Celebrating Aunt Rachel Kreider's 100th Birthday

Aunt Rachel Weaver Kreider recently celebrated her 100th birthday. Had she been born even 50 years later, she surely would have obtained the doctorate (for she was qualified for admittance), become a distinguished professor, academic mentor and writer, but the depression years were not kind to Mennonite women with academic abilities but lacking independent financial resources. Even so, she somehow managed to attend graduate school, where she was an ardent pacifist--at a time when such views were neither popular nor tolerated by most students, faculty and administrators (see the interesting article by her son-in-law, James Juhnke on Rachel as a graduate student). As I recall, she obtained the M.A. in Latin, a milestone even today. While her husband completed his doctorate in chemistry, she started working on Mennonite genealogy and this led, decades later, to her magisterial 850-page work, co-authored with Hugh F. Gingerich, Amish and Amish Mennonite genealogies, a work which will surely be one of those rare studies that actually withstands the test of time.

She has authored or co-authored other publications, some of which include:

• The Mennonite Cemeteries of Medina County, Ohio, with a brief historical sketch of the churches.
• A History of the Eighth Street Mennonite Church, 1913-1978
• A History of the First United Mennonite Church, Wadsworth, Ohio, 1852-1952
• A Genealogy prepared for the descendants of Lloyd and Adelia (Stover) Kreider
  

Before I understood any of this and before the word "genealogy" entered my vocabulary, I knew Aunt Rachel as one who cast spells over me whenever she told stories. These were stories of ancestors, stories of families in deep difficulty, stories of family secrets (told with a twinkle of the eye that still persists), stories of struggles, little victories, losses, unemployment, hard times, family bonds, small achievements, broken hearts. All of these stories were told with a mixture of historical acumen and a sympathetic understanding of the characters. Through all of this, I do not remember her saying anything in an unkind way--it was just told quietly, 'the way it was'. True, there were a few more side paths explored than I usually desired, paths leading into other genealogies ("she was so-and-so's second cousin through Fanny" or whoever). Aunt Rachel was the one to show to my generation that our family has a rich and complicated history, and that we should not think of ourselves solely as Kreiders, for family trees are more complicated than a single branch bearing a single last name.

Today was truly a celebration. I have no idea how many people dropped by the Eighth Street Mennonite Church in Goshen, IN to wish her well, but during my 80-minute stay, there was always a reception lineup waiting to greet Aunt Rachel as she sat on a chair which was sufficiently raised to let her sit while people came to hug her and chat briefly.

The day also reminded me of loved ones no longer with us: Anna (Jim has just published some writing by Anna, the sales of which will add to the scholarship in her honour), Sara, Leonard, Carl, Don and Elda (those six alone would have provided an afternoon of unparalleled entertainment in the old days). A number of nephews, nieces, grandchildren, etc. had to be elsewhere. Ruth and Ken, Jim and others wanted to attend, but distance and schedules can be formidable obstacles.

These pictures certainly did not catch everybody (Aunt Evelyn to name but one) but they will hopefully give a bit of the flavour of this very nice low-key event, the sort of event that put Aunt Rachel at ease. For she enjoys nothing more than reconnecting with people (and she remembers names).

The reception line never seemed to diminish during the 80 minutes we stayed. Mind you, the most difficult thing imaginable for Rachel is being with a good friend and ending the conversation. In the upper right-hand corner, you can just see Emil (the organizer) standing beside Rachel (seated), the line stretching to the left.

In her inimitable way, Aunt Rachel spoke with each person in turn, always remembering them. As we see brilliant minds fade in some of those we love, it is encouraging to watch this centenarian hold forth.

Emil's wife, Louise was assisting at every turn, working the tables, greeting people everywhere. It was special for me when she came to speak with Dad and Mom, ensuring that Dad could hear what she said.

Soon after Dad arrived by wheelchair, someone very kindly told Janice that he need not wait in the long lineup to meet Rachel, but that he should go to the front. When Janice relayed this to me, I wheeled Dad right up front. Cousin Dierra was next in line and without hesitation, she knowingly winked and generously let us in. Well . . . all Rachel did was exclaim, "Robert!" and they both broke into tears. She had doubted that he would be able to come, and he initially did not think the outing would be possible. But Dad was having a good day, he was determined to go for Rachel's sake, and the outing was wonderful for him.

Dad was about 10 when Rachel came into his life by dating Leonard. In a sense, she has been his elder sister for 80 years. Dad always looked up to Leonard (tennis, academic achievements, commitment to the church), and admired Rachel's grasp of things. After Leonard and Rachel moved to Greencroft, the four of them grew closer. Leonard and Dad exchanged papers (Chicago Tribune and Wall Street Journal), they both watched stocks and plotted them carefully, Leonard frequently shared vegetables from his garden with the folks, and once Leonard and Rachel could no longer drive, Dad would take them to get groceries or a haircut. Dad was also faithful to Leonard during his final months in ways many people will never get to experience. I was so glad Dad's health enabled him to honour his eldest 'sister' today.

This shows Rachel, Janice and Emil, with Greg and Karen in the background. They are living in the cob house he built most creatively when not working in Antartica.

The folks got to converse with Eldon and Dierra, Donna (not in this picture) and her husband, Wayne (bottom left corner, they live in upstate NY, sold the family farm, but he is getting back into the maple syrup business, now that the new trees are about 10 years old.)

Many people kindly stopped by the wheelchair to greet the folks.
Although I place this picture after others, Leo was one of the first people to see and immediately get up to greet Dad. I think it was special for all of the cousins to see one of their fathers' siblings. (Leo's sister, Donna, can just be seen in the background.)


Here we see Merritt talking with Greg (Greg's wife Dorie served punch). Greg, Sara, Janice and I overlapped a bit at I.U., so I always enjoy seeing him again. Merritt and Dierra visited us in Vancouver recently, making them truly special people in our lives.

I got see see Alan and Ellie very briefly, but since we are going to their place for lunch soon, we saved our conversation for Tuesday. Here we see Alan listening to Eldon (Chicago).
These events are most certainly not about cakes, but this is the first time I have seen this written on a cake, so I had to photograph it. I later showed these pictures to Rachel, who loved each and every one. She told me stories about many of the people shown here. Interestingly, she was so busy meeting people that she never saw her cake except in this picture. She was quite impressed with it.

Aunt Rachel is now making a book which itemizes each card received, each phone call wishing her well, each visitor to her apartment, and the signatures of those who attended the celebration. Her life has revolved around family, genealogy, church, issues of interest to thinking Mennonites and friends. She has no interest in slowing down. Visiting her can be utterly energizing, stimulating, encouraging, and for us, empowering.

An account of our family’s gathering in Goshen during April 29-May 4, 2009:

On Tuesday, April 28, Mark began his road trip from Bayside, arriving at Greencroft in time on Wednesday to visit that afternoon. Thursday, Bruce arrived at the Indianapolis Airport where Mark had driven down to meet him and they made their way back to Goshen to be with Mom and Dad late afternoon and evening. That was another day of a lot of driving for Mark, but Bruce helped with it. I understood they made their way out of Indianapolis with only a minor and pleasant detour arising from an understandable lapse of attention that can happen with the freshness of such reunions. Friday, after a breakfast at the County Seat Café where Bruce could be seen enjoying four eggs on white toast, he and Mark began a busy day by helping Dad try on his slacks to determine what fit and what needed to be replaced. They subsequently went to the Concord Mall with Mom to shop for various items, including new slacks for Dad and were successful. Because of Mom’s circulation problems and leg fracture that was not fully healed, they used a wheel chair for her in the mall. Things were clearly off to a great start.

I arrived in Goshen Saturday morning in time to see everyone before lunch. I was pleased to see Dad looking more upbeat and smiling than during my last visit in March with Frank. Bruce and Mark had already worked wonders in his outlook. (The Winter and early Spring had been hard on the folks. Flu had raged through Greencroft, leaving them both weak, unable to see each other for extended periods of time, and leaving Mom with a lingering digestive ailment—not to mention her poor mobility and great discomfort from the leg fracture.) For lunch Mark dined with Mom at Evergreen Place and Bruce and I joined Dad in the Gables’ sun room where a special table was set up for us because of the crowded dining room that day. The arrangement worked very well because we were able to get Dad to talk during that hour and he heard us quite well without the usual distractions of surrounding conversations.

After lunch while Mom and Dad napped, Mark, Bruce, and I went over to visit Aunt Marjorie (now 90 years old) in her independent living apartment close by. She treated us with great affection and delight. She was pleased with the large loaf of home made bread I brought along and immediately called her daughter, Shelby. Shelby had already been there for some time and had left just shortly before and changed into her lawn mowing clothes, but Marjorie insisted she must come over right away to see us. Shelby was a bit embarrassed about not being more dressed up for the occasion, as if we would be able to notice that, and arrived soon for a most pleasant hour together. It gave us a chance to more personally thank her and Marjorie for their family’s help with Mom when she had fallen and gone to the hospital in considerable pain. Roy and Sharon (her daughter) had spent a number of hours with Mom afterward and on several follow-up visits, without which the couple of days after the fall would have been even more miserable. We returned to the hotel for coffee and to consider alternatives for where to dine out with Mom and Dad that night. Frank arrived mid-afternoon to a warm welcome which included more fresh coffee. We decided on Das Dutchman Essenhaus for the evening meal, a long-standing, very large and popular comfort food dining spot near Middlebury which afforded the opportunity of a nice drive through quaint Amish land. Earlier in the day, we had sensed that Dad was in good spirits and up for the adventure, surrounded by able-bodied sons. Mom of course has long since arrived at the point where she is ready for a dining change, too.

Mark suggested splitting the group into two vehicles for the outing. It allowed more comfort and better one-on-one conversation. It was fascinating to see what kinds of things Mom and Dad could recall regarding certain landmarks and experiences (e.g., a corner Dad remembered where there was always a barking dog they encountered on their bike trips.) We were able to get a good table for six and enjoyed entrees such as fried chicken, fish, ham steak, and vegetarian for Mom. Dad had difficulty with the menu so I helped him talk it through and the selections were made easily enough once he discovered ham was on the menu. We enjoyed a full hour or more there before returning home using another route, driving slowly to enjoy the ornamental blossoms. For the return trip, Bruce and Frank exchanged places in the vehicles to give Dad a change of conversation. I brought up the question of whether Dad remembered the good home made ice cream shop in Middlebury, and yes, he had. By that time however, we were well past it and close to Goshen. I made a note to get them there at the next opportunity. It’s called Vic’s Ice Cream and is located at 422 S. Main Street (574-825-2565, answers as Mancino’s—an Italian chain pizzeria that’s associated with it), open 11am-9pm every day in the summer, and is one of the oldest ice cream businesses that recognizably remains in Elkhart County, having begun in 1932. Refer to the attached link for an Elkhart Truth article late last summer attesting to the high quality of their products. https://www.etruth.com/Know/News/Story.aspx?ID=459978 With the evident success of that outing, we laid plans at the hotel for another the next morning, Sunday, which Mark recommended should occur after listening to church together with Mom and Dad in her apartment. That night, we enjoyed some relaxation in the Hampton Inn’s hot whirlpool and much more time together in one of our rooms before retiring.

Sunday morning, (and I could hardly believe this—it was necessary for me to rouse the youngsters up out of bed in time for breakfast before church!) we sleepily headed down town to Tony’s Grill www.tonysfamousgrill.com/contact.html for a good breakfast and lots of coffee. Evan and Jan may want to check out the menu at this link in light of their upcoming trip later in May-early June to Goshen. It’s located on N. 5th Street, just a few store fronts east of the Provident Book Store, in the old building that once housed a Shwinn bicycle shop. It provides the only real option to Bob Evans for breakfast on Sundays, being closer than the Waterford Mill restaurant.

Arriving with Dad at Mom’s apartment, we soon discovered the TV signal for the church service was out and it remained so for a considerable time during the broadcast. I called and learned that yes, Greencroft was aware of this. Mom indicated it is not a very unusual occurrence at Greencroft and one could hear quiet comments from various sons expressing their wonderment at this, regardless of whether or not it was free and run by volunteers. When a connection was finally established, Mom soon figured out it was only broadcasting the previous Sunday’s service which they of course had previously viewed. Rather than trying to listen on the radio, she suggested we simply skip it this time and begin our outing—to which Bruce assented by being the first one out of his chair.

We began by driving, again in two vehicles, to Martin Manor where the family had lived a mile or two south of the college from late 1956 to 1961-62 as I recall, and stopped behind that neighborhood in the Violet Cemetery to see their grave marker (which included the names of each son) and that of Carl and Evelyn Kreider’s next to theirs. One could still look across the field to the back of our former home from there. Doing so triggered more memories and was more good mental exercise for Dad. Mother was able to get out of the car and ambulate to the site with her walker. Dad remained in the car with Frank since the grass seemed too high and the ground too rough for him to cope with. From there, we proceeded to drive past the College Cabin which faces the Elkhart River dam, and then drove along to the dam, itself, where we were able to park close enough to the river bank above the dam to allow Dad to use his walker to gain a nice seat with Mom on the park bench which looked out over the reservoir in the bright sun. I loaned Dad my wrap-around sun glasses. When the folks were seated with Dad’s arm behind Mom, she happily recalled it was the place where she got her first kiss from Dad. A picture of the re-enactment of that is included below. Mom recalled that she learned soon afterward Dad had mentioned it (my note: bragged?—possibly so, as she was a beautiful woman at that time of her life) at his dormitory, so that everyone then soon knew of it. Of course, Dad was not in a position to talk about or dispute that memory and likely soon forgot the slight embarrassment it may have caused. We spent a nice long time there (20 minutes or so) soaking up the clear-day view of the sky and water, and enjoying the comfortable warmth of the approaching noon. Satisfied that the folks were well settled on the cozy bench with Frank to talk to and Mark taking pictures, Bruce and I stole away to the area below the dam for a few moments to watch the most impressive overflow of water. There had been a great deal of rain that week. Mark soon found us with his camera to record the occasion, which resulted in one of my favorite pictures.

Leaving the dam, Mark followed me as I led the way to the college’s small parking lot between the student center (old snack shop) and former library building. Dad was happy to get out and was able to walk over to a sitting pavilion (not sure what that structure is really called, but it was donated by the Class of ’38—Aunt Elda’s) where the surrounding campus, in full flower, could be gazed upon. Dad seemed to know where he was. As I looked behind him toward the former Fine Arts Building, I thought of the many Tuesdays and Thursdays when Mark and I went there after high school was over for College Orchestra practices, being needed for the string section in spite of our young age. It was also the building where we took our Saturday morning violin lessons in Lon Sherer’s office, looking out over the very spot where we were sitting. Lon was a compassionate teacher and excellent violinist who did what he could with us. Fortunately, I was able to think of the need to get pictures of Mark from our visit and enjoyed using his camera for that. Since none of the rest of us had brought ours he had been doing all of the shooting.

Upon arriving back at Evergreen Place, we briefly rested and refreshed ourselves before dining together downstairs. Having seen most of us wrestle with the troublesome foot rest features of the borrowed wheel chair, which included Bruce’s most determined efforts to put it right (thumping was heard at times), I made a note to get a new dedicated chair for Dad’s future use. In arriving at the dining room, the other residents were very interested to see Dad with Mom again and with four sons. Eyes were on our backs. We spoke to several who stopped by to note and honor the special occasion. Following dinner, we visited a bit in Mom’s apartment after which it was difficult for Dad to leave to return to his room in Nursing. He noted Mom’s place was a real home and said that he really missed that and missed being there with her. A tender moment followed.

After reassurances with Dad that we would see him again afterwards (Dad always sought them, wanting to be sure he knew what would unfold and that he could still be happy that it was not yet coming to an end) and during their afternoon naps, we took a leisurely walk across the college campus with a view to visiting the new Souder music / arts center complex. Mark was pleased to be able, for the first time, to look in briefly at the auditorium and to see also the magnificent organ in the special chapel nearby. A student art contest exhibit was underway and I took a few moments to catch up with my friend there, John Blosser, who is an art prof and was in charge of the event. If I recall right, Alyssa may have been taught by him when she took a class in the Art Building.

We returned to the Hampton Inn for fresh coffee, during which time Mark demonstrated the process for making blog comments and actual blog entries, renewed his fruitless appeals that we consider making entries, and then he and Bruce demonstrated how to play online poker (with “play money”, of course.). The games moved very rapidly and it gave Frank and me a sense of their highly developed skill and the experience they have when joining a virtual table together. It was soon time to pick up Dad for a final meal together at Evergreen Place, Sunday supper, after which Frank I said our good-byes to all and departed.

I believe Mark and Bruce saw Mom and Dad a final time Monday morning, before heading to Indianapolis where Mark dropped Bruce off at the airport and continued his road trip the rest of the day until stopping for the night near Pittsburg. He was able to complete his trip back to Bayside by early mid-afternoon Tuesday.

I have no doubt mistaken some details here and left out others that would be important for some of us to see. I welcome comments to this entry to correct that. Mom and Dad are most eagerly anticipating Evan and Jan’s visit late in May.

Several of these photos were taken by Paul.

Frank is visible through the windshield

Martin Manor

Rural Indiana

Thursday morning April 30th I drove from Goshen to the Indianapolis Int'l Airport to pick up Bruce. I enjoyed the scenery along the way as I listened to an audio book on CD, Thomas Hardy's "The Return of the Native". An interesting bit of coincidence, Paul was listening to the very same book! These photos were all taken on the return trip, from the moving car as Bruce drove, the exceptions being the one of the Wabash River on the way to the airport and that of the cardinal in a bush by the Hampton Inn parking lot.

Crop blooming at 65 mph (alfalfa? could have been a little faster, Bruce was driving).