April 26, 2013

• Recording Memories, a Treasure for the Future

  My husband Dave's Aunt Fannie passed away,
  she was his mother Ida's much beloved sister.
  Years ago,Ida wrote a few memories for Fannie , treasures really.
  Now they are both gone, as are many others mentioned in the memoir
  but these written words remain.
  I am encouraged to make record of memories,
  it is a treasure for the future.
  That was why I started my blog.
  These memories are priceless.

  AND FOR HER SISTER FANNIE, SHE WROTE:

  Again – “Into my heart’s treasury I slipped a coin
  which the world cannot take nor a thief purloin.
  Oh! Better far the minting of a gold crown king
  is the safe kept memory of a lovely thing!” – Sara Teasdale.

  Fanny was born March 23, 1925 at 12:30 Monday morning, undoubtedly after the laundry was done. I really don’t remember, but I was there when Martha was born and Mother had just come in from working in the garden. She asked if I would help her carry the wash stand which contained all her needed supplies for the arrival of the newborn. . . Dad took us down to Grandmother Mast’s until mid-afternoon, then he picked us up with the news that we have a baby sister.

  And was she ever a cutie. She was a bit different in this: she was the only blue-eyed one. In fact she resembled Mother more than any of the seven others. So much so that I’m sure we would have had a greater rating had she been along when Anna Lois and I peddled strawberries in Elverson. We stopped at a house where a man wanted to know who we were? Where we came from? Etc.? He said he knew our Mother from her working at a cannery in Elverson. He had us stand back against the wall to take a good look at us. Then he said, “OK, you girls are pretty, but nothing like your Mother.” We never sent Fannie there for she would have been a winner! And who knows, we might have lost her.

  That strawberry selling was something else. Anna Lois, who was deathly afraid of dogs, was surprised as she knocked on a door and a big dog came around the corner—she took off without checking the ground level below—out over the high porch and over the railing she leaped like a deer, and strawberries flew from her box in all directions. I think she made a safe landing, and I believe the dog disappeared.

  As an infant, you suffered from rickets. When approximately 3 years of age, Mother and Dad took you to a bone specialist who came from Philadelphia to Lancaster once a month. He fitted you with those heavy and painful braces and put you on cod liver oil. Thank God you did have good results.

  One evening when we came home from school, Fannie was sick and Dr. Mengel came to see her. Now he was something else. We thought he lost his dignity before he arrived at our house; Mother said he acted like a “huns vasht.” That day he looked at us and said he’s going to kiss us. He had that awful mustache and we were not about for such an experience, so we ran into the next room and locked the door. We proceeded to change our clothes from school—when we were half dressed, he made a bold attempt to open the door and in he came. We panicked and he kissed us—no wonder we can’t remember more about your illness.

  In the north west corn of the kitchen, Fannie had her doll corner. Some one gave her a little doll bed. She had a wooden box with hinged-on lid to keep her personal possessions; for the tall cupboard in the southwest corner of the kitchen could not contain enough shelves to accommodate Fannie’s things, too, even though it did reach to the ceiling and had 7 selves. We all had our own personal shelf, but for Fannie, there she quietly played and practiced good housekeeping until Jakie Grub, a boy whose parents had dementia difficulties and Mother took him and loved him until plans could be arranged for him. He was like a tiger after a baby kitten with Fannie’s dolls. What havoc! Finally Mother made a harness for him and tied him to the stove leg; there he could play with his own toys in his own warm little sphere.

  On the window sill by the cellar door stood many little bottles and small vases with violets, hepatica or shrubs from the bush along the walk that you picked to present to Mother. She received them with the same appreciation as those they were today’s roses.

  Steven, too—I guess it was ok that we had only two brothers, for Steven was standing on a bench behind the table, going through some kind of ceremony, when he lost his balance and his hand splashed right into the bowl of gravy. Mother was more concerned about his burn than the resulting mess--rather than saying I guess that’ll teach you something.

  Fannie, you were the one to keep the lawn trimmed and finished, beautifying even the chicken yard. Somehow you and Linda were able to keep Sparky out of the lawn area.

  When Daddy passed away, I thought it would be too painful for you and Martha to see him that last evening before he left us, but Dr. Duttenhoffer set me straight when he said “He is their father, too.”

  You and Linda both worked for me from the years of 1942 through 1946. You were so much fun to have. Sometimes you dressed little Karl, and you had a little game you played as you held him on your lap—how he’d giggle with delight.

  I found you to be an excellent housekeeper, sweet, soft spoken, good cook, and lots of fun. But when you suddenly lost interest in John Kennel who had been courting you, you just held your head up high and spoke no word for or against him. But he tried to return, but only got a cold shoulder. Soon Tom Yoder came along. Sure he was more mature—five years older and what a nice lad! He must have been the one God had designed for you.

  You and Linda went off to Richardson’s. Occasionally you came, one time to go skating on the dam. You even rented bikes and some friends joined you in a bicycle hike to our house.

  With five girls in one bedroom, it gave a dormitory effect: (Lois and Linda), (Susanna and Ida), and Fannie on a cot! When we had over-night guests, Fannie would sleep in Mother and Dad’s bedroom on a blanket bed on the floor. We had good times in that bedroom.

  Fannie, you didn’t cooperate so good though when some of Morgantown boys like Ben Plank, Ed Redman, Harry Trate, etc., came skunk hunting. With their bright lights they would shine right in our bedroom window. You wanted to get right up at the window to better see them. We big girls peeped around behind curtains and I hoped they didn’t think you were me. The boys gave the whole story next day at school.

  Since the old farmhouse was a double house, had had a long way to traipse to the bathroom. at night, without any street light. We went the long hall past Grandma Kurtz’s feed chest, feeling as we went. . . when we came to a huge beam past the attic door we entered the hallway into the frame house. To the left was a stairway to our kitchen—one night you missed your mooring and tumbled the whole way down the steps—what a racket! Next to the steps, we made a sharp left turn along the railing which led to the Bathroom. If you got your bearings on the right side of the hallway you could feel for five doors before arriving at the bathroom door.

  Remember the awful howl of Alfred Plank’s Airedale dog who sometimes came by barking fiercely. . .

  At the dinner table we all had our regular place—Daddy and Linda at one end; then Sparky, Fannie, Mother; Susanna and Ida at the other end; then Lois Steven and Omar. You never caused any problems at the table . . . after you found out you would be tied in around your waist to the lower part of your high chair. But Omar!. . . he was looking at our old light bulb while waiting for the final touch of dinner. While gently tapping the bulb with a pencil, it exploded over the table and into the masked potatoes – never again!

  As for a nick name, I don’t know if this is correct, but I somehow got the impression that when Mother realized that “Fanny” was a jokester’s name for a part of the anatomy, they changed the spelling to FANNIE.

  No wonder the church, the community, the school, Freedom Gate, Tel Hai. . . have benefitted so well with your help and presence when we consider the great blessing you have been to us at your family home!

  Fannie, I’m honored to be your sister,

  Ida~

  What sweet memories for generations to read! Thank you Ida.

  • 9:29 am
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