Children: Eleanor Mae Diller, Dorathene Ester Cross, Daniel Robert, Clifford Lloyd
IN APPRECIATION
Most of all, I'd like to thank,
My Precious Lord and King.
For all that on this earth I have.
He gave me everything.
A wonderful wife, a family dear,
Each, adding to my joy
And many friend, including youth,
Whos friendship I enjoyl
These poems I write were never meant,
To bring me glory and fame,
But that one soul could yet be reached
And saved, thru Jesus' name
Walter Eberle
A Tribute To My Brother
By Erwin H. Eberle
My brother Walter (Waldemar) Eberle was five years my senior. When we were kids, our father, George Eberle, took up a homestead piece of property in the state of Oregon, twelve miles north of a little town called Brookings. One of our neighbors was a rancher named Delmer Colgrave, who lived three miles from us over rugged mountain paths. It was while we were hiking over to the neighbors that m brother Walter began to recite poetry. He just made it up as we walked along. Some was funny, some was serious. We'd laugh at it as we walked along.
Our mother had been praying, "Lord get us out of these mountains. There is no school or church here"- and God answered by fire. We were then a family of six children. One night our cabin in the mountains burned down. We scrambled for our clothes and I managed to pick up his trousers. He later saw me with his pants and took them away from me, as he didn't take the time to grab something for himself. "Brotherly love?"
We located later thirty miles to the north of Brookings in another small city called Cresent City, California. I recall a Methodist Church helped to supply us with some clothing and food and a house to live in along with the help of some of the townsfolk. Here also, Walter would sit on the fence and make up poetry. It just seemed to come so easy for him. He would have us all splitting our sides ans he entertained us kids. Some few years later he returned to Brookings to work in a saw mill. Some of the towns people formed a band and Walter joined the group, learning to play the saxophone.
Years later after moving back to Ann Arbor he became converted and from that time he used his saxophone in church services, revivals, camp meetings, and jail services. He took up Theological Study and was ordained to the Christian Ministry. He pastored several churches, one in Adrian, another one near Lapeer in Michigan.
On occasion, during or vacations, we assisted Walter in his jail services and on coming to St Pete he preached at our camp meetings. One of his jail service which he held so dear involved a man swerving time; separated from his wife and family. This man was converted and re-united with his family, continued attending church on his release and became a great blessing to the work of God.
In closing, I would like to say, Walter made it The Last Mile of the Way and is now waiting for his younger Erwin to join him. "It will be worth it all, when we see Jesus. Earth's trials will seem so small, when we see Christ." Praise His name
IN APPRECIATION
Most of all, I'd like to thank,
My Precious Lord and King.
For all that on this earth I have.
He gave me everything.
A wonderful wife, a family dear,
Each, adding to my joy
And many friend, including youth,
Whos friendship I enjoyl
These poems I write were never meant,
To bring me glory and fame,
But that one soul could yet be reached
And saved, thru Jesus' name
Walter Eberle
A Tribute To My Brother
By Erwin H. Eberle
My brother Walter (Waldemar) Eberle was five years my senior. When we were kids, our father, George Eberle, took up a homestead piece of property in the state of Oregon, twelve miles north of a little town called Brookings. One of our neighbors was a rancher named Delmer Colgrave, who lived three miles from us over rugged mountain paths. It was while we were hiking over to the neighbors that m brother Walter began to recite poetry. He just made it up as we walked along. Some was funny, some was serious. We'd laugh at it as we walked along.
Our mother had been praying, "Lord get us out of these mountains. There is no school or church here"- and God answered by fire. We were then a family of six children. One night our cabin in the mountains burned down. We scrambled for our clothes and I managed to pick up his trousers. He later saw me with his pants and took them away from me, as he didn't take the time to grab something for himself. "Brotherly love?"
We located later thirty miles to the north of Brookings in another small city called Cresent City, California. I recall a Methodist Church helped to supply us with some clothing and food and a house to live in along with the help of some of the townsfolk. Here also, Walter would sit on the fence and make up poetry. It just seemed to come so easy for him. He would have us all splitting our sides ans he entertained us kids. Some few years later he returned to Brookings to work in a saw mill. Some of the towns people formed a band and Walter joined the group, learning to play the saxophone.
Years later after moving back to Ann Arbor he became converted and from that time he used his saxophone in church services, revivals, camp meetings, and jail services. He took up Theological Study and was ordained to the Christian Ministry. He pastored several churches, one in Adrian, another one near Lapeer in Michigan.
On occasion, during or vacations, we assisted Walter in his jail services and on coming to St Pete he preached at our camp meetings. One of his jail service which he held so dear involved a man swerving time; separated from his wife and family. This man was converted and re-united with his family, continued attending church on his release and became a great blessing to the work of God.
In closing, I would like to say, Walter made it The Last Mile of the Way and is now waiting for his younger Erwin to join him. "It will be worth it all, when we see Jesus. Earth's trials will seem so small, when we see Christ." Praise His name
Children: Eleanor Mae Diller, Dorathene Ester Cross, Daniel Robert, Clifford Lloyd
IN APPRECIATION
Most of all, I'd like to thank,
My Precious Lord and King.
For all that on this earth I have.
He gave me everything.
A wonderful wife, a family dear,
Each, adding to my joy
And many friend, including youth,
Whos friendship I enjoyl
These poems I write were never meant,
To bring me glory and fame,
But that one soul could yet be reached
And saved, thru Jesus' name
Walter Eberle
A Tribute To My Brother
By Erwin H. Eberle
My brother Walter (Waldemar) Eberle was five years my senior. When we were kids, our father, George Eberle, took up a homestead piece of property in the state of Oregon, twelve miles north of a little town called Brookings. One of our neighbors was a rancher named Delmer Colgrave, who lived three miles from us over rugged mountain paths. It was while we were hiking over to the neighbors that m brother Walter began to recite poetry. He just made it up as we walked along. Some was funny, some was serious. We'd laugh at it as we walked along.
Our mother had been praying, "Lord get us out of these mountains. There is no school or church here"- and God answered by fire. We were then a family of six children. One night our cabin in the mountains burned down. We scrambled for our clothes and I managed to pick up his trousers. He later saw me with his pants and took them away from me, as he didn't take the time to grab something for himself. "Brotherly love?"
We located later thirty miles to the north of Brookings in another small city called Cresent City, California. I recall a Methodist Church helped to supply us with some clothing and food and a house to live in along with the help of some of the townsfolk. Here also, Walter would sit on the fence and make up poetry. It just seemed to come so easy for him. He would have us all splitting our sides ans he entertained us kids. Some few years later he returned to Brookings to work in a saw mill. Some of the towns people formed a band and Walter joined the group, learning to play the saxophone.
Years later after moving back to Ann Arbor he became converted and from that time he used his saxophone in church services, revivals, camp meetings, and jail services. He took up Theological Study and was ordained to the Christian Ministry. He pastored several churches, one in Adrian, another one near Lapeer in Michigan.
On occasion, during or vacations, we assisted Walter in his jail services and on coming to St Pete he preached at our camp meetings. One of his jail service which he held so dear involved a man swerving time; separated from his wife and family. This man was converted and re-united with his family, continued attending church on his release and became a great blessing to the work of God.
In closing, I would like to say, Walter made it The Last Mile of the Way and is now waiting for his younger Erwin to join him. "It will be worth it all, when we see Jesus. Earth's trials will seem so small, when we see Christ." Praise His name
IN APPRECIATION
Most of all, I'd like to thank,
My Precious Lord and King.
For all that on this earth I have.
He gave me everything.
A wonderful wife, a family dear,
Each, adding to my joy
And many friend, including youth,
Whos friendship I enjoyl
These poems I write were never meant,
To bring me glory and fame,
But that one soul could yet be reached
And saved, thru Jesus' name
Walter Eberle
A Tribute To My Brother
By Erwin H. Eberle
My brother Walter (Waldemar) Eberle was five years my senior. When we were kids, our father, George Eberle, took up a homestead piece of property in the state of Oregon, twelve miles north of a little town called Brookings. One of our neighbors was a rancher named Delmer Colgrave, who lived three miles from us over rugged mountain paths. It was while we were hiking over to the neighbors that m brother Walter began to recite poetry. He just made it up as we walked along. Some was funny, some was serious. We'd laugh at it as we walked along.
Our mother had been praying, "Lord get us out of these mountains. There is no school or church here"- and God answered by fire. We were then a family of six children. One night our cabin in the mountains burned down. We scrambled for our clothes and I managed to pick up his trousers. He later saw me with his pants and took them away from me, as he didn't take the time to grab something for himself. "Brotherly love?"
We located later thirty miles to the north of Brookings in another small city called Cresent City, California. I recall a Methodist Church helped to supply us with some clothing and food and a house to live in along with the help of some of the townsfolk. Here also, Walter would sit on the fence and make up poetry. It just seemed to come so easy for him. He would have us all splitting our sides ans he entertained us kids. Some few years later he returned to Brookings to work in a saw mill. Some of the towns people formed a band and Walter joined the group, learning to play the saxophone.
Years later after moving back to Ann Arbor he became converted and from that time he used his saxophone in church services, revivals, camp meetings, and jail services. He took up Theological Study and was ordained to the Christian Ministry. He pastored several churches, one in Adrian, another one near Lapeer in Michigan.
On occasion, during or vacations, we assisted Walter in his jail services and on coming to St Pete he preached at our camp meetings. One of his jail service which he held so dear involved a man swerving time; separated from his wife and family. This man was converted and re-united with his family, continued attending church on his release and became a great blessing to the work of God.
In closing, I would like to say, Walter made it The Last Mile of the Way and is now waiting for his younger Erwin to join him. "It will be worth it all, when we see Jesus. Earth's trials will seem so small, when we see Christ." Praise His name
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