Last Installment of the Weeny Roast: Moving on to Marshmallows

Picnic: Next Installment

Wiener Roast up North Fork

Note Dad's Stetson hat, which he always proudly wore.  One time we were coming back from somewhere up above Cody along a flat long road with the windows open and Dad's hat blew off.  We tried to find it but the wind had taken it too far.  Needless to say, he was not in a good humor the rest of the way home.  Thank heaven we don't have to wear those things now to be in style.  Baseball caps work fine.

Second Photo of Outing

Steve, Ann, and Judy, Young and Innocent

Picnic, somewhere besides Penrose

The Summer of Hepatitis

The summer of 1959 was charged with emotion and challenges. I came home for the from BYU engaged, Mother was away at Laramie finishing her batchelor's degree, Ann was busy keeping the peace, Dad was lonely and bought a TV, and Stephen contacted hepatitis.
You can see from the photo how gaunt he was, and if this was in color, you could also see his yellow skin. He was one sick boy and our parents were deeply concerned. There was the trip to Dr. Colson's office for our gama globulin shots.
I remember asking Mom and Dad if I could go to Washington to meet Robert's parents (likely excuse), one night when Steve was particularly ill. What was I thinking?
Steve, how come you had to go to Viet Nam with this in your history?

Whoops: How do you get the Picasa icon so you can click on it?

Help here, friends and neighbors.  How do you activate the Picasa icon so people other than posters and authors can view the photo album?  Some one surely knows who is smarter than I am.

A New Blog for the Church History Tour

I decided it would be much easier to provide continuity of the photos from our Church history tour on a separate blog, so I started a blog to do just that, linked on the right.  I already have 10 hits, 9 from me and 1 from South America. Imagine.  Our poor Penrose blog is feeling as abandoned as this old weather beaten church house.  We will have to watch our combined storage use on Penrose, D & V, and Family Heritage.  Right now we are about 8%, but we can upgrade for $20 or so for 10G, which I will take care of when the time comes.  If you haven't caught on, Picasa records all Blogspot photos, so you can check their gallery by clicking the Picasa icon.  I'm not sure I'll leave the new blog on Blogspot.  Some things are easier on Blogspot, like adding your own photo banner, but some things, like posting strings of photos are a pain in the neck.  I'll try it awhile and see.  Cheer for the Powell Panthers, since the Cougars obviously failed to heed Bronco's admonition to achieve perfection.

To My Fellow Penroseites

Without even consulting all of you who share the ownership of our Penrose blog, I have taken the liberty of embellishing it a bit, as you can see.  I thought the addition made it an authentic Penrose morning.   I hope you all approve.

Jay and family come to visit

Since I can't put this on the prestigious Ambsbaugh Gardens blog, I'll add our birthday greetings here.

Backing Up Blogspot Blogs

I have been researching backup methods for Typepad (Professor Blog) and Blogspot blogs, and came across this post.  I haven't tried it yet but it looks promising.  Problem is, I'm already choking my poor hard drive.  Let me know if anyone tinkers with it.

The Hill Cumorah in Days of Yore

This sign is definitely no longer here.

These steps are no longer here.  And how did all the trees get on the Hill Cumorah?  Photos from the 1920s show a bald and treeless hill.

Steve and Mary Lynn Meet Us in Palmyra

We were so pleased when Steve and Mary Lynn came to Palmyra to see us.  There were a few problems, however.  Steve called to say they were in town and would soon be there so we told them to meet us by the Catholic church a half-block north of the corner with four churches on it, across from the 39 stone steps up to see the grave of Alvin Smith, which we did not attempt.  Steve, however, neglected to tell us he was in the other Palmyra south of the true Palmyra and that it would be some time before he arrove.  I saw him go whizzing past the four-corner-church aggregation, realized he was not oriented correctly, so to speak, and then returned.  Whereupon, he shooed the dog in the back seat, who was not anxious to go there, but went peacefully, and we headed for the Hill Cumorah.  Several of the tour members remarked that Steve and I looked identical.  That could have one of two meanings:  (a) I really look young and handsome, or (b) Steve looks like an old geezer.  After Hill Cumorah, we drove south to Canaindaigua  and looked at the mansions on the end of one of the finger lakes and had dinner.  I felt a little surreal to be so far out of place and still have my little brother around.  We had a great time, agreeing that he and I missed our conversations with our Dad.  For my sisters, Steve looks shaped up in each and every regard, so rest easy.  This visit was definitely a major highlight of our trip.

In this photo, Steve is considering whether it will be worth it to make some little noises that might irritate me.  Note the original Hole in the Wall, from the doorknob, which fit perfectly into the hole.  I did not learn this until the last couple of months, but Steve and Ann were the original Hole in the Wall Gang, dumping pea pods and other treasures down there.  An anthropologist would have a field day tearing this house apart.

TREASURES ON THE DRESSER

This was the most intriguing thing on the folks dresser, (other than the piggy bank calendar). It was filled with threads, the old pocket watch with the opals, special silver dollars, buttons and so forth. The story as I remember it was that Dad started it and Mother finished it. It is a remarkable example of the craft. The original plans for this and the clock shelf still exists along with other early patterns.

Raspberries

Last week, we were picking raspberries from our fall-bearing canes - after two heavy frosts (20 degrees on Friday morning and this morning), there probably aren't any left, but oh, they were delicious! Picking raspberries always brings back memories of Mother and Dad's big patch in Washington. Picking with Dad was always a challenge because he liked to reach through the row and take the big ones on my side, as well as his. Raspberry picking time was a good time to talk and laugh and work together. Remember Mother's last summer, when Judy would bring baby Ben over, put him in the bedroom with Mother, and then we'd go down to the patch and pick like crazy. It was solace to do the practical things that summer - made life a little easier.

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.

REAL TREASURES

This weekend reminded me of what the real treasures in life are to us. Scarce moments spent with two unexpected travelers reverberates the joyous sounds of PENROSE MORNINGS.

The Story Teller Laugh

If we were to list characteristics of any family gathering, one defining tradition would be that of a good, long, sometimes loud, and always a hoot, laugh. It was usually proceeded by some story, comment, or just looking at each other with the look of "I know a secret". Remember Mother laughing until she cried?

When Ann lived in Olympia, there was an ailing lady in her ward, that requested to hear her laugh. She said it would make her feel better.

In this case, Paul Tanner, who is a great story teller, and Dad are in the middle of it. No wonder that Dad lived a long life. And Paul has had miracles in his own.

Northern Wyoming Map from 1939

Brig found this old Shell map of the State of Wyoming that includes the site of Penrose. I put a red star on the map to help you find it. Be sure to enlarge this map. It also includes the post office for Painter, which is in Sunlight. That is the place where many letters between Mother and Dad were addressed to when Dad was working in Sunlight during the Depression.

Phil Wasden's Photos from the Gunnison Cemetery

Phil writes that the touching inscription on great-grandfather John Christenson's marker reads as follows: "Amiable and beloved father farewell!  Not on this perishing stone, but in the Book of Life, and in the hearts of thy afflicted friends is thy worth recorded."

Nancy Arilla Herring

John Brooks Wasden

Thomas Wasden

William Wasden

We acknowledge with appreciation the efforts of Phil Wasden in providing us all with these photos and this information.  He expresses the thought that he felt that he received special guidance in locating these grave markers of our ancestors.

Phil Wasden visits the Gunnison UT Cemetery

From Phil Wasden:

September 26, 2008

I drove to Gunnison, Utah knowing that grandmother Tilda Christena Christenson Wasden was born to Swedish parents living in that area.  I am quite sure that great-grandfather John Christenson is buried there and I desire to visit the gravesite.  The Gunnison Cemetery has a sign indicating a left turn into the driveway.  As I entered the driveway, I became increasingly concerned with the high-security fencing along the roadway, culminating in a barrier and security checkpoint.  Three heavily-armed and uniformed men greeted me; I said something to the effect, "Obviously, this is not the Gunnison Cemetery?"  To which one replied, "No, but some "inside" might think that it is!"  The Supervisor Guard pointed out:  "The entrance to the Cemetery is located just a few feet on the other side of the driveway."  Receiving permission, I made a hasty U-turn and left.

There is no directory to the Cemetery so, I "legged" it out through the expansive area in a "serpentine" fashion through the markers.  I was becoming a little discouraged because after about forty minutes and at three-quarters of the way, all of the "Christen..." names were Danish-ending "-sen" and not Swedish "-son" spellings.  The name, "WASDEN" on one marker stopped me "in my tracks!"  Realization flooded over me as I read the full name, "John Brooks Wasden," my great-grandfather!  I had no idea he was buried in this Cemetery!  Next to John Brooks is his first wife, Nancy Arilla Herring.  I remember grandfather James Brooks Wasden telling me that when his mother died at his birth, Nancy raised grandfather "as one of her own."  He said, "I often felt I was better treated than her own children" of which, she had thirteen!  (Four died in infancy or childhood).  On the other side of Nancy, Thomas Wasden, my 2nd great-grandfather is buried.  On the other side of Thomas is William Wasden, a 2nd great grand uncle.  these are all names familiar from years of copying pedigree and family group records but suddenly, it is now more "personal."  The shock is more than an "Aha moment, it is a WOW moment! In my excitement, I discovered nearby the object of my original search:  the marker for great-grandfather John Christenson!  

I must interrupt here to go can peaches.  I will try to reproduce Phil's photos of the grave stones later.

The Great Ronco Rotisserie Swindle

Judy called this afternoon and was speaking in tongues.  I had no idea what on earth she was talking about.  I finally extracted out of her that she was attributing the Ronco Rotisserie to me that Kemp had just delivered to her.  She was concerned, because now she claimed she had two Ronco Rotisseries, a matter about which she has dissembled for many years.  I wish to absolve myself of sending my Ronco Rotisserie to her and, to prove said allegation, provide photographic evidence that my wonderful machine rests comfortably on the top shelf of my store room.  There is some hanky-panky afoot here of which I have had no part.  Judy and Kemp have collaborated on devious information in re: Ronco Rotisseries for years.  Let this matter now be put to rest.  However, Judy, if you need another Ronco Rotisserie, let me know.  You could incinerate six chickens or three turkeys at a time.  Life would be good.  Dissembling never gets you anywhere.

At Judy's, 1960s

Cousins

We're Not Out of Pictures Yet

Insight Gained

From time to time, Dwight will suggest something that I will go along with, just because it is important to me that he thinks highly of me - and if I am compliant then perhaps it will make up for the years when I complained rather loudly that he was picking on me. I must confess that his recommendation on his Curmudgeonly Professor blog about books to read did catch my eye and I thought, aha, I can't vote Democratic, but I can check out one of his books, so I bought two of them, Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry and The Anatomy of Hope by Jerome Groopman, M.D.

I cannot express strongly enough the profound effect reading Hannah Coulter is having on me, and the insights I have gained into our parents and the life they, and then we with them, lived. The book is fiction, but it is written as though Wendell Berry knew our lives, our parents and Mother's feelings and emotions. Last night was a night of sleeping for a couple of hours and then needing a diversion and so I continued reading. With a cup of hot milk and my book, I settled down for what ended up being a quick two hours of reading. Honestly, I could have read all night and it would have been a good night.

The book is readily available in paperback on Amazon, or perhaps at a local bookstore. The copyright is 2004. I was going to share a quote, but it went on way too long and I think maybe copyright laws would prohibit doing that, so, just take my word, along with Dwight's, and pick up the book. Then we can ride the emotional rollercoaster together as insights are gained.

More Blood family album

Sorry Judy, but this one is too priceless not to share with the world.

One More Picture of Blood Siblings, Where's Ann, Plus a Bonus Photo

Maybe These Are All the Blood Sibling Photos I have

I threw this one in because it solves the issue of the posing order:  short to tall, and this became ingrained for life.  Any other theories?  In an entire lifetime, I have been lucky to take a few classic photos that surpass all others.  This one, taken with a $1.98 Baby Brownie, is one of the absolute most treasured.  Double click.

Blood Sisters at Dad's Funeral

This may be the last of the photos of the three (or four) Blood sistern that I have