You cannot get the toothpaste back in the tube!

 There are 2 phrases that my psyche is shaped by and that I also fight with most of my adult life.  The first is "Hind sight is 20/20 looking back." and the second is "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."  There are many little things momma threw in along this line and for the life of me I do not know where she got them.  I strongly suspect that she got them from her mother since they lived a fairly cloistered life there in south central Kansas.  The sad fact remains, that all these years later, those are burned into the depths of my being.

In my younger days I was surrounded by Aunts, cousins, grandmothers and a few uncles.  Males in my lineage tended to either die young or live forever.  Uncle Coon lived to be over 100.  (Now I am not sure that this was his given name.  Seems like it might have been Conrad, but it is irrelevant to this article!)  The point is that while the rule at the time was that children should be seen and not heard, the other was that men were the strong silent type and it was best to remember that.  As kids it was our past time at family gatherings to hide under the table and watch the men enjoying an after dinner cigar or pipe.  As I recall there was a lot of coughing and choking while this "pleasure" was being indulged.  

This pastime was second only to spying on the chickens in the coop and hoping one would poop out an egg and we could see where it came from. (To this day I do not actually know how the plumbing of a chicken works, nor do I care!)

I only recall one male cousin in my youth and that was cousin Carl. The girl cousins were named Rosetta, Alvina and Marilyn.  I had another cousin named Donna, but she lived in St. Louis and we rarely seen her.  She never married.  

Carl and I were close at the time.  We used to weed the garden for grandma after family dinners.  Carl grew up and married someone and they had one child.  I am not sure it grew to adulthood.  Seems momma was the only one out of the whole family that was a good "breeder."

Momma had eloped immediately after graduation.  She married a man named Jack Walden and ran away to Chicago.  They lived near the "Loop" whatever that was.  They had a baby girl and for some reason mother found herself hitchhiking back to Kansas with the baby in her arms and fearing for her life.  (Or so I hear. Little bit of "toothpaste" for you there.)  When the baby was but a year old she married what would be my father and they lived not so happily ever after.  While the marriage may have been a bit rocky it lasted until his death in 1965.  I ended up with 3 half brothers, 1 full brother and 3 sisters.  Guess Josephine was my half sister.

All that is irrelevant!  It was at my mothers knee that I learned the art of being seen and not heard.  I also learned that when the words "Little pitchers have big ears!" were used I was about to be banished to another room and I better not listen to what was being said.  "Ixnay" meant no.  Anyone who died went directly to heaven!  No doubt about it!  The meanest SOB that ever walked went to Heaven.  Man beats his horse; straight to Heaven!  Seems like the only thing that would actually keep you out of heaven was lying to your mother and disrespecting your elders.  Stealing and pulling the legs off grasshoppers were minor infractions.  

So, here I set lo! these many years later, still a child!  Could it be that as we age, we become our mothers?  I need to ask my kids how their minds work.  Did they actually learn anything from me and if so, what was it?  Did they walk away with my good qualities or the bad ones?  Do they look back on their childhood as a learning experience?  Was I a good mother?  I know I was rarely there, but do they know I tried?

I guess only time will tell.  I do know they are all independent, compassionate human beings and I love them and they appear to love me.  I hope that I imparted just a bit of my wisdom and honesty to them by my actions.  It may be something I never really know, but when I look at the lives they live, I am proud of each and every one of them.  And I am proud of their offspring.  

Kinda hope that the fruit does not fall too far from the tree in my family tree!

Peace and love!

Cellar, outhouse and black widow spiders!

There was much to be done in our new home.  School would be starting soon and I had not yet explored every inch of the new home.  The house was simple.  Enter at the front door and you were in the "front room".  Later I learned the rich people called it the entry way, but to us it was the front room due to the very location.  It was also the "living room" because we lived there. To to the left of that was the front bedroom.  Made sense. Dad had a big bed in that room nearest the window so nothing could get us 4 kids that were piled on the bed.  Josephine, Donna, Mary and I slept in the other bed.  The center of the house consisted of the dining room and the "other bedroom" in which Mother slept with Dorothy because she was still a baby.  Sometimes Mary also slept in there.  I do not know where Jake slept.  He may have been hung from a hook.  The dining room held the big oak clawfoot table with mismatched chairs, the ironing board, a built in cupboard for our dishes, and a "icebox."    It also held a hanging bird cage in which lived a yellow canary.  That canary was my mother's reason for living, I think.  More about that later.
The room across the back of the house was designated as the kitchen.  It held two cook stoves, a set of shelves which would later become a bookself because we did have 3 or 4 books and they were on that shelf. The galvanized tubs were kept hanging from nails in this room, so it was also the laundry room.  One was a "wash boiler" because it was oblong and about a foot across and two feet long and 2 feet high.  If it happened to be raining on "wash" day, the water would be heated inside because we could not build a fire under the 3 legged kettle and wash day was wash day come hell or high water.  Days meant something back then!  I sell tea towels on ebay and they have the days with the little Sunbonnet Sue or the doggie doing things they do on the designated days.  Monday was "Wash Day", Tuesday "Iron", Wednesday "Sew", Thursday "Shop", Friday "Bake", Saturday "Clean" and Sunday was always "Church".  So if it rained and it was Monday, we would be heating wash water in the house.
There were also 2 more galvanized tubs that hung there.  They were the "rinse tubs".  When bath night came, which was always on a Saturday night without fail, the cleanest of the two tubs would be filled with warm water and we each got a turn in the tub.  First came the little kids and then the last was Dad.  Some times if the water got to thick, more water was added.  That was nice!  When we were all clean (and I use that word with the untmost sarcasm!) the tub was carried out the back door and dumped unceremoniously in the garden area.  Great fertilizer!
Along with the bathing ritual for our hygiene, there was also the need for rest room "facilities" and trust me, those were very primitive!  Out the back door and down the path stood the "outhouse".  And that, friends, is exactly what it was and what all the neighbors called it and everyone in town had one.  Course there were people in the city proper who had the inside things, but out on the outskirts where we lived it was a way of life.  It was a wooden building with a wooden bench built in and secured to the walls.  A hole was cut and that was it.  A Sears catalog was the paper used to "clean yourself "  when you were done "doing your business".  I hope you are getting a clear picture of where the black widow spiders came into this tale, because I have no intention of going into more detail than this.  Suffice it to say, I was terrified every time I went in there and I always carried a stick which I used to hit the hole with to scare the spiders away.  Apparently it worked because my vulnerable back side was never attacked.  I also lived in mortal terror that I would step inside and the floor would collapse and I would fall to a very nasty death.  I think this is the one aspect of pioneer life that I least enjoyed.  Never, ever did I even once wish I could go back to that nasty place!
Right out the back door was the area known as the "back porch" which I never understood why it was called that, but I guess it had a roof and screens to keep out flies.  Step out the door of the kitchen and on the left is where wood was piled.  On the right was the cellar.  The cellar was by definition the one place I did not ever want to go.  Never, ever, in my entire life did I actually enter the underground room.  I did make it part way down the dirt steps and looked at the room.  This cellar was dug down about 6 feet below ground level.  A roof of some sort was over the top and several feet of dirt mounded up over that.  I am sure that this would have stood an atomic bomb attack, but I was just not fond enough of living to go clear down the steps and enter that spider infested room.  Mother insisted on storing her pickles, canned goods, potatoes, yams, onions and such down there.  She would on occasion tell me to go down and bring up such and such.  If I could not get one of the other kids to do it, I went and hid until I was sure it was done.  I am scared shitless of spiders to this day and never have I ever thought a spider was my friend.  I am terrified of little spiders and the level of fear increased with the size of the spider.  Terror is the word we are looking for here.  Petrified comes to mind.  You get the picture?
Out of time again, but I will be back soon to share more with you of our new home.  Until then....

Clara Bartholomew? Where are you?

I have been researching the family tree and I am now at my wit's end.  Dad's first wife was named Clara.  Apparently the had 5 children together.  Two of those did not survive to adult hood.  The three older boys were placed in an orphange.  Two of those were adopted.  I know what became of them.  The third one, who was the oldest walked away from a town in Northern Kansas or southern Nebraska and vanished into thin air.

But, Clara.  The last trace I have of her was the 1930 census.  At that time she was 26 years old and her oldest son was 8.  Poof!  If there is any of may family out there who knows anything, I would like to know what you know.  I am waiting for the 1940 census.  I know on it my mother will be married to my father and they will have 2 kids.  Josephine Walden (my half sister) and Delbert Leroy Bartholomew.  Delbert would later become known as "Jake".  I would be born in 1941 so would not show up yet.

This tells me that Clara was no  longer married to my father in 1936 since Jake was born in 1937.  I know when we were growing up and met the three older boys who were our half brothers that we asked questions and I am sure we were given answers, but I do not remember what they were. 

I know that Earl has three kids and Josephine used to stay in touch, but she is gone now.  Wish I had listened.  Richard wound up in Denver and he died many years back.  Gene was never adopted and I recall that he married and had a son.  He was declared legally dead an eon ago, but the son is still out there some where.  It just seems that the more I learn the more questions I have.

So, I am going to stick the family tree back on the shelf for a while and concentrate on getting back into a routine so I can keep this blog thing going.  But if you do happen to stumble on something that might help just contact me.

Well, what shall we write about today? Aunt Lena!

Yesterday I went to the dentist and I am now able to say I know exactly what Mother meant when she whacked me upside the head and told me to quit opening bottles with my teeth.  Wish she would have told me what would happen if I continued using them for a pair of pliers, but she didn't.  And of course the trip across town rendered the usual idiot that passed me on the left, cut in front of me to get to the right turning lane and then swerved back when he finally figured out which way was left while all the while keeping that damn cell phone firmly attached to his ear!  We seem to not have any laws concerning that sort of thing as "Johnny Law"  remained unperturbed behind me.  I thought about tapping my brakes to wake him up, but I know how my luck runs and I do not need a husband named Sally at this point in my life.
So that is what I intended to write about today, but when I woke up I had Aunt Lena on my mind.  Now I do not have a picture of her and Sister Donna is not awake yet, but I can see her as clearly in my mind as if she were standing right here in front of me. 
Aunt Lena was born to Johann Jakob Haas and Maria Dorothea Schrade (nee) on May 6, 1893.  She was given the name Magdalena Haas.  This was in keeping with the name Maria Magdalena, a daughter born to his first wife in Dettingen, Germany who was born in 1874 and passed in 1876 at the tender age of 1 year and 10 months. ( This was common to rename a new baby for one that had not survived.)  Aunt Lena was the 12th of 13 living children born to Johann Jakob.  Two children had died in infancy.  Prolific old fellow if you get my drift.  ;)
The Haas family settled in near Plevna, Kansas.  Now some how this gets very confusing.  The Gagnebin family lived near Abbyville, Kansas.  Helen Gagnebin married Frank Miller.  They had two daughters, Josie and Helen, and  one son,  Lewis Miller.  At some point in time Helen and Frank Miller wound up living next door (within a mile of each other.) to the Haas Family.  At that juncture my grandfather, Christoph Adam Haas (from Great Grandfathers first wife deceased)  in Germany married Josie Emma Miller in 1900.  She became my grandmother.  Seven years later Gottlieb Haas (Who replaced Gottlieb Haas who had only lived 7 months and died the year before Uncle Goll was born.) married her sister, Mabel Helen Miller.  All of these children are double cousins.  When Uncle Lou Miller cast his eyes on Magdalena Haas, Great Grandmother  came un wound and said "No!  Too many Haas's have married too many Miller's!"  Back in those days children actually listened to thier parents, so Lou and Lena were not married.  Uncle Lou later married a lady named Eva.  Aunt Lena never married.  She remained in Plevna and I think she took in sewing and cleaning and laundry.  I am sure she never worked at a job, per se, but she managed to be self sufficient.  I know she rented rooms to "old maid school teachers", but we never called her an old maid.  No way!  She was just Aunt Lena who was not married. 
But she was great!  I remember going to her house which was a block or so from Grandma Haas.  Aunt Lena kept a stock tank there full of water and let us kids get in it in the summer when it was hot.  Course we wore our clothes, but that was the fun part; letting them dry on us when it was really hot!  My first taste of air conditioning.  Her house had two or three bedrooms and was very simple.  Every where was crocheted doilies and table cloths; the same as grandma's house.   I recall the porch and the Lilac bushes all over her yard.  When I smell Lilac's in the yard now, I am transported to Plevna, Kansas and my dear Aunt Lena.  I do not think she ever painted her house.  Seems like it was always old gray bare wood.
She had an old car, which was probably new at the time and sometimes she would take us for a ride in the country.  If we spotted a creek she would whip that old Packard (?) over and we would leap out and climb the fence.  Aunt Lena knew how to pull the front of her skirt between her legs and tuck the tail in the waist band.  This made us wear pantaloons!  We did not dare to get that muddy water on our clothes or we would have been punished.
A funny thing I remember about Aunt Lena was the way she talked.  She never opened her mouth.  It was like her teeth were stuck together.  I'm sure they came apart because she had to eat, but not necessary to talk.  Aunt Lena was never sad, nor happy.  She would tell stories of the old days.  She knew every family member and what they were doing and when they had a new baby and everyone's birthday and where anyone with a drop of Haas blood in thier viens was at any given point in history.  I guess she was the family Historian.  She was my grandfathers sister and since I never knew grandpa she would tell me things about him.  I do not remember the stories, but I remember her saying "Your grandpa."  Never called him by name, just my grandpa.  I do wish I had known him.
Her and Aunt Mable made me a quilt and hand quilted it when Duane and I had been married for 5 years.  They made a quilt called Postage Stamp.  It probably had a million tiny squares and it was so pretty and the stitches were so tiny.  To this day I do not know where it went, but I do know where it isn't.  I think someone stole it when I was in Garden City, Kansas.  It was one of those now you see it and now you don't things.  I remember putting it away in a very safe place in our apartment on Jenny street.  And then it was just no more.
Aunt Lena was tall, or so it seemed.  Back when I was 4 feet tall everyone was tall.  And I remember Aunt Lena was so wrinkled.  I mean her face.  Maybe it was a combination of the hot Kansas wind and the farm life and maybe it was just my imagination.  Or it could be that when I lived with grandma Haas in 1955, Aunt Lena was 63 years old.  But she was the same wrinkled when she died in 1994 at the age of 101.  She lived alone in her home until just shortly before her death.  As I recall some kind soul had made arrangements for Meals on Wheels to deliver food to her on a daily basis.  That did not last long as she couldn't eat tha stuff.  One thing the Haas family is famous for is cooking.  And cook we do.  We use cream, butter, bacon, yeast and when a meal hits the table there are no boxes in the trash.  Kind of hard to eat institutional food after doing it yourself for 90+ years.  I know for supper every night she had popcorn.  Dry, I think.  But sometimes she put milk on it.  Popcorn is a staple here at my house, but it is just an occasional snack, not a meal!
The last time I seen Aunt Lena was at the family reunion that used to be every September in Plevna, Kansas at the high school gymnasium.  That was all that was left was the gym.  Aunt Lena was there and she must have been about 98.  Earl Boyd was also there.  He was a second cousin by marriage or something.  I will have to research that.  (And I will because there is another story to tell.)  Earl was probably 85 or so, but he had macular degeneration and could barely see.  Aunt Lena and Earl were visiting and I over heard there conversation.
"Lena, I would love to go see the old home place, but I don't have a car.  Do you have a car?"
"Yes, Earl, I have my car and it runs good, but I do not drive that far. (The home place was 4 miles away, but you had to cross highway 50.) Can you drive?"
"Well, yeah, but I can't see.  I am blind. But I can drive.  Can you see?"
"Yes, I can see really well, but I just can't drive."  Then Earl had a brilliant idea.
"I can drive and you can direct me!  We will have to go very slow cause if we wind up in the ditch we will be in big trouble!   I don't have a license any more and they would give me a ticket."
Then they both fell into silence and sat there a few minutes before Earl said "This old age sure ain't what it is cracked up to be."  Then they both chuckled and I could not help but smile.
But it is sad.  I told them the next time I made it to town (and at that point I always took Earl with me) I would round them up and go wherever they wanted to go.  But of course time and tide wait for no man and that never happened.  I never saw Aunt Lena again, but how lucky I am to have my memories.

Grand kids, great grand kids, dogs and ducks abound at my house.

This is what I call two little great grandsons at my house.  These pictures were taken when the son was here a few weeks back.  Those two belong to the grand daughter, September.  The little one is on Sam's lap and the big one is being held still by Great Grandma Lou.  Those kids can move faster than I can blink.  See the little one there has already broken his arm once and healed it up.  He could crawl up on furniture and leap off way before he could walk.  He started walking when he was 9 months old and running at 9 1/2!  The older one was raised on Baby Einstien and I think he started Calculus when he was 3.      

Now these little play pretties belong to the Grandson, Jason.  He in turn belongs to my middle daughter, Dona.  This picture is over a year old, but aren't they little blondies?  The pictures of my kids when they were small shows them all to be very blonde.  Course it helped that my husband, their father was a platinum blond German guy.  Drop dead gorgeous, but that is neither here nor there, so to speak.   Dona was the only one that kept the blonde hair.  She does not use anything, it just stayed blond.  But aren't these little honeys precious?

You met 3 more of my great grand kids back in Longton last summer.  Now understand this and why I do it this way...these are great grandkids that can be traced back directly to my and Earl's blood line.  I got a  ton of grandkids when I count the steps and the step greats would be completely over the top, but those kids have other grandmothers that can rightfully lay claim to them on both sides of the family.  Mine are reduced to just me.  Grandpa has been gone many years, so it is just me left to hold down the fort here, so to speak.  I keep thinking someone of them will be interested in a little of the family history, but so far not much.  So I continue to blog away and have them printed and stuck in a drawer so some day, if some one wonders, there will at least be a tiny peek at my life.  Not so much to see what I did or did not accomplish, but rather so they can see where their roots are planted.

I never dreamed when I ran barefooted down the country roads in Nickerson, Kansas what lay ahead for me, nor behind for that matter.  But now, when I look back I can see it so clearly.  I have become my mother!  Mother had 1 son and 5 daughters.  I ended up with 2 sons and 4 daughters.  Six either way you count.  Mama worked her whole life to raise us kids.  I worked my whole life to raise mine.  She never really got done and neither have I!  She ended up with 13 grand kids, mine total 8.  Then she ended up with 20 greats and I total 7.  So while I was the most prolific of her children, I am whittling the numbers down.

Oh, it is a little early in the morning to think so hard.  It is shaping up to be a very pretty day, so I think I will grab my gloves and head out to do some raking and burning.  But first maybe one more cup of coffee and let me look at pictures for a bit.....life is good!