A life well-lived will be remembered with sweet memories

Grandpa and Evangeline, April 2011

One of my most dedicated readers will never read this column. But this one, it’s all about him. 
My grandfather, Lester Spader, went home peacefully early Sunday morning, surrounded by his children, beloved by his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, respected in his community, secure in his faith. He was 91, and until his later years, had been blessed with incredible good health. A life-long farmer, he worked hard and even after “retiring” (really, what farmer ever truly retires?) he kept busy growing the most delicious sweet corn in York County.

Last Sunday was the last time I saw him. Evangeline and I visited him in the nursing home, a place he’d lived for the past couple of years. During previous visits, Evangeline had been shy around her great-grandpa, but this time was different. She smiled and played peek-a-boo with Grandpa, in between dashing into the hallway to charm other residents. I know she won’t have any memories of him, so it will be up to me to share some with her. 
Grandpa had a sweet tooth. There was always a drawer full of candy in his office. And it didn’t contain wannabe candies like peppermints; no, it was always the good stuff — miniature Snickers, Hershey bars, chocolate kisses. Think Willy Wonka with a hog farm instead of a chocolate factory. He loved to share that sweet bounty with his grandchildren, and with any other child who looked like they could use a treat. One summer day after he picked me up from swimming lessons, he leaned out of the car window and asked one of my classmates if he would like some candy. This was in the heyday of “stranger danger” awareness in elementary schools and this little boy clearly had been trained well: His eyes huge, he made tracks away from Grandpa’s car. I know Grandpa didn’t understand why his innocent offer was rejected; after all, he came from a different, better-intentioned generation. 
He graduated from high school in 1939 and served in WWII. He and my grandma Frances were married in 1947 and in 1952, my father was born. Eventually, their family grew to include my uncles and aunt, plus several nieces and nephews they also raised. Grandpa and his three sons farmed together, producing hogs, corn and soybeans in the fertile flatlands of southeast Nebraska. 
Most people outside of York County probably never knew my grandpa’s name, but in Waco and York, the county seat, there was always a great deal of respect attached to the family name. That’s due to the fact that my grandpa was a decent man, hardworking and honest, friendly and family-oriented. It’s why I still include my maiden name in my byline; I’m proud of the people I came from and I strive to live up to their legacy. 
During one of my last visits with Grandpa, I told him the name we’ve chosen if our second baby is a boy and together we found where it’s referenced in the Bible. I commented that his large-print Bible was well-used and he told me about when he read through it from Genesis to Revelation. It took a while, he said, but it was good reading. 
Like the rest of my family, I will miss Grandpa Lester and there is always sadness in the loss of dear one. But as we prepare to celebrate his memory later this week, I’m also aware of the joy that comes from knowing a long life well-lived ended peacefully. 
There can be no greater accomplishment than to leave this earth with the hope of salvation and the knowledge of generations of love.
On the Lighter SidePublished March 28, 2012

A smorgasbord of traditional flavors

I wish I would have taken photos of the food; a visual would be excellent. But if you want recipes, definitely check out Mennonite Girls Can Cook. If my brother ends up marrying a Mennonite girl, I vote they host at least one holiday per year. (Andrew, you're a high school senior and you've got a lot of amazing stuff ahead of you ... this can wait for a while.)

While Wisner was celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with corned beef and cabbage last weekend, my family enjoyed an entirely different type of cuisine.

My brother Andrew is a senior at Heartland Community School in Henderson, a traditionally Mennonite town located on the very western edge of York County. Slightly smaller than Wisner, it’s been home to my mom and brother for the past two years. I’ve spent enough time there to know it has a flavor all its own.

If you eat anywhere in Henderson, like we did at the Heartland High School Band’s annual Smorgasbord, you’ll know without a doubt you’re in a place that takes its heritage seriously.

As I surveyed the tray of food in front of me, I realized I recognized about a quarter of it. So I asked my brother to “translate” for me. Here’s a sampling of what we had: Verenika (cheese-wrapped dough, fried or baked) in ham gravy, zweibach (sweet yeast bread), borscht (cabbage and vegetable stew), priescha (similar to verenika), homemade noodles and gravy, portzelky (raisin cookies), sausage, ham with beans and coleslaw.

There was more on the tray, which fairly creaked with the effort of holding all the food, that I didn’t have time to ask about: I was too busy enjoying it. My daughter, who normally eats like a bird, devoured everything I fed her. Between the two of us, however, we didn’t come close to finishing it all.

It was the ultimate comfort food, delicious and homey. Andrew told me the band parents prepare a lot of the food weeks ahead of time and freeze it, but trust me, it tasted like it had been made earlier that day. And apparently, everyone else in town seemed to think so, as the line for food wound its way around the halls of the school and didn’t let up until it was time for the concert.

The meal reawakened my love for traditional food, tasting the dishes my ancestors would have made regularly and knowing it sustained them to travel to new frontiers and begin life in a new world.

I may, however, concentrate more on the German side of my culinary heritage ... I can’t imagine trying to convince my toddler to eat lutefisk.

On the Lighter Side

Published March 21, 2012

Naming woes the same ... or worse ... the second time around

Is it just me, or is it much harder to name your second child than it was your first? I wrote about it this week in my newspaper column, and as I wrote it, I thought Wow, this is kind of neurotic. But I can't be alone ... can I? I'd love to hear how you picked names for your children.


There must be something about the third trimester that makes me anxious about one thing ... baby names. 

At this point during my pregnancy with Evangeline, I wrote a column about the difficulty Jim and I were having in picking out a name for our firstborn. We wanted a special name, one that would grow with our child and suit his or her personality. We didn’t want a name that would be mocked easily or difficult to spell. And we didn’t want a name of any of Jim’s students, past or present.

All those criteria still apply, with an added caveat: The second name has to “go” with the first.

Evangeline is what I call a vintage name. It has religious undertones, it’s feminine and it’s multi-syllabic. I would like Baby #2’s name to share those qualities at least in some measure, so our children feel there’s cohesion in their name choices.

That rules out trendy, short or gender-neutral names. No Pats or Robins for us.

Having been through this once before, I know no amount of careful choosing will ensure our child’s name is said (or spelled) the way we intend. For the record, we pronounce Evangeline’s name to rhyme with “clean” or “queen.” In her 17 months of life, she’s been called Evangeline (rhymes with pine), Evangelina, Angelina, Angeline, Evie, Eva and E ... and I’m sure there are more incarnations to come in the future.

Surprisingly, Jim and I agree on a boy’s name. In fact, we had it picked out the first time around since we were so very sure we would have a son.

The bad news is we can’t concur on a girl’s name. That means, of course, that we will have another daughter.

If we do, I’m not too concerned she’s going to end up permanently as Baby Girl Kirk.

We didn’t have a girl’s name picked out ahead of time with Evangeline, either, but the first time we saw her, we knew exactly who she was.

On the Lighter Side

Published March 14, 2012

•••

I'm not ready to share our boy name, but his initials would be MRK. We DO have a middle name picked out for a potential daughter, so her partial monogram would be _EK. With that in mind, it's obvious her name canNOT start with an F ...

So glad February is over ...

I wrote about my key incident a few weeks ago, and said one of the lessons I learned from it was asking for help. 

Little did I know that minor emergency was the start to a month that would teach me exactly how much help I take for granted ... from my husband. 

It started with Jim getting his annual sinus infection. It strikes at different times of the year, typically in the winter, and when it does, it's brutal. This year was particularly bad. He lived on the couch in between teaching and musical practice, drinking lots of water and spending time with his new best friend, Sudafed.

{A caveat: A lot of people don't understand what it means to be the head teacher at a rural Lutheran school. Frankly, a lot of people don't understand what it means to be a teacher anywhere. So, for your information, here's a typical day for Jim: Prepare and teach lessons in all subjects, excluding religion, for grades 1-7 (usually between 30-40 lessons per day); oversee lunch/recess/chores; perform administrative tasks as needed — completing forms, answering phone calls, sorting mail for the church and school, etc.; perform custodial/nursing/disciplinary tasks as needed; grade papers; talk with parents after school; transport students after school. Non-daily activities include directing a school musical, coaching volleyball and basketball, coordinating/hosting activities with area Lutheran schools and attending school board, church council, voters' and PTL meetings. So ... dealing with that kind of workload with a debilitating headache is not so much fun.}

I do most of the day-to-day household and child care tasks around the house, but it's a lot different to do them without backup. While Jim concentrated on keeping himself functional, I realized just how much he does help out. 

Eventually, his sinus infection turned into a cold, which then progressed to a fever and body aches. He ended up calling a substitute for a day of school, something he rarely ever does, and spent a weekend getting better. 

In the meantime, our 17-month-old daughter started having a runny nose and a cough that kept her {and me} up at night. After she developed a rash and a low-grade fever, I took her to our pediatrician to find out she had an ear infection. Though I hated to see her feeling yucky, there is one major perk to caring for a sick toddler: She wanted to spend all her time in my arms. I haven't had that much cuddling from Evangeline since she was a newborn. I even got out the baby backpack so I could get some work done while I stayed home with her {not the easiest thing to balance over a pregnant belly!}. 

Poor bunny! Happily, you're feeling much better now!

As Evangeline's antibiotic kicked in, I began to feel hopeful we would maybe — finally — be out of the woods. I had a morning-long community theatre meeting on Saturday, during which Jim felt well enough to stay home with Evangeline. That night, we made plans to go to a pancake breakfast in the morning before church. Well. Sunday morning dawned bright and early. Evangeline and I got ready and played as Jim went about his morning routine. After he didn't come out of the bathroom for thirty minutes, I started to get worried. 

I'll spare you the gory details, but it turned out my husband had eaten bad eggs for lunch on Saturday, effectively giving himself a nasty bout of food poisoning. I spent the rest of the day fetching popsicles for Jim and cleaning up antibiotic-induced poopy diapers from Evangeline. 

It's been a week since then, and thankfully both my beloveds are doing well and seem like their usual, energetic selves. In addition to their health, I'm thankful for: 

• An easy pregnancy — if I was dealing with my own nausea or back pain, it would have been even more difficult to nurse my family

• Clorox wipes, Kleenex and hand sanitizer

• Netflix {for Veggie Tales, Psych and MythBusters to appease every taste in our household!}

• A husband who is a true partner in our parenting adventure

• A daughter who is normally blessed with good health – this was the first time she's really been sick in her life and comparatively, this was mild

The next time I'm tempted to grumble about how I think Jim could be helping more, I'll try to remember how stressful the past month was, how alone and exhausted I felt ... and how nice it is to know he IS there to help.