Linderhof


Gardening, Cooking and Decorating on the Prairie of Kansas


Welcome to Linderhof, our 1920's home on the prairie, where there's usually something in the oven, flowers in the garden for tabletops and herbs in the garden for cooking. Where, when company comes, the teapot is always on and there are cookies and cakes to share in the larder.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Dad




My Dad was born not in the last century but the century before that.    Two years before the turn of the 20th Century.     He lived through not only the Depression and World War II but World War I as well.   



Dad at Camp Clark, Missouri before being sent overseas, World War I

He first served in the National Guard where he was deployed to Mexico in our war against Pancho Villa.    He then enlisted in World War I and was sent overseas.    Perhaps because of his small stature, he was a messenger and rode an Indian motocycle as he took messages from one unit to another.

He was wounded (for those guys were "easy pickings") but in World War I, there was no Purple Heart and instead he received an engraving with Columbia "knighting" a doughboy and stating that he was wounded in action.

I treasure the engraving.   It was a part of my childhood home and when we went through my Mother's Estate it was the one thing I wanted.    It hangs with pride at Linderhof.

Dad was part of my life for a short time.    I was born late in his and since he wanted children so badly and I was the first born, I was a Princess and could do no wrong.    My wish was his command.    But, yet, somehow, I grew up to be not that spoiled pampered "darling"!

He was German -- his father immigrating to America in 1885 and his mother having been born here of German immigrant parents.    He was proud of his German heritage even though we had fought two wars against them and he made me proud that I, too, was part German.     Linderhof is named Linderhof because of that German heritage.

He had a rough life.   Mustard gas in France led to lung problems his entire life.     He lost an arm just below the elbow in the 20's but that never stopped him.    In fact, I was grown and working in a Personnel Office before I realized that he would be considered "handicapped".    Neither we nor he ever thought of him that way.

And he died way too young -- at 62.     It's been a long time since I've celebrated Father's Day in any other way than putting flowers on his grave.    

He was my hero!





10 comments:

On Crooked Creek said...

Martha,
Loving tribute to your Father...Dad! Hold your memories close...they are the strength we often need to carry on!
Fondly,
Pat

La Table De Nana said...

What a lovely tribute and sweet photo of your dad.
It's amazing what he lived with and didn't complain:) My dad was 62 also..

Mimi said...

Thank you for sharing your Dad with us.

Bookie said...

A moving post about your Dad!

megan said...

Lovely tribute to your father Martha. My own father was but 53 when he died, he served in the British army in World War II, but survived that.

Rose H (UK) said...

A very beautiful post in honour of your Dad, what an awful shame his life was cut so short.
Best wishes
Rose H

podso said...

A wonderful tribute. You know people endured a lot in those days with little complaint. I hope the next generation listens to stories like this. And what sacrifice for their country. Wonderful memories you have to hold to.

From the Kitchen said...

A wonderful tribute to an obviously remarkable man. Thanks for sharing him with us.

Best,
Bonnie

Pondside said...

That was lovely Martha. We could all use a reminder of the quiet heroism of the generations before ours.

A Haus to Call Home said...

I so enjoyed this lovely tribute to your father, Martha. Agree with Podso in that the younger generations need to hear of the sacrifices made by those before us to be grateful for the blessings we have today. Wonderful post...thank you for sharing your memories!
xo, Michelle