My dear sister, Ginger, passed away on January 17^th2022 from Covid/Pneumonia.  The last I saw her, she was active and healthy and celebrating a milestone, fiftieth wedding anniversary.  I thumbed through old pictures which brought back many wonderful memories.

When I was born, my parents were going to name me, Ginger. Their friends said, “You can’t name your daughter, Ginger. It’s a name for pets.” But the love of the name prevailed and Ginger got her rightful name. She was full of spunk and looked up to me, her sister two years older.  Being the baby of the family, she would run off to a friend’s house after dinner to avoid the pile of dishes. Boy, did she make up for it and later life.  

Ginger and mother were very close. She told her, “I don’t ever want to leave you. But if I get married, I’ll live next door.” Ginger and her family took care of mom, who lived at the Garden Apartments in Waterman, until her death at 93 years old. When Ginger joined me at NIU, she also put her faith in Jesus and soon met the love of her life, Jim Fay. Jim was trying to escape being a farmer by going to NIU to become a Spanish teacher. But the love of the land prevailed, and she and Jim married.  Ginger would call me and say, “Sue, are you sitting down?” Then I knew she was going to announce another pregnancy. Getting pregnant was not easy for Ginger, who experienced morning sickness with each of her six children. She always had a smile on her face except when she suffered a miscarriage in late term.   I came out to comfort her as we sat around the kitchen table in tears. Her family was the very fabric of her life.

In the Spring, Ginger would call and say, “The corn and tomatoes are ready; come out and get them.” There was nothing like their wonderful sweet corn. My three children loved to escape suburbia to visit the Fay farm.  “We had so many adventures,” said, Aaron.  We would play in the barn and pretend we were lost children who had to forge our way in life.” They had a motherless lamb, that Ginger had to bottle fed.  It became the family pet. Now, how many children had a pet lamb like the Fay children?  To cool off on hot summer days, there was the large swimming pool near the house.  I believe it was Karrie who was trying to teach one of the third world kittens how to swim, with no luck. Ginger always had a great lunch for us and the whole family would come out for Thanksgiving celebrations.

 Loyalty and love prevailed at the Fay house. Not only did they love their children and grandchildren unconditionally, but they filled their large farm house with many who were trying to find their way in the world. They lived Matthew 25:35, where Jesus spoke of those who would inherit the kingdom of God. “For I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took me in.” Yes, many strangers were fed literally and spiritually on the Fay farm.

Ginger came to almost every major event in my life. We stood up at each other’s weddings. She was there when my son Aaron was born and I was there when Heather, her youngest, was born.  When I directed the school plays at Cary-Grove High School, she would bring our mother and her mother-in-law to attend our matinee performances. 

 Now in her resting place, Ginger will always live in our hearts.  She loved people of all walks of life and expressed it in her actions.  I will miss meeting her this March in Geneva to celebrate her birthday. Thanks, Julie, for asking me this question on Storyworth. The tears are now flowing, and I am experiencing some healing.

Are you Still friends with any of your friends from high school? How have they changed? 

My friendship with Adeline, Margo and Cookie goes back to elementary school days in the 1950’s.   

We all attended Warren Elementary School in Chicago. I remember looking out my door and seeing Adeline being dragged along by her Italian parents to school.  She had a great love for stars like Pat Boone and Elvis Presley.  Adeline openly shared her opinions on every topic under the sun, and she still does today.  I would walk over to her house to study geometry after school. The house was filled with the sound of opera and the aroma of some wonderful dish.  Realizing I ate bland food at home, Adeline’s   mother would save me a tasty dish of Mostaccioli or Lasagna, etc.  I often wished I was born in Italy, too.   Adeline was a strikingly beautiful woman who was part of the homecoming court as a freshman in high school.   Her parents were very strict and would not allow her to date.  She never married and took care of her parents until their death. But she had a wonderful career as a business teacher at Robert Morris College, took many trips to Italy and was a wonderful aunt to her extended family.

Margo moved to Chicago from West Virginia. She lived a block away from me in a town house where her divorced parents lived one upstairs and the other downstairs.  Margo had blond hair and dark skin. At the beach, she would get so dark that it was said, “If you get any darker, you’ll need police protection.” So sad to say, but racial profiling was big in the 60’s. After school, we would walk over to her dad’s auto repair shop and have a coke while we waited for her dad to drive us home. Being part of a bowling league, we often walked a block from the auto shop to see how many strikes and gutters we could get.

Cookie or Karlene had a warm and pleasant personality. She would ask very personal questions and would listen attentively. Her mother had a salon in her basement where we often played. Cookie and her mother would get into fights and sometimes a brush would go flying in the air. She smoked at an early age and would pretend she was a movie star like Irma la Deuce showing off her fancy cigarette holder. She was a very good student and much more outgoing and daring than I was. But she was conscious of her weight and had a friend pretend to be her on the phone. The friend asked a boy if he would go to the prom with her. He said, “Yes”, to the impersonator pretending to be her. We laughed until our ribs ached about that ruse.  Humor was a big part of our lives. Our job was to gather lots of jokes during the morning to share at lunch time. We would laugh so hard the milk would come out of our noses.  

Communication had been off and on throughout the years, while all three of us had full time jobs, children and now grandchildren. But now that we are all retired, we are reconnecting again. What’s great about having a long-term friendship is that we can once again share stories from our past and get each other’s different perspectives. Although we are now 75 years old, we can still enjoy prosperous lives. I think of the song, “Sunrise, Sunset, swiftly flies the years, one season following another, laden with happiness and tears.” We have been there for both.   

I was asked this question in my Storyworth gift for Christmas. I’m asked one question a week and at the end of the year, they put my answers in a book form.

What were your Grandparents Like 

I remember my grandparents on my dad’s side better than on my mom’s side. They would come and see us on their way to and from Naples, FL-their winter getaway. Grandpa Lauritz Gram was a friendly and interesting man who was born in Norway and came to the US through the St Lawrence Seaway. He settled in West Allis, Wisconsin. Grandpa worked for Allis Chalmer company. He loved baseball, fishing and keeping his mind alert by listening to Readers Digest on tape, and by saying the alphabet backwards. He was almost blind and had to tilt his head to see us. I wonder how he ever drove back and forth to FL with his trailer attacked. He lived until almost 98. We attributed it to the fact that he ate oatmeal every day.  

Grandma Emma Carter Gram was English/Scottish/Irish and was not as warm and friendly as Grandpa. I heard that when my dad had friends come over from college; she’d go to her room and pretend to be sick. When we had Sunday meals around the dining room table, Grandma wasn’t very happy to have anyone other than the family around our table. But my mom would often invite others for a lamb or pork roast dinner. I loved those times, because that’s when I learned the most about family history.  

Grandpa and Grandma would take over the master bedroom, and each night Grandpa would pour a glass of Mogen David Wine for the two of them. When Grandma Gram came down the stairs, he would whistle a tune and sing, “Here Comes the Bride.” He was devasted when she died at 89 years old.  

Ginger and I would entertain them with a dramatic show. We would dress up and do a lot of giggling.  Sometimes we’d sing an advertisement ditty. “Pamper, Pamper, new shampoo. Gentle as a lamb so right for you. Gentle as a Lamb (I’d say) Yes, Ma’am (responded Ginger) Pamper, Pamper, new shampoo. I would continue the show by standing on my head and doing a backbend and then walking over to a cup of water. I’d pick it up and pretend to drink and then put it back on the floor and continue to walk back and pull myself up.  I would get a resounding applause for that trick. 

In the summer, Grandpa and Grandma lived in Crivitz WI where I remember catching one fish.  But otherwise, we would see them in West Allis for special occasions like weddings and graduations.  

My mother, who was born in Valder’s WI, was the 12^thchild in her family. She was raised by her older sisters and didn’t interact very much with her mother.  I remember Olean Berge as a quiet woman dressed in black and sitting on her rocker. I imagine she listened to my mother play the piano which was my mom’s fun activity along with playing the game,  ball and jacks.  

Grandpa Anton Berge was born about the time that Lincoln died in 1865.  He did the hard work of tilting the land for farming. I loved seeing the cows and calves, but I was scared to death of the bull.  There was a part of the barn that had old farming implements and a horse-driven sled.  I imagined what it must have been like to have Grandpa drive my mother and her brother to school in very bad weather. But my favorite activity was playing with the kittens: I would often take one home.                                                     

Uncle Oley and Aunt Dagney, and my cousins lived with Grandpa and Grandma.   Grandpa, also Norwegians, would call her “Yudy” which I found unusual since her name was Judy.  He would yell “behivity” to my three male cousins if they were misbehaving. He told me he worked as a cobbler when he was younger before becoming a farmer. He gave Ginger and me a silver dollar to keep as a remembrance of him.  He took care of the chickens and the bees and continued to drive until his death at 94.  

Twas the Night Before Christmas and All Was Not Well!/by Susan Schuerr

Larry and I finished loading up our van with luggage, gifts, various types of  skis and ice-climbing gear. We finally were on our way from Chicagoland to Bozeman, Montana where two of our three children lived.   It was Christmas break and as a teacher, I was looking forward to my two weeks of freedom.  Flying was out of the question.  Our sleigh was too heavy for any plane.

We had an old Ford van; the mechanic had looked it over and said, “You’re good to go.” This man must have been Scrooge in disguise. We made it to Sauk Center at the Minnesota border when the van, to our dismay, stopped abruptly. We hopped over a fence and knocked on a stranger’s door. Being in a Christmas mood, the friendly folks took us into town where we found a mechanic and a motel for the night. When the faulty wire was finally reattached, we continued Westward on Rt 94. We kept our spirits up by singing Christmas carols, eating homemade cookies and hard-boiled eggs. But Larry was tense and worried that we would encounter another hiccup. I was getting colder and colder by the minute as the wind whistled through the drafty van and the temperature dropped. To keep warm, I snuggled into my sleeping bag feeling like a caterpillar in a cocoon. 

It was Christmas Eve in Jamestown, North Dakota and the sun was beginning to set when the van 

started hiccupping more violently.  We looked up and as fate would have it, we saw a Ford dealership. Larry was able to clickity clank into the driveway before the van heaved to a death defining halt. The franchise was getting ready to close when the mecahnic confirmed our greatest fears, “Your van is  toast.”  he said.” Scrooge was wrong; our vehicle would never make it beyond the Jamestown junkyard.  “Now what?,” we thought. The jovial Santa-like car dealer came to our rescue with a holiday special.  He showed us a beautiful used white and green conversion van in our price range. We filled out the loan paper work; but being Christmas Eve,  the dealer could not check our financial status to verify our bank information.  But the spirit of Christmas prevailed and the dealer not only took our word on faith, but gave us $500 for our hunk of junk. We moved our luggage, gifts and skis/ ice climbing gear to our new vehicle while shaking the hands of the friendly ford staff. “Merry Christmas” we shouted while streams of Chistmas music filled the air. God bless you merry gentleman, I quietly sang. 

Now on the road again, we thanked our Heavenly Father for the gift of a new van. No longer was I confined to  my sleeping bag. The new sleigh was warm and comfortable and soon I drifted off to sleep with visions of our Montana family dancing in my head. Larry, my wonderful husband, continued  his way to Bozeman arriving at 3 AM. We had made prearrangements to stay at our daughter-in-law’s parent’s home. They left the door open for us. We sank into our bed totally exhausted but so happy to have reached our destination by Christmas day.

The next morning, the in-laws woke up and saw our new van in their driveway.  “Whose here from North Dakota? ” they wondering seeing our temporary license plates.  It would be one of our best Christmas celebrations ever as we shared our tale-Twas the Night Before Christmas and Now all is Well.

By Susan Schuerr

We are celebrating Thanksgiving a little differently this year 2021. This year we are in Sebring, Florida volunteering with Habitat for Humanity. We are Care-a-vanning for the first time. All the workers except for a few are traveling from site to site in their self-contained trailers.

We met a wonderful group of giving people with building skills. Larry fit in like a glove. I fit in like a left-handed glove on the right hand, but I’m learning to paint, and to caulk.

It feels good to spend time now writing once again on my neglected blog. After spending 8 days volunteering, we will stop at Nancy and Steve’s home in Florida for Thanksgiving dinner. From there, we head back to Chicagoland.

I will be posting pictures of our serve soon. Larry’s backsurgery is finally healed and he has been careful not to overdo do it here as we volunteer.

Like me, you probably enjoyed the month of June with all the sunshine but then our grass was turning brown unless we watered it often. Now each day is filled with rain and the Fox River will fill up again and the grass and plants will flourish. As part of nature, we too need the sun and the rain to grow. Where do we get the nourishment, we need for our lives? Pascal once said, “There is a God shaped vacuum in the heart of each man/woman which cannot be satisfied by any created thing but only God the Creator.”

It often happens late at night in the quietness of our soul when we have time from a busy day to reflect on our lives and where we are heading next. Each of us is born for a purpose to make a difference in the world and to family, friends and those who pull at our heart strings. Right now, my heart strings go out to the victims of the building collapse in Miami-Dade. We may ask why? “Now there were some present at that time who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. Jesus answered. “Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way? I tell you, NO! But unless you repent, you too will also perish. Or those eighteen who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them—do you think they were more guilty than all of the others living in Jerusalem? I tell you, NO! But unless you repent, you too will perish.” Luke 13:1-4

Our lives are but a vapor. “Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. For you are just a vapor that appears for a little while, and then vanishes away.” James 4:14. But God through his word and through his son, gives us hope for each day while we inhabit planet Earth. Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. Following him gives hope that whatever calamity comes, we can trust him to hold the future. Jesus understands calamity, he hung on a cross for our sins and paid the price for our eternal freedom. We can live without fear if we repent and follow the resurrected Christ.

So, as you reflect on your life, open your heart and ask God to show you He exists and has a purpose for your life. Then watch as He unveils the blindness you once experienced. He talks to you through nature, through life experiences and through his word. “The Bible is alive, it speaks to me; It has feet, it runs after me; it has hands, it lays hold on me.” Martin Luther

In light of the first anniversary of George Floyd’s murder, I decided to write about my own experience with racism. I grew up with educated parents who taught us to love people of all races and religions. At an early age, my dad took me to the library and I still remember a book called April Love about an adorable black girl who suffered injustices. At the Lutheran Sunday school, we sang “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world, red and yellow black and white, they are precious in his sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world. The pastor’s wife taught us about missions in the world helping those of other races. But I never knew a black person until high school. I played soft ball with Thorpe High School in Chicago and they would always beat our Warren Elementary team.  I found myself fearful of unknown people, but then in my homeroom I met Harriet, a beautiful black girl. I was getting to know and love her but then one day she was gone. I found out that she was pregnant and back then a pregnant girl did not attend high school.

When I met my future husband, Larry, I also met his black roommate, Troy. Larry and Troy became close friends, and would tease each other with Mother jokes, etc. An example would be “Your mother wears combat shoes.” They would refer to Larry as fish belly white—all in good humor. Troy’s girlfriend, Gladys, taught Larry how to dance. To this day, Larry is a smooth dancer. They wanted him to join their fraternity and he would have been the first white person in a black fraternity. But Larry didn’t stay in school long enough to have this happen; instead, he became an air-controller in the Marine Corps.  One Saturday night, Larry and I along with Troy and Gladys went to a Beach Boys concert and we decided to switch partners to see how people would react as we crossed the street. This was during Martin Luther King’s marches in the 60’s. Larry observed a young, white couple sitting in their car. The woman was looking at us and pretending she didn’t see us. She poked her husband and with her body language, pointed to us as we made our way to the entrance. Larry stopped, smiled and waved at the freaked-out couple.

I admired Martin Luther King and his non-violence stance.  My family and I were shocked and deeply saddened when he was shot. I recall his prophetic words, “I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land.”  How sad that we are still so far from the Promise Land. In the 90’s, Walter Payton was not allowed to join Barrington Country Club because of his race. How heartbreaking that so much emphasis has been placed on race.

As a high school teacher, I did my best to teach my students through literature and personal experience about the importance of loving others regardless of their race. We read Raisin in the Sun, the Power of One, stories about Rosa Parks among many others. When Obama was running for president, the students would turn to a black student in my class and ask him if he was going to run for president someday. Fast forward to today. I thought we were making headway, but I think we are moving backwards.

If we claim to be Christians, then our actions must reflect God’s love for each human being. “There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus (Romans 3:23-24)” He is the light that enlightens every person who comes into the world. How can we be enlightened? It’s a process of stepping outside of the lines and shaking hands with new friends. Volunteering with Humble Design in Chicago and working at the Care Center in Barrington has given us an opportunity to forge friendships and to become color blind.