Roots'n'Leaves

Sepia Saturday: 2013 June 1

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Fri, 31 May 2013 02:25:00 +0000

circa 1925, Sigfords Planting Dry Land Wheat
on the "Steele Place"

The photo prompt for this 179th Sepia Saturday includes birds, beasts and reptiles, or carts, wheels, ladders, barrels, or whatever offshoots that occur in the minds of Sepians. At first I favored an owl photograph (and it's a pretty good story too), but my decision was made when I happened to flip this old family photograph. I am not sure that it fits the prompt, but there was something about the tractors, wheels, barrels, and horses that grabbed my attention.

My grandfather, Frank Sigford (probably with his pipe clenched between his teeth) was operating the old tractor, which almost has a homemade look, at least in comparison to the "modern" 1924 tractor. The wheels look a lot like the Fordson F tractor of that day, but certainly not the tanks mounted on what appears to be a-trailer-like extension. The driver's seat is visible, even though my grandfather is standing at the steering wheel. All of the working mechanisms were open and visible -- a dangerous rig to operate, what with all the gears, flywheels and belts.

The little girl trudging up the hill to the tractor is my mother, who was about five or six at the time. My Aunt Loise, one of my twin aunts and was a senior at Klamath Union High School, was driving the horse-drawn seeder and disc.

Dry land farmers always seed their crops with the hope (and expectation) that Mother Nature sends enough rain to sprout the seeds and weather warm enough for the seeds to get a good start. Frank was no different from any other farmer, but the planting shown in this picture was subjected to one of Klamath county's cold, dry spring. This was Frank Sigford's last attempt at farming, and the dream of having his own farm.

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Check out the other Sepian offerings
on birds, beasts & reptiles -- or ladders, wheels, barrels, old carts.

Sepia Saturday 178 # : 2013 May 25

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sun, 26 May 2013 19:15:00 +0000

An intriguing prompt for this 178th Sepia Saturday. So many choices of faces speak silently to me over the years, each a tribute to a life lived long ago and giving me just a glimmer of the real person beyond the sepia. I toyed with photos of grandfathers, Scots and German, with my earnest-eyed father at age six, or my great great grandmother, who purportedly of Indian heritage, crossed the Oregon Trail in 1854. Finally, I settled on my first choice, a picture that has intrigued me from the moment I first found the tiny 1"x1" photo, loose and nearly lost in the fold of an old box of pictures. The piercing dark eyes of my grandmother Agnes Laura Sigford might indeed hypnotize a person as she seems to stare into your soul. My mother always said that her mother, this Agnes Laura, could stop her childhood misbehavior in its tracks from far across any room -- just with those eyes. I have many pictures of this maternal grandmother of mine, but this picture of her in the cloche hat and the fur neck-piece intrigues me most of all -- mysterious, imperious, regally aloof.

Agnes Laura's mother, my great-grandmother, died shortly after she was born, so Agnes Laura grew up a child of the eastern Oregon hills. She often told how she hated those stark, wind blown hills, but I believe that land tempered and tested her. In a time and a place where books were scarce, she had a life long love affair with words and books. When she was seven years old, her father gave her a book that she treasured, Children's Friend. A decade later, when she was sent away to school, she would find another treasure of words in her Elocution book. I don't remember my grandmother ever reading to me, or even talking with me about books and stories -- she was too busy to be "sitting around reading". Nevertheless, this grandmother of mine somehow transmitted to me, my own love affair with words. Perhaps it was just the reverent way she allowed me to take a book out of the glass fronted bookcase. Or maybe a faraway look in her eye when she opened her Elocution book.. Or the anthology of poetry that she gave to my mother and from which I read, night after night, as I did dishes -- book propped up in the windowsill. This picture of my grandmother -- not as I remembered her, but in some magical way as I know her in words, books of stories and poems -- speaks to my heart in way that never happened when I was a child. And my heart of hearts tells me this is how she would like to have lived and be remembered.

Agnes Laura Sigford (Keyes)

The picture of Agnes Laura when she graduated from high school in Corvallis, Oregon, far from her eastern Oregon home outside of the small town of Mitchell, reflected her high school dreams -- lovely white dress, flowers at her feet. She was ready to step out and meet the world. A few years later, this daughter of a well-to-do rancher left the Keyes ranch to marry Frank Sigford, a young man from Wisconsin who had joined his brothers out west to make their fortune.

However Lady fortune never laid her bounty on the couple. The sweet picture of my grandmother and her first born, Irene, belied the grief of losing this baby when she was not yet two years old. Frank, her husband, followed his dream of riches from dredging gold near Marysville, to the Pacific Northwest logging camps, to southern Oregon cattle ranches, and the subsistance on dry land farms in southern Oregon.

By the time Agnes Laura was in her mid forties, my grandmother had born seven children, five of which lived to adulthood and old age.. Her life was hard -- their lives were hard -- young children and shy on financial resources took their toll on her. Dreams of living a life in which one talked about books, the lives, places and thoughts between the covers, fell by the wayside. And she became the grandmother that I knew as a child-- an old woman, who plied us with homemade applesauce and bread fresh from her over. Her only tie to the life she thought would be hers rested behind the homemade glass fronted bookcase.

Agnes Laura Keyes
High School Granduation, 1898

Agnes Laura (Keyes) Sigford and
baby Irene, 1904

Grandma Sigford (Agnes Laura Keyes) as I
remembered her when I was a child


1942, Grandma Sigford with my little sister

These are the pictures of my grandmother on her life's journey. As I look at this series of pictures of Agness Laura Keyes Sigford, I am held by her eyes -- to me her eyes were mesmerizing -- and sometimes a bit frightening.. And those eyes tell me to remember her as that slightly mysterious, imperious woman of her dreams. Yes, I am sure that is how she would like to be remembered.

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Sunday Synopsis: 2013 May 5th

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Mon, 06 May 2013 02:21:00 +0000

Time, a fleeting minute dashes by, only to be followed by a clock that ticks so slowly. Did the days just fly-by in a wily-nily fashion, or did the 24s become immersed in muck that slowed the universe and I just thought time slipped on through the muddy trace? Perhaps as the sun warms the earth to something more that 60 degrees, I will catch a single moment and say, "Hello, sweet moment, how is this day?"

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Sepia Saturday 172 # : 2013 April 13

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sat, 13 Apr 2013 01:41:00 +0000


1879 Group of Campers at Lake Mendota's Camp McBride Courtesy of Wisconsin Historical Society, WHS-27801

I came across this picture several years ago when I was perusing the Wisconsin Historical Society's collection of Dane County photographs for some background information and visual images of the mid to late 1800s, the period when my McPherson ancestors settled in Springdale, Dane County, Wisconsin. This picture of a group of early day campers intrigued me. After reading my great-great grandfather's diary, written between 1850 and 1890, and getting an insight of their life on a farm near the village of Springdale, there was little in the way to suggest that those old McPherson's of mine engaged in this sort outdoor camping activity. More likely, it seemed to me that this group of campers might have been Madison-folk, or city-folk, out for a day or a weekend on the shores of Lake Medota. That excursion to the "country side" would be viewed very differently today, as Lake Mendota is now in the middle of the Wisconsin's capital city of Madison.

The Wisconsin Historical Society's description of the photograph notes that the subject is "a group of campers at McBride's Point at Maple Bluff on Lake Mendota near Madison, Wisconsin. They are equipped with German exercise equipment (exercise pins, "kegels"), a horn (like a miniature alpen horn), an axe and archery equipment."

This has been my offering for this 172nd Sepia Saturday's "group, camping, off-having-fun" prompt. Check out what other Sepian's have brought to the group.

2013 March 28th: Obituary for Richard A. Hill, DVM

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Thu, 28 Mar 2013 16:59:00 +0000


Richard A. Hill, DVM June 10, 1934 - March 22, 2013

Dr. Richard Allen Hill, D.V.M., passed away at his home in Ashland, Oregon, March 22, 2013.

Born in Klamath Falls June 10, 1934, Richard married Joan, his high school sweetheart July 26, 1953. After his mother’s death from polio in 1952, Richard left college at Oregon State University to farm with his father Ralph. He later farmed and ranched in Bonanza before he, Joan and the kids moved to Pullman Washington where Richard completed his Doctor of Veterinary Medicine in 1969. After practicing a year in Hillsboro, Richard and family moved to Ashland where he practiced until his retirement in 2006. He treated animals large and small, wild and domestic, ostriches and emus.

An avid sportsman and conservationist, Richard hunted, fished, hiked, rafted, canoed throughout Oregon and the Northwest. In 2009 he joined his son’s family and all of the grandchildren for another Bowron camping adventure in British Columbia. Richard loved following high school sports and particularly the Ashland Grizzlies, and recently the Miami Heat with his daughter Lois.

He is survived by his wife Joan Gail Hill, Ashland, Oregon; brother Robert Hill, M.D. Bend, Oregon; sister Jeannie Arant, Klamath Falls, Oregon; children: Lois Ruth Hill, Weston Florida, Sharon K Hill, Portland, Russel Allen Hill and wife Jody, Walla Walla Washington; grandchildren Stephen Patrick Unger and Stephanie Joan Unger, Weston Florida, Ryan Anthony Hill and Miranda Jene Hill, Walla Walla Washington, as well as numerous aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews and cousins. Daughter Susan Beth and parents Ralph and Lois Hill precede him in death.

Memorial service will be Saturday March 30, 2013 at 11:00 a.m. at Litwiller Funeral Home 1811 Ashland Street, Ashland Oregon, and officiated by his sister Jeannie Arant from Mt. Laki Presbyterian Church of Klamath Falls. A potluck Open House will follow the service.

In lieu of flowers, family encourages donations to the Ashland High School Booster Club in Richard’s name, PO Box 121, Ashland, Oregon 97520.

Sunday Synopsis: 2013 March 10th

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Mon, 11 Mar 2013 00:54:00 +0000

It's been about three weeks since I have posted anything on this blog. Recovering from a really nasty break which necessitated a serious (and successful) surgery, a long recovery period, physical therapy appointments has been tough. However the more devasating issue is my husband's deteriorating mental and physical health. We have been a couple for 63 years, since we were 14 and 15, and now married almost 60 years. A heartbreaking time.

So my friends who have followed me and filled me with words of encouragement, I look forward to the day when I am back blogging and reading the blogs of my dear friends. Til then I will often think of you all and, perhaps now and again, jot down a word or two. Thank you for reading.

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Sepia Saturday #165; Unkown folks from Benton and Wasco Counties

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sun, 24 Feb 2013 02:42:00 +0000

The theme for today is "Group Portrait of an Unknown Family". As said in Sepia Saturday. "All lovers of old photographs are familiar with unknown people, unknown families and unknown places, we all have them in our collection, and Sepia Saturday 165 provides an opportunity to give them their moment in the limelight, not because of who they are but because of who they may be." And so it is with this collection of pictures, some group, some not, that most likely is connected to my Keyes ancestors in Oregon. Their 1870s arrival in eastern Oregon was via Benton County, Isthmas of Panama, Tennessee, Virginia, and back to Ireland and the Scots border lands. The following "unknown" pictures came to me from a Keyes cousin, who had "rescued" a number of old albums that had apparently been in the Brown, Keyes, Butler and Donnelly families. The lovely old fashioned albums were in disrepair -- cut up, pages torn out, pictures removed, and discarded as trash.

This first picture shows two young boys in The Dalles,Oregon, circa 1880s. The photographer was F. J. Gerhes. In the 1850s through 1870s, The Dalles was the County Seat for most of eastern half Oregon, and continued to be an important city on the Columbia for all of eastern Oregon.

The picture below is a tintype of two unknown men. They each have a faint familiar look, and could be from the Keyes, Brown, or Donnelly families in either Corvallis, The Dalles, or Mitchell, Oregon.

The following two pictures were taken by Ted Brown, a photographer who apparently took a number of tures in the Mitchell-Fossil area of eastern Oregon. The young men are most likely of the Keyes, Donnelly or Butler families --- all of whom were inter-related.

The couple below were photographed in The Dalles, Oregon, by C. M. duVall, photographer.

A group picture of a young family. No indication of a photographer, but there was a notation Canyon City (a small town just south of John Day, Oregon) that "might" have gone with this picture.

The following picture is a tintype and was found with other tintype pictures of my Benton County Keyes family. If I had to hazard an educated guess, I would say this was Rebecca Jane Keyes Donnelly.

And now a family group picture. However, I really do know all of the young people in this picture. I am thinking it was taken in 1875, just before the wedding of Margaret Delilah Keyes to Abiather Barrett Newton. My great grandfather James Edward Leonardis Keyes returned to the family home in Benton County to attend his sister's wedding. He and his cousin Zachary Taylor Keyes were building a sheep ranch near Mitchell, Oregon.

Keyes Siblings, circa 1875
Back Row, L-R, Alexander Doran, James E. L., and John Ward Keyes
Front Row, L-R, Margaret D., Rebecca J., and Orena Cordelia Keyes

This post is part of a series of posts for Sepia Saturday, which provides an opportunity for bloggers to share their history through photographs. You can view more Sepia Saturday images here.

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Sepia Saturday, # 163: A Snowy Day at Jabez B. McPherson's House in Bentley, Alberta

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Thu, 07 Feb 2013 18:21:00 +0000

The following photo is a good choice for this week's prompt, what with snow and the long furry and heavy coats. The picture was taken in 1908 outside the home of Jabez B. & Zella McPherson in Bentley, Alberta, Canada. Jabez is the man in the long dark fur coat in front of the horses. I believe his wife Zella is standing just to the left of the sledge. At this time, most of Jabez' brothers still lived in Bentley, so the other folks could be his brothers and their wives, or perhaps Bentley friends.

Circa 1908, Jabez and Zella McPherson with Friends and Family,
Bentley, Alberta, Canada
Courtesy of Bentley & District Historical Society and The Bentley Historical Museum

Jabez's father, William Burns McPherson (older brother of my great-grandfather James Burns McPherson) led his family north from Wisconsin when homesteading land opened up in the Alberta territory of Canada. The McPherson group, which included William B., his sons Willie M, Jamie, Jabez Burns (who was a cousin of my grandfather Jabez Burns McPherson) Charles, and Victor, arrived in Bentley in 1899. They built homes, sawmills, a creamery and cheese company in Bentley; helped build schools and churches as well as participated in the town government. However by 1925, only the above Jabez Burns McPherson (my 1st cousin, 2x removed) remained in this small Alberta town. He and his wife Zella had no children and lived out their years in and around Bentley. Both are buried in the local cemetery.

One of Jabez McPherson's sawmills
Most likely the second, judging by the cars
Courtesy of Bentley, Alberta, Museum's Chronicles of Bentley

To end this collection of snow and Jabez, I have included the above picture of one of his sawmills. If you liked these pictures, you might be interested in this Jabez post.

This post is part of a series of posts for Sepia Saturday, which provides an opportunity for bloggers to share their history through photographs. You can view more Sepia Saturday images here.

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Sharing Memories: The Esquire Theater in Klamath Falls

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Wed, 06 Feb 2013 23:39:00 +0000

The Esquire Theater Spire
Courtesy of Dan Haneckow

Klamath Falls' Esquire Theater was built in 1939 and was a contemporary of the Tower Theater. However I don't have many childhood memories of going to the Esquire. Now I asked myself, "Why?" I could remember specific movies and events at the Tower, Pelican, Pine Tree, and even the old store-front movie theaters, the Rainbow and Vox, but not the Esquire. In my child's mind, the Pine Tree and Pelican theaters were the older theaters which were around in the silent movies days; the Pelican a special theater that my parents talked about, and perhaps town kids went to matinees; the Pine Tree had a fare of westerns -our family favorites. The Rainbow and Vox also showed westerns--at least that what I remember of those two theaters. No childhood memories of the Esquire.

A bit of wool-gathering thoughts of movies times of my childhood seemed to provide a glimmering of the answer. By the 1950s, the Tower was the closest of these two new theaters to our rural farm, whereas the Esquire was the "townie" theater. When I was in high school distance and "townie" was a factor, but not so much when we joined the ranks of "young married's."

When I think of the Esquire, I remember the deep maroon spire with the white lettered ESQUIRE that rose above the the neighboring businesses -- and at night the the lighted spire drew patrons to a magical movie night. The Art Deco-style theater also had a more modern elegance, at least in my mind. The stone and glass ticket booth was lovely in the theater's hey-day. Even this 1984 picture, which was taken after the theater closed and in disrepair, reflects the original elegance of the theater.

The Esquire Theater Ticket Booth in 1984
Courtesy of Dan Haneckow

We saw many movies in this theater in the 1950s, and here are a few of my most memorable moments. I remember climbing the carpeted center-aisle stairs to see Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. The theater was packed, nearly sold out, and Ric and I had to sit nearly in the back row, high above the screen, and just below the projection booth. Strange how such a seemingly innocuous memory sticks in one's mind-- but I really liked that movie.

Another Esquire moment came while watching 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Movies, to me, were not a spectator sport, but rather an opportunity to live another life albeit for just an hour or so. In this movie, I am right there with Kirk Douglas in the boat, or maybe on a dock, as the giant squid rises up behind him. The theater seemed to have a collective silent inhalation of breath, as I scream a warning to Kirk, "Watch out behind you!" My husband Ric, shushes me and shakes his head with a knowing smile. This wasn't the first time I had lost myself in a movie, nor would it be the last -- but perhaps the loudest --and most notable if the"tittering" of folks around us was any indication..

We usually parked in a store lot a few blocks from the Esquire. A brisk walk in the winter, but in the warmer months walking back to the car from the theater was a treat. Cool crisp evenings, clear star-laden skies, made for a great ending to a night out, as Ric and I walked hand-in-hand down the familiar streets. That's how I remember the Esquire Theater.

The Esquire Theater in 1984
Courtesy of Dan Haneckow

In the early 1960s, Ric and I moved our family of three young children to Pullman, Washington, in order for him to attend the Washington State University's Veterinary College, so we didn't see the downward spiral of the movie theaters that were part of our history. By 1984, when the above picture was taken , the Esquire had closed and the glamor of those wonder years had disintegrated to a damaged, empty marquee and a shabby, worn-out version of its former self. However that lovely old Art Deco theater had fans throughout the Klamath Basin, who had a vision of a community center dedicated to the arts. Fundraising started in 1983, but the plans came dangerously close to failure when the theater owners decided to demolish the building. The Founders of the very active local Community Lounge stepped up and purchased the building. They then donated the building to the City of Klamath Falls in exchange for a permanent home in a portion of the renovated building.

By 1989, a number of community businesses and leaders had stepped up and made the $2 million renovation a reality. The theater, renamed the Ross Ragland Theater, after a prominent local civic leader and patron of the arts, opened in March of 1989. The first presentation was a local production of The Music Man. Since then, our family has attended a number of events at the Ross Ragland Theater, ranging from children's dance programs, Cowboy Poetry presentations and contests, and a lovely musical production of White Christmas.

The Ross Ragland Theater, Klamath Falls, 2011
Courtesy of Dan Haneckow

The Ross Ragland Theater now is a privately-owned, not-for-profit corporation, which is widely supported in Klamath County and surrounding areas. The Theater has added a Cultural Center which allows the theater to further serve the community by providing a venue for meetings, banquets, and even weddings. It's reassuring that the Ross Ragland Theater is providing a cultural center for Klamath County and the four surrounding counties, as well as providing cultural experiences, through its Outreach and Education programs for the next generation of theater-goers.

Although when I look up at the spire of the theater, I still miss the brightly lighted ESQUIRE sign.

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Sepia Saturday #162 for 2013 February 2: First Telephone in Klamath Falls, Oregon

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Wed, 30 Jan 2013 15:30:00 +0000

Courtesy of the Klamath County Museums

The prompt for this week's Sepia Saturday was Western Union Messengers, Danville, Virginia, or young lads with caps on their heads, or -- in my case, the first telephone in my home town of Klamath Falls,Oregon. The telephone was installed in 1910 and it appeared to be in front of a boarding house on Klamath Avenue. Klamath Avenue is just one street off of Main Street. In 1910, Third Street was just far enough away from the river area to start accommodating boarding houses and stores. As you can see from the picture, the streets were dirt and the most common transportation was by horse and wagon or buggy. However, a few people owned cars and had to share the streets with cattle drives, horses and horse drawn conveyances.

The obvious pride these fellows take in either installing the telephone, or having their pictures taken on the momentous event, makes this one of my favorite pictures.

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Sharing Memories: The Tower Theater and the Dirt Roads

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Tue, 29 Jan 2013 17:40:00 +0000


The Tower Theater Complex in 1985 Courtesy of www.americanclassicimages.com

Although theTower Theater in Klamath Falls was built in 1939, my earliest memories of going to this theater probably took place in the early 1940s. I seem to remember a stucco courtyard, to the right of the entrance, that intrigued me. I so wanted to go into that courtyard -- but now I question whether there was that wonderful mysterious courtyard. However, I do remember sitting in our car, outside the theater, mother would fidget and complain, "Come on, Harold, we are going to miss the beginning of the movie." My dad and I would be listening to the end of the "Lone Ranger" on the radio. His focus was on the radio and the last of the episode's daring-do of the masked man and his stalwart companion, Tonto. Off-handed he remarked, "Ruth, we can just sit through the intermission and then watch the beginning we missed." And we would sit in the car and listen to the very end of the the "Lone Ranger" and his adventures.

This concept never seemed to satisfy mother, but was our standard mode of going to the movies. However, the hey-day of movies with lines of movie goers snaking around the block ended our days of sitting through the intermission to see the "missed" beginning. Seats were a precious commodity and not to be wasted on the late-comers.

A few years later, mother or one of my aunts would drop my sister, cousins and me off at the movies for the Kiddee Matinee, and later, the regular matinee showing.. The Tower, the closest theater to our farm home --14 miles or so from home -- was the theater of choice for westerns, musicals, and drama. However, the following story is one of my most vivid memories of the Tower Theater.

TOWER THEATER AND THE DIRT ROADS

“Please, please, Daddy, can I go to the movie tonight. I'll be careful and drive real slow.”

“You're only fourteen, you know, so you have to be extra careful. No driving on the highway and come right home after the movie,” my dad replied gruffly. I knew that even though his voice sounded harsh, he was secretly pleased that I could drive to town – like he and his brothers did when they were my age. The house rule for my driving was that I could go anyplace I wanted as long as I had permission and I didn't drive on the highway, or blacktop, in those days).

“Thank you, Daddy.” I gave him a hug and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

I ran to the phone and called my cousin, Nancy.

“Nancy, I can take the car to the movies tonight, but I don't have enough money for you and Marilyn. Do you have any money?”

“No, but we have a lot of pop bottles. Marilyn and I can gather up enough to cover our tickets and maybe some popcorn,” replied Nancy. I heard her yell over her shoulder to her younger sister Marilyn to start gathering the bottles.

“I'll pick you two up about a quarter after six.”

Nancy hemmed and hawed and finally sputtered, “How will we get to the theater?”

I just laughed and said, “Pick you up at a quarter til.”

1950 was the year, summer before I turned 15, and the long sunny days meant that we would arrive at the theater way before the sunset. That summer I had been increasing the radius of my travels via the dirt roads. Dirt roads meant freedom to me. At first it was just to Mac's Store, which was just five miles away on the highway, but for my back road jaunt it was closer to a ten mile trip. Then from Mac's Store, I started venturing the twelve mile circuitous trek to Midland where my cousins lived. My cousins and I had talked about this day.

“Nancy, we could go to the Tower Theater. I can drive clear up to South Sixth Street on the dirt road.”

“Yeah, but the theater is on the other side – across South Sixth Street,” she grumbled.

We were quiet for a while. Then I had an idea.

“We could drive through the Shell station and park in the big space on the other side of it.”

“But, Joannie, how would we drive through the station?”

“We'll just drive up like we are going to fill the car up with gas, and then drive on through to the other side.” The conviction in my voice belied the butterflies in my stomach. I had just committed us to going to the Tower Theater. Now to get my dad's ok, which was actually easier than I expected. Now I was on my way to pick up Nancy and Marilyn.

“Ready?” I asked as I got out of my parents Olds 98. Nancy and Marilyn were waiting for me. Marilyn had a big grocery sack of pop bottles by her side. In the back seat went Marilyn and the pop bottles, while Nancy took the front seat beside me. We were off for our maiden adventure to the movies.

“O, look, there is a line of cars at the gas station.” Nancy whined. ":W-we can't just drive through the line without getting gas -- can we?

“That's not a line. Only three cars and for goodness sakes, there's two pumps,” I replied as I pulled into line for the next pump. A short wait. The car ahead of me pulled out and onto South Sixth Street. I waved to the guy at the pump and pulled on through to the parking area on the other side. Nancy had ducked down below the dashboard so the guy at the pump wouldn't see her. Marilyn giggled and waved too. When we stopped, Marilyn grabbed her bag of bottles and called to her older sister, “Come on, Nancy, help me take these bottles into the service station to sell.”

“O, I couldn't. He'll be mad or laugh at us for driving through the gas station.”

So Marilyn and I lugged the bottles to the little store. We came out with enough money for both cousins to get into the theater and a bag of popcorn to share.

Marilyn and I called to Nancy, “Come on, we're ready to go.” We stood at the edge of South Sixth Street waiting for her, before we crossed the “highway” on foot. After purchasing the tickets and popcorn, we went into the darkened theater, slunk down into the seats ready to enjoy our night at the movies. I smirked and tossed another piece of popcorn in my mouth. Even though the distance traveled was over three times the highway route - what with backtracking and crisscrossing the Basins backroads, it was possible to get to the Tower Theater without driving on the “highway.”


Tower Theater from the other side of South Sixth Street Courtesy of www.americanclassicimages.com

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Sunday Synopsis; 2013 January 20

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sun, 20 Jan 2013 23:01:00 +0000

I always knew that the hand-drawn map that my Uncle Ralph made of the area around their homes near Crow Wing Lake was a treasure -- just how much of a treasure became clear yesterday. My sis and I knew that before the map could become part of the book, it needed some clarification because the writing was hard to read and there was nothing on which to base distances and scale. Sue suggested that we get the plat map records of land ownership. A quick search of the internet brought to light the Atlas (plat book) of Crow Wing County, Minnesota, 1913.

In a few minutes all of the problems that had been associated with Google Maps disappeared. The four current "Crow Wing Lakes" and several other lakes morphed back to the land of 1913 -- through the 1920s and perhaps beyond. The configuration of the 1913 Crow Wing Lake and Mud Lake (which my uncle called Dead Lake) were very similar to Ralph's drawing of the two lakes in his map.

Once the lakes were aligned, the vexing problem of "which way was north?" was solved. The world of Ralph as a boy had been charted by a short stretch of the Mississippi River and the Great Northern Railroad line and he oriented his map on these two features. However, these two important landmarks of his youth were not due north as it appeared on his map, but due West from his home area around Crow Wing Lake. When the lakes, the railroad track, and the Mississippi were in proper alignment, then all of the farms, roads, and landmarks of his letters made sense to me.

As I studied the map, I realized that his map encompassed a world that was only 1 1/2 to 2 miles by nearly 4 miles, a total of not quite 8 square miles. No wonder he could describe the details of his youth so well, for he often told of walking, hunting, fishing and working on every mile around his home. Now, I can see that was true, and I now have a good idea of where my aunts and uncles were born, the location over the years of the homes of his parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and neighbors. I know how far he had to walk or ride a horse to school or to the train station as the map opened up a new window on his world. Ralph's map is indeed a treasure.

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Sepia Saturday: 2013 January 19th, Uncles and Old Trucks

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sat, 19 Jan 2013 00:40:00 +0000

The prompt for this week's Sepia Saturday suggests 'waggons' and 'aunties.' In my world, Uncle Clive and trucks - or cars - seems to be a close variation of this theme. I am pleased to introduce my Uncle Clive and a few of his beloved "wheels."

1934, Clive McPherson
(1910-1980)
JGH & Roots'n'Leaves Archives

The McPherson brothers, Harold (my dad), and my uncles Clive,Allen, and Ralph, came of age with that infernal internal combustion machine. If it had an engine and wheels, they took it apart, put it together; improvised, drove, raced and took daring-do chances with this new plaything of theirs. In 1938, my uncles, Clive (age, 28) and Allen (age, 21), were involved in trucking accidents. The wrecked truck shown below was well photographed but with little information about it, other than a scribbled date. However, from a description of the incidents in a letter written by my Uncle Ralph, it appears that the incident was on involving my Uncle.

[From a letter written by my Uncle Ralph, which included the truck wrecks and some other driving experiences:] Clive quit them (Zuckerman's) in 34 & worked in Klamath F as a mechanic at the Chrysler garages while there the garage entered a racing club out at the fair grounds in Altamont. Clive was in 8 races & won & of them & as the winner was supposed to get 100.00 a race, but I don’t think he got any or it. There was always some excuse, After that him, I & Harold were in the trucking business. Our only luck was a lot of Grief, got out of that business when I started to drive Gasoline transport for Red Cockerill & Clive was hired as mechanic. Just before that we hauled some timbers for Cockerill from Wildwood to Lewiston over in the Trinitys & that's when the universal drive shaft broke, Clive, truck & all went over the 400’ cliff into hayfork creek. The truck was a total wipe out but the Ins co fixed it back up & the 1st load after that Allen who altho just a kid was always rearing to drive started to drive the load to Lewiston.

The 1st steep hill the universal broke & he bailed out right away, anyway it rolled back & crosswise to the highway & flipped over on its back. The chains didn’t break but there she was with all the wheels sticking straight in the air, so after getting a new joint & looking them over we found out that all the universals were factory spot welded & wouldn’t stand any strain. So that ended the timber hauling. Clive & I worked for Cockerill till the fall of 38 when we both went out & drove truck out at Shasta Dam. That was quite an experience. There were 24 contractors working on the dam at that time so trucks were like ants running all over those hills out there & traffic was so thick they had watchmen on every curve. The outfit we went to work for was to take the top off of a hill & fill a canyon across he river from the dam. They had the shovel on the top of the hill which was real steep. These trucks held 7 yds & you drove straight up to the shovel & backed down to the edge of the canyon close enough for the load to be dumped over the edge. Clive got along fine but he was a better driver than I, I got loaded & went to back down & you couldn’t see over the top or around the sides, The only thing you could lean way over and look underneath & the boss standing down there with his watch in his hands & he said you’ll have to do better than that , it took you 3 minutes to make the trip. The only thing about that job was the gas co came out & filled & serviced everything about an hour before quitting time including all the cars so we would just have a gallon or so in the tank every day & each drove a car out. I didn’t get fired but after a couple of weeks we both quit...


1938 Clive's Truck Wreck JGH & Roots'n'Leaves Archives

1938 Truck Wreck - Another View
JGH & Roots'n'Leaves Archives

1938 Same Truck Wreck - Head-On View
JGH & Roots'n'Leaves Archives

Clive's brothers and sisters always said of him, "if it had wheels, Clive would drive or race it." A different kind of Clive's driving abilities is shown below in the 1936 picture of Clive racing in Klamath Falls. His brother Ralph wrote that Clive was in eight races and won all of them. Supposedly, the prize money was$100 a race, but according to Ralph, Clive never received any prize money. Knowing my Uncle Clive, money was not the reason he raced.

1936, Clive McPherson Racing No. 9
Klamath Falls, Oregon
JGH & Roots'n'Leaves Archives\

Happy driving, Uncle Clive.

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Sunday Synopsis: 2013 Janurary 13

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sun, 13 Jan 2013 23:05:00 +0000

I did some editing and "catch-up" research for the book and will review with my sister before sending it off to L, the chief editor who keeps usn line. I also posted a couple of things to my blog --- and am trying to catch up on my reading and responses. All of that in between PT, OT and doc appointments --- and the pure length of time it takes to do anything with a broken leg. ugh.

Nonetheless, things are progressing in the right direction --- a good thing.

Septia Saturday: 2013 January 12, Bathing Suits and Beaches

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sat, 12 Jan 2013 21:46:00 +0000

I have followed Sepia Saturday for quite awhile, but never quite got my act together to participate. The 159 topic is about bathing suits and beaches, so I immediately thought of the following pictures from my archives.


Aggie McPherson Fiske, my grandfather's sister, at Crow Wing Lake, MN From the Archives of JGH & Roots"n"Leaves

Aunt Aggie, as she was known in my family, was standing barefoot at the edge of Crow Wing Lake in northern Minnesota and fully clothed. The occasion was a big family get-together in the summer of 1918, when she was about 30 years old. I can't imagine Aunt Aggie in a bathing suit, but from the pictures of this family gathering, her dress was frilly and light in comparison to most of the heavy, full skirts and shirtwaists -- and if any of the ladies went swimming, it would have been fun loving Aggie.

My Uncle Ralph often told of swimming in the lake with his brothers, sisters and cousins. I am pretty sure that my McPherson aunts and uncles did not have swimming suits when they were kids and lived in Minnesota, but rather popped in the lake in their scivvies -- or just bare "nekked", as my uncle would say.


Beach party with my Aunt Bertha (3rd from left) and her daughter Cleona (in striped top and black trunks.

The picture to the right shows a beach party which included my Aunt Bertha (McPherson) Clouse, third lady from the left, and her daughter Cleona, in striped top and black trunis. Bertha and her husband Cecil had a very active social life and were involved in a number of business, political and community affairs in their town of Calipatria, California.

I liked this picture as it showed a variety of bathing apparel for men, women and children. There are several possibilities as to the location of the beach. Although the site could be a number of southern California coastal towns, I think the distance was too far from Calipatria. The most likely site is the Salton Sea, a shallow, saline lake, just a couple of miles north and west of Calipatria.

Lake Hemet, in the Mt. Jacinto forest lands, was also a favorite summer time retreat. When the temperatures soared in the desert, those who could afford to travel to the mountains did so. Every summer, Bertha took her daughter Cleona to the mountains for a month or so. Sometimes she also took her younger sisters, Helen, Verna, Betty and Olive Lorraine on their sojourn to the cooler mountain vacation spots.


1936, Gail, Harold and Ruth on the banks of the Feather River near Clio, California. From the Archives of JGH & Roots"n"Leaves

The bathing attire in this 1936 picture to the left is very different from the southern California style in the above 1933 picture. The picture was taken on the banks of the Feather River, near Clio, California, in northern California. My father, Harold McPherson, was flanked by his young sister-in-law, Gail Sigford and my mother, Ruth Sigford McPherson. My father and mother (and me) had traveled from Stockton to Clio to visit my Sigford grandparents and Gail.

I am not sure if there was much swimming done on this visit. The Feather River is cold; my mother couldn't swim and was afraid of the water; and I never knew my father to swim, but possibly he learned some rudimentary strokes in Minnesota. Gail, however, was a beautiful swimmer and moved effortlessly through the water- like an otter.


A sunny day for my mother Ruth and her first grandchild Lois From the Archives of JGH & Roots"n"Leaves

Fast forward thirty years, and here is my mother, Ruth,with her first grandchild, our oldest daughter, Lois. The two of them are sunning themselves on the dock at the Hill's family cabin at Lake of the Woods, located in the Cascade Mts. between Medford and Klamath Falls, Oregon. Although mother did learn to swim, she was never very comfortable on the water - and certainly not in small boats, such as the canoe to the right.

NOTE: What a fun project to do on a cold winter day. Here in the hills of southern Oregon, the sun is shining on the snowy hillsides, the trees are tipped in white, but I only thought of warm beaches in Minnesota, California and Oregon. What a nice way to spend the morning.

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Sharing Memories: Of Movie Theaters in Klamath Falls -- Poole's Pelican Theater

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Mon, 07 Jan 2013 19:01:00 +0000

Poole's Pelican Theater in Klamath Falls, Oregon
opened January 29, 1929
Courtesy of Puget Sound Theater Society

As a teenager, I viewed Poole's Pelican Theater as the dowager empress of movie theaters in Klamath Falls. However in its early years, well-dressed patrons of the arts attended symphonies, ballets, and stage productions, while most everyone in town and surrounding area flocked to see silent movies and then the "talkies." The old theater was also the venue for the Saturday morning kiddie talent show, which was followed by a matinee of cartoons and westerns. On June 23, 1928, the Poole's installed a Whurlitzer theater organ, an opus 1897 style 202 special, for the silent movies that were still being shown at the time of its opening. However by the early 1930s the "talkies" were regular fare and there was no longer a need for the Whurlitzer theater organ. The manufacturer repossessed the Whurlitzer and rebuilt it in 1937 for Chicago's Aragon ballroom.

The theater doors opened in 1929, which was about the time my mother told of going to the Pelican theater for Saturday talent shows and matinees. By 1934, the Pelican Theater was the special date night spot for my parents. The opulent ivory interior with its gold leaf decorations, pillars, and deep wine-red carpet made a movie date seem more than special. The following picture of the inside of the theater brought back my mother's old memories of opulence and the feeling of a very special occasion when my father took her to a movie at the Pelican.


Main floor lobby of the Poole's Pelican Theater Courtesy of Klamath County Museum

On August 15, 1932,my future father-in-law, silver Medalist Ralph Hill, was greeted by over a 1,000 people who lined the streets to greet his return from the 1932 Olympics in Los Angeles. My future-mother-in-law, Lois Irene Dixon, who was barely 17 years old, proudly rode at his side in the open car through the streets of Klamath Falls. Later, even more people showed up at the Pelican Theater for the town's official welcome home for it's Olympic hero. The theater must have been a packed house as the Pelican seated 1,590. The throng of people waiting to get into the theater for Hill's welcome home must have looked much like the street-lined picture shown below.

A 1940s crowd of people waiting
entrance to Poole's Pelican Theater
Courtesy of Puget Sound Theater Society

As a young girl, I remember being so very impressed with the wine-red carpets and chairs, the heavy red and gold drapery, and the gold-leaf decorations. However, one of the most vivid memories stemmed from a date night movie with Ric. We were still in high school at the time and had gone to many movies together, some even at the Pelican, but this night was special. I remember taking great care in dressing. First was brushed gabradine skirt, a pencil-straight skirt with an off-center slit clear to the knee (the slit must have been all of 4 inches long). Then I topped it with a long-sleeved silky blouse and a plush tiger-print vest and matching tam. I thought the vest and tam my mother made for me were very cool -- and I still have them stuck away in some drawer.

I was full of anticipation as I watched Ric's green Chevy come over Mt.Laki Cemetery hill and across the flat, probably about five or six miles from our house. However, when he pulled off of the blacktop and up the hill to our house, I sauntered nonchalantly across the living room and kitchen to open the breezeway door for Ric. After a quick greeting and an obligatory nod and commitment to my mother that he would have me home by 11 o'clock, Ric handed me into his Chevy and we were off to the movies.

My memory bank tells me it was a special day, perhaps Valentine's Day, my birthday, or some other special teenage day of the 50s. Going to the movies at the Pelican was always a treat, but this night Ric surprised me by buying loge seat tickets which were more than double the price of regular seats. Ric was really pulling out all the stops in his effort to surprise and impress me. The usher, dressed in a wine-red uniform with gold trim, led us us the wide curved staircase, her red-muted flashlight carefully pointed towards the floor. She unhooked the velvet rope to the entrance to the loge seats and showed us to our seats. I sunk into a plush red velvet upholstered seat beside Ric and enjoyed the decadence of the loge seating -- at least it was decadent to this country girl. Not every movie date at the Pelican qualified for loge seating, but a girl knew she was special when her date splurged on loge seating -- at least in my circle of friends.

Main floor lobby of the Poole's Pelican Theater and
staircase to the balcony and loge seating
Courtesy of Klamath County Museum

All through the 1950s the Pelican theater, though now a bit shabby and showing her age, was still the venue for most of the symphonies, ballet troupes, and stage productions that came to Klamath Falls. During these years, I remember taking my young daughters to the holiday production of the Nutcracker, as well as attending ballets and international cultural productions with my family. However, by 1960, the powers-that-be in Klamath Falls decided that a bank parking lot would be more beneficial to the "growing" city. The Klamath Falls Herald & News headline of February 20,1961, noted that the walls of the Pelican Theater came tumbling down. My grande dame of theaters lay victim to "progress"and a bank parking lot.

The bank parking lot where Poole's Pelican Theater
once reigned
Courtesy of "Lost Memory" which was submitted to online Cinema Treasures

SOURCES AND PHOTOGRAPHS:

Klamath County Museum Fast Facts (online)

Puget Sound Theater Organ Society (online)

Cinema Treasures (online)

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Sunday Synopsis: 2013 January 6

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Mon, 07 Jan 2013 03:34:00 +0000

It's been more than six weeks since I fell and broke my leg, and each day I get more and more self-sufficient. Even though I am still mostly confined to a wheelchair, I am starting to transition to a walker in preparation for being able to bear weight on the left leg. 'Nuff said about that sort of stuff.

This past week I posted a Sunday Synopsis and a short piece about old the Pine Tree Theater in Klamath Falls. I have another Sharing Memories piece nearly ready to go about the Pelican Theater, as well as the beginning of at least two more pieces on old Klamath Falls theaters. Feels good to be writing again.

Progress on the book of Uncle Ralph Letters is definitely making headway, thanks to my sis and L, as they are finishing up putting together the picture pages. I have another edit on the Introduction/Preface to complete, then on to edits. The problem is writing time between fitting in my twice daily exercise sessions and just the length of time daily living things take. So little time to write-- but each day gets better.

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Sharing Memories: Of Movie Theaters in Klamath Falls - Pine Tree Theater

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Tue, 01 Jan 2013 19:52:00 +0000


Postcard of Pine Tree Theater, Klamath Falls OR circa 1940 Courtesey of Puget Sound Theater Organ Society Website

Opening night, October 31, 1922, at the Pine Tree Theater saw a nearly packed house, as Klamath Falls theater-goers showed up in their best bib and tuckers. The silent movie that played that night was accompanied by a small 2/5 Smith theater organ. My mother, who was born in 1919, probably attended movies as a child at the Pine Tree.

Opening Night of the Pine Tree Theater, Klamath Falls OR
October 31, 1922
Courtesey of Puget Sound Theater Organ Society Website

My earliest memories of the Pine Tree are a conglomeration of western movies, Tom Mix, The Cisco Kid, Gene Autry and Roy Rogers -- AND being wrapped in my dad's arms as he carried from the theater to the car --- and into our house once we got home. I also remember the huge outline of a pine tree with the brightly lighted words PINE TREE that rose above the lighted marqee.

By the time I was a teenager, this old theater had seen it's better days. The dingy lobby, worn and soiled seats told of nearly 30 years of hard use, barrels of popcorn slithery with butter, gallons of soft drinks, and untold number of chocolate bars smeared into the seats. The old theater's days were drawing to a close. Perhaps fittingly, my last seared-into-the-brain memory of the Pine Tree was near the end of her reign. The occasion was one of my first real dates -- a group date of couples. My current heart-throbs were the twins, but their dates were girls who seemed more comfortable with dating and talking to boys than I. My "date" was hardly even a friend, but a friend of the twins. I was shy, barely able to make a coherent sentence, much less easy banter. He was equally shy, or most likely just the silent-type, which made for a very long silent and miserable night. Almost enough to make a girl swear off dating.

Nevertheless, memories of Roy Rogers, Tom Mix, and Gene Autry riding, shooting and sometimes singing their way across the silver screen -- and my dad carrying me safely home -- have lasted a lifetime

1940s Klamath Falls Street Scene with the Pine Tree
silhouetted against the sky
Courtesey of Puget Sound Theater Organ Society Website

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Sunday Synopsis: 2012 December 30

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sun, 30 Dec 2012 18:29:00 +0000

The last Sunday of 2012 and the last Sunday for this month of December. Indeed, a good time for a synopsis. My last post was on the 4th of November and I was trying to finish up the book of letters. We are close, but nothing has been done since the 29th of November, when I slipped on a piece of rain drenched concrete and broke my leg. After a week in the hospital --- really bad break --- and nearly three weeks in a rehab facility, I am finally home but still several weeks before I can bear weight on the left leg so I'm wheeling around the house in a wheel chair. Even though I'm getting more self sufficient every day, I am so fortunate to have my sister, daughters, son and grandson helping me during this period of recovery.

Over the last few months, I have added, edited, and moved pictures around in my archives, so I need to make a copy of the updated McPherson photo archives for S and L -- which I was in the process of doing when I fell -- so they can add pictures to the family group sheets and make whatever filler sheets L thinks would add to the book. Hopefully, I will finish editing the Intro to the letters so that I can send it on to them, which will enable L to finish formatting and her edits, then back to S and I for a "final edit" -- although, I am beginning to question if there is such a thing as a "final edit."

That said, the good news, blogging-wise, I am looking forward to writing and blogging ---WA HOO! And l sending best wishes to all for a wonderful 2013!

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Sunday Synopsis: 2012 November 4th

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sun, 04 Nov 2012 15:27:00 +0000

I have taken a bit of a hiatus from editing and futzing with the book of my Uncle Ralph's letters. Wrote a few blog posts, searched for pictures in my computer (which reminds me, I need a massive housecleaning of my picture archives!!!!), and now my attention has returned to the book. Picked up on the editing and completion of the Introduction to the letters, which felt good to be back in that mode.

My counterparts upstate are busily working. L is editing and formatting up a storm, and she and my sister have come up with an index by using the family group sheets that I sent up for their review. My eyes glazed over when I heard how they are going about the indexing. Makes great sense, but my skill set would have to be severely tweaked to do that detailed job. I am so thankful for my sister and L as I would not be nearly as close to book completion without them. So for me, it's back to work and heading towards the final push.

2012 November 3rd: A Monica Update

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sun, 04 Nov 2012 01:41:00 +0000

When Monica came to live with us, I am sure that her robotic controller, or controllers, did not make her aware of her soon-to-be new home. I think Monica thought her orders were to dispatch her to a nice clean, city-home inhabited only by a quiet little older couple. Unfortunately, all she got out of that description of her new home was an "older couple, but that older couple lived on a rural hillside -- a red clay hillside. The orders said nothing about the long haired-German shepard, nor his little companion, not long haired but brought in his share of dirt, beggar lice, thistles, and foxtails. Nor was there any indication, that little Monica's house would sometimes swell to accommodate two to six more humans and as many more dogs. Poor Monica. SkyNet, or perhaps it was Vicki, never told her these things. They just left her to her own devices to deal with these humans.

At the moment, she is placid. Sometimes she can't get started on her alloted days of cleaning, and she has to ask politely, "please empty my dirt bin." This happens often if I forget to empty her dirt bin before letting her return to docking. Today, I emptied her dirt bin, but still she wouldn't leave her docking station. I pushed the start button and all I got was a plaintive little sound, and these words flashed across her tiny screen, "My brushes are stuck. Please clean my brushes." I turned her over. Yuck! Her brushes looked like a werewolf -- black dog hair twined around the brushes and sticking out in a most scary way. I cleaned her brushes and extracted black dog hair from around her bushings. Then I set her back down and again pushed the button.

Her little screen flashed a thank you, and notified me that she was now cleaning the house. She didn't seem to be upset by these indignities caused by and in her human's house, but still there is a controller out there, whether it be the malevolent SkyNet or just the controlling Vickie Should I worry?

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123rd COG: A Magical Birthday

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 03:01:00 +0000

A Birthday Party! Yep, we're having a birthday party here at the COG and Jasia is the birthday girl! Happy Birthday from yet another Scorpio – I have come across a surprising number of us Scorpios. And I want to wish Jasia, a most happiest of birthdays and say a thanks for inviting us to join you.

A Magical Birthday

Clear crisp autumn days and the nippy Klamath County nights in the high desert where I grew up, have a Scheherazade quality that makes my heart sing. These I associate with my birthday, but having an October birth date is not an optimum time if it's a celebration you're wanting. Not in that farming community where I was raised. No big parties for me with a birthday sandwiched in between harvest and elk hunting – except for one memorable birthday.

The year I turned seven was perfect. Life at the Zuckerman Farms, in Klamath County, where my dad managed their Oregon operations was idyllic. The commercial potato farm bustled with life and activity in this post depression time when many farm families were struggling. The Zuckerman Farms had a name far beyond our rural southern Oregon area, and in fact, the owner and founder, Maurice Zuckerman, was known throughout the country as the Potato King.

At harvest time, Zuckerman's sent a bus load or so of potato pickers from their headquarters in Sacramento, California, to the Klamath County ranch where we lived. They were Mexican Nationals and when they arrived, it was like a party. For several weeks, my dad and the farm hands prepared for their arrival by getting the barn, which was converted into a bunkhouse, ready to be used by Mexicans during the four to eight weeks of harvest. On the day of their arrival, they would burst out of the bus, ready to unlimber stiff bodies from the long bus ride. Even if our southern Oregon autumn weather seemed warm to us, the Mexicans would soon be flailing their arms, rubbing their hands together to keep warm. Most of them, coming from sunny, warm Stockton got off the bus wearing light weight shirts and no coats or jackets or gloves. After they had stretched and put their gear and bedrolls into the warehouse, my father and several of the farm hands would get them back into the bus and take them into Klamath Falls to outfit them with warm clothes suitable for our much cooler weather. My father and our farm hands didn't speak Spanish, and only the Mexican crew boss and a few of the workers spoke a little broken English, so there was lots of chattering and gesturing as the brown skinned guys from California scurried around J.C.Penny's gathering jackets, flannel shirts, long johns, heavy socks and gloves, which Daddy then paid for out of the Zuckerman account. By the end of the first day, store clerks, the Mexican crew boss, Daddy and the Mexican potato pickers would be frazzled but also giddy with the excitement of the day.

From then on through the end of harvest, the ranch compound was filled with the lilt of their words, songs and music. I didn't understand a word that was said, but I loved the unusual buzz that streamed into our lives from the arrival of these fellows from Mexico. Lots of times, when mother made me stay inside our yard, I would hang over the fence listening to their laughter and chatter, words I didn't understand, but that filled me with excitement. My favorite time of day was evening, when my dad let me tag along beside him as he made his evening rounds and talked with the Mexican crew boss about the next day's work or anything that they needed. The pickers who bunked in the barn had an evening ritual. While their cook prepared their evening meal, a few guys pulled out guitars and mandolins and filled the evening air with the sounds of their strumming. Others would join in by singing. As I shadowed my dad on these evening excursions, I'd make eye contact with some of the guys and my shy smile was rewarded by a nod, smile and perhaps a wave. Sometimes while my dad was talking to the guys, I would sit on a bundle of potato sacks and listen to the music and the strange melodic words as they talked and sang.

1940s Potato Picking at Zuckerman's Hosely Ranch
Courtesy of J.G.Hill and Roots'n'Leaves

On the weekends, or after school, my dad would often take me with him when he drove out into the fields. When we got to the field, I would hang our the window of my dad's little green Chevy coupe and wave to the workers. . Several of the pickers would wave back, chattering in their language strange to my ear. Then I would run beside my dad as he strode up and down the potato rows with the crew boss.

“Si, Senor Mac, many sacks, good crop, very good crop,” said the crew boss in his heavy accent as he would count out the number of sacks picked by each of the pickers. The Mexican potato pickers were very fast-- which is why they were sent up for the harvest. Each wore a web belt around his waist with dozens of roughly woven potato sacks hanging from metal hooks around the belt, and a sack hung between their legs into which they quickly flicked potatoes. Each would leave a picked sack of potatoes every five to ten feet, and the crew boss would count their tally.

That year my birthday came at the very end of harvest and the Mexican pickers would be leaving to return to Stockton the next day. The night of my birthday, and while mother was fixing dinner, Daddy and I went out to the barn as we usually did during these harvest evenings. This night was special. When daddy lifted me up onto a stack of potato sacks, I was serenaded to the tune of Happy Birthday, but to words I didn't recognize. I am not sure how these Mexican potato pickers knew I had a birthday coming up --- perhaps, I told them in an almost seven-year-old sort of way – yes, most likely that's how it happened. Now they seemed to be all talking and laughing at once – a cacophony of wonderful sounds. Then they brought out the presents. Little candies wrapped in paper with pictures of Mexican children. Next was a paper fan with picture of a beautiful dancing lady painted on it, and finally the most beautiful doll I had ever seen. She looked like the picture of the dancing lady on the fan. She had a glittery golden comb decoration in her shiny black hair and her tiny hands held a little fan, just like the one I had just gotten. Her tight red bodice was decorated with black lace. I fingered the shiny red satin pillow that was supposed to be her skirt. She was beautiful and exotic to my seven-year old mind. The crew boss leaned against the bales of sack and said, “She look pretty on your bed.” O, yes, I would put her in the middle of my bed every morning, and in the evening she would sit on the chair next to my bed. She was so lovely. . I sat on a bale of potato sacks with my treasures while my picker friends danced and sang until my dad was ready to head back to our house,. Music and the sounds of their voices followed us as we walked across the compound, ending only after our front door closed behind us.

I showed mother my treasures. “Gaudy,” she muttered as she returned to the dinner preparations. I didn't know what gaudy meant but I knew it wasn't good in her eyes. I didn't care. I ran to my room, placed my dark-haired beauty in the middle of my bed and then I sprawled across the bed, fanning myself, unwrapping candies and reliving a most magical night.

I don't remember any other birthday parties, only that one very special birthday. That was enough.

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Sharing Memories: Books

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Mon, 29 Oct 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Thank you to Lorine McGinnis Schulze over at Olive Tree Genealogy, for her ongoing series about Sharing Memories. She has been posting a topic every Sunday since December 8, 2009, which gives me lots of food for thought and writing. In addition, the only rule is to share one's memories for whomever, but no rules about what, when or how often to write. My kind of series, since I dinna seem to do to well under hard and fast rules.

This week the topic is Books. Other than the two books that I have written about previously, reading books was not a high priority activity in my childhood. Although my mother gave me her poetry book to read while I washed the dishes, she believed that reading was an activity that should be done only after all other chores were done. In her world, there were always chores to be done. My grandmother appeared to have the same view of reading, although she did have her elocution book and a few books in her glass-fronted book case.

The only two books that I really remember as I was growing up were dismal failures. I carried around Ernie Pyle's Brave Men for years, but I don't think I ever finished it. The strange thing is that my mother gave the book to me to read, which was probably beyond the reading level of a 9 or 10 year old, but I don't think she ever finished it either. The other was a historical novel -- something about a Chateau. This book sticks in my mind as I got some pithy remarks about the book report from a teacher. I also have an aversion to Libraries, in great part, due to some very large fines for overdue books -- I don't remember reading the books, but I do remember the fines.

As an adult, I evolved into a rather eclectic reader, history, memoirs, some light science such as books on psychology, sociology, and archeology --- not so much on the physical sciences, except for astronomy and sometimes light mathematics. I also have a penchant for spy novels -- but can't abide most of the series or sequel stuff. Not too fond of sci-fi and fantasy. Also once I commence reading, I can't seem to put a book down until it's finished -- which as caused some problems over late or non existent dinners and the like.

I believe my, or our (my husband and I) greatest gift in the books and reading realm was that we provided a rather large array of books for our children -- and I read to them every nite until they were reading on their own. The last decade or so, I have been winnowing out my book collection --- the hardest ones to give the old "heave-ho" were the encyclopedia sets that I had accumulated. We bought the Americana when our eldest was born, along with it's accompanying set of Children's Library and a smaller natural science set. We hauled those encyclopedias throughout Oregon and Washington for over twenty years. We were the local "lending library" where ever we lived, as all of our children's friends would come to our house to do their reports -- at least during their elementary and middle school years. I tried to sell those books, donate them to schools, Goodwill, Salvation Army, just give them away, and finally my heart broke when I hauled them off to the dump. How could someone not want a thirty year old set of encyclopedias that had just a few cookie smudges here and there, and maybe a dribble of milk or juice, but very few pencil marks, and those only from "visiting scholars"--- we even had at least ten volumes of the "Annual Updates." I am still holding on to the Children's Library. From those twelve volumes, I read poems and stories, made crafts, costumes, toys and science projects for my younger brothers, children, and grandchildren -- too many memories -- and there might be great grandchildren some day ... .

And thus my checkered past in the book department -- don't remember reading much, racked up book fines, and cried over an old set of encyclopedias when finally I pushed them out of the back of the station wagon and into the landfill.

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Sunday Synopsis: 2012 October 28th - Monica Arrives

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sun, 28 Oct 2012 19:46:00 +0000

Dear Readers, A reprieve of the redundancy and whining about the book, editing, etc (the book is still on track.). The topic of today's Sunday Synopsis is MONICA. She came to live at my house about a month ago. She's small, but a hard worker; however, it was the response that I got from my granddaughters that made me realize there was a new force in my life.

The elder of the two, SJ, cautioned me, "Don't trust it. That's how they take over. They win your trust through house hold chores, and then, when you least expect it, SkyNet!!"

The younger granddaughter, MJ, was overheard talking with her mother and rolling her eyes, "I can't believe what's gotten into to Gram. First a bladeless fan -- and now Monica rolling through the house."

I met their surprised comments with a deaf ear. I had been looking for a Monica for several months -- read magazine articles, internet descriptions and comments, checked comparisons and prices -- I knew Monica was right for me. Then the opportunity came with an early birthday gift card. Monica could be mine. Got on Amazon.com immediately and placed an order. Three days later Monica arrived, with extra pet filters, magnetic barrier tape, and her own docking station. I could hardly wait to get her batteries charged and send her off to work.

A new world opened for me that day. With her batteries charged, the green light blinking, the schedule set for Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 8:30 a.m., I pushed her start button. Monica, my new robotic vacuum cleaner set off on her maiden voyage through my house adrift with the silty, September clay dust and whirling black hair from my German Shepard Colldubh -- Sky Net or not.

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Sunday Synopsis: 2012 October 14th

noreply@blogger.com (Joan) — Sun, 14 Oct 2012 22:39:00 +0000

A quick review of the past two weeks. My sis, our friend L, and I have been working away at the Uncle Ralph Letters. L did a mock-up cover for the book, which with a few changes will be an excellent cover for the book. I am "aquiver" to unveil the cover, but know I need to wait --- so for the time being, the book cover is "undercover." And L is now creating section pages with pictures and stuff. Far beyond my abilities and willingness to embark on that kind of artistic endeavor.

My sis and I finished our next to last (I hope) edit and review, and I just now finished the last of the checking of the edits against the actual letters -- oh, what a chore! Just checking the edits makes me wonder how I ever transcribed all of those letters -- weird punctuation, strange spelling at times, and run on sentences for lines and lines and lines of text --- and that's to say nothing of the onion-skin paper which was written on both sides. Yikes, my eyes will never forgive me. Tomorrow, the last edits will be off to L for inputting the edits and formatting. While she is doing that task, I will be finishing, for the lack of a better title or heading, the "Introduction to the Letters." At one point I thought we might be finished by October 31st, I will be happy to have the finished pages to the printer by Thanksgiving --- and even that may be a push.

But, how I am looking forward to getting back reading my favorite blogs and writing, both on my blog and the other stories and history that has slipped by the wayside during this race to the finish of the book of letters written by my dear Uncle Ralph.

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