I have several old photographs of me and a deer.
Who: My Dad and me
Where: the Farm in Carsonville Township
Why: Hunting photo
When: 1953 or 1954 I am either two or three years old.
My Dad died a year ago today on his Father's birthday, my Grandfather was 87years old when he died, my Dad was 96 years old when he died. Dad outlived all of his siblings. Wilbert was 77, Hugo 73, Jalmer 42, Ervin 59, Oscar 56, Arthur 23, Adolf 76, George 74, Einard 6 months old, Marie 82, Andrew 67, Arnold 59 and Anna 85. Yes it was a family of 14 children. Other than World War II and an infant death they all died of heart attacks or cancer except for Uncle Adolf he died of undiagnosed Celiac Disease. My Dad was a cancer survivor...he survived it for 37 years...he also had Celiac Disease....but Dad died from late stage dementia and a form of blood cancer.
No one else in Dad's family had dementia...but then no one lived as long as Dad. Dementia is a slow death that is incredibly hard on everyone.
My Dad is on the far left in the double breasted suit. This photo was taken in June of 1953 when my Grandmother died of a massive heart attack at the age of 64. Everyone is present except for Arthur who died in WWII and Einard who died as a baby. My Aunt Senia is in this photo in the white suit...she was married to my Uncle Wilbert.
I have many good memories of my Dad, those are the times I choose to recall when I miss him.
Far Side
I didn’t know the story about this photo before. So I called my Aunt and asked her. She being sharper than a tack, knew exactly the photograph I was talking about.
Arnie and me in ‘53
This is my Uncle Arnold and my Aunt Anna, siblings of my fathers. Their Mother (My Grandmother died in June of 1953.) This photo was taken at the train station in Detroit Lakes Minnesota. Uncle Arnold had been home for the funeral and he was headed back to Norfolk Virginia where he was stationed. He was in the Navy.
I had never heard my Uncle Arnold referred to as Arnie before, when I asked my Aunt she laughed and said “I did it just to irritate him.”
Aunt Anna celebrated her birthday on Monday. She was 18 years old in this photo in 1953. Uncle Arnold was 21. Uncle Arnold died of a massive heart attack in April of 1992 he was just 60 years old. He was a wonderful man with a great sense of humor, he was a farmer and a carpenter.
My Dad and my Aunt Anna are the only siblings still living, out of fourteen only two remain:)
Yesterday I wrote about the Jack and Ella McGrane place where I used to visit.
My very first party was held at that old two story brown stucco house with the east facing porch. It was Corrine’s birthday..she was three. Her Grandmother had a wonderful party for her and invited neighborhood kids.
Barry, Corrine and Danny
Me, Sharon and a little girl I do not remember (Caroline I think)
This huge step was on the south side of the house and this part faced west. A perfect spot for a photo. It must have been a real pain in the neck to get that many small children to sit still for a photograph.
Barry and Sharon are Far Guys cousins. Barry is the guy I call Alaska Guy. We see him several times a year. Sharon comes home every few years, she lives on the east coast.
I posted this photograph on Corrine’s Facebook page the day of her birthday. Danny just lives down the road. Since I don’t remember the other little girl I have no idea what happened to her nor do I recall where she used to live.
Apparently I didn’t like that baby doll very much:)
I was two years old in 1953. I was still an only child. Spoiled. The center of attention. It was my last year of being an only child.
I used to go along to the barn. I liked being in the barn. I had to go along to do chores. If both of my parents were in the barn..then that is where I was. Dad made a pen for me to play in, it was made out of straw bales...I loved the kittens..the Banty roosters and hens not so much.
In the winter when it is cold outside it is cozy and warm and aromatic in the barn…wet straw with a slight ammonia smell..fresh cow pies plopping into the gutter…steaming…very odiferous. The smell of silage thawing out.. a little fermented.
The nails in the walls of the barn covered in frost. The hay dust gleaming in the sunlight as the hay is thrown down from the hay mow. The cobwebs hanging in the windows.
The sounds..the cattle munching their ration of grain, shuffling their feet..mooing softly or sometimes not so softly. The swish swish of the milk hitting the bucket..making bubbles on the surface. The sound of milk being poured into the strainer that sat on top of the milk can. The kittens meowing for milk in their dish.
My parents trying to carry milk in buckets while the barn kittens swirled around their legs. Hollering at the Banty’s to leave me alone.
The terror of being pecked by a mean old Banty Rooster that was flapping his wings ninety miles an hour while pecking my legs! Crying..
Walking back to the house.
My boots must have been too large for my little feet. The dogs..I think one was Frosty..and the other was maybe.. Fido? My Maternal Grandparents were always bringing me a dog..cause they knew I liked dogs!
Smiling for the camera:)
In June of 1953 I was 21 months old. That was 58 years ago.
I am not sure what my Aunt Anna and I are exchanging. Aunt Anna is my Dad’s youngest sister, she lives nearby and I see her quite often. She always has a big smile and a hug as a greeting. Aunt Anna and my Dad are the only surviving siblings from their large family of 14 children.
This photograph was taken by my Mom on the farm right in front of the Lilac bushes. The Lilacs were a shady place to play and to leave your wagon, and a spot for the dogs to dig a hole to escape the summer heat:)
Well, you know not many people talk about it, but everyone has to do it..sooner or later we were all potty trained.
Apparently I undertook this training when I was eighteen months old in March of 1953.
My potty chair was in the kitchen..next to the door that went upstairs. I seem to be quite proud of myself. No screaming, only a big smile! My doll must have been keeping me company.
There were four doors off the big old farm kitchen. The first a door to the front porch, the second door to the living room where the rocking chair was and all the plants were on a stand in the east window and where the big old heat register was in the floor where I loved to sit and get warm. My tiny bedroom and my parents bedroom were both off of the living room in the old house. The third was the door to upstairs. We never used upstairs..flies were in the tall windows and the shades were torn, the curtain rods were crooked and the curtains were threadbare and each room had different linoleum on the floor and a different wallpaper on the walls. The steps going up had been painted white and so was the railing upstairs. My Grandpa and one of my Uncles slept up there one time during harvest..but other than that we didn’t use it..and we were not allowed up there to play either. Finally the fourth door to the big old room where my Mother kept boxes of stuff and where clothes were kept, and sometimes where we took a bath in a metal tub if we didn’t go to sauna. It was always cold in that room. Later in 1959 or 1960 that room was remodeled to make a bathroom and a sewing room.
The outhouse..was just that out..in the yard…it was a cold, cold place in the winter, and a smelly place in the summer, where flies would crawl on your bare butt if you sat too long.
Sometimes we had toilet paper..sometimes not. Peach papers were pure heaven and my favorite kind of papers. Newspaper worked ok too..I didn’t like the catalogues…too slippery. We did not have a chamber pot or what my Mother called a “piss pot” in the house either…if we had to go..we went out to the outhouse. Oh, what a luxury it was to go to the bathroom at school, the only down side was that you couldn’t read in the bathroom at school.
I still like to read in the bathroom. We have a whole basket full of reading material in our bathroom. I am a short sitter compared to my other baby brother who lives next door. If he is in the bathroom..it could take him a whole hour..sometimes if we go to see him and he is in the bathroom we ask “How long has he been in there?”..so we know how long we will have to wait, or if we are better off coming back later.
I was nine years old before we got a bathroom indoors. To me an indoor bathroom is a luxury, I know not many people think of it that way anymore, but if you are part of the “outhouse generation” you will understand what I mean:)
March of 1953, I was still an only child..my baby brother was born the next year in March. From what my parents tell me, I went everywhere with my Dad. I was his shadow.
I was good at pitching fits to get my way. I would stomp my feet and scream at the top of my lungs and then hold my breath until I turned purple. That behavior ended the day my Uncle Adolf witnessed a “fit.” He was a big guy, he jumped up and down on the kitchen floor so hard it made the kitchen windows rattle.
This was taken in the kitchen at the farm. That window looked into the porch, and that door led out into the porch. The Kitchen had bead-board that was painted white. Now I have bead-board in the bathroom upstairs…if I were to build a house again, I would have a red and white kitchen with white bead-board. That door may have had a key..but I don’t think so. Usually a butter knife was stuck sideways in-between the door and the door trim as a lock. The linoleum floor was a dark green.
I have something that is in this photo. Nope not the doll, and I may have that dress or perhaps the shoes..I would have to look at some of my early treasures to know for sure.
The table off to the left. Tammy and Trevor bought my parents old fishing resort and hauled that table off to the Osage Mall( Dump) and Far Guy and I rescued it. It is in my garage. It is a little worse for the wear, but it still has the shiny legs and a pearl grey swirled top and an extra leaf for expansion. In this photo it has an oil cloth most likely red and white on it’s top.
What is plugged in on the left? ..the refrigerator..and on the middle window ledge is a tin of Velvet tobacco and a little ceramic white swan. I cannot for the life of me remember what color the curtains were..I think yellow but they might have been pink. Why am I sitting in the chair? I was probably waiting for a snack, or staying clean until it was time to go someplace:)
This photo was taken in 1953. The girls are eight years old. The girl on the left is Far Guys sister, the girl on the right is his cousin Rosalie. I am not sure if these little girls had been fishing with their Fathers or not, someone got some nice sized Northern Pike. The cat under the vehicle seems interested in the fish! Far Guy and I were a little confused about the funny looking areas on the windshield of the vehicle and then we realized that it was frost. The vehicle must have belonged to Uncle Ron. What a novel way to show off your catch:) 
