Osage Boat Works

 When my baby brother and I were little my Dad worked Road Construction and was only home on weekends.  Our Mom got a job at the Osage Boat Works.   Her clothing was spotted with white and green paint and pieces of fiberglass. My baby brother and I were too little to stay by ourselves so we went to "Arvilla Care" Arvilla was a much loved neighbor lady, we loved her and going to her house when our Mom went to work.  Arvilla was a really good cook!

Boats loaded and ready to be sold ...photo taken about 1956.

Far Side

Hands

 What would you hold in your cupped hands? 

I read an article about this sculpture called "Hidden Treasures" the sculptor gave his explanation.

Then it clicked.  

Sure enough I recall at my Uncle Ervin and Aunt Violets farm in the summer at dark the fireflies would be out and we would catch them in our hands...your hand would light up...however they left green goo... no doubt firefly poop in your hand.   I am sure the treasure must have been your hand lighting up not the poop.

Far Side

The sculptor said in an article“It’s suspended by its own weight,” he said. “I’ve never separated wood into dyads before. The challenge was to separate the piece of white pine, hollow the inside and put the pieces back together. It was experimental, a prototype to see if I could do it.”

Into the hills

 My baby brother dropped off his Ranger ATV for us to use for the afternoon so we headed for the hills. 

It was quite a view from the top of the hill.  A view I have never seen before because this area was all mature trees. 

 

There is a Fire Tower at the top of the hill.  When I was a young bike riding gal we would walk our bikes uphill and then see how far we could get coasting down...a perfect rendition of a thrill ride for country kids. 

I have not been to the base of the tower for many years.  My baby brother reports that the first 20 feet of the ladder have been removed. 

  I climbed to the top only once in my lifetime and that was once too many for me.  My baby brother and Danny coaxed me down...knowing if I didn't come back down they were going to be in big trouble.   That was the first and last time they talked me into climbing the tower...after that I was always the third person to go up...I would reach the treetops and then go back down. 

A few Maple leaves are turning.

Far Side

See the USA

 Some of you may be old enough to remember when Dinah Shore sang the rest of that jingle. 

My parents didn't get a TV until 1960...but I am still familiar with the song.  Far Guy said his parents got a TV in about 1955. 

Far Side

Wistful Wednesday : 1961

I found this old photo from 1961

I was ten years old. 

That is most likely my birthday cake.  My baby brother would have been seven and my other baby brother almost one.

This photo was taken in the first remodeled kitchen at the farm.

My mother made my baby brothers shirt and that bib overhauls my other baby brother is wearing.
She sewed the curtains too they were a pale yellow with a brown design. 

Note the days of the week flour sack embroidered towels hanging next to the old rotary dial wall phone...with a short cord...it was beige.

The plaster of paris fruit hung in the old kitchen too...and must have been a favorite of my Moms since it appears in the new kitchen.  The new kitchen had birch cupboards with stainless steel hardware...and a double sink.  The linoleum on the floor was a medium green color...it was a tiny hex pattern...I scrubbed it many times.
Far Side

Wistful Wednesday: A Whisker Rub

I thought my Dad’s brothers were the only ones who gave the dreaded whisker rub. When I was little my reaction to the mention of a whisker rub was to run away giggling. When I was close to being caught the giggles turned to a squeal, twas a noisy game.

Yesterday my Dad told us “ My Grandfather Isaac was a fun loving guy.  He would chase us kids down and rub his beard on our faces.”

Eclipse

There were high clouds but you could still see the sun was out. We ran errands in town.

People were standing outside with various glasses.  One group at the Farm Supply store had welders helmets.  In one parking lot people were pointing and they had no glasses on at all, the sad thing was they had small children with them.  We saw one guy stopped in his car with his sunglasses on…just stopped in the middle of the road. 

  As it got darker more car lights came on.  It never got really dark, but it was a twilight.  Far Guy called it an eerie twilight.

I waited in the car while Far Guy ran one errand and watched people watch.

I hung one of my old cameras a point and shoot out the window and took a photo. Nothing much to write home about. We were supposed to be at 80% of the eclipse.

The only other solar eclipse that I can recall was in July of 1963.  My baby brother built a box to view it, I may have helped him…I do not recall that part, the design was probably something out of the old Grit publication.  I recall people saying back then that you could look through old negatives…negatives were larger back then.  It was a sunny day back in 1963 as we sat out in the yard waiting for the eclipse to happen. It seemed darker than it was today, but perhaps that is because it was a sunny day….and I was younger and more easily impressed.  That time it was 78% and the main track was up in Canada.

My brother was at home in Oregon for the eclipse yesterday, they had special Tshirts and glasses…it looked like they might have been having a Total Eclipse of the Sun party.

The farm and a new puppy

The curve in the driveway to the farm where I grew up.

I remember when the Lilac bushes to the left were really small. We could walk inbetween them. In fact every morning we would head out the door around the corner of the house, through the lilac bushes into the ditch and up on the road and down the lane to catch the bus.  In the winter we had to go the long way around. The driveway was about a tenth of a mile long.  On the right where the Jack Pines are there were just a few Jack Pines and a row of Lombardy Poplar.

The barn. I need to take some more photos of it from different angles as I have a project in mind. Not that I need another hobby but I saw a new art form that I want to try.  I should probably hurry with the photos as sooner than later this barn will collapse.

The real reason we visited the farm.  Meet Annie the thirteen week old Border Collie from Montana where her parents were both “cattle dogs” she has a good home on the farm with some beef cattle to herd and a whole bunch of little kids to spoil her.

She got bored with us.  She has a sister named Lily who is a Boston Terrier…who will be the one in charge.  It was fun to see this Border Collie puppy. 

Chance watched from the back seat of the car…we only unload him when it is necessary.  He had a good view and barked as we drove away!

Aunt Karen’s Dash

I have an Uncle and Aunt who are twins who were born two month after I was born.

Uncle Kenny and Aunt Karen although I never called them that.

They were twins but totally different in personality.

This photo in 1952 says it all.  Karen is crying, Kenny is wondering what she is bawling about and I am on my way out of the situation.

Karen on the left and me on the far right in 1954, the little girl in the middle her name was Connie also.

Kenny, Carey, Me with Deb, Karen

Vickie, Diane and Maxine

It must have been Diane’s birthday party.

All of us grew up together, we saw each other just about every Sunday because everyone gathered at my Grandparents on Sunday for dinner.

I got along just fine with Kenny.  Karen not so much, she was always getting someone in trouble and I was often punished because she was a Miss Tattletail.

I was usually off with Kenny and my baby brother doing “stuff”…you know…jumping from hummock to hummock in the swamp, poking long sticks down into the oozey bog where the ground would move, playing games with sticks and balls, Anty I Over, Hide and Seek.  We could play outside all afternoon and be entertained until it was time to eat dinner or go home. Karen was mostly in the house playing with dolls.

Both Kenny and Karen were attendants when Far Guy and I got married.

Karen got married in 1970, she had two maybe three kids and while those children were little she divorced her husband. 

The last time I saw her was in May of 2004.  It was at her sister’s funeral visitation (Marion).  I expressed my sympathy and inquired about her children.  We really never had much in common.

My Mother had four sisters.

Toots, Karen, Grandma, Skip, Madeline (My Mom) and Marion in 1977.  This photo was taken at my Grandparents 50th Wedding Anniversary.

My Aunt Karen died on May 24 2017, she was living in a Nursing Facility in Florida near her daughter.  She was 65 years old.

Now my Mom has no living sisters.  She does have two brothers still alive.  Once there were twelve children and only three remain.

I know that Karen was Confirmed in the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod because I was there.  I suspect that she eventually grew up a bit.  She had a hard life being a single mother. My Mother always tried to make her feel special.

 

I should know more about her dash, but I don’t.  Sometimes it is really hard to put childhood conflicts behind you. We co existed on Sundays because we had to “get along” growing up. I did not go out of my way to learn more about her once we reached adulthood.

I hope she had a good life and enjoyed her children and grandchildren.   

Small Changes

The other day I was concentrating on the changes happening around here. 

Today I will show you that some things are still pretty much the same as when I was little…with a few small changes.

This is the farmstead where I grew up…I came here before I was one year old and I left when I got married when I was 18.  The big silo was not there back then…there was a silo next to the barn, and that building behind the barn was not there and the hay/straw bales are much larger…we had the little square bales which was a great improvement from loose hay piled onto wagons or in haystacks.

The Smoky Hills Fire/Lookout Tower is still there…the communications tower was not there in earlier days.  I climbed to the top of the tower ONLY once and that was under great duress ( My brother and Danny were behind me.)  Inside the tower I had a meltdown and bawled my eyes out and said “I am stuck up here forever because I am too scared to go down!” ( I was going to be in BIG trouble too!)  I guess the boys finally figured that they were going to be in big trouble with me so they talked me into going down, one in front of me and one behind me…it was one of the scariest moments of my life.  I am afraid of heights.  I had attempted the climb before but was always the last person up the ladder and once I got to the tree tops I would chicken out and go back down.

The best part of a trip to the Tower was flying down the hill on your bicycle…it truly was like flying.

I have had adventures that my children and grandchildren will never have.  I wonder how many of them will retire just two miles from their childhood home? 

Wistful Wednesday: 1957

The summer of 1957 I was almost six years old…I was a Fall baby…September… one of those Virgos that likes everything in place and everything in it’s place…a perfectionist.

Just so you know most of the perfectionist part is slightly worn out.  I no longer scrub the kitchen floor everyday…or double check that all the hangers are facing the right direction along with the clothing hanging facing right.  Mostly my money is helter skelter in my billfold…it doesn’t all face the correct way.  I still have a need to clean the kitchen after a meal…some people can stack dishes for the next day…not me.  I also have a sick compulsion to face all my can goods exactly so in the pantry.

It is hard to be perfect.  I no longer strive for perfection. Perfection is exhausting.

Most days I like dogs better than people, I think that was probably true for most of my life. 

Here I am in North Dakota in the summer of 1957.  Hair all done up in pin curls and straight as a stick bangs cut kinda short.  I am wearing shorts and a blouse that my Mother probably sewed for me.  The puppy was all wrapped up in some kind of rag/blanket that had seen better days.  It was not a puppy that belonged to me or my family.  Every summer when we went with my Dad where he was working our dog/dogs had to be given away or “dealt with.”  That was very hard for me.

Those years 1955-1958 in Minnesota were horrible farming years, Army Worms and drought took their toll.   We were lucky my Dad had a job, but it was still difficult for me to leave home and the farm for the whole summer.

Nocturnal enuresis

Wetting the bed…well that is a real treat.

I wet the bed as a child.  In fact I didn’t outgrow it until puberty at age nine.  5 % of the population of bedwetters take that long to come around.  Either their bladders become larger or a hormone kicks in that reduces the amount of urine produced at night.  I suspect that was my problem …a hormone.  Yesiree I traded in bedwetting for a bra!

Being a bedwetter meant you were thirsty after supper….and you stayed thirsty until morning and you still wet the bed.  I didn’t want to wet the bed…it eventually was cold in that bed and smelly too.  I couldn’t stay overnight for Pajama Parties like the rest of the girls.  I was different I couldn’t control my bladder at night.

I recall one night vividly.  Darlene and Diane were babysitting for me and I was to stay overnight.   WELL I probably had popcorn and Kool-Aid…and the next morning the entire bed was wet…including the curlers on Diane’s head…she had a cow.  Their Mother Hazel was kind…she said I couldn’t help it.  I didn’t stay overnight with anyone again for a really long time.

I suppose when I get to the home I will have to wear Depends.  They say you revert back to your childhood in old age.  So there I will be picking my nose and wetting the bed.

While I was on the antibiotics for my bronchitis the potty dreams returned.  Some nights I was so exhausted looking for a potty in my dreams that I never got a good nights sleep.  It was a relief to finally get out of the dream state to get up and go to the bathroom. It was most likely a miracle that I did not wet the bed. 

Those all elusive potties …doors are locked, there is a line, they are not in working order, they are too filthy to use, no one not even my children will tell me where the potty is…the night before last I showed them all… I peed in the bathtub…what a relief….I went and went and went…it seemed like at least five minutes and it felt so damn good.  I awakened.. whew…only a dream…I checked and everything was dry…thank goodness.

Neither of my children were bedwetters and Far Guy reports that he never wet the bed either.

Farm Kids Skating Pond

When you grow up on a farm, town is a long ways away.  Other than going to school on the bus, we went to town once or twice a month for groceries.  The ice skating rink was in town.

On our farm there was a low spot in the corner of the field on the south side of the driveway.  If there was a early spring thaw and then a cold snap the water would collect in that corner of the field and freeze.  It made for a wonderful place to ice skate.

This spot in a nearby field reminded me of Saturday afternoons in the spring.  Remember those double runner skates that you strapped onto your boots…sometimes they came undone and you would fall down.  We would put our skates on in the house and then tromp to the ice…either that or take a couple of pieces of wood to sit on to put on our skates in the field. 

Round and round we would go skating faster and faster, cheeks rosy red, scarves trailing in the wind until we hit weeds coming up out the the ice…that would slow you down.  Soon we were tired and still had to change into our now cold boots or walk all the way back to the house in our skates. 

As a farm kid, I never knew about skate sharpening.  When we were lucky enough to get ice skates they were never sharpened, they were what they were and sometimes you just had to make your own fun.

Monday Wash Day

In days past Monday was wash day.  I used to have the dish towels that proved it...I could count on taking Tuesday off because that is ironing day and Wednesday too as that is sewing day.

Yes I wash on Mondays, but then I wash on others days too cause I don’t have to heat water and lug it to the washer or use that wringer.

This is a wringer stand that has a wash tub on both sides.  This wringer was adjusted by the knobs at the top and you provided the power by turning that handle.

A wringer was why ironing day followed wash days…they made terrible wrinkles in clothing.

My Mothers wringer washer was like this one minus the sign.  Electric it was.   With lots of warnings that you didn’t want to get any body parts going through the wringer.  We had an old soaking stick that we would use to fish the clothing up out of the washer with…it was all slimy and soft on the pokey end.  We poked clothes up near the wringer and watched them get rung.

When I was about 7 years old maybe 8 I have a very vivid memory.

It was a sunny day and we were on a fairgrounds someplace in Southern Minnesota or Iowa, we were seated in the grandstand.  We were watching some kind of show…there were clowns…running around acting clown like.  At one point they wheeled out a wringer washer and one of the littlest clowns got stuck in the wringer and came out on the other side flat as a pancake.  The crowd roared.  Of course the child in me was traumatized by such an event and after that I was really really really careful around the wringer.  I realized later as an adult that no one would fit in a wringer, it was some slight of washer trick.  Perhaps it was revealed at the time..but I had my eyes closed tight.

Now..does anyone else remember this slight of washer trick?

Shortly before my other baby brother was born in 1960 my Mother got a fancy smancy washer with a spin dry compartment.  I was so relieved not to have to worry about that wringer anymore.

Wistful Wednesday: 1958

I found an old Easter photograph.  My Mom must have taken this photo in the old farm house.  We are standing in the kitchen, the door to upstairs is behind us and the door to the living room is off to the left of the photograph.

Me and my baby brother in 1958. 

My Easter basket was marked on the handle with a crayon.  I am not sure what color my brothers was marked with..I think mine was orange.  We usually had some green grass and some hard boiled eggs that we had colored and some chocolate and jelly beans in our basket.  The oval baskets were our first baskets and the round ones got added later.  Can you remember those hard boiled eggs that used to sit in those baskets for days..not refrigerated..and then finally they became a table decoration..until someone ate them. Uffda..it is a wonder that we didn’t get a foodborne illness.

April 6 was Easter Sunday that year when I was 7 and my baby brother was 4.

See those chairs?  The ones with the rubber thingys on their legs so the metal wouldn’t poke through the linoleum?  Those were the “chairs” the ones that we had to sit in after church if we goofed off in church..or giggled..or squirmed too much.  I hated sitting still in those chairs..sometimes we sat side by side but most of the time we sat back to back so we couldn’t agitate each other…and giggle..it was serious business you know.

I would much rather sit still for one hour instead of two.  It was about this time that I learned to play games in church..God knew..I figured I would be struck dead..but wasn’t so my games continued.

What can you do in church to occupy an hour?  What do you see?  I saw THE LUTHERAN HYMNAL…so I would form words in my head every Sunday.  Most of the time it worked..it kept me out of that second hour where there was no THE LUTHERAN HYMNAL to occupy my mind.  Sometimes I just couldn’t control my giggles..and once I started it was really hard to stop.  The second hour became my time to daydream..making up stories in my head..ones where I was always the heroine..and famous..with beautiful sparkly dresses.

My parents were good church goers..they went every Sunday just like clockwork.  No one was ever excused.. I am not sure that was a good thing.  God is everywhere..in the flowers and in the trees and even in the snow covered countryside.  I can talk to him anytime..night or day…not just on Sundays:)

Sit a Spell

Wiggle your toes..feel the grass beneath your feet.

Go ahead..toss off those shoes.

Wiggle your toes in the warm sand.  Grab your book, sit awhile and read in the sunshine.

Smell the flowers, there is a breeze coming off the lake..

Ah soon it will be summer again.  The snow will melt..the flowers will bloom..the bees, ticks and the snakes will be back.

Bees, snakes and ticks those are the things I hate about summer…oh and skeeters..but without much moisture skeeters are no problem.

I am allergic to bees.  My parents were recalling that story the other night.  They thought I was going to die after I opened the hives and was covered with bees when I was three or four years old.  The bees swarmed and covered me, I was screaming..I made those bees so mad that they followed me into the house.

My parents were counting the stingers as they pulled them out of my skin and then lost track..I was a mess.  A few days later all my joints stiffened up.. I couldn’t bend any of my joints.  They took me to the Doctor and the Doctors gave me something that must have worked because I survived.

So I don’t like bees so much..but they sure like me.  I used to be very afraid of them..if one would land on me I would go all girly and scream and run away…and get stung.  My baby brother never got stung..if one would land on me he would say “ Hold real still and they won’t sting you!”  I held as still as I could whilst sobbing..and still got stung. 

I am not so afraid of bees anymore.  I can take photographs of them..it was a major accomplishment for me. I keep EpiPens readily available.

I tolerate the ticks..I don’t like them..I don’t like that they carry Lyme's disease and other tick diseases that we have to worry about with Chance.

Snakes..I am very afraid of them..pee your pants..run screaming meamy away afraid. I am certain it is a fear that I will never get over..but as long as we have snow covering the ground I can relax..until spring:(

Wistful Wednesday: Christmas1965

My baby brother and I reminisced about a trip a long time ago. We drove with our parents and our other baby brother to California in 1965.  We left from Minnesota and drove what seemed like forever before stopping all night in Provo Utah. Apparently my parents took turns sleeping and driving.  I remember being discouraged at not being able to stop at The Great Salt Lake.  I was very impressed with the mountains in Provo. We either ate or hid all the fruit we had in the car at the California Border.  We didn’t stop at many restaurants..we ate sandwiches and fruit along the way.

We went to see my Dads sister..my Aunt Anna and Uncle Stanley and cousins Clark and Leann for Christmas.

My Mom took this photo.  It is marked Disney Land 1965.

My other baby brother Jody, My Dad, Me, My Aunt Anna hugging my baby brother Carey and Cousin Clark in front.

We went to Church at Midnight on Christmas Eve, after a supper of Pork Roast, Potatoes and Gravy and Lutefisk at Uncle Stanley’s parents.  I can still smell the Lutefisk cooking. Uffda.  Lutefisk is the Norwegians idea of a delicacy..it is dried cod that is soaked in lye and then cooked. 

As for the trip to Disneyland..I enjoyed the Jungle Cruise and the Haunted House the best!  The weather in California was wonderful.

My Dad shared that one time during this trip my baby brother and I were fighting in the backseat.  He stopped the car and made us get out and drove away.  Of course he didn’t drive far..and when we got back in the car we were well behaved:)

December: Christmas Lists

It is the second day of December.  22 more shopping days till Christmas.   We have a skiff of snow..not enough to cover up the grass.  We have had some real frosty mornings.

Usually we have lots of snow by now..It is hard to get into the shopping mood without three feet of snow and the wind blowing and temperatures below zero.

So I am not in the shopping mood yet.  I am not sure when or if the mood will strike me..guess I will just wait around and see what happens.  I have 22 days..that is over three weeks!!  Certainly within the next three weeks I will be in the mood to shop for an hour or two.  Maybe.

I guess everyone has a list someplace on some web site..not sure how to find it..I suppose I should figure that out first. I was there once and couldn’t find anyone's “stuff.”

I never gave my Grandmother a list.  I usually got one gift from Grandma and Grandpa because I was their God Child ( they renounced the devil and all his wicked works and ways for me when I was an infant at my baptism.)  The other grandkids didn’t get anything.  They got a gift when they were born.

Sometimes I got a pair of flannel pajamas from them..warm and cozy for the long winter.  Or a hat and a scarf that matched..or mittens. When I got older, I got Corning Ware..and much later in life..Grandma would say, “Pick out a couple of my pretty dishes to take with you.”

My baby brother and I would mark up the Wish Book that came in the Fall.  We would circle all the treasures we wanted, and dream about what would be under the tree for us.  The Wish Book was good for many hours of entertainment.  We used to save them from one year to the next so we wouldn’t have to share the same book. I suppose the Wish Book was our way of making a list.  We may have made a list of the most important things we wanted and tucked it into the Wish Book.

I suppose Amazon or wherever those lists are must be the equivalent of a Wish Book..however sometimes I would just like to feel the paper between my fingers as I turn the pages.  Of course that makes me “Old Fashioned.”  Sometimes the Grands say  “Grandma, you just have to get with it.” :)

Curosity: The Mount Calvary Cemetery

I felt the weight on my back as the scrawny legs scrambled to the top of my shoulders, I straightened up, he had a perfect view, I could only see the siding, was it white or dirty beige, my old brain cannot decide, there were windows..but neither of us were tall enough to see inside by ourselves. I remember that the weeds were almost taller than we were when we waded our way through them to the abandoned building. We were not supposed to be here, it seemed dangerous, exciting and adventurous all at the same time. We were not going to throw rocks or anything, we just wanted to look inside. What was in there? There were lots of windows on the south side. If I had only been tall enough to see inside myself, I should have been brave and climbed on Danny's shoulders when he offered, but I was afraid of heights.

That is all I remember, Danny, was fearless, me not so much, plus that he hardly ever got in trouble..and me well lets just say that trouble followed me everywhere. Sparing the rod and spoiling the child was not happening at my house. His parents seemed older and more forgiving, plus that his older sister had paved the way..and he was a boy, I always thought that boys could get by with more shenanigans than girls could anyway.

I am not sure if it was an old church, or an old house, perhaps it was a parsonage, only the lilac bushes remain. It is the Mount Calvary Cemetery now. What was the building that I recall on this property? When did it disappear from the landscape of my childhood? My littlest baby brother, Jody recalls it..so far he is it..even the gal that was born and raised almost across the road doesn't remember a building being there. Is it a figment of my imagination? Nope, the lilacs never lie:)