Family Traditions

I have fond memories of going to the "talus" in Flemalle with Marraine when I was a little girl. We often took long walks to the Fort, sad reminder of WWI and WWII.
I was always intrigued and impressed by the rusted up bars of the reinforced cement walls.

But although our walk to the 'talus' would inevitably take us by the fort, my most cherished memories are of picking wild raspberries before starting back down the hill.

Shortly after I arrived in Indiana, my father-in-law showed me and my future sisters-in-law where to go pick huge wild black raspberries. Later, he and I went back many times and I became so familiar with his favorite spots that I even ventured on my own while he was at work.
Unlike the bushes on my Belgian 'talus' these were not as easy to access. We had to put on long pants, a shirt with long sleeves and wear a baseball cap of sorts to protect us from the briars but most especially from the ticks and the different poisonous vines I didn't know. He showed me what poison ivy looked like and gave me strict insructions to wash my arms, hands and face thoroughly after coming out of the woods so as not to become affected by these vines.
The mosquitoes were always more of a problem for me than the poison ivy in those days and I discovered that only Deep Woods Off would keep them away.

I loved picking the ones that were in clumps of 5 or 6 and would position my bicket underneath them and simply let them fall into it. That spoiled me quickly though.

A funny anecdote is attached to the berries. The year Melanie was born I again went back to the woods to pick berries and when I came back I noticed a raspberry juice spot all over her chest so I began rubbing it off, only it would not come off...
Melanie had not had that on here earlier or I would have known right away it was a birth mark! it was the color of berry juice, in the shape of a paw.

Another anecdote tied to picking raspberries is the story of then 2y old Richard going back in the woods by himself to catch up with me and getting himself lost along with his 4y old brother and 6y old sister!
I always took my crew with me. Richard was my best berry picker, but it was hot, as it usually is in Indiana in July. The kids were thirsty and so I took them back to their grandma's who lived close by. I saw them across the street, watched them go into the house and I made my way back into the woods with our German shepherd, Kei.
It was not until I returned a couple of hours later that I discovered that after getting himself a drink, Richard picked up his little bucket and also made his way back into the woods!!!
Grandma had seen Richard go outside and never thinking he would take off as he did, she sent James and Melanie after him!!!
The field I was in was nothing but tall weeds.
I thought I heard some children calling for "Richard, Mom, Kei!"
It occurred to me that if it were my kids - and I wasn't even sure I had heard right - I would definitely lose them in the weeds so I said a quick prayer asking God to send them home (Gdma's) safely.
Somehow they managed to find each other and then made their way out of the woods and back to Gdma's. I still believe this was an answer to my prayer.

As they grew up, they no longer accompanied me but I continued picking raspberries every year and enjoyed the benefits of having quite a few quarts in my freezer and jelly on the pantry shelves.

Then one day I stopped going... more or less like my father-in-law had done.
It was too hot... the idea of wearing the extra clothing layer just didn't entice me a bit and our dog, who always came along died and I didn't feel safe alone in the woods.

Today however I took my soon-to-be-daughter-in-law Bethany on the paths my father-in-law took me 30 years ago. The briars were thicker than ever and the poison ivy was still everywhere... We didn't stay long but we did get about 1 quart of berries.
They are just now coming on, so just a tad late.
Maybe this will talk me into going back again... we shall see.
It looks I have a new dog I can take with me: Lucy.
She had a ball in the woods! She could not get enough of all the new smells and when a rabbit crossed her path, she darted after it like an arrow! It was fun to see. AND she came back when I called her. It was almost as good as having Kei with me. He was attack-trained, Lucy isn't but she failed to recognize Bethany at one point and was growling and barking at her like there is no tomorrow.
I wish I could bring Max too. He would have fun too but he is too much of a free-spirit and would likely only come to me if he felt like it.

Legacy

The past couple of years we have experienced something rather unique.
Bruce’s uncle Stanley died and Bruce has been serving as Administrator of his estate.
We almost didn’t have know there was an estate and that is a whole story by itself but serendipity lined things up so we were able to discover a treasure trove of family documents, photos, letters and artifacts that we are grateful to have been able to recover.
Bruce’s uncle lived in Los Angeles. He was 84y old, never married and was definitely a pack rat.

One treasure I want to share is the near 180 letters he wrote his mother during the time he was in the service between November 1942 and August 1945.

I have made phone calls to several places including to the Legacy Project http://www.warletters.com/mission/index.html
Andy was very nice and suggested reading the whole lot of them and finding one letter that was more outstanding than the rest and posting it to their site.
That is how I learned a little more about the man behind the boxes of things we had brought back from Los Angeles.

I discovered someone who must not have been very happy and had learned to keep to ‘safe’ subjects in his letters although at times the wall does come down but he would not let the guards down long.
Maybe I can start typing the letters here… one at a time… create a webpage for him in his memory before we ship the whole thing to Fort Sam Houston where they will keep his letters in the museum. Odd to think a person’s things could end up in a museum… and the only reason we are opting for Fort Sam Houston, in San Antonio, TX rather than Los Angeles is that Stanley was part of that first group of trained technicians that came out of Brooke General Hospital, now the Brooke Army Medical Center.

He later became a landscaper and would have rather been in the Fort’s green houses than doing what they had him trained and training others to do but he was there for more than 18 months and tells his experience through his letters.

I would like to eventually publish the whole thing and so reserve the right to do this.
The timing may not be right and there may be more psychology involved here than little ole me can handle. When the time is right, maybe… we’ll see… right now… the tedious task of transcribing is daunting and I am not looking forward to it…
So here goes nothing…