My Cathedral

Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception

1122 South Clinton Street
Fort Wayne, IN 46802-3130


Photo Credit: KFH (May 2008)


God and church have always been a factor in my family's life. My great-grandmother...Helena Starost Roy Kline...was a Catholic girl, through in through. She raised her three sons - Wayne (my grandfather), Walter Jr., and Kenneth as good Catholic boys. When Wayne and Walter Jr. grew up and married (Kenneth died as a boy), their children also continued the Catholic traditions.

The downtown churches - Cathedral, St. Mary's, and St. Patrick's were the three churches that generations of my family belonged to. I can find old newspaper clippings of marriages, funerals, first communions, baptisms, and school attendance.

Although much of my childhood revolved around St. Therese, most of my life's major events have taken place in Cathedral.

Photo: 1967 (from left) Wayne Roy, Kristina Frazier, Helena Starost Roy Kline, Patricia Frazier.

I was baptized there, I was married there, and my grandfather's funeral was held there. When I was a young adult, I sang in choir and attended mass there. I wasn't an every week person but I certainly considered myself a Catholic girl.

When I left Fort Wayne, all association with my Catholic church (in general) ceased. Part of that was my uncomfortableness with living in the Indianapolis area (it's still too big for me and doesn't have that small city/big town feeling that Fort Wayne always gave me). The other reason I didn't attend church was that I was pretty angry at God for taking away my grandfather. Even though I had expressed this opinion to Grandpa (while he was close to death even), he was very steadfast in his belief of God and was even perturbed at me for ever mentioning (me) "not believing in God anymore".

For 22 years, I have carried that pain with me - my grandfather's hastened and unfair death, my anger at God, and some of my grandfather's last words to me.

2009 has been a horrible year. You see I haven't posted much this year on my blog and I can tell you that much of that has to do with the heartbreak, heartache, and misfortune I have experienced this year.

Recently though, that anger that I've been holding on to for 22 years has dissipated. I can't tell you what happened exactly - it wasn't just one thing...it was a series of events and signs that made me realize that it was time to let go.

I still miss my grandfather but I know that I was one of the luckiest chicks on earth - to have had a man in my life who taught me so many life lessons and who loved me unconditionally...what more could anyone want? I no longer deny my belief in God and suddenly, I have a yearning to be close to my Cathedral again.

When I think about my Cathedral, I feel a sense of peace, a sense of awe, and I feel close to the things that have always been important to me (but you know, time/space sometimes makes you forget what those are). If I lived in Fort Wayne, I'd be right back there - singing in choir, attending mass (mostly) weekly but unfortunately, I don't live there anymore and now, I have to find somewhere else to continue the Catholic girl traditions.

Fort Wayne Box Company

My Grandpa was the kind of guy who worked multiple jobs. He was a responsible man and did whatever he could to support his family.

One of the jobs he had was working for the Fort Wayne Box Company. In fact, it's the place where my grandparents first met each other.



I absolutely adore this invoice - mostly because it has a drawing of the actual building in the left hand corner.

I thought the detailing of the building was magnificent and I said to myself - ain't no way...given Fort Wayne's history of tearing down things that exist in the downtown area - ain't no way - this building still exists.

But guess what? I was wrong.

From Google Earth Maps

A Guy and His Gun

In January of 1986, I worked three jobs. Why? I was 19 and I was on a quest to make money and to keep myself as busy as possible. I always liked to be on the go and with three jobs - I certainly was!

One of the disadvantages of living on Third Street was that all parking occurred on the street. My used 1979 Red Honda Accord could amazingly fit into small spots and believe me, I took advantage of that as much as possible. If I happened to come home late, I usually had to park at least a block away. My grandparents (who I lived with), were never thrilled if my car was not within view. I think they just liked to keep an eye on me and my stuff :).



On one particular Winter night, the parking situation really sucked. Instead of getting to park on Third Street, I had to go down to Orchard and then, park at the very end of it - almost at the corner of Orchard and High Street.



The black splat is where I ended up parking.

As I was walking up the sidewalk, nearing the corner of Orchard and Third Street, the light of a street lamp bounced off of one car and made it stand out more than the others parked on the street.

I looked to the right and I saw a guy - about my age - sitting in the driver's seat, with a gun in his hand. He looked distressed. We made eye contact. I diverted my eyes - but in a way that showed no fear. Why? I couldn't tell you. I probably should have been afraid. But everything inside of me kept me composed and calm and I continued walking at an even pace towards our house.

I walked inside - it was after 10 p.m., but my grandpa was still awake. He had just retired a few weeks beforehand and he claimed that he couldn't get used to not being awake for second shift. Secretly, I think he worried about me being out "in the dark" and so staying up, watching television kept him entertained until I got home.

So anyway, I walked in and I told my grandpa that we needed to call 911. I explained to him what I had just seen and amazingly, I was still very calm about it. For many years, Grandpa worked as a Security Supervisor at St. Joe Hospital so before we picked up the phone to place the call, he asked me specific questions.

Where exactly was the car parked?
Was it running? Or off?
What did it look like?
What did he look like?
Did he see you?
Did he make any attempt to get out of his car?
What did his gun look like?
What position was the gun in?

Most of my answers weren't specific enough (like I knew it was a mid-size American car but I didn't know what model/make/year), and forget the gun stuff. I just knew that it was a small pistol - it didn't have a wooden handle (you know - like handguns did in the Westerns on television).

My grandpa was very patient and in the span of 2-3 minutes, he got a lot of information out of me. He placed the 911 phone call himself (giving the details I had provided) and within 15 minutes, a uniformed FWP guy was at our door.

My grandpa and him got on well. The policeman took my statement and he asked the same type of questions that my grandpa had (and then some).

At the end of this process, he told us that the guy was upset over a domestic situation and that he had planned on killing himself. I was kind of shocked - I guess I never really stopped to think what was wrong with him or why he had a gun (or what he was going to do with it).

The policeman explained that he and his partner had approached the car (and its driver) to ascertain the situation and that is what took him so long to get over to see us. The individual had a gun permit but they did not feel comfortable with letting him go. It didn't sound like he was arrested - more that someone (or someones) were spending some time, talking to him. He was definitely out of the immediate area and the police gave him strict instructions not to come back near this area.

I guess I should have been comforted by that last part but really, I don't ever remember being scared or frightened. Something in his eyes - that split second we made eye contact - told me that this wasn't a guy who was going to hurt me.

But you know, I got a lecture from both the policeman and my grandfather about walking alone, so late at night, blah blah blah.

As he was leaving, the policeman shook my grandfather's hand and then looked at me and said, "You probably saved his life tonight". I didn't know what to say to that. So I said nothing. He didn't appear as if he was looking for a response.

After he left, and my grandpa locked up for the night, we sat in the living room and watched some late night television (Channel 55!). Neither of us said much and about an hour later, we went to bed.

The next morning, my grandma was all frantic. She pulled out every possibility (I could have been raped, murdered, kidnapped) and I just shook my head at her. Usually, when she got this way, me and grandpa just let her rant. Eventually, she went a little over the top and my grandpa stepped in to cut her off.

"Irene. Our granddaughter did the right thing. I don't like that she was out walking in the dark but in the end, it all turned out alright for everyone, including the young man who might have been found this morning by someone else walking past his car."

That quieted her - real quick :).

Every once in awhile, whenever I had to park on Orchard, I always wondered what happened to the guy. All of these years later, I still can't look at that corner without thinking about that night. Although we only shared a couple of seconds of co-existence, I hoped that he had been able to move past the type of pain that led him to that night in his car with his gun.

Family

July202008 074
Originally uploaded by kristinafh

So yesterday was a quick in-and-out of Fort Wayne trip. The occasion? Our extended family - the Emmert's - invited us to attend the First Baptist Church (2323 Fairfield Avenue) 10:30 service which was immediately followed by the wedding of Todd Emmert and Amanda Fisher. A reception was held in the basement of the church.

As the crowd was gathering to start the reception, many thoughts were racing through my mind.

This church, as I've mentioned before, is rich with history and tradition. I'm always in awe of entities which have survived and flourished through many centuries. Often, I wonder - was it a fluke? Was it a series of coincidences? How does an entity in ever-changing economic and social climates, adapt and stay relevant?

I pondered this while enjoying a meal with my mom, her husband, my aunt, and her husband.

After the meal, Leon told the crowd about his mother Vida. As I've mentioned before, she and my great-grandfather, were orphaned (16 and 14 respectfully) when their parents were victims of a fire that took place right there on their farm.

Leon said that there was a lot of pressure for his mother and his uncle to be adopted. Vida refused. She had already completed one year of high school and she insisted on completing her education and keeping the family farm alive.

I was more than impressed with this story. Can you imagine?! Early 1900's - a chick - thumbing her nose as society and saying, I'm gonna do things my way?! Frickin' awesome. I am in complete admiration.

Leon went on to tell us about my great-grandfather. He was drafted into World War I and came back injured (something none of us knew - my mom, my aunts). His first wife died (Rosina Breer), and his second wife Helena Starost was "delightful".

While Leon grew up on the Roy Family farm, my grandpa Wayne, lived in the 'big' city. Helena always made sure that her three boys - Wayne, Walter, and Kenny - spent weekends at the Roy Family farm. It was there that they formed a strong, family relationship with their cousins - the Emmert's. Leon mentioned specifically that they spent countless hours, playing in the hay bales, climbing trees and tinkering with odds and ends.

Leon recalled Kenny's unfortunate death. At the age of nine, he had died from some heart ailment. The funeral and service, he said, was held just down the street at St. Patrick's.

I asked him what kind of kid my grandpa was. My grandpa was always a reserved adult - very quiet compared to somone like me :). He said that grandpa knew how to have fun. He wasn't too quiet but he wasn't nearly as ornery as his younger brother Walter.

It was nice to hear all of this about my grandpa.

When the story ended, I looked up, and saw this very simple vase on our table.

RESERVED - Family.

I thought, I am really proud to be part of this family. I took a lot of this for granted for many years. And then, my mind switched back to the first thought I had as I was waiting in line for the food.

"How does an entity in ever-changing economic and social climates, adapt and stay relevant?"

RESERVED - Family

It all made sense to me now.