Family Reflections

Elise Fiscus

Every family contains stories that have been told from generation to generation.  These stories are what make each family unique in their own way.  Family reflections contribute to each person's heritage and history.  Stories in my family descend from my grandmother's childhood memories in Germany to my brother's careless sneaking-out mission that led to a hilarious apprehension.  These stories and more like it are what I grew up hearing, and more than likely what my children will grow up hearing as well.

Papo's Boxing Days

My grandfather, Armando Aguilar, was born in Kansas City, Missouri and was full-blooded Mexican.  When their family, consisting of my grandpa and his three siblings, moved into their first house on Tracy Street in downtown Kansas City, they realized people of their heritage were no where to be found.  They were the first Mexican family to move into the neighborhood and a rather elite one at that.  Because of this, my grandpa got teased a great deal.  He would comment that every day he would get beat up four times.  Kids would beat him up on the way to school in the morning, on the way home for lunch midday, on the way back to school, and then again on the way home from school.

My grandfather would even take different routes home from school to avoid the harassment and bullying.  Somehow the kids always ended up finding him.  After coming home and complaining every day about the bullying, my great-grandfather decided to enroll my grandpa in classes for boxing lessons with Joe Rivers.  My grandpa trained and trained for weeks.  The bullying was still happening everyday although; Joe Rivers told my grandfather to never fight back, not once, until he was ready.  He never did fight back, until the day came that he was ready.  When that day came, and the bullies saw that my grandfather could fight and hold his own, they left him alone.  After that day, anytime anyone ever picked on my grandfather, he let whoever it was have it and didn't even think twice.

Ol' German Temper

Erlangen, Germany was the birthplace of my grandmother, Hanne Lore Pühler, and her two siblings.  She lived in Germany until her twenties.  Her father was a doctor for the German army, and her mother was a typical housewife.  Her childhood was anything but typical nonetheless.  Because her father was employed with the army, every part of her daily routine had order and perfection.  My grandmother would go to school six days of the week, Sunday being the only day home.  Uniforms were required for school, so everyday she would wear a uniform and then have to take it off when she got home and change into her play clothes.

One specific story my grandmother has told several times involved an incident shining her father's shoes.  As she told us, she was told to shine her father's shoes and make them gleaming and spotless.  Her father was blessed with a mighty temper and if the shining wasn't done as nice as he would've liked it to be done, trouble would ensue.  In this instance, the shining wasn't done good enough.  He inspected the shoe to find some imperfection, and he picked up my grandma and tossed her across the room.  She hit the door of the apartment and the door gave way.  She rolled out across the hallway and slammed into the neighbor's door across the hall.  The man opened up the door to find my grandmother sprawled out in the hallway.  He had heard some commotion before hand, because he let my great-grandfather know that if he ever laid a hand on my grandmother again he would call child services on him.  This story has been told many a time while growing up.

Chirpy the Chicken

My mom's first pet growing up was a chicken named Chirpy.  In the third grade, her class had a project to take eggs, incubate them, and hatch baby chicks to take home.  Well my mom did this, and of course hatched a chick she named Chirpy.  They, my grandparents, uncle, and my mom all lived in a little house in Grandview, Missouri at the time.  It was in the suburbs, so no pasture existed for the chicken to roam.  My mom nurtured Chirpy like a regular pet, fed it, and played with it, the usual pet owner behavior.  When Chirpy started laying eggs, my mom would even make it a ritual to eat one of Chirpy's eggs every morning for breakfast.

As the years went on, Chirpy started drawing bugs.  Because of this, my mom had to send her pet chicken to live with her Aunt Alma, who had a farm with chickens and roosters.  About a year went by, and my mom went back to visit Chirpy.  To my mother's astonishment, when she saw her chicken, she noticed the top of her head was pecked up and her skull showed through.  My mom asked her aunt what had happened and she was told, "A rooster tried to mate with Chirpy and she was just too tame for that.  The rooster got upset and pecked her head."  After living at the farm so long, Chirpy became wild again and didn't remember my mom.  This broke my mother's heart.  She loved Chirpy so much, and her poor chicken didn't even know her anymore.

Supernatural Encounter

Growing up in the little town of Fredonia, Kansas, my dad had to use his vivid imagination to entertain himself.  Being the oldest of three brothers, he was a pretty mischievous kid.  Besides poking fun at his brothers, my dad would find interesting ways to entertain himself with his friends.  One specific story he's told many times took place when he was about fourteen years old.  Fourteen being the legal driving age in Kansas at that time, my dad and a bunch of friends took a car out one night looking to run in to some fun.  They pulled into the town's cemetery and parked the car.  They didn't have a specific agenda, they were just bored and decided to hang out in the cemetery.

As they were messing around, they heard a noise and got spooked.  My dad and his friends took off running in all directions.  The cemetery wasn't nearly as filled as it is now, so a great deal of open land existed.  It consisted of just field, not even trees.  My dad was running as fast as he could to get away from whatever frightened him, and the next thing he knew he was hit extremely hard by something that knocked the wind out of him causing him to land on his back.  He opened his eyes and got up, shaking it off.  He finally reached the car, and inside noticed his chest was hurting pretty bad.  He lifted up his shirt to find a long welt lying diagonally across his chest.  When he thought back about it, after he was hit and got back up, he remembered he saw nothing.  Nothing was in the field for him to run into; it was open pasture.  That story belongs to the collection of paranormal experiences my dad has encountered in his years.

Master of Games, Caught in the Act!

This last story comes from one of my memories.  My brother, Jeremy, growing up was one of the most careless, lazy, sister-bullying brothers a person could imagine.  Don't get me wrong, I love my brother but he did some of the meanest and most ignorant things a person could do growing up.  One specific time I remember happened when I was about ten years old.  My brother was about sixteen, a girl-crazy teenager.  This one particular night, my brother decided to sneak out of the house.  He had done it many times before so of course, he thought he was a pro and would never get caught.  His ritual would be popping the screen off the window and leaving the window unlocked, that way when he wanted to get back in the house, he would just open the window and unlock the door to let himself in.

Well, it was the dead of winter, and Jeremy once again left the screen off the window, but this time forgot to close the window when he left.  My mom just happened to come downstairs for something and noticed how cold the room was.  She went to the window and saw that it was open and closed it naturally.  She then ventured to my brother's room to ask him why the window was left open.  Much to her surprise, he wasn't in his room!  My mom went upstairs and let my dad know that Jeremy was missing, and my dad went downstairs to "sleep" until my brother decided to come home.  Meanwhile, I was sleeping soundly in my room.

My room is located facing east and so is my window.  I was having some really great sleep and the next thing I know I hear, "Lisi, Lisi, come on, let me in!"  Let's just say I was scared to death.  Here I am a ten year old and someone is yelling at me to let them in my house.  With my heart pounding, I went to my mom's room to let her know what was going on.  We all ventured downstairs to see the master at work caught in the act.  My brother tried his usual way of entrance once again, and when it didn't work, he knocked on the door.  He knew he was caught.  He walked in and let's just say he got a pretty good talking to and a grounding.

Stories like these make up a family's history.  These are passed on from generation to generation from grandkid to grandkid.  Hearing stories from my parents about my grandparents are always fun, but hearing them from the person who actually experienced them makes such an impact.  They regale about how they felt and they include so many more details about the story that nobody else could know.  I am fortunate to still have all of my grandparents with me to learn even more events they experienced to share with my children in the future.