Last year I wrote about Thanksgiving memories and feelings. This year I hope you will re-read it. Click on Thanksgiving Memories or read it in the featured post on the right side of this page.
I am especially thinking of my dear friend from that Thanksgiving at Fort Rucker when her husband, Dan, teased me about having Prime Rib. It will always be one of my favorite Thanksgivings.
Happy Thanksgiving to every one reading this post. Hold your loved ones close and join me in giving thanks for another year of being together.
Showing posts with label Memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Memories. Show all posts
Thursday, November 24, 2016
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Sac County, Iowa
Recently, I attended a genealogical conference in Arizona. The society hosting the event had several tables of old books for sale. It is always fun to peruse old books. One never knows what might turn up. One certainly would not expect to stumble upon a doorstop sized 1914 history of Sac County, Iowa. Iowa has 99 different counties, but I am only interested in about three. Greene County, Calhoun County, and you guessed it...Sac County.
My interest in Sac County is because this is where my great- grandparents settled around 1883 about a year after they were married. This is my dad's dad's side of the family and the one I thought I was going to write about this winter. I have only skimmed a few of the pages of this tome. I actually don't expect to find anything on the Wright name even though they were reasonably prominent people of the area. I learned through a recent experience with writing a county history that the residents themselves have to write, submit, and pay to be included. This was the process in the early 1900's as well.
My great grandparents, Charles and Jennie, had five children. My grandfather, Albert, was number four. My grandfather's siblings were just names to me. It took several years of genealogy work to sort them out. I knew a few stories . I knew my dad hung out a lot with his cousin, Charlie. Charlie was named for their grandfather, Charles. Cousin Charlie and his sisters were raised by their grandparents because their mother had died. I knew my dad had a cousin named Russell, who died in WWII. I knew dad had another cousin who was an only child and whose mother's name was Hattie. I thought Hattie was a cool name. I have a couple of memories of my great grandparents. And then there is my favorite story.
My mother told me that dad's grandparents were financially well off. When mom and dad were first married in late 1941, they went to visit dad's grandparents. Mom accompanied Grandma Jennie downtown to do some shopping. They went in and out of many different stores purchasing assorted items. She bought new sheets for one thing but I don't remember what else. Grandma Jennie carried a large shopping bag into each store out of which she would take out a $20 bill. She would pay for purchased item or items and then, she would throw the change in her bag. At the next store, she would take out another $20 bill, pay for the item or items and then throw the change loose into the bag. This went on store after store. When mom told me this story as I was growing up she would marvel at how much that would be in today's economy. Today was not 2016 but sometime in the 60's. And now I say, I wonder how much those twenties would be worth today.
Oh, the wonders of the internet. I found a site to help me answer the question about which I just pondered. The answer: $20.00 in 1941 had the same buying power as $335.50 in 2016. Wow!
My interest in Sac County is because this is where my great- grandparents settled around 1883 about a year after they were married. This is my dad's dad's side of the family and the one I thought I was going to write about this winter. I have only skimmed a few of the pages of this tome. I actually don't expect to find anything on the Wright name even though they were reasonably prominent people of the area. I learned through a recent experience with writing a county history that the residents themselves have to write, submit, and pay to be included. This was the process in the early 1900's as well.
My great grandparents, Charles and Jennie, had five children. My grandfather, Albert, was number four. My grandfather's siblings were just names to me. It took several years of genealogy work to sort them out. I knew a few stories . I knew my dad hung out a lot with his cousin, Charlie. Charlie was named for their grandfather, Charles. Cousin Charlie and his sisters were raised by their grandparents because their mother had died. I knew my dad had a cousin named Russell, who died in WWII. I knew dad had another cousin who was an only child and whose mother's name was Hattie. I thought Hattie was a cool name. I have a couple of memories of my great grandparents. And then there is my favorite story.
My mother told me that dad's grandparents were financially well off. When mom and dad were first married in late 1941, they went to visit dad's grandparents. Mom accompanied Grandma Jennie downtown to do some shopping. They went in and out of many different stores purchasing assorted items. She bought new sheets for one thing but I don't remember what else. Grandma Jennie carried a large shopping bag into each store out of which she would take out a $20 bill. She would pay for purchased item or items and then, she would throw the change in her bag. At the next store, she would take out another $20 bill, pay for the item or items and then throw the change loose into the bag. This went on store after store. When mom told me this story as I was growing up she would marvel at how much that would be in today's economy. Today was not 2016 but sometime in the 60's. And now I say, I wonder how much those twenties would be worth today.
Oh, the wonders of the internet. I found a site to help me answer the question about which I just pondered. The answer: $20.00 in 1941 had the same buying power as $335.50 in 2016. Wow!
Friday, January 29, 2016
Grandma's Own Words
Many, many years ago, long before I was interested in genealogy, I was given a photo copy of a document written by my paternal grandmother, Nina Francis Borden Wright. I have always intended to read it. The time has finally come. As I understand it, my grandmother's daughters encouraged her to write her memories. Thank you to my aunts, those living and those who have passed, for this very special document. I have learned several things. I believe this was written in 1970... 45 years ago. I have tried to leave it as written, but have made a few changes for clarity. I actually kind of like Grandma's spelling for bought.
Grandma's Own Words:
At the age of three we moved from Chicago to Lake City. Lived one block north and one half east of community building. In about 1905, my dad bot the place now north Woodlawn. Lived in the old house until 1912 when he bot the building at the central school & made it in a house that is still at the location. He was an excellent carpenter and the house was one of the best.
In 1909 we went to Texas with Grandpa DeHart. Dad built his house, barn, and other buildings. We lived in a tent most of that year. Stayed with a cousin, Calvin Thompson, at first. The antique picture tells of how Ware, Texas looked that was the Hotel. (I am not aware of this photo, but will try to locate it) I remember when we arrived at Ware. Grandma DeHart said to the conductor (where is the town) he said over there. There was no depot. Grandpa DeHart took his cattle & possessions on a train. (They went there for Carolyn's health.)
On Christmas eve we drove six miles in a wagon for Grandma DeHart to play for me to sing (Little Lord Jesus). How many now would drive 6 mi. in a wagon to sing on Christmas eve.
In 1910 we moved back to Lake City, came by the way of Binkelman, Nebr. to visit Uncle Jim DeHarts. They were living in town at the time & were hauling lumber to build on the farm. Our house at Lake City was rented so we stayed with Aunt Alice for a short time. Having missed the year of school I skipped the 2nd grade. The school was known as the Clondike. It burned in 1922 and so is now replaced by a new one by name of Lincoln School.
I remember as a child always getting dressed up on Sat. afternoon and going up town. Band would play once a week... so many good times. On Decoration day all the school children would march in the parade. Eva Peterson and I went one year and helped decorate the soldiers graves.
The first auto ride was in Texas 1909. A man came to sell Grandpa DeHart some land. The next was at Lake City in 1913 with our neighbor's boy Cecil Bradley.
Mr. and Mrs. Bradley were our neighbors all the time we lived there. Grandpa & Grandma Bradley lived where Campbells live now. Evert George & Lula bot Bradley's place. He was a good friend of Albert's and I've known her for years.
Grandpa DeHart built the house where Aunt Alice lived for his son, John. Then she bot it. To bad someone couldn't have kept it fixed up. Aunt Mae is the only one left in that family.
I will never forget the day we moved in our new house. It was sure swell (still is a nice house) I walked many times to High School from there. We had to walk - no cars.
My friend Helen Williams Shultz father ran the Isis Theater. I sat many times by her while she played the piano for the silent picture shows. She and Gladys Cloud Summer & I have kept in touch for all the years. Gladys passed away in 1967.
When I was about ten, I started taking music lessons on our organ. My first teacher was Katie Tibus. After we moved in the new house, I won a certificate at Farleys. (They used to deal in pianos) so my Dad put it on the price of the piano. Hamilton one of the best made. I started taking music lessons again from Mrs. Farley then Lucy Kilgore (Hinton). Then Mrs. Stuskenbrack. My Dad wanted me to continue so I could teach but I didn't. I played some for the services at the Old Christian Church where my friends, the Radleys, belonged. Rev. McDonald was the preacher. His son Charles McDonald is a preacher now.
My good friend Pearl Amaden Heath went to church at the Baptist Church & we sang in the choir. My grandpas [grandparents]DeHart were very good Baptists & since I was very small I went to church regularly with them & my folks. Used to go out with Grandma & ride in with them. In the buggy, I was very close to Caroline so she was my big sister. Poor Dear she was so bad off with asthma.
.
Grandma's Own Words:
At the age of three we moved from Chicago to Lake City. Lived one block north and one half east of community building. In about 1905, my dad bot the place now north Woodlawn. Lived in the old house until 1912 when he bot the building at the central school & made it in a house that is still at the location. He was an excellent carpenter and the house was one of the best.
In 1909 we went to Texas with Grandpa DeHart. Dad built his house, barn, and other buildings. We lived in a tent most of that year. Stayed with a cousin, Calvin Thompson, at first. The antique picture tells of how Ware, Texas looked that was the Hotel. (I am not aware of this photo, but will try to locate it) I remember when we arrived at Ware. Grandma DeHart said to the conductor (where is the town) he said over there. There was no depot. Grandpa DeHart took his cattle & possessions on a train. (They went there for Carolyn's health.)
On Christmas eve we drove six miles in a wagon for Grandma DeHart to play for me to sing (Little Lord Jesus). How many now would drive 6 mi. in a wagon to sing on Christmas eve.
In 1910 we moved back to Lake City, came by the way of Binkelman, Nebr. to visit Uncle Jim DeHarts. They were living in town at the time & were hauling lumber to build on the farm. Our house at Lake City was rented so we stayed with Aunt Alice for a short time. Having missed the year of school I skipped the 2nd grade. The school was known as the Clondike. It burned in 1922 and so is now replaced by a new one by name of Lincoln School.
I remember as a child always getting dressed up on Sat. afternoon and going up town. Band would play once a week... so many good times. On Decoration day all the school children would march in the parade. Eva Peterson and I went one year and helped decorate the soldiers graves.
The first auto ride was in Texas 1909. A man came to sell Grandpa DeHart some land. The next was at Lake City in 1913 with our neighbor's boy Cecil Bradley.
Mr. and Mrs. Bradley were our neighbors all the time we lived there. Grandpa & Grandma Bradley lived where Campbells live now. Evert George & Lula bot Bradley's place. He was a good friend of Albert's and I've known her for years.
Grandpa DeHart built the house where Aunt Alice lived for his son, John. Then she bot it. To bad someone couldn't have kept it fixed up. Aunt Mae is the only one left in that family.
I will never forget the day we moved in our new house. It was sure swell (still is a nice house) I walked many times to High School from there. We had to walk - no cars.
My friend Helen Williams Shultz father ran the Isis Theater. I sat many times by her while she played the piano for the silent picture shows. She and Gladys Cloud Summer & I have kept in touch for all the years. Gladys passed away in 1967.
When I was about ten, I started taking music lessons on our organ. My first teacher was Katie Tibus. After we moved in the new house, I won a certificate at Farleys. (They used to deal in pianos) so my Dad put it on the price of the piano. Hamilton one of the best made. I started taking music lessons again from Mrs. Farley then Lucy Kilgore (Hinton). Then Mrs. Stuskenbrack. My Dad wanted me to continue so I could teach but I didn't. I played some for the services at the Old Christian Church where my friends, the Radleys, belonged. Rev. McDonald was the preacher. His son Charles McDonald is a preacher now.
My good friend Pearl Amaden Heath went to church at the Baptist Church & we sang in the choir. My grandpas [grandparents]DeHart were very good Baptists & since I was very small I went to church regularly with them & my folks. Used to go out with Grandma & ride in with them. In the buggy, I was very close to Caroline so she was my big sister. Poor Dear she was so bad off with asthma.
.
 |
| My grandmother as a young girl. Nina Francis Borden Wright
This is part one of her autobiography as she wrote it. Part II will appear on Monday, January 31. The next section will speak of her marriage and eight children. She is the mother of Harold Gene Wright who recently passed away. Only two of her children are still living.
|
Thursday, November 26, 2015
Thankgiving Memories
Thanksgiving has always been my least favorite holiday. This sounds almost un-American, don't you think?
When I was young, my maternal family all gathered at my great-grandma Smith's house on the south side of Scranton, Iowa. It was a huge house and held many, many relatives. In attendance were usually three of Estella Smith's daughters and usually a daughter-in-law. Usually there were about 6-10 adult grandchildren of Stella, depending on the years. Then, there were the little kids. My first cousins, my second cousins, and me. Little kids ate in the kitchen. The adults ate in the dining room. The menu was the usual Thanksgiving feast. Turkey ( I hated Turkey), mashed potatoes and gravy( I hated mashed potatoes and gravy), cranberries (who likes cranberries). So you get the idea. I did, however, like rolls, carrot sticks, and pumpkin pie. So, on my plate at Grandma's round table in the kitchen would be a roll (no butter) and a carrot stick. I would notice as I was politely waiting for the pumpkin pie that a couple of my great-aunts ( I won't name them) were whispering about me. Something not too nice. This tainted Thanksgiving for me. It went on for years or maybe it only happened once but it scarred me. And I never liked Thanksgiving because of it.
One year right after our first child was born, we didn't come home for Thanksgiving from South Dakota. By now, the maternal head of the family had passed, but my mom's side of the family still gathered. Since we were not in attendance, we had pizza at our house. It was wonderful. What a great way to celebrate Thanksgiving.
One of my favorite Thanksgivings was when my husband was stationed at Fort Rucker, Alabama. He was attending helicopter flight school. We joined a couple of other families and dined together at the Officer's Club. The display area of the dining area was a cornucopia with bushels of vegetables and food items spilling out. It was very impressive. Then, we got to order from the menu. Three main meats were featured including prime rib. Now, this Thanksgiving was starting to shape up. However, when I gave my order to the wait staff, our friend sitting to my right, started to harass me. His words were something like, "What! You are not eating turkey. Not eating turkey is actually un-American. I can not believe you!" Well, needless to say I tried to explain my reasons which had been ingrained in me from those unhappy dinners at my great grandmother's kitchen table. He turned away and did not converse with me until dinner arrived. The waitress set my prime rib in front of me, and then set Dan's dinner in front of him. Guess what! Dan was having prime rib too. He had certainly set me up for a good joke.
Thanksgivings are now a fun time. We spend the day with our two kids, their spouses, five grandkids, and sometimes a few other relatives or friends that join us.
Thanksgiving is also special this year because we will be celebrating our 49th wedding anniversary on Thanksgiving Day, November 26, 2015.
I guess I like Thanksgiving after all.
When I was young, my maternal family all gathered at my great-grandma Smith's house on the south side of Scranton, Iowa. It was a huge house and held many, many relatives. In attendance were usually three of Estella Smith's daughters and usually a daughter-in-law. Usually there were about 6-10 adult grandchildren of Stella, depending on the years. Then, there were the little kids. My first cousins, my second cousins, and me. Little kids ate in the kitchen. The adults ate in the dining room. The menu was the usual Thanksgiving feast. Turkey ( I hated Turkey), mashed potatoes and gravy( I hated mashed potatoes and gravy), cranberries (who likes cranberries). So you get the idea. I did, however, like rolls, carrot sticks, and pumpkin pie. So, on my plate at Grandma's round table in the kitchen would be a roll (no butter) and a carrot stick. I would notice as I was politely waiting for the pumpkin pie that a couple of my great-aunts ( I won't name them) were whispering about me. Something not too nice. This tainted Thanksgiving for me. It went on for years or maybe it only happened once but it scarred me. And I never liked Thanksgiving because of it.
One year right after our first child was born, we didn't come home for Thanksgiving from South Dakota. By now, the maternal head of the family had passed, but my mom's side of the family still gathered. Since we were not in attendance, we had pizza at our house. It was wonderful. What a great way to celebrate Thanksgiving.
One of my favorite Thanksgivings was when my husband was stationed at Fort Rucker, Alabama. He was attending helicopter flight school. We joined a couple of other families and dined together at the Officer's Club. The display area of the dining area was a cornucopia with bushels of vegetables and food items spilling out. It was very impressive. Then, we got to order from the menu. Three main meats were featured including prime rib. Now, this Thanksgiving was starting to shape up. However, when I gave my order to the wait staff, our friend sitting to my right, started to harass me. His words were something like, "What! You are not eating turkey. Not eating turkey is actually un-American. I can not believe you!" Well, needless to say I tried to explain my reasons which had been ingrained in me from those unhappy dinners at my great grandmother's kitchen table. He turned away and did not converse with me until dinner arrived. The waitress set my prime rib in front of me, and then set Dan's dinner in front of him. Guess what! Dan was having prime rib too. He had certainly set me up for a good joke.
Thanksgivings are now a fun time. We spend the day with our two kids, their spouses, five grandkids, and sometimes a few other relatives or friends that join us.
Thanksgiving is also special this year because we will be celebrating our 49th wedding anniversary on Thanksgiving Day, November 26, 2015.
I guess I like Thanksgiving after all.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Doris' Memories Continued
Last week I spoke of my mother-in-law, Doris, who we recently laid to rest after a full 97 years of life. This post can be reviewed at Friday's Feature-Doris. She had started writing some memories and had started with her very first memory of when her brother was born.
Today's memories are about starting school.
********************
Then I remember my first day of school. We had gone to the State Fair with much planning & scheduling chores & someone to do them. My Grandparents Reeder, Aunt Jenny & Uncle Dick White had rented a big tent for the week-end. And my folks too. We walked to the fair from the campgrounds each day- sometimes came back to fix lunch & rest.
Then on Sunday afternoon Mom & Dad got ready to go home - chore time & I had school the next day & dad discovered he had lost the car key! A security person on horseback came & they took the part that holds the key & took it uptown to a locksmith & came back & put it back together so we made it home.
I remember what I wore that 1st day. I rode the bus and someone showed me where the 1st grade room was. There was a mixed 1st & 2nd grade as well as a 1st grade. My teacher was watching for me & made sure I had a desk in her room. She married my Uncle Gerald so she knew who I was.
The school bus I first remember was a motor bus & there was a horse drawn one the 1st year or so.
I was in school it was driven by a senior in H.S. & would keep it and take care of the horses at his home at nite & would drive back in the morning.
The inside of the buses had long seats along the sides & a bench down the length in center. My first bus driver was Jack Cameron who was a family man - one daughter was in my class.
The 1st car I remember was a 4 door ford with side curtains which you had to button on in bad weather even a rain storm! It seemed to take a lot of maintenance before a Sunday trip or especially a picnic. My mom would be busy fixing lunch to take on this picnic-fried chicken, which had to be caught & killed (by Dad) & he always had to go to town to have the oil checked or the tires, etc. Mom would fix baked beans, pie, deviled eggs etc.
******************************************************
I knew she loved picnics because she said her family went on lots of picnics.
I enjoyed reading about the horse drawn school bus that was driven by a H.S. senior and that he took the horse to his home to take care of the horse.
And she remembered what she wore on her first day of school over 90 years ago. I have no idea what I wore to school on my first day.
What caught your attention?
Today's memories are about starting school.
********************
Then I remember my first day of school. We had gone to the State Fair with much planning & scheduling chores & someone to do them. My Grandparents Reeder, Aunt Jenny & Uncle Dick White had rented a big tent for the week-end. And my folks too. We walked to the fair from the campgrounds each day- sometimes came back to fix lunch & rest.
Then on Sunday afternoon Mom & Dad got ready to go home - chore time & I had school the next day & dad discovered he had lost the car key! A security person on horseback came & they took the part that holds the key & took it uptown to a locksmith & came back & put it back together so we made it home.
I remember what I wore that 1st day. I rode the bus and someone showed me where the 1st grade room was. There was a mixed 1st & 2nd grade as well as a 1st grade. My teacher was watching for me & made sure I had a desk in her room. She married my Uncle Gerald so she knew who I was.
The school bus I first remember was a motor bus & there was a horse drawn one the 1st year or so.
I was in school it was driven by a senior in H.S. & would keep it and take care of the horses at his home at nite & would drive back in the morning.
The inside of the buses had long seats along the sides & a bench down the length in center. My first bus driver was Jack Cameron who was a family man - one daughter was in my class.
The 1st car I remember was a 4 door ford with side curtains which you had to button on in bad weather even a rain storm! It seemed to take a lot of maintenance before a Sunday trip or especially a picnic. My mom would be busy fixing lunch to take on this picnic-fried chicken, which had to be caught & killed (by Dad) & he always had to go to town to have the oil checked or the tires, etc. Mom would fix baked beans, pie, deviled eggs etc.
******************************************************
I knew she loved picnics because she said her family went on lots of picnics.
I enjoyed reading about the horse drawn school bus that was driven by a H.S. senior and that he took the horse to his home to take care of the horse.
And she remembered what she wore on her first day of school over 90 years ago. I have no idea what I wore to school on my first day.
What caught your attention?
Friday, November 6, 2015
Friday's Feature- Doris Tolsdorf
I had been hanging around my mother-in-law since I was fifteen. She wasn't my mother-in-law yet just my boyfriend's mom. She went out of her way to be welcoming to me. When I was younger, I was a very picky eater. At Easter when she fixed the traditional ham dinner, she would fry me a hamburger. Now really, that was above and beyond. When I was in high school and my snow covered black dyed shoes, bled onto her new carpet, she didn't show any concern. It did come out, but I felt horrible.
Her funeral was attended by children and grandchildren from Iowa, California, Missouri, Arkansas, Illinois, Florida, Colorado, Arizona and Massachusetts. The church was full. She lived for 97 years within 10 miles of where she was born. Her memory was sharp and she was considered the unofficial town historian. One grandson shared his memories of Grandma which all the grandkids had experienced. The shared memories among those cousins-the grandchildren of Doris- are a treasure they will always cherish.
Earlier this year, one of Doris' sons-in-law, suggested she do some autobiographical writing. As we have been going through her remaining belongings, we came across a couple of notebooks. She didn't write much, but what wonderful insight those early memories give us about her life.
******************************************************
February 16, 2015
The first day I remember was a sunny day in September when Mrs. Bryant and Huldah Ott came driving a horse and big buggy up our lane. Of course at the time I didn't realize they were coming to help my mom give birth to my brother, Edward.
I was from May to September past three years old.
Also on this day, I had an infection called "ringworm" on my elbow & Huldah said the best way to cure it was to paint it with iodine! It really stung so I went down to the horse tank & stuck my elbow in the water. It was cool & made it feel better. Don't know what the adults thought about that- they were busy elsewhere!!
It was probably the next summer I remember a day Mom's cousin from Des Moines came to visit & she had a daughter, Vivian. We had the baby outside in a big wooden buggy & we had to keep the hood up because if he knew Vivian was pushing the buggy he would fuss. So I had to look as if I were pushing it.
Don't know if some of these memories are in sequence but I was pretty young. I loved to "help" Dad take care of the horses. In the evening Dad would sit in a rocking chair. I'd crawl up on his lap & we'd sing. "K K Katie", "The Old Mill Stream", "My Old Kentucky Home" etc.
We practically went to one or the other Grandparents on Sunday. Grandpa & Grandma Augustus lived in Scranton by the time I remember them & Grandpa and Grandma Reeder lived on a farm south of Jefferson. Sometimes in summer we would drive over to Spring Lake and go swimming. We spent several 4th of July there but I also remember one or two in Scranton with parades, band, speaker & dances.
Then I remember my 1st day of school.
*****************************************************
Well, readers, you will have to find out about that first day of school in another post.
Her funeral was attended by children and grandchildren from Iowa, California, Missouri, Arkansas, Illinois, Florida, Colorado, Arizona and Massachusetts. The church was full. She lived for 97 years within 10 miles of where she was born. Her memory was sharp and she was considered the unofficial town historian. One grandson shared his memories of Grandma which all the grandkids had experienced. The shared memories among those cousins-the grandchildren of Doris- are a treasure they will always cherish.
Earlier this year, one of Doris' sons-in-law, suggested she do some autobiographical writing. As we have been going through her remaining belongings, we came across a couple of notebooks. She didn't write much, but what wonderful insight those early memories give us about her life.
******************************************************
February 16, 2015
The first day I remember was a sunny day in September when Mrs. Bryant and Huldah Ott came driving a horse and big buggy up our lane. Of course at the time I didn't realize they were coming to help my mom give birth to my brother, Edward.
I was from May to September past three years old.
Also on this day, I had an infection called "ringworm" on my elbow & Huldah said the best way to cure it was to paint it with iodine! It really stung so I went down to the horse tank & stuck my elbow in the water. It was cool & made it feel better. Don't know what the adults thought about that- they were busy elsewhere!!
It was probably the next summer I remember a day Mom's cousin from Des Moines came to visit & she had a daughter, Vivian. We had the baby outside in a big wooden buggy & we had to keep the hood up because if he knew Vivian was pushing the buggy he would fuss. So I had to look as if I were pushing it.
Don't know if some of these memories are in sequence but I was pretty young. I loved to "help" Dad take care of the horses. In the evening Dad would sit in a rocking chair. I'd crawl up on his lap & we'd sing. "K K Katie", "The Old Mill Stream", "My Old Kentucky Home" etc.
We practically went to one or the other Grandparents on Sunday. Grandpa & Grandma Augustus lived in Scranton by the time I remember them & Grandpa and Grandma Reeder lived on a farm south of Jefferson. Sometimes in summer we would drive over to Spring Lake and go swimming. We spent several 4th of July there but I also remember one or two in Scranton with parades, band, speaker & dances.
Then I remember my 1st day of school.
*****************************************************
Well, readers, you will have to find out about that first day of school in another post.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
A Terrible Accident
In a previous post, I said the only thing I had ever known about Hiram L. Smith, my great grandfather, was that he had been kicked by a horse and died in 1929. I had always just assumed he was kicked, died, end of story. While searching the microfilm of The Scranton Journal, I learned much more. Great Grandpa Smith was in the newspaper weekly for three weeks. In the March 7, 1929 newspaper there was a report of his accident. The following week detailed his death and the third week the paper printed his obituary. Guess what my next three posts will be.
From the Scranton Journal
"H.L. Smith was the victim of a terrible accident last Saturday, having been kicked by a horse which he was treating for a wire cut. The kick must have been a vicious one, as it resulted in the breaking of a leg and two ribs for Mr. Smith. Hiram was taken at once to the hospital in Carroll and the break in his thigh bone has not been set as yet, on account of a severe cold with which he is suffering. This fracture is reported as a very bad one. Friends are at a loss to find words with which to extend the deep sympathy they feel for Mr. Smith at this time, as this sad affair is a continuance of a long line of hospital experiences which have brought sadness and much expense to the Smith home. If the good wishes of this community could prevail, this accident, which is near tragedy, would be the last, and Mr. Smith would be speedily restored to strength and usefulness."
Now I have no idea what the "continuance of a long line of hospital experiences" means. Looks like I will need to take a trip to the genealogy library and look through earlier editions of the local newspaper. I will let you know what I find out.
In the past few years, I have come to learn that the horse that kicked Grandpa was named "Buckskin Sally". My uncle who was only around three remembers that Buckskin Sally was supposed to someday be his horse. I think as a child he felt responsible.
Don't forget to talk often with your older relatives. Their memories make our family stories come alive. As our family has experienced this year, time is precious.
From the Scranton Journal
"H.L. Smith was the victim of a terrible accident last Saturday, having been kicked by a horse which he was treating for a wire cut. The kick must have been a vicious one, as it resulted in the breaking of a leg and two ribs for Mr. Smith. Hiram was taken at once to the hospital in Carroll and the break in his thigh bone has not been set as yet, on account of a severe cold with which he is suffering. This fracture is reported as a very bad one. Friends are at a loss to find words with which to extend the deep sympathy they feel for Mr. Smith at this time, as this sad affair is a continuance of a long line of hospital experiences which have brought sadness and much expense to the Smith home. If the good wishes of this community could prevail, this accident, which is near tragedy, would be the last, and Mr. Smith would be speedily restored to strength and usefulness."
Now I have no idea what the "continuance of a long line of hospital experiences" means. Looks like I will need to take a trip to the genealogy library and look through earlier editions of the local newspaper. I will let you know what I find out.
In the past few years, I have come to learn that the horse that kicked Grandpa was named "Buckskin Sally". My uncle who was only around three remembers that Buckskin Sally was supposed to someday be his horse. I think as a child he felt responsible.
Don't forget to talk often with your older relatives. Their memories make our family stories come alive. As our family has experienced this year, time is precious.
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Happy Easter
I just finished reading a post that is perfect for today. It is called The Significance of Memories Lost. It can be found at http://afamilytapestry.com. I hope you will read it and especially the last paragraph. I am inspired.
My mind is flooded with memories of my cousin and me when we were about 5 and 8 donning our Easter dresses and Easter hats standing in the front yard of our farm home.
Then, there is the Easter when I was in high school that it snowed. I had spent the night with my friend, Margo. You might remember that she is my third cousin once removed. However, we didn't really know that back then. We were just good friends. I often stayed with her the night before Easter so we could do our part of keeping vigil in the Methodist Church sanctuary through the night. The Methodist Youth Fellowship kids signed up for one hour stints. We, of course, picked something like 2:00 a.m. or 3:00 a.m. This way we were able to be out in the night. She lived in town, and I lived in the country so we stayed at her house. Just so you know, there was nothing happening in Scranton, Iowa at 2:00 a.m. or 3:00 a.m. the night before Easter or any other night for that matter (at least in the sixties). One Easter we did our thing, returned home to sleep a few more hours before sunrise services, and when we woke up there it was...snow on the ground. Who wants to wear new spring clothes in the snow. So, Margo put on her favorite wool skirt and sweater and loaned me her sister's matching set. I idolized her older sister and here I was wearing her clothes. It was a memorable Easter for me, but maybe not for any of the right reasons.
These stories are certainly not profound, but might give my grandchildren a glimpse into my younger days. When my kids run across that picture of two little girls in hats, they will understand the significance, and if for no other reason, this post has given me a chance to walk down memory lane and recall a couple of almost forgotten memories.
Happy Easter
My mind is flooded with memories of my cousin and me when we were about 5 and 8 donning our Easter dresses and Easter hats standing in the front yard of our farm home.
Then, there is the Easter when I was in high school that it snowed. I had spent the night with my friend, Margo. You might remember that she is my third cousin once removed. However, we didn't really know that back then. We were just good friends. I often stayed with her the night before Easter so we could do our part of keeping vigil in the Methodist Church sanctuary through the night. The Methodist Youth Fellowship kids signed up for one hour stints. We, of course, picked something like 2:00 a.m. or 3:00 a.m. This way we were able to be out in the night. She lived in town, and I lived in the country so we stayed at her house. Just so you know, there was nothing happening in Scranton, Iowa at 2:00 a.m. or 3:00 a.m. the night before Easter or any other night for that matter (at least in the sixties). One Easter we did our thing, returned home to sleep a few more hours before sunrise services, and when we woke up there it was...snow on the ground. Who wants to wear new spring clothes in the snow. So, Margo put on her favorite wool skirt and sweater and loaned me her sister's matching set. I idolized her older sister and here I was wearing her clothes. It was a memorable Easter for me, but maybe not for any of the right reasons.
These stories are certainly not profound, but might give my grandchildren a glimpse into my younger days. When my kids run across that picture of two little girls in hats, they will understand the significance, and if for no other reason, this post has given me a chance to walk down memory lane and recall a couple of almost forgotten memories.
Happy Easter
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