The recipe I posted for tomato soup earlier today is really good, and it gets even a little better with a little cream mixed in and then heated. However, it is really a lot of work. Here is a second option, from Laura.
1 - 28 oz can whole tomatoes, in juice
1 rib celery, roughly chopped
1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/4 to 1/3 cup cream.
Puree the tomatoes, celery and broth in blender (VitaMix????) until smooth. Season, to taste, with salt and pepper. Stir in cream. Transfer to saucepan to warm through. Swirl a dollop of prepared pesto in to soup (off to Costco??).
I haven't tasted this one, but Laura has and she really likes it.
Friday, August 31, 2012
What To Do With Buckets of Tomatoes
As I was talking with Dwight (per Judy's instructions), he wanted to know what I was doing. Making tomato soup to put in bottles, says I. And what is the recipe for said soup, asks big brother. Finding it a tricky task to relate said recipe over the phone, I promised to post it on Penrose Mornings within the hour. Who knows if I have made that deadline, but just in case it is still wanted, here it is:
(This beats the store bought stuff by miles, no nasty additives, is low salt, and ever so good.)
Home Canned Tomato Soup
1 peck ripe tomatoes - how much is a peck of tomatoes,you ask? According to someone who is supposed to know these things, it is about 8 quarts. In my world it is a large kettle full of juice - very precise measurement.
4 onions sliced
12 sprigs parsley
2 bay leaves
1 tsp peppercorns
1 tsp celery seed
1 tsp whole cloves
2 Tablespoons salt (I cut this in half and then let people salt it according to their taste)
1 Tablespoons sugar
I put my tomatoes through the Victorio juicer, so get them to the juice stage any way you want to. Put peppercorns, celery seed, whole cloves in a tea ball, or tie in a cheese cloth bag. Put juice in kettle, add parsley, bay leaves, onions, salt and sugar and tea ball. Let simmer until it is at the consistency you want. Strain out the onions, parsley, bay leaves, and remove the tea ball. Reheat to boiling point after straining. Pour into sterilized jars, seal, process in boiling water bath 40 minutes for quarts.
(This beats the store bought stuff by miles, no nasty additives, is low salt, and ever so good.)
Home Canned Tomato Soup
1 peck ripe tomatoes - how much is a peck of tomatoes,you ask? According to someone who is supposed to know these things, it is about 8 quarts. In my world it is a large kettle full of juice - very precise measurement.
4 onions sliced
12 sprigs parsley
2 bay leaves
1 tsp peppercorns
1 tsp celery seed
1 tsp whole cloves
2 Tablespoons salt (I cut this in half and then let people salt it according to their taste)
1 Tablespoons sugar
I put my tomatoes through the Victorio juicer, so get them to the juice stage any way you want to. Put peppercorns, celery seed, whole cloves in a tea ball, or tie in a cheese cloth bag. Put juice in kettle, add parsley, bay leaves, onions, salt and sugar and tea ball. Let simmer until it is at the consistency you want. Strain out the onions, parsley, bay leaves, and remove the tea ball. Reheat to boiling point after straining. Pour into sterilized jars, seal, process in boiling water bath 40 minutes for quarts.
Wasden Daughters with Their Mother
How I wish that this photo was clearer! I don't know where I got this and maybe it has been posted before, but I saw it in my files today and fell in love with it all over again.
Grandma Tilda with her floweredy dress smiles as she is surrounded by her daughters. Left to right: Elna, Sofe, Grandma, Cindy and our mother, Minnie.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Pictures from Reunion of 1978
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Blueberries, Anyone?
This is a recipe that I got from Aunt Lorraine on one of our few trips to Medford. It is so easy and so good.
Blueberry Betty
4 cups cubed stale (or so-so) bread
3/4 tsp or less Cinnamon
1/2 cup white sugar
2 - 4 cups of berries
1/2 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup melted butter poured over all
Bake 350 till berries bubble and bread crust is crunchy, about 20 minutes.
Eat hot out of the oven with a cold glass of milk!!!
Monday, August 20, 2012
Back to the Boy Scout Camp
Letter To Dad's Uncle Roy and Aunt Eva October 1941
Ralston Wyo.
October 23, 1941
Mr. and Mrs. Roy O. Blood
Box 626
Wheatridge Colorado
Dear Aunt Eva and Uncle Roy,
We live 1 mile west of Ralston on a 100 acre farm. I am in the fifth grade and so is Louise. Elizabeth is just starting this year and is in the first grade. Elizabeth is just learning how to read. She can print her name. We go to school in Powell Wyo., and ride 8 miles on a schoolbus. I have been out of school for 4 days and have spare time to be onery. My glands were swollen up a little bit but thats all. Judith says nu-nu for milk and will yell any time she wants milk. She can say kitty, flowers, dolly, daddy, oh, dog, and a few other words. Her birthday was last April 23d. She is about 17 months old now. Whenever she is mad, we get the mercurochrome and paint her dignity.
Lucinda married Norman Sorensen last winter. I don't know what else you would be interested in and my pen is so scratchy.
Yours truly
Dwight and Louise and Elizabeth
Comment; After Dad lost both of his parents, he was sent to Denver to live with his father's brother, Roy, and his aunt Eva. This time was an extremely unhappy time for Dad, and soon after he was sent to stay with Dewey and Elsie Riddle at their ranch in Sunlight basin above Cody which ultimately led, of course, to his meeting my mother when she came to the ranch to work one summer. October 1941 was the last brief peaceful time before December 7 1941. My time out of school then was nothing compared to what soon happened, as I contracted mumps in early December and then, along with everyone else, came down with Chicken pox on Christmas 1941. I did not return to school until late March. Liz reminded me the other day that she also was out of school for six weeks during this time. Mother rode herd over my schoolwork and my sisters brought my homework and reading assignments home from school. I earned all "1's (A's) thanks to Mother's teaching skills. I probably would have learned a lot more if she would have continued to teach me since I never did learn whether the sun revolves around the earth or vice versa in 7th grade science. Meanwhile, I read a stack of Life magazines over and over. I can still see some of the war photos in my memory. I also had resurrected an old Monkey Ward radio which Dad was going to throw out and tinkered with it a bit and, lo and behold, it worked. This radio became my lifeline during those lonely days in bed as I remember Edward R. Murrow on the rooftops of London, the Lone Ranger (rides again), Jack Armstrong the All American Boy, Dr. Brent (call surgery), Jack Benny, Phil Harris, Fibber McGee and Molly, Dr. IQ the Mental Banker, Phil Spitalney and his All Girl Orchestra (we must be diligent, we must be diligent, American patrol, with arms for the army, ships (I substituted "legs") for the Navy, let this be our goal). I had one jigsaw puzzle of the fife, drum and flag bearer in the Revolutionary War which I put together so many times I had it memorized and could start with any piece and finish it practically blindfolded. Later that spring I won our 5th grade class spelling contest and got to go to the county contest in Cody where I promptly lost. I do remember the fried egg sandwiches our teacher got for us, never having had such a wonderful sandwich.
I remember these days a half century ago more clearly than I do the television program I saw last night. (I don't think I ever posted this before, but, if so, here it is again.)
October 23, 1941
Mr. and Mrs. Roy O. Blood
Box 626
Wheatridge Colorado
Dear Aunt Eva and Uncle Roy,
We live 1 mile west of Ralston on a 100 acre farm. I am in the fifth grade and so is Louise. Elizabeth is just starting this year and is in the first grade. Elizabeth is just learning how to read. She can print her name. We go to school in Powell Wyo., and ride 8 miles on a schoolbus. I have been out of school for 4 days and have spare time to be onery. My glands were swollen up a little bit but thats all. Judith says nu-nu for milk and will yell any time she wants milk. She can say kitty, flowers, dolly, daddy, oh, dog, and a few other words. Her birthday was last April 23d. She is about 17 months old now. Whenever she is mad, we get the mercurochrome and paint her dignity.
Lucinda married Norman Sorensen last winter. I don't know what else you would be interested in and my pen is so scratchy.
Yours truly
Dwight and Louise and Elizabeth
Comment; After Dad lost both of his parents, he was sent to Denver to live with his father's brother, Roy, and his aunt Eva. This time was an extremely unhappy time for Dad, and soon after he was sent to stay with Dewey and Elsie Riddle at their ranch in Sunlight basin above Cody which ultimately led, of course, to his meeting my mother when she came to the ranch to work one summer. October 1941 was the last brief peaceful time before December 7 1941. My time out of school then was nothing compared to what soon happened, as I contracted mumps in early December and then, along with everyone else, came down with Chicken pox on Christmas 1941. I did not return to school until late March. Liz reminded me the other day that she also was out of school for six weeks during this time. Mother rode herd over my schoolwork and my sisters brought my homework and reading assignments home from school. I earned all "1's (A's) thanks to Mother's teaching skills. I probably would have learned a lot more if she would have continued to teach me since I never did learn whether the sun revolves around the earth or vice versa in 7th grade science. Meanwhile, I read a stack of Life magazines over and over. I can still see some of the war photos in my memory. I also had resurrected an old Monkey Ward radio which Dad was going to throw out and tinkered with it a bit and, lo and behold, it worked. This radio became my lifeline during those lonely days in bed as I remember Edward R. Murrow on the rooftops of London, the Lone Ranger (rides again), Jack Armstrong the All American Boy, Dr. Brent (call surgery), Jack Benny, Phil Harris, Fibber McGee and Molly, Dr. IQ the Mental Banker, Phil Spitalney and his All Girl Orchestra (we must be diligent, we must be diligent, American patrol, with arms for the army, ships (I substituted "legs") for the Navy, let this be our goal). I had one jigsaw puzzle of the fife, drum and flag bearer in the Revolutionary War which I put together so many times I had it memorized and could start with any piece and finish it practically blindfolded. Later that spring I won our 5th grade class spelling contest and got to go to the county contest in Cody where I promptly lost. I do remember the fried egg sandwiches our teacher got for us, never having had such a wonderful sandwich.
I remember these days a half century ago more clearly than I do the television program I saw last night. (I don't think I ever posted this before, but, if so, here it is again.)
Letter to Dad March 23, 1943
Ralston Wyo.
March 23, 1943
Mr. Russell M. Blood
c/o Metcalf Hamilton & K.C. Bridge Company
Edmonton, Alberta, Canada
Dear Daddy,
Last Sunday we went to Sunday School in the morning and went to see Bambi in the afternoon. The other show was All American Co-ed and it was about a man who dressed like a woman.
We filled our War Stamp booklets and we are going to get our bond tomorrow. I have 50 cents in another book. I am saving my money to get the Open Road for Boys. It costs $1.60 a year and I have 60 cents saved toward it.
Mother took our pictures tonight. Two of them were of us on the haystack. At school we are playing marbles and I have lost a lot of mine, as usual. I haven't had to stand in the corner any more but I got a red 5. I did manage to get on the honor roll for this week though.
With love, Dwight
P.S. Mother forgot to mail our letters in with hers, so we sent ours in another envelope. Dwight
Comment: Dad went to Edmonton with Les Utter to do war-related construction work, I believe on an air terminal facility, riding the train. When he left, we kids knew nothing until Mom and Dad came to school and got us out of class to say goodby. I think Louise and I would have been in the 7th grade. Our grades were "1,2,3,4,5", and not ABC, etc. Red 5's were marked in red ink. I can't remember what was so egregious as to merit a red 5 and I don't remember standing in the corner. The system we had of going to church or Sunday School in the morning and going to the movies in the afternoon was an absolutely wonderful system. This system came to a screeching halt when Mother became a Sunday School teacher and I guess she didn't want to be setting a bad example. Sadly, we saw very few, if any, movies after that. I thought Bambi was a stupid movie for killing off his poor mother in the fire. Dad's stay in Canada was short-lived, however, as one day we came home from school and he jumped out from behind the door in our bedroom with a big "boo". He had contracted pneumonia and had to come home to get well. Thus ended another in his perennial, and often unsuccessful, efforts to make a little extra money. But he and Mother never gave up. My penmanship in this letter was remarkably good for an 11 year old. In the first grade, there wasn't much to do so I kept practicing the Parker Penmanship script on the top of the blackboard until I got all the letters right. I didn't know until just a few years ago that my classmate and ultimate fellow annual editor Dolores had done the same. thing. To this day, the handwriting for each of us is virtually indistinguishable. I ultimately ended up with enough money to subscribe to the Open Road for Boys, which I loved.
March 23, 1943
Mr. Russell M. Blood
c/o Metcalf Hamilton & K.C. Bridge Company
Edmonton, Alberta, Canada
Dear Daddy,
Last Sunday we went to Sunday School in the morning and went to see Bambi in the afternoon. The other show was All American Co-ed and it was about a man who dressed like a woman.
We filled our War Stamp booklets and we are going to get our bond tomorrow. I have 50 cents in another book. I am saving my money to get the Open Road for Boys. It costs $1.60 a year and I have 60 cents saved toward it.
Mother took our pictures tonight. Two of them were of us on the haystack. At school we are playing marbles and I have lost a lot of mine, as usual. I haven't had to stand in the corner any more but I got a red 5. I did manage to get on the honor roll for this week though.
With love, Dwight
P.S. Mother forgot to mail our letters in with hers, so we sent ours in another envelope. Dwight
Comment: Dad went to Edmonton with Les Utter to do war-related construction work, I believe on an air terminal facility, riding the train. When he left, we kids knew nothing until Mom and Dad came to school and got us out of class to say goodby. I think Louise and I would have been in the 7th grade. Our grades were "1,2,3,4,5", and not ABC, etc. Red 5's were marked in red ink. I can't remember what was so egregious as to merit a red 5 and I don't remember standing in the corner. The system we had of going to church or Sunday School in the morning and going to the movies in the afternoon was an absolutely wonderful system. This system came to a screeching halt when Mother became a Sunday School teacher and I guess she didn't want to be setting a bad example. Sadly, we saw very few, if any, movies after that. I thought Bambi was a stupid movie for killing off his poor mother in the fire. Dad's stay in Canada was short-lived, however, as one day we came home from school and he jumped out from behind the door in our bedroom with a big "boo". He had contracted pneumonia and had to come home to get well. Thus ended another in his perennial, and often unsuccessful, efforts to make a little extra money. But he and Mother never gave up. My penmanship in this letter was remarkably good for an 11 year old. In the first grade, there wasn't much to do so I kept practicing the Parker Penmanship script on the top of the blackboard until I got all the letters right. I didn't know until just a few years ago that my classmate and ultimate fellow annual editor Dolores had done the same. thing. To this day, the handwriting for each of us is virtually indistinguishable. I ultimately ended up with enough money to subscribe to the Open Road for Boys, which I loved.
Who Is Moses?
Here is another important bit of information for your genealogy records. Can you connect Moses to us? Please note, this has been entered as it was written in the newspaper, so no corrections, even when I would normally spell ocupation with two c's.
The following obituary appeared in the Floyd County Advocate, Charles City, Iowa, April 28, 1893. Mother's note indicates she obtained this from Roy Blood in Denver on June 3, 1968. The address label on the paper said "Moses Blood".
DIED
"BLOOD - At his residence in this city, April 25, 1893, Moses blood, aged 45 years and five months.
Deceased was taken ill some six weeks ago but was regaining his usual health on the day before his death confiding in his wife that he was fast recuperating and would soon be able to resume steady work. On Tuesday morning he arose and made the breakfast fire. The meal was almost prepared when uttering some sentence explanatory of his condition he was caught in the arms of his wife and never spoke again. Medical aid was summoned but he had passed beyond the physician's power to aid. He was buried on Wednesday afternoon. Rev. Chas Noble officiating.
Moses Blood was born in Belvidere, Ill. When a small boy he moved with his parents to this county. Thirty eight years ago he married Miss Sarah Hawkins, who with four children Mabel, Roscoe, Roy and Ray survive him. After spending a year in Missouri Mr. and Mrs. Blood returned to this county and engaged in farming which ocupation he followed until about four years ago, when they moved to Charles City. Deceased is a brother of Mrs. B. Page, of the east side and of Frank Blood of St. Charles.
The following obituary appeared in the Floyd County Advocate, Charles City, Iowa, April 28, 1893. Mother's note indicates she obtained this from Roy Blood in Denver on June 3, 1968. The address label on the paper said "Moses Blood".
DIED
"BLOOD - At his residence in this city, April 25, 1893, Moses blood, aged 45 years and five months.
Deceased was taken ill some six weeks ago but was regaining his usual health on the day before his death confiding in his wife that he was fast recuperating and would soon be able to resume steady work. On Tuesday morning he arose and made the breakfast fire. The meal was almost prepared when uttering some sentence explanatory of his condition he was caught in the arms of his wife and never spoke again. Medical aid was summoned but he had passed beyond the physician's power to aid. He was buried on Wednesday afternoon. Rev. Chas Noble officiating.
Moses Blood was born in Belvidere, Ill. When a small boy he moved with his parents to this county. Thirty eight years ago he married Miss Sarah Hawkins, who with four children Mabel, Roscoe, Roy and Ray survive him. After spending a year in Missouri Mr. and Mrs. Blood returned to this county and engaged in farming which ocupation he followed until about four years ago, when they moved to Charles City. Deceased is a brother of Mrs. B. Page, of the east side and of Frank Blood of St. Charles.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Family Reunion, Boy Scout Camp, 1978
Mother and Daddy came to Lovell where I was living in the Sorensen house until I could find something in Powell. We bought lots of groceries, and then they loaded Dorothy, Sara, and Tony and me into the car, too, and away we went to Northfork.
When we arrived at the Boy Scout camp (on the way to Yellowstone Park), we found things in less than perfect shape. Mother simply rolled up her sleeves (they stayed that way during the reunion), pitched in, and marshaled the rest of us, so the kitchen got scrubbed, organized, and ready to go. As people arrived, we were assigned places to sleep (mice scampered around on the floor). There were only outdoor facilities as I recall, but Mother and Daddy did have better facilities, which their years certainly deserved.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Chicken Chronicles
After watching Matlock today, I felt inspired to add a comment to the ongoing discussion of poultry. Matlock was gathering eggs, and a contentious biddy pecked him viciously. To which attack, Matlock commented, "I hate chickens. I hate chicken coops. They stink." And he gave up gathering the eggs.
I would like to point out, however, with all the modesty of Usain Bolt, that I was a member of the Wyoming State Champion Poultry Judging Team my senior year of high school. We were awarded a 3-ft. tall trophy for this incredible accomplishment which graced the shelves of the vo-ag classroom for generations as a tribute to our excellence. Judging livestock and all farm critters keeps FFA boys busy by trying to pick and justify rankings of said critters. We had never judged a chicken in our lives, with my only connection, poultry-wise, being that of scraping the obnoxious residue of their week's labors off the roosts once a week, certain that the little red mites thereon would kill me before the day was over. But when we were in Laramie for the state judging contests, the livestock judging contest being the epitome of FFA judging, our vo-ag teacher gathered a half dozen of us together in the lobby of the Connor Hotel, graced by a series of Dad's original lamps and lampshades and Molesworth desks, and announced that we were judging chickens the next day. Moans and groans and do-we-have-tos. I knew that if you chopped the head off a chicken and flung it on the ground, it would flop around for a bit before reaching the frying pan. Our teacher taught us how to judge chickens: "Put the one you would most like to eat as number 1, the next best at number 2, etc." Lo and behold, his coaching worked, and we became the champion chicken judges of Wyoming.
Our reward was an expense paid trip to Waterloo, Iowa to the National FFA Poultry Judging Contest. Waterloo was our waterloo, however, as our miniscule poultry judging skills and non-existent knowledge ran out on us early. But we did get to visit the John Deere factory and the Rath Packing Plant where I had the incredible opportunity of watching how they made weinies. I would elaborate, but some of our dear readers may still like hot dogs and I do not want to ruin their appetites. Since then, I have been happy to buy eggs in paper cartons without having to worry about which chicken I would rather eat. The chicken I prefer to eat today is a five buck chicken from Costco, with my set-it-and-forget-it Ronco Rotisserie safely ensconced on my basement storeroom shelf, no more to be labored over for 2 hours to clean up the mess after a lovely rotisseried chicken has been rotisseried. I will be happy to send it to you, express collect, if you are not near a Costco and like to watch your very own private chicken go through its last rites in the Ronco Rotisserie.
I would like to point out, however, with all the modesty of Usain Bolt, that I was a member of the Wyoming State Champion Poultry Judging Team my senior year of high school. We were awarded a 3-ft. tall trophy for this incredible accomplishment which graced the shelves of the vo-ag classroom for generations as a tribute to our excellence. Judging livestock and all farm critters keeps FFA boys busy by trying to pick and justify rankings of said critters. We had never judged a chicken in our lives, with my only connection, poultry-wise, being that of scraping the obnoxious residue of their week's labors off the roosts once a week, certain that the little red mites thereon would kill me before the day was over. But when we were in Laramie for the state judging contests, the livestock judging contest being the epitome of FFA judging, our vo-ag teacher gathered a half dozen of us together in the lobby of the Connor Hotel, graced by a series of Dad's original lamps and lampshades and Molesworth desks, and announced that we were judging chickens the next day. Moans and groans and do-we-have-tos. I knew that if you chopped the head off a chicken and flung it on the ground, it would flop around for a bit before reaching the frying pan. Our teacher taught us how to judge chickens: "Put the one you would most like to eat as number 1, the next best at number 2, etc." Lo and behold, his coaching worked, and we became the champion chicken judges of Wyoming.
Our reward was an expense paid trip to Waterloo, Iowa to the National FFA Poultry Judging Contest. Waterloo was our waterloo, however, as our miniscule poultry judging skills and non-existent knowledge ran out on us early. But we did get to visit the John Deere factory and the Rath Packing Plant where I had the incredible opportunity of watching how they made weinies. I would elaborate, but some of our dear readers may still like hot dogs and I do not want to ruin their appetites. Since then, I have been happy to buy eggs in paper cartons without having to worry about which chicken I would rather eat. The chicken I prefer to eat today is a five buck chicken from Costco, with my set-it-and-forget-it Ronco Rotisserie safely ensconced on my basement storeroom shelf, no more to be labored over for 2 hours to clean up the mess after a lovely rotisseried chicken has been rotisseried. I will be happy to send it to you, express collect, if you are not near a Costco and like to watch your very own private chicken go through its last rites in the Ronco Rotisserie.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Heart Mountain Story
Has this been posted before? I am getting ready to go scan journals etc. at BYU and found this clipping in the back of Mother's ledger book. I thought it might be a fun addition to our history. I am sure I am not the only one who grew up in our valley and would look to this landmark to make sure I hadn't lost my bearings.
And the few times I have gone back to Penrose, when I would look to the west and Heat Mountain was there, I always felt like "all was well".
(From the Powell Tribune, published on November 21, 1935)
"Heart-Shaped Peak Is Only Reason For Name Says Indian Superintendent of Crow Tribe.
The Tribune is appreciative of the interest taken by R. T. McGaughey, a member of the Powell high school faculty, in helping to solve for us the tradition relative to the name of Heart Mountain, a Park county landmark.
Mr. McGaughey came to us with the suggestion that he would write to Robert Yellowtail, superintendent of the Crow Indian reservation, and inquire of this well educated Indian the history which surrounds the naming of this mountain near Cody and Powell. He thought, inasmuch as the official records showed that Heart Mountain was named after Crow Heart, tha the history of the Indian tribe might include the identification of this man.
The following correspondence between Mr. McGaughey and Chief Yellowtail is given for the information of Tribune readers:
'Powell, Wyoming, November 13, 1935
Superintendent Robert Yellowtail,
Crow Agency, Montana
My Dear Mr. Yellowtail:
We are having some argument in the Powell locality about the proper spelling of Heart Mountain - whether it is "Heart" or "hart." A letter from the Bureau of Geographic Names at Washington states that it was named for "Crow Heart," not for "General Heart." Was "Crow Heart" a person or a tradition connected with the Crow Indians?
Can you give us any information as to the proper spelling of this name and its origin? As this mountain was at one time in Crow territory, you probably know more of the history of it than we do.
Thank you for anything you can tell us, I am,
Yours very truly,
R. T. MCGAUGHEY
(Response)
CROW INDIAN AGENCY
Crow Agency, Montana
November 16, 1935
Mr. R. T. McGaughey
Powell, Wyoming
Dear Sir:
This acknowledges receipt of your letter concerning the argument over "Heart Mountain."
The name "Heart Mountain" comes from the Crow Indians who named it because it stuck up sharply like a human or animal heart, and means nothing more than that the mountain is heart shaped. The Indians called it simply Heart Mountain, the proper spelling of it being awasaum dasa, meaning mountain heart. There is no particular tradition in regard to this name except that a great battle between the Sioux and Crows was fought in which the Crows annihilated a large Sioux force, turning a great many of them into the river Stinking Water at the bend below where the old trading post used to be, which was located near the site of the bridge.
There is also a tradition that runs as follows: Crow Medicine Man fasted upon the top of Heart Mountain and was supposed to have received revelations from the Great Spirit. It was revealed to him that whenever Heart Mountain broke and fell down in pieces or if a large portion of it fell, it would mean that he would die. The story goes on that very peculiarly the freezing and thawing of the elements apparently caused a rent in the top of Heart Mountain and a part of it fell and very soon thereafter this seer also died thus in a measure sustaining the truth of the message he received from the Great Spirit on the top of Heart Mountain. These are the only traditions in connection with Heart Mountain that I happen to know of.
Hope this meets with your approval and will help settle the argument.
Very sincerely yours,
ROBERT YELLOWTAIL,
Superintendent and Special Disbursing Agent."
And the few times I have gone back to Penrose, when I would look to the west and Heat Mountain was there, I always felt like "all was well".
(From the Powell Tribune, published on November 21, 1935)
"Heart-Shaped Peak Is Only Reason For Name Says Indian Superintendent of Crow Tribe.
The Tribune is appreciative of the interest taken by R. T. McGaughey, a member of the Powell high school faculty, in helping to solve for us the tradition relative to the name of Heart Mountain, a Park county landmark.
Mr. McGaughey came to us with the suggestion that he would write to Robert Yellowtail, superintendent of the Crow Indian reservation, and inquire of this well educated Indian the history which surrounds the naming of this mountain near Cody and Powell. He thought, inasmuch as the official records showed that Heart Mountain was named after Crow Heart, tha the history of the Indian tribe might include the identification of this man.
The following correspondence between Mr. McGaughey and Chief Yellowtail is given for the information of Tribune readers:
'Powell, Wyoming, November 13, 1935
Superintendent Robert Yellowtail,
Crow Agency, Montana
My Dear Mr. Yellowtail:
We are having some argument in the Powell locality about the proper spelling of Heart Mountain - whether it is "Heart" or "hart." A letter from the Bureau of Geographic Names at Washington states that it was named for "Crow Heart," not for "General Heart." Was "Crow Heart" a person or a tradition connected with the Crow Indians?
Can you give us any information as to the proper spelling of this name and its origin? As this mountain was at one time in Crow territory, you probably know more of the history of it than we do.
Thank you for anything you can tell us, I am,
Yours very truly,
R. T. MCGAUGHEY
(Response)
CROW INDIAN AGENCY
Crow Agency, Montana
November 16, 1935
Mr. R. T. McGaughey
Powell, Wyoming
Dear Sir:
This acknowledges receipt of your letter concerning the argument over "Heart Mountain."
The name "Heart Mountain" comes from the Crow Indians who named it because it stuck up sharply like a human or animal heart, and means nothing more than that the mountain is heart shaped. The Indians called it simply Heart Mountain, the proper spelling of it being awasaum dasa, meaning mountain heart. There is no particular tradition in regard to this name except that a great battle between the Sioux and Crows was fought in which the Crows annihilated a large Sioux force, turning a great many of them into the river Stinking Water at the bend below where the old trading post used to be, which was located near the site of the bridge.
There is also a tradition that runs as follows: Crow Medicine Man fasted upon the top of Heart Mountain and was supposed to have received revelations from the Great Spirit. It was revealed to him that whenever Heart Mountain broke and fell down in pieces or if a large portion of it fell, it would mean that he would die. The story goes on that very peculiarly the freezing and thawing of the elements apparently caused a rent in the top of Heart Mountain and a part of it fell and very soon thereafter this seer also died thus in a measure sustaining the truth of the message he received from the Great Spirit on the top of Heart Mountain. These are the only traditions in connection with Heart Mountain that I happen to know of.
Hope this meets with your approval and will help settle the argument.
Very sincerely yours,
ROBERT YELLOWTAIL,
Superintendent and Special Disbursing Agent."
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
A Few More Photos from Salem Gathering 1975
A few posts back, Dwight posted a photo from our family gathering when Paul and I lived east of Salem, Utah. He asked if anyone had any more photos from that time. Well, as I was going through my "stuff" I found the following treasures. My biggest regret is Steve wasn't able to be with us.
How I long for the quality of today's cameras. As you will see these photos are not very clear, but they are fun just the same. Please note the most important structure in the background of some of the photos, (related to chickens) and ignore the weeds that we hoped would turn into grass.
Have fun remembering!
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