We had the opportunity to live in close proximity to him for quite a few years, and were fortunate to have his help in many ways. I remember as Andy and I were setting up housekeeping at the Dewey House in Brady’s Bend he gave cash to stock our pantry with the essentials. We also got a lot of help with gardening there as we had a large area to plant a garden. Those garden tips and techniques are still used these 30+ gardens later. I remember keeping one of his beagles there for a time.
When we moved to East Brady a few years later, I recall he and Andy paving our front sidewalk with bricks. I think they are still there. We inherited his fridge, kitchen table and chairs and other household items when he made the move to Millers Eddy. There was always something to do at the house on Purdum Street -- garden and yard work, home improvement, plumbing, cement work, and we welcomed his help. We took the ride to Millers Eddy quite often. I remember him heating up water in the kettle for coffee, and checking out his garden down by the river.
Lots of changes came when we moved here to Wash PA, but we took a lot of his tips and techniques with us. We are grateful the girls were able to spend time with him as they grew up. As we all get older we appreciate those time even more
Mary
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Rebecca's Recollections
In my apartment hangs a picture of Grandpa Zeitler. It is marked “Company D, 10th Battalion, Engineer Replacement Training Center” and dated March 1944. Written on the back is his location in the photo among the other soldiers.
But the Grandpa I remember wasn’t a soldier, or a farmer. He was the very tall man who listened to Pirates games on KDKA, an AM frequency that barely had the signal strength to get all the way up the river to his living room radio.
Most of my memories originate from that big house on the river, big family gatherings, pickles, baked beans, the glider on the porch, putting down big sheets of plastic to make water slides out of that hill – water slides that sent all of the Zeitler grandkids hurtling towards the river below at breakneck speeds. Pulling into the driveway and hearing those beagles bark and howl, the Chrysler that talked: “Your door is ajar.” The fitted pipe handrails stand out the most. I can remember what they metal felt like under my hand and thinking back now, it makes me think about the person who made them – that he cared enough about other people to ensure they had something secure to lean on.
In retrospect, there are a lot of other little things that seem kind of silly, but they are things that I associated with Grandpa – that he ate Cookie Crisp cereal, that there were always dishes of bright pink peppermint candies in the house, that every father’s day we’d give him one of those wooden whirly gig birds on a spike and he’d put it in his yard. He was always thankful for the gifts we brought him.
Sure, as a kid, I was like Dad and begrudged my own father the long trip to visit the few times each year we all made the trip as a family. And even more selfishly, I am proud of the gifts I’ve inherited thanks to my Grandpa: my height, my love of sports, and a strong work ethic (my Dad has a lot to do with those as well). Grandpa is a part of all of us, and sharing these memories will keep the spirit of one hardworking man alive.
Love,
Rebecca
But the Grandpa I remember wasn’t a soldier, or a farmer. He was the very tall man who listened to Pirates games on KDKA, an AM frequency that barely had the signal strength to get all the way up the river to his living room radio.
Most of my memories originate from that big house on the river, big family gatherings, pickles, baked beans, the glider on the porch, putting down big sheets of plastic to make water slides out of that hill – water slides that sent all of the Zeitler grandkids hurtling towards the river below at breakneck speeds. Pulling into the driveway and hearing those beagles bark and howl, the Chrysler that talked: “Your door is ajar.” The fitted pipe handrails stand out the most. I can remember what they metal felt like under my hand and thinking back now, it makes me think about the person who made them – that he cared enough about other people to ensure they had something secure to lean on.
In retrospect, there are a lot of other little things that seem kind of silly, but they are things that I associated with Grandpa – that he ate Cookie Crisp cereal, that there were always dishes of bright pink peppermint candies in the house, that every father’s day we’d give him one of those wooden whirly gig birds on a spike and he’d put it in his yard. He was always thankful for the gifts we brought him.
Sure, as a kid, I was like Dad and begrudged my own father the long trip to visit the few times each year we all made the trip as a family. And even more selfishly, I am proud of the gifts I’ve inherited thanks to my Grandpa: my height, my love of sports, and a strong work ethic (my Dad has a lot to do with those as well). Grandpa is a part of all of us, and sharing these memories will keep the spirit of one hardworking man alive.
Love,
Rebecca
Dennis' Memories
As I sit in a plane from Johannesburg, South Africa to Sao Paulo, Brazil, I yearn for that simple life I had growing up on East First Street. Or do I ? Would I ever be able to work the long hours that Dad worked: all of the overtime, then come home to take care of the garden, chickens, dogs, cow, yard, car, etc. The only time he ever sat down was to eat or listen to a Pirates game. He was always up and gone (after milking the cow) before I awoke, and I always went to bed before him. I don't remember a single time that he was sick or ever went to a doctor. When he asked/expected help with the garden or the yard it always seemed to be so unjustified. I never understood at the time how hard Dad worked all the time, and I begrudged him a few hours of help each week. The biggest single project he undertook in my memory was building us the ballfield. It was nothing but weeds, rocks and three huge trees. I remember how he cleared a portion of the field each week and we watched the field grow bigger and bigger. The biggest job was to cut down those three trees and dig/jack out the stumps, with which Larry Stanford helped. That actually took the better part of two years and we played ball there with three big stumps for awhile. When I was younger he was able to play catch with us on the street. But I do remember as I got older his arm was too stiff to throw for us. I have few memories of actually doing things with Dad. One of the best was listening to the Joe L. Brown show on the radio on Sunday morning and learning about the Pirates. Of course, hunting was the big one. He took such good care of me in the woods -- be it one of the local spots for rabbits or Marienville for deer. He always gave us the best chance to shoot a rabbit, the warmest clothes, the best sandwiches. And I took it all for granted. Every year we made two long trips. One to the Pittsburgh Zoo and one to a Pirates game at Forbes Field, in the left field bleachers. Dad loved baseball. Every week he wanted us to go with him to see his mother. I did not like to go because there was nothing to do. We sat in the dining room on the sofa near Grandma and Dad and Grandma talked and we sat. I always wanted to go to Grandma Hiles, instead. I now realize that must have been very disappointing to Dad. I remember the only time I ever saw Dad cry. He picked me up at the Seminary to take me to Butler Hospital to see Mom after her breast cancer surgery. I knew nothing about it until he came to pick me up and he cried in the car as he told me what was happening. Looking back, I think he was so scared of having us kids without Mom. I remember a childhood full of swings, baseball, "cowboys and indians", hikes in the woods, beagle puppies, my basketball games, sled riding, stale bread with milk and sugar, Mrs. Paul's fish sticks . . . and a father (and mother) who were forever working. Somehow that work ethic was engrained in each of us, by example, not by force. I loved my Dad.
Regina On Her GRandad and Dad
Dad, How great to read memories of Grandpa. Always interesting to hear how others saw things!I have fond memories of Grandpa. To me he was quiet and reserved with an underlying sense of humor that rarely was exposed. I remember going to visit the big yellow house and he would come home from work with his metal lunch box, he was serious and tired.In the winter, the shoveling of the coal in the basement was fascinating! When we visited in the summer he would take us down to the bow and arrows to teach us how to use them and let us practice. I was intrigued by the ritual of feeding the beagles the dinner scraps, it was special to accompany him on the task.Grandpa came out to visit - I guess after Grandma died and he stayed with us for a long visit. Maybe you and Mom were on vacation - probably buying our house in Tucson. He watched over us 4 kids. He was so frustrated with me because I was a senior in high school and on a diet and wouldn't eat anything he made!I remember me and Mom and Grandpa going to see the movie "Close Encounters", it was so futuristic and exciting at the time!Of course my favorite memory was the quiet times on the porch of the big yellow house - playing around and trying to talk to Grandpa while he was smoking and listening to the baseball games on the radio - I still think of him every time I witness someone listening to baseball on the radio.He was a great dad, just like you are......Regina
Mike Remembers
I can remember almost everything that has been written so far (except MaryAnne picking berries) and could probably add some interesting comments about conversations Dad and I had over the years either while sitting in the tree house or on the front porch in Millers Eddy.However, I thought it would be better if I went back to my early memories in West Sunbury: 1. Riding on Dads shoulders - everywhere we went I was always up on Dads shoulders. 2. Milking cows - I can remember going to a farm that had several cows in a very large barn and Dad would milk the cows and put the milk in big silver cans in the Spring House. 3. Waiting for Dad - I have very vivid memories of standing at a screen door that faced the barn and watch for Dad to come home from work. 4. Working in the Garden - Dad would go over to a neighbors to work in the garden and I would get to ride on the crossbar of the cultivator over and back. Mike9/3/09
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