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...

10/31/10

We didn't have many trick-or-treaters tonight, but thought I'd write about a couple of Halloweens when I was a kid. Seems like times really were much safer then than now. We lived out in the country so as a result, Audrey, Elsie and I used to walk for miles just for some candy. We hated it when people gave us apples as we had apple trees. When I say miles, I know that sounds like walking 3 miles to school in 2 feet of school, uphill both ways, but we really did walk a long way.

We lived a mile from the grade school and we walked that far, not only to get candy, but once, and once only, we soaped the schoolhouse windows as well. I don't know how my mother and the janitor narrowed it down to us, but we had to go back the next day--yes, we walked--and wash the soap off. I am glad Mother (Grandma Jeanne) never let us use wax to decorate windows as we'd have been hours cleaning it off.

Another year someone put some chocolate laxative bars in our bags. Audrey was the only one who ate any of it. Somehow the rest of us managed to miss it when we reached down into our bags.

Costumes weren't very sophisticated then either. Probably an old pillowcase, to be a ghost or a paper bag w/eye holes cut out.

Changing the subject and risking repeating myself: elections

I wonder what we'll see on tv and get in the mail after the election Tuesday as it seems that the box is filled w/ads everyday and that's about all you see on tv.

But one of the worst fights I ever remember my parents having (and they had some doozies) was over the Dewey/Truman election. Back in those days, you went in to a polling booth and closed the curtain behind you. Daddy had said all along that he was going to vote for Truman, but Mother never believed that he would really vote for a dem for president. After she voted, she crawled into his booth to see if he actually had done so. It wasn't bad enuf that he had voted for a dem, but to vote for Roosevelt's vp was over the top as far as she was concerned.

I've been kinda watching the World Series. So far the Texas Rangers (the team I want to win) are down 3-1. I shouldn't feel surprised that the team I want is not winning--it's been that way most of my life. Seems the Yankees always won and my beloved Brooklyn Dodgers lost year after year. I remember listening to the Series at work. The perfect game thrown by Don Larsen was a tough one to listen to. I didn't want the Yanks to win, but after it got to the 7th inning, I couldn't help but root for him to continue pitching perfectly. But it made me very nervous, so I turned the radio off; then the suspense got to me and I had to turn it back on. That happened several times during the last couple of innings. (I think I wrote about this before as well, but I don't want to go back and read all my previous posts.

Not too creative tonite, so guess I'll call it a nite.

10/7/10

Wow, am I lazy or what?!!! It's much easier to play on Facebook than it is to sit down and think of something to write on a blog. Wish I would ever learn here and on my email how to set both the font and font size to be what I want. A techno-geek, I'm not.

I should have kept a diary on here of Stan's cancer battle, but I refuse to live in "woulda-coulda-shoulda land," so I'll just go on from here. We found out yesterday that his tumor is 1/2 the size it was when first scanned in March and then again in June. That is GREAT news. His new inhalers have helped a lot with his breathing, but he's still not as strong as the doctor would like so she ordered physical therapy to start next week.

Audrey and I were talking the other day about a couple of cousins that moved to Fairbanks when they were not very old and we weren't much older. Mother (Grandma Jeanne) was in Oregon with our aunt Vivian who was fighting cancer. Helen (Halford's wife) was taking care of us. I remember Mike and Larry were there, but I don't know where Delores was. Anyway, Larry bit our dachsund, Gretchen, so hard that he drew blood. We were not very happy about that, so Audrey, Mike and I took him down and fed him "galley-nippers." (I found out much later that they're really crane flies.) Helen was not at all happy about the situation, but I don't remember what she did about it. Later, as they were getting on the plane to move to Alaska, Larry turned around at the door, waved to my folks and a couple other of his aunts and uncles who had gone to see them off. As he waved, he hollered, "Good-bye all you big busterds."

One of the things Audrey and I have been discussing quite a bit is how much Indian blood we have in us. According to what my dad told Timm we're 1/8 as he and Mother were each 1/8. Audrey insists that Daddy was 1/4 Indian based on what she remembers hearing Mother say that Halford had told her. I'm going to contact the above-named Larry and see if he has any information on Daddy's mother's side of the family. My 2nd cousin (or however you remove them) Pat has done a lot of genealogy on the Kelly side and I'm hoping either Larry or my cousin Dorothy Ellen in Prosser can fill me in on the Warren side. My cousin Dorothy Jean in Bremerton doesn't know much more of the history than I do. Her brother Bud (Andrew) was the historian in that family and he died several years ago. (2020 addition); my daughter had a DNA test through Ancestry and according to them, there was no Native American blood in our family.

Dorothy's husband, Jim Vring, unfortunately has cirrhosis of the liver. I believe Jim is the largest (not around) man I've ever known. I know he had the largest "wingspan" I've ever seen on a human being. They used to live on the beach in Poulsbo. I remember him telling the story of oyster poachers on their property one night. He put a high-powered flashlight in each hand, held them out from his sides, walked down the beach, turned the lights on and in his extremely deep voice scared those poachers, probably to the need of fresh clothes.

Thanks to Robin Miller (my great-uncle Victor's granddaughter--and I don't know how she's removed either) and a Doris Kelly (no relation to the Kellys from which I'm descended), I also have a lot of info on the Stobie side of the family but not much on the French side. Maybe as the days get shorter, I will spend some time on the computer trying to find more of the Frenches. (Is "Frenches"right?)

The trees are starting to put on their fall dresses, which will soon be whisked away by the winter winds. In all the years I've lived, I still have not decided which I like better, when the trees put on their spring dresses and all the flowers are bursting into bloom or this time of year when they change into their brightly colored autumn gowns. I do know that neither winter nor summer is my favorite season.

Until I get back here...

7/31/10

A first for me in a long time--never went any where today and yesterday the only place I went was to the Sumner Relay for Life for a little while to see a couple of people I know and to see how theirs differs from the Puyallup Relay. They were having a party! It's surprising that they splintered from Puyallup a few years ago and are now the 2nd largest in Pierce Co--2nd only to Tacoma.

Tomorrow we plan to go to Ocean City to see Dick and Colette. According the the weather forecast, it's only supposed to be in low 60ºs and it's been that way nearly all summer. Colette told me a couple weeks ago this is one of the nicest "Octobers" they've had.

When I was growing up, we went to the beach quite often in the summertime. Anna May's 2nd husband, Al, was from the Aberdeen area and he's the one who really got us started going there to dig clams. Boy have the rules changed for clam digging! You have to have a license; no more putting the babies back to grow a bit--you take the first 12 (I think is the limit now--was 36 back in the day), if you break the shell while digging it out, oh well, no letting the seagulls have that one.  

Of course, after she married Uncle Steve and they moved to Westport, we went down there often, but I haven't dug a clam in a way long time. Haven't eaten one for quite awhile either although I do occasionally have a bowl of clam chowder. Anna May could sure make good clam chowder. I'm starting to sound like Eva.

I don't think any of you knew Eva, but I'm sure you've all heard stories. Man, how that woman could talk and clean! She was the cleanest "clean freak" I've ever known. Laundry day was a full day's work for her even though they never had children. She rinsed the clothes before she washed them and rinsed them at least twice after washing--and that was before automatic washers! One day Audrey and I were there when she was making applesauce. Even though the apples were off her tree and had not been sprayed w/a pesticide, they had to be washed twice and wiped with damp cloth before they could be peeled to go into the pan!

She was married to Grandma French's brother Stuart. I think I've mentioned before that he was a very quiet man. I don't think I heard him utter a total of 100 words and he spoke so softly that he was very difficult to hear. Eva made up for him, though; she didn't talk loud, but constanly and very fast. Besides that, what I know about Eva is that her maiden name was Alford, she was a lifelong member of the Methodist Church, sang in their choir and was a telephone operator. (Robin, if you read this, you can tell us a few stories about her--and other members of your Grandpa's family.)

I looked back at my last post and see that Stan was trying to build up his strength so he could have surgery. He took a 2nd lung function test on the 26th. Even tho it had improved, it was still pretty "borderline" and he had to let the surgeon know by Tuesday afternoon as the surgery would be on Thursday. It was a tough decision for him to make, but he opted not to have surgery. He's still struggling a bit about whether or not he made the right choice, but I think he did. There was too much possibility that he would have to go into a nursing home and then be on oxygen for an extended period of time. At our age, no one can promise us an "extended period of time." We will see the radiologist again on Wednesday to get that scheduled and he will have chemo again this Thursday, August 5. He is much stronger, and getting so every day, than he was a week ago, but the "window" has closed for surgery.

Realized recently that I had only posted once since Stan's cancer diagnosis. My life has taken on a life of it's own since then--can't begin to write everything that's happened since then, but suffice it to say that it's been a roller coaster. We're currently trying to get his body into condition to have surgery to remove the upper lobe of his left lung. Should know next week. It certainly has caused us not to do some of the things we had hoped to do this spring and summer.

Even though we never got to see Kelli, Mark and family as much as we would have liked after they moved to Sandpoint 4 years ago, we were really sorry to have them move to Boulder in June. She came up last week to be with us when Stan had surgery, but surgery had to be canceled. She was also able to go to the chemo doc w/us when she suggested that we try to get Stan strong enough to have the surgery in a couple weeks. Thank God for airplanes.

It's amazing to think that it hasn't been all that long ago that people would not have heard of their loved ones being sick (or even dead) until long after it had happened. Wow, have communication capabilities changed over the last 100 or so years. (But miscommunication still occurs way too often.)

While getting ready to write a post tonight, I re-read my earlier entries and must make a correction or 2. I don't know if I mentioned the type of cancer that took Stan's mother, Lola, but it was lung cancer, not breast cancer as I'd always thought. Also, his dad, Cliff, was a painter and sign maker. A large sign fell on his head causing a brain concussion; he was hospitalized and developed pneumonia which was the official cause of death.

When Blair was about 3 or 4, our cat caught a mouse and as cats will do, was playing with it for quite awhile before killing it. I made the kids all sit on chairs so they wouldn't startle the cat causing her to release the mouse, letting it get away and hide behind a piece of furniture, there to die and stink. After the cat, can't remember her name, finally killed the mouse, I told Vic to get the mouse outside. He passed the job to Timm, who in turn passed to Mark, who gave the job to Bruce and, following suit, Bruce told Blair to take the mouse outside. Blair picked up the cat, said "Cat, pick up you mouse," which she did and Blair carried the mouse-carrying cat outside. None of the rest of us had even considered that possibility.

Timm got a little mixed-breed dog, about the size of a cocker spaniel, but with longer hair and a long tail. He named the dog PR, short for Paul Revere. I don't know whether they were studying the Revolutionary War in school at the time or if he'd heard Paul Revere and the Raiders. Anyway, there were many times that I was correcting Blair and called him PR and vice versa. It's a wonder Blair doesn't have an identity problem. One day PR just disappeared and we never did find him--he really was a nice little dog. We had him when we lived in the little 2-bedroom house across the street from Maplewood School.

Another thing that happened when we were there is that Mark's bicycle was stolen. That was when kids sorta had "rites of passage" and he, like his brothers, got a bike when he was 6. That was another thing that we never expected to see again either, but it did eventually come home. I wrote a letter to the editor of the paper in which I said that even though we didn't have much money, my boys didn't have to steal things from other kids. A few days later a very contrite young teenager showed up at the door with Mark's bike. His parents had read the letter and figured they knew where he got the bike he had torn apart for whatever reason. Anyway, it took him a few days to get it back together and returned.aAlso, a man named Stan (sorry, can't remember his last name, but he was Stan of "Stan's Shapes of Clay") also read the letter and brought Mark a bike--before the stolen one had been returned.

Once shortly after Stan and I were married, we had stopped at the Hi Ho Grocery Store ((later became Fred Meyer and rebuilt the whole store) after work, when I heard my name announced over the loudspeaker. I happened to be standing very close to the info center so it didn't take me long to get there and answer the phone she handed to me, while saying she had expected a much younger person because the voice on the other end had asked that she page for Cindy Sexton to please come home for dinner. Don't know who was more surprised, Timm or me, when I said hello. He had absolutely no idea that I was there and was just making a prank phone call. Don't know how many times he called our friend, Corrine Wagaman, with a prank or 2.

Speaking of Corrine, we lived in an L-shaped house, about a block from Wagamans on an unpaved, unlighted road when Mark was 3. Many times if either she or I was going to the store in the evening we would call to see if the other one needed anything. One night she called to say she was going to the store and asked me if she should bring Mark home at the same time. After joking that I'd like him back in about 18 years, I told her that he was already asleep in his bed. She was getting angry by the time I realized she wasn't teasing. It was about 9 o'clock, so when I went and checked his bed, sure enough he wasn't there--he'd just decided to go visiting. thank God he stayed on the road because there was a swamp between their house and ours on the Wagaman side of the street. Because the bedrooms were in the long side of the L and the family room in the short end, he had been able to sneak out the front door without me hearing him leave.

One time when we lived in that house I was in charge of the women of the church (Methodist) making over 100 small loaves of nut breads. We bought the flour, sugar, etc., in large quantities so I divided it up for ladies to pick up at our house. I told one woman that our house was really easy to find as you just had to drive straight up Meridian, take a right on 118th St, go a few blocks and we were on the left side of the street. She replied something to the effect that of course it was easy for me, I lived there. I'm not sure, but I don't hink she was the brightest bulb in the chandelier.

Well, it's getting late enough that the lights in my "personal chandelier" are getting dimmer so I'm going to say goodnight until whenever I decide to post again.

This has not been the most wonderful day of my life. I was working at a very slow home show in Chehalis and it was hard to keep real life from intruding into the workplace.

We were told last Tuesday that Stan has more than 99% chance of lung cancer; he will have biopsy Mar 1 and after we get results, a course of treatment will be started. Some lung cancers are now curable so we're praying his will be one of those. 

The other thing that was heavy on my heart today was that our neighbor girl, Baby Abbey, was being taking off of life support today. (She was born last summer after her mother was put into a medical coma as a result of swine flu and subsequently died.) Abbey's daddy, Kenny, and brother Jacob have certainly been through a lot in the past 7 months. Abbey spit up in her sleep 3 weeks ago and aspirated. She has been in Children's Hospital since then until she went to Heaven this evening. My heart is broken for Kenny.

Since Stan's diagnosis my eyes have leaked quite a lot and most of the time very unexpectedly. Just a little bit ago I saw a picture of Nicole at WSU where she plans to go next fall. I cried just thinking that Stan may not be here to see her go off to college. So many memories come back and even though most of the memories are happy, they bring tears to the eyes and they spill out. 

Shortly after Stan decided he wanted to be married and prayed for a wife, we both went, separately, with friends to the Circle K Tavern on March 15,1969. The Circle K was across the street from Boeing Plant 2 and had a country/western band and large dance floor. Stan was already sitting in a booth w/his friends when he saw me walk in the door. He watched to see where I sat and soon came over to ask me to dance. 'Spose you know I said yes. My friends and I had an agreement that if any one of us was asked to be taken home by anyone we didn't know, that one would automatically be the driver and the others wouldn't have a way home, so when Stan asked to take me home, I was the "driver" so best I could do was agree to see him when Juanita, Vivian and I would be back the next weekend. After seeing each other 3 weeks in a row, I agreed to let him take me home. A few weeks after that when he brought me home from a date, he "accidentally" asked me to marry him. I say accidentally because he said afterwards that he meant to ask me what I planned to do with the rest of my life, but "will you marry me" came out instead. I said "yes" before he could change his mind and we were married June 28, 1969. This is probably not the type of courtship I would recommend for most people, but it's somehow lasted for 40 years!

Most of you who will read this never had the privilege of knowing him when he was not in pain. In October of 1970, while helping a coworker move a refrigerator through a door, he wrenched his back, rupturing 2 discs. He had his first back surgery a few months later and even though he had that surgery and another 5 years later for same reason, he has been in constant pain for ever since. The pain has caused him to become even more quiet than he was naturally, he still has one of the funniest--altho a bit wacky-- senses of humor of anyone I've every known. Unfortunately he keeps most of it to himself.

Blake, Kelli Mark's younger boy (11 yr-old), is over here for a few days--we're actually providing taxi service, but he sure is fun to have around when he's here. He fixed omelets for lunch today and other than the fact that we should have had 2-egg omelets instead of 3-egg, they were very good. He had a bit of trouble flipping his own, but was able to rescue all except one little bite. Fortunately he held it over the stove and not over the floor to flip. I'm sure he inherited some of his culinary skills from me, for instance, he said and he's right, that he's a good cook and baker, but messy. Stan insists that I must pre-flour the counter before I ever start to make pies.;-)

I think we've all made a few blunders in cooking. Don't know if I've already blogged about the time my sister Audrey baked an angel food cake from scratch and I'm not going to search back through to find out, so if you've read this before, you can ignore it. One time when our folks were gone and she was about 12, she decided to make the cake as a surprise. It was truly a surprise because she didn't beat the eggwhites. I don't think you could have cut it with an ax. I know when it was thrown out for the chickens to eat, their beaks bounced off it.

Recently my oven accidentally got turned off while I was baking cookies and one sheet was just a big blob of mess. I won't say who turned off the oven, but next time I ask Stan to turn off the timer, I will be sure he knows which button that is.

My dad had to have been the worst cook of all time. Once when Mother was in the hospital, and he was in charge, he made cucumber omelets for us. Another time he fried mush with green beans in it. You know the expression, "at least he tried," well that still didn't make it edible. I will say he wasn't afraid to try something new.

As I'm sitting here typing this (keying), I wish that I had have inherited my grandma (Anna) and her brother Victor's abilities to tell stories. For whatever the reasons, story telling seems to be mostly a lost art. I suppose it has much to do with the availability of books, tv, movies, etc., that we don't depend on stories being passed on from one generation to another.

I think you know that I am a deacon at my church--the first year of a 2-year term. Anyway, at our meeting last Tuesday evening we put valentine boxes together for the widows and widowers in our congregation. There were some homemade cookies, homemade as well as "storebought" candy and a couple of other things that I've forgotten. Each of us delivered them to the widows and widowers in our parishes. I know that I enjoyed delivering them and visiting with my three "deliverees" at least as much as they enjoyed getting the boxes. I hope it becomes a tradition.

Speaking of homemade cookies, I should get off here and mix up a batch. When Blake gets back from his Grandma Karen's tomorrow and before he is picked up by his friend's mom to go skiing, he and I are going to roll, cut and ice some sugar cookies.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Thought I would get right back at this once fall settled in for real, and here it is January 3 and I haven't posted for months. So far I've had to retype most of the words I've entered because of typos.

For Christmas we gave each of our grandchildren a china cup that had once belonged to my Grandma French. I know most of them won't appreciate the cups at this time, but hope they do some day. That made me think that I have a couple of things that had belonged to my great-great Aunt Alta French. She was my Pop's Uncle Bill's wife and I met them when Vic was a baby. They lived in Indiana and were both in their 80's when I met them. (I believe they lived in Farmland, but would have to look it up to be sure.) Anyway, the two items I have are on the bottom shelf in the curio cabinet in the dining area. They are a china pitcher and bowl. I think that some day I want Bruce to have the bowl, but the story behind my reason is for all my kids, grandkids and others that I love.

Bruce was the typical "I want to help" 3-year-old. The Thanksgiving after my divorce, we were living in a very tiny 2-bedroom house, with linoleum floors, across the street from Maplewood School in Puyallup. Grandma French lived in an apartment in Tacoma and had come out to have dinner with us. Bruce had been helping set the table, etc., and the only thing left to go on the table was that bowl filled with potatoes. I didn't want him to carry it, but since he was being so helpful, I gave in, but told him to be very careful because if he should break the bowl, Mommy would cry. He got about 2 steps from the table and stepped on a drop of water, went down on his bottom and the bowlful of potatoes flew up in the air. While in the air, the bowl turned upside down, the potatoes landed first and the bowl right on top of it, making only a very small crack in the bowl. Poor Bruce was hysterical, so that's when I really learned that no thing is more important than a person--especially one of my own children.

Kelli reinforced that when she was 6. The remainder of her birthday cake was in a Princess House cake plate with dome. I didn't know she decided to help herself to a bit of cake until I heard the dome crash. It broke in half, so was fit only for the garbage can, but I was so thankful she hadn't been hurt that I didn't even care about the crystal dome. And, yes I gave her a piece of cake. (I can hear all of her brothers saying, "of course, that was Kelli, Mom's pet..."

Another thing on that shelf is a white china cup with gold trim that Anna May told me was one that she saw Grandma Stobie drink tea out of many times. She also told me the small brown teapot on top of the refrigerator belonged to Grandma Stobie and I would have no reason to doubt her as that company, Gleasons England, has been around for a long time. I can't tell for sure that it's Gleasons as the name has been nearly eradicated, but it is identical to the larger one I have. I did mistakenly wash it in the dishwasher, however, causing a lot of the salt (I suspect that's what it is) to "bleed" from the pottery.

I've probably thought of 50 stories or more that I've said, "I need to put that in my blog," but can't think of any more right now--at least not in a way they could easily be tied in. Besides that, I'm still making a typo about every 5 or 6 letters--maybe I was cursed this morning.

There was a man in church today that I went to high school with. Unfortunately I didn't get to talk to him because I went out early to take care of the coffee and he never came out to the fellowship hall. Anyway, both he and his dad had been ministers in the Free Methodist Church. Paul was really a nice guy--the kind that no one could say anything bad about. Just because of circumstances, our pastor helped me clean up after coffee, so I told him that Paul had been there and one of my few memories of him. He was an excellent typist and, as seniors, we had a map from U.S. News and World Report on the wall in our Civics classroom. It had various stories around the edges that we needed to study for a test on Friday and Paul was given the job of typing them and running them off on the ditto machine--bet he never got extra credit for that either. The one story I remember was when he made a very embarrassing (to him, but funny to everyone else) typo about Thor Heyerdahl being the first person to cross the Pacific on a "fart," the KonTiki. Now we all know how easy it is to get an "f" and an "r" mixed up while typing, but he sure got teased about it.

All for now. Will try to be a little more regular about this and if any of you who read it, would ask a question about something in my childhood, my kids' childhoods, or things that I remember hearing my elders tell, would be happy to try to write something about it.

9/7/09

Wish I didn't have to work and could be with Kelli & family in Chicago. Just knowing they're there has reminded me of so many things--I could take pages to write about them. 

A good friend of mine, while working in Harvey, was Arlene Sendera who worked for Mr. Gilley, an attorney whose office was about 1 1/2 blocks from where I worked and she lived in Posen. I remember the names of Johnny (Sarna) and Wally (Przybyla), the two guys who owned the cafe across the street from where I worked; Names of several of our neighbors: Joe & Mary Batera, Steve & Chris Christian, Hilda Tucci & Chuck and    Kamykowski. I worked for Clarence Hoffman in an insurance office 3 of the salesmen's names were Don Jensen, Bob and Ray Neff

So many firsts for me back there--some I won't mention, for which you'll thank me.

First time I ever ate pizza was at the Blue Ribbon in Harvey; can still smell it and if I were there, would have to have a beer with it, even tho I haven't had a beer in well over 20 years. Tried one when we were at the Ranch a couple of years ago, took 2 swallows and threw it away, but would have to have one w/that pizza. Really, tho, the best pizza was at Tinley Park, the crust was paper thin and crispy--oh that was good.

First time I ever saw a lightning bug was in Harvey. Also the first time I ever heard of chiggers. They never bothered me, but they drove Audrey absolutely nuts some times.

I loved the little dress shop down the street from where I worked; I still remember the little yellow shirtwaist dress w/white trim I bought there. Thought I looked super in it and I probably did.;-)

That was also the first place I ever took a commuter train. At least once a month Arlene and I would take it to the Randolph Street Station, have dinner at the Copper Kettle, shop a little at Marshall Fields and go to a movie. On the way home we always stopped at the flower shop in the station and bought flowers to take to our mothers. One Friday evening we took our mothers to the State (I think was the name) Theater where we saw Oklahoma on a BIG screen.

First time I ever flew was out of O'Hare to SeaTac the summer after we moved there. Actually, I believe the first time I ever took a train was to move back there in the summer of 1955.

First and only time I ever shoplifted anything--and it was purely by accident--and I don't think even those who know me best, have any idea what it was. That was later, tho, when I had gone back to visit Mother and Daddy (Grandma Jeanne and Grandpa Kelly) after they had moved to Crete.

How about White Castle hamburgers? They only cost a nickel or dime, were about 2" square and I loved them. Mother thought they were disgusting, but I thought they were wonderful--don't know how I'd feel about them today. I guess those little hamburgers are what they now call "hamburger sliders."

First place I ever ate frog legs--they were mighty good. That actually was in a restaurant in a suburb of Chicago in Indiana. Come to think of it, I don't believe I've ever had frog legs since, but a friend just told me there's a place in Waitsburg that serves them, so maybe next time we go visit Timm and Teri. I'll have to try it.

Couple of funny things I remember happening, but a couple years later. One time, when pregnant w/Vic, Red and I were waiting in line to see a movie when the elastic band in my half-slip broke and it fell down around my ankles. Embarrassing at the time, but still funny.

Another time was when I was pregnant with Timm before we moved back west. My neighbor Ellen and I had gone grocery shopping. She always bought coffee beans and ground them in the store grinder (that's before whole beans became so "in," she bought the whole beans because it was cheaper). She bought 2 pounds and forgot to turn the grinder off between so when she poured the beans in, they went flying all over the place. I laughed so hard I pee'd my pants and it went clear from one side of the aisle to the other. We hot-footed it around the corner and left others to wonder what happened. 

Another kinda funny thing happened when I was still single and working, as well as living, in Harvey, I was going across to Johnny and Wally's cafe on my coffee break and while waiting for the light to change, a bird pooped on my head. I didn't think  was funny until quite a long time after.

I've had an earache today and it reminded of a time when the kids and I were back there when Meg was a toddler. She had an earache and Mother could not get it stopped and get Meg to quit crying. She told me how she was going to cure it, but I wouldn't let her. She waited until I'd gone to bed, had Meg "tinkle" into something other than the toilet, got a little of it on a cotton ball, put it in Meg's ear and she quieted right down and went right to sleep. That was an old German cure that Mother had learned from my Aunt Catherine, Beryl's wife. No, I haven't tried it for my ear--I put ear drops in instead, but maybe I'll try it before I go to bed if it doesn't go away soon.

Loved driving out into the country in the fall--not only was it pretty, but you could actually smell autumn. On a very rare occasion I've smelled it here, but only about 3 times in the past 50 years.

I don't, however, miss the smell of the stockyards in So. Chicago nor the pig farms out in the country. I miss the forest preserves and the oak trees. We only have "scrub oak" here and their leaves just turn brown instead of gold, orange and red. Don't miss the humidity in the summertime and the bitter cold in the winter. I always liked to shop at Krogers, but didn't like the A and P even tho there was one right across the street from where I worked.

Enough about there and then.

The weather here was crazy yesterday--we got about 1/2" of rain and they had over an inch in Olympia. But the craziest part was not only did we have thunder and lightning go through a couple of times during the day, but a small tornado touched down in Buckley (where it took out a barn and shop) and in Enumclaw (where it took off a roof and took out a row of trees). It was first spotted in Bonney Lake, but as far as I know there was no damage done there.

'S all for now.