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| Bud's (Ray's) fourth birthday, 1939 |
Not long after I was born we moved to Greenbelt, Maryland. Greenbelt was a government project to give people an opportunity to leave the cities and move to a more urban/country type of living. Greenbelt was about ten miles from Takoma Park, which took us from an apartment into a home. We settled in and enjoyed some good years there which Mother spoke of years after. Dad served in the bishopric and Mother in the Relief Society, mostly as President of the Relief Society. Also Dad got a new job working for the Red Cross at Ft. Meade in Maryland, near Baltimore. As the director of the Red Cross, he had a lot of responsibility, but he loved his job.
Since he worked for the Armed Forces, Mother and Dad were always concerned that he maybe sent overseas. Dad was not enlisted in the Armed Forces as he had an eye damaged by a BB pellet shot from a BB gun when he was young. The Second World War was going on at the time. During World War II, the descendants of the Japanese people who lived on the West Coast were brought together and made to live in camps. Tall fences surrounded the camps to keep the people inside, plus guards guarded the entry ways and gates. It was believed by the United States Government that these people would help the Japanese soldiers or airmen if they landed on the West Coast.
On the East Coast the descendants of the German people were also brought into camps. Since my father worked for the Red Cross, he had to be concerned about the welfare of these people. One must understand these were German born American citizens. We had some 8mm film that gave me the strong impression that Dad was well liked and loved by these people, of whom were actually prisoners.
During the war, the people were required to cover their windows at night so the light would not show through. Men walked through the neighborhoods to make sure the windows were blacked out. We lived fairly close to Washington D.C. so the authorities didn't want light showing at night to give enemy planes an easier target.
I remember when the war ended people were making a lot of noise and racket. I was given a pan and large spoon to bang on and make some noise too. To a young child what is war? The only thing I had to compare to was my big brother and I had our disagreements.
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| Bud at 17 months Bud is detected due to curly hair. |
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| Dale at 19 months |
In 1945, my sister Myrna was born. She was full term, but arrived as a stillborn. The doctor said she died six weeks before she was born. As one may assume we were greatly disappointed, especially, our parents. I was close to 6 or 7 years old and Ray would have been about 10. It would turn out that Myrna would be the only female child born to our family, as Kent was born February 2, 1946 in Ft. Geo. G. Meade (a military hospital), Anne Arundel County, Maryland. My mother and Kent did not do well after his birth, so they were for quite sometime in the hospital and Ray and I were taken care of during dad's working hours, by a friend of our parents, Helen Anderson.
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| Cornelius Ray and Vera Van Leuven |
My parents were unaware that my father had a bad heart until he had a heart attack. He was in Baltimore at the time and went to the doctor. The doctor put him in the hospital for a few days, and then he missed work for more rest and relaxation for another several days. My father took it really easy during the rest of the winter months even though he continued to work. Then during April, 1946 LDS General Conference, my father being a member of the bishopric in the Greenbelt Branch, went to Salt Lake City to represent the branch for conference. While there he learned that there was an opening as Manager in the Red Cross. He applied and got the job. They wanted him to start work at once. By June my father came for us, and we were on our way to Utah to live. We left many good friends not knowing if we'd ever see them again. Those I recall the most are the Shaffers, Crowthers, Andersons, and Thomas'. In those days people did not lock their cars and homes. They didn't need too. If we'd visit and not find anyone at home we'd enter their home and stack dishes, or furniture to let them know someone had been there. It become a tradition. A tradition we brought to Utah with us. We had a lot of fun with it, because it became a guessing game as to who had been there. There is an old saying, "curiosity killed the cat".
I remember vaguely the train trip. We had a compartment to ourselves and enjoyed the train ride.
We went to Grandmother Emma Eliza Beardall Van Leuven's in Springville. She lived alone. Father went to Salt Lake City each day for his job at the Red Cross. The responsibility as manager, a full day of work, and the commute was hard on him. He had made a down payment on a building lot and was planning to build a new home in a new housing development area. All of this was a great worry to him, even though he liked his work.
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| A photograph taken after the school was completed in 1906 shows a group gathered in front of the two-story building as it originally stood, complete with the bell tower. Grant Elementary educated youths and served the area for a century. |
I liked school. I had a girlfriend. Kaye's classroom was on a separate floor than mine. I would meet her at her classroom door so we could walk home together. Her teacher would detain her class until they were excused after they gave a correct answer to a Times Table. Hidden from the teacher's view just outside the door, I would mouth the answer if she didn't know it so she could get excused quicker. Her home was between the school and my home. I'd see her home and then I'd go on home.
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| Emma Eliza Beardall Van Leuven Picture taken in front of the old High School. Old High School is across the street from her home. Today the building is Springville Museum of Art. |
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| Emma's home 483 S 200 E, Springville Photo taken December 2015 |
The awareness of Dad's heart condition had prompted the move to be closer to family. In September, 1947, father had another heart attack. He seemed to know life was short for him. He commented that it was the time of year when everything died or went to sleep.
The evening before his passing, the family, including some extended family, were gathered in the living room visiting. For some reason I was near dad with my shirt off, likely I'd just had my night bath and was preparing for bed. Dad wrote something on my back with his finger or an object he had in his hand. I have often wondered what he wrote. This would be my last contact with my father. During the night Ray and I were awakened by some commotion in my parents room, others had come to help. Ray and I got up to go see what was going on. When they discovered we had come into the room we were told to go back to bed and shut the door. The next morning father was gone. At the young age of 47, on the 3rd of October, 1947 my father passed away. I still fight back the tears when this memory is shared, which I very seldom share. It is painful!
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| This picture of Dad is how I remember him. |
Shirleen Van Leuven (Dale's wife) interjects, "My observation now and over the years is and has been that tears are still at the surface and ready to spill over. The subject is always very short and to the point. To the point of sacred! Cornelius Ray Van Leuven, Sr. must have loved his family dearly, and when he had to leave them the void was huge, and the suffering has been beyond any ones comprehension. It is still evident at this writing, December 2015."
Dad was buried in the Springville Cemetery, October 6, 1947.
I do not have in my position a baby picture of Kent. One has to realize that Kent's short time with Dad was not a smooth one for my parents. I'm sure taking pictures of joyous times was far from their minds. During Kent's short few months with Dad, all the memories we have are recorded in our minds and words, not photos. The last week before Dad was taken from us, he spent at home in bed getting some needed bed rest. This time gave Kent an opportunity to crawl around on the bed and play with Dad and they both seemed to enjoy it. We do know that Kent yearned for stories and inspiration that brought him in touch with a father he did not have or know.
I was not connected with Ray's understanding and emotions of the family perils. I'm sure a thirteen or fourteen year old's recorded memory was clearer than my nine or ten year old brain.
My brother Bud, was able to take on his real name, Ray. I'm sure he liked that over Bud. He really did hate the name Bud! I'm sure I used it as thumping stick at times. We were normal brothers.
