Time Capsule

There is an old house in Newberg that will soon be torn down.  It will be removed to make room for a development.  It’s the last house on South River Street, next to the rail road tracks.  Jacob and Katherine Dressel moved into that house with their nine children when they arrived in Newberg in 1928.

My grandmother, Verna, was one of the nine finding her new home here about a week before her 13^th birthday.  Her nine-year-old brother, Levi, would many years later become a father-figure to me and a grandfather to my sons.  My first grandson is named after him.

I remember Levi saying, “In those days, River Street was a tough neighborhood, and the farther south you went, the tougher it got – and we lived at the end of the street.”

Before the house was to be demolished, some of the siding had been removed.  A tree feller working there walked over to look at the open wall.  It had been filled with sawdust for insulation. 

He noticed something sticking out of the sawdust and carefully pulled it out to discover it was a very old envelope marked, OFFICIAL ENCLOSURE.  The return address printed under a canopy of wings read: Jimmie Allen Flying Club. 

The envelope contained a letter confirming the recipient’s membership in the Jimmie Allen Flying Club, an official Membership Card, and a pair of engraved metal wings (like an ID bracelet).

The Air Adventures of Jimmie Allen was a radio show about a sixteen-year-old pilot.  Targeting kids and teens, it was broadcast from 1933 until 1937.

It wasn’t until that evening when the tree feller was examining this treasure with his wife, that he noticed the name of the new Flying Cadet – Dale Dressel – brother of the tree feller’s grandfather – Levi.

You might shrug this off as a small-town coincidence but consider the odds.

Darin, the tree feller, knew that generations ago, the Dressel family lived on south River Street, but he didn’t know the house.

What are the odds:

1. Of Darin felling trees at that house
2. Of Darin felling trees at that house after the siding on that wall was removed
3. Of Darin felling trees at that house after the siding on that wall was removed, but before the house was demolished
4. Of Darin spotting and retrieving that envelope that had been encased in the sawdust, in the wall, for at least 87 years (and would probably be bulldozed within the next few weeks).

And, a bonus mystery:  Darin said the envelope was not at the bottom of the wall cavity, as if arriving there before the sawdust was added, and it was not at the top of the wall cavity, as if placed there after the sawdust was installed.  It was in the middle of the wall.

The last of the nine Dressel siblings died on Valentine’s Day.  My Aunt Florene’s passing wasn’t just the end of a generation, it marked the end of an era.  She was the youngest of the nine, arriving in Newberg when she was just 18 months old.

The reception at her memorial service was much like the long ago Dressel Reunions at Zion Lutheran church on River Street.  I’ve attended those family reunions since I can remember, and Aunt Florene was always there, usually in the kitchen, one of the key figures administering the event. 

Outside of family gatherings, my family didn’t spend time with her family, I have no specific memories of her, except that she was always there.

She cared for her sister, Emma, checking in on her daily, cooking, driving, delivering, and visiting, until Em’s death at age 99.  It seems not long after that, Florene became the care receiver.  She was living with a granddaughter and family when she died about a week ago, a month short of age 94.

Lately, I’ve been cleaning out my file cabinets.  Not digital files – hard copies in folders, in hangers, in drawers.  Papers I have not looked at in years.  How did I collect these volumes?

I discovered many useless, worthless pages I could part with, although some are so old, they may be accruing a vague historical value.

There are also important documents I must keep – Titles, Certificates, Warranties, etc.  Some documents represent personal memories; I want to keep those.  I must keep those.  It’s a comfort to know they are there, safe in the folder, in the hanger, in a file cabinet where they will remain until something big happens. 

It occurred to me when we were resting Aunt Florene’s beautiful wooden casket on the straps holding it above the protective concrete vault, that placing there, a physical body no longer needed (in a casket, in a vault, in a cemetery) was a bit like me filing away my precious, hard copy memories.  I don’t want to give them up, so I store them safely in a place of honor, a place where I won’t forget them.

Darin brought the Jimmie Allen Flying Club envelope, letter, and wings to Florene’s memorial reception and gave them to Dale Dressel’s son, David. 

It was a sweet moment.