Wir Haben Hier Gebetet
1847 Members of nine Catholic families,
Joseph Nöltner’s, Ruschmans, all could see
out from this hilltop:
Licking River, all good bottom land,
sort of like the old place, southwest Germany.
Plenty timber close. The first church was logs,
on top of John’s Hill Rd.
1858 Now a stone St. John the Baptist Church
was built. Ignatius Ruschman and his family
farmed on Three Mile Road. A town grew up
along the river, Wilder, after William Hamlin
Wilder, ophthalmologist.
In the church they sang:
Großer Gott, wir loben dich,
Herr, wir preisen deine Stärke.
1920s, Neltners found a place out in Camp Spring.
William and Loretta Ruschman, the three kids,
moved to a farm in Cold Spring, halfway up on
Murnan Road between the river and the ridgetop,
the nearest church, St. Joe’s.
One day William went to church, walked into
the confessional, knelt, and started in. “Now stop,
Bill,” said the priest. “Use English in confession
now.” When he got home he told his kids, “I did the
sins in German. Why not tell the sins in German?”
2 thoughts on "Wir Haben Hier Gebetet"
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I really like the ending of this poem! And the title ties in with it as well. The details sketch out just enough of the history of people and place to make it all hang together. Nice!
I’ve enjoyed reading your poems this month! This one really combines things I love to read: land, people, and history, but I love that turn at the last moment