Christmastime

Christmastime.  You know ahead of time it's going to feel a little weird.  You expect it.  Maybe you're not sure how the weirdness will manifest, but you know it's coming and you'll just have to deal with being "off-balance".  Our Christmas Traditions have been involuntarily altered.

For me, it seems we kids spent a lifetime of Christmases trying to figure out what to get Mom and Dad.  How can we surprise them?  What would they need?  How do we sneak it in under the tree?  It was a team effort.  Always.  We would throw out ideas, bat them around, and eventually find the right gift that fit into everyone's budget AND was special enough to bear the crown of being THE Christmas Gift.  Whether it was a new computer, or television set, or a getaway trip to Santa Barbara it was always so much fun planning what to get them for Christmas.

 
And, Dad's birthday on Christmas Eve.  The get together was always at the house on Christmas Tree Lane.  (I think the main reason Mom bought that house was because of the address)  Even after Mom passed, Dad kept the Christmas Eve tradition.  The house always looked so nice with Mom's decorations and the fireplace warming the living room until you had to peel off some clothes and get comfortable.  We would have the big gift exchange to see who could steal the best gift from everyone else.  But before the Christmas festivities, we had to celebrate Mary and Dad's birthdays first. This year I can't tell you how many times I caught myself  thinking, "Better call Tom and see what we're getting Dad for Christmas."  Yeah, it's going to be weird.

It's time to move on, create new traditions.  They won't be much to begin with.  Traditions are kinda like trees you plant as saplings and over the years they grow and get stronger and bigger and have a few more branches added until they are so big and deeply rooted you don't think anything can ever bring them down.

Yeah, it will be weird, but the best thing about Christmas is that New Year's is right around the corner.  We can get 2012 behind us and look to a fresh beginning.

Merry Christmas

"Chuck" December 22, 2012

When I woke up today.. it was just one of those sad days..My dad has been gone for two months now.. and I was thinking..he should still be here, he wasn't ready to go. My cousin Lynne... Pan Am 103, 24 years ago, stunned at the very idea that this type of terrorism could hit so close to home. The shootings of small children in Connecticut What is happening? It turned my glum day into a bad day. Then I read a post I get every day from Whisper of God.. I was comforted... it reminded me that God doesn't always call us home, but he greets with open arms, none the less. And then came the email from my brother John... Charles Stephens (aka Chuck) had passed away. Who’s Charles Stephens, you ask? Well.. he is someone I knew only for about 6 weeks, but will remember always. He was a resident of Rosewood Care Center with my Dad. More than that however, he was funny, loving, and proposed to “every pretty girl I meet.” He gave us all wedding bands folded out of $1.00 bills. He said he thought it was likely around 40,000 (yes, you read that right) women he had proposed to, offering a hand folded ring, a smile and a twinkle in his eye. He made us all feel loved and special!


Chuck played music with Buck Owens and Merle Haggard. He loved writing songs and could make up a song on the fly about anything. He loved his guitar. But what I will remember him most fondly for was the encouragement he gave my dad during the last difficult days of physical therapy and the ‘laugh so hard I cried’ way he had of expressing his views on life. One particular day, Dad wasn’t feeling well physically, but mentally he was ready to take on the world. His therapist came to get him – and Chuck rolled into therapy with him. After putting Dad through an especially trying workout of maneuvering his legs, Dad sat back in his wheelchair exhausted. The PT asked Dad, “are you okay, Mr. Harrer?” to which Chuck came to Dad’s rescue with the response, “Well, he ain’t gonna wanna go squirrel huntin!” Well Chuck, I am comforted to know that you are up there with Dad, making him laugh and keeping him singing!! God Speed my friend. Thanks for all you shared with us. It was during some of our darkest hours that your light was bright! And we are grateful. Rest in peace! Love, All Bill’s kids!!

Family History - Dad's Dad

Agnes Harrer, Frank Harrer, Josephine Harrer

Growing up we had three grandparents.  Mom's mother and father from the old country (Armenia) and Grandma Harrer.  Grandpa Harrer, as the story was told, was a tinsmith.  While working in his garage one day with the engine on in his car, he was overcome with carbon monoxide, and passed away.  That was it.  The whole story, beginning, middle, and end.  Car, gas, dead.  Be careful.  Dad told us he was around 4 or 5 at the time and did not remember much.  Details were not sketchy, they were non existent.  We (the kids) accepted it for what it was and had no more questions.

In 2010, I sat down with Dad for a recorded conversation as part of an audio family history.  Many years had gone by since I asked him about Grandpa.  As it turns out, there IS a little more to the story.  Between what Dad told me during that conversation in 2010 and what some of the cousins related to me, here's how I understand the story.  I'm sure someone will add or correct some of the details listed here.  Feel free to do so.

We still don't know if Gramps "death" was accidental.  Dad was born in '23.  That means Grandpa died around 1929.  Without having an exact date on his "death", there's no way to know for sure that a tradesman with five hungry mouths to feed might have been feeling a little depressed with the economics of the era.  Giving up, however, is not a family trait.  Dad told me Grandpa possessed both a car and a truck, which might not directly point to affluence, but did not make it sound like they were paupers either.  In the late '20's I doubt if many people knew the dangers of carbon monoxide.  Heck, today many people don't know the dangers of carbon monoxide.  It could have been a cold day in Evanston, Illinois, and Grandpa could have been just trying to stay warm.  My verdict:  accidental.  Be careful.

The reason we do not have an exact "death" day is that the story has a twist.  Grandpa did not actually die from this incident.  It did leave him with some brain damage and, as was common for the time, he was admitted to an "asylum" or "sanitarium" for care.  The kids were just told that Dad had died.  Maybe they thought he would die or he should have died from the amount of poison.  We know now that this would not have been the only time a doctor underestimated the constitution of a Harrer.  Maybe it was just easier to tell the kids he had died.  I imagine life was tough enough growing up in Evanston without the stigma of having your father labeled insane.

According to Dad, when Grandma asked her mother-in-law, Great Grandma Harrer, for help, her response was to split up the kids in the family.  Grandma would have nothing to do with this plan and Great Grandma left her to fend for herself.  Stubborn folks there on Grandma's side of the family.  But stubborn served her well.  She did the best she could by running a boarding house and doing what ever jobs she could find.

Dad spent a good part of his life with no idea his father was still alive.  He found out when Uncle Frank (Dad's brother) came by our house in Pico Rivera (1950-1960) with Grandpa's life insurance policy and told Dad it was his turn to start paying the premium.  Dad was stunned.  He told me it came as a complete surprise.  Dad had received a secret clearance from the government in order to work on the space orbiter.  The government's background search had uncovered nothing unusual.    Dad also told me that he remembered that when Grandma got the notice that Grandpa had actually passed away, she went back to the funeral.

I found out recently, not sure from whom exactly, that Uncle Frank had to return home for a few weeks while he was in the service (during WWII no less) to take care of his father, who was causing some sort of problems back in Illinois.

In looking through some old street directories I found this listing for our grandparents on Washington Street.

1922 Evanston Street Directory
You can find Frank and Josephine's name listed  in the left  column