Sometimes in life, we are handed a blessing that takes us by surprise. Such was the case with Uncle Butch Schulenberg. Butch is my father-in-law, Walt Schulenberg’s half brother, and since my father-in-law’s passing, I have had the wonderful opportunity to get to know Butch, if only through Facebook. This is a fact that I’m sure my father-in-law would be quite pleased about. When my father-in-law passed away, we needed to let his family in Forsyth, Montana know. It was a hard time for all of us. Then, something very nice began to happen. I had connected via Facebook with Butch Schulenberg’s daughter, Andi Kay, and that has led to blessed connections with her brothers Tadd and Heath, and her sister-in-law, Jennifer, as well as Butch’s wife, Charlys and their granddaughter Savannah. Each of those connections is a sweet blessing in it’s own way, and I am so thankful for each, but the connection to Butch as been especially wonderful, because of the kind of man he is.
Butch reminds me a lot of my grandfather, George Byer. He is an encouraging sort of man who always makes you feel important. I’m sure his kids and grandkids can attest to that, because I’m sure that over the years he has encouraged them in whatever they chose to do. Of course, being encourage is not the only reason I feel a closeness to Uncle Butch. It’s because he has just welcomed me into his family. Unfortunately, for many years, there was not a closeness between my husband’s grandfather, Andrew Schulenberg, and my father-in-law, Walt Schulenberg, but when they decided to set aside those feelings and reconnect, that was for them the end of a long era of being distant from each other.
It is strange, however, that somehow, I was unaware of the relationship the half brothers had developed. It wasn’t until I was involved in taking care of my father-in-law, that I even knew that they were in touch with each other at all. Of course, it is no surprise that these two men would get along so well, because I believe they are two of a kind. It is a hard thing to fully express the personalities of these men, but gentleness, kindness, encouraging, and accepting are words that all come to my mind. These are attributes that really leave a person no choice but to like the person who has them…and these men have, or in my father-in-law’s case, had these attributes. They leave a person room to be their own person, knowing that the people they respect, also respect them enough to trust their judgment, and celebrate their successes. Even if the accomplishment isn’t anything major, these men could make it feel like it was. Can it get any better than that? I don’t think so.
I’m not saying that I crave praise, or that it is the praise that makes Butch special, because that would be inaccurate. It is just the person Butch is that makes his very dear to me. Every interaction I have with him 
reiterates just how much I like the person he is. At some point, we are hoping to meet up and have an actual face to face conversation, with several of us in attendance, an idea that I am very much looking forward to. Still, for now, I am glad to have connected with him on Facebook, because it has given us the chance to get to know each other. This isn’t Butch’s birthday or any other special day that I know of, but rather just a chance for me to tell this sweet uncle just how glad I am that our families have connected…because he has been such a surprise blessing, and one I feel very thankful to have received. Of course, that blessing is nothing new to those who have known Butch all their lives. Thank you Butch for being an important part of my life, and the lives of all the people you touch with your gentle kindness. We love you!!
Several of my cousins were talking a couple of days ago on Facebook, about our grandmother, Hattie Byer, and how she kept her numerous grandchildren in line when they were at her house. Now, in reality, I pretty much mean Greg Hushman, Elmer Johnson, and Forest Beadle, because most of the rest of us would never have done anything to provoke the Wrath of Grandma!! It’s funny, but I can almost hear the skepticism from every reader. Ok, I’ll admit that I was no less likely to get into trouble with Grandma than Greg, Elmer or Forest, but I truly don’t recall having her coming after me with the broom, although my cousin Shirley Cameron, who is from the other side of my family remembers it once or twice, when she was over there with us.
One thing I do remember, and that I know every one of Grandma’s grandchildren will agree on, Grandma was the boss when you were at her house. You see, those were the days when it didn’t matter if the adult in the vicinity was your parent, grandparent, or the parent of the friend you were visiting, they all disciplined the kids who got out of line. And if some adult caught you doing something in the public arena that you shouldn’t be, such as graffiti or some other such mischief, they weren’t afraid to tell you to “knock it off” either. That was just the way things were back then. From what I am told of this barely five foot tall, broom wielding grandma of mine, she was able to make that broom go around corners, so if you thought you were going to get away from her, you might just as well think again.
I certainly remember that when you found yourself in trouble with Grandma, you were about to get a very clear understanding of what the word “trouble” meant. Yes, I too, had my share of times in my childhood where I found myself on the wrong side of Grandma Byer. Oh boy, believe me, it was not a place you wanted to be. And don’t think she was going to threaten to tell your mom just how bad you were, and then conveniently forget to do it when the time actually came for your parents to come home. Grandma wasn’t about to be the helpless little babysitter who had to wait for your parents to make you behave…oh no!! Whether she used a broom, her hand, or some other punishment, believe me when I say the punishment was swift, and it fit the crime. You see, Grandma was old school, before there was a new school form of discipline. People weren’t afraid of some well meaning, but not too bright passerby telling them they shouldn’t spank that kid…those people didn’t exist then. People knew that most situations required a little whack on the seat to get through to the brain. For many of us those lessons made it crystal clear, who was in charge, who was acting up, who would refrain from such activities in the future, and who would apologize for their elders for acting such a horrible fashion in the first place.
For most of us, the discipline Grandma dished out, is looked back on with a smile, because we all knew how much she loved us. People who have never had any discipline simply don’t understand that discipline is a form of love. Does it hurt…yes, because it is tough love, but are you better for it…oh yeah, because they love you very much. If your parents or grandparents didn’t care about you, they would have no need to want you to 
behave. They just wouldn’t care, but since they do, they want you to know how to act in public, because then people are happy to have you around. And for any of you, who have ever been around an out of control kid, can you honestly tell me that you did not wish their parents would just give them a spanking? Of course you did. So to my grandma, to her broom, and to our parents, aunts, uncles, and teachers…I say thank you. Whether we felt the broom on our backside, or some other form of discipline, I can say that we all turned out pretty good. And people don’t seem to mind having us around.
Once a war is over, the people of the world, and especially those who fought in the war never really want to think about it again, but it is, nevertheless, a permanent part of history. It was on this day, January 16, 1991 that America would go to war with Iraq for the first time, and it would be a war that would ultimately draw my brother-in-law, Ron Schulenberg back into the service from the reserves, which is where every soldier is for a time following their active duty term. Ron had joined the Army during a time when things were relatively quiet around the world, and he also ended his active service during a relative time of peace, but all that would change for him when he was notified that he would have to go back to active duty, and to Iraq.
I can only imagine how Ron felt upon receiving that letter. I know how the rest of us felt. We were very concerned for Ron’s safety. None of us wanted him to go, but this was not up to us. The government, and specifically the Army had spoken, and go he would. I remember talking to him about his time over there, years later. One of the things that most civilians wonder about is things like how they felt about killing someone else, or even just seeing a dead body that had been mutilated by the weapons of warfare. For Ron, one of the 
strongest memories was marching from one place to another and seeing all the death that was all around them…and then simply stepping over it, like it was a rock or tree stump. In my mind, that would be almost impossible to do, but I suppose that you simply get used to some things…or as much as anyone can get used to war and death.
The Persian Gulf War…known as Operation Desert Storm, was a short lived war. Saddam Hussein invaded the little country of Kuwait, because of their oil, making Egypt and Saudi Arabia very nervous, so they called on the United States. When Saddam Hussein refused to leave Kuwait, the war began. The biggest anomaly in Operation Desert Storm, was that the Iraqi soldiers were either not well enough equipped, or simply not willing to die for this cause, and so may of them actually came up to the American troops, and surrendered. I’m sure that the initial fighting, and the amount of war dead lying around the desert, made the decision to surrender seem like the best option. Ron told of this anomaly when we talked about his experiences, and it seemed that it was with a continued sense of relief. I can imagine that the thought of having to kill someone was not one that my brother-in-law relished, but something he would have had to do, had it became necessary.
Ron returned to us from Operation Desert Storm, and his time in the reserves ended. The Persian Gulf area would continue to become more and more unstable, but by the time America would again find herself at war with Iraq and Saddam Hussein, Ron was not required to go. While it is my belief that the second war with Iraq has been far more successful, it has also been filed with far more casualties. I believe that if we had gone in and removed Saddam Hussein during Operation Desert Storm, the world would have been a better place. Would that have prevented the need to go back? I don’t know, but it would have spared many of the lives of the countless people that Saddam Hussein slaughtered during his time in power.
As a kid, I remember the funny things that my Uncle Wayne Byer would do, like pushing his false teeth out of his mouth and making them clack together part way out of his mouth. The kids, who always seemed to gather around him, would laugh with delight, while trying to do that with our own teeth, an endeavor that proved impossible. Uncle Wayne had a great laugh and a bright smile, both of which were kid magnets…probably even his childhood years. I can imagine that any kid who was younger than Uncle Wayne, wanted nothing more than to spend time around him, just to see what mischief he might get into next…at least those who knew him, anyway. And my mother, Collene Spencer, being just 2 years older that he, and his usual partner in crime, can tell you just that, for sure.
When I had children of my own, I found myself feeling proud of the fact that my Uncle Wayne was the head of the Natrona County School District #1 bus garage. It was he who made sure that the bus and the driver of the bus that transported my children to school every day were safe and well trained. For a parent who put their kids on a bus and sent them to school on icy roads, and a rather large hill with steep edges and no guard rail, I wanted to know that the driver of that bus knew what he or she was doing. Those were my precious babies after all. Uncle Wayne had retired by the time my girls finished riding the bus to school, but I always felt blessed to have had him there during those years.
I don’t get to see Uncle Wayne much anymore, because I’m working, and he is busy doing his own things, but I still enjoy watching him connect with the little kids whenever I do see him. And of course, we all enjoy hearing his laughter and seeing his smiling face. His sense of humor will always be something that is near and dear to my heart. Uncle way is getting older, like all of us are, and it occurs to me that we may not have him with us too many more years…except for the fact that he is in good health…something that I am very grateful for. Losing aunts, uncles, and parents is really hard, so for as long as we have him with us, and beyond, I will always first picture him clacking his false teeth, whenever he comes to my mind. Today is Uncle Wayne’s 77th birthday. Happy birthday Uncle Wayne!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
In the height of World War II, on January 14, 1943, President Franklin D Roosevelt made history when he became the first president to travel by airplane on official business. The trip was not without danger. The German U-boats were wreaking havoc on Allied war ships in the Atlantic, and it was decided that a face to face conference was needed to discuss strategy. The man President Roosevelt was going to see, was my fifteenth cousin once removed, Winston Spencer-Churchill. No American President had flown on official business before, but with security in the Atlantic uncertain, Roosevelt’s advisors reluctantly agreed that he should fly. I’m sure his frail health at 60 years of age played a part in their decision too. The secret trip began on January 11, and the plane had to make several stops along the way. They took off from Florida with a first stop in the Caribbean to refuel and allow the president to rest. They then took off and headed south along the South American coast to Brazil, then across the Atlantic to Gambia, finally reaching Casablanca on this day, January 14, 1943.
It seems strange to us now that they would take such a roundabout route, but things were different then. The Boeing 314 Flying Boat that had been dubbed the Dixie Clipper was a big heavy plane. It had a flight range of 3,500 miles, and the direct route would have been about 4326 miles, making at lease one stop necessary. Since the Secret Service considered air travel for a president as risky anyway, I’m sure they wanted to take a 
route that would keep them as far away from any fighting as they could. Also, the final leg of the trip required that the group transfer to an Army transport plane. The C-54 was required to fly at 15,000 feet to cross the Atlas Mountains…an altitude that seems insignificant today, but must have been quite high then. The Secret Service personnel and FDR’s advisors were worried about the oxygen levels affecting the president, and in the end, he did have to go on oxygen for a time during that part of the flight.
The flight was mastered successfully, and the two men were safely tucked into the Anfa Hotel where Roosevelt and Churchill were both in suites that were close together, making it the perfect place for the conference to take place…after the rooms were cleared of listening devises that had been planted by unknown persons, that is. The advisors and chiefs of staff did most of the hard work of the negotiations, but the presence of Roosevelt and Churchill kept them on task and working toward an agreement. The conference was very important to both sides, as the British were being hit very hard, and Roosevelt needed to keep the American troops advancing and winning their battles, so he could demonstrate to the American people that the tide of this war was turning. People get weary of war quite quickly, and in order to keep their support, victory in battle is key.
The Casablanca Conference was looked at by some as a victory for the British negotiators, because Churchill’s strategy prevailed, but they had missed the fact that the Americans also gained British commitments to long-term goals that went beyond the immediate objectives in the Mediterranean. The Americans agreed to attack Sicily after the victory in North Africa and the British agreed to allow a massive buildup of Allied Forces in 
Britain, which would allow for an invasion of France with a target date of May 1, 1944. The invasion actually took place on June 6, 1944, and would become a day we all know as D-Day, when the troops stormed the beaches of Normandy…and that is where my dad came in. Since he was one of the Allied Forces that was stationed in England, his B-17G Bomber was one of those that provided cover for that invasion. It seems quite strange to me that a conference that took place over a year before, and 2 months prior to my dad’s enlistment, would ultimately place him in a position to fight in one of the most well known battles of World War II.
I don’t know about you, but as a kid in grade school, recess was maybe the best part of the day…if you could get to the swings faster than anyone else. At the school I went to anyway, the swings were the one playground item everyone wanted to be on, and if you were a little slower getting there, you missed out. That usually meant that the younger students had to find something else to do…until they got older anyway. There was no time limit to be on the swings, but most of the kids were pretty good about swinging for a while and then getting off, but then recess was only 15 minutes long, so how much time did that leave the rest of the kids…not much.
The fight to get to the swings first, and the ultimate lose of that battle for many 
children, did very little to sway them from trying to get there, however. Every recess, the bell would ring, and the doors to the playground burst open as the kids ran for the swings. Of course, a few tears were inevitable, because there are always the little fights and little ones don’t always lose well, but all in all, they learned pretty quickly that the best solution to the problem, was to practice your running. The faster you are, the more likely you will end up with a swing.
This whole process goes on for a time, and then about 6th grade, which was still in grade school when I was a kid, the kids aren’t so interested in the swings anymore. They have started to mature some and look forward to being more like the kids in junior high, or middle school as it is known today. Playing on the swings was suddenly 
beneath them. How quickly things change. One year, you are fighting over the swings, and the next you are acting like all those little kids are so far beneath you that it is completely unbelievable.
Now flash forward a few years, and…well, I don’t know about you, but it’s funny how much fun those swings can be when you are on a date with your boyfriend. Of course, anything is romantic when you are on a date, right? In the years I dated my husband, Bob, I can’t count how many times we ended up at the park swinging on the swings like little kids. It seemed so different from those grade school days, somehow. It wasn’t nearly as juvenile as it used to be. Now it was romantic…and fun again.
Lately, I have been thinking about the Civil War. I think that most of us have an ancestor or two who fought in the Civil War, possibly from both sides. This was a bloody war that really seems to have been a matter of who could hold out the longest. In the end both sides found themselves scavenging everything from food and water to ammunition from the people who lived in the area. But, the really bad part about the Civil War, was that because the South had succeeded from the Union, and had made their own money, they had a serious problem upon losing the war. After their loss, the South once again became a part of the Union, and their money became worthless.
These were people who had owned plantations and slaves. They were among the wealthiest people in the 
nation. Suddenly they found themselves broke…unless they happened to own gold, and I don’t think many of them did. People had loads of cash, but it wouldn’t buy anything. It might as well have been counterfeit. Not only that, but the entire banking system fell apart. The South found itself in the unique position of not only losing the war, but of losing itself. They were trying to become their own nation, but when they lost the war, they lost their nation. Then, to make matters worse, they lost the money they had too.
The whole financial system for them had to be rebuilt. Add to the fact that their side lost the war, the fact that these previously wealthy southern gentlemen and women were now broke, and were forced to work for a living. Their slaves were free, and if they wanted them to work for them, they had to pay them…but with what. The governments war debts were hard enough to deal with, but the individual was in much deeper trouble, because if they had no money, they had no food. There was no money to buy seeds to plant, or cattle to raise…
or even ammunition to hunt with, if there was anything left to hunt after your neighbors hunted ahead of you.
In the end, I suppose that the only solution was time. Thankfully, the difference between being broke and having money is one paycheck. Debt is something people can learn to live with. There will always be bills to pay, and the family that can keep from borrowing money will do better than the one that must borrow to make ends meet. And the biggest problem they had was that there was no place to borrow from. The people of the south had to learn to work…and that was going to be something very new to most of them.
In this country, we have been blessed to have people who recognize a national treasure for what it is, and make sure that it gets preserved for people in generations to come to be able to enjoy it too. In my life, I have been blessed to visit many of these treasures, like Yellowstone National Park, Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse Mountain, Glacier National Park, Niagara Falls, and the Grand Canyon…which was made a national monument on this day, January 11, 1908. Of course, the Grand Canyon was formed thousands of years ago, but it wasn’t until someone looked at it and saw the beauty it could share with so many people, if it was protected from land developers, mining companies, and other such developers who could only see it for its monetary value.
In my lifetime, I have had the opportunity to visit the Grand Canyon three times. Each time was significantly different from the others. The first time was as a child, and that trip stands out in my mind as the discovery trip. This was a place I had never seen before and probably hadn’t even thought about, but my parents knew of its existence, and that they wanted their girls to be able to see its glorious beauty. I don’t recall feeling wary of it edges, but that was probably because I was the kid, and not the parent who had the task of watching the kids. I just remember that its red walls were gorgeous, especially at sunset. It was a trip taken almost fifty years ago, but I can still remember how amazing it was.
The second trip I took to the Grand Canyon was in 1986, when my husband, Bob Schulenberg and I took our girls, Corrie and Amy to see it. The trip taken as a mother was one that felt a bit different. My girls weren’t so little, and eleven and ten, that they didn’t stay right with us, but nevertheless, Amy found herself just a little too close to the unfenced edge, and she slipped a little. By the grace of God, she didn’t fall in, but it is an event she still talks about to this day. I think she would go back again, because she was not really afraid, once the moment passed, but she gained a respect for edges like that. As the mom, I determined to put myself between the children and the edge from that point on. We still very much enjoyed that trip, but it was very different from either of the others.
The most recent trip Bob and I took to the Grand Canyon was in April of 2009, and it was probably the most fun trip of the three. We didn’t have to worry about little ones, and we were both in good shape. We hiked the 
southern edge of the canyon, and went down into it at both ends of the trail. It was an amazing trip. Looking at the canyon from the top is awesome, but there is something about being down inside it that will always live in my memory files. It wasn’t that the canyon looked so very different when you were inside, but rather that you were inside the Grand Canyon that made that event special. I loved being able to go down the trails and through the tunnel we found there, and see the magnificent beauty up close. It was an amazing trip, and I happily would go again. The Grand Canyon is unforgettable.
When I picture my niece Toni Chase, her sense of humor comes to the forefront of my thoughts. Toni doesn’t just have a sense of humor, but really she has a sense of silliness. She loves the funny side of dealing with people, and is very quick witted. If there is a joke to be made about something, or if someone does something embarrassing, Toni is quick to laugh about it. She doesn’t mean anything by it, she just finds the stupid things people do funny. I can’t blame her for that, because watching someone trip over their own feet, or get going too fast and find out too late that they can’t stop is pretty funny…as long as they don’t get hurt, and of course, Toni wouldn’t think that was funny either.
Toni and her husband, Dave love to travel. They have been to a lot of places, and they like to hike, which is something I can really relate to. There is nothing quite like walking back into an area that cannot be seen from the main road. The undisturbed beauty of it all is so awesome. I feel, much like I’m sure Toni and Dave feel, very blessed to be able to get to those amazing places where most people never go, and see places that most people never see. I think hikers are a rare breed, and people who don’t hike, just don’t understand us, but I think that people who don’t hike just don’t know what they are missing. I’m sure Toni and Dave feel the same way. As does her son, James, who has gone on many of these trips with them. When Toni married Dave, it opened up a whole new world for her, because before that she really didn’t travel or hike much. I would have to count that among the blessings of their marriage.
For Toni, the most important thing in life is family. She has 3 sisters and a brother, and you will often find them doing things together, especially her and her sisters. Recently, they decided to get together and get matching tattoos on their wrists. These were pretty cool, because they were of the word Faith written in their mother, my sister, Cheryl Masterson’s handwriting. I know Cheryl wasn’t sure how she felt about this, because she doesn’t 
really like tattoos, but she was touched that they wanted to use her handwriting, and that it was of something that they all feel is the most important thing to have in life.
While Toni, does have a sense of silliness, and might go in on things with her family that her mom might not always love, she nevertheless, has a heart of gold. She works hard to make a good life for her family, and that is the mark of a great woman by any standard. Today is Toni’s birthday. Happy birthday Toni!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
I was looking at some of my uncle, Bill Spencer’s family history information yesterday, and I came across a comment he made about some of the pictures. It was about the National Youth Administration that was transferred to the War Manpower Commission in 1941. When he mentioned that it was about educating the nation’s youth, I immediately got on the defensive, because I thought that it almost sounded like the Nazis pulling children out of their homes to train them the way the government wanted them to be trained. Of course, that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, and had I read the rest of Uncle Bill’s comments before I got touchy about it, I would have known that. I think sometimes, we have a preconceived idea about things, and we don’t really understand exactly what is going on before we fly off the handle.
The education effort that my uncle was talking about was set up by the National Youth Administration through the War Manpower Commission, and had to do with the upcoming and inevitable entrance of the United States into World War II. The skills that were going to be needed to build the equipment needed for our troops to fight in the war were very different from the skills the nation’s youth had at that time, because many of them were farmers. The nation was going to need welders, machinists, and sheet metal workers desperately. The training program was designed to provide training for youth 16 to 25 years of age. The plan was that the ones who were not drafted could help with the war effort at home.
It was this program that trained my dad, Uncle Bill, Aunt Laura, and Aunt Ruth to weld, and gave them jobs in the shipyards in several different capacities, mostly as Rosie the Riveters. Of course, while Uncle Bill did a similar job to the ones done by his sisters, I don’t think he would take too kindly to the name Rosie the Riveter. Nevertheless, it was on May 1, 1942 that Uncle Bill began his training, and shortly there after, he talked my dad into doing the training too. Uncle Bill had hoped that welding would keep them both on the home front, but when that was not to be, they both went to sign up. Dad was accepted, but Uncle Bill was not, because of flat feet and a hernia. Still, the welding skill was not something that would ever be a waste where my dad was concerned, because he worked as a welder for most of his life after the war was over.
The National Youth Administration officially operated from June 26, 1935 to 1939, and was designed to provide training and help find jobs for people during the Great Depression. It was part of The New Deal programs set up by President Franklin D Roosevelt during his first term in office. I don’t often agree with government run programs, I suppose this one had it’s place. Many of the people who benefitted from the chance to train themselves for a new skill were farmers who didn’t have many other skills, and it was the training my dad received there that supported our family for his entire working life. The National Youth Administration was officially transferred to the War Manpower Commission in 1942, and officially folded in 1943. It was most likely due to lack of funding to continue the program, but I suppose it served a greater purpose during the war years, and now was no longer necessary.
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