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
Mary Anne Remembers
I remember:Dad cleaning a chicken for Sunday dinner at the basement sink and showing me the "pocketbook" as I sat on the cellar steps and watched. What organ was that "pocketbook" anyhow?Dad making us each our own berry picking can - a coffee can with a piece of wire for a handle. That was the exciting part. I hated the berry picking because I was afraid of snakes. Dad pouring his coffee in his saucer to cool it and then drinking from the saucer. I remember trying to drink my tea that way - to Mom's dismay.Dad taking us for an ice cream cone at the Tastee-Freeze on top of Brady hill on Sunday afternoon. We all had to get a small vanilla.Dad coming by himself to the Mercyhurst Father-Daughter weekend. He shared a room with Jeanne Kamats' Dad at the Holiday Inn. I still have the picture of the four of us from that weekend in my office - Dad, me, Jeanne and her Dad. Dad walking me down the aisle at my wedding with a broken foot. He had hurt it seriously at work the day before but didn't want me to know until after the wedding - and I didn't.
John Remembers Hunting
Hunting with Dad
I remember hunting with Dad between the time I was twelve and when I left for the seminary at age 15.
Deer. I remember deer hunting with Dad and Mike and sometimes Joe Snyder or Juno. The first day of buck season was practically a state holiday. We would lay out our clothes the day before—WW II olive drab sweaters, wool pants with flaps, field jackets that Dad brought home from the army. Later we got Woolrich red-checked woolen coats and pants. At first we wore buckle galoshes with tennis shoes and wool socks. Later we got insulated boots. We got up by 4 AM. Mom packed a huge lunch, often cheese sandwiches that we toasted over a campfire and hot tea. We drove in the dark through Clarion to Marienville, then back to Ox Yoke Camp where we parked and hiked down to the edge of the flats before daylight. The theory was that the hunters coming in after the sun was up would drive the deer to us. At first I used slugs (pumpkin balls) in my Mosberg 20 gauge, later I got a 30-30 Marlin with a 4 power Weaver scope. Mostly we sat and waited for the deer, sometimes sharing a low tree stump half the area of the kitchen floor. When we got cold--we always did—we would build a fire or walk around some. We often got a buck or two that first morning. Dad would cut the scent glands off the legs and gut the deer then drag it back to the car where we would tie it over the fender. It seems like there was always a layer of snow.
We got home for a late supper and early bed.
Rabbits. Rabbit season started with the training of the beagles during the summer. Dad belonged to the Hilltop Beagle Club by the Brady’s Bend Catholic Cemetery and sometimes another club up Kittanning Hollow. Dad bought his first beagle in 1937 and maintained that blood line until almost the end of his life. He bred them with other AKC field champions. He had a kennel license for a while and would sell beagles throughout the area. One of the dogs was named Hardscrabble Hattie. Dad, Mike and I hunted every Saturday, and a few school-days, during the season. Dad built a wooden box for the trunk of the car to transport the dogs. Sometimes we hunted with Joe Snyder or old Roy Slaughenhoup.
We wore tan canvas pants and coats with a large game pocket and red (later hunter orange) baseball style caps. I had a 20 gauge Mosberg with a clip. Dad had a 16 gauge Winchester pump. Dad had an uncanny sense of where rabbits were. Many times he would find them sitting camouflaged. I had trouble seeing them even when he pointed them out to me. Usually Dad would put out a rabbit, set the dogs on it and tell us where to stand so we could get a shot at it when it circled back. We often got the daily limit of four rabbits each. Occasionally we would get a “woods rabbit” which were native and half again as large as the usual “Missouri rabbits”. We would field dress them, then at home clean them and Mom would cook them for us in a pot she used solely for game. She used no seasonings, and didn’t eat wild game herself.
Squirrels. To hunt squirrels we would find a nice stand of large oak trees on a sunny afternoon and snuggle in next to a tree-trunk and remain still and quiet for about half an hour till the squirrels started to move, then we would shoot them with a 22, or sometimes a 20 gauge. Sometimes we would walk through the forest about 30 yards apart and the squirrels would edge around the tree trunk to avoid the front person and could be seen by the follower. Squirrels were OK eating but tough to skin. Later, small squirrels took over, too small to be worth hunting.
Occasionally we scared up a grouse and sometimes even got one. Ground hogs were in season year round and we would sit where we could watch the edges between the field and forest for them early and late in the day. We didn’t usually eat them, the meat was greasy and dark. Turkey, bear and pheasant were rare. We didn’t hunt raccoons or possum. We didn’t fish.
By John Zeitler July 2009
I remember hunting with Dad between the time I was twelve and when I left for the seminary at age 15.
Deer. I remember deer hunting with Dad and Mike and sometimes Joe Snyder or Juno. The first day of buck season was practically a state holiday. We would lay out our clothes the day before—WW II olive drab sweaters, wool pants with flaps, field jackets that Dad brought home from the army. Later we got Woolrich red-checked woolen coats and pants. At first we wore buckle galoshes with tennis shoes and wool socks. Later we got insulated boots. We got up by 4 AM. Mom packed a huge lunch, often cheese sandwiches that we toasted over a campfire and hot tea. We drove in the dark through Clarion to Marienville, then back to Ox Yoke Camp where we parked and hiked down to the edge of the flats before daylight. The theory was that the hunters coming in after the sun was up would drive the deer to us. At first I used slugs (pumpkin balls) in my Mosberg 20 gauge, later I got a 30-30 Marlin with a 4 power Weaver scope. Mostly we sat and waited for the deer, sometimes sharing a low tree stump half the area of the kitchen floor. When we got cold--we always did—we would build a fire or walk around some. We often got a buck or two that first morning. Dad would cut the scent glands off the legs and gut the deer then drag it back to the car where we would tie it over the fender. It seems like there was always a layer of snow.
We got home for a late supper and early bed.
Rabbits. Rabbit season started with the training of the beagles during the summer. Dad belonged to the Hilltop Beagle Club by the Brady’s Bend Catholic Cemetery and sometimes another club up Kittanning Hollow. Dad bought his first beagle in 1937 and maintained that blood line until almost the end of his life. He bred them with other AKC field champions. He had a kennel license for a while and would sell beagles throughout the area. One of the dogs was named Hardscrabble Hattie. Dad, Mike and I hunted every Saturday, and a few school-days, during the season. Dad built a wooden box for the trunk of the car to transport the dogs. Sometimes we hunted with Joe Snyder or old Roy Slaughenhoup.
We wore tan canvas pants and coats with a large game pocket and red (later hunter orange) baseball style caps. I had a 20 gauge Mosberg with a clip. Dad had a 16 gauge Winchester pump. Dad had an uncanny sense of where rabbits were. Many times he would find them sitting camouflaged. I had trouble seeing them even when he pointed them out to me. Usually Dad would put out a rabbit, set the dogs on it and tell us where to stand so we could get a shot at it when it circled back. We often got the daily limit of four rabbits each. Occasionally we would get a “woods rabbit” which were native and half again as large as the usual “Missouri rabbits”. We would field dress them, then at home clean them and Mom would cook them for us in a pot she used solely for game. She used no seasonings, and didn’t eat wild game herself.
Squirrels. To hunt squirrels we would find a nice stand of large oak trees on a sunny afternoon and snuggle in next to a tree-trunk and remain still and quiet for about half an hour till the squirrels started to move, then we would shoot them with a 22, or sometimes a 20 gauge. Sometimes we would walk through the forest about 30 yards apart and the squirrels would edge around the tree trunk to avoid the front person and could be seen by the follower. Squirrels were OK eating but tough to skin. Later, small squirrels took over, too small to be worth hunting.
Occasionally we scared up a grouse and sometimes even got one. Ground hogs were in season year round and we would sit where we could watch the edges between the field and forest for them early and late in the day. We didn’t usually eat them, the meat was greasy and dark. Turkey, bear and pheasant were rare. We didn’t hunt raccoons or possum. We didn’t fish.
By John Zeitler July 2009
Jessica Zeitler Remembrances
Remembrances by Jessica Zeitler. July 2009
{He} bought me my first lamp with Raggedy Andy on it and my first set of sheets for my own bed and Mickey Mouse blanket and Snoopy sheets.He let me play with and name (his beagles) Ginger and Chocolate Chip.{When} I was older I would go to church and then he would ask me "Are you going with me?" and I would say "Yes" and the thing would be where do you like to go? the store, the plaza or Steve's Candyland and then he would drive me to my house and walk up the sidewalk beside the house and go straight to the kitchen and eat stuff that he bought for us whenever he came. Dad would say "Stick around" and he would say "I better be getting over there".Many years later when my sister Bethany {was born} we went to the hospital gift shop and I picked a little brown dog and he paid for it and we gave it to Bethany.During the holiday season he would play tapes in the car and the Noel song played again and again because we didn't know how to change it. This became a Sunday custom that we did for many years.He bought me my first fancy dress that I wore when I could go to church.Many years ago Gram would send things down to him and when we got the pan back it would be very shiney and clean. He also put in Gram's first washer in her house.He would let us use his car to go on long road trips if needed.He would offer to pay for stuff when we didn't have money ourselves.He let us use his lawn mower. And also traps to catch live rabbits that would eat our vegetables that would be growing in the garden.
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{He} bought me my first lamp with Raggedy Andy on it and my first set of sheets for my own bed and Mickey Mouse blanket and Snoopy sheets.He let me play with and name (his beagles) Ginger and Chocolate Chip.{When} I was older I would go to church and then he would ask me "Are you going with me?" and I would say "Yes" and the thing would be where do you like to go? the store, the plaza or Steve's Candyland and then he would drive me to my house and walk up the sidewalk beside the house and go straight to the kitchen and eat stuff that he bought for us whenever he came. Dad would say "Stick around" and he would say "I better be getting over there".Many years later when my sister Bethany {was born} we went to the hospital gift shop and I picked a little brown dog and he paid for it and we gave it to Bethany.During the holiday season he would play tapes in the car and the Noel song played again and again because we didn't know how to change it. This became a Sunday custom that we did for many years.He bought me my first fancy dress that I wore when I could go to church.Many years ago Gram would send things down to him and when we got the pan back it would be very shiney and clean. He also put in Gram's first washer in her house.He would let us use his car to go on long road trips if needed.He would offer to pay for stuff when we didn't have money ourselves.He let us use his lawn mower. And also traps to catch live rabbits that would eat our vegetables that would be growing in the garden.
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