Author Archive:

Anne Buenting and George Flessner

Author: July 5, 2008 0 Comments

My mom was Anne, number five of the Buenting children. After four boys I would imagine Grandma and Grandpa were happy to have a new daughter. She had five more brothers before a sister came into the family. 

As a child I have fond memories of my grandma and grandpas farm. We often went there in the summer time when there would be other cousins there. Remember the old buggy in the grove; the many baptisms and church services on the cave door. Our pastors were usually Harold or Howard. They did a good job.

I loved being out and about at chore time, milking time, to watch the kitties catch milk and sometimes we got some, too.  I remember the all day mission festivals.  There was a lot of playing and tables spread with much food outside of the church.

Personal memories: When Uncle Henry took my socks away from me and later pulled them out at school for his handkercheif. Remember Harold, when grandpa gave us salt in our hand to go to the oats field to catch a rabbit. Grandpa loved to tease, I got caught only once to take a candy bar from him only to have it be some of his chewing tobacco wrapped in a candy wrapper.
Another memory was the long table in the kitchen, with a bench on the north side where we children had to

sit; not only to eat, but for the night-time devotions. They were in German, which we didn’t understand, but did learn to be quiet.  I sometimes wonder how they ever put up with all of us. There were three bedrooms upstairs with two double beds in each room, and sometimes they would get a bed made up in the hallway, too.

I remember the pop-pop of the wind charger that generated light for the house, and now we have gone back to this type of energy.

I marveled at the food that was prepared for all of us. There always was a great plenty.  Grandma always had a big garden.  If you went into the basement there would be many jars of canned food. They did their own meat processing, some canned, some put in crock jars, etc. There was a large orchard to the east with a lot of fruit, there were grapes with which they made wine; and grandpa had bee hives, which provided yummy honey for our bread. In the house yard was what they called a wash house.  By it was a wheel on a post that we liked to go around on, but that was a no-no; for that was where my aunts put the separator parts to dry. We remember grandma always had beautiful flowers through the center of her garden and the pretty moss roses around the house.

Some summers, we Flessner sisters had vacations at Pomeroy, but I think maybe our mom needed the vacation too. Can you imagine today sending a couple little girls on the train from Parkersburg to Pomeroy. Oh what joyous memories!  And then, in these later years, for our Aunt Frieda to send us some of the letters she had saved that were written to us from our mom while we were there as young girls and some that we wrote too.

Annie

Welcome to BuentingFamily.com!

Author: June 30, 2008 0 Comments

Welcome to the Buenting family homepage! This is the home for the descendants of Heinrich Buenting (1873-1943) and Ollie Hanssen (1879-1973), though if other Buentings are interested, it may expand.  As of June, ’08, we’re just starting to layout what the site will actually look like, so give us a few days/weeks to figure it all out (and perhaps, for someone more eloquent than I to write some information!).

Homepage

2008 Reunion in Newton, IA

Author: June 28, 2008 0 Comments

The 2008 reunion was held at the East Iowa Bible Camp in Newton, IA, an amazing facility with a large meeting room, hotel-like sleeping rooms, and fun activities like miniature golf for the kids.

Homepage, Reunion Information

William Buenting, “From an Outsider…”

Author: June 23, 2008 0 Comments

I became part of the “Buenting Clan” in 1952 when I married Marvin, oldest son of William and Anna Buenting.  I was born in Ruthven, Iowa and grew up there, about 50 miles from the Buenting hometown of Pomeroy.

Since my new in-laws both came from rather large families (as compared to mine), I was amazed the first time I went to a family gathering.  And they did have one at my future in-laws house, just to get me “acquainted”.  Then there was the introduction to the famous Buenting reunion!  The first one I remember was so big it was held at the Manson Fairgrounds and Grandma Ollie was there too.  I remember her – and she even wore a hat to it.  Not a casual hat such as a straw hat to keep off the sun, but a hat like one would wear to church; what a lady.  This family gathering had LOTS of fellowship and FOOD. 

I regret that I never got to meet Grandpa Buenting.  And I really didn’t know much about him until years later when Aunt Frieda spent a weekend with us at our country property that we had just purchased in East Texas.  This was possibly in 1989/90. 

We enjoyed having Aunt Frieda so much and I asked her about her “growing up years” and what it was like.  She began to tell me stories about her parents and I was not only fascinated, but I began to visualize a very different picture of the family from what I had been told, much less imagined.

Grandma, who birthed 13 children, must have been pregnant most of those early years of her marriage.  How did she do it all, the housework, the cooking, gardening, and the farm chores.  Then along with the gardening in the summer came the canning so she could feed her ever enlarging family!  And it wasn’t until the 5th child that she finally got a daughter that could grow up to help her.  Two more daughters would finally make their entrance as #10 and #11 children.  (3 girls, 10 boys – wow!)

Grandpa Buenting was a “jack of all trades” it seems.  Not only a farmer, but a bee keeper, he planted and maintained an orchard and vineyard, wove baskets, was a trapper, an arborist, grafting trees for his orchard.  I’m told that Grandpa could move a swarm of bees from a tree to a hive with little protection and suffering no stings.

Grandpa always had time to love his family, holding those little ones on his lap.  I just wish that I could have met him and I regret not knowing Grandma better.

William

Tena Buenting and Richard Willhaus

Author: June 8, 2008 0 Comments

As this 2008 Buenting Family Reunion marks the first since the passing of my mother, Tena Willhaus, on October 26, 2006, I share this message with the family in her memory.

She loved you all SO deeply, and she is attending this and all Buenting Reunions, large and small, with a spiritual presence, joining the spirit of those of our family who have left this world for their heavenly reward.

The Buenting family connection has given all who are a part of the family  grounding in a strong and abiding faith in God, and the strength of the knowledge we share in the presence and history of our large and wide-spread family.  As the youngest of Henry and Ollie’s grandchildren, I had the benefit of a perspective of observing my aunts, uncles and cousins from a child’s perspective growing into adulthood.

Henry and Ollie had a lucky 13 children, three of whom were their daughters Anna (Annie), Tena, and Frieda.  In this reflection, I am focusing on the bond between those three strong ladies.—Many weekends of my childhood were spent traveling from my home in southern Minnesota to visit Aunt Annie and Uncle George in Rockford, Iowa or Aunt Frieda and Uncle Peter in Pomeroy, Iowa (and Grandma Ollie when she was still with us).

Aunt Annie was in my mind perpetually joyful, jolly and fun-loving.  She was quick to laugh, and quicker still to poke fun at herself or others.  She did not complain, and her attitude seemed unaffected, in spite of physical difficulty she had with walking in her later years.

My mother Tena was the thoughtful middle daughter.  She was to me caring, affectionate and adventurous.  She had the nerve, after all to with my father make the bold move to leave the known comforts of Iowa for the vast and unknown hinterland of Minnesota to pursue life outside the friendly confines of her home state

Aunt Frieda was outgoing, always helpful, mercurial, and perpetually hospitable. Even as a child I marveled, as I do today, at her marvelous ability to host many planned and unplanned family  gatherings in her home, which had been known to all of her brothers and sisters as the family farm. All were welcome there.

The connection between the three sisters was open and obvious.  To see a gathering of the three together was to know the kinship they felt for each other and the rest of the family.  They would giggle with memories of some humorous or compromising event of their growing up, share homemaking tips, and share news (good or bad) of family members.  It was amazing to me that they were able to keep all the tentacles of the family straight in their minds.  Always, the affection for each other and the love of the extended family was evident.

So it was in October, 2006, which would be Tena’s last month on this earth.  At age 88, she was living with a managed diagnosis of congestive heart failure, arthritis and maturity.  What we didn’t expect was a new diagnosis of cancer of the colon.  After some deliberation, it was decided to undergo surgery to attempt to remove the tumor that had formed.  The surgeon felt confident following the surgery that the tumor was isolated and successfully removed, but my mother was slow to respond from the anesthesia. 

During the next three days we experienced some recovery for my mother with  lucid periods for a few hours, followed by lapses back into semi-consciousness.  During those days, I spoke with Aunt Frieda, who was planning to visit her daughter and my cousin Ruth Ann in Wisconsin.  I reported my mother’s condition to her, and Aunt Frieda asked if I thought she should come to see my mother.  I responded that I thought it would greatly lift Tena’s spirits to have a visit from her, and Aunt Frieda and Ruth Ann re-routed themselves from Pomeroy to the Owatonna Hospital.

The evening before Aunt Frieda arrived there were two episodes when my mother opened her eyes for a few minutes and spoke in a confused way.  We were told that she was probably still feeling the affects of anesthesia, and to be patient for her recovery.  Aunt Frieda and Ruth Ann arrived at the hospital on the afternoon of October 25.  Shortly, after they arrived, Tena opened her eyes, took Aunt Frieda’s hand and said,  “Let’s hold hands and we’ll walk to church together.”  They were the last recognizable words that came from my mothers lips.

We were saddened to lose my mother’s earthly presence the next day.  But there was satisfaction in the knowledge of her long life, well-lived and that final exchange with be beloved sister.  Tena’s love of God and her family were there to the end, teaching us and reminding us of our lasting importance to each other.

Tena

Frieda Buenting

Author: June 6, 2008 0 Comments

My name is Ruth Ann Steuber and I am Frieda Buenting/Hanssen’s daughter, granddaughter of Ollie and Henry Buenting.  I was born in Minnesota, and my earliest memory of Grandma Buenting was when we moved from Minnesota to “the home place” in Pomeroy, Iowa.  I was three or four years old.   I remember that upon arrival at the farmhouse, Dad or the man who followed my parents in his truck with their belongings brought in my little rocking chair, and placed it in front of the warm kitchen stove.   It was a little bit of comfort in a strange new place.

I never met my grandfather, but I’ve heard many stories about him.   I admire him a great deal for all he accomplished, coming over from Germany, I’m sure with no money.   He managed to acquire two farms, raise 13 children, build the house I grew up in, establish the gardens, orchards and vineyard there, and so much more.   He made many beautiful willow baskets – few of which have survived and stayed with the family.   He seems to have been a gentle, yet hard-working and very talented man.

After my parents and I moved back to the farm, Grandma Buenting built a house in town next to her sister and brother-in-law, Aunt Kate and Uncle Lou Gehrt.  When I started kindergarten the bus would pick me up in the morning, and as my classes were only half the day, I would go over to stay with Gram for the afternoon, and then ride the school bus home later in the afternoon when the other classes were out.   Grandma would make me lunch, I remember often having pea soup- and umm, her’s was good!   In the afternoon we would have tea and I would be allowed a cube of sugar in mine.   I can still taste the white cake she made to go with it, unless she had packaged wafer cookies – the kind that were like ice cream cone texture, with either white or pink frosting between two rectangular cookies.   She would sometimes work in her garden and I would help.   On the few occasions that I stayed overnight with her, she would tell me stories in bed.   I’d ask about the Pomeroy tornado and she’d tell me about how she was working for a family, and how after the storm they found a wagon tongue plunged into the dinner table where they had been sitting just before.   I believe she was about 14 or 15 at the time.

During those years at Pomeroy elementary and high school I lived on the farm with Mom and Dad.   I was so fortunate to finally have a baby brother, Alan, when I was seven.   I remember being thrilled!   My sister Marian arrived just less than two years later.  It seems that I did a lot of “mothering” – keeping track of my little brother and sister – teaching them to “clean up the house” and loving to “show them off” to my friends at school.   We all had chores to do at home, picking up the eggs in the chicken house, washing the eggs and packing them in large boxes to be sold in town, weeding in the garden, picking fruits or vegetables, helping to clean and prepare food for cooking or canning, etc.   There was always plenty to do.   I remember it as a happy childhood and happy life.   Looking back it seems so healthy and serene.   I think I always read books and dreamed of moving to the city, thinking that the country and on the farm wasn’t where I wanted to be.  

Since we were living on what had been Mom’s “home place” – the farm where she and her 12 brothers and sisters were raised, we often had visitors, as her siblings and their children were always happy to come “home” to see Grandma, and visit their “home place”.   The summers were always especially busy because Mom’s siblings who lived some distance away would come for their one or two week vacation and our place became an Inn, with lots of bedding and linens to wash, meals to cook, shifting from our regular bedrooms as necessary to accommodate guests.

We always had Grandma Buenting, Uncle Lou and Aunt Kate, and often Kate and Ollie’s brother, Chris, join us for Sunday dinner.   Sunday dinners were a big deal, Mom put out the best – her fresh baked pies and bread, beef roast or chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, yummy vegetables, and jello salad.   It was always a feast.   After dishes were done, Sunday afternoons were spent relaxing, as that was “the Lord’s Day” – reserved for church, visiting, gentle pursuits, and only necessary chores such as feeding animals or milking cows.

That farm was a special place, with a large garden including a large strawberry bed, raspberry bushes, cherry trees lining the back, lots of space for rows of vegetables, a center strip with grass and lilac bushes, all sorts of perennials, fenced in with wire fencing opened with a metal decorative gate.   I have so many pleasant happy memories of that garden.   To the east was an apple orchard, with a plum tree or two.   We also had a grape arbor, with grapes for jelly or homemade wine.   My father and mother worked very hard to maintain the farm, growing crops, tending to animals, and tending to the yard and garden.   We had a good life.

When I was in high school, Grandma Buenting suffered a stroke.   Mom went to stay with her at her house in town, as she was no longer able to care for herself.   After about a month or six weeks, Grandma moved back to the house on the farm so my parents could look after her there.  They took her to the hospital a number of months after her stroke, and after a turn at physical therapy, she was able to walk with a walker, and did so for most of the rest of her life.  

One drawback that few outside family members considered was that as Grandma’s capabilities lessened, someone always had to stay home with Gram, and that meant that most of the time, we kids had only one parent with us in church or at school functions, as the other one, usually Mom, had to stay home.   As I got older, I sometimes had that role.  It was always up to one of us to stay home.  

Grandmother Buenting passed away after I had married and moved away from home.   Her will necessitated an auction sale of all the furnishings of “the home place” as well as the property itself.   I think it ripped my parents’ hearts out – especially Mom’s.   It was a very sad day in our family’s history.

My parents, Peter and Frieda, moved to town.   They purchased what had been Aunt Kate and Uncle Lou’s house.   My father built an addition to the house, adding a family room with a fireplace and a double garage.   He also finished off the upstairs.   He truly insisted on perfection – and his carpentry skills and finish work were excellent.  My parents had many happy years together there.   They did a fair amount of traveling, visiting us kids wherever we happened to be living, visiting their siblings, other relatives and friends.   My father passed away nearly three years ago and my Mom still lives in Pomeroy in their home.   She is very active in her church and community, and still travels quite a lot, usually now with one of us, her “kids”.

I’ve been blessed to grow up as part of the Buenting Clan.   The years living on the “home place” and visiting with Aunts and Uncles and cousins are memories I will always cherish.

Frieda

A Letter from Frieda

Author: June 3, 2008 0 Comments

To my dear Buenting family,

My name is; Frieda.  I am the twelfth child of the Henry and Ollie Buenting family of thirteen.  To most of you, I am “Aunt Frieda”.  I feel very blessed because I was with Mom and Dad in the last years of their lives; the time when things were getting harder for them to handle.  I loved them both so very much. They were both born in Germany. Grandpa was born, January 7, 1873, in Vosskuhlen, Germany. Grandma was born as Ollie Hanssen in Ost Grossefehn, Germany on February 2, 1879.

I was told Grandpa was only fourteen years old when his father died.  I don’t know how much schooling he had, but he often spoke of Superintendent “Bode”.  He was baptized and confirmed in Germany, too.  He had a beautiful handwriting and always wrote letters to the older children after they married and lived elsewhere.  In fact, he wrote to Brother Pete every Wednesday evening.  Peter’s letter arrived Wednesday and Grandpa promptly answered.  Peter received his letter from Grandpa on Saturday. 

Grandpa was eighteen years old when someone sent him passage to America.  He spent two years in Illinois and then returned to Germany to bring back his mother, his only brother, and five sisters.  They traveled by boat to New York, and I was told when they landed on Ellis Island, they were speaking in Platte Deutsch (Low German) and were interrogated there.  They thought they were spies until Grandfather told them it was their language.  Can you imagine what they went through?  There must have been some connection in Illinois, because from where they went – by train I suppose – Grandpa went to Iowa to look for a place to live and found a place to live – south and east of Twin Lakes.  He then went back to Illinois to bring his only brother, his mom and three sisters to Iowa.  Two of his sisters married and settled in Illinois, so I presume he worked for people to make a living.

When he was 26 years old, he found his sweet heart or mate for life. Grandmother Ollie had been working as a hired girl in Manson when he went to her parents and asked to marry her.  Her father tried to pawn off an older sister, but Grandpa said no.  So finally they agreed to let her marry Heinrich.  So to Pastor Meyer they went to get married.  On Ollie’s birthday, February 2, 1899, they were married and for their honeymoon they had a ride across Twin Lakes in a sled on the ice pulled by Fred, the horse, to their house.  Then it was time for his mom and brother and sisters to move out.  They bought a house in Pomeroy where they lived.  They all found mates and married.  Grandma Bunting lived there ‘till she died and is buried in the Pomeroy cemetery. 

In 1908, my dad bought the farm southwest of Pomeroy, 160 acres of slough.  He had it tiled out.  It was all tillable.  That’s the place I grew up.  As far as I’m concerned, that was the most wonderful spot in the world.  I love the outdoors and it was quiet.  You could look up in the sky and see the moon and stars.  Mamma always had a big garden.  Papa raised animals, had bee hives and fruit trees and work.  Yes, there was always planting and harvesting; but still quiet times and visiting.  A typical day started early in the morning.  Papa was the first up, built a fire in the cookstove, made tea, woke Grandma, and then the rest of us.  After a cup of tea, everybody out!  Papa did hog chores.  Mamma took care of chickens.  The rest of us did milking, feeding calves, separating, and feeding horses, if they were in the barn and were going to work in the field. Then we would go in for breakfast.  Mom had it ready – maybe pancakes or scrambled eggs.  Everyone washed up and sat around the table; the boys on a bench behind the table.  There was love – Papa said a prayer.  We ate, had devotions and a thank you prayer; and then off to work for the day.  Men went in the field, Mamma went in the garden, and the girls did the dishes, washed the separator, and made the beds.

Growing up – We all went to country school one and a half miles away.  We walked and carried our lunch in dinner pails.  It was rather hard.  We were used to speaking Low German at home and had to speak English in school.  I don’t know how far the older ones got in school.  I remember seeing report cards of John, Martin, and Herman.  I know the last six of us did graduate from eighth grade.  I knew we were poor but we were rich in many ways.  We had love and respect. 

We all went to church at St. John Lutheran at Pomeroy. We were all baptized and confirmed.   Pastor Meyer was the minister.  Papa was a deacon, so had various jobs in the church.  The men sat on one side and the women on the other.  I taught Sunday school.  Henry and I sang in the church choir.  We went to Luther League.  Mom belonged to Ladies Aid and I remember one Christmas Eve going to church in the bobsled.  We were all standing on one side when the wagon box tipped off the runners.  We put the wagon box back on, brushed off snow and continued on to church. 

We had Mission Festival once a year.  They invited a missionary from India or New Guinea to speak at that time.  If they could not come, a special pastor was invited to speak.  There were three services on those Sundays.  Mamma belonged to Ladies Aid and the ladies made potluck dinner for everyone there, “free!”  I remember that they cooked coffee in the wash boiler, and it was good!  The afternoon service was outdoors if it was nice weather.  The young people (Luther League) had a pop stand.  Then there was the evening service.  The moneys taken in were sent to missions. 

We often had company from Illinois, Wisconsin and Minnesota.  Papa always tried to organize a picnic at Twin Lakes or West Bend.  We would visit, then, before everyone left; gather and sing, “God Be With You ‘Till We Meet Again”. 

Papa was always busy.  He made cisterns.  The hole was dug, cemented out, painted with water glass to seal in the rain water that came from the roof of the house.  His design included a brick and sand filtration system for the water that was caught in cistern and used for washing clothes and bathing. 

We had a little stove in the wash-house where we heated water on for washing clothes. We would hang the clothes on the line to dry in the sun and wind.   We didn’t have modern plumbing, running water and such.  Our drinking water was from a well, south of the cob-house.  We would carry a pail there, pump it full, carry it home and put a dipper in it, from which we all drank when thirsty.  Without modern plumbing and no bathroom, we had an outhouse – with three seats – small, medium, and large, with catalogue pages to use for a wipe.

Farming the 160 acres was done with no tractor but farmed with horses.  They raised corn, oats, soy beans, and flax; hay ground and pasture for the cattle.  Mom always had a big garden with a big patch of potatoes to put in the cave for the winter, and we did lots of canning in half gallon jars.  When papa worked in the field; about 9:30 or 10 o’clock in the forenoon, we would carry lunch to him (tea in a quart jar and a sandwich).  He would always watch that we got home okay.

For Christmas, we always had a live tree with wax candles.  We would light them and sing O Tannenbaum (Oh Christmas Tree), Stille Nacht (Silent Night), Ihr Kinder Liech Kom Met (Oh Come Little Children), and etc.  For Easter, Mom colored boiled eggs for us, but, always, there was church and we didn’t forget the real meaning of Christmas and Easter.  On Saturdays, Mamma always baked bread (white and rye) and pies.  Dad often held me on his knee and helped me learn my Sunday school lesson.  Sunday morning, he and I would sit on the bench and peel potatoes for Sunday dinner.

Sometimes Papa smoked a cigar on Sunday morning, before church.  The family drove to church in the car, and after services, would say hello to Bill’s, John’s, Martin’s, Eddie’s and Louie’s; who all went to the same church, and Papa would ask, “Are you coming home today?”  They’d all come, so we hurried home to get dinner ready.  Boil potatoes, get jar of canned beef (it made the best gravy), some jars of canned vegetable, rice with raisins, and mom’s fresh bread and pie.  “A feast!!”  After which, the men went to sit on the bench to visit, or out in the grove to play horse shoe, while the rest of us cleaned up the kitchen.

Papa died in 1943.  Henry and I were still there with Mom.  In 1945, when Peter came home from the army, I left Mom and Henry.  We got married and lived in Minnesota for five years, ‘till Henry decided to marry Clara and move to Illinois.  He asked if Peter and I would come back to farm and stay with Mom on the farm.  Mom built a new house in Pomeroy and lived in it ‘till she had a stroke.  I stayed with her there a couple of weeks.  Peter and our children were on the farm.  Ruth Ann was in school and Alan and Marian came down with the measles.  I had them in one bed at Mom’s house and Mom in the other until they were over the measles.  Then I said I can’t keep doing this, so we took Mom along out to the farm.  She couldn’t walk or use her hands.  We had company and someone said, “Why not take her to the hospital for therapy?”  Frankly, I didn’t think it would help.  She had been off her feet so long.  But we gave it a try.  With God’s help, “Dr Quick” had her walking; using her legs anyway.  She also had some use of her hands so we got a walker for her and Peter rigged up pulleys in a door way to exercise her hands and feet.  We worked very hard with her.  She used the walker for years until she passed away.  And, yes, her hands too, she could knit pot holders.  She, as well as the rest of us, were so happy she could use her hands.  Ruth Ann was in college then already, while Alan and Marian were in high school.

Mom and Dad had made a will, so after Mom passed away, the farm and etc. was to be sold and divided among the thirteen children.  After that, Peter and I moved to Pomeroy where I still live.  We bought Uncle Lou and Aunt Kate’s house.  Peter passed away in October, 2005.  If he had lived until October 26th, we would have been married sixty years; and oh how I miss him yet today!

God love you.
As always,
Aunt Frieda

P.S.    While Peter and I lived in town, I went to night school and received my G.E.D.  I had always wanted to be a nurse.  I got my wish!  In the early years, I took care of Papa and Mamma and even Little Oma, Mom’s mother, too.  In later years, I took nurses aid training at the nursing home in Pomeroy, where I worked for many years.  Later, I worked in the nursing home and took care of my Honey (Peter) after he had several strokes and couldn’t take care of himself.  Now I am alone.  The children often have me come and stay for a visit.  But other than that, I live in Pomeroy, by the school, on Scugler Street.  The door is open. Give me a call.   Stop by for a chat and a cup of tea anytime. 

Frieda

John Buenting

Author: June 3, 2008 0 Comments

I grew up in Pomeroy.  My life revolved around family, school and church activities.  As a child, I remember going to Grandpa Buentings  (Grandpa died when I was five.  I can remember sitting on his lap and him tickling me with his moustache) where often we were served a small glass of homemade wine and a huge lunch –  everyone sitting around a huge table with a bench behind.  We either played checkers, dominos or Wahoo, a marble game.  Even when Grandma was older, she liked to play games and after she moved to her house in Pomeroy, we would visit her while my dad went to Brotherhood at church. 

Grandma loved babies.  I have pictures of her holding my children. Grandpa and Grandma were my sponsors when I was baptized.  Grandma gave me a Bible when I was confirmed and a suitcase when I graduated from high school.  I remember the Christmas programs at church which were always on Christmas Eve and we all wore white capes with a red bow and we got a sack with an apple, orange, peanuts and candy cane. 

One time, when Mom and Dad brought Grandma and Aunt Kate to Des Moines to visit us, my husband, Jerry, took them to visit an old friend and they were thrilled to see each other.  I came to Des Moines after graduating from high school and worked at Bankers Life (which is now Principal Financial).  It was quite a change, but exciting.  I remember how excited I was the first Christmas I was working at Bankers Life and able to buy presents for my mom, dad, and brother.  (Before I came to Des Moines, I did a lot of babysitting and detasseled corn for four summers.)  I met my husband, Jerry and we were married exactly a year from the day we met; June 7th, 1958.  We will be celebrating our 50th anniversary and plan to go on a cruise with our whole family. 

Before I met Jerry, I had only been in two states, Iowa and Minnesota.  Now, I have been in all 50 states, Mexico, Canada, several European countries, Africa, South America, and the Holy Land.  The first time we had ever flown was when Mom and Dad and our whole family flew to Seattle, Washington, where we rented a car and drove to California.  The highlight of the trip was going to Disneyland.  Mom and Dad even rode the sky lifts.  We have lots of good memories and have received so many blessings.  We have three children, Gary, Patti and Susie; seven grandchildren, ranging in age from five to twenty-four.  They keep us busy.

John

Tena

Author: May 27, 2008 0 Comments

Some of my memory recall of the Buenting farm are when I could haul a basket of cobs from the cob building and then thought I had the right to put my feet up on the cob box and sit in the chair by the cook stove.  I thought it was a big deal to get to sit on the bench at the table.  Our visits to the farm were few and far between but do remember the big house with all the bedrooms upstairs.  It was a real treat to get to sleep in the south upstairs bedroom after uncle Henry left the farm.  The long lane lined with trees was so very cool.  I was too young to  remember grandpa but memories with grandma was always inviting and had that chronic smile.  I treasure the chance for my children to each sit in the chair with grandma and the four generation picture.

Grandma would visit our farm every other year and it was special to sit and play dominoes with her and later at her funeral was honored to be one of her six pallbearers.

Later years we would visit the area for a reunion and would meet at uncle Louie’s for an evening.  Each time there would be a “meeting” in his basement for a treat buried in his freezer and each would get a sip. He had this magic smile as he enjoyed the time with all of us together and the horseshoe tournaments near his machine shed.

All of these memories are treasured and one has a good feeling during recall of these times of reflection.  We cannot bring back the past but continue to build on them and hope it continues for the next generation.

Tena

Henry and Clara

Author: May 18, 2008 0 Comments

I have chosen to write something for the “memory book” on behalf of Henry and Clara.  Uncle Henry has been unable to travel for a few years now and for the past year has resided in the Helia Health Care Center in Urbana, Illinois.  Clara has faithfully kept him company with her daily visits while still keeping up with her own household activities.

Uncle Henry will be remembered by many of my cousins as one of the jolliest and friendliest people to be around.   We Flessner children looked forward to our infrequent Pomeroy visits and spending some of our time with Uncle Henry on the farm.  He and Frieda seemed to have a way of thinking up things for us children to do that were always so fun.

Jeane and I made a couple of trips to St. Joseph, Illinois in recent years, spending our day with Uncle Henry and Aunt Clara in their home in the country.  We enjoyed taking them to dinner at the restaurant of their choice.  Uncle Henry’s magnetic personality was noticeable as he promptly held the attention of the waitresses.  Henry’s and Clara’s great love for each other was evident in so much of their conversation with us and with each other.  They showed us the two sewing machines in a room where they worked side by side in making quilt sections.  He loved to show us his inventions around the house that made life easier for both of them.

We so wish we could have been more frequent in our visits with them while they were still together in their own home.

Henry