Hazel Wiedrich and Funny One-Legged Stories

 

Yesterday I was thinking of my grandmother and when she had her gall bladder removed. I only know the story from her telling. In the 1950’s or so she went to the hospital and had an emergency gall bladder operation. Since it was so long ago and as it was an emergency, she had the large incision that wrapped around the lower chest. Also, in those days it wasn’t unusual to have a week’s stay in the hospital. The doctor, Dr. Azmidia, came to check on her every day and at last he told her she could go home the next day. She said, “Doctor, can I us crutches?” He said, “I operated on your stomach. Why would you need crutches?” To this she said, “If I don’t it would be the first time in almost 40 years. I only have one leg.” Dr. Azmidia threw back the sheets and said, “Oh my God, you only have one leg.” This story has given my family quite a few laughs besides a lesson that the doctor only looks at what his job is.

Another funny story about my grandmother’s one-leggedness happened in the 1960’s while the family was traveling the alligator highway in south Florida. My grandfather was driving the old family station wagon. Also in the car were my grandmother, my cousin Pat and her daughter Cindy, my Aunt Yvonne and an old family friend, Mrs. Thorpe. There were no speed limits then or at least not ones that were enforced, so my grandfather was driving like an Indie driver. He strayed to the edge of the road, lost control and crashed. Pat broke her back; Mrs. Thorpe broke her hip and was partially scalped. My grandmother was partially scalped and was thrown from the front seat to the back and was wedged between the seat and the back of the front seat. Having a scalp wound she was covered in blood. People stopped to help. When they pulled my grandmother out they gasped and said she lost her leg, and that people should look for it. Although she was in shock she still knew what they were saying and was laughing because she had that leg amputated almost fifty years before.

My grandmother had such a good attitude and never considered herself handicapped. It rarely stopped her from doing anything and I’m glad she could have a good laugh about those situations.

#Hazel Wiedrich, #Amputation

Traugott Vogel

 

Air Force Tech School and Emanuel Vogel

Today I shared a story with my church about a young man I met while attending “Aircraft Maintenance School” at Chanute Air Force Base in Rantoul, Illinois. The young man’s name was Emanuel Vogel, and he was born in Germany. We were in the same Sunday School class and were ushers in church. He told me about his family and that his father, Traugottt Vogel, had written a book called Under the SS Shadow. Traugott was in the Hitler Youth Corp. His father was a SS officer. When Germany got desperate they sent Youth Corp teens into battle during the Battle of the Bulge. Traugott who was only about 14-yrs-old was scared and ran away to find his father. When he did he found the father had been killed by resistant fighters. No one would help him bury him and the priest would not allow the burial to me in the graveyard. Only the town drunk would help him bury his father outside the graveyard. Eventually Traugott got a job on a US Army base. Eventually he was able to accept the Americans. He attended a Billy Graham crusade and gave his life to God, eventually becoming a minister of churches in Germany, Texas, Arizona and California.

#Chanute AFB, #Emanuel Vogel, #Traugott Vogel, #Under the SS Shadow, #Arlene Moore, #Arlene Baker

Favorite Discovery

 

Favorite Discovery

My favorite discovery as I’ve researched my family tree is finding Andrew AJ Moore. It began with my search for my Moore great grandfather. The only thing I knew was that the family had come from New Egypt, NJ before settling in Camden, NJ. I wasn’t sure of his name although my h brother and father both were named Charles Shoemaker Moore. When my brother was born my aunt, the family matriarch wanted him to have that name. My parents settled on a different name. But the fact that the name meant so much in the family I decided to search for a great grandfather with that name. Also, he would have been the right age to have served in the Civil War. I went to the NJ Archives to search. Surprisingly my guesses were correct, and I found him easily. Census records for New Egypt led me to find the names of his parents and siblings. From there I went to the Plumsted, NJ clerk. New Egypt is within Plumsted. I asked if they had any information on Charles S Moore or his father John Moore. It was tax time and the clerk said they didn’t have time right now and took my information and phone number. About six weeks later they called and said someone else was asking for the same information. If I gave permission they would give my name and phone number to those people.

Within in a few days I received a call from Jack and Fran Born. Fran was also a great granddaughter of Charles Moore. We talked on the phone and they invited me to visit them in Absecon, NJ. They were such nice people, and we had a pleasant and productive visit. They had Charles’ original Civil War discharge paper. As we talked the said they family stories said someone supposedly was in the 7^th Calvary. They also heard someone participated in the Greenwich, NJ tea party before the Revolutionary Way (so far I’ve found no evidence of that).

I found a book about the 7^th Calvary and the men who served in that regiment. And there was Andrew AJ Moore who had also been in the census in the John Moore family. About this time there was a program on TV about the fire at Little Big Horn battlefield. Historians and scientists were able to study the battlefield forensically as the grass had been burned away revealing spent shells. They described the progression of the battle and how individual troopers and Native Americans moved by matching the spent shells. One of the people was Dr. Wiley who was a professor at a California college. I took a chance and emailed him. His first reply was the next morning and he said that he was in the Middle East on an archaeological dig and didn’t have his notes on the Little Big Horn study. But then he emailed again a few hours later with information. He studied the medical records of the troopers. He found that Andrew had malaria while the 7^th was in South Carolina but had only been treated once. He also found records that Andrew had been shot in the kidneys during the battle and that was his cause of death.

Since I’ve found books that told of Andrew’s movements and death by name. Later I was able to visit the battlefield. A park ranger looked up information the Andrew was buried on the riffle line by his buddies during the battle and a dead horse was put on top of his grave. Because of this his body was never recovered and buried in the mass grave. It was a moving experience for me to stand on that rifle line and know I’ve been the only family visit that grave and remember him.

#Andrew Moore, #52 Ancestors, #Favorite Discovery, #7^th Calvary, #Little Big Horn, #Charles S. Moore

Beginning life in COVID-19

We’ve started living in a different world. It’s just the first week for most of us. If you’re a senior citizen (and yes those of us in our 60s and don’t think we’re seniors- we are) most of us are staying in and keeping distances. Since I have places to go usually each day it seems weird and confining. This morning I thought of Anne Frank during WWII. Many Jews were hidden in small spaces without access to the outside for years. We are so fortunate since we can go for a walk or drive. Drive through food is still an option.

Last night we asked our son, Travis to stop by the house. Today is a Friday in Lent and Bill is adhering to the practice of not eating meat on Fridays in Lent. We gave Travis money and asked him to pick up a pizza for us tonight. The scene seamed surreal. We stood on the top of our front steps, Travis halfway down the front walk and our grandchildren (age 4 and 5) riding their scooters on the sidewalk. A few times they started to run up to us and Travis had to remind them they’re not to come close to us to keep us healthy. A neighbor across the street came out and standing on her sidewalk joined the conversation. Later someone walking their dog came up the street and would cross the street to avoid coming near other people as she made her way up the block. A short time ago this would be strange but not in the new normal.

Some of my meetings have been postponed for a month and that is starting to seem too soon. Church has been canceled week by week. The Battleship NJ (where I am a part-time tour guide) is closed. Yesterday they announced that the encampment program is canceled until October 1^st. That far off date is a shock. Most places are canceling for two weeks and then reassessing. While that seemed too short, October 1^st seems like a lifetime away. Businesses are closed except to life sustaining businesses. So many people unemployed. Our savings and retirement accounts are being hit hard and we may face financial distress that our parents and grandparents faced in the 1930s. We’re now closing our borders to everyone. Non-essential travel is discouraged. This is a new era; one we hope will be past soon.

#COVID 19, #Coronavirus, #isolation, #Anne Frank, #Arlene Baker

Same Name

Naming is such a huge responsibility. When you name a child that name will more than likely stick for the rest of their life. Are you giving them the right name? Is this a name that will cause other people especially children will taunt them? I think about students I taught and think what their parents was thinking when they named this child. Just like Johnny Cash singing about a boy named Sue I remember a young man named Lynn. How many times did this great kid have to fight about his name?

Then there’s the confusion of naming a child after a family member. Among my relatives three generations named Charles Shoemaker Moore. This caused some family squabbles when my aunt wanted my parent’s future son named Charles Shoemaker Moore. My mom put her foot down saying he would not have the name Shoemaker It was baseball season and my dad said if it was a boy he would name him Terry Moore after the manager of the Phillies baseball team. As luck would have it my brother was prematurely born shortly after this squabble and so Terry Charles Moore was the name he was given.

Other same name relatives had found ways to differentiate who you were talking to or referring about. So, we had Big John and Little John (shades of Robing Hood), Big Helen and Little Helen, Big Margaretta and Baby Margaretta (awkward when she was a teenager).

My husband’s family penchant for the name William causes so much trouble when referring to one of them. My husband William is named for his father William and named his first-born son William.  Both of his grandfathers are named William. Two of his three known great grandfathers are named William. His sister married a William and has a son William. His mother’s brother is named William and he has a son and grandson William. I suspect there are more Williams lurking in the family tree.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2020, #Same name, #Charles Moore, #William Baker

Close to Home

Traveling far from home is a relatively modern event for average people. My great grandmother, Sarah Corset Wiedrich was born in 1868 in Genesee County, NY. Like most people of her era she rarely would have traveled more that twenty or so miles from her home. She was in her 80s before she went any farther. We would visit her every August while I was growing up. I was not much more than a toddler when she went with us to Niagara Falls. It was just over 50 miles from her home, and this was her first visit. Later, when my grandparents had moved to Florida she traveled there to visit with them. For an average person born in 1868 who would have imaged traveling from western New York state to Florida. Today we go vast distances and think nothing of it. People fly a thousand miles just for the weekend.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2020, #52 Ancestors Close to Home, #Sarah Wiedrich, #Sarah Corset

Far Away

I was lucky enough to have some aunts, uncles and cousins within two hours of where we lived when I was growing up. We got together regularly. Aunt Margaretta and Uncle Roy lived in the Belle Meade area in North Jersey, about two hours away. Aunt Helen and Uncle John lived in Egg Harbor, New Jersey, about 40 minutes away. At least once a month we would visit, usually going up on Saturday and coming home on Sunday. The family interactions were great.

But I truly missed having a grandparent close by. My dad’s parents were dead. My mom’s parents, Hazel and Edward Wiedrich lived in Tampa Florida. We would only see them once every one or two years. There were some phone calls but that was the days of long-distance telephone charges. Letters would be sent. I wish they were saved to cherish later. When you did get together everyone was on their best behavior. I remember my mom telling me she asked my grandmother not to yell at the antics of my cousins and us as she didn’t want us to remember her as grouchy. Of course, she wasn’t grouchy, just with so many of us all together in one house it could be unnerving. You see, my grandparents lived in an eighteenth-century Florida house. Downstairs were my grandparents and Aunt Yvonne. Upstairs were my Aunt Connie and Uncle George with their children – three when we were young and three more later. Add to that other visitors were not unusual, sometimes adding up to a dozen or more people all under one roof.

I thought my dream came true when I went to live with my grandmother after high school in order to go to college in Tampa. We did many things together and those times were special, but some many other things interfered. First of course I was homesick. Also, my Aunt Yvonne had a drinking problem, which made living there difficult. She would wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me the astronauts were causing bad weather (I was studying astronautical engineering) and doing embarrassing things when someone came to visit. Eventually it was too much and my mom wouldn’t let me take out a loan to live on campus, so I came home. The worse part was the day I left my grandmother said, “What will I tell my friends? My granddaughter doesn’t love me.” I know she still loved me, but I disappointed her. The pain of that statement has never left me. Perhaps being far away would have been less hurtful.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2020, #Hazel Wiedrich, #First time away from home

Long Feet

The 52 Ancestors’ prompt of “Long” made me wonder what to write about. Then I thought about the Moore feet. Most of us inherited the long somewhat narrow feet. My feet are long, size 10 or 11 depending on the style shoe. Add to that they’re flat. When I went for my induction physical for the Air Force they questioned those flat feet but passed me anyway. My dad, Earl Moore faced the same. When he was drafted into the army during WWII they questioned his long, flat feet but it was war and he was inducted. Then there’s my great grandfather Charles S. Moore. He served in the 4^th NJ Regimental Infantry during the Civil War. He must have been and ornery guy because he disobeyed and order to stopped shooting mules with dried corn kernels and shot again. They court marshaled him and docked his pay. The transcript of the court marshal contained a question about his being late for a battle. The sergeant explained that he had bad feet and couldn’t keep up with the rest, so they made him the wagoner. Those long, flat feet are still around in my family. When my oldest son, Sean was born the first thing my husband said was, “Oh no, he has your father’s feet.” And now I see my grandson, Finn and think, “Oh no, he has my father’s feet.”

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2020, #Long Feet, #Earl Moore, #Charles S. Moore

Favorite Photos

I've always liked this picture of my mom, Millicent “Midge” Moore and me. It was in front of our apartment at 803 Chambers Ave. in Gloucester City, NJ. I always feel a close to her when I see this picture. It’s black and white but I still see the colors. 

The second picture is my mom’s favorite picture. This is in DeSoto Park in Tampa, Florida. My grandmother, Hazel Wiedrich and my mom made a path up to their house using upturned car batteries (sorry, people were so environmental conscience in the early 1950s). The third person is me.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2020, #Favorite Photos, #Arlene Moore, #Millicent Wiedrich, #Hazel Bristol

Fresh Start

How great is a fresh start? A chance to begin again with nothing hanging over your head. It seems it doesn’t come along often enough. Sometimes changing jobs can be a fresh start. I was lucky. I had a fresh start every year. I was a teacher.

Every September I began again. New students and a start at the beginning of the course again. It meant trying something new or eliminating something not successful. It meant developing a relationship with new students. Because I had multiple certifications, it sometimes meant not only different courses but different disciplines. This year it might be reading and Jr Hi math, next it might be earth science, life science, general science or High School math. It was exciting and refreshing. It’s hard to imagine any other job having that opportunity. Well, unless you count being a student a “job”.

#52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors Fresh Start, #52 Ancestors 2020, #Fresh Start, #Teaching

Slchool Days at Highland Park School

Highland Park School in Gloucester City, NJ was a four-classroom school when I attended from 1957 to 1961. In the basement was the lunchroom (it may have been a kindergarten room in the morning). My Brownie Scout troop met in the basement. I have fond memories of Mrs. Davidson and Mrs. Blanche Moen teaching us scout songs, making butter and crossing a bridge to a higher troop. I had attended Monmouth St. school for kindergarten before we moved to the Cypress Gardens section of the city.

Our class was quite large and was the only grade in our classroom. Some of the other grades were grouped two grades in one classroom.  My first-grade teacher was Mrs. Cole. She was the meanest person I ever met in my childhood. She would smack us, hit us, pull our hair and ears and verbally abuse us. Once when I had a wrong math problem she ripped my skirt off my body. That little navy-blue pleated skirt is seared into my memory. Why didn’t we tell our parents? She told us she would kill us if  we did. Kids were having night terrors, wetting the bed, and afraid to go to school. A classmate told me years later about meeting Mrs. Cole while grocery shopping with his mother and shaking in his shoes while she sweet talked his mother. I had a child nervous breakdown. After nightmares, crying and saying I was afraid to go to school my mother went to see the teacher. She said I was a terrible child and that my kindergarten teacher said that too. My mom went back to my old school and told Mrs. Barr, my kindergarten teacher what Mrs. Cole said. Mrs. Barr asked who my teacher was and when told it was Mrs. Cole she said my mom should go to Miss Mary Ethel Costello, the Asst. Superintendent of Schools. I was called to the principal’s room (she taught 2^nd grade) while all the other children were outside on the playground. Present besides the principal were Miss Costello, Mrs. Cole and me. Not even my mother. I was asked all the things Mrs. Cole was doing to the children. I told them everything (can’t believe I was that brave, but I was truthful). Then they called my mom on the telephone and had me repeat everything I had told them.  What was the result of this inquisition? Mrs. Cole would remain our teacher and would be fired at the end of the school year. As for me, I would still be in her class. She ignored me the rest of the year. This situation would be all over the news if it happened today. When she left at the end of the year they found empty gin bottles hidden all over the classroom, cloak room and the basement. I sometimes marvel that after that experience I loved school and ironically became a math teacher.

Mrs. Farina, the principal,  was my second-grade teacher. I don’t remember much about that year. The most overwhelming memory is that I was behind thanks to Mrs. Cole. I think I sat behind Joanne (Dee) Davidson as we were two of the tallest kids in the class. I remember looking over Dee’s shoulder to see her paper. I knew Mrs. Farina knew I was looking at other people’s papers, but she never said anything. She let me catch up and later I could do my work on my own.

Third grade was Mrs. Barrish  (not sure of the spelling). I remember very little. She was young and in my mind pretty. I think her husband may have been in the military. She left after that year.

Fourth grade was Mrs. Angrabe. I started that school year late. I had an emergency appendectomy at the end of August. In those days you were in the hospital for a week or more. I had some complications and was in about 10 days. I began the school year two weeks or so late. Then I wasn’t allowed on the playground at recess as a precaution, so I spent it in the classroom with Mrs. Angrabe. This was the first time I remember having science. I loved it. I was fascinated with space and space travel. Mrs. Angrabe’s husband taught science at my next school, M. E. Costello. This was Mrs. Angrabe’s last year teaching. She was pregnant with her first child. She was a great teacher and I loved her and her class. The next year Highland Park students went to Costello school. My classroom teacher was Miss  Perry. There we would have Mr. Angrabe for science. But tragedy would strike. Mrs. Angrabe would die shortly after having her baby. It was traumatic for young children who had spent so much of the previous year with her. Ironically Miss Perry would later marry Mr. Angrabe.

Highland Park gave us a great start. Our independence started. Probably our first days away from mom or a babysitter. Most of us walked to school by ourselves. Classes were large but for the most part we were taught well.

#Highland Park School, #Gloucester City, NJ schools, #52 Ancestors, #52 Ancestors 2019, #School days, #Gloucester City, NJ