Who am I?

I must have been standing nearby when the genealogy bug bit my dad. Cause it's in my bloodstream too.
Who am I?
 I'm Michele Frey. I was born a Newswanger. I come from Sauders, Zimmermans, Weavers, and Shirks. (The kind that couldn't come up with names other than Joseph & Peter.) In that line, I can trace back, way back. Me, Aaron, George, Esther, Peter, Joseph, Peter, Joseph, Peter and on back thru to when Peter & Maria came across the ocean to America.
 Should I choose to go back thru the Sauders, or Weavers. I could do that. And tell me, who in Lancaster Co. doesn't know of the existence of the Zimmerman Book. I come from a long line of talented people. Entrepreneurs, Iinventors, Singers, Engineers. (drill a tunnel thru a Swiss mountain from both ends and meet in the middle kind of engineers.) People who helped out others in need. People I've never met, but their stories I have heard many times over.
  I'm related to so many people, & alot of them, I know that I'm related to them.
  Not so in my husbands family.
  A recent genealogy book re sparked my interest into his family. When following his family back, it stops at his Grandfather. He was a foster child. His last name at birth was Frey, or Fry. We don't know for sure which one. He has 2 brothers. At least that's what we think. The book that I read recently said at 17 he went back to live with his birth parents for a brief time, but left because it wasn't a nice situation. That was new information for us. He died in 2006.
  For someone like me who can run into someone at Walmart and possibly be related, and possibly know how we are related, I find this situation frustrating and somewhat sad.
  When I run across someone on facebook with the same last name-spelled either way. I search their faces for familial resemblance. I search county websites for news of people with the same last name. I've spent hours searching obituaries for women who would have been born the same year Grandpa's mom was born. I attempt to find places that give free information like birth records. I have news for you. Even free birth records online are not free. I hope that someday. Hopefully sooner rather than later, that I can get some answers. I'm not looking for a big Frey/Fry family hug, or even a reunion. I just want to know where he comes from.
  The odds of me even knowing my husband are very slim, had it not been for grandpa's mom giving him up. It's a startling idea. How one choice can absolutely change many lives. Grandpa Frey was raised in a Christian family. Because of that choice, I have a husband with a Christian heritage that cannot be replaced, no matter what the genealogy search uncovers.

The love of money...

Is some days the root of much amusement. :)

It all started back on a cold day in late December.
C called me on his way home from work. He needed to make a stop to check on a friends elderly mother who after taking some pills began to feel ill. Friend called C since he is an EMT to see if he could check up on her since he (friend) was about an hour from home.
So... C did. She was fine, just happened to take them on an empty stomach.
About a week later, we got a little envelope in our mailbox. In little old lady handwriting, it was addressed to C. It held a sincere thank-you note, and a $20 bill. While it was unnecessary, & certainly unexpected, C hung on to that $20 like gold.
                 
                   See, before C & I  got together he paid cash for
                   simply everything. Me not so much. My Debit  Card
                   was my sidekick, & the two of us got along like very
                   old friends.
                   After we got married, by default I became the keeper
                   of the checkbook. Perhaps because C's way of balancing
                   his account was "withdraw cash, look at balance on
                   receipt" :)
                  Once we got settled into our budget, we talked of doing
                   a monthly spending allowance. You know, for the snack
                   thing at work, or in C's case a soda every now & then.
                   Time goes on, and the whole allowance thing kinda fell
                   by the wayside.

All that brings us to last night. I'm laying in bed, & see C frantically digging through his work pants pockets, moving stuff around at the head of the bed, trying to look down between the wall & the mattress. Suddenly he gives me an accusing look & says "Did you take me dollar?"
At that point I cracked up laughing. Like that was going to help my case for innocence....I finally convinced him I did not take it from him, & it probably came out of his pocket somewhere & is lost.
The dear lost dollar was the last of his $20. He gave me a sad look, and we went to sleep.  I fell asleep thinking that perhaps I am depriving my husband a little too much if he is getting sad over $1.
Then this morning, in the murky blurry eyed moments before I was completely awake, I see a folded dollar held up in front of my nose & an excited-because-it's-Christmas kind of voice say....I found my dollar! 

And that my friends is the man I love :)

Family Camping

It's close
It's fun
It's family

This is the second year that we went camping in the Back 40. Otherwise known as the big area behind my dad's shop.

 

Dad watching over breakfast.
I think its kinda cool how the tripod frames an A for Aaron ;) 



Kirsten digging her mini marshmallos out of her hot chocolate.



Saturday was a clean up day at the shop. For some reason the men like doing things like driving the Hyster & pulling tress out by their roots, walking on the roof and pulling down tree branches, and going up in high lifts to fix windows on buildings.

While cleaning up a spot right near the campfire, Curt found a snake... thus the eager anticipation of Lucy & Christine to see but not be food put them on a higher level :)

 

Dad or otherwise refered to as Grandpa...enjoying some food with a few of his girls.



Dave going up to do the window.

Hauling fire wood

 

The happy littlest camper :)



I think this was during church.

It was a great weekend. Laughing, Talking, Playing settlers...Doing things that family was meant to do.

my dad....my hero

There is this unexplainable bond between a dad and his daughters....

at least there is with my dad and this particular daughter.

My dad has always been one of the strongest men I know.

He was my first knight in shining armor.

He held the hose and sprayed cold water on my foot when i dropped a brick on it. He asked me if I could wiggle my toes. I could, so he told me it's probably not broken and if I lay on the sofa a little bit, it will feel better soon.

He had the heaviest baseball bat I ever used. He used to hit balls out to my sisters in the evenings, and my goal was to one day be able to hit as far as he did. When I hit my first home run way out into center field, he was the first one I thought of.

He tried to tell me what x-rays are like the first time we thought I broke my ankle. (yes there were several times x-rays were needed.)

He grabbed me from the table and sat me in the sink of cold water, when hot gravy got spilled on me.

He took me to the ER when a dizzy spell and a conk on the head made me forget what I had done the last 2 days.

He taught me to parallel park, and apparently he taught me well. I passed my drivers test.

He went with me when I bought my car.

He has been there through sprains & strains & knee surgeries & heart issues. He taught me to explore, to figure things out, and to think for myself.

Yesterday my dad went for a stress test. They discovered that sometime in the recent past, my dad had a heart attack, and the left ventricle is only functioning at 17%.

So he is scheduled for a heart catherization, and more tests and doctor visits.

I wish I could rescue him like he has rescued me so many times.

I wish I could tell him to wiggle his toes and lie down a little and it will be OK.

But it doesn't work that way.

So, I'm putting my hero in the the capable hands of The Hero.

and it's all gonna be OK