My Autumn Reverie (A Serenity Prayer)

            

I went for a walk this morning.  The October sun had only recently risen but a few cups of coffee had already motivated me to get out and greet the day.  There is nothing like an autumn morning to inspire a sense of reverie as the quiet sounds of nature provide a haven of protection from all the cares of the world.  On my path, the sun reverently glistened through the stately trees as their leaves of crimson and gold rained down like blessings from above.  Suddenly, a far off woodpecker stifled the serene sounds of silence, and I noticed a blue jay flutter by me -- probably contemplating whether or not he should pursue someplace warmer -- but perhaps he wasn't quite ready to make a change.  I understand his plight.  

I attended a growth mindset training about a month ago where they provided us with a template to compile our goals and action plans for the future, and they instructed us to write down our life sentence.  I have been pondering the concept of my life sentence ever since and have finally settled on the Serenity Prayer.  “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”  It is a common saying and can be found many places, but I first heard these words many years ago when my father went into treatment for alcoholism.  I was quite young then and I didn’t fully understand their meaning or realize how much truth and sapience the words actually contained.  As my age continues to reluctantly yet promptly climb toward the half century mark, I have witnessed my share of changes …. that of love and loss, growth and setbacks; changes I pursued and other life events that occurred without my permission.   Throughout the years, I have celebrated and/or grieved each change that I encountered and I patiently learned to navigate my way through each one.  In recent years, after more than 20 years of being a parent, transitions and adjustments have become household words as the winds of change wisped through our lives leaving me still writhing just a bit in their wake.  Serenity and acceptance, courage and change, with wisdom.  These words have been milling around in my mind a lot these days.  Sometimes I embrace them clearly while sipping coffee at sunrise or while strolling down a walking trail on a glorious sunny day like today;  yet other times they try to command my attention in the dead of night contorting and consuming my thoughts with strings of “what if’s” and “what now’s”, “why’s and  “why nots”  usually regarding things I can’t possibly control or that are even mine to do so.

The words are much more friendly in the early morning hours and it is then that I prefer to listen to their advice.  Wisdom reminds me that life is a continual process of change, a series of big and little moments from birth to death for every living being; and it’s okay that we are all changing and even growing older.  As the sun begins to set on the first half of my life, Serenity graciously reveals all that I have to be grateful for and she brings me comfort, peace and pride in my memories of a job well done.  At the same time, she reminds me that the sun is also beginning to rise on a bright future filled with new and exciting unknowns, for both our children as they spread their wings into adulthood and also for my husband and I as the fresh autumn air fills our lungs for this next season of our lives.  Sometimes I still find myself clinging to the fresh and easy days of summers past, but Wisdom then reminds me that if we cling too hard to the memories of summer, we can miss the colorful beauty of an autumn landscape as it transforms right before our eyes.   

Autumn has always been my favorite time of year and some of my favorite memories occurred in the fall.  When the kids were young, one of our favorite past times was playing in the leaves in the back yard, raking them into piles and then leaping and diving into the mounds of bliss.  I can still hear their childish giggles as they would play in the leaves.  “Soft or crunchy?” one would ask the other while holding a fallen leaf in their hand.  “Crunchy” the other might respond, awaiting the verdict as the leaf was squeezed into pieces left with careless abandon for yet another.   

“Soft or crunchy?” I ask myself as I reach down for a nearby leaf.  With memories rushing in, I continue to dream of the playful years gone by – but I am also drawn to dreams of the future – and even the potential for grandkids to someday share in these autumn traditions.  (Not too soon though – not quite yet 😉.)  I wonder what the coming season and years will hold.  As I walk along, I come upon a random pile of leaves, blown or raked together and then abandoned, and I can’t help but give in to the urge.  I look around for but a moment and then allow myself to fall back, arms out wide, into the colorful heap.  My body hits the ground a little harder than it used to, but I am at peace … “Que sera, sera … what will be, will be” …

I am not sure that was such a good idea as I struggle to get myself back up …      

Courage.  I often hear from Courage too.  She likes to nudge me from my day dreams, inspire me to pursue the things she knows I am worthy of, and advise me on what to do next.  She can be pretty convincing when I listen; but Fear, of course, tends to argue.  Luckily, Fear’s credibility continues to weaken as each year goes by.   

What is Courage saying to YOU?  Let’s take a moment to listen.  What is YOUR life sentence?  What do YOU need to accept in order to move on?  It doesn’t matter what life stage you are in.  Perhaps you are in your 20’s or even 30’s with limitless possibilities at your fingertips but you’re not quite sure which path to choose.  Go ahead and take that first step – there is no wrong choice, it’s just yours to decide.  Perhaps you have found yourself at midlife.  Has a divorce or other trying event rendered you exhausted, perhaps at rock bottom, looking for a fresh start?  Have your children left you with an empty nest, extra time on your hands, and a confused sense of purpose?  Have you found your passion?  Or is it still out there?  Perhaps you have entered retirement – no better time than the present to go after those dreams.  Perhaps you feel your age is closing in on your final years on this earth.  You are not done yet.  Remember, there are still those who want to hear your story, learn from your wisdom and share in your love. 

Our time is now! 

May God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference.  

Savor the Good - Let Go of the Rest

Nearly 23 years have gone by since I first became a mother.  I remember that day well … and yet I don’t.  I remember bits and pieces – the fact that I was rushed by ambulance to Mayo Clinic because I had pre-eclampsia and the fact that my husband drove an hour through dense fog with my parents, probably under a great deal of stress with concern for both me and our unborn child.  I remember that our first child, a son, was born at 10:03 pm the following night.  I vividly remember his innocent blue eyes, filled with adoring bewilderment, gazing up at me from the swaddled comfort of his blanket; and I remember my own awe, wondering who he was and who he would someday become.  I also recall a twinge of anxiety knowing that being a mother would be the most important (and rewarding) job I would ever have in this life.  But I don’t remember the pain – drugs may have helped – but one way or another the joys of motherhood overshadowed and lured me back in a few years later with the birth of our second and youngest child, a daughter, who would steal our hearts forever and make our family complete. 

I vowed from very early on that I would give motherhood my all, I would remember every moment, and my goal was to make memories for my children that would last for a lifetime.  I’ve spent the majority of the years devoting my time, aiming to be present, soaking up every moment and savoring every detail.  Throughout the years, we made a plethora of memories – living everyday moments, sharing family meals, playing games and going on Sunday drives.  We made holiday traditions and enjoyed annual family vacations.  My husband and I attended nearly every event, game and concert and witnessed the milestones.  I’ve always been well aware that children are only young for a fleeting moment and the years are gone in the blink of an eye.  The joys of motherhood are forever engrained in my heart – the sweet scent of infancy, the pitter patter of toddler feet, the urgency of little arms wrapped around my neck, the sensation of their soft heads against my cheek while I read them a story, and the warmth of their bodies nestled in my arms as they fell asleep at night.  Like all mothers, some of the day-to-day details seem to have escaped my memory, but they are still there – patiently waiting at the tip of my senses, continually bringing me back from time to time.  Stories shared in laughter or particular sights, smells or sounds tenderly expose glimpses of years gone by.  The smell of fresh air breathes life into images of their middle years as they ran inside after playing with neighborhood friends.  The slam of a car door renders my relief from their teenage years of knowing they were safe under my roof once again.  A walk around our house, yard or neighborhood tends to send my memories dancing like childlike spirits wanting to come out to play.    

After all these years, I’ve forgotten some of the pieces that were not so perfectly fit to remember.  I’ve given in to the fact that our house was far less than immaculate, my cooking skills were lacking (a lot), and my voice may have raised in anger more times than I care to admit.  Despite my best efforts, there were still some moments of exhaustion, of busyness and haste, a few failures, tears and mistakes.  But I don’t recall what could have made me raise my voice, and I’ve no idea what “to-do” could have been worth keeping busy.  Somehow, I’ve mostly forgotten the less than pleasant moments, and I hope my kids have done the same.  Although in jest, they lovingly won’t let me forget the time I ran over my son’s favorite dump truck in the driveway or the time I forgot to send my daughter’s snow pants to school one wintery day.  But in my mind, this just shows we have connection, share a history and can find humor in the memories we share.  In the end, I can only hope that their childhood memories are outnumbered with moments of happiness and laughter and with feelings of contentment, encouragement and love.

I believe it was Maya Angelou who once said "People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did ... but people will never forget how you made them feel."  So my advice to young mothers is this - if you’re doing your best, then mamas, don’t worry.  Savor the good and let go of the rest.  Be present with your children but go easy on yourself.  Give them your time, your attention and your love.  Provide them with comfort and security.  Encourage them and assure they never forget they are enough, they are worth it, and they are loved.  

We recently moved our son to a new city to start his full-time career and our daughter headed off to college again this fall.  Together, we made additional family memories while planning and organizing, packing and moving.  As each of our children begin to spread their wings, I fear that I have forgotten something … did they pack all they need, will they have enough to eat?  More importantly, did I teach them enough through the years - did I give the right advice?  Will they call me if they need me?  Did I provide them with deep rooted memories and love - enough to carry along into their futures and last throughout their lifetimes?  I hope they mostly remember the good, like I do.  I hope I made them feel special, safe and secure ... and I hope they never forget how much they were (and always will be) loved. 

World War II Veteran, Jerome J. Einck, Celebrates His 100th Birthday on June 6, the 75th Anniversary of D-Day

Following is the article that I wrote on my Grandpa, Jerome J. Einck.  It was published in the Decorah Newspapers today, June 6, 2019 on his 100th Birthday:

By Kendra Kleve (Jerome’s granddaughter)

June 6, 2019 is a historical day worldwide, as it marks the 75^th anniversary of the Invasion of Normandy, also known as “D-Day”, a critical turning point in World War II.  For World War II Veteran, Jerome J. Einck and his family, it is an extra special day as they celebrate Jerome’s 100^th birthday.   

D-Day on Omaha Beach

Jerome Einck served in the U.S. Army assigned to the 967th Quartermaster Service Company attached to the 6th Engineer Brigade, a special unit formed to land early at Omaha Beach in Normandy, France on D-Day in June 1944.  On the morning of his 25^th birthday, Jerome was among the soldiers crossing the English Channel on a cargo ship carrying tons of ammunition to Omaha Beach.  Their job was to bring the ammunition off the ship for the invasion; however, due to the condition of the sea and the approaching gunfire, they were forced to debark further from the shore than desired, and the cargo was loaded onto DUKWs (amphibious boats) to be brought onto the beach.  Jerome recalls unloading the supplies while under fire.  This was especially dangerous since the ship was at risk of a major explosion due to the large amount of ammunition they were carrying.  All around him, allied troops fired at the German soldiers while they retaliated from their pillboxes or cement bunkers.  Jerome comments that the pillboxes were very well made; therefore, the rangers had to get up close to destroy them with grenades.  “I remember so much noise, and everyone was scared to death” Jerome explains, and he still can’t believe how lucky he was as so many young men were severely injured, crippled for life, or lost their lives.  Records indicate that Omaha Beach was the deadliest of the five beaches with over 2,000 casualties.

Jerome arrived onto the beach as the fighting ensued and landmines still lurked underground.  Soldiers, including Jerome, were without sleep for up to three days as they fought their way up the beach in the rain.  They dug fox holes and attempted to sleep in them as the fighting and rain both persisted; and although they covered the holes with tarps, they still got wet.  Jerome recalls waking one morning in a fox hole to find a lizard on his stomach staring him in the eye.  They ate food rations and eventually slept in tents (4-6 men in each tent) when the conflict began to quiet.  Once they took a stronghold of the area, they were finally able to gather the deceased soldiers, placing them in bags and burying them in trenches.  Jerome describes it as “the biggest disaster you’ve ever seen!”  He recalls having to walk past the bodies, noticing that they all seemed to have photographs of their loved ones lying next to them.  He still wonders if the men had been looking at their photographs as they died or if someone had come along and laid them out for them.     

Like many soldiers, Jerome has vivid memories of that day and his time in the war, but he does not share those memories easily – his family has had to piece together his story from the fragments he has imparted throughout the years; though he recently commented “I thought I would never forget, but now some details are just gone – maybe that is a good thing.”

Life Leading up to the War and After

Jerome was born on a farm near Castalia, IA, the youngest of four children born to Bernard (Ben) and Julia (Doerr) Einck.  He attended country school near his home, and he also recalls attending school in the town of Castalia for a while, where he thought nothing of the long walk to school every day.  Due to his mother’s ill-health, Jerome and his parents moved to Ossian, where his mother passed away when Jerome was 14.  He quit school after 9^th grade and they moved back to their family farm near Castalia where Jerome continued to work until the land was sold about the same time that the army was looking for men to fight the war.     

Jerome was drafted into the army in May 1943, reporting to Camp Dodge in Des Moines, IA before traveling by train to Fort Warren in Cheyenne, Wyoming where he went through basic training.  At Fort Warren, the new soldiers spent time at rifle ranges and built up endurance by hiking and camping in the mountains.  In an attempt to ease their anxieties, they were entertained by actor/comedian, Mickey Rooney.  Joe Louis, the heavy weight champion at that time, also put on a show for them.  After basic training, Jerome was sent to motor maintenance school for eight weeks until he was sent by train to New Jersey where he waited to be shipped to England.  Their troopship set sail for England in March 1944, surrounded by destroyers for protection.  Although the ship was huge, the waves were rough, and Jerome illustrates it as “jumping around like a little toy ship in the ocean.”  Everyone was seasick, not only from the turbulent waves but also from the smell of paint, as the ship had been freshly painted on the inside.  Jerome recalls eating meals and notes that they had to stand up and hold onto their plates to keep the food from sliding away.  At night, they slept in hammock-type cots in bunk-bed style down below.   When they arrived in England, they stayed in private homes throughout the town and met each night to eat supper together.  Jerome continued his training in England, practicing boat maneuvers for a week at a time, until June 5^th – the day they had originally planned as D-Day – but they were delayed by storms until June 6^th.  For a few days before the attack, they were kept in confinement so they couldn’t accidently leak information to the Germans.

 After the invasion, Jerome continued his tour of duty in France and eventually stood guard over critical areas during the final months of conflict.  He recalls spending Christmas there and giving some of his rations to the kids in the town.  Rations included soap, candy and cigarettes and they were paid just $50 per month by the army.  The first year after the invasion, Jerome and his company moved to Belgium where Jerome worked as an honor guard at Henri-Chapelle American Cemetery.  The bodies of the fallen soldiers had been removed from war-torn areas and laid there to rest.  Jerome recalls looking at the names of the soldiers while he was there.  The men in his company were like brothers to him and he has quite a few stories of his time with them.  While in Antwerp, Belgium, Jerome was also assigned to work as a telephone operator.  He alternated day and night shifts with the other soldiers spending his occasional time off swimming in a pool near the large house that the army provided for them to live.  He recalls sleeping on mattresses filled with straw from area farmers.  He admits that he hardly had time to feel homesick except when he first went into the army and again when the war was over and he was waiting for his turn to go home.

Returning Home.  A Love Story and Family Life on the Farm

Jerome returned home on February 4, 1946.  He points out that it only took them around 10 days to get to Europe, but it took them 24 days to get back as their ship, the “George Shiras”, was rerouted due to storms and they ended up having to stop at the Azores Islands to refuel.  When he was discharged from the army, Jerome took a train from New York back to Cedar Rapids, IA where he got off at the bus station.  There, he waited until morning when he could contact his soon-to-be-wife, Norma (Koch), who was living in Cedar Rapids and working at Rockwell Collins for the duration of the war.  She immediately quit her job and the two of them headed home together to Ossian, IA.  The young couple was eager to marry but Lent was coming soon and the Catholic Church did not allow weddings to be performed during Lent.  Therefore, the couple quickly planned their wedding and they were married just weeks later on February 28, 1946.  They did not have time or money for lavish wedding attire, so Norma wore an aqua suit and Jerome purchased a wool suit which was the only one he could find at the time.  They exchanged private wedding vows on a wintery morning and celebrated with lunch at the Green Parrot in Decorah and a reception after at Norma’s family’s farm.  Since Jerome did not own a car yet, friends drove them to a hotel in Oelwein, IA where they spent their honeymoon.  If you would ask Jerome, he would tell you that the love of his now wife, Norma, is what got him through the tragic days of war.  He carried her photograph with him throughout his years as a soldier and he continues to carry it in his wallet yet today, proudly displaying the now-tattered photo for family from time to time.  He says he looked forward to her letters, which she sent daily and spritzed with her favorite perfume.  He tried to return her letters when he could, via V-Mail, which the army censored by blacking out any information they viewed as confidential.      

    Jerome and Norma spent the next several years farming and raising a family together.  They started out living with Jerome’s father until they could get back on their feet.  Jerome worked for a telephone company laying telephone wire underground and also helped his sister and her husband farm.  Their first daughter, Sandra (Thuente), was born in April 1947.  Shortly thereafter, they heard about a farmer north of Decorah looking for someone to run their land.  Jerome’s brother-in-law allowed him to use his machinery, in return for labor, so he could rent the farm on half with the owner.  Jerome credits the help of his sister and brother-in-law as being vital to their future in farming.  During the first months renting this farm, they lived in a small, previously abandoned house nearby, paying just $5 a month in rent.  They have fond memories of that little house even though it was nothing fancy and did not have running water or electricity.  Once the landowner got to know them, they invited the young couple to move in with them, allowing them to make their home in a few rooms of their house.  Their daughters, Annette (Bohr-Wiltgen) and Dianne (Trytten), were born during that time in 1949 and 1950.  Soon after, the family rented a farm west of Decorah where they remained until 1955 when they moved onto another farm, southwest of Decorah, which they would make their lifelong home.  There they raised pigs, beef cattle and chickens and milked cows.  Their fourth daughter, Linda (Ludwig), was born there in 1958.  They rented the land on half until 1974 when they purchased the farm as their own.  The couple continued to work hard and make memories there until 1998 when they retired to a home they purchased in Decorah where the two of them still make their home together today.  Their farm is now owned and run by one of their grandsons.  

In addition to their four daughters, Jerome and Norma have eight grandchildren and fifteen great grandchildren so far.  Throughout the years, Jerome has expressed that he hopes his grandchildren and great grandchildren never have to experience the tragedy of war. 

The family will be celebrating Jerome’s 100^th birthday with a private gathering the following weekend.