I felt no malice toward anyone or any thing. It is a wonderful feeling that I hope never leaves me. The pacemaker is working well and I definately feel better. Now if I could just get rid of the stent in my urether that dangles into my bladder and makes me have to go all the time. Two weeks and two days and it's supposed to be removed. I hope that brings the relief that I need. I guess I will take a break till later. Thanks to all of you for your prayers and concern. I love you all and will remember you all in my prayers too.

Old Irish

Dead Wrong!!!

I've had a cardio-conversion before so I thought this one would be a piece of cake, but I was DEAD wrong.

What I remember from my experience: ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


What finally happened after they performed CPR:
____________________________(beep)___________________________________________________________ (beep) ______________________________________________(beep...beep)_____________________________________________________________(beep...beep)_____________________________(b-b-b-beep)_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________(beep... beep beep)________________________________(beep, beep,beep,)_______________________(beep, beep, beep)

R-r-r-r-r-r-r.... beep beep beep...

I didn't feel a thing, but I sure put my family through Hell. I'm glad I'm here to talk about it, though.

-Old Irish

Saint Anthony

Saint Anthony is the patron saint of lost things. When a child I prayed to him to help me find any possesion I had lost or misplaced. Since I had very few posessions it was a disaster if I lost or misplaced one. I cant remember ever not finding one if I asked for Saint Anthonys help. I can remember a church publication called Saint Anthonys messenger. The nuns would send us kids out to give copys to protestants in the neighborhood. Most of them looked at me with the same disdain as I have for Jehovas witnesses who come to my door. A good evangelist I was not! Through the years I had pretty much forgot about the power of this saint, until yesterday. Colleen had given me a little I pod or mp3 player, (dont remember which, but I love it.) for Christmas and loaded it with a bunch of my favorite songs. The charger hooked up to the computer. After charging I always left it on the shelf above the computer desk drawer. Like my Dad with his tools I didn't put it away somewhere if I intended to use it again in the near future. It laid there for many months. A few days ago I needed to charge my ipod but when I brought it to the computer guess what? No charger! I looked everywhere in that room to no avail. Every day I would search again. I searched all the desk junk drawers in the house. I checked my dresser drawers. No charger. I was going to go to Best Buy in hopes they would have some for sale. Yesterday I checked my dresser drawers again. Most of my things I think I need to save usually end up in one of the top two drawers. Still nothing. Thats when I prayed to Saint Anthony who never failed me when I was a little kid. Futilly I searched a few more drawers. The last drawer was the bottom one. Im usually too lazy to ever put anything in that drawer because I would have to bend down to get to it. But I bent down and opened it and there it was! My long lost charger. Bobbie said she never put it there. I sure dont remember me putting it there either. I guess the moral of the story is you are never too big a kid to go back to your childhood ways to solve a problem. Thank you Saint Anthony!

Old Irish

Growing up. Really growing up!

There was a lot to explore and discover in my home town. The canal had a tunnel several blocks long. After we went maybe a 100 ft. it was pitch black. The only light was when we passed a street drain and it was pretty dim. We liked to get girls to go with us and then run ahead of them and scare them when they caught up with us. I never admitted that I was almost as afraid as they were. The tunnel went for several blocks, starting by the tracks near our house and endingup near the high school. We never gave it a thought but if a heavy rain would come up while we were in there it could have been a dangerous place to be. I remember stealing grapes from an acerage at the end of the tunnel. They were deep purple and were sweet around the skin but the insides were sour. We liked to fish in Ferd McKenzies pond. It was a dinky pond that the cattle wallowed in but we could catch bullheads there. They were all head and very little meat. Not really worth taking home. We used willow sticks and cord with nuts or washers for weights. I dont remember having any bobbers. I dont remember us wanting to run away from home but when I talked to Dick Kutlas the other day he said he used to hang around with some of the Richardsons. He said ever so often they would decide they wanted to run away from home and would gather what belongings they thought they would need and start walking north on the Burlington tracks. He said after a couple miles they would change their minds and would walk on back to town. The trains were still running every day back then and they had a round house at the south end of the tracks to turn the locomotive around as Hebron was the end of the line. We used to play in the round house and underneath were all kinds of writing and pictures drawn in chalk by hoboes. Kilroy was here signs were evident. Some of the pictures were a little naughty and as Dick said were our first introduction to sex education. We used to go skinny dippin in the river above the dam. There were a lot of places in and around town to find something to do. Like Dick said, the whole town was our playground. I remember digging worms for Guy Esterbrook for a nickle. That nickle bought an ice cream bar or a fudgesicle and if I was real lucky I would get a free one if it was marked free on the stick. The ice cream at fairmonts creamery was the best I can ever remember having. Its just not the same now. Rasberry revel was one of my favorites. Eating ice was another thing we liked to do. All we had for refrigeration was an ice box. If you could chip off a chunk of ice and had a clean rag to wrap around it so it didn't freeze your hand it was great to suck the cold water on a sweltering day. Dad worked at the ice plant. They had a diesal moter to power their machinery. If the motor was ever stopped it was very hard to start again. John Dutcher who worked with dad would crank and crank but never could get it to start no matter how hard he swore at it. Dad would go over and crank it once and it would start right up. He would tell John that if any one swore at him that way he wouldnt work either. I remember many storms when we were kids. One , when we lived on the acerage it got as dark as night. Dont remember if we had time to get to the cave or not but i remember mom sprinkling holy water around the house. It was a straight wind but took down several trees around Willard park. We had quite a few floods when we lived on the acerage. We were surrounded by water on three sides and had a neighbor who was blind and lived alone. Whenever it flooded his house he never wanted to leave. They always had to move him against his will. He loved to fish and had two or three friends who liked to fish with him off of the river bridge. His name was Sam. One night when they were fishing Sam caught a nice catfish. He removed it from his hook and asked Bill Rischling who was fishing with him to hold a flashlight while he baited his hook. Bill did as he was asked and the other guys had a good laugh. Sam could navigate the streets around town and never had any problems except for kids bicycles when they left them lying on the sidewald. Sam could tell by hearing footsteps who was coming up the sidewalk and greeted them by name. All in all the hometown was a good place to grow up. Maybe I'll write more later on some of my experiances while growing up.

Old Irish.

The pencil box

When I was baptized my Godparents were my sister Anna Marie and my cousin Linus Schwarz. Aunt Ann was Linus's Mother. When I started grade school at Sacred Heart school it was a few days after my birthday. Aunt Ann bought me a pencil box, which contained a couple pencils, an eraser, a pencil sharpener, and a half circle thing to make curved lines and straight lines. It was blue and had a snap to lock it closed. Every child had one. We also were issued a slate and a stick of something (not chalk) to write on the slate with. These slates were antiques and probably used by my mother when she went to school there. My teacher, Sister Xavier, was also an antique as she had taught my mother in grade school starting around 1904. Our books were almost as old. We spent the first four years in what was called the little room. We couldn,t wait to get into the big room for grades five to eight. Sister Xavier seemed to always catch me when school was out for the day and say " Robert, you will clean erasers tonight. No?" Natuaraly I answered yes as Nuns were on a pedastal in those times. Despite the antique books we did get a good education, learned to write (the Palmer method) colored things for the county fair. Catechism, the three R,s and music. The nuns taught the boys the latin phrases to serve at Mass. Things were tougher when we got in the big room. Everything had to be memorized. The questions and the answers. If sister ever left the room we always had tattle tales to let her know if anyone misbehaved. Beverly Bethscheider was the biggest tattler. She would say Ster, ster, so and so talked while you were out! It was in the big room where I started my career as an artist. I was nearly finished with my portrait of sister Paulina when she snuck up behind me and grabbed the art work. She must of held the beads on her rosary as I didn,t hear her approach. I cant remember what the punishment was but I was plenty scared. Anyway I survived Sacred Heart school. I forgot to mention that every year through grade school Aunt Ann would give me a pencil box for my birthday. I went away to high school and couldn,t believe it when Aunt Ann gave me a pencil box for my birthday again. I dont know what I did with it but I would have been laughed out of school if I would have shown up with a pencil box. I think mom told her that high school students didn,t use pencil boxes. Aunt Ann was a wonderful lady but she spent the greater part of her life living on the farm with no plumbing or electricity or telephone. When Uncle Joe brought her to town to shop she would ask at the grocery store if she could use the phone. She would call Mom and she would holler into the phone so everyone in the store could hear her conversation. Any news she could gather she got from her son Linus. Her favorite expression was "Thats a fact. Linus said so."They had a battery powered radio but it was only turned on to hear the markets. Uncle Joe farmed with horses. When one of his horses died a friend loaned him a mule to make a team. I didn,t know until Gene told me a few years ago that when women were finally allowed to vote that Aunt Ann was so excited when Uncle Joe took her to town to vote. When they drove home Uncle Joe asked her who she voted for. When she told him he said "What did you vote for that damn fool for?" I dont think he took her to town to vote again. They stayed in the country till there health made it necessary to move to town. They bought a large older home in Hebron with electricity and running water and a bathroom. To Aunt Ann it was Graceland! They were able to live there for a few years before they had to both move into a care home. Aunt Ann lived into her Ninetys. Uncle Joe died a few years before her. Since school will be starting soon and the papers full of ads for school supplies I like to think back to when I started school and how things have changed in the last 65 years. And that annual birthday pencil box.

Old Irish

Growing up on the acerage

We just had our grandkids from Michigan for a few days. We throughly enjoyed them and we definately needed a kid fix as only they can provide. After they left this afternoon I got to thinking about when Jerry and I were their ages. First of all, we had no living Grandparents. We had no family car. We had a few aunts and uncles but none who lived in town. When we were a little older we would go to Fairbury on the bus to visit aunt Nell when her grand daughters were visiting at her house. We thought that was exciting. Aunt Nell was married to a banker. She always seemed to have a lot of class. Funny when they talk it just sounds so elegant compared to the talk in a poorer family. I used to envy them but as I got older and got a family of my own I actually felt sorry for them. They had one son. Sent him to the University, and got married himself and moved to McCook and then Colorado. Im sure it was a treat when the two grand daughters came to visit. Meanwhile Jerry and I had a whole acerage to play on. The older ones didn't see the acerage as a great place to live. Heaven forbid, it was on the other side of the tracks from the rest of the town. I guess that was embarresing to some of them. The acerage had an outhouse, no indoor facilities. It would embarass the girls who were dating when they were parked in the drive way and Jerry and I would come out of the house at night and stand on the steps and pee. That was when we had time to come down stairs to relieve ourselves. Many times during the summer when the windows were open we would pee through the screen in our bedroom window. I dont remember us fighting too much when we were little. We didn't have anything to fight over. We made our own toys out of wood scraps. We would shoot canning jar rubbers from our home made pistols. These jar rubber were also great for holding the sole of your shoes when the glue didn't hold anymore. Dad could usually fix our shoes but when he couldn't we would go to George Athos' shoe repair shop and he would put half soles on them. During the war good shoe soles were hard to come by as everything was in demand for the war effort. One toy we never tired of was made by sticking two chicken feathers int the end of half a corn cob with each feather curving out. We would throw them as high as we could and they would spin around on their way down like a helicopter, only helicopters werent invented yet so we didn't call them helicopters. Our friends always liked to come out to our house to play. Often we would entertain ourselves by having clod fights. I dont remember anyone getting mad from being hit with a clod. It was expected. I'm sure some of us cried when we got hit but we soon got over it and got back in the battle. One day when some friends were over Jerry shinnied up a catalpa tree. Robby decided to play Paul Bunyan and try to cut down the tree with an axe. Jerry slid down the tree while Robby was swinging and the axe caught him on the ankle. All of a sudden Robby said he had to go cause his Mom said he had to be home by four. Mom called Dad at work and he rushed home and took Jerry to the docter. I remember it was a pretty deep gash but it healed up good. Back then we were always stepping on boards with nails in them or getting cut with broken glass or barbed wire or something. They didn't have tetanus shots back then. We would soak our feet in hot water and lyesol. We had mercuracomb for cuts and wrapped our wounds with torn strips of rags. Dont remember when I first saw a bandaid. I know they werent in our budget. We didn't eat gourmet food at our house. We ate the cheap cuts of meat. Lots of liver and thin cut pork chops. And soup beans. Lots of soup beans with or without ham hocks. We always raised chickens and would have fried chicken regularly. When the hens were too old for laying eggs we had chicken soup with home made noodles. We had potatoes and gravy at all the noon meals. Some how we always managed to get season passes for the swimming pool. I think Dad knew how important it was for us kids to know how to swim. When he was a kid he would walk upstream from his farm home and get in the floodwater and always manage to get back to his house. My brother Gene was working at the swimming pool when I learned to swim. He tossed me into the deep water and I managed to get back to the side of the pool. The first time I jumped off of the diving board it looked like the water was a mile below. It wasn't long before I was diving, belly flopping, and canon balling with the best of them. When we were in high school and into young adulthood Jerry and I and a couple of friends would entertain some of the local folks with crazy made up dives from the board. Some would drive down to the pool and park along the fence just to watch our shenanegans. These are all good memories of living across the tracks. The best thing is on the town side of the tracks the first block was what everyone referred to as "dog town". I was always proud that we didn't live there!

Old Irish

More Windows, Twenty some years later.

I have to tell this story about Windows, many years later. He and a friend named Kenney went to Omaha one day. While driving home that night they stopped in a small town to see if they could get something to eat. Windows told Kenney to wait in the car while he checked the restaraunt out to see if they were still serving food. He opened the door and asked in a loud voice if they were still cooking. Then he asked if they served Ex cons. He said he had just picked up his friend from the state pen and he was hungry. They said they would serve him and asked what he had been in the state pen for. RAPE! Windows said in a loud voice. He then yelled to Kenney to come on in. When Kenny came in and they sat down the whole place stared at Kenney. Kenney wondered why all the people were staring at him and Windows never let on what he had said to them. He never told Kenney till months later what he had done. Windows was more onery as he got older. I used to salute people in my weekly ad's in the paper. Windows wanted me to salute him for buying his elderly mom a new lawn mower. Dont know if he showed her how to operate it, but im pretty sure he didn't do her mowing.

Old Irish

Windows Casper

I just have to tell you a few things about a guy I used to hang out with before going into the Marines. His name was Wendel but we called him windows. Maybe because his glasses were so thick. One day we went swimming at the local pool. We were laying around the pool soaking up some sun when we decided to go for a swim. Windows took off his glasses and said 'which way is the pool"? He couldn't see a darn thing without his glasses. He got a job working for Ferd McKenzie at the Standard Market where I worked for Louie McKenzie cutting meat. His dad was a successful business man in Bruning where Windows grew up. Windows said his dad nearly starved his family during the depression so he could buy up forclosed farms and property. He was really wealthy. Ferd wanted to know what Windows wanted to work for him for. Windows told him his dad said if he wanted to learn business he should work for Ferd McKenzie. That was good enough for Ferd. He was a good worker and fun to be around. One day he asked Ferd if he could get a haircut. Ferd said "why dontyou get a haircut on your own time?" Windows said "It grows on your time." he let him get a haircut. One time Windows was standing in the aisle when the overhead heater came on. Windows looked up and said "who told you you could come on without Ferds permission! We ran around together for quite a while. In fact he was one of the reasons I joined the Marines. We had been to Deshler and coming back to Hebron we were supposed to turn and stop at a stopsign as the road we were on was one way going west for a little ways. I was driving and at Windows urging we took the short cut as he called it. There was no traffic in sight so I did it. Shortly after we passed the State scales where I had a friend named Red working there. By the time we hit the curve going north into town I noticed a car was following me with the red lights in the bumper flashing. I said thats Red playing games with us. I sped up and pretty soon I heard a siren wailing. Red aint got a siren on the Scales car I said. Turn on the river road said Windows, and turn into J.D.'slane. They cant follow you on private property. Wanna bet? He followed us right up to J.D.'s folks yard. While the patrolman was talking to me Windows started telling him who his dad was, and that he knew the governor and he would have his job.I had to shut him up but it was too late. I got a ticket for willful reckless driving. The penalty was a 50 dollar fine and license suspended for six months. Thats when I asked Lyle to talk to the recruiter. If I had to walk I figured I might as well walk off my Military obligation. In a couple of weeks I was in San Diego in Boot camp. When I got out 2 yrs. later I came home for a couple months then moved to California. I never hung out with Windows anymore.

Old Irish

Hair cuts, Chewin gum on the bed post, Washing dishes.

When we were kids we always got our haircuts at Jap Martins barber shop, Under the North pool hall. It cost ten cents and he usually gave kids a candy stick. I remember trying to get the barber to make my hair white like my friend A.J's. Once he dumped talcum powder on it to try to make me happy. I dont know why they called him Jap but they didn't lock him up during the war so I'm pretty sure he was an American. At that time I had a friend on our block that I played with a lot. I was over to his house one day when his Mom was giving him a haircut. She asked me if I wanted her to cut my hair. I said sure. That was one of my first bad decisions. I didn't realize the clippers she had were hand operated. She cut some of my hair and pulled out the rest. I dont remember how it looked but I know my mom wasn't impressed. My friend Lyle didn't know that real barbers had electric clippers. Lyle had a younger sister named Darlene. They would fight all the time over anything. One day he was complaining to his mom that Darlene had stolen his gum off his bedpost. That gum had been chewed for at least a week before she stole it. It couldn't have had any flavor left but he was mad just the same. Lyle and I would go swimming every day but he couldn't go till they had the dishes done. They would fight over whose turn it was to wash or dry for what seemed like hours. They spent a lot less time actually doing the work than they did argueing. If their dad was home he would sit in his big chair and occasionally holler at them to pipe down and get busy. Otherwise he never had much to say, just sat in the chair and listened to the radio. They never had a telephone. If his mom needed to call someone she would always ask my mom if she could use ours. She was a nice lady and was a great baker. The best thing Lyle ever did was take over my paper route. It must have been when I went away to school. I have a lot of good memories about those times. The haircut wasn't one of them.

Bunch of old people get together

Thursday, June 5th the Marietta class of 54' met at the home of Don and Diane Birkel in Columbus Ne. It was the first time in 54 years that I had seen two of them. I didn't know what they would look like but Marita ( Mert ) looked like an older sister that I had seen more recently, and Willy looked like a laid back gradually graying younger Willy. At our ages the chance of getting together are getting slimmer each year. Two of our Graduating class have been deceased for quite a few years. Also two have lost their spouses. Some of us have some health issues that could get worse in time. I had a ball at the get together! I think everyone did. We reminisced about school days, ball teams and fun times we had in school. I guess I was kind of ornery. (who me? ) I know I hold the title of the only one to give a Nun a nervous breakdown. None of us laid claim to being overly good students, although there are some that I thought were. At least the ones I copied from gave me passing grades. The only problem was the Nuns wouldn't let them accompany me to the blackboard to do Algebra problems. Talking of the Nuns, when I arrived at that school we would eat our lunches in some body's car. The first day a couple of Nuns came out of the school. The Rerucha boys said; "here come the crows, here come the crows"! I thought they were all going to hell when they did that. I gradually adapted to their ways. We had nicknames for the Nuns. Sister Maxentia was " Max", Sister Lautencia was " Louce", and Sister Rosalina was "Rosie". Mandantory subjects were Latin (two years) Speech (four years), Biology,algebra .Geometry,Physics, English,General Business etc... There were no selective classes. We also had Religion classes daily. Everyone who went to that school was issued a band instrument and taught how to play it by Father Cooper. When Father Cooper was in High School he had a team of horses and a wagon which served as a school bus, The horse knew where all the stops were and he would teach himself how to play every instrument he could get a hold of.I was given a baritone horn and learned to play it but didn't care all that much about being in a band. Finally in my Sophomore year one of my front teeth got infected. I had it pulled and Doc Parker attached a false tooth to the other front tooth and when I played the horn it vibrated so I told Father Cooper and he let me out of the band. I did learn to read music which was a plus. Any way like I said I had a ball at the reunion. Willey and I pointed at Keith, sitting across the table and I told Willey to laugh. Keith who is hard of hearing wanted to know what we said. All we wanted to do is see if his face would turn red, which it did. Seems I still have a little bit of that orneriness in me. I think we decided to try to get together every year. At least the ones living in Nebraska. Bye for now,

Old Irish

Fighting the enemy from the home front.

I was 5 yrs. old when the Japenese attacked Pearl Harbor. Jerry was 7. As our older brothers were drafted and sent to training camps and then to duty stations across the seas, we knew we were at war. My sister joined the WAC's and eventually ended up in Italy and Egypt. Mike ended up on a supply island in the New Hebrides and Don was in the artillary through the Normandy invasion to the Battle of the Bulge and on until the wars end. Gene entered the Navy as the war was winding down. That left Jerry and me to handle the home front. We played war every day after school and all summer long through the duration. We fought the germans and Japs both on the ground and in the air. The barns hay mow was our Bomber. We were mostly side gunners or Bombadiers. We blew many an enemy plane out of the sky before we eventually got shot down and had to bail out into the hay below. We always held our breath when we jumped. Dont know why, just seemed like the thing to do. I know the folks worried a lot about the kids in the war. We prayed the rosary for them every night. We were too little to know how deeply worried they were ,as were countless other Moms and Dads across our Nation. I remember one day Dad telling Mom what some thoughtless person had said to him one day. He said George it wouldn't be so bad if you lost a son in this war because you have a big family. My dad told him; We dont love one child less than another. There were many parents that lost children in that war in our little town. Albert Koci and his brother were aboard the same ship when it was sunk .Albert survived but his brother was trapped below decks and was lost. Chuck Nacke flew a P 38 and his plane dissapearedover New Guiney. They were flying on radio silence so no one in the squadron knew what happened. There was a Baily, a McGovern, a Wilmore, and many others from our town and county. Our folks always went to see these families and offer them what comfort they could give. I'm sure they spent many sleepless nights worrying about and praying for their children. I remember the censored letters. Anything the service person sent home was typed like a telegram and anything the censor felt would be of aid to the enemy would be blacked out in case the mail was captured. I think they called it V-Mail. Mike told the folks to think of the third person of the Blessed Trinity so dad figured out he was on the Hebrides island called Espiritu Santo which means the Holy Spirit. Don told of a beautiful church in the town he had passed through. Dad had seen the same church in France in World War one. Dad kept a map of the western front on the wall and would follow the news where ever the army was fighting. Don was in Pattons Army so he was in the worst battles. He said a lot of them were wounded but never called for the medics and would patch themselves up the best they could because if the medic found them in critical shape they would frequently give them overdoses of morphine to stop the pain which would often lead to death. Remember, there were no evacuation helicopters or any other way to get to safety. That war dragged on for years. There was no rotation of troops. You served for the duration. Not so many months and you go home. I remember my friends dad who served aboart the Aircraft Carrier Enterprise which was battered by gunships and Kamikazi pilots in the Pacific and nearly sank before being towed to safety telling my dad that he never expected to see land again, much less the United States. It was well known among Navy personel that if you had to abandon ship and you were picked up by a Japenese ship you would be beheaded, or else they would shoot you in the water. There is nothing glamerous about war. They should never be fought without first trying everything possible to talk out your differences. Sadly thats not always the case. Wars are best fought in the imagininations of little kids like we fought them on the acerage. And after the battle we would go in the house,wash our hands, eat supper,pray the rosary, and go to bed and sleep with one eye open hopeing those German prisoners a few blocks away dont decide to escape this night and murder us in our beds.

Old Irish

Memorial Day 1940's

As the Memorial day weekend is here I thought I would write a few memories I had when I was a little kid. First Memorial day was always May 30th. That was also my Dad's birthday. There was always a huge parade. Of course we always thought the parade was in Dad's honer. Dad was a veteran of World war one. He was on the ship on the way to France when the Germans surrendered. He always told us kids that the Germans heard he was coming so they quickly surrendered before they had to face him. Such Blarney, and he wasn't even Irish! When he returned to civilian life he Married Mom and kids happened! One about every two years. Jerry and I were No's 8 and 9. The parades were always long and we were proud to watch for our Dad in the ranks of Legionaires in their deep blue uniforms and the Sam Brown belts and barracks caps with the American legion emblem on them. After the parade there was Patriotic music played in the band shell in Roosevelt park. Then some lady would sing the song "My buddy", and one of the veteran dignateries woulg give a speech. After the cerimonies were finished the rifle squad and the honer guard would go to each of the cemetaries in town and lay a wreath and fire a 21 gun salute.in honor of the veterans buried there and then Taps were played. We always liked to go there in hopes of picking up an empty shell or two. The cemetaries were always beautiful with a flag placed on every veterans grave. Only one thing took away from it and that was the fire department put fire department flags on the firemens graves. That used to really hurt my Dad to see that. In my home town at that time few if any firemen had ever served their country in uniform. They envied the men that did.If my Dad knew how the President has declared every fireman and police officer from the cities to the rural villages as heroes deserving all the respect that these real men and women who have fought our wars have earned, he would roll over in his grave! Here in Nebraska the State has a separate Law Enforcement Memorial day for officers who had died on duty. It was earlier this month and that was good. I think the Fire Fighters could have their day too, Just not on the day when we Honor our deceased Veterans. They are not the same!! Now there are only one or two world war one vets still alive. And the World war two vets are dying in numbers. The V.F.W. with the help of doners is sending three flights of WW two vets to see the World War two Memorial in Washington D.C. Iwish I was able to help. I wish all the vets from Nebraska were able to go. Larry the Cable guy donated 80,000 dollars towards these flights.

Back when I was a kid there was an Air Corps training base at Bruning, ten miles north of us. The G.I.'s were in town a lot with their Jeeps and always participated in the parades. They would give us kid's rides in the jeeps and we really thought we were hot stuff.If any of them were at church on Sunday there was a good chance Mom would invite them to dinner. She always felt that maybe someone would do the same for her kids. They had a U.S.O. in our town and there were lots of G.I. around. We talked with them a lot. That was a long time ago but I still remember many things about those times.

Old Irish

Mommas dont let your babies grow up to be cowboys

I remember when I had a band how shannon and colleen loved to hear me sing that song. When I came to the end I always changed the last verse to "Mommas dont let your cowboys grow up to be babies." Our band wasn't very good but people actually paid us to perform. It was fun trying. One night before the band one of the locals wanted to play his accordian in the bar. He brought a snare drum along so I played the drum while he played the Polka songs he knew. He had an amp for the accordian so the louder I banged on the drum the louder he cranked up his amp. Finally one of the customers turned the amp around and said here Don, listen to yourself and see how you like it! Another customer wanted to play his accordian in the bar. He knew two songs. The polka called "Come back to Prague" and "Cheers , Cheers for old Notre Dame". You can imagine listening to two songs the whole night long. Some of his buddies would clap and he would grin ear to ear and play all the louder. He thought they really loved his music. They are all long dead and gone now but they left some good memories.

Old Irish

The sounds of music

Just musing on sounds of music I love. The absolutely prettiest music that makes me happy and sometimes almost cry is the music box chimes of Brahms lullaby played on the intercom all over St. Elizabeth hospital whenever a new baby is born.

One of my favorites from the past is the sounds of a Sanctuary full of priests singing the Litany of the Saints.

The music I miss singing the most is Gregorian Chant.

I enjoyed singing in the choir and singing at High school music contests . Our little school won Superior ratings almost every year at these contests.

I enjoyed singing country western songs and ballads.

While driving Steve and Brian Hiebert up the mountains to Idlewild cabins in California ,the hills and curves would make them Queasy. I sang Alley Oop with them to take their minds off of getting sick.

When Barbara's car was broke down I took her to Hebron a couple times and she loved to listen to me sing along with the radio "countin flowers on the wall" and "these boots were made for walkin".

I still love to sing but too often the flim in my throat seems to interfere.

Other favorite music is the Morman Tabernacle Choir doing the Battle Hymn of the Republic, and of course any good Irish Tenor singing Danny Boy.

Just some thoughts about music that has brought me pleasure in my life time.

Old Irish

Something Stupid

I was thinking about writing a new blog. You know I am aging and have artheritic hands so I need to keep my stories short. From some of the comments I get all I would have to say is something stupid I have done in my past. It makes me wonder if they read the whole story. I have done a lot of stupid things from my youth up to the present. Some of them I probably would not put on a blog. I do have lots of stories to tell and I hope some of the readers find them interesting or enjoyable to read. One thing for sure. I was not a perfect angel growing up. I'm not sure I am done growing up. Anyway I will be blogging again shortly. I tried the response to the trivia question on Jerrys entry on the family forum but it wouldn't take my entry. I'm not up to writing it again. Maybe Jerry will tell his story. In the meantime if any readers would like to tell of something stupid they have done in their life, feel free to mention it on my blog. They say Confession is good for the soul. Works for me.

Old Irish

Rats!!!!!!

As most of you know I was a member of the United States Marine Corps. Throughout my High School days I figured I would end up in the Korean War. Cannon fodder was what Father Cooper told us we would probably be. Shortly before I graduated from High school a cease fire was declared and peace talks began. They went on for years and still may be going on for all I know. After I got out of school they still maintained a draft. You could count on being drafted within three or four years unless you had an exemption for school or got married. I worked as a meatcutter in my home town for two years when a friend of mine said he was joining the marines. I tried to talk him out of it till I lost my drivers license for trying to ditch a state patrolman one night. I figured if I had to walk I might as well walk off my military obligation. My brother Jerry got drafted that summer and had a choice of two years in the navy or the army. He took the Navy. I joined the Marines for two years active duty and four years in the ready reserve. After Boot camp at San Diego and Infantry training at Camp Pendleton in California I was sent to Okinawa for 14 mos.About half of our outfit, including some officers were active reserves like me. We basically practiced combat training, hiking 29 miles to our training areas. Okinawa is a tropical Island. Very hot and frequent rains. One night while playing war games we camped out in a graveyard. They had domed tombs with small, low doors where they placed their deceased. When an okinawan died they were placed in a wooden box in the fetal position. When the next family member died the youngest daughter in the family would wash the bones of the previous deceased and put them in an urn, so they could use the box for the next one. The night we were camped out in that graveyard it had been raining for hours. I caught duty on phone watch for four hours huddled up in my poncho with a walky talky. It was a miserable night while listening for any communication I felt something crawling up my leg. The first thing I thought of was a snake they had over there called a Habu. It was poisenous so I just froze, hopeing it would go away. Pretty soon I felt it on my back and thenI felt fur grazing my neck. Snakes dont have fur so I gave my shoulder a lurch and this big old rat went flying off my shoulder. I told my sargent about it and one of the R.O.T.C. lieutenants. got panicky. The sargent told him not to worry because the habus would eat the rats. That really shook him up thinking there might be habus in the area. Then the sargent told him not to worry about the habus because the mongooses would kill the habus. That Lieutenant wanted me to stand over him with a flashlight while I had the duty and to instruct my relief to do the same. The rats were there because they ate the rotting corpses so could have carried all kinds of diseases. After this experiance I was glad that we werent in a real war with officers like that one. During the same war games while on patrol we were crossing a rice paddy. These rice paddies were fertilized with human feces carried to them in what they called honey buckets. We had to jump over gaps in the path and on one gap I didn't jump far enough. My feet started to slip and I ended up waist deep in the rice paddy. Someone pulled me out but my shoes were full of water. As we proceeded on patrol every step was squish squish. Some of the guys started snickering and before long we were all laughing. If this had been war time we would have all been killed. This is just a few of my somewhat amusing and somewhat disgusting experiences in the U.S.M.C. Old Irish.

Truth, with just a smidgen O' Blarney.

Just sitting here waiting till Colleen gets home safely. Talked to her from Charlotte N.C. She will get home early in the morning. She's tanned, rested, and ready to go! Friday she is heading to Lincoln for the spring game. We will be sitting on the 50 yard line ten rows up. I wish!!! We have general admission seats and hope we all can sit together. I'm real excited since Bo took over as head coach. The last four years have been more of a penance than excitement for us. I was afraid I would be on the other side of the grass before I could be proud of the Huskers again. I like the way Bo and his asst. coaches are doing things.
I watched Spencer play today. They were behind 12 to 7 with a minute and a half to play when they went down the field in two plays and a penalty and won 13 to 12. I about froze to death but I'm glad I was there. They have improved a lot since last fall. Next will be baseball. He keeps the Grandparents busy if we try to see all the games. I was his age (9) when I started to play baseball. They called us Pee Wee midgets. when I started. I played till I was twenty. I really enjoyed baseball back then but dont watch Major League baseball till the playoffs. College Football is my favorite now. Got to go now. Go Big Red!! Old Irish

Blogs on demand

Colleen said she wanted to see one more post from me before she went galavanting down to the Caribian. I cant do the tank trap story until I figure out which one to do. Jerry's and my version , or Gene's version which he tried to get published in the Legion magazine. Tonight I'm just bloging so dont expect too much. I've never been to Jamica but I have been to tropical beaches. On Okinawa we occasionally had a cookout on the beach. I remember one of them especially. A bunch of us went swimming when a bunch of jellyfish decided to join us. We thought it would be fun to throw them at eachother. We didn't realize that the slime would leave burning rashes on our skin. That was my first lesson about jellyfish. After we got out we drank warm beer while waiting for the steak fry. It was especially hot and sunny and the combination of beer, bright sun, and tropical heat gave me one of the worst headaches I've ever had. By the time I got my steak I was too sick to eat it. It probably would have been a good time to swear off booze, but I was young and foolish then. The cheapest beer over there was Lucky Lager. I remember their logo. It was "Its the age dated beer". I would look at the bottle and the date hadn't come up on the calender yet. But it was cheap. Ten cents a bottle. Cigarettes were a dime a pack. Quite a difference from todays prices. Well I hope Colleen and Ken have a wonderful time. I'll be back on soon with something more interesting, I hope. Old Irish.

Dinner conversations

When I was a youngster I seldom had anything to say at the dinner table. We were expected to be seen and not heard back then. The older siblings would talk with the parents, but not us kids. When ever one of the older kids said something funny, my mom would quite often choke on her food. Some times I was afraid she wouldn't ever be able to catch her breath again. Dad didn't seem to have that trouble. One day I had spent the morning watching a house under construction a block north of our house. They had it framed and were putting celotex on the outside walls. Thats what they used under the siding in those days. While eating dinner dad asked me how the guys were doing building the house. I proudly informed him that they were doing pretty good. I said they were putting the Kotex on the walls already. Thats when dad choked on his food! I had no clue what was so funny and no one explained to me why they all laughed. Maybe if we would have had school buses back then I would have been a little wiser.

Nagged into posting again!

My daughter seems to think I can just sit at the computer and all sorts of things will come into my mind to write about. There were times when I could. But something like old age seems to be interfering with my usually sharp, creative, spontaneous mind.I used to write ad's for my bar that were usually humorous. One day the bankers wife who had been appointed State Senator by the Governor and usually stopped in to buy a six pack of beer once a week told me to put into my ad;" Purveyor to the Senator". The next time she came in I told her I had sent in the ad. Then, I asked her, " How do you spell pervert?" She came unglued and gasped, "You didn't !" I had her going for a while before I told her the truth. I was known as crazy Bob around there. She called me Demented Robert. Well maybe now that I've started I can keep it going.

Hugs

There is nothing more pleasing to me then giving or receiving Hugs. Whether its from grand kids ,kids, siblings, in laws, Nieces and nephews, my spouse, or good friends. To me a hug expresses love and respect for the hugee.It is not unmanly to me to hug a brother or a father.My parents hugged me when I went away to school and when I left to join the marines. They hugged me when I returned home. Some people, when they reach a certain age think they are too old for hugs. They don't know what they are missing. I remember a niece I had never met gave me a hug like she had known me all my life. When I told her later that evening that she was my favorite niece she saw through the Blarney and said : Uncle Bob, You just want another hug! She was right. I like hugs. There is no better sign of peace to a family member than a hug. I think most of us at sometime in our lives have experienced danger, on the highway, in bad weather, in wars or other ways. We always say someone was watching out for us. I think our Guardian angels or the Lord Himself was hugging us in those perilous times. If there were more hugs the world would be a far better place. At Disney world we met a Chinese lady and her young son and her mother and mother in law. She was a college teacher in Ohio. Her mother held her umbrella over my head as we waited for the bus. Orientals are very polite and usually bow to each other and people they meet. The last time we saw them, we had pictures taken with each other and when we parted we gave each other hugs. Hugging is International! If you get a chance, HUG SOMEONE! Old Irish

I'm back!!!! Now that we are back in the real midwest( Never did figure out why they call Michigan and Ohio the midwest) the warm weather I ordered has turned to winter temperatures. Apparently some one didn't listen to my supplication. I volunteered at the County City bldg. today.Directed many people to the Marriage license room and to the Judges chambers. I am amazed at the differances in ages of the people getting married. Most are young but some are in their fiftys and sixties. Many of the young ones already have children. I'm finally getting over the jet lag from all the trips. Next trip is to Bentonville Arkansas for the annual autum leaf china collectors convention. We usually have a great time seeing old friends and checking out the sights. The convention is in June. It should be warm by then!! Had a great time in Florida. Got a sunburn but no pain. I think I'm going to like having my own web sight. Still have to figure out a few things. It will get better as I go along, I hope! Till then. Old Irish

Goodbye to old man winter from Old Irish!!

Old Irish has enjoyed all he can stand of old man winter. When we get back to Lincoln I expect temperatures in the upper 70's and the grass, though I hate mowing it to get green. Michigan is a wonderful place to visit in the summer although I wish God had placed Chicago a few miles west of the freeway. That's usually my thrill ride. I enjoyed spending Easter with Colleen and her family. The bunny left an abundance of goodies for the kids. Guess he did have a snowmobile after all! The name of this BLOG is Blarney, so I guess I will have to learn how to tell those little white lies the Irish are famous for. That will be hard after the upbringing I've had!