Mary Kratzer Hale — A Eulogy

Mary was born in La Crosse at Saint Mary’s Hospital, which is mildly interesting because Saint Mary’s would later become Franciscan Skemp Medical Center.

Old photo of Jo Ann, Hazel and Mary Kratzer

Mary is on the right, with sister, Jo Ann and mother, Hazel.

Catholic School Girl

Mary Hale yearbook photo

Mary Kratzer’s Aquinas yearbook photo. This is probably a copyrighted image and I am going to be in deep trouble. But isn’t my mom cute?

Mary went to Catholic school, first Saint Mary’s elementary and then Aquinas High School. Mary remained lifelong friends with her classmates, Kathy Flanagan, Mick Wilder and Sally Renstrom.

At Aquinas High School, Mary roamed the halls with, but did not notice the good looking Edward Hale. During her senior year, she went to a dance with her friends Mick (Wilder) Klein and Joe Wilder. Joe’s best friend, Ed, asked Mary to dance and the rest was history. Shortly after they became an item, Ed joined the Air Force and was deployed to Larson Air Force Base in Moses Lake, Washington.

When Mary graduated from Aquinas, Ed came home on leave to see her. Mary must have been irresistible, because, shortly after Ed went back to Larson Air Force Base, Mary received a letter containing a marriage proposal. Mary sent back a letter accepting his proposal.

Mary, JoAnn, John Pintz, Hazel Franzen

Who wouldn’t try to marry that cute chick? I understand why my dad was afraid to approach her in-person, but had to propose by way of the U.S. Postal Service.

The next Christmas, Ed came home on leave and married her. A week later, she and Ed were on a train headed for Washington State.

Mary and Ed Hale wedding photo

Mary and Ed Hale wedding, 1952 at Saint Mary’s Church.

A Family is Born

In hot, dusty Ephrata, Washington, Mom gave birth to my sister, Joie and then my sister, Ruthie. They liked to tell us that Joie’s hospital bill was $7 and Ruthie’s birth cost $4 — so Ruthie was on sale. When our father was done with his service, they moved back to La‌Crosse. Mom gave birth to two more girls, Laurie and Mary. Finally, Mom gave birth to a boy, and the family was complete.

Mary Hale, in Ephrata, Washington, with baby Joie

Mary Hale with baby Joie… her favorite.

Our family life was characterized by togetherness. We didn’t have a lot of money, so togetherness was our only option. We piled on the couch to watch movies on T.V. We went on camping trips to Goose Island or Hatfield, Wisconsin. Sundays meant crowding in the T.V. room for a Packer game. And when the ref made a bad call, Mom was as loud as any man in the room as she registered her complaint.

When mom and dad threw a birthday party for one of us kids, there were no themes or party favors. Mom made spaghetti or goulash and had cake and ice cream. The guest list consisted of me and my sisters, my grandmother and whichever kid we were hanging out with that day. Now, that was a party. My family carries on the same tradition — on birthdays, we have cake and ice cream and Mom and Dad come over.

Laurie, Mom, Ruth, Heidi and Dad

Members of the typical Hale birthday party guest list: Laurie, Mom, Ruthie, Heidi the dog and Dad.

Faith

When we were growing up, Mom and Dad showed us that God was important to them. They took us to church every Sunday. Are any of you old enough to remember Saint Wenceslaus church? Our family attended St. Wence, then later The Cathedral. Even later, Mom and Dad attended right here at Holy Trinity. We kids are thankful for our Christian upbringing and we teach our kids about our faith too.

Mom was our dad’s straight man. She would often encourage Dad to tell stories about the funny things they had done together. Then she would laugh and laugh at his stories. Mom was Dad’s biggest fan.

Mom Supported Her Kids

I remember one night staying up late working on homework for an art class. Mom had to get up early the next morning to work at the bank, but she stayed up past midnight with me applying paper maché to some silly sculpture I was working on.

Later, I took up bike racing. I think My parents came to every bike race I did. I remember them cheering for me all over the race course. I have VHS tapes of me racing. But they only show half of me, because while Mom was filming me with a huge VHS camera, she was watching me with the other eye and yelling at me to go faster.

Mary Ed and son, Eddie at a bike race

My supportive mother at a bike race. Are not my parents beautiful, especially in contrast to their strange looking son?

The Golden Years

When Mom and Dad got rid of all us kids, they realized their lifelong dream of retiring in the south. Mom and dad would live the winter months in Brownsville, Texas and the summer months in La Crosse. During the winter, I would call Mom (not often enough) and she would regale me with stories of her and Dad’s social exploits. They were always going out to lunch with another couple, or visiting a museum, or going to an air force base, or touring into Mexico. They often went to South Padre Island and sat on the beach in good weather and bad. (I’ve seen photos of them sitting in lawn chairs on the beach bundled up in hooded sweatshirts.)

Mom and Dad in sweatshirts on South Padre Island

Mary and Ed on the beach on South Padre Island. Dad looks like a tourist. Mom looks like a secret agent scanning the surf for smugglers.

They liked to try different Catholic churches and would even attend services in Spanish, though neither of them spoke Spanish. (I remember my mother telling me once “We went to a restaurant called Casa Blānca.” I told her, “Mom, you gotta call it Casa Blanca when you are that close to Mexico.”)

When my sister Laurie and I took up country western line dancing, my mother was right there with us at the dances. I remember practicing dances with Mom and Laurie in Mom and Dad’s basement. After retirement, Mom began teaching line dancing to other retirees at their trailer park in Texas. And my Dad would dance too, so the little old ladies could follow his steps.

Mary and Ed Hale in matching line western shirts.

The most dedicated line dancing couples would buy matching shirts.

When Dad lost his hearing, Mom became his ears. And somehow she was also his interpreter. I could ask Dad something and he might look at me quizzically, not sure of what I said. Then Mom, without raising her voice, would repeat what I said, and Dad would catch every word and respond to the question. I guess after 60 years together, his ears were trained to hear her voice.

Mom and Dad arm in arm

Later, Mom always had hold of Dad’s arm to keep steady. He could not hear well and she could not walk well.

Mom and Dad were almost inseparable, especially after their kids were out of the house. They did everything together, from checking the post office box to going to the laundromat. Toward the end of her life, my mom’s body became unsteady. Then my parents were not just together, but they were hand-in-hand. It reminded me of how, when we were little kids, Mom and Dad would hug in the kitchen when Dad came home from work. I remember that consistent, reassuring image of Mom and Dad embracing — telling us kids that some things were solid and unchanging.

very young Hale kids

The very young Hale children who owe their existence to Mary Kratzer Hale

Thank you, Mom, for being a supportive, loving, steady part of our lives. From all of us kids, we love you.

The End

Except For Two More Pictures

Mary Hale and Helen Hale

My mother with my first daughter, Helen. That’s a cool grandma!

Mary and Ed Hale

I love how young and happy my mother looks in this photo (and that ‘stache on my dad is deserving of awe too.)

family photo circa 1975

My mother looking very cute in spite of the efforts of my four older sisters to drive her crazy.

Me and my mother

The author and his mother at Winona Lake Park in the summer of 2014

The Day We Overcame All… Sort of

The scene was the Winter Father – Son Retreat at Living Waters Bible Camp. I always dread the cold, but this year it was mild — too mild. The staff was carefully shoveling snow onto thin parts of the tubing hill to prevent dark patches from attracting the sun and melting the snow.

The torsion catapult

The torsion catapult made by the Hale kid.

The camp always prepares something for the kids to build with their dads. This year, everyone built a marshmallow catapult. There was much “practicing” and young men kept the air filled with white puffy projectiles.

Saturday night we had a shooting competition. The first task was to knock over a popcan pyramid from 15 feet away. We were given ten marshmallows for the task.

It was exciting because we were in the second wave, and no one had knocked down all ten cans. Edward missed with his first shot. His second shot knocked down six cans. His third shot knocked down three more cans. I looked him from across the room as he lined up his catapult, aiming at one tiny, lonely pop can 15 feet away. It was impossible.

The whole room watched.

He fired…

Silence…

Ting! He knocked over the can. The room erupted in whoops and applause. He got bonus points for having six marshmallows left over.

cans laying around

The former pop can pyramid.

Round 2

The object of the second round was to fling a marshmallow 25 feet into a garbage can – an impossible feat for lesser men. In the first wave, several kids managed to hit the side of the garbage can, but none were able to place one in the can.

In the second wave the mighty Hales stepped up to the table. We had five marshmallows. The first landed short. We propped up the front of the catapult. The second shot landed next to the can. We propped up the front of the catapult some more. Marshmallows three and four hit the side of the can. Our last shot… I took out the set pins and wound up the tension cords a full turn. The wood side of the catapult groaned under the pressure.

The referee said, “is everyone done?” I said, “We have one more shot.” All eyes in the room turned to Edward. I propped up the front of the catapult even more and thought, “Why did you choose that angle? You’re just guessing. What if you guessed wrong!?”

Edward lined up the shot. I said, “Pull the trigger slowly. Don’t snap it.” I held the catapult tight against the table. Edward shot his shot.

The catapult catapulting

The final shot…

The room held its collective breath…

Then, descending as if in slow motion, the marshmallow traced a line through the very center of the garbage can’s circular opening. Again the crowd erupted in deafening woops and hollers.

The marshmallow falling into the garbage can

The marshmallow the kid flung falls into the target.

Edward had done the impossible. He had knocked down the entire pop can pyramid and sunk a marshmallow in the distant garbage can. We were awesome!

We placed third overall.

Yeah, some jerks in the later rounds got better scores than us. But we were the groundbreakers. We were the first. We received the applause reserved for those who break barriers. For a moment in time we crawled out of our shells of mediocrity and shone like the great ones.

And we did with marshmallows.

A marshmallow

The unassuming marshmallow that won our temporary glory.

The Hale Family Year in Review

Out of a hundred family photos, this is the only one with most of us looking normal (except Lydia). Crazy Horse, South Dakota

Out of a hundred family photos, this is the only one with most of us looking normal (except Lydia). Crazy Horse, South Dakota

As I type this letter I am surrounded by the happy sounds of children making Christmas cookies. Holiday music mingles with the conversation, “You’re rolling it too thin!… Stop playing in the flour!… Don’t cut them in the middle of the dough! Cut them on the edge!”

Nothing is different with the Hales. The kids are all average home school students who regularly produce the minimum work required to pass classes. Nikole is near psychotic with the stress of teaching six children, making meals, keeping the house organized and caring for the man voted best looking cyclist in Wisconsin. I am still teaching, riding bikes everywhere and growing award winning facial hair.

Home school kids reading books

A bunch of home school kids pretending they can read.

Mostly we like to hang around the house and fine tune our mediocrity and sloth, but this summer we did something completely out of character. We went on a camping trip across the United States—a nearly impossible feat for this organizationally-challenged couple.

camping

Proof that the Hales left the house once this summer. We slept in that tent and it rained hard.

We camped for two days near Mt. Rushmore in South Dakota. I tried the patience of my wife as I obeyed the 45-mile-per-hour speed limit all the way through Custer National Park. I was vindicated when several buffalo stood next to the road and posed for photos. We saw Mt. Rushmore in the rain. In addition to poor organizational skills, we have bad timing.

Buffalo by the side of the road

I say, “Okay guys. Hold it right there while I compose this shot.” Nikole says, “KEEP DRIVING, you moron! They could charge any time!”

The family in front of Rushmore

Look at the presidents weeping because the Hales came to Rushmore on a rainy day

We drove through Yellowstone. Late in the day, tired and still far from our next campground, we arrived at Old Faithful geyser. We learned that it would “go off” again in 90 minutes! My beautiful wife wanted to keep driving toward our far off destination for the night, but the rest of us said, “Um, no. You don’t give up on the nation’s most famous geyser because of a little 90-minute wait.” Maybe we should have kept going—the temperature started dropping and, just as the famous water cannon went off, a cold rain came to encourage us. We watched until lips turned blue, then we ran to the van.

The family in front of Old Faithful

Burr! Nikole says, “Okay, that’s enough. I’m heading to the van.”

We went to the ocean in Westport, Washington. My dear wife was about to realize her dream of seeing her children swimming in the ocean. She was disappointed that nobody was captured by the lure of 55° water, crashing waves and a cold wind blowing down the beach. Instead, she watched her kids shivering ankle deep in the water. Still, it was the ocean and it was beautiful.

Ruthie in the cold Pacific

Note the sweatshirt on Ruthie as she tries to endure the frozen waters of the Pacific Ocean. No swimming today.

The day after the ocean we went to the wedding. This is the wedding for which we crossed the United States… the culmination of a 1769-mile quest. We planned our 40-minute drive from our hotel, through Seattle, to the park where the wedding would take place. A drive that Google promised would take 40 minutes took 90. They have this thing in Seattle that we don’t have in La Crosse—traffic. In hindsight, it might have been wise to arrive a couple hours early for a wedding on the other side of the continent. But we didn’t do that because we are unencumbered by wisdom. We completely missed the ceremony. We made it in time for the family photo, the dinner (Hales never arrive late for dinner) and the dance. The wedding couple, my niece and some young man who is annoyingly good looking and successful, were very forgiving.

Family at the wedding

The wedding in Seattle. Even though our family is sort of separated, I assure you we were not Photoshopped in. This is the unedited photo.

On the trip back to Wisconsin the theme was “Hurry hurry, no, you don’t have time to stop and look at that!” We celebrated Father’s Day on the road. I was given a pretty Montana coffee mug, which my children endeavored to break as soon as we got home.

Other Stuff:

Nikole went to New Zealand with two sisters to visit the fourth sister who married an annoyingly good looking and talented young man from Cambridge. Nikole saw landscapes almost as beautiful as the bluffs around La Crosse, and sheep. She saw lots of sheep. While she was gone, the family almost imploded. Just before the government people came to arrest me for child neglect, my in-laws came to turn back the course of malnutrition. My wife brought me a long sleeved wool cycling jersey. That’s all that really matters.

Liz, Traci, Nikole and Stephanie in New Zealand

The Sisters Zellmann in New Zealand. Why would anyone want to go there? I’m sure the Hauraki Gulf is nice, but does it compare to Lake Onalaska?

We have no chickens. Our ladies were taking a lot of days off and were copping some attitude—Like, “No, don’t touch me! Get away from me! I hate you! Let’s have some food over here!” So, we sent them to a chicken retirement community run by a family friend, who, coincidentally, is known for making tasty chicken soup. I never made that connection before now. Hmm…

We went to my in-laws cabin twice this summer. Oh, the cabin conjures such glorious memories of swimming in the lake, sunrise paddles in the canoe, and broken hips. Yes, I was out on an peaceful bike ride in the country, when I got the call, “We think Nikole dislocated her hip waterskiing. Can you meet us at the hospital?” To which I replied, “Um, maybe after I’m done with my little bike tour. If I have time.” After a leisurely shower and a light lunch, I moseyed to the hospital. We learned that if you dislocate your hip in Perham, Minnesota, you either have to reset it yourself or go to a bigger hospital. I was all into the cost savings of the home remedy, but Nikole chose a helicopter ride to Fargo, North Dakota instead. Did I get a ride in the helicopter? No. I had to drive my in-laws crummy minivan. I didn’t even get to drive my huge, glorious family bus.

Nikole hip drawing

This is an image I drew just after Nikole’s dislocated hip experience. I wrote a blog post about it on our old family blog: http://eddiehale.com/family/news-updates/about-my-wifes-season-ending-waterski-injury

But seriously, we were very relieved to have her hip back in place and there was no permanent damage. I allowed her to take a few weeks off before returning to running and her quest to be the fittest woman in the Midwest.

The only other interesting occurrence was when God threw a dog into our lives. I was innocently looking through the Craigslist pet section when I was assaulted by the ad for a free yellow lab. And how was I to know the young man interviewing prospective families would choose a family suffering from overpopulation in a tiny house? It’s not my fault! I tried everything to avoid it, but now we have a dog. A big, dopey, blockhead dog who mostly lays around and eats an occasional shoe. I want to get rid of him, but the kids like him and Nikole thinks there is some value in a dog who lets four-year-old Lydia lay on top of him twenty times a day. So I guess he stays. And even though they all promised me I would not have to take care of him, I’m the one taking him on the two long walks every day. I enjoy kicking him when nobody is looking.

Lydia on the dog

I ain’t never seen a dog like that before. Best dog ever, I think.

Editor’s Note: Though my husband tries to forget it, we have children. I required him to mention them and he came up with the following:

15-year-old Helen is, humble and kind. She loves drawing, reading and she swims. On rare occasions she practices driving our car, but she is afraid to drive the huge, glorious family bus. She takes care of our pets.

Helen

The kind and gentle Helen dressed up for homeschool prom

13-year-old Claire is suspicious and mysterious. She loves swimming—like it pains her to miss a practice. She also loves reading and drawing realistic portraits of famous people. We try to get her to draw family members, but why would you want to draw a sister, when you can draw that girl from Harry Potter. Claire hates pets.

Drawing of Claire

A drawing of Claire by Claire. The poor child has no talent.

Claire at swim team

Swimming, swimming, it’s all about swimming. Don’t talk to me about running or cycling. I only swim.

11-year-old Edward is random and directionless. He loves swimming, mountain biking and, thankfully, entertaining younger siblings.

Edward Luke jumping in the lake

Edward, the directionless, chooses “down” into the lake.

Eight-year-old Ruthie is sweet and conniving. When she’s not stealing someone’s candy, she’s reading or playing the piano. She tries to draw like her older sisters.

Ruthie Nikole in hat

This photo shows the sweet side of Ruthie. But rest assured, she just pushed some kid in the lake or something.

Six-year-old Bethany is innocent and giving. Her only vice is she’s the one who, when the world is quiet and peaceful, will bash her head on the corner of a table and burst into tears. Other than that, she is the source of all things good and pure.

Bethany

Pure, sweet Bethany, oozing pure sweetness.

 

Four-year-old Lydia is an adorable possessor of as yet undetermined vices. She plays with dolls and whispers mysterious intrigues. She lays on the dog every few minutes.

Lydia

Lydia at the lake wearing googles she never takes in the lake. They are a fashion statement.

That is a fairly accurate recounting of the past year in the Hale house. Once again the Lord has blessed us with 12 months of relative peace and good health (hips aside). We hope you too have had a good year, and we pray that God will bless you with peace and good health in the coming year.

Why My School is better Than Yours

My school is better than your school because the air conditioning club makes a holiday bulletin board that starts out as unassuming copper tubes spelling “Happy Holidays.” After a day or so, the tubes magically draw moisture out of the air and get all puffy and frost covered like the Tombstone Pizza sale cooler at Festival Foods.

copper tubes

Behold the ugly copper tubes filled with magic freezy fluid.

freezy-copper-tubes

And after a few days, the tubes rob the surrounding air of its moisture to create these beautiful cylinders of snow.

happy-holidays

Behold the finished work of art. On the right is the acronym for the Western air conditioning club, which stands for Air Conditioning Something Something.

Perhaps Our Worst Christmas Tree Hunting Experience

We went to Labus Christmas Tree Farm to cut our own Christmas trees. Every tree is $25 whether it is two feet tall or 20 feet tall. There are no hayrides or hot chocolate, but the trees are nice and dogs are welcome — even worthless yellow labs who, overwhelmed by the scents of the forest, frantically pull their owners over the icy trails.

Lydia cutting Christmas tree

“Come on, Lydia! We don’t have all day. Cut faster.”

Carrying the Christmas tree through the woods

The story was still a happy one as Claire and Helen carried the tree toward the van.

We warned the neighbor kids “It is going to be a 30 minute drive there and back.” But we neglected to warn them about the 20 minutes trying to tie the tree to the top of a van without a roof rack. Oh, and then there was the 30 minutes spent trying to push our huge, million-pound full sized van out of the slightly inclined, icy farm field turned parking lot. Oh, and the 20 minutes on hold with AAA and the 45 minutes waiting for the tow truck to find us in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately we had enough gas to run the van and heater. To help the time pass more slowly, Lydia serenaded us with a whiney chorus of “I’m hungry” for the last half-hour.

You know that feeling when you are out in the country walking your dog… it is a freezing, dark and windy night… your family is stranded in a motionless van… and you see the lights of the tow truck coming down the winding road? No, you don’t know that feeling, because you have a normal vehicle that does not get stuck on every slippery incline. But let me tell you, the lights of that approaching tow truck were a glorious sight.

Tow truck guys hooking up the van

Our saviors, Ivan and his dad, Louie, from Rush Hour Towing. (I like how wisdom stands, while youth crawls around in the ice and snow.)

The big, gutless van being winched

Feel shame, you big, traction-free bus!

I endorse Rush Hour Towing. The drivers were helpful and cheerful even though they were called out to the middle of nowhere on a freezing Sunday night when they should have been home in their slippers sipping hot chocolate. They pulled us easily out of the parking lot, and I was able to have a homeschool moment about the word “winch.”

So, it’s funny. Realizing my big truck was stuck while mini-vans came and went was a little depressing; the testosterone was not coursing through my veins. Waiting for the tow truck was a little tense – like “when is someone in this sardine can going to snap?” But, when we were back on pavement and rolling toward home, I felt super duper relieved and blessed. And we had a good story to tell.

Moral of the story: Don’t drive your full-size van into the “parking lot” at Labus Christmas Tree Farm. Park on the peak of the driveway and carry your tree an extra 50 feet. And if you do get your whale-sized van stuck in the snow in Bangor, Wisconsin, call Rush Hour Towing directly and avoid the long wait on hold with AAA.

My New Career as a Costume Designer

The Hale family in costume

Six misguided youths ready to extort candy from their neighbors.

Why am I behind on my grading? Why am I not prepared for class? Why do I have bags under my eyes? Because it is almost Halloween and my kids need help with their costumes! Every time I pull out a folder full of assignments to grade, or I stretch and say, “Well, I guess it’s time for bed,” someone needs help with a costume.

How can I resist, when my 15-year-old says, “Dad, how do I paper mache these Maleficent horns?” or “How am I going to attach these horns to my head?”

“Honey, do you think I need to make a mask for Bethany’s bird costume?”

“Dad, could you draw the dark-mark on my forearm?”

No! I’m Mr. Arts Fartsy and I don’t have time for your creative projects now!

So let the record state: Those horns growing out of my eldest daughter’s head — those would be hanging down like puppy dog ears if not for the paper mache and duct tape engineering skills of the old man. And you can give me credit for the cute birdy mask on the six-year-old and the sharpie dark-mark tattoo on Bellatrix Lestrange.

Helen in Malleficent costume

Those be some nice horns lady.

And I made the duct tape corset on Mrs. Lestrange too! How many fathers can boast of making a duct tape corset complete with faux duct tape lacing? Not many, I think.

Claire in Malleficent costume

Bellatrix Lestrange models a handmade corset by designer Eduardo Roberto Hale

The "dark mark" on Claire's forearm

This is the forearm of my fine Christian daughter, displaying the “dark mark” tattoo, by which evil witches summon the Dark lord.

So, Halloween is over now. Can you all just let me get back to work?

Oh yeah, Mom made those bird wings and the intricate blouse on Bellatrix. So I guess she deservers some acknowledgement too. And I suppose I could give some credit to the kids for having the audacity to dream… of complicated costumes.

Early Season Ride to Donuts

I wanted to go on an epic road ride with one of my older kids, however, when I was snubbed, I invited my three youngest to go on an epic ride for donuts.

kids holding donuts

The little girls and I eating donuts at Riverside Park.

No cycling post would be complete without video footage of gnarly cycling antics performed by brave, young riders. The following video shows us riding on the La Crosse River Marsh Trail.

Ode to Peanuts

Sketch of peanuts

When I am sort of wishing I could think of something to draw I often default to drawing the pile of snack foods sitting nearby… because there are always snack foods nearby.

I think I can blame my peanut addiction on my father-in-law, Roger. Whenever we are together late at night, he brings out the salted-in-the-shell peanuts. Now, I’m hooked and I cannot go to bed until I have had a handful. These peanuts had to stand still and pose while several of their less fortunate comrades were eaten by the artist. I might have spared them completely, but I think my children ate them later.