Loss
When I first met, my husband, Bob Schulenberg’s aunt, Pearl Hein, I liked her immediately. She felt like my own aunt, even before we were married, and she became my aunt too. It was just the natural transition of it. Pearl was so welcoming and easy to get along with. I honestly don’t know anyone who didn’t love her. Bob and I used to go to Forsyth, Montana where his grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins lived…most of them anyway. Those who don’t live there, started out in that area. So, we tried to keep our girls, Corrie Petersen and Amy Royce, connected with that part of the family. Pearl and Uncle Eddie were a big part of those visits.
In those days, Pearl was working at the IGA (a grocery store) and honestly, I think the place would have fallen apart without her. For many years she was a fixture in the place, but now she is retired and gets to spend her 
time doing the things she wants to do. It hasn’t been exactly what she had expected or hoped, because of the loss of her husband, Eddie and then three months later, her son, Larry, but she is slowly coming back to feeling more like herself. These days, she spends some of her time visiting her daughter, Kim Arani and son-in-law, Michael Arani in Texas, and she enjoys that. Sometimes a change of scenery is just what is needed to perk a person up, and mother/daughter time is nice too.
Pearl has always had a heart for people. She tries to keep in touch with those closest to her, either by phone or text, and it is always appreciated. We are all busy in life, and so just a periodic text can be an uplifting text can be a bright spot in the day. Pearl still has family in the Forsyth area, and she enjoys getting together with them when she can. She and her sister, Rosalie 
Steinbach were always close. They helped each other with the care of their parents, and I know their parents were grateful. Caregiving is a tough job, and Pearl knows that better than most people. Pearl is such a loving and caring person, and I’m sure that is why I felt drawn to her so much. She never thinks of herself, always others. She wants to make sure that everyone has what they need to feel comfortable and happy. That is just her nature. Everyone else, above self. That’s Pearl. Today is Pearl’s 74th birthday. Happy birthday Pearl!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
My nephew, Wesley “Wes” Burr, who is my niece, Cassie Franklin’s partner, is a very compassionate man, kind and loving. He is also a giver who would give the shirt off his back or open his home to anyone. He reminds me a lot of my grandparents in that way. He is an all-around good guy. Wes came along at a time when Cassie really needed a kind soul in her life. She had gone through an ugly divorce; the loss of her mom, Rachel Schulenberg; and her grandmother, Janice Franklin. She needed some happiness in her life, and since Wes came into her life, I have never seen her happier. They work together toward their common goals, and they are doing very well.
Wes loves learning, pretty much all learning, but his favorite things include history and war information. I have 
to agree with his types of learning, as I am a history and war buff too, especially World War II. He is also well educated on the subject of mushrooms and gardening. Seriously, I wonder if he is related to my grandparents. They knew lots about foraging for different wild herbs, mushrooms, and berries too. It’s a great way to feed your family, and he loves helping Cassie find flowers and greenery for the crafts she makes. It’s also a great way to get the family outside and teach them about God’s garden.
Wes is also an aspiring small business owner! Two years ago, he started a cleaning company with Cassie, and it is going well. He is very capable in a number of varying tasks, one of which is changing the fluids in the cars, which as we all know saves people money. Recently he traded some work for an off roading Jeep! they live in an area with lots of places to take a Jeep off road for some family fun. Not everyone can trade work for a 
vehicle, but it is one of the perks of being self-employed. Wes loves the “nerdy” things, like Xbox and Star Trek, and he is always game for some fun with those.
This past year has been a very special one for Wes. In addition to his two bonus kids, Lucas and Zoey, he and Cassie were blessed with his first child…a daughter named Alicen!! Wes is totally smitten with his baby girl, but still makes sure that Lucas and Zoey feel loved too. Recently, Zoey even started calling him Dad, and colored him a “dad” picture. It’s quite obvious that Wes loves kids, and I know he is and will always be a great dad. Today is Wes’ birthday. Happy birthday Wes!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
My Uncle Elmer Johnson and his brothers remind me a bit of my dad, Al Spencer and his brother, Bill. They all had a mischievous past. I don’t think any of them were true troublemakers, but rather I think it was the era they grew up in. Kids did different things in their mischievous antics. My dad and his brother liked to set of dynamite, but then they were farm kids who, at times had a need for dynamite, like clearing a field of a big rock or tree stump. Of course, they didn’t really need to sink the gate post by two feet in an experiment with dynamite. Nevertheless, they did that. Uncle Elmer and his brothers were not above the idea of scaring their dad with the tractor, while he was using the outhouse. They tried to make him think they were going to run over the outhouse. Their dad came running out with his pants down around his ankles, and he was not happy with his boys. Nevertheless, they lived, so I guess he forgave them for their joke. Uncle Elmer’s brother, Les was his main “partner in crime” for their crazy activities.
For most of his work career, Uncle Elmer was a truck driver. He drove for a number of places, including furniture delivery, working for Burke Moving and Storage and for United Van Lines, working for Tom Aurelius. The job took him many places, and sometimes he could take his eldest son, Elmer with him. Maybe that is why they both really loved driving trucks. I’m sure they had a great time seeing all the sights and talking about everything under the sun. Those summertime trips made Uncle Elmer and Cousin Elmer good friends.
It seems like some men have skills that others don’t. I don’t know if it was that era, or what, but both my dad and Uncle Elmer, and most likely their brothers too, could cook. Yes, they could grill too, but these guys could really cook. They could cook good old fashioned comfort food, and some fancy stuff too, but mostly they were good old American down-home cooks, and that is the best kind. There aren’t many things I remember about my Uncle Elmer, not like his kids do, but the uncle that I remember was always sweet and funny. He was fun to 
be around, and I know that my parents enjoyed spending time with Uncle Elmer and Aunt Dee too (my mom’s sister). When they were around, it always seemed that the fun accompanied them. I was 25 when Uncle Elmer went to Heaven, but I remember the feeling of loss, both for me and for his family. It was such a sad time, and that will never change. Today would have been Uncle Elmer’s 90th birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Uncle Elmer. We love and miss you very much.
I often wonder, when thinking about couples and how they met, what might have happened if their families hadn’t moved to the state where they eventually met their spouse. Would they somehow have met in another way, like college, mutual acquaintances, or a random trip to the same city. It’s hard to say, I suppose, and the reality is that they may never have met at all. Thankfully, for my husband, Bob Schulenberg’s grandparents (and for me), his grandparents did end up in the same small town, and they did meet and married, producing Bob’s mom, Joann (Knox) Schulenberg, who gave birth to my husband. I say thankfully, of course, because if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be married to my wonderful husband all these years.
Grandpa, Robert Knox was born in Prosser, Washington, where his two brothers, Melburn Coe Knox and Joy Allen Knox, but on February 4, 1917, Joy Allen died 13 days after he was born on Jan 22, 1917, and by the time their next son, Richard Franklin “Frank” came along on February 4, 1920, the family was living in Rosebud, Montana. The birth of their Rainbow Baby, ironically on the same day as the death of their older son, must have been a little bit bittersweet. It seems like if the move was to get away from the memory of their loss, it actually ended up following them to the new place. All that aside, the family eventually moved to Rosebud, Montana.
Meanwhile, Grandma, Nettie (Noyes) Knox was born in Clyde Park, Montana, which was three hours and fifteen minutes from Rosebud, but the family would eventually move to Rosebud, Montana, which is, of course, where she met her future husband, Robert “Bob” Knox. They were married on June 14, 1928, in Miles City, Montana, 
and as they say, the rest is history. While they lost their first child, a son named William Edgar Knox, at birth, they went on to have three daughters, Joann Schulenberg, Linda Cole, and Margee Kountz. They were married 57 years, until Grandpa went to heaven on December 17, 1985. Grandma lived until July 29, 1990, and then she joined him in Heaven. Today would have been their 95th anniversary. While there are no marriages in Heaven, I know Grandma and Grandpa are enjoying themselves as friends very much. Have a happy day, Grandma and Grandpa. We love and miss you very much.
As each birthday comes and goes, I am amazed that our grandpa, Walt Hein could have been in Heaven as long as he has. Grandpa was born on May 29, 1906, which means that this is the 117th anniversary of his birth. I so enjoyed spending time with this man on our many trips to Forsyth, Montana over the years. He was so funny and was a ruthless card player. He wasn’t mean…just determined to win. That was similar to my own card playing style, so we invariably played as partners. That left the other two players, one of whom was my husband, Bob and the other who was most often grandma, Vina Hein, to play as partners, and most often lose. Grandma and Bob didn’t really care. They knew that for Grandpa, the win was a big deal, and for them, since it didn’t really matter so much, they decided that it was all in fun anyway.
Our trips weren’t just about cards, however. There were many things to do on the ranch, and sometimes the 
men would go out and take care of the animals, or sometimes, Grandpa would bring our girls out to the corral and lead them around of one of the horses. They had a blast riding the horses. We lived in the country, but in a much more urban kind of country area…or at least because it was subdivided, the places were smaller, and we didn’t think that our five acres could handle horses and the two cows that we raised. We felt like the beef was more important than riding horses. We also didn’t have chickens, so being around Grandma and Grandpa’s chickens was a fun experience for the. I’m not sure what the chickens thought about it, when my girls began chasing them the first time, but I know they didn’t hate that, because they would often stop and look back to see if the girls were still coming, and when they saw that they were, the chickens were off again. I think they got a kick out of it. Grandpa also had a bathtub in the yard…long before that was a thing. When the summer days got hot, Grandpa would fill that tub with water, and the girls got to go “swimming” in that tub. They had a great time, and all of these things really endeared Grandpa to them. It was that Grandpa’s heart. They were always ready to go to Forsyth to visit the family.
When I think about the fact that, if he were still alive, Grandpa would have been 117 years old, I am rather 
stunned. It’s so strange to think that I could have known someone who is now 117 years old. I shouldn’t be surprised, because that statement applies to all of my grandparents, and one would have been even older…one 144 years old. I suppose that as we grow older, having known people from our childhood, it will become more common to know people who are almost 200 years old. Nevertheless, it will probably never cease to amaze me. Today is the 117th anniversary of Grandpa Walt Hein’s birth. Happy birthday in Heaven, Grandpa. We love and miss you very much.
When our cousin, Larry Hein was a kid, my husband, Bob; our kids, Corrie Petersen and Amy Royce; and I went to visit family in Forsyth, Montana every summer. Larry was older than our girls by 6 and 7 years, respectively. That could have made him not want to hang out with the girls, but Larry also had a little sister, Kim Arani, and that made him able to understand the kinds of games and such that little girls wanted to play. Grandma Hein had a playhouse on the ranch she and Grandpa Hein owned, and for the girls, it was the coolest place to play. Larry didn’t mind playing house with the girls, even though it was probably not that interesting for him. He was just that kind of a kid. Easy going and a good brother and older cousin. I was thankful, because the girls wanted to get to know their cousins, and the girls and Kim wanted to play girls games.
Larry was a big help to Grandma Hein too, as I recall. Work on a ranch is really never done, and while kids don’t usually do the work of a ranch hand, they can help with things like gardening, mucking stalls, feeding the chickens and other animals, and definitely playing with the dogs that always seem to be part of a ranch. Larry was a good-natured kid, and he loved his grandparents. He was easy to get along with, and respectful to his elders. He was always a joy to be around.
As an adult, Larry started a mechanics shop and towing service. In the small town of Forsyth, Montana, he was 
pretty much the only show in town on those kinds of services, meaning that he was often busier than he could handle. His shop always had vehicles waiting their turn, and the towing part of the business kept him running a lot. After Larry’s dad, Ed Hein died, Larry did his best to keep his business running while helping his mom, Pearl and his sister, Kim deal with their grief. He was a good man, but Larry lost his life to a heart attack just three months and two weeks later. The two losses were devastating to the whole family. Today would have been Larry’s 54th birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Larry. We love and miss you very much.
Anytime a volcano erupts, there is going to some degree of destruction, and most of the time, there is little notice. Some eruptions, however, bring more destruction and death that others. The eruption of Mount Pelée on the island of Martinique in the Caribbean on May 8, 1902, resulted in nearly 30,000 deaths and the destruction of the town of Saint Pierre. When the eruption occurred, the pyroclastic flow, also called a pyroclastic cloud, hit the town totally destroying it…or almost all of it. The city was virtually wiped off the map.
A prisoner, Ludger Sylbaris, who was born sometime around 1875. Sylbaris who used the aliases Auguste Ciparis, Joseph Surtout, and other names, was a convicted felon who had violated his parole. When he was captured, it was decided that he would be confined to an underground cell in Saint Pierre. As smoke filled the sky and lava made its way toward Saint Pierre, Sylbaris reportedly knew nothing of what was happening around him. Nevertheless, while he was right in the path of the destruction, his underground prison would end up protecting him while the rest of Saint Pierre was destroyed. The search for survivors consumed the rescue workers, and it wasn’t until four days after the city was destroyed that Sylbaris was found, half-conscious and burned.
The eruption of Mount Pelée began, or more correctly, it began to show signs on April 2, 1902. Mount Pelée, 
which means bald in French, was a 4,500-foot mountain on the north side of the Caribbean Island of Martinique. On April 2nd, new steam vents were spotted on the peak, which overlooked the port city of Saint Pierre. Three weeks later, tremors were felt on the island and Mount Pelée belched up a cloud of ash. That was all the warning they had, but in 1902, they might not have realized just how grave their situation was. On May 7, activity on the volcano increased dramatically and the blasts grew significantly stronger. Overnight, there were several strong tremors and a cloud of gas with a temperature of more than 3,000 degrees Fahrenheit spilled out of the mountain. Finally, a tremendous blast in the early morning hours of May 8th sent a pyroclastic flow of boiling ash down the side of the mountain. By the time anyone realized they were in serious trouble, it was too late to get away, which is what caused the 30,000 deaths. It also left the prisoner, Sylbaris in an underground cell, with no one knowing that he was there. Only a thorough search of the area and the fact that he had been housed underground, saved his life.
In the end, it was determined that because they were caught up in the midst of an important election, the 
residents of Saint Pierre failed to heed the mountain’s warnings and evacuate. They mistakenly believed that the only danger from the volcano was lava flow and assumed that if lava started to flow, they would have plenty of time to flee to safety. In fact, some people came from outside the city to view the action, even after ash from the eruption began to block roads. The city of Saint Pierre was buried within minutes and virtually everyone died instantly. There were only two reported survivors, one being Sylbaris, the prisoner held in an underground cell. In addition to the destruction of the city, 15 ships in the harbor were capsized by the eruption. One ship managed to stay afloat with half the crew surviving, although most suffered serious burns.
If you lived in Eccles, West Virginia in 1914, you or someone in your family most likely worked at the Eccles Mine Number 5. Eccles was a tiny town in Raleigh County. Mine number 5 was opened in 1905, and by 1914, the mine employed most of the local men and even the teenagers. Life was mundane for the most part. Not much happened in the town, and April 28, 1914 promised to be just another boring day. On that Tuesday morning, dozens of local men and teens left their homes to go to work at the Eccles Mine Number 5, which was one of group of coal mines in West Virginia owned by the New River Colliers Company. Everything was going along fine, when suddenly, at 2:30pm, a sudden explosion rocked the Number 5 mine. In an instant, more than 180 workers who had left home as usual that day, would never go home again.
The explosion was caused by coal-seam methane. At least 180 men lay dead, at least that was the death roll published as of 2011 by the National Coal Heritage Trail. A monument at the cemetery lists 183 victims, and 
the records of the county coroner list 186. When the mine was rocked by a series of violent explosions, parts of the mine collapsed while other parts were heavily damaged, which trapped the miners inside. Of course, the people of Eccles and officials from the mining company rushed to the scene to aid the rescue efforts. Despite their best efforts, it was soon obvious that this would be a recovery effort, and not a rescue. That day, all of the miners in Eccles Mine Number 5 were killed, including five who were under the age of 14 years of age. In addition, nine workers in a nearby mine were killed when deadly gas from Mine Number 5 seeped into their mine. Ironically, one of the men who died in the nearby mine, was an insurance agent from Charleston, West Virginia, who had only gone into the mine to solicit business from the men. He was only there for a few minutes. It was there that the salesman, who had unfortunately chosen that day to visit the mine and sell insurance to its workers, was also killed. The blast and the subsequent damage to the mine, left many of the victim so mangled and torn apart, that most of them could not be positively identified because of their horrific injuries.
In the early 1900s, coal was in great demand. Production in the United States had increased from 50 million tons of coal in 1850 to 250 million tons of coal in 1903. Unfortunately, the increasing demand and the rush to supply, brought with it worsening work conditions. The danger occurred when the men were digging for coal in deep mines, in which chambers of gas lay just underneath. That meant that highly explosive gasses could come into contact with carbide headlamps. The next thing they knew, they had an explosion on their hands. The mine 
disaster brought attention to an overall safety problem in the West Virginia mining industry. Sadly…at least in that it didn’t happen sooner, the disaster actually aided the unions’ attempts to improve the workers’ conditions. The labor union helped to ban carbide headlamps in West Virginia. It was suspected that the headlamps were most likely the cause of the Eccles explosion, as well as a second mine explosion 18 years later in Illinois.
I have been studying a lot lately about World War II. It is my “favorite” war…if one can have a favorite war. My dad, Allen Spencer was a Staff Sergeant in World War II. He served as flight engineer and top turret gunner on a B-17G, the flying fortress. The more I study World War II, the more I realize just how dangerous was…no matter what branch of the service a soldier was in. Dad’s family was one that didn’t have to suffer the loss of their soldier, because my dad came home after the war. He was the only one in his family that saw action in World War II, other than his half-brother, Norman Spencer. Dad’s older brother, Bill tried to serve, but due to flat feet and a hernia, he was turned down. My Uncle Bill was devastated by the rejection. My dad was his little brother, and he had always felt a need to protect him, not because Dad was accident prone or anything, but because he was his little brother. Now, he was going to have to let Dad go without the “backup” that Uncle Bill had hoped to provide. That was one of the hardest things my Uncle Bill ever had to do. So, Dad went with angel backup instead…and his mother’s prayers.
Dad served and returned home to his family, and because he did, my sisters and I, and our whole family exists. 
Dad, like many of the soldiers in that generation, never spoke of his time in the service during World War II, and all we knew was what little we heard from his family, and a couple of newspaper articles. Knowing my dad as we did, those years were his duty, but never his desire. Dad was a gentle man, and the idea of killing must have weighed heavily on him. Nevertheless, he knew it was his duty, and he would never have shirked his duty. There were a number of heroic times in Dad’s time in the service. He actually saved his crew, when he cranked down the landing gear just in time to hit the runway. It must have been damaged by the anti-aircraft flak, because it wouldn’t come down. There were other times that his actions saved his crew, such as the enemy planes that he shot down. They were a good team. They were all heroes…every single one.
While my dad was a hero during World War II, I will always consider his most important accomplishment, his family. Without my dad’s safe return from the war, we would not exist. He met my mom, Collene Byer Spencer when she was still a schoolgirl, but even then, they knew it was that forever love. They married in 1953, an 
became the parents of five daughters, Cheryl, Masterson, Caryn Schulenberg (me), Caryl Reed, Alena Stevens, and Allyn Hadlock. They went on to have grandchildren and great grandchildren…all of whom owe their lives to the fact that dad came home from war. For that I praise God, and I give Him all the glory. Today would have been my dad’s 99th birthday. Happy birthday in Heaven, Dad. We love and miss you very much and look forward to seeing you again when we get to Heaven.
