Sharon Dishaw died early this morning. As soon as I know more, will post it here.
Remember to hug your loved ones and tell them how much you love them.
Life is precious.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Happy Birthday Dad!
The following post was written by Ron Osterberg. His grandmother, and Brun's mother was Ida Ekquist Osterberg. Ida was Grandma Teckla's sister, and I knew her as "Aunt Ida" and she lived in Aurora, Wisconsin when I was a child, and we visited her often.
Brun H. Osterberg
May 18, 1907 – October 4, 1958
Brun took life seriously. Yet, childhood friends in northern Wisconsin remembered him as playful and funny. He was a hard working loyal family man. Yet, friends remembered that he often drank too much and deprived his family.
He was a man of many contradictions and his character had many facets. That’s why pinning down his essence is difficult. However, those who knew him agree that “cynical” is an apt one word description.
Our father judged the world harshly, especially politicians and the wealthy. Like his father, he admired Eugene Debs, the long time socialist leader. At the core of his political belief was fairness and the notion that socialists were best able to create a fair system. Though he voted for FDR, he preferred the socialists.
Brun left home when he was 14 years old and worked as a lumberjack in Hurley, Wisconsin before bumming around the country and the world. He talked about riding under and between railroad cars.
He eventually became a merchant marine and identified himself that way for rest of his life. He crossed the equator four times, went through the Panama Canal and spent time in European and Asian seaports. He was a good sailor, but he often missed his ship when it sailed. That meant that he worked mainly on ships others avoided.
While a merchant marine, he took taxidermy as a hobby and grabbed an albatross to stuff. Bad move for two reasons. First, the bird pecked his finger leaving a bad gash. The ship’s medic soaked it in iodine that was too strong and it dissolved the tip of his finger. The missing eighth of an inch with the fingernail bending over the end fascinated his children.
Second, seamen thought that harming an albatross was bad luck. Shortly after the albatross encounter, the ship caught a hurricane. Thinking that they were sinking, the captain called the crew together for a group prayer. When the crew was assembled, a shipmate wondered aloud if the storm, which he said Osterberg caused, would go away if they threw him overboard.
While hitchhiking to a ship’s job at a mid Atlantic seaport, a car struck and dragged him several hundred feet. People thought him dead and wired his parents for burying money. He survived the accident and used the money for bus fare home which was then in Kenosha, Wisconsin. In the family house were his parents, two older brothers, Rudd and Ben, one younger brother, Wes, and three younger sisters, Evelyn, Eileen and Rhoda.
Brun married Marge Hansen in 1932 and they had four children, Sally, Ron, Bruce and Kenneth. They divorced in 1946 and he went to San Diego. There he married Marge Woodhouse in 1951 and had four daughters, Patricia, Lynn, Wendy, and Jill. He had a heart attack in 1956 and a car smashed him in 1957. Later that year, doctors told him that he had colon cancer which killed him within a year.
He was good at many things and relaxing was not among them. In Wisconsin he worked in the garden after coming home from his job at Nash Motors. He ate dinner and chatted briefly with Marge before descending to his workshop in the basement. When the weather didn’t allow gardening, he went straight to the workshop after coming home. When he did relax, he listened to the radio. He and Marge were friends with four couples with whom they exchanged visits.
Our father was five feet ten and weighed 170 pounds. His hips were so small that for many years Marge Hansen bought his shorts in the boy’s department.
Brun was a true do it yourselfer. He fixed everything, including cars, and he never called a repairman. As a skilled tool and dye maker, he made openers that cut through steel cans like a hot knife through butter.
While talking with him a few weeks before he died, our father became introspective and said softly, “If I had it to do all over again, I’d.....” He paused, searching for the right way to phrase his last thoughts. After several seconds, he blurted out in his old pre-illness voice, “Ah shit; I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.”
Happy Birthday Dad!
 |
| Brun Osterberg |
 |
| Back row: Brun and Marge Middle from left to right: Ron, Bruce and Sally Front: Kenneth with neighbor dog about 1944 |
Brun H. Osterberg
May 18, 1907 – October 4, 1958
Brun took life seriously. Yet, childhood friends in northern Wisconsin remembered him as playful and funny. He was a hard working loyal family man. Yet, friends remembered that he often drank too much and deprived his family.
He was a man of many contradictions and his character had many facets. That’s why pinning down his essence is difficult. However, those who knew him agree that “cynical” is an apt one word description.
Our father judged the world harshly, especially politicians and the wealthy. Like his father, he admired Eugene Debs, the long time socialist leader. At the core of his political belief was fairness and the notion that socialists were best able to create a fair system. Though he voted for FDR, he preferred the socialists.
Brun left home when he was 14 years old and worked as a lumberjack in Hurley, Wisconsin before bumming around the country and the world. He talked about riding under and between railroad cars.
He eventually became a merchant marine and identified himself that way for rest of his life. He crossed the equator four times, went through the Panama Canal and spent time in European and Asian seaports. He was a good sailor, but he often missed his ship when it sailed. That meant that he worked mainly on ships others avoided.
While a merchant marine, he took taxidermy as a hobby and grabbed an albatross to stuff. Bad move for two reasons. First, the bird pecked his finger leaving a bad gash. The ship’s medic soaked it in iodine that was too strong and it dissolved the tip of his finger. The missing eighth of an inch with the fingernail bending over the end fascinated his children.
Second, seamen thought that harming an albatross was bad luck. Shortly after the albatross encounter, the ship caught a hurricane. Thinking that they were sinking, the captain called the crew together for a group prayer. When the crew was assembled, a shipmate wondered aloud if the storm, which he said Osterberg caused, would go away if they threw him overboard.
While hitchhiking to a ship’s job at a mid Atlantic seaport, a car struck and dragged him several hundred feet. People thought him dead and wired his parents for burying money. He survived the accident and used the money for bus fare home which was then in Kenosha, Wisconsin. In the family house were his parents, two older brothers, Rudd and Ben, one younger brother, Wes, and three younger sisters, Evelyn, Eileen and Rhoda.
Brun married Marge Hansen in 1932 and they had four children, Sally, Ron, Bruce and Kenneth. They divorced in 1946 and he went to San Diego. There he married Marge Woodhouse in 1951 and had four daughters, Patricia, Lynn, Wendy, and Jill. He had a heart attack in 1956 and a car smashed him in 1957. Later that year, doctors told him that he had colon cancer which killed him within a year.
He was good at many things and relaxing was not among them. In Wisconsin he worked in the garden after coming home from his job at Nash Motors. He ate dinner and chatted briefly with Marge before descending to his workshop in the basement. When the weather didn’t allow gardening, he went straight to the workshop after coming home. When he did relax, he listened to the radio. He and Marge were friends with four couples with whom they exchanged visits.
Our father was five feet ten and weighed 170 pounds. His hips were so small that for many years Marge Hansen bought his shorts in the boy’s department.
Brun was a true do it yourselfer. He fixed everything, including cars, and he never called a repairman. As a skilled tool and dye maker, he made openers that cut through steel cans like a hot knife through butter.
While talking with him a few weeks before he died, our father became introspective and said softly, “If I had it to do all over again, I’d.....” He paused, searching for the right way to phrase his last thoughts. After several seconds, he blurted out in his old pre-illness voice, “Ah shit; I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.”
Happy Birthday Dad!
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Easter Greetings 2014
Hope all of you had a very Happy Easter, with family, friends and loved ones.
Easter Sunday afternoon was a very mild 76 degrees here, and we had a wonderful potluck dinner out on the patio.
Granddaughters Justine from Southern California and Joanna from Nashville, were both home for Easter this year, much to the delight of my daughter Christine, their mother!
Everything was wonderful, the family together is always the best, and the little ones make everybody smile. Norene brought our favorite dessert -- Strawberry Roll, and Rylie enjoyed helping to make sure everyone received their piece!
Easter Sunday afternoon was a very mild 76 degrees here, and we had a wonderful potluck dinner out on the patio.
Granddaughters Justine from Southern California and Joanna from Nashville, were both home for Easter this year, much to the delight of my daughter Christine, their mother!
 |
| Justine Adele, Grandma Nancy Adele, and Joanna |
George Rowell from Kingsford was also with us this year.
Everything was wonderful, the family together is always the best, and the little ones make everybody smile. Norene brought our favorite dessert -- Strawberry Roll, and Rylie enjoyed helping to make sure everyone received their piece!
 |
| Relaxing after eating Easter Dinner on the patio |
 |
| Here comes Rylie with Norene's Strawberry Roll |
 |
| Rylie passing out pieces of Strawberry Roll |
 |
| Alanna |
 |
| George and Nancy |
Happy Springtime -- Summer is coming!
Memories Through Music
written by Ron Osterberg
My wife Georgie sang wildly well. Everyone said that. Unusual for an Irish girl with Boston roots, she sang the sad ballads of Ireland without crying. She liked those songs and she liked Irish foot dancing, but her favorites were Broadway musicals. She knew most and sang them beautifully.The song she sang best was “Baubles, Bangles and Beads” from Kismet. Many singers recorded that song, but none sang it as sweetly as did Georgie. The song also helped spark a near riot.
Georgie sang it in a singing competition hosted by a famous local nightclub. The event was well promoted and many singers competed. Entrants had their own cheering sections and Georgie’s included her sister Dot, a tough sexy broad. Private booster groups didn’t help though. The owner’s niece won.
When they announced the winner, Dot, with support from a few burly new friends, went ballistic and shouted her sense of injustice. Other entrants and their fans chimed in yelling that they rigged the contest. Bouncers scurried around trying to calm the crowd, but they did little good. Georgie and I left. Dot said later that we missed much fun.
The song that drew Georgie and I close was “Fantasy on Greensleeves.” Before we married, I was a student at UCLA and she lived on the other side of town. A local radio station played Greensleeves each evening and most evenings I called when it came on so we could listen together. As we fell in love, it became “our song” and, together or apart, it always brought us back to those days and to each other. It still does.
Another song that Georgie loved was the hauntingly beautiful “Malagueña Salerosa” sung by Bud and Travis. Maybe it was her favorite. She never tired of telling listeners of the times we saw them live at the Troubadour and the Ashgrove in Los Angeles.
Shortly before she left us, the song “Georgy Girl” came out and, naturally, she liked the ring of a song with her name in it. About the song, she said, “That’s me. People don’t know the real me. If they did, they’d like me better.”
Happy Anniversary Georgie
April 30, 1961
Hey there, Georgy girl
There's another Georgy deep inside
Bring out all the love you hide and, oh, what a change there'd be
The world would see a new Georgy girl.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Happy Birthday, Ramona
Ramona’s Best Ever Birthday
April 25
The trial deciding who got custody of Ramona was not going well for her father. In despair, he jumped out the courtroom window. Men stopped him, but it didn’t matter since he was only on the second floor and soft bushes ringed the building.
April 25
The trial deciding who got custody of Ramona was not going well for her father. In despair, he jumped out the courtroom window. Men stopped him, but it didn’t matter since he was only on the second floor and soft bushes ringed the building.
 |
| Ramona |
Theatrics like that convinced the judge that this was no run of the mill custody trial. For her well-being, he temporarily sent Ramona to a children’s home. Her fourth birthday was a few days later and she had no party.
Each year Ramona wished for a normal party where kids brought presents, she blew out candles and everyone sang “Happy Birthday.” One year she got the singing part. Her mother took her to a local bar where patrons sang Happy Birthday to her all evening. That wasn’t what Ramona had in mind.
Ramona spent several years at a Catholic boarding school. Each year on her birthday, nuns brought out a small after dinner cake with ice cream. The events lasted maybe ten minutes and they were not what she had dreamed of. Never having an iconic birthday party left a void in her life.
The void was still there years later when the Hammer family took her to a restaurant for her birthday. Lori and I were at one end of the restaurant table separated from Ramona, Matt, Sam, Mike and Steve at the other. Matt showed Ramona a card trick and Steve showed her another. Giggling, Mike and Sam showed Ramona their tricks. The four boys took turns telling jokes and they all laughed. Ramona’s clear easy laughter floated to the rafters.
Walking in, they were a grandmother, a son-in-law and three grandsons. Soon they were five kids who couldn’t stop laughing at each other, at themselves and at life. All four boys lightly competed for Ramona’s attention and she loved every microsecond of it.
Ramona had a knack for making others laugh. That night others made her laugh. Laughing together creates an intimacy of the spiritual kind and that’s what Ramona and her boys had that evening.
During her birthday party Ramona had no doctor visits, no cancer bumps, no waiting for medical test results, no chemotherapy and no radiation treatments. Instead, she had four happy handsome boys who loved her very much and who made her laugh.
Later through wet eyes, Ramona declared that it was her best birthday ever. The void in her life was gone. Five months after the party she left to make the angels laugh. Last I heard, she had them rolling in the aisles.
Happy Birthday Ramona --
from her husband, Ron Osterberg
Each year Ramona wished for a normal party where kids brought presents, she blew out candles and everyone sang “Happy Birthday.” One year she got the singing part. Her mother took her to a local bar where patrons sang Happy Birthday to her all evening. That wasn’t what Ramona had in mind.
Ramona spent several years at a Catholic boarding school. Each year on her birthday, nuns brought out a small after dinner cake with ice cream. The events lasted maybe ten minutes and they were not what she had dreamed of. Never having an iconic birthday party left a void in her life.
The void was still there years later when the Hammer family took her to a restaurant for her birthday. Lori and I were at one end of the restaurant table separated from Ramona, Matt, Sam, Mike and Steve at the other. Matt showed Ramona a card trick and Steve showed her another. Giggling, Mike and Sam showed Ramona their tricks. The four boys took turns telling jokes and they all laughed. Ramona’s clear easy laughter floated to the rafters.
Walking in, they were a grandmother, a son-in-law and three grandsons. Soon they were five kids who couldn’t stop laughing at each other, at themselves and at life. All four boys lightly competed for Ramona’s attention and she loved every microsecond of it.
Ramona had a knack for making others laugh. That night others made her laugh. Laughing together creates an intimacy of the spiritual kind and that’s what Ramona and her boys had that evening.
During her birthday party Ramona had no doctor visits, no cancer bumps, no waiting for medical test results, no chemotherapy and no radiation treatments. Instead, she had four happy handsome boys who loved her very much and who made her laugh.
Later through wet eyes, Ramona declared that it was her best birthday ever. The void in her life was gone. Five months after the party she left to make the angels laugh. Last I heard, she had them rolling in the aisles.
Happy Birthday Ramona --
from her husband, Ron Osterberg
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
The Day My Wife Georgie Died -- March 18, 1967
Today's post is from Ron Osterberg
Saturday around noon while returning from a routine doctor’s visit, Georgie casually mentioned that she had mild chest pains, her hands felt puffy and she gained five pounds. Those were things to talk about, not worry about. She was too young for a heart attack. What could it hurt if her hands swelled a little? And Georgie couldn’t gain weight on a bet. A few pounds for her was a good thing.
Once home, however, her chest pains intensified, but she continued insisting that they weren’t serious. She wanted rest, not a doctor. That mild arguing went on for fifteen or twenty minutes when she winced in obvious pain.
I picked her up and carried her to the car, pushed her into the back seat and drove away. All the while she was protesting that she didn’t want to go. By then though, taking even ten seconds to argue was too long. The drive to the hospital took fewer than five minutes.
At the ER, nurses were rushing out with a wheel chair before the car stopped. Georgie waved without turning around as they wheeled her through large swinging doors. That was the last time I saw Georgie alive.
No one paid special attention to me in the waiting room, which was strangely calming. A nurse asked Georgie’s religion. “Just for our records,” she said. I couldn’t put my finger on anything specific, but the hospital people were not acting normal. They were evasive and caring at the same time.
An hour after Georgie disappeared through the swinging doors, someone called me into a little room where two serious men waited. They were blunt and to the point.
“About an hour ago your wife stopped breathing and we couldn’t revive her.”
They said other things, but little else registered. I was in someone else’s body. This wasn’t happening to my wife and me. These things happened to others, not to us.
I went home, talked to the children and called people who came over. They would have done anything to help, but they couldn’t bring Georgie back.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Norene, Christine and Me
The first photo I want to share is of the Saffron Rolls that Norene baked for us for Christmas. These are wonderful, and wish I had some now. Norene just found the photo and shared it with me today.
 | ||
| Norene's light-as-a-feather saffron rolls made for Swedish Christmas Eve Feast.
This along with lutfisk, Swedish meatballs, potato sausage, potatoes, mashed rutebages, cream gravy, pickled herring and, of course, lots of wonderful Christmas cookies along with Rice Pudding and Lingonberries make for a perfect Christmas Eve!
Then today, my daughter Christine went to Norene's to make her first Swedish Strawberry Torte (her son's wish for a birthday cake), and I went to watch! And, of course, to taste. This is our family's favorite dessert. Lots of work, but the results are fantastic!
|
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)