Norka a German colony in Russia
Remembering Grandpa
By Marven Weitzel (July 4, 2004)
Marven! Why did you let that old man cut off all your hair? Du bist ein Dummpaff!"
"But Mom, he gave me a penny!"
"A penny? A whole penny? What the (bleep) can you do with a penny? And you look so stupid with that bald head!"
This conversation took place nearly 60 years ago, and I remember her angry words as if she were speaking today. To say the least, my Mom was really put out because I had allowed Grandpa (George Henry Weitzel) to shave my head the way they cut hair for young boys in Norka, his home village along the Volga River in Russia.
What Mom apparently didn't understand is that Grandpa Weitzel was my buddy. I looked up to him. I would have done almost anything he asked, and without the penny. Grandpa and I did a lot together in those days, mostly working in the fields. I was his beet thinning companion--we worked in the grain fields, shocking barley, picking potatoes, topping sugar beets, planting cabbage and tomatoes.
A lot of the work we did during the summer months while Grandpa, Grandma, Aunt Mary and Aunt Katherine lived on the farm of George Sauer near Dome Rock southwest of Gering, Neb. And I remember spending a lot of time working on the Ted Nanberra farm a couple of miles from our home in the "Rooshin Town" section of Gering.
One of my fondest memories of grandpa was the relationship he developed with Ted Nanberra's father, who had not been in America long. Both spoke broken English, but they seemed to manage well. Mr. Nanberra was Japanese, and I suspect that the conversation may have included discussions of when Grandpa served in the Russian army during Russian-Japanese war of 1905.
Grandpa and Grandma lived across the alley from our home in Gering. On Grandpa's property was a building which included a garage for Aunt Mary's 1936 Ford, and a small shop at the front of it. Grandpa spent a lot of time in the shop, doing woodworking, mainly, and smoking his "roll-your-own" Bull Durham cigarettes. I bought his tobacco for him at the "Old Greek's" store two blocks away. Each jaunt for tobacco usually included a penny for a "Guess What" treat which I always enjoyed.
I missed Grandpa a lot when we left Gering in the spring of 1946. When Dad managed to sell our home and borrow enough money to start farming, we moved to the John Heiser farm northeast of Lyman, Neb., just across the Wyoming line.
But the separation was only for a short time, for less than a year later, Dad called upon Grandpa to come to our home and herd the 500 sheep we were fattening for the market. I learned a little about patience while watching Grandpa urging the sheep to go through a pasture gate at sundown. He just waited until one would decide to go throught, and the rest would follow.
After two years at Lyman, we moved to Lingle, Wyo., and Grandpa went back to his home in Scottsbluff. Occasionally, Grandpa and Grandma stayed at our home on the farm about a mile west of Lingle.
Grandpa wasn't happy in his later years, and he and Grandma often had heated arguments. I remember one time when Grandpa was seated at the kitchen table, and they were having a heated discussion. Grandpa said something threatening, and recall Grandma saying: "Na, Gucka mal da!" which means something like "well, look at that." It infuriated Grandpa so much that he grabbed a butcher knife from the table and headed for Grandma who was at the sink near the back door. By then I was about 17 and pretty strong. I grabbed him from behind and took the knife away from him. Aunt Mary told me that he later beat her.
Grandpa and I never talked much after that. In the fall of 1951, Harry Walter and I enrolled at Scottsbluff Junior College, and stayed in a room at Grandpa and Grandma's house about four blocks from the college. I was enrolled for 15 semester hours, and playing on the college football team, as well as working parttime at West Nebraska General Hospital. I didn't see much of Grandpa that fall. I remember that he spent a lot of time in his room praying. He was very unhappy and continued to pray that the Lord would take him.
In December, I joined the Marine Corps and headed for boot camp at San Diego. During a short leave after boot camp, I got to see grandpa briefly at Scottsbluff. I didn't see him again until nearly three years later in the fall of 1954 when I took leave from my duties at Miami (Florida) Marine Corps Air Station. I remember going to Scottsbluff with my Dad to see Grandpa. I went in full uniform, sporting sergeant stripes. He was so glad to see me, and so proud of me. That was the last time I saw him. He died two months later.
But the story doesn't end there. Back to the haircut. When I attended my first day of class that year as a second grader, I went to my desk with my cap on.
"Marven, take your cap off and hang it in the hall!" my teacher, Miss Roberta Franklin, demanded. "Un uh!" I shook my head. She rose from her desk, and said: "Now!" So I walked to the hall, hung up the cap, and reentered the room. All of my classmates burst out laughing as I entered. Miss Franklin was also my fifth grade teacher at McKinley Ward in Gering, by that time, however, she was Mrs. Douglas Stanton. I met her again nearly 30 years later in Abilene, Texas, where her husband was serving as an Opthamologist. She remembered the incident.
Recently, I wanted to contact her and revive those memories, but I learned that she died last June at the age of 89.
No. 1: Grandpa Weitzel, George Henry Weitzel
No. 2: Harold Weitzel, sporting one of Grandpa’s Haircuts.
No. 3: Grandpa Weitzel with daughter, Katherine, and grandson, Harold. (I’m not positive the boy is Harold – Could be Wilbert Weitzel, another grandson.
No. 4: Grandma Christina Weitzel, Mary Weitzel and Grandpa Weitzel at the home in Scottsbluff, Neb.
No. 5: Grandpa Weitzel, center, and some of his friends after church meetings.