I survived October.

I survived with my mind still intact and I must say, I did not have nearly as much trauma as October usually brings.  Yesterday was the 54th year of my brother's passing.  The month also marked my birthday, as well as 2 of my kids, my first wedding anniversary, my brothers birthday.  Halloween is not the only thing in October for me, it just marks the end of a lot of bad stuff.  But it is now time to move on!

I have one sister left and she called me last night.  That was nice.  I want to get down to see her and when the geese are gone I will be free to travel.  At least I hope so.

I accept all the bad stuff and remember that first there was good stuff.  I had a wonderful brother.  I had a wonderful first husband and father to my children.  A lot ended in October, but there were lots of bright beginnings.  I have spent many years reliving a lot of garbage, but today is a new day.  I have dealt with my demons and put them to rest.  I shall spend the rest of my life counting blessings instead of recalling sadness.  With that in mind, I am going to a big birthday party on November 9!

It will be Rose Torres 60 big ones!  I do not like to go any where at night and sure do not want to go alone, but I am going to bite the big one and do this.  It is times like this that I would like to have a man in my life that I could press into service, but such is not the case, so there you go!  First there is going to be dinner and I do love to eat and my favorite stuff to eat is Mexican food made by people who have been doing it all their lives.  Then there is going to be a dance!  Kenny was not a man who had any rhythm in his body, so I have not danced since I married him in 1983.  This could be humorous!  I bet if John Tenorio were still around, he would go with me!  If you are reading this and have any ideas feel free to call and tell me.  Otherwise I am going to be out there dancing alone, but I am going!

So, back to the real world.  Tomorrow is our craft fair at the church.  Our kitchen will be open and I have made red and green chile, breakfast burritos, and lots of cookies for the bake table.  I do not know what time it starts, but I have to be there at 8:30, I think.

So with my new mantra of "Yesterday is gone and tomorrow is far away, so live every day as if it were your last!" I shall wind this up, run through the shower  and chase rainbows!

Peace!

What has this old world come to that this is news?

Can you believe this?  click here

I remember growing up when we had to carry lunch to school because mother could not afford to pay for hot meals for all of us.  I do not recall what we had for lunch, but it was in a paper bag and we were under strict orders to bring the bag and all of the contents home after school.  The next morning we carried the same bag to school.  Waxed paper and everything was reused.

Looking back I can see the discrimination that was alive and well even then.  The tables for lunch were set up in the hallway down the center of the first floor.  They ran all the way between the first grade class room and the second and third grade  classroom.  We were not allowed to eat at the end closest to the kitchen.  Our designated place was at the end of the table nearest the stairs that started at the door of the fourth grade class and ran up to the 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th grade classrooms.

Since the Bartholomew kids were the only ones that had to carry their lunches we ate alone.  The expanse of table that ran from where we were to where the "hot lunch" kids ran was an expanse that I never conquered.  Every night I prayed that we would be rich and could afford hot lunches, but it never happened.

Every morning the smells from the school kitchen rose through the whole school.  Mrs. Ritchie could make my mouth water and my stomach cramp with those aroma's that wafted through the halls.  As sad as this may seem to you, I can still feel the humiliation of those days.  There was no such thing as a "free lunch".  Mother explained that if she had the money to pay for lunch for 3 or 4 of us kids that she could buy groceries to cook food for the whole family.  I did not understand that back then and thought she was just mean, but now I do.  Mother always said "Hind sight is 20/20 looking back."

We would steal sideways glances at the "hot lunch eaters" and as long as I had a sister with me, I was alright.  It was just that when I was alone, it was like I was on an island in the middle of the poverty ocean.  I did not resent the kids that could afford hot lunches, but I resented the fact that I was not allowed to set near them.  It was kind of like I had a disease and might contaminate them.  I want you to know that I can put myself in Anya Howard's shoes the only difference being that I lived it 5 days a week when school was in session.

I have since grown into a woman and sometimes talk to people who can remember back when they carried a lunch to school.  One lady told me how her lunch usually consisted of a potato sandwich.  Another carried carrots.  A man told me "nothing".

Today, I can laugh about those days of poverty.  I have not missed a meal in years and it shows.  I love my mother fiercely and I am very proud of my heritage.  I am proud that I grew up in Nickerson, Kansas on the dead end street called North Strong Street.  It is that backbone that drove me to make sure my kids had hot lunches and never missed a meal.  It is that background that makes my heart ache when a little girl is embarrassed by a woman that could have and should have paid for her meal.
Where is our compassion?  Are our hearts so cold that we can not see the hunger in a little girls eyes? I have tried to convey to my children love thy neighbor, do good to them that spitefully use you, and pray for those who persecute you.  I think they get it.  And I will pray for the cafeteria lady and the rules that made her do what she did.

Every day is a new day and a chance to do better and help our fellow man.

Plevna, Kansas holds my roots.

Gagnebien, Haas, Beck, Miller, Hatfield, and the list goes on.  When Haas members began to arrive through Ellis Island, they went straight to the "Beck Home" in Nickerson, Kansas and then branched out into the surrounding area, mainly Abbyville, Huntsville and Plevna.  Homesteading was active at the time and Nickerson was pretty well taken, causing them to branch further out in Reno, County. I have a family album that shows the Haas family cutting cottonwoods on the Arkansas River.  My branch of the family did not come here until 1884.  As I recall my grandfather was 6 or 9 years old when he went through Ellis Island.

I can still recall with fondness my Uncle Goll, Uncle Coon, Aunt Lizzie and my dear sweet Aunt Lena.  For some reason I thought my grandfather came to America in 1900, but it was actually 1884.  He was 12 years old at that time.  He married my grandma I 1900.  His father would be my great grandfather, Johann Jakob Haas.  Great granfather actually fathered 16 children by two women.   I come from a long line of weavers. tailors, vine dressers, bakers, and of course, farmers.  But all this is irrelevant to this post.

It must have been about 1970 or so that Dorothy and Ernie moved into a farmhouse outside of Plevna.  I know Little Ernie was just talking good.  I went to visit fairly regularly, but usually when Ernie was at work.  Little Ernie was always a special little boy to me although I had a nest full of my own.  He called me Aunt Do Do, since he could not pronounce Lou Lou.  "  I love you, Aunt Do Do."  Once he came running out of the bedroom to announce "Aunt Do Do, there is a hop grasser in my bedroom!"

Ernie had fenced off a portion of the yard and made that a pig pen.  I do not remember where he worked at the time, seems like he worked for Morton Salt.  Could be wrong.  The important part was that he was gone all day and Dorothy was pregnant.  One weekend he decided to build a new sty for the pigs so he got his lumber and drill.  Please know, that lumber and drill should never be used in a sentence with the name, "Ernie".  In typical fashion he held the 2 x4 up with one hand and drilled through it into his other hand.

They had a station wagon at the time so Ernie laid down in the back, kids were some where and Dorothy began the flying 20 mile trip to the hospital in Hutch.  Ernie would call out every few minutes, " I am still alive.  Drive carefully so you don't wreck.  Hurry!"  Dorothy told me that was her most harrowing trip in her life.  They sold the pigs soon thereafter and moved into town.  Think they moved out on Duffy Road at that time.

For many years we had a Haas family reunion at the school gymnasium.  Everyone brought a dish and we just kind of caught up on each other.  They tore down the school where I had attended my freshman year, but left the gym intact.  Hinshaws Dry Goods store burned.  I went through there once many years ago and the Smith house was a trailer park of sorts, meaning there were several mobile homes on the lot.   The Congregationalist Church was still there as was Grandma Haas's house.  The bank was still there.  I have got to take a day and go there next time I head East.  Course I remember when I stopped at Grandma's old house and got covered in ticks!  Do not want anymore of those.

Towns were built 7 miles apart back then because the trains needed a water stop.  Kansas is full of those little towns, or the remains of them.  Some of them survived, but many did not.  I love to look at my family book and try to envision what life was like back then.  Grandpa Haas married Josie Miller in 1900.  Uncle Gol married Aunt Helen who was Josie's sister, so I have double cousins out there in Southeast Kansas.  

My family is so diverse and far flung that one time I met a boy at a dance and came home to tell mother how great he was.  Her response was  "Forget it!  He is your cousin."  End of that romance and I do not even remember his name, so that is that.

I think I will plan a trip back home and go touch base with the old places in Plevna.  Aunt Lena is gone.  As far as I know the house where grandma lived is still standing.  Maybe I could find one of the Hinshaw twins!  Dean and forgot the other one.  Dean was dark complected  with dark hair and thin.  The other one was fair skinned with freckles and reddish blonde hair and a little on the heavier side.  I have forgotten my friends names!  Janet something.  Charlene Smith.  Damn!  A complete blank!  Maybe I will forget that trip.

Sure wish my momma was here.  She would remember.  

The Mesa is changing and so am I.

I moved out here in 1982, one year before I married Kenny.  We lived in sin.  I thought if I could live with him for one year and not get my "knickers in a knot" and walk out that I could probably make him my 6th and final trip to the alter.  As you see, I am still here, so that was a wise decision.  Either that or it was meant to be.  But that is not what this is about.

When driving out here on the 50 hwy bypass the fabric of the whole landscape has changed.  Coming out Santa Fe Drive and turning east on the highway has stayed fairly unchanged, although the 2 bars on the Southside of the highway are shuttered and have been for years.  The one known as "Bear Country" is the only one I was ever in.  There used to be a functioning lumber yard (forgot the name) and it is now vacant.  Right after crossing the bridge, there was a produce place on the north named "Cheatum' and Chiselum'".  It was rumored that some guy killed his wife and cut her up in there.  He then dispersed her parts into trash cans around town.  I am just reporting the news as I recall it, so do not ask for details.  The house across the street is now a car wash the produce stand is a strip mall.

The Headquarters restaurant was where anyone that was anyone went for coffee every morning.  It turned into a Wendy's and is now vacant.  There was another hamburger place that turned into a bank.  We now have a total of 5 or 6 strip malls,  5 or 6 marijuana outlets.  KFC is a pizza place.  While most of the landscape has changed, some of it has remained the same.  Candy's Tortilla is still here.  Chet's is now Lagreese's, but is still a grocery store.  Mesa Vet is still there. Frank's Meat Market. Taco House. Giadonne still has a restaurant, but has torn down the ice cream stand and put in a marijuana store and a Bands in the Backyard amphitheater.  Johnson's auto parts changed hands.  The milk barn is a liquor store.  Mesa Hardware remains the same.  Of course the Mesa Kitchen still sets in the corner of 25th Lane and the highway along with Jr's and the drug store.

I do not like to do the "remember when" thing because it just makes me feel old.  I guess I have been in this same house for 37 years which seems like a very long time because some people do not even live that long, but to me it is only a "little while back".  I was a wife, mother, grandmother.  Now I am a widow, mother, grandmother, great grandmother and I am getting tired. I am an  inch and a half  shorter.  My dreams of what my future will be have changed several times.  When I was young I wanted to sing with a country western band and go all around the country singing in bars, now I just want to listen to my cd's and caterwaul away when I am driving.  Haven't been dancing in 40 years, so probably not going now.

Mother always told me that every thing changes and that hind sight is 20/20 looking back.  I think I have lived a pretty good life and I have definitely outlived most of my enemies.  I think I am ready to maybe set back and let whatever happens, happen.  Tired of chasing rainbows and butterflies.  Maybe they can chase me a while.

We will see!

God Bless us everyone!

It is fall of the year and once more time to gather my friends. partners in crime, or what ever you want to call them together.  Here we have Pastor Faye Gallegos and going to her left we find Sister Barbara, Paul Gilbert, Sister Nancy, Sandy the nurse and the empty chair is mine.

W

We dined on mashed potatoes, chicken and noodles, then finished up with pudding filled cream puffs.  We drank Chamomile tea so we wouldn't be too rowdy.  And of course there was home made bread. 

We had lovely conversation about the work at Los Pobres as well as what is going on around our church, the churches in the Springs.  We missed Maurine and Max Hale.  They have moved up North and do not travel down this way much.  We discussed shelter, or lack of one, for our homeless population.  I do not entertain much, but this is one of my high points.  I gotta tell you, this started out years ago as a Liver and Onion lunch, because very few people like Liver.  I missed last year for some reason so I was adamant about having my Liver Lunch this year.  I invited the ladies and Paul and then Pastor Faye told me Sister Nancy told her how much she was looking forward to Chicken and Noodles over mashed potatoes!  Since both menus are easy, I went with the noodles.  Paul and I can eat anything that does not eat us first!

Any way it was a day of friendship and catching up.  I cherish those times because they are so few and far between.  So tonight I am tired, but happy.  I just ate a bowl of leftover noodles and I think I am going to go eat that last cream puff before Mikie gets home and snarfs it down!

Good night all and sweet dreams from South Road to your house.  God bless us everyone!

Ringworm, head lice and God only knows what else!

My grand daughter was here this weekend with her husband and 3 kids ages 5-13.  All boys!  It was a lovely visit and I look forward to the next visit.  Her husband carpeted my stairs and did a lovely job.  I want to go on record as saying, the title of this blog is in no way connected to her family.  It just brought back memories of when I was first out on my own and my kids were my complete responsibility.  That was a horror story.

Having spent a couple weeks with mother watching the kids and my working, I rented a house down on Smith Street.  The first thing that happened was I hired the girl across the street to babyset.  Then the car broke down.  I paid $49 to Clell Burnett for a 1949 Black Ford 2 door.  Sam immediately poured sand in the gas tank.  School started and Debbie immediately came home with a ring worm.  I knew about ring worm and how to treat them, but she could not stay in school with out a doctors note, so off we went.  Treatment consisted of shining a purple light on it to be sure it was a ring worm and then a tube of something to smear on it which did not work.  Total cost for that (not to mention my time off from work) was $10.  A car cost $50 and a doctor visit 20% of that.  Hmmm.

Time passed and the neighbor girl stole any jewelry I had, Sam set the bed on fire, and my rental house began to leak.  The landlord told me if he fixed the roof, my rent would be raised.  Apparently I had not read the fine print about the roof being extra!

Mother at that time, had her house at 217 West 5th setting empty and she let me move in there with the understanding that I would make the house payments and all upkeep.  Sounded like a dream come true.  She still owed $11,000 on it.  It was perfect for us.  Bunk beds for the one bedroom and twin beds in the front bedroom.   Huff family lived right up the street with kids my kids age.  They also had a big dog.  They also had head lice!

Now, I will go on record as saying ring worm is a whole lot easier then head lice!  Ring worm can actually be controlled with a cotton ball and a bottle of Clorox.  Head lice requires washing everything in hot water, medication on a fine tooth comb and doing it over and over again.  Nope.  Do not want any more of that.  Seems like if you have one or 2 kids that Lady Luck lets you slide;  5 kids, not so much.  Luckily, back then, immunizations were requested, but not required.  I tried to keep the kids current and with help from the programs at school I managed to get them all into puberty without any of them contracting, small pox, polio, or any of the other fatal diseases.  Childhood illness was kept to a minimum, thanks to God and love of their mother!

So here I set almost 60 years later remembering how I raised kids, and how the are raised today and I can not help but be amazed.  Her oldest son is 13 years old and I think she said he is 5'7" and Lord only knows how much he weighs!  He is actually the same size his grandpa was when I married him!  Big boy.  Bigger than his dad.  Wonder what she feeds that kid!  I know he plays football.  Very polite kids.  At least I think they are polite.  There is always the off chance that they are scared to death of me!  My kids called my mom "Grouchy Grandma".  I wonder what these kids call ME?  They actually seemed to like me.  I could be wrong.

Well, this is what I woke up to this morning.  Another day another dollar, I guess.  Today is the day I am going to get something constructive done.

Yeah, right!

Who's gonna prime my pump?

I recall in Nickerson that running water was more than just turning on the faucet.  709 North Strong Street had no faucets.  Out by the horse tank was a field pump.  When the tank started getting low someone, usually Jake, had to pump the water into the tank to fill it back up so the horses could drink.  At the bottom of the pump hung a can.  That can was filled with water from the horse tank and poured into the top of the pump while pumping in short, fast strokes.  With luck, the pump would "catch it's prime quickly" and water would pump out through the mouth of the pump.  If you understand the workings of a pump you know that there is a leather inside that when pumped up and down draws the water up from deep in the well. Occasionally the leather becomes worn and needs replaced.

The pump at the horse tank was a big iron pump.  The handle was long and we used to like to pump because if we could keep a rhythm going the pump handle would sometimes jerk us up off the ground by the sheer force of the water.  We were also allowed to get in the horse tank and play sometimes.  Can you imagine how dirty that water was in that tank?  That coupled with the fact that the horses might want a drink while we were in there scared hell out of me!  Have you ever looked at horse teeth?  They are big and very yellow and I lived in mortal terror that one of them would eat me.  Life was hard back then.

All the house water for cooking, cleaning, bathing or whatever was carried from the pump outside into the house in buckets.  The tea kettle that set on the wood cook stove was kept full at all times and a cup of tea was just seconds away in case one of the fancy ladies from town came.  (This did not happen very often, and to my recollection, never.  Mother did clean houses and sometimes a lady would come to discuss her availability, but they were usually in a car and stopped in front of the house and honked.)

Ah. but fate smiled kindly us. I do not remember who, why or when, but at some point in time someone decided that mother needed a sink and a pump inside the house in the kitchen.  It was then that we were blessed with what was known as a "pitcher pump."  Now this was the cat's meow in pumps.  It did not need primed!  When we wanted water, we just started pumping and very soon it would "catch it's prime."  Talk about uptown!  It set of the end of a big oblong enamel sink.  The drain pipe ran through a hole in the wall that extended about 8 feet into the back yard.  There the drain water ran out onto the ground where the Muscovy ducks played in it.  Boy, that was one stinking mess, but it was sure handy.

I have to go into detail here about the Muscovy Ducks.  Those are about the nastiest things I have ever seen.  When I had my 17 geese and 37 ducks here I had 4 Muscovy's.  Now to the best of my knowledge, Muscovy's are the only domesticated ducks that can actually fly.  The 4 of them used to fly up to the house, across the fence and roost on the air conditioner.  Nasty.  The hens were little and delicate, but the drakes were twice as big and their necks were as big as my upper forearm.  They did not quack; they sort of quibbled.  I did not like them and I think they actually broke the neck of one of my geese.  They even looked evil.  All this has nothing to do with pumping water, does it?

I attended my first 3 years of high school in Nickerson.  It was during those years that I made 2 discoveries; home brew and boys, in that order.  I had a friend named LaVeta (no last name) whose dad made and bottled home brew.  He liked to go to the big city and gamble on Saturday nights and we liked to stay home and sample his home brew.  Her mother helped us.  She would take all us kids to Sterling and there were boys there!  There were dances there.  Sadly, I could not drink and dance, so the dancing went by the wayside and I learned to worhip at the feet of the porcelain God.  I have not had a bottle of homebrew in 60 years, but I can still taste it.  Once more I digress.

In due time mother graduated from Salt City Business College and we moved to the big city of Hutchinson.  The rest is history.  Louella Bartholomew grew up and not longer exists, or so we think.
Some where deep in my soul, she lives.  Her memories are as vivid today as they were when she was living them.  Homebrew and boys are a thing of the past, but the wants and the needs of that skinny little girl are as alive today as they were in that stick and mortar house at 709 Strong Street.

Peace to all.