Remembering

William and I are studying Twentieth Century History this year.  I never let my kids study history alone, because I have fallen in love with it and want to learn what they are learning.  Ever since we studied the Middle Ages way back when, I knew that my opinion of history had changed.  I guess it's different when you are reading great books...biographies, non-fiction, historical fiction...rather than a few paragraphs in a stale history book.

For the past couple months, we've learned about World War I and are now in the middle of World War II.  As we read and discuss, I think more and more about my Great-Grandpa Gunterman.  I remember him.  I remember his red brick home in town and his train tracks in the basement.  In fact, here are some that we found in the basement at the farmhouse before the demolition.

I remember that he called the crocheting that he did "crotcheting."  And I remember his little dog...I think it might have been a chihuahua.  He and his second wife, Belle (who I called Grandma Gunterman) always welcomed us warmly to their home.

I know some of his story.  I know that as a young boy, his family moved to the United States from Germany.  I think maybe in the third grade?  And I think that I remember hearing that he had to start school over in kindergarten or the first grade so that he could learn to speak English.  These memories are cloudy, so I think that they are conversations that I overheard as a kid.  I really wish that I had known to ask more questions.  Isn't it sad that we don't think to ask these questions when we're young?  And then, when we are older and are really interested in the stories, the ones who could tell us the most are gone.

Here is a picture that Grandma left with me of her "Mother and Daddy"...my Great-Grandpa and Grandma Gunterman.

And here are a couple pictures that I found at Dad's house.  I took pictures of the pictures.

Four generations...I'm the baby.

Another four generations picture.  This time I think that my brother Rob is the baby.

 I look at these pictures and long to talk to the people in them.  Great-Grandpa Gunterman and my Grandma are gone now, but I still have Dad and his brother, my Uncle Rick.  I'm hoping that they have some memories to share with me.  So...if you're reading this Dad and Uncle Rick, jot down the things that you remember about Grandpa Gunterman...historical and personal.  I'm going to be asking.

You Make Me Smile

He cracks me up, this six-year old of mine.

He gets his words mixed up and sometimes can't think of the ones he wants, but he laughs right through it, usually making faces while he laughs.

There are things that he says that I want to remember.  Things that he says that I want to hold tightly to, because I know that one day, he won't say things the way he does now.

Like last Saturday when we were heading to his Upward game, and I asked the kids if they were going to have fun playing with their cousins.  He said, "My what?! My cuddlins?  What's a cuddlin?"

Or a couple weeks ago when he was practicing his Bible verse and he said, "Rejoice in the Loid always!"  And without missing a beat, he said, "Did you hear that?  I said 'Loid" instead of 'Lord!'  Just like Bugs Bunny says it!"

Yesterday we were reading "Twenty and Ten."  The kids in the book were playing a game called "Flight into Egypt."  He asked me if they took a plane, and I said, "No.  They would have walked.  Or maybe ridden a donkey."  He said, "Or ride a hump!  I mean...a camel!"

And we laughed.

That's one of the many things I love about him.
He lets me laugh.
He lets me join in his fun without thinking that I'm making fun.
He lets me laugh until I cry from the pure joy of his sweetness and innocence.

Someday the world will try to knock the innocence right out of him.
But I hope not.
Fight it, Buddy.
And laugh while you fight.
Make faces too.  Those always help.