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K. Westhues, Tributes

 

 

 

Opening pages of editor's commentary,
"Of Roots and Wings"

 

Click here
for a photo, obituary, and eulogies
of Margie's son Joe (1965-2016).

 

Sis Marg

THE LETTERS OF
MARGIE WESTHUES BOSCHERT

TO HER YOUNGER BROTHER

Edited, with commentary by Kenneth Westhues

Waterloo, Ont.: K & A Westhues, Publishers, vi + 309 pp., 22 chapters, frontispiece, paperback, 1993. ISBN 0-9696210-1-9

This title is out of print. Copies are available in various public libraries, especially in Missouri.

  • November 15, 1963. I'm sure you tire of my advising you and asserting my feelings. I hope you never consider my ideas cockeyed. As we grow older into adults, I pray we are not just brother and sister, but friends in sharing ideas and hopes.
  • September 30, 1964. I honestly believe I have our little Joe. He's not as active as Judy was and the doctor says the heartbeat points to a boy. Even after bearing two children I am bewildered and overwhelmed at the mystery of life. In this one respect I feel we women have a superiority over you men. Being a mother is to me the most unexplainable joy a person can experience.
  • February 2, 1968. I fear our conversation Monday night left you with the impression I am down on sociology. You know, I've concuded that we are lucky, the chosen few. Mom taught us the beauty of a sunset and the total security of love. So many people don't have anything to hang onto except what the authorities of such studies as you're doing offer them.
  • May 25, 1979. The lessons of life don't come easy. We get cut down by everyone, ourselves included, until the only stable thing within us is the love that conquers all. The one unmistakeable thing about any moment of joy we find in life is the knowledge that we are loved—first by others, but then through them we are able to love ourselves.
  • June 15, 1992. I don't feel I am who I was intended to be. I could always envision myself in the country, birthing calves, fixing fence, wearing overalls. Then having schoolchildren and disabled people come visit when the chickens hatched. I wanted to make trails through the property and invite anyone and everyone to walk them whenever they felt the need.