Family

As I mentioned before, we had a big Drexler reunion in Runnemede just a couple weeks ago. It was so fun and beyond memorable for all of us. But, the one thing that was most fun was to see dad with his brother Carl and his sister Judi. His other sister Debbie wasn't able to make it.



Here are all 4 of them with their mom (my grandma) back in the early 50s. 1951 perhaps?




Here they are in 2000 when my grandpa died.

And here they are in 2010, as we got ready to eat at the Diner. We ate at that diner every single day when we visited my grandpa - after grandma died. And, even before Grandma died and was too sick to cook for all of us, they'd take us up there for dinner, so it holds a special place in all our hearts. So many stories have been shared over the years about his brother and sisters. And, even though they haven't all been together since that picture in 2000 was taken, they love each other and so enjoyed being together again. That weekend was definitely a time of celebration - the celebration of Mt Calvary church as much as it was a celebration of family. A time of reminiscing and laughter and joy. :-)

Been So Long... Time for a Story!

It's been such a long time since I posted here! I don't really know why I haven't. Just haven't taken the time to chat with my dad about blog stuff, I guess. I hope to do better in the coming weeks/months, but don't be surprised if long hiatises are taken again.



We were just in his hometown of Runnemede, NJ and he shared many stories with us. I hope to share them here. First though, I took a video outside of his school where he talked about one of his pasttimes, playing ball by himself.

Love

A month or so ago, I was talking to my dad about some of the people that were in their church growing up and one of the men he mentioned was Mr. Bowers - Bob Bowers' uncle. He was a dear, sweet man who literally built the church and the parsonage as well. He was also the person who formed the first fire station in Runnemede. He really was a special man. But, the thing dad remembers was the love he had for his wife. He was older when his beloved wife died, he was heartbroken. He always spoke with such love to her when she was alive and after she passed, he would always cry when speaking of her. Their love was so great. Something about that just touched me and I wanted to share that here on the blog. My grandpa, though not a demonstrative man, loved my grandma that way too. I remember after she passed, dad spoke to him about marrying again and my grandpa insisted that she was the only person he would ever love. I don't doubt that people love like that now, but there seems to be something special about the way people loved back then. So much emphasis is put on the physical today that sometimes they miss out on the soulful connection. Mr. Bowers obviously had that with his wife and my grandpa had that with my grandma. A love that not even 50 yrs and death could diminish. The pictures above are from when they were courting, I believe, and then in their later years. Next time I talk to dad, I'll have him share the story of how they met and all that and share that here with you.

Drills

I spoke a little while ago about dad growing up during the Cold War. And, because they lived on the east coast, they had regular air raid drills. They are fairly similar to our tornado drills out here in the midwest. The sirens would blare for a good solid minute and the kid would shuffle out in the hallways where you would cover your head and crouch down against the wall. That way if they were being attacked, they would hopefully be out of the way of shattering glass and debris. The difference between air raid drills and tornado drills are that it wasn't just for school children. Everyone in town was expected to comply with these drills. So, if he was at home, he had to go into their tiny and I mean TINY, little hallway between the two bedrooms and do the same thing. Knowing personally how small that hallway was, I can't imagine getting 6 people in there for these drills! Anyway, if it was dark outside when these drills went off, the lights in the house had to be shut off. During the day, the blinds would be closed. And, no one was allowed outside during these drills. If someone was found outside, they could be ticketed. If they didn't turn off the lights or close the blinds, they could get a ticket as well. Times were scary back then and the USSR was their enemy. And, these drills were used as a way to get the americans prepared for attack.

(The picture above is not a picture of my dad or anyone he knew. It's just a picture from the early 50s of a classroom of children during a nuclear air raid drill.)

Orchestra

When my dad was a teenager, there was an orchestra in their church. It calls it an orchestra because they had violinists. :-) It was made up of youth kids and it consisted of:

His sister Judi - violin
Kathy Kinders - violin
Dad - trumpet
Bob Bowers - trumpet
Stanley Lentz - clarinet
David Manduka - clarinet
Jane Lentz - flute
Jean Manduka - piano

He said they would play and it would never fail that he and Bob Bowers would start laughing and next thing he'd know the notes would come out a bit stilted, because of their giggles. He said anytime he sat next to Bob, whether it was in the orchestra or just on a pew for service, they would start laughing. He said he was surprisingly immature in those days. Shocking, I know.

Christmas Programs

Every year at Christmas, the kids would put on a Christmas program. In the sanctuary, in the pulpit area, there were thick curtains. And, behind those curtains was a set of doors. For the program, the doors were opened and the kids would do their performance to the joy and adoration of their parents and the other members of the congregation. They would practice for weeks - every Saturday and Sunday afternoon for 4-5 weeks. But they never seemed to get it until the day of the actual performance, when it would miraculously go off without a hitch. They would say their verse, "...which is Christ the LORD." VERY LOUDLY! Well, at least dad said it really loudly. I don't know that at that age, he really understood the whole "indoor voice" thing. Neither does my son though, so it might be genetic. ;-) He said he would see his mom in the audience, mouthing the words along with him. The Christmas program was something they all looked forward to every year.

Noisy

When dad was a kid, there were old pews in the sanctuary. Not like the ones I knew of when I would go there. These were old wooden ones that had splinters and would occasionally grab the back of their pants. Dad didn't like that. But, in the very back of the sanctuary, behind the back pew, were 2 chairs. Normally a pair of brothers - Addison and Kelly Brookfield - would sit there. They walked a very long distance to church each morning and sometimes Sunday night as well. They walked from Garden Terrace, which was pretty far away. Well, those nights they didn't show up, dad and his brother Carl would take those seats. Debbie and Judi would be sitting with their friends, while they sat in those chairs in the back. Since they weren't sitting with their mom, they would get a little noisy. Grandpa would be in the middle of his sermon and say, "Rose, do something." so those boys would quiet down. Let's just say it didn't work very often...or for very long. ;-)

Dirigibles Addendum

Dad called me the other day to let me know he was reading his blog and told me I was, and I quote, "A filthy liar". Apparently in my post about dirigibles I said that they became commonplace and that his fear of them didn't persist. I guess I took that liberty of ASSUMING that he got over that fear, but he did not. He still hates them and is still scared of them. He said he's not scared of Goodyear blimps and that he could quote "beat the crap out of those things", but the big, giant flying dirigibles are still scary. So, I guess it's better that everyone knows he's a 62 yr old wuss, so I'm not a "filthy liar". ;-) You're welcome.

Sweetness

Like I said in the previous post, dad had his less than shining moments in his childhood, but he also had his sweet moments. Now, when dad was a kid there were lots of "mom and pop" stores in the downtown area. Grocery stores to be precise. He listed off 6-7 just off the top of his head. "One on every corner," he said. There was also a stable that used to house horses that burnt down one night, killing 4-5 horses as well as the stable master. When that burned down, and A&P opened in its place. The A&P was a big grocery store and those little mom and pop shops couldn't compete with its prices, so slowly all those little shops closed down. Well, dad used to go up to the A&P and put ladies' shopping carts away for them. He would go up to a lady in the parking lot and say, "Can I put that cart away for you?" and they'd thank him and give him a nickel or a dime or something like that. Dad would do that quite often and when he got a collection of those coins, he'd go uptown to buy little figurines at Mrs. Sturdivent, at the top of 3rd Ave. She had a small little store on the back porch area of her house. These little figurines cost .49 a piece, so he would have to put a lot of carts away in order to get one of these and he'd usually buy a little rabbit. Then he'd take these little rabbits and give them to women in the church that he liked. Women like Mrs. Dunn, Mrs. Bowers, Aunt Blanche, and his mom too, of course. One time he even rode his bike up to the "Good News Club" where he had a nice teacher and gave her one as well. So, even though he was an ornery stinker a lot of the time, he also had a sweet spot and he used that sweetness to charm those ladies, so it would help soften them up for the next time he did something that got him in trouble. :-)

What did he say?!

Every year at Christmas, the Sunday School teachers would give their kids gifts. One year dad's teacher Mrs Kay Dunn gave him a small plastic plane and a cowboy-style handkerchief. Dad, being the snot that he was, threw the plane down and said "I don't want!" and stomped away. Grandma was MORTIFIED (as any mother of a horribly ungrateful child would be)! He, of course, got in big trouble when he got home, but a few days later, he was playing at Phil Musimaci's house and played with that little plane all afternoon. Really having a good time with it. It was pretty cool after all! So, he very humbly went back to church on Sunday, found Mrs. Dunn and told her that he played with that plane at Phil's house and really liked it. And, bless Mrs. Dunn, she looked at him with a smile and said "Thank you, Mark." and let it end at that.

Services

One thing I learned in talking with my dad about Mt Calvary was how many times they actually were IN church! Now, I feel like I'm at my church a lot and growing up felt I was at every function and every service at that church, but I don't think even that compared to how many times my dad found himself in church. The had so many opportunities to worship back then, which is something rarely found today. There was always Sunday School and normal Sunday morning service as well as Sunday evening service. There was also prayer meetings on Wednesdays and youth groups. But, they also had many special services throughout the year. For New Year's Eve they had a service where they would pray in the new year. Isn't that wonderful?! I love that idea! The kids would be in the basement, eating donuts and hot cocoa. Maybe playing a little ping-pong or something, while the adults met upstairs. Then when midnight would roll around they would either be on their knees praying or having communion. Dad said it wasn't until college that he actually was up and out in the streets to experience New Year's Eve the way most of us normally do. They would have a Thanksgiving service from 10-11 and another one in the evening as a time of praise and thankfulness. He did say though, by the time everyone had their turkey, they were all pretty sleepy for that evening service. ;-) Every Good Friday from 12-3 my grandpa, Father Dawson, and Rev. Lott (both from other churches) would get together and perform a service together. Always talking about the 7 words on the cross. This is something they did each and every year for many years. Then grandpa would give an evening service that night as well. I think hearing all that makes me realize even more what a testament to the love of Christ my grandpa, and grandma too for that matter, had. And, the desire he had to offer his congregation the opportunity to worship together and often. And, you know my grandma was right by his side the entire time. Our lives are often so busy we don't take the time to give praise and thankfulness to God like we ought to. We don't take time off to pray in the new year or listen to the story of the cross on our day off. I'm sure there were many times that dad got tired of going to church all the time. I know I did as a kid. But, to still have that foundation and knowledge and love given to you, before he even really knew to appreciate it is something in itself to be thankful for.

Bribery

In order for Miss Dodge to get my dad to behave better and do his work in Children's Church, she pulled him aside one day and told him she would give him a nickel if he learned the 100th Psalm. Well, heck!, a nickel was a lot back then, so he set to work to memorize that Psalm. He worked really hard and learned it and recited it to Miss Dodge and got his nickel. She realized this was the way to encourage my dad, so she continued to give him verses to memorize, all with the promise of a nickel if he did. He learned several verses this way. I didn't ask him if Miss Dodge lived long enough to see him become a pastor, but I wonder if those verses he memorized to get those nickels were verses he remembered and used when he was in college and later seminary and if she realized that she planted that seed all those years ago just in her attempt to get a little, ornery boy to do his lessons at church.

Children's Church

The picture above is the church my grandpa pastored for over 50 years. This little church called Mount Calvary had a ground floor and a basement. That was it. It had a sanctuary on the ground floor with a larger room in the back, a bathroom, and another small room beside the bathroom. When I was a kid that room was full of my grandpa's books, but I believe dad told me it was used at that time as a Sunday School classroom. Then, you would walk downstairs at the back of the church to get to the basement. This was a large room with heavy curtain dividers to section it off. The area you walked into immediately at the bottom of the stairs, they sectioned off for children's church. A very old Miss Josephine Dodge and her sister Miss Camilla Dodge ran the children's church during dad's time in there. They were spinsters who lived on Blackhorse Pike by the Wentzels. Dad said their favorite song was "I Met Jesus at the Crossroads" and they sang it every week - which dad used as the opportunity to sing it to me as well ... in its entirety. Even after I begged him to stop. Now the teachers would scotch tape something under one chair in the room and if you were good, they would call on your name to look under your chair to see if they had something under there. If they did, they got to sit in the gold chair the next week and get a lollipop. Dad sometimes had that tag under his chair, but he never won the prize. Why, you ask? Because he was never good, therefore never got his name called. He said he could tell me stories of some of the things he and his brother Carl would do to aggravate his teachers, so I think I'll have to post about those some time soon. :-)

*Thanks to Aunt Judi for the picture I was able to copy from her blog

http://www.runnemederemembered.blogspot.com/

Mount Calvary Union Church

Mount Calvary Union Church is the church that my grandfather was the minister at for over 50 years. Only ending his ministry when he was physically unable to do it anymore at the age of 88. It's a quaint little church just down the sidewalk from my grandparents' house. There's something about that church that just brings a smile to my face. Though we only would visit my grandparents once a year, I have many memories - snippets of things - that I remember about that place. They will be celebrating the 100th anniversary of that church next year sometime, so I asked my dad to share some memories of that little church that he called home for all of his young life. I asked him to list some of the people he knew over the years that came into his life during his life and he started listing off names of people, sharing brief stories about each of them. Going almost so quickly, that I couldn't keep up! Here are some of the people he mentioned...

Bill and Marion Manduka

Bob and Hazel Fisher

Paul and Vi Turner

Ben and Peg Wallace

Mr. and Mrs. Perozzi

Mr. and Mrs. Youngblood

El and Blanche Wentzel

Axel and Hulda Aspling (they referred to them as "grandma" and "grandpa")

Mrs. Nordt

Mrs. Haines

Mr. and Mrs. Harris

Mr. and Mrs. Krudwig

Mr. and Mrs. White

Mr. and Mrs. Kenders

These were just a few of the names I caught and was able to write down. In the stories he told, that I'll post about later, you'll hear more of the names of people that touched his life in many, many ways. Some of whom even I remember meeting and witnessing the deep love they had for my dad and my mom and my grandparents. This little church housed a great many people over the years, though it is small in size, and touched each and every one of them in one way or another. I'm not sure when the picture above was taken, but that is the front of the church, with my grandpa standing on the steps. I look forward to getting back there again sometime soon and walking down the little sidewalk to the church steps like I did when we would visit. Just wish that that little trip would be made after getting ready in my grandparents' house, with grandpa walking around, making sure dad was speaking out of a KJ bible and not the NIV, which dad would always tease him about. I miss that time. But, the church still stands as a testament to both my grandfather and the wonderful people of Runnemede that made it such a special place to worship the Lord.

Dirigibles

Lakehurst Naval Air Station was the landing grounds for dirigibles back in the 1950s. And, Lakehurst was just 15-20 miles north of Runnemede. Dad can still remember clearly seeing those dirigibles coming from a distance and as it flew in, it got lower in the sky, because it was approaching it's landing strip out at the station. Now you might be picturing the Goodyear blimp like we see flying over football stadiums and baseball games, but that's not what these were. These were mammoth flying ships - HUGE, amazing pieces of engineering. Dad said it was like they flew right over the house and would black out the sky with its enormity! Now this was during the Cold War, so in dad's young mind, it was like a huge Russian missile was approaching and it would oftentimes scare him. But, they became very commonplace and that fear didn't persist. He said he would see these things almost weekly, fly in from a distance, decend as it got closer. and fly overheard on its way to the naval station and was always an amazing sight. The picture above is of one of these flying ships as it ascended from the naval yard back in 1959.

The Lumberyard

When my dad was 7 yrs old, he was at an evening service at church when he heard the fire sirens go off outside. Because Runnemede at the time only had a volunteer fire department, several of the men in the congregation left quickly. Dad said it was either fall or winter, because it was already dark outside at the time. Though many looked around, wondering what the fire sirens could mean, they stayed and finished out the service. It wasn't until the service was over that he began to hear a commotion outside, followed by his brother Carl running in the church crying. Dad immediately ran out the front doors of the church to see what was going on. As soon as he stepped outside he was greeted by a wall of red. The sky had filled with the glowing sky from a fire at the lumberyard just a little over a block away. He had never seen anything like it and was scared to death! He said he was convinced that Satan was coming for all of them on a ball of fire. The fire was so intense that the sky was just bright red from the thing. After his mom assured them that they would be ok, they went home and got into bed. The fire still raging into the night. The next morning, they woke up and the fire was out, but he said that memory of that moment when he stepped outside the church doors is as vivid today as it was then - the glowing red sky of that massive fire.

The First Ball Game

When dad told me this story a couple months ago, I was holding on to it, because he wanted to have me do a talky blog with it. He thought it would better explain his experience. But, we've both been so overly busy, I haven't been able to get any new stories. So, I figured I might as well post it and do a talky blog about it later to add more of his ideas to the story. Here is dad's recollection of his very first major league baseball game experience...

As many of you know, by 1959 Dad was deeply in love with the sport of baseball. He had started getting into it a couple years previous to that. So, by 1959 he was obsessed completely with the game. He was a HUGE Phillies fan and listened to every game on the radio, cheering on his favorite players and occasionally getting to watch a game on their little b/w tv. On Aug 18, 1959 dad was invited to go a Phillies game at Connie Mack Stadium with David Wallace, Phil Musumaci, and the David's dad Ben. Ben paid for everything in fact, so that my dad could go. Now, Philadelphia is known as the city of concrete and steel. You drive into it and it's not particularly pretty. There are smoke stacks and buildings and it's fairly dirty. Not a lot of grass and plantings around. Well, they arrived at the stadium and walked in on the ground level, having to climb up to get to Grand Stand level. He said what happened next was perhaps the most sensual experience of his life - and by "sensual" he means "sense-heightening". Don't think I didn't raise my eyebrow when he said that. ;-) Anyway, when he walked out into the stands, he was immediately greeted by massive color. Green lawns, red uniforms (they were playing the Cincinnati Red Legs, so they had red uniforms too), browns dirt, etc... The players he had loved and watched on his small b/w tv were now it full form, in living color, right in front of his eyes. The smells of the stadium like cigar smoke, hot dogs, all permeated the air. The feeling he had inside as he looked around and experienced this whole arena was indescribable. You have to remember that his life was centered around baseball. He lived and breathed the sport. No one he knew loved it like he did. Collected full baseball card sets like he did. And, here he was living his dream basically by sitting in the stands at the ball field, ready to see his heroes play in front of his eyes. The game started off being very exciting. The Phils were up 8-0 very early in the game, but eventually lost 14-11. Though the outcome wasn't what he had hoped, the experience of that very first ball game is seared into his senses and as real today as it was then. He's been to many ball games since, but none quite as amazing as his first back on that summer day in August of 1959.

Good Grief, I Missed Dad's Birthday!

August 23rd, 1947 - John Mark Drexler was born. August 23rd, 2009 - His oldest daughter (me!) totally forgets to post about it on the blog. Doh! Yes, dad's 62nd birthday was last Sunday and sadly it was not his favorite birthday. Why, you ask? Simple answer - no pie. I called him on his birthday to see how it went and all he did for that 20 min conversation was go on and on about the fact that no one gave him any pies. I began to question him on this, knowing full well that answer I was about to receive would just make me laugh and shake my head at his insanity, but I just had to know what he meant about the pies. In his old age, he has become more shameless than ever before. Blatantly telling his congregation, truly anyone who would listen, for weeks prior to his birthday that all he wanted for his birthday was pie. And, since his birthday fell on a Sunday, he woke up that morning, expecting to come home with 6-7 pies that he could enjoy that afternoon when he got home. This was not to be, because most logical people thought, "Surely this man isn't bold enough to ask us outright for pies. He must be joking." They were wrong. I asked him, "Did you get any well wishes or anything?" Oh, yes, he got many cards, lots of birthday wishes, even candy and a couple gifts, but was he satisfied. Of course not, because all he wanted was pie. The days following, he continued to complain about his lack of pies. So much so that 3 different people that week provided him with pies. This calmed the beast inside of him and he was much happier. Fully able now to enjoy his cards and gifts from the kind people of his church. I tell you this story, not just for an opportunity to mock my father, which is indeed one of my favorite things to do, but also to give you a glimpse into the life of my father that began back in 1947. Through the stories he shares with me, that I in turn share with you, you can see that he was quite an ornery child. Always full of humor, but definitely a bit rambunctious. That humor and craziness has not died down as he's gotten older. If anything it has gotten worse and more hilarious. So yes, I forgot to post about his birthday and am here now posting a week late. But, as you can see, I got so caught up in his silly pie escapade, that it completely slipped my mind. But, I share with you now some pictures, not previously posted here, of my dad when he was a kid.



This is one my favorites of his early years. Such an absolute cutie. No one would've suspected that he would one day grow up and take knives to the door frames of his kitchen in an attempt to be Ramar of the Jungle.

Here he is in kindergarten. I do believe that little unevenness in his hair was caused by his attempt to cut it that morning, if I'm not mistaken. Think he looks a little like my Noah here. :-)

Here he is with his 2 older sisters. Ready to enjoy the winter cold.

And, a teenager, playing his most beloved game of baseball. Who one day would forego all his wishes and dreams for just a few moments of pie nearly half a century later. Love you dad and hope your next birthday is filled with everything you want and more!

What a Game!

My dad used to LOVE the Phillies. I mean really truly loved them. He would listen to them on his little pink radio every single time they played. And, he would look forward to hearing about the players and everything that had to do with the team. Now, they weren't really a good team sadly, but that didn't keep him from wanting to cheer them on and listen to them religiously when they were playing. When he was 14 yrs old, his brother Carl had gotten into a bit of trouble. He had cursed out a lady that was in a parking lot and got himself arrested, because back in the late '50s/early 60s you didn't curse out a women, even if it was South Jersey. Gramps had to go get him out of jail and he was, as you can imagine, not happy. And, when Gramps was upset, the kids got punished. Dad's in his bedroom, listening to the game on his radio when he hears his dad and brother return. He then hears his dad say, "You're going to take this." and heard Carl start getting spanked. And, back then, you didn't just use the back of your hand. You used an instrument of some sort. It wasn't fun. Because it hurt, his brother Carl was trying to get away from Grandpa and the commotion was getting louder. Dad was leaning closer to the radio, so he could keep hearing the game over the sounds in the kitchen. The Phillies, who were losing 4-1 in the 9th, were beginning to rally and he didn't want to miss a thing! He was thrilled!!! But, as the game gets more exciting, he begins to notice the noise from the kitchen getting louder and louder and before he knows it Carl is running through the room and runs up the stairs, crying all the way. Grandpa is now in his room with the whip in his hand, just holding it and starts staring at dad. Dad knew if he moved a single muscle, he would end up seeing the other end of that whip, so he sits perfectly still by that radio - not wanting his dad's anger at his brother to shift to him! As he sits there like a statue, he hears the Phillies pull off the victory. Bottom of the 9th, they end up winning 5-4!! He's screaming inside with joy, wanting to jump up and down and yell out in excitement, but continues to not say anything or move a single muscle until Grandpa leaves the room. He was so mad at his brother that night for ruining such a great game for him!

Christmastime

Every year Santa would set up a booth in Freddy's parking lot, a local bar. They would climb up into this booth, sit on Santa's lap, and tell him what they wanted. Then he would give you a candy cane. Not a little candy cane, like you often see today, but a large candy cane. When dad was a teenager, he would go up there just to get that candy cane. Santa was on to him by then though, because as soon as dad would walk up there, Santa would just hand him the cane. He wouldn't bother asking what he wanted for Christmas. Just knew he was there for the cane. :-) Anyway, there was a time where, if you told them where you lived and stuff, they would bring Santa around in a firetruck and he would bring you one of the things you asked for. How awesome is that?! They didn't do it every year or anything, but the few times they did were memorable ones for my dad.