Dog Sh#% Tree

Several years ago, when I could still take my long walks, I had noticed a dog sh#% odor while I walked along Exchange Street, a few houses south of Farwell.  At first I thought there was a good amount of doggy do around, but after a few daily walks, I realized it was a Gingko tree on a lot. While the tree is a nice yellow color, its odor in the fall is horrendous, and to say it smells like one stepped in dog sh#% is putting it mildly.  Since I had to stop walking due to feet problems almost four years ago, I had avoided the dog sh#% smell of that tree. That is, until this year.

The Big dog sh#% tree on Exchange Street

This year, I started swimming a few days a week. I usually bike to swimming, and the road to the pool, takes me by that Gingko tree. Fortunately, on a bike, I do not have to put up with the putrid smell for as long as I had when I walked. Several years ago, I tied the strong odor to the leaves, which never seem to be picked up by the homeowner until late in the season, if at all. I thought it was rotting leaves. This year I looked up what produces the smell and it is actually an odor produced by a covering on the female tree seed pod, and the smell comes out following the first frost. So it is tied, in a sense, to leaf change and drop. The frost triggered odor is not pleasant. One website says it to be similar to rancid butter or animal excrement. Another source compares the odor to vomit. Well, sometimes the odor is so strong it does want to make me vomit. 

I can see myself peddling along the road, on the new laid (two month old asphalt) and discoloring it with vomit spread along the white gutter and curb as the rancid, dog sh#% smell just was too strong for my overly sensitive olfactory sense, and caused a negative reaction. 

Gingko Leaves on Exchange St Sidewalk

Yet, even with this horrible smell, Gingko trees are recommended for a street tree due to their ability to withstand certain conditions and their brilliant yellow fall color. As a Purdue University website says: "Ginkgo trees are valuable street trees because of their low susceptibility to smoke, drought, or low temperatures. These trees grow slowly and perform relatively well in most soil types provided they are well-drained. The leaves turn a vibrant​ yellow during autumn but drop soon after its brilliant fall color is observed." The problem is that as a young tree one cannot tell the difference between a male and a female Gingko. Luckily, today one can select a cultivar that is a male only tree. 

While the seed produces this strong pungent odor, the seed kernel is highly valued in parts of Asia as a food source. Further, some Gingko extracts are said to help improve short-term memory and concentration. The problem is, according to Purdue, when those seeds fall, the odor will last two months. Hence, that terrible smell is around for longer than it should be.

One of a series of Gingko Trees
at the local library.

The first time I came across the odor I looked at the ground wondering if a pile of dog sh#% was nearby. I then looked back, and wondered if by chance I had stepped in some. Some people are not good at picking up their doggie doo. The doggie doo piles are more prevalent in the spring with the snow melt as lazy dog owners avoid picking up their dog's sh#% in snow. Given the prevalence of the odor on subsequent walks, I related it to the leaf change. I guess I never got close enough to see if there was any fruit on the tree; and why would I? Purdue University has several Gingko trees on its campus, many of them female, and recommends students avoid stepping on the fruit as the odor will follow them to class being on the bottom of the shoe. I don't recall, but maybe there were some Gingko leaves, with fruit underneath that I could not see, and had the unfortunate situation of stepping on some seeds which would allow the smell to come along. 

One never knows what will produce a strong odor in nature. Here it is a female seed pod. Hopefully, the people who walk the smell makes dog walkers think they do not have to pick up their dogs doo, since they may think a good amount of other doo is around. In one of the Mighty Duck movies, a prank is pulled on some thieves by filling an old lady's purse with doggy doo, and the putting a few dollars sticking out of it and placing it in the crosswalk, as a not so pleasant find for the person who desires a few dollars. In McFarland it is not doggy doo, or a purse filled with it, it is just a Gingko tree whose pods smell like dog sh#%.

Rent-a-Priest

In the fall of 2019 the US Bishops began their ad limina visits to the Vatican. The Amazon synod had just concluded, and their was much angst by leaders of the US Bishops in regard to two recommendations of that synod gathering. The two issues were, quoting from the National Catholic Register: "calls for the ordination of married men as priests and for women to be considered for diaconal ordination." Parts of the Amazon go over a year to be visited by a priest. Hence, the region felt, and I suspect continues to feel, that more needs to be done to allow the sacraments to the disenfranchised members in far flung regions of the earth. The US church has more capabilities, which many a diocese in the developing countries lack, so in the US the priest shortage has been mitigated by foreign priests, what I refer to as rent-a-priest. However, the effectiveness of the rent-a-priest program is now challenged by US immigration rules.

Amazon Synod, Opening Mass, 9 Oct 2019

Some foreign born priests are very good. Others are difficult to understand, and some tend way too traditional going against Vatican II. We have a priest from India serving the St Cletus pastorate after Fr Kelley was moved to a different pastorate in Southwest Wisconsin. This foreign priest's English is understandable to me, and he says a good mass and has a good homilies. He was in the US for several years serving in far Southwest Wisconsin, left to go back to India for a few years and then came back to the US about two years ago. I often prefer the priests from India, even difficult to understand, to the young radical traditional priests who do not know how to give a somewhat decent homily (much less a good homily), and with their method of saying mass making it about them and not God, but that is another story. The foreign priests I have heard say mass usually say it in the way that we had become accustomed until the young rad trads showed up, bent on destroying parishes. Foreign priests, however, require special immigration documents. The visa issue is not new, an internet search turned up articles well over a year old.

The R-1 Visa program many are under allows them to be in the US for five years and then apply for permanent status or go home. The problem according to the Milwaukee and Madison dioceses is an interpretation made by the Biden Administration last year. For the news reports see the Channel 3000 news report for the Madison Diocese here, and for the Milwaukee Archdiocese a WTMJ news report here. Quoting from the Channel 3000 news report:

The problem according to the Diocese of Madison is that priests applying for permanent status are being met with a backlog after the Biden administration removed a special categorization for immigrants applying from central American countries. This action has placed everyone else's wait times in the same boat as those countries applications, putting wait times for everyone else close to 14 years, according to Bishop Donald Hying.

WTMJ reported a five year plus time frame to obtain the EB-4 visa: 

As a result, the employment-based, fourth preference (EB-4) visa that used to take one year to receive now could take more than five years to get. According to the State Department, the EB-4 is not just issued to religious workers, but also to special immigrant juveniles, certain U.S. government employees, certain international organization retirees, and certain international broadcasting employees, among others.

Archbishop Listecki, per WTMJ,  has sent a letter to congressional representatives asking for their assistance in which he noted: “We urgently seek your help addressing these issues, not only for the sake of religious workers and their employers, but for the many American communities that rely upon them for a wide range of religious and social services,”  He was also more blunt, with WTMJ saying and quoting him: 

"The ministry of the remaining parish priests will be stretched thinner,” said Archbishop Listecki. “This flies in the face of Congress’s intent when creating the Religious Worker Visa Program: to ensure religious organizations in the United States have access to needed workers to carry out their wide-ranging religious and charitable activities, consistent with the First Amendment and the freedom of religion." (Bold by author)

According to the Channel 3000 news report, the Madison Diocese has about 30% of its priests as foreign, and those foreign born priests affect about 60% of the parishes. The St Cletus pastorate, with one priest from India, has five different parishes, and due to the rotation of saying mass at each parish, his presence affects five parishes. The realignment Bishop Hying undertook, by creating pastorates, was to attend to the shortage of priests, but now all of a sudden the diocese is once again concerned.  A sad reality, that I have noticed, is that foreign born priests are given the assignments which require a good deal of travel, and have to handle many small parishes. One example, in 2017, while camping at Day Lake near the unincorporated hamlet of Clam Lake, we went to mass at a small, beautiful little log church near Clam Lake. The priest from India was hard to understand, but he was kind enough to print out his homily so we, and the 12 or so others, could read along. I recall seeing that he had to say at mass at four parishes, one mass at each, spread up to more than an hour apart. I recall his secretary saying they he had to travel over one hour to at least two of the parishes. I don't think Clam Lake is affiliated with that grouping any more, and the Diocese of Superior website does not even have a link for its location, as it does other churches. Who knows if it is even open. Can you imagine traveling over an hour and back, on the icy back roads of northern Wisconsin to get to a rural out of the way small church? Although, it is probably better than travel in the Amazon. 

The US Catholic Church's reliance on foreign priests is now challenged by the change in the US visa program, which raises the question of whether rent-a-priest is a sustainable program.  A US diocese may pay the foreign country diocese, which those small impoverished dioceses like as  revenue source. Nigeria has many priests, some of which make their way to the US. The Madison Diocese has mainly priests from India and some very conservative traditional priests from Spain. (The Spanish priests seem to wish to fate of Spain, as a once Catholic country, onto the US as they have been successful at destroying some parishes; you can read about one parish experience here.) Many US bishops, rather smug at those 2019 ad limina visits, did not wish to see anything that could affect the single all-male clergy and the privileged clerical status they enjoy. Hence, their concern with the two proposals by the Amazon Synod. The US hierarchy cared little of the situation in the Amazon or elsewhere. If you do not think clericalism is a problem one needs only to come to the Madison area and see the young priests in their soutanes, little birettas, and other clerical garb that is common place, and marching and acting like they are king of the hill. They keep to their own little groups living in an alternate reality. 

The whole idea of foreign priests to the US raises a few issues. First, it deprives the host nation of clergy. While some of the host countries seminaries are full, that does not mean they have an excess number of clergy per 1,000 population since they baptize more children and have more adult converts. From a numbers standpoint, such host nations have fewer priests per 1,000 population than does the US.  Second, it is pure and simple unequitable and unjust. Pope Francis preaches about a poor church for the poor, but he has done nothing to assist the poor in the Amazon with their faith journeys. What would people in the US say if they had to wait more than a year for a mass, and the now even rarer baptism or wedding? Wealthy countries on the other hand can rent-a-priest to see that the shortage of clerics is mitigated and mass and the sacraments are more readily to available to many in the US more than once a year. If the host diocese does not get money, the priest usually sends a portion of his more substantial US salary back to the home diocese. 

Archbishop Listecki makes the case that the foreign priests are required to "carry out their wide ranging religious and charitable activities." It seems a rather broad statement, and I would suggest that the ordained are not required for all the duties encompassed in his statement. If priests are so important to the religious and charitable activities, should not more sustainable clerical solutions be implemented? Should a smug US hierarchy now embrace what was recommended by the Amazon synod?  The situation highlighted by Archbishop Listecki on the need of priests to carry out religious and charitable activities shows how dependent the US and world-wide Church has become on a single all-male clergy. This also shows the need for dioceses, and the Vatican, to think of new ways of being Church if they are going to continue to rely on the single all-male priesthood. For over fifty years people have been praying for more priests, and perhaps the Holy Spirit has given options, to which the all-male clergy and hierarchy does not wish to hear. 

In a generation or so the US the priest shortage may not be a problem. Few young families are in church. Mass attendance is mostly populated by older persons. Attending mass, I feel as if I am the youngest 10% of those gathered. If this trend continues, this will lead to parish closures and consolidations making the remaining faithful drive further and further to find a mass or obtain a sacrament, or likely just leave and go to a nearby Protestant church. Hey, but in a developed country at least we have paved roads. In Tanzania it took over an hour to travel 12 miles on a rutted dirt road to get from Old Maswa parish to St Peter's parish in Nkololo. The parish priest at St Peter's travels by motorcycle to his outlying parishes where he has often to spend the night.

In his Into the Deep project, Bishop Hying noted a few main reasons for establishment of pastorates. Reduce the workload on priests, spending too much on buildings and infrastructure, get 50% of the masses at 50% or more capacity. They have cut masses by almost a quarter, but so far nothing has been done on parish closures or building consolidation.

The Catholic Church has more issues than decline in mass attendance. It has a major issue in people leaving the church (an 18% decrease in affiliation from 1998 to 2018), a mass that fails to meet spiritual needs (78% of people who move an evangelical church said this was the main reason), it has problems with transparency and trust due to the abuse crises (which took away any moral authority the institution had left), it has issues with the number of nuns and priests, and it has issues with relevance in a changing world. It needs to break out of its old methods and ways of doing things to become more creative in personnel and in empowering the laity. 

The rent-a-priest program is now seen as challenging to many dioceses, due to immigration laws. Time will tell if the US will continue on its preferred path of clericalism or embrace ideas as expressed by the Amazon synod. The US Bishops response is to blame the government for the rule interpretation rather than to think of creative ways to address the issue. They may just wish to wait the situation out, as in a generation the shortage in the church may well be of laity and not priests. Who knows, perhaps US priests will be part of rent-a-priest program going to Africa or East Asia in a generation or two. 

Along the River

It is one of the greatest rivers in the world, traveling over 2,320 miles from its source at Lake Itasca in Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico at New Orleans. It is referred to the Mighty Mississippi and that nickname is due to its hard working nature with dams and levees that keep goods flowing up and downstream. Its tributaries are also hard working, one example being the Wisconsin River. The Wisconsin River meets the Mississippi at Prairie du Chien, WI, most notably at Wyalusing State Park which offers grand vistas, from the top of its wooded bluffs, of both rivers. This is the story of a overnight trip to Iowa on a small section along the river (about 57 river miles, from Effigy Mounds to Dubuque). 

Dubuque, IA National Mississippi Museum and Aquarium

Rivers have helped form the United States more than any other nation on earth. Two features account for this. First, is the United States has more navigable waters than any other country, and a good part of that is due to orientation of our rivers--our nation's physical geography. While the Mississippi flows north to south, many of its tributaries are generally perpendicular, although many with an angle north.  The simple breadth of the Mississippi watershed from western New York to eastern Montana shows how critical water pathways were to the second reason-- travel and development. Canals in the east often connected rivers. Much of the nation's first cities in the interior were on waterways, as it was the easiest form of travel for the early part of the life of the country. For example, Prairie du Chien can be dated back to as far as 17 June 1673 when Marquette and Joliet came down the Wisconsin River and entered the Mississippi, essentially setting the stage for it to be a trading post. Madison, WI, by contrast was founded in 1836. Water travel was an easy method of transportation and hence many cities built up along the shores. (The problem is there are so many backwaters on the river you really need to know what channel you are in.) Even Dubuque IA was first permanently occupied by a European in 1785. Bands of Native Americans lived and worked along the river establishing part time communities as they roamed sourcing food. 

Tug boat used by a sand and gravel company to
push barges. Oct 20. A family and hired hands lived on the boat
National Mississippi River Museum and Aquarium 

The Effigy Mound National monument, about five or six miles north of Marquette, IA, is a testament to Native American heritage in this important location. Water, trees, game, and minerals (lead) provided the required sustenance for food and housing. Sadly, as many effigy mounds that are preserved, it is thought many more have been lost. The mound construction at the Effigy Mound National Monument was accomplished by about twenty culturally related Indian tribes with mounds dating back 1400 to 750 years ago. The most prevalent shape is conical, but there are also good numbers of animal shapes, some over 400 feet in length. We did a hike to the top of a bluff overlooking the Mississippi to see several burial mounds. The mounds are thought by many archaeologists to have been choice hunting and gathering territory, although evidence is sparse making this mostly conjecture. Some mounds, however, are closer to river level, the Sny-Cagill mound group being one example. The Mississippi, due to both changes in precipitation and man-made alterations, sees an increase in water threatening some of the lower elevation mounds.                

Effigy Mounds Oct 21
Effigy Mounds National Monument

Towns along the river, are subject to flooding too. Regardless, some have developed an almost mythical quality, enhanced by writers, such as Mark Twain. While much has been written about the Great River, even more has occurred on its waters and along its shores. The lore of the towns is told in its remaining infrastructure. Dubuque has massive old red brick buildings in its downtown, not far from the river, with beautiful old brick warehouses nearby. It is a testament to better economic times now past. A few old buildings have been repurposed, some into the National Mississippi River Museum and Aquarium. From old boats, to river aquatic life, from old machines that made the engines to ocean life, it is a great place to visit and learn. Each building has a story to tell of what came before and what has since occurred. Sprawl and big boxes often negatively affect such downtowns and it is rare to find some still thriving. 

View of the Mississippi River, looking upstream Oct 21

As we passed through McGregor, IA to the Effigy Mound National Monument, my mind swept into a time to about 140 years ago when my great grandfather Martin Hovel would make the trip from Manly, IA to McGregor with a wagon full of wheat he and his wife had harvested. I suppose the wheat made a journey to a processing mill. Unlike Spillville, IA which had a few processing mills at the time, Manly has a rather level topography and thus lacks the streams to produce a good mill, and likely informed his travel of over 116 miles (present day quickest route; his journey at say 5 mph is a 24 hour journey, which required a week of travel). He may have been sending his wheat to a distant city by boat for sale. Yet, McGregor's downtown faced the river, with one side somewhat empty or a few old manufacturing or warehouses, and the other side still populated with the old downtown appearance of two or three story buildings up to the street edge with offices, shops and eateries. We don't do development in such compact forms anymore. While this method of development is infrequent today, there is an irony in how people tend to like the experience found in a traditional downtown, where meaning and walkability reigns over dispersion in an auto-centric development. Commercials for politicians or adverts for towns do not focus on the strip mall or the big boxes, but on a historic downtown. 

Inn we stayed at, Guttenberg, IA
It is on the National Register of Historic Places.
One would have thought they could have tried a siding color 
to match the limestone for the upper addition

The compact nature of many towns along the river was formed by both transportation (ie walking) and geography. Guttenberg, IA, where we spent the night, is a nice old small town of 1800 persons. Yet, it is fairly narrow, but it is long as it stretches in the flatter land between the river and the bluff which rises to its west, likely flat land that was formed by flooding of the river over many centuries. Like McGregor, it has a nice downtown. We stayed at an old button factory, which stamped buttons out of mollusks harvested from the river. The variety they punched and created was quite amazing. The building, was constructed out of locally quarried sandstone. A few other downtown buildings are out of sandstone, most, however, are out of red brick. The picturesque nature of the small towns is a testament to an age when development type mattered to meet the needs of individuals and families in a compact, walkable nature. Guttenberg's age is told in the buildings along the river. A small dingy restaurant, called the Fish Shack is appropriately named. Access is by creaking wood, unlevel stairs down to the river edge where the old fish shanty sits right on the bank with water right outside. I can imagine this as an old stopping point or a small fish market where fish were brought in and sold in the wooden structure that made up the shack. While we did not eat there, the food is highly ranked. There were four places to eat within two blocks north of where we stayed. 

View from Effigy Mounds National Monument

Guttenberg appears almost nondescript as you travel on Hwy 52 along its western edge, where it sees today's cultural influences by having a marina and even a Kwik Star. They have a small brewery at the edge of downtown, in a site with a new constructed building, showing that the craft beer craze is even in IA. A couple blocks east of the brewery is the river, and this area forms Guttenberg's downtown, and its older section with an old Catholic Church, rectory, school and parish hall. Yet, there is evidence along 52 of an older city, such as a small restaurant in a white wood frame building, Rausch's cafe. The cafe, as my wife said, takes one back to a Norman Rockwell age. Its small counter was populated by elderly and a few middle aged persons. If you wanted coffee you served yourself. If you wanted the restrooms you had to walk outside to the backside of the building and hope it was unlocked. The grill and cooking station was visible from the counter. Rausch's claim to fame, which is memorialized on a bronze colored plaque on one of their chairs which I could see a table over from where we sat, was having played host to President Obama in August 2016. Small town America is present in Guttenberg, which I am sure is why Obama ate there. How better to indicate yourself as a man of the people than a small town in Iowa? 

Above: View of downtown Guttenberg, looking to river,
the downtown also stretches north and south on a couple streets
Below: lunch counter at Rausch's Diner (courtesy of Toni) Oct 21
A real life Norman Rockwell type of scene

As we travelled the ridgetop of parts of Hwy 52 to Guttenberg, we both found an understated beauty in the rural landscape. Farmland of corn or harvested corn stalks contrasted with the green alfalfa in the contour cropping which draped down the hillsides, while the color of the hard wood trees provided an accent. All fit together in an Iowa version of an American quilt. As with Winneshiek County, there was little in the way of exurban sprawl as one finds in Dane County, or Waukesha County. This part of Iowa, like Winneshiek is part of the driftless area, better known in Wisconsin than in eastern Iowa. Bypassed by the Pleistocene glacier, it provides deep valleys where streams have cut away the limestone and sandstone bedrock layers. 

North of Dubuque on Hwy 52, Oct 20

The unique physical geography creates a stunning visual backdrop to the river. The bluffs and ridges stand as a backdrop to the cultural geography of farms, small villages, and transportation structure to a time long past in a whirlwind America we find today. The physical geography also shaped and formed the cultural geography. The hamlets, small villages and cities have a skyline dominated by a church spire or two, perhaps joined by a grain elevator. Most communities we find today now lack a Rausch's cafe, with those being replaced by a Culver's or other fast food joint. As we outsourced production overseas, so to has the nation moved its retail to indistinct big boxes at the periphery of a city dominated not just by massive parking lots, but also by a Menard's green, a Walmart blue, or a Kohl's brown. Some of these retail manifestations now face their own difficulties as monster Amazon warehouses spread in strategic locations across the nation as online shopping dominates. It is heartening to know that we can find an America many of us baby boomers grew up within these small hamlets, villages and small cities of areas like rural Iowa. A nostalgia envelopes, reported by writers such as Mark Twain, but still present today as we visited sites and scenes along the river.

View of Ridge near Guttenberg, Oct 20 

South of Guttenberg, Oct 20

Sunrise over the Mississippi, Oct 21

Photos by author, unless otherwise noted

Bugs and Critters

We have all seen damage done by certain bugs and critters. We see it in gardens, homes and vehicles. There are common bugs, like ants, some do not do much damage, others do. On the other end of the spectrum there are small mammals, like mice, rats, and even chipmunks. Then there are large mammals like deer. I tilled my garden and overseeded the soil with annual rye grass, but it appears as a miniature battle ground with craters all though out, likely, I believe, a testament to squirrels and perhaps some others looking for or burying food. 

Collards which have been eaten

Food is the main reason for the damage, either burying it like squirrel, or sourcing it. A few years ago when we were camping in our small RV, my wife said she heard a gnawing sound when we were in bed. I never heard the sound, and thought it much like the mysterious "noise in the chimney" that she says she hears. The following year, when camping we were trying to use the propane to heat water to shower, and we kept getting a red heat warning. It was in the nineties, so I waited for the warmer part of the day to take a shower, as the water warmed to near air temperature. After the trip, a close inspection showed that part of the outer rubber propane line had been eaten. It was not all the way through, but just enough of the outer rubber layer to set off the warning due to change in pressure. The dealer said ground squirrels, chipmunks, like the propane odor. We covered the line with a copper mesh and covered some of the electric wires with plastic conduit. We also take fox urine granules with us, but at another campground, after spreading them around the base of the camper, we noticed chipmunks running around the bottom frame like a race track. A neighbor had mice damage to the wiring in his year old vehicle. 

Deer eaten Hosta

But it is also garden produce that is affected. We had an infestation of cabbage worms on our collards, although they did not affect the kale as much, that I kept under control for part of the year, by use of a natural organic control method, but in the fall, many leaves were just plain stripped and skeletonized. Stink bugs may also have contributed. I have planted gardens and have had ground hogs shred off Brussel sprouts, turkeys dig up melon and squash plants, only then to eat the seeds I planted. The turkeys even took row covers off. This shows, that damage is not limited to small critters. I have to say, however, the small caterpillars/bugs got the better of me in the fall. 

Small creatures cause their share of the problems too. There is the now infamous infestation of mice at Rock Island State Park. The mice were so prevalent, that a person used a baseball bat to kill over 100 of them while at the campground. The mice were eating tents, and footwear. They got onto boats and chewed wiring and cushions.  The small furry creatures snuggled down in sleeping bags. Hence, the DNR closed the campground several days earlier than normal. They blame a mild winter for the significant increase in the mouse population, and that normal predators, such as snakes, could not keep up. Some refute the DNR's claim of the mild winter, saying that campgrounds over 35 years ago on other islands in cold climates had significant infestations of mice like Rock Island had (has) this year. Of course, that does not answer why the mice were not apparently so abundant in the spring and summer as in the fall, or if they were, they were not at the campground, as the main reports came out in the fall. Maybe next year there will be more snakes due to the amount of mice available for food. You can see an article, and also a video, on the infestation (you may have to scroll down) at this link. The DNR will hope for a harsh winter and then let the predators perhaps take their due course. 

Critters digging in tilled garden soil
overseeded with annual rye

Friends, a couple, are docents for a week in August at the Rock Island lighthouse. They went up Oct 11 to help close the light house. He talked to my wife a bit a week later, and while by the lighthouse they were more dispersed, he said there were so many mice at the boat landing that the ground moved. What a welcome sight for visitors. The mice apparently know their food source--people.

The problem is that with climate change and the increasing number of invasive species, more challenges are presented for famers, foresters, gardeners and groundskeepers. I recall the first year I noticed a Japanese Beetle in my yard, I do not recall the year, but I know what occurred. That year for the first and only time, I had planted a pole bean, a blue lake variety, and also planted blue lake bush bean. Blue lake is my go to variety, that I have been growing for years. The Japanese beetle skeletonized my the pole bean, but did not attack the bush bean. Since, we have them in raspberries, on trees, and flowers. They love to dig into the closed bud on a rose bush. Plant choice is one way to help control, but that can only do so much.

Control of large mammals is a big problem. Case in point--deer. This year they have eaten plants in my yard they have never touched before. They would eat some, but not all hosta plants, but now all types are eaten. They ate anemone, tomatoes, peppers, pretty much everything but plants you would not mind them eating--burdock, bishop's weed and others.  I am not sure what the issue is. In the spring I figured it was that the nearby wetland area was too wet with all the rain, but with little rain since mid July, that should be better for their habitat. I think there are a couple issues, first, too many deer and the population in the village likely increased over the last mild winter. Second, they have found better vegetation in our yard than they find in the wetlands or nearby wild areas. That likely means it will be a problem for some time to come now that they have become accustomed to our delicious plants. 

I suspect with increased globalization, changing weather, and fewer available predators in suburban areas, we will continue to see increased damage from bugs and critters, not to mention the larger mammals. This poses a problem for gardening and requires more labor to better manage the infestations. Bugs and critters have probably been a nuisance for a long time, but invasives, like the Japanese beetle, may lack predators.  

 

Mining to Packing

It was the fall in the 1880 when a 33 year old small statured man left behind the brilliant colors that enveloped the Towanda mountain range in northeast Pennsylvania to go deep underground into the wet, dark abyss of Barclay Mountain. The dank coal seam walls swallowed the light of his lantern, as he entered this hostile and demanding environment with an oil lantern, pickaxe, shovel, and lunch pail. This was not his first or last trip into this mine. This man is my great grandfather John Charles Sweeney. The only known photo, circa 1900, is a family group photo. He is in a black suit (see below photo, man kneeling) and appears to show that he weathered well his years of hard labor. To his left is a young boy, who is my grandfather, Leo Francis. John C Sweeney joined many other Irish immigrants in the mines of northeast Pennsylvania. The 1880 census simply identifies his occupation as "mining coal." This is a post of how the John C Sweeney family moved from the small towns of northeast Pennsylvania and their mines to the large city of Chicago and its packing houses, which allowed the family to step up socio-economically.

Sweeney Family Photo, c 1900
Family archives, from JR Sweeney

Mining was the industry in 1880 of the company town known as Barclay, PA. Today, some refer to this region as one of "Endless Mountains." It was one of five company towns in that area that housed mine workers and provided for some of their needs. In 1889 Pennsylvania produced almost 82 million tons of coal, outpacing the next closest state by almost 70 million tons. At the time few likely knew the Barclay mine was past peak in production as it closed about 1890. John Charles turned 33 years old on 24 June 1880. John C along with other men and boys dug coal for the nation's growing industries, to provide fuel for cooking and heating homes in the United States, and to power the locomotives of the railroads. Coal was as necessary to the nation in that era as oil and natural gas are today. At least one of John's sons, starting about age 12, would join him in the mine; a not uncommon occurrence for this era. A quick look at a few pages of the 1880 Barclay census confirms a number of children working about age 12 or 13, many in the mines. 

Barclay, PA mines (Partial map)
Courtesy of Penn State University

After Barclay, the family moved to Arnot, PA, another coal mining town 25 miles to the west, where my grandfather Leo Sweeney (my mom's dad) was born in 1893. The Arnot coal was of high grade for coke furnaces in the production of steel. The family, in 1899, would find themselves in Chicago.  The family lore is that John James, the oldest son of John C and his wife Bridget (nee Cleary), was sent to Chicago to look for work opportunities. This likely occurred sometime after 1896 (birth year of youngest child Dora, who was born in Arnot), but before 1900. A poem by my grandfather indicates it happened during a strike, so the trigger may have been the 1899 strike at the Arnot mines that started in May and involved 1,000 men (Labor History, and Leo F Sweeney, undated poem). 

Erie Railroad Depot, Arnot, PA, C 1908
Courtesy of Blossburg.org

Family lore provides that John James was about 12 at the time of his trip to Chicago, but born in 1877, that would put his move to Chicago in 1890. It is possible that John James did move at age 12 or 13, and lived with his aunt and uncle in Chicago for several years before the rest of the family moved. The poem, however, says that "a short while later, John wrote and said 'come out,' the prospects here are very bright, we'll succeed without a doubt." I suspect, the lore of the Sweeney family over time conflated the age John entered the mine (age 12 or 13) with his trip to Chicago, which additional evidence points to as being 1899. The year 1899 for arrival in Chicago corresponds, not only to the year of the strike, but also to the timing on John C's 1914 death certificate which indicates he lived in Chicago for 15 years. The family was recorded in the 1900 census as living in Chicago, with John C's occupation identified as a laborer. Two days after the recording of his 1900 census information he would be 53 years of age. He would have had backbreaking, hard labor in a Chicago packing/slaughter houses which, at the time, made Chicago the butcher of the world.  

Barclay Mine
Courtesy of Smithsonian Institution

Over twenty years ago PBS had a several part documentary on the city of Chicago. I missed most of the series due to night meetings at work, but I would get filled in by a coworker. Chicago, is known as the Windy City, not for the gusts of wind off Lake Michigan, but for its politicians. It is also known for being a city of muscle to go with the bravado of its political class. Famous for for its pizza, architecture, gangsters, the "Chicago accent", and of course what has been the Packers favorite whipping boy for over twenty years, Da Bears, all of which add to its storied past. Al Capone grew up near my mom, and my Uncle Joe once dated his niece. Likely realizing she had a great deal to pray for, Al's mother was a daily mass attendee. Chicago is also known for its former stockyards and meat processing when it was the butcher of the world. An October 1, 2024 post about my mother noted how her family story is an American story of immigration, melting pot, and changes in occupations from laborers to white collar. From the PBS report (and other documentaries) one would never think working at a packing house would allow for economic advancement. 

Arnot--Blossburg and Barclay Mine areas
Courtesy of Penn State University

The PBS story, is similar to other documentaries and books (The Jungle by Sinclair Lewis) which told of how bad the Union stockyards were. The smell, the working conditions, injuries, the often immigrant labor in the butchering sections for low wages all are part of the plot. If a person left employment, there was another to quickly fill the spot. I recall mentioning the PBS story to my Uncle Joe Sweeney, my mom's youngest brother. Uncle Joe had a way of putting things into perspective, and he noted to me, during the PBS run, that it was the stockyards that allowed the Sweeney family to better provide for the family and which in turn provided their children better opportunities. In other words, for at least the Sweeney family, the packing houses provided advancement from the unskilled labor class. It is too bad PBS failed to even mention the economic advancement to be had from the packing houses, perhaps because it was not part of their agenda. Credit for expanded opportunity, which led to advancement, also goes to the educational, employment and other economic opportunities in Chicago compared to the small mining towns of Pennsylvania. Harvard economist Edward Glaser, in his 2008 book Triumph of the City, makes a compelling case about the wealth and prosperity generated by cities for lifting varied classes of people, and in so doing destroying long-held myths and misconceptions of urban areas. 

Market St, Anot, PA c 1910
Courtesy of Joyce Tice website

The Chicago Union Stockyards, at over one square mile in area, opened on Christmas day 1865. It used principles of the assembly line process to butcher a variety of animals, although mainly cattle and hogs. For example, it would take a farmer, so a documentary said, eight to ten hours to butcher a cow, but the stockyards could do it in 39 minutes. Often cattle would be loaded for transport to the eastern markets, and as ice cooling and refrigeration advanced they slaughtered more and more in Chicago sending animal parts to the east for refinement to meet local markets, or sale. Large packing houses like Amour and Swift processed meats for sale around the nation--think hot dogs. These large packers were said to be predatory by under cutting independent butchers unless they sold the meat products from one of those large suppliers. It brought affordable meat to a demanding public. Daniel Boorstin, writes that  "In the Old World, beef was the diet of lords and men of wealth. For others it was a holiday prize. But American millions would eat like lords." (Boorstin, The Americans) While the documentaries complained about the packing house use of pretty much all animal parts as human food, fertilizers, cosmetics, or other products (the byproducts is where the money was made), that only seems a sensible approach, particularly in a world today concerned about waste. It makes no sense to diss a company for using the whole animal, the use of the whole animal should have been applauded. 

Chicago Union Stockyards, 1890 
Courtesy of Library of Congress

After arriving in Chicago, John C and perhaps some of his children, found employment in the packing houses/stockyards. John C as a mid-fifty year old laborer must have found the work trying for an older man, although he likely thought the work was better than that of being stooped over in the dismal coal mines of Arnot. His son John, in 1900 is listed as a file clerk, but in Pennsylvania he worked in the mines as a boy and the story is he was "small enough to slip into the narrow shafts and place dynamite." (John Coffey, grandson of John C, in a letter to Dominican order regarding his aunt Sr. Emmanuel's family) The dangers, smells, odors of the packing house may have been less than the dangers of the mines, which often included death to some miners and their sons. In 1900 no occupation is identified for the oldest child, Mary. However, son Charles (b 1881) is a foreman in a cooper factory. Son Joseph (b 1885) is a laborer at 14 years of age. Daughter Ann (b 1883) sews. The remaining four children starting with Lucy (b 1887) on down are attending school.

Chicago Union Stockyards, cattle pen, 1900
Courtesy of Library of Congress

The packing houses were horrendous, but they provided an opportunity enhanced by the big city itself. My Sweeney family lifted themselves out of the mines of Pennsylvania. From John C's death certificate we can see that by 1901 he was a foreman at the packing house. He held that position until 1908, when at, or about, the age of 61 he took a job as a file clerk in the packing house. This moved him off the slaughter house floor with its blood, guts and grime to an office position. He held this position at the time of his death at 67 years of age. He died 15 years after the 52 year life expectancy of a male in 1914. While the documentaries focused on the labor in the slaughter houses and the stockyards, they said little about the professional classes: accountants, logisticians, financial analysts, transportation economists, lawyers, purchasing and sales agents, typists, stenographers, and clerks required for such a large operation. Records, of purchase and sale, transport costs, where items came from and went, and a whole host of other incurred costs required the services of an educated and developing white collar class. A diversified economy provides for a greater emphasis on an educated class. This is part of the triumph of the city--an ability to gather, educate and skill the increasingly diverse labor pool demanded by industry. John C, moved from the slaughter house floor to a file clerk. We should remember, however, that any honest labor should not be denigrated, and it was hard honest work that John C provided for much of his life.

Chicago Stockyards, 1935; etching
Courtesy of Smithsonian Institution

John C found opportunity in the often denigrated packing houses, which saw him open greater opportunity to his children and grandchildren, and their ability to join the upwardly mobile nature provided by the raw capitalism present in Chicago at the time. As the nation grew, so too did the economic status of many of its public. This also occurred in the Sweeney family. The oldest son John, who started working in the mines, became the owner of several independent meat markets, although he lost all during the Great Depression. My grandfather, Leo was a bank clerk (WWI draft card 1917), and a real estate agent (1920 census) before being employed by his brother John.  He was employed by his brother in the wholesale and retail meat industry. John released my grandpa his job during the Great Depression, and that occurred on one Christmas Eve. Given  that Leo is shown as a meat wholesaler and retailer in the 1930 census, I wonder if it was the Christmas Eve of 1930, but I don't know for sure. Family letters indicate that Grandpa Leo was securing a good cut of beef to bring to Sun Prairie for Easter dinners in the 1950's, showing that his knowledge of the industry stuck with him. Later, John J would find work with a meat wholesaler, while my grandfather moved on to other endeavors including working for the Latz Foundation to publish a book on the Rhythm Method of birth control. 

Book published by Latz Foundation
My grandfather worked for Latz Foundation
in publishing this book

The intractable rhythm of time has changed the landscapes that would have been recognized by John C over 120 years ago. The small town of Barclay is no more, rendered obsolete when the mine closed, its only remaining feature is an unkempt cemetery containing some decaying headstones and the bodies of individuals who died during their time in Barclay, including fathers and sons lost in mining accidents, showing, in part, why the average male life expectancy was and only 44 years of age in 1890. John C's infant son, Michael died in 1880, but is buried at Saints Peter and Paul Cemetery in Towanda. Infant deaths also added to the low life expectancy. Arnot still exists, but it is a remnant of its former self. The expansive Union Stockyards and packing house complex of Chicago's southside, which occupied over one square mile of territory, has been redeveloped. It is said a few small meat packers are in the area, but slaughtering is now done elsewhere. Such is the way of the world, where change seems to be the only constant. Change is what occurred in the Sweeney family, as they moved from laborers to clerks to managing editor (my Uncle Joe Sweeney), sales representative (my uncle Leo Sweeney), and flight services (my aunt Connie). My mom was educated to teach English, but marriage and kids came along, placing her on a different, but more important position of mother to ten. 

Google Map of Leo Sweeney dwelling at 
7335 South Prairie Ave, Chicago 
and Al Capone residence 

As I wrote this, it occurred to me that just 110 years and two weeks ago, my great grandfather John Charles died (Oct 2, 1914). I look not just at how the landscape has been altered over time, but also how the human condition in the family has changed. I was able to retire at age 60. As I write this, at age 66, I am still younger than great grandpa John C was as a file clerk at the packing house when he passed away at age 67. in 2023, a US male's average life expectancy is now just over 73 years. I recognize that John C had a much more difficult life than I have had. He came over from the old sod, and while mining was difficult work, it would have better than starvation due to genocide of the British Empire. He was able to allow his children, even with the great depression, grandchildren and great grandchildren to live a better life than he had endured. 

Present day Google image of 7335 S Prairie Ave, Chicago

The decision of John C Sweeney and, independently, Bridget Cleary, or their parents, to emigrate to America, was crucial. John and Bridgett's joint decision to move from rural Pennsylvania to Chicago opened up opportunity and allowed the family to advance economically. My grandfather Leo, and his wife Amanda, of limited means, but greater opportunity, were able to put their four children through Catholic grade, high school and college. They received an education necessary for advancement. Education was an important value to the Sweeney family. Life would be completely different for John C's descendants than for himself. His move from the mines to the packing houses may not have represented a major change in economic status at first, but it opened up opportunities better found in the growing city of Chicago than the lost mining towns of Pennsylvania. The move from mining to packing, and rural to urban, turned out to be good for John C's descendants, and I believe for him and Bridget. 

Note: Sometimes his name appears as John J, but I chose to use John Charles, as John C is what is on his death record.

For additional information on the Barclay and Arnot (Bloss) mines see: https://sites.rootsweb.com/~pasulliv/SullivanCountyHistoricalSociety/Barclay.htm

https://www.joycetice.com/jmtindex.htm

Eyebrows

Due to my feet problems I continue to attend the Fun and Fitness swim class. This three day a week class is mainly comprised of senior aged woman most of whom are older than I, some by over two decades. You can read a post about the class here. Last week Monday, I was at the class, and swam for the first half of the 45 minute session. Then the instructor arrived for the fitness portion of the class. The class occupies two swim lanes each side of the bulk head so four lanes total. It is usually mundane, although the other side of the bulk may be more lively as that is where most gossiping occurs. The instructor never gets in the water, but demonstrates from the bulkhead. I am not sure how the conversation on the other side of the bulk head started, but it was about eyebrows and eyebrow treatment. 

Fun and Fitness
courtesy McFarland Thistle

I am guessing one woman noticed the eyebrows on the instructor. It is not unusual for small talk to begin the class, and the instructor with her varied colored hair, mainly blues and purples, often draws rave reviews from the many popcorn heads in the class. They get into discussions about when, and to what color, she will have for her hair. If a woman did notice the eyebrows on the instructor, I have to give her credit for having good eyes, or perhaps a woman would notice something that I pay little attention. I don't think I would notice such a thing, and if I did it would not register in my mind. Does it really matter? What I found out is that for many women eye lashes matter. The discussion was so in depth and went on so long I wondered if I would get to use the foam dumbbells that I even picked out of the bin. 

McFarland pool

The women got into a discourse on what is called microblading and later powder brushing, both treatments to eyebrows. The instructor apparently had micro blading accomplished on her eyebrows in 2017, and the treatment lasts about 5 or 6 years, so she was over do. A friend of her daughters used her to hone her skill on the technique and it did not turn out well. She went to her normal stylist who said she could not correct the situation with microblading, but would do powder brushing. The discourse between the instructor and the senior pool crowd went on for several minutes over the benefits and disadvantages of each technique. What I found out is that microblading costs $495. A few ladies thought she said $4.95, and they were thinking how that was a good deal until it was restated as--Four hundred ninety-five dollars. Powder brushing is $100 less, but it also lasts about 5 to 6 years.  

The details of each I did not understand. Heck, my 66 year old male mind had trouble comprehending the terminology of microblading and powder brushing for eyebrows. The former sounds like small roller blades, and the latter like a Bob Ross painting technique. I had to repeat the words to myself and even ask Barb, one of the swim ladies (who I think colors her hair a deep red), to make sure I was correct. Near the end of the class I could tell it was something that really did not matter because I had trouble with it registering in my mind. Yet, I knew this would make a great blog post, if I could correctly remember the terminology. 

McFarland pool

When I get home from swim my wife asks, "How was swim?" and my usual response, "Oh, fine.", but I that Monday I had a bit of information I could share with her. "So," I said, "I heard a ten minute discourse on eyebrow techniques." I then mentioned "microscrapping" which was supposed to be microblading; this showed how little the terms stuck in my mind, and I then mentioned powder brushing. I told her one of the ladies suggested that it was too bad my wife was not present, to which I said, she would have dismissed it once she heard the cost. Sure enough, I was correct. 

My wife informed me about different women we both know and the techniques they use on their eyebrows, including a woman who has had her eyebrows tattooed on her head. I think that means she is stuck with her hair color. I am not sure what it is, but men lose the hair on their head and women seem to lose their eyebrow hair. My wife had never heard of microblading, but two neighbors she walks with had heard of it. 

The lifeguard, a male college student at UW, just simply shook his head at the conversation and had a few snickers. This had one of the woman comment how fortunate he is to hear about female eyebrow grooming techniques. I think he would rather have avoided the conversation, but the life guard stand is right there, and with all the females in Fun and Fitness gathered around to hear and discuss, and me floating nearby waiting for the exercise portion to begin, his concentration was mainly on the group. Switch of life guards occurred during the conversation, as he had a class to attend, and the pool manager took his spot. The manger recounted to me how this reminded him of years ago when women would get their hair done and then come to class and cover their hair with the old style plastic shower caps. Leave it to female logic to have your hair done and then go to the pool. I wonder if they were trying to impress the other ladies at the time, without saying, but showing a fancy hairdo. 

McFarland pool

I am not sure if most men are like me, but if so, I wonder why women go to so much trouble if the eyebrows are hardly noticed? I have been told it helps make them feel better about their self. I was recounting the story to a couple last Wednesday, who missed Monday, and the wife said, why should women put on makeup when men don't do it?  Although she later said, there are some men that use makeup. What is it about women and their eyebrows, or lack thereof?  I do know if you lack eyebrows it is probably noticeable, but really is all that fancy work required?  Although, if microblading lasts 6 years, that is less than $83 a year, so not too big an investment.

I never got to use the dumbbells that day. We did, finally, get to the exercises, but the instructor brought Menard "grocery" bags for us to fill up and lift out of the water. I am not sure how many gallons the bags hold, but a gallon weighs 8.34 lb, and when filled it was not easy lifting over the head. So much for picking out a nice set of dumbbells. As for grooming, I don't really care to know about microblading or the powder brushing. If the ladies start to discuss grooming techniques of points south, I think I will swim to the other end of the pool. 

Unless otherwise noted, photos by author, spring 2024

Mother of Boomers

On this date, one hundred and one years ago, October 1, 1923, my mother was born. Born in Chicago, she was proud of her paternal Irish heritage. It was almost like her mother's German heritage did not much matter, and that she was 100% Irish. Mom died on 23 Sep 1980, less than a week shy of her 57th birthday. Even though she struggled with varied health issues for the last years of life, her death was still a shock. She was the mother of ten baby boomers.

Freshman Yearbook College photo, 1942 

I was in graduate school at the UW, and after a slate of classes that Thursday in 1980, I made my way to St Mary's Hospital where mom had been for a couple days. There was the usual hospital smell, and scurrying of nurses, nurses aids and even some doctors. I once saw a doctor show on television, and while some medical professionals had a conversation at the nurse's station, the background had a group of people walking to the right as you viewed the screen. Then, the same group, in reverse order, walked to the left. I guess it was to make the hospital seem busy. A real hospital seems much more chaotic. I went up to floor she was on only to find her room empty. I looked around, and all the nurses were busy, as was the nurses station. I walked around a bit to see if she switched rooms. Not seeing her, and not wanting to impose on the busy staff I called home using a pay phone, remember this is 1980, and my Dad answered the phone. I asked if mom had gone home, and that when he simply said, "She died today." It was a long drive home in rush hour traffic. Something in my mind told me to call home, and  I was glad that I did because it was better hearing the news from dad, even it was over the phone, and not from a nurse or someone at the nurse's station. My subconscious self seemed to know what had occurred before my conscious self did.

1945 College Senior Year photo

Born at Englewood Hospital, her original birth certificate has all boxes filled but the one for her given name. Perhaps her parents were  not expecting a girl and they did not have a girl's name picked out, or could not agree on one. Irish tradition would have had her named after her mother's mother, i.e. grandmother Reiner, which would be Franziska (Frances). Her mom was German and probably could care less about the Irish tradition. Being Catholic, they chose to honor the Virgin Mary. Where her middle name, Jean, came from, I do not know. A supplemental birth certificate was filed a few days later providing the name: "Mary Jean."

Mom's Parents, Leo F Sweeney and 
Amanda (nee Reiner) Sweeney
Parents of both were immigrants to the US

After the birth of seven boys my mom had her first daughter, Mary Bernadette. Not thinking that the man provides the X or Y chromosome, if he even cared, the story is my dad said to my mom, "So, you went and had a girl." A second girl would follow, and then the family was complete with the baby brother, Peter. 

Mom and Dad Wedding photo

Having ten children, including eight boys, the first four were born within four years and ten months of each other, two of my most vivid recollections revolved around her doing laundry and cooking. It seemed that every day, there was laundry, particularly with non-disposable diapers at the time, which was a good amount. I figure well over half of mom's married life involved a child in diapers. Laundry was hung out on the line when weather permitted. Mom used wooden poles in the middle of each line to help hold the line up from the weight of the clothes. The cotton rope always seemed to stretch. There were piles of laundry for each child on the family room table. She was amazingly quick and good at folding clothes, a technique I have never learned well.

Mom and son Steve, c July 1948

Then there was food, which was piled endlessly on the table. The custom made kitchen table was wider than normal to help hold all the food. The milkman would daily bring gallons of milk. My neighbor complains about the amount of food her now sophomore high school son eats, and another only a few years away, but that is little compared to the appetite of the Hovel boys. There are appetites, and then there are Hovel appetites. My mom once told me that the hardest adjustment she had to make as the older boys moved out leaving fewer kids at home, with the rest off to college or grown, was cooking for a smaller number of people. 

As a mom she was always worried about her children. Even when they were adults. One Sunday morning at breakfast my mom was concerned that my brother John had not come home that night. I was out Saturday night with some friends at Lums on Madison's east side, and who walked in but John and a girl, who would later become his wife. Mom was really fretting over little Johnny (John, who was the fourth in line, had a nickname "Runt" given to him by the three older siblings). I did not really want to say anything, so as to get him in any trouble, although he was in graduate school at the time. But, she went on and on. I realized I had to put her mind at east. So, under my breath I said "I saw him last night." I was asked what I had said, so I then said: "I saw him late last night at Lums and he was with a girl." That put an end to the conversation, except for my Mom saying, "Well, then, I guess he is okay." I was looking down to grab part of a pancake so not sure if my dad smiled and my mom frowned. 

My older Hovel siblings
Back (l to R): Mike, Joe, Steve
Front (l to r): Leo, John

With all of the antics completed by my older siblings, mom had pretty much experienced everything.  Luckily, Sun Prairie was still a small town. On the other side there was boring me. My twin brother, Greg, would tell his two children "Uncle Tom" bed time stories. From what I can recall they clamored for the bed time stories about Uncle Tom so they could get fast to sleep. This shows the range of personalities in the family.

Having watched my wife parent our two boys over the years, and yes worry about them, I have come to the conclusion that mothering is more similar than dissimilar, even with generational difference. A mother's worry about her children never ends. 

Mom at Christmas 1949
with sons Joe and Steve

Mom was raised by a first generation German-American mother, I have to think things were pretty strict in the Sweeney household. Yet, I never knew mom to be overly strict. I wonder if by the time the later children came along she was worn out and the young kids, when I was old enough to observe and recollect (although my twin brother Greg remembers pretty much everything from his birth on), got away with more than we middle children did. I do recall I was not allowed to do homework in front of the TV, it was often done in the bedroom, or, less frequently, at one of two built-in desks in the family room (dad designed the house which was occupied in April 1958). My parents had no qualms about our youngest brother doing his homework in front of the TV. He did have good grades which perhaps made them wonder why bother. I am not sure of the cause and effect since he was also the baby of the family. Showing that demoralizing nicknames were not limited to our older brothers, one of us, or in concert with each other (that being me, Greg and Mary B) gave our youngest sibling the nickname of Nene Tarde (late baby). Often shortened to Nene. I have to think that households with a limited number of children miss out on some antics that occurred in families with more children. It was not unusual for a person in our family to have more than one nickname--one provided by the older boys, and another from the younger half of the family. 

My mom's parents (as did my dad's) saw that all their children received a college education. My mom attended high school at St Mary's in Prairie du Chien (where she was valedictorian) and then Mount Mary College in Milwaukee. Both girl only schools. One thing I recall, was how well my mom shot the bow and arrow, a skill from her days at girl schools. It was a golden era of Catholic education, when nuns and priests were abundant which reduced the labor costs for educators. My mom was destined to be a teacher until that day when my dad proposed. She met my dad while visiting a classmate from St Mary's, my dad's sister Anita. She was likely in Sun Prairie to visit her aunt who taught 7th and 8th grade at Sacred Hearts in Sun Prairie, and took the time to visit Anita at the farm just north of town. 

Mom was winner in K of C High School
essay contest. This May 1941 letter is from the dean at
Mount Mary to KC State Deputy thanking for notification
Mom would end up attending Mount Mary, and graduated in 1945

What occurs to me is that this is a quintessential American story. My mom's grandparents immigrated to the US from the 1850's to the 1870's; this made her parents first born Americans. The marriage was between a 100% German woman and a 100% Irish man in Chicago shows the American melting pot. Mom lived and grew up on the southside of Chicago, in an area populated by Al Capone's mother, and made famous by James Farrell's Studs Lonigan trilogy. Her paternal grandfather worked in a packing house (the meat industry which received much disdain), and her dad for his brother, a butcher, which show the nation at the industrial revolution. Her dad would be released from that position during the great depression, and would later help publish the first book on the Rhythm Method of birth control. The American story continues with a former GI, from a farm family, and now in the professional class, in southern Wisconsin marrying a big city girl. They had a large family at a time when large families, while not the norm, were not necessarily uncommon. This mirrors the change from the farm economy to the professional and service economy. The marriage produced ten baby boom era children over almost the full range of baby boom birth years, as the children were born from January 1948 to September 1964. 

Sweeney Family photo, c 1910
Mom's grandpa is man kneeling in black suit, her dad is boy to the right
 Mom's grandmother is sitting with white shirt. 

Of the ten children all but one would grow to adulthood. The remaining nine all married, and all the boys would have children of their own. My brother Leo, who was between John, and me and Greg, died at the age of four when hit by a car along USH 51 in McFarland. My mom may have never really recovered from this tragic event. The loss and anguish was expressed in letters to her youngest brother and to this day evince the depth of her immense heartache. As a mother she experienced the range of emotions from the death of one child, to seeing the marriage of four sons, and the birth of one grandchild. 

Mom grieved and worried, but she always persevered and worked for the betterment of the family. Regardless of the antics of many of my siblings, or perhaps in spite of that, she raised children that would all be good productive members of society. She sacrificed for her children. There may be no greater love than that of a mother for her children. And, in this case, all of her baby boomer children, three of whom are in heaven with her and dad.

Photo credit: Yearbook photos from Mount Mary College Yearbooks. All others from family archives.