Years later, after I’d married and the kids were teen-agers, Uncle did visit. He told stories and played cards. "Back then," he asked on that first visit of several over the years before he died, "I did the right thing and someday you’ll thank me." I steered the conversation into another topic. I did not thank him then or later.

For the wrong reason I was granted 1Y status. I had been strong, daring, and in search of the truth. The psychiatrist would not act on my behalf until he’d gotten me to confess to childhood thought patterns he called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It all seemed so wrong. Here I was sane, sensible, and wise; and my almost forgotten inherited weakness was more respected than my freely expressed convictions.

Who was crazy here? I’d grown beyond heredity’s handicapping condition, so I thought, but was being told to use it as an excuse.

Yes, I was so timid and quiet that church people thought I was retarded, but… so what? Grandpa Bauer’s voice was barely audible, and he seemed somewhat dependent on the more forceful ones about him, but he was happy in his old age. I know one uncle died in a Mental Hospital. And one aunt suffered so severely from a lack of self-esteem that she attempted suicide and thereafter spent many years off and on in Jamestown’s Mental Hospital. And I know a cousin suffers so severely from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder that he’s required hospitalization. And I know that my Father suffered from "mental anguish". We can cultivate the will power to go beyond heredity!

Still I used the psychiatrist’s "Go home free card" and went on with my life. Did I do the right thing? Sweeping doubt under the carpet I made an imperfect but decent life of my 60 years on Earth. "Thank you, Uncle. Despite the easy way out, I have continued to develop my convictions and now write letters to the editor questioning the wisdom of war." Am I reclaiming the wisdom of great, great, great grandparents? We do know that they were among people who moved to Russia from Germany because they did not want to participate in wars, but how strong were their own convictions? And was Russia for a time, a paradise for them? I hope so!

As for me, my children aided me in discovering a paradise I’d not known. Creative and spontaneous, they led me to stories and pictures. In their presence I could tell the truth, "Look at things from up and down." Love was so spontaneous and deeply felt. I must have told 3000 stories, and written about 60 of them down.          

I know I’ve left out Uncles, Aunts, and Cousins. They belong in another chapter. This chapter belongs to the children of Dean, Jennifer and Connie Grenz, a branch of the tree that continues to grow new branches. Just tonight Michael called to share his son’s successful climb up 13 steps. Some parents don’t allow stair climbing. Our kids became experts as soon as they were able, they could be trusted on steps