[Congressional Record Volume 142, Number 75 (Friday, May 24, 1996)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E925-E927]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                       TRIBUTE TO JOHN N. KRAMER

                                 ______


                          HON. STEVE GUNDERSON

                              of wisconsin

                    in the house of representatives

                         Thursday, May 23, 1996

  Mr. GUNDERSON. Mr. Speaker, many retire with impressive records, but 
few could boast of surpassing the extraordinary career record of a 
prominent constituent of Wisconsin's Third Congressional District, John 
N. (Nick) Kramer of Fennimore, WI.
  Kramer, age 83, recently stepped down after serving almost 60 years 
as the city attorney for Fennimore. As one of the State's premier 
municipal and school attorneys, he is also retiring from the law 
practice he first established in Fennimore in 1938, after having been 
in a prior practice in Lancaster, WI. In addition to serving many 
communities as legal counsel, he also served as president of the League 
of Wisconsin Municipalities for three consecutive terms. He was also 
recognized statewide for helping school districts consolidate during 
the late 1950's and 1960's.
  One of his finest achievements to benefit southwest Wisconsin was 
getting a technical college located in Fennimore. During the late 
1960's, the State was developing vocational districts and southwest 
Wisconsin was to be included in either the Madison or LaCrosse 
vocational district. Kramer, who served on several State committees, 
was instrumental in convincing the State that there should be a 
separate vocational district in the southwestern part of the State. 
Kramer was recognized for this achievement by Southwest Tech in 1992 
and the administration building on campus was renamed the Kramer 
Administration Building. During that time, the city of Fennimore also 
named and dedicated a park in Nick's honor.
  Kramer has also worked on boards of three of Wisconsin's main 
railroads to maintain rail service in the State.
  Nick is a faithful and dedicated member of the Republican Party of 
Wisconsin and the Third Congressional District, having served as the 
Third District chairman for several years, as well as chairman of the 
Grant County Republican Party, a position he still holds.
  His many accomplishments, statewide and locally, have earned him many 
friends and much respect through the State. Although he plans to keep 
in contact with long-time clients and serve on a couple of committees, 
he is honoring the wishes of his wife, Katherine, sons John, Jr. and 
Mark and daughter Joellen, in retiring form his practice.
  Mr. Speaker, on behalf of the constituents of Wisconsin's Third 
District, I wish him a well-earned happy retirement.

[[Page E926]]



                    ERMA BOMBECK--AN AMERICAN LEGEND

                                 ______


                          HON. JOHN J. LaFALCE

                              of new york

                    in the house of representatives

                         Thursday, May 23, 1996

  Mr. LaFALCE. Mr. Speaker, in 1990 I had the pleasure of meeting Erma 
Bombeck when she visited Buffalo and spoke at the commencement 
exercises for Canisius College, on whose board I now serve. She was 
just the same in person as most found her in print: witty, funny, down 
to Earth. Yet she was also one of the most sensible and reasonable 
people I've ever met.
  No one attains the huge successes that Erma did without hard work and 
a strong sense of self. Yet despite her fame, the acclaim did not go to 
her head. She remained that wonderfully boisterous, self-deprecating 
humorist who inspired us all with her wonderful stories. As Canisius 
said in the citation accompanying the honorary doctorate they gave her 
on that occasion, ``she is a troubadour of the late 20th century, the 
chronicler of our American domestic habits.'' The citation went on to 
note that she viewed herself as an ``ordinary person,'' and that it was 
``that `ordinariness' to which we pay tribute * * *, for in her 
writings we hear EveryNeighbor, the voice of someone we all know, 
someone who recounts universal experiences.''
  Perhaps the closest parallel to Erma was another American original, 
Will Rogers. And what distinguished them both was the common ingredient 
they brought to their observations of humanity and human beings: common 
sense. To see human fallibility and absurdity through that prism is 
itself a recipe for having an enjoyable time in life, but to be able to 
convey those observations to others is a gift indeed.
  Mr. Speaker, I rise in tribute to one of our Nation's true originals, 
Erma Bombeck. I salute her for the joy she brought to so many of her 
fellow Americans, and for the courage with which she faced the cancer 
which took her from us last month.
  Let me quote again from the Canisius' citation:

       As any clown can tell you, it is far easier to make people 
     cry than it is to make them laugh. In a world full of 
     sadness, Erma Bombeck espouse[d] a simple philosophy: ``If 
     you can't make it better, you can laugh at it.'' But in 
     helping us to see the humor in our stress-filled lives, she 
     has made it better, indeed.
       For making us more aware of ourselves and each other, for 
     staunchly maintaining her affirmative view of God's creation, 
     and for sharing the precious gift of laughter, Canisius 
     College proudly awards Erma Bombeck the degree of Doctor of 
     Humane Letters, honoris causa.

  A few days ago the Buffalo News printed a remembrance written by 
Erma's husband, Bill Bombeck, along with another beautiful piece by 
free-lance writer Christina Abt. Bill Bombeck's and Christina Abt's 
words said it all, and I ask consent to insert those two articles at 
this point in the Record so our colleagues can share in their 
thoughtful words.
  Erma, you will be sorely missed. Thanks for everything.

                 [From the Buffalo News, May 13, 1996]

                 Erma Bombeck and the Ride of Her Life

                           (By Bill Bombeck)

       In 1989 my wife, Erma Bombeck, began to experience a series 
     of painful medical problems, but she disdained letting her 
     readers know most of the details. She usually brushed aside 
     rumors and inquiries with a joke and a plea that her purpose 
     was to write humor and make people smile. Health reports are 
     not funny. Her greatest fear was that she would become a 
     ``poster child'' and people would feel sorry for her.
       Throughout these assaults she remained unbelievably 
     optimistic. Erma always knew that there was a pony in their 
     someplace. Not only did the research and writing of her book 
     ``I Want to Grow Hair, I Want to Grow Up, I want to Go to 
     Boise'' provide a nation with the heroics of kids surviving 
     cancer, but it also helped give Erma the courage to face her 
     many trials, including her last one.
       I have met astronauts, war heroes, firefighters and police 
     officers, but I have never known anyone with more courage 
     than Erma. Courage has been called grace under fire. I would 
     propose we call it Erma under fire.
       Erma would not have approved of my words. But for this one 
     time I will do what Erma admonished all who challenged her 
     words, and that was to ``go out and get your own column.''
       I have searched for a way to show my family's gratitude to 
     the thousands of fans and friends who have shown so much love 
     and compassion toward her. I'd like to share with you a 
     personal recollection I read at the family services that were 
     held before the funeral.
       In 1947, three or four couples were outside the Lakeside 
     Ballroom in Dayton, Ohio. We were too early to be admitted 
     for the big-band dance, so we all wandered over to the 
     adjoining amusement park.
       Not far from the ballroom was the roller coaster. All of 
     the boys began cajoling their dates to ride with them. The 
     girls giggled and said no. It was too frightening, and it 
     would mess up their hair and dresses.
       I looked at my date and asked her if she wanted to go. She 
     didn't hesitate. She said, ``Sure, I'll go.'' I was surprised 
     and looked at her again. She was slight, narrow-shouldered, 
     with tiny hands and feet. But she had the greatest smile and 
     laugh. Her smile had a charming space between her two front 
     teeth. I thought, this is some kind of girl.
       The Lakeside roller coaster was a rickety old leftover from 
     the Depression. The frame was mostly made of unpainted 2-by-
     4s. No modern inspection by OSHA ever would have approved 
     this for man's use.
       The cars were linked together with what looked like 
     modified train couplers. They were mostly red painted wood 
     with metal wheels and a coglike device that clicked loudly. 
     The seats had worn black leather padding. There were no 
     belts, but there were worn steel bars that had to be raised 
     and lowered by the attendant.
       The attendant was an old man in oil-stained bib overalls. 
     He said little, but raised the bar and she entered the seat 
     first, and I followed by her side.
       There were two tapered 2-by-4's on the platform, angled 
     away from each other. He moved the one closest to the car to 
     an upright position. The car moved forward, slowly picking up 
     speed. The metal wheels on the metal track made so much noise 
     you had to yell to your partner to be heard.
       The car left the level starting track and began a slow 
     ascent. In 20 or 30 seconds, when the track became steeper, 
     the cog device engaged the car. Then there was a district 
     rhythmic clacking sound as the cog device labored to overcome 
     the near-perpendicular angle of the track. You felt as if it 
     wouldn't make it, but just when it reached a point that 
     forced the passengers to stare, not at the car ahead or the 
     track, but only at the night sky, it plunged downward, a 
     wild, almost free-fall. Maybe whatever controlled the speed 
     was now broken.
       She made her first sound since she had said, ``Sure, I'll 
     go.'' She screamed and clenched my arm. I said, ``Hang on to 
     the bar.'' She kept hanging on to my arm. Suddenly we were at 
     the bottom, and we both were so relieved that we laughed, and 
     I saw that smile again.
       The ride continued, with bone-jarring twists and turns, 
     dizzy heights and abrupt plunges. Sometimes we would enter a 
     dark tunnel, so dark the sparks from the wheels and tracks 
     made it look like it was on fire.
       She kept hanging on to my arm. I was gripping the metal bar 
     so tightly I thought I would bend it. This was some ride. We 
     were thrilled and exhilarated, scared and breathless.
       We had been in and out of many tunnels. Each time they 
     ended with almost blinding light in our eyes, and then on to 
     another straight-up climb.
       We started in a tunnel that seemed to plunge deeper than 
     all the others. It kept dropping. We both sensed this one was 
     really different. Finally, instead of the bright lights, we 
     were back at the platform.
       We looked at each other. We didn't speak, but we sensed the 
     ride had changed. The man in the bib overalls was standing by 
     the tapered 2-by-4s. He started to push one from its angle to 
     a straight-up position. The car stopped. I told him the ride 
     was great, but it was too short; we wanted to go on. He 
     raised the bar. She smiled again. I looked at the attendant 
     again. He said, this is April 22, 1996--your ride is over. I 
     looked over at her seat. She was gone.
                                                                    ____


                 [From the Buffalo News, May 14, 1996]

             Erma Bombeck Was Company for Stay-at-Home Moms

                           (By Christina Abt)

       The unthinkable happened to me last month. A member of my 
     family died, and I didn't even know she'd been sick. Worse 
     than that, no one called to inform me of her passing. I had 
     to hear about it on the news.
       The cold, hard reality of death was dealt to me in a 30-
     second sound byte courtesy of a well-known antacid and a lite 
     beer.
       I'm angry, hurt and confused all at once; but most, I'm so 
     incredibly sorry that I never let this lady know how much I 
     enjoyed her company.
       Without fail, her realistic and refreshing view of life 
     always gave me hope. She was a lady of great intelligence, 
     compassion, sensitivity, insight and most importantly, ``on 
     the mark'' humor.
       She was Erma Bombeck, whose column I read in The Buffalo 
     News.
       Why did she touch me so much? Because her life was so like 
     mine, like those of so many women. She was a career woman, a 
     writer, but a woman who chose to devote herself to marriage, 
     family and community as well.
       And she always made us feel as if the fact that we are 
     human was not only acceptable but something to be cherished--
     warts and all.
       From diapers and toilet training through high school proms 
     and college graduations, over the peaks and valleys of 
     marital bliss, and even on social issues, this lady's unique 
     perspective on the frustrations and triumphs of life as it 
     really happens could make me laugh, cry, understand a new 
     point of view and always feel better about the daily grind.

[[Page E927]]

       Erma Bombeck's career as a columnist spanned an era when 
     women began leaving the kitchen for the board room and 
     experiencing corporate heartburn rather than labor pains. The 
     message that we should ``have it all'' was everywhere. A 
     heretofore-unknown body of womenhood was developing a 
     thousand new and different dialects with no translator. There 
     were new battlefields of full-time motherhood versus full-
     time personhood.
       A grudging understanding and bridging of these gaps among 
     women came about, partly through the written work of this 
     clever lady and her sharp pen.
       She spoke the language of women everywhere, a language of 
     the heart. Every story she told seemed to reach a part of our 
     sense and sensibility no matter what the topics. People saved 
     the stories, underlined them, sent them to relatives, read 
     them to friends over the phone.
       And what made it all so effective was that this woman was a 
     part of all of our families. She knew your mom, your Aunt 
     Rose, your husband, your child.
       Her stories were her own, but to me, as to other readers, 
     it almost seemed as if the text were taken from a hidden 
     camera set up in my own house--with words used verbatim.
       In February, my daughter sent me a Bombeck columns as a 
     valentine. The topic? ``Having It All.''
       The content could have been taken directly from the life my 
     two children and I experienced as I tried to be a 48-hour-a-
     day mom to them while still cooking, cleaning, washing 
     clothes, car-pooling, shopping, pretending to be an 
     intelligent life form, healing the sick, raising the dead--
     woman will understand. The last few lines of the column gave 
     hope that someday the child will realize the mother-to-slave 
     ratio and actually express gratitude, even if it is 20 years 
     later.
       And that's what my daughter did. She wrote at the bottom of 
     the column, ``Thanks, Mom. I love you,'' Hallmark never said 
     it better.
       Coming as my twenty-something children are on their way to 
     productive lives and I confront the ``what now?'' crisis, 
     this column felt like a testimonial.
       Erma, friend, I will miss you.

                          ____________________