One of my unforgettable college memories didn’t happen in class, in the dorm, or even on campus. It did, however, involve a quite chilly night, a great snowy hill, a goofy bunch of friends, a slick toboggan, and a lot of carrying on in the dark on the farm of our hosts, Elna and Charles Antle. And as I recall, the rowdy antics continued indoors with some boisterous singing around Elna at the piano, and some spilling of hot chocolate.
When I met Charles, he was a Penn State statistics professor who loved working his farm, and the company of students—and he had a knack of bringing them together!
He effortlessly ensnared when he told me he had some work I could do for him on the farm. Which I did. It was hot and strenuous. I grew up on a farm, so the work was not strange to me, but it’s not like I was actually looking for a list of unpaid chores to do, either! Turns out Charles was a regular Tom Sawyer who convinced me I’d be doing myself a favor by helping him out. Several times!
What rang out so true in his memorial service yesterday, which was conducted entirely by his loving grandchildren, was his unflappable sunny optimism, his relentless cheerfulness, his extreme generosity, his thankful nature, and his loving spirit. What a guy!
Carol had the privilege of being his therapist and caregiver in the last seven years of his life. Together she’d get him to exercise his legs a bit, walk around the house, or drive him around to visit friends, or for a ride through the valley farms, or for a haircut, and even to McDonald’s for ten cheeseburgers at a time (which he’d freeze at home for later!) And she absorbed many of his stories about his time in Korea, his early life, farming, his family, and his unshakeable belief in all the goodness around him—even in his 93-yr-old frailty.
To me, Charles was more of an influence on me than I realized until I had my own family—at least, in his penchant for enlisting free labor.
As our four grown children can testify, there was always some work to do outside as they were growing up on the Herd Homestead. On our few acres tucked up against the Blue Mountain and the headwaters of the Hokendauqua Creek, they—and this is the critical comparison—they and their visiting friends were often enlisted on some “short” project, that “won’t take long,” but usually did anyway. Whether it was hauling the maple leaves out of the front yard on a tarp; or weeding the garden; or removing the old rain gutters from the two-story garage (or even better—scaling the ladder to remove all the former maple-seeds-gone-to-black-gunk in the house gutters!); or to help to prepare all the materials for our company’s annual Staff Training Day, they didn’t escape. And in doing so, not only did they help me out, but they also developed a little personal keepsake called Real Character: A legacy gift, I’d say, passed on from a true gentleman farmer; a truly good man, our friend, Mr. Charles Antle.
