The Castle of Tintagel

Anna Schaetzke brought in a piece of pottery with a symbol that looked to be very old and possible Celtic. It was a souvenir from a trip she took and reminded her of the Castle of Tintagel on the west coast of Cornwall, England. This is what she wrote.

King Arthur...Merlin....As I looked out on the vast Atlantic Ocean and the surf pounding against the rocks 500 feet below this is what came to my mind.  From the ruins of this magnificent castle one's imagination could easily travel back to earlier days when ladies in courtly dresses waited for the sound of hoof beats that signaled the return of the knights from their field of battle.

Likewise, I could picture pitch-black evenings with the rain and howling winds of the sea battering the walls.  Tintagel has a magic and mystery all its own.

     Written by Anna Schaetzke

Tintagel Castle

My Dad - Floyd Merzke, Sr.

I brought in a photo of my father taken later in his life. I chose to convert the original color photo to black and white be of an Ansel Adams quote I remembered. He said that “black and white defines the soul of the object while color merely illustrates it.” I feel this photo clearly defines my memory of my father at that point in his life.

My Dad

Floyd C. Merzke, Sr.

This is the perfect picture of my father, Floyd Carl Merzke Sr. His smile, warm and friendly, showcases who the man was. Always quick witted, with a smile and something funny to say that would make you smile, most people found him unforgettable. When I look at this picture floods of memories sweep over me. I remember those coke-bottle glasses. I would always marvel at them whenever he would ask me to clean them. How could he see out of such think pieces of glass?

Then there is his mustache. He never had a mustache until he was in his sixties. One day my son Andrew, dad’s only grandchild, asked him to grow a mustache. Dad said he’d give it a try. That was at thanksgiving dinner and by Christmas he had a thick full mustache that made him rather proud. My brother was dumbfounded. He’d been trying to grow a mustache for years, but it was thin and wimpy compared to the thick growth Dad had produced in a month.

Dad’s cane was purchased at the Kutztown Folk Festival and was made from a sarsaparilla root. At first he didn’t want to use it. I believe it was a matter of pride with him. However, we convinced him to think of the cane as a sympathy stick; something that would cause folks to hold open doors for him or give him a place to sit. This made him much more receptive to the idea. Mostly he used the cane as an attention getter for Andrew. For that purpose it worked very well. It gave him that extra reach whenever Andrew was slow to respond to a request.

Then there is his Civil War hat. Andrew found the hat in a shop in Gettysburg when he was about eight years old. He wanted it the minute he saw it. He bought it and loved wearing it all day long. Later that evening it occurred to him that his grandfather should also have a hat like his. We drove back to the store only to find it had just closed. While we were waiting in the car, Andrew banged on the door until the proprietor answered. Explaining that he just had to have the same hat for his grandfather and that we were only in Gettysburg for the day, the store keeper let him in. The problem was that Dad needed the same size hat as Andrew and there wasn’t another hat of the same size anywhere to be found. The proprietor told Andrew to go get his grandfather and they would make something work. Andrew got Dad and the proprietor took the next size larger hat and made leather shims to fit under the band to make it fit. He explained that Andrew’s head was still growing and that when he outgrew his hat, he could switch hats with Dad, pull out the shims and they would both have a hat that fit. The hat in the picture is Andrew’s original hat. The plan worked.

A Letter to Audtin Lewis Judd

Austin Lewis Judd

Deb Strang shared a photo of her grandfather, Austin Lewis Judd and told us the following story. Deb got a call from a relative who asked her if she had a particular photo of their grandfather. Deb did not have the photo, but thought she knew who did. She promised to see if she could locate the photo and make a copy for her relative. Deb was able to locate the photo and after studying it, she began to have questions about the grandfather she never met. Those questions started her on a quest to learn more about her genealogy and her family’s history.

Deb chose to complete her writing assignment by writing a letter to her grandfather Austin. This is what she wrote.

You started this whole mess! And I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I’ve learned so much about my family, the good, the bad and the ugly. I still have hundreds of questions about you. Sadly there’s no one left to tell me. I’ll have to do some more digging. But I don’t mind, I enjoy it.

Since finding your picture I’ve been on many journeys. I’ve been to the library, I’ve searched the internet for hours on end and have lost track of how many cemetery’s I’ve visited. I’ve met wonderful new friends along the way reconnected with relatives only thought about in the past.

You’ve opened doors and led me on wild goose chases. And each adventure always added something to the mix. I think about your life, what it must’ve been like growing up and then raising your own family on Garson Ave. (I did find out you bought the house from your parents, Fred and Susie)

I wonder what sort of man you were... Obviously good looking, I can only assume charming, and was told by your daughter “one of the nicest men on earth”

I’m sorry I missed you. I didn’t show up until 8 years after you went to a better place. I’m sure I would’ve enjoyed talking to you about all sorts of things.

I do want you to know I have the picture of the beet that you drew (Actually it looks more like a water color) It hangs on the wall and adds a touch of nostalgia to my house. And of course every time I look at it I think of you, Myrt, Uncle Bobby, Aunt Joanne and your youngest son, Don, my dad.

I’m not done yet. I’ll keep digging. I’ll keep finding more tidbits of information that will help me understand the man in the fedora...

Your granddaughter,

Deb