Some time in the summer of 1990, Dad fell in the night during a power outage, injured his back, and spent the night on the floor in pain.  He sought treatment, which was to allow the damaged vertebrae to fuse, while taking medication for the pain.
   The medication led to constipation, but Dad continued the medication, ate less, and probably drank more.  His health deteriorated.  He was passing blood, but didn’t report it.  In August of 1990, when he failed to make his daily check in to the medical monitoring network, a neighbor was dispatched to check on him, and found him in bad shape.  He was immediately taken to a hospital in Kearney, where they spent several days trying to determine the source of blood loss in the absence of a specialist, who was out of town.  Dad was in such bad shape, that more than one journey to X-ray was abandoned to get him back on life support systems.  His blood loss was such that he had nearly thirty pints of blood transfusions.
   Kim related that an attending nurse took Dad’s hand to tell him that she was leaving for the night and to assure him that he would be in good care.  Dad gripped her hand and wouldn’t let go.  Todd was called upon to pry her loose; an embarrassing situation.  Dad eventually released her, and muttered “What a woman.”
   A massive bleeding ulcer was finally located in the upper stomach area; they had been looking for something lower in the digestive tract.  Expectations of surviving stomach surgery were low, but surgery corrected problem and Dad survived.

   Weak from surgery and still disabled from the back injury, Dad resigned to entering the “Good Sam” home in Ravenna.  For a month or more, there was speculation that he would recover and return to normal life in Poole.  But, as time went on, Dad became more appreciative of the care and regular food at the home.
   He made one more visit to Poole.  Todd took him to the house in Poole, now rented to a Samuelson.  According to Kim, Dad spent about fifteen minutes on a kitchen bar stool chatting, then announced to Todd that it was time to get back.  He declined any further invites to visit Poole.

   Dad took on a different personality in the home.  Or, perhaps it was his true calling, a “side” of him that we had not seen before.  He became emotional, and would cry when recalling better times or even current situations.  He became a champion of patient rights, looked out for buddies; kind of a feisty liaison between residents and staff.  He had numerous friends, but also some enemies, including a nurse that Dad thought was harsh and mean to one of his buddies.  There were exchanges, including butt-slapping, and she filed charges for harassment. (Against an octogenarian in a wheel chair!) Dad was not intimidated; he told an administrator that if they didn’t leave him alone about it, that he would sue for harassment!
   Dad dined at a table of “cronies,” sometimes being taunted by a lady resident (a “foe”) at an adjoining table.  Dad took the taunting without reply.  One of Dad’s buddies had difficulty eating.  More than once, I witnessed Dad spoon-feeding the old gent who lacked the necessary hand to mouth coordination.

 Christmas, 1991. The grandchildren; Todd's, Kim's and Kerwin's.

   Dad seemed to prefer the wheel chair to a walker, although when taken to several family reunions or picnics, Dad would “hop” out of the wheel chair and do without it for until his return to the home.  Kim speculated that Dad feared that he might be released from the home as healthy and recovered, and that the use of the wheel chair was a sign that he still needed care.
   Even during visits, Dad would suddenly wheel off to check on a buddy, or zip up to the nurses station to report a need or check on someone’s medication.  He had a window looking out on Padua Avenue and was aware of the comings and goings at Aunt Freda Rathjen’s house.
   There was also a child-like side as he was a master of bingo, and delighted in the candy treats awarded to those alert enough to stay awake long enough to complete and win a game.
   His manners weren’t always the best; he didn’t care.  When he experienced gas discomfort, he would lift a leg and let fly, much to the delight of his grandchildren.

  Perhaps a respectable time for truth has not yet passed, but frankly, Dad got in trouble, and perhaps earned a reputation as "a dirty old man."  One of the charges was that he wouldn't bother to close either the door to his room nor the door to his bathroom when using the bathroom.  The insinuation was that he was "flashing."  When he smuggled a lady resident to his room with questionable intentions, his reputation was firmly established. (The lady was rescued immediately.)  Typical of mitigating circumstances, the lady was known to wander into rooms other than her own.  Dad seemed to be guilty of having his door either open or shut, both at inappropriate times.

   The harassment issue led to an appointment with a psychiatrist.  According to Kim, Dad indicated that he was trying to teach a lesson to the nurse bringing charges.  Also, Dad praised his wife for her cooking, among other things.  Oh, how I wish I could have heard that conversation, and oh, how I wish that Dad would have expressed his appreciation and feelings years before.  Kim also indicated that when asked what he thought of a visit to the psychiatrist, Dad responded: “he liked my jokes."  Dad was given an IQ test and the psychiatrist commented that Dad's IQ was higher than his own.  Dad's response was that he wasn't surprised.

Late June, 1992. Rod, Glenn, Andrew and Uncle Roy
(note the hands)

   Dad had numerous visitors in the home.  Among them were Goldie Johnson, Adolf Bohn and Freda Rathjen.  Todd and his boys visited frequently and would take dad on outings or to family reunions.  Winona Duncan Snell visited more than once to reminisce and to delight in singing a parody on “Let the Rest of the World Go By” with “Pat.”

   According to Kerwin, the song "Let the Rest of the World Go By" was learned by Dad, not from his military service, but from the Ramseys, a traveling medicine show that came to Kearney (Poole?) when he was "just a kid" in the 1920s.
  Winona Duncan Snell witnessed that same show and, when visiting the home, they both reminisced by singing:

To a dance I did go,
Where the gowns were cut low,
Held up only by a strap.
One girl wore a dress,
That was odd I'll confess,
It was made out of a map.

On her back there was Brazil,
Her chest a Bunker Hill,
And just a little below was Mexico.
Her shoulder blades were Japanese,
On her bosom there was Greece.

Her hips were Hindustan,
Her lap was No Man's Land,
I couldn't quite make out her thighs.

For just then I saw my wife,
And to save a lot of strife,
I let the rest of the world go by !

   Glenn Clayton “Pat” Stover passed away January 26, 1996, at the age of 82 years.  He was buried at Highland in Ravenna on a bitter cold winter day, following the precedent set by his older brother, Keith, and a younger brother Allen, who both died in January and were put to rest in miserable winter conditions.

From the Ravenna News....

'Pat' Stover    RAVENNA - Glenn "Pat" Stover of Ravenna died Friday, Jan. 26, 1996, at Good Samaritan Hospital in Kearney.    Services will be 10:30 a.m. Tues- day at Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Ravenna with the Revs. Dan Niet- feld and Kim Stover officiating. Bur- ial will be in Highland Park Ceme- tery at Ravenna.    Visitation will be from 7 to 9 p.m. Monday at the church.    Memorials are suggested to the van fund at Good Samaritan Center in Ravenna or to the church. Ras- mussen Mortuary of Ravenna is in charge of arrangements    Mr. Stover was born Oct. 25, 1913 in Poole to Bertrand and May (Clay- ton)  Stover.    He  attended  Poole School and graduated from Ravenna High  School in 1930.   He married Dorothea Gruber on June 15,1941.    The  Stovers lived in Poole,  where he served as  postmaster and owned and operated Pat's Store from 1939 through 1965.   He was a rural mail carrier for 20 years from Poole and later Pleasanton. He retired in 1978 with 39 years in civil service.    He was a  member of  Bethlehem Lutheran Church, American Legion and Pleasanton Lions Club.  He also coached the  Poole women's softball team for many years.   He was active in many church, school and commu- nity affairs. In 1989, he moved to the Good Samaritan Center in Ravenna.    Survivors include  four  sons,  Rod- ney of Colorado Springs, Colo., Todd of Kearney, Kim of Springboro, Ohio, and  Kerwin of  Loveland,  Colo.;  one brother, Roy of Louisville, Ohio; and 12 grandchildren.   He  was  preceded in  death by  his wife, Dorothea in 1967; two brothers and two sisters.

Brother Kim Alan Stover, third son of Glenn and Dorothea, delivered a sermon and the eulogy, tearfully intoning: I was there to hear your borning cry,       I'll be there when you are old. I rejoiced the day you were baptized,       to see your life unfold. I was there when you were but a child,       with a faith to suit you well; In a blaze of light you wandered off,       to find where demons dwell. In the middle ages of your life,       not too old, no longer young. I'll be there to guide you through the night,       complete what I've begun. When the evening gently closes in       and you shut your weary eyes, I'll be there as I have always been       with just one more surprise. Christ was there to hear his borning cry,       Christ was there when he grew old. Christ rejoiced the day he was baptized       to see Pat's life unfold. Other bulletin information: Baptism: February 1, 1947 Confirmation: February 2, 1947

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