By CHUCK OFFENBURGER
ELKHORN, Nebraska, Feb. 28, 2026 — It was a year ago right now when my sister Chris Offenburger Walsh Werner and I took over as “The Elders” in the extended Offenburger-O’Brien-Watson-Polk-Riche-Werner-Ginger-Jaynes family — and actually there are a couple of other branches we could probably include.
Long ago, Father Vern Smith, who was then pastor of St. Mary’s Catholic Church in the ol’ hometown of Shenandoah, had me do a Sunday sermon talking about my roots in that parish. I led it off something like this: “I am an Offenburger, but but I am also a Sims. And that means I’m also an Ohnemus, a Ryan, a Gleason, a Reavis, an O’Brien, a Burkhiser and a Ginger. Which probably also means that somehow I’m also a Brannen and Connell, even if just honorary.”
There were a lot of us. Now there are still lots of us, and Chris and I are the oldest.
Chuck Offenburger and Chris Werner, “The Elders.”
Chris, now 74 and living in Marion on the edge of Cedar Rapids in eastern Iowa, and I, now 78 and living in Jefferson and Des Moines, were “elevated,” so to speak, when our sister Sue Polk, who’d been “The Elder,” died a year ago at 86 here in Elkhorn on the west edge of Omaha.
My first reaction, when younger members of our clan informed Chris and me that we were now “The Elders,” was this: “Good, Lord, can’t we get somebody more responsible than the two of us?”
I’d always thought of myself as one of the younger people.
From boyhood back in Shenandoah, right on through middle age, it always seemed like I was one of the youngest guys doing the things I was doing. I’m sure it also seemed that way for Chris, particularly because she was the baby of the Offenburger family. We are the youngest of the eight children Herman and Anna Offenburger birthed.
Now here we are.
A half-dozen times in the past year, a question has come up from some younger member of the family, usually something like, “How is it we were related to Vesta?” Or, “Did we have a cousin Bob who died in the U.S. Marines?” Or, “Is it true that our great aunt Grace met the guy who became our great uncle at one of those 1930s ‘Dance-a-thons’ in Shenandoah?”
My first answer is usually, “OMG, where are my sisters Beverly and Sue now that I need them?”
Cousins Jeanie Long (left), Beth Ginger (second from right) and Katy Spellerberg with their aunt Chris Werner.
Many of us were back together on Thursday and Friday, Feb. 16 and 27, for another sad occasion — the funeral of Donovan Tebbe “Teb” Ginger, of Omaha, who died in late January at 74 years old, after a couple years of debilitating illness. He was the husband of my niece Beth Polk Ginger, and the father of six children.
Like most of our family’s funerals, the sadness lasted through the services, then the stories started up, and a real celebration of family life cranked up. We seem to be very good at those.
Teb was a terrific person who many of us remember as a star athlete at Essex High School in southwest Iowa and then old Dana College in Blair, Neb. He was a teacher, coach, school administrator, internet wizard, great cook, parttime bartender and (this is something I had no first-hand experience with, I’m happy to report) the maker of margaritas so good they were named “Teb-a-Ritas!”
I was in Elkhorn for Teb’s visitation Thursday evening, his funeral Friday morning and the luncheon. I had to head back to Des Moines for a Friday night commitment, so I missed a family pizza party that Beth hosted then for relatives still in the Omaha area.
Step-brothers in classic neckties for the funeral, Matthew Ginger (left) and Josh Fedde. Matthew is wearing the tie his father Teb Ginger wore to a father-son breakfast at high school graduation time. Josh is wearing the necktie that Teb wore when he married Josh’s mother Beth.
Chris “The Elder” filed this report late after that gathering: “Back at the hotel after a very fun, very loud family gathering. You were missed. Beth was laughing so much, and it seemed healing.
“And our nieces and nephews have decided that you and I might know fabulous family secrets so they want us to tell them all, haha,” Chris continued. “At one point I was telling one old story and they were all in a circle like a campfire. I love our family. ❤️”
Saturday morning, my wife Mary Riche texted back to Chris: “Great photos and great report of last night’s family gathering. Thank you. And I agree about getting that history from you and Chuck!”
Chris’ response: “Not sure this group was in search of history. More like gossip and secrets — although I suppose it is all the same. Haha.”
Mary wrote back that she “would certainly put it in the same category, though I can picture you as the storyteller as easily as I’ve come to know Chuck’s storytelling talent on a more personal basis. However and whatever, I hope you’ll allow me to videotape it for the family vault.”
Back from Elder Chris: “Absolutely!”
It could be like our own Archives! We extended Offenburgers could be setting up an Archives!
We could even have a motto, and I’ve got a proposal. We could use the motto that was a favorite of several 19th century newspapers established in the Midwest, about the same time our family arrived here: “I know not what the truth may be, but I’ll tell the tale as ‘twas told to me!”
Let the stories begin.
Dinner among step-daughter, nieces, nephew, uncles and aunt. Clockwise from the left Janae Jaynes, Cindy & Mark Watson, Barbara Watson, Chuck Offenburger, Chris & Karl Werner.
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