April 23 - Throwback Thursday

1910...2014
A Welcome Sight

That - right over there - that picture of the Statue of Liberty - isn't that neat?  I think it's neat. I love how Lady Liberty's arm reaches up to the sky and how she holds that light for all to see.  And the way her robe drapes around her so gracefully and simply - I love that.  That graceful, simply dressed lady has welcomed thousands, millions, to our American shores over the years right there in New York Harbor.  She's been a welcome sight to the immigrants and visitors and vacationers and the travelers coming back home. For many who see this sight for the first time, including me decades ago, we just can't seem to help those goose bumps that bump up on our arms, the lump that gets in our throat, or our heart skipping a beat or two.  And the tears - oh the tears - that just kind of come out in that sting-ey, surprising kind of way.  The Statue of Liberty just has that effect. I consider myself lucky to have seen this sight those many years ago while on vacation with my husband and three of our six children; the other three hadn't been born yet.  Now of those three, one was able to at last take this sight in last year, when he was 20.  He's the one who took the picture you see here.

So, it was during last summer, after having been tossed around in some rough seas aboard the Brave (a small sailing vessel) and having seen no land for awhile, that my son Jack, a United States Naval Academy midshipman on summer training, laid eyes on this sight for the very first time and was he glad of that.  It was welcoming, it was inspiring, it was safe.  On that August day in 2014, Jack joined in a sort of bonding-like way with the thousands of folks who've seen this welcome sight for the first time as they've sailed or steamed into those very same harbor waters.  Jack's great-grandfather (my Grandpa) Soren Andersen is one of those folks. In 1910 he'd left his family and small village in Denmark in order to serve his apprenticeship in the building trade here in America.  Grandpa Andersen was a Danish immigrant aboard that steamer, the Copenhagen vessel Oscar III.  He steamed his way across the Atlantic to a bright new future along with a couple hundred other people.  During their 14 day crossing they shared stories, meals, chess games, and the occasional accordion concert below deck.  I remember Grandpa saying that the journey went pretty smoothly, all things considered, and that the crew and the immigrant passengers were "pretty well organized." He did say that when he saw the Statue of Liberty come into view that day in 1910, he was glad.  It was a safe, welcome, very inspiring sight to him.

Now not only do my Grandpa and my son share this bond of seeing-the-Statue-of-Liberty-for-the-very-first-time-from-the-New-York-harbor-waters, they also share the age they were at the time - Grandpa was 20 when he immigrated. And guess what else? These two share a birthday - TODAY!  April 23rd! On Throwback Thursday!  Soren Andersen in 1890 and Jack in 1994. 

If grandpa were still alive he'd be celebrating his 125th today alongside his newly 21 year old great-grandson Jack!  It'd be the long-ago meeting up with the here-and-now and finding they'd have a ton in common.  Kind of gives me goose bumps - and a lump in my throat!  

Even though these two members of my family never did have the chance to meet in person (they missed each other by about 11 years), it seems they might have met in spirit somewhere along the line, they just have so much in common - from their April 23rd birthday to their  Statue of Liberty sighting through their 20 year old eyes to their sea-faring adventures and their military service (Grandpa served too, during WWI in the US Army), and a whole host of other things.  The way I see it, one is almost like a throwback version of the other.  And another thing I see is a bit of family resemblance in those two! 




Soren Andersen - April 23, 1890

 Jack Meier - April 23, 1994
 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GUYS!

God Bless you both!





You don't have to see it to believe it!

 

 

4-14-15 Frog Family Room

Tiny frogs with huge voices live just beyond my backyard in the marshy, gooshy overflowing pond place out there.  I think it's so crazy that these tiny frogs are known as the Spring Peepers. Exactly who was it in charge of naming them anyway?  I mean, these are really, extremely loud creatures.  These tiny frogs do not peep - they

 

SING!

LOUDLY! 

 

The frog experts claim this tiny little thing when singing chorus style with his friends and family can be heard a mile or more away - now that's just not peeping.

I was just now outside in the marsh hoping to see at least one of these mighty, yet tiny, frogs who make crazy loud frog songs  - but I didn't catch a glimpse - not a one!  And I was out there for quite a while - searching around in the goosh.  But I heard them all right!   I'm thinking anyone could - from really far away!  But see one?  Just one?  Just a hint of a glimpse, a ripple, a tiny splash?  Nothing!  No sighting of the tiny little creature weighing about a tenth of an ounce with the scientific name of "crucifer" - so named for the cross-like marking on its tiny back.

The little frog's BIG song, though, I was able to capture in a video and post on my facebook page.  (I'm still trying to figure out how to post that video here...)  At any rate, while I was standing very still out there, and then crouching and crunching a little bit through the dried reeds, with my camera in hand attempting to SEE at least one of these creatures, I realized  I don't have to see the one with the cross on his back to know he's out there.  It's just really obvious!

So okay, just a quick entry today, lots of stuff to do before my boys get home from school.   Take care everybody and, if you get a minute, stop and listen for those unmistakable songs of spring.  They're so loud and full of new life - they're just the best!

Born on April Fool's Day

I'm pretty sure that a few days ago my Dad celebrated his April Fool's birthday -- even though he passed away over four years ago. 

During his time on earth birthdays were always cause for celebration and with his birthday on April First -  that was double cause for fun.  As a little girl I remember him leaving the house on his birthday mornings to head to the newspaper office on Main Street and he would wonder aloud about what craziness his staff would have in store for him this time.  He'd shake his head, chuckle, straighten his tie and leave for a day of good-natured April fool pranks - he was always a good-natured target for those April 1st birthday pranks.  Mr. Andersen (that's what most everyone in town called him) just was good-natured all the time - which turns the old stereotype of the curmudgeony newspaper editor quite upside down.  Mr. Andersen's positive, good-natured outlook was unstoppable.

And now, I'm thinking, something as final as death couldn't, didn't, stop my Dad.  He was, up to the very last, someone who would see the glass more than half full, someone who put others first, someone who had firm convictions about important matters.  And small matters as well, like his tie-wearing.  He was adamant about putting on a tie every day - right on up to the last.  That man put every ounce of his faith and effort and passion into whatever he happened to be engaged in at the time.  For those who knew him from his vibrant, out-there-doing-everything-for-the-community years, Mr. Andersen was unstoppable.  And in his final years, the Alzheimer's years, you would think that that Unstoppableness would have vanished right along with his memory.  But it didn't. I saw his unstoppableness every day as he lived out his last years under my roof.  I saw not just tiny remnants of this man's dedication and commitment to a cause, I saw gigantic, all-consuming, the-most-important-thing-in-all-the-whole-world, heart-wrenching unstoppable commitment to THE important matter - the only one that remained clear through the fog of the Alzheimer's years - his caring and comforting of his WWII bride.  He was unstoppable in that. 

This WWII soldier with the April 1st birthday married his sweetheart during a furlough from the Army in 1945.  He and his sweetheart, a young enlisted woman with the Women's Army Corps, were stationed at the same stateside base.  On their wedding day in '45 he promised to love, honor, and cherish her in sickness and in health, all the days of his life.  All the days of his life.  And he did.  He never once broke that promise - through their 65 years together on earth. He was unstoppable in that mission - even in the last years of his life when he had trouble remembering his sweetheart's name or why she never got up out of the hospital-type bed to eat a meal or sit by him on the couch.  Severe osteoarthritis had kept her down for years - but he, even through the haze of his Alzheimer's, tried valiantly to keep her spirits up, to express his unstoppable dedication to her even when his words and sentences had gone to some foreign land that none of us knew about.  It was beautiful and heart-wrenching to see - this man whose livelihood and passion had been all about words and sentences and communicating.  He had been throughout his life, in the military and then as a civilian, unstoppable in his communicating along with his adherence to some mighty high ideals.  Nothing could stop Sgt. Andersen or Mr. Andersen from taking the high road, even when others pointed out that high road's obvious foolishness.  He just remained on that high road, forging ahead.  Always. 

So how this man somehow through the tangled up and misfiring neurons in his brain - sat at the bedside of his sweetheart and tried to figure out words and find words to honor her and comfort her - it was something to see. Her refusal to accept his Alzheimer's diagnosis resulted in some frustrated and angry outbursts she'd direct at him. Confusion, sadness would cloud his face momentarily, but then, in practically the blink of an eye, the cloud on his face and in his mind would pass and that unstoppable devotion and love would shine just as brightly as ever. Because he was no longer able to retrieve the words that were once the tools of his trade, he would reach for her hand instead and hold it gently in his, "foolishly" honoring his long-ago promise. 

As this pair of WWII veterans' caregiver for a number of their last years, I learned much - about them as a couple, about them as separate people, and about the circle of life.  In those last  years I saw things that couldn't possibly be true - but they were.  I saw with my very own eyes a forever April Fool unstoppably in love.

Mom passed away a few weeks ago, a little more than four years after my Dad. Now they are reunited - Mr. and Mrs. Andersen, that old couple, those long ago soldiers side by side once again.  He's holding her hand and he's wearing his tie.  I'm thinking he's still seeing the glass more than half full and he's found all those good and important words that had gone missing in his last years on earth, the words that always brought comfort and honor to his sweetheart, his bride.

I know she missed him terribly these past four years - and eventually, before she passed, she'd replaced the regret she had had over her angry outbursts with memories of all his unstoppable "foolishness" that had endeared him to her in the first place.  So I'm thinking yeah, there was a mighty fine happy celebration last week, on Dad's birthday - April Fool's Day.