In Passing: A Memoir of Sorts

By C.B. Wiland

What's in name? As a matter of fact, fate, and/or faith, the genesis of
same is often more convoluted than one might imagine. For example,
my family nickname "Bim" is a perversion of my great grandmother's
maiden name, Bevan. It was that family name my mother received as a
middle name from her English immigrant father, Thomas Gleaves. Mother
liked it. In fact, she adored it as later events would validate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477247662

Book preview

In Passing

A Memoir of Sorts

C.B. Wiland

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© 2012 Dr. Charles B. Wiland. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 8/2/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-4767-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-4565-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-4766-2 (e)

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Contents

Dedication

Foreword

Chapter One - Part One      At the Very Beginning

Chapter One - Part Two      Home With the Gleaves

Chapter Two — Part One      In Comes Tommy

Chapter Two-Part Two      A First Miracle?

Chapter Three - Part One      A Family Affair

Chapter Three - Part Two      A Look at the Family

Chapter Four - Part One      My Intro to Art & Irene

Chapter Four - Part Two      Crossing the River

Chapter Four - Part Three      Darkness Overcomes

Chapter Four - Part Four      A New Day Arrives

Chapter Five - Part One      Back Home With Father

Chapter Six - Part One      Post December 7, 1941

Chapter Six - Part Two      We Engage A CPO

Chapter Six - Part Three      NATTC-My Second Move

Chapter Six - Part Four      We Go to War

Chapter Six - Part Five      Almost Home

Chapter Seven - Part One      Scrambled Memories

Chapter 7 - Part Two      Jobs and Stuff

Chapter Eight      A Pause for Regrets

Chapter Nine - Part One      Education Versus Ambition

Chapter Nine - Part Two      Grafting a Rose on the Family Tree

Chapter Ten - Part One      Crusades and Conflicts

Chapter Ten - Part Two      Different Folks & Strokes

Chapter Eleven - Part One      Hitting the High Road

Chapter Eleven - Part Two      A Challenge Accepted

Chapter Eleven - Part Three      Success Under Duress

Chapter Eleven - Part Four      The New Stands on The Old

Chapter Twelve - Part One      Old Home -New Challenges

Chapter Twelve - Part Two      KSU to the End

Chapter Thirteen - Part One      Joining the Snow Birds

Chapter Thirteen - Part Two      The Florida Adventure Endures

Chapter Fourteen - Part One      Florida-A New Beginning

Chapter Fourteen - Part Two      Early Daze With Barbara*

Chapter Fifteen - Part One      From Here to Thar

Chapter Fifteen - Part Two      From Thar to There

Chapter Sixteen - Part One      Where It All Began - I Think

Novels by The Author*

Death on Hold

Azrael: The Angel of Death

The Morticians’ Gambit

*When I got around to writing novels, I followed trends in the genre, being as vulgar as I knew how in terms of dialogue and sexual practices of a violent nature. The novels listed are those penned after I became a Christian, after I decided I could write an interesting story that was realistic without indulging in the profane to make it so.

Dedication

This work will be the terminal effort of a long life devoted to vacillating aims and some achievements. At one extreme were purposes worthy of a Martin Luther or Mother Teresa; at the other, murky objectives marred by uncertainty and petty indulgence. I belatedly discovered what could and should have led me early on to a joyous, purposeful life.

My loving wife Barbara led me to the door. The Holy Spirit opened it, and I stepped through into the waiting arms of Jesus where I sought and received the Good Shepherd’s blessing. It was felt, it was real.

So what is my dedication? It is to Love and the ability to Forgive that it engenders, the renovating message of the Risen Christ.

In addition, I dedicate this work to a pair of loved ones whose support has sustained me throughout this project: My dear wife Barbara Jean Wiland and her devoted granddaughter Robin Turner, a computer wizard who lifted me over technical problems.

Foreword

As a memoir goes… other than being a fancy name for a titillating autobiography…this writing doesn’t measure up. It doesn’t follow a strict chronology. It is structured topically; and where a topic requires a peek into the past, it peeks.

My purposes are fourfold: (1)To offer my four children, nine grandchildren, and one great granddaughter…with whom I’ve had limited contact…an understanding of who I was and why I was what I was; (2) to confess my parental failures as a way of seeking forgiveness and re-establishing the bond of love that broke with the death of their mother (Rose Horning Wiland on December 16, 1990); (3) to recall bits of family heritage that have been lost in the helter skelter of our lives; and (4) to tell of a prayer that brought my current wife Barbara (Smith) Churchman to me, a prayer which ultimately led me to the open arms of the Father of us all, Jesus Christ and to my salvation.

Note: Any statement followed by a question mark in parentheses (?) denotes uncertainty, a fact the truth of which is rattling about in my aging mind.

Chapter One - Part One

At the Very Beginning

What’s in a name? As a matter of fact, fate, and/or faith, the genesis of same is often more convoluted than one might imagine. For example, my family nickname Bim is a perversion of my great grandmother’s maiden surname, Bevan. It was that family name my mother received as a middle name from her English immigrant father, Thomas Gleaves. Mother liked it. In fact, she adored it as later events would validate.

In 1923, Dora Bevan Gleaves married Charles Franklin Wiland. So it was, five years after the WWI Armistice was signed, another confrontation between contestants of English and German heritage began.

During a period when reasonable compatibility reigned, and following the still birth of a baby girl, Dora Bevan and Charles Franklin produced a son who was anointed Charles Bevan, Dora’s English tenacity prevailing over Charles German stubbornness. After all, who could hang a moniker like Adolph, Wilhelm, Wolfgang and/or Heinrich on an all-American boy? Charles Wilhelm left such a mucky taste on one’s tongue. Better Winston. What say you, old top? She could have dropped her insistence on Bevan and called her/their son Charles Darwin Wiland. How would Charles Franklin endured that?

Following a divorce, father moved out leaving toddler son and Dora Bevan behind as residents in the three story brick and shake shingle home of Thomas Gleaves. Mother was free to use her favorite name ad nauseam in a variety of creative ways. I learned to respond to Bevan, Bevan Honey, Bev and Bev Baby. I suppose I didn’t care much as long as she called me for Oreo cookies and milk.

*******

Thomas Gleaves thought of himself as a proper English Gentleman even though he hadn’t graduated from Cambridge, Eton, Oxford or the like. He had served as a pattern making apprentice in a Manchester engine shop. I suspect he got the gentleman stuff while playing cricket at a country club where he received several awards for his batting prowess. Two of his favorite observations were, Gentlemen should always wear hats in public and should always keep their shoes polished.

Chapter One - Part Two

Home With the Gleaves

When the Gleaves family acquired their first auto, it was delivered at the home. After some instruction covering the essentials, Grandpa hopped into the driver’s seat for a solo turn around the block. Like Snoopy attacking the Red Baron…face frozen in a kill or be killed mode…his turn around the block turned into the number of turns approximating the number turned by the Pro’s at the Indy 500. Well, almost.

Each time Grandpa passed the house, he waved to the half dozen or so family observers seated on the front stoop. It became boring, but they continued to wave out of courtesy to their sire. The exchange of waves didn’t end until Grandpa came walking up Litchfield Rd. without the auto. He’d run out of petrol. He would’ve stopped sooner,