Looking up!
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
For 60 years my mother has been gone from Ramona, the place of her birth. Being gone for so long, while the years flew by too quickly, brings up names from the past. Almost all of these people she knew in her youth are long gone. "Who influenced you the most when you were young?" I asked my mother, "other than family members," I added. "Who did you look up to?"
"Oh, it was Mrs. Lundsway," my mother said. "Did I ever tell you about her? I'll never forget her. She and her husband lived near us on the farm and they used to come over regularly to play games with us kids." It seems that Mr. and Mrs. Lundsway had no children of their own and so they'd visit the Schubert household with kids to spare — nine of them — and play Rook. "I don't remember my parents playing with us, just the Lundsways. We had a great old time with them."
Mrs. Lundsway, dead I'm sure for many years, is still remembered fondly as one of those persons who made a huge impact on another person's life. She'd probably be shocked to know her name was repeated on a chilly fall morning, 2002, and amazed to discover that out of all the grown-ups Mom knew as a child, Mrs. Lundsway was head and shoulders above them all. And it was such a simple thing she'd done — playing a game of Rook with some topsy-turvy kids.
In my own life, one of those influential grown-ups was a man named Irvin Imler. Another couple without kids of their own, Irvin and Toledo took delight in entertaining the teens from our local church. I loved horses and Irvin had a horse. I wanted to be a cowboy and Irvin gave me a much-used western shirt to wear. I idealized the man, looked up to him and his wife. When other girls my age were chasing boys, I was delightedly chasing his horse around the field. He fanned the dream I had to someday own a horse of my own. So far as he was concerned, they'd done nothing extra-ordinary. "We just paid a little attention to a gangly girl," he teased, years later. "No big deal." And yet I'll never forget them.
I stood in the early morning chill today, listening to some men in their late 70s talking about a man who had influenced their lives over 50 years ago. They were talking about Father Emil Kapaun from Pilsen, the legendary army chaplain who died in a POW camp in 1951. They looked up to him. He's known now as a hero to so many soldiers, but I've a hunch that Father would be a little surprised at all the notoriety and a little embarrassed and shy about the heroic part. After all, he didn't do anything special, so far as he was concerned. He'd just done his job, taking care of the boys within reach. And he did simple things for these young soldiers, most of whom were still in their teens. He'd stop by a foxhole on the front lines to say a prayer or tell a joke. He'd scavenge for fruit in war-torn orchards or bring a bit of news. He's been dead since 1951 and here we stood in 2002 talking about him. "He changed my life," said Herbert Miller, "more than that, he SAVED my life."
So, my friends, it's another day in the country and you just never know what might happen today. You just never know what kind of memorable event will occur that will have someone saying your name long after you are gone. It could be a game of Rook, a second-hand cowboy shirt, a word of encouragement, or even a good joke.
I just got this quote this Tuesday morning from my friend Betty. It fits our topic: "We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by those moments that take our breath."
