Pros and Cons of Forgetting

When a loved one dies and passes to the great beyond,

sadness breaks like heavy rollers on a rocky shore.

Powerfully surging, it batters the heart and soul.

With tidal force, it runs its course through a dark bleak hole.

The pain and sorrow mounts with our grieving at its core

deeply hidden fierceness of our emotions respond.

 

When life fades, there’s a time of worrying and fretting

and death’s door is cracked open to take the person home.

We grieve because we are left with loss and emptiness.

Wide oceans of emotions shrink to become much less;

time slowly heals us and sadness dissipates like foam.

Sorrow runs its course and there’s comfort in forgetting.

 

Tears flow freely when the lights of a life are setting.

Time softens the sorrows and those loving memories.

The pain eases and the grief lessens from day to day.

Danger comes when those memories start to fade away.

Time allows deep and painful remembrances to ease

Yet we fear the dark, blurred emptiness of forgetting.

Edson, Carl Beck
We buried Dad on Saturday. It wasn't easy to see him go, but it was a relief to let him go. His health had been on a slow decline since his fifth stroke. We tried to keep him at home with one other person to watch after him, but it took two people to help him do anything and we couldn't manage that with all of us still working.
We moved him to the same personal care home where mom lived after Alzheimer's claimed her mind. At first Dad was unsure of how he would like it, but the routine and having someone near made him comfortable.
The time between hospital visits were getting shorter and shorter. It became apparent that he wasn't able to stay with us forever. He still had a great appetite and as long as he could enjoy eating and was comfortable we as a family were satisfied. He had a problem off and on caused by a medication he had once taken, Reglan. If taken over a long period of time, it can cause tardive dyskinesia, which is a series of involuntary moves and jerky repetitive motions.
The nursing home interpreted it as restlessness and wanted him medicated. I know it was tiring and caused some problems, but most medications that can be given for the "restlessness" cause the dyskinesia to get worse or cause it to reoccur.
It was an almost daily battle to keep him more relaxed and calm. Because he had a great appetite and was still able to eat, we did not want a feeding tube. To deny him the last thing that was his and that he still enjoyed was the height of cruelty and we said not to a feeding tube and allowed him to eat. We did everything possible to prevent aspiration of the food, but eventually something would go into the lungs instead of into the stomach. He would get a pneumonia and have to be hospitalized.
He had gotten out of the hospital about a month when this last illness began. He was so weakened after his last hospitalization, we knew that even if he was readmitted, he wouldn't improve nor survive, his health had actually been on the decline after that discharge.
It seemed now his illness progressed rapidly and his strength declined just as quickly. My brother and sister continued to visit every day and my midday visits two or three visits a week remained constant, it was hard for us to see his health failing, but the last two days it became critical. His breathing became a struggle and we decided on hospice. We knew the end was sure and soon.
Hospice came and they were supportive. Family members came and went as their schedules allowed. Some had to work. My brother had to undergo a procedure and could not be there part of the time. My sister and I stayed close.
I began my vigil at his side from 10:30A.M.on Wednesday when Kathy left. I was able to do it and was glad. Ken came in, still miserable and in pain from his procedure. I told him to go home and take something for pain, rest, and come back when he was feeling better. My daughter Anna and Ken's son Kenny came in to visit, but left to go to work.
The nursing stall, from hospice and the home kept a close eye on Dad, medicating and repositioning him. It would have been impossible for the to have stayed in the room to suction him each time he had either coughed and his airway was impaired, I suctioned him frequently. It allowed me to do something for Dad.
His breathing got slower and his pulse weaker. Ken came back with his fiancé and son just in time. Dad lasted about another fifteen minutes before he took his last breath.
It hadn't been a hard decision to let him go, but it was hard to say good-by.

This is an autobiographical overview of my dad’s life. These are his words, I merely typed them. 

Carl Beck; Autobiography

I thought I would write a few lines about where I lived and what I have done in my life. My name is Edson Carl Beck. I was born at home June 23, 1923 on our farm. We lived on the road from Indian Head toward the Longwood school. It was the old Kalp farm that had been my my mother, Anna Nichol Kalp’s old home place. Mt dad Thomas Edison Beck bought the 223 acre farm. He raised cows, sheep, hogs , chickens, and ducks. We did the work by hand or with the use of horses. There was an orchard with quite a few fruit trees. We had plenty of apples which we took to have apple butter made. It was sold as well as meats and the wooden posts that we had cut to the Sagamore Mines company store. The posts were used int the Sagamoore coal mines to shore up the tunnels as the miners dug for the coal. The food stuffs were in thurn sold to the miners for their families.

At the store, you did not get cash money for the things that you brought in. They made you take some things in trade. Dad accepted things we couldn’t raise on the farm like shoes, clothing, coffee, and pepper.

I started school in 1929 and walked to the Longwood School with my brother and my sisters. Longwood School was a one room building and the walk was about two miles one way. Helen Irene was the oldest, born June 2, 1917; Estella Frances was next born on December 6, 1918; and Merle Domer was born on November 21, 1920.

Before I was actually old enough to go to school, I had to go to Longwood with my sisters. They were watching after me. I was sitting in the class and saw cows in the schoolyard. I jumped up to chase them like I did at home and Mr. Joe Adams caught me and paddled me, so I was punished for bad behavior even before I started school. Lunches were often buckwheat cakes spread with apple butter and folded over. When we boys were older, we would often cut posts before we went to school.

My teachers were Henry Adams, Nora Conner, Gladys Eakin, Grover Sleasman, and Mac Wasson. I went to school there until I was fourteen years old and we moved to the town of Sagamore where I finisged eigth grade and my teacher was Ray Mowery. We moved into the old store building. Later we moved to a house on the hill above the store, then moved to the Gdosky house near Rominey. We moved back to Indian Head , the first house above the school, and then to a house on Back Creek Road that Dad built. That is where my daughter Kathy lives now.

I attended Connellsville High School and graduated in 1942. An event that happened almost a year before I had graduated, December 7, 1941 shaped my life for the next few years. I was drafted into the Army may 13, 1943. I reported to Fort Knox, Kentucky and went from there to Camp Abbott, Oregon. It was a new camp when I arrived. There was one barracks building, one mess hall, and one latrine. The dust was halfway to my knees. About this time I was sure wishing that I was back home.

After my training there I went back home on furlough. While I was in training a flood came through Melcroft number two and wiped out Estella’s house. My sister Estella was swept away in the flood and by the grace of God, she was able to save herself, but her daughter Shirley was swept out of her arms. A man named Joe Maraugha saw Shirley swirling in the torrent and pulled her into a tree and saved her.

When I arrived home, the bridge into Indian Head had been washed away. I had to cross a swinging foot bridge to get home.

After furlough, I rode a train across the country to Pittsburg, California for debarking overseas to New Guinea, from there to Singapore, and to Morati Island where I helped to build roads and airstrips. After we were finished, we were shipped to the Philippines. I went in on the invasion of Leyete Gulf and then into Manilla to help clean up the island and make new roads. Finally I was assigned to Japanwhere I was able to see where the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. I was stationed at the Irunaga Air Base before I was sent back home and honorably discharged on January 18, 1946.

The first job that I had after I returned was a delivery boy for C. W. Resh at his grocery store. It paid $25.00 a week and all I could eat for lunch. The next position that I had was as a truck driver for Theodore Geary, and mining coal for the Kopper’s Coal Company of Melcroft. Later I worked for Elgie Coffman of White, digging coal and hauling it to the coke ovens in Alverton. I also worked for a few months for the Anchor Hocking plant in Connellsville.

My wife Sybil June Miner and I were married June 5, 1947. We first lived on the Francis Peck Road in Maggie Lowman’s house until we moved to the George Rugg house in Mill Run. We moved to a house owned by Jess Hall on route 711 between Normalville and Indian Head. It was no cherry. There was no heater, no running water, and no indoor plumbing. The bathroom was an outhouse out back. There was no basement, just enough room for a coal cellar and a wringer washed. We did have electricity. We carried our water from a little stream behind our house. Sybil and I worked very hard to make ends meet. She worked with my father doing income taxes and bookkeeping and I was hired at Walworth Valve Company in South Greensburg where I worked for thirty years. I ran a radial drill press for twenty-eight years of my time there. The company cast, cut, shaped, and assembled valves of all sizes and for all uses. I was out of a job when the company moved to Mexico.

For a few months I was without a job before being called by Robertshaw Controls. The caller said, “I hear you can run a drill press.” And could you come in for an interview?” And at the age of fifty –eight, I was shocked that I had found a job. I worked there for seven and one-half years and then I retired.

I went to Seven Springs ski resort and ran a shuttle bues for seven and a half years,. It helped me very much as I received a $5.00 profit sharing.

During this time, Sybil did the books and payroll for several large lumber companies; Mastowski-Fullem, Kern Brothers, John Steyer, and Ritenour Lumber. She also worked at different times at Seven Springs, and the banks at Donegal and Indian Head.

We had three children; Thomas Ray born March 9, 1949, (We were living in the George Rugg house); Kenneth Carl, born july 31, 1953 (We had bought and were living in the Jess Hall house); and Kathy Sue June 30, 1957. We are very proud of our children and teir families. We love our grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

My Dad Passes Away
My father Edison Carl Beck passed away this evening, aged ninety. I will write some of my thoughts tonight and will probably not post again for a few days. I will be busy helping my family make arrangements for his burial. Mom died seven years ago and Dad has looked forward to the day when he would join her. He had five strokes and managed to come back from them all. But there is no return from this.
It was hard sitting beside his bed today, watching his breathing grow shallower and his pulse weaker, but it needed done. It reminded me of the time when my grandfather Beck was dying in the hospital. I sat with him as well. It's not that I'm good at it or like to do it, but rather it was something that needed done.
It was harder saying good-bye to my dad than to my grandfather. The ties that bound my heart to my dad's were stronger. They had nearly sixty-five years to grow and blossom into three children, five grandchildren, and three great-granddaughters.
Sitting in his room people would come and go. We would talk about the living. It made dad's sow progression easier to bear. His Cheyne-Stokes breathing leveled and got slower and his pulse weaker. He passed away about five thirty this p.m.
He can rejoin Mom. Mom had Alzheimer's disease and passed away in 2006. Out of the mental fog of that horrible disease, the last thing I heard her say that made sense was, "Where's Carl. I love him so."
Mom, now you know where he is.

Amos Jacob Stahl

My Aunt Helen’s husband was named Amos Jacob Stahl .He was a hairy, roly-poly short statured man. Most people knew him and called him by his middle name; Jake. He was a very firm man and when he got upset, his voice would raise several octaves and bellow into an almost soprano squeak. It seems incongruous that I would say bellow and squeak together to describe his voice, but he did it. He could stand on the side porch of their home and yell for the kids to come home.

Helen and Jake’s house was a medium-sized, stone-cased home built on the side of a hill that overlooked the town of Indian Head. Their children would spread out playing with their friends. When it was time for the kids to come home, Jake would step out onto the porch and yell for them. No matter where the kids were, his voice was heard all over town and the kids would come running from where ever they were. The decibel level must have been surprisingly tremendous.

Jake made his living as a stone mason. His work was seasonal and it was hard to raise a large family with an interrupted way to make a salary. His work was limited to the amount of time that the weather conditions would allow him to ply his trade. Rain, snow, ice; all limited his ability to earn money.

Eventually he made the decision to move his family south. He made the right decision. The town he decided to settle was Orlando, Florida. This was before the Disney Corporation decided to establish his kingdom of Disneyworld. His skills were needed as Orlando bloomed and blossomed.

His skills were exceptional; bricks, cinder blocks, and stones all were the foundation for his art. He could cut, dress, and face the stones he needed for him to display his skills.

I remember a story that was told about his ability. One day when he and his crew were laying block for a basement, Jake noticed that some mortar had fallen out on the opposite side of the room. He lifted some mortar on the tip of his trowel and flicked it. The mortar hit the right spot and filled the gap.

He was a resourceful man. When we were younger and were visiting them at their home in Indian Head and eating. It was near the end of the meal and most of the food was gone. One of us wanted some more mashed potatoes but they were gone. Jake took a slice of bread, spread some gravy on it, and then cut it into bite sized pieces. Thus “gravy bites” became a part of my family’s vocabulary. Aunt Helen’s gravy was good even on bread.

He was a man who enjoyed his food. He loved to bar-b-cue and had his steaks cut to order, not buying over the counter. He did the grilling himself. I was stationed in Orlando at the Naval Training Center and would go to visit on some weekends. He would grill a huge platter of steaks for at least one meal and he loved his R. C. Cola.

Jake’s car of choice was the Oldsmobile. Every car that he ever owned was an Oldsmobile an as far as I know, it was the only brand of car that he ever drove. He liked them because they had room for his belly under the wheel. His belly was still large enough that the front of his pants had wear marks where the wheel rubbed the pants.

The only other vehicle that he would drive was his GMC pickup work truck and I think he drove a GMC was that Oldsmobile did not have a truck line.

Rolling Your Own

                My uncle Dale worked at the same place with my dad for a short while. They worked at a factory in Greensburg, Pennsylvania. Walworth made valves of sizes from two and a half inches to three feet in diameter of brass, iron, and stainless steel. The company did everything from casting them in the foundry to shaping, welding, cutting, and assembling them. Once they were assembled, they were inspected and the high pressure valves were tested.

                They made two types of valves, a ball valve and a wedge valve. The ball valve had a round ball-type device for closure. It fitted into an angled ring that regulated or stopped the flow of the contents.

                A wedge valve worked much in the same way. The closure device was wedge shaped and would slide up and down between two planed surfaces. Both type of valves were opened and closed by spinning a wheel that caused a screw to raise and lower the ball or wedge. The surfaces of the ball, wedge, and each surface had to be cut and polished so that the surfaces fit snugly.

                Dale rode to work with my dad and two other men. When they drove by one house, a shaggy collie-looking dog would chase the car, barking. Day after day the dog would run beside their car and bark. It was annoying to all, but especially to Uncle Dale. For some reason, it really irritated him.

                One day, Dale asked my dad to stop the car at a saw mill before they got to the dog’s house. Dale got out of the car and walked to the discarded wood slab pile. Moving a few, he selected one and carried it back to the car.

                Dale walked to the back of Dad’s car and asked him to open the trunk. Once Dad opened the trunk, Dale climbed inside, holding the slab in his hands. Dad slipped behind the wheel and drove away. The dog ran out at the approach of Dad’s automobile and started yapping. Dad was driving a little slower than normal because of his passenger in the trunk. Dale extended the slab out past the side of the car. When the car drove by the annoying mongrel, the slab caught the cur and knocked it off its feet. The dog gave a loud yelp and tumbled off the side of the road in a cloud of dust. It rolled across the berm and disappeared done a small hill.        Dad stopped the car a short way down the road. Dale climbed out, closed the trunk, and got back into the car after tossing the slab away.

                The outcome, when Dad would drive by the dog’s house, he would see the dog in the yard, but it never chased my dad’s car again.

Grandfather Beck Dies

My grandfather Beck was very ill and was in a local hospital. I was working the daylight shift and thought I would stop by and check on him on my way home after my shift. When I saw how fragile and ill he was, I decided to stay with him until my dad came to visit. Dad usually came to visit in the evening and I would leave. I didn’t think that Granddad should be left alone.

As I waited, I talked to him even though he couldn’t talk back or I just held his hand. It was difficult being alone with him. I could tell he was critically ill and was only a matter of time before he passed away. He was ninety-seven years old at the time and didn’t have a large health reserve left.

When I didn’t come home, my wife started to call around looking for me and finally found me. This was before cell phones and I kept putting off calling her, expecting my dad at any time and I could leave. I explained why I was there and that I was surprised that Dad hadn’t visited yet. I explained that I was planning on staying with my granddad until someone else came. I didn’t want him to be alone when he died.

I sat and waited. Winter’s evening sun waned and slowly turned to twilight and was creeping to darkness. Finally my Mom showed up and relieved me. We talked for a bit before I left the hospital. I found out that my uncle Merle had stopped by to visit earlier. The nurse that he talked with said that Granddad could be around for a week or so and he passed on that information to my dad. My dad decided not to come to visit. Merle had been misinformed and it bothered me that my dad believed his brother and an anonymous nurse over me, his son. I am a nurse as well and had been a Navy corpsman for years before that. I think my judgment of my grandfather, who I knew well, against a nurse to whom Granddad was a stranger.

I told Mom I had to get home, eat, shower, and get some sleep, because I was to work in the morning. Mom took over the vigil and Dad never came in to see his dad.

Granddad passed away before morning and Dad didn’t get to see his Dad alive. I felt bad for my dad. He listened to his misinformed brother and wasn’t there when his Dad died.

 

Granddad had prearranged his funeral, from each song to the casket and limousines. The one thing that he could not arrange was the weather. Due to the extreme cold weather and the amount of snow, the graveside ceremony was cancelled. There were drifts of snow at the cemetery and the cold was so intense, being outside wasn’t safe. and we gathered at the rectory hall and had the service and the meal together.