Anna Barbara Assion
1865-1952
Born: St Louis, St Louis Co, MO
Died: Bloomington, McLean Co, IL, Burial: Green Hill, Arrowsmith, IL
1865-1952
Born: St Louis, St Louis Co, MO
Died: Bloomington, McLean Co, IL, Burial: Green Hill, Arrowsmith, IL
<p>The following Obituary was published in the Bloomington Daily Pantagraph on Monday, Dec 29, 1952:</p><p><strong>Mrs. Andrew Flinspach</strong></p><p>Mrs. Andrew E. Flinspach, 87, of 411 N. Oak St., died at 10:50 a.m. Sunday at St. Joseph's Hospital.</p><p>She was taken to the Flinspach-Kurth Memorial Home. Funeral services will be held at 2 p.m. Tuesday at the First Evangelical United Bretheren Church. Burial will be in Greenwood Cemetery, Arrowsmith.</p><p>Mrs. Flinspach was born Aug. 2, 1865 in St. Louis, Mo., the daughter of Matthew and Catherine Shy(sic) Assion. She was married to Andrew E. Flinspach April 15, 1886 at Arrowsmith.</p><p>Survivors are a daughter, Lorene, at home; two sons, George, R.R. 2 and Charles, Mason City; seven grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.</p><p>She was preceded in death by three daughters.</p><p>Mrs. Flinspach was a member of the First Evangelical United Brethren Church.</p>
<p>My Grandma Flinspach was born Barbara Assion in St. Louis, Missouri to her immigrant parents, who had already had one living daughter, Mary, and two deceased children, a son and a daughter. Grandma's father died of tetanus following an accident when she was only 5 years old. She and her sister Mary attended the school attached to Most Holy Trinity Catholic Church and run by German Catholic nuns. Following her father's death, life was hard for her mother and for Grandma. She had been very close to her father, and she said he always called her "his little tom boy" because he was proud of how well she jumped rope and excelled at games played outside on the sidewalk. In addition to loosing her father, three more tiny sisters died within about two years. Then her older sister Mary married at age 16, and not long after her marriage, Mary and her new husband moved to Chicago leaving my Grandma and her mother alone. The only means of support for an immigrant widow was her own two hands. My Great Grandmother worked as a cook in homes of wealthy families in St. Louis. Grandma happily attended school at Most Holy Trinity. These nuns were wonderful at education, and obviously also at understanding children. The stories of mean nuns never were told by Grandma. And she had learned to read, write and speak an educated German, which she never forgot. </p><p>Luckily my Great Grandmother's sister-in-law, Mary Assion, sister of Mathias, had married a Mr. Blum from Arrowsmith, and when Grandma was about 10 years old, the Blums asked Great Grandmother and Grandma to come to Arrowsmith where they knew of a man who needed a housekeeper. Grandma and her mother took the train(I think) from St. Louis to Bloomington and Arrowsmith became their home. It had to have been a sudden and drastic change for a "city girl" to move to the country. However, it seemed to suit Grandma well. She never expressed anything but pleasure about her life there. When her mother married my Great Grandfather Flinspach, Grandma had a little sister again, Great Grandpa Flinspach's youngest daughter Louisa. And there were two older boys still living at home - Henry and Andrew. Andrew, was 5 years older than Grandma, and as time went on they fell in love and married. It must have caused some consternation for some of the older siblings when first their mother died, later their father married the housekeeper (my great-grandmother), and brought a step-mother and step-sister into their family. Then 10 years later, that step-sister became a sister-in-law by marrying their brother. But Grandma never expressed anything that indicated being aware of any such feelings. She spoke only lovingly of all the family members. </p><p>After she and Grandpa married they lived on the farm near Arrowsmith. Grandma married at age 21 and had her first baby, a girl, Katie, at 22. Tragically, that first baby died at the age of one month. One and a half years later she had her second child, George, a darling little boy with a sparkle in his eye and coal black hair. He was the darling of his parents' eyes, and I think from the photos of him, he knew it. When he was 4, another beautiful baby, a girl, Belle, was born and also had that same thick coal black hair. Five years later another baby girl, Lorene, was born. She also was a black haired beauty with a sparkling personality. Six and a half years after Lorene another daughter, Louise, was born. She died of pneumonia during the winter one year later, and left three grieving older siblings and her parents. I heard of her from every one of them. Obviously she had been like a baby doll for parents and siblings, and neither Grandma nor my aunts would let me scrape ice off the inside of a window in winter. They attributed the death of their darling little Louise to a cold she caught from scraping the ice from inside the windows. One and a half years after her death, my father, Charles or Charlie as they called him, was born equally beautiful with that same head of coal black hair as all his older siblings. He then became the apple of the eyes of now even older siblings' as well as his parents. George was 18, Belle 14, and Lorene 9 when Dad was born. My father always called himself the replacement baby. The story of his birth was always told as an example of how hard Grandma worked (or how determined she could be?). Dad was born on July 28, and I think it was cherries, but some of their fruit trees were in high production. In labor, with her later to be determined 10 pound baby, Grandma was still baking pies when the doctor's carriage arrived. He was aghast to see Grandma still clothed and in apron, baking the pies. Only thirty minutes later Dad was born.</p><p>Grandma had her hands full. She was a busy farm wife. Gardening, cooking, preserving, sewing, nursing a baby and "Keeping a good table" - an expression I heard frequently about Grandma - was more than a full time job. She was a meticulous housekeeper as well. Everything had to be clean, clean, clean. I have heard the tale of when they had a temporary hired man who had been allowed to sleep in a little back room during harvest. He probably was good help, but he also caused a lot work. When he left, Grandma found he had brought bed bugs! At that time bed bugs were the bane of any housewifes existence. Grandma grabbed the mattress and bedding, drug them to the backyard, poured kerosene upon them and burned then into ashes. The entire room was totally scrubbed, aired until nothing brought in by the man remained. She had the same immediate "get to work" attitude when my father brought home head lice from school. He could report his ordeal in great detail til the day he died. Grandma grabbed him, stripped him down, took him outside where she rubbed kerosene thoroughly through his hair, combed it with a fine tooth comb, and then washed it thoroughly under the pump. I have no idea how many times she repeated the process. But Dad never forgot the time he got lice! At least she did not shave off his beautiful coal black hair!</p><p>Dad's favorite meal was one which they ate rather often during winter - Hasenpfeffer. Rabbits could be shot easily in the country during winter, and he said that Grandma would clean them, tie them by their feet and hang them on a line outside to freeze. When she was ready to cook some, she went out and cut them down to bring in to cook. He ate Hassenpfeffer as an older man every time we took him to a German restaurant in the Chicago area. He considered himself to be a fine judge of the dish, but always claimed that no one surpassed his mother's skill. His highest compliment would be that it was "almost" as good as hers. </p><p>In 1917 Grandma and Grandpa moved from their farm into town. Grandpa retired because of a "heart condition", angina, and had rebuilt the old house of his Uncle Ludwig/Louis on the corner of Market and Oak. Grandma, Aunts Belle and Lorene, and Dad(Charles) all moved to town at that time. George remained to run the farm in Arrowsmith. Aunt Lorene attended Brown's Business College in Bloomington, Aunt Belle helped Grandma run the house, and Dad went to Edwards School just down the street. Grandma and Grandpa had updated everything in the original house, adding on and improving it. Grandma had good taste. She did not decorate in the flowery style of many in that period but with an elegant simplicity. She cherished the few items her mother had brought with her from Germany, and the things she had acquired after arriving. Her mother had also had good taste. Her mother's and her furniture was sturdy, well built to last many lifetimes, but all had that elegant simplicity. Grandma's sewing machine, on which I learned to sew, was a Singer pedal machine, made of beautifully crafted wood, and an even more beautiful, mother of pearl inlaid head, which was only seen while sewing (to provide inspiration?) and covered with the simple but lovely wooden cover when not at work. It was the machine with which Grandma made her own wedding dress and hundreds of items afterward including Christening dresses. I think her mother probably also participated in the making of the baby clothes. </p><p>I remember my Grandmother Flinspach so well and with much fondness. She was a petite little woman, about 4'9 or 10, and normally weighed between 85 -90 pounds. The only time her weight exceeded that was when she was pregnant with my father, Charles her sixth baby, who was born weighing 10 pounds. Shortly before he was born she topped 100 pounds! In addition to being tiny, she was a gracious woman, always perfectly groomed, not fancily, but perfectly. Her clothing was "old fashioned." She always wore dresses made in beautiful fabric, soft pleating or ruffling in the bodice, softly draping long skirts, and with colors varying by the season - dark in fall and winter, lighter in spring and summer. But they were never dreary, like some older women of her time and age. </p><p>She also, was meticulous about her personal care. I can still remember how she had a braided "switch" made of her own hair, which she braided into her carefully brushed and combed hair each morning, and from which she removed each night to again carefully brush her hair. This was a timestaking process which she obviously enjoyed. As with all her personal care she always went into her bathroom and locked the door. She carried her day clothing into the bathroom wearing her robe and with long hair in a soft braid. You would hear the bath tub filling, and later a soft sound of movement as she dressed and then total quiet as she finished with her hair. I clearly remember when my Aunt Lorene began to worry about Grandma "locking herself in" because she feared she would slip and fall either in the tub or on the floor and we would not be able to get in to help her. However, Grandma continued to "lock-up" despite the scolding before and after. A sense of privacy was of far greater concern to her then any fear of falling. However, on at least one occassion, Grandma allowed me to see and hold her "switch" after she had removed it. </p><p>When Grandma exited, she was the picture of perfection, but not in the way we would describe as perfection in today's movie starlet world. Salt and pepper gray hair (she never became white haired) was perfect - not one hair out of place. Dress perfect with buttons and belt fastened and softly draping around her tiny body, hosiery and shoes on. She always wore soft black leather shoes with ties and low heels. Grandma never wore make-up. She probably used cream on her face and body because it always looked and felt smooth and soft. She also had a faint scent of a very soft and light perfume about her. I remember the bottle well. It was on her cabinet in the bathroom, with slightly frosted glass, a very clear lightly golden fluid within, and a rose/lavendar cap that looked like a sweet clover blossum. I have to admit to looking at it everytime I saw it out. If I could I would remove the cap to sneak a sniff. I have searched everywhere for that perfume, but have never found it. Obviously the more potent aromas have overpowered both our noses and the perfume market. At night she would go in and later exit in her robe, ready for bed. Before retiring she would stop and with a twinkling smile as she went to her bedroom tell my sisters and me good night in German and English: "Good Night, Sleep Tight, and Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite".</p><p>I have many other memories of Grandma, many mixed with memories of Aunts Belle and Lorene. Grandma was not one to spend money foolishly. But she had a great respect for quality and a nice appearance. She did not have a large wardrobe, but the fabrics used to make her dresses and household items was of excellent quality. Grandma had been a beautiful seamstress as was her mother. They usually made everything they or their children wore. But then her daughter, Aunt Belle became a wonderful seamstress too, and she took over the family wardrobe. However, not a scrap of fabric was ever to be wasted! And that included wornout or out grown clothing. Such items were taken apart, bad portions removed, and from the otherwise fine fabric a new dress, jacket or coat was made which looked as if it had just been made by a fine dressmaker - it had, first Grandma and then Aunt Belle. When I was little and Uncle George's kids were adults, my mother was delighted to get the remnants of old coats and suits that would make smaller items. My snowsuits, coats, hats, were made from "wornout" adult coats that still had lots of good fabric with which to make 1 or 2 children's snowsuits or coats. My sisters and I "passed these down" to one another. The tiny scraps of cloth too small for sewing became either quilt pieces or were made into rugs. Grandma never made her own rag rugs because a friend and neighbor down on Market St. made the rags into rugs for her in exchange for something. I cannot remember what she did in return; but no money exchanged hands. Grandma's friend wove those rags into the finest rag rugs one could imagine. They did not remotely resemble the thick, heavy, braided rag rugs. These were finely woven together, not braided, and they would cost a fortune now. I have not seen any others like them. </p><p>Grandma often read and listened to the radio while sitting in her rocking chair in the living room. However when I was there, my favorite place was sitting on the footstool beside her. She would talk to me about all sorts of things - her childhood in St. Louis, her papa and mama, the nuns who were her teachers at her school in St. Louis. From her tales of the nuns I thought that all nuns were warm and loving women. She told about how one of the nuns was in charge of assigning the Saints name to each child prior to their First Communion. Since Grandma's given name was Barbara, but she had never like that name, the nun in charge asked her to come first to meet with her for name assignment. When Grandma went in the Sister told her that she knew she did not like her name, so she wanted to give her the opportunity to choose her own Saints name before any other child had been assigned one. Grandma then chose St. Anne, and Anne or Annie became her name forever after. She talked about how much fun she had jumping rope on the sidewalk in front of the building in which her family lived in St. Louis, and on and on. I never grew bored. She tired long before I. I also remember sitting by her when I was not yet 10 years old and talking while she was embroidering. She asked me if I knew how to embroider, and was shocked by my reply of "No." I can still remember her saying in a manner I had not heard before. "What? You are almost 10 years old and cannot embroider. You need to learn!" One of my older cousins, Edna, heard the conversation, and we soon walked down to Woolworths where she had me pick out a simple sampler, hoop, needle and the necessary number of packages of colored embroidery thread. She paid the clerk, and as we walked out the door carrying the brown bag, she said to me "Now I will teach you to embroider, and Grandma will not be able to criticize you for not knowing how." I had not felt criticized, but eagerly learned all the basic stiches then from Edna, and Grandma helped too. Grandma taught me how to do French Knots - the stitch I found hardest to do. That was a very productive visit to Grandma's!</p><p>Grandma talked a great deal about members of the extended family and family friends with whom I had little to no contact. As a result to this day, I remember names and bits of information about family members I encounter as I work on family history. Some situations I find in old census records, news clippings, obituarys suddenly make sense when I remember names and stories Grandma told. Other family situations remain puzzles yet to be solved or forever to remain a mystery.</p><p>Although well into her 80s, Grandma never walked with a shuffle or the caution of many older women, until her last months and weeks of life. She walked with what I can only describe as briskness. I have one very vivid memory of her during one of our overnight visits. Grandma had been working at something in her kitchen, and I was in the living room. Suddenly Grandma came dashing from the kitchen saying with a shocked expression: "Someone has tried to kill OUR President"! She was horrified, and I did not yet fully realize the implications of her comment. Grandma had been born the year that Lincoln was assassinated. When she received the right to vote, she had always voted as a Lincoln Republican, but after her vote was cast and the election over, it made no difference to her the party of whomever was President of the U.S.A.; he was OUR President. Truman was a Democrat, but he was OUR President, and she respected him. I still can see her dashing from the kitchen, apron snapping in her selfmade breeze in horrified dismay. </p><p>I remember well my Grandmother's last months of life. We drove up every night after school and Dad got off work. Dad had to work so most nights he went to bed and slept. Aunt Lorene had to sleep at night because she worked each day as well. We three girls did the same - sleeping in "our" front bedroom upstairs. I loved that little room with the dormered windows and slanted walls! Mom however sat up each night with Grandma who was having difficulty sleeping. Then when morning came, we dressed for school, Dad for work, and headed the 50 miles back home where Mom, in theory was to get her rest. A woman from Arrowsmith, Rose Follick, cared for Grandma during week-days. Then on Friday night we came and remained until Monday mornings. I know this time was hard on Mom, Aunt Lorene, and Dad. But we kids only disliked going to Sunday School at the Bloomington United Brethern Church. We did not enjoy the "hell, fire and brimstone" approach to Christianity of the teacher we had there.</p><p>Grandma took a sudden "turn" and Dr. Deneen, an old family friend, neighbor and doctor advised taking her to the hospital. Actually, she was close to death. Mom took turns with Aunt Lorene sitting in her hospital room. The hospital the family used was St. Joseph's and was run by the Order of Saint Francis. Many of the nurses were nuns in white habits. Others were office workers and wore the traditional black. Grandma had been born and raised a Catholic, converting in her early 40's to the United Brethern Protestant Church along with her husband and many others in the rural, predominantly German community in and around Saybrook and Arrowsmith. The United Brethern were a U.S. branch of the German Church of the Brethern who evangelized in rural areas. So although Grandma had been active in the United Brethern Church for half her life, her parents, sister and she and 5 of her 6 children (only my father had not) had been baptized and initially raised as practicing Catholics. I knew this, and I remember how shocking I thought it was when my mother asked my Aunt Lorene what she should do if Grandma requested "Last Rights." In retrospect, I imagine that since they baptized every baby born in that hospital - I know I was - they probably gave Last Rights to everyone in danger of dying whether requested or not. But the notion that anyone would question complying to her dying wish still astounds me. </p><p>Grandma's funeral was the first time I remember seeing my father cry. We were all sitting together in a pew during the service. My dad and Aunt Lorene had decided that the choir should sing some of the hymns that their mother used to sing to them late in the day while they sat on the front porch waiting for the men to come in from the field. They were beautiful old hymns and melodys, and I will never forget looking up at Dad and seeing his chin trembling and tears running down his face. It showed a deep, tender, loving grief, that effected my deeply. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p>It has been over 60 years since Grandma Riesch died. She was not my grandmother, but the grandmother of my Flinspach cousins and mother-in-law of my Uncle George. She was an integral part of many Sunday afternoons. We always drove up to visit my father's mother and sisters each Sunday after church. And on many of those afternoons, after finishing one of Aunt Belle's wonderful dinners we would pile into our car and drive out to the outer edge of Bloomington to visit my father's brother George and his family which included not only his four adult children, but also his wife Bertha's mother Grandma Reisch and her sister, Aunt Minnie. </p><p>Grandma Reisch either never learned English or conviently and skillfully pretended not to understand it. As I grew older I came to believe it was the latter. She lived in the United States for over 50 years and was an intelligent woman. There can be no way that she can have not learned to understand English, but she certainly gave no indication that she did. Unless spoken to in German she acted as if she could not understand. I must have learned some polite phrases, because I remember her pleasant reactions to our arrival. All of her own, by then adult grandchildren could converse in German with her and did. </p><p>I particularly loved those visits on sunny spring or summer days when we could play in the large yard, hopefully play with a rabbit or two, and look at the bountiful vegetable and flower gardens. But most of all, I remember how I enjoyed the backdrop of Grandma Reisch and my own Grandma Flinspach's voices as they spoke for hours in German. It was such a pleasant sound. It seemed that my grandmother, who had a very sweet, pleasant voice, took on an even softer intonation when she was speaking German. It had been her mother tongue and she had been taught formal German in her education in the German Catholic School attached to Most Holy Trinity Church, which she had attended while growing up in St. Louis. Grandma was beautifully bi-lingual using both languages equally well. But as the generation before her died, and publication of any German language newspapers or books ceased, she had fewer and fewer opportunities to read or speak in German. Grandma Reisch spoke a slightly different German than that taught by the St. Louis nun's, but my grandmother clearly was delighted to have someone to speak with in her mother tongue. And I can still here the sound of their voices. I never heard my grandmother speak in German after Grandma Reisch died. How she must have missed those conversations. </p>
<p>Louisa Flinspach was a very special person to my grandmother. Louisa's mother died when she was only three years old. Sometime afterward Louisa's father, Andrew Emmanuel Flinspach, hired Catherine Schey Assion (the mother of Anna Barbara Assion (my grandmother), the widow of Mathias Assion, and sister-in-law of Mary Assion Blum who resided in McLean County, who had invited Catherine to move to McLean County three years after the death of Mathias in St. Louis, MO.) to be a housekeeper in his home. Catherine certainly needed employment and he needed a woman to be a housekeeper. However, by 1878, they had developed more than an employer and employee relationship and were married on January 20, 1878. </p><p>When Catherine or Kate, and Andrew married, Louisa was a very young child only 6 years old. Anna, her new step-sister was 12 years old, and was delighted to have a little sister. Step-mother, Catherine too was delighted to have a little girl. I have photos of Louisa and Anna in identical dresses made by Catherine their mother and step-mother. My grandmother used to tell me how proud she and Louisa were when their "mama" made them identical dresses. Their relationship continued to grow as time progressed and each married and had children. As a child, I was constantly confused by the fact that Louisa Flinspach Ewert was Grandpa's sister and also Grandma's sister, because my grandmother and Louisa's middle brother, Andrew, married as adults. A most confusing set of relationships to a child! Eventually, the relationships began to make sense. </p><p>Louisa's children were the cousins with whom my father and his siblings had the closest relationship. Walter Ewert was just two years older than my father, my grandparents' youngest child, and as long as both Dad and Walter lived they enjoyed visiting with one another. </p>