Married to Edward Otto, grandson of Franz Xavier Boeding (1796 - 1878) 

By: Rev. Arnold A. Boeding

Elizabeth Mary Lohman, my mother, was born in West Point, Iowa on January 16, 1870. She was baptized in St. Mary's church in West Point. In baptism, she received the name Anna Elizabeth. Later in life, she used the name Elizabeth Mary. I have no knowledge of how, when or why the change. I presume it came at the time of her confirmation. My mother died in Seneca, Kansas on January 17, 1944. She is buried in the Catholic Cemetery of Seneca.

My parents married in St. Mary's Church in West Point, Iowa on November 17, 1886. The officiating priest at the marriage was my uncle F.X.. Attendants were Herman and Mary Lohman, brother and sister of my mother, and Arnold and Betha Boeding, brother and sister of my father. There were eleven children in our family. Cyril was born in Seneca, Kansas, all the others in St. Lucas, Iowa.

My father died on February 13, 1910. My mother was forty years old at the time. Confronting her at this point were two problems: to preserve the estate and to hold together and raise a family of eleven children. The estate consisted entirely of farmland. If this had not produced enough to support the entire family, each child would have left the home during the older teen years to earn a living "on their own". Not once did this happen. Management of the estate was not easy. When my father's will was filed for probate, it was revealed that the will was dated before the date of my youngest brother's birth. As a result, a portion of the estate was set aside "in the name" of my brother until his twenty-first birthday. And, for that same period, a major move in the estate had to have the approval of the probate court. Added to all this, an annual report of the estate had to be filed with the court. I have in my possession a number of documents relating to these matters.

Because of the above, my mother usually took action, when a similar condition threatened our acquaintances. I remember one case, a report reached us that suddenly the father in a family with small children was critically ill. At once, my mother drove to town, picked up a lawyer, then on to the farm home of the sick man. As expected, no last will. A last will was quickly drawn up and signed. The man died a few hours later.

A tribute to a mother by a son, especially if expressed in superlatives, understandably, is open to suspicion of bias and prejudice. However, from others, excellent tributes to my mother are not lacking. In 1914, Rev. John B. Herbers visited several places in Kansas, including Seneca. While there he got to know our family. When he returned to Dubuque, Iowa, he wrote a letter in German to my mother, dated July 6, 1914. In it he congratulates her and expresses his "high regard for the spirit and the disposition of unity, piety and loving discipline you have planted and nourished in your family".

The value of the quiet discipline exercised by my mother can best be seen today in the impact it had on her eleven children. Each found the way into a solid choice of vocations in life. The eleven turned out as follows: seven marriages, three daughters in religious orders and one priest. And, forty-four grandchildren. At no time did my mother urge or direct one of us to a particular vocation. I can not speak for my married brothers and sister but for my three sisters who are nuns and for myself something akin to the opposite is true. When each of us came to confide our choice to her, her prompt reaction was to call our attention to the seriousness of the step we were taking. Clara (Sr. Cyril) and Anna (Sr. Helen) both decided on their vocation in their young teens. My mother advised both of them to postpone their entry into the convent until their eighteenth birthdays. They both did.

This does not mean that mother was not supportive of our vocations. Again, just the opposite is true. This includes the marriages of my brothers and sister. This support was always in the form of prayers. After we confided our choices to her, she kept us aware that she was praying for us. Of course, in some instances her support was much more than prayers. When I was in third Theology (more than a year before ordination) a serious threat too my ordination arose, through no fault of mine. I informed my mother by letter. In return came an envelope containing a short newspaper clipping, nothing else. The clipping had a short sentence about the need for keeping a stiff upper lip; then a narrative of Abraham Lincoln's many hardships and setbacks before he achieved success.

Another support by my mother, in addition to prayer, came to me by payment, by her, of the cost of my education. Scholarships for education were already available in that day. During high school and college I benefited from them. But beyond that, my mother paid for my entire education, either in part or in full, including tuition in the seminary.

My mother was proud of the vocation choices of all of us, and enthusiastic about our progress as we prepared for them.

A wholesome family life is very important for fostering vocations. In this, the role of parents is essential. They must accept a major share of the responsibility for nourishing this. If the family life is good, there is real hope that the children's choice of a vocation will be good. In our family, at a time when the older children were making their choices in quick succession, my father died, leaving my mother alone as parental counselor. The awesomeness of this new responsibility must have been just as fearsome as was her grief at the loss of my father.

Prayer is important for a wholesome family life. Under the vigilant eye of my mother this meant morning and evening prayer, grace before and after meals, and the rosary. All of these were said daily; and in common by all, i.e. everyone prayed out loud. During cultivating and harvesting times, those who worked in the fields from sun-up to sun-down usually did not make it for the rosary. Morning prayers were usually said just before breakfast. On Sunday morning, necessary chores were done hurriedly; then off to "early" Mass. While driving to church we recited our morning prayers. The teachings of Pope Pius X on more frequent reception of Holy Communion, and the rigid pre-Communion fasts observed in those days, were the reasons for the "push" to get to "early" Mass. At that time few people received Holy Communion at the "high" Mass, our second Sunday Mass.

Evening prayers were usually said when it was time for the "little ones" to go to bed. The rosary usually followed later by the "older ones". If someone was scheduled to go out, and be home late, the evening prayers and the rosary were said immediately after supper.

Thunderstorms are often severe in Kansas. When these occurred in the night, we would rush downstairs: mother would light a blessed candle and burn a small piece of blessed palm. We would kneel around the dining table and recite the rosary. Preschoolers sat on the laps of the older brothers. Then back to bed.

With prayer, we were taught the observance of church law and customs. Lent brought Stations of the Cross on Sunday and Friday afternoons, and Lenten Devotions (sermon and Benediction) once each week, usually on Wednesday. Each of these found several of our family attending. Then, my mother supplemented the urging of our religion teachers to practice self-denial during Lent. This usually took two forms: extra prayers and abstinence from something we liked very much. In nearly all cases this meant candy given us during Lent. On Easter Sunday morning there was a feast. At times I abstained from butter, a real penance for me. (My mother once jokingly accused me of putting bread on my butter.)

For all of us, cream and sugar in coffee were taken for granted. During Lent, these were taboo: except on Sundays and Holydays of Obligation. In such matters Lent did not apply on these days. This was also true of games and recreation.

When Pope Pius X called for greater devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, it became part of my mother's life, with little fanfare. With less fanfare, "we kids" followed her example. "Making" the Nine First Fridays was routine, but difficult at times. A spiritual bouquet is a list of specific prayers and the number of times these prayers are said, which one presents as a gift. My mother favored spiritual bouquets very much, and promoted them among us children. I have in my possession a copy of one such spiritual bouquet which I presented to my mother and the family for Christmas in 1920.

Religious pictures and ornaments were prominent in our house. The only other ornaments I can remember were "enlarged" photos. There was a crucifix in every room of the house. Each of us was encouraged to have his own "big" holy picture, usually a framed olograph of our patron saint, or of a Christmas, Easter or Holy Week event. I was never able to find a picture of my patron, St. Arnold.

Birthdays were never celebrated but names-days were never allowed to go unnoticed. This meant attendance at Mass; then a short celebration centered around a treat like a cake. Here homemade ice cream was something special, if ice was available. This treat was curtailed during very busy days but there was always attendance at Mass. Perhaps I remember this part of the names' days best, because on my names' day, July 18, we were usually desperately "laying by" the corn before it was too tall. So, my observance of my names' day often consisted of going to Mass, alone.

Reading matter was always available in the family, and all of us were readers, sometimes avid. I can recall: our secular daily newspaper was the Daily Drover Telegram from Kansas City, and several farm journals. Then there were: the Daily Catholic Tribune, The Wanderer (in German), the Ohio Waisen-Freund, and a monthly from an orphanage in Chicago. Serialized stories were featured in all of these. There were a few more papers or magazines whose names I cannot recall. Books were highly prized and much read; but they were not numerous.

Discipline is part of a wholesome family life. The nature of family life demands this. My mother was not a rigid disciplinarian. True, there were some rules: cleanliness, proper behavior at table (never leave the table before grace after meals), care of our clothing, a solid insistence on respect for others, especially our elders (aunts, uncles, sponsors, adult neighbors) and religious persons (priests and nuns).

In a large family, being "fair" to each child must be difficult for the parents. I recall one way in which my mother accomplished this. When she "went to town for groceries", she usually brought candy along. This was placed in a dish on the dining room table. After a short wait each of us was permitted to take one piece. At intervals this was repeated till the supply was exhausted.

My mother also achieved discipline in our games and recreation by simply sharing in them. She knew how to play all our indoor games and joined in them. In cards, we played pitch, pinochle, canasta and bridge. There were also dominoes and checkers, and a homemade game called "mill". We were encouraged to play Flinch because of the mathematica involved.

Outdoors, we played baseball, when we had a good ball. Football was unknown to us. In the outdoor games, my mother was usually a spectator, and in cases of disputes, a court of appeal. We also played games like Kick-the-Can, but their popularity was never long-lived. However, there were two games of which we never tired: Hide-and-go-seek, and, in the warmer seasons of the year, our "water fights".

It is difficult to imagine a set-up better for Hide-and-go-seek than our front yard. It was larger than most "house" yards, and there were four rows of large trees. The "home-base" was usually one of the posts on the "front" porch. My mother sat on the porch, from where she settled the confrontations that occur so frequently in this game. From this point she often signaled younger players if it was "safe" to make a run for the base and "get in free". If there was a very young child playing, a favorite hiding place was under her apron. That child always "got in free".

In warmer weather there were "water fights". Here my mother's presence was needed, to keep tempers from flaring up too much. There were no sides or teams. Each player had a container for water, a cup or tin can. The supply of water was in a tub sitting under the spout of the cistern pump, east of the house. For this game, the house and the porches were off limits. The object of the game was to splash water on every player till all were well soaked. Pursuit and stalking were similar to those in Hide-and-go-seek. For this game, mother sat on the cistern platform near the pump handle, to keep the water supply going. Here she also tipped off the "younger ones" where "danger" lurked. And, from here she also applied the damper when tempers began to flare. If, at times a player managed to remain comparatively dry, the others ganged up on him, and then he was no longer dry. When everyone was well soaked, the game was over.

My mother's favorite recreations were playing cards and fishing. And fish was definitely her favorite food.

In many ways we were a close knit family. When Eddie's favorite horse died, everyone cried. Even my mother was upset; but she reminded us it would have been worse had one of us died.

My father died in 1910; my mother in 1944. These dates reveal that the depression years were a major portion of her years as a widow. In a letter to me in November 1932, she remarks that she is not certain how quickly she will be able to mail the letter since she had searched the house and had not been able to find the three cents needed to pay the mailman for the stamp.

The first automobile in our family was a "Maxwell". We all loved that and were excited about it, including my mother. I do not recall the year it was purchased. At the time of my ordination in 1924, the family car was a "Dodge".

Widows make friends of widows. This was true of my mother. Because of this many of our childhood playmates were the children of widows. I recall the Cherays', Feldkamps' and Stallbaumers'. Add to this, especially, Mrs. Anna Steinlage and children of Kelly. The Boedings and the Steinlages were friends dating back to Germany. The rest of the playmates were our friends at school, and the children of the homes near our farm. The neighbors with children were: Waller, Chrisman, Robinson, Quinlan, Woltkamp, Tanking, Sauer, Becker and Weber. Their "kids" played in our yard and we played in theirs.

Whenever the parents "went on a trip", we children always hoped to receive a gift when they returned. This crops up several times in the letters exchanged by my parents during the trip by my father to Germany and Rome in 1900. My mother tells how much my brothers and sisters speculated on what each one might receive when he returned. For quite a while, Anna, aged three, was confident my father would bring her a bicycle.

For several years after my mother's death, acquaintances frequently reminded me about her pleasant disposition. With this they always recalled that she had a very jolly laugh. One day, neighbor ladies were helping prepare the meal "for the thrashers", always a "big deal" in those days. One of the ladies was out on the porch peeling potatoes. A small cousin, visiting, passed the porch.

"Go in and tell your aunt Lizzie I need help out here."

"Where is aunt Lizzie?"

"Isn't she in the kitchen?"

"No, I think not. I don't hear her laughing."

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