Family Reunion in Texas (Texas)

I love going to the annual Kieschnick Family Reunions and I love going to Texas to celebrate that. But I must also admit to what many Texans (including some of my relatives) may consider a set of mortal sins. There is stuff going on in Texas that I hate. I hate the idea of arming the Texas National Guard to protect it from an invasion by the USA. I hate the reality of everyone insisting that it’s important to carry guns to school, church and family picnics. I hate it that too many Texans think sexual orientation is a choice which must be stopped. I hate it when I experience (at best) paternalism for Blacks and downright denigration of Hispanics. And if any of my Texas relatives or friends have gotten past this paragraph and have not deleted this blog and inserted a two word expletive in its place then I am ready to proceed and tell you why I love Texas.

On my recent flight to Austin we had not preceded very far east of El Paso before I began to enjoy the beauty of that vast and varied state. Texas had wonderful spring rains and the fields were unusually green for late July. The hills were alive with lush green trees. Herefords and Holsteins roamed the fields. Massive rolls of hay were strewn in the vast fields. The few visible clouds added just the right touch to a beautiful landscape. The feeling that I have when looking across or driving in the rolling green hills of Texas brings me to bliss.

When my sister Mimi welcomes me into her house with her beautiful slight Texas drawl and the temperature of the house is just right and the refrigerator is filled with cold beer and there is a bottle of Scotch nearby what could be better!

In the morning I join a couple of my California and Connecticut kids and some of their family for breakfast. I get upset when my wait for the table runs to 30 minutes. And then the waitress comes and it’s true joy. Her Texas accent flows from her sweet and accepting face. She offers us all the options we might want with unusual graciousness. Then she brings the just baked biscuits, the cream gravy and the strong black coffee. I could stay here all day.

In the evening we go to the first of a series of feasts. The back yard is as immense as it is inviting. The beer is on tap for everyone. The pork butt bar-b-cue is so wonderful I think it can’t get any better until I add just a bit more of that bar-b-cue sauce and I check whether or not I am already in heaven.

The style of the Pitching Washers game has changed a bit but there is room for all from ages 8 to 88-and from then on the Super Bowl could not be more competitive but it is all in good fun

My granddaughter has come from California to experience Texas and she gets the full treatment. The first gentleman with whom we converse at the first party is a former rodeo competitor and tells about bucking broncos and calf roping. The next day she goes to buy her western straw hat and the salesman discovers she is from California and within minutes figures out that she is here for the Kieschnick and tells her he is a housemate of a person from the Kieschnick clan. He gets just the right hat for her!

The next few days I continue to be immersed in some of that good stuff that is essentially Texan: marvelous chicken-fried steak, freshly picked ripe peaches, crisp pecan pie, fried okra, five or even seven layered dip. And I visit an ancient smoke house where a generation ago at least 7 deer a year were smoked, dried and preserved to provide meat for an entire year.

I drive by the old cotton gins. Brother-in law Raymond’s longhorn cattle come to the edge of the fence to greet us, and the country western tune on the radio blares “Beautiful, Beautiful Texas the land where the bluebonnets grow. We are proud of our grandfathers who fought at the Alamo “

As I walk down the airport corridor for my return flight to California I take one more look at all those U. of Texas Longhorn caps, shirts, etc., hear one more “Howdy” from a Stetson wearing exec and I head into the plane thinking, “Sure hope we come back to Texas next year for another Kieschnick Reunion.”

Family Reunion in Texas (Family)

 I have just returned from attending my 24th Annual Kieschnick Family Reunion. This is a gathering of the clan related to my six sisters, one living brother, one deceased brother and me. This year we numbered 108 in attendance.

One evening with a Shiner Bock beer in hand I just sat off to the side and observed and reflected upon this assemblage.

I was struck by the fact we all got along and were comfortable speaking with each other and challenging each other in golf, Texas 42 (a game played with dominoes) and Pitching Washers (a Texas based competition now spreading throughout the world). There is much that unites us: our deep love, respect and admiration for our parents, Oscar and Lina Doering Kieschnick. We are mostly people of faith. We share family values of integrity, hard work, frugal life styles, service to community and personal responsibility. I learned all this anew at this reunion and I am grateful.

Within our common background and many shared values we are diverse. As I reflected upon just some of the vocations of those gathered the list quickly grew very long. In our midst we have teachers, pastors, business owners and executives, ranchers, farmers, psychologists, professors, counselors, secretaries, attorneys, medical doctors, opticians, real estate agents, postal workers, social workers, and lots of oil related work like managing oil flow, repairing oil rigs, designing new ways to repair supply lines, managing oil leases etc. etc.

Our economic situations range from getting by on Social Security to multi-millionaires.  Yet when we gather those differences do not tear us apart

We first generation sibs all sprang from Mom and Dad in Williamson Country, Texas. Now I mentally run through the people at this reunion. The places of birth include China, Hong Kong Taiwan, Spain, Jamaica, and Russia. Languages now spoken by Kieschnick family members include German, English, Russian, Mandarin, Spanish, Jamaican Patois, Cantonese, French, Italian and Portuguese.

As I look at my relatives I recall how many of them have come to my aid in my time of need. They helped me through school. They loaned me their vehicles. The helped me with sex education. They modeled faith and trust. When my wife Jane flew home from Hong Kong in a coma they made sure the ambulance was waiting at the airport. When my two sons and I were in Tiananmen Square and Mao’s army moved in they prayed for us. When one or more of us showed different stages of Alzheimer’s they empathized,. When our country needed to respond to Pearl Harbor they enlisted. When son David died way too young they came to bring comfort and support.

Enough already! I got down to the dirty business of calculating expenses and figured that over the years Jane and I have invested some $50,000.00 to attend and host these 24 reunions. And I have decided it was worth every penny. 

Reflections on Retirement: 3 Satisfying Days

I’ve been retired now for more than 22 years and it has been good. I am blessed to live with Jane, my wife of 6e4 years. The retirement community in which we live is wonderful. Our health is good. Our congregation, Calvary Lutheran in Solana Beach is supportive.

Probably the best thing about retirement in contrast to my previous working environment is that I do not feel responsible for an organization and I actually go through a whole week without any meetings.

Into this environment there come some special days that are extraordinarily satisfying. I recently had 3 of such days.

Day One: I had a terrible cough my body was weak. I did a most unusual thing. I stayed in bed late. At 10:00 a.m. the phone rang. A volunteer at church called. She knew I had volunteered to fill in if there was any emergency situation as our pastor was out of town. She told me that a phone message from the previous day (Sunday) said someone was dying and there was a need for a pastoral call. My initial response was negative. “I’m not feeling well. Pr. ‘N’ is also on call; he could do this- and why is yesterday’s message being responded to only today?”

But I acted. My phone follow-up gave me the message, “Ellen is not just very sick. She is at the point of death.”

I hurried over. I was greeted by Mary whom I soon discovered was the best, kindest, most able and compassionate hospice care provide I have ever met. Ellen was indeed dying but conscious. I stroked her arm. I spoke into her ears and looked in her eyes. I recalled happy days. I read to her from John’s Gospel, “In my Father’s House are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you.” Together with her care giver we recited the 23^rd psalm. I prayed a prayer and we did a ritual for those dying.

I asked if it would be possible to have Holy Communion. The aide assured me it was. I was concerned about Ellen swallowing even a little bread and wine. But the caregiver provided a small syringe. We consecrated the sacramental elements, merged them, put them into the syringe and we three partook of the blessed elements, I spoke the Biblical blessing and left.

Twenty minutes later I arrived home. Jane said we’d had a phone call from Ellen’s caregiver. Ellen had died a few minutes after I left. She had let go. She died in peace.

I was grateful to have been a part of a day very well spent.

Day Two: Memorial Day

The retirement community in which we live includes a great many retired US Military personnel. Since we are near San Diego and Camp Pendleton there are especially many former Navy and Marine veterans. Memorial Day rituals are a big thing here.

But this year I decided to observe Memorial Day (Veterans Day) “off campus”. I volunteered to feed the homeless at TACO (Third Avenue Charitable Organization) at First Lutheran in downtown San Diego.

 So I gathered with the 20 or so volunteers to meet them and get acquainted, to get our arrangements and to have a community prayer. I was honored to be asked to lead that prayer.

Soon the 2000+ guests arrived and gathered din the church courtyard. We had a special birthday cake for those who had birthday in May. I was again asked to lead the prayer. But first I asked all veterans to raise their hands. Tragically there were more than a dozen now living on the street, homeless and hungry. I thanked God for their (and all veterans’) contribution to preserving American\’s best values.

As they all marched through the food line I tried to look into each face, the mentally ill, those on drugs, women, men, children, all colors and ethnicities, each one a hungry brother or sister.

They all responded in gratitude, humbly and sincerely. As long as the food lasted they could come back for seconds or thirds – or even for take-out.

I wished them all God’s blessings and drove back home to my well supplied and secure home. And I felt good about my small role on the different kind of Memorial Day – a day well spent.

Day Three: Committee meeting

I mentioned above that one of the blessings of retirement is the greatly reduced number of meetings one is required to attend.

Yet I recently chaired a very small Committee meeting. On the face of it, it sounds like the dullest of all possible committee meetings.

I chair the Governance Committee of a local organization called Survivors of Torture International. We provide a safe haven, psychosocial support and immigration support to persons who have fled to the USA to escape government sanctioned torture now so very common in too many parts of the world.

I’ve spent my life working for “not-for-profit” organizations so it is no big deal for me to help our organization with training board members, putting in place staff succession processes, ensuring proper accounting. So my committee does that. The three other committee members all know their stuff, bringing competence, compassion and commitment. So we did our thing for a couple of hours.

Really all very simple and straightforward. Yet as I drove home that evening I felt satisfied. I was using my time, talents and experience so that others might find a life much better than what they had experienced in their home country. It was a satisfying day for me.

Reflections on a Blessed and Happy Life - No. 21 - High School Work for Pay

 Working for pay was always a high priority for us kids growing up in the depression years of the 1930’s. Of course, we never got paid for any work around our own home. A weekly allowance was something we only heard about. So early on I mowed lawns for my relatives and then picked cotton for neighboring farmers during the summer. I was good at the first and very very poor at the second.

Therefore when I went away to dorm living at Concordia Academy in Austin in 1941 it was assumed that I would find some paying jobs. This was complicated by the fact that we were not supposed to go off campus from Tuesday a.m. through Saturday noon. So I found work on campus. The first job was to help take care of the grounds. I was assigned a partner, Mike Mitschke. We worked especially the rose bushes. Our work was carefully monitored by the school’s head, Director Dr. Henry P. Studtmann. The pay was 20 cents an hour.

In my junior and senior years I got another assignment. I managed the “school stationery”. This was a small operation originally set up to sell stationery supplies to students. Gradually it was

expanded to a much more productive service namely that of selling candy, soft drinks and such. We were open for a few minutes after chapel each morning and then again after evening chapel services. Everything was supposed to be on a strictly cash only bases, but there were always some students who asked for credit. So I kept a log of that. However, every accumulated bill had to be settled by Friday evening or no more goods would be sold to that person.

Since these were the years of World War II it was extremely difficult to procure candy etc. to sell. Every week I would go in the “college truck “ with the school custodian to a wholesale provider. There I put on my most friendly and beseeching face in an attempt to get a supply of Milky Ways, Mars Bars, Butterfingers et sim. Some times I succeeded, other times I came up empty. I am somewhat ashamed to admit that once I procured these favorites I was not always completely fair in making them all available for general purchase to all students. I must admit that at times I did hold some back for favored roommates or other friends.

In retrospect I find it amazing that there was virtually no supervision nor accountability. Each week I simply told Director Studtmann how much gross income there was, turned that amount over to him and then moved on. It was a good job.

 In my junior year (11^th grade) I got a good break. The Wukasch Brothers Café operated on the main drag just across the street from the big central library tower of the University of Texas. They were looking for workers. Again Mike Mitschke and I quickly jumped at the opportunity.  On Saturday afternoons (except for when the Texas Longhorns had home football games) we walked the few miles to the café and got to work in the kitchen. I remember especially peeling pound after pound of potatoes. But we also helped with doing dishes, cleaning the floor etc. The 20 cents an hour was occasionally supplemented by a free ice cream cone at the end of the day.

This job turned out to also be available over the summer ,so I grabbed it. I actually rented a small room at the home of Teacher and Mrs. Wilkening and got in as many hours as possible. I was promoted to waiter, which meant that my 20 cents an hour was supplemented by tips.  I don’t recall ever getting a tip larger that 25 cents but those nickels and dimes did count up. And I got my meals provided, as long as the cost did not exceed the 40 cents which was the price of our standard plate lunch. Now that I think of it, the café also got a good deal. They wanted me there early in the morning through about 2:00 p.m. then wanted me “off” without pay from 2:00-5:00, returning again to work from 5:00-7:00. It all worked out.

One other benefit of that job was it expanded my horizons. I became very close to Joe the dishwasher. He was an African American and for me to work with a non-Anglo was a good and positive experience. To this day I recall our banter, our 5 cents a day wager on how many lunches would be sold that day, my covering for him when he took off for June teenth (the remembrance day of when slaves were first freed in Texas). One other “handymen” there was a mentally challenged gentleman and he, too, was my teacher. Furthermore, my sheltered life had in no other circumstances put me in contact with any non-Lutherans. Here I worked with people of many or no religious beliefs. Some of my co-workers were females (both single and married) whose life experiences, language, and other escapades help expand my world. I also learned that of all meals ,breakfast is probably the most difficult to serve. I never knew there were so many different interpretations of what it mean to have eggs “over-easy” or to have bacon that is “slightly crisped” or toast that is “toasty but not too brown” The size of the waffle or the appropriate thickness of a pancake was always open to argument, All in all this was a very good experience and later some of that family was generous in helping me find funds to go on to college.

I believe that today, after 60 years, there is still a café on that site, but I bet one cannot get a steak sandwich for 30 cents!