Oh Dear Heaven! (The perfect Grandma expression, don't you think?) She would be horrified to see that I have just written a sort of headline sentence that ends in a preposition. She was such a stickler for grammar, that woman.
We're going back in time again...you need a little more schooling on the Dodge City Weigel's, and I need more remembering. Sometimes when I remember I come across reasonable reasons for the why I turned out like I did. It's a very cheap type of DIY analysis that may do me good.
Dodge City was much smaller when I was growing up than it is today. In 1950, the population was 11,262. Three of those 11,000+ were Weigel Brothers: Joe, Ray and Bill. Let's look at them one by one with Joe being first. Joe, my Mother would contend, was always first.
I'm not sure what brought Uncle Joe from Victoria to Dodge City, but I'm guessing it might have been the Dodge City Flouring Mills, located near the single railroad track that ran along the north side of Trail Street. And, I don't know why it was called a "Flouring" Mill, but that's the way it's listed in the Kansas Historical references. Uncle Joe was a salesman for the Mill, and traveled the country taking orders for flour. He met Aunt Pauline in Pennsylvania, and eventually married her. He didn't marry, nor did he bring her to Dodge City until he had built a house for her...the house you'll remember on First Avenue, a block south and across the street from the High School. (Mickie's friend Davi-Anne Brewer's family bought it from Joe's estate...I think from the estate, and when they moved, Mother's Art Teacher, Jim Wilson, bought it for his family. I believe Lisa Sinclair was next--she ran the Carnegie Center for a number of years...and that's as far as I can go.) I need to remember to drive by and look at it next time I'm in town. I never think to do that--although I check on the Oak Street house which just gets scarier and scarier.
Aunt Pauline was born and raised in Latrobe, PA, which I considered the height of sophistication and civilization--an impression Aunt Pauline never discouraged. It was in the East, for heaven's sake--although, today, Wikipedia describes Latrobe as being a part of the Pittsburgh, PA, Metropolitan Area. Aunt Pauline came to Kansas with a great deal of impressive crystal, sterling silver and china, plus the training to sense immediately whether a guest had the chops to know which fork was appropriate for which course. Dinner at Aunt Pauline's was the one time per year that a seating at the children's table was a blessing.
Uncle Ed (the youngest Weigel, from Omaha) in a moment of pique after one too many drinks, told me that Labtrobe was simply a coal mining town and the Reeves' (Aunt Pauline's family) were nothing but dirt poor coal miners. Except, of course for Pauline's brother, Kevin, the alcoholic priest who died with the DT's at Aunt Pauline and Uncle Joe's house when I was very young. Mary can remember bits and pieces about that week.
Joe and Pauline never had children, and the story was told that Uncle Joe refused to consider adoption. I don't know if adoption was an issue for him, as much as the fact that he had been the oldest of twelve children, and just didn't want any kids around. He and Pauline slept in separate beds--just like Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore, but in a larger bedroom. They were the only adults I knew who didn't sleep in a double bed, and I considered that odd. Although, now that I've written that sentence, it occurs to me that Aunt Letha and Uncle Ray actually slept in separate bedrooms--she at the front of the house, he at the rear. Barbara's bedroom was in between. That never struck me as odd, though. How weird.
Uncle Joe and Uncle Ray owned the automobile (as Aunt Pauline was fond of saying) dealership (Daddy worked for them) until 1948. They both retired that year--coincidentally, on the exact same day that Chrysler Corporation came visiting and closed their dealership. Per Mother, Daddy came home that afternoon and poured himself a drink. Joe and Ray, while not expecting to retire quite so soon, were rich and took it all in stride. By contrast, Daddy was not rich. I'm told he poured a second drink.
Within a week or so, Daddy was working for Huntsbarger Buick, thus beginning his lifetime love affair with the Buick Limited--the priciest and most luxurious Buick ever sold. I learned to drive in a 1958 Buick Limited one Sunday morning on the By-Pass north of Dodge City. Daddy, of course, sat on the passenger side offering advice and I still cling to two of those gems. 1: When driving on a highway, look down the road at a distance (this will prevent over-correction); and, 2: Watch where the white line intersects the hood of your car when you're properly in your lane, and then keep the white line in that spot. In a 1958 Buick Limited, the sweet spot was about one-third of the way from the left edge of the left "eyebrow" of that beautiful car. I did love that huge, dark-green Buick even though Aunt Ida said its fins looked like pig teats.
Oh--One more piece of advice from Daddy: When a car is approaching your road or street or highway from the right or left, watch his front wheel to be sure he is slowing down in order to stop. You can see that even if the wheel doesn't have spokes. I still do that, and I think of Daddy every time.
PS: In case Joe and Pauline seem to be getting short shrift, I need to tell you that in 1970, Uncle Joe was very ill for some months. Aunt Pauline couldn't drive, nor had she ever written a check. Daddy took over the check-writing duties and I became her designated driver. Since I was teaching, my driving time was limited, but we worked it out. As a Thank-You gift to me, when Uncle Joe began to improve, Aunt Pauline asked me to drive her to one of the nicer clothing stores in Dodge City--I wish I could remember the name--to which I had little exposure, as I had been on an extremely limited budget for some years.
She announced to the staff that she would purchase two outfits for me, and so I began to look, choose and try on. Look more...choose again...try on...becoming a bit nervous as I examined the price tags in the dressing room. Each time I came out to show her a dress, I told her the price and she seemed unfazed. I began to suggest that her purchase of one outfit was more than generous--she certainly didn't need to buy two. She, however, was hell-bent on buying two. Finally, the decision was made and Pauline pulled out a couple of those hundred dollar bills she always carried in her billfold. I was a bit shaky, but ascending fast to seventh heaven. I loved those two outfits and wore them for years. Actually, I wish I still had the wool brown and white number. I remember most how her kindness at that time overwhelmed me. I was divorced, poor, struggling and embarrassed about it, trying to make everything work. The imperious Aunt Pauline appeared to me as an Angel that afternoon. I'm still grateful.
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