While Charles Wesley Schowengerdt studied liberal arts at Baker University in Baldwin, Kansas, Laura Ruth Coughlin was taking childhood education courses at the College of Kansas City. He wanted to be a minister. She wanted to be a teacher. He became the state champion in debating; she became the May Queen at the College of Kansas City. Because the College of Kansas City was only a two-year school, she transferred to Baker University in Kansas, to obtain a B.A. degree in Education. This is where she met Charles Wesley. They became smitten with each other, but after obtaining their B.A. degrees, delayed marriage while he went to the seminary in Evanston, Illinois to take Bible courses in order to become an ordained minister, and she went to Edwardsville, Kansas to teach children. They were married in 1921.
Charles Wesley’s first assignment was to the Methodist church in Adrian, Missouri. My brother, Paul Mitchem, was born there in 1922. His next church assignment was to the Methodist church in Warrensburg, Missouri. My brother, Louis Wesley, was born there in 1924. I was born in 1931, in Evanston, Illinois, where my father was attending seminary in order to obtain a Ph.D. of Theology. He completed all the courses necessary, and had only to take his oral exams to obtain that degree. Before that could happen, Charles Wesley was assigned to Stewart church in downtown Kansas City, Missouri, and Laura Ruth was given twenty acres of land, as her part of the former Coughlin farm. Our father built a house on Laura Ruth’s part of that farm, for us to move into. He commuted from there to his downtown church in Kansas City, Missouri.
My first memories were of sitting in the chicken yard, in my diapers, playing with the chickens, while my mother gathered eggs in the hen house. It was during the great depression of the 1930s, which lasted from 1930 to 1937. There were only nickels, dimes and quarters in the collection plates. We had, of necessity, a big garden, full of green beans, peas, tomatoes, potatoes, corn and cantaloupes. It was our job, as children, to keep the garden clean of weeds, so we hoed every day. Our family lived on home-canned vegetables for the next seven years. None of us were able to eat meat for seven years, because we didn’t have any.
I learned that we live with other animals and plants, and if we take care of them, they will provide for us.
While we were still in Shawnee, Kansas, brother Paul was practicing riding his small bicycle around the house, lost his balance on the uneven ground, fell off his bike, fell through the basement window, gashed open the inside of his left upper arm, cutting open the brachial artery, cutting the median nerve, and began bleeding profusely. He yelled for his mother. She ran down the stairs, extracted him from the window, helped him up the stairs, then laid him down on the kitchen floor. She set some water on the stove to boil, called for brother Lou, told him to run as fast as he could over to Aunt Florence and Uncle Clarence, to ask them to bring Aunt Rose’s car as fast as they could. Meanwhile, Laura Ruth had gotten an old sheet, and had torn it into strips. The first one she used as a crude tourniquet on Paul’s upper arm. She folded another strip into a pad, which she soaked in boiling hot water, then wrung it out and used it as a dressing. She used a strip to tie around the bandage to keep it in place. She used the remainder of the sheet to mop up the large pool of blood, which had been increasing in size on the kitchen floor. Aunt Florence and Aunt Rose arrived a few minutes later, and off they went, chugging down the road as fast as their 1931 Chevy would take them. Paul recalled, in his recorded memory describing that trip, that they put him and his mother in the back seat of that car. His mother kept talking to him all the way to the hospital, to keep him from falling asleep. They went to the Kansas City Research Hospital in downtown Kansas City.When told that surgery was on the fifth floor, the three sisters carried him up the stairs to the surgery suite, fifth floor. Two of the surgeons wanted to amputate his arm, but one of the surgeons insisted they should try to save his arm. Fortunately, that surgeon was able to repair the gashed artery, reattach the nerve ends, then repair the slashed open wound in his left upper arm. Deprived of enervation for a year’s time, his left arm did not develop as fully as his right arm, but Paul regained full range of motion of his left arm, and by a year later was able to develop a strong grasp with his left hand, such that the armed forces had no reservation about drafting him into the U.S. Navy, to serve during World War II.
I learned that, in an emergency, you had to act with alacrity and efficiency, or a life or a limb will be lost.
Brother Paul was assigned to a minesweeper ship during WW II. Their job was to go into the harbor where the Navy and Army were planning an assault to take the island back from the Japanese, who occupied it, and clear it of any mines that had been put in the water. The Japanese had no long guns on the island, so they sent Kamikaze planes, loaded with explosives, to attack the minesweeper and disable it. The job of the minesweeper was to shoot the Kamikaze planes down before they could reach the ship. Paul’s ship was successful in shooting down those suicide planes that came at them. One of the unlucky Kamikaze pilots was shot down close enough that Paul’s ship was able to retrieve the body before the plane sank. Here is the conversation Paul and our father had, when Paul had returned from the war, as best I can remember it. I was there, listening.
Brother Paul said: “After we got the body on board, we cut off his dick, put it in an alcohol bottle, and cussed it out every time we walked by.” Then he looked at his dad for approval. Our dad replied, while looking at Paul, straight in the face:
“Paul, that is not how we treat other people. We treat them with respect and kindness. I do not want you to tell that story again in this house, especially to your mother. She would be horrified to know what you did.” Then he turned and walked away.
Paul stood there with his mouth open. He had expected parental approval, but instead, he had received a lesson in human ethics. Paul was probably picturing his mother being mortified, if he told her that story, and then giving him the same lecture on human ethics that his father had given him. He must have realized that this was not a story he should relate to his mother. None of us children would want to do anything to displease or hurt our mother.
I never heard Paul repeat that story again. After that episode, he often referred to Laura Ruth as his “sainted mother”.
I learned that all other humans should be treated with deep respect.
Brother Paul also came back from the war swearing like a sailor. Laura Ruth was busy folding laundry. Paul was telling her about one of his war experiences, and let loose a string of cuss words. Here is their conversation, as best I remember it. Again, I happened to be there, listening.
“Paul, I do not want to hear you say those words again in this house. There are better ways of expressing yourself.”
“Aww, mom. Everybody swears at least some of the time.”
“Not in this house.”
“I tell you what, mom. Every time you swear, I want you to put a coin in my pocket, instead of that savings jar you put them in.”
“You are on, Paul. You will not get any money out of this bet.” Laura Ruth walked away, carrying a basket of folded clothes. Paul stood there, rubbing his hands together and said:
“Boy, I am going to make a bundle out of this one.”
Paul never collected any money on his bet, and he stopped swearing. Laura Ruth never swore. She also never used the wrong tense of a verb when she spoke.
I learned to not swear, and that there were other words which were more appropriate for expressing yourself than using cuss words. I learned how to use proper English.
Laura Ruth used that coin jar to buy clothes for her children. When enough coins had accumulated, she would go to the clothing store and buy an item of clothing for that child most in need. I once stole a nickel from the savings jar to buy a candy bar at the corner gas station. The candy bar tasted good, but as I ate it, I had remorse for taking the coin to buy it. I went to my mother to tell her that I had taken the nickel, and would replace it when I had the money to do so. Laura Ruth was occupied, hanging up a wall decoration. She paused for a few seconds then turned to me and said: “Buddy, if you thought that your need for that nickel was greater than the rest of the family, then I think you should keep that nickel.” Then she walked away. I went over to a corner of the room and sulked. Had she yelled at me, or scolded me, telling me to never do that again, perhaps even had given me a spanking, then I could have considered the matter done, and could consider stealing from the jar again, if I was not going to get any corporal punishment. But my mother wanted to teach me a lesson that I would carry with me for the rest of my life.
I learned that when you steal from one person, you steal from the other members of the family also. I learned that there are more peaceful ways to settle disagreements than corporal punishment. I never stole from the savings jar again. I never spanked any of my children.
When our father was assigned to serve at the Watson Memorial Church in Independence, Missouri, we moved into the parsonage there.
I remember Sunday mornings well at the parsonage in Independence, Missouri. A typical Sunday morning consisted of my father sitting in his office, staring out the window while tapping his foot or tapping with his fingers on the desk. At least once during the morning rush, Charles Wesley would go over to the stairwell and raise his voice to say:
“Ruth, you have to hurry, or we will be late for church.”
“I am hurrying, Wesley, and we will be ready on time.”
Laura Ruth did not complain about her burdens. She wanted her husband to give a sermon which contained a story or incident in his life to draw in his listeners’ interest, add some scripture, keep a clear line of thought, then tie it all together in a moral lesson his flock could take home with them and apply in their lives. Charles Wesley seldom disappointed her and his congregation. He was a good preacher.
While my dad sat in his study, stewing about something, my mom had to fix breakfast for everyone, then get herself and three children cleaned up, dressed in presentable clothes and ready to present to the public. Well, I thought to myself, that certainly is an unequal distribution of responsibilities.
Then, at the end of the service, as my father was receiving compliments on his sermon, I saw my mother standing there with my father, glowing with joy. Now I understood. Laura Ruth considered her responsibilities less burdensome than those of her husband. She had done her part in allowing Wesley to give a clear, well-organized sermon carrying a message that people could take home with them.
I learned that having multiple responsibilities is a blessing rather than a heavy burden other people do not have. Most other people also have their own heavy burdens. Take care of your responsibilities without complaining, with equanimity and joy in your soul.
While we were still at the parsonage in Independence, Missouri, one Saturday morning, our mother gathered us three boys together, and told us that she had two tickets to go see a Shakespeare play that afternoon, but was not able to get additional tickets. She would have to decide which one of us she should take with her. Paul and Lou immediately started vying for the chance to be their mother’s choice. I thought, to myself, this is going to deteriorate into a fistfight in just a few minutes. There was a brief pause, and Laura Ruth said,
“Okay, my mind is made up. I am going to take Buddy. I think he would benefit the most from this experience. Come on, Bud. Let’s find something decent for you to wear.”
“Aw, Mom, take me.”
“No, take me.”
“Okay, I will take you two with me the next time Shakespeare comes to town.”
We walked up the two blocks to get to the Veteran’s Memorial Auditorium, took our seats, and after the play began, I was transfixed. I could not believe that the actors and actresses had completely memorized their lines. There were double entendres everywhere. How could any one mind have such command of the English language? When Puck came on stage, alone, to give his soliloquy at the end of the play, he slowed down, tied all the parts of the play together, pronounced every word perfectly, as if he were tasting them as they came out of his mouth. He was a master thespian. Shakespeare was a master of the English language. I held my mother’s hand on the way home. She had given me a precious gift.
Laura Ruth instilled in me a love of the English language, its expressivity and its nuances. I majored in English Literature in college.
When our father inherited seventeen acres of land as his part of the Schowengerdt dairy farm, our father built a home on that property, facing Blue Ridge Blvd, and we moved in there.
Your body left us on January 26, 1984, Laura Ruth Coughlin Schowengerdt, but the lessons that you taught us and gave us have remained with us for the rest of our lives. We have passed those values on to our children. Your grandchildren, in turn, have passed those values on to their children. Brother Paul was right. You were a saint on earth. We were blessed to have you with us in both body and spirit, for a while. Your body has left us, but your spirit lives on with us, in our progeny, and their progeny.
Your spirits will always be with us, in our souls, Laura Ruth and Charles Wesley.
Beautifully written. Thank you so much for sharing this.