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This Was My Mother, Do You Know Her?

Mother finally gave up the fight against the affects of Renal failure last evening in her room at the Eventide Hi-Acres Manor with her son, Izzy and his wife Ellen at her bedside.

She will be missed as an example of genuine integrity and a moral giant of immense proportions in her failing frail body that brought her to the end of her journey of 93 years.

Her destiny is unquestionable since that moment she put her trust in Jesus Christ her savior and there is no doubt that she is in the presence of her Lord as she meets even today with those that have gone before her who have also trusted in Jesus Christ.

The following is an obituary of this incredible woman who will experience no more sorrow and no more pain:

EDGELEY - Magdalena Gefre Mastel, 93, died September 27, 2011, at Eventide - Hi-Acres Manor, Jamestown, ND of natural causes.

Magdalena Mastel was born April 16, 1918 on the family farm near Hague, ND, the daughter of Carl and Elizabeth Gefre. She attended a rural country school where she was instrumental in also teaching English to her German speaking classmates and additionally taught a catechism class.

The Gefre family was recognized for their hospitality and genuine sincerity towards others, and this prominent character trait would become identifiable with the entire Gefre family and would later become especially characteristic with the friends and neighbors of Maggie Mastel throughout her lifetime.

Magdalena worked as a caretaker for Father Denzel at St Aloysius church, near Hague, ND and was awarded an automobile, an extreme luxury at that time, for her diligence and sacrificial giving in her ministry with the church.

On August 8, 1939, she married Frank Mastel at the St. Aloysius Church in Hague. They farmed in Emmons County, near Hague, until 1944 when they bought a farm near Edgeley, ND. Along with full time work on the family farm, Frank and Maggie milked dairy cows by hand and began tilling the soil manually with horse drawn farm equipment. Maggie also loved gardening and was very generous in sharing her produce. She spent much of her time canning, baking, cooking and sewing.

Survivors include 8 children: Donna (Phil) Haas, Arvada, CO, Mag Mastel, Arvada, CO, Dianne (JC ) Crockett, Aurora, CO, Larry (Belle) Mastel, Jamestown, ND, Francis (MaryAnn) Mastel, Rantoul, KS, Terry (Terry Lea) Mastel, Mandan, ND, Izzy (Ellen) Mastel, Jamestown, ND, Monica (Darel) Leedy, Arvada, CO, 28 grandchildren; 25 great-grandchildren; 7 sisters, Katherine, Lena, Mary, Sr. Rosalind (Margaret), Rosalinda, Angeline, and Bernice.

Additional information about this incredible woman can be found here.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated.

Driving In The Blind at 92

These are the facts about the unrelenting determination of our dad, Frank Mastel. He was a man of great determination when wanting to get things accomplished his way. The hardest thing for Dad to accept was not being able to drive. He just didn’t seem to make the connection between having to actually be able to see (with advanced macular degeneration) and the enjoyment of driving his Gator despite his condition.

He seemed to be obsessed with renewing his drivers license after years of an expired license that was no longer legal for his collection of Big Boy Toys including Gators, golf carts, and other 4 wheel contraptions. Dad even attempted back roads into Edgeley, but unfortunately the route took him past a law enforcement officer in our area who had already reproved Dad about driving on the road, much to Dad's disapproval.

Finally, when joining Mom at the nursing home we were relieved, thinking he would finally quit badgering the family about getting his driver’s license. That, however, was not a discouragement to him.

During a visit from his daughters Donna and Maggi,  Dad thought he had enlisted some new sympathizers, so he immediate put them to the test convincing them to drive him to the DOT to get his drivers license. Hoping that this would certainly end his legal license asparations, they reluctantly agree.

As Dad walked up to the counter with his cane with Donna who displayed a bit of unconcealed apprehension along with Maggi had taken Dad’s place in a long line of what looked to be first-time drivers with obvious expressions of “WOW, I hope I don’t ever meet that old man on the road.”

The room became unusually quiet while the wide eyed, waiting drivers suddenly focused their attention on the scene unfolding with Dad. The lady at the counter asked, "What can I do for you?" To which Dad replied, “ I want to get my drivers license renewed”. When asked, "Well did you study?" Dad responded, “Well, I can’t see!”

Without breaking stride and nodding assurance to Donna and Maggi, a compassionate, understanding agent routinely took his address, picture and gave him his State ID card lacking the driving authorization status. He quietly thanked her as he hobbled away with his cane with a feeling of satisfaction and victory.

The ride home seemed a little solemn with a silent confirmation that all were resigned to the outcome  of his persistant demand. The licensing subject was never brought up again. That was the persistence and determination of our dad – always a bit of a rebel, for which we loved him just the same.

These are the facts of the case, they cannot be disputed.

This is My Mother! Do You Know Her?

I have recently posted the following notice at my mother's retirement home that she might be assisted in a loving and gracious manor. The same manor she has been accustomed to in serving the needs of others the entire 93 years of her life.

THIS IS MY MOTHER!

Do You Really Know Her?

I wish not to be misunderstood. This very question troubles my soul today in my personal attitude toward my loving parents, who raised me to be who I am today. I wish only to share my compassion for my lovely mother, who at age 93 years is totally reliant for assistance from the nurses and staff at the nursing home where she how resides.

She requires much needed assistance today. She is embarrassed by requesting your help with the daily tasks she would never have dreamed that she would require assistance with:
HELP with eating
HELP with her constant need to the bathroom
and HELP with needs she can no longer communicate.

She has been the backbone in our large family of nine and requested help from no one. She raised beautiful vegetables appreciated by the entire neighborhood each year. She milked dairy cows by hand and orchestrated farm chores without complaint and always with the charming attitude witnessed by so many that have had the pleasure of working with this strong, determined woman. She was a spiritual example in early years by teaching us to kneel down to pray. She was the one!!!

We, as a family, wish to thank you for your assistance when we can no longer be there for her daily needs. This is my mother and she needs your help today!

She is living in a body that no longer resembles the attractive young lady that she was. She will soon have a glorified body, with no more pain or suffering; but for now, THIS IS MY MOTHER! Please help her when she requires your help. She can no longer be the kind, loving, cheerful person that we had grown to love and respect throughout the entire years of her life.

She is doing the best with what remains of her fragile body. She has run her uphill race for 93 years with humility, dignity, and determination without complaint but now she requires some cheering from the sidelines as she now sees a glimpse of her earthly finish line before eternity. Please cheer for her!

As a family, we wish to thank you.

THIS IS MY MOTHER! Do you know her?

Exploits of “Coming home to stay at 93”

I had not looked forward to the return of my father with much excitement and I couldn’t image how this interruption of my little perfect world would be affected. Dad seemed to have evolved into a more sensitive and friendly character in more recent months in drastic comparison to what had been a strained relationship, when he was capable of saying some cruel and unkind comments to many of his loved family members.

He would be sensitive to my work schedule as I typed away in the adjacent living room which I had transformed into a comfortable home office supplying technical Internet phone support to subscribers of a local ISP. Without commitments to go into the office for a few days I knew it would be inevitable that I would need to leave Dad home alone as I had visions of the 1990 comedy film of Macaula Culkin who was mistakenly left HOME ALONG while his family leaves on vacation to Paris, France. I have learned not to allow 93 years of pure, adventurous, farmboy experiences to bamboozle me into thinking he was harmless in his latter years.

I connected my webcam positioning it so that I would have a view of Dad at the table as he whiled away the days at the kitchen table, spending his seemingly hurried time pulling little shoe boxes of gadgets one by one from his room so he could finger through them as if taking inventory for one last time while listening to his old polka cassette tapes.

The camstream was associated with a chat room with a picture of Dad listed with other live broadcast streams making it possible for surfers to choose the most interesting stream to drop by in order to catch the most desired action.

I would monitor the chat site during the day and often well into the night answering questions to various visitors from around the country to include many international visitors, many wanting to share experiences about their aging parents and how they dealt with much the same issues.

The stream was described with the following caption with a picture of Dad:

Coming Home to Stay at 93
Well, my dad, Frank, escaped the nursing home at High Acres and he ainta goin back no mo. With a promise to return the following day and a $50 cab ride into the country, the old boy is in his glory.

New developments have recently interrupted my tech blog with personal family issues dealing with the following steam which I have setup for monitoring purposes for my father. I have ceased streaming following my dad’s return to the nursing home on January 15, but I will broadcast when he returns to his country home for a visit.

It has been difficult as a family to balance his wishes in what may be his final months here on earth among us and with what is best for his health. I would like to thank all those who have shown their sincere interest in my dad and to his well being, and I wish to assure you that we as a family are very concerned about his peace of mind at this stage of his life.

He is such a wonderful example of a sharp mind and does small exercising to maintain his mobility. He still has concerns about his weight and likes to look his best for friends and family.

I wish to capture some footage from the nursing home and will try to keep you updated with interviews to answer questions you may have by leaving comments.

Dad was becoming somewhat of a celebrity as regular visitors would drop in to check on Dad who was slightly oblivious to the Internet stream not knowing when the stream was live. He had many questions about “dat web thing” as I attempted to describe to my 93 year old father that the World Wide Web is a system of interlinked hypertext documents accessed via the Internet. He drew nearly 5,000 hits on that site during the ten days of streaming, many just popping in and out all hours of the day and night to see if there was any activity with, "Coming Home to Stay at 93".

Well, Dad returned to the nursing home as we were faced with temperatures dropping to below 0 C and high winds in the near forecast. I was able to capture some choice footage in an interview conducted by his grandchildren, Tracy and Lindsey.

He had a couple of minor heart issues while at home and was probably beginning to realize his need for accessible health care.

He requested assistance getting him ready for the 35 mile trip back to the home and asked me to wrap a scarf around his head as he comically looked like an aged bent over Amish women getting ready to step up into an awaiting horse buggy.

My brother, Izzy, came to assist him to his awaiting truck that would return him to his former residence. As he was leaving, he slowly turned to me before he made his way through the front door of his beloved home with a pleasant, "Larry, thank you for everything you did for me", and I immediately had that sinking feeling that he knew he would probably not be retuning to his country home on the Dakota prairie that he loved so well.

Coming Home to Stay at 92

Introduction: I wish to share some memories of an extraordinary man who left a huge impact on the family he left behind to include 9 children, 28 grandchildren, and 23 great-grandchildren. His sharp recollection of events, humorous insight, and charm was a thrill to all who knew him personally

Frank Mastel's last purchased farm occurred in 1944, where he build a country home that became the center of family activities and excitement for all ages in the years to follow.

The hard toll of family chores where he and Maggie, his wife, milked dairy cows by hand and tilled the soil manually with work horses could never compare to his love for music when after a hard day's work, he would practice his soprano sax, and banjo. He also enjoyed his favorite music tracks to include Lawrence Welk and those of his Brother Bill's accordion polka band.

The point is that I am dealing with issues with my mom, 89 and dad, 92 currently residing in a nursing home but who still own the country home I have made into a comfortable remote home office following relocation back to the Dakota plains a couple of years ago. Several weeks ago on a leisurely Saturday morning my cell phone rang with a number I did not recognize.

“Hello, this is Amanda from the nursing home and I am calling to inform you that your dad has called a cab and will be retuning to the farm for a couple of days. Are you aware that he is coming?”

Silence…......A 35 mile trip by cab does not seem like a reasonable decision with family members in the area that may have been unwillingly persuaded to make a trip to the farm.

“No I didn’t” I replied. This was a surprise to me since Dad has a weak heart condition and has macular degeneration which classifies him as legally blind. Mother had broken her leg 2 years ago and requires 24 1/2 hour nursing care but also continues to insist that she too will be returning home to the farm some day.

“Well, your brother, Izzy, (who is the estate administrator) was made aware of this, but he is out of town this weekend.”

“OK”, I reluctantly replied, “You probably would have little success in changing his mind at this point.”

I slowly, thoughtfully, closed by cell phone and immediately made plans to prepare his room for his arrival since his room has become a convenient storage room.

The point is that the majority of my family of nine “agreeable souls” has insisted that things remain as they were when Mom and Dad left 2 years ago. I have since gone through rooms removing old clothing, boxes of books and magazines, cleared the walls of cluttered 50s nick knacks and furthermore, under cover of darkness, moved many precious valuables to the farmyard community burn pile. My mom, bless her dear soul, raised in the depression years, was truthfully, a nick knack maniac.

A Wonderful Return Visit Home

A surprise call from the nursing home that Dad, who is legally blind, is catching a 35 mile cab ride to his country home for a short visit because none of the family members were available for transportation.... while I have set up camp at the home place and have proceeded to make things comfortable for ME.

Continuing with “A Wonderful Return Visit Home”

After rushing to restore the home to some sort of semblance of Dad’s former home in the country, I heard a car approaching the driveway. As I approach the cab, a late model Cadillac, the driver is rifling through my dad’s wallet in search of a $50 dollar bill hidden in a flap inside the fold of Dad's wallet.

These are the Dakota Plains I will remind you, with no suspicions of dishonesty at this point. I offered my assistance as the driver apologetically returns Dad's wallet to me. A little explanation, my father is partially blind and no one really knows the extent of his vision, but I take no chances with my father’s suspicion of dishonesty, especially toward me. Who knows what lurks in the mind of a 93 year old who has devised a crafty plan to return to his home in the country, not that I can blame him for his well planned adventure up to this point.

As the mysterious ride unfolds, Dad explains that the driver is actually the cab company owner who has used his personal vehicle because the only two city cabs were busy transporting riders within the immediate city.

“Hi Dad, welcome home. How was your ride out here?”
“Good, he (the driver) is a really good guy. We had a good talk on the way out here?”
(I bet that was an interesting conversation..lol)

“Good to hear, how did he know where to turn?”
“I just told him to turn at the Grand Rapids corner “
“Did you bring any bags?” “No, I should still have every thing I need here at home.”
(lots of luck finding those things he is going to need….)

So Dad has returned home and starts to rearrange things to his liking as I promptly return his Aladdin Reading Machine back to a spot near the kitchen table. I engage in the impossible task of restoring his personal items to where he remembers placing them while answering deliberate questions about where is this and where is that as I am trying to remember where I have stored the things I thought I would never again need to recover.

He is actually pretty easy to care for because he spends all his time between his bedroom and the kitchen table, napping upright in his chair at the table or sometimes laying down on his bed, as I check many times throughout the day to confirm signs of his shallow breathing. As I adjust my cooking habits to include my grateful visitor, he comments that I prepare too much food because he doesn’t want to gain any weight.
(well, this is some quality bonding with good ole pops; he even likes my cooking! Life is really good!!)

Day Two: As we enjoy some genuine fellowship the following morning along with my brother, Charles, who routinely enjoys stopping by for his daily dose of strong coffee, we become aware of details of the craftily devised escape plan during the course of our conversation with Dad.

“Larry, don’t worry about doing anything special. I don’t want to be any trouble for you, but I am not going back to that nursing home….”
(OK... now what are we going to do? but, as I stare into those determined, poker-faced, beady little eyes, I am convinced there is no room for negotiation here!)

So... now there will be prescriptions meds to order, arraignments for visits from Jan, the family health care nurse, bathing, shopping for hearing aid batteries, and what else are we forgetting? Fortunately, Roni, my sister-in-law with a nursing background in her younger days, lives nearby with my brother Charles here on the farm.

Dad takes jump starts for his weak heart when he gets those annoying little attacks. An ambulance ride is at best a 45 minute trip to an emergency facility. Not to mention arraignments with the nursing home to hold the room until we can get this misunderstanding straighten out.

(He nearly died under my care previously, when he came for a visit in Illinois when I couldn’t find his nitroglycerin, which was precariously stored in a music tape box packed for Dad by brother, TJ, before I had even gotten his things unpacked from the car.)

I have come to the conclusion that Meds should always be placed in a med container with careful markings:

MEDS!*** TO BE USED IN CASE OF AN EMERGENCY*** YES, THESE ARE THE MEDS!*** GIVE THEM TO HIM!*** QUICKLY, PLEASE LEST HE DIE!***

A Rural Setting Contrasted to a Technological Existence

I love the solitude and silence of the evening country stillness on the Dakota plains which is often described by outsiders as a vast expanse of nothingness, whose subtle beauty is nothing less than seductive.

The road least traveled

The sound of falling snowflakes in winter can often be heard even through the heavy material of my favorite winter hoodie. The recent change of weather to cold and snow has made work indoors much more appealing and maybe even productive.
In subsequent posts, I wish to cover some of the greatest innovations in recent times that have made the Internet experience what it is today.
Was there any significant change in the development of the personal computer that may have had an impact in your experience, be it the early Solitaire game, Skype, Ipod, webcam or some fast-paced computer gaming?
The exciting features in the early edition word processing software WordStar of copying, cutting, pasting, to include the ability for saving and retrieving unfinished documents made me an instant addict of the early computer.
I have never been the same. Welcome to my Tech Blog.

In the windmill of time, all elements are of a related value