by Peter Michaels | Aug 29, 2014 | stories
My grandfather was head of a logging camp when he discovered a fresh-water lake. He built a road down to the highway and deeded it to the county, then set about clearing spots where he would build their beautiful home, and other homes to sell. My grandfather wasn’t an emotional man, but he loved my grandmother. One day, they were out looking at his latest project where a number of trees had been cut down. He put his arm around my grandmother and said, “Honey, someday all these stumps will be...
by Kendra | Aug 29, 2014 | stories
As I sit hearing trying to formulate who to write about all I can think about is four people with four different jobs. A bus driver A nurse An ornamental iron worker An auto worker for Ford Which one do I write about? For me it has to be all if them or none if them. My maternal gramma drove a bus for Northwest R1 school distric for over thirty years. Every morning up at 4am to make breakfast then out the door to check tires and a safety check so that everyone’s kids were safe to and from school. In blistering heat and terrible road conditions she took her job with the utmost seriousness. Her husband was up long before dawn making that two hour drive to work every morning and night. I remember the one story of his working for Ford. He told me with great pride that he drove the first mustang that came off the line before it was put on the trucking carrier. I did not understand that as a big deal as a child, but I do now. My paternal grandma was a nurse. She was the first director of nursing for Jefferson Memorial Hospital. As a kid I just remember the shots she gave us for poison ivy and how we were always embarrassed by the “medical” questions she asked us as teenagers. My grandfather was a huge gentle giant. I knew that he made things out if iron. As an adult I can appreciate the craftsman he must of been and wish I could go back in time and thank each...
by Amy | Aug 29, 2014 | stories
My Grandpa once told me that when he was a little boy, (circa 1914,) his dream was to be a truck driver. He imagined that that was the most glorious job anyone could ever have. I thought, “why?” Without missing a beat, he said, “Because a truck driver got to see the whole world.” At the time, I didn’t appreciate what he meant. I grew up with all the modern conveniences, and took them for granted. He didn’t have those things until much later in his life than I did mine. He didn’t get the education that I did. He never attended college. But my Gramps was a smart man… a self educated man. He built his house- the one my mother grew up in- with his own hands. He wired it for electricity, and laid the pipes for plumbing himself. I loved that house. It was where my most fond childhood memories were made. It was many years after his passing that I found out that he had been Chief Engineer at Mountain Oil & Gas in Salt Lake City, Utah, a title he was reluctant to accept. He felt that someone who had earned a degree was more deserving of it. My Gramps was a modest man. A simple, hard working guy who managed to provide for his family during some of the toughest decades this nation has known. He knew the importance of an education, and made me promise I’d finish mine. He had a heart of gold, and a kind soul. He was known for his Apple pie, as am I. He was and continues...
by Ryan Kastens | Aug 28, 2014 | stories
After I became heavily involved in my union (International Association of Machinists) my grandmother informed me that my great grandmother was the local lodge president of her union. Apparently standing up for workers rights runs in the family
by Fritzi Lainoff | Aug 28, 2014 | stories
My grandparents, Lieb and Ida Friedman, came to St. Louis with my mother, Rebecca, from Kiev, in 1912. My mother was just 5 yrs. of age. My grandfather’s name was changed to Louis. He went to work in a hat factory and in several months was diagnosed with TB. He was sent to a “farm” on Fee Fee Rd. to recover. In the meantime my grandmother took in sewing to bring in income for herself and my mother. My mother recalls eating a small piece of meat with a potato and my grandmother having only a piece of bread with tea and telling mom she was not hungry. At the time they were living in a small 3rd floor apartment with no plumbing. When my grandfather came back home he was told to get a job working outside. He found work delivering bread, rolls and bagels from a horse drawn wagon. Mother remembered him sitting at the window on a very snowy day, not able to work his route because of the severe weather and worried he’d be fired. From the time they came to St. Louis, until 1929, my grandparents would have 4 sons and another daughter. Somehow, they managed to buy a 4 room house. In 1932, my mother was widowed and we moved in with my grandparents. I was 3. Mother told me that no matter how poor they were, or how many children there were, whoever came to the door in need of a meal or a place to sleep they always had something to eat and a place to sleep, even if on the...
