St. Louise Katherine (Kneuper) Martin

Sweet Devout Catholic … Teacher of Life Skills Toward Building Sustainable Social Fabric …
Seamstress, Pig Castrator, Truck Driver … Mentor for Numerous Aggies
(Lógicamente, ¡Una de las más queridas de mi vida!)

New Braunfels. “Brown rocks which are ‘new’”.

Mom Louise came from German town
(Though the indigenous ones and Latinos
Might beg to differ.)
New Braunfels. Brown rocks.
And the river, the Comal River, makes all rock smooth.

“We’ve done what we can.”
“It’s water under the bridge.”
“We’ve learned by our mistakes. Now let’s move on.”
The Comal River makes all rock smooth.
Some rocks are smoother than others!

New Braunfels. Brown rocks.
The Comal River makes all rocks smooth.
Some rocks are smoother than others!!!

 

Commencement with Dad Alton

(First I must say,
On what will be a very sad and very joyous day,
Something that I wasn’t afforded–some fifteen years back …to say …
On another very sad and joyous day …
That is in minds, souls, and hearts … some so far away.

She married him
Despite his sin.
Therefore, he must’ve been the best
I sincerely believe so; I do not jest!)
…………………………

 

Life of St. Louise

Grandma Amalia Meurer left this world
When Louise was only nine,
And Grandpa Paul couldn’t hold it all together.
It was The Great Depression!
He lost the North Cliff farm.
And off to sharecrop in Stockdale they went.
Then Elmendorf
And managing a KC Bowling alley
In San Antonio.

Subbing-in mothers were several
For young Louise during that time.
Aunt Johanna, Aunt Bertha, … .
Unrelated, but better than gold, Momma Shinert, … .

Schools were many.
St. Joseph’s, St. Peter & Paul, Green Valley Public School,
Our Lady of Perpetual Help, Stockdale Public School.
And only to the Eighth Grade.
A bumpy, lumpy formal education
But a good education nonetheless.
(I’ll stack her skills:
In the three Rs,
Understanding of basic applied ecology,
Critical thinking,
And practicing a sustainable livelihood
Against anyone’s.

Moreover, …
She spoke and wrote alemán y inglés!)

Then during the War
Louise Katherine Kneuper landed a job with Southern Bell.
And on a neighbor’s–Uncle Peggy’s–dairy farm in Elmendorf,
Met this Paul Newman-ish Marine.
Soon thereafter, Papa Paul passed
During those tough years of Hitler’s rage.

“Paul Newman” aka Luther Alton Martin
And Louise married in ’46–
After his years in the Pacific, Australia, Peleliu, …
(And after Alton’s dear and favorite brother, Bain
Was killed in Germany, February 25th, 1945
Close to Louise Kneuper’s Holler roots.)

(When Mom’s brother Bernard visited
Alton’s law was that no German
Would be spoken in his house!)

In the moments of our growing up,
He, Alton, was a de facto–
God of the Old Testament
To we six …
And to Mom Louise.
(“Honey, bring me some tea.”
Slam, bam. There it was by His side.
Meals were always ready
On time. His time!
“We’ll get up at three
And leave for Stockdale!”
And we did!
“Let’s start putting up that corn.”
And as soon as He spoke
The Martin team began processing it
Into jars and the freezer.
“This is the list of jobs
The boys need to complete this week.”
And poor Mom agonized
Over her strategies and tactics
To get us to realize
This action plan
In the commanded time.

He demanded that we adhere
To his team approach
In smoothly performing
The–before school and after—chores
(Though brother Lawrence and I fought
Terribly and wastefully
Many, many mornings and evenings
Over who was to milk the cow).
We planted the garden and fruit trees,
Picked mustang grapes and dewberries,
Put up green beans, sweet corn and field, … ,
Laid water lines,
Built fence and sheds, farrowing pens, the garage, … .

Recently Mom confessed
That she had much dreaded
Dad’s ubiquitous and regular lists
Of things for us to do after school
And during each and every weekend.
She wasn’t a Taskmaster
But she had to be “the taskmaster”.

I walked into Alton and Louise’s living room …
Full of sisters-in-laws
One Christmas Day
“Don’t you ever let those boys do you
Like Alton did me!”
“Mom!?!” I exclaimed
In a kidding manner,
Realizing I’d never get my way
For a life of Alton Martin.

Looking back
Mom Louise was the real god,
The true God of the New Testament.
Humble, caring, wise, sharing, calm.
Not a warrior or Taskmaster,
But a Princess of Peace.
(If Mom sensed Dad was flirting
The target of the flirt
Became her good friend.)

Her years were tough,
But always Good!
For her
And those around.
(She’s now lost her capacity
To verbally communicate.),
But it was always …
“Don’t fret over it!
That’s water under the bridge!”

As with Opa Paul,
Farming didn’t go so well
For Alton and Louise
In the time it never rained of the 1950s.
But Alton’s eldest brother, Uncle Peggy,
Had a plan.
Now not dairying and car-dealing from Elmendorf–
But feed-milling in Devine Town–
For his young brother,
Peggy had a plan.
It was off to the edge of the Brush Country
For Alton and Louise
“It’ll only be a year!” they said.

But the year was the rest of their lives.
The Gateway to South Texas
Became a good place to be.

Still they had cows back in the Dale of Stock,
A distant seventy miles away.
“Shit Honey.
That cow I brought back here Sunday to Devine
Must have a calf
Lying lonely
On the Stockdale farm. …
It’s Monday
And a Peggy Martin workday.
I’ve got to get to the mill!
You’ll have to go back to The Farm
And find that calf.”

And she did.

Big loveably black Johnnie Taylor,
Then us.
And when we grew and left
And came home infrequently …
It was she!
Brother Charlie taught her to castrate.
Dad held.
St. Louise did the emasculating surgery;
Taking their little huevos
In order to raise them
For profitable sale.
(They were an amazing …
And loving …
Pair.)

Louise Katherine Kneuper Martin
Regularly drove loads of hogs
In the green bob-tail Chevy
(Purchased there in Devine in 1955
From cigar-chomping George Fernandez) …
She drove el camión verde
From the five acres in Devine
To the auction or Swift and Company–
Markets in Ol’ San Antone.

There are so many, many stories I could tell.
Some very good, some quite bad.
Some sad. Some glad!

My first prom circa nineteen-sixty.
“Mom, I’ll die if I have to wear
A homemade sport coat!”
But the white linen one she sewed
Was more special than any there!

“A white sports coat and a pink carnation
I’m all dressed up for the dance”

St. Louise’s home-made double-breasted suit,
I’m certain, …
Got brother Dr. John Russell Martin
Accepted by three medical schools!

Incredibly delicious … nutritious … cinnamon-pecan pastries
Covered with a buttery-sugary drench.
Sent by mail to fish martin
Who was in the Corps’ Animal Eight
In College Station, Texas.
And the cinnamon roll-greedy knucklehead
Did not share.
He ate ‘em all! There were none to spare!!

Mom Louise’s date nut loaf at Christmas.
Dewberry pies and cobblers
(Dewberries picked from The Farm
Near Stock’s Dale.).
Tapioca, bread, custard, rice puddings.
And so much more!
All so very tasty.
(Esta alemana even made
Enchiladas y tamales!)

Diaper changing and their rubboard washing.
(Dad sometimes complained
That he had to do more
Than his share of mine,
His first-born.)

Sewing, canning, freezing.

Soaking mesquite thorn- and rusty nail-punctured young feet
In kerosene;
Then slapping on some salt pork
To draw down the swelling
And quiet the sore.

Mom Louise taught me to swim
Even though she doesn’t.
She read me the lessons in my early years
From outside Uncle Peggy’s irrigation reservoir,
And made sure I attended Webelos swimming classes
At the Frank, Senior and Josephine Fordtran Bain’s pool.

She read from the little Catholic books
About fish eggs and sperm
When I was twelve or ten.
But in spite of all the breeding animals around me …
I was super slow and didn’t understand.
(It was Jimmy Weber, and other sorts—
With older siblings–
Who began to somewhat crudely teach me
About the birds … AND the bees.)

All of us Martins had much to learn.
And Mom patiently weathered
The painful process,
The trials and tribulations.

Mom stressed early in my youth
That if I wanted an alcoholic beverage
To just let her know
And I could enjoy it at home
There with her. …
But that was no fun.

In my twenties, in particular,
I spiritually wrestled with–
Many of the teachings of the Church,
Social injustice, Vietnam,
Those who had POWER!
Insecurity and where I was headed in life
(And still do fifty years later.)
Like many others
The crutch I chose to use
To relieve the spiritual pains
Was ethanol.

One night late
A skinny young fellow,
A soldier, he’d been …
Sitting in the Warhorse Cafe in Devine Town
Bragged how rough and tough he was.
In my drunkenness and stupor
From far too much cerveza that eve,
I slurred,
“You don’t look so damned tough to me.”

Mom found me the next day,
Where they’d thrown me,
In the early morning dew
Of our yard grass,
Terribly scraped
And beaten to a pulp.
She carried me in
To sleep and recover
On what quickly became
A blood-caked bed.

Yes, the tales are countless.
But the themes are constant.
Mom was always–siempre
Humble, sweet, caring, prudent, and serene
But also tirelessly persevering and diligent …
And she still is!!!

 

Twilight Years

Two years ago
St. Louise celebrated her 94th
And she was good.

Then off to the Methodist for an operation
And two strokes later things have changed.
Reality, the philosopher’s concern,
Now seems somewhat lacking …
Or from the distant past
Or from a mixture of times and spaces.
The now is fleeting, fleeing.

But is that not the way it is
For all of us?

Mom St. Louise continues to love …
She’s so amiable, courteous, helpful, humble, giving.
Oh, that we were all St. Louises.

New Braunfels. Brown rocks.
The Comal River makes all rocks smooth.
However, some rocks are smoother than others!!!
……………………………..
pbm 3/29/2020
[ 7 Ss / VV->^^ ]