REQUIEM FOR A SUNSHINE BOY

When we started our coffee group, called the “Sunshine Boys,” over fifteen years ago there was a core group of men who numbered around ten. There was another group of ten or so who came by now and then, so all in all it was a lively group but a respectable group. I was one of the younger ones. As the years have gone by, old age, disease and accidents has taken its toll and now there are very few of us left. Saturday we buried old Charlie and so the ranks thinned again. So many times we have celebrated the lives of our friends on days like this, but to be truthful there’s not many of us left to celebrate. Far more of us are below the earth then above it. From the start we controlled the rancor at our meetings. We kept contentious issues at bay and just enjoyed the fellowship that old friends find comforting. We rallied around the sick, told old stories over and over again, and poked good-natured fun at each other, but in the end we always left each other on a good note. We were as different as snowflakes but we always put the common good of the group ahead of any bias we had in life and we called it respect. Charlie was one of us. Charlie died from dementia and although I didn’t make the effort to go see him after he went into a facility, I know I should have. It didn’t matter if he knew me or not. I knew him and that was the most important thing. The people who have meant the most to me in life have always been the congenial and kind people like Charlie and not the brash and tough ones. I’ve mellowed in my old age. I didn’t always feel like this. But as I reflect on the times of when I was angry and unsettled in life, one thing stands out. That indifference to others views, that I had back then, never ended well. It never brought about compromise or cooperation. It only brought about more conflict. But to have that compromising attitude which is the only mindset to have to do business correctly, you have to be humble and I wasn’t always. Our society has all too often turned to anger and grandstanding lately to get their point across. I see it far to often in the people I talk to and I talk to a lot of people. You find yourself choosing your words so carefully, fully cognizant that one misspoke word or phrase will turn the whole conversation bad and forgiveness doesn’t come easy sometimes. This boiling bitterness lies just under the skin of a lot of people and can erupt in a hurry and if you’re not careful it can draw you in like quicksand and the more things get heated, the deeper and deeper you get into it. My mom used to say, “The things that are best said are sometimes left unsaid. That if you know you’re right you don’t have to prove it to anybody.” Maybe not the best mantra for a writer but good advice, never the less. “Be right in your mind not theirs,” She said. I have even known people who threatened physical violence to those who stand up to them. They usually end up void of friends and muttering to themselves. Charlie was a good man who left you with a smile. He was a Christian man and lived that kind of life to prove it. He will be missed but the bigger thing we should all take from this is a firm resolves for all of us, to be more like Charlie.

LIFE

This isn’t just about me; it’s about many of us who grew up 50-60 years ago. Parents in those days loved their kids just as much as parents do today but they had a different way of making you step up to the plate. They didn’t have the same threats to barter with you for your behavior, as parents do today. They couldn’t take away your phone or your x-box because we didn’t have one. They couldn’t take away your allowance because we didn’t get one. So instead they gave us a common sense approach to what would be expected of us in today’s world if we were going to be successful. They in effect showed us how to be responsible. When I was fourteen years old, I got a job at a chicken hatchery-cleaning chicken poop out of cages. I was paid a dime an hour. I stunk so bad when I got home my mom made me clean up in the yard with soap and the garden hose. When I was fifteen I had a paper route that got me up at five thirty in the morning to deliver papers before school. I had a canvas bag I wore over my shoulder with about fifty papers in it and I walked the 3-mile route in the winter, no matter the weather. No parent to drive me. I made a couple of bucks a week. When I was seventeen I got a job in a drug store stocking shelves and cleaning the floors. I was ecstatic, as I got seventy-five cents an hour. But in turn I had few friends or social life and was left out of most after school activities. When I graduated from high school my father told me to get a job and move out. I thought about college but there was no money for tuition so I went to work in a Machine shop where I made good money but hated the work. Eventually I found a job I liked and life was good after that. When I was in my fifties I had a disagreement with a supervisor and I retaliated by not talking to her. She told me I had too much foolish pride. I told her I did have a lot of pride but it wasn’t foolish pride because I earned every bit of pride I had. I am sure if she knew my story and how I had got where I was, she would have understood. To those of you who have never worked for a living, or are still living off your parents, the thing you are missing out on the most in today’s world, is your own self worth. My friends tell me the reason things are, like they are today, is it’s just a different world now days. I want to say “duh.” That’s an excuse, not a reason. There’s a difference. A reason is usually a valid justification for doing what you are doing. An excuse is all to often just your interpretation of why you don’t want to do things and not always based on facts. I fully realize this isn’t about everyone, but it s about enough people to cause concern and a big problem here in the nation and in our lake country. There is a help wanted poster in just about every business I go by. Businesses that relied on young people to work their summers in this resort community. Some of them are going out of business. Not for a lack of interest in their product. Instead, for a lack of people to work for them. When I was young there were just as many businesses that needed help, but jobs were hard to find. Everybody wanted a job and everybody’s parents wanted their kids to work and it wasn’t always because they were poor. It was because they wanted their kids to be responsible. The blame goes to the parents.

FOR OUR VETERANS

I have this job in my old age now of cleaning out closets and throwing away things I don’t need anymore. I always knew it had to be done someday but I always thought I would make it her job. I was good at that in the years we were married. But she fooled me and she left first, so now I’m left holding the bags and many boxes. But you ask,” How does this tie in with our veterans?” Well let me get to that. In an old box, high on a shelf the other day, I found an old uniform. Now there have been a lot of us that wore uniforms over the years but there was no doubt that this was an army uniform. It felt like it was made out of mostly wool and the insignias on the sleeves said this man was a Tech Sergeant and it had four bars on the sleeves and several patches that I believe represent the outfit he was in. Also one gold button that represents the infantry. There was only one family member this could have belonged to and that was my father-in-law. My wife had kept this uniform after he passed away. My son was named after this man so I have since passed it on to him. He has the flag that was spread over his coffin and all of his medals. But let me tell you a little more about Sergeant Leo Maus. Leo joined the army in 1939 and when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor two years later he was sent to fight in the south pacific. He fought in the Philippines and several other small islands but as the war was drawing down he was sent to the battle of Okinawa. He survived that bloody battle but a lot of his buddies didn’t. Although he was wounded three times, he came home in 1946. After the war Leo came back to his hometown and bought a gasoline filling station in the town of Staples. That’s where I met his daughter who later became my wife. He was a gifted mechanic, back when you didn’t need a P.H.D to fix an automobile. He was a proud veteran who would always snap to attention when the flag was presented, be it a parade or a sporting event. I asked him several times about his battles in World War II but he would only say, “The war is over, lets live in peace.” Leo was the best father-in-law I could have ever had, a wonderful dad to my wife and a loving grandpa to our kids. When I laid that uniform out on the bed that day after I found it, I had tears although he’s been gone for 40 years. I had tears because this was the uniform of a hero who left his blood on the beaches of Okinawa and came home to one last victory march and then went on with his life where he had left off and all he would say about it, is “The war is over let’s live in peace.” What a humble man. In his later years Leo had a stroke that left him partially paralyzed. He should have been in a wheel chair but he would walk around dragging his dead leg behind him and holding a cane in his one good arm to steady himself. He refused to let anyone help him unless there was no other way to get where he wanted to go. He lived out the last decade of his life in the old soldiers home in Minneapolis. He’s buried in the National Cemetery in Minneapolis. God bless Leo. God bless all of our veterans.