GOOD BY FROM THE SIMPLE FARM GIRL

Hello neighbor, This will be the last post I will make to the Confessions of a Simple Farm Girl. Since I have graduated from high school and will soon be moving on to college, there is not much more I can think of to share of that little girl on the farm. Most of the rest of my life was quickly shared in the series about "becoming a teacher'' and I figure this is a good place to end this particular post. I want to thank all my neighbors who faithfully followed the farm stories. I hope you will look for my new posts on FB "Sometimes I wonder about things". These will be various things that pop up in my memory or I come across that I want to share. Again thank you for reading. From a simple farm girl.

B-O-Y-S

When I wrote about my transferring from the one-room school house to high school, I didn’t talk about boy/girl things. So before I move on to the next step in my life, I thought perhaps I ought to mention something about boys. After all,  those years in high school usually involve boy/girl stuff.

Well, to be honest with you (confessions, right?) I did not have any interest in any of the boys at our high school. I don’t have any great reason to give,  I just didn’t seem to be interested.  They  were just classmates to me.

I did have guys that I saw on occasions as a  boy/girl thing. These are the fellows that I met at the dances where my Mom and Dad played. There were always a few teen age guys around and you get to meet them and dance with them.  Sometimes, a couple of them who were sort of buddies, would ask me and another girl if they could drive us home. And surprisingly, my Dad would allow them to take us home. These were not really serious relationships, just a little snuggling on the way home.  As I look back on those nights, I am quite surprised that the ones I were with never tried to  do or suggest anything more.

That is strange to me, because as I grew older I used to “hate” teen age boys. But I guess this really comes from watching movies about teenagers and the girl/boy stuff in the movies always turned me off on teen age boys. But in real life, at least in mine, they were nothing like those in the movies. Thank God  for that. So I made it through those years without having the “heartbreaks” that I suppose many girls went through. So I just moved on after graduation and into college.

MOVING ON FROM THE ONE ROOM SCHOOL HOUSE

It’s time for the simple little farm girl to move on. She has graduated from the eighth grade at the one room school house. Now we’ll follow her as she continues her life not as a little girl, but becoming a young woman and yet, still that simple farm girl inside.

Well, I have graduated from the one room school house and will move on to high school.  When Sept. comes again, the bus will go by the end of the driveway and keep going on to the one room school where the driver will drop off the elementary kids and pick up the high schoolers that gather at the corner.  The bus will stop at my driveway on the way back and I will climb on board and ride 8 to 10 miles to the next town and to Winthrop High School where I will spend the next four years of school.

Winthrop High School was a whole lot different than the one room school house.  It had a big gym on the bottom floor and a balcony where we could stand and watch the games being played. The class rooms were on the next floor. There were many more kids than we had my other school. I am a simple farm girl and this was a big change for me, especially getting to know so many other kids.

It was hard for me to get close to many of the other classmates because I did not have much connection with them.  Many of them lived in town or close enough to do things together. I arrived on the bus shortly before school started and left by bus after classes ended. So there was not an opportunity for me to build close friendships with the others.

Sports were out of my school life, both practice and participating in games.  Once in a while I might make it to a game. I did take part in some activities that were part of the school schedule such as singing in the Mozart Choir and playing the trombone in the band.  I liked these two as music was a part of me as my father was a great musician.   Sometimes we went on trips and that was usually a lot of fun. One of the biggest trips was playing in a parade in Boston, MA. I did not care for the times when we had to get up in front of the class for reports, etc.  Being as shy as I was this was always a chore for me.

Well the years went by and soon it was Senior year.  I was pretty good at subjects that would be good for an office job. I had not even thought about attending college, due to money not being very available. Some colleges sent brochures to the school telling what they had to offer. I don’t know why I looked at them, but I did.  There was one from a place called Mt Ida outside of Boston. They offered a plan where the student could live with a family and help the family for their board and room. That meant only tuition would be the cost. So we checked this out and it seemed a possibility that we could manage that. And it did.

Update for this blog

Hello neighbor Welcome.
I have just about finished writing the things I remember as a little girl living on the farm.  We just had the memorial service for my Mom who passed away on Nov. 17 at the grand old age of 102.  We flew to Maine to hold the service in the big old church that my Mom loved so much. I did the service and we  had a great time remembering and sharing memories about Mom. It was so great to see people I had not seen since I went to the one room school house. Most of my Mom's grandchildren from my sister who passed away at the age of 48 were there. So we had some great sharing times. After the service we went to the farm, with the permission of the now owners, and spread my mother's ashes in the very same spot where we spread my Dad's, over the place where he buried the dogs as they left us. That was a neat time, returning Mom back to the farm that she loved so much and to be with Dad again. So that sort of brings being on the farm to an end.  But not to the simple farm girl that lived there.  I am still that little girl, just a grown up size. So I  intend to keep writing from time to time and will continue to share the life of this little girl as she grew into an adult with the simple farm still in her. Hope you will continue stopping by when you can and perhaps checking out my new blog that I have just introduced - "Sometimes I wonder about things".
Stop by again and see how this little farm girl continued into becoming an adult farm woman like my Mom did.

SAPPING TIME ON THE FARM

Hello Neighbor, glad you stopped by.

When it gets around February or March, depending on the temperature and weather, one gets to thinking that it's time to think about home made maple syrup.  It is not an easy or quick job to do, but it sure is worth the effort.

First of course you need to have a number of good big maple trees. The farm house had some nice old ones that were around the yard, and there were others not too far away.  First step was to put in some kind of  spout for the sap  to drip out of the tree and into a bucket.  The early ones were carved out of a piece of wood and had a small hole drilled into it.  When we lived on the farm we were able to buy spouts from the hardware store. Much easier by far.  Anyway, these spouts would be pounded into the side of the maple tree and a bucket would be hung on a hook so the sap could drip, drip, drip into the bucket. The bucket would be collected at the end of the day and the sap poured into a container.

I remember that out back of the farm house someone, my Dad built this cooking place. The fireplace would be made of rocks on three sides with an opening on one end to put in the wood to burn.  Then a long flat tin pan that was three to four feet long and a couple of feet wide would be set on top of the rock fire place.  A fire would be started and kept burning to keep the pan hot.  What sap was gathered would be poured into the pan to get hot and steamy. It would take a lot of sap and a lot of wood to keep it cooking.

As the sap cooked it would begin to change from the watery stage to the thicker stage.  Once it was on the way to becoming syrup, most of the sap would be steamed away and there would be only a small batch of syrup.  From the fireplace, the syrup would be taken into my grandmother's kitchen and put into a pot on the wood stove to finish cooking away the watery part until it became real maple syrup.  Boy oh boy, it was a lot of work, but my oh my, nothing tasted better than home made maple syrup.

Stop by again some time and we will have another chat.

MMM-MMM HOME MADE BUTTER

Hello neighbor, glad you stopped by.

Have you ever had home made butter?  It is the best. No wonder I like butter on everything. This is the way it works.

In my grandmother's kitchen at the end of the counter was this gadget, called a separator, that was used to strain the milk. Of course this milk is right from the cow kind, not that cooked kind.  This gadget had a big metal bowl on top where the milk was poured into.  I remember that there was this metal thing that had 10 or so discs and each one had a hole in it and these had to be lined up just right.  When the machine was working, the discs would spin and somehow that would separate the cream from the milk. There were two spouts so that the cream would flow out of one spout and the left over milk out of the other. It was the cream that we used to make the butter.

So first you milked the cow and then you separate the cream from the milk.  When you had enough cream we would then get the butter churn.  We had two different types. One was just a small wooden one that had batters inside and we would turn the handle to make the batters work in the cream until it began to separate and you could  hear the butter begin to form. The other was a large wooden barrel with a top that was clamped down. With this one we would turn the whole barrel over and over until you could hear the butter as it began to separate from the milk. It would make a splashing sound.  Be sure you have clamped the top down good and tight or you would have a big accident.

Once the butter was completely separated, the next step was to collect it out of the butter milk (that was what the milk was called after it was separated). My grandmother had a big wooden spatula that she would work the butter to get all the butter milk out of the butter.  Salt would also be added as the butter was worked.

When this process was done, the next step was to package it.  I remember doing this step, too.  There was a special kind of paper that you would wet it and lay it on the table and smooth it out.  Then there was a small wooden container that  was put together.  The bottom piece had designs in it and there were two sides that fit around the bottom piece and hooked in place.  After that was put together a lump of butter would be put in the box and with the wood spatula the butter would be pressed down until the box was filled.  With the spatula you would smooth the butter nice and even.

Then you would take off the sides of the box and place the butter down in the middle of the wet paper and carefully life off the wooden bottom piece.  Then you would wrap the butter in the wet paper and set it a side to dry. And that was how we made our butter.

Some times we had so many lbs. of butter that Mom would take it to one of the small local stores and sell it to them. I expect with all the health rules, etc. that would not be allowed today. I guess if you had your own cows you could make some for yourself.  Then there is the shake a bottle kind of butter by buying some cream and put it in a bottle and just keep shaking it. A good project for kids to do.

Well, that's the way we did it on the farm.  Stop by again and maybe we just might have some.

MY MOM, A FARM WOMAN

Hello neighbor, Glad you stopped by.

When my grandfather bought a farm outside the small town of North Wayne, Maine, my father and mother, along with me,(a baby), and my mother's brother, all moved with them. They had lived in a larger town and so living on 140  acres of land was quite different.

My mother took to the farm naturally it seems. She loved having cows and milking them. Mom would say how peaceful it was to sit on a milk stool with her head resting on the side of the cow and just relaxing as she milked the cow, listening to the chewing of the cow's cuds as they ate their hay, watching the barn cats as they sat around waiting for some fresh milk in their dishes.

My mother also loved hens and chickens, not one of my favorites, but they supplied eggs and meat.
Mighty handy to have around a farm when money was short. Watching hens set on their eggs and waiting for the little peep peeps as the little chicks pecked their way out of the egg.

Gardening was a big part of farm work. Growing most of our vegetables added much to our meals. Mom also went strawberry and blackberry picking.My mother sure loved that farm. Growing vegetables was a necessity, but my Mom loved growing flowers. My Dad built her a small hot house so she would have a place to plant and grow her flowers. She especially liked planting little Geranium seeds. She like seeing the seeds begin to grow and get little curly leaves. She thought they looked so cute. My Mom would use anything she found no matter how small it was to use as a planter. As long as you could get some dirt in it for a seed it was usable.

So for many years my folks lived off the farm and the wood land. Then came the day my father passed away at 89 and that changed farming on the farm. My mother wanted to stay on the farm
for a few years, so we said "OK" as along as all goes well. Came the time when my mother had to leave the farm. it sure wad not a fun time for her. But that's life.

When we moved to Virginia, my mother ended up at Fairmont, a care place just about five minutes from our place. You can take the woman out of the farm, but not the farm out of the woman. She still would find a little container that something came in, maybe a dressing, etc.. and show it to me and say "You  could plant something in this". There was is a great group of women who would come in with loads of flowers and each resident could put together a bouquet for their room. My mother always loved her bouquet of flowers.

My Mom sure loved her corn on the cob. Everyone got a kick out of how her eyes would light up when she was handed an ear of corn.  They would have a big crate of corn and everyone pitched in to shuck the ears.  Quite often I would buy an ear of corn and cook it up and wrap it in  wax paper with butter and take it up to her.  Boy it was better then a million dollars to see her chomp on that ear of corn with her worn out teeth from all her years of eating.

That special farm woman celebrated her 102nd birthday on Oct. 14. But Mom had already decided that she had lived long enough and it was time for her to go see Jesus. So mom went to bed and did not get up again. She slept through her birthday party that we had. She just kept waiting for Jesus to come. Three days later, as she lay peacefully sleeping, Jesus came and took her home to that big farm in the sky.  I was so glad that God was so good to take her so soon and that she no longer has to sit in that wheel chair. I am happy now knowing that she has gone to a better place.

Maybe you will stop by again for another chat.

MY DAD'S DESK

Hello neighbor. Glad you stopped by.

After my sister and I grew up and married we left the farm. After my Grandmother had passed away, Mom and Dad decided to sell the house that he built and move into the old farm house. When you went up the front steps, across the porch and entered the house, right there in the corner was my Dad's desk.  I have no idea where that desk came from or how old it is now, but it was just my Dad's desk.

Dad was still doing his musical stuff, a dance band, and sometimes playing in a church somewhere. But mostly he would be sitting there with a ball point pen in his hand. It is hard to believe that Dad wrote every note on every piece of sheet music  paper for every tune that the band played and the arrangement for every instrument that was in the band.

There were great big thick green note books in piles all around his desk. The note books could never be closed because there were so many sheets of music in each one you could not snap the rings closed to close the cover. But the guys always manged to be able to find the song they needed when Dad called out a song number at a dance somewhere.

Dad not only did all that writing for playing, but he also wrote a number of songs himself.  ''Taking my Time'' was the only song that he had published. I don't think he had any others copyrighted.  He wrote one called "Listen Little Fellow" but never got around to get it published. I have copies of it in his stuff that I have saved. He wrote a very nice song that I sang a number of times at churches. It is called "I've Got A Friend".

I don't know how many of you might be aware that the 23rd Psalm has been put to music by a number of writers. As far as I know none of them follow the words exactly as they are in the Book of Psalms.  Dad put it to music word for word just as it is in the King James Bible. Dad had a way of  using notes in unusual ways and sometimes his music is not as easy to play or sing. I have sung that one also in a number of churches.

Dad wrote a special song he dedicated to our son, Albert, for his wedding. It was called "Take My Hand". He wrote a cover for it that said, " To Al and Linda from Gramp with Love, Your very own wedding song." I sang that at their wedding.  That is a nice memory to share and keep.

His biggest song hit was one he wrote for the State of Maine Bicentennial celebration. It is called, "Maine Bicentennial March" original arrangement - Music and Lyrics by Foster Beach as rendered by the Bank of Maine Bicentennial singers and the University of Maine Bicentennial Band. I love the words to this song and have sung it a number of times. That song was played all over the state by various bands.

 I suppose there are others that I do not know about or have found. I just know that he was always sitting at his desk and with pen in hand writing notes, filling up pages and pages of sheet music papers.

That desk know sits in our daughter's office at Liberty University, Lynchburg, VA where she is a professor of 18th century English Literature. So the desk is still being used for good writing.

Thanks for stopping by. Hope you will again some time soon.

I'M KILLED!

Hello Neighbor, thanks for stopping by.

I was thinking back to my days on the farm and remembered something that happened many years ago.  A farm is a place where accidents could easily happen.  Looking back, I remember the time I got my arm caught in the ringer of the old washer machine.  It could have been more serious, but I ended up with a bulge on the inner side of my left arm. But things could have been worse.

Than there was the time that we kids were playing in the attic of the farm house and there is no floor there, just a few planks to walk  on.  Well, one of the boys stepped off the plank and his foot went through the ceiling into the kitchen below.  Thankfully, it didn't go all the way through or he would have landed with a thud on the kitchen floor. That would have probably been a more serious situation.

Then I remember a time when some of the kids down the road were up and we were playing in the hay loft of the barn.  Well, there is a beam that crosses the barn and it is very, very high. We were always walking across that beam. Again no one fell from up there,I don't think. But we did have a girl that slid somehow off the hay loft and landed on the barn floor.  I don't remember that she was hurt very much.

Then there was the time that my mother was milking and tending to the cows and one of them tossed her head up and caught Mom just above one eyebrow. She was lucky that it was not her eye.  Mom had to have a few stitches and had a few headaches for awhile.  Again, it could have been a whole lot worse.

But the thing that happened to my Dad could have been the worst of all.  Dad was in the field across the road with the tractor.  He had a kid helping him. He came from way across our woods and on the highway that went into the town of Wayne.  He was sitting in the driver's seat on the tractor.  Dad was standing just behind the front wheel showing this boy something.  I don't know what happened, but the tractor suddenly went forward, knocked my father down and the big wheel went across his chest and just missed my father's head.  The boy jumped off the tractor and took of pell mell through the woods and headed home.  My mother and I heard my father hollering, "I'm killed, I'm killed," as he came running from the field ,up the road and to the house. Obviously he was'n t killed with all the noise he was making.  Thankfully he was not hurt either. At least as far as we could tell. We believe that it was  because the ground there was very soft and Dad's body was cushioned by that. So we took off in the car to get to the kid's house so he wouldn't scare his mother to death.  So everything had turned out not so bad in all these situations.

I, of course, just know that God was sitting up there watching all these things that were just about to happen and he sent an angel to help it from getting too serious.
Well thanks for stopping by and hope you will again soon.

DANCING TALES

Hello neighbor, glad you stopped by.

 Dad put together a small dance band called” Foster Beach and the Dancemasters”.  He began playing at dance halls around the different towns.  These were real dance halls.   Some were quite elaborate, some were just a large building especially  made for dancing and some were real barns that were  fixed to be a dance hall. My sister and I got big enough so we could go along sometimes to join in the dancing. We would dance together and have a great time, waltzing? (trying) jitterbugging and whatever else the band would play. As we grew older we began to get asked to dance by fellows or relatives. These dance halls did not allow alcoholic beverages inside, but I am sure there was some out in the cars.  One of the best things at the dances were the hot dogs and cold drinks.  It seemed that hot dogs always tasted better at the dance.

There are some stories that go along with attending these dances. I will share a few that I can remember. After the dance is over, we had to wait around for the musicians to get  their instruments packed and Dad had all the music to  pack up, too. I remember one night as I was sitting along the bench around the wall of the room, that I noticed something shining under the bench across the room.  So I went to check it out. It was a diamond ring! I gave it to the people managing the hall. I think they knew the woman who had lost it. So I was glad that I found it.

One night as we were driving to the dance hall, the road to the town was flooded.  Of course there was no one with a cell phone in their pocket so we waited.  Dad figured someone from the hall would come once they learned that the road was flooded. Sure enough some people showed up with a boat or two to get us and the instruments and music across. Then we would have to be driven to the hall. And after the dance, the process was reversed.

Another night we were almost home when Dad saw something in the middle of the road. He stopped the car and got out to check it out.  It was a baby fox. We figure that the mother must have been killed. So he picked it up and we took it home.  In our house the stairs to go up to the bedrooms went up about four steps, then a platform, left,  and up the rest of the steps.  In that area under the platform, Mary and I used to use it as a play room. So we fixed that up for the fox. We kept it until it was big enough to take out into the woods and let it go.

I guess the one that takes the cake, this was after I grew up and had left home, Dad was having one of his bouts with tonsillitis. He never went to a doctor but this night he stopped at the local old fellow who had been doctoring in Winthrop for many years.  He needed something to help his throat because he had to blow the trombone all evening.  Well, the doctor handed Dad a few pills and told him to take these. Well, generally they mean a couple every few hours, but Dad took them all. The Doctor wasn’t sure what to do. When he asked Dad why he took them all, Dad said ,”You gave them to me and said to  take them, so I did.” Well, the doctor didn’t have a solution so Dad paid and left for the dance. Said he never had another bout of tonsillitis.

Well guess that tells the story about dance halls, good music and lots of dancing.

Hope you will stop by again for another little chat.

PIGGY BACK

Hello Neighbor, glad you stopped by.

The first week in August we had our revival meetings at our church.  A lady always provides for the 4,5, & 6 year olds. This year she had a farm scene with part of a red barn, a big cow and some chickens.  The second night, she had invited a friend who had a little pig, just about 19" long. I always thought little baby pigs were extra cute.  The little pig would trot around following her.

Seeing that little pig reminded me of a pig we had on the farm when my sister and I were quite small. She was in a fenced in yard beside the corn crib building. Well, as children living on a farm so far from other kids, we usually had to come up with our own entertainment.  So the pig became ours. When she got good and big, we figured out that we could climb on her back and ride around the pen. It was quite a different kind of a ride, but we had a bit of fun from it.

So quite often that's where you would find us, a riding around the pen on the back of that big old pig.  Things went on like that for a while until one day my father took the pig for a ride. And that was the end of our piggy back riding.

Hope you will stop by again soon.

I have been away from my blog for some time now and think I am ready to write something for it. But first I want to write about the “Ruby Saga” that is still going on. I was not really up to thinking about writing.

On Thursday morning, the 18^th we realized that Ruby was missing. She is Karen and Roy’s 2 year old German Pointer.  There is nothing but oodles of forest behind our house except a golf course if she went that way.  Al and I went riding all around the area looking and looking.  Karen and I went out again the next morning taking every road whether paved or dirt or just grass into the woods. We stopped at a lot of houses to let them know of a “missing dog”.  On Friday we went out again and she would stop vehicles.  One lady asked if we were looking for Ruby when Karen told her about the “missing dog”. By this time it was posted on FB and so people were becoming aware of it and this lady was out driving around looking for her. 

Karen had about 300 flyers with Ruby’s picture on it and she and Roy began putting one in some businesses and about every house.  Others came to the house to get flyers to go out to help.  That day Roy stopped at  an apt. complex around the corner from us and talked to a woman and gave her a flyer.

During all this time, I was in pretty bad state.  I spent most of my time just praying, begging and talking to God.  Asking Him to please keep Ruby safe. He knew where she was and if she was alright. We have coyotes and a bear that roams the woods.  I just wanted her home safe.  Saturday was just another day of praying, crying and begging to God.  To please, please keep her safe.

Sunday late afternoon, the lady at the apt. complex called and said she thinks she has Ruby. Karen and Roy drove up there quick. And there she was lying on the lawn. When she heard and saw Karen, she jumped up and began to lick and kiss her. They immediately took her to the emergency vet to be checked out. It seems one of her hips had come out of its place.  She had to be put under so he could get it back in place.  There were no broken bones, but the vet felt that she had been hit by a car and probably a couple of days ago because she  had a few scars that had healed. So he kept her for the night. In the morning Al and Karen went to bring her home, but she had to go to our vet first. After checking her over, they brought her home. She should be alright as there didn’t  seem to be anything else that was a real problem.  Now our tears were tears of joy and thanksgiving to God for getting her home. 

We have to try to keep her fairly quiet and still get her up and outdoors to walk, but no jumping or running. We thought she was doing ok, but  Roy thought something didn’t seem right and so back to the vet.  He said her hip had popped out again and should be taped. It needs to heal inside and needs to be more stable.  But at least she’s home and that is good.  God is a great God.

I'M A TEACHER!

Hello neighbor, thanks for stopping by.  I am a bit late on getting this next blog in this series. First it was VBS at Fairmont Health Care and then it was helping with  4's, 5's and 6's at Rival time this past week.

Anyway, here we are on the road again, heading for Yakima, WA to see what God's plans for us are there. Part of what we were to do was for Al to get a job driving school bus. Then that led to us having our two grandchildren a lot, because of Mom dropping them off on her way to bus driving for another school district and their going with their Grandpa on the bus to school.

Well to get on with what God has been doing in my life of "teaching".  This is where the fun part really began.  The other churches did not really have much for Sunday School, but here there was a larger congregation of all ages. The pastor that was there when we joined left and so we got a new pastor.  He really had been a member there previously before they moved away. When he found out that we were needing a pastor, he came and stayed. He used to be the Youth Pastor years past.

Even though this church was Southern Baptist, it was not as strictly involved in the Association. I have never liked using someone else's Sunday School materials.  And I thank God that our new pastor, Rob, let me do my own thing.  I was also Director as well as teaching.  I worked with the 1st through 6th grades. Generally teaching the older group as it was easier to get someone to do the younger ones.  We had a great time. We put on a couple of productions - musical-, and the kids were great to work with. Then we started an Awana Club on Wed. nights and I taught the lessons for the younger group.

A group of us went to Tijuana, Mexico a couple of times to do kids clubs. That was another experience trying to teach a lesson and crafts when the only two words I knew were  "Si" and "Uno".

It was here in these years that I began to really realize what God was doing with me.  I just never gave it a thought. I never considered being "called" to be a teacher. I just did what I did because I loved doing it.  Wherever I went shopping I was always looking for things for my classes or my kids.
It was so much a part of who I was that I never really had to think about it. And it is still that way today.

After about 12 years, (Al and I are getting older now) it was time to think about our future. Our daughter, Karen, who was a professor at Liberty University in Lynchburg, VA wanted us to go there to be closer for her to look after us should the time come for that need. In fact, Roy, our son-in-law, built us a brand new house right in their back yard.  Close enough? It is great and has been good and it was God's plan all along.

Now comes a new church. This one is really, really large compare to any we had ever been involved with before, 600 + and growing.  I didn't figure on getting in volved so quickly, but when God opened a door for Kindergarten I wasn't about to say "No". I have never really taught or worked with that age group, but found out that I loved it. Probably God's doing. But anyway. that's where we are today.

Our church started a Good News Club after school at a local elementary church and I taught the younger group.  God is so good. He is always there when I get up to teach. It is so amazing and catches me by surprise by how He does it and what a difference it makes in my teaching.

But age is catching up with me and I get tired easier so try to do things that involve a smaller number of children.  But teaching is still a joy and I love being able to do my own thing, thanks that this is OK.

Well, guess I have made this blog long enough but I just wanted to share how I became a teacher. I have the best boss ever and I teach from the greatest book ever written, the Bible. How can things get any better than that.

Well, that's my story of becoming a  teacher.  Thanks for stopping and come again soon.

GOD EXPANDS HIS PLANS

Hello Neighbor. Thanks for stopping by.

I'm a little late with this next installment.  Last week I spent every day doing a VBS at Fairmont Health Care. It was a good time and the residents really enjoyed it.

Well, the last thing I wrote was our moving from the Buffalo area to Hollywood, FL.  We joined the First Baptist Church of Hollywood.  This church was mostly an older congregation. We were the youngest members except for one younger woman with her children.  There wasn't much there for a Children's Sunday School, but God had other plans for me.

About a couple of blocks from our place was a four floor tenement apartment facility.  It was a low income place and had lots of kids,   I had started a  kid's club at a small house right next to that apartment building.  There were a number of families that I got to know and taught their children. I looked at that huge apartment building and hoped God was not going to put me there. But of course that is just what He did.

The manager allowed us to use an empty apartment for a club meeting place.  I would walk down there a couple  times a week, always bringing some Skittles or something to pass out to the kids. We had quite a little club going there.  Some of the people from the church would get involved and help out.  We had cook outs and parties.  Finally we were able to get some of the kids to church by picking them up.  It was quite a different environment for me, but it was exciting, too.

Another new adventure that God had me do was to go to Dominica to do a kid's club there. A member of our church had a son that was a missionary. So I flew to Dominica and stayed with them for a week.  We had a nice little kid's club in the church next to the missionary's home. The children were so different from those back home. They really were interested in sitting and listening to the Bible story and the songs etc.  The children in the tenement apartment were not as interested in learning about the Bible and it was more difficult to teach them.  Anyway, it was a great experience and added more confirmation in what I was doing.

We were there for 12 years. By this time, we had decided that perhaps it was time for us to move to Yakima, WA where we would be close to our oldest Son and his family.  I also was beginning to feel sort of burned out with all the work that was involved at the apartment complex.

It was hard leaving some of the kids that I had gotten to know so well. I kept in touch with a couple of them for awhile. When we went back to visit five years later, a couple of my "boys" would always try to be there to see me.  One in particular was my favorite. His name was John and he had come to know Jesus as his Savior. I was sorry to learn that he had been killed in a motorcycle accident, but it was good to know that he had shared Jesus with his best friend, who became a Christian, too, and also joined the church.  I also received a letter from another young man that was one of my "boys". He just wrote to thank me for all I had taught him and for caring about him.  These are what makes following God's plan for you worth all the time and effort that went into His training.

Anyway, it is time for us to move along to the next step in God's plan and for putting His training to work in a different place.

Stop again sometime soon and we'll have another chat.

PUTTING TRAINING TO WORK

Hello Neighbor. Glad you stopped by.

You never know what God is going to do.  Al had been working at the Buffalo Plant for almost four years, when he received word that they wanted him to return Monmouth. So we packed up again and headed East.  Once there we located an older farm house with a bit of land. This house was outside Monmouth Center where we lived before we moved to Buffalo.

The church that we found to attend was a few miles from our place. It was a very small country church with only a few older women who attended.  There was a need for more Sunday School activity and this is where I came in.  I had helped out in the Sunday School at the Monmouth Center Church and the little country church in the boonies while in Alden.  Now here there was not much of Sunday School at all.  So I started to put my training to use and get something going.  Eventually we attracted more people and some children.  Slowly the church began to grow and so did the Sunday School.  God had prepared me well and I was able to direct and teach and help others who would come along and help in the Sunday School.

We grew enough so that the church voted to borrow $5000.00 dollars from the association to add a building for social times and Sunday School classes.  It was an exciting time in the lives of the members of that little country church.  It is still meeting, the last we knew.  And praise to God for keeping that little church alive to minister to the few local members who attended.

We were there for about seven to eight years, when, again, Al was sent back to the Buffalo plant. This time we found a house much closer to the city.  We joined a church there and settled into a new church family.  And again, Sunday School drew me in.  This time, the S. S. Director showed me a room that had lots and lots of left over Sunday School material. He wanted to know what could be done with it.  I told him to let me take it home and I would figure something out..  With God's help, I went through all that material of all kinds, discarded some and sorted out others.  When I got through it all, I had to figure out what could be done with it.

First, I made a card index with the names of the different papers, such as Moses, Creation, etc. Then I made a cross reference index with the subject of the stroies, peace, love, sharing, loving, etc. Then God gave me the idea to write a curriculum which the teachers could use for lessons and with the help of the card index, they could find the resources that were available for their lessons. I still have that curriculum. A few of the teachers did use the outline.

After a few years, Al figured out that they were going to sell the plant and we would probably be sent back to Maine. By this time, Al had 25 years in the business and considered retiring. So he did.A friend of his had a tool rental business in Hallandale, FL. He suggested Al might be interested in managing the business. So we made a quick trip down and checked it out and decided we would like to give it a go.

By now I have had a few years of using the various training tools that God had given me and we would see what He has in store for us in Florida.

Stop by again  sometime and we will chat again.

MY SPIRITUAL TRAINING SESSION

Hello Neighbor. Thanks for stopping by.

So we packed and moved to Alden, N. Y. where we purchased a home on a suburban street not too far from Buffalo where Al would be working at the Buffalo Plant there.  Once we were all settled and kids were ready for school, we started to check the local churches to see which one we might decide to settle with.  There was a Methodist Church a few blocks from our house.   So we went to that one and learned that they, like so many other churches, were in need of people to help out in various needs.  I began to work with some of the youth there.

We met a couple that attended a small country Baptist Church out in the boonies, as we called it. They invited us to come out some Sunday and join them in their service.  So we did go and visit the church and enjoyed the fellowship and the sermon and the pastor.  We felt comfortable there. It brought up the question of whether we should stay where we were, where they needed people to help them or  to go to the little country church where we felt that we could get some spiritual growth.

It was a hard decision to make knowing how much we were needed at the Methodist Church, but we also knew that our own spiritual needs were important, too.  One morning after Al had gone to work and the kids had gone to school, I climbed back into bed and had a little talk with God. I told Him I need to know what to do. I knew once I had made a decision that was what God wanted, I would not have to have this up and down feeling anymore. So I asked God to help me to know what to do.

The names of Mary and Martha popped up in my mind. God does that. So I got up and got my Bible and went to check out the Scripture. (Luke 10: 38-42)  I read the Scripture, though I was already familiar with it, and the name Mary was impressed upon me to think about her and her position in the Scripture.  Mary was spending her time sitting at the feet of Jesus listening to what He was saying while Martha was busy, busy preparing a meal, etc.  Martha went to Jesus and complained to Him about Mary not helping in the preparation of the meal.  Jesus said to Martha, "Martha, Martha, you are troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her."  So I looked at Mary and saw that she was spending her time with Jesus and listening to what He was saying.  This Scripture said to me that even though work is good and necessary, there are times when it is important for the soul to be fed so that one may obtain spiritual growth.  So right then and there, I had the answer.  I knew that we should attend the little Baptist Church.  I also knew that if the answer was the right one from God, I would not have any more up and down feelings about what to do.  So we made the change.

It was a good move and we did get spiritual growth.  Our oldest son, Scot, was baptized in a friends pond in their back yard with a cook out.  The rest of us were baptized at another church that had a place to be baptized.  It was a great experience for our spiritual growth. Especially for me. I remember that I fasted all that day, which I had never done before, because I wanted to make this time a special time in my spiritual life.

God was not through with me yet.  I felt in my heart that I needed to commit my life to Him.  But I was afraid that if I did that I could be sent off to Africa or someplace and I did not want to do that. Old Devil kept me thinking about that so I kept putting it off.  Then I suppose God began to slowly work in my heart and soon I realized that the Devil was the one that was keeping me from committing my life to Him.  I also realized that God probably would not do that as He already had given me a work to do.  A husband to be with and three children to raise up.  So I finally made the decision and Al and I both committed our lives to God in  a special service at our little church in the country.  So God had sent me to Alden, where He could do some special spiritual training in my soul.

Stop by again sometime and we'll have another chat.

GOD'S TRAINING TIME

Hello, Neighbor. Glad you stopped by.

Well, there we were close enough to a church that I could walk to it. So we began attending  this little church that sat at the cross roads. I also began going to the little Prayer Meeting that was held at a lady’s home up behind us.  I must confess it was a new experience for me.  I don’t remember there being a study or not, but I surely do remember how surprised I was when it was time to pray.  They all got down on their knees at their seat and prayed, and I admit that I just let it pass me by.  It took a while before I got up the nerve to say something.  I guess that shows that I was gaining some spiritual growing at that little church. 

There is one sermon that I really remember.   I really felt like the preacher was talking straight to me.  It was about making a commitment to be at church every Sunday.  So I told Al how the message impressed me and ever since we have always made a point to be in church on Sunday.  Of course there are times when traveling or other reasons prevent us from always being there.  But if nothing serious, we were there, all kit and caboodle of us.

Well after living in that small house along the side of the main road from Augusta to Lewiston where the traffic could be quite heavy at times, we decided that perhaps we should find another house to call home. There was not much space between the house and the road. One day I found our middle child riding his tricycle up the middle of the road. That settled that. This was not a very good place for three children to try to play outside. 

We found a nice two story old house right on Main Street in the next town up from Greene.  We found out later that other people had looked at this same property but no one got it.  I told them that God had it picked out for us and they didn’t have a chance.

Well, I think God brought us to this little town of Monmouth, where He was going to begin my training.  I was always a shy, introvert sort of person.  One of the first things I guess was to bring me outside of myself so that I could work and be around other people.  So I joined the Grange. This is an organization that was started many, many years ago. It’s main purpose was to keep up with the bills, etc. that were voted on by law makers, especially those that would affect the farmers.  I held a number of offices and one of them was called the Lecturer.  This was the person who would put on entertainment for the meetings.  Sometimes there would be visitors from other granges or maybe the State Grange. I guess I did alright getting up in front of a lot of people and putting on programs.  One year I was chosen as the Lecturer of the year for the whole State of Maine. We also started a Jr. Grange for the children.  I was elected to oversee the running of the Jr. Grange. Of course all three of our children were in it as well as many of the other town kids.  Again this was more training for me in being in charge and helping the Jr. Officers to do their obligations.

Just so this whole training experience won’t be too long, I will just mention some of the other areas that God had me take part in: Help the producer of a fund raiser program for the Lions Club who sponsored the Baseball team; the next year I was the producer of the program.  Then there was the Cub Scouts of which I was a den mother; and I organized the Bi-centennial  parade for our town.

All these various “jobs” taught me many things about organizing, planning programs, directing others, and just bringing me out of myself.  Just to be able to stand in front of a large group of people and do “my thing”.  I still am a non-social person.  I do not like social affairs where people just sort of stand or sit around and talk, but let me get up in front of a large group and do “my thing” I am ready to go.

Well, then came the day when Al got word that the company wanted to send him to the Buffalo,  N.Y. to work there. So another move was on the way. And another new training session with God.  (to be cont.)

Stop by again and we'll have another chat.

ONE LITTLE STEP FORWARD AND ONE GIANT ONE BACKWARDS

Hello Neighbor. thanks for stopping.

When I lived back on the farm, it was just as normal for us to attend Sunday School and Church as it was to attend to any of the other things that were a part of our life on the farm.  We went to a Methodist church in the little town of North Wayne.  Mom and Dad were usually the ones to get there to get things started.  I learned all about God, Who He is and What He had done. God , the Creator.  I also learned about “ All have sinned and fallen short of the Lord”.  That Jesus was God’s Son and that He died on the cross to forgive me of my sins. So church was always there.

It’s strange how easily we slip out of the habit of church when we leave home for college or work, or maybe some other reason. Well, I was no different.  I never gave much thought about looking for a church or considered going to one.  Now that was before God stepped in again with another of His little boosts.  For some unknown reason, I decided to go to church one Sunday morning. This is while my sister and I were living and working in the Boston area.  Since I didn’t know about many churches, I chose to go to one of the biggest ones in Boston. Tremont Temple.  It was like going to a huge concert, or opera house.  I sat high up in a balcony and looked down onto the main floor where it looked like hundreds of people were sitting.  After the sermon ,  the usual call for people to come forward who needed to ask Jesus for forgiveness of sins, etc.  I looked at how far away I was and of the long walk to get down from the balcony, walk down that long aisle and to the front of the church and said to myself," Guess not.”  

I decided I would give it a try next Sunday only this time I would sit down on the main floor. At least if the Spirit moved me I would at least be closer to the front.  And that is what I did. I guess God had another step for me to take.  I went in the back with a person and they went  through the usual procedure of words and prayer.  I said, “Yes”, and prayed with them.  And then I left.  No one ever did a follow-up on me. I suppose they have hundreds come forward and can’t follow-up on everyone.

Well, so much for that.

 The only thing I really remember is that I knew I meant what I said and what I believed.  And I guess that is a step in the right direction.  But it’s not easy living as I was living in a place like Boston with no mentors or church family to help me along the way.  They usually call someone like me a “baby” Christian.  Well a baby sure needs someone to help them along the way. So I just went my own way as I was before. And my way soon led me to that road that has the wide gate as the Bible says and I just continued on my way on that wide road.  Well, after some time of that, I guess God decided He’d better step in again and He did. He got me back on the farm.  

  Well, now I needed a job and God  had that all lined up too. It was at the same place where Al worked only I didn’t know Al at that time.  But God did.  Well, to make that story short, Al and I got married and settled in on the farm in the big old farm house because my Grandmother was living in a smaller house in North Wayne.  It  wasn’t long when Al began to talk about buying our own  place. So we did. And guess who picked out the house. God did. It was in a small town called Greene, about 30 minutes from the farm. But just a mile or so up the road was this small church and on the dirt road that went behind our house was a woman who had Prayer Meeting time at her place once a week. So after a while, we got involved at the little church and I went to the Prayer Meeting. So God had finally gotten me to where I was back in church again.

Well guess I'd better continue what God does next until next time. It's getting hard to keep us with Him.

Glad you stopped by and do so again sometime soon.

BEING A TEACHER

Hello Neighbor. Thanks for stopping by.
To be a public school teacher is a long road to travel. There are schools to attend, certificates to get, and degrees, just to mention a few of the bumps along the way.  People become school teachers for a variety of reasons.  Some choose the younger children, some the middle children. Some choose to teach teens or college students.  Some teachers choose this career as a job, some teachers choose to teach because they love their students. and some teachers teach because there is something inside them that God has given them as a gift and they teach because they cannot help themselves. Whatever the reason a person chooses to teach there is a great reward to seeing little minds or bigger minds absorb what you are teaching as they grow into useful adults.

My "teaching" sort of got it's start back when I was attending that one-room schoolhouse that I went to for nine years.  I remember as I advanced to higher grades I would take the Kindergarteners or First Graders up to the big black board and help them to learn their ABC's or reading, or numbers.
Now that I am 80 and have had many years to look back upon things that have happened along the way, I can see how God was beginning to prepare me for the work He had me created for.

After graduating from the 8th grade in that one-room schoolhouse, I moved on up to high school. The high school was some distance from the farm that we lived on. I had to take the same bus that I used to take to get to the one-room schoolhouse where the bus picked up the kids in the little town of North Wayne who were in high school. Since the bus went right by our house, I just had to catch it as it stopped on its way back from North Wayne.

High school sure was some different from the school in North Wayne. It had three floors. There was a gym on the bottom floor and the other two floors had the classrooms.  Being in high school was just about the same as it was in North Wayne.  Living on the farm I did not have the opportunity to have a social life with the kids that lived in either town.  Consequently, high school  presented the same situation. I rode the bus in and rode the bus out. There was not much time for socializing with the kids in my class or the other classes.

By the time I reached my Senior year, I had discovered that I had an interest in Secretarial Work. Going on to college never occurred to me. Life on the farm certainly didn't give me an opportunity to even think about it.  But God did.  Some of the colleges would send booklets telling about their schools and what they had to offer.  I did look at some of them out of curiosity, I suppose. There was one that might be a possibility. This was a 2 year business school. It was located outside of Boston, Mass.  They offered classes for students such as I was an opportunity to attend their school by living with a family who would provide room and board in return for helping them with whatever they needed.  Here was a chance!  One only God could come up with.  So I was going to go to college! Who would have thought it possible. The family I would be living with was a Dr. and his wife and their four children. So I spent the next two years getting more education to be a secretary as I also became very much involved with my new "family".

After graduating from Mt. Ida I found a job right there outside Boston in Watertown working as a typist for the Polaroid  Company. They made those new fangled cameras that you pulled the film out of after taking the picture and waiting for it to develop as you held it. That was the first big step to following God's plan for me.   He had more for me which I will write about next time.

Stop by again sometime and we will chat some more.

THE HOUSE THAT DAD BUILT

Hello Neighbor. Glad you stopped by.

When we lived in the little cabin on the hill next to the farm house, my mother told my dad that she wanted a house down the hill in a field.  So Dad, who never built a house or anything else, for that matter decided he would build that house.

He went down to the field. I expect he did some pondering on just how to build a house and how to lay it out.  My mother tells me that one day Dad asked her to come and see what he had done. Well, when Mom got out there in the field, Dad showed her four stakes marking four corners.   My mother looked at them and said, "Is this the living room?"  Well, my father told her that it was the whole house. I don't expect that impressed her very much.  But I know how misleading that can be. I thought the same thing when the ground was laid out for the home that was going to be built for us behind our daughter's house.  Her husband, Roy, was going to build our new house. Things look smaller than they really are.

Well, anyway after Dad convinced Mom that it was the floor plan for the whole house, I expect that she had to just trust that he knew what he was doing. Anyway, Dad got to work and began building a house that he had no idea if he could or not. The foundation was put in place and the walls, etc. began to show up.  I was too little to be too interested in the building of a house.  What I do remember is mostly the things my Mom told us.

Like when the house got to where it had a kitchen and another room added on, which eventually would be the dining room. I guess my mom was anxious to get into that house. Tired of the crampness of that one room cabin, she tells me that they moved into that house, a kitchen and an empty room to be a dining room, in the middle of the winter.  Everyone in town thought sure we would freeze to death through the winter especially those two little girls.  But as you can see, we didn't.

Well, Dad kept working away off and on. Whenever he had a music gig and would get a little more money, perhaps another wall would go up, or another window would go in.  People used to drive by to see if another window had been added.  Slowly but surely,my father kept to the job. I wonder how many times he might have wanted to throw in the towel.  But, by gorry, one day there it stood in all its splendor. A whole house built,wired and plumbed by a man whose only thing was music. One does not know what one can do unless circumstances force one to just step up and do it.

The thing I remember most about this house building project was when it was all done and Dad was going to pull the switch to see if the lights would work.  I think I remembering him saying something if the thing didn't blow up.  Well when I heard those words I was off and running up the road to get just as far away from that house as I could.  Well, We lived in that house all the years while I grew up, graduated from high school, went to business school and got married.  The house is still standing and so my Dad COULD build a house.

Stop by again sometime and we'll have another chat.

THE REAL ICE BOX

Hello Neighbor. Glad you stopped by.

The other day my daughter-in-law got some ice from her refrigerator.  All she did was stick a glass in the little opening in the refrigerator door and push and out came the ice cubes.  Today's "ice boxes" sure have come a long way.  Not all refrigerators do that.  Some, like ours, have a unit in the freezer part that makes ice cubes automatically and then dumps them into the basket.  Then there were those where you had to fill this little tray with dividers in it and put it in the freezer and wait for the water to freeze  and have to get the ice cubes out of the tray. Keeping a refrigerator cold to keep food good is not much of a task today, as long as you pay the electric bill.

I remember days when it was a whole different thing.  I was quite a little girl then and don't remember all the ins and outs or was I particularly concerned with it. The one thing I do remember was the ice house.  I did realize that the men had to somehow get the ice blocks to put in the ice house. I never saw it done and barely remember what I was told but I think it went something like this.

First you had to wait for the winter weather got cold enough so the water on the pond would freeze down deep into the water, about 12" to 14" I would guess (after seeing the block of ice).  There was some kind of special hand saw that they used to cut through the ice to cut out the blocks.  Then there was the need of some kind of truck or trailer to bring the ice home. It must have been quite a chore to handle those cold ice cubes up on the trucks  or trailers. When they got them home that's when I got interested in "ice blocks".

What I remember is the ice house. That was one of the three little shed like buildings along one side of the barn.  Dad or U. Jr. would lay out a layer of ice blocks with spaces between each one. Next they would cover the whole thing with sawdust, the top and the spaces. Then lay out another layer and repeat the process until all the ice had been layered and covered.  I wonder how they knew how much would be needed to cover us for a year until the next winter freeze. And what happened if the weather did not cooperate and freeze the pond hard enough to get out there and cut the ice. Well, be what it may, we did get the ice.  I remember my sister and  going into the ice house when it was full of ice and climbing on the top of the sawdust.

Well the reason for all this hard work was the "ice box" that was up in the front porch of my grandmother's house.  I wish I had, as a child, paid more attention to that gadget on the porch. Maybe I would remember what it looked like.  I just remember getting the ice from the ice house up to the farm house. My U. Jr. I expect was the one that did it during the time we were just little kids. But it was always a treat for us when we saw the ice block coming up the hill.  There was a big pair of tongs with pointed ends that was sharp enough to grab a hold of the ice and be carried or dragged up the lawn.  The ice block would be cover with sawdust.  It had to be washed off as best as could be and then out came the ice pick to chip off the sawdust that was not washed off. This is what my sister, Mary, and i  were waiting for.  We would pick up the little ice chips and suck on them.  That was what interested us.  Not where the ice block went in the old "ice box".

That;s my story and I am sticking with it.    Stop by again and we'll have another story.

LOG SCHOOL HOUSE AND THE OLMSTEADS

Hello Neighbor. Glad you stopped by.

The little log cabin had been built by S. T. Sterling on his homestead in the early 1800's.  By the time that Mr. & Mrs. Terry bought it in 1876, several pioneer families had made their home there. Pioneer homes were built facing the south to get the most benefit from the winter sun that hangs low in the sky. They had no constructed floors, only dirt that was packed hard. Overhead was a shingled roof with no ceiling. the logs used to construct the homes were hewn from trees that grew along the Yakima River and were hauled to the meadows.

Mr. & Mrs. Charles Terry, who once lived in the cabin, were teachers. They both had graduated from a college in Pennsylvania. Mrs. Terry started a small private school in the cabin for the pioneer families that lived in the area.

This little log schoolhouse, which had survived a hundred winters in the Kittitas Valley, was almost destroyed by a bonfire in 1949. Mr. & Mrs. James Seaton moved the cabin to their place where it stood until it was reconstructed in 1980 on the Olmstead place where it now stands as a symbol of our Pioneer Heritage.

Books and supplies were limited on the frontier. They would be donated by one of the families whose children would be attending the school. There were no pencils or paper so the children had to bring their own. Brown wrapper paper was used for a tablet. The little school house still remains at The Olmstead State Park.


Samuel Olmstead was born in New York in 1831. Later his  family moved to a farm in Illinois. In 1861, he married Sarah Frances Yale. They arrived in San Francisco sometime during the late 1860's or early 1870's, Later they migrated north to the coastal area of Oregon where their last child was born, then went on to Puget Sound in Washington. Samuel's half-brother, J. D. Olmstead, urged them to come to the Kittitas Valley where he had been living since 1870. They arrived in the Kittitas Valley in September of 1875 and completed their cabin in 1876. By this time Clara was 14, Phil was 10 and Jack was 4.

Samuel used cottonwood logs from the Yakima River area to build the cabin. They were squared with an adze and the interior planks were sawn with a whipsaw at one of the local mills. the logs were dovetailed and put together with pegs made from branches or square nails. The chinking was made of mud and grass. Newspapers covered the interior walls for insulation. The windows were freighted from The Dalles over the Squaw Creek Trail. Their original stove was shipped from Seattle to Portland, up the Columbia River and over the trail from The Dalles to the valley.

In December of 1881, Clara married George W. Smith. One month later, Sam Olmstead died at the age of 51. The burden of running the farm fell to Sarah and her two sons. Clara and George established a home in the valley. A daughter, Leta May, was born in 1883, Clareta in 1886, and Ruby Myrtle in 1891. Clara died at the age of 31. Two months later, 1 year old Ruby died. Leta May 8 and Clareta 5 were raised by Sarah, their grandmother.

During these years, Phil and Jack continued to farm and were knows as the Olmstead Brothers. In 1907-1908 the farmhouse and the red barn were built. The family built a house in town, perhaps because Sarah's health was failing and needed to be closer to a doctor. The granddaughters helped to care for Sarah until she died in 1918.

Sometime in 1920, Phil and his nieces moved back to the farmhouse for good. In  1938, Phil died of a heart attack. His nieces continued to operate the farm. Leta May did the house chores and Clareta ran the farm and the business. They remained on the farm until Leta's death in 1974.  Clareta died in 1981 at the age of 95. After her death the farmhouse was closed until a new foundation was poured in 1988.The cabin remained available to the public. In May of 1989, the 1908 farmhouse was opened to the public for the first time. **

**Historical background courtesy of Olmstead State Park.

The Olmstead Place State Park, in Ellensburg, WA is a most interesting and enjoyable experience. If you should ever be in the area, take time to visit it. You will not be disappointed.  I discovered, when researching this,  there was a teacher in the Elementary School in Moxee, WA who is a descendant of the Olstead's.  I had a chance to share my visit to The Olmstead Place and my interest.

This article was  published in the Yakima book that was put out by the Writer's group I attended.

Stop by again sometime and we'll have another chat.

THE OLMSTEAD STATE PARK

Hello Neighbor. Glad you stopped by.

Since we are here in Yakima, I thought I would post something about Yakima.  Years ago (well about 6 years ago) we lived here for 15 years.  During that time I joined a writer's club. The group decided to publish a book about stores of the Yakima area.  I had already written one and so just had to submit it to be included in the book. The story takes place on the Olmstead Place State Park. The house is still there and people are allowed to go in to see it, as well as a large barn and equipment. There is a path that leads to a brook that flows through the property.  There is a small school house that was brought there it keep it from being destroyed and can be seen as well. I started my article with the school house which is a made up story.

Sarah stood at the window of the little school house and looked across the field of grain waving gently in the setting sun. 'Abe is gone,' she thought. 'After all these years, just the two of us, and now I am alone.' Sarah was only 16 and Abe was ten years older when they married. He was a river man and though his job as a pilot on one of the river boats took him away from home a lot, they had been happy together.

Abe was a man of few words, but he was thoughtful in the little things he did. He would always bring her surprises from his trips down the river. Sometimes a pretty ribbon for her hair, a bolt of cloth for a new dress or just a pretty stone he had  found. .'The days are lonely ones for a river man's wife.' she thought, as she continued to stare across the field to the hills in the distance.'If only there had been children to share my love.'

'

Sarah's mind drifted back through the years to that time when they were full of hopes for a family. They had been married for two years when a child was expected. Abe had hurried home from a river trip to be with her. It was an early, hard delivery. The baby lived only a few hours. The years passed and no other babies came along. So Sarah had devoted all her love and energy to her husband, And now he was gone, leaving her no one to share her love.

It was this very need to have someone to love that brought her here to this little school house in the Kittitas Valley of Washington. A notice tacked to the wall of the little general store read, "Needed - a teacher, not much pay - but room and board provided."  It seemed the answer to her prayer. So Sarah had come with what little belongings she had piled into the wagon.

She turned from the window and went over to the table, sat down and looked around at her new surroundings. Through the flickering light from the oil lamp on the table, she could see in the deepening shadows of one corner, her bedstead. It was made from crude logs with a straw-stuffed mattress. A pretty patch-work coverlet brightened the corner. Beside the bed stood a bureau on which she had placed a pretty stone, one of the little surprises Abe had brought back from one of his down river trips. A small tin box contained her few pieces of jewelry. A sampler hung on the wall that said, "God bless our home." On the floor by the bed was a rag rug. A basin and pitcher for washing was on a stand in the corner of the room. At the other end of the wall, there was a small cooking range with a wood box that someone had thoughtfully filled with wood. A hutch for dishes, an iron sink, a work bench, a table and two chairs completed the kitchen area.'It isn't like the home that Abe and I shared for all these years' she thought, 'but it will do.'

Sarah continued her survey of the little log home. From where she sat, she could see the four plank  benches in the other corner. The cracked slate that hung on the wall and a few dusty primer books on a small desk - not much to work with, but Sarah had learned how to make do with what she had. 'Here is where the children will sit and learn to read, write and do figures. Here is where I will be able to share love,' she thought as she stared into the shadows.

She rose slowly from the table and picking up the oil lamp, she prepared to make ready for bed. As Sarah settled down under the pretty patch-work comforter, her last thoughts before drifting off were, 'I wonder what the children will be like, I wonder...'

The chirping of birds and the rays of the early morning sun crept into the cabin and into the dreams of sleeping Sarah. She began to stir. Suddenly she remembered all that had happened yesterday and quickly sat up. 'This is my first day here in this little school house,' she thought. I must get up and get going.'

Sarah crawled out from under the warm, comfy covers, felt for her slippers, threw on her robe and quickly went to the range to perk up the fire. The kettle of water was still warm and she poured herself something to drink. With the cup of warm liquid in her hands, she slowly walked to the table, sat down and wondered what the day would bring. Out of the window she could see the grain, wet with dew, still waving in the morning sun. There were birds singing outside the window in the bushes and some flowers still  blooming in the fall weather.

The scene from her window was different from that on the river bank. Here the quiet morning was calming to the soul, where on the river there were sounds of bustling activity as boats tooted and men hollered while goods were loaded or  unloaded."'Life is certainly going to be different here," she said out loud, just to hear a voice. "Oh, Abe, why did you leave me? How and I going to get along without you to love?"

Well, I must get myself together and be ready for the children when they arrive. I wonder what they will be like. Sarah went back to the range and  prepared herself a bit of breakfast. Then she poured some of the warm water into the basin and commenced her morning ritual . She put on a clean dress, combed her hair and with a last look into the mirror, was ready to check out the supplies.

Sarah stood at the end of the room and slowly glanced around. There was a black slate on the end wall with a piece of chalk and an eraser. On the little teacher's desk were a few dusty books, 'It seems that it has been a while since they had a teacher,' she thought, as she ;picked up a book and blew the dust off. It was a speller. There was a reader and a dictionary, too. Not much, but a beginning. After a bit more dusting and straightening up, Sarah was ready to greet the children when they arrived.

Sarah went to the door. She opened it and stood looking across the yard. Shielding her eyes with one hand, she could see someone coming down the dusty road. Yes, it looked like two children.They were holding hands and sort of skipping along swinging their paper bags. As they neared the little school house, they slowed down. Soon they came to a stand still. Sarah could see them looking at the school and whispering to themselves. She could imagine what they were saying,"I wonder what the new teacher is like?" Maybe they were even a little afraid.

Sarah waved and encouraged them to come. She greeted  them with a smile, "Good morning," she said. "My name is Mrs. Sarah Jones. What is your name?" She asked this of the older child as the smaller one was sort of holding back. The two girls looked something alike and Sarah thought they were probably sisters. The older one looked up at Sarah and said, "My name  is Sally Brown and this is my little sister, Jane. We live down the road, past the corner where the road crosses the little brook. I am 10 years old and Jane is 6. We are glad that we have a new teacher."  "Well, Sally and Jane, I am  glad that I can be your new teacher. We will have a good time learning new things together.." Sarah led the children into the room and helped them to find a seat.

Soon she heard someone outside and went to the window. Coming across the yard was a young boy riding a small pony. He slid down from the back of the pony and tied it to a tree. He went to the well and drew a pail of water and placed it where the pony would be able to reach  it.  Then he got his bag and came right over to the door and marched right in. "Hi, I'm Billy Johnson, and I am in the 4th grade!"  "Well, good morning, Billy Johnson. My name is Mrs. Sarah Brown, and I am very pleased to meet you. I am sure that you are going to be a big help to me. Why don't you put your bag over here with the others and find a seat." Billy nonchalantly walked across the room and put his bag on the shelf, then took a seat on the back bench.

Sarah wasn't sure how many children would be here for this first day so she planned to start with an activity that would help her to get to know the children. "We are going to play a guessing game. What do you think is my favorite color?" After a few guesses, they discovered that her favorite color was blue. Then she asked each of them to ask the same question. Soon they were all sharing some of their favorite things, such as favorite food, favorite game, favorite animal, etc. As they shared these things, they soon began to feel more comfortable and so did Sarah.

Soon Billy jumped up and went to the window. "Here comes Johnny Greene. He has to help his dad do the milking, and sometimes he doesn't get here early," Johnny came running into the room like a whirlwind. He was all out of breath and grinning from ear to ear. His face was aglow and so were his freckles.

Sarah got down to the business of teaching the boys and girls their three R's. Already her heart felt better just being here with them. She knew that she was going to be receiving as much as she would be giving. Through the days, weeks and months, Sarah got to know the children and their families. She also learned about the Olmsteads who came and settled the area.

(This will be the next post.)

YAKIMA, WA. HERE WE COME

Hello neighbors and FB friends

I was born on Feb. 29,1936.  This past Feb. I celebrated my 20th Leap Year Birthday.  I also celebrated turning 80 years.  My birthday wish was to take an Amtrak trip back to Yakima, where we lived for 15 years before moving to Amherst, VA.  I wanted to visit again with some of our dear friends we left there and also to visit family members, too.  I don't think we will take another trip as long as this one again. Only God knows, but we don't plan on it.  I am getting excited as we have just tonight to finish packing as we have to leave home around 4:30 am for the Amtrak station in Lynchburg.  We also are planing another trip inside this trip.  We hope to take a sea-plane from Seattle to Malibu BC where our granddaughter is working with  the Young Life group at their camp. The only way in is via boat or sea-plane. Boat takes too long. Besides we have never been on a sea-plane before. Should be something different.  I am going to try to post some pictures on FB if I can figure it out. I did send the flower garden pictures, so think I have it.  Will post something on the blog. Not sure what it will be but it will be something.

Just think that little tiny baby that ended up on a farm grew to a simple farm girl and is now 80 years old and going on a long trip. I find it hard sometimes to look back and make this 80 year old become that little farm girl playing on the 140 acres and mowing hay, etc.  But God has been good and has watched over me all these years, even when I really had no idea He was.   Thank you, God, for all you have done so far. I am looking forward to the next 20 years.  After all my mother will be celebrating (God willing) her 102nd birthday in October. So who knows about tomorrow? Only the Good Lord.

Thank you all for reading my blogs. Hope you will continue to check me out.

As we grew so did our world

Hello Neighbor. Glad you stopped by.

Well, we sure had a lot of fun and adventure exploring all the different parts of our 140 acre farm. As we got older we began to expand our adventures by exploring further away. The dirt road that ran across the bridge over the little brook that ran down in the woods behind our houses led to many homes and places to visit. When we were really quite small, I remember my Grandmother and my Mother used to walk that road for a mile or so to visit with a ladies group that met on one of their homes. So as we grew older we would walk that road and a couple of others that veered off that road.

Other times we would leave the dirt road at the bridge and cut up the hill through a man's apple orchard. We would explore the woods and fields beyond the orchard.  We found a new patch of checker-berries. We knew where all the patches were in our woods, but here was a new one. It was exciting if you were like us and loved the little tiny berries or chewing on the new leaves.

Then of course there was the main road that was two miles long and was the one that led to North Wayne where the one-room schoolhouse was. Also a big old store that didn't have much to sell in it but it was a place we checked out. At one time it was run by my great Aunt Mary who lived in the house itself. There was a huge room over the store part. When we had family reunions, it was a great room for all  of us to eat and we little kids had fun running through the house.

During summer time we were lured to make the long walk so that we could go swimming at the dam. We also got to visit with the town kids.  Sometimes a bunch of us would take off and just walk some place. A road around the pond. A road to a camp. A road around the other side of the pond that went to another small town if we had the energy. Or if we went straight where the road crossed the water below the dam, we would go up the hill. There was a family up there that had some horses. My cousins loved horses so we walked up there a few times.

As I looked back over those years, I can't believe how much territory we could cover.  And there was not a thing in the woods or anywhere that would hurt us or scare us.  What a difference it is today. I have been back there again and I would not dare to try to walk the 2 miles to North Wayne.  You can never know today who is driving by.  Well, it just tires me out thinking of all the walking we did but it was our entertainment and fun.  After all, I was just a simple farm girl.

Stop again sometime and we will chat some more.

THE WORLD WE HAD TO PLAY IN

Hello, Neighbor

My last blog "Not dirt poor, just hard up" I ended with the world that my sister and I had to play in. So I thought today I would expand on this world of ours that we were so lucky to have. The first part of our world consisted of the 140 acres that was our farm. This provided us with many,many places to investigate and to explore. We could enter this world of wonder from the back door of our grandparents old farm house.  Just a few yards from the door we would go through an opening in a big rock wall.  Here was a field of  trees, bushes, etc. We would continue going straight across and go through another opening in another rock wall. If we made a left, we could go down the hill and into some woods.  There was this wonderful spring that had been rocked in and was about 6 to 8 feet long. It was always full of cool clear spring water.  I don't think it ever went dry.  There was a small pump that would pump the water all the way across a large field, up a sort of hill and across the road and continue up into the main floor of the barn to provide water for the cattle.  This amazing little pump would start by just holding your thumb on a little thing and that would start the pump.  Thn when the barrel in the barn was full you would just stop the pump by pushing the little thing. I'm not very well informed on this little pump that must have been a hundred years old or more. Can you imagine digging a small ditch all that distance to get water into the barn?  It sure beat carrying it all the way by a pail,that's for sure.

Anyway, going back to where we left off,  we would continue straight until we hit the cow path and followed that through the woods.  Soon we would come to an old, old apple orchard. It, too, must have been a hundred years old.  There were about a half dozen apple trees and thy still produced apples!!! And we did not have to  spray or anything to deal with  all the bugs that attacks our orchards today. Well just beyond the orchard, on the right there could be seen what appeared to be an old, old cellar where you could see that an old house must have been there once upon a time.  I expect that that was the original farm house.  Well to keep going we would have to cross a fence and enter a field of grass.  There was an old house there, too. What was left of it. The walls were all gone, but there was a set of stairs still left to the upper floor. We would go up there, but it probably was not the best of ideas.  I think now that house, or what was left of it, has been now demolished because of safety concerns.

Keeping on we would cross another fence and come to someones driveway. We'd walk down the driveway and there was our destination. Some friends to play with. The main road into the town of Wayne went by there and other friends live a few house down. It was probably a good mile to walk all that distance.

Going back to the our farm house, and going through the open in the rock wall again, this time turning right. We would really get into the real woods part of the f arm. My dad cut a lot of trees there and sold them to pulp mills.  But we would just keep  walking in one direction and we would soon come out onto a paved road.  There was a house there that we would visit once in a while. the lady that lived there was a teacher at the high school that my kids went to when I grew up and had a family.  Just by her house there was a road that had been discontinued for years. But it was passable for walking. This road went down the other side of our farm. So often we would make that round trip and be back at the house.

Down behind the barn and our own house there was a fence. That was the end of our property. But we would climb through that fence and down in the woods there was this neat little brook. We would play along it and walk up the brook to the bridge and take the dirt road back to our house.

In the winter time we would go up into the area where Dad would cut wood because there was a small frog pond. It would freeze over and my sister and I would get out our skates and skate around the little pond.  One Thanksgiving Day we had  gone out there after dinner to skate.  We were enjoying ourselves when we heard this great big "growl".  Now we knew that there was nothing in those woods that would hurt us.  So I figured out that it must have been our Dad who snuck up to try to scare us. Sure enough, he came out from behind a tree.

We sure had a lot of adventures on our 140 acres.  But that was just a small part of our world.  I will have to share the other part at another time.

Stop by again sometime and we'll have another chat.

SUNDAY DRIVES

Hello Neighbor. So glad you stopped by.

Living on the farm and trying to keep up with all the odd jobs that farm living requires, there's not much time left for entertaining our-selves.  So quite often after the morning church service and dinner, we would all pile into the car and go for a ride. Usually it was no place special, but at least it was a break from the farm chores.

While my sister and I were quite young during this time of  Sunday drives, we had our own way of entertaining ourselves as we rode along. It's a wonder we didn't drive our parents crazy with our foolishness.  Mary would sit on one side of the car and I would sit on the other.  We would watch out our window to see if we could see a brook, or pond or any kind of water.  Once our eyes spied the water on our side, the one with water would holler out" Water, water, water". We would keep it up until the water disappeared. Again as soon as I saw some on my side of the road, I'd begin to holler,"Water, water, water". We'd keep this up for quite a ways. Sometimes it would be enough water just to get out one "Water", and that would be all. I don't know where we got that idea, but it was entertaining to us.

Another game we used to play was watching for cows. We'd each count the cows we saw on our side of the car and when we came to a cemetery we had to bury them all and then start over again.

I expect we thought up some other kinds of games to play but these two are the ones I remember the most. I can hear us just as if it were only yesterday. "Water, water, water, water, water, water."

Stop by again sometime and we'll chat again.

MY DAD - A MUSICAL MAN

Hello Neighbor. Glad you stopped by.

Today I thought I would tell something about my Dad. Dad passed away 1/9/99.  As I was going through some of his papers and music, I came across his story that he wrote himself.  I used that in his Memorial Service.  His story that I found would be more interesting than one I could come up with. So this is his story of how he became  "a musical man".

THE SAGA OF A MUSIC MAN

"I crawled along the long hallway, eager to reach the doorway and the pleasing sounds the wind made through the screen door. It was summer and, as our house was high on a hill, the wind rising and falling made sweet music to my ears. Reaching the door I pushed my face to the screen which had a pleasant taste to my lips and seemed to make the lovely sounds even better. I made daily trips to the door until one day to my surprise I heard other sounds even more thrilling coming from the parlor. I toddled along as fast as my unsteady legs could take me.

On entering the parlor, there was my mother making beautiful sounds on the piano. I stood there listening to the fascinating sounds until my mother left the room. I cautiously moved closer to the piano, but found I could not reach the place where my mother made the music come from. I always went into the parlor whenever my mother made the wonderful music. One day much later, I finally could reach and touch the keys with my tiny fingers. When I touched the keys I could make the sounds myself. My mother let me play along with her. Gradually I grew taller and soon by standing on tiptoe I could see the shiny keys. I was so delighted to find that I could make the low sounds and high sounds myself.

When I was 12 years old I went to see the big parade on Labor day where I heard the band coming down the street. I was overwhelmed by the exciting music and fascinated by the slide trombones blaring away in the front row. My fate was sealed that day. Though I was doing well on the piano with my mother's help, I told her I had to have a trombone. We took the Sears & Roebuck catalog and turned to the musical instruments and there it was in all it's glory.

I soon found I could blow the horn OK. After a few days my father quit complaining about the noise. Checking with the piano I soon located the positions of the chromatic scale with enough notes to play the average tune.  Then I went to the rehearsals of the town band and sat beside the 1st trombone player who, fortunately, was playing treble clef music. As I already knew the value of notes I could follow the music pretty well.

Soon the director let me bring my horn and sit in the last chair.  I'd start out with them, but if the music got hard, I would lay off, but follow with my eyes and pick up now and then where it was easier going. I started playing scales faster and in a couple of months was really playing a lot of horn. Soon the director let me play 1st trombone, too and would pick me up for rehearsals."

And that was how my Dad became a self-made musical man. 

Stop by again sometime and there will be more about my Father, the Musical Genius.

NOT DIRT POOR - JUST HARD UP

Hello Neighbor. Glad you stopped by.

Whenever the subject of not having much money or income came up,  Dad always said", We are not dirt poor, just hard up."  And I guess that was the truth.  We lived off the produce of the farm and Dad would cut trees for the pulp mill and  that was a little extra.  Dad had his own dance band and Mom would play the piano. So there was a little there on weekends or special events.  But when you received only $10.00 each for a long evening of playing, it wasn't really much.

So you can understand why doctors and medicine and medical needs was not a priority on our list. I know that we had the usual childhood things.  I  don't remember, of course, having whooping cough when I was quite small. My Mother would tell me about taking me outdoors and hanging me upside down and patting (pounding?) me on the back to help me when coughing.

One day my Grandmother was washing the clothes there in the old farm house. She had finished a load of clothes and went out to hang them on the clothes line.  Again , I don't think I really remember this, but I sure can imagine it.  Gram had one of those old washers with the wringers for squeezing the water out of the clothes. I don't know if Gram had left the wringers going or forgot to stop them. Maybe I just knew what to do to start them. Anyway, I climbed up on a chair and I stuck my fingers in the rollers and you know that once those rollers start nothing much will stop them. If a big wad of clothes went through they could stop it. But my skinny little arms with the soft bones was not enough to stop. I suppose I hollered like the dickens and someone must have come running.  As I said, I don't really remember any of this.  My Mom said she sat in the rocking chair holding me and just rubbing my arm from the top down. Just a rubbing and rubbing. I guess she hoped it would help some of the flesh to push down.  As I got older and my arm filled out more, there was a place on the inside of my left arm where the flesh would puff out. I guess some of the cords in the arm must have been damaged and so there was a space there and the skin could pop out.  When I was an adult and was working with children they always wanted to see my "muscle".  Well, I guess that was probably the most scariest.

I had the usual chicken pox, measles and I'm not sure about the mumps. After I started Kindergarten I began having sore throats.  This time I guess my folks thought we should see the doctor.  Also perhaps we were a little less hard up as we were in the beginning.  I don't remember. All I know is one day I was off to see the doctor.  At the doctor's office the doctor confirmed that my tonsils were quite bad. He set me upon a counter, went to get something as he said, "Those tonsils need to come right out."  I thought he was going to do it right then.  Anyway, I did get them taken out and that was that.

One day at school, the bus came to pick us all up and take us to the school in the main part of town. We were told we were going there to have a shot for something.  Now I am not particularly excited about this.  And you know how boys are. They put on a big show of how much it hurt and I still was waiting for my turn. I sure wished I was first.  When my turn came around I sure gave those nurses a hard time. I squirmed so much I ended up on the floor and being held.  It didn't stop them from giving me that shot.  And to this day I get a little panic when a doctor tells me I need a shot.  But I must say that things have changed and shots aren't as bad as they used to be.

 My father went to the doctor one night on the way to a dance. He had a case of sore tonsils.  He stopped at the old doctor that everyone knew. The doctor gave him a few pills and told Dad to take these.  I don't think the doctor meant to take them all at once, but that's what Dad did. The doctor told him he didn't know what would happen, but Dad was OK and I don't think he had a sore throat again.  When my Dad died in 1999, my mother had to call the local police because there really was no doctor to call since he never went but that once.

Well it amazes me that we survived the farm without any real troubles.  Mary and I used to go all over those acres climbing trees, hiding in places and who knows what else.  I never thought we were hard up. We had everything we needed  and a whole world to play in.