Einstein showed that time was another dimension comparable to the three dimensions of space.
But a journey in time is quite different than a journey in space, even though a journey in space is done in time.
I have meditated on violence and its affect on people. I have started a journey in space about the affect of people of violence.
I am collecting here my personal journey in time of being touched by violence. I define that to be any time violence occurred and it affected me. Many of these events are back in the mists of memory. I will bring back what I can.
My oldest memory is not mine but my mother's. She says when I was very young, I went out with some neighbor children. She implied it was without her permission. At some point I took off my shoes and walked in dirty water. I got a piece of glass in my foot. She took me to a medical facility and had the glass removed. Since I was the first born, she put the piece of glass in my baby book, which I seem not to have anymore. But I have a strong and sure memory of the piece of glass in the book.
I don't remember what she said of the other children.
I don't remember how she looked when she told the story, but I think she felt betrayed. She spent her time and energy, and the money my father sent home from the war in the Pacific, raising me. She expected more of me. She always did.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Joseph C Kuebbing
- b.1924Jul29
- m.19?
- mil.enlist.1943Jul20 Cinn OH
- mil.ent.1943Aug10
- mil.x.1946Mar13?
- d.1994Jan25
- brother of
- Marcellus T Kuebbing
- Andrew George Kuebbing
- Eugene John Kuebbing
- Ermalinda Kuebbing
- husband of
- Martha
- father of
- C
Eugene John Kuebbing
- b.1919Mar2
- m.19?
- mil.enlist.1943Jan28 Cinn OH
- mil.ent.1943Feb4
- mil.x.1946Jan29
- d.1987Feb13
- brother of
- Marcellus T Kuebbing
- Andrew George Kuebbing
- Joseph C Kuebbing
- Ermalinda Kuebbing
- husband of
- Dorothy
- father of
- L
- M
- S/dd>
Marcellus T Kuebbing
- b.1911Jan16
- m.19?
- mil.enlist.1942May9 Cinn OH
- mil.ent.1942May9
- mil.x.1946May7
- d.1983Apr11
- brother of
- Andrew George Kuebbing
- Eugene John Kuebbing
- Joseph C Kuebbing
- Ermalinda Kuebbing
- husband of
- Betty
Andrew George Kuebbing
- b.1915Oct28
- m.194?
- mil.enlist.1942Sep23 Cinn OH
- mil.ent.1942Oct7
- mil.x.1946Jan14
- 1952-1967 Treasurer of South Fort Mitchell Ky
- 1952-1971 City clerk of South Fort Mitchell Ky
- d.1981Mar13
- brother of
- Marcellus T Kuebbing
- Eugene John Kuebbing
- Joseph C Kuebbing
- Ermalinda Kuebbing
- husband of
- Vera Trimpe Kuebbing
- father of
- R (1943Jun23-)
- T (1947Jul1-)
- D (1951Nov19-)
Monday, October 3, 2011
Jura Foster Burrell
m.Carl Burrell
s.Brabson Carleton Burrell
s.Everett Burrell
s.Schley H. Burrell
s.Lyman F. Burrell
s.Richard J. Burrell
s.Brabson Carleton Burrell
s.Everett Burrell
s.Schley H. Burrell
s.Lyman F. Burrell
s.Richard J. Burrell
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Vera Trimpe Kuebbing childhood
These are old memories and may be inaccurate but not false.
Vera grew up on Hermes Ave in Covington KY. The family went to St John's Church on the Dixie Hwy.
I don't know if mother ever told the story in Bill's presence, but I know that there was a strong affection and respect between them, and that he was her terminal caregiver.
I think it shows her nerve and ability to act in time of trouble. Also her calmness when trouble first happens.
Vera grew up on Hermes Ave in Covington KY. The family went to St John's Church on the Dixie Hwy.
Grandma
At some point when she was young, her mother came to her and told her to pack her clothes in a bag. She took mother to her mother's house to live. "Grandma" was getting to a point she could not be trusted to take care of herself. I don't remember hearing how long she lived with Grandma, or what triggered the next part of the story, but at some point her mother came again and sent her home. When she arrived home, her youngest brother Bill met her at the door. You don't belong here, he said, you're Grandma's girl. I've always wondered if the underlying reason was that when she left, a bedroom became available, and now it would be reclaimed.I don't know if mother ever told the story in Bill's presence, but I know that there was a strong affection and respect between them, and that he was her terminal caregiver.
mud in your eye
There is a story in the Gospels that never fails to remind me of our mother.When Jesus and his disciples arrived at Bethsaida, people brought to him a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him. He took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village. Putting spittle on his eyes he laid his hands on the man and asked,When she was a student at St John's school, something happened on the playground. A boy was hit sharply in the eye. Mother went and found or made some mud and placed it on the boy's eye. He never got a black eye. One of the nuns gave her a saint picture card.
Do you see anything?Looking up the man replied,
I see people looking like trees and walking.Then he laid hands on the man's eyes a second time and he saw clearly; his sight was restored and he could see everything distinctly. Then he sent him home and said,
Do not even go into the village.- Mk 8:22-26
I think it shows her nerve and ability to act in time of trouble. Also her calmness when trouble first happens.
Monday, May 23, 2011
219 Highland Ave neighborhood
the neighbors
Next door up the hill were the Rakers: they had three children, Joe, Peggy and Neal. I played with Joe who was my junior.Next door down the hill were the Ernsts: They had several children, including a boy older than R, a girl in R's elementary school classes, and at least one other child.
At the bottom of the hill was a large empty lot containing a drainage area; it belonged to the next house where lived a woman Mrs Domminick and her two unmarried daughters. One of the women was named Estelle.
Across the street from the Dominicks, on the uphill side of the intersection with Lucerne, lived the Massmans. They had boxer dogs and sons.
The intersection featured mirror symetric cut stone entrance markers over a story high.
I remember nothing of the house on the other corner.
Across from the Ernsts, were originally the Beckmans (?). Mr Beckman originally recruited Dad to be the City Treasurer/Clerk.
Across from our house were the Collette's. The father owned a liquor store, which still exists in Erlanger and is still in the family. The oldest child, Richard (?), was one year ahead of me through Blessed Sacrament Elementary, Covington Latin School and then physics major at Villa Madonna College. There was a daughter Jeanette, then small chidren one of whom was Jimmie. Their house was built while we lived in the subdivision.
The next house up the hill was the Shepmans. Both sons were I believe older than I. Then came Pop Acre (?) who I never met. Then came the house of Dr Brennan, a dentist, who had a son. He died of cancer. The story was that in the early days of Xrays, he would hold the film in the patients with his fingers. Those old machines were very inefficient.
At the top of the hill were the Richardsons, who had a son Delton, with whom I played. I remember their back yard as ploughed and that there was a cherry tree on the right side of the house.
Across the street from them was an unmarried woman, Nellie Wallace, who had a son.
Coming back down the street there was a family called the Gronemans.
See: 219 Highland Ave, Ft Mitchell Ky
Friday, May 20, 2011
VMC
Villa Madonna College founded in Covington Ky in 1921 by the Sisters of St Benedict
now know as Thomas More College
See: .Sigma Alpha Lambda fraternity. .VMC class of 1963 reunion 2013. .VMC's libraries.
now know as Thomas More College
See: .Sigma Alpha Lambda fraternity. .VMC class of 1963 reunion 2013. .VMC's libraries.
VMC's libraries
I arrived at VMC in September 1959. The library was the fourth floor of the old Benedictine convent on 12th St east of Scott, between the old St Joseph's elementary school at 12th & Scott and the old St Joseph's Church on the next corner.
The old convent, which contained administration offices on lower floors, was very old. It was slowly collapsing. The stairs were in the center of the floor. A marble dropped near the outer wall in the library on the fourth floor would roll to the center of the building, before rolling down the stairs.
In the early 1960s, the college took over an old Knights of Columbus Hall on the east side of Madison between 10th and 11th. Next to it on the north was a parking lot for the A&P grocery store on the corner of 10th and Madison.
One of the floors (the top?) was destined to be the new library. I remember the books were packed loosely in open-topped beer cartons (the old 24 long-neck bottle types) and brought the the A&P parking lot. An open construction elevator brought the boxes up to a window of the library. Students on the elevator handed them through the window to students inside. This was possibly the work of the Sigma Alpha Lambda fraternity.
I seem to remember there was a cafeteria on the next lower floor.
See: Alumni's Favorite Places on Campus
The old convent, which contained administration offices on lower floors, was very old. It was slowly collapsing. The stairs were in the center of the floor. A marble dropped near the outer wall in the library on the fourth floor would roll to the center of the building, before rolling down the stairs.
In the early 1960s, the college took over an old Knights of Columbus Hall on the east side of Madison between 10th and 11th. Next to it on the north was a parking lot for the A&P grocery store on the corner of 10th and Madison.
One of the floors (the top?) was destined to be the new library. I remember the books were packed loosely in open-topped beer cartons (the old 24 long-neck bottle types) and brought the the A&P parking lot. An open construction elevator brought the boxes up to a window of the library. Students on the elevator handed them through the window to students inside. This was possibly the work of the Sigma Alpha Lambda fraternity.
I seem to remember there was a cafeteria on the next lower floor.
See: Alumni's Favorite Places on Campus
Sunday, May 8, 2011
219 Highland Ave, Ft Mitchell Ky
This was the second of three places Vera and Andy Kuebbing lived. The first was a second floor apartment on Holman St in Covington, the third was 72 Greenbriar in Ft Mitchell.
They moved there in the late 1940s. I believe it was about the time T was born.
The house is small; one bedroom, one bath, the living room, the kitchen, and a small knotty pine paneled dining area on the first floor. The basement was unfinished; it contained a coal-fired furnance, later converted to gas. The coal was fed into the furnace by a worm-gear mechanism. Each morning dad would clean the "clinkers" from the fire. They were large agglomerations of burnt coal pieces.
I am guessing that the second floor was partly finished as a single long, narrow room when they bought the house. The stairs came up the middle, length-wise. Their was a small ceiling, and then slope of the roof came half way down to helf-height walls. There was sheetrock/plaster on these walls, sealing off the edges of the area. Each side had a small door leading into unfinished storage area.
<>
The house next door down the street (on the right) was owned and occupied by the Ernst family. (One of the males name was Ray.) They had a daughter my age.
When I was young, on a fall day, the Ernst house exploded in fire. My memory is that a pilot light went out. The gas filled the house until it found another working pilot light.
The flaming side of the house fell on our house, which caught fire. That side and part of the roof burned.
The only other detail I remember is that Mother had been baking Christmas cookies. She had several sheets of uncooked cookies. She handed them out to the neighbors. For decades afterward, she had a grudge that not all of the recipients thanked her afterward, and at least one had the temerity to criticize her cooking/recipe..
See also:
R's bike . 219 Highland Ave neighborhood . rak_0
They moved there in the late 1940s. I believe it was about the time T was born.
The house is small; one bedroom, one bath, the living room, the kitchen, and a small knotty pine paneled dining area on the first floor. The basement was unfinished; it contained a coal-fired furnance, later converted to gas. The coal was fed into the furnace by a worm-gear mechanism. Each morning dad would clean the "clinkers" from the fire. They were large agglomerations of burnt coal pieces.
I am guessing that the second floor was partly finished as a single long, narrow room when they bought the house. The stairs came up the middle, length-wise. Their was a small ceiling, and then slope of the roof came half way down to helf-height walls. There was sheetrock/plaster on these walls, sealing off the edges of the area. Each side had a small door leading into unfinished storage area.
<>
The house next door down the street (on the right) was owned and occupied by the Ernst family. (One of the males name was Ray.) They had a daughter my age.
When I was young, on a fall day, the Ernst house exploded in fire. My memory is that a pilot light went out. The gas filled the house until it found another working pilot light.
The flaming side of the house fell on our house, which caught fire. That side and part of the roof burned.
The only other detail I remember is that Mother had been baking Christmas cookies. She had several sheets of uncooked cookies. She handed them out to the neighbors. For decades afterward, she had a grudge that not all of the recipients thanked her afterward, and at least one had the temerity to criticize her cooking/recipe..
See also:
R's bike . 219 Highland Ave neighborhood . rak_0
Saturday, May 7, 2011
R's bike
I didn't learn to ride a bike early.
After my father returned from service in the Army in the Pacific, we lived at 219 Highland Ave in Ft Mitchell Ky. It's on a hill.
My bike was a gift from my maternal aunt Gertrude. Trudy was know for being "penny wise and pound foolish." In this case she bought me an upscale adult bike - a light, a horn, mud flaps, incredibly heavy but no gears. It was the same metaphor as the automobiles of the era - we won the war, big and heavy is good.
I was/am less than completely coordinated. So an adult held the bike while I was getting on. Then ran down the hill with me as the bike coasted faster and faster. If I stayed on the bike and pumped my feet, I was immediately faced with an uphill.
Or we could walk up the hill toward Gertrude's house at 115 and the flat part of the street. Neither the adults nor I were that ambitious that often.
After my father returned from service in the Army in the Pacific, we lived at 219 Highland Ave in Ft Mitchell Ky. It's on a hill.
My bike was a gift from my maternal aunt Gertrude. Trudy was know for being "penny wise and pound foolish." In this case she bought me an upscale adult bike - a light, a horn, mud flaps, incredibly heavy but no gears. It was the same metaphor as the automobiles of the era - we won the war, big and heavy is good.
I was/am less than completely coordinated. So an adult held the bike while I was getting on. Then ran down the hill with me as the bike coasted faster and faster. If I stayed on the bike and pumped my feet, I was immediately faced with an uphill.
Or we could walk up the hill toward Gertrude's house at 115 and the flat part of the street. Neither the adults nor I were that ambitious that often.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Omer Westendorf
(1916-1997)
(-1955-56-) chant teacher, Covington Latic School
(-1955-1959-) choir master, Bishop's Choir, Covington Ky
1950: founder World Library of Sacred Music
translator of sacred music
author of text for sacred music
(-1955-56-) chant teacher, Covington Latic School
(-1955-1959-) choir master, Bishop's Choir, Covington Ky
1950: founder World Library of Sacred Music
translator of sacred music
(Ubi Caritas/Where charity and love prevail)
author of text for sacred music
(Gift of Finest Wheat)
Brabson Carleton Burrell
(1921-2011Sep24)
b.Clayton GA f.Carl Burrell m.Jura Foster Burrell
g.Rabun County High School
joined Manhattan Project Oak Ridge TN 1944 where he became a health physicist
m.Ruby Lee Southworth ~1946
d.Sharyn Lee
s.Donald
s."Jack"
b.Clayton GA f.Carl Burrell m.Jura Foster Burrell
g.Rabun County High School
joined Manhattan Project Oak Ridge TN 1944 where he became a health physicist
m.Ruby Lee Southworth ~1946
d.Sharyn Lee
s.Donald
s."Jack"
Saturday, February 26, 2011
The great cemetery caper
In the middle of the last decade, Kathy and I went to Dracut MA to visit Shirley, a friend of Kathy's. I remember it being the middle of summer and quite warm during the day, but cool at night. We slept with the windows open. I remember a cat spending the night jumping up onto the couch-bed on which we were sleeping.
While there, we drove to the Boston suburbs and took the transit into the city.
In a place called North End, we found a historic cemetery. The cemetery is on the top of a hill and slopes down on all sides. On one end, the area is flush up to some buildings. From the top of the hill, we could see a historic ship in a harbor not too far away.
It was surrounded by a stone wall several feet high which held back dirt on the inside but was a barrier on the outside. The wall was topped by a heavy iron fence. A formidable barrier to entering or leaving. We entered through a gate.
As we entered we saw a tall man dressed in what appeared to be a Colonial style frock coat, speaking to a small group.
For what seemed like an hour, we wandered around, reading gravestones and historical markers.
When we went to leave, the gate was locked with a padlock. Were we younger we might have climbed the fence.
Kat had her cell phone. She called 911. Because it was an out-of-state phone, the call was directed to the state police 911 center.
We were unable to get them to understand we were in a historic cemetery in the North End of Boston. They transferred us to the MA Parks Department. The person there laughed, told us to hang up, call 911 again and just tel them we had an emergency and were in the city of Boston. They implied the state operators were a little s-l-o-w.
We did and the city dispatched the fire department.
We had passed the fire station on our way from the transit stop to the cemetery. Guys had been sitting out front on chairs killing time on a slow day.
So when a ladder and pumper showed up we figured they were bored and had an excuse to leave the station. They were laughing at the great enterprise they were engaged in - two women and a man locked in a cemetery. They talked about using a ladder or maybe just cut the lock.
Just as they were about to use the bolt cutters, a short, heavyset woman in Pilgrim costume ran up the hill shouting "Don't cut the lock, I have the key," repeating several times. The firemen, stopped and waited for her to get to the gate, completely out of breath.
On the way back, we stopped for some ice cream. While eating the cones and checking the menus of the Italian restaurants in the area, we worked our way back to the transit.
We passed the fire station again. The guys were back outside and we endured ribbing about our adventure.
While there, we drove to the Boston suburbs and took the transit into the city.
In a place called North End, we found a historic cemetery. The cemetery is on the top of a hill and slopes down on all sides. On one end, the area is flush up to some buildings. From the top of the hill, we could see a historic ship in a harbor not too far away.
It was surrounded by a stone wall several feet high which held back dirt on the inside but was a barrier on the outside. The wall was topped by a heavy iron fence. A formidable barrier to entering or leaving. We entered through a gate.
As we entered we saw a tall man dressed in what appeared to be a Colonial style frock coat, speaking to a small group.
For what seemed like an hour, we wandered around, reading gravestones and historical markers.
When we went to leave, the gate was locked with a padlock. Were we younger we might have climbed the fence.
Kat had her cell phone. She called 911. Because it was an out-of-state phone, the call was directed to the state police 911 center.
We were unable to get them to understand we were in a historic cemetery in the North End of Boston. They transferred us to the MA Parks Department. The person there laughed, told us to hang up, call 911 again and just tel them we had an emergency and were in the city of Boston. They implied the state operators were a little s-l-o-w.
We did and the city dispatched the fire department.
We had passed the fire station on our way from the transit stop to the cemetery. Guys had been sitting out front on chairs killing time on a slow day.
So when a ladder and pumper showed up we figured they were bored and had an excuse to leave the station. They were laughing at the great enterprise they were engaged in - two women and a man locked in a cemetery. They talked about using a ladder or maybe just cut the lock.
Just as they were about to use the bolt cutters, a short, heavyset woman in Pilgrim costume ran up the hill shouting "Don't cut the lock, I have the key," repeating several times. The firemen, stopped and waited for her to get to the gate, completely out of breath.
On the way back, we stopped for some ice cream. While eating the cones and checking the menus of the Italian restaurants in the area, we worked our way back to the transit.
We passed the fire station again. The guys were back outside and we endured ribbing about our adventure.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
remarks at the funeral of William Trimpe by his son Mike
As Catholics we believe my father is most probably in heaven because he received the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick 2 weeks before his death. Nevertheless we have a kneeler in front of the casket to pray for his soul. I don’t think any of us are ready to see the face of God until our souls are purged of all stain of sin.
Our father taught us so many things by the way he lived. I never saw him preach or stand up in front of people and give a speech, but as St. Francis said preach the Gospel always and if you must – use words. He just always did the right thing.
He fought for our freedom in WWII and received a silver star, a couple of bronze stars and a purple heart. He was brave, courageous, and strong – he taught us to fight for the underdog and never be afraid to stand up to anyone for what is right.
He had impeccable honesty and integrity. He was in charge of church money for I don’t know how many years. If there was a church event – he was counting the money.
He worked at the [First National Bank of Cincinnati] bank for 43 years and taught us loyalty to family, friends, and employers. He showed us how to live within your means, be frugal, and save for the future. At the same time he showed us how to have fun and be generous to others.
He taught us how to be the perfect host. You all know how welcome you were when you visited his home. He taught us how to care for the sick. He took care of his sisters Vera and Emma when they needed help. He brought our Aunt Margaret into his home in her final days, and he cared for my mother in her last years of Alzheimer’s disease with unbelievable patience and love. And as you know patience was not one of his best virtues. He taught us to be prompt. Anyone ever see him do this? [looks at watch and taps]
He taught us how to love as a husband, father, and brother. He adored our mother and it was a common sight in our household to see him hug and kiss her. We learned the meaning of unconditional love and the marriage covenant from them.
He taught me how to play golf, and how to compete and how to win on the first tee, as well as how to lose like a gentleman.
So he taught us how to live, but then taught us how to die. He used to love to play the stock market – then it crashed a couple years ago. He used to say as long as I can play golf I am happy – if not, I don’t think I want to live anymore. When his health was such that he couldn’t play golf anymore – then it was as long as I live here in sunny warm Florida I am happy – but his health forced him to move back home with Eileen for the last 6 months. But as long as I have happy hour and can play cards and watch baseball and golf I am happy. His desire for a drink and his eyesight deteriorated until these things were not with him anymore.
In the end he was happy, gracious, loving, and grateful to have family around him, to feel the soft kiss of a great-grandchild, to squeeze your hand.
We all get caught up in this world and we can make playing stocks, playing golf and other desires as Gods in our lives. But then he taught us Corinthians 13 which says in the end there are three things faith, hope, and love – and the greatest of these is love. Love goes beyond death – Love is eternal.
So we ask two things of you today in honor of our father. One – when you think of him say a prayer for his soul. And two tell someone you love them today, because that will last for all eternity.
Our father taught us so many things by the way he lived. I never saw him preach or stand up in front of people and give a speech, but as St. Francis said preach the Gospel always and if you must – use words. He just always did the right thing.
He fought for our freedom in WWII and received a silver star, a couple of bronze stars and a purple heart. He was brave, courageous, and strong – he taught us to fight for the underdog and never be afraid to stand up to anyone for what is right.
He had impeccable honesty and integrity. He was in charge of church money for I don’t know how many years. If there was a church event – he was counting the money.
He worked at the [First National Bank of Cincinnati] bank for 43 years and taught us loyalty to family, friends, and employers. He showed us how to live within your means, be frugal, and save for the future. At the same time he showed us how to have fun and be generous to others.
He taught us how to be the perfect host. You all know how welcome you were when you visited his home. He taught us how to care for the sick. He took care of his sisters Vera and Emma when they needed help. He brought our Aunt Margaret into his home in her final days, and he cared for my mother in her last years of Alzheimer’s disease with unbelievable patience and love. And as you know patience was not one of his best virtues. He taught us to be prompt. Anyone ever see him do this? [looks at watch and taps]
He taught us how to love as a husband, father, and brother. He adored our mother and it was a common sight in our household to see him hug and kiss her. We learned the meaning of unconditional love and the marriage covenant from them.
He taught me how to play golf, and how to compete and how to win on the first tee, as well as how to lose like a gentleman.
So he taught us how to live, but then taught us how to die. He used to love to play the stock market – then it crashed a couple years ago. He used to say as long as I can play golf I am happy – if not, I don’t think I want to live anymore. When his health was such that he couldn’t play golf anymore – then it was as long as I live here in sunny warm Florida I am happy – but his health forced him to move back home with Eileen for the last 6 months. But as long as I have happy hour and can play cards and watch baseball and golf I am happy. His desire for a drink and his eyesight deteriorated until these things were not with him anymore.
In the end he was happy, gracious, loving, and grateful to have family around him, to feel the soft kiss of a great-grandchild, to squeeze your hand.
We all get caught up in this world and we can make playing stocks, playing golf and other desires as Gods in our lives. But then he taught us Corinthians 13 which says in the end there are three things faith, hope, and love – and the greatest of these is love. Love goes beyond death – Love is eternal.
So we ask two things of you today in honor of our father. One – when you think of him say a prayer for his soul. And two tell someone you love them today, because that will last for all eternity.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Katherine Lubbers Trimpe
- mother of
- Joseph Trimpe
Norbert Trimpe - Gertrude Trimpe
- Emma Trimpe
- Vera Trimpe Kuebbing
- "Bud" Trimpe
- Rita Trimpe Winstel
- William Trimpe
- wife of
- Joseph Trimpe
Trimpe Christmas 1950
From the left front: Andrew Kuebbing w/son T (age 3.5 yrs), Henry Lubbers, Katherine Lubbers Trimpe, R (age 7.5 yrs), Emma Trimpe, (Eileen age 8 mos), (? Bert's mother/Vera Trimpe Kuebbing); left back (?), (?), William Trimpe w/Claire Peeker Trimpe
picture likely taken by Gertrude Trimpe
Gertrude E Trimpe
b.1905Jul17 Covington KY f.Joseph Trimpe m.Katherine Lubbers Trimpe
me.St Mary Ladies Society, Blessed Sacrament
d.1965Jul16 115 Highland Ave, S Ft Mitchell KY
vi.1965Jul18@3-9 Hugenburg & Niemeyer, Covington KY
fu.1965Jul19@9am Blessed Sacrament - Requiem High Mass
in.1965Jul19 St John's Cemetery
me.St Mary Ladies Society, Blessed Sacrament
d.1965Jul16 115 Highland Ave, S Ft Mitchell KY
vi.1965Jul18@3-9 Hugenburg & Niemeyer, Covington KY
fu.1965Jul19@9am Blessed Sacrament - Requiem High Mass
in.1965Jul19 St John's Cemetery
- sister of
- Joseph Trimpe
Norbert Trimpe - Emma Trimpe
- Vera Trimpe Kuebbing
- Edward "Bud" Trimpe
- Rita Trimpe Winstel
- William Trimpe
- owned house on 115 Highland Ave, Ft Mitchell KY, in which initially lived her mother, her sister Emma and her uncle Henry Lubbers, who outlived her
- the house is notable for having a Rookwood Pottery fireplace. In the 2000s, the owner said it had been valued by a collector in the mid 5 figures
- had yearly family gatherings at Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve.
- prolific picture taker
Sunday, January 30, 2011
William R Trimpe
(1925Apr22-2011Jan27)
funeral 2011Feb5 @ Cathedral of St Peter in Chains, Cincinnati OH remarks by his son Mike commitment 2011Feb5 @ St Joseph Cemetery, Cincinnati OH - great grandaughter sang the first verse of the poem Taps, followed by all singing two other verses
- son of Katherine Lubbers Trimpe and Joseph Trimpe
- husband of Claire Peeker Trimpe (m.1948May8)
- brother of
- Joseph Trimpe
Norbert Trimpe - Joseph Trimpe
- Gertrude Trimpe
- Emma Trimpe
- Vera Trimpe Kuebbing
- "Bud" Trimpe
- Rita Trimpe Winstel
obit funeral home . graceandcomfort.com . Cincinnati.com
Bill's remembrance of being in the 38ID
Vera Trimpe Kuebbing
- b. 1917Jan30 f. m.Katherine Lubbers Trimpe
gr. 1931Jun12 (card from Sr. M. Rosina SND) - m. <1943 Andrew George Kuebbing City clerk 1952-71
- d. 200?
- sister of
- Joseph Trimpe Norbert Trimpe
- Gertrude Trimpe
- Emma Trimpe
- "Bud" Trimpe
- Rita Trimpe Winstel
- William Trimpe
- mother of
- R (1943Jun23-)
- T (1947Jul1-)
- D (1951Nov19-)
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Maybelle's Cafe
- a restaurant that will serve Vera's Spice Cookies
- is located at 502 Henry St, Brooklyn, NY 11231
- the proprietors are Sarah and Ryan
- Maybelle is their dog
- facebook page
Monday, January 10, 2011
snow and ice #3
I think we were driving a van. I suspect we were already living in Pgh. That would make it 1987-1994, but could have been much earlier with the original Dodge van.
We were headed back to Houston. We stopped to get gas in W Memphis AK. We found out the whole state of AK had had snow like we did here last night. It had melted during the day and refroze at night. Rough ice all the way.
I drove from W Memphis to Texarkana. It was not freeway speeds.
The ice ended around the state line. We got gas. I gave the wheel to Sharyn. US59 was not freeway but was 4 lane, often w/median.
She drove 15-30 min before hitting glare ice. I think it is what is now called "black ice".
She spun and landed on the right shoulder, where there already were several cars.
I was in no shape to drive, and she was shaken up.
While we were resting, the county salt truck came up w/chains on. It did a 360 trying to stop.
I don't remember what happened after that, but it must have been uneventful.
We were headed back to Houston. We stopped to get gas in W Memphis AK. We found out the whole state of AK had had snow like we did here last night. It had melted during the day and refroze at night. Rough ice all the way.
I drove from W Memphis to Texarkana. It was not freeway speeds.
The ice ended around the state line. We got gas. I gave the wheel to Sharyn. US59 was not freeway but was 4 lane, often w/median.
She drove 15-30 min before hitting glare ice. I think it is what is now called "black ice".
She spun and landed on the right shoulder, where there already were several cars.
I was in no shape to drive, and she was shaken up.
While we were resting, the county salt truck came up w/chains on. It did a 360 trying to stop.
I don't remember what happened after that, but it must have been uneventful.
snow and ice #2
The year is after 1980 but before Bob and Ruby Burrell split up. The place is south on I75 in KY just north of the TN border. The road there is mostly flat but winding. The car was the Chevy "woodie" station wagon that my mother gave me when my father died.
As I came around a curve, I saw cars in the distance as far as the eye could see, stopped. As we got closer, I could see the cars were stopped, bumper to bumper, with two wheels on one of the shoulders.
I slowed and pulled to the right shoulder. I stopped the car and tried to get out. Glare ice.
Don't remember how we got out of there, but I have a faint recollection that somehow we left the pavement for a nearby road.
Anyway we proceeded to Oak Ridge, exiting the freeway in Clinton.
The road from Clinton to Oak Ridge leaves the "urban area" and travels along the Clinch River, which is on the driver side of the car. On the right is a rock face. After Ruby left, Bob bought a house up on the rock.
Here also the road is mostly flat but winding. As I came around a curve near the Oak Ridge city boundary, the area widens out and there is an intersection to the left. There are buildings at the intersection, including a small grocery and a restaurant or bar. From a distance, I could see that there were cars parked on the right shoulder.
As we got closer it became clear that there were multiple rows of cars, very close together. At one point they blocked the road, where the road had widened into two lanes each direction, with a grassy median.
I slowly stopped. At that point, the car very slowly slid to the right, contacting the other cars. A crunching sound occurred as the forces between the cars in the pack reached equilibrium.
Later an Oak Ridge city truck came from the oncoming direction. It had bags of salt but refused to come and the crew refused to bring the salt to us. So a group of the men went to the truck and retrieved multiple large bags of salt.
Starting with the car whose owner was present, and whose position made it the best candidate to leave first, we made tracks of salt from each of the tires.
It wasn't especially cold, so the ice melted rather quickly. As soon as the car had traction, the driver left, headed into Oak Ridge. When my turn came, I got the family into the car and we left.
Since this was long before cell phones, Ruby and Bob had no idea where we were.
As I came around a curve, I saw cars in the distance as far as the eye could see, stopped. As we got closer, I could see the cars were stopped, bumper to bumper, with two wheels on one of the shoulders.
I slowed and pulled to the right shoulder. I stopped the car and tried to get out. Glare ice.
Don't remember how we got out of there, but I have a faint recollection that somehow we left the pavement for a nearby road.
Anyway we proceeded to Oak Ridge, exiting the freeway in Clinton.
The road from Clinton to Oak Ridge leaves the "urban area" and travels along the Clinch River, which is on the driver side of the car. On the right is a rock face. After Ruby left, Bob bought a house up on the rock.
Here also the road is mostly flat but winding. As I came around a curve near the Oak Ridge city boundary, the area widens out and there is an intersection to the left. There are buildings at the intersection, including a small grocery and a restaurant or bar. From a distance, I could see that there were cars parked on the right shoulder.
As we got closer it became clear that there were multiple rows of cars, very close together. At one point they blocked the road, where the road had widened into two lanes each direction, with a grassy median.
I slowly stopped. At that point, the car very slowly slid to the right, contacting the other cars. A crunching sound occurred as the forces between the cars in the pack reached equilibrium.
Later an Oak Ridge city truck came from the oncoming direction. It had bags of salt but refused to come and the crew refused to bring the salt to us. So a group of the men went to the truck and retrieved multiple large bags of salt.
Starting with the car whose owner was present, and whose position made it the best candidate to leave first, we made tracks of salt from each of the tires.
It wasn't especially cold, so the ice melted rather quickly. As soon as the car had traction, the driver left, headed into Oak Ridge. When my turn came, I got the family into the car and we left.
Since this was long before cell phones, Ruby and Bob had no idea where we were.
snow and ice #1
In honor of the blizzard of 2010 (w/side of ice) in Georgia, I am trying to remember all the family snow and ice stories I can.
Sometime while living in Pgh, I was driving a van to Cincinnati on I70 west in OH. The road was mostly flat at the point of the story and mostly straight.
There was snow on the ground and it was cold. I think Teresa was with me.
As I looked ahead, the car in front of me just disappeared. I suspected it was ice. I slowed down as much as I could before we got to the bridge.
As we crossed the bridge, we spun out and wound up on the right shoulder. After a few seconds to collect my wits, I drove right off the shoulder and on my way.
Sometime while living in Pgh, I was driving a van to Cincinnati on I70 west in OH. The road was mostly flat at the point of the story and mostly straight.
There was snow on the ground and it was cold. I think Teresa was with me.
As I looked ahead, the car in front of me just disappeared. I suspected it was ice. I slowed down as much as I could before we got to the bridge.
As we crossed the bridge, we spun out and wound up on the right shoulder. After a few seconds to collect my wits, I drove right off the shoulder and on my way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)