The above photo was taken from the internet and doesn’t include my grandfather, but it is typical of what a lineman did in the early 1900s.

When Erving William Forsterling was born on 23 June 1894, in Howards Grove, Sheboygan, Wisconsin, United States, his father, Herman Forsterling, was 36 and his mother, Louise Marie Bennin, was 25. He had at least 2 sons and 5 daughters with Ellen Mary Dussault. He lived in Ackley, Langlade, Wisconsin, United States in 1900 and Peck, Langlade, Wisconsin, United States for about 25 years. He died on 4 April 1967, in Antigo, Langlade, Wisconsin, United States, at the age of 72, and was buried in Elmwood Cemetery, Antigo, Langlade, Wisconsin, United States.

Not much is known about my paternal grandfather, so I’m choosing to introduce you to my mother’s dad, Erving Fosterling. For some unknown reason, his last name was changed from the original Forsterling. Maybe it was easier to say without that extra “r.” My grandpa inherited part of his father’s farm along with his brother, Herman. Grandpa wasn’t much of a farmer. Not that he didn’t enjoy physical labor. Instead, he chose to become a lineman for the telephone company. This job required great strength and stamina. It also held great danger for those who would climb the poles and install the wires.

I think my grandpa longed for a son, but instead, his beautiful wife delivered five daughters before any boys showed up. My mother was one of them. My grandmother ran the farm, along with a number of farmhands, while Grandpa strung telephone wire across Wisconsin. Eventually he retired from that job and settled into farm life. His only two sons followed his lead. They first joined the army and eventually became linemen for the electric company – jobs that would prove fatal to both of them. He would also live to see his first daughter killed in an automobile crash at the age of 21. Another daughter died of Leukemia. Only three of his children were alive to attend his funeral. In his later years, he became bedridden because of a stroke which paralyzed him. My grandma was his caregiver for several years before his death.

My years at the farm hold memories of both of my grandparents, but more of my grandmother, since she was the one who managed the homestead. I do remember their telephone though. Undoubtedly the line to it was strung by Grandpa. It was one of those wall-mounted, crank style phones and it had several parties on the same line. We often listened in on some of their conversations while visiting. I still own a phone like that, and it brings fond memories.

Grandpa Fosterling had soft, blue eyes that almost sparkled even when he was bedridden. They would light up especially bright as he recalled hunting trips and bagging a ten-point buck. That deer’s head was mounted on the wall in their living room. Guess who inherited it? He loved to hunt. He was stern, but good natured. He was patient and enduring in times of trouble and compassionate to a fault.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, GRANDPA FOSTERLING!