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Their sorrows shall be multiplied who hasten after another god;

This verse leaped off the page the morning I read it.  It’s truth is lived out daily in the streets of this city we live in.  People venerated images made with hands and find sorrow and emptiness in their daily lives.  They hope in a false diety, ask for help, burn candles and incense expecting divine intervention.  In the west we chase after gods formed in our own imaginations and find them as hollow and unresponsive as stone idols in Asian temples.  The One who created the heavens and the earth is our only hope and our path to life.  Living in His presence, in a right relationship with him, brings fullness of joy.  May we boldly reach out to those who live in sorrow.

Wiesner Family Blog

Contact:  LWise777@charter.net

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Russell & Sharla

Escape the Dating Game
With Courtship
by Russell & Sharla Wiesner

Russell:
In my early years of college, I experienced the dating scene. Boy meets girl, attachments follow, then a breakup. The result was an emotional roller-coaster which robbed me of time, sleep, and made it difficult to focus on my studies! I resigned myself to bachelorhood until after graduation intending not to spend energy on relationships that would end with no ultimate purpose. Each broken relationship took a little life out of me. It just didn’t seem wise go through it again another time. I was determined to enter marriage with a degree, a career path, and a strong sense of personal wholeness. So I abandoned dating until my senior year at California State University, Chico.

Courtship came on my radar screen through an older and wiser friend of mine named Bill Pittenger. He explained to me the concept of courtship which makes marriage the ultimate purpose that two people together.

The word courtship has curious origins passed down from the Middle Ages in Europe. Young men and women of royal families were presented at court to mingle and form attachments. The parents of a courtier might even receive a ship from the fiancé upon their daughter’s betrothal (pre-engagement). The ship would be displayed in the courtyard prior to the engagement and wedding ceremony.

In courtship the man and a woman enter into an agreement to spend time with one another in order to determine if there is any reason why they shouldn’t be joined in marriage. Usually the young man asks the girl’s father permission to court her. Courtship is the process of getting to know a woman for the purpose and intention of marriage. There is limited romantic interaction until after an engagement is agreed upon, after which the engaged couple spends most of their time together in public settings or in the presence of family. The couple’s relatives become better acquainted through this process and give their opinions as to the couple’s compatibility. If it is determined that the two were not suited for each other, the courtship would end. If the courtship progressed agreeably then the man would formally ask the woman’s father for her hand and permission to marry and the courtship would progress into an engagement.

I was in my senior year at California State University, Chico when I met Sharla Earhart, a beautiful young nurse working at Community Hospital. I thought she was awesome! My impulse was to date her like I had others before, but I refrained. Equipped with new information I began to explain to Sharla the idea of courtship. I told her that before we started seeing each other we should meet each others families. When I met her parents, I earned their approval and our courtship progressed. I took Sharla to my parent’s house and they thought she was great! I had a church family that meant a lot to me and I wanted their blessing to court Sharla. There was an annual youth camp that our church sponsored and most of the leaders and workers were involved. Sharla agreed to volunteer as camp staff and my church leadership got to know her and loved her. We continued our courtship.

I was in my mid-twenties and ready to settle down, but was cautious as we spent time together. I was determined not to fall in love with the wrong woman who might distract me from marrying the right one. After a few months of courting, which involved meeting at public places, going to church sponsored events, and spending lots of time with family, we formed a deep attachment. I became increasingly convinced that Sharla was the woman for me! I went to her father and formally asked his permission to marry her. He gave it and I began to plan a creative proposal.

Sharla arrived to her apartment one evening after work with a clue taped to her apartment door. She followed the instructions which lead her back to work, then to a hotel lobby, and then to a restaurant. Each stop along the way offered a gift; a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of champagne, and an unsigned card. At the restaurant Sharla met her sister who was helping me. Sharla’s sister took her to the gazebo in front of Bidwell Mansion in Chico, California where I waited in the twilight just after sundown. As Sharla approached the gazebo, her sister quietly left us and I struck a match and lit a candle. On bended knee I asked Sharla to marry me. She said, “Yes!” We kissed passionately and I captured the moment with a camera I had set on a tripod.

Not long after the engagement we decided to cool down our passions by limiting our kisses to a peck on the cheek after a date. We were young, in love, and committed to each other. We wanted to experience total intimacy for the first time on our wedding night. We honored each other by demonstrating restraint, which ultimately caused us to deeply respect and admire each other. It was not easy for us. Sharla is a beautiful woman and I was a red blooded American male! From September of 1990 until our wedding day on January 5, 1991 we did not kiss each other except for on the cheek after a date. On our wedding day at the end of the ceremony, the pastor invited us to kiss in the presence of God and witnesses. We knew each other completely and passionately for the first time that night. It was beautiful and priceless. We would not have wanted it any other way!

Sharla:
Courtship was a new idea to me when Russell explained it. Before that I had dated casually at my hometown high school. I am from Greenville, California, a small community near Lake Almanor. Courtship made me feel special. I knew that Russell was a passionate young man, yet he was willing to control his desires in order to know me as a friend. I felt honored by him and I respected him because he took the time to get to know me. Russell introduced me to all of his most important relationships, parents, pastors, friends and even his college roommates. I learned later that he was asking them, “So what do you think of Sharla?”

We fell in love without the confusing component of physical intimacy. When we both knew we were meant for each other, Russell visited my father and asked if he could marry me. My Dad respected Russell and he told me, “I really like this guy.” I went into marriage respecting Russell because he honored me. His self control back then has helped me trust his faithfulness to me. We have been married sixteen years and we have six children together. We have a beautiful story to tell them of how we met, courted, and married. The purpose of marriage is to build a team, a healthy legacy that lives beyond us. I believe that by God’s grace we are accomplishing that.

Why Wait?
1. Before we marry, we build skills for a career in the marketplace and leadership in the home.
2. The world is competitive and dangerous and we should avoid distracting dating relationships that don’t lead to marriage.
3. Casual dating just does not make sense if you are living a purposeful life.
4. We recommend to young people that they write a purpose statement for their lives and develop core values that help them fulfill their purpose.

Russell:
Now I am a father with six children and two teenage daughters. I face courtship from a new vantage point, and the culture has drifted even further into relational chaos. I continue to hold to the principles of courtship. My daughters agree with the concept but they have their own struggles with the contemporary dating scene. On-line dating is an added component to their social world.

Here are some practical steps in preparing your daughter for marriage that I learned from my friend Bill Pittenger:

The girl’s father and mother are responsible to train their daughter regarding moral standards for courtship. The father provides his particular set of instructions, and the mother fills in the details. The young man must ask the girl’s father for permission to start a courtship with his daughter. Dad presents the agreed-upon standards and the young man must accept these standards or take a hike! Dad and Mom should be on the same page before permission is granted for the courtship.

And in preparing a son for marriage, Bill says, the father and mother of the young man should train him from early childhood for marriage. The father is the principal instructor and example regarding moral purity. He does not shy away from tough questions. Both father and son should become experts regarding the book of Proverbs found in the Bible.

It is my hope that you abandon dating for courtship. Your children may resist, but in end they will love you for it. They will escape the emotional roller coaster, which may rob them of entering a great marriage. If you have already made mistakes in this area, don’t be discouraged, it is never too late! God’s forgiveness is available to those who seek to know and honor Him. Sharla and I both experienced broken relationships in the dating scene before we met each other. We started over with courtship and we are convinced it works. Now we teach our children the same principles.

Book:
Hands Off My Daughter (Until After Marriage)
By William Pittenger
Published by Xulon Press, 2007
ISBN 1602667365, 9781602667365

Curtis William Wiesner

The Story of a Father’s Life
By Curtis William Wiesner
December 9, 1913 – March 6, 1998

As my daughter and grandson requested, I have written down the things that I remember from my youth. I have included important events in my life, stories that my parents told me, and how I came to know Christ as my Savior.

December 9th, 1913. I was born in Modoc, Illinois in my parents’ home, with a doctor attending. In the early years of my life my family lived in what was called the Ocaya Bottoms, better known as the Mississippi Bottoms, in Southern Illinois.
My first memories, as a young boy growing up, are of a farm that my family sharecropped. The farm was located in the Ocaya Bottoms near the Kaskaskia River that flows into the Mississippi. On the farm Dad raised wheat, corn, beans, as well as a garden variety of vegetables. The farm was right next to a schoolhouse that my older brothers and sisters attended. Behind the schoolhouse was a pecan tree. I remember the pecans falling off the tree and I would go over and gather them. One day a whiskey peddler came to visit at the farm. It was during harvest time and the peddler wanted to sell his wares to the men. Mom called my Dad over to the house and told him to tell that whiskey peddler to, “get on down the road or she would put some lead into him”. She meant it too. I saw her get the 38 pistol and pour some kerosene on the cylinder so it would be sure to rotate. The peddler wasted no time in “getting on down the road”. My grandmother and step-grandfather lived near the farm on that bank of the Mississippi in a houseboat. My father worked as a sharecropper on the Birch Farm for 16 years in Randolph County, Illinois.
In 1917 we moved to Arkansas. The trip in itself was an adventure for me. We had two covered wagons loaded with all of our belongings, my parents, and the five of us children. There was Irene, Grace, Eugene, Harry, and myself (Curtis). Dad drove one wagon and Mom drove the other. The trip took two whole months, and for a boy not quite 4 years old, it was fun. One night we stopped to camp and we left the hand soap on a stump. As we were having breakfast the next morning a hog came by, grabbed our soap from the stump and ate it. The hog got to foaming at the mouth and we thought it was mad, like a mad dog. One night my brother Harry and I were bedded down inside one of the wagon, towards the front where the tongue comes up. My older brother Eugene was still outside the wagon. A man on horseback came by early that evening and told us that there was a wild cat in the area. That night, just about dark, a screech owl gave a screech! My brother Eugene, in fear, ran straight up the tongue of the wagon and jumped right on top of Harry and me.
The trip went well, and before we knew it we were in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. My parents bought a home on a ten-acre farm there. It was a beautiful place. I remember the long road that came up to the house, the hot spring on the property, and the many arborvitae trees that are like pine trees. Thinking back on it, the old place reminds me of a tree farm where one goes to cut Christmas trees. In Arkansas we raised corn for our livestock, melons to sell, and a lot of beans. We raised hogs and chickens too, and horses to work the land. There were fruit trees on the place. We cultivated the fruit orchard, which produced apples and peaches.
My father got a job and worked the farm in his spare time. I was the youngest in my family, and the only one not in school. I remember helping my father on the farm in Arkansas. Dad would drive the wagon into the field and I would keep the team moving while he pitched corn into the wagon. I could barely get my arms over the dashboard to hold the reins. One day, someone was stealing our melons. Eugene, Harry and I were walking in back of field towards a fence, which had a lot of wild grapes growing on it. Because of the overgrown vines, we could not see if anyone was over on the other side of the fence. My brother Eugene said, “If those black kids get in our melon patch again, we’ll clobber them! About that time eight of those fellows rose suddenly on the other side of the fence and said, “What’d y’all say?” Well, there were three white boys running as fast as they could, all the way back to the house. When my parents purchased the farm, a dog came with it. One day when we were feeding him, I undertook to feed him some grapes along with his food. He didn’t like the grapes and he bit me. I still carry the tooth marks that dog left on me. My parents decided to give the dog away to black man who lived about a mile from us. He bit that black man too.
We lived down in a flat area and the schoolhouse was up on top of a little hill. It was a red two-room building, the first school I ever went to. I remember being asked to go down to the creek and bring back some switches. In school in those days the teacher whipped the kids when they were misbehaving. I know this from personal experience.
We lived in Arkansas until 1920, that Summer I believe it was; we traded our horses for a Model T Ford. My brother Eugene learned to drive, and he drove the car back to Cahokia, Illinois. My dad got a new job in Cahokia and us kids were enrolled in the Catholic school. We stayed in the town of Cahokia for a year and then my folks bought a house in the suburb of East St. Louis and we moved to 1339 N. 39th Street, East St. Louis, Illinois. In 1926 Dad was employed at the Darling Fertilizer Co. He worked there until his retirement at age 75. While at Darling Fertilizer, he earned a reputation for being a hard worker and gained the position of Head Mill Write. Dad was also a well-educated man, probably due to his schooling in Germany. He was a mathematician, and could help us children with our algebra and geometry homework.

***

My father was a German immigrant who came over from Prussia in about 1889. He was born November 15, 1874 in Prussia, Germany. His name was Karl August Erich Wiesner, be he went by his third name “Erich”. At age 14, along with his brother Rudolph, age 11, Erich came to America by ship. Erich’s father (my grandfather) August Wiesner also emigrated from Prussia some time before the two boys’ did. He got a job at Anheuser-Busch and became Head Brew Master. (I have no records of my Grandfather August; my mother told me that he died in East St. Louis and that he was buried in the French Village graveyard.) After August Wiesner established himself, he sent for my father and uncle Rudolph. When the boys arrived August told them both to learn English. He did not want to hear them speak German any longer. I never heard my own father speak German until I was about 11 years old. A German family moved next door to us and I remember one Sunday my father and our neighbor got together. Did they ever rattle off the language!
My father used to tell us stories about his early days in America. One of the first jobs he had was working on one of the transcontinental railroads. The track was laid from Chicago, Illinois through the Northern United States, including Montana, Idaho, and Washington. My father’s job was splitting and laying rails. My uncle Rudolph was also working on the railroad. Since Uncle Rudolph was younger and smaller in stature he worked as a water carrier. As they worked on the railroad, Dad said that at times Indians attacked them. Things got to a point where half the men worked and the other half stood guard against Indian attack. My father said that towards the end of the job, when they finally reached Washington State, eggs cost a dollar a piece. After the railroad job was finished, my father returned to the East St. Louis area. Uncle Rudolph settled in the Cincinnati area. I enjoyed the stories that my mother and father would tell us about their younger days. I especially enjoyed the stories my mother told me about when she was a little girl.

***

My mother was part Indian. I asked her what tribe she belonged to but she said that she did not know. She only knew that the white people called her tribe “planting Indians” because they grew most of their own food. My mother was considered a half-breed. Her tribe was at one time around the Fort Kaskaskia area and I was always under the impression that she could belong to the Kaskaskia tribe. I can’t be sure, as there were other tribes living in and around the Fort Gage, Prairie Du Rocher, and Red Bud area. My mother grew up on a farm during the time her mother was married to man named Henry Banes. When Mom was a young girl, Jesse James and his gang would come around to their place for dinner. She hated to see them come, as it would mean a lot of work for her to prepare food for the whole gang. After dinner the men used to hold target practice near the house with shotguns, pistols, and knives. My mother was about ten years old when she stuck chicken bones down the barrel of one of the gang member’s shotguns. Whoever shot the gun that day got a real surprise. When he pulled the trigger the shot blew the barrel wide open. Mom said that one of her brothers was a member of the James Gang. One day, on a train heist, he fell between the cars and was killed.
My mother first married a man by the name of Darway. She had two children by him. One was named Mollie and the second was Elizabeth. Elizabeth became ill with diphtheria and died. When Elizabeth was sick, Mom sent Mr. Darway to town to get some medicine. He didn’t come back! Instead he got drunk and she didn’t see him for two days. Mom divorced Mr. Darway over that very incident. Later, she met my father, Erich Wiesner.
I had other distant relatives in the St. Louis area. When we were kids in East St. Louis, we would often hike to the Bluffs that ran over Edgemont, Illinois. That was a long hike for us. I had an uncle that lived just below the Bluffs named George Wiesner. He was my father’s half brother, but we never visited him.

***

My father Erich died December 28, 1957 in St. Louis, Missouri. He was living in the home of my sister Grace Yost at the time of his death. The address there was 5032 Gerritt Ave. My grandson visited the house in April 1996. The old house is still standing and in good repair. Anyway, Dad and Mom both were buried in a private graveyard on a hill near Red Bud. The private graveyard was shared by the Wiesner Family, Banes family, and the Darway family. There was a public graveyard down at the bottom of the hill. When I was back there one time, I saw that they had built a museum at the old Fort Kaskaskia and moved the public graveyard to the front of the museum. I understand that they moved five different graveyards in all to that museum. As far as I know, these are our relatives who were buried in the private cemetery up on the hill near Red Bud; my brother Erich Wiesner, who died at age 1 of the croup, is buried there, as well as my grandfather Henry Banes, my uncle, and my half sister. The graveyard is located near some mineral mines where they cut into the mountain. There was a farm nearby that belonged to the Leonard family. Mom told me that she used to work for Mrs. Leonard when she was 13 years old. I used to visit the old cemetery and clean it off. The last time I saw it and cleaned it off was in 1936. I remember that my daughter Nadine was 3 years old. Today, in 1997, it may be difficult to find and make out the names. Elizabeth Darway’s headstone should be visible. My grandmother, Mary Louise Banes remarried to a man named Tom Kelly. She is buried there with the last name Kelly.

***

When I was 14 years old I joined the Navy. I was big for my age and they didn’t ask for a birth certificate, so I got in. The Navy was much stricter in their medical examination than they were about age. There were just two of us out of 150 that passed the medical exam. I trained at Great Lakes Naval Training Station and was later sent out to sea. My brother Harry Wienser was on the USS Pennsylvania and I requested that ship as well. Harry Wiesner was in the Navy for a year and a half before I joined. The other sailors on the USS Pennsylvania pronounced his last name wrong, [“Wyzner”] instead of the correct pronunciation [“Weezner”]. When I eventually came on board ship they pronounced my last name the same way. Harry and I both have accepted the wrong pronunciation of our last name and kept it for the rest of our lives, even passing on to our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. In order to get to the USS Pennsylvania, I had to board a different ship. The Navy sent me by train to Seattle, Washington where I boarded the USS Arizona, which was to take me to the USS Pennsylvania at San Francisco. My brother Harry and I served together for about two and a half years on the USS Pennsylvania. When I boarded the “Pennsy” as we called her, we left the states and sailed for Hawaii. One of the worst storms I have ever encountered at sea was on that trip. I kept watch up in the crow’s next, which is the lookout for the ship. The crow’s nest was a little room about 8 to 10 feet in diameter. It was designed to allow sailors greater visibility. Two sailors spent 4 hours on a shift. One man kept track of all the ships, land, and maintained a watch, from bow to stern, and from the center out on his side of the ship. The other man would do that same for his watch on the opposite side of the ship. It was small quarters and not the favorite place to be when a bad storm was pounding the ship. Finally, the storm subsided and we were all glad we survived. We arrived in Hawaii and then left to take the “Pennsy” to the East Coast to dry-dock her. The USS Oklahoma was there being refitted with armor and I was transferred to her. We were to make the Oklahoma ready to get back with the West Coast Fleet. I put in the rest of my time aboard the “Okie” where I became Carpenters Mate Second Class. My responsibilities included repairing boats, building cabinets and repairing targets. I was on the target repair party when our ship would participate in war games. A small tugboat would tow four targets out to sea. The two targets in front of the ship were for our #1 and #2 turrets to shoot at and two behind the ship were for our #3 and #4 turrets. Each target had a bull’s eye in the center. After practice our carpenter crew would go out and repair the targets. Our ship had an “E” on the smoke stack and “E’s” on a lot of her guns. The “E” stands for efficiency, which meant she had high marks for shooting accurately. During my time in the Navy I traveled from the East Coast to the West Coast several times, to Hawaii, down to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba and Puerto Rico. During one of the times that I was on the West Coast, I met a nice young lady named Amy Bullock. I was interested in her and I began courting her. During our courtship, the USS Oklahoma put out to sea again and I was to go to Honolulu Hawaii. Our ship sailed into another one of those Pacific storms. I was in the Carpenter Shop when the storm hit. The ocean waves were coming over the deck and filling the officer’s boat with water. I was called to go up on deck and chop a hole in the officer’s boat. They put a rope around me in case the waves swept me off deck. I chose a place between the ribs of the boat, and using an ax, I chopped a hole to release the water. There were times I thought the “Okie” was going to sink during those three days we were hit by that storm. After the storm was over I repaired the hole that I made in the officer’s boat. I was sure glad to get back to the West Coast from Honolulu and set my feet on dry ground.
Back in California, I was delighted to see Amy again and I asked her to marry me. We decided on a date for the wedding and we were married in her father’s house on June 17th, 1932, by a Justice of the Peace. Just before the wedding a few of my shipmates decided that I needed a party. They said that I would not get to party much after I got married so they bought a gallon of wine and we passed it among ourselves until we finished it off. I got stupid drunk and it was years before I could drink any wine after that.
Our ship set sail again. This time we went to Bremerton, Washington for repairs. Amy, along with two other Navy wives and a couple named Bill & Ruth Carroll drove up to Washington in my Model A Ford Sedan. Bill Carroll was a shipmate of mine and he did the driving. I had helped another shipmate dig a well and board it up. Poe was his last name, I don’t remember the first. Anyway, Poe had a cabin on a ten-acre place across the sound, which was a body of water of the main Puget Sound that extended to the Naval Yard. Amy and I stayed at Mr. Poe’s cabin. When the Oklahoma was finished with her repairs, I got leave and drove Amy and the other wives back down to Southern California.
At one point we were living in the city of Wilmington, California, which is now part of Los Angeles. While living there, near L.A., a major event took place. We were renting and apartment, which just happened to be behind one of the tallest building around the area. I was sitting on a day couch that rolled into the wall halfway and made into a full bed. Then it happed, the earthquake of 1933 hit! I tried to stand, but was knocked down about 3 times as the day couch would roll out and hit the back of my legs. All the while Amy was standing in a doorway, laughing at me. I did not think it was funny at the time. This was my first experience feeling an earthquake. Needless to say, we lived through the quake and stepped outside of the house to see how others were faring. Our next-door neighbor was outside too and he was shaking. I remember him saying, “I don’t know if I am scared or cold.” We got into a car and drove to Long Beach to visit Bill & Ruth Carroll and see how they survived the quake. These were the days during prohibition and Bill had been making “home brew” in his apartment. When we arrived, his apartment was a total mess! First of all, on the front part of the apartment the bricks had been shaken loose. Many had fallen off the face of the building. The inside was worse. Besides the wall pictures and other usual broken items, his home brewery, which included a five-gallon crock, had fallen off the wall taking the entire cupboard with it. We visited another shipmate of mine named Pop Heist. His house was shaken off its foundation a couple of feet. That was the worst quake we have ever experienced.
We lived in San Pedro where I rented a house and my sister and brother-in-law, Irene and Milton Randall stayed with us. They had little money in those days as Milton worked in a shipyard. It was there in San Pedro on August 21, 1933, that our first child was born, a girl, and we named her Nadine. She was born at the Sea Side Hospital in Long Beach, California. Later on, Amy gave me two boys as well. My son Gene was born on December 6, 1937 and William, whom we call “Bill”, was born June 29, 1941. The boys were both born in Altadena, California.
I decided to extend my enlistment two more years, intending to make the Navy my career. At one point, I worked at the US Naval Hospital in San Diego, California. I was a Carpenter’s Mate 2nd Class, and my pay was $79.20 per month. As time passed on, the prospect of Navy life didn’t seem good for my marriage nor my family. I changed my mind and came out of the service at the end of my second term of enlistment. We moved to Pasadena and I began to look for work. We lived in Monrovia, in the Temple City area. Then came the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. We were at war. At the onset of WWII, building in Southern California nearly came to a stop. I moved my family back to East St. Louis, Illinois in order to look for work. I figured that I could at least get on at Monsanto Chemical Co. where my father worked. Instead, I found a job at an ammunition plant. We made rifle ammo for the military such as 30-30 shells, 306, 50 caliber and so on. I was sort of a rough character in those days and I was fired from my job for fighting with a fellow employee. I again looked for work and was hired on at a shoe die plant, making dies for the military. Wages were terrible in those days around the St. Louis area.
Then, I heard that building had picked up again in Southern California. This was due to the war effort and the lack of housing for all the employees. We moved back to California and I went to work for plant making rockets for the Navy. I worked in that plant making rockets until the war was over.
After the war I decided to take a test for a license as a contract plasterer. I passed the test and eventually became a journeyman plasterer. I stayed in that occupation for 16 years. In 1948 we bought a ranch in Northern California near a town called Olinda. It was during my time in Olinda that Amy and I began having some troubles in our home. I worked as a journeyman plasterer all over the Northern California area. Most of the time I worked out of town and was only home on the weekends. That left the responsibility of the ranch work to Amy and the children. Amy decided that we all needed to go to church and we started at the First Baptist Church in Anderson. I attended a few times, but it was a Father’s Day message that really convicted me. I realized that I was a poor father and didn’t know the first thing about how God would have me raise my family. I saw myself as a sinner and I understood my need for the Savior. The pastor, Edward Steel, gave an invitation for those who wanted salvation. I went forward and accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior that Father’s Day in 1952.
After accepting Christ, life was still a struggle for me. I was raised Catholic, I had not read the Bible much, and I had 38 years of living my own way to unlearn. I was pretty set in my ways, but there were things in my life that had to go. I wanted to be an example to my children. I enjoyed the fellowship with Christian men in the Anderson and I became more involved with the church. I plastered the Youth Center and the church parsonage, I enjoyed working for the Lord. I remember a quartet that used to come from Western Baptist Bible College and sing at our Church. One of the boys in the quartet was named Dwayne Flohr. (Rev. Dwayne Flohr is pastoring the Challenge Community Church where Amy and I currently attend).
As we grew in the Lord, we wanted to be an example to Amy’s sister Mildred and her husband Ralph Thurston. We sold our ranch in Olinda and moved to Vista, California in 1955 to be closer to them. I began plastering with Ralph and we worked together for three years from 1955-1958. God eventually brought Ralph and Mildred to himself, along with their two daughters. It is a wonderful blessing to be used of the Lord in the lives of people. During my time in Olinda, I met an American Sunday School Union missionary named Roy Nelson. Roy worked out of Redding and he asked me to teach Sunday School in Olinda. We moved back North to Red Bluff, California on August 28, 1958 and shortly afterwards, Roy contacted me again. He wanted me to teach Sunday School in Bend, just north of Red Bluff. Later he contacted me again and asked if I would teach in Proberta, California also. I was teaching in Bend in the morning and Proberta in the afternoon. The group in Proberta eventually turned into an American Sunday Union Church. This was a wonderful time of serving the Lord, but it soon came to an end when a certain event took place in my life.

***

I enjoy hunting, so Ralph Thurston and I decided to go to Utah to hunt deer. On October 26, 1960, I was out on a hillside in Utah deer hunting. Some hunter thought I was a better deer than one that has four legs, so he shot me. The shot hit me on the right side and went through a marine shell clip that was attached to my belt. I fell down immediately and hollered out, “Don’t shoot, I’m shot! Don’t shoot, I’m shot!” There were some men on the road below that heard the gunshots. They caught the man that shot me and brought him to the place where I was laid out on the hillside. As I lay there I talked to the man who shot me about the Lord. Lee Salseth’s brother was a missionary and he told Ralph that I talked about the Lord while I was laying there. Ralph Thurston and Lee Salseth took turns supporting me to control the bleeding. Lee said that he “had never heard such preaching” as I talked about the Lord. In a short time, there were thirty men, besides our party, that were standing at the place of the incident. A doctor came up and gave me a shot to relieve the pain. He put a bandage on the wound and held pressure to slow the bleeding. The men had to clear a trail in order to carry me down the hill to the road. It was about two hours from the time I was shot to the time I was loaded into an ambulance. They took me to Cedar City Hospital. Pieces of lead and shell casing were blown up into my side and it took the doctors 4 hours in surgery to remove what they could of the lead and other material. The original slug that the man fired is still with me today. It’s embedded in a muscle in my back and I have seen an x-ray of it years later. That was a fearful time in my life as I was not sure if I would live or die. I was in the hospital for 28 days and then recuperating at home from November 1960 until February of 1961.
The Lord spared my life for which I am thankful. It was during that hunting experience, facing the possibility of death, that I rededicated my life to the Lord. I wanted to serve Him in any way He chose to use me. I experienced more peace in my life following that decision. When I finally got back on my feet, I discovered that I needed an occupation in which I was not constantly stooping, squatting, and bending. I applied for a job with the Sierra County Sheriff’s Department in Downieville that was up on the hillside overlooking the town. It was a beautiful spot. We built a house on that piece of ground and lived there for 13 years. My son Bill Wiesner bought a house down the highway from us in a town called Goodyear Bar. Later we bought the Goodyear Bar house from Bill and we sold our Downieville house. We lived in Goodyears Bar the remaining years that I worked in the Sheriff’s Department.
During my time in the Sheriff’s office I had some interesting experiences. The first event happened when I was only about two weeks on the job. A miner named Bill, who was known for packing a 44-caliber pistol, had not been out of his cabin for some time. Neither Jim Hill nor the Sheriff would go to his cabin but they sent me. They knew he did not like law enforcement officers. I found the man dead. He had torn the cabin apart inside, possibly due to drinking so much that he was having hallucinations, chasing snakes or whatever.
Another event involved a scoutmaster who had two boy scouts with him, climbing the Sierra Buttes. They came to a place where they could climb no further. The scoutmaster told the boys to sit while he tried to find a different route up. One boy didn’t listen. He tried to climb in a spot that was nearly vertical and fell to his death. We took 700 feet of rope but couldn’t reach the boy. It was dark, late, and cold. Jim Hill, the under-sheriff, tried to climb down the rope and had a mild heart attack. As we shined the flashlight down the mountain we could see the blood in several places where the boy hit on the rocks as he fell. At night, with the flashlight shining on it, blood shows up almost phosphorescent. We could tell that he must have been killed instantly. The next day I went back with six Forest Service workers to retrieve the body. We brought the boy up in a basket.
Another night I was on dispatch. I got a call from a tavern called the Indian Valley Outpost. A man asked for a beer and then wanted to pay for it with carrots. The bartender called us and I sent Dave Marshall out on the call. Dave sprayed him with mace but it didn’t do any good. The guy jumped up on the bar and grabbed a machete that was displayed on the wall above the bar. He began swinging it around. I came to the tavern as back up. When I arrived I drew my gun and went in. The guy looked like he was high on drugs. I could see that he was out of his head, so I returned my gun to my holster and started talking to him. I was asking him questions, one right after another. After about eight or nine questions I said to him, “Put that thing up and get down off of there!” He immediately put the machete back in its place and came down off the bar. I had him under control and the bartender went and called the office again. Turk Johnson, Sam Doyle, and Hallman all came down. The Sheriff started talking to the man. He finally told him, “With the situation that you caused here, we’re going to have to take you down and hold you.” Well that man hauled off and cracked the Sheriff one, right in the jaw. We grabbed him and Turk hit him in the head with my flashlight. We booked him and Hallman took his fingerprints to Sacramento and ran them. He was a wanted man in another state, so we held him until they came and picked him up.
One Saturday I received a call from Sam Doyle. He told me to bring a shotgun and come to work. Six or eight Hells Angels had come in and roped off the road to Shenanigan Flats. The report was that a whole troop of Hells Angels were on their way up from Nevada City.  At the stop in Nevada City, one of the biker’s girlfriends killed herself. She was high on drugs and jumped off a bridge into shallow water. That event broke up the party and the group turned around and went back to San Francisco.
One winter there was a plane crash at the Monarch Mine involving a man and woman. The two were hurt, but still alive. There was snow on the ground and they burned the mine buildings up trying to keep warm and to signal for help. Finally the man made some crude crutches from sticks and hiked out. He made it to the dumps and a man in a four-wheel drive helped him get the woman out. The man broke his ankle, and the woman’s face was bruised pretty badly; it was black and blue. I drove them down to the Miners Hospital and there was a camera crew. The story made the front page of the Sacramento Bee.
I remember the time an oriental man, who was high on drugs, took an automatic weapon and killed three other oriental men who were hunting. A sixteen-year-old oriental boy, who was also with the party, came walking into the situation. The gunman used up his ammunition on the three, so he grabbed a 22 caliber and shot the boy in the chest. The shot knocked the boy down, but it didn’t kill him. The gunman fled the scene and went to Sierraville. The wounded boy hiked up the road and flagged down a Forest Service worker. He radioed us and we came to the crime scene and packed the men out. The Mountain Messenger took pictures and wrote an article on the crime. The article hangs on the wall in the Sierra County Sheriff’s Department to this day. The gunman was caught in Sierraville and tried in Sierra County. These are just a few of the events I recall from my time in the Downieville Sheriff’s office.
Life in the Sheriff’s Department was not always so eventful. Sometimes I worked the swing shift or the night shift. When all my work was done and there were no calls, I could read my Bible. Sometimes I would write down thoughts that I had about God and what He showed me in His Word. We started a Bible study in Goodyear Bar that eventually turned into a church. The Grass Valley Church licensed me to preach so I could Pastor the Goodyear Bar Church. Years later I had the privilege of returning to the Grass Valley Church as pastor for 4 years. I also pastored the Camptonville Community Church for one year. These years of serving the Lord were the most wonderful and the best spiritual times of my life. Through the American Sunday School Union I met a man named Carl Hansen and enjoyed his friendship and fellowship. The American Sunday School Union started a camp named Mt. Hope Bible Conference and Carl Hansen became the director of Mt. Hope. I saw the value of the camp ministry in the lives of young people and I became involved with them. I helped Mt. Hope with some of their building projects and I eventually went on the Board of Directors. These are just some of the opportunities that the Lord gave me to serve Him. I am thankful to be used of the Lord and I hope He receives the glory for all that He has done through me. Without Him I would have done nothing as it says in John 15:5.

I enjoyed working in the Sierra County Sheriff’s office, but after 16 years I began to develop some physical problems, one of which was a degenerating disc in my neck. I retired out of the Sheriff’s department in 1976 and we moved to Orland, California to be closer to my children and grandchildren. We built a house in Orland and the family was a help to me in the process. My son Gene and his wife Barbara were living in Orland at the time with their children, Russell and Mary Ellen. My daughter Nadine and her husband Fred Rawlins lived just 20 miles away in Chico. It was good to be nearer to family during those days and we enjoyed that time. In Orland the Lord still gave me opportunities to serve Him in my retirement. We joined the First Baptist Church and I taught Sunday School. I also preached for the Sunday morning worship service from time to time. I believe that Amy and I were a help to our grandchildren as well. We would pick up Russell and Mary Ellen and take them to church with us. In the summer we drove them up to camp at Mt. Hope until Russell was old enough to drive. I had the privilege of baptizing Russell and Mary Ellen in the First Baptist Church there in Orland. I officiated the wedding ceremonies of some of my grandchildren. We stayed in Orland for six years and then decided to move out of the valley and up into the mountains again. We began looking at property around Northern California. We sold our house in Orland and bought 2 ½ acres in Forbestown, California where we built our present home. We chose to live in Forbestown so we would be close to Mt. Hope as Amy and I wanted to be a help when we could. Over the years I worked on building projects and Amy was the Camp Nurse for the A.M.F. camps each Summer. As we grow older we have not been as able to help at Mt. Hope as we did in earlier years. We split our property in half and I helped my son Gene build a house next to ours on his 1 ¼ acres. Gene has been a blessing to us in recent years as he has helped us around our place.

***

I have been asked what my favorite Scripture is.  All scripture is a blessing to me and I can’t say that one is particularly my favorite. I can name several passages that are meaningful, such as Ephesians 2:8 & 9:

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God; Not of works, lest any man should boast.

I realize that it was God who established the faith in my heart to believe, just as He said in Ephesians 2:1:

And you hath he quickened (“made alive”), who were dead in trespasses and sins;

There are so many promises in God’s Word that I could fill page after page in the telling of them. It is my desire to give Him the glory for what He has done in and through me. I am saved by His grace through faith, not because I have done anything.

Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost; which he shed on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Savior.  Titus 3:5 & 6

What great love God has bestowed upon me when He gave His son in my place on Calvary’s cross!  That familiar scripture verse means so much to me.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.  John 3:16

Sometimes I substitute the word “whosoever” with the word “Curtis” to make this verse more personal. The following verses are meaningful as well,

For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. He that believeth on him is not condemned; but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.  John 3:17 & 18

God has blessed me in seeing many of my loved ones accept the Lord, from grandchildren to great grandchildren. God has been faithful to me, but I am sorry to say that I am not always faithful to Him. I depend on His grace and forgiveness for the times in my life when I have failed Him. In the closing years of my life the greatest ministry I can do for my Lord is in prayer. I pray for my children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. The most recent service I performed was the Child Dedication of my great grandson, Joshua Curtis Wiesner, on Father’s Day in 1996 at the Challenge Community Church.  This was an honor for me and I praise the Lord he gave me the strength to officiate the ceremony. 
I hope to be remembered by my family as an example of faith to my Savior and for my love for the Lord. I look forward to spending eternity with my Savior. The Bible says that the beauties of Heaven include golden streets, gates of pearl, etc. but nothing will compare to the beauty of Jesus. I will see my Savior face to face. He will have the nail prints in His hands and feet which will always remind me of the sacrifice He made to redeem an unworthy sinner like me.

Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.
John 14:1-3

It won’t be long before I am in the presence of my Lord and Savior in Heaven. When I am there, I would probably wish I could speak to my family for a few minutes from that wonderful place. I would certainly tell them the Gospel story, that Jesus died for them, paying our sin debt and that He rose again showing His power over death. He is coming soon to claim those who belong to Him. I would tell them of the beauty of Heaven and the glory of being in the presence of Jesus. As my thoughts were directed towards these things I wrote this poem:

The Eternal Day

As I look up into the Heavens
And I see the clouds roll by
I know there is an All Sufficient One
Who guides them through the sky

He controls the rain as it drops
And makes the night like day
The full moon gives her light
And the sun spreads her rays

The One who made it all
Never sleeps by night or day
He holds it all in His hands
That man can live and play

Man gives no thought of tomorrow
He lives just day by day
And neglects his soul, that’s sorrowful
His life just wanders and strays

The Lord asks that he be mindful
To feed his soul from His Word
To find that life is more than material
When life leaves the body and world

The Angels even proclaimed it
This day a Savior to you is born
He paid the price on Calvary’s cross
To make you one of God’s Son’s

There is a place in Heaven for believers
With the Savior of mankind
If you have no time for Jesus
Nor Church, nor Prayer, in mind

You will be lost forever in darkness
You “willed” your life away
Never to see the face of the Savior
In death your soul will stay

***

I know many in my family have professed to know Jesus as Lord and Savior, but are not living like they believe in Christ. I pray for them, but it saddens me. I know what Jesus said about those who follow Him,

Jesus answered and said to him, “If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him, and make Our abode with him. John 14:23

This is my concern for my loved ones. Many of my family have professed belief in Christ, but have little desire for things of the Lord. They don’t experience the joy of salvation and their life lacks the fruit of genuine saving faith. My heart breaks for these loved ones. I don’t judge them; I just commit them into the Lord’s hands. May God draw them to Himself in His own time.
I celebrated two very important dates this year of 1997. Father’s day, June 15th marks 45 years from the day I put my faith in Christ as Savior. And on June 17th, Amy and I celebrated our 65th wedding anniversary. I am thankful for both of these dates. God has given me salvation, an abundant life, and a wonderful woman to share it with. The following is a poem that I wrote for Amy on her birthday.

To My Wife

I have no birthday card my dear
So I wrote a poem instead
To tell you how I love you
As time and years rolled by

As morning breaks through the sky
The day has just begun
My love for you my dear
Is perpetual like the sun

It began many years ago
Though time has had its toll
We may not be as young today
But my love has not grown cold

You may not see me in your eyes
As you did may years ago
That’s why my dear, you see
My thoughts are happiness for you

You are my love forevermore
Each day and year we share
Are like heaven’s sun shining through
Happy Birthday my love to you

Curtis