Stories

29 June 2008,

A few of my favorite family pictures here.  Each picture has a story to tell.  Some stories are clouded by the distance of time but nonetheless meaningful and special to me.           

Grandpa Scheu (we pronounced it "shy" for some reason), Brother Richard, and Grandma Scheu circa 1948.  Gramps was a brewmeister before Prohibition and though offered some good (bad) money, by those who shall go nameless, to pursue that same career off line.  He declined and went into sales.  After his passing, Grandma had to go to work to support herself by working at an appliance store.      

Christmas 1951 at the Taylor home on Ellis Ave in Hickory PA.  Dad worked as a draftsman at Westinghouse Electric in Sharon.  Having been raised by his Grandmother in West Virginia after losing his brother, mother and father while a child, he always loved spending time with us kids.

He had the Amish in the area build his home from his design.  Being a handy woodworker himself, he and a friend added a garage later on.  Sailing was a passion, so he also built several boats over the years and we sailed every Sunday at the lake.  He dropped anchor at the Pymatuning Yaght Club where Dr. Spock, the baby doctor, not the Vulcan, was also a member.        

Growing up in the fifties was great for my brothers and me.  Maybe not so many choices for Mom, who, as was the custom, stayed home with the three of us boys until my older brother Richard started in college.  Then she worked as a cafeteria worker (not at the High School) and later at a dress shop in the area.  She had many talents that she put to use in an number of ways, church work, voter official, bridge club organizer, golf league official, etc.  Her NNY (No Name Yet) bridge club met continuously for 4o plus years.  

Aunt Betty, Mom´s sister, lived nearby.  We kids  spent summers with her as well as with my Grandmas Scheu and Vogelsong.  Aunt Betty and Uncle Chuck adopted Tom, seen here being held by Grandma Scheu.  I always had fun with Aunt Betty and Tom was like another brother.      

Uncle Chuck was a house painter and I thought he was cool, always making jokes.  His was the first death (62) in that I remember.  I recall the sense of loss and lack of my own immortality.       

As the second of three boys, I got a number of hand me downs.  A good wool suit in the middle of summer, sitting in the church with no air conditioning just could not be surpassed for teaching one discipline.  The bow ties and cool caps really topped the look off though.     

Dad was the family photographer with his German made Viewfinder 35 mm.  The excitement when the film came back from the developer ( sometimes weeks) was intense.  The Poloroid Land Camera was our first step toward instant gratification.  

Aunt Betty and Mom as youngsters, I would guess about 1928.  As with all siblings, the patterns they established at this age continued throughout their lives.  

Funny how we stay the same age with our brothers and sisters.  If I were sitting at this moment with my brother Don, I am certain we would be picking up with the same conversations we started even before Don could talk.      

My older brother Rich was our ground breaker.  Always pushing the bounds for Don and me.  Be it motorcycles, beards, dating, or getting in or out of trouble, Rich (later Rick) was always first.  While his life was cut short, he had a full life.        

Rick and his wife Shirley had two wonderful kids, Carrie and Scott.  Shirley's maiden name was Taylor, and she had a brother named Rick and another named Rob.  It could get rather confusing when we all got together, sorting out who was talking to whom.

        

Many photos and memories surround the Christmas holidays.  The family expands and contracts through the years.  Four generations here, including Grandma Voglesong (second right foreground).  

Like all families the last names differ (Vogelsong, Lewis, Moore, Wilson, Hobbecker and Taylor) and changed occasionally. 

  

Of course, we all think of our parents as they were when we were children.  We hear stories of their youth but remember only a few.  Mom and Dad lived through the Roaring Twenties, struggled through the Depression, married during WWII and upon Dad´s return from the Navy, started their own family.   I tell stories to you that were told to me with the expectation you tell them on to the next generation.  That way some part of all of us passes on down the years. 

Sometimes we are lucky and we have more than memories and stories to pass on.  This photo of my brother and me just "hanging out" brings with it no particular memories for me, just that feeling of the joy of the day it as taken. 

Friends come and go.  These were a few of mine, at age four.  Lucky for us, our neighborhood included quite a few kids.  People then were less mobile and tended to work in the same plants, go to the same churches, play on the same teams, etc.                 

Of course, we always starting new stories.  Imagine all the opportunities for our family and extended family.  Marriages, proms, games, movie contests, dogs, cats, new houses, moving out, moving in, pool leagues, births, deaths....       

Teri and Tara are always good for a story.  Here they are with a Republican friend during one of our visits to an antique store in Illinois.  My mother collected elephants and was also a Republican official at the voter polls.  She told me that an elephant with its trunk up is good luck.

These two are my good luck. 

Bob