Knowing the Needs of Others, Intuitively
As shared by Paula Graham
Intuitive Knowledge of Needs of Others "True Blue" Friends Paying Attention Love Nourishes Living and Loving Still Going Strong
One blistering hot morning in July, Shirley Neidel awakened at 5 a.m. with thoughts of a friend who was losing her energy to cancer. She wondered aloud to her husband, George, "What can I do for Flora today?" Shirley ended up spending the morning dusting and vacuuming Flora's house. Other days, George and Shirley appeared with garden produce, flowers, or fully-prepared meals so Flora's husband Stanley wouldn't have to cook.
For George and Shirley Neidel of South Fork, Wisconsin, taking care of friends and family is a way of life. "It's who we are," said George. "It goes back quite a way with us. Whatever we can do, we're glad." Whether it's small acts of kindness like driving a person to and from church or major chores like driving fence posts, tilling gardens, washing windows or clearing brush, the Neidels have an intuitive sense for what people need.
Intuition spoke to Shirley that July morning and told her to appear at Flora's back door, vacuum cleaner and dust rags in hand. It also prompted her to drive eighty-six miles to Marshfield, Wisconsin, the day her brother was undergoing routine heart tests. During the middle of the tests, he suffered a heart attack. Shirley was there to spend a long, anxious day with his wife.
Many others have been touched by the love and kindness of Shirley and George. One such story is that of Vi Biller of Ladysmith, Wisconsin. "True blue" is how Vi describes the Neidel's style of friendship. Vi and her husband, Irv, met George and Shirley ten years ago when the couples spent Sunday afternoons dancing. Four years later, illness took Irv from the dance floor and into a wheel chair. "When my husband was in and out of the hospital and nursing home, they were the people who stood by us."
Vi remembers how the Neidels would take Irv out for rides or out to supper. When Irv was hospitalized following surgeries, Shirley sent friendship cards two or three times a week. "She'd write a little something inside. It was always something he looked forward to." Vi will never forget how the Neidels sat by her side when Irv had his bladder removed. "They drove all the way to Marshfield and were there at 8 o'clock in the morning."
When Irv passed away, people told Vi that she'd have to make a new group of friends, that married people preferred to socialize with couples, not with singles. "Not George and Shirley," she said. "They stuck by me. They've remained very caring friends, and I cherish their friendship." Vi says if she were going to make a list of all the thoughtful things George and Shirley have done for her, it would take all night. No act of kindness is too large or small for the Neidels.
Friends say the Neidels just seem to know what people need. Sometimes it's intuition, but more often it's because the Neidels pay attention -- they see what needs to be done, and they hear the unexpressed longings. They know when poor health prevents someone from cooking meals, cleaning their house, or planting a garden.
Perhaps it's their love for people and their ability to be fully present to them that accounts for their knack of knowing what to do in crisis situations. For sure, it's their deep love for each other, which also goes back quite a way, that nourishes their generous and caring spirits.
When George Neidel answered Uncle Sam's draft summons in the fall of 1941, he had heard the lyrics to the popular song, I'll Be Back in a Year, Little Darling. 
"Before war broke out, we were supposed to go in for a year and come back out. George was inducted into the army at Fort Sheridan, Illinois, on October 16, then headed to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, for basic training. He had just completed basic training when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. "So 'be back in a year' turned into be back in three and a half years."
The trim, fit farm boy from Ingram, Wisconsin, was twenty-two years old. Unlike most of his army buddies, basic training agreed with George. Within weeks he gained forty pounds, beefing up to 192 pounds. It was weight, it turns out, he would need for the war-time challenges that lay ahead. With limited food, extremely hot weather, and heavy fighting, George soon dropped to 132 pounds, well below his pre-war weight.
During his down times as a telephone lineman, George collected the names and addresses of army buddies and entered them into his journal along with important addresses of folks back home. One name stands out from all the rest -- Miss Shirley Hruby. "I wrote to her every day I could. It's a good thing postage was cheap." Shirley saved all of George's letters, which are strictly private. Happily, they are willing to share a poem:
A Soldier's Dream
-- by George Neidel, 1942
When the busy day is done;
And the cool evening has come -
The sunset paints the western sky,
A dazzling beauty for you and I.
The sun is gone, the moon takes over,
Turning the dark world into silver.
The deep dark blue of evening sky,
Is all lit up and sparkling by.
The silvery moon so full and bright,
And twinkling stars with flickering light.
I sit alone beside the stream,
My troubled thoughts turned to a dream,
The bright full moon, your smiling face,
The stars your sparkling eyes,
The rippling water your soft sweet voice
The rustling leaves in the evening breeze,
Your footsteps as you creep up to me.
The soft cool breeze ruffling my hair,
Your tender fingers roving there.
I sit there as in a trance,
Afraid to move or even glance.
For fear it will all fade away,
And bring me back to the present day.
Weakened from weight loss and the after-effects of malaria, George arrived back at Fort Sheridan in October, 1944. On October 14, the couple met secretly in Cicero, Illinois, and married. The army sent George to Hot Springs, Arkansas, for a two-week rehabilitation period, which was like a honeymoon for the newly-weds.
Then came the hardest part. From Hot Springs, the new Mrs. Neidel boarded the train to South Fork while Corporal Neidel reported to Camp McCoy. A few days later, George headed north to fetch his bride. The couple found an apartment and set up housekeeping in Sparta, Wisconsin. After George was discharged on August 17, 1945, the Neidels returned to South Fork and bought the farm on Willow Road, which they still call home. During fifty-five years of marriage, they reared three daughters, Lynn, Kris and Paty, and welcomed seven grandchildren, Heidi, Holly, Trevor, Chad, Aaron, Sean and Jeremy; three great-granddaughters, Camille, Mattea, and Tabitha; and two great-grandsons Taylor and Tanner into the world.
Year round, George works for the Township of South Fork, plowing snow and grading roads. 
His days at Willow Pond Farm are full: repairing machinery, making maple syrup, gardening, maintaining ski trails. "He's healthier now, fifty-five years later," said Shirley. Anybody who has had one of George Neidel's famous hugs, knows he hasn't lost his strength. Nor has he regained those forty pounds he put on during basic training.
It would take a lot of energy, not to mention time, to keep up with Shirley and George Neidel. Besides writing Christmas cards to 136 people, keeping scrapbooks for their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, cooking for church dinners, stitching lap pads for disabled veterans, and cleaning litter from the shoulders of Rusk County highways, they take time for each other. Friday night fish fry and Sunday afternoon dancing are fixed dates on their calendars.
For the Neidels, giving to others is its own reward. Quietly, cheerfully, asking nothing in return, they share their love with those in need. "People say they won't be able to give back. But we see how they appreciate our kindness and it recharges us," said George. "It makes us feel good to do these things."
Pictures -- thanks to Paula Graham and the Neidels.
Top George and Shirley standing in their garden,
a source of flowers and vegetables for friends and family.
Second from top Wedding photo -- October 14, 1944.
Second from bottom Shirley holding great grandchildren
Mattea (17 months) and Taylor (7 weeks);
Camille (2 years); and George.
Bottom George and Shirley with Pastor Todd Charles.