I knew it had been awhile since I sat down to do this, but hadn't realized it had been 2 full weeks. Must say that I haven't really been in the mood this past week; dealing with Peggy's death has not been easy. I think Stan & I were both a little surprised at how hard it hit us--we really hadn't expected to be faced with it at this time even though we knew it was a possibility.

Yesterday (Sunday, May 24) after church we went to the cemeteries. First to Sumner to visit Grandma and Pop's grave, with a quick little side visit to Shelby's (in case you didn't know, she was Jackie's mom & my very good friend); from there to National Cemetery in Maple Valley for Anna May and Steve's; finally to W. Seattle for Stan's parents in Forest Lawn. Whenever we go to Forest Lawn, it seems that we always have to turn on one or 2 extra streets before we finally remember that we need to turn on Morgan. I said we're just going to have to think of Captain Morgan, so we can remember. Since neither of us drinks, it's the vicious pirate, Morgan. I wonder if anyone will visit any of them after we're gone.

When I'm in Walla Walla next weekend, I plan to go to Grandma & Grandpa Kelly's graves in the WW cemetery; haven't visited them in a long time; but I know my cousin Dorothy Ellen does. Also next time I'm in Olympia on a sunny day, will stop at Capitol Campus and go to the WWll veterans' memorial and get a picture of my Uncle Jim's "brick" & "leaf."

Speaking of Jim, my earliest memory wasn't of him as I had previously written, as the invasion of Sicily was in 1943 not 1941.

My mother almost always said Decoration Day instead of Memorial Day as  the day was originally set aside to honor veterans, especially those who had died to protect our freedoms and people decorated their graves. As with many of our holidays, it has now been changed to a Monday, so people have a 3-day weekend and stores can have sales.

I don't want to get morbid, but I think it is important that the family knows how their ancestors died. I know that Great-Grandma Stobie died of heart failure as did Grandma French, 80; Grandma Jeanne, 84; and Anna May, 89. Anna May was treated for heart failure for a long time and in her final months it was discovered that she had lung cancer, which the attending physician blamed on her smoking even though it had been at least 40 years since she smoked! We believe that it was probably caused by working close to an asbestos cutting machine at the shipyards during WWll. Even at that we didn't contact the attorneys that advertise on tv to get settlements for those who suffer and/or die from mesothelioma--over 90% of those folks are at least 80 & have lived a longer life than would have been predicted at their births. 

Pop was 76 when he died and he had a heart attack which was probably related to his diabetes. My dad was 89 when he died and his body had basically worn out even though the actual cause of death was something like an esophageal tear. Shortly before he died we found that the cause of the dementia he suffered was a series of strokes in the center of his brain, so they affected his memory, but not his speech or gait.

In the fall of 1965 or 1966, Grandma French was making some blackberry jam for us; she ended up in the hospital for several days because she fainted from the heat and hit the handle of the pan as she fell. Unfortunately the hot syrup beat her to the floor and severely burned her leg and hip. 

In an earlier post, I mentioned that I had only seen Grandma French angry once, but I remember now that I did hear her when she was a little peeved on one occasion. They had moved out to the farm by Sumner after we moved to Illinois and one day replaced the roof. She got so much tar on her pants they stuck to her and she had a hard time getting them off. She got tired of us calling her "tarpants." Can't imagine why;<)

One time when we were staying with them in Montana, I remember that she wanted "chicken" for dinner, so she took her trusty 22, went a little ways from the cabin and shot a couple of grouse. That probably was not the only time she did that, but I'm sure would get a ticket in this day and age.

Seems I recall hearing a story of Dyke, Herb & Juanita's oldest child, telling during show and tell how many deer or elk his dad had shot; can't remember how many but it's a good thing his teacher knew his parents, because it was a few more than the legal limit.

Must mention how proud I am of Jessica & Philip. Jessica was all-conference runner up utility player which is especially good considering her softball team never won a single game! Her team was, however, AA Oregon State basketball champions! She was also Girl of the Year at Santiam High School. Even though Philip will be junior next September, he will be student body president! He also won an ipod for an art project.--haven't heard what his project was but I'm sure we'll find out when we go down for Jessica's baccalaureate and graduation later this week.

I don't know what time it will show a "post time" for this, but it 9:33--see it takes me a while to gather pix, thoughts, etc. 

I've been trying for days to think of something that might be of interest to write about, but keep coming up blank--maybe a little more about Pop & Grandma French.

God chose my maternal grandparents very well. I feel so blessed to have had them as my Grandma & Pop as I always knew they loved me and would love me no matter how I may have disappointed them.

(I wish I could write more about my Kelly grandparents, but I never really knew them; I think Grandpa Kelly died in 1943 and Grandma Jeanne never went to see Grandma Kelly any more than she absolutely had to and of course we didn't go if she didn't.)

Only once do I remember Grandma French getting mad. It was one of the summers that we were spending in Montana with them. Us kids just kept singing, "the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out..." until finally she had heard it enough and hollered--what a concept, Grandma hollering--at us to shut up. Words and a tone of voice that shocked all of us. Unfortunately, I don't think any of my kids or grandkids would be shocked to hear me yell to "shut up."

Anyway as I think about Pop, he's the one who passed the love of baseball down to me. He had a desire as a young man to play professional baseball, but somehow in the fight with his brother that made him decide to leave home he injured his shoulder & that was way before Tommy John surgery. I don't know who his favorite major league team was, but I remember when he would listen on the radio to either the Tacoma Tigers or the Seattle Rainiers. When the game was going well, he listened, but if things would get a little tense, he would turn the radio off but he couldn't stand not knowing what was happening, so he would turn it back on in about 10 seconds. 

I was the same way in 1956 when listening to the perfect game that Don Larsen pitched for the New York Yankees (who I HATED) against the Brooklyn Dodgers (who I LOVED). I was stuffing envelopes at work and had a radio on my desk. It's a wonder I didn't wear the on/off switch out that day as I turned it on-off-on-off-on-off for practically every pitch in the 8th & 9th innings. Of course, I wanted the Dodgers to win, but I also wanted to hear a perfect game--what a predicament for a 17-year-old baseball lover to be in! Well, obviously I survived and I didn't have to replace my radio.

I spent last Saturday at the Farmers' Market in Puyallup raising awareness of Relay for Life; talked to a few people who are interested in joining a team or starting their own. Also heard a couple of heart-breaking stories. All in all, it was a wonderful day at the market--sunny, a bit breezy at times and time spent w/friends while talking to strangers as well. I told someone today that I would almost sell one of my grandchildren if it would buy a cure for cancer. Suppose the parents of whichever one I chose would disown me in the process, so it's a good thing there's no chance of that happening!! Besides that, I love my grandchildren and couldn't imagine being without one of them forever! 

It is that time of year, however, when Relay is my true passion! This is the 25th anniversary of Relay; our church has been involved for 18 years and I started participating in 2000. For the first few years I raised a little bit of money & walked some of it, then as I got more involved and realized how much RFL does for cancer patients, it has become more and more important to me. So far RFL is in 20 countries all over the world, has raised over 3 Billion dollars, 83% of which goes directly to research.

 Speaking of grandchildren, it's almost impossible to believe that Brendin is old enough to be graduated from college and Jessica from high school, but we know it's true. Guess that's where I'll end for today. Sorry I couldn't quickly come up with a pic of Jess when she was little, so here's one from her sr. year. The one of Brendin is when he had to have the brace during the process of getting his hip straightened out so he could walk and run without pain--what a brave boy he was!!

Warned you at the beginning that I couldn't think of much to say & it's sure a "hodgepodge" of ideas. 

Funny words

I will try to remember to use the following names for people to try to keep from confusing whoever might be reading this.

I think I always refer to Grandma Stobie as that or Grandma S.

Granddad is always Granddad Stobie; can't think of anyone else I ever called that & my mother always refered to him as Granddad.

I will try to remember to use Grandma French or Grandma F when refering to my mother's mother and her dad was always Pop.

My dad's mother is Grandma Kelly or Grandma K. and his dad is Grandpa Kelly or K.

My dad is almost always Daddy--don't think I ever called him anything else, although we did call my mother "Jeanne" until I was in the 5th grade & asked if she would care if I started calling her "Mother."

I'll try to remember to call my mother Grandma Jeanne or Grandma J. She hated being called Grandma Kelly since she never got along with her mother-in-law.

Okay, there is my cast of characters who need to be identified. If I mention anyone else that I think you may not know, I'll try to remember to give a clue. 

For the past couple of days I've been thinking about some of the words that my kids and grandkids used when they were little. I know I've forgotten some and if I don't mention a favorite, I apologize.

But first, I'll mention a story I remember hearing my mother tell many times. Her brother, Jim, went to the store one time and wanted a balloon, but had a hard time letting the clerk know his wishes. She tried to sell him a broom, but he didn't want a "boom" he wanted a "boom." Each time he would try to make himself clear, his "boom" became louder and it took several "booms" before she understood that he wanted a "boom" not a "boom."

I don't know who started it, but when the boys were young, Vic was 9 or 10, they used "ayp" for the past tense of any verb with the "eep" sound. They "slayp" in bed, "swayp" the floor and "kayp" their "treasures" in safe places. 

Kelli never liked peanut butter & jam sandwiches when she was little--don't know if she does now or not--but she would occasionally have just a peanut butter sandwich, and I'm not sure how to spell this, but she called it something like "pinnip'ala." She pronounced the short "a" as one would pronounce a short "e." So flags became "flegs," bags were "begs" and rags were "regs." One time I was trying to get her to pronounce all of her "eg" words, but couldn't get her to say, "rags." Finally I asked her what you call towels when they're worn out and she said "washcloths." We still eat "hangerbers" because of Kelli.

My cousin Bud, who was my dad's oldest brother Beryl's son, is the reason I have eaten "bisgetti" all my life.

Timothy had a hard time with the letter "l." I still like "yemmon" drops and when I went to Winco earlier this evening, I told the man putting out bananas that I was glad to see that he had "yots and yots" of them!

When Brendin was just learning to talk he called Stan & me, as well as his other grandparents, something that sounded as if he was clearing his throat, "bracha." And then, of course, that too went away & we became "Grandma & Grandpa."

Blake was about 3 when he always had a joke for everyone, but when he said it, it always sounded as if the word was "djoke." I never was able to make it sound like he did, but now he says "joke" just like the rest of us.

I don't remember this, but when I was about 2, I loved to look at the Montgomery Wards catalog  with my uncle Jim. Well, I didn't exactly look at the entire catalog. As soon as he walked in the door, I would get it (even find it if he'd hidden it), climb up on his lap, open the catalog to lawnmowers and ask "whassizzit, Jim?" 

This is not about words, but I understand I loved to go behind the couch and eat cigarette butts. I don't remember that either, but I do remember eating dirt and coal. I was so disappointed when we moved out to the farm and Grandma Jeanne told me I couldn't eat those two things  any more because the chickens ran loose and I wouldn't want to eat chicken poop. I missed eating coal longer than I missed eating dirt and I'm quite sure I ate some from the bottom of the coal pile--after all a chicken couldn't have pooped there.

This is about words, but not one that any child I ever knew made up. Kelli hadn't been talking long when, like many children do, she picked up a pretty common cuss word. Whenever I heard her use it, I would always say, "did you say darnit, Kelli?" and she would always repeat "darnit." One day when she was home with her dad, she said that little word and he asked, "did you say darnit, Kelli?"

She put her hands on her hips and said, "NO, I say 'shit,' Daddy." fortunately that habit was broken before too long.

That's it for "word stories" for now, maybe I'll think of more later

From 1969 until 1984 I was a displayer for Home Interiors and Gifts. We had a meeting every Monday morning and for the first few years that Stan & I were married, he had Mondays off so he was home with Kelli. By this time all of the boys were in school. One afternoon when she was about 14 months old, I asked where Kelli was I came home. Stan was still not completely over his frustration when he told me he'd given her a spanking & put her to bed! First she had taken a box of Cheerios and spilled them all over the kitchen floor. As he was cleaning them up, she went in the bathroom and put most of her diapers in the toilet--fortunately she didn't know how to flush it. While he was cleaning that mess up, she was back out in the kitchen where she had taken out a jar of jam and proceeded to mop the floor with it! I guess that was the proverbial last straw.

She was also a horrible climber--guess it's how you look at it, she probably thought she was a good climber. The refrigerator was between the counter and the hot water tank closet. There was a cupboard above that where we "kayp" "goodies" for school lunches and had to lock because of her climbing prowess. She would get a chair, get up on the counter, from there to the top of the refrigerator and reach around the corner so that she could help herself and any of her companions to potato chips,cookies, etc. Scared me half to death more than one time to see her there, but she never fell. 

    Sorry the characters aren't shown in the order they appear, but my Uncle Jim is the top pic, then Timothy, our family-we were all so young--then Audrey & me (really young), Kelli pretending to be Tarzan, Blake and Brendin.

Also sorry about those huge spaces, but to change them I would have to take the pix all out & start over w/them--too late

This picture of This picture of Grandma and Pop (French) was taken in the 1950's and really hasn't anything to do with what I'm going to write, but I am going to talk a bit about Pop.

I looked in the mirror yesterday and thought that if Pop were here, he would say: "There was a little girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead, and when she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid." When I was growing up, it seemed like every time I asked him a question, he would answer with either a poem or a song. Many times that would irritate me, but I've found myself many times answering one of my kids or grandkids the very same way.

He left home when he was a teenager and I understand it was because of a terrible fight he had with one of his brothers. They never did reconcile, but after that he could not stand squabbling at all. If any of us kids got into an argument when he was at our place, he would threaten to leave. Since we all loved both of them so much, we always settled right down. To the best of my knowledge, he and Grandma French never had an argument in their long marriage. They were both pretty strong-minded so I'm sure they had their disagreements, but my mother (Grandma Jeanne) said she never heard them argue and I never did either. (We all know Grandma Jeanne never inherited that trait.)

Pop was diabetic and had to have his little toe amputated. That kept him in bed for several weeks--today I'm sure it would be day surgery. They lived with Anna May and Elsie at the time and I remember one time Grandma F. telling me how badly I had hurt his feelings because when I would go there to visit, I didn't go into their bedroom to visit him. I really felt bad about that because he was a very special and wonderful person, but I was only about 12 and had never seen anyone who had to stay in bed because of an operation, so I didn't know how to act around him. Well, I found out that you act around a sick person the same way you do around a healthy person--be yourself and let them do at least some of the talking ;)

We moved to the farm outside of Sumner when I was 5 and he told me that the front teats on a cow gave fresh milk and the back ones gave buttermilk. (I always liked homemade buttermilk but have never like the cultured stuff except to bake with.) Sure enough the first time I saw my dad milk the cow, I was very upset because he put the milk from all 4 teats in the same bucket!

This is a  picture of Uncle Bill and Aunt Alta (Pop's aunt and uncle) taken on their 50th wedding anniversary. I think they lived in the same place their entire married life and to the best of my knowledge only had one son whose name was Ancil. My mother never liked him so you will have to figure out for yourself what she called him (kinda like a small place in N. Idaho) I have a pitcher in the corner cabinet that belonged to them. I met them when Vic was a baby, Pop and Grandma came to visit us in Illinois and we drove to eastern Indiana. There were 2 or 3 men in their 70's in front of a small store in the town (I think) of Poneto. Anyway, we stopped, Pop got out of the car, walked over to the men and all of them wept openly. I truly don't know how they recognized each other after all those years, but somehow they did and were grateful for the reunion.

I sure got my comeuppance this weekend. At last week's youth auction, you may remember that one of my lemon pies raised $300. Well that sure wasn't so at the RFL auction. The auctioneer decided that there would not be any food items in the life portion of the auction--the most one of my pies brought was $25! A friend of mind donated a beautiful chocolate cake that has about $20 worth of ingredients in it and takes almost an entire day to make and it raised $30! In the live auction a pair of 18-speed mountain bikes went for $250 and a flat screen tv worth nearly $1000 sold for $450. This particular auctioneer is the only one I've ever seen that starts the prices high and then works down. He'll start something at $1000, work down to $100 and then try to get people to go back up. This is the second year we've had him and I hope we have a different one next year. I know I certainly won't be donating any pies if he's back! Another friend had 2 large oval laundry baskets, one filled with baked goods and homemade candy and the other filled with homemade pickles, jellies, etc. and the pair of them sold in silent auction for $39! She had way more than that invested! It is all for a good cause, but would be easier to donate the money!

I had my eyes examined the other day; the doctor says I need new glasses because I can't read the fine print as well as I did 3 years ago--who needs fine print if you're not reading contracts?! They also told me to get some artificial tears and use them when I sit down at the computer and again when I get up; so far I haven't remembered to buy them, but I can tell they're right about that part--my eyes start to itch and burn after I've been here awhile. sooo, that's it for now. As you can see, I still haven't figured out how to wrap the text nor figure out how to correct the line spacing around a picture, so rather than go crazy (ier) trying to figure out how to do it, I'm going to let it go...

I don't know why I can't make that picture so you can really see it & why it has to have such a big box, but...oh well. The couple on the left is Anna May and Al.

If you read my first post, you know that I promised they would not be in any chronological order & this one will be a really good example of that...

The other evening while driving down by the Fairgrounds I was talking to a long-time customer and friend, who lives in Edgewood, on my cell phone --yes, I was using my Hands-free. I had just said "works for me" when I saw a flash of lightning, heard her phone crackle & then go dead. She called me later & said that the lightning had been really close; knocked out their phone, caused a circuit breaker to "break" or whatever they do and there was smoke coming from somewhere. Fortunately no one was hurt & there was no real damage, but that made me think of a freak accident that killed Al, Anna May's second husband. (John, her first husband was a soldier in WW2 and they were divorced after she found out what kind of a scoundrel he was.)

Al was Elsie's dad and she must have been 9 or 10 when they were married, making me 8 or 9. The first time I met her they were at our place for dinner; while everything was being prepared, we were going to go outside to play. I got her coat out of the bedroom, she took it from me, said thank you and slapped my face. I never did find out what that was all about and never again had anyone slap me upon meeting me.

After they were married, they bought a house on the west side of the 1st road west of Five Mile Lake. One day in January, 1951  Al was under the house working; my dad was supposed to be there helping him, but my mother had called Anna May to tell her they were running late--in case any of you had wondered, I came by it honestly--so Anna May went back to doing the dishes. She had just turned from the sink, Al grabbed hold of the pipes under the house to pull himself out when a lightning bolt struck a transformer on the east side of Five Mile Lake. He was instantly electrocuted, as would Anna May have been if she had not turned from the sink. At that time there was a little box inside the house that the phone wires ran through and theirs was a melted mess stuck to the wall. His funeral was Friday, January 13 and there was a terrible blizzard in the area. Grandma & Pop French, the couple shown in the picture with them--Jerry & Cozetta--and our family were the only people except Anna May and Elsie who made it to the funeral. It stayed so cold that winter that his casket (with him in it , of course) had to be kept in cold storage for several weeks before the ground at Cathlamet thawed enough to bury him. I can remember wondering why they had to pay for cold storage when it was so cold outside.

Thinking back about Al makes me think that every child deserves someone like him in their lives; he always made me feel good about myself and I'm sure he did the same with the other kids as well. I remember one time in the care after he had picked me up to spend the weekend at their place, he told me that I would grow up to be a beautiful woman--now I never gave Elizabeth Taylor a run for her money, but I never broke any clocks either.

He was the one who made sure we went to the Puyallup Fair and bought scones for us. At Christmas we could always depend on getting a book of Lifesavers from him.

Now I know that it's hard to believe life before ballpoint pens--I know my grandkids can't believe life before computers! I learned to write with a pencil and then used a stick pen & an inkwell until the 5th or 6th grade when I could use a fountain pen--it actually had a little "bladder" that I filled with ink, so I didn't have to keep dipping my pen & didn't have nearly as many blotches on the paper. Well, when I first saw the ballpoint pens, I really wanted one, but my parents told my we couldn't afford one. Al gave me a TRI-COLOR pen for my birthday. It would write in blue, red & green! What an exciting gift! I probably was more excited about that than many kids are today over an iPod or cell phone.

This is a picture of my mother and me on Graduation Day.

I mentioned clocks and they have also changed a lot since I was growing up. I got my first watch, a 21-jewel Bulova when for 8th grade graduation. It had a black silk band and a gold case. For high school graduation I got a suit and set of luggage--no it wasn't a hint for me to move away, we did, in fact, move to Chicago as soon as school was over that year.

Don't know what made me think of a couple of stories about Grandma French's brothers, Stuart (left) and Victor, but I did.

Stuart was the quietest man I ever knew. I don't believe I heard him utter 100 words in my entire life time. His wife Eva, on the other hand, talked more than anyone else I ever knew. Kirwin (Fern's husband) told me one time that they took her to the airport, she was telling them a story while walking down the ramp away from them and when they picked her up a couple of weeks later, she continued with same story right where she had left off!

But this was about Stuart--one time he and Victor were over here visiting Grandma French & Pop and Anna May and my folks took them to a wrestling match. Of course all of the crowd was screaming and hollering and Stuart cupped his hands together and said "boo."

The summer before I turned 16, Victor & Peggy had come over to see Herb and Chris, who were both in the service then--probably about to ship out. I think Chris was stationed at Fort Lewis and Herb was stationed at Fort Lawton, a used-to-be fort in Seattle. 

At that time there was a big amusement park in the north end of Seattle, called Playland. We all went to the park and Herb & Chris somehow convinced their dad, Victor, to go on the roller coaster with me. They had fooled him into thinking they were going to go on as well, but were waiting for us when we got off. 

Being a smart-aleck teenager, I made sure we sat in the front & kept my arms up in the air for almost the entire ride.I believe that's the only time I ever heard Victor cuss. He would chuckle his trademark chuckle each time we went up a hill, but going down the other side, he would mutter "blank-blank s-o-b."I can still remember laughing until my sides hurt! And Herb & Chris, of course, had a good laugh because they had again put one over on their dad.

My trip to Portland last Friday was wonderful--the perfect day to drive; the sky was blue, the sun was shining and the trees were spectacular in their beautiful spring garb. Many of the cherries, plums, etc. were in their colorful pinks, whites and yellows while most of the cottonwoods, maples, etc. were in their not-completely-leafed-out stage--they had green leaves, but their skeletons were still shining through. Just glorious!

I spent much of yesterday baking pies for the youth auction. This time I did 2 each of lemon meringue & cherry. I think next year I'll go back to the apple instead of the cherry. They're more work, but bring in more money. One of the cherry pies went for $15 and the other for $25, but the lemon went much better. The one in the silent auction sold for $95. The man who bought the one in the live auction told me that he had gone to bid on the silent auction pie, but he knew no matter what he bid, it would be topped because a very interested party was standing there watching. He decided he would get the one in the live auction instead--he did, but he paid $300! for it! 

, Trust me, the kitchen didn't look like this when I finished the pies yesterday! I don't remember how that happened w/that cake, but it was sure a mess!

Well, I seem to have figured out how to get the pix where I want them, but don't know how to wrap text, but that is okay.

I had lunch with a couple of my friends last week and we shared some stories about things that had happened when our children were growing up, so will put a couple of them here.

Maybe it was because Vic was the oldest, but he never wanted to take "no" for an answer. He was about 4 or 5 when the kids and I were in the car and he wanted to do something that I said no to. Several times he asked, "why?" and I gave him the stock answers, "no," "because I said no," "because I'm the mom," but he continued to ask why. Finally Timm said, "'cuz she's an 'icked, old 'itch, that's eye!" Not only did Vic not get what he wanted, but that became my stock answer for a lot of things in the years after.

It hasn't always been against the law or particularly dangerous in small communities to leave the kids in the car while running in to get a few things at the grocery store. One day, when Mark was about 18 months old, I did just that thing. When I got back to the car, he had a bunch of bananas that his older brothers had convinced him to go in & get. We never did figure out how he got out of the store without any of us seeing him, but I went in and asked Barbara, the owner, to come out to the car & scold him. I knew she could really get angry, but she surprised me that time. When we got back to the car, Mark had peeled a banana about 1/2 way down, stuck it in his mouth and took his hands away. He looked so cute that there was really not much either of us could do, except laugh. Mark got away with shoplifting that time, but I don't think he ever  tried it again.

In one of my earlier posts, I mentioned Uncle Bill & Aunt Alta whom I met met when they were in their 80's. I have a bowl and pitcher (not a set) that she gave me when I met her. The Thanksgiving that we lived by Maplewood School Grandma French was there for dinner with us. Bruce was 3 at the time and, as with many kids about that age, was extremely helpful. He wanted to help put things on the table so I gave him Aunt Alta's bowl, full of potatoes. But I cautioned him to be very careful because that was a very special bowl to me and I would cry if he broke it. Well, just as he was almost to the table, he slipped on a "drip" of water, his feet went out from under him, the bowl went up tin the air, turned upside down and landed on top of the spilled potatoes. The bowl got a small chip in it, but did not break. Thinking he had broken it, poor Bruce was absolutely hysterical. It took both Grandma and me several minutes to calm him down, and I learned right then that possessions are not nearly as important as someone's (especially a child's) feelings.

A similar thing happened to Kelli when she was 6. The rest of her birthday cake was in a beautiful Princess House domed cake saver and was right in the middle of the dining room table. No one was around so she decided to help herself and dropped the dome in the process. It broke right in half--no shards--and even though she wasn't supposed to be helping herself, I was just grateful that she hadn't hurt herself.

Actually, it's a wonder she didn't hurt herself more often than she did when she was little because she was such a climber. I used to keep lunch goodies in the cupboard above the hot water heater. She would get a chair, climb up on the counter, then to the top of the refrigerator and reach around the end of cabinet and get the goodies out.

Blair was the one who was the most accident prone--and still may be. I think I already mentioned that he broke his leg before he was 2 and wore out several casts before the doctor would finally agree to putting a walking cast on it. One time he had been running down the street when a neighbor boy came in & told me Blair had a car in his foot!. I looked out the window and there he was lying on the street with a car stopped beside him. I think it took me about 3 steps to get down to the corner! When I got there, I found that an axle from a plastic car, with one wheel missing, had stuck through his tennis shoe and into his foot when he stepped on it while running; I pulled it out, took him to the doctor for stitches and antibiotics & then I got sick to my stomach.

It's almost 10:30 & I still have some things that I promised myself I would get done before going to bed, so guess I better scoot away.

I don't know when this picture of the Stobie family was taken, but it's obvious that they're all adults. That's Victor & Ruth on the love seat; behind them (l to r) Chris, Victo, Peg & Herb.

Mother was 8 when Victo was born and she remembered being out at the Ranch several times as Victo & Herb were small--old enough to be outside w/o adults, but not old enough to go off by themselves.

One time as Mother, Anna May, Victo &  Herb were playing in the haymow, Herb got closer than planned to the edge of the hole where the hay is thrown down for the stock, as he slipped through, Victo said, "there he goes." Fortunately there was enough hay below to give him a soft landing.

Another time when Herb was a toddler &  they were all playing in the barn, he told everyone to be quiet because "he thought he heard a 'hougar'."

Those are about the only 2 stories I remember hearing about them as kids, because the French family moved to Washington when Mother was 12 .

I had almost forgotten, but Victor was a very small baby, evidently a preemie; as he only weighed about 3 pounds. Grandma Stobie lined a cigar box with cotton and kept him very close to the wood stove, sometimes he would sleep on the oven door.

A sad part of their lives was that Ruth was schizophrenic and had to spend much of her life in a mental hospital. The kids were all grown before there was medicine available so she could live a normal life. One of the things I always admired about Victor was that he kept the family together and that even though many friends (and even some family members) encouraged him to divorce her,  he still loved her and stayed married to her.

Ruth and Fern were sisters. Now I know this is taking a little detour, but their last name was Aemissiger (I think that's spelled correctly) and their parents both died leaving several children behind. I remember, Ruth & Fern, of course, and they had a brother John, a brother Nick and a sister Martha. There may have been more (Robin, if you read this, please let me know). I don't know how they ranged in age, but Fern was about 12 at the time. Grandma & Pop, by this time, had their three children, but agreed to take Fern as a foster child until someone wanted to adopt her. They never legally adopted her, but she was part of the family from then until she died several years ago.

Once when Grandma was here, I was having a rather hectic time with the kids. Grandma told me to enjoy them, they'll be gone too soon. I never vocalized it, but my thought was that how could she know what I was going through, she only had 3 children, plus an older girl to help with them! Little did I know that she was right--they did grow up too fast, as are my grandchildren doing now. The other thing is that taking on a mourning, orphaned girl just as she's about to go into puberty must not have always been fun.;<) They surely loved each other as much as any mother & daughter can. She was also well loved by Pop, Anna May & Mother. I'm sure the same was true of her and Jim, but of course I barely remember him. I do remember reading somewhere, though that she came and stayed with Pop & Grandma for awhile after learning of Jim's death.

 In the first picture Fern would have been about 14 & Mother about 2, sitting on the porch with Granddad. The 2nd picture of her would have been taken some time in the 1990's after her husband, Kirwin had passed away and she was living in Washington State to be closer to her daughter, Sue and her husband, Paul.

Okay, by know you know that the pictures didn't load in exactly as I'd planned, but it's after 10:30; I got up at 4:45 this morning and am driving to Portland and back by myself tomorrow, so I'm not going to spend time trying to rearrange them--nor am I going to tell you any more stories tonight--I'm going to be "hitting the hay" very soon! A fun thing, though, is that I will be having lunch with my friend Brenda Corrie, who is on our Relay for Life team. Her daughter, Teresa, goes to our church and is also on the team. Brenda is a survivor and has actually been on the team longer than I have and we've gotten to be friends so I'm looking forward to seeing her tomorrow!