Plans for today (2019-2022)

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Burt Blank said:
Thank for the kind words. Tommo died one hour after the phone call.
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In his honor, and when you feel up to it, why not share a particularly good memory of Tommo here. I know I'd be interested.

You share one of Tommo, and I'll share one of my FIL Buddy. Gone but not forgotten, as they say around here.
 
Didn't plan on today, but an e mail can change so much. I got an e mail from my cousin, my dad and his mum were brother and sister, but estranged for 70 years? We have come together when my Aunty died last year. My cousin doesn't know much about their mums brother and his three boys. ( me ) we exchanged e mails but he asked me today about his mums side as he knew his dad's heritage. So I finally dug out our family tree. It goes back to my great great granddad who was born in Cornwall uk in 1804. Married and moved to nz with two of his brothers. So I'm researching family now for next few days. I vaguely remember my grandfather but after my father left home for good when I was three. Never to be seen again.so now I'm trying to track down where my grandfather is buried. E mails all sent. Just waiting on a reply.
Been talking to a picture framer who is going to copy my old tree and update some more kids. I'm looking at $400 to $500 ?
I'll get copies for my cousins as well. Will be good for the grandkids as well. I'll prolly hang it in the hallway by the front door.

Well that's the day done, except beans and poached eggs in an hour or so!

Russ
 
Tommo could not speak any English, I cannot speak much Croatian. We seemed to understand each other. Just before covid lock down, he was brought down to the main hospital in Split with suspected Cancer of the Pancreas, they cleared him of that but wanted more scans then a 10 day wait for a bowel cancer specialist. His family and the hospital were happy for him to stay their. We were not neither was Tommo, so I went in and convinced them to sign him out and not lose his place on the specialists list. He loved being driven with the roof down. This was late Feb so a bit cold he got in and pretended to close an umbrella. It gave Marina and me 10 days of wonderful memories. As an ex Submarine Officer in the Yugoslav Navy he love the sea and was happy just to sit with me and watch from the balcony.
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Burt Blank said:
Tommo could not speak any English, I cannot speak much Croatian. We seemed to understand each other. Just before covid lock down, he was brought down to the main hospital in Split with suspected Cancer of the Pancreas, they cleared him of that but wanted more scans then a 10 day wait for a bowel cancer specialist. His family and the hospital were happy for him to stay their. We were not neither was Tommo, so I went in and convinced them to sign him out and not lose his place on the specialists list. He loved being driven with the roof down. This was late Feb so a bit cold he got in and pretended to close an umbrella. It gave Marina and me 10 days of wonderful memories. As an ex Submarine Officer in the Yugoslav Navy he love the sea and was happy just to sit with me and watch from the balcony.View attachment 44489

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Love the pictures - Tommo (and you!) both look to be happy and enjoying each other's company. How wonderful he was able to spend the 10 days with you and your wife vs. the hospital
 
Here's my family estrangement story:

When I was a teen, my mom (a naturally nosy...er, curious person) developed an interest in family history. She learned that her FIL had a brother he'd not seen or talked to in over 30 years. Any roundabout questions she'd ask George (FIL) were met with silence, and no one seemed to know what became of Henry.

That started her on a journey of about two years' time, to track down Henry, his missing brother. This was the late 1970's, so genealogy research meant going to libraries and public records buildings, doing it the old-fashioned way.

Multiple trips to various county records offices in three states, some trips three to four hours away, money spent for staying overnight on some trips, sitting in libraries, looking at microfiche, writing off for copies of records from more distant places - Mom really threw her heart and soul into it.

Finally...EUREKA! She traced Henry to an address in nearby Dayton, less than an hour away! She couldn't wait to gather the family together and surprise George with the good news that after all these years, decades, and after a two-year search, she'd found him.

After supper one night, over pie on the back porch, she finally broke the news:

"George...I've got some really exciting news...!"

"Oh yeah?! Well, spill it, Girl!"

"It's about your brother...Henry."

"Lord have mercy, not this mess again!"

"No, wait. You don't understand. I found him, George! I found Henry! And guess what, he lives in Dayton, barely 40 minutes from here!"

At this point, my mom was nearly exploding with excitement and giddiness.

"What are you talking about, 'you found him?' I know exactly where he is. He lives on Boston Ave in some sorry apartment there! You're not telling me nothing I don't already know, and what's more, he knows where I live! Now will you get it through your thick head that we don't want to see each other!"

All that time, money, and effort my mom spent, and they knew where the other was the entire time! :laugh:
 
Burt Blank said:
Tommo could not speak any English, I cannot speak much Croatian. We seemed to understand each other. Just before covid lock down, he was brought down to the main hospital in Split with suspected Cancer of the Pancreas, they cleared him of that but wanted more scans then a 10 day wait for a bowel cancer specialist. His family and the hospital were happy for him to stay their. We were not neither was Tommo, so I went in and convinced them to sign him out and not lose his place on the specialists list. He loved being driven with the roof down. This was late Feb so a bit cold he got in and pretended to close an umbrella. It gave Marina and me 10 days of wonderful memories. As an ex Submarine Officer in the Yugoslav Navy he love the sea and was happy just to sit with me and watch from the balcony.View attachment 44489

View attachment 44490

View attachment 44491
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Thanks for sharing those photos. You both look like you were having a good time, just enjoying each other's company.

With my FIL Buddy, one thing I always enjoyed was what became our Sunday morning ritual, especially during (NFL) football season.

Each Sunday, my wife and I would wake up, get ready, and drive the 20 minutes or so to her folks' house. They lived in a log home outside of town, on a side road, on about 15 acres. Nice and quiet.

We'd get there between 08:30-9AM, and as soon as I'd walk in the door, he'd say, "C'mon!" and off we'd go.

First up, load the week's trash, and the week's empties (bottles and cans) into the bed of his truck. First stop was the dump to get rid of the trash.

On the way to the beer distributor's, we'd stop at the diner nearby for breakfast. He paid every time. He was something of a local celebrity and was huge both in physical appearance and personality, everyone knew him, and sitting with him at a local restaurant was like dining with the mayor. Everybody stopped by to say hello and chat for a bit.

Then, after about 90 minutes of that, onto the distributor's to return last week's empties, and pick up this week's beer. Sometimes, he'd even let me pick something out.

From there, onto some of his favorite food shops: ring bologna from this shop, doughnuts from that shop, hard pretzels from over there, and every stop was 20-30 minutes of conversation and cups of coffee.

Finally, back at the house, we'd bring everything in just in time for the games to start. Louise ("Lou") would cut up the bologna, with crackers and cheese and onion slices and mustard, dish out the pretzels and nuts and potato chips, there'd be pickles and olives, and pastries and cakes and pies, and all washed down with beer after beer after beer.

During all that, Lou would be in the kitchen making pot roast, or pork and sauerkraut, or fried chicken, one of those big Sunday suppers, we'd stay for that, and for dessert after, finally heading home about 9PM.

Best Sundays Ever.

I'm pleased to say that when we married and moved away, whenever we'd visit them or they'd visit us, Sundays were always reserved for the two of us to go out and kill a few hours having breakfast, and buying beer and food for the rest of the day. It was always a given. First Sunday back together, we'd get up, have a cup of coffee, and he'd loudly announce, "All right, Reuben and I are going out, you girls are in charge until we get back!" - and off we'd go.

I really, really miss that.
 
TastyReuben said:
Here's my family estrangement story:

When I was a teen, my mom (a naturally nosy...er, curious person) developed an interest in family history. She learned that her FIL had a brother he'd not seen or talked to in over 30 years. Any roundabout questions she'd ask George (FIL) were met with silence, and no one seemed to know what became of Henry.

That started her on a journey of about two years' time, to track down Henry, his missing brother. This was the late 1970's, so genealogy research meant going to libraries and public records buildings, doing it the old-fashioned way.

Multiple trips to various county records offices in three states, some trips three to four hours away, money spent for staying overnight on some trips, sitting in libraries, looking at microfiche, writing off for copies of records from more distant places - Mom really threw her heart and soul into it.

Finally...EUREKA! She traced Henry to an address in nearby Dayton, less than an hour away! She couldn't wait to gather the family together and surprise George with the good news that after all these years, decades, and after a two-year search, she'd found him.

After supper one night, over pie on the back porch, she finally broke the news:

"George...I've got some really exciting news...!"

"Oh yeah?! Well, spill it, Girl!"

"It's about your brother...Henry."

"Lord have mercy, not this mess again!"

"No, wait. You don't understand. I found him, George! I found Henry! And guess what, he lives in Dayton, barely 40 minutes from here!"

At this point, my mom was nearly exploding with excitement and giddiness.

"What are you talking about, 'you found him?' I know exactly where he is. He lives on Boston Ave in some sorry apartment there! You're not telling me nothing I don't already know, and what's more, he knows where I live! Now will you get it through your thick head that we don't want to see each other!"

All that time, money, and effort my mom spent, and they knew where the other was the entire time! :laugh:
Click to expand...

There was a story here a few years ago, twin boys were adopted out to different families. 60 years later one twin travelled 5 hours to,buy a car in a small town, while in the town he stopped at a shop to buy a pie as he was hungry. The person in the shop said hi bob. The guy said I'm not bob my names Bryan. Long story short he found a guy like him lived 5 mins from this shop. Guy goes there and voila!
Dna proved they were brothers.
Spooky eh??

Russ
 
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