DOG DAYS OF SUMMER ?

Hotter than the shades of Haiti's so I helped Mary Lynn get her hammock up.  Lily recognized at once that this was the place to be.  (It's really to early to call them the "dog days of summer'" but it just made a good title.

Happy Birthday to our Dear Louise: Big Sister, Loyal Friend, and Companion Through Our Shared Adventures

Frosty Tree in Penrose Winter

STEVE BLOOD FAMILY GATHERING

Mark and Debbie's three

Ryan, Mike's oldest

Mike, (my oldest)

Mark

Shannon and her son Nathan

Mary Lynn and Mark's wife Debby

(word has it that Mary Lynn shaved strokes off the girls team)

Cindy, Mike's wife

Erika,  Mike's youngest

Lane, Mark's oldest

This is a very quick add, It was a marvelous 4th, one we will never forget.

MATURITY

If you could just get Ann to have a serious conversation.....

SIBLINGS IN THE WEST

THREE VERY CLASSY LADIES

IF HE DOESN'T GET HIS HAND OFF MY LEG I'M GOING TO SMACK HIM

COLOR COORDINATION IS ESSENTIAL

HONESTLY RON, I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU'D GROW BRUSSELS SPROUTS.

YA ALL COME BACK AND SEE US YA HEAR

Would Mother Think This Job Was Good Enough?

One time while I was assigned to mop the kitchen floor on my hands and knees I thought I was finished after working on it.  Big mistake.  Mother, the eagle-eyed inspector, thought I had done an awful job and told me to do it over again.  Ever since then, I have had a subliminal prompting when doing similar jobs that asks me to ponder: "Would Mother think this job is good enough?" 

Mother always expected no less than our best.  When I was in the fifth grade, I missed school from December 1 until late March with mysterious after effects of chicken pox and mumps.  Louise brought my assignments, lessons, and materials home for classes.  Mother, who had taught elementary school before her marriage, was my teacher.  I can guarantee that I got straight A's (we were graded 1's, 2, 3, 4, 5) in every subject.  I wonder what I might have learned if Mom had home schooled me all the way through school, much of which was a waste of time.  I could have learned more in two hours a day than I did all day in school.  The main thing I learned in sixth grade, for example, was to draw and color a map of France.  I have disliked France ever since and, especially, when I had to pass a reading knowledge of French for my Ph.D. at the University of Michigan.  I thought then of that map of France I spent so much time on in the sixth grade in between pestering the girl who sat in front of me.  We learned to color inside the lines in the first grade and, besides, Louise taught me to read before I went to school so there wasn't much to do but piddle around.  I got expelled (promoted?) out of the second grade.  By Junior High, I discovered I had a "bad attitude" which kept me out of the National Junior Honor Society even though I had one of the highest grade averages in the class.  Problem was, I had no idea I had a bad attitude until I got my report card.

I still wonder as I mop the tile on the kitchen floor if Mother would think I had done a good enough job, or if she would tell me to do it over.  "Any job worth doing, etc., etc., etc., is worth doing well."  It wasn't worth trying to put anything over on her again.  Another teaching ingrained for life.

Views of Heart Mountain

These grain storage elevators were built a few years ago just a short distance from where the Blood family lived just west of Ralston about a mile during the years 1941-1944.  Heart mountain was the ever-present icon of the landscape.

Mystery Picture: Who Can Identify this Little Log Building?

Who can identify this building?  (Hint:  Only the older, more mature siblings will stand a chance of remembering what this is).  You must write a 100 word essay on a new post rather than a comment on this one if you know what it is.  First prize:  50 cents.

Visitors from the East

The discussion began.
Everything resolved! (Perhaps?) After a riotous afternoon at Louise's house, with Ann, Paul, Cheryl and Lynn, Steve and Mary Lynn came our way to stay the night. Steve and Mary Lynn are great examples of sense (Remember Sense and Sensibility?) There doesn't seem to be any room for hurt feelings in their relationship - just an airing of both sides that takes care of differences. (Do any of us have those?). It was wonderful to see these two after a 4-year gaposis. Thank goodness for the phone and this blog that keeps us in touch over the many miles that separate us. Sorry that the six of us can't manage to be together all at once. Now, that would be an occasion.

What I Learned on Wednesday

Wednesday was one of those days when I learned how much I didn't/don't know and how good it is to keep working on "stuff". The day started with a load of bark/mulch being dumped in the middle of our driveway. Thankfully we had the cars already parked on the street so we avoided one major challenge there. Lesson no. 1 - try to stay ahead of the "what if's".
Then there was the quick trip to Costco to finish buying stuff for Steve and Mary Lynn's Jackson adventure. While there I saw the red velvet cake, which seemed to be the perfect way to finish off lunch at Louise's - who could resist? Evidently not me. Lesson no. 2 - do not look in the dessert cases at Costco. It is way to easy to justify buying something yummy - at least I didn't buy the pineapple upside down cake!
I had called Dwight's house on Tuesday evening and then again on Wednesday morning trying to see if we could talk with him in the afternoon while Steve, Louise and I, along with Cheryl and Lynn Styler, Paul and Mary Lynn were together, but there was no answer. I was honestly concerned. And then Dwight called me and said I had been leaving messages on Velna's cell phone for the past little while, and they don't use that phone very often, and therefore didn't know I had been calling. Lesson no. 3 - when reprogramming phone nos. into a new phone system, do not confuse cell phone nos. with home phone nos., otherwise you may start to think sad thoughts when you don't get a return phone call. Problem corrected!
When we got to Louise's, Steve and Mary Lynn were already there, having driven up from the SLC airport, with their flight arriving at 12:30. I was concerned that we had kept everyone waiting (we had a lot of the food with us), and Steve told me they had been there about an hour. Lesson no. 4 - Do not believe Steve, check with Mary Lynn.
And then, as things started to wind down, after a lot of chatting, Steve talking with Dwight on the phone, all of us talking about everyone who wasn't there, it was time to get out the cameras. Lesson no. 5 - always check the setting on your digital camera. Taking photos as though the setting is on Automatic exposure, when it is not, gives the above results (blurry photos) - and I can't go back and have a do over.
And then my almost final lesson for the day needs a little background. When Patsy Sorensen and I were visiting the first part of June (she is cousin Julian's wife), she talked about how Cindy hated to have her picture taken, and I believe she was referring to Cindy in her later years. After I looked at the photos of me from yesterday, there came Lesson no. 6 - I'm tempted to join Cindy in my lack of enthusiasm for having my photo taken. If my hair cut looks like a stack of loosely stacked gray straw, I have to either learn to accept it or change the hair cut - this lesson remains to find a conclusion, other than to say "Oh, well!".
However, the final lesson of the day came as I crawled into bed, and this is the best lesson of all. The six of us have our own families to focus on, worry about, cheer on and above all to love. And along with that, we have been blessed with a relationship that just picks up when we get together as though time and distance is non existent. Penrose Mornings has been such a great connector - we have shared memories and every now and again we have shared our struggles, as well as our joys. So my very final lesson for the day was a reminder of good things and blessings in my life that help to make it all complete. Whew! It must be nap time.

Letter To Liz

June 28 2011

Dear Liz:

I recorded the movie "Lili" with Leslie Caron and Velna and I entertained ourselves by watching it last night.  Do you remember when you went with us to see Lili at the Wyo Theater in Laramie a week before we all went to Penrose together in August 1953 when Velna and I were on our way to Bozeman where I would start my master's degree studies in agricultural economics?  I hadn't seen that movie for 58 years if my arithmetic is approximate, yet it brought back so many memories of that summer with flashbacks of scenes I still remembered from the movie.  And who can forget the lyrics to the lilting "Hi Lili"?

That was the summer I rescued you from hoeing beets with your siblings so you could move to the big city and tend the wonderful children at this home, which I took a photo of when I went back to Laramie for my 50th college graduation reunion.

You may even have wished for a return to the previous summer when I celebrated my high school graduation and my past tenure as state president of the Future Farmers of America by hoeing beets with you for weeks in the hot sun, swatting deerflies, horseflies, and gnats.  What did we talk about all that summer, up and down those rows, waiting for the water jug by the ditch at the end of the row?

You remember the trip to Penrose from Laramie.  We had our 1948 black 2-dr. Chevy we bought with a down payment from Velna's savings.  Velna was very pregnant, the day was hot.  We had a flat tire about 15 miles south of Lovell on the Greybull highway.  I hitchhiked into Lovell and got my brother in law Phil Reasch, who married Velna's sister Joyce, to come rescue us while you and Velna suffered by the side of the road for an eternity.  Finally, we made it home to Penrose.  Velna and I stayed for a week since I was supposed to be the substitute teacher in vocational agriculture at Powell High School while the two regular ag teachers went to the state fair in Douglas.  I had completed all of the courses necessary for a life certificate in vocational ag teaching at the University, but I had forgotten what ag students were like.  They put someone's arm in the power hack saw to see how close to the skin they could get without breaking it.  I passed out rope for knot tying, a skill which I had demonstrated in high school by making the most outstanding knot board in the history of the Wyoming State Fair.  After about 10 years of winning the blue ribbon at the fair, my teachers were told it was illegal to keep entering it.  I never did get the knot board back. And the rotten kids had lost track of what they did with the rope pieces to practice tying knots.  So after a week of treading water with juvenile delinquents, we were happy to be on our way to Bozeman to begin an unknown future to get a master's degre in ag econ.  I was 20, soon to turn 21, when we started that year.  We were expecting our first baby in November.  My assistantship paid about $70 per month.  Rent was about $17.  Velna worked part time.  We covered our new baby with Velna's coat when she came home from work since we couldn't afford a blanket.

So, Liz, how did you get back to Laramie?  I never thought I would ever go back there, but go back there I did, for another nine years of teaching.  The University Stock Farm sheep barn, where I lived the first year I was at Wyoming while working there as a student, and Old Main remain icons of my life.  Whatever happened after that, you and I had an opportunity siblings rarely have, even if we were spending our time in forced slave labor, to get well enough acquainted to stand us in good stead for the rest of our lives.  I find it difficult to insult you or make you angry, since you always agree with all of my insults.  But all of these memories came flowing back while watching sweet little Leslie Caron sing "The song of love is a sad song. . ."

My home was in a room fixed for student workers in the second floor of this sheep barn.  If you are wondering what you smell like after your clothes, your hair, everything you have is reeking with sheep lanolin, I can refresh your memory.

Old Main where, among all the other buildings on the UW campus, I was student janitor one summer.



So that about sums it up for this letter.  Love, Dwight.  (sorry you never understood the word ditto, or you could have learned to read even sooner than you did).

Six Blood Offspring at Dad's Funeral in Cody WY 1993

Ann, Judy, Steve, Dwight, Louise, Elizabeth

Our Dad: Russell M. Blood

Powell Ward 1954

Who can you find in this group?

Paul and Kathryn Ann Tanner Family

“Children are an heritage of the Lord” (Psalm 127:3).

A Letter

Perhaps this will explain why I asked the question about when we were born. The following is a letter that was shared by Patsy Sorensen which was written on Uncle Norman and Aunt Cindy's 50th wedding anniversary. I loved what he wrote and as I read it I could hear him telling the story in his own unique way. I guess I longed for a little insight into life when I was born, as he had shared here. I also realize it was another time and another place when we came along, but here is what he wrote. It is delightful to read and adds another bit of insight into the lives of our Wasden family.

(Note from Patsy to me/Ann - Brooks letter to Lucinda. This is not dated, but it was with the 50th anniversary stuff, so I am going to assume that it was sent about that time.)

AUGUST 20, 1913
Let's keep that date in mind --for some reason or other--

In the beginning, things were different!
Now, since that hurdle is passed, may we settle down to good--yes good constructive thinking? Whew! This wears me O-U-T.

The above day started about the same as any other August day. There were calves to feed, hogs to prime their grunts, horse barns were always reserved for my kind attention for sanitary purposes, by which time Father (or Papa; NEVER Dad), and David had the cows milked! Time out for breakfast. We had rolled oats; oatmeal hadn't been invented yet. Cream and sugar--"now don't try to heap up your spoon-full". There would be Mother's baked bread; trowel on a smear of butter, or honey, preserves, or eggs with home-grown bacon or ham, and fried potatoes? Lets see--what else? "Brooks you take the cows down across the river-bridge to pasture."

On my way home I will detour from the established trail to find a little gulley that has been washed out at about where the corner of our LOT used to be. The irrigation lateral had departed its true course and allowed the stream of water to wander whither it wilt. This little gulley was born from this laxity; it was not very deep not very long but it had two banks which provided the necessary challenge for my skills to build little roads, dugways, tressels, tunnels, bridges, for the conveyance of my wagon!

My wagon? Yes, it really was a caster--an off-cast from a bed-stead. But, my, how nice it worked to make tracks on the soft dirt! Not the scratchy kind when you drug a stick, but a nice, flat-pressed, beauty. I carried this little jewel in my pocket for any opportunity to apply its pretty initials anywhere. But this gulley was a real hang-out. Usually I could just get interested when the alarm was sounded throughout the realm and my presence was urgently needed to turn the washing machine, pull weeds, get in hay and get going. Consequently, I had learned to not bobble my head too much above the limits and quietly attend to my important business.

But--this morning wasn't working out as usual. David, my big brother, had visited my project and completely erased all past construction. This saved me the agony of having to do the same thing because the joy of doing and building is more a pleasure and invites new ways of doing.

But--besides this--I wasn't being interrupted! Sofe would usually be dispatched to bear glad tidings that I must be doing other things of no consequence to me but better to pay attention! But this day, she would come and ask "Was I alright?" Had I heard anything? Well, don't worry." and she would be gone! However, I did see Sister Jones come.

And she left. Years later Edward Jones will teach me to ride his bike.
Then came Sister Shumway. She was our neighbor to the west.
Then, she left.
Came next, Sister Carroll. She was Irish. So was her husband. He had an awful loud temper. He would yell at his horses like thunder coming out of a tunnel. Some said you could hear him clear to Byron, eight miles away. I don't know about that, but he could sure wake up the chickens early in the Penrose mornings.

By and by, Sister Carroll left. She walked straight and determined. She once had rescued me from a gang of big boys who had tied a diaper around my head and arms and would hoist me over their heads and play toss the baby. Of course my joy in this pleasure was measured in decibels of lung capacity which brought Alice Carrol out of the church; her eyes blazing fire and her voice the thunder of Mount Siniai! I was gracefully deposited in the weeds by the fence while Israel fled in 20 directions.
By and by, Sister Carrol left.
Shortly afterward, Sofe came "triplingly" over the "terra" of the "firma" and announced:
"You may come into the house! You have a new baby sister."
"I do? Where did she come from?"
"Heavenly Father sent her."
"Heavenly Father? I thought we got everything from Montgomery Ward."
"Oh, come in and see."
Sofe tootled me along and sure enough--there in the cradle was this squriming, not quite snarling. little fist fighter! Oh, dear me. "What will we do with her?" was my first worried concern.
"You won't have to do anything about her," was Sofe's welcome reply. "Just wait and watch and you'll see her grow up like Minnie and Elna and Orvile."
Now--that was hopeful! More pals like them? Ah, Heaven came awfully close, right then.
But--you took so much time to grow up. Why, the next morning you weren't a bit bigger than you were yesterday. Good grief if you took so much time would you ever grow up before we were old and feeble? But it seemed everybody just relaxed and waited--come what may.
One thing you had done most admirably though was to fill in that gap between July and September with a birthday which reconciled Mother's pre-determined schedule to have a separate month for each child's birth. I learned later that she was downright provoked that Orvil had got in a hurry--he should have came in June! That upset her approved calculations and she must study the stars and the phases of the moon more carefully and your ticket did much to relieve her anxiety for error. All ready, you rated an A+, so the rest was easy sledding.
And so--you were named "Lucinda." NOT Cindy! Oh, NO!

Now that we've got you that far along, what can I add next? I sit here in a kind of dreamy trance, trying to put together the years that followed. School in the winter times and working with Father in the summer times, left only a few short periods of time to hatch-up or bring to pass the real actions which made up the growing years. YOU were were my first convert to the church? At least our Father Bishop did arrange it so that I baptized you, just before I left on my mission to Texas in July. We had the usual 'font' --the Elk Canal which snaked its circuit along the foothills above the valley. It was the same spot where my delayed (?) immersion did come to pass, but only after I had convinced my reluctant bishop that I needed to repent of my sins! The occasion did not seem to have a lasting effect--maybe because the water was too cold?
Anyway we were gathered at the bridge across the canal where the road to Burlington disappeared into the lava hills beyond the Penrose farms. I took the lead by feeling my way over the bottom of the flowing pool--bare-footed of course. The bridge, I was sure, would be my steadying point in case the flowing current intended to move everything downstream! Brother Berthelson steadied my faltering nerves and my fluttering shivers by grasping my right arm and teaching me how to make it square from the shoulder for the ordinance. By then you were cross-wiggling your way towards me, arms above the water and that perpetual grin of greeting which break into a full-fledged smile on the instant!
And so we complied with the ages old instructions for this honored privilege. There may have been one other person baptized at that time--it kind of seems that way, but I don't remember. You were the main one.
Edward Gwyn had came up with me from his home in Cowley, Wyo. where we had labored diligently in the cause of truth and righteousness the Saturday night before. Sounds --er, mysterious? Could be!
I had driven Blizzard (you guess what that was), on a little ditch rider's two-wheeled cart, over to his home-base, on Saturday morning. During the morning's chores we reckoned this cart might be a new adventure for Beaulah Carlton and any friends she may have gathered around. Umm, well now, did it work out that way? But we did arrive in Penrose before the time for the service. With Sunday School being dismissed at 12:00 noon in those days, and Sacrament Meeting beginning at 2:00 p.m. this time was planned for the baptism. Now it was time to change to dry clothes, eat lunch, feed the horse and get to meeting. Didn't make it. By the time all was ready the meeting was 2/3's gone so I took Edward home. A few days later I boarded the train at Powell, Wyo, and was on my way to Salt Lake City and my mission. Twenty-six months later, I came home and found you had grown up! Yes, you had grown up and pretty as a picture! Then there followed some years of hither, thither and gone. until I landed up in Long Beach, California. Then one day the news was received that you were married to Norman Sorensen! Now--the Normans were recorded in history in a very commendable way. And Sorensen? I have written an appraisal of his choir's singing elsewhere and if I find it, it shall be sent along.

Now I know that if we could get together to prompt each other, we could knock our beanie heads into endless schreechings. That is what they made milleniums for? So--I must get busy to sort and pile up enough what-cha-ma-call-its for who-it-may-concern!

Brooks

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

Powell Ward 1950?

So - What DO You Remember?

Elizabeth's birthday note for Steve gave me an idea - a reallllly good idea. At least I think it is. For those of us who are younger it would be fun to know what memories any of you have about when we were born. I realize that Elizabeth wrote some about Steve, Dwight added a quick note, but is there more? Dwight has written a little about when I was born, i.e. the Dr's. car being gone from the clinic on Bent (?) St. so he figured there would be a new baby when he got home. Was it ever discussed at home that a new baby was on its way? Etc. etc. What was going on at home? Where did we sleep? You know, just some of the real things that we don't know.

Now, lest this suggestion be misunderstood, I realize that some will have no memory (of the newly arrived siblings, that is) because they were too little or weren't born yet, so that lets Steve and me and perhaps even Judy, off the hook. And that would mean this would be an opportunity for Elizabeth, Dwight and Louise to delve into their memory banks and "share". So - what do you remember about when Judy was born? When I was born? When Steve was born? This has the potential of being journal writing at its best - you write and we will read.

Happy Birthday, Steve!

These two pictures of Steve were taken a few years ago during the only visit we ever made to their upstate New York home and shop. I like them, because I think they reflect his great attitude toward life. I'm sure that he has perhaps aged a teeny bit since these pictures were taken, but it couldn't be too much, right, Steve? Steve was always the pesky little brother who had so much fun in life. The one grumpy time I remember was when he was nine, and Dad lowered the weight of the hay bales to 25 pounds each, so that Steve and I could build the piles. He did grumble a bit, and I suspect that the work was hard for him. It was for me, and I'm just a girl. I remember the day he was born. Mother was wearing the bright flowered smock (one of my favorite tops), and Aunt Sofe and Aunt Cindy came by the house with flowers, trying to talk Mother into going to the Penrose cemetery with them to put flowers on Uncle Orville's and cousin Lois Johnson's graves. Mother refused them, and later, in a practical manner, said that after all, they weren't really there. Later in the afternoon, things began to stir, as Mother sent Daddy to Grandma's house to call Dr. Coulston, and instead of asking us girls to make her bed, she was busy doing that. (I had been unaware that another baby was on its way - I just loved the prettier tops she wore.) As Mother was getting the sheets down from her closet, Dwight told her that the baby had to be a boy, as he was tired of so many sisters. He certainly wasn't thinking - there was 11 years difference, and he didn't really get to know Steve until in later years. All of us but Louise trekked across the field to Grandma and Grandpa Wasden's house. Louise stayed behind to bake the bread that had been rising, and then came, also. I don't remember what time Dad came across the field to announce Steve's birth, but it was almost dark when we got home. Steve was lying on a pillow, and I can still visualize him filing the length of the pillow with his lanky body. Mother later said that he weighed a little over 12 pounds at birth - quite a feat for such a tiny woman.

I always think of Steve and Ann together, getting into all sorts of mischief. Later, Steve was a buddy - someone interested in art and drawing, as I was. Then there were the difficult years, the years of not being available to each other, etc. But we've been back on track for a long time, and are so thankful that Mother and Dad had six children to make our family complete. You may be the last, but you're certainly not the least. Love you, and hope your day is a good one.

Liz and the White Cat: There's More Here Than Meets the Eye

I ran this photo through several filters to try and figure out what was in the background through the screen door.  I deduced that this back step was for the original two room house where the kitchen was where Dad later had his shop.  Thus, the image through the door must be the stove.  Study the picture carefully and tell all the stories.

Go, Elizabeth, Go

Dwight had titled this photo file, "Liz climbing".  It seems appropriate on this, her 76th birthday, to note her non-stop attitude.  And may it always be so.  I hope this was a good day for you and may the adventures ahead be taken in hand just as climbing to the top was a few years back.  We love you!  Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday Liz in Case Tomorrow is Your Birthday

ENJOYING A GIFT

Feel free to delete this without hurting my feelings, I just wanted to share this for a brief moment.  Last year I was given a gift, a miricle if you will.  In my enthusiasium for this gift I abused it.  I blossomed to the point that I couldn't use the bathroom scales anymore but I had to wiegh myself on the frieght scales at the shop to get any accuracy.

In February I decided that I was at a turning point that I didn't like and went on a diet.  For the first week I cut out bread, potatoes, pasta and milk.  I also cut out all snacks except for an orange quarter or an apple quarter. Then I set my limits.  I went from about 6 slices of bread a day to one slice of sour dough, ( sour dough is great for diets,) I went from 4 glasses of milk a day to a cup, I eat yams for the most part instead of regular potatoes, I eat a good variety of meats and fish, lots of vegetables and northern beans.

This is kind of a brief account of the change in my diet but the upshot is I have lost 40 pounds and 5 inches off my waist so far.  The benefits are enormous, my ankles no longer hurt when I walk, I haven't had heartburn in months, I can bend over and pick things up off the shop floor, my energy level is sky high, my noon nap is back to five minute instead of forty five, I don't get winded when I look at a set of stairs.  In short I am enjoying my gift more than ever now.

I think that I had to tell you this so that I will continue with the program.

Fun Notes about Orvil Wasden and Wasden Family

I received this email from Patsy Sorensen (at least I think it is Patsy because Julian always says he doesn't like computer stuff!). It has some neat insights into Grandpa Wasden, Orvil and Aunt Cindy. I will hopefully see Patsy and Julian in June and am thinking I may invest in the little page scanner that is portable, so I can scan the pages of the Family and Temple Records book they have. Wouldn't that be fun for everyone to have access to? Cousin Newell Sorensen was good enough to drop off Grandpa Wasden's missionary journals and a couple of notes that have been carefully preserved in the little wooden box he has kept them in. I will get those copied/scanned at BYU and get them on the sharing list. What fun it is to have access to all of these treasures.

"I am going through totes that have been ticked away for too long. Found a half sheet of paper where Lucinda had written a couple of memories of Orvil. Unfortunately, the last experience doesn't have an ending. Thought you might want to share this on your blog and maybe someone else can tell us about 'breaking up the setting hens.'

Also there is a wonderful book here called Family and Temple Records. It has lists of all the Wasden children - birth, baptism, confirmation, endowment, missions and patriarchal blessings. I found it interesting that the 3 oldest Wasden children all received their partriachal blessing on the same day 18 Feb. 1906 by Jas. C. Berthelson. The younger four all had their partriarchal blessings on 5 August 1928 by the same patriarch.

I will bring this book when I come to Lehi in June, if you would like to see it. The handwriting is beautiful, what a change from our current use of keyboards. I also have a letter that Grandpa Wasden sent to Lucinda in 1932. I am going to re-type it, hopefully today, and will send you a copy.

I love being a voyeur on Penrose Mornings. I 'stole' the picture of the 4 Wasden's (Brooke, Elna, Sophie and Lucinda) and posted it on our family web-site. Hope you don't mind. By that point Lucinda was starting to balk at having her picture taken at family events, so it was a great find!!!"

(This is a letter that I found in a tote from Norman and Lucinda's house. It is a letter from Grandpa Wasden to Lucinda when she was living in California with her brother Brooks and his wife Lorraine. The date indicates that it was during the depression and James indirectly refers to that. I have left the spelling and punctuation in its original form) Garland, Wyo Dec. 23.32 Dear Lucinda, Just a Merry Christmas and a happy new year. How are you and all the folks by this time? Just one year yesterday morning since we left you in that far away with your brother and sister. And how that something swells within me with gratitude for I have never felt uneasy as to your safety, and my gratitude go out to Brooks and Lorraine for the part they have taken. For as I see the picture of a year ago I compair it with a picture of menny years ago when a little shaver went to heard sheep for his uncle for $16.00 per month, wearing one boot and one shoe. And when we left here a year ago we all felt that if we could slide by the first year, the second year would see some relief, and so you have gone to without a murmur, and now only to realize aditional disapointments await us. But these are things that faid (while they are good as a means to an end) But things as I have mentioned are things that live on and on, and while we may be put to the test I know we shall not be forsaken as long as we remember to keep and do His biddings He whos birthday we celebrate on the 25th So when we see the real things of life predominating had not the Xma Spirit permate the very air we breath. How I wish the little groop down there could join us at Elna, Then it would seem compleet -But self desires again must step aside. And as I supose mamma told you all that is new I must close for this time with a Merry Christmas to all; and dont forget to write soon. Im as ever your father, Jas. B. Wasden

(Note written by Patsy Sorensen, wife of Julian Sorensen) By way of explanation, Orvil was Grandma Lucinda's brother. He was three years older than Lucinda and they were very close. He died in a house fire as a young married husband and father. These are a few of the thoughts that Lucinda wrote down.)


"Orvil liked good books, good music, good movies and any thing that ran by motor. One Sunday afternoon, out of sheer boredom and with Dad's grudging permission, we drove the old Model T to Powell. The tires were thin and the trip turned out to be a hilarious race to see how far we could go between blow-outs. The tubes were well covered with patches and our supply of patching almost depleted by the time we got home.

Many winter nites when the moon was bright and the temperature often as low as 40 degrees below zero, we would hitch Jack and Mike to the flat sled and go visit some of the neighbors - or if that was too much trouble, we set off on foot across the fields.

During haying season, if Dad was not able to help, we would get up about 4 a.m., harness and hitch up the horses and get a load of hay - Orvil pitching on, and me on the wagon - before chore time and breakfast. Those early morning conversations covered a wide range of subjects (including an appreciation for the beautiful sunrises), serious, frivolous and I'm sure - even silly, punctuated with a fair amount of giggling.

One of our favorite sports was "breaking up the setting hens." If you remember the long bridge across the ditch at the corner of Grandpa's lot - that's where the deed was done - and surprisingly with Grandma's blessing, though she didn't expect us to go quite as far as we did at times. In the early summer the laying chickens would decide that one of the nests in the chicken coop was their exclusive property and would sit there indefinitely, laying an egg each in hopes of satisfying their maternal instincts by hatching out their eggs. Needless to say... "
(unfortunately the tale ends there and I haven't been able to find the 'rest of the story' as Paul Harvey used to say.) Maybe someone from the Blood family can finish the tale for us.

Six Blood Children of Russell and Minnie Blood: at Dad's Funeral 1993

The resolution on this camera isn't very good, but the photos might have some historical relevance.  From left to right, Steve, Ann, Judy, Elizabeth, Dwight, and Louise

Mother's Day Remembrance

I see strawberry runners in the foreground, gladiolus to the right and in the far distance next to the tractor rows of summer garden vegetables.  And Mother with her home sewn jeans with elastic around the waist for a classy fit, and a long sleeved, tail out shirt is surveying her world.  In this garden in Tumwater, WA or the gardens in Ralston, or Penrose what plant would dare not to grow under her watchful eye.
For that matter, which of her children, dared not to grow and achieve as we lived, also under her loving care.  I find it harder to grow without the gardener, but comforting to remember earlier feeding and pruning.

James Preston Hawkins

This unidentified photo has been in the "unknown" collection of old family photos.  A year or so ago, strictly by deduction, Shannon and I came to the conclusion that it "might" be James Preston Hawins, our g-g-g-grandfather, (Roscoe Blood, Sarah Batty Hawkins Blood, James Preston Hawkins).  Yesterday, Steven Lukins, also a direct line of J.P. Hawkins,  forwarded the same picture with the following: "The picture was labeled by Myrtle as James Preston Hawkins her grandfather. "  Now we have positive identification.  Welcome, James Preston Hawkins to the family gallery.