Relics On Display At Temperance Church

St. Anthony Catholic Church will host an exhibition of sacred relics later this month.

The “Treasurers of the Church” event will take place at 7 p.m. May 22 at Kenna Hall, 4635 St. Anthony Rd., Temperance.

Presented by Father Carlos Martins of the Companions of the Cross, more than 150 relics will be shown with some dating more than 2,000 years old.

Relics are available from St. Maria Goretti, St. Thérèse of Lisieux, the “Little Flower,” St. Francis of Assisi, St. Anthony of Padua, St. Thomas Aquinas, and St. Faustina Kowalska.

A piece of the veil of Our Lady as well as one of the largest remaining pieces of the True Cross in the world will be available to see.

Visitors are encouraged to bring articles of devotion such as rosaries, holy cards and pictures of ill friends and family member, which visitors will be able to touch to the reliquaries as a means of intercession, a news release said.

For more information, call the parish office at 854-1143 or visit www.stanthonytemperance.org.

No to Novena

This is a syndicated post from The Curt Jester. [Read the original article...]

One of the problems I have with novenas is being able to remember to pray them during each of the nine days of if you are doing a novena of novenas during that time frame. So last Friday being a traditional day of starting a novena I remembered that I had recently seen an iOS app designed for novenas and so purchased it. Simply called Novena and priced at $2.99.

There are many ways a mobile application could help with praying a novena as far as scheduling goes. Unfortunately this app came up with none of these ideas. No push notifications. No scheduling. Nothing to track what day of a novena you might be on.

Neither was I impressed by the design of the app. Apparently not much effort went into design and it only worked in portrait mode in one orientation. Being a universal app for the iPhone and iPad it at least supported both platforms. Yet on the iPad the menu was apparently the same as for the iPhone or so just took up a small area at the top right part of the screen.

On the plus side novenas were grouped in several ways that could be useful in finding the one you want. You could also favorite one to easily come back to later. The artwork seems to have been taken from German holy cards and I did like the look of these cards and they did give the look of the app some consistency. Once selecting a novena you were presented with the individual novena and you could select or swipe to a history of the saint involved.

One nice feature was that for each image you could select Symbols to show a text overlay explaining some of the symbolic components in the image.

Overall I was disappointed by this app for missing obvious features and having a poorly designed interface and menu. So if anyone knows of an iOS novena app with push notifications and/or some form of scheduling please let me know.

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Jeffrey Miller (341 Posts)

Patrick Kuhl: I can picture her on the back porch steps

There have been 31 Mother’s Days since my mom died in 1981.

I’m afraid I’m forgetting some of the little things I love about her.

Like the pins and needles I had to watch out for whenever I crawled up in her lap to get a hug. She always had some sewing project going. Making all of her own dresses. Hemming and unhemming and re-hemming hand-me-down pants. Patching holes in jeans knees. Even sewing my sister’s wedding dress.

With eight kids, she never could sit down and do a lot of sewing at one time. Whenever she was interrupted, she just stuck the needle through her dress top, with the thread hanging down, and went about her business. Sometimes there would be two or three needles. You had to be careful when you got close to Mom. But, boy, it was worth it.

There was that homemade soup she always made. I have her recipe and I’ve been trying to duplicate it for all these years. But it’s just not Mom’s Soup. Her most important ingredients were ones you can’t buy in grocery stores.

I can picture her on the back porch steps, snapping snap beans picked fresh from the garden while she watched us play in the backyard.

How she laughed so hard at Red Skelton and rooted so hard for Chester on “Gunsmoke.” I remember how surprised she was years later when she saw Dennis Weaver on another show and he didn’t walk with a limp. I think she might have prayed for his leg to get better.

Being the baby of the family, I had the best seat in the car on summer drives in the country. On Mom’s lap. That was before they invented child car seats.

Who can forget the time she dyed her gray hair and it came out greenish? Or the time she decided to help out Pop and used his clippers to cut my brother’s hair. He wore a cap to school for a week.

I can hear her humming as she hung wash on the line or did any of her endless chores. I think I inherited that. Sometimes my neighbors make fun of me when I’m finished mowing the grass. Who would have thought they could hear “Eight Days a Week” over the roar of the mower?

Every morning, Mom would get up early and make breakfast for Pop and whichever of us eight kids were home at the time, wash the dishes, get kids off to school, maybe start some laundry or other chores. Then everything stopped.

Mom slipped away to the top drawer of her dresser and pulled out a small black book. It was well worn and bulging with stuff that wasn’t part of the book at all. She carried it carefully, with both hands so none of her treasures would fall out, to the kitchen table.

For the next half-hour or so you had to be absolutely quiet. It wasn’t that she demanded it. You did it because you could tell by the look on her face that there was something very important going on here.

Mom would close her eyes and say a prayer or two. She didn’t really need the little black prayer book because she knew them all by heart. Then she opened her eyes and dealt out on the table all the holy cards and letters she had stuffed into the book. Each in its own turn. Each in its own place, like a big game of solitaire.

As she put down each one, she paused and mumbled something. They were little prayers of her own that weren’t printed anywhere in any book.

When I was little, sometimes she let me climb up in a chair and pick them up. She told me about all the people who were in the papers and in her heart.

There were cards in the stack, many with the names of people who had died. She had picked up the cards at their funerals. Her dad. Grandma and Grandpa Kuhl, who died before I was born. A childhood friend. Neighbors. Relatives. I don’t know what she said for each one, but she told me a lot of them were saints now and helping God look after us.

Later on in her life, there were photos of grandkids. A picture of our house in Texas from when they came on a Greyhound bus to visit.

My favorites were a couple of handwritten letters and a photograph of her best friend who became a nun and went off to be a missionary in Africa.

It was my first geography lesson. The nun was in Tanganyika, which isn’t even a country anymore, on the East Coast of Africa.

If I asked, she read me part of a letter. The nun wrote that Tanganyika must be the most beautiful place in the world. She wrote about exotic animals and plants. She talked about how nice the people in her world were even though they were poor and endured much suffering. She asked Mom to pray for them. And she did.

Mom said she thought about becoming a nun and being a missionary, too, when she was young.

I’m glad she didn’t.

In the Nation – Philly.com

A Purple Heart 68 years later

SIOUX FALLS, S.D. – As Army soldier Charles Bledsoe was being loaded onto a Jeep with a gunshot wound to the abdomen nearly 70 years ago, he heard someone say: “Give him his last rites.”

“I looked around to see who that was getting the last rites,” Bledsoe recalled. “I went, ‘The hell.’ It was me.”

Bledsoe recovered, but the April 19, 1945, wound was never recorded on his discharge papers so he hadn’t received a Purple Heart. The oversight was corrected Wednesday, as Sen. Tim Johnson (D., S.D.) presented the 88-year-old World War II veteran with a Purple Heart and Bronze Star in Sioux Falls.

Bledsoe had not really pushed for the medal until about a year ago when he tried to become a member of the Sioux Falls chapter of the Military Order of the Purple Heart.

– AP

Coin toss decides race

CHICAGO – The political fortunes of David De Leshe took a turn for the better Wednesday thanks to a quarter.

De Leshe and Lea Torres were among six candidates vying for three village trustee positions in Stickney, Ill., in the April 9 election, and the two tied for the third spot with 573 votes each.

So a coin toss – won by De Leshe – decided the winner.

“It really goes to say that every vote does count,” De Leshe, a police officer in Lyons, said minutes before the toss at the Cook County Clerk’s Office in downtown Chicago.

Torres, an incumbent, went to the coin toss with a few items she thought would bring her luck – holy cards stowed in her purse, but it was not to be.

– Chicago Tribune

Elsewhere:

People in parts of Colorado and Wyoming pulled puffy jackets out of the closet Wednesday for another round of wet spring snow. Nearly 3 feet was possible in the foothills and mountains of northern Colorado, while about a foot was expected at lower elevations in parts of both states.

With flip of a quarter , tie vote for Stickney village trustee is broken

So a coin toss — won by De Leshe — decided the winner.

“What are the odds (the vote would end in a tie)?” De Leshe, a police officer in Lyons, said minutes before the toss at the Cook County clerk’s office in downtown Chicago. “It really goes to say that every vote does count.”

De Leshe, who is a member of the local school board, was making his first run for the Village Board.

Torres, an incumbent, came to the coin toss with a few items she thought would bring her luck — holy cards stowed away in her purse.

“I carry them with me all the time,” she said.

Before the toss, the candidates’ names were put into two pill bottles, which were placed into a fishbowl. De Leshe’s name was pulled out first, so he got to choose between heads and tails.

When Cook County Clerk David Orr, the designated coin-tosser, was handed a quarter, he joked that more valuable currency should be used for the occasion.

“Where’s the silver dollar, huh?” Orr said. “We’re getting cheaper. I guess we can’t afford the silver dollar.”

De Leshe called heads as Orr flipped the coin, which tumbled to the carpeted floor. And heads it was.

“From this point forward, I’m just going to try breathing a little easier,” De Leshe said. “Most importantly, the village is at stake here.”

Torres still has the option of calling for a discovery recount or filing a lawsuit to contest the election, Orr said. But Torres, a retired Stickney police reserve officer, said she would need to consult first with her attorney. She wasn’t sure if she would continue in politics but planned to remain active in the community and spend time with her nine grandchildren and great-grandchild.

By law, ties are decided in Illinois by “some sort of lottery,” Orr said. “We tend to flip a coin. The good news is it doesn’t happen too often,” though races are often decided by “two, three or four votes,” he said.

In the race for village president in Stickney, Deborah Morelli won by seven votes — a relative landslide.

It’s not the first time a coin toss has decided a tie in Cook County. Orr also flipped coins to determine election winners in 2011 and 2007.

rlevy@tribune.com Twitter @rachael_levy

With flip of a quarter, tie vote for Stickney village trustee is broken

The political fortunes of David De Leshe took a turn for the better Wednesday thanks to a quarter.

De Leshe and Lea Torres were among six candidates vying for three village trustee positions in west suburban Stickney in the April 9 election, and the two tied for the third spot with 573 votes each.

So a coin toss — won by De Leshe — decided the winner.

“What are the odds (the vote would end in a tie)?” De Leshe, a police officer in Lyons, said minutes before the toss at the Cook County clerk’s office in downtown Chicago. “It really goes to say that every vote does count.”

De Leshe, who is a member of the local school board, was making his first run for the Village Board.

Torres, an incumbent, came to the coin toss with a few items she thought would bring her luck — holy cards stowed away in her purse.

“I carry them with me all the time,” she said.

Before the toss, the candidates’ names were put into two pill bottles, which were placed into a fishbowl. De Leshe’s name was pulled out first, so he got to choose between heads and tails.

When Cook County Clerk David Orr, the designated coin-tosser, was handed a quarter, he joked that more valuable currency should be used for the occasion.

“Where’s the silver dollar, huh?” Orr said. “We’re getting cheaper. I guess we can’t afford the silver dollar.”

De Leshe called heads as Orr flipped the coin, which tumbled to the carpeted floor. And heads it was.

“From this point forward, I’m just going to try breathing a little easier,” De Leshe said. “Most importantly, the village is at stake here.”

Torres still has the option of calling for a discovery recount or filing a lawsuit to contest the election, Orr said. But Torres, a retired Stickney police reserve officer, said she would need to consult first with her attorney. She wasn’t sure if she would continue in politics but planned to remain active in the community and spend time with her nine grandchildren and great-grandchild.

By law, ties are decided in Illinois by “some sort of lottery,” Orr said. “We tend to flip a coin. The good news is it doesn’t happen too often,” though races are often decided by “two, three or four votes,” he said.

In the race for village president in Stickney, Deborah Morelli won by seven votes — a relative landslide.

It’s not the first time a coin toss has decided a tie in Cook County. Orr also flipped coins to determine election winners in 2011 and 2007.

rlevy@tribune.com Twitter @rachael_levy

Suburban board election to be decided by coin flip

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With flip of a quarter, tie vote for Stickney village trustee is broken

So a coin toss — won by De Leshe — decided the winner.

“What are the odds (the vote would end in a tie)?” De Leshe, a police officer in Lyons, said minutes before the toss at the Cook County clerk’s office in downtown Chicago. “It really goes to say that every vote does count.”

De Leshe, who is a member of the local school board, was making his first run for the Village Board.

Torres, an incumbent, came to the coin toss with a few items she thought would bring her luck — holy cards stowed away in her purse.

“I carry them with me all the time,” she said.

Before the toss, the candidates’ names were put into two pill bottles, which were placed into a fishbowl. De Leshe’s name was pulled out first, so he got to choose between heads and tails.

When Cook County Clerk David Orr, the designated coin-tosser, was handed a quarter, he joked that more valuable currency should be used for the occasion.

“Where’s the silver dollar, huh?” Orr said. “We’re getting cheaper. I guess we can’t afford the silver dollar.”

De Leshe called heads as Orr flipped the coin, which tumbled to the carpeted floor. And heads it was.

“From this point forward, I’m just going to try breathing a little easier,” De Leshe said. “Most importantly, the village is at stake here.”

Torres still has the option of calling for a discovery recount or filing a lawsuit to contest the election, Orr said. But Torres, a retired Stickney police reserve officer, said she would need to consult first with her attorney. She wasn’t sure if she would continue in politics but planned to remain active in the community and spend time with her nine grandchildren and great-grandchild.

By law, ties are decided in Illinois by “some sort of lottery,” Orr said. “We tend to flip a coin. The good news is it doesn’t happen too often,” though races are often decided by “two, three or four votes,” he said.

In the race for village president in Stickney, Deborah Morelli won by seven votes — a relative landslide.

It’s not the first time a coin toss has decided a tie in Cook County. Orr also flipped coins to determine election winners in 2011 and 2007.

rlevy@tribune.com Twitter @rachael_levy

Christian Brands Responds to Boston Marathon Bombing: Donates Rosaries to …

Phoenix, AZ, April 20, 2013 –(PR.com)– While horrific events like the Boston Marathon bombing can tear families and lives apart, they can also bring people and communities together. Such is the case for a Valley company, Christian Brands, which recently announced it will donate 3,000 rosaries and holy cards to the Boston Catholic Diocese to distribute.

Christian Brands has provided religious products and services to consumers, churches and faith-based organizations locally and nationally for more than half a century. Much of their success is attributed to their commitment and involvement in the community from every level of the company. When compelling events like the tragedy that unfolded April 15, in Boston, it left only one question for the company: how to respond in a meaningful way.

“We know how important it is to come together as a community when tragedies like this strike and we want to do what we can to help in the healing process,” said owner, Paul DiGiovanni.

DiGiovanni added, “If this small gesture can provide some comfort to the many who are struggling to cope physically and emotionally with the attack, we feel compelled to help. The entire Boston and marathon community is in our thoughts and prayers during this trying time.”

Christian Brands, Inc., and its family of inspirational product companies include Autom, Living Grace, Milagros, Heartfelt, Will Baumer and Creed is family owned and operated since 1948 and is located at 5226 S. 31st Place, Phoenix, Arizona and on the Web at www.christianbrands.com.

From Kansas farm boy to saintly hero

By MSGR. ARTHUR TONNE

© Diddle Publishing Co.

It was April 1916. Easter Sunday was just a few days away. In a little farm home, three miles southwest of Pilsen in east central Kansas, Enos and Elizabeth Kapaun were awaiting the birth of their first child. All was in readiness. The bed had been moved near the stove in the kitchen. There, on April 20 at 11:30 in the morning, the young couple welcomed their infant son into the world. It was Holy Thursday, a day of joy that commemorates the ordination of the first Christian priests. Was there some blessed omen in the birth of their first boy on this Anniversary of the Last Supper? The pious parents hoped so.

They were a simple, substantial, hardworking couple, whose deep Catholic faith had grown sturdy and strong, founded as it was in century upon century of flourishing Catholicism in Bohemia.

The new arrival on the Kapaun farm was baptized a few weeks after his birth. The church record has this entry in Latin: “On the 9th day of May, 1916, I baptized Emil Kapaun, born on the 20th day of April, 1916, the son of Enos and Elizabeth Kapaun (born Hajek). The godparents were John Melcher and Cecilia Melcher, his wife. Fr. John Sklenar.”

The religious foundation of these good people dates back to the 9th century when St. Cyril and St. Methodious brought the faith to the three Bohemian provinces of the Austrian Empire, Bohemia proper, Moravia, and Silesia. The seeds of this faith, so firmly sown by these missionaries, spread their roots down through the ages and eventually to the New World across the sea. Two heroic-sized stone statues of these apostles stand in niches on the front outside wall of the church in Pilsen, Kan. Pilsen is a tiny crossroads community 40 miles south of Abilene, the boyhood home of President Eisenhower.

By 1890, 46 Bohemian families had settled in Pilsen. The soil was fertile, but hard to work. The Santa Fe Railroad held much of the land, but was anxious to sell it, even at a low price, to the ambitious immigrants. Houses, barns, and fences had to be built; horses, wagons, and implements had to be secured. The railroad had much business and the settlers much strenuous labor.

To keep their faith alive, the pioneers gathered on Sundays in the “Beauty of the West” school under the leadership of Jacob Rudolph, who read from the Holy Bible, taught young and old from his book of Gospel Instructions, and trained the children in religious song. He made arrangements for a Catholic priest to come every Easter season, so that the people might receive the Sacraments. With his team of horses, he drove as far as Emporia, 60 miles east, to bring the priests out to Pilsen.

St. John Nepomucene, patron of the parish, was born in Bohemia about the year 1340 and takes his name from Nepomuk, his birthplace. He is the principal patron of Bohemia, where, in days of blessed memory, the people of that country prayed for his protection against floods and calumnies and for help in making a worthy confession.

A life-sized statue of this martyr priest stands above the high altar of the Pilsen Church. His right index finger is placed against his lips as a reminder of his sacrifice in keeping inviolate the seal of the confessional, the solemn and serious responsibility of the priest never to reveal a sin heard in the tribunal of penance.

The present imposing edifice was built in 1915. The very heart of the village is this towering Gothic church with its 120-foot steeple, visible for miles around. On the 10-acre parish plot are five buildings: the church, which seats 650, a rectory, a school, a combination hall and gym, and a convent. There is also a well-kept cemetery. About 175 families, mostly farmers, live today within the parish limits, that comprise an area of about 10 by 12 miles.

The village proper lists two filling stations, two grocery stores, and a post office. The west and north sides of the parochial plot are lined with a rim of simple but substantial dwellings, homes of widows who want to live as close as possible to the church. Five widowed grandmothers living north of the church meet every evening in the home of Grandma Reznicek to say their rosary in Bohemian.

The very first settler to arrive in the territory was Vit Franta, who inspected the land and gave a favorable report. On February 26, 1874, Jacob Vinduska and Mike Franta came with their families from Chicago.

Enos Kapaun was born in Czechoslovakia in 1880. He was of German and Bohemian ancestry. Among his treasured keepsakes is the passport issued to his family when they made the long voyage to America. Enos was then 7 years old. He likes to tell of that ocean voyage, the train ride to Florence, Kansas, and the wagon trek to Pilsen.

Elizabeth Hajek Kapaun was born 12 miles from Wakeeney, in Trego County, Kan., in 1895, of Bohemian parents. The Hajeks moved to Marion County when their little girl was 3 years old. On May 18, 1915, Enos and Elizabeth were married in the church at Pilsen by Father John Sklenar.

This pioneer priest, who later became monsignor, was pastor of Pilsen for 42 years. As a boy, Kapaun often remarked sometimes jokingly, sometimes seriously: “I want to be just like Father Sklenar.”

How did this Kansas farm boy become an idol, hero, and saint to men of every creed and calling? The elements are found in his home, his church, and his school.

His infant eyes fell upon holy pictures of all kinds and sizes still hanging on the walls of the Kapaun home. His infant ears heard daily prayers in English and Bohemian. His little hands were folded between the calloused palms of his father and the gentle fingers of his mother. From their deep and natural piety he caught what his mother thoughtfully expressed as his predominant characteristic, the trait that made him stand out, even as a boy: “He was always close to God.”

Holy cards, prayer books, religious magazines, and newspapers were always at hand. Before he ever learned to make out the words, little Emil indicated his later love for reading and study. He liked to look at holy pictures, especially when someone explained their meaning.

His mother recalls that, when he was only 6 years old, he caught a five-pound channel catfish. He was so excited that he ran all the way home, leaving pole, line, and fish near the bank. Mama and Daddy had to come and see his catch. But he had forgotten to anchor his fish; it had flipped back into the water!

His early prowess with a fishing pole is attested by a neighbor, Joe Meysing, who went fishing with his hired man in the creek near the Kapaun home. They had the best possible bait and fishing tackle. Little Emil happened to come to the same spot and joined them. The men felt sorry for the boy, who had no modern fishing equipment. Confidently, the lad dropped his line near the bank. In a very short time, he pulled out a beautiful 3-pound fish, took it off the line, smiled, and trotted home with his catch, leaving the experienced fishermen speechless.

One afternoon 7-year-old Emil was sitting on the bank, waiting patiently for a bite, when he noticed a long-legged kingfisher, strutting along a shallow stretch in the creek. That evening, seated at supper, he surprised his parents with this remark: “Mom, I saw a stork this afternoon and I asked him to bring me a baby brother.”

With a reminiscent smile, his mother adds: “A year later, the stork did bring him a baby brother.” Emil was 8 years old when his brother Eugene arrived on March 10, 1924. There were no other brothers or sisters.

His mother recalls, eyes misty with tears, the days when he was learning to serve at the altar. In spare moments, he hurried out into the yard and knelt before a tree with folded hands. He would practice each gesture used by the servers over and over again. To serve as an acolyte he must be perfect!

Later he built an altar in the front room of their home. Often, even when he was playing out in the yard, he managed to steal away to pray at this favorite spot, and to play at being a “priest.” With the first breath of spring, before the flowers in their own garden were in bloom, he searched the fields and woods and creek banks for blossoms to adorn his altar.

On their 160-acre farm, which Enos Kapaun has worked for over 40 years, there was always something to be done. Unlike the average boy, young Kapaun never dodged work. He looked for it. Often, particularly in the evening, when there was a chance to relax, Emil picked up a hoe and went to work in the garden, or he would chop weeds along the fencerows, even in the distant fields.

For recreation he would take a dip in the stream that flows near their home, or, with his fishing pole over his shoulder, he would seek out his favorite fishing spot. Running and playing in the fields, hunting, hiking to unusual places, working or playing — what he did — was done well, earnestly and with vigor. He was skilled in repairing and building implements, a knowledge which, in his future ordeal, was to be of vital assistance to him and his fellow prisoners.

From his parents he acquired traits that contributed to his virile character. He had a typical Bohemian temperament. He was quiet, retiring; yet possessed of a keen sense of humor revealed by a wry but inviting smile. He had the spirit of neighborliness that abounds among his people, who will gather together in the village when chores are finished, exchanging views on every possible topic. The children and young people are usually part of these informal and congenial groups. In fact, one of the most admirable notes of country life, and especially of this community, is the close and affectionate association between parents and children. Above all, their Catholic faith is the warp and woof of their lives.

The silver spire of the Pilsen church is something more than physical. It is the center, not only of the spiritual and educational activities of the community but also of its social life. Bohemians love to dance, particularly the polka. They thoroughly enjoy carnivals and cakewalks, suppers and bazaars. They like to celebrate, no matter what the occasion, and practically all their social celebrations are held in the parish hall and the church basement.

In addition to general characteristics, Emil inherited from his father and mother that rare character combination of a kindly disposition plus tenacity and determination. These traits he displayed to the very day of his death.

In appearance, Emil had an arresting grin, wide-set eyes, strong nose, chin firm and deeply cleft, and an ever-ready smile. He had a drawling, down-to-earth sense of humor.

Somehow his parents bequeathed to their boy a spirit of sacrifice, an acceptance of things as they are, an ability to face facts and situations, and an abiding assurance that there is Someone who directs the soul along the right path.

On September 5, 1922, at the age of 6, Emil began his formal education at the Pilsen School, District 115, in a building owned by the parish and still in use. The school was staffed by three Sisters Adorers of the Precious Blood, of Wichita, Kansas.

His agile mind and retentive memory enabled him to complete the eight primary grades in six years, with very little effort and almost perfect marks. His teachers testify that he grasped a subject at once.

“He was always ahead of himself. He certainly did not have to study hard,” says Sister Coletta who taught him in the eighth grade.

At times the teacher called upon Emil to explain to his classmates some difficult problem in arithmetic. He was so unassuming that no one took offense.

In religion class Father Sklenar frequently asked him to explain points to the less talented. Most of this instruction was given in Bohemian, the puzzling language which young Kapaun was determined to read and write as well as speak! Although English was the usual medium at home, he and his mother were wont to converse in her native tongue.

Sister Clare, who gave Emil private lessons in Bohemian, recalls how he would read the Bible in that language, welcoming corrections from classmates who were more familiar with the difficult tongue.

“He was a real boy,” she says, “ever-ready to tease and joke, an extremely clever mimic, imitating his teachers and classmates, but always inoffensively.”

The Pilsen playground adjoins the church. Emil frequently slipped away during recreation periods into church for a brief visit and a few moments of quiet prayer.

During his second year in school, May 29, 1924, he received his First Holy Communion.

Emil had almost perfect attendance during practically all six years of grade school, an astounding accomplishment, for the Kapaun home is a long three miles from school, the winters are unusually severe, and the roads often impassable. The lad would arrive at church an hour before the others in order to serve Mass for Father Sklenar. This service he continued on free days and during vacation.

In the spring and fall he was often seen cycling to school with a load of wildflowers on the handlebars. These he had gathered for the altar, especially for the Blessed Mother to whom he had a deep devotion.

His mother tells of an amusing incident that happened to Emil when he was about 10 years old. She was extremely busy and asked him to attend to the milking. For some reason, one cow was jittery; she would not stand still. Concluding that the cow missed the skillful handling of Mrs. Kapaun, Emil put on a dress belonging to his mother. The jumpy animal stood stock still while Emil milked successfully!

Another time, when his brother Eugene was about 8 years old, he told Emil that he would like to have a threshing machine.

“I’ll make you one,” said Emil. “I’m going in the shop and don’t bother me until I get it finished.”

He pounded and hammered for hours and finally came forth with a toy machine. Eugene said it would not work. Emil then poured some sand into one end and it came out the other, something like a threshing machine. Emil was ever resourceful and his brother satisfied.

He was graduated from the eighth grade in Marion on May 18, 1928, and the next fall enrolled in the Pilsen High School, which offered a two-year course. During those two years his cousin, Emil Melcher, lived with the Kapauns. They became close, life-long friends. They drove to and from school in Melcher’s two-wheeled pony cart.

The high school Sisters, who promoted various contests, at one time offered a prize for the best birdhouse. The two Emils set to work. Every spare moment they had a hammer or saw in hand, until finally, they finished a 22-room dwelling. Next they found an old telephone pole, sawed it off 12 feet from the ground, nailed their house to its top, and set it up on the school grounds. Their house won first prize and became a favorite rendezvous for a variety of birds.

The cousins were most conscientious about preparing their lessons. The kitchen table was their desk. Kapaun took great pains with the drawings for his science book. Often his mother came into the kitchen late at night to find her son diligently drawing and arranging specimens, while the Melcher lad, much stouter and less studious, was leaning on the table sound asleep.

A letter from Emil’s teacher in his sophomore year gives many sidelights on his character and disposition:

Angelus School

Grinnell, Kansas

“Jan. 17, 1954

Dear Father Tonne,

At your request, I will try to jot down some of the random thoughts that drift back from my teaching career 25 years ago.

Emil was a sophomore the year I taught him. He was a most conscientious lad, studious and prayerful, though he never made a show of his ability or his inner goodness. In religion class he could always answer Father Sklenar. Emil read his Bible in Bohemian and would ask his Bohemian-speaking class members to check him when he faltered. This happened seldom, for he was much in earnest about learning the difficult as well as the simple Bohemian.

Latin was Emil’s big interest as he knew it would be important should he continue his studies. His good grades and the ease with which he mastered every new vocabulary, declension, and conjugation were very rewarding when he took an examination in Latin at Conception the next year. Emil wrote back with some pride that he passed the test with a grade of 96 percent. It was to the intelligent, industrious pupil rather than to the teacher that credit should be given.

Emil was always deeply interested in a magazine about the foreign missions called ‘The St. Columban Mission Society.’ He read it eagerly, and each month sent to its publishers his spiritual bouquet of prayers and sacrifices.

When I realized that Emil was in earnest about becoming a priest, I called him aside and mentioned that, if his parents had not the means to send him to the seminary, which seemed to be his only worry, he might ask the Columban Fathers to accept him without any financial burden. I checked his letter in which he gave his age, class, ambition, and difficulty. The Columban Fathers said they would accept him without any financial assistance. Sister Clare suggested that we discuss this with Father Sklenar, who was upset over this decision and said he should be a parish priest and that he would pay Emil’s way. Emil and his parents agreed to the pastor’s plan. The lad seemed content just so he could become a priest. But he always kept his interest in foreign missions.

One Christmas shortly before he was ordained, he sent me such a huge Spiritual Bouquet that it brought tears to my eyes. There were many prayers and sacrifices on the list, almost all of them for 30 days.

The only material souvenirs I have of Father Kapaun are the two holy cards he enclosed in the invitation to his First Mass; but my grandest souvenir is the blessed memory of having had this conscientious, studious, and saintly lad in my class.

Respectfully yours,
Sister M. Vitalia