Happy Anniversary!

Today, September 30, 2011, would have been my parents 50th wedding anniversary.  They aren't here to celebrate it with us, Dad died in 2004 and Mom died in 2008.  Both died in the spring.  Dad was 72 when he died and Mom was 74 when she died.  Dad died of a stroke, Mom died of cancer.  But the #8 train wouldn't be looking for a track if it weren't for them...

My father, Ken, was born near Wabasso, Minnesota in 1932.  His father, Floyd, was the town drunk.  We can call it lots of things, but that's what my grandfather was.  He died before I was born.  The Schultz family ended up migrating northeast and settling enough so that Dad could go to high school in South Saint Paul.  His oldest brother, Don, was a high school drop out.  So Dad was the first in his family to graduate from high school.  Dad had three younger brothers:  Uncles Russ (my godfather), Rich (who died last year), and John (who had Downs' Syndrome and died when he was 60).

If you haven't figured it out yet, and there's no reason you should, I am the oldest of their children.  I have lots of memories of my father.  He was a phenomenal golfer (scratch, actually), a great swimmer, even knew how to throw a knuckleball as a pitcher.  And if I were a shrink (and my parents could afford me), I would have made a fortune on my father alone.  Because Dad also liked to drink.  When I was very young, he liked to drink a lot.  And he smoked.  Over three packs a day.  On January 1, 1981, Dad quit smoking.  In 1985, Dad (for the most part) quit drinking.  I graduated from high school in 1980. 

If you ‘google’ my father, there’s not much out there.  There should be.  My Dad was on the school board in South Saint Paul for 6 terms (my sister, Ann, is now on the same board).  He made a difference.  But Dad didn’t want anyone to know he made a difference.  School Board members always got a yearbook from the high school.  Dad gave it back and asked the principal to give it to a kid who couldn’t afford it.  Dad was elected to the board because a very conservative gentleman banned books in the library.  Dad didn’t think that was right, so he ran for the seat and won.  I don’t think he was on the board very long until the books were back.

He liked being behind the scenes, not being noticed, quietly supportive.  My siblings were all athletes.  Dad went to everything.  He sat there and watched.  He didn’t make his opinion or feeling known often, but when he did, you knew it mattered.  He cared about the participants, the coaches, the referees, he cared about everyone.

My mother, Mary, had the same feelings, but she was very different from Dad.  Mom was born in St. Paul in 1934.  Her parents were the grandparents my brothers and sister grew up with (which wasn’t hard, they only lived about a block away).  Mom was the oldest of three daughters and her sisters are still alive.  She also went to South Saint Paul for high school, then went over to South Dakota to nurse’s training at McKesson hospital in Sioux Falls.  She was a registered nurse.

That is until I was born in 1962.  Then she did what everyone did then, she became a full time Mom.  And that she was.  Mom was a full-blooded Irish Catholic mother.  We went to Mass, we went to confession, we said the rosary (most of the time), we did everything good Catholic families did.  Even after Dad converted in 1976 (he and I were confirmed together).  But then we started to be a little more critical of our church and began to think a little more about what it was teaching.  But that was OK, and I’ll save that for another blog.

Mom was always there.  She cooked, every day, for at least 9 people.  She baked, she cleaned, she did laundry, she smoked (even after she quit, the basement was great haven for one once in a while!), she yelled, and she supported and loved.  “I can’t keep anything decent in this house” was a fairly constant saying in our house, as was “if you can’t say anything decent, keep your mouth shut!” 

As we grew, so did Mom.  I think she broadened herself and read more.  She loved baseball (and the Twins).  She got a job at a plant store.  She had a heart attack (which she swore to me was more painful than childbirth, take note for a future blog entry!).  When Dad died, it was hard for her, but she did OK and moved out of the house we grew up in and was really just starting to love her new apartment when she was diagnosed with cancer.  She died about three months later.

My Mom and Dad loved their kids.  They loved their community.  And they loved each other.  It was fun watching them, because they were truly friends with each other.  And I miss them both.  I am sad they are gone and not here to help me with the train.  Because I am sure each of them would have an opinion.  And I would listen to each, and I would respect each.  Simply because I knew that those opinions were sourced in love.

I hope that as I ride this train that my opinions with my children are sourced in love as well.  Because the one thing that my parents made sure to pass on to theirs was a very simple message.  Love.