Gene and I had polio at the same time in the summer of 1943. We caught it at Lake Cormorant, where we were visiting my parents' friends' cottage, and we got our milk straight from the cows. I might have been spared a worse case because I refused to drink the unpasteurized milk, which had a very strong taste. Gene was being the brave older brother and slugging his milk down with relish. As a consequence, he had a much worse case of polio than I did, and afterwards, he had to have surgery so he could stand up straight. He would have been my tallest brother, but after the polio, he was the shortest.
He was in the hospital much longer than I was, and he missed a lot of school. Finally, the telephone company rigged up a microphone in his classroom at school. He listened in on a radio at home and kept up with the others in his grade. He was very smart--as were/are all of my brothers--and he went on to get a degree in administrative engineering at NDAC (now NDSU), which was one of their most difficult offerings. It was like 3 or 4 engineering degrees in one--architectural, mechanical, electrical, et al.
We had our sibling rivalries as children--he was the youngest boy, very cute, and the pet pig before I came along and ruined his gig. I was a supreme example of the pesty younger sibling: I found all his love letters hidden in various places in his closet when he was in college and still at home. And one night, when I thought he wasn't home and was removing the radio from his bookcase so I could take it to my room, he burst out of the closet and scared me senseless. (He said afterward he felt bad because I got white as a sheet.) But he also taught me how to drive after my grandfather Dwyer died and we got a car, and he let me use his golf clubs.
Gene and his late wife, Helen, produced three beautiful children: Tom, a lawyer in California; Anne Dwyer Tranvik, a housewife in Minnesota; and Jim, a pilot for one of the major airlines.
He loved the woods, and when he retired, he moved near the coast of Oregon. He loved to bake his own bread--shades of our grandfather Redder, who was a baker in Germany before emigrating to Iowa. Rest in peace, Gene.
In paradisum deducant te angeli."
In tuo adventu, suscipiant te Martyres
et perducant te in Civitatem Sanctam Jerusalem
Chorus Angelorum te suscipiat,
et cum Lazaro, quondam paupere,
aeternam habeas requiem.
I'm sorry about your loss. As much as it may be at odds with the sadness of losing a dear sibling, I wish you a Happy Birthday.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Diana....
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry for you and your family's loss.
ReplyDeleteAnd Happy Birthday!!!!
(It's also my son's birthday!!!)
Thanks, Kay....so it's your son, Woody Allen, Bette Middler, and me sharing the grand day!
ReplyDeleteHe sounds like a grand boy. I sent my birthday wishes on FB. Here, please accept my condolences.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Nance. He was a grand boy
ReplyDeleteXE--Celebrating another year of life just won't be the same, now; but, pax vobiscum.
ReplyDeleteCop Car
Cop Car: et cum spiritu tuo....
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry that Uncle Gene is gone. Hope you get to speak to Tom soon about the arrangements. Happy Birthday too! XXX Peg
ReplyDeleteSorry for your loss. Thanks for sharing your memories. Glad you both survived the polio scourge.
ReplyDeleteI'm reminded of the shock my high school classmates and I had when our popular young teacher contracted a polio virulent form which suddenly took her life one summer. I recall drinking unpasteurized cow milk for many years (much of my young life -- often with cream separated) and how difficult it was to adapt to flavorless commercial pasteurized.
Belated happy birthday wishes to you.
Gene is my hero. He lived with the after-effects of polio from the time he was about 14 until he died at age 82. when they brought him to the hospital for his final hours, he ripped the IVs out of his arms and refused all medications except for a bit of painkiller. he knew when he was licked, and he met it face on. his children were there when he died his peaceful death even though they'd suffered from his temper. what more could anyone want?
ReplyDeletejoared: if you've ever eaten chicken raised in your back yard, or venison from deer that grazed on grass and wheat, or ducks and pheasants shot on the wing, you know that what we get in the stores now tastes like the wrappings--the plastic trays and the shrinkwrap. i'm sure you loved the unpasteurized milk. Sorry that i couldn't stand it (though it was my first time having it warm from the cow). we did have milk delivered from our local dairy, though, and my mother always let the cream rise to the top. she skimmed it off and whipped it instead of cream. it was glorious.
ReplyDeleteMy sincerest sympathy, Mary Ellen. So sorry to hear this.
ReplyDeleteIt was so nice to read about your memories of Gene. Think about coming to the memorial picnic in June! The D.N.
ReplyDelete