Health
When my Uncle Larry and Aunt Jeanette Byer moved to New Orleans, Louisiana after taking a job transfer, I have to imagine that it was pretty hard on my grandmother, Hattie Byer, Uncle Larry’s mom. Grandma, like most mothers, liked having her children close, and to have one move almost 1600 miles away, has a bit of a sting to it. I can relate to how Grandma must have felt, since I now have a daughter who lives 1200 miles away. I always knew I wouldn’t love having my kids leave, but you can’t really grasp just how it feels until it happens to you. Nevertheless, people have told me that you get used to it, that you have a new place to vacation, and that you simply make arrangements to see them. I’ve also been told that they try to come home as often as they can, and you hope that is the way it works out, but you 
never know, until you see for yourself, if it all really works out that exact way.
This was where Grandma Byer found herself when Uncle Larry and Aunt Jeanette moved to New Orleans for several years before his eventual retirement from Texaco. Everyone could see that this was the best move to make, but that didn’t make it easier. For Grandma, the move broadened her horizons, as it turned out. Grandma did go to see Uncle Larry and Aunt Jeanette, just as she had come to see our family when we lived in Superior, Wisconsin. In some ways, I have to wonder if…somewhere in the back of her mind, she liked having someone in her family living in Louisiana…because it would mean that she could go there for visits, and have someone who could really show her the sights, instead of trying to figure out what was good to see, and what wasn’t or what was boring. New Orleans is such a big place, with so much to see, and if you don’t know where all the cool sights are, you will miss something. I think that for Grandma, there would also be the being alone factor, that would not be very appealing, so going to visit her son and his wife, and see the 
sights must have been a great thrill for her.
Grandma never liked going to bed until all her kids were home, so having one of them so far away had to have been very hard. I’m certain it was hard on Uncle Larry and Aunt Jeanette too, because they had to leave their children and their family behind as well. Nevertheless, it was just for a short time and then they returned to Casper. We were all glad to have them back here. Sadly, Uncle Larry passed away on December 22, 2011. We will always miss he jokes, his smile, and his wonderful laugh. Today would have been Uncle Larry’s 81st birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven Uncle Larry. We love and miss you very much.
Sometimes, when you look back in the history of a family, you come across a number of events that by themselves are devastating enough, but when they are put in the context of the entire history of that family, they can leave you wondering just how much one family can take. While visiting with my aunt, Sandy Pattan a week ago, she told me about a tragedy that I had heard a little bit about before, but really had no details as to who was involved. Now, with a name to put in the story, I set out to find out the exact details. I did find those details, and much more. Enough, in fact to leave me in complete shock.
It seems that when my great grandmother, Estella Shaw Pattan was a girl, she survived a tornado that took the life of her little sister. The circumstances were horrible to imagine, because Estella, or Stella as she was called, was doing everything she could do to save her little sister. People just didn’t know what they needed to do in a tornado. Stella was tightly holding her little sister, Ella Shaw who was just six weeks old, when the tornado ripped her out of her big sister’s arms. Ella would not survive, nor unfortunately, would her older sister, Bertha Delilah Shaw, who was just nine years old at the time of her death. During that same event, their grandfather, Angeloah Shaw was missing for a time. He was found however, and he would 
live until 1914. These two deaths were devastating enough, but they were not the only tragedy to visit the family of John B Shaw and his wife Harriet Emma Baker Shaw. In fact, at the time of the June 4, 1890 tornado that ripped through the area, the family was already trying to recover from a prior loss.
In late 1889, Diphtheria struck the Shaw family. While vaccinations used today prevent most cases of Diphtheria, these weren’t available in days gone by, and so contracting Diphtheria could have been a death sentence, and often was. In late 1889, the John B Shaw family faced a nightmare situation, and they tried to take care of it in the best way they knew how. Unfortunately, for Ethel Ada and Myrtle Shaw, as well as many other people who contracted Diphtheria, it was not enough. Myrtle passed away on November 7, 1889 at just one year five months, and Ethel passed away on December 7, 1889 at four years nine months. These deaths would bring to a total of six the loses in the Shaw family, and four in just seven months.
Yes, I did say, six. In 1878, the family faced their first of four tragedies, and the first of a total of seven children who would die at a very young age. The first child to die of Diphtheritic Croup, was little Mabel Mary Shaw, who was nicknamed May. May died on April 15, 1878 at just three years five months. Diphtheritic Croup is a diphtheritic inflammation of the larynx. Also called laryngeal diphtheria. Basically it is a bacterial infection that causes swelling in the throat. If immediate action is not taken, the child will suffocate quickly. For the 
parents, it would be the most helpless feeling. To add to their devastation, their son John Shaw Jr would succumb to Diphtheritic Croup the very next day, April 16, 1878. John was just four years and 5 days old.
With all the deaths that hit John and Harriet between 1878 and 1890, death was still not quite done with them. While not much is known about the death of Edna Shaw, who passed away at three months eighteen days, on September 29, 1894, my guess is either sudden infant death syndrome, or another case of Diphtheritic Croup. When Aunt Sandy told me of the tragic loss of Great Grandma Stella Shaw Pattan’s little sister in the tornado, I had no idea that my research would uncover such a tragic set of circumstances. All I can say is that this family had to have been very strong, because in addition to the seven children they lost, John and Harriet raised five more, my great grandmother, Stella, as well as, Maggie, Albert, Elsie, and Orvil to adulthood.
Late yesterday afternoon, my mom’s eldest sister passed away after a battle with cancer over the past few years. It was a battle she had mostly kept to herself. She had spent much of her last years taking care of her husband, my Uncle George, with the help of family members. Caregivers, like Aunt Evelyn have a tendency to brush aside their own illness while they take care of others. They simply don’t have time to be sick. They are busy making others well.
Being the oldest of Grandma and Grandpa Byer’s nine children, Aunt Evelyn learned at a very young age that she was needed to help with the younger siblings. While Grandma Byer didn’t work or go many places, there were after all eight other children, and the oldest if often the best helper. Aunt Evelyn was also a very social person as a girl though, and really all her life. It was Aunt Evelyn, who would make her parents grandparents for the first time, something that can be a bit of an honor, in itself. It was Aunt Evelyn and Uncle George, who would double date with my mom and dad during their courting years. They would all survive being hit by a train during one of those dates because of the quick thinking of both of the men. I’m sure that was something they all talked about for a long time.
Now the memories are flooding my mind. Times we spent at her house as kids, playing hide and seek, and all the other kids games we used to play. I remember the New Years Eve parties they spent at our house, and all the times at Grandma Byer’s house. I remember sitting out on Aunt Evelyn’s lawn on summer afternoons, and her beautiful house, which was her pride and joy. She enjoyed throwing and attending the annual Christmas party, and the summer picnic, until it became too difficult…which made me sad indeed.
It seems that with each passing year, our family patriarches become fewer and fewer. I remember thinking that we would always have the aunts and uncles with us, and now there remain only five of the original siblings and four of their spouses. Somehow, we all believed that they would always be here. I guess our minds play 
tricks on us when it comes to loved ones…even to the extent of refusing to notice that they are aging, until we look back at pictures after they are gone. Then suddenly we realize just how tired they were, just how weak and weary, and maybe, just how sick and in pain they were. Nevertheless, they kept up a brave face, smiling at each visit, in spite of the pain. They tried so hard to make us feel better, when in reality they were getting ready to say goodbye. That’s how Aunt Evelyn was. Always thinking of those around her before she thought of herself. Always trying to make their day better, a thing she did quite well with that beautiful smile of hers. I will always miss her smile. It is so much of who she was, and who she will always be in my heart. We love you Aunt Evelyn, we will miss you very much, and we will see you again in Heaven very soon.
Time just seems to fly by after you lose someone. I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that my father-in-law, Walt Schulenberg has been gone now for two years. Sometimes, I think that our minds blur things, because it’s easier for us to deal with things that way.
My father-in-law was a hard working man, to whom family meant everything. I remember when he found out that he was going to be a grandfather for the first time. It was the next logical step in his life, but to him it almost seemed like he felt like the first person to ever become a grandparent. I can relate to that, because that is almost how I felt when I became a grandmother. I really wish I could take those early days back sometimes, because it is so hard to have people pass away. Time marches on, and the lifetime of one family member begins, while the lifetime of another ends.
My father-in-law was born in Forsyth, Montana, which is a small town between Billings and Miles City. Many of the people who live there come from long standing family lines in the area. Unfortunately for his family, there was not much work there in the 1950s, so the family moved to Wyoming. For me, that was a good thing, because that is the only way I would have met my husband and married into this great family. For my father-in-law, the simple things in life were the best. He didn’t require expensive or fancy things, just the love of his family and the joy of spending time with them.
My father-in-law had one sweetheart…my mother-in-law, Joann Knox Schulenberg. I truly think he loved her 
from the time he first met her when he was just four years old and she was two. When they married in June of 1949, he set a goal to take care of her for the rest of her life. Even when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease, he patiently cared for her until he could no longer handle it alone. Then, his family stepped in to help him with her care, and to keep them in their home as long as possible. In the end, he would go home before she would, but she continues to believe that she is still taking care of him. Alzheimer’s Disease can be kind in that way. They are gone, but not for the one who has Alzheimer’s Disease. No, for my mother-in-law, he is simply in the garage, or at Walmart, or visiting the neighbors. And maybe it would be nice if we could all think that way. It has been two years since you went home. We love and miss you Dad.
When men get home from the service, or come home on leave, they are usually is really good shape…and as most of us know, boys will be boys, and men will be men…meaning when issued a challenge, each wants to prove that they are better, stronger, or more capable of something than the other. Such was the case with my dad, Allen Spencer and my uncle, George Hushman. The two of them were at my grandparents, George and Hattie Byer’s house, and somehow the challenge was made to see who could do the most pushups. Dad and Uncle George were good friends, and this was to be a friendly challenge between two future brothers-in-law. Nevertheless, it was going to be a challenge.
The two men laid down on the floor. It had been decided that two men in military condition would not find it much of a challenge to do a bunch of pushups. No, there had to be a way to make this a real challenge. In the end they seated the two kids who were the closest in size, Aunt Dixie and Aunt Sandy, on their backs in order to do the pushups. That was not the only challenge they faced, either. These pushups had to be done in a specific and rather hard way. As the men pushed down, the girls weight was a challenge, and as they came up, the fact that they had to very quickly clap their hands together mid-pushup, and without losing the girl on their back made it even harder.
As Aunt Sandy told me the story, I could tell that the whole thing had left quite an impression on her. Being the youngest child, she thought of the brothers-in-law as brothers all her life, and these two taking such a challenge, must have made her think that they were very strong…and maybe they were. I also think that the girls had to have been fairly small, but then I couldn’t even attempt push ups in the way they did them that 
day. I suppose it is possible that they found additional strength in trying to impress their girls, my mom and Aunt Evelyn. Either way, I think it was a challenge.
Aunt Sandy didn’t say who won the challenge, and maybe she doesn’t even recall after all these years. I don’t think that the winner was as impressive as the challenge itself. I suppose that they could have called it a draw in the end too. Either, way, Aunt Sandy will never forget the day that she and her sister Dixie became part of a military push up challenge. Of course, it might have been something that was talked about for months or even years after. It was after all and challenge, and deserving of attention, and Aunt Sandy was a little girl who was impressed with her future brothers-in-law.
My dad passed away on December 12, 2007, but since my mom was still alive, we never really went through his things…until after her passing on February 22, 2015. Mom had given out some of Dad’s things to different family members, but the bulk of his things would wait until her passing to be given to those who would receive them.
In his later years, my dad got cold often. That can happen as we age, or with surgeries to the chest or abdomen, which dad had to repair damage from Pancreatitis. More and more often, Dad could be seen wearing a sweater, and it really became a signature item for him. One sweater in particular that he wore almost daily, was a multi-shade blue striped sweater. He wore it so often, that it is one of the ways I picture him in my mind. I had asked Mom for that sweater shortly after Dad passed away, and was told I could have it, but did not receive it until now.
This was the sweater that Dad had on when he and Mom danced their last New Years Eve dance on January 1, 2007, just under a year before his passing. It was also the sweater he wore on his visits to the hospital when Mom was receiving Chemotherapy treatments for the Lymphoma Brain Tumor that she would beat in 2007. The blue sweater became synonymous of Dad…in my mind anyway.
There are many things that remind me of my dad. Anything World War II, of course, because I have written so much about his time in the war, and because we have toured the B-17s several times together, making the B-17 an integral part of my memories of my dad. Then, there are the funny memories of Dad, that always come to my mind…things like the whisker rub, our many debates, pretending to box with him, the Oregon Trail 
markers, the many vacations, and of course, the swatting games he played with the grandkids, will always bring back great memories of my dad. All of those things bring images of my dad and what an amazing man he was, but they are not things I can hold in my hands, and picture him if I use them. The blue sweater is.
Memories are the most precious things we have once a parent has passed, and I treasure every memory I have of my dad, as I do my mom, and there are things that will always remind me of them. And one of those things will always be that blue sweater. Today would have been my dad’s 91st birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven Dad. Have a wonderful celebration. We love and miss you both very much.
When a loved one passes away, you don’t get to see them on this Earth any more, but they seem to take up a new kind of space all their own, because they are always on your mind. You may not even realize that you are thinking of them exactly, but they are there in the back of your mind, just beneath the surface, until something happens that brings their memory to the forefront again. It isn’t always a sad thing when it happens, but sometimes it is. I think that as time goes by, we are able to look more to happy memories than lonely tears. I don’t think it is a bad thing to have your loved ones living in your memory, occupying a special place in your heart, or even always being on your mind, it’s just that sometimes it is a little hard when you are hit with a ton of bricks moment…when their memory is thrown out there so unexpectedly that it does bring tears, and you are helpless to stop them. Really, it’s the only way, once a loved one has passed away.
In many ways, we like having them living there, in the back of our minds, because it give us a warm sense of Heaven…a closer connection to it, maybe. Someone very dear to us lives there now, and like my search for new connections in my family history, just knowing they are there, waiting in Heaven for us to join them someday, makes me feel like I am a part of Heaven already. I guess that is really because a part of my heart lives there now, and really always has. It encourages me to keep going forward because for me and my family, there is an expected end…a destination. While my journey must remain here for now, and God is taking the time to show me the beautiful things He has made here, I know that someday, my own journey will take me to a place I haven’t and couldn’t ever travel to before, where I will see my loved ones in person again, but for now I must wait for that glorious day to arrive.
Each item I see that belonged to those I love returns them to the forefront of my mind again. Our memory is 
often triggered by something we see, hear, or even smell, because in our memory files, our senses are tied to those we love. I’m thankful for those ties really, even though sometimes the memories hurt a little, because it is those memories that keep my loved ones alive, in the back of my mind, waiting for their moment to grace my thoughts once again. I love each and every one of those loved ones, although I cannot picture all of them here. Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, a sister-in-law, and three nieces are waiting in Heaven. I love then, and they are always on my mind.
When it comes to the ways we each help others, I think they are often as varied as the people doing the act. When my sister-in-law, Brenda Schulenberg found herself in a health crisis she called me to help her walk through the hospitalization and the many doctor visits. That was probably a good decision to make, as that is something I have a knack for. But, when it came to someone to help her with her plans to get in shape, she looked to her sister, Jennifer Parmely. That was probably one of the smartest choices she could have ever made. Jennifer is without question, one of the best people I know to inspire someone to keep going when it comes to diet, exercise, and fitness in general. Her determination and drive have pushed her from a place in her own life when she was overweight, to many years of good health and a slender lifestyle. She knew what she needed to do, and she set her mind to doing it. Failure was not an option. Not many people can stick to their guns in such a way. The statistics show that most people who set out to diet and get in shape, will fail to reach their goal. Life always seems to get in the way, and maybe a little bit of depression too. Before long, most people give up, but not Jennifer, and now, not Brenda either.
Jennifer was a different person years ago…right after having her two youngest boys. She was carrying a little extra weight, and then suddenly, she wasn’t. Most of us who knew her, were in awe of her determination. That’s what it takes to make a life change. You have to make up your mind that you are going to do it, and then don’t let anything get in your way. Jennifer did just that. She took up skiing, hiking, jogging, bicycling, and 
any other form of exercise she could think of. And she got to the point where exercise didn’t seem like exercise, but rather like activity. It’s a talent we could all stand to learn, and one that would serve us well for years to come.
Sometimes, I find it funny that we can have a career that really is perfect for us, but still have a talent in another area completely, and we are really good at that too. I am an insurance agent, and I’m good at my job, but I am a good caregiver, author, and computer tech too. Jennifer is an OB nurse, but she could easily be a dietician and a personal trainer, and whether she ever decided to be a personal trainer for anyone else, Jennifer has been the perfect personal trainer for her sister, Brenda. Somehow, those secondary skills, can become the most important thing we have ever done in our lives. They can be the most life changing gift we can give to those around us. Today is Jennifer’s birthday. Happy birthday Jennifer!! Have a wonderful day!! We love you!!
Today, it has been one month since my mother, Collene Spencer went to Heaven. After someone goes home to Heaven, it always seems odd to me that the time goes by so quickly. I can vividly remember that night just one month ago, when she left, and it doesn’t seem possible that it is a month already. While we are doing ok, we are finding ourselves feeling some caregiver’s remorse. It isn’t that we feel like we didn’t take care of Mom the way we should have, because we poured our hearts and souls into taking care of her in the way that Dad would have wanted, and in the way that she deserved.
Instead the caregiver’s remorse is that we didn’t realize just how little time we had left with her. She was so well, so we were fooled into thinking that she would not be leaving us anytime soon. That left us…well, taken completely by surprise. It really was the little things like not going into the bedroom with her right away to help her get to bed, the missed hug after church, because someone was talking to her at that moment, missing church that morning, and the distance lived from her home. They were little things, but in the end, they were the most important things, because they were the last moments we had with her…or rather the missed last moments we would have had with her.
We have found ourselves struggling with that final night. We simply don’t know what happened. Mom had a great last day, and in fact, really a great last week. She had part of her family over for lunch during the week, and then my sister, Cheryl Masterson and I took her to dinner on Thursday at one of her favorite places…Red Lobster. But it was her last day that was especially great. She went to church that morning, which was the most important thing in her life. Then, because her sister, Evelyn Hushman was in the hospital, Mom had orchestrated a luncheon at the hospital with her brother and sisters. The afternoon went amazingly well. Most of her siblings and several other family members were there, and they spent about three hours visiting, laughing, and just being together. It was a beautiful afternoon, and one that would be cherished by all who were there that day. Then, Mom and Cheryl went home for a quiet evening, dinner, and a movie.
Then, while Cheryl did the dishes, Mom decided to go to bed, but once in the bedroom, she went to Heaven instead. They couldn’t tell us exactly what had happened, and so we are left wondering about it…and wishing we had her back. That is the real caregiver’s remorse…wishing you could go back and change things somehow, so the outcome could be different. The point when all you know to do is not enough, makes you feel almost like a failure, even though you know that you have done your very best. I know that Mom is happy with Dad in Heaven, but we really miss her here. Our caregiver’s hearts have become lonely hearts. We love you Mom, and we’ll see you and Dad real soon.
When something happens to a child that leaves them missing one limb, it seems like they have a tendency to meet that adversity with a strength and determination that many adults simply don’t. It’s not that the adults couldn’t, but rather that as we get older, sometimes we tend to feel sorry for ourselves instead of making up our mind not to let this become a stumbling block for us.
Since I have been conversing with my husband, Bob’s Uncle Butch Schulenberg, my thoughts have often gone back to his dad, Bob’s grandfather, Andrew Schulenberg. I did not know Grandpa Andy until my children were five and six years old, but when I met him, I liked him immediately. He had been the sheriff in Forsyth for many years, and if you had the Schulenberg name, they knew who you belonged to there. The people of Forsyth really liked him. I was very thankful that we had the chance to meet him. It was a visit that I have never forgotten, and have always been thankful to have had.
At first, I wondered if he had lost his leg later in life, because I couldn’t imagine a sheriff with a wooden peg for a leg. Of course, I was wrong, because he lost his leg as a young boy of just fifteen years. He had gone antelope hunting with his friend, Harold Stewart, when his gun accidentally discharged, sending a bullet through his leg. It was a cold October morning in 1921, and medicine not being what it is today, the leg just couldn’t heal. Andy spend 23 months and 11 days in the hospital. Try as they might to save the leg, it simply was not to be. The leg was amputated in June of 1922, eight months after the accident. It was a devastating thing for a teenaged boy, but young Andy determined not to let it stop him.
For Andy, time stood still to a large degree, as it always does when you are in the hospital. I cannot imagine spending almost two years in the hospital, even if a large part of it would be in pain, or so out of it that you barely noticed. I also can’t imagine how it must have been for his parents, who were having to deal with not only the loss of the much needed help of their eldest child, but also with the rest of the family, which was 
continuing to grow. Andy missed the birth of his little sister, Bertha, who was born in December 1921, just two months after the accident. That must have been so hard for him and his parents.
Nevertheless, Andy didn’t let the loss of his leg defeat him. I’m sure it took a long time to figure everything out, but he did, and in the end, became a successful man. When you think about it, people lose limbs in many ways, and it isn’t about the limb in the end, but rather about the constitution of the man or woman that determines the success or failure of the rest of their life. Andy was the kind of man who was made of plenty of determination, and that made all the difference.
