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Threads of Life

3/16/2013 Weekend Writing Warrior
I am continuing my family story of my great-grandparents, August and Auguste Schumann. They lost 3 children to Diphtheria this past summer. It has been a hard year.

"The year-end passed in the blustery cold. November, December….no gifts for Christmas this year but Auguste did a special job of patching the shirt of August.  She sewed a tiny heart on it in a place that would not be seen by others, but he would see it every time he buttoned the shirt.  He was her special sunshine of life when little of her life had any sunshine. He, in turn, wove a lovely little grass basket for her sewing.  January came with the wind whipping the snow. February had Auguste feeling that life dragged her down with every step. The little one inside her was moving a lot now and keeping her awake at night. She had made arrangements with the sister of August to help her at the time of birth, but could she make it here through the deep snow?"

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Threads of Life
Weekend Writing Warriors - 8 Sentences - Week 6

I am writing about my ancestral family, thus far of August Schumann and Auguste Freimann and their family. They have just lost 3 young children to Diphtheria in the midst of summer crops. There has been little time to reflect, although that sense of loss is always present. They have begun gathering fuel for winter.  Today, August is looking around the house to prepare for winter. As she does, the baby is now moving within her womb.

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"There is still that small box of children’s clothes sitting in the corner, the clothing of  Auguste Pauline age 4 ½,  Karl age 3 ¼, and Friedrich age 1 ½ at the time of their death.  Friedrich was still in the smocks for summer outdoors, so he could urinate freely. Auguste had just sewn the first pair of pants for Karl, now that he had some control. Pauline’s little smocks, reminded her that Pauline had been mother’s little helper with the boys. They had been able to be outdoors with the help of Pauline, as Auguste ran in and out with the daily tasks of motherhood. Pauline would keep them away from the hot clay outdoor oven and stove.  Auguste had loved hearing their giggles and chatter as she worked.  Could she give these clothes, which she had sewn for them, to other children?"

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Threads of Life
Weekend Writing Warriors #5

My great-grandparents, August and Auguste Schumann,  lost three children from diphtheria in two days during the middle of grain harvest, July of 1887. This appears to have been all their living children. But life goes on for the living. During that illness, Auguste was already three months pregnant with another child.

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"Auguste thinks, “Thank God, the mornings of nausea are past. Thank God, this child within me was protected from the disease. I do not know if I even want another child. Are they all meant to die so young?” Each day, for many days after the deaths, Auguste walked to their graves and sat on the ground for a while before she prepared the evening meal. She and August have taken to eating their meal in silence and then going straight to bed. They had stumbled through the grain harvest of summer together. Now they were gathering fuel from the sparse fallen trees for those cold, wind-swept winters that lay ahead."

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Threads of Life
Weekend Writing Warriors

I really messed this up! Sorry! I thought that I double checked everything, but obviously not. I hope that it is corrected now.

My great-grandparents, August and Auguste Schumann are having a bad day. It is mid-summer, the height of grain harvest season and their 3 little children are very sick. One has died. The two boys are having trouble breathing and cannot swallow water. I want to write more than 8 sentences but stick to the rules. I have put "teacher" in quotes because I do not know the qualifications yet.

"August and Auguste traded off staying awake with the children that night. Even so, dawn found Auguste dozing between the body of Auguste Pauline and Karl. Awakening at dawn with a start, and then a shriek, she found that she was now lying between two dead bodies. That brought August out of bed quickly, trying to think of what he, as a father and husband, must do next. Since neither of them had eaten last evening, it was agreed that she would make some porridge while he went to the home of the “teacher” who kept the records and read the scripture in the absence of a pastor.

Passing the homes of his sisters, he told them of the deaths in his home and  husbands offered to help dig the graves before going to the fields.  He then arranged for the “teacher” to be at the cemetery for a burial later that day.

Returning home to have porridge before digging the graves, he found not only porridge, but a second dead son, Friederich, the third child to die within two days."

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Threads of Life

3rd Weekend Writing Warrior

I am writing of my family, great grandparents, August and Auguste Schumann,  to make vital records come alive for the family. They are farming, I think subsistence, in Boguslawka, Volhynia. This is a particularly hard time in their lives. It is harvest time and three of there four children are ill, requiring their mother's attendance.  (I do not know what has happened to the fourth child.)

"As the day is coming to an end, August enters his home, hot, sweaty and tired, carrying his scythe from his day’s work. However, there is no aroma of dinner and the only candle shines from the bedroom. Entering the room, he finds his exhausted wife, tears running down her face.

            Taking her in his arms to try to sooth her, he inquires what has produced her distress. Her hand gestures to the children’s bed.  “Auguste Pauline is dead. I’ve tried to get the boys to drink some water, but they are unable. It is a whole month until the circuit pastor comes to our community and my prayers are not working.” "

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2nd Weekend Writing Warrior

I am writing of my family, various members in various places. I am starting with August and Auguste Schumann, my great grandparents, living at this time in Boguslawka, Volhynia.

The summer of 1887 was one of those hot summers on the prairie of Volhynia. German families had come to eke out a living in a new land. The August Schumann family had many of their relatives on surrounding small farms. It was harvest time now for the grain, which produced the income for the family. Normally, the mother would be bringing food to her husband as he worked. She should also be helping to tie the bundles and shock the grain.  In my previous blog, I wrote about the serious condition of the three children. She has taken a brief break to sit down. In this section I refer to four children although only three are lying ill on the bed.

     "Auguste dragged herself out of the chair where she had been sitting for no more than five minutes. She plodded into the adjoining room which served as both a kitchen and storage for small garden equipment like hoes and rakes. She grabbed a glass from a cupboard now nearly empty of clean dishes. With a dipper, she filled the glass from the nearly empty bucket of drinking water.

     Returning to the room, in which the children lay, she was determined to get them to drink some water. All three children lay in the children's bed, crosswise to allow sleeping of all four children.  Their necks were so swollen and their color so dusky. Only a day or two ago, there were children's voices, joyfully playing outdoors with many other children living in the small settlement."

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WEEKEND WRITING WARRIOR

I am writing of my family, various members in various places. I am starting with August and Auguste Schumann, my great grandparents, living at this time in Boguslawka, Volhynia.

The summer of 1887 was one of those hot summers on the prairie of Volhynia. German families had come to eke out a living in a new land. The August Schumann family had many of their relatives on surrounding small farms. It was harvest time now for the grain, which produced the income for the family. Normally, the mother would be bringing food to her husband as he worked. She should also be helping to tie the bundles and shock the grain.

“However, this day of July, the 24^th, Auguste had been in the humid living quarters of their tiny, 2-room  home for several days because all of her children were running very high fevers. She went from one to the other to sponge her children with wet cloths. Auguste Pauline was hallucinating now, yelling and screaming, which  prevented Karl Friedrich and Friedrich Wilhelm from any peaceful rest as they fought the illness. Auguste was exhausted, having been up several nights with the children. It was approaching noon now, when she should be cooking the noonday meal.  At last, Auguste Pauline seemed to be quieting down but her breathing was now so shallow that a feather could hardly be moved by her breath. As the screaming ceased, August sat in a chair for a moment, wiping her own perspiring brow. All around them was illness, children ill in every home."

2nd Weekend Writing Warrior (continuing on with expansion of my family history. In this section I refer to four children although only three are lying ill on the bed. )

     "Auguste dragged herself out of the chair where she had been sitting for no more than five minutes. She plodded into the adjoining room which served as kitchen and storage for small garden equipment like hoes and rakes. She grabbed a glass from a cupboard now nearly empty of clean dishes. With a dipper, she filled the glass from the nearly empty bucket of drinking water.

     Returning to the room, in which the children lay, she was determined to get them to drink some water. All three children lay in the children's bed, crosswise to allow sleeping of all four children.  Their necks were so swollen and their color so dusky. Only a day or two ago, there were children's voices, joyfully playing outdoors with many other children living in the small settlement."

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