Monday, May 7, 2012

Scrabble and more scrabble


"October 23, 1991:  Ella Wittler and Arnold Herbolshiemer died.
October 24, 1991:  Played Scrabble with Helen.
October 27, 1991:  Bill, Jenny and Jayme came for dinner.  Helen, John and Greta here for dinner, too.  Bills' left early to visit Irene and Helen and I played Scrabble."

Well, the good news is I am not writing about people being struck by trains or children being orphaned.  The bad news is once again I don't have much to expand on here.  So, I will give up and just post a silly set of photos.

I don't know for sure who the people in the pictures are, but I am glad to know that Nancy and Mitch and Anna and I (whilst on vacation, mainly) are not the only butt-picture-takers around.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Another story from the Lars Jensen family

This was in that same family history book and I thought it was worth sharing.  It was written by Genevieve Marie Jensen, daughter of Ivar and Lena Jensen.  Ivar was a son of Lars and Ane Jensen that I wrote about yesterday.  Genevieve was born in 1909 and was Lars and Ane's granddaughter.

She wrote quite a piece, but I will share just a bit.

"I believe another time later, about the time Phillip was a baby, Dad and Mom bought a second-hand Brush car that looked like a single red buggy without shafts, had a dash board only you steered it with a bar 7.  The motor was under the thing and Daddy had driven it by the front gate the night before.  Next morning, he was going to show Mom and me how it ran, as he had it on trial.  He got it started by turning up the step and cranking it.  It popped and cracked and smoked.  Then he hooked it in gear.  Mom and I were standing on the porach, out of the way.  He pulled the bar the wrong way, pushed the gas lever to go ahead, backed into the gate post, and knocked down about six foot of woven wire, besides knocking over the post.  As I remember, that was the end of that.  He fixed the fence, got it started, and drove it back as far as it would go, until it ran out of gas.  I know we went to town with the horse and buggy later that week and it was setting beside the road.

About this time, Mother was having a time with Phillip.  Her milk wouldn't satisfy him.  She used "Horlicks", a malted milk sort of power in milk to feed Phillip.  Nothing seemed to agree with him and he threw it up.  Finally, he was skin and bones, back to birth weight or below and he was four or five months old.  Folks thought they were going to lose him and Mom had his picture taken in the christening dress.

About this time, Mom was making chocolate pies.  One morning with we children watching her in the kitchen, she had Phillip in the high chair on a pillow, with one to his back and him tied in to it, with a diaper.  All of a sudden, Phillip held out his little hands and cried toward the pie filling as she was cooling and pouring it into the pie shells.  She said, "You poor little thing, I"ll give you some.  You may die but at least you will die with a full stomach."  She took a teaspoon and put some into his mouth.  How he sucked on the spoon.  She must have given him about two tablespoons of it -- all the while big tears were streaming down her cheeks and she was saying, "You poor hungry baby.  I've probably killed you, but you will die happy."  She sat down and rocked him to sleep.  Then she went to the big old telephone hanging on the wall and rang up Central, all the time crying and got Dr. Morris in Wisner.  Anyway, Kathleen and me were crying because Mom was crying.  Between sobs, she told the doctor what she had done.  He told her if Phillip didn't throw it up, to dilute the pudding with boiled milk and put it in a bottle and feed it to him.  He was raised on chocolate pudding into a lovely son.  (Today, he is allergic to chocolate pudding, he tells me)."

She had other stories to tell and they were quite interesting.  I looked up Phillip in the book and at the time the book was written in 1987, he was still living so I don't know how long his life was or if maybe he is still alive.  He married a woman named Lake Erie Blanchard and had three children.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Lars and Ane (Ivarsen) Jensen

I read a little from an Iversen-Jensen family history book that I found recently and wanted to use up one post to tell of Lars and Ane.  Ane was a sister to Peter Iversen, Grandpa's father.

Both Lars and Ane were born in Denmark and married there before coming to the United States sometime between 1886 and 1889 with their three children.  They lived in Kennard, Washington County, Nebraska.  Lars died at age 42 after being struck by a train.  He worked for the railroad and he and a co-worker were in the process of moving a hand car off the tracks when he was hit, killing him instantly.  He and Ane had eight children, ages 8 months to 18 years old when he died.

Ane received this letter from her in-laws in Denmark.  The Jens Peter the writer refers to is one of Lars and Ane's sons.

"Dear Sister-in-Law,

It was a very sad message that you, dear sister-in-law had to bring us at this time.  We hadn't expected that our brother should pass away that quickly.  But so much is happpening here on earth that the dear Lord shows himself in so many ways.  It is so hard to understand why, but when soemthing like this happens, we have to put everything in God's hands.  He alone knows what's best for us and then we have to ask to learn to say, "Thy will be done."  You write that Jens Peter has been in California.  Why doesn't he stay at home so that he can be a help for you and the older children?  Then maybe you can have a chance to raise your small ones.  But it sure is hard to sit alone with so many fatherless children.

We don't really know the circumstances over there, but would you please let us know if you get any money for compensaiton and how you are?

We are looking forward to hearing a little bit more about it as soon as you settle down.  Isn't it a comfort to you that you have some of your relatives around you?  Don't you have two brothers, one sister, and your old father nearby?  We really don't know exactly where they live or if they live nearby.  Can they sometimes come to visit you in those tough times?

There were some Danish Americans that had written to Klippinge to some people, the man's name is Thomas.  They had written about the burial of a Danish man who was killed by the train and it must have been Lars.

We are healthy, so to speak, but unfortunately Per is a little weird in his head and doesn't comprehend everything.  He is like a big child, cries and is kind of sad.  If you write, you must not mention anything about it.  As long as I'm healthy and can care for him, everything will be all right.  And now, very much love.  Cheer up.

Yours sincerely, Dorthe and Per Frederiksen"

I hope the Per she was writing about is a son named after his father, not Dorthe's husband.  It is strange that Lars died in late December and Dorthe wrote in early February.  So it would seem that Jens Peter took off for California right after his father's death?  Or else he did that prior to Lars dying and Dorthe is speaking generally that he should be at home more.

A year and a half after Lars' death, Ane married another Dane, Anton Kristian Nielsen.  They had one child together.  Sadly, Ane died in 1904 of tuberculosis, almost three years to the day after Lars died.  She was 44 years old.  Her occupation, as listed on her death certificate, was carpet weaver.  Ane's brother, Jens Iversen, became guardian of four of the children.  Three of the other children were over 14 years old and petitioned the court to have Jens be their guardian as well.  The five year old and three year old children were adopted by other families.  The youngest, Anton's child, went to live with his father.

A rather sad story all the way around and one I had not heard mention of before.  Most of the children lived fairly long lives.  Jens Peter, mentioned in the letter, however, died at age 24.  Many of the members of this family are buried in the Kennard Cemetery.  Perhaps we should make a visit one day.

Friday, May 4, 2012

More digging in the dirt

"October 18, 1991:  Pinochle at Stop Inn.  Leona the hostess.
October 21, 1991:  Randy J. helped Howard put the pump in the flower bed.
October 22, 1991:  Charlie J. plowed the garden."

I certainly hope the garden didn't look like that just before Charlie plowed it.  Just being silly, but it does appear that this photo was taken near the end of the garden season.  Lots of bare dirt where veggies have been harvested for the last time and the plants pulled up.

Since I am at a bit of a loss here, I went upstairs just now to see what other treasures were in the boxes from Grandma's place.  I found similiar journals that come after the one I am using now, so I have lots of material to keep plugging along for quite awhile.  I also found the transcript of a presentation Grandma did about quilts, a notebook with highlights through the years starting with 1943, and the transcript of Grandma's commencement speech to the Class of 1977.  I will have to spread out the extra stuff so as not to use it up too quickly.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Welcome to Post 100!

"October 11, 1991:  Put brick variation quilt in frame.
October 16, 1991:  Busy Bees at Ruby R.'s.
October 17, 1991:  Went with Greta in the evening to see Irene."

Woo hoo!  I have internet at home again.  Life is good.

I must admit that this post, the 100th, is a bit lacking in pizzazz.  But glad to know Aunt Irene got visitors.

I'll have to veer off a bit since I am already out of things to say about Grandma's entries.  While I was finding these writings of hers in my still-unorganized sewing room, I also ran across her dolls -- I am entrusted with keeping three of her childhood friends.  One is in pretty good shape other than her hair, another is in pretty bad shape (probably fixable, but her eyes are gone and there is a big crack in her neck which together make her look a little creepy), and one is rather in the middle of the two.

I found a doll hospital in Omaha on the internet.  The doll doctor lady said she would give quotes if supplied with photos.  I took some shots of the doll in the middle and sent them to her.  She answered pretty quickly.  Said that this particular type of doll is her favorite to work on.  She said the doll is by Armand Marseille (doesn't that sound fabulous?).  She has a bisque socket head and German glass blown eyes.  She would definitely have had a tongue at one time.  I find that curious to be sure. Once fixed, the doll should have an insurable value of about $650 and a resale value of half that, not that I would sell it.  Interesting to know, though.

I will take her to Omaha when I can and get her fixed up.  Will post before and after pictures here whenever it is all accomplished.  I will also take the two other dolls up to show the doll doctor.  She can probably tell me some trivia about them at the very least and I can decide if I want to fix them as well.  I'm a sucker for stuff like that, so likely all three will get face lifts.

I don't know if Grandma had any of her dolls when this photo was taken, but she sure looks like a little doll.  Her papa took and developed the photo, a fact I find very cool.  That's Uncle Ray with her, of course.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Oops

Forgot Grandma's journal at home (and I'm at work), so no post today until this evening, and maybe not even then.  I'll try to double-up tomorrow.  Here's Mom's possible reaction to this news:


Just kidding.  Now that I've used that photo, I won't use it again.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Crazy weather

"October 5, 1991:  Rain, sleet, snow, hail, sunshine and windy.
October 9, 1991:  ELCA
October 10, 1991:  Helen and I played Scrabble."

What a crazy day October 5 was.  I don't know that I have experienced a day with all those weather elements in it.

If ever there was a game invented with Grandma in mind, it would have to have been Scrabble.  I am not saying she won every game, because she didn't, but what a great fit.  I wonder had smart phones been around earlier, if we could have gotten Grandma hooked on that version of Scrabble you can play with friends in cyberspace.  I am thinking she would not have liked it; that she would prefer to sit and visit and enjoy not just the game but the company of her opponent.

Here's a photo of the totem pole (thanks, Nancy).  It is pretty much as I remembered it -- nice and tall and straight.