I was so inclined, Paul. That was a wonderful and very moving story.
Chuck Norcutt
On 5/8/2013 8:01 PM, Paul Braun wrote:
> Please remind yourself of this photo first, then read the rest if you're
> so inclined. Thank you.
>
> http://zone-10.com/tope2/main.php?g2_itemId=5206
>
> Tuesday, May 7th, 2013 was a beautiful, warm sunny Spring day in
> Southern Illinois, the kind of day that makes you want to play hooky
> from school or work and work in the garden or go to the zoo, or maybe go
> to St. Louis to catch a Cardinals game.
>
> And it was on that day, surrounded by friends and family, that my
> father, August Braun, peacefully went home to be with The Lord after an
> 8-year-long, hard-fought battle with cancer.
>
> It was something that we were all expecting, and something that he had
> been praying for, but while that helps ease the pain a little, there is
> still an Augie-sized hole in the lives of his family and friends. No
> matter what, losing a parent hurts. I was on Amtrak on my way down when
> I got the call. I felt pain, but I also felt relief and peace. I knew he
> was now in a better place and cancer-free.
>
> When our mother, Mary Lou, died in 1998, my brother and I were both in
> denial about how serious her condition was and, quite frankly, were
> caught a bit off-guard when she passed. We both had things we wanted to
> say that went left unsaid. And we both agreed that we would not let that
> happen with Dad.
>
> So, in the final months when we found out that the cancer had returned,
> this time very aggressively, and that this time it wasn't fixable, we
> both rearranged our plans to be able to travel back to Steeleville and
> spend as much time as possible with him in the time we had left. And it
> was quality time. He didn't want to go back into a hospital, didn't want
> to move into a nursing home. He wanted to stay at home, surrounded by
> comfort and familiarity and reminders of his life, his family, Mom. He
> was in minimal pain, and he opted to stop torturing himself with chemo.
> His best friend, Mike Vallet, who had been by his side through all of
> this - helping him when he needed it, taking him to the doctor, staying
> with himi when he was in the hospital, keeping Allen and I informed -
> agreed with him that the better quality of whatever time he had left was
> more important.
>
> When Dad had weakened to the point where he needed full-time assistance,
> my sister-in-law Laura volunteered to move in and be his caretaker. She
> brought their children with her, so now Opa (an old German nickname for
> Grandpa, what he always called his grandfather) was surrounded by
> family. My brother and I alternated coming back to visit for little
> stretches.
>
> We spent that time talking, going through old photos, memorabilia,
> watching cooking shows, Cardinals baseball and NASCAR on TV. About a
> month ago, both Allen and I were there at the same time, and Sheri had
> come along with me. So, after the kids had eaten and gone off to a
> friend's house, the five of us sat down to dinner. Laura had made Mom's
> lasagna recipe. It was the last time that all of us would be together,
> but it had been a wonderful end to a very happy day, and it was perfect.
>
> I had decided then and there that I would call Dad every evening and
> talk to him and tell him good night. Even though I couldn't be there in
> person, I would at least be there on the phone. I could tell that made
> him happy. We talked about how his day had been, talked about what I had
> been doing. I had recently started an online photo gallery so I was able
> to share things we had been doing and seen through that, and he told me
> he enjoyed my photos.
>
> And I made damn sure to tell him every time how much I loved him and
> that I was proud to have him and Mom as my parents, that despite the
> fact that he had doubts about things he could have done differently, we
> had no problems with the way we were raised and that we had turned out
> just fine.
>
> Dad was lucid right up until this past Saturday night. I knew he had had
> a rough day, thanks to regular updates from Laura, and I was hesitant to
> make my nightly call as I didn't know if he was up for it. But then
> Laura called me and said he told her he wanted to talk, so I called
> right back. He was sure that he was going to go that night or the next,
> so he wanted one last talk with his sons. The last words my father and I
> exchanged were, "I love you, Dad" and "I love you too, Son." And that's
> something I can take with me the rest of my life.
>
> I cannot thank Laura enough for taking on a daunting task, something she
> wasn't really trained for. She and Allen are raising six kids, but this
> was different. And I have to, right here and now, in front of the world,
> say that Dad's friend Mike Vallet is a truly wonderful, caring,
> "above-and-way-beyond" human being. When Dad was diagnosed, and needed
> chemo and various surgeries, Mike was always there with him. He was
> doing the things that my brother and I were unable to do because we both
> live so far away. What Mike did for my father is truly, without a doubt,
> the definition of true friendship. He's a member of this family now,
> even though he's too humble to admit it. If you ever need proof of
> guardian angels on Earth, you need look no further.
>
> Augie was born in Chicago on February 16th, 1932 to Clara and August
> Braun, and grew up on Harper Avenue on the South Side. When he was
> working as an insurance salesman at Continental Insurance, he met a
> pretty young girl with Italian heritage named Mary Lou Casale who worked
> in the secretarial pool. They fell in love, and were married in January
> of 1958 and moved into a nice little house on Constance Avenue, in
> Chicago's South Shore neighborhood. Five years later, Mom gave birth to
> a well-behaved, precocious, remarkably handsome baby boy (me) and soon
> moved several blocks north to a bigger house on Constance. Five years
> after that, they decided that they'd done so well the first time that
> they'd try it again and Allen came along.
>
> We spent a significant amount of our weekends at the museums, the
> planetarium or the aquarium or the zoos. Mom and Dad were always taking
> us places, showing us things, giving us interests. I was enrolled in a
> Montessori preschool and taught to learn in different ways.
>
> Dad took a job at South Shore National Bank on Jeffrey as an auditor
> (that bank is still there today, by the way, as are the two houses).
> However, as the 60's rolled over into the 70's, the neighborhood had
> begun to change for the worse and, after an incident one evening when a
> police car pulled someone over across the street from our house and we
> heard gunshots, Mom and Dad decided it was time to move their young
> family somewhere safer. So, we packed up and became suburban, moving
> into a nice house on Stanley in Winfield, IL. Dad changed jobs and went
> to work for John Nuveen in downtown Chicago, and every morning he'd hop
> on board the big green-and-yellow Chicago And NorthWestern bilevel
> commuter car and head into the Loop. That's pretty much where my love of
> the CNW began…
>
> But since Dad had spent a lot of his summers growing up visiting with
> the relatives in Kansas and Nebraska, all of whom lived on farms, he
> always felt the itch to be a farmer.
>
> So he and Mom started looking for a new place to live. They settled on
> Steeleville, IL, a city about an hour Southeast of St. Louis and, in
> 1972, we moved. Dad wasn't quite ready to be a full-time farmer yet, so
> he took a job as an internal auditor at the First National Bank and we
> bought a 40-acre farm Northeast of town. And, because everyone needs a
> pony, we got a Shetland pony from some guy who saw an opportunity to
> sell the angry beast to the city folk. Sure, he was cute, but we learned
> quickly that male Shetlands are ornery and, after throwing every one of
> us (and also chasing the cows around), we sold him to some other
> unwitting sucker.
>
> Eventually Dad felt confident enough that he quit the job at the bank
> and farmed full-time. We built buildings, raised crops, raised
> livestock. Wasn't a bad way to grow up, and I know I enjoyed the open
> spaces. And our own pond! Yes, kids, I did chores every morning before I
> went to school. However, I rode the bus in, so I didn't have to walk 10
> miles uphill both ways in the snow to get to school.
>
> Farming is hard work, though, and it became obvious that a 40-acre farm
> just wasn't big enough to really support a family of 5 (Dad's mom moved
> down from Chicago with us).
>
> So, when Killion's restaurant went up for sale, Mom and Dad decided to
> go into the restaurant business. They rented the farmable land out to a
> friend, and we set about converting Killion's into Mary Lou's. That was
> a success, and it gave a lot of my friends and other kids in town their
> first jobs throughout the years. And we served a lot of good food.
>
> However, the combination of Mom's worsening health, and the addition of
> a couple of new restaurants in town that diluted a small market into an
> impossible market, forced the very difficult decision to close Mary
> Lou's for good. We were all sad about that, and I still feel the pangs
> when I look at the corner now and see our building gone, replaced by a
> gas station and convenience store, one of the same places that
> ultimately brought about the end of Mary Lou's.
>
> They sold the farm and moved into the nice home on Hancock. Mom took a
> job as secretary at St. Mark and dad took a job at City Hall. Mom passed
> away way too early in 1998, and Dad started the adjustment to the life
> of a widower. It wasn't easy at first - he and Mom had been married 40
> years, and were pretty much inseparable throughout that entire time.
> They were really in love, and you could tell it. But Dad settled into
> the "new normal" and continued to work for the city. Eventually the
> cancer came, and he had to retire to fight that battle.
>
> But all through the years, the one thing that was important to all of us
> was family. There were rough patches like everyone goes through, but
> through it all, we had our faith and we had each other.
>
> And now Augie and Mary Lou are together again. Sheri and I have been
> married 25+ years, and Allen and Laura have been married almost 23 years
> and have six wonderful children.
>
> So, Thank You, Mom and Dad, for bringing us into the world and giving us
> a great example of how to live our lives. We love you and we'll miss
> you, but it's only for a relatively short while. We'll all meet up again
> later on.
>
> As I was walking from Union Station to the Van Buren South Shore station
> late last night, I had decided to walk down Jackson simply because that
> was the street I was already on. I had been walking several blocks when
> I happened to look up - and there, directly ahead in the distance, was
> the blue glow from the "beehive light" at the top of the old Continental
> Insurance building.
>
> I took that as a sign from Mom and Dad that everything was going to be
> alright. I stopped for a bit, tried to get a photo, but then just
> started walking again and smiling to myself.
>
--
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