an amazing life

We think about our place here, our function, our significance... and much of that will be written or speculated upon outside of our own hearing... maybe most of it after our own passing. Today I am thinking of a woman who has seen her share of obstacles, of times when she probably could've thrown in the towel, of when life was not what we would call fair. She recently turned 85, and is important to me, and a role model for anyone. I salute her today.


Born in a farmhouse right after Christmas, 1924, the second child of William (Bill) and Elsie. Not a remarkable child, or particularly gifted in anything, other than tenacity and the will to carry on. Her elder sister Elanore preceded her by two years, and the sisters would need a strength and pluck, which somehow they received in fine supply. Bill worked the farm and Elsie was his helpmate, he the son of German immigrants, she was third generation German American. Bill had an accident and had injured his head, and friends and relatives covered his farm duties until he recovered. The sisters learned from a young age the importance of community, of family and of helping out.

Some say it was a result of that accident, but in any event, Bill developed a brain tumor and died in 1928, his daughters were just six and not quite three. On the cusp of the great depression, their mother was left alone. In years to come, Elsie would marry another Bill, he was divorced, and the father of two boys, Delbert and Billy. In time, this yours and mine family would have three more children of their own - Dorothy, Eunice and Don.

She went to grade school, and at that time, many children were needed as farm hands, so oftentimes they did not go to school beyond the 8th grade. In 1939 she was confirmed and graduated from Osborn Elementary School, and went to work on her parents farm. A few years later, she met a handsome young man at a dance, they dated for awhile and married in 1943. They had their first child in 1945, their second in 1947 and found out that she was expecting their third in the summer of 1948. Just before she found out that she was pregnant, Marge and Les attended the funeral of a friend of theirs, a young man killed in a farm accident, leaving his wife and young children behind. Les was mortified, and saddened to his core. He told Marge that he could not imagine leaving a family like that behind, and how sad it must be for the man's family. A few months later, on a Wednesday, he went into the house and told Marge that he wasn't feeling well. He took to his bed, a rare thing indeed for this strong young man. By Sunday he was dead, of a kidney ailment that now would have been treated easily with antibiotics. Marge spent the entire time at the visitation, the funeral, and the days after, telling anyone and everyone that she was pregnant, lest anyone start rumors...

In July, 1948 she faced the world with a three year old, a seven month old and another on the way. He was born in February, 1949 and given the middle name of Lester. Les' younger brother Ray was a farm hand and worked for them. He was a happy go lucky sort, quiet and diligent, yet more than ready to raise a glass of beer or several when given the chance. Had his brother lived, Ray would've been one of those free spirits who never would've thought of marrying... but he was needed. Ray and Marge were the same age, as Les had been four years his brother's senior. Ray did what he could to console the young widow, helping out as much as he could, and escorting her to a dance or two and helping to care for the young children when he could. In October, 1949 they were married. Their uncle was now their step-dad. The four children born to Ray and Marge all had the same last names as Marge's first three kids, and the older three were both cousins to and half siblings to the younger four.

They kept the farm and raised the seven kids as one family. They never got rich, but they were never wanting for anything either. The years passed, and the kids got married and grandchildren came along. In the late 80's they sold their farm and moved to a trailer park not far from where they had spent their nearly 40 years of marriage. The kids would take their parents along on trips, and the two were happy to see things beyond the farm,and they enjoyed the journeys, and spending time with their kids and grandkids...

One trip Ray began to show signs of hostility, confusion and... dementia. When they got back to Wisconsin, one of the daughters scheduled him for a check-up. The doctor found nothing physically wrong, but requested that they follow up with a neurologist. He determined in short order that Ray had Alzheimer's and the family should start to prepare for his long slow slide into the black hole that is that disease. Seven months later he was in a nursing home, and for the next seven years he drifted further and further away, finally passing in October, 1998, one day after their 49th anniversary. He was finally home again. The funeral was a standing room only affair - his quiet gentle nature had touched so many people, and friends and acquaintances that he had not seen in years were there to offer comfort and support to the family.

In 1995, in the midst of Ray's struggle with Alzheimer's, Marge had reluctantly gone on another trip with one of the kids. Her daughter, son-in-law and two kids took grandma out to Pennsylvania to the Pocono's to see some of the countryside. The day that she got home, she called her daughter, the same one with whom she had traveled, and tearfully reported that she had passed blood, and she feared for the worst. Her beloved mother Elsie had met with a similar fate, passing away to colon cancer in 1964. Elsie had sat at the funeral of her sister, a victim of breast cancer, knowing that many of the same people would be gathering for her funeral in a short period of time. She was right, and two weeks later she passed away at the age of 63.

Marge was 71 at the time of her diagnosis. Her doctor felt that it was a small mass and might not even require chemotherapy. A one foot section of her colon was removed, along with a few lymph nodes. Wrong prognosis - she would need chemo, but probably only once a month, and it would probably be mild enough that she might not lose her hair, and would only be necessary for a few months. Wrong, and wrong and wrong. Chemo was weekly, she became sick and week, and lost all of her hair, and after 11 months, she begged them to stop. They did, and in 2000 was declared totally cancer free. There has not been in any reoccurrence. It was feared that during her treatment, she would not make it, leaving Ray alone in the fog of his Alzheimer's.

She claimed that her grandchildren were an inspiration to her, and she maintains that if the cancer ever returns, she will not fight it... Having lost her sister Elanore to cancer during Ray's treatment at the nursing home, and many of her other friends, she was determined that no heroic measures should be taken to save her life. None have been necessary.

She leaves for a trip out west tomorrow, to visit a son in Arizona and a brother in California. They always love to have her visit every year, as she brings her cheerful nature and her love of beer and playing cards. It's all good for her now. She can leave her mobile home behind for a couple of months, and have the winter pass by without her. When the time comes for her to be called home, she is ready - life has been full and plentiful and challenging. Not easy, or perfect of smooth... She will start many a sentence with "Years ago..." and launch into a little essay on how things were for her when she was growing up... The years can't take away her spirit, her laughter, or her knowledge that it's all been worth it...

My children's maternal grandmother... and a grand, grand lady she is... bon voyage, Grandma!