Family History

Here is an interesting article from 1918 regarding my family coming to America, it is the account of my Great Great Great Great Grandfather Mathias' youngest brother John Schlimgen:

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    “We came from Germany in the fall of 1854. I was then about 13 years old.We came fromnear theUniversity of Bonn. We had no relatives in America, but decided to come to Milwaukee on recommendation of a tailor whom we had known. My father Johann Schlimgen, was a widower,mymother having died two years before. Engelbricht, (He probably meant Mathias, since Engelbert was the second son and was married in Madison, Wisconsin) my oldest brother, was already married. In our party going was my father, my two brothers Engelbricht and Mathias, my sister Louisa and myself; my brother’s wife and my other sister Sybilla (later Mrs. Lorenz Bowar) came later.We were six weeks on the ocean, but had a fairly good voyage. From New York we came via the lakes to Detroit and at Detroit our boat ran aground and we left Engelbricht to take care of our baggage while we went on by train to Chicago in some dirty immigrant cars. When we got to Chicagomy father was induced by a hotel runner to go and see a hotel near by. My brother Matt was in a car further ahead. The first thing my sister and I knew we were put out of the train on a bridge. There we were alone with both father andMatt missing.We had no money, knew nobody and could not talk English. We could only stay there and cry until father came back. He had hardly any money either, as Engelbricht was the treasurer of our party. Coming toMilwaukee, we stayed that winter with a family named Laufenberg south of the city. They had relatives at Pine Bluff west of Madison and the next spring we came by ox team to Madison and went to Pine Bluff. After a while we went to the town of Perry where we lived a while on the so called “Leathercap” farm, near August Goebel’s place where a Norwegian named Ole Olson had lived. Michael Goebel called this Norwegian “Leathercap” because he wore a cap made of leather, hence the ‘Leathercap’ farm. This farm had a log house built into a hole in the hill side and was roofed with dirt. Parlor, kitchen, dining-room, etc. were all in one. It was a one-room cabin. While here I used to play with Olson’s boy Syver. As he was Norwegian and I German, each one tried to teach the other English and in the meantime we made up a language of our own which must have been a wonderful one and which nobody else probably could have understood. After a year or so we moved from this place to the farm in Primrose near the Perry line , still known as the Schlimgen farm, part of whichmy nephewGeorge now owns and occupies. Later my brother Matt bought the Hall Chandler farm near John Tascher’s. Engelbricht and Matt and their families moved to Dakota where my brothers died. My father died in Madison, but is buried in the Catholic cemetery in Perry. I lived in Madison since 1863. About all my English schooling was obtained in the Britts school house in Primrose. When I went by there a while ago and saw the nice new school house I said, “There is the university of Primrose where I obtained my education”. But not in that school. I think my first teacher was Mary Thomas, daughter of David Thomas of Primrose. We had a log school house then. One night in the winter it burned. This was probably due to our having placed our bottles of ink on the stove to keep them from freezing, and putting chips around them which probably caught fire. Of course that stopped the school. The next summer I think Miss Thomas taught school on the upstairs floor of the Britts granery (sic!) which is still standing (1918) on the Konle farm. Two of my other teachers I think were a Miss Smith and a Miss Laura Barron. Miss Barron’s brother afterwards became prominent in politics and I think Barron county was named after him. I think Miss Barron was living in Mt. Vernon at the time, but boarded at Britt’s as many teachers did. It was a jolly household. They had a log house where the present (1918) Konle house stands, and log stables, some across the road. I think Ed Britts built the mill and the frame near it. Ed was a miller. I remember digging the mill race. Later Britts sold the mill to a Mr. Stephens and he sold it to Conrad Kugler.” (Ed note: John died March 8,1927 at Madison,Wisconsin)
    
  
  
  
  
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  • Immigrated from Antwerp Belgium aboard the ship Clifton. Left October 10 1854 and arrived November 20th in New York.
    
    
    Above is from an article from a newspaper column called ‘Historic Primrose’, by Albert O. Barton

Early Spring

Spring time is here in Northern California, The weather is warm, everyone in Oxtoby Hall has their doors open letting the air flow through their apartments, flowers are blooming, and word is there is a lot of skin to be seen on campus in Berkeley, It is crazy how short the cold weather is here in San Anselmo, the trees still have the majority of their dead leaves from the Fall, and they are sprouting new leaves... very different from home where the trees are bare for about 5+months out of the year.

Everything is turning very green, but I was informed today that I should enjoy this beautiful weather while it lasts because there is still a lot of rain on the way being an El Nino year. Oh well, it has been a nice day, and Im not digging myself out the door to my rig.

sweet relief

So the kidney stones have been back off an on today, I think it might be one stone that is moving along, getting stuck, moving some more, getting stuck, and so on... This however has made me realize how good it feels in between the painful moments. When I am feeling no pain, I actually notice how good it feels to just feel normal. I hope I can hold onto this after the stones pass because it really is a great feeling.

This reminds me of David Crowder's book, Praise Habit: Finding God in Sunsets and Sushi, a lot of the beginning of the book explains how we see God in the good times, and the bad times, but in the mean time during the normal times we tend to be oblivious to his presence. This isn't something we do purposely, God just slips our minds when we "don't have a reason" to think of God. This was also the topic of one of our Monday morning chapels last semester. My note to you all today is this: Take time everyday when you have nothing to be thankful for or worry about, and just think of how great life is, how great you feel, and what an amazing God we have.

Stones

So, as mush as I love The Far Side, this cartoon and the other image I have included today are not enjoyable. at 7:30 on Saturday morning I was introduced to the wonderful world of Kidney stones, and the dysfunctional world of Kaiser Pemanente.

Following a Friday where I just felt "off" all day and really didn't have any energy, I woke up Saturday morning to my alarm clock at 7 AM. I figured "hey it's Saturday" so I turned off my alarm clock and went back to sleep. At 7:30AM I woke up again... in excruciating pain. I felt like I was being stabbed simultaneously in the back, just below my ribs, the side, by stomach, and being kicked in the groin. As I laid there in pain, it continued to grow worse, I tried curling up, rolling onto either side, stretching out, standing up, hunching over, crawling, curling up in the fetal position on the floor, etc... but nothing eased the pain. Around 8:00 I decided I needed to go to the ER, so I called my neighbor Charles, no answer, then I called another of my classmates in my building Ian, no answer, then I remembered Another classmate Tom who lives in Oxtoby has my friend Gavin's car for the weekend while he is at a bachelor party in Vegas... Tom answers the phone and immediately looks up directions to the Kaiser ER (because that is ho our GTU insurance is through). I throw on my jacket and meet him at the stairs, we drive to the ER, I check in, explain that I am in sever abdominal pain, and I take a seat.

After sitting in the waiting room of the ER for about a half hour a nurse finally calls me back, but not into the ER, just into a side room to take my blood pressure, and vitals, then I am sent back into the waiting room where I sat for another half hour... still in pain. Finally at 9:30 a nurse calls my name, and I am brought back to a room. Once in the room, a nurse has me put on a gown then comes back in and put a nice warm blanket over me on the bed. One hour later the doctor finally comes in (no nurses checked on me this entire time, everyone just kept walking by the room, no one taking any time to check on me) and asks a few questions, puts pressure on a few areas of my abdomen and back, mostly rules out an appendicitis, or testicular torsion, and tells me he will need to take a urine sample to look for blood because he was pretty sure it was a kidney stone, and blood samples to rule out everything else.

A little later a nurse comes in and takes several vile of blood. Shortly after this another nurse came in and said they were short rooms, and needed to move me out to fit other people in, so I take the initiative and tell her that the doctor requested a urine sample but no one came to get this from me, so she said there are cups in the bathroom and to just grab one and fill it up. She grabbed my clothes, through them in a clear bag, and walked down the hall leaving me by the bathroom. I grabbed one of the many sterile cups in the bathroom, filled it up, and walked out side to no nurse anywhere in site. I walked around for a while and finally found my clothes on a bed in the hallway, sat down, and waited... again. after about twenty minutes I finally grabbed another nurse and told her about the sample, and she took it and rushed off, I thought this was interesting because with my blood tests they had a bunch of sticker with my info they attached to the vile, and the nurse checked with me about three times what my name was to ensure that he was putting the right stickers on the right vile; but this nurse just took my sample and ran off. By this time I might add the pain had for the most part gone away on it's own (after nearly three hours of horrible pain).

Now the waiting game... again. I am in the hallway for about 2.5 hours sitting there in my sweet open-back gown (did I mention I was in the hallway?) with everyone just walking by, all the doctors and nurses avoid making contact, and you can tell they are doing it just because they don't want to be bothered by us pesky ER patients. Finally a nurse checks up on me and is very kind (she stops and talks to me every once in a while for the remainder of the time I am there as well, way to go nurse lady, you were the most helpful person I met that day), and eventually the doctor comes back and says the blood tests were negative, and he was even more sure it was kidney stones, but wont know until we get results from the urine sample. Then he asks what I dreaded "Have you given us one yet?" Perfect! I explain yes, I gave one, and told him how no one came to get one from me, and I had to take the initiative to get that done. I ask if I can get dressed, and he told me that was fine so I went into the bathroom, and changed. This time when I came out of the bathroom, rather than there being no nurse anywhere in site, there was the friendly nurse right outside the door saying "We need a sample." I told her I already gave one, and couldn't give one at that moment, then we spent about ten minutes trying to figure out where mine ended up. I described the nurse as best I could, and eventually they did find it, unlabeled just as I thought.

One more hour later the results from the urine sample came back and there was a bunch of blood in it suggesting kidney stones, so the doctor got me a bunch of paperwork showing what food to stay away from (Peanut butter, wheat germ, oranges, cranberry juice, etc...) and explaining what to do in the future if I have them again. He told me to take a bunch of Advil, and come in for a pain killer IV which in my opinion would have been really nice about 5 and a half hours before this moment when I arrived at the ER in excruciating pain. I was given a strainer and asked to strain for the next few days until something that looks like a grain of sand comes out then bring it in for them to analyze. the time was now 2:30 PM, I had been at the ER for nearly 6 hours to have about ten minutes of conversation with the doctor and nurse, and to have one hours worth of lab tests done. Nothing was done for my pain, and I just had to bare it. I really do feel like my insurance provider failed me on this, my first occasion with them (not a good start especially after everything I heard about them when I moved down here).

You may also notice the time of this post, I started it about a half hour ago at a quarter to 7 AM... I woke up this morning to the beginnings of another stupid kidney stone, I immediately popped 1000MG of ibuprofen, and believe this one is much smaller because it is nowhere near the pain of the first one. due to it not being as painful, and the lack of help I received on Saturday, I have chosen to save my money ($150 just to check in) and tough it out again as opposed to going back to the ER.

Notice the new and improved larger font for your reading pleasure.

How will history remember our good deeds?

Today in history we were talking about the Spanish exploration and conversion of the new world. in this discussion the topic arose regarding how the friars had the best of intentions (not he conquistadors as their intentions were obviously less than positive). The friars devoted their lives to giving the native peoples an education, shelter, clothing, and a reliable food source. Unfortunately in all their good intentions, they failed miserably in the eyes of history. Their actions were more intrusive than anything else by forcing conversion on many of the natives, and imposing Western ideas of civilized culture on a society that already had a culture on their own. This made me start thinking about how the text books in 50 years will remember the actions we are taking now that we feel are positive.

I sponsor a 15 year old boy in India through Compassion International. My monthly pledge provides clothing, food, school supplies, and helps to fund the school where he attends. When I started thinking about this in the context of what the friars were doing in the new world I can see some similarities. I am sponsoring Gopinath in order to provide a brighter future for this young man in an impoverished country. However the issue here could be that I (and Compassion International) am implying and assuming that our Western concepts of this bright future are the same as his. Not only this, but many of the children who enter the program are not necessarily Christian before they enter the program. The program can look very appealing by providing an education to children who may not be able to attend a school otherwise. Along with this education, they are immersed in a Protestant culture and this is taught along with their other lessons. Now in a traditionally Hindu country we are again imposing our religion on the indigenous people.

With all this said, I look at the money I am sending to this young man, and I think deep about what is going on here and all I can think is... let history judge me as they will. I am helping a program provide a better life according to the culture I understand, and from what I can tell, both children I have sponsored are happy and feel privileged to be in the program. Along with this, anyone who supports this program is supporting the opportunity to introduce people to our amazing and beautiful God.

On a similar note, I recently received a letter from Gopinath which was the first he wrote entirely himself entirely in English (no translator!). It makes me wish I had the first clue how to write in Hindi so I could do the same because I am sure it wont do much good to write in Hebrew or German.

I had a lot of other stuff to write about from the weekend, but planned on writing it in this however I forgot what I wanted to write about so I will make more of an effort to Blog as the events happen.