My grandfather, August Glaubitz, sat in a rocking chair beside an easterly facing window for hours on end. Sketchy, describes what we know of his early life. Born into a Berlin shoemaker’s family in 1857, he spent some early years on steamboats plying the German rivers. Later he entered the merchant marine and sailed throughout the Atlantic and Pacific. He immigrated to the United States in about 1880 with seven other young men. Why they ended up in northwestern Wisconsin, and more specifically, why he bought a farm which is mostly side hills when there is a large area of level farmland a quarter mile to the north we don’t know.
He married Johanna Yeske on Christmas Day, 1886. She had grown up in Pomeria in extreme poverty and under harsh conditions. She died in 1932, nine years before I was born. August died in 1957, thirty days short of 100.
My mother regretted that when she was young she had not listened to her mother and aunt as they discussed their p.ast with one another.
One of my goals for this Christmas is to provide a collection of stories that I have written about my early years.
Grandparents Day is a good time to remind ourselves to share our past, and our faith with the next generations. It’s also a good time for children to push mom and dad toward sharing their story that following generations will appreciate.
Have a blessed Grandparents Day. Grandparents, be a blessing to your grandchildren.
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