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Matt planted 3 trees in memory of Frederick Schubmehl
Wednesday, September 2, 2020
3 trees were planted in memory of
Frederick J. Schubmehl
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For two of the most significant people I ever had the privilege of calling Grandma and Grandpa. Your teachings will forever live on. I love you. Join in honoring their life - plant a memorial tree
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Vicky Spencer lit a candle
Sunday, September 20, 2020
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Our deepest sympathy to Cathy, Terry and families in this difficult time. May the many memories of your father and grandfather help carry you through and give you many smiles in his absence. Love and hugs. Vicky and Harmon Spencer
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Mary Jo Vernam lit a candle
Wednesday, September 9, 2020
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Terry and Cathy, so very sorry for you both in the loss of your dad! He always waved and had a smile when he drove by...sure didn't look his age! My thoughts and prayers are with you!
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Karen Barone posted a condolence
Sunday, September 6, 2020
I am very sorry to hear about the passing of "Junior". I have many great memories of him. Along with Dick Hober and Tim Mark. My husband, Jim Barone and I had a cottage on Wearkly Rd.
My husband worked for Genesee Brewery, and every Friday night he would bring a keg of beer to Hobers' house. We had a lot of good times there.
Rest in peace, Junior.
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John lit a candle
Thursday, September 3, 2020
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Sorry to hear about the passing of Fred, I worked with him at Syracuse Supply and he was a great co-worker and all around great guy.
John Kellen
Avon NY
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Matt lit a candle
Thursday, September 3, 2020
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Grandpa
A universal word for all people, but to me a word that has carried the heaviest weight. I don’t know that I can ever truly express the magnitude of loss I feel with his passing, but I will try.
Grandma & Grandpa Schubmehl were in many senses my parents, and not simply grandparents. Coupling this with the realization that they were my Great-Grandparents nonetheless paints a picture with even finer details of pride. My earliest memories are in the house that has stood all of my life, and before. The address is one of the first things my mother had me memorize, alongside the phone number that has been the same for well over 30 years. To this day, when I creep up the back porch, a part of me is still a kid going in to see them. Grandma sat in the recliner and Grandpa in the center of the couch with his leg crossed. But that is the point in all of this. Though the material things will keep me grounded, the important things were those two.
Grandma passed when I was 10. I recall being kept out of school that day, as my mother tried to explain death to me. I could not rationalize it, as Grandma had been a constant in my upbringing to that point. Weekends, summers, and when I could in-between, she was there. She made two eggs and two pieces of toast, and always made sure she had raisin bread on hand every morning for breakfast for me. A tradition I have kept for myself, and now do every morning for my own two boys. Logan certainly enjoys that raisin toast, and I know that would make her laugh. I recall my uncle, we are close in age, having to explain to me shortly before Grandma passed that she was going to be bed rest permanently. I had always understood that Grandma could not get around very well, but a child has no perception to understand those things. When she passed I recall the funeral. I recall the way we stood in a circle around the grave. And I recall the way my uncles wept. The only time I ever saw Grandpa break character was when he approached me shortly after the funeral. Visibly still grappling with the loss he asked a promise of me, one that I am proud to have kept. But from 2001 to 2020, it was just Grandpa and I.
My earliest memories are of Grandpa working on something always. He was never one to sit idle but he sure never minded me tagging along to watch whatever was happening either. From riding in backhoes to paving driveways, to cutting trees, and to cussing at the lawn mower, Grandpa was 10 feet tall to me. He always watched patiently as he would finish mowing his yard and the girl scout property in the time it took me to finish the little back section he allowed me to do. Mostly because no one could see it. But he would watch for hours as I would drive around in circles, sometimes to the point of running out of gas in that old cub cadet. Never, did he express frustration. Just the same mantra “if you keep drivin’ the mower you’re going to be really good at your driver’s test when it comes time.” He may have been right, given that the insurance companies seem to adore my record so far. If I wasn’t outside attempting to build an igloo in the snow for winter, I was absolutely sitting on the back porch with him. The best times, and his favorite times, were when the thunderstorms would come through. When that happened we would just watch, and he would have me go grab him a beer. The same bottom of the barrel piss swill that he always enjoyed, Old Milwaukee. Every time he’d have me sprinkle salt in it because I liked the way it fizzed up. A sip would follow and a satisfied “ahhh that’s good stuff” was always on the way. I only ever learned one card game as a child, and that was war, because grandpa enjoyed flipping the cards with me on that same porch. I am proud to say that because of Grandpa, I have never been able to watch tv at a normal volume level, and to this day the neighbors must enjoy the same programs as me. Grandpa kept bagel bites always stocked in the freezer, snickers in the bowl in the cupboard, Zweigles in the fridge, and French vanilla ice cream on hand. I think the ice cream was mostly for him though. All of which hold a special place to me still when I have a chance to get them. He showed me his gun collection, and told me stories. I heard about the German that used to be spoke on the farms, the states he’s visited. He told me about why he never drank whiskey, and how whenever Grandma was brought up “she was an angel.” Every Sunday I could count on him taking my uncle and I up to Dansville. Sometimes Burger King, sometimes McDonalds. In the summers we would get burritos from FoodMart on Tuesdays as well. New Years was our tradition. From the day I was born, we had New Years together. Shrimp, and Andre champagne are the staples, and we would watch that ball drop every time. His gravelly voice with a smile will forever be burned in my mind as he said “Happy New Year.” I have thousands of these memories and stories, interactions, and places. They are all intimate, and are all something I would never be willing to trade.
What is more striking is what I learned from him. Grandpa was the same man Saturday night as he was Sunday morning. Always. Every night Grandpa went down to “say goodnight to Grandma” at the cemetery. If I was upset, he listened. He always spoke loudly, but respectfully. He never lost his temper in the years I’ve known him, but I certainly heard a time or two him telling someone where to go. I came to understand the qualities of a good man. Family was of the utmost importance, and so was honesty. Sometimes. I still have him in my mind sitting in the garage smoking a cigar with a beer, and giving me some always saying “don’t tell your grandmother.” Kindness and the willingness to help someone out were never negotiable to him, and he was always offering a hand.
I don’t know if I can ever sum him up. There are too many things that I’ve come to learn and understand that go beyond words, and transcend time. I catch my oldest son occasionally saying some words like Grandpa would pronounce and I am proud. He was the absolute rock of my life. New Year’s will always feel a little empty from now on, but I wouldn’t trade it. His spot in the living room can never be filled, and the way we would chat on the phone about experiences can never be replaced. I can say that not only is the town of Wayland lesser for his loss, but the world as a whole. He was that kind of man. I have so much to be thankful for and memories to last a life time to share and teach to my own kids. I shed many tears out of selfishness, but again, I don’t believe any of us would change it. I believe he has found his peace, and is where he wishes to be. He lived a lifetime beyond expectations, and we are all better for it. I will ring every New Years in the same way as we always have, with one less glass filled with champagne, but certainly with a heart that is overfilled. You will forever be Grandpa, and I will forever be the little red-haired kid that you’d call “Matthew Bose.” I love you, and rest well knowing I can take it from here.
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The family of Frederick J. Schubmehl uploaded a photo
Tuesday, September 1, 2020
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109 West Naples Street
Wayland, NY 14572
Phone : (585) 728-2100