Heading south...

 

 

After Dad had been in Michigan well over a year, he started having some problems. He'd been doing great. Still "preaching and teaching" at the prison, driving himself to church, going out for breakfast everyday, (no never on Sunday's, are 'ya nuts?) but I noticed a couple of troubling things. Even with these clues, I sorta had blinders on cause I didn't want see things going wrong. Guess I was in denial of having my only aging parent with a host of new health issues.

Dad celebrating his last Christmas w/us. 2007

Life lessons...

 

Soon after Dad moved to Michigan, I made him an appointment for a routine physical with our primary care doctor. We'd been with Dr. Anderson for years, liked and respected her, and she had agreed to accept Dad as a patient. She wasn't one to dink around for months trying to figure something out. If you had a foot problem and she was stumped, she'd recommend a podiatrist. She examined Dad and talked to him a little while, then ordered some blood work. After we left her office we drove to the hospital to have the lab work done.

Dad pictured in an interview, 2005...

HB2U...

On July 24, 1946, Larry Wayne was born at home, on the west side of Rock Valley. I wouldn't show up until December of 1950. I also made my debut in our kitchen, on the table. No trips to a modern hospital for us. I don't remember how close Larry was to our older sister Mona, who was born in '43. But once I was potty trained and could keep up with him, Larry and I were good buddies. There were a few kids in our sparse neighborhood, but we played together a lot.

 

Larry 2. Mona 5, sitting on car, 1948...

Petty Crimes...

I was about 40, probably noticing how difficult my teenagers could be when I started reflecting back on my terrible-teens. Terrible two's, what a joke, get real. Little kids, little problems, big kids, well you know the rest. Holy cow, I was an awful teenager. Don't know why. Was I trying to get attention? Gee that's very hard to believe now. The last thing I ever want to be is the center of attention, really. Maybe it was my way of dealing with my loss of Larry. Or how strict and mostly absent Dad was. Add that to how smothering Mom could be. I realized that we shared a very different home life. Just being in my friend's homes told me we weren't like them. At least the part I saw.

 

Neese, 1965 at John's, Rock Valley, Ia.

Hut-fa-duttie...

I'm all Dutch. My maternal great-grandparents immigrated from Holland in the late 1800's. With them they brought their deep belief in God, a hard work ethic, wooden shoes, and their language. Some which still lingers nearly 150 years later. That's pretty amazing. While I wholeheartedly embrace "if you are going to live and work here, please learn our language. Then become citizens, abide by our Constitution, accept and love this country as your own." Part of me loves the fact that in 2014, at least a few words of how they described stuff still lives in me. Not many, and how I wish I had learned more of the Dutch language. I'm really quite surprised by this. Not the part about me not paying closer attention. I was a self-centered spoiled brat. But the part about not learning more just because I heard it so much. I didn't and that's what surprises me. My maternal grandpa Gerrit Wanningen in the middle with his parents (my great-grandparents) and sister Jenny.

 

My great grandparents, grandpa Lakey, and sis, Jenny...

Knit 1, Purl 2...

Mom always excelled at whatever hobby caught her fancy. For a time she was into walking, later bike riding, then for awhile she had beautiful flower gardens. She bought several odd shaped, flat vases, stuck in this green putty stuff with a porcupine like disk stuck on the putty to hold the flower stems in place and arranged flowers.

It's a sign...

Dad was a determined man when it was time to get the "word" out. Once he became a born again Christian, it was his mission in life to do "whatever it takes" so others would be saved too. He set up "tract racks" everywhere. Rock Valley, Sioux City, Sioux Falls, anywhere owners, friends, acquaintances would let him. These were palm-sized Mini-books with a message. How to be a better Christian, How to pray, Uplifting words when you're down and out. Fire and brimstone ones to get you "scared straight," though most tended to be on the positive side. He bought skids of bibles, Good news for Modern Man, The New Testament, The Psalms, study bibles, special bibles designed just for inmates. He had hundreds of his "testimony" printed up.

 

Favorite picture of my Dad. Probably late 1970's...

 

The 3 Amigos...

 

My Mom and Dad, like many long-married couples, had a code. Unspoken and unwritten about routine tasks assigned to each of them. Mom paid the bills, kept track of what was in checking and savings accounts, bought groceries, cleaned relentlessly, decided what they were having for supper or if they were going out to eat.

Dutch Ancestors...

 

My maternal grandparents married in 1924. My grandma, Jacoba Berghuis graduated from high school in Sioux Center Iowa, May 1924. She immediately went to Des Moines for her teaching certificate which she obtained in October the same year, with spectacular grades. That's about 4 months to get her teaching degree! I have her diploma (it's beautiful). She started teaching, married my grandpa, Gerrit, nicknamed (Lakey) Wanningen in December. In those days, married women were not allowed to teach, so they kept their marriage a secret. I'm sure they continued to "date," but you know back in 1924 there was no way were they living together. Lakey was very tall, somewhat awkward, and a few years older than Coba. He felt that he was the luckiest guy in the world.

My grandma, Jacoba Berghuis HS graduation, 1924...