Wistful Wednesday: Aunt Lila

My Aunt Lila died last week, she was 86 years old, her funeral is later this week.   She was married to my Dad’s brother Adolf.  Adolf died in 1998.  Lila joins him 20 years later.

Adolf and Lila were married in June of 1953.  I think my Dad was the best man.

They lived in a tiny two room house near Bad Medicine Lake. My baby brother and I stayed with them one long weekend in the late 1950’s…it might have been 1958 or 1959….our parents were going to “The Cities” for something and we were not old enough to stay by ourselves.  Uncle Adolf tried to teach us some Finn…but we were poor learners.  They took us fishing in a boat out on Bad Medicine Lake, I believe this was the first time I was ever in a boat on a lake. I thought being in a boat on the lake was both magical and a little bit scary. I had been on lakes in the winter and was comfortable fishing on a frozen lake, or in the summer fishing safely from a dock near the shore..but a boat..that was a big deal.  I loved watching the water over the side of the boat.  I don’t remember if we caught fish or not..but I do remember that we had fun, and a ice cold soda and a candy bar. 

One summer my Uncle found a fawn without a mother or the game warden dropped it off for some rehabilitation, a small fence was made near the front of the house and the fawn was fed bottles of milk.  My Uncle was a farmer…he milked cows and put up crops…hay and maybe corn for his herd.  

Their property was heavily wooded interspersed with fields and that made for perfect deer hunting.  I hunted there a number of years…I had the fire and kept it going at my campsite…all my uncles and cousins would come by to warm up and put their sandwiches near the fire and sit down and talk.

In later years Adolf and Lila would adopt two children; a boy and a girl.  I remember the baby showers held in their new home… I think they adopted through Lutheran Social Services and in preparation for adoption they built a new home.

Aunt Lila had Rheumatoid Arthritis.  What a terrible crippling disease.  It crippled her body but her mind has been sharp up until the last couple of years.  She was one of my most faithful blog readers. My Uncle Adolf died from undiagnosed Celiac Sprue when he was 76 years old.

Aunt Lila has been in the nursing home a very long time…when you visited she was always happy to see you.  She got more company as other relatives were in “the home”…Aunt Violet (her sister), Aunt Marie, Aunt Senia, Aunt Grace…For years and years Aunt Lila’s roommate was Cousin Shirley.  Sadly all those relatives have died while in “the home.” As far as I know we have no one in “the home” any longer…Aunt Lila was the last of the bunch.  I think she was the first one in and the last one out.

Wistful Wednesday: Deer Hunting

I grew up deer hunting, first with my Dad just for an afternoon.  Later I got my own “stand” at Uncle Adolf’s place.  I had the campfire.  Uncle Adolf, my Dad and Uncle Andrew and various cousins would show up to check on me and warm up their sandwiches in the fire.  At the end of the day Dad would show up and unload my rifle and count the bullets…you only got so many.  Even with the shotgun I got three shots that’s it.

One year..I was old enough to have a Driver’s License and I was supposed to drive back into the farmhouse with Dad’s pickup…not sure why?  I cased my rifle and put it in the bed of the pickup.  Along the way I ran onto my cousin Hilda who was hunting squirrels.  I asked her if she wanted a ride..she did so she put her 22 in a case in the back of the truck.

I didn’t drive very far when a Game Warden stopped us.  The questions began. He checked my license and questioned Hilda at length about small game.  Then he wanted to see our weapons..fine…the only thing is they were loaded. (Ditzy girl hunters anyways.)  He gave us tickets and took our guns.  Oh boy…we had to show up at his office in Park Rapids a few days later with a parent.  He let us off easy with a warning and gave us our guns back.  He said “I hate to discourage young ladies from hunting…but next time unload your guns”  Ya…thank goodness we got off without a fine and the rifle I was using was my Mothers…I knew it would be back to the old shotgun for me.

In later years I would hunt with Far Guy.   We loved to be in the woods and we appreciated the venison.  Now we live in the woods and I hunt only with my camera.

 

Me and my Dad’s deer during hunting season about 1953.

Wistful Wednesday: Roots Part Eleven

My Grandfather ( My Dad’s Father) in the field on the farm where I grew up.

1952

I love this old photo…and this one too.

My Uncle Adolf and My Grandpa in 1952 enjoying lunch in the field.

In 1953 when my Grandmother died my Grandfather became a very eligible bachelor.  He dated a number of women.

He did not approve of face paint (lipstick or rouge), card games ( Checkers were okay but cards were the work of the devil), dancing or drinking.  Women were meant to stay in the home and take care of the children…if they got an education they should be nurses or teachers.

He would stop by our house during the week.  I always enjoyed his visits.  IF for some reason my brother or I were sent out of the house…his visit got us out of the dog house. He smelled like mothballs and wore long underwear year round, the underwear kept in  warmth in the winter and kept his body cool in the summer(evaporation).  Most of the time he wore suspenders.  Those mints I enjoyed were in his shirt pocket or the pocket of his coat.  He chewed and spit..he could spit farther than any person I knew and he had reasonably good aim.

He remarried, Grandma Annie…she died and he was told to move out.  He lived near Uncle Hugo’s on Shell Lake in a tiny house that was quickly built for him.  Then he made the rounds living with each of his children when he couldn’t live alone.  He stayed at my parents a month or so…we enjoyed all his stories.  The hemorrhoid story is a classic.  He said that he would slice open the hemorrhoids with a razor blade and then put iodine on them…he said “It only hurt for a bit.”  Grandpa had some false teeth but they made his mouth sore and he saved up his hearing aid batteries for church on Sunday. Eventually he ended up with Uncle George and Aunt Grace permanently until he fell.  He was in the nursing home for a short time and fell again and died.  He died on December 14 1978 just 4 days short of his 88th birthday. I missed him very much after he died.  He lived longer in years than all of his children so far.  This month my Dad will turn 88 and Aunt Anna will turn 79, they are the remnant.

 

Grandpa Sam with the sauna just down the hill at the farm

This photo is one of my favorites… cousin Geraldine shared it with me.  It is most likely the last photo taken of Grandpa.

Bad Medicine Lake

Just a little ways north of us is a lake called Bad Medicine.  We drove up there one evening to scout out the public landing just incase Jen and Andy want to explore that lake someday.

The landing is great, and Chance found the water very much to his liking!

I have not been on this lake in years.  My Uncle Adolf and Aunt Lila took me fishing and for my first boat ride on this lake a long, long time ago.

Bad Medicine..are you wondering how it got it’s name?  Me too..I looked it up.  The Native Americans thought that a lake with no inlet and no outlet was a bad sign, they would not fish in the lake or hunt nearby.  The lake is spring fed, it is about 4 miles long and a half a mile wide..it covers about 750 acres.  It is fairly deep, it’s deepest point is 87 feet deep.  It is also called Lake of the Valley.

Now if I can remember all that info I can tell the grandboys all about the lake should we decided to go there some Sunday afternoon:)

Wistful Wednesday: A Fish Story

The other day at carving, the conversation led to the upcoming fishing derby.  Now for those of you who don’t know about fishing derbys this is how it works in the winter.

Local organizations use them as fundraisers.  They are held out on the lake, which is safely frozen over.   They plow some roads out on the ice and then they proceed to drill hole after hole for fishing.   All you need is a few dollars for a ticket and a ice fishing pole.  The poles are short and have a sharp end so you can poke it down in the ice.  You attach a bobber and put  a wax worm on your hook or whatever your choice of bait is..and throw it down into the hole..the hole is circular maybe 10 inches across..then you watch your bobber.  Oh, you need a Fishing License too..and you should be dressed warm..and then be patient and wait for the fish to bite.  There are prizes for different size fish. It varies from one derby to the next, they each have their own criteria.

Anyway one of the gals asked my cousin Chuckie what the “secret” was to fishing a fishing derby.  Chuckie just laughed and replied “There is no secret, it is just dumb luck.”  He went on to tell us of one year, he was on the lake and had saved an extra hole for a little hunting/fishing buddy of his who was a no show..when Uncle Adolf showed up a half an hour late.  Chuckie  told him to take the empty hole next to him..so he did and wouldn’t you know it..he caught a big fish, a big enough one to take home some prize money.

My Uncle was a good fisherman, I am sure that he would have said that it was skill that snagged that fish.  He liked to fish, summer and winter.

One time, probably around 1958  my baby brother and I stayed at Uncle Adolf's and Aunt Lila’s for a weekend. They took us fishing in a boat out on Bad Medicine Lake, I believe this was the first time I was ever in a boat on a lake. I thought being in a boat on the lake was both magical and a little bit scary. I had been on lakes in the winter and was comfortable fishing on a frozen lake, or in the summer fishing safely from a dock near the shore..but a boat..that was a big deal.  I loved watching the water over the side of the boat.  I don’t remember if we caught fish or not..but I do remember that we had fun, and a ice cold soda and a candy bar:)

Uncle Adolf

Old Photograph Wednesday Part IV

Well I guess I am going to call Wednesdays, Old Photograph Wednesday, since it seems to be my theme on Wednesdays. Perhaps it could have a more glamorous title..but for the moment ..what that would be escapes me. Leave a comment if you have a catchy opinion! A reader left me a comment, asking if I remember the shocks of grain standing in the fields?
Yes, I do remember, all looking like little tee pees. This picture I have shared with you shows my Grandpa Y. with a pitchfork, out in a grain field, his work is behind him. He was a wonderful, dear man who I still miss to this day. My Mother took this picture in 1952, it was their first harvest of grain on their "own" farm, the farm where I grew up.



This picture is of my Grandpa and his son, my Uncle Adolf having lunch in the field. You can see the lunch bucket between them, my Mother used to make lunch..homemade bread and meat, some pickles, and cookies or cake that were all put inside a big cooking pot, covered with a dish towel and taken to the field. Coffee and milk went into glass jars and were wrapped in heavy towels. I loved lunching in the field as a small child it was the highlight of my day!


Grain was harvested with a Binder that cut and bound it into sheaves, many sheaves were then set on end to form a shock of grain. The grain shocks were left in the field to dry. Then the Threshing Crew or the as I like to call them the Thrashing Crew would come. There was lots of baking and cooking the day before, such excitement, then they would come one by one, all the farmers to help each other thrash the grain. It was a cooperative effort, farmers helping farmers. It was dirty hard work, the men would wash up outside and then come into the house for "Lunch" ... and what a lunch it was.. Mountains of chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, garden vegetables, beans and carrots and of course fresh bread, and deserts the likes that only appeared once a year..pies, and cakes that a child with a sweet tooth would stare at in awe.

My Uncle Adolf was a frequent visitor at our home before he was married. He was a big guy, tall and strong. I was a very stubborn child and was prone to temper tantrums, I was into the stomping my feet as fast as they would go, alternating between screaming and holding my breath to get my way tantrums. Apparently it had been working, until the day my Uncle Adolf had his own tantrum, my Mother told me "He came into the kitchen while you were stomping your feet and screaming, and proceeded to stomp his feet so much that the whole floor shook, and that was the last of your temper tantrums." :)