Medina Co. Gazette: Robert V (should be U) McDonald, 66 of Rt. 8, 5895 Chippewa Road, died at 8:30 p. m. Wednesday in Norwalk of a heart attack. A retired road supervisor, he was employed by Lafayette Township for 33 years. Mr McDonald lived in the Chippewa Lake area all his life. He was the past vice president of the Medina Coon Hunters Club. He is survived by his widow, Mabel, two daughters, Mrs. Roberta Humbel and Mrs. Patt Kincaid; a son, Donald Mcdonald, all of Chippewa Lake; and 11 grandchildren. He was preceded in death by one son, Cpl. Nathan Mcdonald who was killed in action in Korea. Funeral services will be at 1 p. m. Saturday in the Waite and Son Memorial Home, Medina. The Rev. Terry Litton will officate. Burial will be in the LeRoy Cemetery. Friends may call from 7 to 9 and 7 to 9 Friday in the funeral home.
Grandpa died, while in Olena, he was coon hunting behind Aunt Marian & Uncle Lloyds house. He felt pain, and walked to their door.
She was holding him when he died and he said "Tell Mabel and the kids, I have done everything I have ever wanted to do in this life, and Im ready for the next step". He died before anyone could get there. He was the BEST grandpa ever.
Worked for the township of Lafayette till retired. He hand dug graves for the township, and worked on the roads. When he retired from there, he worked summers at Chippewa Lake Park. His fathers house was the second built in Chippewa Lake.
Did some bare knuckle fighting before he Married Mabel Delight Harper on April 10, 1927.
This is a copy of an article that was placed in a book called The Cemetery Book by Sharon Carmack on pages 209-210. Sharon contacted me and asked me if I would write a little article for her book as she had read my story about how my grandfather taught me to respect and honor those who have gone on before.
Grandpa was more Than a Gravedigger. When I was a little girl, one of my most favorite things to do was to go "help" my grandfather, Uri Robert McDonald, at his work. He worked for the Medina County, Ohio; garage in the township of Lafayette, in one of his jobs was to dig the graves in our local cemetery.
Back then, in the late 1950s, early 1960s, you never took a backhoe into a cemetery; you had to dig it by hand. You never started digging in the daytime, as it was considered sacrilegious. So my grandpa had to wait until dusk, and off he would go to prepare the final "home" for the dearly departed.
He would come pick me up, and we would go while there was some daylight left, so he could unload his pickax and shovels, lanterns and tarps. While he would do that, he would mention that this was the last place that a person had to show for his life. If it wasn't for the tombstones, we wouldn't remember that person had lived and loved, had joys and sorrows. In time, we would forget about them. He would ask me to look around and see if the persons still needed cleaning off or weeds pulled, so that if a loved one came along they would see someone else cared about them.
I would pick flowers and even brought little decorations for stones than I knew were there. If it were a child's stone, I would bring some small toy to place on it. I had my family gave me little bases and things I could use and was always ready when grandpa would come tell me a citizen had need of "our services".
When it was time, my grandfather would start the digging, which could last way into the night. I would hand him the pick for the shovel and move the lantern so he could see. By the time you would get half way (which was about 3 feet deep), we would take a lunch break and sit on the edge of the hole and talk about the person who would be buried there or current events in our town or world. Then back to work until it was 6 feet deep and perfect for the coffin to fit in.
After we were done, we would cover the dirt with the green tarp so that during the funeral, the family wouldn't have to look at a mound of earth that would be placed back over after they left the service.
Sometimes he would take me back to help fill in the site. He would take such care to make it look very neat and rounded. We would arrange the flowers left by the mourners and remove any rocks so that it would look nice.
I had friends who thought cemeteries were spooky and hated to go to them. They thought I was crazy to go on stage to laughter midnight. My grandfather taught me that they are a place to be comforted and remembered in. He used to tell me that the cemetery was the safest place to be - no one there could hurt you. He used to say, "The dead are at peace; it's the live ones you need to be worried about".
To this day, I will still pull weeds or replace flowers or wreaths that have been blown over for those who are near my own loved ones. Long after I'm gone, I hope some other "little girl" will have a grandfather who takes the time to teach her to respect and care for my final resting place. Maybe she will set by my stone and wonder if I was a mother, a wife, and whether I had a happy or sad life. Maybe she will put flowers on my stone to show someone cares. – Beverly Teibel.
Grandpa died, while in Olena, he was coon hunting behind Aunt Marian & Uncle Lloyds house. He felt pain, and walked to their door.
She was holding him when he died and he said "Tell Mabel and the kids, I have done everything I have ever wanted to do in this life, and Im ready for the next step". He died before anyone could get there. He was the BEST grandpa ever.
Worked for the township of Lafayette till retired. He hand dug graves for the township, and worked on the roads. When he retired from there, he worked summers at Chippewa Lake Park. His fathers house was the second built in Chippewa Lake.
Did some bare knuckle fighting before he Married Mabel Delight Harper on April 10, 1927.
This is a copy of an article that was placed in a book called The Cemetery Book by Sharon Carmack on pages 209-210. Sharon contacted me and asked me if I would write a little article for her book as she had read my story about how my grandfather taught me to respect and honor those who have gone on before.
Grandpa was more Than a Gravedigger. When I was a little girl, one of my most favorite things to do was to go "help" my grandfather, Uri Robert McDonald, at his work. He worked for the Medina County, Ohio; garage in the township of Lafayette, in one of his jobs was to dig the graves in our local cemetery.
Back then, in the late 1950s, early 1960s, you never took a backhoe into a cemetery; you had to dig it by hand. You never started digging in the daytime, as it was considered sacrilegious. So my grandpa had to wait until dusk, and off he would go to prepare the final "home" for the dearly departed.
He would come pick me up, and we would go while there was some daylight left, so he could unload his pickax and shovels, lanterns and tarps. While he would do that, he would mention that this was the last place that a person had to show for his life. If it wasn't for the tombstones, we wouldn't remember that person had lived and loved, had joys and sorrows. In time, we would forget about them. He would ask me to look around and see if the persons still needed cleaning off or weeds pulled, so that if a loved one came along they would see someone else cared about them.
I would pick flowers and even brought little decorations for stones than I knew were there. If it were a child's stone, I would bring some small toy to place on it. I had my family gave me little bases and things I could use and was always ready when grandpa would come tell me a citizen had need of "our services".
When it was time, my grandfather would start the digging, which could last way into the night. I would hand him the pick for the shovel and move the lantern so he could see. By the time you would get half way (which was about 3 feet deep), we would take a lunch break and sit on the edge of the hole and talk about the person who would be buried there or current events in our town or world. Then back to work until it was 6 feet deep and perfect for the coffin to fit in.
After we were done, we would cover the dirt with the green tarp so that during the funeral, the family wouldn't have to look at a mound of earth that would be placed back over after they left the service.
Sometimes he would take me back to help fill in the site. He would take such care to make it look very neat and rounded. We would arrange the flowers left by the mourners and remove any rocks so that it would look nice.
I had friends who thought cemeteries were spooky and hated to go to them. They thought I was crazy to go on stage to laughter midnight. My grandfather taught me that they are a place to be comforted and remembered in. He used to tell me that the cemetery was the safest place to be - no one there could hurt you. He used to say, "The dead are at peace; it's the live ones you need to be worried about".
To this day, I will still pull weeds or replace flowers or wreaths that have been blown over for those who are near my own loved ones. Long after I'm gone, I hope some other "little girl" will have a grandfather who takes the time to teach her to respect and care for my final resting place. Maybe she will set by my stone and wonder if I was a mother, a wife, and whether I had a happy or sad life. Maybe she will put flowers on my stone to show someone cares. – Beverly Teibel.
Medina Co. Gazette: Robert V (should be U) McDonald, 66 of Rt. 8, 5895 Chippewa Road, died at 8:30 p. m. Wednesday in Norwalk of a heart attack. A retired road supervisor, he was employed by Lafayette Township for 33 years. Mr McDonald lived in the Chippewa Lake area all his life. He was the past vice president of the Medina Coon Hunters Club. He is survived by his widow, Mabel, two daughters, Mrs. Roberta Humbel and Mrs. Patt Kincaid; a son, Donald Mcdonald, all of Chippewa Lake; and 11 grandchildren. He was preceded in death by one son, Cpl. Nathan Mcdonald who was killed in action in Korea. Funeral services will be at 1 p. m. Saturday in the Waite and Son Memorial Home, Medina. The Rev. Terry Litton will officate. Burial will be in the LeRoy Cemetery. Friends may call from 7 to 9 and 7 to 9 Friday in the funeral home.
Grandpa died, while in Olena, he was coon hunting behind Aunt Marian & Uncle Lloyds house. He felt pain, and walked to their door.
She was holding him when he died and he said "Tell Mabel and the kids, I have done everything I have ever wanted to do in this life, and Im ready for the next step". He died before anyone could get there. He was the BEST grandpa ever.
Worked for the township of Lafayette till retired. He hand dug graves for the township, and worked on the roads. When he retired from there, he worked summers at Chippewa Lake Park. His fathers house was the second built in Chippewa Lake.
Did some bare knuckle fighting before he Married Mabel Delight Harper on April 10, 1927.
This is a copy of an article that was placed in a book called The Cemetery Book by Sharon Carmack on pages 209-210. Sharon contacted me and asked me if I would write a little article for her book as she had read my story about how my grandfather taught me to respect and honor those who have gone on before.
Grandpa was more Than a Gravedigger. When I was a little girl, one of my most favorite things to do was to go "help" my grandfather, Uri Robert McDonald, at his work. He worked for the Medina County, Ohio; garage in the township of Lafayette, in one of his jobs was to dig the graves in our local cemetery.
Back then, in the late 1950s, early 1960s, you never took a backhoe into a cemetery; you had to dig it by hand. You never started digging in the daytime, as it was considered sacrilegious. So my grandpa had to wait until dusk, and off he would go to prepare the final "home" for the dearly departed.
He would come pick me up, and we would go while there was some daylight left, so he could unload his pickax and shovels, lanterns and tarps. While he would do that, he would mention that this was the last place that a person had to show for his life. If it wasn't for the tombstones, we wouldn't remember that person had lived and loved, had joys and sorrows. In time, we would forget about them. He would ask me to look around and see if the persons still needed cleaning off or weeds pulled, so that if a loved one came along they would see someone else cared about them.
I would pick flowers and even brought little decorations for stones than I knew were there. If it were a child's stone, I would bring some small toy to place on it. I had my family gave me little bases and things I could use and was always ready when grandpa would come tell me a citizen had need of "our services".
When it was time, my grandfather would start the digging, which could last way into the night. I would hand him the pick for the shovel and move the lantern so he could see. By the time you would get half way (which was about 3 feet deep), we would take a lunch break and sit on the edge of the hole and talk about the person who would be buried there or current events in our town or world. Then back to work until it was 6 feet deep and perfect for the coffin to fit in.
After we were done, we would cover the dirt with the green tarp so that during the funeral, the family wouldn't have to look at a mound of earth that would be placed back over after they left the service.
Sometimes he would take me back to help fill in the site. He would take such care to make it look very neat and rounded. We would arrange the flowers left by the mourners and remove any rocks so that it would look nice.
I had friends who thought cemeteries were spooky and hated to go to them. They thought I was crazy to go on stage to laughter midnight. My grandfather taught me that they are a place to be comforted and remembered in. He used to tell me that the cemetery was the safest place to be - no one there could hurt you. He used to say, "The dead are at peace; it's the live ones you need to be worried about".
To this day, I will still pull weeds or replace flowers or wreaths that have been blown over for those who are near my own loved ones. Long after I'm gone, I hope some other "little girl" will have a grandfather who takes the time to teach her to respect and care for my final resting place. Maybe she will set by my stone and wonder if I was a mother, a wife, and whether I had a happy or sad life. Maybe she will put flowers on my stone to show someone cares. – Beverly Teibel.
Grandpa died, while in Olena, he was coon hunting behind Aunt Marian & Uncle Lloyds house. He felt pain, and walked to their door.
She was holding him when he died and he said "Tell Mabel and the kids, I have done everything I have ever wanted to do in this life, and Im ready for the next step". He died before anyone could get there. He was the BEST grandpa ever.
Worked for the township of Lafayette till retired. He hand dug graves for the township, and worked on the roads. When he retired from there, he worked summers at Chippewa Lake Park. His fathers house was the second built in Chippewa Lake.
Did some bare knuckle fighting before he Married Mabel Delight Harper on April 10, 1927.
This is a copy of an article that was placed in a book called The Cemetery Book by Sharon Carmack on pages 209-210. Sharon contacted me and asked me if I would write a little article for her book as she had read my story about how my grandfather taught me to respect and honor those who have gone on before.
Grandpa was more Than a Gravedigger. When I was a little girl, one of my most favorite things to do was to go "help" my grandfather, Uri Robert McDonald, at his work. He worked for the Medina County, Ohio; garage in the township of Lafayette, in one of his jobs was to dig the graves in our local cemetery.
Back then, in the late 1950s, early 1960s, you never took a backhoe into a cemetery; you had to dig it by hand. You never started digging in the daytime, as it was considered sacrilegious. So my grandpa had to wait until dusk, and off he would go to prepare the final "home" for the dearly departed.
He would come pick me up, and we would go while there was some daylight left, so he could unload his pickax and shovels, lanterns and tarps. While he would do that, he would mention that this was the last place that a person had to show for his life. If it wasn't for the tombstones, we wouldn't remember that person had lived and loved, had joys and sorrows. In time, we would forget about them. He would ask me to look around and see if the persons still needed cleaning off or weeds pulled, so that if a loved one came along they would see someone else cared about them.
I would pick flowers and even brought little decorations for stones than I knew were there. If it were a child's stone, I would bring some small toy to place on it. I had my family gave me little bases and things I could use and was always ready when grandpa would come tell me a citizen had need of "our services".
When it was time, my grandfather would start the digging, which could last way into the night. I would hand him the pick for the shovel and move the lantern so he could see. By the time you would get half way (which was about 3 feet deep), we would take a lunch break and sit on the edge of the hole and talk about the person who would be buried there or current events in our town or world. Then back to work until it was 6 feet deep and perfect for the coffin to fit in.
After we were done, we would cover the dirt with the green tarp so that during the funeral, the family wouldn't have to look at a mound of earth that would be placed back over after they left the service.
Sometimes he would take me back to help fill in the site. He would take such care to make it look very neat and rounded. We would arrange the flowers left by the mourners and remove any rocks so that it would look nice.
I had friends who thought cemeteries were spooky and hated to go to them. They thought I was crazy to go on stage to laughter midnight. My grandfather taught me that they are a place to be comforted and remembered in. He used to tell me that the cemetery was the safest place to be - no one there could hurt you. He used to say, "The dead are at peace; it's the live ones you need to be worried about".
To this day, I will still pull weeds or replace flowers or wreaths that have been blown over for those who are near my own loved ones. Long after I'm gone, I hope some other "little girl" will have a grandfather who takes the time to teach her to respect and care for my final resting place. Maybe she will set by my stone and wonder if I was a mother, a wife, and whether I had a happy or sad life. Maybe she will put flowers on my stone to show someone cares. – Beverly Teibel.
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