4/16/20

This is being written during an unusual time in the US as well as around the world.

A disease called COVID-19 or coronavirus has kept us in a state of mostly quarantine. Except for a couple drives to mail letters and just to see how spring is springing, I have not been anywhere since March 11. The next day a few of my friends were here for lunch and I've not seen any of them since.

My grandson Brendin & his wife Becca had a premature baby, Hunter Bray Johnson, March 19. He weighed 4 # 6oz. and was in NICU until April 6. Because of the quarantine, Teri was working from home so she and Timm were able to go down to Monument, CO to stay with Amelia and Ollie so Brendin & Becca could spend as much time as possible with Hunter. They went back to Walla Walla yesterday. Modern technology allowed Teri to bring her computer to Colorado & continue working.

Kelli and Mark have been doing my grocery shopping; they bring them in the back door, set them on the counter, and I stand at the hall doorway and we visit for a few minutes. According to our government, both State & federal, we need to observe social distancing--which means we cannot stand any closer than 6' to anyone who doesn't live in the same house. Timm & Teri did come and visit for a couple hours one Sunday--they sat at one end of the 6' table and I sat at the other. Instead of hugging, we did fist bumps at arms' length.

I know because of my age and heart condition I am in the higher-risk group, so have stayed in as recommended. However, if this continues many more weeks, I will be going against the "rules" and go out. I probably won't be doing my Meals on Wheels route, or going to nursing homes, immediately, but I do expect to go to the store, etc.

Again, thanks to modern technology, we have been able to "go" to church via Zoom, so we can see and hear each other. We have also had "visits" a couple times a week using the same technology.


This is what my patio looked like this morning, so I wouldn't have been tempted to go somewhere anyway. The sun is supposed to be back out tomorrow. This typical spring weather in Colorado.

It's been so long since I've been on here & so much has happened, but I want to start by saying a bit more about what I know of my ancestors.
My Grandma Anna (Stobie) French's family came to America from Scotland via Canada. Grandma was born in Marshall, Dakota. I'm not sure how old she was when they moved to Plains, MT,  Grandma's great niece, Robin and her husband Jeff, current owners of the Ranch, remodeled the house before their son Jase was married there in 2014. In case you wonder, yes, they left the outhouse ;)

l. Unidentified family and friends in what the house probably looked like when Stobie moved there in 1910.
r. Looking across meadow at Cook Mountain.




This is pretty much as I remember the exterior and kitchen looked like in early 1950's

2017. Most of descendants of Joe and Lucinda Stobie at family reunion in backyard of remodeled farmhouse.

Grandma Lucinda (Anderson), for whom I was named, owned property in Dakota before she married Granddad Joe Stobie.

I know more about Grandma Anna French than I do about Pop, and much more about Grandpa Archie than I do about Grandma Ethel (Warren) Kelly, and I have pictures of them at younger ages than I do the men. The pictures may not be chronological, but I thought they would add interest.


l. Ethel Warren w/doll, date approximately 1887.

r. Anna Stobie w/her college class at Walla Walla College, approximately 1911, where she got her teaching certificate.

l. Grandpa and Grandma Kelly (Archie and Ethel) Wedding Day,
Nov. 25, 1905


r. Grandpa Grandma Kelly, circa 1940 Grandma and Pop, Vic and Anna (Stobie) French                 Grandma and Pop, circa 1942
Wedding day August 20, 1914

For some reason I cannot move the caption of Grandma and Pop's wedding picture any closer, so will quit fussing with it. One rather peculiar thing I've noticed is when talking about my paternal grandparents I almost always say Grandpa and Grandma, but when mentioning my maternal grandparents, more often than not I will say Grandma first--not always, but usually.


This picture would have been taken 1915/1916. left to right, Grandma Kelly w/my aunt Aurel on lap, my aunt Vivian, Grandpa with my dad, Wilber, on his lap and and my uncle Beryl. I don't have any pictures of my dad with all 4 of his siblings. Both photos I have with him as a child were taken before my uncle Halford was born and pictures I have as adults were taken after Vivian died in 1948.

Both of these pictures are of Granddad and Grandma Stobie (Joe and Lucinda). The one on the right would have been taken in 1921. Granddad is holding my mother, Jeanne, on his lap; my aunt Anna May is in the middle and my uncle Jim is on Grandma's lap.  

Grandpa Kelly (Archie Rowen) was born August 16, 1870 in Moultrie, IL and as a young man, he and 2 of his brothers, Lafayette (Lafe) and Dave moved to Dixie, WA. I don't know why they moved there, but do know they farmed wheat in that area. Also, they dropped the second "e"and became "Kelly" in Dixie bur were "Kelley" in Illinois.  Grandpa died of a heart attack in 1942, while in a phone booth in Walla Walla, calling Grandma to tell her the bus was late. Grandma Kelly (Ethel Warren) was born December 8, 1882 in Lewiston, ID. Grandma died of breast cancer in 1959.                  











         

A bit about Stan & his parents.

8/20/13

Wow! It's been so long since I've been on here I don't know what I've written about--have to take time (not right now) to read my blog myself.

I've been wanting to get back at it, partly because I've mostly written about my family and my own stores and would like to share a bit of what I know of Stan's life. Of course I don't know as much as I'd like about his family and I may leave out a thing or 2 of the things that I do know.

He was born and lived the first few years of his life in Chehalis, WA. I believe this picture of him, his dad, Cliff, and dog, Tony was taken there. It must have been a special occasion as I don't think I've ever seen a man using a shovel while wearing a suit. I believe Tony was the first in a long list of dogs Stan loved. Except for when he was in the service, I don't think there was ever a time that he didn't have at least one canine. Actually they owned him rather than the other way around. (I used to joke with him about what choice he would make if his dog and I were in danger and he could only save one of us. I'm still not 100% sure that he meant it when he said it would be me. ;-)   

Cliff was a sign painter and had his own sign shop in Chehalis. During WW2 they moved to West Seattle and Cliff helped paint the roof of the Boeing plant so that it looked like part of a city instead of a factory. Cliff was a very well-respected and active businessman in the W. Seattle community, having opened a sign shop there after the war. Unfortunately, while installing a sign, it fell, hit him on the head and gave him a severe concussion. I understand that he was in a lot of pain for an extended period of time; he died as an indirect result of the concussion as he developed pneumonia.

Cliff died in 1950 just before Stan turned 15. For some reason Stan & his only sibling, his brother Dick, who is 9 1/2 years younger were not only not allowed to see their dad while in the hospital, but they never got to see him after his demise nor were they allowed to attend his funeral. Instead they were "shipped off" to live with cousins in Aijulin(?) a community that was later flooded to build a dam. Neither Stan nor Dick had any good memories of that time--of course Dick was only around 5, so he can't remember much of it and Stan was so unhappy that I think he blanked a lot of it out.

His mother Lola was, as I understand it, an officer with the Boeing Credit Union. Of course, at that time only Boeing employees were allowed to belong. Unfortunately she married a not-so-nice German man within a relatively short amount of time. Will not go into much detail about not-so-nice, but he was with his "future wife" when Lola died in the hospital and his later wife got many of the things, such as china, crystal, money, etc., that Cliff & Lola had worked so hard for.

Lola was a breast cancer survivor, but died of lung cancer, even though she never smoked a day in her life.

Prior to Cliff's death Stan had been an A student, but his grades dropped sharply and he eventually dropped out of school. 

There was a neighbor that got Stan interested in electronics, so Stan joined the Army and got into Signal School where he became quite proficient at them.

If you're reading this, you can see that it's not necessarily in chronological order, but my mind doesn't necessarily go in a straight line.

I've always liked this picture of Stan & his mother; it's quite obvious from the expressions on both of their faces that he was in BIG trouble. Evidently someone, with a camera, was on the sidewalk taking pictures of people as they were walking along. The photographer then stopped them, got their address and somehow made arrangements to send the picture. That was long before the days of digital cameras and emails, so there needed to be a bit of trust.

I know it wasn't here, but as with most boys, Stan did a few things that he was rightly in trouble for, such as taking one of his mother's new sheets off of the clothesline and making a sail for his boat with it; taking the motor from the dryer and attaching it to her sewing machine, so that when she pressed the kneepad, the needle went like the wind; and my favorite was when he was about 10 or 12, he sailed from W. Seattle to Vashon Island. A storm came up, so he spent the night on Vashon without his mother having any idea if he was safe. I'd have probably been so relieved to see him had I been her, that I would have beat him to death for scaring me so badly. Fortunately he was safe & I don't know what any of his punishments were.

11/27/11

Thanksgiving was easier than I had anticipated; I had been to the doctor earlier in the week (for a physical only) and he told me to have more fun than I expected. Then I talked (and cried) with Kelli on the phone Thanksgiving morning. She reminded me there would be pinochle to play; sure enuf I played 3 or 4 games and had a good time.

It did get a little blustery Thanksgiving Day and I was reminded of another Thanksgiving several years ago when the power went out, with the turkey in the oven. It stayed out for several hours, but we were finally able to eat.

When Vic saw that I had brought pumpkin pie to Blair and Jackie's he, of course, recounted the time that I left the sugar out of the pies, and the following year put in waaaaay too much salt. Uncle Steve was such a good kind soul. He's the only one who ate his dessert immediately after dinner--he saved a hole for dessert while the rest of us filled ourselves so full there was no more room. Anyway, both years he ate the pie, never said a word, and we didn't discover it until an hour or so after they went home.

My friends, Kelly and Randy Young, had their house burn on Thanksgiving. Randy wasn't home and Kelly was where she couldn't see the house--down at their shop, playing w/their dogs. The shop phone rang and it was the alarm company telling her that 7 fire alarms were going off in her house. She thought it was a malfunction, ran up to the house and tried to open the garage door--it just collapsed. The fire started in the garage, went directly up to the kitchen and on up to the master bedroom. All she was able to get out were the clothes she had on, her purse, wedding ring set, her bridge and their guns. Actually, she was unable to get anything out, but the fire crew got them for her. They live so far out in the country--south of Eatonville on way to Ashford--that getting a fire crew there was difficult. Because of jurisdiction the Eatonville dept. couldn't go until called by responsible department. The first truck took about 45 minutes to get there and then called for Eatonville. Had Eatonville been allowed to respond when first called, they would have been there in about 15 minutes and probably could have contained the fire.

I was pleasantly surprised when I came home from church today to find a Christmas tree and a bag w/a couple of sweaters--just because--waiting for me. I had not decided what I would do about a tree this year, but now I know I'll have one. It's smaller than I'm used to, which is nice, and I'll put it in the dining room. Won't have to move so much furniture and I will be able to enjoy it from my glider in the living room as well as here at the computer. Michael came over for a few minutes and got the decorations out of the attic for me. I won't get it up until later in the week, but now my "wondering" is over. 

Until next time...

It's been a looooong time since I sat down to write something here, and don't even know where to start.

It will be 9 months tomorrow since Stan died and I was completely unprepared for how life would be without him.  I had always thought I knew how my friends who had been widowed felt--I had no clue. 

Now I have some idea how Vic felt when Peggy died and he was left alone, and I did so little to comfort him. I thought he was coping well because he would always say okay when asked how he was doing. Now I understand that is a coping mechanism in itself. 

I had expected that when I wrote here again it would be to tell what I know of Stan's life, but that will be saved for another time. At the risk of being too maudlin, I must say that I miss Stan in virtually every minute. Sure, as always, I laugh, talk and sometimes cry w/my friends, but in the back of my mind, there's the niggling thought as I wonder what Stan is doing. There are minutes when I still expect him to come around the corner, to be home when I get home or to be sleeping in his recliner. It's only been a couple of weeks since I woke up, noticed the other side of the bed was empty and the thought went through my head that he had gotten up before me.

There is no one here to share my day with, no one to pick up the slack, no one to share an inside joke with, no one to hold me when I cry, no one to put his arms around me and say, "loves ya, babe," no one to snuggle when I go to bed and my feet are cold, no one playing the tv too loud, no one to complain or hear my complaints over what is going on around us, no one to enjoy a pretty sunrise, sunset, crossing the Narrows bridge, looking at a pretty tree (or lots of them), Mt. Rainier, the Olympics,  no one to go for a long drive--just because, no one to share my pride in our kids and grandkids, no one to enjoy a meal with me--day after day, no one to do the things on the computer that I don't know how to do, no one to just be present with. There is no one here who can help wipe away my tears.

I am thankful, however, to God for giving me a man who only loved me--even during the times that we might not have liked each other (or ourselves, for that matter). I am thankful that he knew God--and vice versa, that he was loyal, hard-working, funny and caring. The 2 things that I would have changed for and about him if I'd had the power: I would have taken away his pain and would have helped him to think more highly of himself than he did.

Kelli put it very well when she said, after his service, that even if the things spoken about him had been written to him or spoken in his presence, he would not have believed they were about him.

I plan to be back sooner and hope not to be so "weepy." There are, however, lots of uncharted waters ahead for me. I am glad God gave us both tears and laughter to get through the rough patches in our lives.

11/7/10
Amusing thing happened at Church this a.m. I broke my watch some time ago, so my "portable clock" is my new cell phone. Only thing is I had to have someone help me set it on "vibrate." I told her that I used to be "literate," but since computers came along that is no longer an adjective that is descriptive of me;-)

11/7/10

I was at a Relay for Life committee retreat w/12 other people yesterday afternoon. I was surprised to learn that out of that 13, 3 (2 from one family) started relaying before cancer touched their families. Cancer has been in our family since before I was born and it's touched both sides.

My Grandma French (nee Anna Stobie) had cancer somewhere in her female organs in the early 1930's. At the time they lived in Ellensburg and she had to be driven to Yakima for treatments. At that time there were no 60-70 mph highways and no cars that would have gone that fast anyway, so it wasn't just a couple hour trip to and from. she was told if she didn't have surgery, she would probably live 6 mos., but could live 3 years if she opted for surgery. Partly because she had teenagers at home, she chose the surgery and radiation. Most of you know that Grandma died in 1973 at the age of 80!

My dad's sister, Vivian Kelly McClure died of cancer in 1948. Again I'm not sure what kind of cancer she had, but am quite sure it was in her female organs.

In June of 1979, when Timm was just a few days old, Grandma Kelly (Ethel Audrey Warren Kelly) died of breast cancer.

Several years ago my cousin, Dorothy Jean (Beryl's daughter) was successfully treated for breast cancer.

Stan's side of the family was also hit by it. His mother had breast cancer sometime in the late 50's-early 60's and died of lung cancer in the 60's. Even though lung cancer is many times associated w/smoking, I understand that she (Lola Miller Sexton) never smoked a cigarette in her life.

I realize that I am much older than the others at the meeting, but as you all know many other family members and friends have also succumbed to this horrible disease in the last few years, so it was really amazing to me that someone could live into her 50's before anyone in her family was diagnosed w/cancer.

Seems like it's time to switch to something a little less serious...

All of my kids started eating baby cereal when they were about 1 month old. When Vic started eating it, my dad was bragging about it at work only to be told by a Mexican who worked for him that his baby had been eating beans since he was 1 week old!

We lived with Grandma and Pop when I was about 2--give or take a little. At that time all of the adults in the house, except Grandma French, smoked. As I understand it, they had to hide the ashtrays from me, because if no one was looking, I would grab the cigarette butts, go behind the couch and eat them. I guess that more than once I was discovered w/tobacco covering my face.

I guess I was fascinated by lawnmowers as well. When my Uncle Jim would come home from work, I would grab the Sears catalog, sit on his lap, turn to the lawnmowers and ask Jim: "whazzisit, Jim?" No matter how many times he hid the catalog, I would find it and pester him about lawnmowers.

It was a little later than this that Mother broke me of my tantrums, as you see in the picture w/Anna May--sorry I couldn't insert the pix where I wanted them--and they would make more sense. Again, it's only what I've been told, but all the adults in the house, except Mother, thought they were cute. One day when she was the only adult at home, I threw one of my (in)famous tantrums, she threw a glass of cold water in my face and that was the end of my tantrums. 

Of course, the other picture is me with my beloved uncle Jim.

Until next time...