So Bertha and August were married in Milwaukee, in 1885. That year their first daughter was born—Theckla. We always called her Tickla. We remember her as the funny one, repeating things, forgetting where she was going. It was called “hardening of the arteries” then. It was surely Alsheimer’s. Two years later, Arthur was born. Two more years, Edwin. Caroline and Martin both transpired in 1890/1891. It appears that Martin and August were both working in the shipping business, as freight haulers in Milwaukee. In 1893, Selma was born to August and Bertha. In 1895, there was either a still born or day-of-birth death, August F.C., according to church records. No one in our family ever mentioned this.
During this time, someone made the decision to get out of Milwaukee (some branches of the Stroede’s were completely wiped out by disease--that would be a great stimulus). The family moved to Dell Prairie Township, Adams County, to a 120 acre farm. Flat, sandy, and not very good farm country. For the next 65 years, my family would pick out a living on these acres.
In 1897, John P. R. Stroede was born, our father. He was born in the same house, same room, same bed, as I and all my siblings. He was called “Johnny Boy,” and was clearly somewhat of a favorite. The last child, Alma Amelia Augusta, was born in 1899. She was virtually the same age as our Mother, and they were hard fast friends—more like sisters—until the day Mother died.
As I said above, Bertha died shortly after the 50th anniversary, but August lived on to 1943, becoming naturalized late in his life. Though I was four at the time, I have absolutely no recollection of the man.
All the family, with the exception of Alma who moved back to Milwaukee with August and Bertha about a year after my parents were married, found spouses in the Adams County area.
Theckla married a Wreszinski—several families lived at adjoining farms—they soon moved back to Milwaukee and had Ruth and Marie. Marie was the millionairess (married into it) and died only recently in her 90s. This marriage resulted in Uncle August (to the girls ) becoming my step-father much later, when our Mother remarried late in life.
Arthur lived a very short life, marrying in the Dells. One of his sons was briefly a gym teacher and coach in the Dells when Emily and I were in high school and later became an administrator at the Baraboo UW branch. Though that cousin is gone now, another, Roger lives in Arizona. I never knew Arthur.
Edwin was in WWI, apparently as a glider pilot, was “shell-shocked” and spent the rest of his life in a military hospital. I only saw him a couple of times. His wife, Aunt Laura, became Emily’s step-mother not long after Edwin and Laura divorced—well, look, folks, it is a small town. Ed'sdescendents all live in the Dells and many were house painters.
Selma married Roland LeMar and lived in the Dells/Baraboo area her whole life. One of her children still lives there and is very interested in this genealogy. I remember visiting the LeMar's, usually when Alma came to visit my folks.
Alma moved back to Milwaukee with her parents, ultimately taking care of them in their declining years—and lovingly tending their graves at Valhalla Cemetery on the far northwest side of the city. She married Richard Hirth, who died of a heart attack way too early. They were my God Parents, Dick was my name sake. I—and everyone else in the family—adored Aunt Alma. I remember waiting at the road, down our very long lane, for hours, to see her Ford coupe arrive. Nothing I remember was more anxiously awaited than her visits. And she and our Mother had great times together as well. She was gracious, classy, fun-loving, and made a great Beefeaters martini. Old fashioned were the alternate beverage. I can remember every detail of her apartment at 2525 W. Capitol Drive—where I went a few times, with Dad, Mother, and once alone. Late in life, she was about the only one in the family who followed my career and understood what I did. She gave me her set of crystal goblets/wines and for many years we have used them for our family gatherings and toasted, “Here’s to Aunt Alma.” I miss her more than anyone.
Oh, yeh, the picture. Genealogy is so darned paternalistic. Here is the other side. This is my favorite picture gleaned from the sorting of a large collection passed on from sister Bette. Five generations of mothers—a long line of “blue-bellied Yankees,” as Mother always said. My nephew, David (now deceased) did extensive work on this line and easily tracked them to the 1700s. That is the advantage of English parenthood. German is tough because of the loss of church and civil records through the world wars and shifting borders.
Our Mother is on the upper right—son Andrew observed, “your Mother was hot!” The blush of youth—she was only about 17 or 18 in this picture. Grandmother Schultz is on the upper left. Her maiden name was Newell and her mother is holding infant Helen, my sister who died when I was an infant myself. The old woman, my great-great grandmother, was around 100 years of age . Grandmother Schultz, of whom I have pleasant memories of her sugar cookies and ever present apron, was also Mary but known to all as May.
