Category Archives: Memories

Bob’s proposal

Going to friend/co-woker Judy and David’s wedding.

On August 8, 1973, Bob and I were driving back from a supply run to Farm and Fleet in Kankakee, Illinois. If it was one of our usual trips, we had lunch at the Wagon wheel restaurant. They had the best fried catfish!

Bob said he wondered if we should keep dating. It kind of sounded like he was breaking up with me. After dating for two years he couldn’t see where we were going.

I don’t exactly how we got around to the word marriage, but it eventually came up.

It went something like this.

Me: Bob, I never agreed to marry you because you never asked. You’ve got to ask me.

Bob: Well, do you want to?

That was his proposal. It wasn’t until last year, when we were at a family gathering, that he admitted he’d been trying to figure out how to ask me to marry him. That was nice to hear.

At least we were both on the same page.

Four months later we had a church wedding, surrounded by all our friends and family.

Best friends forever and we meant it.

Copyright © 2020 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserved

In honor of my father — Charles Paska

By Susan Manzke

I shared this account in my column in 2015. I’m sharing it again here today.           

I bought a stereo that will take phonograph records or cassette tapes and transfer them to an audio CD. The main reason for this purchase was to take a recording of my late father, made in March 1991, and digitize it to share with family. The crazy thing was I couldn’t find the saved cassette.

            Frantically I searched the house and all the drawers where I thought it could be. Tears filled my eyes when I thought it was gone forever. My last resort was to ask my sainted mother for help. She’s my patron saint of lost items because she was always losing things. The moment I finished my prayer to Mom I turned over a piece of paper and there was the cassette.

            Since April 10th is my father’s birthday (Mom’s is April 19th), I’d like to share one of his WWII stories. The cassette recording was made because our daughter Rachel had a school assignment to ask relatives about the past. Rachel was eight years old at the time.

            Rachel began her interview: “So Grandpa how was it in the Civil War?” I laughed so hard I was asked to leave the room. Eventually, Rachel asked about WWII. Here’s some of what my father told her.

            “I was in the infantry. . . . They were the guys with the rifles. After the airplanes and tanks went in and bombed, we were the ones who went in after and cleaned out the enemy, house by house.” (Dad turned twenty years old while on the battle field.)

            It took some encouragement to get my dad to talk about earning the Bronze star. Finally he said, “I got the Bronze star for winching a whole battalion across a river that was under direct enemy fire. . . . There really isn’t much to tell, except Thumper, he was my assistant driver, he would take the cable and hook it up to a Jeep across the river. I didn’t even try winching it because the winch was too slow (here Dad made a sound of a slow winch). If we used it the Germans would have blown us up into a hundred little pieces.

            “These were mostly Jeeps from H Company, so it wasn’t hard to pull them across. I had a ton and a half. Thumper would pull the winch across and I put it in reverse and go like hell backwards because the winch was in front.

            “We got everybody across and when we were getting toward the end, a shell hit right near my truck. It blew me out of the truck. It blew off the spare tire that was right next to me in the truck. I landed on my back in the water on a rock. I got up and jumped back in the Jeep and away we went again, Thumper and I finished pulling the last one across. The Colonel said, “That was fine work, fine work. I want to get your name. Later, the First Sargent got my name and I got the Bronze Star for that. (Wikipedia: The Bronze Star was awarded for acts of heroism, meritorious achievement, or meritorious service in a combat zone.)

            “And then we got the Presidential Citation, too. That’s from the president of the United States. That was for letting the German tanks run over us in foxholes and when the tanks were past us we got up out of our foxholes and killed off the German infantry following the tanks. The tanks didn’t like to ride any place without armored infantry because then you could jump up on the tank and throw a hand grenade down the smokestack . . .” (Wikipedia: the Presidential Unit Citation was for extraordinary heroism in action against an armed enemy.)

            After that story Dad tired of talking and ended the recording. Two months later he died of pancreatic cancer. Our family continues to be proud of him and now his great-grandchildren have a recording to keep forever.

Charles (Charlie) Paska in the army.

Copyright © 2020 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserve

Another story told by my dad

Bea was 5 years older than her brother Charlie. Here’s an account he often told of their childhood.

Layer cake

          I can remember coming home from school and my sister Bea calling me. “Charlie, come here. I want to show you something.”

          Downstairs, in the kitchen on the table sat a giant layer cake, at least four layers high and very big around.

          “Wow!” I gasped. “Can I have some?”

          “Sure. Help yourself.”

          “Can I have two hunks?”

          “Sure. Have all you want.”

         Well, that remark was a big mistake. Sister went upstairs and I stayed with the cake.

          About an hour later Bea came downstairs looking for some cake. “Charlie, where did you hide the cake?”

          “I didn’t hide it. I ate it.”

          Bea could not believe her ears. “What?! You ate it all?”

          “Yup,” I said. “You said to eat all I wanted and I did.”

         You would think I would have been sick of cake for a while. Sure I was! ‘Till the next cake.

In this photo my mother is holding baby Russell, Robby is between Grandma Izzy and Grandpa Chuck, who is holding Becky.

Robby and Rebecca remember Grandpa telling them fun stories like this.

Copyright © 2020 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserved

A little known story

My dad was in the Battle of the Buldge. I honor him today with a short account about his name.

Charles J Paska

When Dad was in the army they misprinted his name. He went from Charles Poska to Charles Paska. He soon found out that when the army says your name is Paska, that’s what it was.

I asked Dad why he didn’t get it changed back. He told me he’d have to go to court and pay a fee to fix what the army did. Dad had enough government interference in his life after his years in the army and said it was okay with him to have Paska as his name. Because of this my sister and my maiden names are Paska, too.

I tried looking up Dad’s service records, but I got a letter telling me a fire destroyed a great many records years ago. That’s such a pity, as many soldiers had their duty erased in those flames.

Copyright © 2020 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserved

Taking measure

How much rain did you get?

It all depends on where you live and how you measure.

We have a rain gauge on Sunny’s pen. This day we had 3/4s of an inch.

Bob used to talk about his grandfather. In days gone by, they compared the amount of rain measured at their homes. No matter the storm, Grandpa always had more rain, even when he lived next door.

How could this be?

It was the way Bob’s grandfather measured. His rain gauge wasn’t like the Manzkes’.

This was Grandpa’s rain gauge…

…his wheelbarrow.

Of course, he always had more rain.

This method brought a measurement of 2 inches, not 3/4 inch. The day that I took these photos, the guages were about twenty feet apart.

Grandpa never saw the need for a calibrated rain gauge. He liked his wheelbarrow method, which he used all his life.

So, how do you measure the rain coming into your yard? Rain gauge? Wheelbarrow? Teacup?

Copyright © 2020 by Susan Manzke, all rights reserved