Carve Their Names

Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.
~Shannon L. Alder


 Trench dirt didn't always wash out, I am sure.

~ Sebastian Barry, On Canaan's Side

Uncle Oscar, Grandpa Bob, Unknown

We visited my mother's home town recently. On our way to start a short adventure with our young nephew we stopped to visit family and friends and to witness the unveiling of a state historical marker at a home where we once visited family - Aunt Minnie and her daughters, Pat and Theo.  What a pleasure it was to be present for the unveiling.* What a treat for us to be invited back inside the home and see with the eyes of little girls again.**

Wilhelmina Dorbritz (Minnie) married Oscar S. McMullen on July 4, 1905. We never knew Uncle Oscar, but we certainly knew about him. Our grandfather's older brother, Uncle Oscar was a doctor. Our grandfather had wanted to be a doctor as well, but there was only money for one boy to go to medical school. Oscar was one in a long line of doctors in our family.

We also knew other things about Uncle Oscar. He delivered our mother.*** He served as a doctor  during WWI and, among other lives, saved our grandfather. He returned home and, as the county health officer, died in the service of his community after staying up for days battling an epidemic (I forget what it was and there's no one to ask).  According to Mom's story, Uncle Oscar returned home from treating patients and dropped dead of a heart attack - at 54 years of age.

As I spent time pouring over Internet search results for Uncle Oscar's information I discovered very little. I found the clerk's notation of his and Aunt Minnie's marriage. I found his death certificate. I found where he had spoken to the state medical association about smallpox.**** But little else was forthcoming.

I've been thinking a great deal about Uncle Oscar and Grandpa Bob during these holiday days and decided to share another story about brothers and war.  I sense I have written about this before, but the story bears retelling.

I know little about how Uncle Oscar entered military service, but I believe Grandpa Bob was drafted into the Army. Bob was in the trenches in France and (again according to family lore) went "over the top" four times. Most of his comrades in arms were killed around him and he was hospitalized for exposure to mustard gas. As he lay dying in a hospital in France a man (who knew him from working on the shrimp boats in earlier days) recognized him. This unnamed man was able to find and tell Uncle Oscar who then "nursed Bob back to health" as the story goes.*****

Before the front. Grandpa Bob in the Brody helmet and some of his brothers in arms.

[One wonders about such stories. All families have them, but are they true? Well, some years ago I found a small article in their local paper that confirmed the story of Oscar and Bob.]

Uncle Oscar came home to Aunt Minnie and they had 17 more years together. They raised five children - two boys and three girls.

Grandpa Bob returned to the states on the Leviathan according to the postcard he sent home to his girl, Grace.  He married Grace,  had two children, and four grandchildren. He was a salesman. He had a wonderful sense of humor and a way with animals.******

But the war never left him.  Trained as a mortician, Bob felt forced to leave his profession; he had seen enough death. And he never spoke of the war until a nephew returned from WWII.

So, while tomorrow is the day to commemorate our war dead, I will remember and celebrate brothers - brothers by blood and brothers in arms. Brothers who came home together and those who did not.

We may not know all their names, but they are carved in our hearts.

Grandpa (holding the dog) with fellow soldiers.

NOTES:

* Our mother's best friend's youngest son, P.J., still lives here and keeps us informed of events. I think our mothers would be pleased to know we are friends.

** At Christmas time we visited our grandmother and would often make calls on other members of the family. Aunt Minnie and Pat (and later Theo) had the most marvelous Christmas tree in the front room. Pat collected tiny pitchers when she traveled and a display cabinet stood just inside the front door. We could look, but not touch. We often played Mr. Potato Head with real potatoes. I suppose that is the way the game was originally designed.
 

This is the way I remember Aunt Minnie's.

The house today.

***It seems weird to me, but I have seen the birth certificate. And I would expect that Uncle Oscar delivered all his children, although I haven't checked - yet.

**** Google is an amazing tool.

*****Unlike my paternal grandfather and his brother, Oscar and Bob both came home. http://walkinthepark-padimus.blogspot.com/2015/05/two-boys-from-small-town.html

******Mom said he could turn a chicken over on its back and put it to sleep.