From Steve: 

Distant and not so distant memories of one of the solid bricks in our family's foundation. 

Because of the age difference and the distance in miles between us I do not have as many of memories of Liz as I would like to have, but they are precious to me. 

I'm going to work my way back from the present.  Mary Lynn and I had the wonderful experience of spending time with her in Idaho a couple of winters ago to help her with some things that she didn't feel  physically capable of doing on her own.  With her approval we cleaned out her art room and reorganized it so that she could work in it again.  We spent the day telling stories and laughing more than we worked.  She was so appreciative of the things that we helped with that we felt that she did more for us than we did for her.

I made several patterns for dad over the years for his marquetry.  One winter I made a drawing of a sheep wagon.  Father had complained that he was tired of doing spoked wheels so I did the wheels without spokes.  Liz looked at the drawing and told dad, "you can't have a sheep wagon wheel without spokes," and redrew it.  I later asked dad why he let her do it to which he shrugged his shoulders and replied, " I wasn't telling her." 

In past years when talking to Liz on the phone I would try to screw my grammar up knowing that she would correct me, my response was, "what ever."  She later realized that I was baiting her and refused to play the game. 

Liz and I at one time had a slight addiction to computer games.  We would call each other and brag about our scores.  Which meant that whoever had the lowest score spent the rest of the day trying to get a better score.  Unfortunately I got too busy and had to give it up, but I missed those times of nonsense as mother would call them. 

Liz told the story about when she was in Powell to teach that she took an art class from my old art teacher and friend Bill McRann.  Bill was a very hands on teacher and liked to demonstrate technique on your canvas rather than try to explain it.  He felt that a visual was better than words, he did not know Liz very well and she informed him not to touch her work.  Bill was apparently shocked but adhered to her wishes.  They became very close friends, an easy thing to do. 

I visited Liz when she was at the University of Wyoming, (the second time).  She was living in a small apartment with her entire brood of children in what I like to call organized chaos.  She was amazing, I don't know if she was always like that, but she was calm in a situation that would put most in a straight jacket.  I was always so impressed with that short visit. 

I can hear the laughter and feel the joy of her and mom playing duets on the piano on a Sunday afternoon after dinner, (for novices, noon was dinner, evening was supper). 

I can see Liz and Louise standing at the kitchen counter doing dishes, gossiping, laughing and listening to the radio, was it Arthur Godfrey or Dinah Shore, who knows, I didn't like either one at my age, I was more into Little Orllie. 

One of the most profound influences that Liz had on my life was when she was in the high school play, Mad Woman of Shallot, I can still see her on the stage as she interacted with her male counterpart.  It made such an impact on me that I decided then that I wanted to act someday.  Approximately ten years later I was able to do that with her director, Gordon Wickstrom. 

I hope that these snippets bring a smile to your face, I hope that somewhere that there is an error tha Liz can repair. 

One more thing, Liz preferred to be called Elizabeth, Ron told her that it was such a beautiful name that it should be used.  I got away with calling her Liz, because she said I was just too big to do anything about it.   So with all due respect, Elizebeth it is. (did I leave something dangling there?)

From Louise

       Elizabeth and Louise doing the dishes - Penrose kitchen - before we had indoor plumbing - 1948 ?

I was almost 4 years old when Elizabeth was born and have a few early memories of her.  The night she was born, Aunt Cindy took Dwight and me to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s.  I don’t remember how I felt about having a baby sister.  I remember I slept in a trundle bed that slid under her crib.  She was about 2 when she had a pole high chair that Daddy made.  And when she was about 5 or 6, Aunt Sofe gave her a little quilt that she made with something about Queen Elizabeth on it. 

When Elizabeth was about 4, she joined in with Dwight and me in “inventing” an imaginary family.  The three of us were eating raisins and acting silly, making funny faces while we were chewing the raisins.  Then we came up with names for our faces, like Pig Face with our lips pulled together, Funny Goo – by wrinkling the nose. They became the parents of Big Goo, using the corners of our mouths, then Little Goo - one corner of the mouth tightened and Little Goo (twin to Little Goo) with the other corner – you had to watch to see which one was speaking.  Then there was Smiley Man – a hired man, you guessed it, big smile. And last came Squeaky Man, another hired hand. But we fired him, it was too hard on the throat to make his voice.  With this imaginary family we made up all kinds of stories for months, exciting adventures, some in far off lands, and even in an underground city.

Elizabeth was a part of all that, but later, when we were living in Ralston, Dwight and I gave her a bad time with our telling her about the time we had gone to France and had a friend named Pierre and made up all kinds of stories about him.  She was not sure if she should believe us, but we were very convincing.  She asked Mother if it was true, but Mother just smiled and wouldn’t say.  I don’t remember how long we got away with it.

It wasn’t long, though, that Elizabeth and I began to do things together and made a lasting friendship.  First, it was paper dolls that we played with by the hour, sitting on our bed and laying out the dolls and clothes and play acting. We played school, using some of mother’s things from her teaching.  I was the teacher.

We went for cows in an upper pasture, and it was a time of sharing secrets.  Elizabeth was a good listener. She patiently listened when I was determined to write the “Great American Novel” at age 12 or 13 as I read to her my silly attempt.

When we were in our teen years there were two occasions when something special came in the mail: The Spring and Fall “Monkey” Ward catalogue.  There was a particular protocol in looking at the catalogue. In order to keep anyone from being the first to look, we sat on the couch, with Judy and Elizabeth on each side of me, and the catalogue on my lap, and we solemnly turned the pages.

 One of both Elizabeth’s and my special memories was doing the dishes together.  We didn’t necessarily like doing the dishes, but we would talk and giggle, which sometimes disturbed Daddy’s after lunch nap.

The last several years our friendship grew even stronger as we shared our accomplishments in making quilts.  She had a special talent in creating artistic masterpieces.  One of the best times was when we worked together in making a quilt for Dwight’s retirement, and spent many happy hours hand quilting it.

I will always treasure the long phone conversations when we discussed important things, like our favorite movies or tv shows; and there were memories, to which I was always amazed at her incredible memory of people and details of events.  And of course, we solved the problems of the world.  The best part was laughing together.

Top photo is of Elizabeth in the doorway of our first Penrose home. Middle photo is Dwight and Elizabeth discussing who should be in control of the pitchfork, bottom photo is Elizabeth and Dwight discussing how to appropriately use the doll buggy. Will add more to the photos over the next few days.

 From Judy

Elizabeth:

Her home attire was jeans rolled half way up her calf, a cotton shirt with the tails out, her saddle or penny loafer shoes.

She had long pigtails.  I don’t know whose decision it was, but Mother cut her hair.  She suddenly became grown up with curly hair. 

I watched her enter stage L, wearing Grandma Wasden’s big hat, a long dark dress, and using a folded parasol as a walking stick.  I was convinced.  She was the Madwoman of Chailott.  She worked so hard to make that happen.

Here’s Elizabeth cutting across the backyard, a book tucked under her arm and headed for the tree house in the willow at Emmie’s.  If I walked behind her quietly, I thought she wouldn’t notice me and let me climb up in the tree with her.  But she would send me back to the house so she could be alone with her book.  Until one magic day she allowed me to go with her.  Sitting in the willow with her was complete big girl satisfaction.

She knew where the majority of books were located in the Powell Public Library.  Visiting frequently helped her to remember. 

When Elizabeth left home for college, I missed her like crazy.  When she came home for Christmas break, she took me to the high school Christmas pageant which was based on the Nativity minus Joseph.  We duly noted that on our way home. The night was freezing cold so we borrowed long johns from Dad to wear to bed.  Attired in such we jumped and bounced all over our bed singing, “Where is Joseph?” and laughing our heads off.  At that point Dad banged on our door and told us to “pipe down” which sent us into more uncontrolled giggles.

She was fun.  “Where is Joseph?”, “Just Knock Three Times and Whisper Low”, “One Night Ma, Pa, and I were sitting in the living room and there came a knock at the door”.  Otherwise known as “Esmerelda”.

She was the one who told me that I needed to read the scriptures.  She was the one that made me say my prayers at night.  And she was the one who made me stay on my own side of the bed.

We will be sisters forever.  And sometimes since Jan 5^th, I feel like she isn’t far away at all.

 

Elizabeth – I’m not sure where to start. As my older sister, there were many things I idolized about her. She was  smart, talented and often seemed fearless.

From Penrose. She was assigned to clean my little bedroom as part of her Saturday chores. She thought I was kind of messy and wasn’t real happy at the prospect. However, she seemed to find a way to make it work by hiding the book she was currently reading in one of the shelves, and when she thought she wouldn’t get caught, she would read a page or two, all the while claiming that my room was such a mess.

She could play the piano – really play the piano. However, Mother was always encouraging her to sit up straight. I then took on the role of enforcer, although not by assignment. I loved to walk up behind her and poke her in the middle of her back and tell her to sit up straight. So annoying.

When I was in the first grade, riding the school bus was scary so Elizabeth would let me sit with her. She was my protector.

Elizabeth’s art work was beautiful. She took a high school art class from Mr. Baron and her assignment was to paint a picture of the mountains. Her mountains had a purple/blueish tint to them and he informed her that mountains never looked like that. In the kitchen that night there was quite a discussion about the color of mountains. Even today, when I see the mountains with a purple/blueish tint to them I think of Elizabeth.

When Elizabeth came home from her first year of college she brought a turquoise colored stuffed poodle to sit on the bed, and a few things she had learned outside the classroom, to share. One was the story of Miz Melda, that she told with her top lip folded in over her top teeth that drove Dad absolutely crazy, and another was a song that she taught us as we worked in the strawberry patch. That one drove Mother crazy. And how we laughed about it all.

When she was living in Riverton, I went to stay and take care of Brig when Pat was born. The things I remember most are first, we drank Kool Aid every night with dinner. When I asked her why, she said that growing up we could each only have one glass of Kool Aid (because that was all there was) and we only had it on really hot days after working outside. She decided then and there that when she grew up she was going to have Kool Aid whenever she wanted it. Next was instant chocolate pudding with Dream Whip on it. At the time, that was one of the best things I had ever tasted.

There were times when she came to Utah and stayed in our home. We would talk and laugh in an effort to catch up on our latest sewing projects, or just life in general. One time, the movie “Jaws” had just come out and Paul couldn’t talk me into going with him. However, he found a willing partner in Elizabeth. I couldn’t believe that she would go.

After she came home from Germany, she was living in the Sorensen home in Lovell until she found something in Powell. Paul and I decided we were going to go visit Mother and Dad in Tumwater. At the last minute I got the “bright” idea that we needed to go to Tumwater by way of Lovell and pick up Elizabeth and family. She was excited to see Mother and Dad, Judy and Bob, so she was a willing participant. We didn’t give any thought as to what Mother and Dad would do with all of us at the same time. We had a van that seated 14 people, and so off we went. We laughed about having the van full of 10 kids, 2 women and 1 man in a van with a Utah license plate. Hmmm. That was a fun adventure.

I don’t remember her complaining about life when things were hard. I do remember her always looking for a new project, something to make, something to grow.

There are several projects that I have sitting on a shelf waiting to be made. Elizabeth’s influence was definitely behind the purchase of some of them.

A few years ago I had the “bright” idea about how to collect wool fabric for some of the applique projects I wanted to do. So, one day when we were talking on the phone, which we did quite frequently, I told her about my trips to D.I. to buy clothes made of 100% wool. Then I was deconstructing them, washing the wool in hot water and creating a nice supply of felted wool fabrics. She immediately caught the vision and joined in the project. On one of her trips to Orem, when Ron came with her so he could attend the Wood Turners’ Conference, we went to DI. Then we sat and with our trusty seam rippers, took apart items of wool clothing so we could share. Her collection far outweighed mine.

She loved fabric with strawberries or flowers like violets on them and every now and again she would tuck a little piece in an envelope and send it to me. Such a treat!

Elizabeth was the family genealogy memory bank. When I would run across the name of someone I didn’t recognize, I would call her and she could trace the family line to where that person fit in. After a while I would just say something like “really” or “ok” because she would have lost me about four generations ago. Wish I had her memory.

When I would call she would say “Hello Sunshine”. It always made me smile.

My last visit to Preston was very sweet. She talked about how her life was changing and how she didn’t really have the passion for so many of the things she had loved to do. She was missing Ron terribly and wished her family lived closer. We went through her books and found books that I already owned. Her frustration with trying to learn how to use her new sewing machine had taken the fun out of sewing, and she didn’t have any interest in finishing her projects. We laughed about the different block of the month projects she had signed up for and then forgotten about until little packages began coming in the mail.

What I will always remember about Elizabeth is she was an amazing friend. We didn’t always agree on things, but that didn’t matter. She overlooked my faults and loved me and I loved her, no matter what.

 

Time to go back to Penrose

I called Judy this morning with a special request: I asked if I could get a small quilt for my recliner with a block from each of my quilting sisters and then one for Steve and me. That way, when I go to sleep at night, I can say good night to Louise, Elizabeth, Judy, Ann, and Steve. I miss my big retirement quilt with all of the family blocks and messages. Now we need to resurrect this blog and post valuable thoughts and information while we are all still here.

Elsie Krajicek's Letter to her Mother

Grandma Louise had given birth to a baby boy on Aug 23, 1909.  He died at birth. Elsie, her sister wrote this letter to their mother, dated Aug 30 saying she was told that Louise was ill with typhoid.  Louise passed away on Oct 14, 1909.

Family History in Childhood Artwork

I had so much fun with Louise's collection of memorabilia, that when I came across my art endeavors from early grade school, I scanned them.  Since they mostly depict our family life, I chose to share with you... This is probably 2nd grade. You probably have your own collection of gems.

Going up the Big Horn Mountains to visit the Johnson sawmill.  I think that's the white Ford.

Bringing in the hay.  Notice the ratio of the stack to the little load on the wagon.

Walking along the canal between the head of the fields and the edge of the hills. Which two is it? 

Summer 2017

Dear Family,

With our house beginning to feel very empty, there is time to take a few minutes and share a couple of things.

First, in honor of Mother and Dad, we grew a few gladiolas this year. The bulbs were not of the highest quality, but they did serve to encourage us to do better next year.

The next photo is just a reminder that it isn't always wise to ignore summer squash/zucchini in the garden. Just in case there is any concern about how to use said over grown item, here is an idea. Just so you know, I really will cut, scrape out the seeds, and stir fry them, but this simply makes them a multi usable item. 

Remembering Daddy

I don't remember Dad ever wearing sunglasses , but I do remember that tilt of his head so that the brim of his straw hat or winter cap could shade his eyes from the bright Wyoming sun.  The backdoor steps were a good place to sit and absorb the southern warmth.  He is with Robert and Jay in the spring of 1968, one of our few visits home to Penrose.

This is one of the last photos I took of our father before he left Olympia and returned to Cody and the western sunsets.  There is a peek at the historic "pole chair" to his side.   How I love and miss his smile.

Memorial for Ronald Gage - April 8, 2017

A wonderful service was held at the Henderson LDS chapel on Saturday.  With beautiful music, and heartfelt messages by his daughters, and three special friends: Sid Otton, Charlie Reed, and Stephen Daniels-Brown.  

After days of pouring rain, we had a miracle on Saturday.....no rain in the morning, no rain during the service nor at the cemetery, but one block from there coming home, we had to turn on the windshield wipers.......Thank you........ 

 Elizabeth greeting granddaughter Suzanne before the service.

 Gathering of family and friends at the cemetery on North Street.

Andrea Krull (Ron's daugher) Ross Petersen, Phil and Joleen Harlan, Benjamin Petersen, Grace and Shannon Gala. (nieces and nephews) 

 Andrea and Elizabeth telling her thank you for her help.

 Sweet Julia Carruth ( Ron's daughter) with her husband Mike.  

Ken Krull with Andrea

Remembering Ron Gage

All of my good photos of Ron include Elizabeth.  That tells the story.  This morning at 11 am Pacific time and 12 noon Mountain time, family and friends have gathered in the Preston LDS chapel to say goodbye to Ronald Gage, with tears and smiles, hope and faith, stories of his life and scripture that bears the truth of his eternal reward.

Our family loved the years they lived on Tumwater Hill and we could frequently breeze in and out of the Gage home at will.  Ron accepted into his intimate life Elizabeth's siblings and their spouses just as generously as he did her children.  And he earned a place in our hearts that will last always.

Love is a wonderful feeling that reaches beyond barriers of time and place.  Hold on to that.  Yes,

An Anniversary and the "Penrose Gang"

 As we go through this low place on our life travels,  beautiful flowers are reminders of the many blessings we have experienced during the last 6 months.  The picture above is of a Christmas arrangement that daughters Dorothy and Sara sent to us.  This bouquet lasted over two weeks, and gave us a special reminder of the wonderful smells of evergreens.

  Live has been more than difficult for both of us, but particularly Ron during this past six months.  But there are bright spots.   This week, we observed our 36th wedding anniversary.  Who'd have thought that two people who found each other in the middle of our time on earth could make it to 36?  Many wonderful reminders of the years gone by are present in our everyday life.  These gorgeous roses came last night (via FedEx) and they revived beautifully. They are a gift from the "Penrose Gang", which means my five siblings - 3 sisters and 2 brothers.  What wonderful thoughtfulness to help lift our spirits and give us beauty to enjoy in our home.  Please enlarge the top picture to see my reflection in the tv.

 Aren't these pink roses delicious?

And, last but not all or least, our friends in the next cup-de-sac delivered this poinsettia before Christmas.  Still going strong, and giving us color during this cold snowy time of winter.

Finally! I understand why I don't know how to do anything.

My whole life, I have struggled to learn from my Mother, Judy.  First there was the sewing lessons.  I remember sitting in front of the Singer, trying to learn the basics.  I just wanted to learn how to follow a pattern, but Mom knew of a much better way to sew whichever stitch.  My little brain wouldn't remember all of these sneaky, tricky little ways to "properly" assemble a skirt or whatever.  Sewing became a deep, dark mystery that I just wasn't meant to figure out.  Next came making bread.  Again, I just wanted to learn the process, but no, more secret combinations were required.  First, there was the temperature of the water.  It needed to be "not too hot, not too cold, but just right" to dissolve the yeast.  (I insisted on using a thermometer to learn this secret temperature.)  Then there was the process of adding just enough flour for the dough to "look right" and "feel right."  I tried to take a mental picture of this perfectly crafted dough that the master baker had created.  The rest of the process went alright, but then it was time to put the bread in the oven.  Instead of just making sure the temperature had been properly set and oven was heated, she opens the door, puts her hand in towards the center and declares, "That feels about right.  It's time to put the loaves in."  I won't even comment on rolls and pie crust.  

After reading this...recipe(?)...written by my beloved Grandmother, I now understand that this wasn't Mom's fault.  She comes from what is probably a long line of these mystical women who knew how to turn a few garden vegetables into a feast, or a couple of yards of clearanced fabric into a beautiful gown.  I thought the secret was just to learn how to follow the directions and the magic would happen.  Now I realize that you should never settle for "simple" when there is really a better way, to not be afraid to wing it, and make do with what you have.  That's magic.

I'm sure there is a story behind this gem that Mom will share with you.  Much love to you all.

Shannon Ann

Old Brown Coats

This is my favorite gardening coat, mostly warm and water proof, with a hole from our last burn.  When it is really cold, this is the scarf I wear on my head.  I got it for Christmas in the second grade. It was to keep out the cold Wyoming winds.

While in my favorite thrift store this week, I spotted a little lady dressed in the same coat and a similar scarf.  She was happy and not shy about talking with people.  When she turned around, crudely written on the back of her coat with yellow paint were these words:  “Jesus Christ is the Lord”.   I smiled to myself.

Then she approached me and told me she liked my shoes and asked where I got them.  Without thinking I replied that I bought them at a store on the mall.  For a moment, her face fell and then she brightened and looking down at her shoes, proudly said she had bought her’s  in the store we were in. I looked at her feet and saw shoes that were exactly like my rubber garden shoes. 

She said that she only paid $10 dollars for them and that she knew God had put them there for her because she needed to keep her feet dry.  She said, “God is so good.”  And then asked if I knew that.

Later, she was one ahead of me in the checkout line.  With a big smile she turned to me and said:  “God put an extra dollar in my purse.  I counted my money before I left home and I had exactly $2.  And now I have $3.”  Then she asked me if God had ever done that for me………

She laid one dollar on the counter and walked out the door with her small purchase.  I wanted to follow her……I wanted to understand her great faith…..I wanted to answer her question, “Has God ever done that for you?”

Record of Historic Trip to Laramie, Salt Lake City, Provo, and Penrose, December, 1952

It is very appropriate that I found this little jewel at this time of year, the season of Christmas and the marriage of Dwight Blood and Velna Black.  The above pages are from a little spiral notebook that Mother had, where she recorded various things, including sayings, quotes, and these pages that tell a story about the trip I took with her to see Dwight and Velna married.  Sorry we don't have the dates, but we know that they were married on the 18th of December (correct me if I'm wrong.)  The bottom two pages represent the cost and mileage that our trip took.  I was a senior in high school, but didn't have my driver's license, so Mother had to do all of the driving.  She finally took a nap in Wheatland.  We stayed overnight in the  home of Velna's parents, Pearl and Volney Black.  The next morning, we started for Salt Lake with Dwight driving.  Velna and her parents went by train.  by the time we were part way across the State of Wyoming, the snowstorm commenced - it was almost blinding in intensity (at least that's the way I remember it.)  Dwight was nervous, and very worried that we wouldn't make it to Salt Lake in time to get the license...If we didn't get the license that Friday, there would be no way to get one until Monday, and the temple was closed until Tuesday.  I think we made it to the courthouse with 15 minutes to spare, and Dwight met Velna there.  (By the way, you will note a couple of the gas purchases were made by Dwight - see the (D) after the purchases.)
     I stayed in Dwight and Velna's room in the Hotel Utah across from the temple and lighted temple grounds.  There weren't lots of extra lights on the grounds, but it was beautiful with snow drifting down, and lots of snow on the ground.  My evening was miserable because I ended up with a blinding migraine, which didn't go away until the next day.
    The $4.00 motel had paper for walls, and I hoped that Mother could sleep because I couldn't because of all of the noise - people talking, etc.  We woke in the morning and went to pick up Louise in Provo - where pansies were blooming!  The trip home was still exciting for me because we went over South Pass.  Louise slept all the way home - or so it seemed.
     As you can see, we took the whole trip for less than $30.  Mileage on the car was kept on the right hand side of the page.
     The pages above these two tell a different story - the one on the left lists extra costs for the trip.  (I think we took home-prepared sandwiches and the old red water jug.)  The list on the right tell the story of Christmas that year.  We bought a Christmas tree in Basin - small enough to fit in the trunk of the car.    I'm still trying to figure out the outing flannel purchases.  Was that for pajamas, or to back a quilt or what?????  I'm sure that more of you can add to this story.  Please do.

Happy Birthday to Ann

To our dear Annie:  I believe today is your birthday.  I remember well the day you were born as I discovered Dr. Coulston's fancy car, probably the only Cadillac in Powell, was not parked behind their clinic when I went on my mandatory walk down town at noon.  You bring a smile and a cheerful word and an infectious laugh whenever we see you.  We know you have had your share of trials but you have borne them graciously and without complaint.  We honor you on this day and we all wish we were there to share your birthday cake, watch you blow out the candles, and sing Happy Birthday to you.  Just imagine it.  It's done.  We did it.  Love from your adoring sisters and brothers.

For Dwight

This morning I had such an enlightening conversation with Dwight that ended with a discussion on the origin of the saying, "mind your p's and q's". Dwight had expressed that admonition to me, as my dutiful older brother, but then he wanted to know where on earth that expression came from. I told him it meant watch your pints and quarts and suggested, or rather confidently said it referred to back in the pioneer days when people were watching every little thing they had stored in their pantry. Well, I suspect being partly right is ok for a Friday. I did suggest to Dwight that he look it up on Google, which he dismissed as probably not being productive. So, like the good little sister, I couldn't resist giving it a try - and here is what I found.

Wikipedia says attempts at explaining the origin of the phrase "mind your p's and q's" go back to the mid-19th century. However, even they contradict that timing by the end of their information. It goes on to say that it is supposedly an English expression meaning "mind your manners",  "mind your language", "be on your best behavior", etc. Or yet another explanation is that "Ps and Qs is short for "pleases" and thank-yous", because somehow, somewhere thank you contains a sound similar to the pronunciation of the name of the letter "Q". I think that is a stretch - I'm just saying ------. 

And then there is this possibility that comes from the 17th century, (see the contradiction - don't think this is still the mid 19th-century as stated earlier), when the bartenders would keep a watch on the pints and quarts of alcohol consumption of the patrons at the English pubs and taverns.  The bartender would tell them to "mind their "Ps and Qs". 

So - there you go, just in case you were really wondering, and if not - oh well.

Remember This?

It's been so long since I posted anything but I couldn't resist on this one. As I am going through some of my "stuff" I ran across this. Does it bring back any memories?

A tribute to Dad on Father's Day

Dear Dad,
Today is father's day and I want to honor your memory on this day.  Being a father to six children and making enough of a living to support and raise them against some times overwhelming odds against you was perhaps your greatest accomplishment.  As your children, we were well aware of your struggles to get through the Great Depression and to eke out a bare-bones living on Grandpa's farm.  I don't know that you were ever really cut out to be a farmer, but being a farmer was your lot in life and you made the best of it, getting up at 4:30 summer mornings to change the irrigation water, coming back at 7:00 to milk the cows and then getting down to a day's work, followed by more cow milking and chores.  You barely had time to read the Saturday Evening Post, your favorite magazine.  We had a few painful differences, but I never lost my respect for you or my love for you, full well knowing the challenges you faced, hoping for enough grain and hay to get through the winter and enough sugar beets to pay some of the bills.  Your love for marquetry (we called them inlaid pictures in those days, the term marquetry seemed to have grown in from somewhere after I left home) gave you some peace and respite from other worries and concerns and your artistry and talents grew and shone, now treasured and hanging on the walls of your extended family.  

Despite our meager financial resources during my 17 years at home, those years remain among the most treasured times of my life.  We didn't have money, but we learned how to work from both you and Mother and that ability would send me on my way and guide me through my own life challenges in eight years of college and 45 years of teaching school.  We always had strawberry jam and canned peaches and tomatoes and endless ears of corn in summer and gallons of fresh milk to drink and fresh homemade bread and cinnamon rolls.  I have been able to survive many of my own difficulties by reflecting on the perseverance and endless hours of hard work you demonstrated, but didn't preach. You did the best you could and you never gave up.  For all of your lessons by example, for all of the love you showed to all six of us, for never giving up, for your hearty laugh in the face of  daily woes, for all of these blessings and lessons I  and my brother and sisters honor you once more on this father's day as we take a moment or two to reflect on your legacy and your gifts to us.  From your children, June 12 2016

Remembering Mother

Just in case anyone remembers the old Penrose Mornings blog and is looking here for a reminder of our mother, here she is!  I want to be just like her: inspiring, loyal, funny, intelligent, smart, resourceful, and encouraging.  And so much more....We could all make our own list.  The years pass, but love never dims.

History Recorded

As I look at my bookshelf I find that I am very rich in the history of our family members.  It amazes me that four of my siblings have written stories of their childhood/lives, and it further amazes that, although we had the same parents and grew to adulthood while living mostly in Penrose, Wyoming, that we all had different paths and went different ways.  And yet, here we are all of us living longer, and looking back on these experiences that were so unique.  And we have formed bonds of friendship that will endure!  All of these books fall under the category of Family History, and I am so pleased to have them to read and re-read.  Hopefully, our offspring will find the stories interesting and illuminating.

I tried taking pictures of the book covers of the five autobiographical works - of course, Louise has two, and Dwight three.  Wonderful reading!  (Steve, it's your turn).

The Penrose Mail

Dwight and I had a discussion this week about getting our mail from Grandpa Wasden's mailbox by walking down the longer lane headed west from our corrals.  I store some Christmas things in this treasured brown box and happened upon it today.  It was from Sears, Roebuck and Co in Chicago and contained a beautiful green coat for Mother.  The address label says it all.....it was shipped on Aug 14, 1931 at a cost of 16 cents. It was sent to Minnie W Blood, care of J B Wasden........

Kathryn Ann's 73rd Birthday

Remember when Ann was a little twerp?  Her hair was so long that the only way Mother could keep it neat was to braid it into very long braids that flew behind her. But what a cute little girl and to think that she is our sister!

I have this photo labeled "Queen Ann's Coronation".  This seems most appropriate, since Ann has the ability to rule.....the roost, her family, her ward, her brothers and sisters.   There is not a one of us that would be foolish enough not to want to do her bidding. After all, she knows ...."here's what you do."
I seek her advice, her balancing ability and her secrets for endurance.  We all love her and are so blessed that Dr. Graham made it to Ralston, Wyoming on the fist day of December 1942 to help Mother safely bring this baby girl into the world.  Happy Birthday Ann!!!!

Velna

Today at 2:00 pm MST the Blood Family will gather together in Riverton, Utah to rejoice and to give thanks and to mourn.  Since I will not be there, I will dress appropriately, listen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing "Homeward Bound", and reflect on my own memories.

We have been blessed to have shared life's journey intimately with one of God's faithful stalwarts, Velna Black Blood.  And because we love her so, emotions are close and our eyes will become cloudy with tears.  But we will also let a smile cross our face and maybe even a chuckle as we recall her ready wit and humor.


This is what I will remember about Velna.

The summer in Fort Collins while working for Dwight, Velna took me under wing.  She had their little boy, Russell, to tend with another baby on the way. Yet her patience with all of us ruled her day.

Velna, Dwight and Russell, home in Penrose for a visit.

  

She handled my brother as no one else could have or would have.  She saved him.

(See what I mean?)

I cannot find photos of all the times the Petersen kids found home away from home at Velna's home. All sought the comfort of her home and the food from her kitchen.  They were smart beggars.  They knew where to go!

This photo taken at the temple is probably my favorite.  She loved her family fiercely.  She loved music, the church and Dwight. She was loyal and true.  

We know it will be difficult to be her equal,  

In Memory of Velna Black Blood

On October 15, 2015, Dwight wrote and posted on his own blog the following:

"The gift of hope is one of our most potent protectors.  Even on our darkest days, when even a small glimmer of hope seems beyond our recognition, hope can be our bright and shining light.  We all have days when everything seems to go wrong, when our most ardent hopes seem dashed into dust, and when the future looks bleak and foreboding.  We feel that hope has abandoned us.  We shed tears of remorse and our hearts are heavy with sadness.

Under the worst of circumstances, we must still hold out our hands to grasp the strong bonds of hope. When we couple our hope with our faith, we strengthen our ability to cope even more.  By uniting hope with faith, we keep our hearts and minds open to brighter moments ahead.  We may not receive the result we were hoping for, but we will recognize, whatever the outcome of our despair, that we have, nonetheless, been blessed.

Task Number 287: Never lose hope.  Today's task is the shortest one I have written throughout the entire year.  But the message I am sending can still, nonetheless, be one of the most uplifting and helpful if we will seek a few moments of calmness to weather our storm and move on to a brighter day. Good luck, and keep going.  The Curmudgeonly Professor."

His words are needed even more today than the day they were written. Last night Dwight's sweetheart of his life, Velna Black Blood told him and this world goodbye for a bit.  The entire Blood Family honors her, loves her, and clings to the hope that Dwight described.   

Happy Birthday to our Mother

October 4 was always a special day for me because that was mother's birthday.  I tried to send her a birthday message and a card every year that she was still with us.  Today we, your children--Louise, Dwight, Elizabeth, Judy, Ann and Steve--remember and honor you on your birthday.

Here is the home where you grew up with your parents and three of your siblings.

Here is the church you attended as a girl and where I was given a blessing by my grandfather.

Here you are in Sunlight with Louise and Dwight

Family photo minus Dwight and Elizabeth

I was fortunate to spend only seventeen years of my life at home with mom and dad.  Those years, however, were enough to light my life with memories to last a life time.  One of the saddest times of my years was when we moved back from Pennsylvania to Wyoming to be near our families only to have dad and mom move far away only two years after we returned.  I was only privileged to see mom a precious small handful of times during the rest of her life.  The influence that mom had on me during my years at home and the support she gave me by writing weekly letters during my four grueling years of college have enriched my life forever despite our limited contact during the later years.

I remember Mom reading to us from her college Children's Literature text, one of the few books we had.  I remember re-mopping the kitchen floor at her behest when I had given it only a lick and a promise.  I remember her long nights of care and concern during the lonely years when dad was gone so often.  I remember Mom and Dad letting me leave for college at age 17 without a penny in my pocket without either of them stopping me and asking me how on earth I thought I could get through college without any money.  I remember mountains of fried potatoes and invalid eggs and pancakes and orange cake and chocolate pudding and beans and tomatoes and macaroni and applesauce and canned peaches and pears and beans and peas and anything else she could can.  I remember Mom turning the water from the Shoshone River down the rows of her garden where she raised everything that could be raised plus gladiolus and dahlias.  I remember the worries and concerns our parents had during the long days and weeks of various illnesses that we children seemed to excel at experiencing.

I watched Mother teach Sunday School and then I knew how to teach.  I watched Mom and Dad work and then I knew how to work.  I watched my parents subsist on practically nothing and then I knew how to be frugal.  I watched my parents persevere and then I knew how to tough it out, how to get by. I learned not to cut corners, to do the best job possible and I learned the penalties of shirking one's duty.  These are the eternal gifts I received from home in lieu of money.  These are the gifts that have guided my life and have lit my path during troubled times.  These are the gifts that have made my own accomplishments possible in the face of overwhelming odds against success.

I know that somewhere Mom is in a garden picking big red strawberries and raspberries and digging new potatoes and picking corn and fresh peas.  I know that she is in a field of flowers, tall multi-colored gladiolus and gigantic dahlias.  I know that she has spent every day of her existence both during and after her earth life with feelings of concern, hope, and love for each of her six children. We were never perfect and I know you never considered yourself perfect.  But, thanks to you, we were good enough. We made the grade.  We learned our p's and q's and our abc's.  And we owe it all to you.  So, once more, happy birthday.  May your flowers be beautiful and your pain be long gone and may we all look forward to a reunion some day.  With love from your children.