The Jakobowski siblings on the occasion of the death of their Father, left to right:

Dagma, the eldest, never married, lived with Father and kept house for him.

Harry, whose wife died barren at a young age, became quite the ladies’ man.

Gertrude:  she bore seven sons and lost her husband to the Spanish influenza.

Martha, a sweet-natured schoolteacher, a favorite of her pupils, loves to sing opera.

Sophie, the youngest, married a soldier who returned from the war minus a leg, but whole in spirit.

Ruth, a farm wife and mother to four daughters, each so beautiful it pains the heart.

Father was laid to rest beside Mother just one year after her death following a stroke.  No doctor could say why he dwindled and perished.  The children assume it was his broken heart.

Written by Leslie Modena

As with any annual gathering of William’s family, a photo around a family gravestone marked another year. This year, 1915, is just 6 years past Good Ole Billy’s death. Reunions were held on the third Saturday every August and involved manual labor as well as an evening of quilting for the ladies and cards and liquor for the men folk.

The morning of the gatherings family members who lived near would converge on the land their ancestors were born and raised on and buried in and they would prepare it for over 200 visitors. On the day this picture was taken it was overcast with patches of sun to keep the air just warm enough to be comfortable.

On the left, crouched down is young Walter, cousin to Pearl, sitting. Pearl and Walter were very close and spent nearly every waking hour together even though she was 2 years younger. They’d formed a special bond when Pearl’s mother died and Walter’s mother helped raise the only child of her sister. During her formative years Pearl spent an enormous amount of time with Walter’s family, especially during harvesting seasons. They were “close as siblings without the fighting,” as Walter’s mother said.

Summers involved days wandering around the land chasing butterflies and frogs and visits to a nearby store for a piece of candy as a treat once a week. Treats were a luxury bought by the pennies Pearl’s Daddy, Claude – the harvesting farmer – would provide. “Guilt Pennies,” as Pearl and Walter used to call the money that fell into their little waiting hands from Claude, who eagerly gave them coins.

On particularly profitable weeks when Claude was feeling generous – and particularly absent – Walter and Pearl would each get a nickle.  They would buy a Coca-Cola and a candy bar and split equally never worrying about germs. They would chant, joking with each other, “Circle, circle, dot, dot, now you have your cootie shot!”

There were days that they spent reading the tombstones in the family plot and retelling stories of dead relatives they’d heard from the women in the family while making quilts. The quilts were made for marrying couples in the family and one day both Walter and Pearl would receive one, but not because they married each other. While there were a few stories of kissing cousins, Walter and Pearl never thought of each other that way.

Except maybe that one summer when Walter saved Pearl’s life because then Pearl really did love him more. Walter and Pearl, then 9 and 7, were playing down river soaking wet as most water adventures ended up and Pearl fell. Walter was at least four horse lengths ahead of her and she fell so quickly and quietly that Walter didn’t know what happened and when he turned around she was gone. Walter saw the splashing of water and he raised each leg in the water as high as he could to get to her. When he pulled her up she was gasping for air as he noticed a trail of blood in the water as it moved away from her body.

Not wanting to alarm his cousin he remained calm but was panicking on the inside. His was breathing heavy and his heart was racing. At least a mile from home and her leg bleeding from an open wound he moved fast. He whisked her out of the water and held pressure on her leg, all the while she was screaming. He removed his suspenders to tie his shirt around her leg and he picked her up leaving the boots she was holding in her right hand before she went under.

Walter talked to Pearl the entire way home to help distract her from the pain of the wound and her fear of the blood. He walked with a determined swiftness while he carried Pearl home to his mother. His mother took Pearl from Walter’s arms and he ran to collect Claude from the fields instinctively knowing Pearl would want her Daddy around her at a time like this.

It was a long recovery but eventually Pearl’s leg healed. Pearl had a long bumpy scar to remember how Walter had carried and protected her that day. She never thought about the scar as ugly or looked at it and thought about the pain. She thought about what the scar meant; she’d survived because of Walter.

Through the years, well into adulthood Pearl and Walter remained close. “One Mile,” she used to say to him as he passed her at family reunions on the family plot, “I had to carry you, you had no boots!” Walter would say to her each time, knowing that on that summer day he’d done something very, very good.

Written by Julia Roberts, Kidneys and Eyes