I suppose it would be fair to say Germans are a pretty superstitious lot. Their pagan worship of the oak tree and celebration of the winter solstice gave us our modern lighted Christmas tree. They believed that the hair you combed out of your head should be burned, because if a bird got it and used it to build a nest, you would get headaches. They cautioned never to answer a witch's question or she could take something away from you.

My Granddaddy was a full-blooded German - his folks came over on a boat in 1873, and he was born in 1875. He used to tell tales of old Saxony that he heard from his father. For example, there was an old woman who was known to be a witch. (Germans were also superstitious about old women - to meet an old one first thing in the day meant bad luck, to come across a young one meant good luck.) Some fellow in the next village was rude to this old woman and refused to give her a ride into the village on his cart. She cursed not him nor his horses, but the spot in the road where he passed her by. From that day forward no horse would pass the spot. Farmers cursed and beat their horses, but they balked and would not pass that spot. They had to build a new road around it.

Most of the stories my Granddaddy told when he was old were about his cowboy days and his friendship with Geronimo and his business dealings with Quanah Parker. He rarely mentioned his family or his German heritage. The story about the witching woman is one of the few I remember. Apparently, though, he had talents of his own, and he chose to keep them secret. My grandmother told me about it after he died. It seems he could look into any woman's eyes and tell that she was pregnant and what sex the child would be. Grandmother says that in the 62 years she knew him, he was never wrong once.

The last Christmas he was with us was the third Christmas I was married. My youngest aunt and uncle were only 17 years older than I was, and they had been married ten years before they started having children. That Christmas everyone was home. After everyone left, Granddaddy told Grandmother, "Both Tommie and Karen are expecting, and they're both going to have girls.  We didn't know it ourselves at the time, but he was right. My daughter Kristin was born on the following August 14, and Tommie's daughter Melody was born on September 18. Granddaddy didn't get to see either one of them.  He died on April 7.

Granddaddy was a long time dying. He got cancer of the prostate when I was five, and that was before they had advanced cancer treatment like they have now. I was 21 when he finally passed away. They lived on a farm 7 miles out in the country. In all those years he would have "spells," and the doctor would tell Grandmother he wasn't going to make it this time, that she'd better call all the kids. Never one of those times did Granddaddy say he wasn't going to make it.  All the kids would come rushing home from far-flung places, and he'd always recover. Then in April of 1963 he told Grandmother, "I think you need to call the kids.”

When they all got there, from Arizona and Kansas and Texas, he called his five daughters into the bedroom and told them what wonderful daughters they were and how much he loved them. Next he asked for his two sons and told them what fine men they were and how proud he was of them. Then he asked them to tell their mother to come in. They had worn matching gold wedding rings since their 50th wedding anniversary 11 years before. He took his wedding ring off, placed it over hers, and said, "Wear that until I see you again. Now kiss me goodbye.” She did, and he died.