"The Jingle Bell Bum" (Read The Touching True Story...please!) Comment at patriciahanrion.com

"The Jingle Bell Bum" (Read The Touching True Story...please!) Comment at patriciahanrion.com
Still available on Amazon for Nook and Kindle, hard copy booklett to re-print November 2013

Friday, September 22, 2023

Naked Came the Bruce"


  I guess as we get older lots of things about us change                                                   Like how we look and how we think, and we get mighty strange.                                              

 I've noticed as my days and years quickly pass me by                                                           Some things about my generation leaves me to shrug and sigh.  

 The eyes for most are the first to go and with that a Fashion sense                                      and if you make a small comment, you are met with impudence.                              

"That stuff you're wearing does not match," you mention to a friend                                    "The red and orange with that pink, it does not match or blend."

"You mind your manners," you are told, "I am the one who knows.                                       "I've been on this here earth much longer than any Joe Blow"

The Smell and taste and next to go and follows really fast                                                    So enjoy your food while you are young, for it isn't gonna' last.

But the ones who lose their modesty have really gone too far,                                        Cuz naked folks ain't pretty when their teeth are in a jar 

 "It shore is hot," Bruce said to me as he greeted at the door,                                           He reminded me of the story of the foolish Emperor. 

 "Come on in," he beckoned, just like nothing was amiss                                                      He seemed to take no notice of his bare butt nakedness

 So, I went on in and sat right down yet kept my eyes averted                                               Then we talked about the recent news and other things we'd read

He wiped his brow and settled in on his couch of Naugahyde                                              I wondered how to make a running break for the safety of outside

Then later as I pondered life and all that it can bring                                                    I know that for a certainty, I beg you do this thing

  "GET OUT THAT GUN AND SHOOT ME QUICK." if I wander in my skin                       CUZ "it ain't pretty...not one bit, not even if it's kin!"


Yes, this really happened!                    P.A. Hanrion







 

Monday, September 18, 2023

The Book of Ruth: Part 3

We were fortunate, Papa had a steady work because very few people had regular jobs. Lucky for us everyone used the train to get to work. To own a car was not a common thing. We knew of one neighbor who had ordered a car and every few months went to the auto regulation board. He wanted to check if the car he had ordered, (and paid for), was going to be available any time soon. After waiting for several years, he was told once again, “Not yet,” He was so frustrated he growled at the clerk, “I’ve been waiting, years. When my car finally arrives, you should send it to the cemetery because that’s where I’ll be…in the ground.”

Someone came up with a creative way to get a car that worked for a while. A family member ordered a car for a child soon after the birth. That way by the time he or she could legally drive, the car might be ready. I was told, “The plan worked for a few years until the government discovered the scheme. They stopped anyone who was not of legal driving age from registering for an automobile.

Part III. Bombs Dropping 1945; 
By the time I was six years old I knew sirens meant trouble. As things got worse and the war escalated, we could see smoke in the distance and feel the ground shake. At night we covered our windows with black paper so our lights would not shine and draw attention to our city. My sisters showed me how to kneel and put my head down with my hands over my neck if I could not make it home to the safety of our basement.
Most houses in Weimar were made of concrete and the basement had thick walls. If we saw smoke, we ran inside our house and down the stairs we went. At night with the lights out, the basement was nothing but scary shadows. Adela would carry mother down the stairs, and we prayed she would not trip and drop her. We kept one of our chairs downstairs all the time to have it ready for Mother. Then we got the idea to carry her to the basement in the chair. It worked quite well, and we were proud of being strong enough to carry her downstairs. One time a boy tried to kiss Adela and she almost knocked him out with one punch. We told her she got her power because she always carried mother to the basement…and no one tried to kiss a Stevier girl for a very long time.”
Papa was gone for long periods of time driving the train and could not help us if the bombs came in the middle of the day. He was often gone for several days, and we were never sure where he was going or when he would be back. When he put extra clothing in a bag along with sandwiches, we knew we wouldn’t see him for a while.
Because of our standards, (not drinking or smoking) people quickly knew we were members of our church. Some shunned and teased us in school. As food got scarce, we found ways to stretch the little we had. But we had to be careful and did not want to be labeled, “Mormon thieves.” We were very cautious about taking useless things, garbage or trash. When we walked near the apple orchard, we wanted to make sure it didn’t look like we were stealing fruit. My sister Burga said, “If someone is eating an apple and throws it away then it is garbage, and you can have it. But do not take an apple from the ground under a tree. That apple still belongs to the owner of the orchard.” My sisters and I would retrieve a core from the ground, when we knew it had been discarded; then we could eat it. “I always hoped there was a lot left of the apple.”
We made sure we asked permission from a farmer to glean the unpicked sheaves for grain. Those that were left after the thresher had cut the crop. We went to the plowed fields and gathered what was missed or not picked up by a thresher. We took the sheaves that still had a small number of kernels of grain on the stalk. After we took it home, we picked out the kernels of grain and ground it into flour with the small hand crank grinder. We took turns cranking and cracking the grain into a rough flour dust. We would bake the flour with yeast, water, and a spoon of molasses. We always wanted to have bread for the missionaries who came to dinner. Part IV. The End of War, the beginning of oppression As the war came to an end in 1945, a pair of Allied peace conferences at Yalta and Potsdam determined the fate of Germany’s territories and Poland. They split the defeated nation into four “allied occupation zones”: The Eastern part of the country went to the Soviet Union while the western part went to the United States, Great Britain and (eventually) France. 1945 February 1, Raids destroyed Dresden including most of the Latter day Saint Altstadt Branch Chapel building. Eventually It was partially repaired and converted to a dormitory for hundreds of homeless. There was no electricity and you had to walk 2 Kilometers for water. The Altstadt branch of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints had been in continuous operation since 1855. But after surrender, members were isolated in the East.


1947; Ruth told me, "When I turned eight and was getting ready to be baptized my grandparents told me they wanted to adopt me. I had always called my grandparents Mommy and Papa, and my aunts had become my sisters so when we talked about having them adopt me, I knew it was the right thing to do.


My actual father had been gone since before was born, and I never knew my birth mother. "My grandparents were my parents in every way. The adoption paperwork took a long time to get approved because by then government offices were busy with new forms to fill out. New leadership was in place with many new rules to be followed. My parents were worried that I would be taken from them because they had no birth certificate or papers saying "I was their daughter." We were all relieved and very happy when the final papers were approved and signed." Momma told me, "Eventually I want our family to be sealed in the temple for time and all eternity so we can be together forever."

Post war posture increased; many things were forbidden including most religious services. Ruth reminisced often remembering her younger years. As a child I was only interested in seeing my friends and teachers. I felt safe with my family and was unaware of danger and how quickly things were changing. Mandates were made that people were forced to obey. We were to learn Russian, or pay a big fine, or worse. If you said anything against the rules, you were punished, or you simply disappeared."

"It was not until my friend, Gisla Wolf, who was a few grades above me, was punished by her teacher, Mrs. Shiller for writing about God that I began to understand. I finally realized we were not free to worship as we believed or talk of Christ or Heavenly Father." Gisla was brought up in front of the class and admonished by her teacher, “There is no God and the only one to worship is the leader of our great new country.” My friend was then given a homework assignment to write “There is no God” five-hundred times. The next day she put her papers on the teacher’s desk and went to her seat. (I later learned her mother and grandmother had helped her write, “There is a God and Jesus Christ lives,” 500 times.)

"I was worried when recess time came, and my church friends gathered together to play. We had been on the playground for only a few minutes when the teacher stormed out of the school building and stomped over to where our group was playing. She grabbed Gisla by the arm. The teacher was shaking her and yelling, “How dare you disobey me. I tell you there is No God! And you have the nerve to write; There is a God and Jesus Christ, five-hundred times, instead of what I told you to do. Young lady, THERE IS NO GOD!” By now her face was dark red. She looked up and shook her fist at the sky. “Go ahead if you are really up there, then strike me dead where I stand. Do you hear meeeeeee.” AND then, she crumpled to the ground as dead as can be. We all stood staring at the teacher and were almost afraid to move. School officials ran out to the children crowded around and told us to go inside. I don’t remember what we did for the rest of the day, but I do know that before we went home everyone knew what had happened. The story circulated around to all the teachers and church members alike. Many had their faith in God strengthened. Best of all, teachers never again asked anyone to disavow a belief in God. 

The existence of West Berlin, a conspicuously capitalist city deep within communist East Germany, “Stuck like a bone” as Soviet leader Khrushchev put it. The Russians began maneuvering to drive the United States, Britain and France out of the city for good. In 1948, the Soviet blockade of West Berlin was aimed to starve the Western Allies out of the city. It was a stealthy way for Russia to get ahead in the Cold War. But instead of retreating, the United States and the Allies supplied their sectors of the city from the air.

This effort, known as the Berlin Airlift, lasted for more than a year and delivered more than 2.3 million tons of food, fuel and other goods to West Berlin. Ezra Taft Benson, at this time was a farmer, the Secretary of Agriculture and an Apostle. During the cold war he advocated help for the “Berliners.” Many members of the church donated to the project. There was a retired air force pilot known as The Latter-Day Saint Candy Bomber who dropped packages of treats that lifted the spirits of especially the children. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints members were major participants in supporting those that fought for democracy. By 1949; Church meetings were few in East Germany, and leadership of branches were taken over by older missionaries who were able to stay in the East. Most German young men were taken away to be indoctrinated in Russian Communism and to serve in the military. Some missionaries from Austria and Switzerland came on educational visas and lived with members to bring doctrine (books and manuals hidden in luggage) and provided leadership for small branches. However, most members were isolated. At first the border was not completely closed from the East to the West. Under Russian command watch towers were quickly built where men with guns guarded the crossing. They wanted to catch people who crossed without registering. In some places they began to put up wire fences with razor wire across the top. At other crossings you had to register and report to the office at the border. A traveler had to give information about their family. If that person did not return to the East withing three weeks their family was placed in jail by the Russian police. "I was filled with sadness when I realized that for my entire young life all I had known was war and fear. The only shining light was the gospel and the ability to sometimes meet with people who believed as I did. I was glad to know that Jesus Christ was my Savior. But those meetings with members who believed as I did, eventually stopped, and we were on our own.

"One day, Adelia, my oldest sister who was out of school and working in the railroad office. Bombs came down near the train station. After the planes were gone, I ran to the rail station and could not find her. We were all so worried. Then late that night, she made her way home and had a big bandage on her knee. She told us how she was hiding under a pile of debris. “An American soldier found me and took me to an aid station. He waited until I was treated and insisted that he bring me home. The soldier didn’t want me to walk on my hurt knee. When talking to him on the way home, He told me why they dropped bombs on our city." 

Ruth told me, "I didn’t care if an American soldier was nice to my sister. I was still angry at any American for the destruction of our beautiful little city. I could not figure out why the United States would do such a thing. I only wanted our family to be safe. I did not understand the war or why people had to die" Adelia told me the soldier defended their actions, "General Harris of the RAF gave the order to bomb the city and believed our city provided the workforce for the munitions factory on the outskirts of Weimer." Most citizens of Weimar didn't know of a munitions factory or that bombs were being manufactured just outside the city. Papa told me, "The workforce for this factory are not the residents of Weimar. The workers are provided by Buchenwald, the prisoners of the concentration camp near the edge of town."

Ruth learned later that, "Buchenwald was the first and largest concentration camp in Germany with more murder and death than any other. And I do not believe the people of Weimar knew about this prison of horror, or the atrocities that occurred almost right next door." Her voice was soft and she insisted. "If I had known what was happening right under my nose, I would have told everyone, and tried to get rid of such a horrible place myself.”

Ruth was a feisty small woman full of spirit and fire for what was right or wrong and spoke her mind without reservation. There was one Sunday Ruth felt ill and did not want to chance coming up to our apartment and risk getting us sick. She used her little I-Pad to tune into the broadcast of sacrament meeting that came from the Ward house we all attended. She was having difficulty joining the meeting and could see but she could not hear what anyone was saying. She started to fiddle with the buttons to try to get the pad to work and produce sound. After many attempts she was frustrated and began to use swear words as she tried again and again to get her computer to function. It was not long before our phone rang and it was the Bishop of the Waverly Ward asking us to go upstairs and help Ruth, because although she could not get sound, she was sending her sound and her salty words over to the ward meeting house. The missionaries had tried to fix the problem at the church site, but discovered it had to be fixed from her device. My husband Patrick ran up the stairs and was able to show her how to see and hear without sending her sound to the other side of the broadcast. She quickly remarked that she had used "pirate words" to try and coax her device to cooperate!


                                               We Can Survive Tragedy with Faith

Looking back can often take your breath away, when you realize what you have endured. Before our youngest son's accident we had managed to make it through other difficult situations. One with our daughter, who we discovered had been attacked and then threatened with harm to her family if she sought help or told anyone.  She left to college without telling us what had happened. At the time Patrick was serving as the Bishop of our congregation and when she finally told us what had happened, I worried more about him trying to find the perpetrator. When he came home late from a church meeting, I checked the guns.

 The sadness finally faded a little  bit when a friend in the FBI found the perpetrator was in jail and would be there for a very long time.  I  remember asking the Lord for strength and asking Why? Why when we have been striving to live the gospel and sacrificing, "Why are we having to suffer such a trial?" I got an immediate answer, It was not a lightening bolt that hit me and left a scar like Harry Potter. No that did not happen, but as soon as I asked the question, I was filled with such a peace that my knees felt weak and I dropped down to hear a voice in my head. "If you keep my commandments ye shall not fear." My eyes filled with tears and I felt like I was wrapped in a warm blanket of comfort.

 A few years later when my much too young husband had a heart attack. He had been home from the hospital after open heart triple by-pass surgery for only a few weeks; We took a walk down the sidewalk in front of our house. He struggled to make it past a few houses before needing to turn back.  And I wanted to cry but without even asking a question, I felt that warm comfort wrap around me and I was filled with the peace of knowing he would heal. And we would be able to move on to another part of our life together.

Then came the tragedy of our youngest child's accident and not knowing if he would live or die. This tested us again, to trust and have faith. He became the boy who lived; not like Harry Potter, (but he has plenty of scars.) We watched him slowly heal and become a kind and caring man with a beautiful wife and three boys of his own. Since then we have been able to help other parents who had to say goodbye to a loved one all too soon; we understand the pain they feel.

 A monkey wrench of life landed once again with an aneurism at the top of Patricks' well worn heart and we dodged that one too.  Yet sadly, I can see the end of our puzzle, the story told. I hide the last piece of our puzzle so I can be the one who ends the picture and then others can hold it up and see our journey, our love, our struggles and yes, that we tried as weak mortals do, to keep our end of the contract, so we can be together with those we love for eternity.