Corny and Proud of It

"Yeah, Man!", my Dad used to say, when he was expressing delight, especially about a meal he was about to dive into. My sister Sharon also has been known to say that, and sometimes I hear myself saying it, and immediately think of them, that it is _so_ 'us'. Our family has many little sayings, way of talking, of relating, and little rituals (as opposed to traditions, which we also have...) We would probably be called corny and quaint by many, but those same people probably secretly envy us corny people. They see how happy we can be doing simple things like having a good conversation, breaking bread together, etc. We don't need fancy cars or guns or motorhomes, although the more affluent our family gets, the more junk we _have_ admittedly accumulated. However, I still see very thankfully an acknowledgement, even among the younger generations, of what is truly important: Each other...

My Daughter's Memories

Prologue
I always knew my parents didn't get along. Some of my earliest memories were of my Dad and Mom fighting. Sad, huh? Years later, after they divorced, I still thought my Dad was one of the best people in the world (you know how kids think...)

I thought of him this way even though I had memories of him sniffing cocaine and treating my Mom like dirt. I didn't think of him differently until after my brother and I stayed with him the summer of my 12th birthday.

I guess I was like my brother - I tried to deny it.

Chapter I - The Reunion

"He's here," my Mom yelled.

"He" was my father. He had come to pick my brother and I up for the summer. Boy, was my brother and I excited!

"We're coming," I replied.

We raced up the stairs into our father's arms...

Strong to the Finish

An amazing DVD set is coming out honoring the greatest cartoon character ever (in my humble opinion) - Popeye!

I spent many afternoons glued to the TV watching old Popeye shorts in reruns on a local independent TV station with my Dad. If only Dad were here to watch these restored to all their glory...

School Bell

I recently attended a class reunion. Actually, it was much more than a class reunion; it was an all-school, all-class reunion, done at the same time as the town's centennial (which I have found out - long story - is something of a mystery since there are other dates considered to be when the town was established, incorporated, etc., but I digress...)

The photo here is of a new memorial, dedicated during the weekend celebrations. It is on the site of the old school, which does not exist any more. Except in the memories (and my dreams...yes, I dream often of walking the hallways of my old schools...) of former students, etc.

What was really strange is coming across an old teacher who I swear looks younger than she did when we were in high school.

It was amazing to talk to old classmates, and meet 'new' even older former students. I finally met Michael Rustad, without whom this site would not exist. I also met Allen Ahles, who assisted me with some of the Ahles family history on this site. And of course, I not only met, but stayed with, Chuck Walker, whose story of his ancestor is being serialized on this site.

All and all, an amazing weekend I will never forget!


Humboldt School 1906-1956
Humboldt-St. Vincent School 1956-1991

Dedicated to all the teachers, administrators, students, custodial and transportation personnel who so faithfully served
and attended this school.

Bell monument provided by Garylle B. Stewart, Class of 1958. Construction and installation of Bell by Wayne G. Stewart, Class of 1964. Masonry work by Steve Olson and Grandson Construction, Fargo, ND. Bell saved from school and provided by long-time residents Curis W. Miller and Brad Hemmes.

Dedicated at Humboldt Centennial and All-School Reunion,
June 22-23, 2007.

Trivia: The bricks forming the base of the memorial were once part of the old-wing of the Humboldt School

A Walk in the Rain

Arrangements were made for the cremation. This morning it took place. My companion and I met Tom the undertaker, at Riverside's crematorium at 8:30am.

We met the two men who do the cremations. We watched as the box with Mom's remains was taken and placed in the furnace. I thanked the men, and Tom, and we walked away.

It was gently raining, and as we approached the car to leave, I asked my companion if he'd mind taking a walk through the cemetery. We got our umbrellas, and proceeded.

I don't often have a chance to walk through a cemetery when it's raining. No wind, so amazingly quiet, peaceful, and empty...except, of course, for the silent city around us.

The huge, old trees throughout the cemetery made me think of home, the home my mother lived in most of her life. It, too, had great old trees surrounding it. There's something amazing about trees, and seeing such trees gave me comfort as I glanced back at the crematorium and saw the waves of heat rising out of the chimney on top.

As we walked past the gravestones, we noticed white-tailed deer further on, one standing, and one beyond that was laying down under a tree. I watched them watch us.

We turned a corner, then another, heading back to the car, when we noticed a small flock of birds in the distance coming out from behind the mausoleum. Wild turkeys, a small band of males. We headed up the small hill and around the building, and caught them as they disappeared behind, shaking their feathers, looking up, and stepping ahead under the falling rain.

It was a magical morning walk, a very special walk I will never forget...

Still Life

Still Life from JoshFlowers

Writing our Family History

An amazing book called Battersea Girl is out. It's about a woman who lived a century, what she saw and did for those 100 years, written by her grandson. As one reviewer puts it, the writer "...doesn't do a lot of embellishing or pontificating. He lets his grandmother's story speak for itself."