News of my grandfather decades later, with bonus coincidence

So here’s a sad yet amazing small world coincidence I was recently made aware of. The older generation of the Yule side of my family had some unusual customs. Neither of my Grandparents had a funeral, nor did my Uncle John. Now I’ve discovered my Grandmother never even picked up my Grandfather’s cremated remains when he died in the 80’s, and by pure happenstance I was in the graveyard a short while after he was buried there, completely unbeknownst to me (!!!)

I found out about the article linked to and excerpted below because a possible distant relative has been researching the Yules and found my site via the stories I posted here when my grandmother died. He emailed with questions and noted he had recently found out about Arthur Yule’s burial via this linked article. It struck me when reading it that I had happened to be on Long Island a short while after these ceremonies, and had accompanied the Lords on a volunteer trip to this graveyard to plant flags on veterans’ grave sites. A small section of the area we planted flags on was for new burials. I’d like to believe I planted one of my flags on Arthur’s grave, slim though the chances of that might be (the place is enormous). Many of the graves were of roughly the right generation for this to be the case anyway.

I can’t really decide how I should feel about this. One assumes how this was handled accorded with my Grandfather’s wishes, so who am I to find fault? I’m also not especially sentimental in this realm, but it’s a little unsettling all the same to imagine my Grandfather’s remains sitting in a funeral home storeroom for decades, forgotten, until Uncle Sam noticed and decided to take action. Thanks, I suppose, for that.

(this is excerpted from a piece that originally appeared in the FarmingDale Observer.)

Exclusive: Dozens More Veterans’ Names Released For Cremains Burial May 19

Written by Christy Hinko: chinko@antonnews.com Friday, 11 May 2012 00:00

(Editor’s Note: This is an extended list of the cremains to be interred on Saturday, May 19 at the Long Island National Cemetery. The original exclusive article appeared in the Friday, April 27 edition of the Farmingdale Observer and online at http://www.antonnews.com.)

On Saturday, May 19, Long Island veteran organizations and funeral homes are set to give proper military burials to more than 50 unclaimed veterans’ cremated remains.

The funeral procession will assemble near exit 49 on the Long Island Expressway at 8 a.m. on Armed Forces Day and travel to Long Island National Cemetery at 2040 Wellwood Avenue in Farmingdale, led by Patriot Guard and Legion Riders for a 9 a.m. military honors burial service.

The Nassau-Suffolk Funeral Directors Association (NSFDA) has led the project, representing all of the funeral homes that will participate since last spring. NSFDA has worked with the help of many veteran organizations, including Roseann Santore, director of Long Island National Cemetery to bring these veterans to their final resting on May 19.

The following is the complete list of names of veterans by custodial funeral home, as of May 4:

[excerpt with my Grandfather – Arthur Yule]

Brueggemann Funeral Home of East Northport:

William G. Sullivan, Army, Korea, and his wife Margaret
Arthur M. Yule, Navy, WWII

 

Pride in…pee?

Yep! My ~18 month old son used the potty for the first time last night, after some months of us gradually introducing the concept to him. Hurrah! May pride in, erm, poop, soon follow.

I don’t know how single parents do it

Susan’s out of town on business so it’s just Brady and me this week. This morning, the following happened, beyond the normal ‘make breakfast and lunch for both of us, feed the dog and chickens, and get everyone bathed and dressed’:

  • Second day in a row Brady didn’t like his breakfast, which had me scrambling to get food in him. Muffin ftw.
  • I shave every other day, and today’s a shaving day. I leave Brady playing in the tub while I shave, during which the first poop emergency ensues – a floater, shouts of no touch, and emergency cleansing of boy, butt, and bathtub follows, whilst my face is half slathered in shaving cream.
  • Inexplicably, while feeding the chickens and retrieving the eggs, the chickens attack me as part of a broader inter-chicken clan skirmish. This has never happened before – I’m shocked. The yellow rooster gets some good ones in on my leg, I nearly drop Brady, kick a rooster (it was unharmed and undaunted), and fail to notice one of the white hens concluding it’s better to flee and fight another day – it escapes the coop.
  • While chasing the hen around Brady wanders into the garden and plays in the dirt, soiling basically all of himself. Fortunately chickens are dumb and I quickly corner and catch the escaped hen.
  • Unfortunately, Brady also manages to soil lots of me when I retrieve him from the garden. So much for heading to work in clean clothes.
  • Unbeknownst to me, while all of this is going on, Soolin finds some poop to roll in. I discover this after we’re all in the car and I realize that smell is not a dirty diaper. This is the second poop emergency.

Despite all of this, I was only 15 minutes late to work, and mostly I found it funny. But honestly, how do single parents do this day after day? My guess is, they don’t have chickens for starters.

 

The sweat of my brow

Me, that John Deere tractor and trailer to the right, a bow saw, a pruning saw, a pole saw, and 10 months. That’s what it took to clean up the consequences of last October’s snowpocalypse. The mound to the left of the tractor is the output of all that work, and the second photo is one of the more painful examples of how much damage was done, especially to our apple trees. Fortunately we have many of them, but as you can see this one lost 1/3 of its main trunk, and about the same amount of its upper foliage.

Susan tried to convince me to get a chainsaw after a couple of months of seeing how much work was involved, but I need my cardio and exercise, and derive a fair bit of satisfaction in this kind of work. I’m happy to more or less be finished though – everything’s cleared up aside from a few branches too high up for me to get at with the pole saw and too difficult to climb to, and a few that we hope will survive even if they don’t look like it.

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A magic little Brady moment

It’s been clear for quite a while that Brady understands a lot of what he hears. On a whim I put this to the test this Sunday. He was taking a bath and playing with his toys. His current favorite bathtoy is the bottle his eye infection medication came in. He knows it’s called ‘bottle’ (that’s ‘baba’ to him), and he likes to fill it with water by submerging it then dumping it out. He seems to have a similarly impish sense of humor to my own, and will try to pour the water on me (always good for a giggle), or out of the tub if he’s bored or notices I have stopped paying attention to him. Anyway Sunday I asked him if he could ‘fill your bottle with water, then pour it on your hand?’ and was astounded when he did precisely that, twice, while looking at me with a quizzical expression, which I took to mean something like ‘ok yeah, but why, what does this mean, Dad? What’s the significance, and why are you laughing? Did you just trick me somehow?’ I told him it would help him clean his dirty hands, which caused him to do the rub hands/fingers together motions he does when we ask him to clean his hands. Oh, the mysteries of cognition. I LOVE this period of development in kids.

Crimes against the family

Heh. So my Dad came to visit for the weekend, and spent time coddling the toddler, and yet somehow we took exactly no pictures of him. How that was managed I have no idea, we even talked about needing to do it a couple of times. This post will have to suffice as the record of the visit. Brady was his usual little charmer. I loved watching him interact with Dad – he’d go over and test his theorems on him, like for example ‘da, wat dis!’ (holding up a toilet paper roll to me, say). ‘Toilet Paper roll!’ I’d tell him, at which point Brady would trundle over to Dad and hold it up and say ‘dis?’

I love this stage of development.

We didn’t do too much during the visit, a combination of the fact that Dad was still recovering from Australian Jet Lag and Susan and I are like a decade of recovering from ‘we’re parents of a toddler, and have 3 acres of land to tend to.’ That by way of saying, Dad slept a lot, and I had a bunch of chores, including mowing 1/3 of the lawn and finishing the frame for the enclosure on the new chicken coop and the roof and nesting box for the minicoop. Susan had garden work.

Dad did get to spend some time with Susan and Brady in Northampton, including lunch and the requisite shopping at the coop, which all seemed to enjoy, so at least we managed to do some quasi entertaining, even if I was stuck at work. Oh, and Dad and I took Brady to a playground on Sunday for a little sliding and swinging action. So – despite our various inadequacies as entertainers we’re still really glad he came, and after he left we swore to do better next time.

There’s one little coda, which is that Dad forgot his cellphone, and it was all I could do to resist the urge to prank it up, but I shipped it back to him intact with nary a bit of tinkering by me 😉

What we have here is a failure to communicate

Susan’s out of town so I was on my own taking care of Brady this morning. This means I bring him into the shower with me because he can’t be left to his own devices yet. I stripped him down then started filling the tub. When I set him down in the bathroom he immediately trundled over to the toilet, tapped it on the lid, exclaimed, and looked over at me. He’s fascinated by the toilet and we’re constantly having to pull him away from it, so I said something along the lines of ‘nope! Toilets are not for babies!’ This sequence repeated a couple of times. After the third time, he gave me a funny look when I once again admonished him, then took two steps away from the toilet, squatted, and pooped.

!!!

Who’s smarter than who in this exchange? I’m thinking it wasn’t me.