No Green Cheese in Sight!

I can't let this day go by without mentioning the moon landing, the greatest single event of my childhood. What a vivid memory I have of sitting in front a color TV in the living room of our close friends, the Price family of North Hollywood CA, and watching together both the landing and the first walk on the moon. I was 14 years old and it was my father's 48th birthday, July 20 1969.

The room was full of mile-wide smiles, hearts thumping in chests, and tears in eyes. We marveled at the stupendous accomplishment by the American space program. For all we knew, the moon was made of green cheese. During my childhood this was a common phrase, not that people believed it, but it was symbolic of the mystery of Earth's moon, and outer space in general.

When I was six or seven, my father told me that men would land on the moon when I was 14. The event occurred as he said, and I marveled at his prescience. Some years later I learned of President Kennedy's speech declaring that a moon landing would occur before the decade ended, and then I knew how Dad got so smart. My growing years were punctuated with the thrill of rockets defying gravity, space ships escaping earth's orbit, and brave men gladly enduring discomfort and even misery, while knowing they might not return. I still get teary watching a film of an Apollo rocket lifting from the launch pad awash in a blast of fire and smoke.

We have watched Apollo 11 several times this month, along with a documentary detailing the race to the moon. And it was a race, a space race, a war of ideology. America won, yes, but in actuality, humanity won. The accomplishment was a source of wonder and pride for individuals in every country, and indeed, a large portion of the Earth's population viewed the landing live. Huge TV screens were set up in metropolises around the world where fascinated crowds gathered to participate in an event that seemed impossible even a year before. Armstrong expressed it perfectly, "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind," the first words ever uttered from the surface of the moon.

Early this morning our newest grandson was born, and several of us helpfully suggested names for him: Apollo, Buzz, Neil Armstrong, and other lunar-related names. The parents won't take us up on those suggestions, of course. In the future we can tell this little guy where we were and what we were doing exactly 50 years before he came to the Earth.


This is a short video showing the highlights of mid-July 1969

This one is a narration by Walter Cronkite about the moon landing

What Were We Thinking??

an old-time paddy wagon

Some folks would disagree with this statement: "America has a much more tolerant, less racist society than we had in earlier generations." True or not, at the very least we have eliminated some of the offensive expressions that were once a thoughtless, accepted part of our lexicon.

As children we said the following without emotion, not even a feeling of putting down a race. Some of the terms are pretty bad.

Jew down meant to try to get something for a lower price, a crude form of bargaining.

Chinese fire drill--at a stop sign or stop light someone yells "Chinese fire drill!" A load of teenagers jump out of the car, run around it one time (either direction), then drive away as if nothing happened.

Mexican overdrive: put your car in neutral to see how far you can go without pushing the gas pedal.

Paddy wagon: A term that was once common usage in Eastern cities. It refers to the days before police cars, when criminals or drunks were picked up and locked in an enclosed wagon with barred windows. I guess the cops were used to picking up drunken Irishmen, thus the use of Paddy (nickname for Patrick).

Indian burn: enclose someone's lower arm with your both fists, then twist in opposite directions. This really hurts.

Nips, wops, krauts, chinks, Japs, greasers, and wetbacks are what some called other ethnic groups back in the day, and thought nothing of it, probably because in "whitebread" San Fernando Valley, we knew no one of those ethnicities. The N-word was a more serious offense. I got my mouth washed out with soap for saying it at about age five. I picked it up on the playground having no idea what it meant. We weren't allowed to talk like that at home.

Polish jokes: Poles became the butt of a certain type of joke in the 60s, but I don't know why. The first one I ever heard was, "How do you tell the Polish guy at a wedding? He's the one wearing the clean white t-shirt." Well hahaha. Nothing amazingly funny about that.

Indian giver: a term for someone who gives something, then takes it back. It was an insulting put-down to be called this.

In a museum in Victoria BC, there's a small yet weighty machine once used in fish processing. It is called an "iron chink." In other words, it does the work of several Chinese men.

iron chink

A Chinese haircut: lock one arm around someone's neck to immobilize them, then using the knuckles of the other hand, rub hard on their scalp. Ouch. The Three Stooges were famous for this.

Jap flaps are a name for a special kind of flip-flops that have straw feet and velour straps.

Thankfully, we don't hear these terms any longer.

So Long, It's Been Good to Know Ya' . . . .

Not much to say here except that yesterday we bid goodbye to the most faithful car we have ever had, our green Toyota Sienna van. We never had an ounce of trouble with it. It hauled us around town, to the coast and mountains, and on numerous road trips to California, Washington, Idaho, Nevada and Utah.

The van is 12 years old with about 127,000 miles on it. The primary reason we sold it is that we knew eventually we would need a new vehicle, and with Craig on the brink of retirement, it seemed best to buy while he's still working, and money is coming in.

Our new car can be seen behind the Sienna--a Honda Odyssey. We switched to Honda due to their superior features, and hope and pray it runs as faithfully as did the Sienna. Some have asked why we, with no children to haul around, bought another mini-van. Well, we haul stuff around--firewood, furniture, D's returnables, home project hud from Home Depot, and people. Four of our grandchildren live nearby and the other eight come to visit. We want to have space to take them here and there without needing to rent a car.

We were sure that we liked the Honda color called Forest Mist, then decided it was too much gray and not enough green. We didn't want a gray car, or black, or blue. Silver looked boring. Honda has a brownish color I like, but from my observations the past few months, brown cars don't age well. It came down to white or red. The red is deep enough to look solidly impressive rather than sporty or flashy.

Farewell to old faithful, which has found a new home over near Mt. Tabor.

The Basque Sheepherder

Once in a while Mom headed out from our Valencia home to Saugus or Solemint area to do errands. The only way out there was along narrow Soledad Canyon Road, whose gentle curves followed the south bank of the Santa Clara River. 

What a treat it was to skirt the broad river channel. It was a dry bed until we had rain; then it could writhe and rage like the banshee in a sour mood. But on the plenty dry days we kept a sharp lookout for the telltale dust cloud that belied the presence of the Basque sheepherder and his flock.

As our car sped east along the channel, the gritty cloud hid its load until the shapes of scampering sheep emerged. They looked like drab dust-bunnies with legs. On and on they came. Behind them the cloud parted and the sheepherder himself appeared. He wore dark pants that matched his dark hair, with some kind of throw over his shoulders. I'm pretty sure he carried a straight staff as he strode with his canine companion.

 a similar view to what we used to see in the dry Santa Clara River

 photo from shorthairstyle2013.net 

I marveled that one man exercised perfect control over hundreds of animals. I suppose the sheepherder moved his flock up and down the riverbed to gain fresh forage. Where he came from and how far downriver he went, I don't know for sure. A few towns a ways north of us had Basque settlements so one of them was probably home. The riverbed was the ideal highway for driving the flock, at least in the dry months. 

Basques settled the American West in the past century, largely in California's Central Valley, eastern Oregon, northern Nevada and southwest Idaho. Sheep was and is their business. I never actually met a Basque until we lived in Idaho in the late 70s and early 80s. Her name was Ruth Arrizabalaza. I have eaten in a Basque restaurant and found the food delicious, and not unlike the meals my Baba used to cook--cabbage and potatoes, lamb and beef, and always bread.

In southern Idaho the Basque sheep camps look like this photo below. On cold winter days smoke curls out of the stack and it's not easy to see the sheep. They're the same color as their dusty surroundings. I've seen pictures of Basque Country in northern Spain. Its lush green mountains are nothing like the desolate areas they have settled in the US. Next time I meet a Basque I will ask about this, why they have flocked (!) to areas so unlike their homeland.

a similar view to Basque sheep camps in southwest Idaho

photo from wonnellvisit2014.blogspot.com

Long-Time Oregonians Remember

You're a long-time Oregonian if you remember any of these:

* the Vanport Flood, Memorial Day 1948

* the 1962 Columbus Day storm

*  RFK's Oregon campaign stop, shortly before his assassination in 1968

* Governor Tom McCall's 1971 non-invitation to tourists: ". . . Come again and again. But for heaven's sake, don't move here to live. . ."


* the 1977 Trail Blazer NBA Championship (and have the t-shirt to prove it!)

* the 1980  eruption of Mt. St. Helens and the subsequent ashy gray Rose Festival parade

*the old and the older iconic Portland sign:

 

                                                                     THEN

NOW

* Portland Mayor Bud Clark's 1978 "expose yourself to art" poster

 

* walking out of the PDX passenger terminal to see Mt. Hood in all its glory (a view now obscured by a modern multi-story parking garage)

* Portlandia's 1985 arrival via barge on the Willamette River to its home in downtown PDX 

 

* the classy law-abiding, service-oriented Trail Blazer pro basketball team of the late 1980s

* the words to "Rip City Rhapsody" and the famous phrase uttered by "The Schonz"


*riding MAX for free one crazy evening during its PDX grand-opening in 1985

* the 1996 flood and "Vera's Wall"

* riding the MAX for free again, this time during its West-side opening in 1998

Mrs. Rogers

Everyone knows Mr. Rogers, that paragon of virtue, kindness, gentleness goodness and love, brought into our homes via PBS back in the day.

Let me introduce you to MRS. Rogers, who was Mr. Rogers's equal in virtue, with her own brand of love and service.  She was not in any way related to the well-known and loved Mr. Rogers; she had her own Mr. Rogers, sans a cardigan sweater, who was a close second to PBS's wonderful version.

Mrs. Rogers  was my Brownie and Girl Scout leader for 9 years.  She and Reva Sims formed Troop 2259 in 1960 when her daughter Patty reached first grade.  Through the grapevine my Mom heard about this brand new Brownie troop forming, and I got in on the ground floor, so to speak.  Patty was an only child, adopted in fact, and Mrs. R. was able to put all of her energy into our troop, for Patty's sake yes, but I know she believed in us all.   Mrs. R. was 100% committed, so our troop became the most active in the area.  Weekly meetings, serving in schools, churches and communities, assisting individuals in their needs, camping, crafting, cooking, horse-back riding, personal grooming lessons, galloping dinners at holiday time, father-daughter and mother-daughter fun.  You name it, we did it.

Mrs. R. has been gone for a while but her legacy lives on.  I wholeheartedly know this due to the degree my own life was enriched by her providing activities that developed me into a more competent, better person than would have happened naturally.  A few years ago Patty traced via Facebook, the former members of Troop 2259 and invited us all to the page where she posted photographs of those good ol' days.   And then this summer, Patty was living temporarily in Bend, a town 3 hours away from me.  I spent a long, delightful afternoon with her in Bend discussing her mother and our troop.  We hadn't seen each other in over 42 years.

Patty let me in on a few secrets about Mrs. Rogers that I couldn't have guessed.  Most laughable was her perfectionism.  Our troop always made a crafty gift for our parents at holiday time, and for Mother's and Father's Day.  I thought the crafts were swell, and that our parents would be giddy as all get-out to receive them.  What I didn't know is that Mrs. R. in her private time engaged in do-overs.  If a girl's craft was shoddy or mediocre, she would "fix" it before it was taken home as a gift.  Who knew?

Mr. Rogers was involved in our overnight camp activities.  One time I discovered rattle snakes living near our tents.  Armed with a shovel and the help of a few others, he made short work of that nasty serpent den.  He was a quiet, kind, helpful man.

As I sit here looking at Mrs. Rogers's photo, tears come to my eyes.  I loved her and am grateful she dedicated herself to building up the next generation of girls.  We all turned out pretty good!

Some special memories about Troop 2259: 

My first overnight experience away from home was a Brownie campout at Chatsworth Park.  Our family did not own a sleeping bag until this event required us to buy one.  It was Army green on the outside, with a flannel brown/red/green hounds-tooth on the inside.  We slept under the stars.

Our troop wrote and visited Kim L., one of our troop members, who was confined at Olive View Sanitarium for asthma.

Some of us worked with younger children at the elementary school who had large motor problems (my photo was in the paper for this).

Mrs. Rogers organized a Brownie Mother's Day Tea, which got my photo with Mom in the Valley Green Sheet Newspaper.  Mrs. Rogers must have cultivated reporter Polly Spain as a contact at the newspaper; Polly wrote regular articles about our troop.

Brownie Charm School: Mrs. N., the mother of one of the girls, educated us in personal grooming, manners, and charm.  We learned to walk with books on our heads, do manicures, make proper introductions, etc.

At the end of every meeting we held hands and sang, "Good might Brownies, good night Brownies, good night Brownies, we'll see you again next week!."   We would twist our arms around, break the circle and head for home.  Other songs we sang often were "Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold."   And the well known, "Day Is Done."  We sang the lively folk song "Titanic" ("Oh it was sad, oh it was sad . . .") until the Girl Scout Council said we couldn't anymore.  Survivors of the Titanic could be hurt or even traumatized by it.

Girl Scout camp was the best.   Hollywoodland, Camp Lakota, and Camp Aventura are the places I remember.  My own family didn't camp, and I thrilled at the treat of sleeping in a tent, cooking outdoors, and exploring the wilderness.

Badges.  As we completed each theme we were awarded the badge for it.  My sash was quite full.  I loved achieving each one of those.  Wish I had my sash now.



 

Out-of-the Ordinary Christmases

 

The approach of Christmas reminds me of our family celebrations of years past. It's the memory of out-of-the-ordinary celebrations that remain the strongest.

There was the year (2007 I think) that we all flew to Southern California on Christmas Day.  Our home teacher drove us to PDX on Christmas morning and we told him that his service could count for a year's worth of visits. We enjoyed a sunny holiday with family in California and in Tucson Arizona that year.

In 1984 we moved into our current home on our 10th anniversary, Dec. 19. Even with all the busy-ness of moving our furniture and goods into the house with 3 small children "helping," and me being pregnant-sick with our 4th child, Craig still found time to grab a Christmas tree off a lot and set it up that first night in our home.

Christmas 2004 was a sad time. My Dad was dying. Our family spent Christmas Eve the usual way with a humble dinner, a simple program centered on the birth of Christ, and the treasure hunt we do for family members, where they have to solve clues to find a hidden gift. Early Christmas morning I boarded a plane for Pittsburgh to be with Dad during his last days.

For some years we involved our children in a dramatization of the Nativity. Bathrobes subbed for shepherd garb, Craig was the donkey, and the youngest child was always the newborn babe. The year Teresa was about 4 she was the Christ child; Bridget (8) was cast as Mary. Teresa was lying down in a blanket pretending to be the baby while "Mary" cooed over her. Suddenly Teresa piped up, "Mary!   Your breath stinks!!" We couldn't continue . . .

One of my most amusing holiday memories pertains to the second Christmas we were married (1975). We were college students living on nothing. Buying a tree and decorations was out of the question, but how dull it would be to have no vestiges of holiday cheer in our tiny apartment. Craig had an idea. Plenty of students who lived in the dorms on campus had money to decorate their rooms for Christmas. And, they were required by student housing to remove all trees and decorations from their rooms before leaving for home to enjoy the holidays.

We waited until school was out and students had left for home. Then we scrounged through the dumpsters behind the dorms and pulled out a nicely decorated tree just the right size for our apartment. Our lovely tree brought in a holiday mood, and no one ever knew we had stooped to dumpster-diving to get it.

Our Love Affair With Tillamook

We love anything Tillamook: yogurt, ice cream, and cheese of course, and we also love the beaches of the Tillamook area. We travel to Tillamook several times a year and always, always stop at the cheese factory. We hit the free cheese sample line multiple times, and enjoy an cone of the best ice cream around. While we're eating we watch the cheese-making process through the huge plate glass windows in the viewing area.

If you come to Oregon, you must visit Tillamook. I don't want to hear that you have come to Oregon and missed out on the Tillamook Cheese Factory.

 Here's a few pictures from this summer's most recent visit.

Fare Thee Well, Heritage Halls

1953 was the landmark year that BYU built its revered housing complex for women, called Heritage Halls. 24 in number, each hall was named after a woman esteemed in Utah history for doing something really great. To this day, I don't know who Ms. Broadbent was, even though I lived in her hall for a very formative year of my life, but am sure she did something worthy of a hall bearing her name.

 

not Broadbent hall but a good view of what Heritage Halls looked like (that's stunning Squaw Peak in the distance)

The halls had room for about 56 students each, divided into 10 apartments. The two basement apartments housed four students each and the rest housed six each!! Yes, I shared a kitchen and bathroom with five other girls. We would have shared a living room too, but in the student housing department's infinite wisdom, the apartments were built without living rooms. Instead, there was a central gathering place in the middle of the hall so that all 56 of us could share space.

When I moved into Broadbent Hall (our apartment code was B2201) in August of 1973 the building felt older than it was. I didn't know until today while doing some research about Heritage Halls that they were built in 1953. I would have guessed 1943. Or 1933. They just had that Depression-era aura about them. Each apartment had 3 bedrooms. I shared with Suzanne Gaden from Oklahoma and golly, we could be loud and crazy. Dode Walker and Margie Scorup shared a room as did Holly Rogers and Linda Frost. Later Holly and Linda moved out and Taffy Bryant and Gloria Smith moved in. Somehow we refrained from committing murder while sharing the one bathroom, one telephone, and space in the dinky refrigerator.

  this could have been us in B2201--the phone looked just liked that and was in that same spot; if you craved privacy you could stretch the cord out the back door there to talk while standing in the icy cold stairwell

 why we thought a photo in the shower stall was a good idea, I have no clue

That year I spent in Broadbent Hall was where I formed meaningful friendships, learned what it meant to be a Mormon, and came away with a marvelous testimony of the gospel. Miracles happened during that year. And Broadbent was where Craig and I conducted our courtship. The memories are endless.

I'm glad I was given a head's up that Heritage would be demolished. In 1999 when Bridget moved into one of the Heritage Halls, the housing dude told us they would be eventually torn down to be replaced with modern halls that would appeal to the next generation of students. It took over a decade for that demolition to begin. My beloved Broadbent Hall was the last to go, just a few months ago. The building may be gone but that special time will always remain with me. What treasures I amassed during my year in that tiny place.

Thanks Broadbent, for the cherished memories!

my 19th birthday was celebrated in Broadbent

the spectacular view from Suzanne and Suzanne's bedroom window

in the kitchen with Holly

my roommates tried to throw me into the moat on my birthday (a Heritage Halls tradition), but they were unsuccessful

Broadbent in the snow; I froze in my California clothes and shoes

horsing around with Dave Murdock

second semester in Broadbent

goofing off

the "court" yard outside Broadbent hall

out with the old, in with the new and beautiful

Great Pop Songs

Ah, memories.  I was thinking about blasts from the pasts that transport me back in time.  Smells do it, and songs do too.

When certain songs come on the radio (or I play them on youtube), I am able to take a nostalgic walk down memory lane.  Tons of tunes bring back fun or precious memories, but it's these below that make me float.

Rocky Mountain High by John Denver: Late 1972.  I was a freshman at College of the Canyons longing to get farther from home.  Dreaming of  a place of quiet solitude among the forest and the streams, a place where it rains fire in the sky, and seeking the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake . . . that was the place for me.  

John Denver; we lost a great musician when he died

Listen to the Music by the Doobie Brothers.  Don't ya feel it comin', day by day . . . this 70s song has a catchy feel-good rhythm to it.

Take it Easy by the Eagles.  What a fun song to sing while driving down the highway.   I may have stood on a corner in Winslow Arizona when we passed through in 1962, but I'm not sure.

Layla by Derek and the Dominos [Eric Clapton]: Layla was a radio staple in summer 1972, the year I graduated from high school.  My job that summer was babysitting a couple of children full-time, and most days we spent at least part of the afternoon at the neighborhood swimming pool.  The radio was always on there, and when Layla came blasting out it was the tune and the fantastic guitar-picking that put me in a good mood every time.  When no one is looking I play my air guitar along with Clapton.  One of the best rock songs ever.

Betcha By Golly Wow by the Stylistics: This dreamy tune from my senior year often played late at night while I was lying in my upstairs bedroom looking at the sky.  I was pushing my way through the Book of Mormon for the first time, and I would leave my curtains open to think while watching the moon and stars move across the night sky.

I'm Stone in Love With You by Stylistics: I was in love.  With a cowboy, the giver of The Book of Mormon.

Too Late to Turn Back Now by Cornelius Brothers: It was too late for me too, in a marvelous way.  Transports me right back to the fall of 1972, a time of great discoveries.

I Only Want to be With You by Dusty Springfield: No one belts it out like Dusty.  Her energy is contagious.  This number gets me right up out of my seat.

The Last Song by Edward Bear: Pleasant voice, pleasant tune.  Kind of a mournful idea that sometimes two people don't want the same things in life.  One can hang on longer than the other. 

I Can See Clearly Now by Jimmy Cliff:  Freshman year at College of the Canyons.  I could see clearly as all get out.

Galveston by the great Glen Campbell: Most anti-Vietnam War songs were hostile and bitter.  Glen's  is wistful and honest.

I will leave the rest for another time.

William S. Hart's Horseshoe Ranch

William S. Hart

In 1946 a well-known silent film star, veteran of scores of Western movies, passed away on his ranch in Newhall, California.  HIs name was William S. Hart, star of early pictures such as Ben-Hur (1907), The Gunfighter (1917), and Tumbleweeds (1925).   He counted among his friends Tom Mix, Maurice Chevalier, Charles M. Russell, Frederick Remington, and other celebrities.  He knew Bat Masterson, Wyatt Earp and Will Rogers.  From Newburgh, NY, he had begun his acting career on the stage in New York City in 1888.  About 1913 he headed west to act in Westerns, met a pinto named Fritz on a set, and became known for films that portrayed the West as it was: rustic and rugged, harsh, dusty, full of really really bad folks, some good folks too, and a place of boundless sweeping vistas.

Hart on his beloved horse, Fritz

About 1921 Hart bought land in the foothills of the Santa Susanna range on the south end of Newhall, and named it Horseshoe Ranch.  He built a Spanish-style hacienda he christened La Loma de Los Vientos, a bunkhouse, stables, and other outbuildings, and put in a swimming pool surrounded by a sunny plaza.  Hart collected guns, including several that had belonged to Billy the Kid.  He loved Western art and acquired some Remington and Russell originals, and Navaho rugs and artifacts.

La Loma de Los Vientos

Before his death Hart did something so magnanimous, so brilliant and far-sighted.  In his will he left Horseshoe Ranch to the people of Los Angeles County with the stipulation that it be open to the public for free.  Yeah.  And his slice of heaven on earth became my family's slice of heaven on earth, a favorite destination from about 1959 on.  We picnicked here, we hiked the acres of oak-dotted hills, tarried at the corrals, collected peacock feathers, looked for the hoot owl that lived in the shack.  We relished the Charley Russell art, the Remington sculptures, the antique guns and thrilled at the grizzly bear rug in the upstairs living-room.  From the pleasant terrace we gawked at craggy chaparral-covered ridges, the buffalo herd down the ridge, and the panorama of the Tehachapi Mountain Range miles to the north.  I have spent a heap of happy hours at Hart's ranch.

entrance to the ranch

foyer and staircase

Hart's living room

Hart's gift gratified the local community.  The first high school in the Santa Clarita Valley was close to opening at the time of his death, and it was decided to name it William S. Hart Union High School.  And that's my alma mater, class of 1972.  I don't know if there are other schools named after movie actors--that can be a roiling pit of quicksand, given reputations common in that occupation.  Not that Hart was perfect, but he had been a good neighbor and community contributor for decades before his death.  [NOTE: read here for another kind action by Hart]

Hart must be smiling down from above at the joy four generations have experienced at his ranch.  His reason for giving his estate to the public, was simply this:

"When I was making pictures, the people gave me their nickels, dimes, and quarters. When I am gone, I want them to have my home." -- William S. Hart

The Fours

Corp of Discovery route

4:00 p.m., May 14 1804.  The most momentous undertaking in American exploration began at that very moment in St. Louis, Missouri.  The Corps of Discovery departed westward along the Missouri River, bound for the Pacific Ocean, charged by President Jefferson to explore and map the formerly French territory, engage in botany, zoology, geography, and establish trade with the current inhabitants.

The beginning of the Lewis and Clark Expedition is only one notable event that has occurred during a year ending in the number 4.

Two hundred years ago this month, America's first Executive Mansion in Washington D.C. was burned by the British on August 23 1814.  On the night of September 7 1814, Francis Scott Key wrote the poem that set to song, has become our distinguished, stirring National Anthem.  I have been twice to Fort McHenry where the Star Spangled Banner flew during the battle for Baltimore, and now comprehend the pivotal victory that occurred there against all odds.

Fort McHenry, 1814

1824--I could not think of anything significant about 1824 but when I googled it, what came up was the establishment of Fort Vancouver on the Columbia River by the Hudsons Bay Company.  The lovely, Lincoln-Loggy, spiky-timbered fort has been reconstructed as a National Historic Site.  I've spent numerous happy hours here where Indians and trappers once gathered to barter for food, blankets, furs, tools and the skills of the blacksmith.

Fort Vancouver, Washington

1834--same problem as the above.  On August 1, 1834 slavery was forever abolished in the British Empire.  Should have remembered that one; my senior thesis at BYU was about the demise of black slavery.

June 27 1844, a day of historic shame for the US of A.  Joseph Smith, founder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was murdered by a mob in Carthage Illnois.  Yes, that happened in a land whose Bill of Rights guarantees free exercise of religion, yet the government permitted persecution of this particular religion.  And when the Mormons fled the US to live without oppression, the government pursued them and imposed restrictions on them.

The Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854 created the territory of those future states, opened the land to settlement, and authorized the settlers to determine: slavery or no slavery.  What a rat's nest of savagery that opened up--you've heard of "Bleeding Kansas"--the territory was flooded with single-minded devotees of one side or the other, and all hell broke loose.  7 years later America was wound tight as a spring over the slavery issue and the Civil War erupted.

The American Civil War was in its 4th year in 1864.  Grant was appointed commander of the Union Army and lots of well-known battles occurred.  Also significant, Arlington National Cemetery was established.   It occupies the grounds of Robert E. Lee's estate--well, it actually belonged to his wife, a descendant of Martha Washington.  If R.E. Lee was going to continue killing Union soldiers, then by golly, those dead were going to be buried in his own front yard.

Arlington National Cemetery

Levi Strauss got rich by selling his sturdy denim pants to California gold miners.  In 1874 his pants with copper rivets were patented.

1884--Not a banner year for major milestones.  Oh, except that Grover Cleveland was elected, a first-term president.  He's the only one who has served non-consecutive presidential terms.

The Dreyfus affair broke in 1894.  It was also the year of one of those horrendous forest fires that occurred periodically in the northern US, this one in Minnesota.  I recall that even those who jumped into ponds and creeks were consumed by the firestorm.

Something major occurred in 1894, 120 years ago, that has led to a momentous legacy in our day.   The Genealogical Society of Utah was founded by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  For over a century it directed the gathering of records created by people around the world, microfilmed them, protected them in a granite vault hewn out of a mountain, and then transferred them to digital format so that anyone, anywhere, anytime could peruse billions of records in their own home.  See FamilySearch.

T.R. Roosevelt was elected to the presidency in his own right in 1904.  He had become president after the assassination of McKinley in 1901.  And an event of huge consequence: the opening of the first underground portion of the NYC subway.  I recently rode the subway and love love love how one can get from one end of NY to the other in a fraction of the time it would take to drive the same route.

The War to End All Wars began on July 28 1914, and became the most ghastly war of the 20th century.  Most of a generation of young men (of various nationalities) was wiped out.

Marching to Their Deaths

On Christmas Eve 1924 my Uncle Jim came into the world.  More well-known is the adventure of George Mallory.  I recently read a book about George, whose ice-bound body was finally located on Mt. Everest in 1999.  He had never returned from his 1924 attempt at the summit.   In 1924 Joseph Stalin forged dictatorship of the Soviet Union.  Stalin's rise gives thought to one of those historic "what ifs?"   How would the world have been different if he had died in the 1918 Spanish Influenza epidemic, or been killed in the Russian Revolution?

In November 1934 my Mom's youngest brother, adorable little Bobby, died of appendicitis at age 6.  The shockwave and accompanying devastation from that event permeated the family until the death of the last person who had known Bobby.  And in 1934 Germany forged ahead on its march toward attempted world domination.

As battles raged around the planet in the 5th year of the World War and German death camps ramped up their activities, the Allies invaded Normandy on June 6 1944.  My Dad was transferred from office duty in New York's Navy Office at 90 Church St., to the spankin' new USS Missouri.  Bound for action against Japan, the ship shoehorned through the Panama Canal and arrived at Pearl Harbor on Christmas Eve on the way to join the Pacific fleet.  Dad dined on a hot dog for his Christmas dinner at Pearl.

USS Missouri

1954--Brown vs. Board of Education, and Rock Around the Clock, it is my birth year!

1964 is the year of American Civil Rights, with the passage of the act and MLK being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.  The debut of the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show was 50 years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.  Our whole family watched on our black and white TV.  My parents couldn't get into their music but my Grandma Ashe humored me by paying attention to the antics of the group.

The Fab Four

December 19 1974.  Provo Utah.  Our family came into being!  Inflation in America was over 12% that month, not an auspicious time to marry and create a new family.  The oil crisis sort of ended so the helter-skelter lines at the gas stations disappeared.  And Hank Aaron hit number 714.

1984 was a year of upheaval for our family.  We pulled up stakes in Idaho and came to Portland Oregon for the risky proposition of my husband working for a small start-up company.  Los Angeles staged a wildly successful summer Olympic games (sans USSR).   Four words: Bhopal India Union Carbide.  Our lovable President Reagan uttered this immortal phrase into an open mike: "My fellow Americans, I'm pleased to tell you today that I've signed legislation that will outlaw Russia forever.  We begin bombing in five minutes."  

My oldest graduated from high school in 1994.  Mom passed away suddenly and unexpectedly.  Other than those events, I remember little from that year; not surprising, when you're raising 5 kids, three of them teenagers.  Wait, the Northridge Earthquake occurred that January.  We were awakened by a 5:00 a.m. phone call, which we ignored, until we heard my sister saying there had been a major quake in Southern California.  Their house was littered with broken glass, fires blazed in the streets, and they could not reach Mom and Dad to see how they had fared.

Earthquake Damage in Weldon Canyon

2004:  There wasn't much of note that happened that year until the end, when the world was horrified by the enormous Indian Ocean quake and tsunamis on Christmas Day.  Which brings me to my Dad's death that year.  I always think of him dying in 2005, not 2004.  He died on December 30 but his funeral was on January 3 2005.  While he was in the hospital after Christmas every single TV in the building was tuned into earthquake/tsunami coverage.  The death totals were first at a few hundred, then a few thousand, then 10, 20, 30, 40, 100 thousand, and up from there.  What a grim memory.

2014: Putin, Putin and more Putin.   Multiple major airline crashes.  Isis and Boko Haram.  Israel and Palestine.  And Syria:  unceasing carnage in a wonderful land full of good people.

It's a tough time all over the world.  No matter what challenges and strife go on around us, we can strive to be a little better, make our neighborhood a finer place to live, support positive causes, serve those in need, and hope for sunnier times.