In honor of Father’s Day, Carol Kana, Dr. Elva Meiners and Gale Lincke join me in honoring the memories of our dads. These good men not only left footprints on our hearts, but the lessons they taught us continue to influence and enhance our lives today.
Thanks, Dad!
Carol Kana remembers her father, Arthur Strobel
When I was growing up, Dad worked for the Carnation Company in Schulenburg, Texas. Very early, six mornings a week, he drove a route picking up large, heavy steel 10-gallon cans of milk from local farmers. He later off-loaded them at the processing plant in town.
When I was 10 years old, Dad began teaching me to drive his old flatbed delivery truck on Saturdays and summer mornings.
I can still hear his laughter when I accidentally double-clutched. If I ground the gears, he’d say, “They’ll make them out of rubber next year.”
The farm roads were not all that well maintained and got quite slippery when they were wet. These conditions sometimes caused the milk cans to slide around on that slick steel-plated truck bed, especially on sharp curves. It didn’t bother Dad, though. He would comment, “I’m glad this flatbed has side rails.”
Afternoons and evenings were dedicated to Dad’s second job: custom haymaking. He cut, raked, and baled hay for multiple customers. My dad trusted me to help him by driving the tractor and raking.
Summers were hot and dusty, but the 1¢ per bale compensation I earned was pure profit. It was my first savings plan! A small transistor radio, a steering wheel knob and a small canopy added to my comfort on those 98-plus degree afternoons. Job perks included occasional trips to the local swimming pool and frequent treats of hand churned homemade ice cream made by Mom.
Learning tractor skills, engaging gears and perfecting rake settings taught me common sense and a work ethic that has stayed with me all my life.
Walking in my dad’s footsteps and watching him closely all those years ago, I learned valuable life skills. Dad never knew a stranger, so his friends were many. That meant they were my friends, too. Dad’s honesty and generosity were endless. A compassionate man, Dad possessed many talents that he passed down as a legacy for his grandchildren.
At family gatherings and large spreads of home baking, Dad always made the same comment that still is repeated in our family today.
“I wonder what the poor folk are eating!” he would say.
Memories of my father, Arthur Strobel, are not reserved just for Father’s Day. His positive attitude and jovial personality still influence my life daily!
Dr. Elva Keilers remembers her father, Elvis W. Meiners
For the most part, my father was a soft-spoken man. However, when he did speak, it was in one’s best interest to listen.
Our earliest relationship revolved around hunting and guns. In fact, I’m told that on my first birthday, his gift to me was a small rifle, a 218B, to be exact. Clearly, it was quite a few years before I could even lift it, much less shoot it, but the importance of that gift was to acquaint me with guns as a normal part of my life.
That led to a couple of rules never to be violated or ignored:
First, a gun is ALWAYS loaded, even if all ammo has just been removed. Treat it as if it is loaded. End of discussion, no exceptions.
Second, NEVER point a gun at anything that you do not intend to shoot. Again, end of discussion, no exceptions.
Those two rules were implanted in my brain with all the impact of a blinking neon sign. They have kept me from acting impulsively on numerous occasions throughout my considerable life span. Caution in these two areas spread to other situations, which often has been helpful in ways that I could not have anticipated.
Another piece of advice from both my parents was to always remember that if one wants to do something badly enough and works hard enough, one can achieve it, within reason of course. My mother always echoed my father’s words in this matter, and this advice allowed me to accomplish numerous things that helped me along my life’s course.
I daresay that it directed me often, even at times when I would have preferred different guidance.
It took years for me to develop the maturity to appreciate the wisdom in all these bits of advice from my dad. I hope he would appreciate the outcome of his efforts.
I am ever grateful for his undying patience with me in all things at all times.
Gale Lincke remembers her father, Elmo Minzenmeyer
A full time farmer, my father worked from early in the morning until sundown. He was gentle with the earth and with his animals.
He marveled at spider webs, the birth of animals, purple thistles and all the ways of nature, always remarking at the wonders he knew God had created. My father also instilled in me the interest and curiosity to care for what God has given us.
My father was a natural leader, thoughtful and dedicated. A man of integrity, he rose to leadership roles in community organizations such as church, school board, Texas Farm Bureau and Fayette Electric Cooperative.
The calendar that hung on the wall by the phone was always penciled full of meetings. Dad never “made over” the fact that he was president of an organization. His goal always was to do what was right for the benefit of the group. Somehow, he fit it all in, and still ran a successful farming operation.
With all of the community involvement and personal connections that Dad enjoyed, he accepted everyone as “A Child of God.”
“We just have to accept him as God made him,” I can hear him saying.
Dad knew exactly how to get the best out of anyone. When I was a child, he never chastised me for failing, but gently asked, “Did you do your best?” Having to answer that question was all of the reprimand that I needed.
Going to church on Sunday morning was an extension of our family life. If there was something at church, we were there.
If someone was in need, my parents were the first to step up to help. Dad knew just where to find the resources needed to solve a problem and he was never afraid to ask.
Dad also taught me how to correctly stack hay on a hay trailer, move cattle without driving them through the fence, check a “hot wire” on the fence without getting zapped and use a clutch.
My father passed away without warning when my son was six months old. One of my greatest regrets is that my son did not get to have a relationship with this strong Christian man. My son missed the gift of learning life lessons that his grandfather, Elmo Minzenmeyer, taught me.
Living in what I think of as the shadow of his leadership, I often reflect on Dad’s legacy. I hope he would be pleased with my contributions.
Elaine Thomas remembers her father, Robert William Taylor
When my father whistled, the sound was so pleasing that songbirds stopped to listen. A quiet man, who was as honest as the day is long, he was uneasy being the center of attention. Yet, Dad served the community in a different, but vital way.
Despite Dad’s reserved demeanor, he had a reputation as the best water-witcher in the district. Like his father before him, Dad could find water.
This was long before high-powered water drilling rigs could easily punch triple-digit deep holes in the ground in the foothills of the Rockies south of Calgary where I grew up. Back then, if a piece of farmland didn’t have a steady, reliable source to water livestock or supply a farmstead, its value was greatly diminished.
Surface water sloughs were undependable, often drying up in the summer or icing over in the winter. Many old wells hand dug to a maximum depth of about 20 feet played out over time. Occasionally, a prolific deeper well would begin to falter and fail, feeding a suspicion that a new well somewhere else had tapped into that vein of water.
No wonder Dad’s expertise was in demand.
We didn’t have a telephone, so when an old pickup truck lumbered slowly down our driveway in the summer months, Dad frowned. He dreaded visits that began with small talk about rain and crops and ended with an urgent request.
“Bill, I’m out of water. I have to drill another well. Will you witch it for me? Please?”
Although Dad wanted to say no politely and send the neighbor on his way, he couldn’t do that. Instead, he gazed off at the horizon before speaking.
“I can’t guarantee anything,” he’d say.
When the neighbor offered payment, Dad shook his head vehemently. “I don’t want your money.”
Usually the next morning, the same pickup truck came down the driveway, this time kicking up a little tunnel of dust on the gravel road. The neighbor, all smiles, had come to pick up Dad to head to where the water was so desperately needed.
Dad carried a freshly cut “v” branch cut from a young willow on the banks of the creek below the house in one hand. In the other, he grasped a heavy iron crowbar.
Once at the location, Dad held a prong of the sapling in each hand and walked slowly back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. As the minutes ticked by, nothing was said. Certainly no pictures were taken.
Sometimes, the stick jerked slightly on its own. Now and then, when it refused to move at all, Dad reluctantly told the neighbor he couldn’t find a significant underground stream at that site.
On occasion, though, the sapling twisted so violently that it grazed the skin on the palms of Dad’s hands.
When that happened, the neighbor got excited, but Dad was weary, physically and mentally wrung out from the effort. They’d mark the spot before Dad exchanged his willow stick for the crowbar.
He’d go back to the designated spot and holding the crowbar loosely in his hand, count as it methodically rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. When the motion stopped, he multiplied the total by two, an estimate on the depth of the water stream, give-or-take 10 feet.
Would the well pay off so his neighbor obtained the water supply he desperately needed? Dad certainly hoped and prayed so. In the interval between the witching of the well and the arrival of the drillers, he often paced the kitchen floor at night wrestling with the responsibility.
I admire Dad for stepping up, fully aware of the big-ticket expense and work involved once he said, “There’s a strong stream here.”
Pushed beyond his comfort zone each time he witched a well, Dad earned his neighbors’ respect for trying. Most, but not all, of his wells turned out to be highly satisfactory.
Dad would be pleased, I think, to know many still are pumping today.
***
Read more about our traditions:
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All these men were truly members of the Greatest Generation. It’s wonderful that their memories are still being honoured today.
Carol, Elva, Gale and I agree that our fathers were each special in their own way. We each shed a few tears as we probed our hearts for memories of Dad. Thank you, Elinor, for writing.
Great, heart-felt stories of wonderful dads. I remember all of these dads, especially Carol’s, Mr. Strobel. This little girl watched Carol and her dad baling hay from our farm home porch. Like you four ladies, I also was blessed with an amazing father. How fortunate we are! What wonderful memories we carry with us! By the way, my Grandpa Stichler was also a successful water witcher.
Darlene, thanks for writing and sharing your memory of watching Carol and her dad work! We were, indeed, blessed with caring fathers. I am delighted to know that your Grandpa Stichler was a successful water witcher, too. Back in the days when wells had to be hand dug, it must have been encouraging if a well witcher thought there was an underground stream of water in a certain place. The oldtimers never took water for granted because so many had faced shortages.
This reminds me of my dad, also. Elaine, are you available to “witch” for some soldiers’ graves at Ft. Croghan in Burnet County?
Glad our memories brought your dad to mind, Jane. I didn’t inherit my dad’s talent/skill to find water. I do know of a lady who does witch for graves, though. If you’re interested, send me an email and I’ll put you in touch with her. That would be a very noble and patriotic undertaking.
I also know of someone who can witch for graves. I’ve seen it done. If you need to know, Elaine can contact me.
Thanks, Junette. It’s fascinating isn’t it?
Thank you Elaine. I love your posts.
Peter, thanks for being a faithful reader and Happy Father’s Day!
Great stories from all the ladies. Thanks for sharing.
Weldon
Weldon, we appreciate your feedback. Have a blessed Father’s Day!
Thank you all. Your stories remind me of my dad’s life story.
Donna Cockrell
Thanks, Donna, glad we brought a flood of memories back to you about your dad.
Elaine, I love reading about your families that lived in the country, an experience quite different from mine. Your dads all sound wonderful and have given you all such great gifts! My dad was a different sort of person who grew up in a small town but, during the depression, managed to go to college and then medical school. He continued to practice medicine for 50 years. He was a life-long learner who was always taking courses like Spanish, photography and pottery at the local college. He and my mother loved to travel. My family like all of yours were strong church goers. As I think about my dad now I realize that I got more than I had realized from him. He was not a very affectionate person and I always wished to get affirmation from him. But from both my parents I got a lot of encouragement to pursue an education. I also enjoy learning, love to travel and have continued to go to church – gifts that I got from him. So thank you, Dad.
Judy, thanks for telling us about your dad. He was another remarkable father in his own way. The encouragement he and your mother provided have had a very positive lifelong impact on your life. Your dad would be very proud of you for what you continue to accomplish and also the values that you live!
I read this TWICE already upon receipt this morning. What remarkable men! And what remarkable women their daughters turned out to be as they inherited qualities of their fathers’ legacies. I keep telling you this, but this is the best post yet! Thanks to all of you.
Brenda, we are humbled by your praise. When the four of us had finished writing down our memories, we compared notes and found we had all cried during the process. We still miss our fathers and always will. Thanks again for writing.
Touching stories all, Elaine.
Thanks, Gus. We are glad you enjoyed reading our memories because we really enjoyed writing them!
Hi Elaine-
Your stories are bewitching. I loved all four of the stories. I know all of these beautiful ladies and enjoyed reading their stories.
Your story about finding water with saplings is so interesting. I have always heard about witching for water but I never knew anyone who did it and was successful. And I never knew about the crowbar. I would have loved for your father to tell me stories about water witching. You continue to amaze me with your creative writing and stories.
These stories should be in a book.
Your friend,
Jo Lynn Petras
Hi Elaine-
Your stories are bewitching. I loved all four of the stories. I know all of these beautiful ladies and enjoyed reading their stories.
Your story about finding water with saplings is so interesting. I have always heard about witching for water but I never knew anyone who did it and was successful. And I never knew about the crowbar. I would have loved for your father to tell me stories about water witching. You continue to amaze me with your creative writing and stories.
These stories should be in a book.
Your friend,
Jo Lynn Petras
Jo Lynn, we are very glad you enjoyed our Father’s Day stories! It was certainly a pleasure to write down our memories. Yes, my dad would have enjoyed showing you how he found water on our farm and followed it across the field. You wouldn’t expect find a strong stream of water on a hillside. What led him to that location was the healthy stand of willow trees. Willows grow where there’s water! Thanks so much for writing.
I loved reading these stories about different Dads! Each one seemed to be a very hard worker and did what he had to do for his family while teaching long time lessons to their children. Reading these stories let me slip back to “Old Time America” when God, family, respect and hard work were truly valued. Things that we desperately need today!
Denise – Thanks for your thoughtful and kind response. As Elva said, our dads were very different from one another, but they shared the traits of kindness, decency, love of family and the willingness to work hard. No wonder we miss them!
What wonderful stories. I especially identify with the story of your dad. My mom was a water witch also. It’s amazing, but it works.
Bev, I’m glad to know that your Mom also had that gift. Something else we have in common! Thanks for writing.
Elaine,
Thank You! Your stories warmed my heart. I know Gale, and met Mr. Minzenmeier and Mr. Meiners, but I never knew what wonderful men and fathers they were. The story of your Dads water witching was extremely interesting. I wish I could have watched him. My brother-in-law, now retired from the City of Giddings water department, told me of using the willow branch to locate underground water lines. It wouldn’t surprise me if Wick Water Well Service or Richter Drilling still uses the technique. Please keep your stories coming!
Carolyn Lehmann, Warda, Texas
Carolyn, thanks so much for sharing your thoughts and memories. We thought Father’s Day was a very good time to stop and take the time to remember our dads. While these gentleman were different from one another, I think if they could have sat down at a table together they would have greatly enjoyed each other’s company!
Just beautiful tributes to the absolute best mentors daughters (and sons) are blessed to have and to have had in their lives. “Dad is gone much too soon,” I think that thought daily with so many things I so want to share with him. His grandson and son-in-law also have a irreplaceable hole in their hearts without him. There is something about a Farmer/Rancher Dad that elevates my true appreciation for the hardness he had to endure to make a living, the love of the land and to provide for his family; and yet the softness over many good coffee chats, always learning something valuable from the discussion at hand. Even if we agreed to disagree on certain subjects the respect was always there, and typically he was right in the end. I learned to have values and ethics Dad exemplified on a daily basis that I will never forget. I wish he was here to finally embrace the golden years he worked so hard for to finally enjoy…but then again, he would still be puttering about, never one to be idle for long but on his terms. Eternally grateful and missing a wonderful Dad indeed.
Deb, your Dad would have treasured your beautiful, heartfelt, nostalgic words. Thank you so much for reaching into your heart-of-hearts to share these sentiments with us. Your Dad would be so proud of you and so excited for you and your family as an exciting new chapter in your lives unfolds. I believe he’s with you still and my dad is with me, too!
Thanks Elaine & the talented ladies who wrote a little of their fascinating inspiring paternal history. I was born in 1938 in San Benito, Texas & early one morning, before I was 6 years old a neighbor came knocked on the farmhouse door. He was a German farmer, Ernest Hector. Mr. Hector was excitedly bubbling over telling my dad, Otto Burgess that he had just in the last few minutes tracked a “Fox-Fire” ball of glowing gas westward from his (Hector’s) farm across Norman Bloomstrong’s farm & Helen Moore & sisters’ farm onto Otto’s farm & continuing West across a large waterway irrigation canal (20 ft wide 6 feet deep) that was the border between San Benito & Harlingen, Texas. The canal was / is bordered by two much larger drain ditches onto a neighbor’s farm, Yarbrough I think it was. The glowing gas ball disappeared in to the second huge drain ditch about 20 deep & 40 feet wide. A few years after this “Fox-Fire” gas ball, during several years of extreme drought in the late 1940s & thru the 1950S my farther Otto asked Mr. Hector, a Witcher, to try find ground water. Mr. Hector spent most of a full half day walking his Witching stick & found multiple potential water sources. Otto had three wells drilled about 30 feet maybe more deep & all hit water. But a problem was that in deep South Texas while you could find water, many times that water was too salty to use. And so it was w/ the water Mr. Hector found. These three wells all showed sign of natural gas. My father Otto always believed that an oil company would one day harvest that gas, but has not. The Fox-Fire was only reported one later time I am aware.
Fred, What a fascinating story! No wonder Mr. Hector was excited. A huge fireball must have scared him silly. While I knew there was some natural gas production in the Valley, I hadn’t thought about there being pockets, but of course that makes perfect sense. I wonder what ignited it? I am also fascinated to learn that salty water was often found. What a disappointment that must have been when drinking water was needed so badly. Thank you so much for this insight into water wells and fire balls in the Valley. Your post is great, Fred!
For a person who did not get to spend much time with his father, on coming to Canada I found many replacements in the neighbours.
Your Dad witched a well for me. The spot he selected was up on the hill above the house. It seemed a very unlikely spot. However the driller with his pounding type rig spent ages maneuvering it until the first stroke enclosed the peg. If the sun did not shine this driller did not work for long as he used the mirror off the truck to shine down the well to ensure it was going straight. He hit a very good flow of water just about where your Dad said he would.
Your Dad brought an old faithful willow fork as well as a fresh cut one. After he had found the site he let me try them with no results. However when he held one side and me the other it twisted so powerfully that the bark came loose.
I used to have an altimeter in my truck and around that area I could tell how deep peoples wells were. So maybe it is true that many well were in the same puddle and one well could rod another.
Peter, I had forgotten that Dad witched your well. In my mind’s eye, I can see the hill above your house. It was, indeed, an unlikely place to find water. It interests me that Dad let you try your hand at witching with no results, but when he took one fork of the willow, “it twisted powerfully.” Hard to believe unless you’ve experienced it, I bet! I love your memory of the driller using the mirror off his truck to keep his well bore straight. What a mental picture that paints! Do you recall witchers in the U.K. when you were a youngster or were you too far removed from those kinds of experiences? Thank you so much for writing and adding to my memories of Dad’s witching success stories!
I knew two of the dads, Mr Elmo and Mr Strobel. I feel now like I know the others. I sat here smiling as I read, followed by a tear, relating to the things my Dad taught me. Very moving! Mr Strobel and his wife used to come to the Swiss Alp store and we’d all eat hot dogs together. She made the BEST oatmeal cake. Mr. Elmo was such a kind man. Great stories as usual Elaine, all truly touched me. Happy Father’s Day to all our dads, no matter where they are.
Glynis, so glad we brought a smile to your face and brought back good memories about the lessons that your Dad taught you. In preparing our stories, Carol, Elva, Gale and I also smiled and shed a few tears. They were tears of remembrance and tears of gratitude, as I know yours were too. Thank you for writing.
Thanks for all the wonderful memories of all the dads. Of course, I felt so sad, wishing I could go back in time to see and feel all the memories of my dad (and mom) again to thank them for life’s lessons they taught by their example!
Barbara, so glad that our memories reminded you of your dad even though the thoughts were tinged with sadness. Yes, we owe a great debt of gratitude to our fathers and mothers! Thank you for writing.
I, too, remember Carol on the tractor making hay alongside her dad. My dad also had me on the tractor when my legs were too short to work the clutch so he made an extension for me. 🙂 Elmo has always had a special place in my family and I too still miss him. His dad, Alfred Minzenmeyer was also very special person as he stepped in as a father figure when my dad, Gilbert Jochen, lost his own father at the age of 14. Uncle Alfred was always available with a helping hand, good advice and encouragement for the teen-aged farmer my dad became so suddenly. I was especially pleased when I saw my dad along in the picture of the church council Gale shared….I enjoyed the reflections and kind words from all the daughters in honoring their Dads. Thanks for the memories. Irene
Thanks, Irene, for sharing these very special memories with us. I can picture you leaning in to reach that old clutch and being unable to do it. But your dad needed the help, so he adapted it to fit your height. “Where there’s a will (or a need) – there’s a way!” What a tribute to Alfred Minzenmeyer’s kindness that you still recall “Uncle Alfred’s” role in your dad’s young life. Good neighbors and good friends all the way around!
Elaine: Thank You for the wonderful work you do. I went to Schulenburg High 1961 – 1965. It is an honor to hear the replies on the “Father’s Day” tribute you did. I am familiar with many of the faces in response you received. I was at “awe” to see the word from Mrs. Jane Knapik who taught at SHS back in those days. In the book Navidad Country by Iris Rose Guertin Mrs. Knapik’s contribution speaks for itself. I am grateful to see many chapters in the book cover the challenges of settling near the West Navidad, Mulberry Creek in the 1880’s. The Czech rooted families, Kahanek’s, Krupala’s , Schramek’s, to name a few in this area – to co exist with the cattle rustlers that had control without fences – what a challeng that must have been ! The years just keep on rollin.
Eugene, I really enjoyed reading your comments. I’ve heard from several other former students of Mrs. Knapik who echo your sentiments on what a force for good she is to this day! As you point out, the years keep on rollin’ so it’s fun and rewarding to look back over the decades and appreciate events that have shaped us and our little corner of the world! Thanks again for writing.