February 3rd - Dad's Birthday

This picture was taken in my little house in Powell on South Clark in 1973 or thereabouts, when we had the Wasden family reunion in Lovell.  Brooks and Lorraine parked their pickup with the camper on it in my back yard, and Mother and Daddy stayed with us.  (I remember that Diana came and she slept on the floor in the living room.) Brooks was admiring one of the painted plaques that Dad did during his folk-painting brief career.   My kitchen was so small that when pulled the table out to have a meal, Brig could turn around and open the frig, Pat or Dorothy could reach behind for a utensil, etc.  Worked, anyway.  Dwight and Velna and family were in Lovell for this get-together, too.  Even uncle David and then-wife, Lucille were there.

Father's Day 2013: Memories of our Dad, Russell M. Blood

Father's Day 2013.  Dad has been gone since 1993.  I stopped writing in my journal on the day Steve called me at 4:00 a.m. but I knew what the message was before I picked up the phone.  I haven't written in my journal since though I have tried to start numerous times.

Dad lived a hard and troubled life, never fully recovering from the loss of his parents and the treatment he received from the people who raised him.  Mother struggled all her life to restore his confidence, to instill a sense of self worth.  And yet he lived a good life.  All of those hard years during the Great Depression.  We often saw him only on rare weekends when the Model A roadster would come put-putting down the lane, and here was Dad with the Denver Post and we were whole again for a weekend and then we would wave goodby to him as we watched the Model A roadster vanish down the dusty Penrose lane as he was off to try and make a dollar here, a dollar there and Mother nearly wept when she used something strong in her dishpan and a hole sprung through in the bottom and she didn't have a quarter to buy a new one.

Then the hard years on the farm, from the fateful day Uncle Orvil lost his life in a home fire and Dad moved us to Penrose to farm Grandpa Wasden's place.  Up at 4:30 in the summers to change the water.  Home for breakfast and milk the cows.  Work all day in the fields, on the tractor, in the hay fields, for years with a painful hernia and troublesome truss because he could not afford surgery to fix it.  Back to the house for supper, milk the cows.  Rain or shine, snow or sleet, milk the cows and feed the cats.  Maybe read an article or story in the Saturday Evening Post before going to sleep, bone weary.  Next day, a repeat of the day before.  And the day before.  Maybe only once or twice a summer Dad took us to the Park, up Northfork for a picnic, up to Sunlight Basin where he spent his youth.

Yet we had a good life in those last idyllic days of a small subsistence family farm with chickens and pigs and a team of horses and two broken down tractors and some ancient farm machinery held together by Grandpa Wasden's wizardry in his blacksmith shop and Dad's not-too-patient comments. The smell of cow manure punctuated our yard and we never thought about it.  Dad cussed the "bog clods" of the gumbo-laden Penrose soil.  He was hard on us children some times, but we never held anything against him, and he would freely admit it when he realized he was wrong.  He took us to the movies.  He took us to band concerts.  He skimped and saved and went without so we could have socks and shoes and pants and dresses for school.  He shared his one box of cherry chocolates each Christmas with all of us, barely enough for one apiece.  I spent a quarter each Christmas to buy him a package of Gillette blue blades at Fryer's Pharmacy in Powell.

So, Dad, much of what we six children are today we got from you and Mother.  We learned how to work. We learned how to figure things out when we needed to.  We learned to have a sense of humor. We learned how to persevere through tough and unrelenting times and tragedies.  We have learned that things aren't all that easy, and as we tried to do our best and made our share of mistakes, we know how hard you worked and struggled to do your best and provide the necessities for your family.

What we remember most is the laughter, the sights and sounds and smells of the fields, the river, the barnyard, the cellar full of food for winter, the beet fields, the hay fields, the irrigation water running down the furrows to water the desert soil of Penrose.  We remember it all and we, all six of us, share in honoring you once more this Father's Day 2013 for giving your all so that we might have the necessities of life and then find our own way down the uncertain and sometimes-treacherous paths of life.

P.S. The petunias for Dad's Father's Day are from Ann's beautiful flower pots.

Another Long-ago Picture

The names written on the back of this fuzzy, out-of-focus old picture says "Russell Blood & Jack Riddle". Dad's stance gives him away - you couldn't miss him. Just thought this was an interesting picture - taken at the ranch in Sunlight? Who knows? More history to this? Since no one is playing these days but Steve, we might never know any more.

A Person from Dad's Past

I found this picture of Paul Hineman (sp?) in my folder of old pictures. Evidently, he was a friend of Dad's from Cody High School. Remember Dad talking about having to move the rocks off of the football field so that they could play football? Dad never finished high school, being more homesick for the ranch in Sunlight north of Cody than he was fond of learning. Dad did talk about having a letter sweater, and it looks like Paul had one, too. How about the striped pants? I remember Paul Hineman from when we lived in the little brown house, because he came to visit a few times. I was fascinated, because he smoked cigarettes and blew smoke out of his nose. We didn't see people smoke, so that alone seemed strange. I always wondered if the smoke could come out of his ears, too, but it never did. His voice was distinctive because of a slight cleft lip.

Dad And The Growing Boys

Dad loved a good meal and could store food away quite heartily, but he was always impressed with how much "grub" the growing boys could put away.  This was when Jay was playing football for Wash State which required major consumption.  Tony is just taking it all in.  These were wonderful days in Olympia, when we were surrounded by family.

The Silk Scarf

This is an item from the past. If my memory is correct, the story about this scarf goes like this. It was given to Dad by a "dudene" who had come to the dude ranch in Sunlight in the late 1920's. He was pretty smitten with her, but it turned out to be a summer romance. When Dad met Mother, he gave her the scarf. She used to wear it tied around her head with her hair in a knot at the back of her head.. Later, when I was in high school, and it was the fashion to wear a small scarf knotted at the neck of your blouse or sweater, I inherited the scarf, and wore it for many years. As you can see, it is shredded at the edge, and now is only good for a memento of the past.

Dad working on the new Powell LDS Church 195?

Foundation for the new Powell LDS Church

February 3, Dad's Birthday

I took this picture with Dwight's Baby Brownie that he gave me. Note that the gate is still useable, to keep out the neighbors' cows. I always loved this jaunty pose of Dad's. We could remember his birthday because it comes the day after Ground Hog's Day. The birthday routine seemed to be the same. When Dad came in from milking in the evening, he would look at the carefully-set table, and comment that it must be someone's birthday.

The rest of the meal might be the usual fare, but there was usually a frosted cake with candles.

Dad's Library Card

Another treasure I discovered today.

Shoshone Furniture

A little while before the cat postings began, I posted a picture of one of Dad's lamps/shades Kristen and Matt found living in a friend's home in Brigham City. This past week Kristen received these pictures of the furniture that the same family (owners of the lamp/shade) have. These pieces were bought at the same time and place as the lamp/shade. For those of you who have the Molesworth Book, you can check out the similarities. The family was not able to locate any marking on the furniture, but there wasn't time for them to pull the bed apart to look. I talked with Steve and his suspicion, without seeing these pictures, was Dad probably did not make the furniture. However, the similarities to the construction of the pole chairs, and other things that lived in our home seem to be there. Any thoughts?

Talking with Dad

I love this picture of Dad with the twinkle in his eye. This could have been with any of us six kids. The look would have been the same. Notice Dad's attention to what is being said. I'm sure that it was some nonesense. But it was a very good moment to have!

That Contagious Laugh

This was our only trip to Cody that we saw Dad. And as always we loved and laughed. Just as all of you did also.

Sunday School President

I am not the one responsible for this copy, but I sure appreciate whoever did do it. Our father seemed to take this calling in stride. While I was in high school, I was the Sunday School Secretary and attended Stake meetings and his presidency meetings. Riding with him to and from was where I really learned to drive, ice and all. But more importantly, Dad would talk to me in a very fatherly way about life, his and mine.

Cowboy with Suspenders

Our Dad/Grandpa (Russell Blood) with his classic suspenders....pausing to rest against the digging shovel as he prepares the Olympia, Washington soil for yet another year of planting a garden. Our parents had always raised their own food as much as possible. The food always tasted better right from the garden. And it was a budget stretcher.
Notice his crossed hands, similar to questionable photos from his early years. It seems to be his label!

CABIN AT THE RANCH IN SUNLIGHT

Until I scanned this picture, I always thought it was just a photo of the cabin which Dad helped build while living at the ranch. Be sure to enlarge to see who is sitting on the rail of the front porch!

Big Chief

The back of this photo reads: "Russell little Big Chief at our home in Mitchell, Nebraska". Here he is a typical little boy. Who do you suppose gave him this outfit? (If this has been on before, forgive.)

Who Would Have Guessed

I tried to see if this picture has already been posted and couldn't find it anywhere - but if this is a repeat, I thought it was fun to see him at 2 1/2 years and then in the Penrose picture I posted earlier today.

Dad's Missionary Call

This is a neat little piece of Dad's history. I remember when he was called to serve a Stake Mission - he struggled so hard with how he would do it, could he do it, etc. He tried hard to do his best with a calling that was very difficult for him.