July 19, 1953

I've just started scanning a bunch of old pictures. Most still need a bunch of sorting and "who is this person"-figuring-out (or minor editing to remove the writing on the front when my mother provided the answer to "who is this person?"), and so does this one, but I'm kinda geeked to have found it so it's going up Right Now(tm).



The man on the right is my great-grandfather, George Rank. The woman on the left is his sister, Flora Knebusch. The reason I'm so geeked about this picture is that it's the first non-blurry one I've ever seen of Aunt Flora. She's extra-special, because I was named after her.

I'll give you a minute to ponder before I explain how "Amanda" was named after "Flora".

See, Aunt Flora was my Mom's favorite aunt (er, great-aunt, but my mother didn't have any just-plain-aunts), and by all accounts she was super-cool. When Mom made a comment as a girl that when she grew up she'd name her daughter after Aunt Flora, Aunt Flora's reaction was "Don't you dare stick a child with this name." The idea of naming me after her might have died right there, except that Aunt Flora died just a few months before I was born. Flora's full name was Flora Amanda Clara Rank Knebusch, and Mom didn't like the name Clara.

Mom was leaning heavily towards the name "Amelia" up until Aunt Flora's death, so I have to say that I'm ambivalent about Aunt Flora's death. On one hand, I'd have loved to have met her. On the other hand... Amelia.

George was a practical joker who had a fantastic sense of humor and was quick with a smile. He died when I was two and a half, so I didn't know him very well either, but the entire time I was growing up my mother and grandmother told me that I was "just like your great-grandfather!" (usually, it was in an exasperated tone of voice, right after one of my own practical jokes or really bad puns). Grandma once swore that I was George re-incarnated, impossible birth/death dates be damned.

On a side note: kudos to my great-grandmother, who wrote dates on the back of lots and lots of pictures. Bless her.

July 19, 1953

I've just started scanning a bunch of old pictures. Most still need a bunch of sorting and "who is this person"-figuring-out (or minor editing to remove the writing on the front when my mother provided the answer to "who is this person?"), and so does this one, but I'm kinda geeked to have found it so it's going up Right Now(tm).



The man on the right is my great-grandfather, George Rank. The woman on the left is his sister, Flora Knebusch. The reason I'm so geeked about this picture is that it's the first non-blurry one I've ever seen of Aunt Flora. She's extra-special, because I was named after her.

I'll give you a minute to ponder before I explain how "Amanda" was named after "Flora".

See, Aunt Flora was my Mom's favorite aunt (er, great-aunt, but my mother didn't have any just-plain-aunts), and by all accounts she was super-cool. When Mom made a comment as a girl that when she grew up she'd name her daughter after Aunt Flora, Aunt Flora's reaction was "Don't you dare stick a child with this name." The idea of naming me after her might have died right there, except that Aunt Flora died just a few months before I was born. Flora's full name was Flora Amanda Clara Rank Knebusch, and Mom didn't like the name Clara.

Mom was leaning heavily towards the name "Amelia" up until Aunt Flora's death, so I have to say that I'm ambivalent about Aunt Flora's death. On one hand, I'd have loved to have met her. On the other hand... Amelia.

George was a practical joker who had a fantastic sense of humor and was quick with a smile. He died when I was two and a half, so I didn't know him very well either, but the entire time I was growing up my mother and grandmother told me that I was "just like your great-grandfather!" (usually, it was in an exasperated tone of voice, right after one of my own practical jokes or really bad puns). Grandma once swore that I was George re-incarnated, impossible birth/death dates be damned.

On a side note: kudos to my great-grandmother, who wrote dates on the back of lots and lots of pictures. Bless her.

Mom update

Mom is at her apartment at American House, where she wanted to go. She's doing fairly well, for the most part. It's very disconcerting to put someone in hospice with the idea that they've only got a few days left and then have them be puttering around happily two weeks later. It makes me wonder why I put her in hospice in the first place.

Then she'll have one of her bad days and spend the entire day babbling about how she's very worried about her socks, and I'll say to myself "Oh yeah, that's why." Or she'll scare the shit out of us by being unconscious on her couch one Saturday morning (which turned out to be low blood sugar, which I find highly ironic considering that her reasoning for keeping her sugar so high was that she was scared it would go too low).

Still, I have no idea what to do, other than just keep on hanging on. I spent the first few days of her hospice coming to terms with her impending death. It was rough, and then..... and then.... wait, what happened to the impending death? She's feeling better now than she was when we put her in hospice. It's not fair to put me through that kind of emotional roller-coaster. Should I be happy that she's doing better, or on edge fearing that the next scare will be her last? She's still got multiple organs failing or only working at half capacity, and the aforementioned bad days make it clear that she's not headed for a miraculous recovery. But she's obviously not doing as badly as previously thought, either.

Mom update

Mom is at her apartment at American House, where she wanted to go. She's doing fairly well, for the most part. It's very disconcerting to put someone in hospice with the idea that they've only got a few days left and then have them be puttering around happily two weeks later. It makes me wonder why I put her in hospice in the first place.

Then she'll have one of her bad days and spend the entire day babbling about how she's very worried about her socks, and I'll say to myself "Oh yeah, that's why." Or she'll scare the shit out of us by being unconscious on her couch one Saturday morning (which turned out to be low blood sugar, which I find highly ironic considering that her reasoning for keeping her sugar so high was that she was scared it would go too low).

Still, I have no idea what to do, other than just keep on hanging on. I spent the first few days of her hospice coming to terms with her impending death. It was rough, and then..... and then.... wait, what happened to the impending death? She's feeling better now than she was when we put her in hospice. It's not fair to put me through that kind of emotional roller-coaster. Should I be happy that she's doing better, or on edge fearing that the next scare will be her last? She's still got multiple organs failing or only working at half capacity, and the aforementioned bad days make it clear that she's not headed for a miraculous recovery. But she's obviously not doing as badly as previously thought, either.