Diagnosis - 'Home Sickness'?

Back: Grace Buck Houser (Frank's mom)
Front (L to R): James Morrison Houser (Frank's brother),
Frank Lamber Houser (about 20 mo. old)

What is your earliesy childhood memory?  The most common ones have to do with their parents taking them somewhere big like Disneyland or the Grand Canyon.  Another has to do with a tradition; either daily or seasonally, such as nightly dinner around the table with the family or making homemade jam in the fall.

Frank's however had to do with modern day home health care.

Growing up Frank was just as healthy as any other child his age.  He contracted the usual childhood diseases of Measles and Mumps.

Yes, you read that right, measles and mumps! For those of us who are lucky enough to not know what these are, measles and mumps are a serious viral disease that can cause death.

When Frank contracted these 'typical' childhood diseases, he was not visited by the local town doctor at home (which was the common practice in the 1920's).  Rather he was treated at home by his brother James.  James, under the recommendation of his mother, gave Frank shocking hot and cold baths to help soothe his fevered body.

One of his other vivid memories, was the time when he was 13 at a scout camp in the San Bernadina mountains. While at camp, he started to get sick.  His scout leaders believing he had a bad case of 'home sickness', started treating him for this.  After a while it became clear that his case of 'home sickness' was getting worse then what they were comfortable with, so they sent him home (the only true cure for the dreaded disease of 'home sickness').

When Frank got him, his older cousin (who happened to be a nurse) was visiting his mother.  As soon as she saw him, she knew immediately what was wrong  - he had a severe case of peritonitis, which was caused by an appendicitis.

Frank was immediately taken to the hospital.  After staying there for a couple of weeks, he was finally released to come home with a drain attached to his abdomen.  During the three weeks following his hospital stay, he was visited by a doctor who checked and changed his drain and dressings at least weekly.

Now take a moment and think about what would have happened if his case of 'home sickness' continued to be 'treated' at camp. What if he had stayed another day?  Then think abut what would have happened if his cousin wasn't visiting his mom?

Here we are 76 years later, the direct recipients of one leader's decision and one coincidence at home that aligned together to make his survival possible - one that directly affects his seven children and dozens of grandchildren and great grandchildren.  Pretty amazing if you ask me.

A Very 'Frank' Discussion on Naming Their ..... Daughter?



Frank Morrison and Grace Lena Buck Houser
about 1920 (Frank Lambert's parents)

While growing up, your parents most likely told you the story of where your name came from, what inspired them to name you what you were named you.  There are those stories that are serious, or a family tradition, even funny ones, and then there's Frank Lambert's:
 
When Frank's mother, Grace Buck Houser was pregnant with him, she was of the age that most women were done having children  She was 36 years old, and during the 1922's it was considered risky, and quite unusual.

Prior to this pregnancy she'd had one child, James Morrison Houser several years earlier (May 27, 1908) and one miscarriage sometime in between James and Frank's birth. 

With Grace's medical history of a previous miscarriage as well as her age, her husband, Frank Morrison Houser, sent her to Spokane Washington to be under close watchful care of Dr. Lambert.

When Frank was born, Nov 21, 1922, Grace and Frank Morrison were quite surprised.  They had not thought of any boys name, after all, they thought Frank was a girl and had came  up with girl names together.

Dr. Lambert noticed this stumped indecisive couple and decided to take the initiative and fill out the birth certificate for Grace.  He told Grace that he'd name the little boy Frank (after his father) Lambert (after himself since he'd spent so much time with Grace during her pregnancy) Houser (of course giving him his father's last name).   Thanks to Dr. Lambert, we literally have Frank Lambert Houser.

Where did you go to school?

On a ranch situated 10 miles north of Flathead Lake, 30 miles south from Glacier National Park, and 50 miles south from the Canadian Border was where Frank Lambert Houser, my Grandpa, grew up and spent his early childhood years.

Living in the wilderness of northern Montana, a two story family farm house with two bedrooms upstairs, one bedroom downstairs, and one indoor bathroom was a luxury few families had.  Luckily for Frank, his mother and father were one of those lucky family's.  Their indoor bathroom was serviced by a water tank located  in the attic (which was filled by a pump).  This tank also supplied the  kitchen with 'running' water.  To get hot water for the house, they used the kitchen and living room stove to heat water in a pipe with some kind of baffle that closed and opened when needed.

School on Houser land in Montana
 (I believe the young boy 2nd from the left is
 James Morrison Houser (Grandpa's brother))

When you grow up 10 miles from the nearest town, Kalispell Montana, taking your child to the nearest city school was unrealistic.  What does a family do to educate their children? Why they build their own school.

Frank Houser Sr. donated a small section, about a quarter of an acre, on the southwest corner of his ranch to have a one room school house built. At any one time, there was between 10-12 local rancher's children being educated there.  The single, childless, teacher, Nellie Redlingshafer, taught students between 1st and 8th grade in that one room school house.

In the background of the picture to the left, you can see the little school house where Frank received his early childhood education. In the forefront of the picture is (left to right); Frank Morrison Houser, James Morrison Houser (nicknamed Buster), Nellie Radlingshafer (teacher at Riverside School), and Grace Lena Buck Houser.

I'm Just All Fouled Up

I call Frank Thursday evening to confirm our meeting 'scheduled' for the next afternoon.  He answers the phone in a tone that I've grown to recognize - frustrated stress.   

I ask in a friendly, almost desperate tone, "Is it OK if I come up tomorrow?"

"My wheel chair is broke!" Frank exclaims.

I immediately have the image of Frank frustratingly and roughly pushing the joy stick like knob back and forth, pressing the buttons again and again with his gnarled trembling knuckles, while stating out-loud, 'Dag nab this wheelchair!  Come on get moving!'   

"Are you stuck somewhere?" 

"Well, my bed." Frank expresses lightheartedly.

I sigh for a moment, relieved that he isn't stuck somewhere, trying to get himself back to his bedroom. "Would you like some help?"

"No, David's taking care it."  Frank states in his matter-of-fact tone.  You know that tone, the one that is similar to the clank of the judge's gavel as it's tapped officially against the judge's bench - the one that tells you there's no questioning my decision.  Yep that's the one.

Frank keeps Dave on his toes.  With Frank's body riddled with the side effects of several strokes, some days his mind body connection is working, others it's not. Dave, Frank's second to youngest child, has become his caretaker, guardian, and protector.  

 

"I'm just fouled up! Don't come."  Frank exclaims.

   

I hang up, chuckling to myself, true to Frank fashion, he tells it like is.  Unapologetically he doesn't mix words and emotions.  Expecting only respect for his words, without any hard feelings in return.