First, as to new blog decorations. Here is Liz's famous map of the country where we grew up. Second, I know that some of my redecorating makes the blog look too busy. But here are the changes anyway. The picture of the five (excluding Dwight) Blood children was taken when Mom started off for church on a Sunday morning driving Grandpa's truck, with us in the back of the truck. When we got home, I lined everyone up along the iris on the path to the barn and, hence, the famous pictures were born. Too bad I never thought of having someone else take another picture with me in it.
Second, in August of 1992 I went to Cody to see Dad and Elna. I think I drove up there by myself. I had this long conversation with Dad about the ins and outs and whereabouts of our early life and took these notes. I was always grateful that I had this conversation and took these notes. Dad died the following March so the August visit was the last time I saw him. I just unearthed the notes today while doing the first resorting and housecleaning I have done in a hundred years and wanted to share them with the rest of you. Feel free to provide comments and clarifications, preferably in separate blog posts where we will all be sure to see them.
Here is the beginning of Dad's comments, pretty much as I recorded them at the time.
1932--the Penrose house.
In 1933-34 (I think) I spent the summer in Sunlight (see above map), back to Penrose in March. Looked after the ranch (the ranch of Dad's uncle and aunt, Dewey and Elsie Riddle, where he had gone after leaving Denver) while Dewey and Elsie went to New York. Dwight wanted to stay up all night. Made chairs, chest, that winter.
The year when we went to Lanchburys (Lanchburys was a rather primitive log original stage station--wasn't it?--where we stayed for a few months. I remember coming home one day when the Park County Sheriff was there shooting dogs who had destroyed a bunch of sheep). I remember looking out the window at the darkness outside when, I think, Mom and Dad had gone somewhere for the evening, maybe a dance?). (Further note: the Lanchburys were good friends of my aunt and uncle, Elna and Oscar House). So: The year that we went to Lanchburys I worked for Molesworth (Molesworth was a maker of classic Western furniture). We stayed in Cody the summer before, then that fall stayed at Lanchburys until late October or November. Then we moved to the little house in Cody on the Powell highway. (I remember being fascinated by the car lights flashing on the bedroom walls at night since we were always so isolated in Penrose). Come spring, we moved to Old Man Knott's, then moved back to Penrose in the fall. (Was Old Man Knott's a yellow house?) I remember playing in the ditch in the front yard there). Then I (Dad) stayed at Brashers. I got the scroll saw, stayed in their wash house. (I remember that one time Mom drove us kids up to Cody to see Dad when he stayed in the wash house. I remember seeing the scroll saw. We stopped, I think, at the Golden Rule Store in Powell on the way to Cody). Work slowed down (for Molesworth, I presume), so I quit. (to be continued)
7 comments:
Awesome.
Bits and pieces to put the puzzle together. So which do you think was harder, following Dad wherever he went? or staying in Penrose looking down the lonesome road? Neither would be easy.
Wasn't Lanchberry's (maybe Launchberry?) the old Eagles' Nest stage stop at one time? And Mother always said that's where we picked up the bedbugs that followed us around, finally succumbing to DDT in the early '40s. Was the yellow house the "last house in the last lane?" in Cody? I remember seeing Dad shaving off logs for the furniture that were set on sawhorse. Thanks for sharing. Don't we wish that we had recorded more of the story from both Mother and Dad?
That comment needs some editing, but maybe you'll all get my drift?
Another comment. When we went to Cody to see Dad, remember that the road was not yet black-toppled? I seem to remember that it was gravel. And we had car trouble, but I don't know how that was resolved. Anyone?
Lanchbury is correct. The last house was the house at the end of the lane, not the yellow one Old Man knots.
When my memories of home include living in only one house in one place, this is neat to read. The adventures of being newly married and searching for a way to provide for a family seem to be somewhat consistent from generation to generation.
I am glad you recorded what you did.
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