EY #12: Tell about your grandparents

The story of my grandparents is far more interesting now than it was ten years ago, but let's start with the basics...

My paternal grandparents were Reinhold and Martha (Staffeldt) Zielke. Both were born in the United States, children of German immigrants. Reinhold had been married previously to Martha's older sister, Louise, who died of pneumonia at childbirth with her 4th child in 1917. Reinhold's surviving children were George  (b. 1905), Henry (b. 1908) and Bertha (b.1911). (Aunt Grace, if you read this and I make any errors, please correct me!) As I understand it, Martha went to live with Reinhold after Louisa's death to help care for the children and married him Nov 20, 1918. Reinhold was born May 30, 1880; Martha was born December 18, 1890. Reinhold and Martha had five children: Helen (b. 1919), Raymond, my dad, (b. 1922), Grace (b. 1925), Marjorie (b 1927) and Dorothy (b. 1933). I don't remember too much about my grandfather, as he passed away shortly after my 6th birthday in 1961 after a fall down the basement stairs at my Aunt Marge's house. He had Parkinson's disease and I was always uncomfortable going near him because of his tremors, not understanding that he was ill. Grandma Zielke could be gruff, but she could be fun as well. I remember how she laughed and laughed when she tried to teach me how to hoot like an owl by whistling through a curled tongue. I could curl my tongue just fine, but when I blew, all I got was air. When she came to visit us in Wisconsin, I was expected to help her put on her support hose and to cut her toenails. I think of her now when I cut my own tough toenails and think "thanks a lot for that DNA, Grandma!" She was in a wheelchair the last several years of her life and sometimes on the weekends, grandchildren would go stay with her to make sure she was okay. She wasn't too fond of the late night giggling when my cousin, Beth, and I were the ones to stay there.I remember being fascinated with my parents' wedding portrait that was always on the chest of drawers in her bedroom. That was the only place I had ever seen their wedding picture before their 25th anniversary celebration.Grandma died during my Junior year of high school (a little more than a year after my mother died) in March, 1972.
(The following corrections were provided by Aunt Grace in Dec, 2019. I'm so thankful we still have her to share memories and a familial connection! Thank you, Aunt Grace! 
"I was just reading your blog of last May and did note a couple small changes (You've done a great job and can only rely on what you've been told I know).  To the best of my knowledge, Mom was living with Dad & Aunt Louisa prior to her death as apparently she had a difficult pregnancy, and Mom always always told me that she had promised Aunt Louisa that she would raise her children.  I can't say that she ever fell in love with Dad, but made the best of the situation.  That's not a correction - just FYI.  Next - Dad fell down the basement stairs at their house (not Aunt Marge's)  He was making toast as Uncle Bob was leaving for work and watching out the window.  He said the toaster threw some sparks and he headed for the door to try to yell to Uncle Bob and lost his balance and fell down the steps.  There were 3 steps before the landing, and from there he rolled and went down the rest of the steps landing at the bottom (in the basement) with a broken neck & back.  He was in the hospital then until he died.  He fell the morning of March 27th and died April 10, 1961.  You're right he had Parkinson's Disease and did shake.  I think he may have suffered either light strokes or reacted to medication (pain) as he did a lot of hallucinating during that hospital stay.  I remember the nurses had to cover the mirror in his room as he kept seeing things and thought someone was coming out of the mirror.  The only other comment, rather than grandchildren coming to stay with Grandma (which they did short term) but it was her step-children and children that cared for her.  She was in the wheelchair for 7 years (unable to walk) and we had a schedule for our turns to go and stay, which was primarily on weekends for us as George & Emily  and Henry & Emily were retired and could go during the week.  We had a caregiver for a short period of time, ,but Mom wasn't the easiest person to please and she caused that to end. We all knew something would happen sooner or later, and you might know I was the unfortunate one to be there when it  did.  Austin and I were with her that weekend, Austin had just left to go to Yorkville to see his brother and she told me she had to go to the bathroom and didn't want to use the commode in her bedroom, but wanted to go in the bathroom. It was a very small bathroom, neither she nor I were small women and she fell trying to get on the toilet.  She suffered greatly all day Sunday before being taken to the hospital by ambulance on Monday (Feb. 25th and she died at Copley Hospital on March 7.  Her hip was broken, but they couldn't set it and she suffered terribly all that time   as they turned her every few hours to keep from getting bed sores    Hope you don't mind my passing this info on.  I've always been thankful that neither one of them had Alzheimers and were "with it" to the end.  Hope I can stay that way.  You're right - they used to call it "hardening of the arteries"   and we'd hear of cerebrial hemorrages - today's strokes."


My mother was adopted by Edward and Pearl (Haag) Hill after they had been unable to have children of their own. These were the grandparents who lived 3 blocks away from us at 415 North Ave in Aurora, IL. After they adopted my mother, they were blessed with one daughter of their own, Dorothy (DeeDee) who was born on the same day as my dad's sister Grace. By the time I was in kindergarten, I was allowed to walk to their house to visit sometimes. I never learned much about Grandpa's youth, other than his father Orlando had died and his mother had remarried Charles Watson. I don't know if it was due to his age or circumstances, but I was always of the impression that Grandpa didn't have a good relationship with his stepfather. I met his sister Ida a few times, but that was the whole of his family that I knew anything about. Grandpa loved Chicago Cubs baseball, Blackjack gum and chewing tobacco. There was always a nasty smelling spittoon on the floor next to where he sat on the couch. Grandpa would still occasionally drive his old Chrysler sometimes when I was quite young, but mostly, it just sat in the basement garage. He had diabetes, was on a regimented diet and took insulin shots. My aunt, DeeDee was pretty much his caregiver as long as I can remember. He passed away in November, 1970, just a few months before my mother. She was too ill to make it to his funeral, but they were able to take her to the funeral home the day before so she could say her good-byes.
My Grandma Hill was my favorite, just because she was the one I was closest to and she was the one who would tell me stories about her childhood. I learned how she didn't know how to speak English when she first went to school and how far she had to walk to get there. She'd tell me stories about playing with her cats on the farm when she was young and about how her hair was so long she could sit on it. I must have really loved her stories of the "kitties" on the farm, because one year for Christmas she gave me a hand-embroidered dresser scarf with a gray kitten embroidered on each end. I still own the remnants of that dresser scarf and have always thought I'd like to sew the kittens onto something else to pass on to one of my granddaughters. 
As the only daughter of William and Eleanora (Hansing) Haag, she inherited all of the properties that her father built and she worked very hard to keep the yards and the buildings well-maintained. There was another whole lot that butted up against the back of the house lot that was called "the garden." It had flowers and, at one time, I'm sure there were vegetables, but most of all I remember hearing about the drudgery of mowing the garden and seeing the evidence of her legs being chewed up by the chiggers in the process. I imagine that at one time, during my mother's youth maybe even in my brothers' youth, the backyard of the house was beautiful. There was an enormous weeping willow tree and a goldfish pond. Grandma Hill started to get sick shortly after we moved to Wisconsin. Back then, we were told it was "hardening of the arteries." Today, it would be better classified as Alzheimer's. She began to lose her memory, began to hallucinate and live in the past. She became paranoid that people were trying to break in and rob the house. In one fit of paranoia, she took the old Haag family Bible and tore out, and destroyed, all the pages of family history. As I've tried to work on family history,that part is the saddest part for me. At one point, she ran out of the house in the middle of the night in her nightgown and ran down the block to the church. The police had to bring her home. For a little while after that, my parents tried to bring her to Watertown to stay with us on the farm to give DeeDee a little break since she still had to care for Grandpa and maintain the apartment buildings by herself. I was responsible for keeping Grandma company and entertained and feeding her meals when I wasn't in school. It was after that, the doctor suggested they try shock therapy for her and they admitted her to the hospital. As you would expect, shock therapy did nothing to help the disease and after she returned home, she just continued to get worse and worse. I remember feeling heartbroken when I would hear her lying in bed and just crying out for her Mama. It was one of those times that I became rude to my grandfather the only time in my life. Mom, Dad, Bill and I were all in the living room of her house. They had pulled out the studio couch (aka  Hide-a-Bed nowadays) for her to lay on which meant Grandpa had to get off of his spot on the couch. Mom was trying to make sure Grandma was comfortable and kept asking her if she was okay, while Grandma just cried. Grandpa gruffly said, "She's fine!" Irritated at my grandpa for being so abrupt and, seemingly, unfeeling for my Grandma, I looked at him and rudely said "How would you know? You can't feel what she's feeling!"  At that outburst, I was on the receiving end of a reprimand of my own from Bill for talking to our grandfather so disrespectfully. I suspect I was sent out of the room at that point, as that's the end of my memory, although the rest of it is still vivid. Grandma passed away in April, 1965, just two years after we had begun moving to Wisconsin. Grandma, Grandpa and DeeDee are all buried in the Spring Lake Cemetery in Aurora, Illinois surrounded by other Haag/Hansing relatives.

The truly crazy, interesting part of the story of my grandparents has begun to unfold since 2013. My mother had always wanted to find her birth parents, but never wanted to look while her parents were still living. At one point, she started to write a novel beginning with her vague memory of the orphanage she lived in. She was told the following about her pre-adoptive life: 

• She had a twin brother who passed away of whooping cough in the orphanage
• She had several older brothers and sisters
• Her father was a traveling minister who died trying to catch a train to go to his second parish on a Sunday between services
• She and her twin were put in the orphanage to be cared for while their mother worked to be able to better care for her family
• When the orphanage informed her mother of the boy's death, they told the mother that they had both died
• Every year, Grandma Hill took Mom on the train into Chicago to visit "a lady" until the day she asked who that lady was. They never went again, but she had a book of Cinderella that was given to her by the lady that was signed "Virginia."
• She was actually a year older than she had been told her whole life up to the time she married my father and had to get a copy of her birth certificate!

Some of that is truth. Other parts are false. Since 2013, Josh, Brooks and I have been working whenever we can to try to unravel pieces of my mother's past. Here's what we've learned

• Mom was indeed a twin; the second born; Baby #5 of 5 born to Alice Gustafson Voorhees. Her twin brother, Elmer, died on his 2nd birthday (according to Illinois Deaths and Stillbirths Record) and was buried in Arlington Cemetery.
• There were 3 older siblings. Eleanor (Johnson) appears to have been born out of wedlock to Alice and was listed in census records as a border. (Not an uncommon thing for illegitimate children, I've been told). After Alice married Ted Victor Voorhees, she had 2 more children before the twins on May 1, 1921. The twins' birth certificates have only Voorhees and the word "Deceased" for the father's name.
• Ted had varying occupations in census records, one being a minister. We have a photo of a newspaper article about Rev. Ted Voorhees and I have a copy of a book he wrote. He used magic to teach about God...quite a different take on religion!
• Using census and selective service records, Ted was still living in the east until he died in the 60s. He had a second marriage and on that marriage license he claimed his first marriage ended in divorce in March of 1920.
• No divorce records have been located. Were they really divorced and accurate records weren't kept? Did Ted walk out on Alice in 1920 and consider that his divorce? Did Alice get so upset with Ted when he left that he was "dead" to her? Did Ted come back and have a final fling with Alice five or six months after he left? Or, did Alice produce two more illegitimate offspring, give them Ted's last name and put them up for adoption? I know Alice is my true grandmother, but is Ted my true grandfather???
• A man named Bernard Ward reached out to me after finding that I had Ted Voorhees in my family tree on MyHeritage.com . Ted was his grandfather and told me that there were family rumors that he had a first marriage, but the family never spoke of it. His mother had passed away, but her two sisters were still living, but he refused to give me any contact information for them, as he said they are elderly and it would be too upsetting for them.Census record!s show Ted having three daughters (Virginia, Jolinda and Marilyn) which fits the information Bernard gave me. Time to try to track down the sisters myself!

Family History. Such a fascinating topic with so many different directions to take to learn about ancestors. In addition to the confusion with the Voorhees line, there is much to learn about the Staffeldts, the Zielkes, the Hansings and the Haags with their eastern European connections; and then what of Orlando Hill? What was his story? So much to learn and it doesn't seem like there's ever enough time to dedicate to it! When I was younger, I wondered how "old people" could spend so much time on their genealogy! Now, I know!!!

EY #11: Tell about special experiences you remember with your parents

How does one choose the "special experiences" to write about? When your parents have been gone as long as mine have, EVERY memory is a special experience. There were far too few of them and I think they're reflected in many of my other posts.

A special experience with my dad was generally something that I did with him; like sitting on his lap while we watched TV, learning to ride my bike, trying to help with the milking. Those little things mean a lot. One memory does stand out; My father had arranged a fishing trip with some friends on Lake Superior; an opportunity to catch some big fish and just hang out with friends. I'm not quite sure how Lanie and I ended up going along, but I'm certain it involved some begging and pleading on my part, because they were TOTALLY unprepared to have two teenage girls along. I know I  had no interest in actually fishing, but I loved being on the water. There wasn't much in the way of food to eat for a day on the boat and the only beverage available was beer! That didn't stop Lanie; she liked beer. I had never developed a taste for it; at least at that point in my life. The cabin on the fishing boat was rather small and we had no desire to be inside anyway, so we spent most of the day out in the wind and sun; enjoying the day. Until Lanie got seasick. Whether it was from the rocking boat, the beer or the lack of food to go with the beer, but she was SICK! And I got sunburned! My arms, my face, even the part in my hair was beet red and I was in pain. I also don't remember much sympathy for either of us from my dad. He never said it, but was probably hoping I'd learn a lesson from it; that sometimes it's just better for a kid to stay "home," which in this case would have meant staying at our cabin in Corny where I would have had food, drink and been able to get in the water whenever I wanted... It was a special experience though, 'cause it was with my dad and it definitely created a memory for both Lanie and me.

One more "special" memory of my dad is of the bookcase he built me. Now, mind you, he was a carpenter. He built houses, not furniture. But, the summer after my freshman year of college as I was preparing to move into the Zeta house for the first time, I  asked him to build me a bookcase, because every room didn't have one and I knew I'd NEED one! So he built one. Out of solid oak 2x6s with a sheet of paneling nailed to the back. He tried to stain the wood to match the paneling, but the stain was too dark, so he painted the paneling to match the stain. It was sturdy. It was heavier than I could move by myself. And, it was ugly as sin. But it was mine. He built it for me and I moved it from room to room in college, with me throughout my married life and after my divorce. Barton's daughter Abigail is now the proud owner of my bookcase, although Emily painted it white to match her bed, so it looks better now; still as sturdy as can be. The thing that made that bookcase all the more special was the fact that it was the last thing my dad ever did for me. He delivered it to me at Millikin in September of my sophomore year; he passed away six months later.

One memory of my mother minimizes every other memory I have of her. It was Christmas eve and my mother wanted to attend the candlelight Christmas Eve service at church, three blocks from our 4th street home. It was a pleasant winter evening; not too cold; no snow, so we decided to walk. The service began at 11:00 pm and got out at midnight. The service was beautiful, the spirit was strong and when we exited the church we were greeted by a beautiful snowfall! Nice big flakes, gently falling from the sky. The night was quiet; no sound except for the church bells playing Christmas hymns. As we walked home, we didn't talk much; rather just enjoyed the time together, the spirit that followed us after the service, and the beautiful snowfall. That memory has stayed with me through the years and every Christmas Eve, I long to attend a traditional candlelit worship service. Unfortunately, it's hard to find a church that offers that same tranquil, reverent feeling of that Christmas so long ago. I remember the Christmas Eve after Mom passed away. I was driving by then and had come home from someone's home (probably Lanie's) and as I pulled into the garage, I realized that our driveway needed to be shoveled. I got out of the car grabbed the shovel and as I began to go to work to clear the drive, the churchbells began to chime. I stopped and listened for a few moments as tears filled my eyes with the memory of my special Christmas Eve with my mother just a few years before. How I wished she was there with me that night, when suddenly I knew that she was and I returned to my task with peace, joy in my heart and a smile on my face.

EY #10 Part II: Tell about the political background in your home

Politics were not regularly discussed when I was growing up. At least I don't remember it. It is obvious to me, however, that my parents were staunch Republicans. My earliest recollection of any kind of a discussion about politics was in 1960 when Kennedy was running against Nixon. I still remember being in the living room and hearing my father's raised voice as he was talking to someone in the kitchen. I don't recall the specifics, but I do remember reference to Kennedy's 1) religion (Catholic vs Dad's Lutheran upbringing), 2)his nationality (Irish vs Dad's German-Polish ancestry) 3) his family money buying his way into politics and, 4) worst of all, his reputation and disloyalty to his wife. I don't particularly recall Dad's endorsement of Nixon, but I DO remember his vehement opposition to Kennedy.

I doubt that Dad cared one way or another when Kennedy was assassinated, except from the standpoint that it put Johnson into office, who was apparently EVEN WORSE!

I doubt that my dad was very pleased when five years later I showed my first interest in the presidential election and Bobby Kennedy was my candidate. Racial inequality and the Viet Nam war were the hot topics in the country and Bobby made sense to me. I liked the things he said, I was probably a bit sympathetic to him since his brother had been assassinated and I may or may not have had a little crush on his second son... After his assassination in June of that year, my obsession with him continued, but my interest in politics dwindled.

When the Watergate scandal broke and President Nixon resigned, I pretty much gave up on politics all together, deciding that they were all a bunch of criminals; it was just that some got caught while others didn't. That's pretty much still my philosophy about politicians....

I remember being an advocate of the right for 18-year-olds to vote since they could be sent to war and I registered to vote as soon as the law passed and I turned 18. I've been a registered voter ever since. That doesn't mean, however, that I've always voted. 

In 1976, I was in college, three hours from home and Gerald Ford (who had inherited the presidency from Nixon) was running against Jimmy Carter (who I really didn't like). Going back to my philosophy that they're all a bunch of crooks anyway, I decided I was not going to go home to vote or apply for an absentee ballot. As the election drew near, Randy (my fiance at the time) asked me if I had done an absentee ballot. I told him no and got a lecture about how it was my civic responsibility to vote, even though he wasn't even registered!!! When I told him it was too late to get an absentee ballot at that point, he told me I needed to go home on election day. Nope. Wasn't gonna do that! Dad was gone. Al was living at home with his witch of a second wife and I had no desire to run into her just to vote for a presidential candidate I didn't even like! We debated this fact all the way to election day when Randy showed up at the Zeta house and DROVE ME all the way to Aurora to cast my ballot. I was so irritated that when he asked me which candidate I was going to vote for, I told him that since I didn't like Ford or Carter, I guessed I'd just vote for the communist candidate. That earned me another lecture! When we pulled up at the neighborhood polling place, he asked me once again who I was voting for. My response was that I had already told him. As I slammed the car door, I heard him yell to me that I couldn't do that!!! When I came back out, he asked me once again who I had voted for. I smiled at him and replied that a person's vote is their personal privilege and I didn't need to tell ANYONE who I voted for. To this day, I've never told him or another soul.

EY #5: Tell about places you lived

Since this post is to reference my "early years," there aren't a lot of places to tell about, but there is plenty to tell about them. I lived in exactly two houses before I left home for college. I don't have access to my pictures of either house right now, but at some future date, I'll add photos of them to this post.

My first home was one built by my great-grandfather William Haag, my maternal grandmother's father. I never really heard it said, but I'm of the impression that the Haag family was fairly well off, at least prior to the depression.While I know Grandma (Haag) Hill was raised on a farm, at some point they moved into "town" (Aurora) and great-grandpa Haag began building houses. They were multiple family dwellings and whether they were built with the intent of income as rental units or to keep the family close together, I'm unsure.
There is a great deal of history behind the houses at 415 and 425 North Avenue and 450 S 4th Street in Aurora, but for the purpose of this post, I'm to focus on the one I lived in.

When I was born, my family was living in the 4th Street house. It was about 3 blocks from Copley Hospital where I was born and my mother walked there. The 4th Street house was a huge 2-story building with one upper and one lower flat, a full basement and a walk up attic that went the full length of the house. Each floor had an entryway, a living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, 2 bedrooms, a sun porch off the kitchen and a huge front porch off the entryway. The house had beautiful oak cabinets, flooring and trim. Each level also had a gorgeous colonnade. On the lower floor, it separated the living room from the dining room; on the upper floor it separated the entry from the living room. The upper flat also had an oak staircase that went down to the lower front porch.

For my first few years, I slept in my parents' room of the lower flat and my brothers had the second bedroom. I'm guessing I was around 4 or 5 when my dad did some remodeling and turned the back porch into a bedroom for my brothers and I moved into their old room. While doing the remodel on the main floor, he added a cement block foundation under the boys' room and knocked out a "doorway" into the original basement. That new room in the basement became the "train room." My brothers had a huge train set with buildings and "trees" to create a whole community. You had to crawl  under the table to get to the middle operating section of the train. I don't remember ever being allowed to run the train, but I remember enjoying being with my brothers while they did. The steam engine and the hand car were especially fascinating to me.

Before the remodel, we had a good-sized fenced in backyard with a big old tree, my swing set and a bunny hutch. My brothers had a couple of rabbits: Copper and Snowball. One day, they found Copper dead in the hutch with a bee bee in her head. Someone had purposely shot her. They suspected it was the ornery neighbor boys, but there was no proof. Snowball was donated to the Phillips Park Zoo shortly thereafter and the following year a visit to the zoo had a large number of pure white rabbits hopping around! In addition to the tame rabbits in our yard, we had a squirrel named Skippy. Why Skippy? Because I could take a Skippy peanut butter sandwich out to the yard, put it in the tree and then step back and watch as Skippy came to eat it.

Another phase of remodeling at the 4th Street house involved tearing down the old 1 car garage and replacing it with a 3-car garage where the backyard used to be and pouring a large driveway from the alley to the garage. (That driveway is where I learned to ride my bike.) Now there was plenty of parking available for both apartments.

I also remember being in elementary school and noticing a hole in the dining room wall that was about 2" in diameter. I asked my mother why there was a hole in our wall and she told me that I had done it. I was appalled! I couldn't imagine that I would have done anything to create a hole...she must have been mistaken! Then she told me the story. Apparently, when I was still in my walker, I had gotten hold of a spoon in the kitchen. As I've mentioned before, I was a quiet child and by the time my mother came looking for me, the damage was done. She caught me with my feet propped up on the wall, sitting on the seat of my walker and digging away at the plaster with the spoon. Since my dad was a carpenter by trade, I know it would have been an easy fix, so I'm not really certain why the hole was still there years later, unless it was to just be able to show me what I had done and tell me the story of it later!

My dad always wanted to return to farming; to have a farm of his own and when I was in 2nd grade, he bought a farm in Watertown, Wisconsin. The farm was still owned by the original family, the Mullens who also owned the dairy in town. Dad and Al moved to Wisconsin right away to start to build the herd of cows and to do the spring planting. Mom stayed behind with Bill and me as Bill was finishing his senior year of high school. Weekend trips were the norm until school got out and we moved north to join Dad and Al.

The house on the 160-acre farm was a cape cod style house that replaced the original old farmhouse that was destroyed in a fire. The front porch of the house was still from the original house and a partial wall around the back patio was also a wall of the old house. The patio was actually poured over all the remnants and debris of the fire. The house had a living room, kitchen, 2 bedrooms and a bath on the first floor with 2 bedrooms and three small walk-in attic spaces off the bedrooms upstairs. I claimed the largest of the attic spaces to be my Barbie room. It had the two windows from the front of the house for some natural light and was off my walk-in closet.

We had a huge barn, with a great hay mow and grain bins. The hay mow was complete with generations of bats that gave my brothers and dad plenty of opportunities for target practice with the "22." The barn had an electric barn cleaner for the manure, 3 pens for calves and a stinky silo that had the most amazing echo! My sister-in-law, Marcia, recently told me that the barn has been torn down. Other buildings on the farm were a large tool shed (large enough to store the tractors), a couple of corn cribs, a chicken coop and brooder house, and a hog barn. The barnyard was surrounded on three sides by the barn, the hog barn and the chicken coop/brooder house/garage. There was a small pasture behind the hog barn for the pigs and ponies and a large pasture a ways from all the buildings, surrounded by the fields. The pasture area wasn't suitable for growing anything except grass as the soil there was boggy and it housed a knoll that my mother swore was an Indian burial ground. 

My dad planted alfalfa, oats and field corn and we usually had about 40-50 head of cattle. I had my own Ayrshire cow named Ada. She was a homely thing; actually mixed Ayrshire and Holstein. She gave me my baby bull, Bambi who my dad told me he had sold. I was distraught the day I learned we were eating him, but in retrospect, he was some pretty good eating. Dad was patient with me and let me name a lot of the calves that were born; most memorable being Valentine (born on Valentine's Day, of course) and Venus, just 2 days younger than Valentine. I only remember one pig's name: Skunk. Not exactly sure why my dad named him that. It's not like one pig smelled any worse than another...

I got to host a Halloween party two of the four Halloweens we lived in Wisconsin. I invited all the kids from my class in school and played all the typical games like bobbing for apples with a grand finale of a hay ride. That was a lot of fun until my brother got annoyed with one of the girls who kept horsing around on the wagon so he hung her upside down by the feet off the back of the wagon!

Friends from Illinois always came to visit for a weekend, since we were just 2 hours away from Aurora.And some of our friends would come stay for a week or more. One of my brother's friends, Steve would spend the whole summer with us! His dad was our milkman in Aurora and since "Oleo" (margarine) was illegal to sell in the "dairy state," he would bring the contraband for my mother to put in our freezer whenever they came to visit.

The last couple of years we were in Wisconsin, Dad gradually got away from the dairy/livestock and focused on crops. He purchased a combine and a sprayer and hired himself out to spray and then harvest crops for other farmers in the area.

I loved living on the farm; being surrounded by animals and fresh air. I cried myself to sleep the night I found out my parents had sold the farm, 2 days before my 12th birthday. Grandma Hill had Alzheimer's and had passed away about a year before and DeeDee was having a hard time taking care of Grandpa and all the rental properties alone. So, back to Aurora we went.

Back to the same house. Although, this time we lived in the upstairs flat as my brother Al and his wife Marcia were living in the lower unit. Shortly after moving in, Dad began to remodel the small upstairs kitchen. He tore out all the old original oak cabinets as well as the wall to the sun porch. The porch became a dining nook and he ordered all new modern kitchen cabinetry with built in stainless steel appliances. He also carpeted the back stairs with a new phenomena: indoor/outdoor carpeting!!!  Each floor also got a new remodeled bathroom which, sadly, meant the removal of the claw-foot bathtubs on each floor. The upstairs front porch was a great place to spend a hot summer night and with the security/privacy it offered, was a great place to sleep on those really hot nights.

Living back in the same house with Al, gave me opportunities to "play" with my big brother again; all the games he made up with balloons or kicking a tennis ball through the holes in the block on the front porch. It was great having Marcia there too. She was the big sister I never had and she always treated me well. Their children were born there, Gail, literally, was born in the house and I loved being able to run downstairs to see my niece and nephew or hear them coming up the back steps on a Saturday morning yelling for me to make them breakfast!

I truly loved that house. I loved the memories and I loved the tradition. I never returned "home" anymore after my dad died. Al had gotten divorced and lived there with his new wife, Ellen, Dad was gone and it just didn't feel like home anymore. We sold the house in 1980 when I was living in Utah, Al was in Florida and Bill was in Michigan. It just didn't make sense to hold on to it with no one there to take care of it or appreciate it. Whenever I have the opportunity to return to Aurora for a visit, though, it always includes a drive by the old 4th Street house where I shed a tear or two as I remember my life there and the rich family heritage that went with it.

EY #4: How did you contribute to the family, financial or otherwise?

As the "baby of the family," I was actually pretty spoiled without many expectations other than to do my best in school. On the other hand, I was a pretty quiet child who didn't particularly like messes, so I didn't create many. My bedroom was generally well organized because I liked having things in their proper places.

As I got older, my mother did teach me how to help with some household chores. I loved running the vacuum, but probably didn't do a very good  job of it. I believe I only ran it in the open spaces. I still remember the day she taught me to dust. I was in kindergarten. She taught me to aim the Pledge at whatever I was going to dust, push the button on top of the can and then wipe it with the dust cloth. What she DIDN'T teach me was to make sure the hole where the spray came out was pointed at the object I was dusting. (Cans didn't have the safety caps they do now to direct the spray.) As you've probably guessed, I sprayed the Pledge directly in my eyes! I don't think I finished dusting that day...but I learned to be much more cautious the next time!

When we moved to the farm in Wisconsin, I joined 4H. Not being too enthused about raising animals to take to the fair, I took the homemaking route and learned the "proper" way to do dishes: glasses first, silverware second, then plates and bowls and finally cookware (with the greasiest/messiest pans last). I still get twitches if I see someone wash glasses after the messy plates!

I also began to learn to sew under the direction of my aunt, Miem. I got better at sewing after 1-1/2 years of sewing classes in Jr. High and began to make a lot of my own clothes. I suppose that was a financial contribution to the family as it was pretty cheap to sew your own clothes. I even made myself a coat in high school!

On occasion, I would try to help in the barn at milking time. I would try to carry the milk pails from a cow to pour into the milk can, but unless the cow was a poor milker, the pails were generally too heavy for me to carry and then lift to pour into the can. My dad taught me how to scrape the manure off the barn floor into the trough that cleaned the manure out of the barn, but I think I purposely didn't do a very good job of it so he wouldn't ask me to do that anymore. I mean, I loved being close to my dad and feeling like I was helping, but let's face it. Manure STINKS  and I did NOT want to scrape and shovel manure on a regular basis. So, the best way I learned to help at milking time was feeding the cows. We had a rolling bin that had ground feed in it. Each cow received a specific amount of feed and I had to know which cows got 1, 1-1/2 or 2 scoops. I had some good conversations with the cows as I walked to each one and they said "thank you" with their beautiful, big brown eyes. Maybe that's when I fell in love with brown eyes....

Long about 6th grade, when I actually started to worry about what my hair looked like and I learned how to wash and "set" it, I also started to do my mom's hair for her between visits to the beauty parlor for a perm.She had thin, really straight hair and when the perms faded, it could be quite the challenge to make it look good. When I would try to curl my daughter, Sami's hair when she was little, I was always reminded of doing my mom's hair. That same thin, straight hair was best just put into a ponytail!

My real family contributions came later than that though, when I was around 14 and my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I didn't realize she was doing it at the time, but my mother began to train me to take over for her. She taught me how to keep the books for my father's construction jobs, how to pay the bills and how to balance the checkbook. She taught me how to do the laundry and clean the bathroom. She taught me how to babysit my niece and nephew (Dan & Gail) who lived downstairs, which really taught me how to be a mom. She taught me about responsibility for my Grandpa and aunt, DeeDee who lived three blocks away. As she got sicker, I learned patient care as I had to help her to the bathroom or change the bandages covering the holes in her breast that burned through to her back from the radiation therapy.

By the time Mom passed away, 8 days before my 16th birthday, I was effectively running the house and when I got my driver's license a few short months later, I was also doing all the banking, weekly grocery shopping and other household errands after school and on the weekends. As I mentioned responsibility for Grandpa and Dee, I also made sure DeeDee  got to the grocery store, her bank and doctor appointments. (Grandpa passed away three months before Mom did.)

It's funny. Writing all this makes it sound like I did a lot; like I had a lot of responsibility and contributed a lot. It never really felt like that though. It was my home. It was my family. I can't imagine NOT doing those things that I did, especially after my mom got sick. But, now as I look at my grandchildren, I can't imagine them DOING all the things that I accepted as a part of life. Comparing ages with my granddaughters, I can't imagine Abigail scraping manure in the barn or feeding the cows. I can't imagine Soni doing Sami's hair. And I can't imagine Andi, Cari or Sarai being responsible for running the household or maintaining the family budget. I have no doubt that they could, I'm just thankful none of them have to...

EY #3 & #21: Tell about activities you enjoyed growing up; Tell about spare time activities (hobbies, stories, games & toys)

As we've already established, I was not athletic or coordinated--- AT ALL--- so you definitely won't see here that I enjoyed any type of sports. The closest I got to enjoying physical activities would be Tag, Duck Duck Goose or Statue. Even those weren't my first go-to activities because, well, they involved running and a certain amount of coordination is beneficial in running!

I did enjoy bike riding!!! I rode my bike ALL. THE. TIME!  I remember Dad taking the training wheels off my small bike. When I was having trouble balancing the bike, he suggested I start with my bike by the back door of our house, just lift my feet off the ground and focus on just keeping my balance as the bike rolled down the small decline of the driveway. It sounds ridiculous, but as I got better at maintaining balance, one day without even thinking about it, I put my feet on the pedals and started RIDING!!! I was so excited that day I just rode around and around in circles on our driveway until I ran inside to tell Mom what I had done! Soon, my dad realized that little bike wasn't going to work anymore and he bought be a beautiful blue 26" bike. It seemed way too big, but Dad said he wasn't going to buy me a 24" that he'd just have to replace again in a few years. So, I learned to ride standing up first to be able to boost myself onto the seat. When we lived on the farm, my bike and the dogs were my favorite pastime. I'd ride down the country road with Copper, Buck and Lady close behind. When we moved back to Aurora, I got a new bike and a new friend to go bike riding with. Lanie and I rode EVERYWHERE after school or in the summer. We'd go downtown, to Phillips Park, to the tennis courts or, just around. Bike riding slowed down after I got my driver's license, but didn't actually stop 'til I went to college.

I played "house" a lot. Usually just in my bedroom where I had my dolls' cradle and bunk bed set up, but there was one summer on the farm when I used an empty section of the barn loft for my playhouse and moved my doll furniture, my little table and chairs and some blankets in. It was great, except there were no lights, so I could only play in there when good natural light was coming in the small window. I had several dolls: a hard plastic baby doll (about the size of an 8-month-old), a Chatty Cathy and Tandy, a 3-foot-tall doll who "walked" and "talked." My favorite doll, though, was one I rarely played with. She was my mother's baby doll with a china head and sawdust body. I didn't play with her much because her head was cracked and she had a hole in her cloth toe, so she leaked sawdust. I always wanted to take her to a doll hospital for repairs, but she got thrown away after my dad died and I was away at college. She was always the "good baby" that slept in her cradle (also my mom's).

I played outside in the snow quite a bit on the farm as well. I'd build myself a small snow fort or go "trekking" in the drifts by the barn. A snow fort wasn't terribly fun after I had it built, however. With no one to play with, it was protecting me from an imaginary enemy! Speaking of snow drifts, though... there was a boy at school who thought it was all kinds of funny to push the girls down in the piles on the playground. He only pushed me down once. The next time, I was ready for him and anticipated when he was coming for me from behind. Just before he laid his hands on me to push, I reached over my shoulder, grabbed him by the coat collar and threw HIM over my shoulder into the snow. Old David never bothered me again! That move may have been the origin of my elementary school nickname of "Super Zielke." Come to think of it, I don't remember him pushing any of my friends in the snow after that day either.

Playing with my Barbie dolls filled up hours of each day! I had quite a collection with my original blonde ponytail Barbie, my brunette "bubble cut" Barbie, the Barbie with the first bendable legs, eyes that closed and a painted head that allowed interchanging her three wigs for different looks. Barbie's family grew. I had a Ken (Barbie's boyfriend), Midge (Barbie's best friend), Alan (Midge's boyfriend), Skipper (Barbie's little sister), Skooter (Midge's little sister), Ricky (Alan's little brother), Francie (Barbie's cousin), Casey (Francie's friend), Tutti and Todd (Barbie's & Skipper's little twin brother and sister) and Christy (Tutti's friend). They all lived in a mansion I created by hooking together my Barbie Dream House with my Barbie Fashion Show store, but it was pretty hard to get them anywhere with her little 2-seater convertible!

I played games by myself. Hours of Monopoly alone helped me learn to count money and move around the board without counting spaces. Scrabble helped me learn to do crosswords and build my vocabulary and hours of Solitaire helped me learn to shuffle cards well. I enjoyed playing with Play-doh (Boy, would I have fun with all those Play-Doh sets available now!) and Silly Putty, pulling up pictures out of the Sunday comic strips.

But my last great love was reading. I still love to read. Bobbsey Twin novels were my absolute favorite. My first Bobbsey Twin book had been my mother's when she was young. I would get one or two every Christmas and Birthday and lots of them in between. Since I knew my mother had a twin brother who died when they were very small, I used to pretend Bert and Nan Bobbsey were my mom and her brother; always having grand adventures together. I also enjoyed reading biographies and read every one I could get my hands on. My poor mother was constantly being harassed to take me to the library again.

That about covers my "activities." Some may read this and think I was a pretty boring kid. Maybe I was. But with brothers so much older than me, I learned early on to entertain myself. I had no opportunity to be bored, because my imagination always took me to new places and experiences.There were no limits to the adventures I could have in my mind; and I was creative enough to be able to see my imaginary world in the real world that surrounded me.I feel sorry for kids who tell me they're bored. To me, that just means they've never learned how to use their imaginations and create their own fun.

EY #2: Tell about your family growing up, including pets

As I begin this post, I want to preface it by saying that last Saturday I attended a Family Discovery Day hosted by our church. It was a full day of learning how to better search out our family histories. One of the "classes" I attended was "Everyone has a Story." While it was primarily about interviewing "elderly" family members to preserve their memories and histories, it really hit home to me that when she created this blog and accompanying book of questions for me, my daughter Brooks was really "interviewing" me in a way that she knew would be rather fun for me and that would also preserve my information. So, now that I've gone through the topics that most interested me, I'm going back to the beginning of her questions and just going to start answering them...

So. My family. A rather typical family of the 50s & 60s, I'd say. Dad went to work as a General Contractor every day. I know he still helped out sometimes on his family's farm in Oswego, IL. I only know that because I remember going with my mom to take him lunch during planting or harvesting times and I remember crying for the sheep that I saw him shearing in the barn. I was definitely a "Daddy's girl" and looked forward to sitting on his lap watching TV with him on the evenings he was at home. Bonanza on Sunday nights and Ben Casey on Monday nights were the best! Not that I particularly liked the shows or understood what they were about, but I sure liked having those special times with my dad.

With my dad in his rocking chair.
Picture taken with our new Polaroid
Instant Camera!!!

My mom was a real mom. Not much of a homemaker from the cooking/cleaning aspect but a mom who taught me love, manners, respect, and how to laugh. I've always thought of her as a women's libber before her time. She had a plaque in her kitchen that said "My home is clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy." And it was.She taught me how to do the dishes, dust and vacuum. She let me turn the handle on the meat grinder to turn Sunday's leftover roast beef into homemade hash. She let me put the chocolate chip cookie dough on the cookie sheets after she sliced them from the Pillsbury wrapper and she let me lick the beaters after she mixed a cake from the Betty Crocker cake mix.She was the PTA president, room mother, cub scout den mother, school volunteer and member of a bowling league. (That's where she was on Monday nights when my dad and I watched Ben Casey!) She'd help in the barn at milking time when my brothers were gone and she'd drive the tractor while my dad stood on the wagon to grab the bales of hay. She never quite got the hang of the clutch and nearly threw Dad off the wagon on multiple occasions! She had a temper and would become even angrier as my brothers taunted her by running in circles around the dining room table as she chased them with the belt. (I never remember her actually hitting them with it, but watching the chase was enough to put me in tears.) She loved sports, particularly baseball and it seemed like we LIVED at the baseball park in the summers as Al played pony league and Bill major league.She loved to participate in a family game of ball in the yard on the farm, but I fear I was a great disappointment with ZERO athletic talent or coordination.

Mom in a dreaded dress with
"Miem" at Grandma Zielke's house
(Pants were much more the norm
for my mom!!!)

Bill was 10-years-old when I was born. He was my protector and did the big brother things like reading to me and remembering to win stuffed animals for me at the fair. His friends were pretty attentive to me and I remember that I always planned on marrying his friend Roy Parker when I grew up. Bill played the trumpet in band and orchestra; was a boy scout and played football and baseball. I still remember sitting on the couch in the living room and looking at his senior picture a few weeks after we had taken him to Iowa to start his freshman year of college. Suddenly, I burst into tears, not even really understanding why. All I knew was that I wanted my big brother to be at home.

Boy Scout, Billy

Al, who was seven when I was born, was the fun brother. He played more games with me; made up most of them and NEVER showed me any mercy to let me win. (At least that's how it seemed...) I remember having VERY RED hands after playing a hand slap game where I'd have to put my hands, palms down, on top of his hands, palms up, and try to pull them away before he could flip his hands over to slap mine. Remember, I said I wasn't very coordinated; my reflexes weren't that great either apparently. Al played the trombone in band and orchestra, was a boy scout and played baseball and basketball.

Al's senior picutre
1965

There were always pets. When I was born, we had a Boston Terrier (exactly one year and two days older than me) named Boots. When we moved to the farm in Wisconsin we had dogs: Boots, a collie named Copper, a black lab named Buck (cuz Bill bought him for $1), an abandoned black lab named Lady, Little Buck and Pickles. (Little Buck was the son of Buck and Lady; Pickles was the daughter of Lady and the neighborhood Beagle...) There were also about 10 cats (Slippers, Snoop, DC, Goldie, etc.), 2 ponies: Sandy was mine; Sputnick was Al's with a few special cows and pigs...When we sold the farm and moved back to Aurora, there was another Boston Terrier rescued from an animal shelter: Samson, who had digestive "issues" (...man, Samson could clear a room!) and later, Tinkerbelle, my beagle mix, a birthday present from Bill's family after Samson had to be put down after swallowing one of my beading needles.

Dad with me and Boots

People today refer to the "perfect" Leave it to Beaver-type family and say it's unrealistic, but I think I come from one of those families. Far from perfect, with it's share of worries, heartache, laughter and love, but if you tune in and watch any of those old shows, you'll come to realize that those families weren't perfect either. Every episode would have a challenge or situation to overcome. Ward and June didn't always see eye-to-eye. Wally and Beaver were NOT perfect kids and they had some friends who were NOT good influences (i.e. Eddie Haskell), but in each episode, you would see the family work together to RESOLVE the problem, to learn and to grow. What made that family perfect was their desire to work together and to know their binding link was the love they shared. Yeah, I was pretty blessed to have the family I had and pray that my children can look back and feel that I tried my best to create that kind of family for them as well.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wjNfe-syoGQ