Patriarchal Blessing by Elisha H. Groves upon the head of Thomas Gower, son of Thomas Gower and Catherine Cresswell. Born Stourbridge, Worcestershire, England on 23 May 1816.
Blessing given in Cedar City, Iron County, Utah Territory 3 January 1858.
Brother Thomas in the name of Jesus of Nazareth and by virtue of the Holy Priesthood in me invested I place my hands upon thy head to seal upon thee a Patriarchal or Fathers Blessing which shall rest upon thee and thou shalt realize the fullfillment there of. Thou has left thy native land, thy kindred and thy friends choosing to suffer affliction with the people of God rather than enjoy the _____ _____ of kin for a season which shall return unto thee many fold because of they faith and the integrity of thy heart thy sins are remitted unto thee thy name is written in the Lambs Book of Life and in as much as thou wilt continue in faith in keeping all the commandments of the Lord thy God it never will be erased there from. Thy guardian angel hath been with thee in all thy trying scenes which thou hast been called to pass. He will still be with thee and in His hands thou wilt be borne up and delivered from thy common enemy and from all thy enemies. Thou wilt be called in connection with many of thy brethern to stand in defence of the Kingdom of God upon the earth in the day of battle thou shalt be delivered and thy life shall be precious in the sight of thy Heavenly Father. Thou shalt grow in wisdom and understanding as thy years multiply that thou mayest be abel to fill any ______ or station which may be appointed unto thee. yea even the angel of vengence will be beneath thee and strengthen any nerve thy sineu that no power shall be able to - - - that was the end of the page.
Apparently this was a handwritten document, and some words were not clear to who ever made the copy that was found among some family papers. I am submitting it here for two reasons. One: to show how special these Blessings are, and they were important among the Saints back in the early days of the Church. and Two: I felt it was interesting to see that it was pronounced in Biblical Language. I am sorry we don't have the rest of the Blessing. If I find any more, I will
see that it is put on the Blog for the family to have.
Written this 27th day of August 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
If I Didn't Share, You Might Never Know!
Thats right. You know when you start thinking about "then", your mind comes up with so many things you haven't thought about for years. Like when we came to California in 1935 it was such fun to walk up town to the big open air market on the corner of Pacific Blvd and Randolph Street. The train tracks crossed the "J" car tracks there. A hub of activity I can tell you. We would shop on Friday Night when Dad got paid. One of the fun things was for me to get a big bag and fill it with "pennie" oranges. You know I haven't thought about that for such a long time, and the reason I wanted to tell you about it is because that was "pre concentrate". Thats right. back then, if you wanted orange juice, you had to squeeze it yourself. These "little pennie" oranges were known as "juice oranges". They were a bit smaller than a tennis ball and had a very thin skin, and full of juice.
When we got them home, we would get the juicer down and the fun would begin. One of the kids would cut the oranges in half while another would put the cut half over a cone shaped juicer and press down hard and twist. The juice would run out into the bottom of the juicer and then poured into a pitcher. Of course you had to pick out all those pesky seeds as we went along. I remember when we got the pressure squeezer. It had a removeable squeezer head with holes in the bottom. You placed a glass under the squeezer and put the top down and pressed the lever hard and out came the juice. With this new method, the seeds were caught and could be scooped out after each squeezing. Ah! modern contraptions. We had that squeezer for years. I think it was outdated, but we seemed to hang onto it. When Mom got her Electric mixer, it came with an attachment that would juice the oranges quicker. Had more parts, and was easier to keep clean.
I guess today all those "pennie oranges" are hustled off to the combine to be squeezed into juice and then reduced to concentrate then quick frozen. Time marches on and so do the things we had fun doing, and the juice that couldn't be beat. Nothing like a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. I doubt many of us have the chance to enjoy such a treat today.
Then there were the times we would load up in the car, which wasn't all that often, and drive down to Long Beach and spend the evening on the "Pike". That was where the "Cyclone Racer"
was. My Grand Dad just loved that thing. Would ride it every chance he got. The Pike was such a fun place. Like a carnival, with all kinds of games and side shows, etc. It was open everyday and ran the length of the beach. If you wanted to spend the day at the beach, you didn't have far to walk to enjoy the "Pike". Lots of places to eat as well. I don't think the folks took us to eat, I believe Mom thought the places looked pretty unhealthy. Now that I think back, she was right. But the place always smelled of seaweed and salt water. There was always at least one Ballroom somewhere close for dancing on Friday and Saturday nights. Of course during the War Years the place was full of service men with the local girls taking a turn around the Pike to meet new people and enjoy their friends. That was when the Big Bands were in town and going to one of the dances was an absolute must. Not that you could do much dancing. The floor was always crowded with far too many people to do much moving around, but who cared, the music was great. How I loved to stand by the bandstand and just listen. Of course I never turned down a dance if I was asked!
When I was about 10 or 12 Dad came home one evening and said he would take us all out for a treat after dinner. Of course those were special evenings for the family. I am not sure Mom always knew what Dad had planned for us. On most occasions we would have to drive, which was always a treat. This one night, we headed in a direction I had never gone before, and the drive was quite a ways away from the house. When we stopped, it was at a very small business, in what we call a strip mall now a days. When we stepped out of the car, the aroma was just out of this world. Dad had discovered the Carmel Corn Haven. What a treat. We went into the small shop, and nearly fainted it smelled so good. Dad bought a big bag of Carmel Corn and we all got back into the car and drove back home. It was really too far a distance to drive just for a bag of Carmel Corn, but Dad was always one for finding such special places and then taking the family to enjoy something "special".
On another such occasion we drove over to Maywood, the small town along side Huntington Park. We parked and got out by an Ice Cream Parlor. When we went in Dad said we could all have a New Zealand Malt. What ever that was. We checked out the flavors and of course I had to have carmel. Talk about "special". They had iced sundae glasses. The gal put one big scoop of vanilla ice cream in the bottom, then poured in carmel and then marshmello cream, another scoop of vanilla ice cream and topped it off with carmel, more marshmello cream with whipped cream nuts and of course a cherry on the top. To die for. I never knew how Dad found out about these places, nor how long he had to save his money to afford to treat us so well, but he was one for the "special" when it came to the "kids".
In the early years of our marriage, Jay had a favorite place to go for ice cream, and I know you have never heard of this, but it was Thee place to go to, back then. Curries Ice Cream. Or as their slogan went: "Mile High Ice Cream Cones". The cones were all waffle sugar cones. Hand made and nested together in a glass case. Now the "Mile High" came because the scoops were the same shape as the cone. It took some doing to learn how to scoop that way, but what a sight.
My favorite was pastacio nut. You could only get one scoop that was all the cone could hold. Great stuff. The store we went to was way down in Belmont Shores along the Pacific Coast High Way. Worth the drive, and the price too I might add.
In around the 50's we were going to Utah a lot for vacation and that was where we were introduced to "Spudnuts". Oh, you think Crispy Creme are donuts, you would toss them to the wind for a "Sputnut". They were so light, you could swear they would float away. Made with Potato flour and so tasty, just thinking about them now makes my mouth water. They were around for a long time, some shops even showed up in California, but they seemed to fold and disappear never to be seen or heard of again. What a loss.
I am not sure I have ever told you about my Grand Dad, Charles Smith. Well maybe a line or two, but I got to thinking about him, and how much he would enjoy knowing all of you. He was rather a small man. Very slight build about 5'7" or so. He wore horned rimmed glasses and stuttered. How I loved that dear old man. He use to pick me up on Sunday Mornings and take me to Church with him. He was a devout Episcopalian. (Church of England). He had a beautiful Tenor Voice and sang in the Church Choir. He also sang on the radio for a few years. I don't think you would have picked him out of a crowd, just an ordinary little man, but his heart was as big as all the out of doors. He was a potter by trade and was good at what he did. The clay dust had filled his lungs and caused him to develope silicosus. He took pnemonia and passed away on my 8th birthday. I have always felt how fortunate you were to have Grand Parents around most of your lives. I lost all mine before I was 9 years old. In fact the only one I really knew well was "Charlie". Even that was for too short a time.
Dad brought us to California in his Model "A" two door Ford Sedan. It served the family well, but one day he traded it for a four door Chevrolet that had a pull down bar in the back seat. Oh, and two vases by the back windows where you could have a flower or two. I don't believe we ever put any flowers in those vases, but my, that was a classey car. I think he thought having four doors would be much more comfortable for the family. I don't recall us ever taking a trip in that car. I guess it was because the War came along and with gas rationing and all, it wasn't really practical to travel. But it was a classy car. You know I think we all thought it must have belonged to a ganster or something. Back then even Used Car Lots were unique. There weren't very many. In fact there weren't all that many cars period. When the War started, that brought an end to new cars almost altogether. I don't think Dad ever had a New Car until after all of us kids were married. In fact, I don't know if he ever bought a New Car at all. He wasn't all that sold on the idea of paying the price and then have it depreciate so quickly. His frugal ways were always pretty close to the surface. With him and Mom it was always pretty much: fix it up, and wear it out. When it came to Mom there was never enough, or good enough. He would shop and shop to find just what was right, then save until he could pay for it. I guess the lean years made it pretty hard to get past that kind of living. It served them well.
There are probably a number of other things, if I come across any other, gone and lost forevers, I will drop around again. Fun for me to remember, and hopefully nice for you to know a little bit about what has come and gone in my lifetime. It happens, and if we don't take notes as we go along, most of the tid bits of life get away. It is nice to remember the good things. Life has a way of dealing a number of the not so nice things, that are hard to shake. I am greatful to have this sharing time. Hope you have "enjoyed the ride"!
Written this 21st day of August 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
When we got them home, we would get the juicer down and the fun would begin. One of the kids would cut the oranges in half while another would put the cut half over a cone shaped juicer and press down hard and twist. The juice would run out into the bottom of the juicer and then poured into a pitcher. Of course you had to pick out all those pesky seeds as we went along. I remember when we got the pressure squeezer. It had a removeable squeezer head with holes in the bottom. You placed a glass under the squeezer and put the top down and pressed the lever hard and out came the juice. With this new method, the seeds were caught and could be scooped out after each squeezing. Ah! modern contraptions. We had that squeezer for years. I think it was outdated, but we seemed to hang onto it. When Mom got her Electric mixer, it came with an attachment that would juice the oranges quicker. Had more parts, and was easier to keep clean.
I guess today all those "pennie oranges" are hustled off to the combine to be squeezed into juice and then reduced to concentrate then quick frozen. Time marches on and so do the things we had fun doing, and the juice that couldn't be beat. Nothing like a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. I doubt many of us have the chance to enjoy such a treat today.
Then there were the times we would load up in the car, which wasn't all that often, and drive down to Long Beach and spend the evening on the "Pike". That was where the "Cyclone Racer"
was. My Grand Dad just loved that thing. Would ride it every chance he got. The Pike was such a fun place. Like a carnival, with all kinds of games and side shows, etc. It was open everyday and ran the length of the beach. If you wanted to spend the day at the beach, you didn't have far to walk to enjoy the "Pike". Lots of places to eat as well. I don't think the folks took us to eat, I believe Mom thought the places looked pretty unhealthy. Now that I think back, she was right. But the place always smelled of seaweed and salt water. There was always at least one Ballroom somewhere close for dancing on Friday and Saturday nights. Of course during the War Years the place was full of service men with the local girls taking a turn around the Pike to meet new people and enjoy their friends. That was when the Big Bands were in town and going to one of the dances was an absolute must. Not that you could do much dancing. The floor was always crowded with far too many people to do much moving around, but who cared, the music was great. How I loved to stand by the bandstand and just listen. Of course I never turned down a dance if I was asked!
When I was about 10 or 12 Dad came home one evening and said he would take us all out for a treat after dinner. Of course those were special evenings for the family. I am not sure Mom always knew what Dad had planned for us. On most occasions we would have to drive, which was always a treat. This one night, we headed in a direction I had never gone before, and the drive was quite a ways away from the house. When we stopped, it was at a very small business, in what we call a strip mall now a days. When we stepped out of the car, the aroma was just out of this world. Dad had discovered the Carmel Corn Haven. What a treat. We went into the small shop, and nearly fainted it smelled so good. Dad bought a big bag of Carmel Corn and we all got back into the car and drove back home. It was really too far a distance to drive just for a bag of Carmel Corn, but Dad was always one for finding such special places and then taking the family to enjoy something "special".
On another such occasion we drove over to Maywood, the small town along side Huntington Park. We parked and got out by an Ice Cream Parlor. When we went in Dad said we could all have a New Zealand Malt. What ever that was. We checked out the flavors and of course I had to have carmel. Talk about "special". They had iced sundae glasses. The gal put one big scoop of vanilla ice cream in the bottom, then poured in carmel and then marshmello cream, another scoop of vanilla ice cream and topped it off with carmel, more marshmello cream with whipped cream nuts and of course a cherry on the top. To die for. I never knew how Dad found out about these places, nor how long he had to save his money to afford to treat us so well, but he was one for the "special" when it came to the "kids".
In the early years of our marriage, Jay had a favorite place to go for ice cream, and I know you have never heard of this, but it was Thee place to go to, back then. Curries Ice Cream. Or as their slogan went: "Mile High Ice Cream Cones". The cones were all waffle sugar cones. Hand made and nested together in a glass case. Now the "Mile High" came because the scoops were the same shape as the cone. It took some doing to learn how to scoop that way, but what a sight.
My favorite was pastacio nut. You could only get one scoop that was all the cone could hold. Great stuff. The store we went to was way down in Belmont Shores along the Pacific Coast High Way. Worth the drive, and the price too I might add.
In around the 50's we were going to Utah a lot for vacation and that was where we were introduced to "Spudnuts". Oh, you think Crispy Creme are donuts, you would toss them to the wind for a "Sputnut". They were so light, you could swear they would float away. Made with Potato flour and so tasty, just thinking about them now makes my mouth water. They were around for a long time, some shops even showed up in California, but they seemed to fold and disappear never to be seen or heard of again. What a loss.
I am not sure I have ever told you about my Grand Dad, Charles Smith. Well maybe a line or two, but I got to thinking about him, and how much he would enjoy knowing all of you. He was rather a small man. Very slight build about 5'7" or so. He wore horned rimmed glasses and stuttered. How I loved that dear old man. He use to pick me up on Sunday Mornings and take me to Church with him. He was a devout Episcopalian. (Church of England). He had a beautiful Tenor Voice and sang in the Church Choir. He also sang on the radio for a few years. I don't think you would have picked him out of a crowd, just an ordinary little man, but his heart was as big as all the out of doors. He was a potter by trade and was good at what he did. The clay dust had filled his lungs and caused him to develope silicosus. He took pnemonia and passed away on my 8th birthday. I have always felt how fortunate you were to have Grand Parents around most of your lives. I lost all mine before I was 9 years old. In fact the only one I really knew well was "Charlie". Even that was for too short a time.
Dad brought us to California in his Model "A" two door Ford Sedan. It served the family well, but one day he traded it for a four door Chevrolet that had a pull down bar in the back seat. Oh, and two vases by the back windows where you could have a flower or two. I don't believe we ever put any flowers in those vases, but my, that was a classey car. I think he thought having four doors would be much more comfortable for the family. I don't recall us ever taking a trip in that car. I guess it was because the War came along and with gas rationing and all, it wasn't really practical to travel. But it was a classy car. You know I think we all thought it must have belonged to a ganster or something. Back then even Used Car Lots were unique. There weren't very many. In fact there weren't all that many cars period. When the War started, that brought an end to new cars almost altogether. I don't think Dad ever had a New Car until after all of us kids were married. In fact, I don't know if he ever bought a New Car at all. He wasn't all that sold on the idea of paying the price and then have it depreciate so quickly. His frugal ways were always pretty close to the surface. With him and Mom it was always pretty much: fix it up, and wear it out. When it came to Mom there was never enough, or good enough. He would shop and shop to find just what was right, then save until he could pay for it. I guess the lean years made it pretty hard to get past that kind of living. It served them well.
There are probably a number of other things, if I come across any other, gone and lost forevers, I will drop around again. Fun for me to remember, and hopefully nice for you to know a little bit about what has come and gone in my lifetime. It happens, and if we don't take notes as we go along, most of the tid bits of life get away. It is nice to remember the good things. Life has a way of dealing a number of the not so nice things, that are hard to shake. I am greatful to have this sharing time. Hope you have "enjoyed the ride"!
Written this 21st day of August 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
When Grandma was a girl!
Well, a little girl, I had stomach problems. I guess I had been born with them. Mom said they had to make a formula for me because I couldn't tolerate milk. She boiled barley and then strained it through a cheese cloth. I don't know what additives they put with it, but I tolerated it very well. As I grew up, they tried to get me to eat certain things that would help with my digestion. I just remember her saying they wanted me to eat celery, but couldn't get me to have anything to do with it. They finally played a trick on me. Mom would clean the celery and cut it into small pieces and put it on a plate in the middle of the dining room table. They left one of the chairs pulled out, just enough to tease me to climb, which I did with or without much trouble. I would climb on the chair and then on the table and set in the middle of the table eating the celery until it was all gone. Neat huh?!
I remember that meal time was pretty special at our house. We always had dinner together at the same time everyday. I was a picky eater, which would change almost daily, as I recall. I have never been able to tolerate liver, which the rest of the family liked. When Mom would fix it, they always had something else for me on that night. I know for breakfast I wouldn't eat anything but the white of the egg. So Dad would eat the yolk. Then I decided I didn't like the white of the egg anymore, so Dad would eat the white and I would eat the yolk. Then I wouldn't eat beans of any kind, and then I liked all the beans. It seems so strange to me now, because I eat just about anything, well not parsnips or rudebegas. Both root vegetables, you rarely see anymore. I would eat turnips if they were raw, but not if they were cooked. I don't think you see many turnips either. They are more like raddishes to me when they are raw, but too mushy when they were cooked.
I loved to play by myself. Would spend hours playing school, or office. After I grew a little older, I fancied myself as a designer and use to make clothes for my paper dolls and color them with crayolas. Pretty snappy some of the outfits I put together. Funny how I can remember some of them even to this day. Yet I don't fancy myself as much of an artist. I would love to know how to paint. Well I have done a few things, but by copying what someone else has done first. If I would have had the chance, I think I would like to have taken some classes in painting. My idea of a great day is finding an old barn out in a field that is near collapse. Then set in the sun and paint what I saw. I just love Old Barns. Don't know why, but they fascinate me.
I remember thinking if the "boys" could do it, I should be able to do it too. That was a fools folly. I never was as smart as either of my brothers, or as inventive. I always wanted to be in the middle of everything they were doing, and that was not where I really needed to be. However, I loved it - they hated it, and me.
As I set here thinking over these things, it dawns on me there were so many things we had or enjoyed as kids, that none of you will ever know anything about, unless I take the time to recall them and leave a memory for you. I think I will do that. Well not right this minute, maybe at another time. I am too tired right now. Later -
written at 3:30 a.m. on Friday August 21, 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
I remember that meal time was pretty special at our house. We always had dinner together at the same time everyday. I was a picky eater, which would change almost daily, as I recall. I have never been able to tolerate liver, which the rest of the family liked. When Mom would fix it, they always had something else for me on that night. I know for breakfast I wouldn't eat anything but the white of the egg. So Dad would eat the yolk. Then I decided I didn't like the white of the egg anymore, so Dad would eat the white and I would eat the yolk. Then I wouldn't eat beans of any kind, and then I liked all the beans. It seems so strange to me now, because I eat just about anything, well not parsnips or rudebegas. Both root vegetables, you rarely see anymore. I would eat turnips if they were raw, but not if they were cooked. I don't think you see many turnips either. They are more like raddishes to me when they are raw, but too mushy when they were cooked.
I loved to play by myself. Would spend hours playing school, or office. After I grew a little older, I fancied myself as a designer and use to make clothes for my paper dolls and color them with crayolas. Pretty snappy some of the outfits I put together. Funny how I can remember some of them even to this day. Yet I don't fancy myself as much of an artist. I would love to know how to paint. Well I have done a few things, but by copying what someone else has done first. If I would have had the chance, I think I would like to have taken some classes in painting. My idea of a great day is finding an old barn out in a field that is near collapse. Then set in the sun and paint what I saw. I just love Old Barns. Don't know why, but they fascinate me.
I remember thinking if the "boys" could do it, I should be able to do it too. That was a fools folly. I never was as smart as either of my brothers, or as inventive. I always wanted to be in the middle of everything they were doing, and that was not where I really needed to be. However, I loved it - they hated it, and me.
As I set here thinking over these things, it dawns on me there were so many things we had or enjoyed as kids, that none of you will ever know anything about, unless I take the time to recall them and leave a memory for you. I think I will do that. Well not right this minute, maybe at another time. I am too tired right now. Later -
written at 3:30 a.m. on Friday August 21, 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Tell Me About the United States Postal Service Grandma
You know, I think I will.
When I was little, I guess about 7 or 8 years old, I used to go into the big Post Office there in Huntington Park with Mom or Dad. It was such a magical place. Back then it was more like a bank than what we know today as a Post Office. The Postal Clerk was behind a grated window and dressed in a very proper uniform. I was too short to see over the window cile at the time. I could only get a view of what was back there while I was waiting in line to be waited on. There were windows where you got your stamps, or mailed packages and then there were the Business Windows. Yes, Business. At that time you could have a Postal Savings Account. Put funds in, take funds out, or have them make out Postal Money Orders. I believe they still make out the Postal Money Orders, but the Savings part is long gone.
There were two deliveries each day but Sunday. One in the morning, and then again in the afternoon. Post cards were just a penny and sending a letter was three cents. Of course you could put it in an AirMail envelope and put another two or three cents on it and it would get to the person a couple days quicker.
During the War we had what they called V-Mail. These were one sheet to write on one side and then when it was folded and sealed it made the envelope as well. They were pretty niffty, and what we all wrote to the Military on. They were pre-stamped so once you bought them, you were set to go. They were a light blue paper with red and darker blue stripes up the sides.
You could buy Picture Post Cards everywhere and mail them for a penny too. It was such a lark to get a picture post card from someone. They didn't necessarily need to be on vacation to write one. In fact it was quite a hobby for some - saving them, or collecting them. You could get them almost any place. Some were colorful while others were just like a photograph, black and white. I use to write to my relatives in the East and used a lot of penny post cards.
Today there is e-mail, blogging and facebook to keep us updated, but back then, it was great to go to the Mail Box and pull out a card or letter from someone. I always wrote more than I received, but then I guess that is how it is with some people. I know writting was such a natural thing for me to do. When the boys were in the War, I wrote them regularly and when Jay was in the Navy after we married, I wrote him everyday. I wrote Paul everyday while he was on his Mission as well.
Friends have told me that getting a letter from me was like setting down for a visit. I write just like I talk. I wouldn't know about that. The words just come, and I enjoy writting as I go. Funny how the mind pulls things forward and helps make the written word enjoyable to read.
I am not good at keeping a journal, but I have certainly written a passel of letters in my day. If they had of been saved, I guess it would tell my life pretty well. I have no idea if any of them have been reserved for posterity. Doesn't matter really.
My penmanship has been the product of getting good grades in Bookkeeping Classes. That and the fact I thought my Sister-in-law Willetta wrote the most beautiful handwritting I have ever seen. She impressed me in a good many things. The only Sister I ever really had, and who I loved, and still love very dearly.
Well, back to the Post Office. Over the years things have changed and I am not sure all the changes have been for the better. They say they keep loosing money, the service certainly has not improved. Costs have gone up and more ways to ship or mail have come into being, but they were only a way of making more money, and I don't think it has worked as planned. What ever you can still go to the Post Office and get Stamps, Mail and Package, rent a Postal Box or even get a Pass Port. Times changes things, and we soon forget the sights and sounds of the past, but I will long remember those trips to the Huntington Park Post Office. It was always such a special day when we took the Christmas Card down to stamp them and put them in the mail. What a time of year that was. The Mail Box was stuffed with cards from all over. Now the cost of the Cards as well as the Stamps has nearly stopped that kind of mailing all together. A shame really. It certainly added to the festivities of the Season. I still enjoy shopping for the cards that I send out to the LSM 330 Group at Christmas time. I want it to say something meaningful and make the families know they are special and loved long after the time spent in the Navy back in World War II.
The latest news is they will be stopping the mail deliveries on Saturday. Well that is no surprise. Once we had the mail put in the box at our front door, now we have to go down the street to open a box to get our mail. That way the Postman only has to make one stop per block and fill up the cubby holes with the mail for the various houses. Oh, and now we are vexed with those catalogs and handouts that no one really wants and ends up in the recycle bin. Where once we use to get the sales in the daily newspaper, we now get all the throw away junk mail. I guess that is what is known as progress. We have lost a lot of the good stuff, but then only those of us who enjoyed it in our youth really miss it. I am sorry however that my grand children and great grand children haven't had the sights, smells and sounds of my childhood. They were on the most part pretty wonderful. Being able to play and not worry about some weird person doing harm, or someone taking your things. I don't think I ever had anything stolen when I was younger. Not the case these days. You need to keep track of your things at all times, or you might come up missings something.
I have just returned from the Post Office, this one in Templeton where I mailed off some Genealogy papers to a cousin in Canada. Now that made the trip wonderful for me. Sharing something with someone I have never met, yet knowing they will be thrilled to get it. I still make my trips to the Post Office. I still send letters, cards and packages, and will hopefully continue to do so for some time. You might take a look around the next time you go into your Post Office and make a mental note of what you see, and how things are done. Who knows, you may just be able to share something with your posterity that they will have no idea existed - Once Upon A Time.
Written this 11th day of August 2009
By: Eileen Rosenberg
When I was little, I guess about 7 or 8 years old, I used to go into the big Post Office there in Huntington Park with Mom or Dad. It was such a magical place. Back then it was more like a bank than what we know today as a Post Office. The Postal Clerk was behind a grated window and dressed in a very proper uniform. I was too short to see over the window cile at the time. I could only get a view of what was back there while I was waiting in line to be waited on. There were windows where you got your stamps, or mailed packages and then there were the Business Windows. Yes, Business. At that time you could have a Postal Savings Account. Put funds in, take funds out, or have them make out Postal Money Orders. I believe they still make out the Postal Money Orders, but the Savings part is long gone.
There were two deliveries each day but Sunday. One in the morning, and then again in the afternoon. Post cards were just a penny and sending a letter was three cents. Of course you could put it in an AirMail envelope and put another two or three cents on it and it would get to the person a couple days quicker.
During the War we had what they called V-Mail. These were one sheet to write on one side and then when it was folded and sealed it made the envelope as well. They were pretty niffty, and what we all wrote to the Military on. They were pre-stamped so once you bought them, you were set to go. They were a light blue paper with red and darker blue stripes up the sides.
You could buy Picture Post Cards everywhere and mail them for a penny too. It was such a lark to get a picture post card from someone. They didn't necessarily need to be on vacation to write one. In fact it was quite a hobby for some - saving them, or collecting them. You could get them almost any place. Some were colorful while others were just like a photograph, black and white. I use to write to my relatives in the East and used a lot of penny post cards.
Today there is e-mail, blogging and facebook to keep us updated, but back then, it was great to go to the Mail Box and pull out a card or letter from someone. I always wrote more than I received, but then I guess that is how it is with some people. I know writting was such a natural thing for me to do. When the boys were in the War, I wrote them regularly and when Jay was in the Navy after we married, I wrote him everyday. I wrote Paul everyday while he was on his Mission as well.
Friends have told me that getting a letter from me was like setting down for a visit. I write just like I talk. I wouldn't know about that. The words just come, and I enjoy writting as I go. Funny how the mind pulls things forward and helps make the written word enjoyable to read.
I am not good at keeping a journal, but I have certainly written a passel of letters in my day. If they had of been saved, I guess it would tell my life pretty well. I have no idea if any of them have been reserved for posterity. Doesn't matter really.
My penmanship has been the product of getting good grades in Bookkeeping Classes. That and the fact I thought my Sister-in-law Willetta wrote the most beautiful handwritting I have ever seen. She impressed me in a good many things. The only Sister I ever really had, and who I loved, and still love very dearly.
Well, back to the Post Office. Over the years things have changed and I am not sure all the changes have been for the better. They say they keep loosing money, the service certainly has not improved. Costs have gone up and more ways to ship or mail have come into being, but they were only a way of making more money, and I don't think it has worked as planned. What ever you can still go to the Post Office and get Stamps, Mail and Package, rent a Postal Box or even get a Pass Port. Times changes things, and we soon forget the sights and sounds of the past, but I will long remember those trips to the Huntington Park Post Office. It was always such a special day when we took the Christmas Card down to stamp them and put them in the mail. What a time of year that was. The Mail Box was stuffed with cards from all over. Now the cost of the Cards as well as the Stamps has nearly stopped that kind of mailing all together. A shame really. It certainly added to the festivities of the Season. I still enjoy shopping for the cards that I send out to the LSM 330 Group at Christmas time. I want it to say something meaningful and make the families know they are special and loved long after the time spent in the Navy back in World War II.
The latest news is they will be stopping the mail deliveries on Saturday. Well that is no surprise. Once we had the mail put in the box at our front door, now we have to go down the street to open a box to get our mail. That way the Postman only has to make one stop per block and fill up the cubby holes with the mail for the various houses. Oh, and now we are vexed with those catalogs and handouts that no one really wants and ends up in the recycle bin. Where once we use to get the sales in the daily newspaper, we now get all the throw away junk mail. I guess that is what is known as progress. We have lost a lot of the good stuff, but then only those of us who enjoyed it in our youth really miss it. I am sorry however that my grand children and great grand children haven't had the sights, smells and sounds of my childhood. They were on the most part pretty wonderful. Being able to play and not worry about some weird person doing harm, or someone taking your things. I don't think I ever had anything stolen when I was younger. Not the case these days. You need to keep track of your things at all times, or you might come up missings something.
I have just returned from the Post Office, this one in Templeton where I mailed off some Genealogy papers to a cousin in Canada. Now that made the trip wonderful for me. Sharing something with someone I have never met, yet knowing they will be thrilled to get it. I still make my trips to the Post Office. I still send letters, cards and packages, and will hopefully continue to do so for some time. You might take a look around the next time you go into your Post Office and make a mental note of what you see, and how things are done. Who knows, you may just be able to share something with your posterity that they will have no idea existed - Once Upon A Time.
Written this 11th day of August 2009
By: Eileen Rosenberg
Monday, August 10, 2009
Hey, have you ever worked for a Part Time Agency?
Well I have. It is the best way to gain experience. You go into a place, not knowing anyone or what is to be done. In most cases, you haven't a clue as to where you will be seated, or what kind of equipment might be available for you , or what is needed while you are there.
I have worked for the Gas Company - now that was a challenge. The girl who had been responsible for the filing had things shoved into every drawer in her desk and on every empty hidding space she could find. When the salesman came into the office for an order they wanted to check up on, lots of luck Charlie. Who knew where in the heck it could be?
Well fortunately I have organizatioinal skills, so I set about putting all the little piles into one big pile. A's in one B's in another and soforth until I had the mess down to a manageable place to sort and find something. Within a couple of day things were put aright, and when someone came into the office they could go to the file and find what it was they needed. Amazing. A little time and some organization and whala, it works!
I was appreciated, and even offered full time there, but the Gas Company has to post their vacancies, and the job had to go to an insider. So I was off and on to another job in a couple of months. No problem.
I was called to work for Bondo. They make products for repairing cars damaged in accidents.
It was a small office, but the girls were friendly and the work something I enjoyed doing. It went well. I was there about 3 months I think. Great fun and work I enjoyed very much.
Then I went to Safeway Bakeries where they needed a Route Biller. I really liked it there. It smelled good, and when we wanted a snack, we just went out and brought back to the office what ever we liked from the line that day. Not good for the waistline, but good for the old tum tum tum! I was in and out of there a couple of times. Loved it, and would have liked to stay, but it wasn't ment to be. Too bad!
I worked at Rivere Ware - Copper Bottom Cook Ware. It was the biggest office I worked in and I was asked to do a number of things. It seemed I was great at taking over when someone got sick and left things in a mess. I would have to go through the desk and find out what was in need of immediate attention. Mostly there I did payroll, but there were other duties as well. It was here I worked the switch board. I had taken a class at night school to learn that, and enjoyed it very much. Of course with all the new phone gagets, that soon became quite passee.
While I was here one of the women got sick and I had to switch over to take her duties. One was making out Savings Bonds where the funds were deducted from the paychecks of the emplyees by request each pay period. What I found was, this had not been kept up to date. I had to go to the supervisor and ask what he wanted me to do with it. Clean it up, or leave it until the gal returned. Of course, when you take money from a mans paycheck and he thinks it is being put into savings, it becomes a whole new ballgame. I was told to do what I could and get back to them. It took some doing, but I was able to figure out the system, get back into the payroll sheets and figure out just who had what going to where. It ment making out a very large order for the bank to make out the Bonds. When it was all finished it was quite a deal. I can't remember what happened to the gal. I think they told her she didn't need to come back. I stayed until they found someone else to work full time. I don't recall why I didn't stay, I usually was hired after such jobs were finished so successfully.
I believe I told you about working at the Evelope and Binder Company. That was one of my most favorite places. I had a chance to do so many things that helped hone my skills and make me a better all around worker.
I worked at LA Spring and Wire when Jay was in the Navy during the Korean War. That was a great deal for me. Within walking distance to where the folks lived. It wasn't fancy, but it was good pay and I liked doing the payroll there. I was hired outright, this wasn't one of those short term places to work.
Of course I worked at the Bank of America and did a number of things there. It was not my most favorite place to work, but it was a new experience and I learned more about Banking than I ever wanted to know. They kept sending us to one Class after another and of course we had to take the Safety Classes for Bank Robbery. The funniest thing that happened while I was working in the Main office in Anaheim was one of the girls was working the drive up window. Now you know the drive up window is bullet proof. However one early morning before the inside was open, the drive up was. A young man drove up, put a gun up to the window and demanded cash. The gal responded by handing him the money, and he happily drove away. She had followed all the safety rules. Don't argue just give them the cash. The only trouble was she was in no danger, he could have emptied the gun and it wouldn't have done a thing to her. Oh well.
We did have another robbery while I was at the Brookhurst-Ball Branch. It went down quite fast and the Manager chased the robber out of the Bank and through the Mall. Not suppose to do that, but it all turned out O.K. no one was harmed, and the Teller was able to get the ink on the bills.
I worked at the Statement and Safety Deposit Box window for a time. That was a way to get educated. I had an oriental gal come in one day and get very upset with me because she had been contacted because she was overdrawn. She quickly pulled out her check book and told me she couldn't be overdrawn, she still had checks. Yes, that is what she said, and whats more, she believed it!
Another time I had a person come in and wonder what was happening to their money. They were broke and they had no idea how that could be as they had been putting their money in the bank as usual. I went over all the account and could not find where their money was going to either. Then we went deeper into it. We finally discovered there account had been accessed in error at another branch when another customer came in for some checks and deposit slips. As it happened the encoding was for our Branch and not the one where the request had been made.
The people on the other end were concerned their balance was way too large, and was afraid to spend for fear they would have to make up a large amount one day. It took two of us working from opposite ends to get it all unraveled. It worked, and any charges were layed at the feet of the Branch where the error had occured.
It has always been my habit to check the encoding on every new check and deposit slip order that I get. Errors are not made often, but it only takes once to cause a large headache.
I was called to work at Blue Diamond Cement for awhile. That was a piece of cake. Jay was working as an Independent so I knew all about the business. I was able to do the office work and help backup on the routing as well. They really liked me there, and I would have liked to stay, but again I was filling in for someone who was out sick. They had priority over the job and I was satisfied with being appreciated. It is such a great feeling to know that you can step into something and carry it off with a bit of smoothness. I am not always so confident, but I have a great way of covering my fears when I start out. I don't believe anyone feels all that confident when they start in a new position. Not only to learn what you are suppose to be doing, but to find a nitche with all those who you will be working with. On the most part, people are a bit cool to part time workers, because they don't know how long they are going to stay. In my case, I do well as a loner, and do not try to force a place. That makes it easy for those around to make their own overture into a relationship. It usually comes during breaks or lunch time. Someone usually offers to put your order for a sandwich or salad in with theirs while they are calling it in. From there things just seem to work out.
I liked working Part Time. It made it easy for me to take the time I needed when the kids were not in school, or we wanted to take a vacation. You can tell them when and where you can work.
Oh, I forgot about Fluid Master. I worked there the longest, and returned a number of times. They liked me there, and I got along with the rest of the workers. I think there were just the three of us in the office. I had a cubby hole to work in, but it was fine. I had all the room and equipment that I needed. The work was something I enjoyed doing, and the office was not all that far from the house. If I needed something to fix my toilet, it was at my finger tips. The salesman were the very best. They were so good to the girls in the office. I had a lot of perks while I was with them.
It was there I learned all about Toilets. They had been called Water Closets at one time. I think the thing that touched me the most is "what is in a name". The first porcelain toilets were made in England by a man named Thomas Crapper. It was he who perfected the efficient instrument we all use everyday. Of course when they produced the porcelain bowl they imprinted it with his name "Crapper". Sad to think that a man who did so much for our daily comfort has his good name so slandered on a regular basis. Strange how things come into our lives and leave an impression we would never have known, except someone took the time to write a book about this dear soul.
Well, I guess I should finish this by telling you I didn't work for the money. I worked because Jay was in business for himself and Medical Insurance was so expensive for an Independent, I sought work to have family insurance. When I was looking for work my prayer was not that I would make top wages, but the Insurance coverage would be the best we could get. It saved us on many occasion. There were two things that I found I wanted to do while I was working. One was to meet my financial responsibility to the Church and the other was to obtain Insurance that would take the pressure off Jay so he could do what he wanted to do, be in Business for himself. It was a work in progress, and a joint effort on both of our parts. We made it work, and the work made it possible for us to take care of the needs of our family more efficiently.
I had warned Jay that being in business for himself would mean working longer and harder than he would have to if he was working for someone else. He wanted the challenge and was able to carry it off successfully for over 35 years. He had a great reputation and was admired by all who worked with him. He could have branched out as others had done and bought another truck or two, but no one would have kept the equipment up the way he did, and that would have worried him to death. It was my pleasure to work along with him, and help him reach his dream. He was a very dedicated person. I think we all knew that about him.
Written this 10th day of August 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
I have worked for the Gas Company - now that was a challenge. The girl who had been responsible for the filing had things shoved into every drawer in her desk and on every empty hidding space she could find. When the salesman came into the office for an order they wanted to check up on, lots of luck Charlie. Who knew where in the heck it could be?
Well fortunately I have organizatioinal skills, so I set about putting all the little piles into one big pile. A's in one B's in another and soforth until I had the mess down to a manageable place to sort and find something. Within a couple of day things were put aright, and when someone came into the office they could go to the file and find what it was they needed. Amazing. A little time and some organization and whala, it works!
I was appreciated, and even offered full time there, but the Gas Company has to post their vacancies, and the job had to go to an insider. So I was off and on to another job in a couple of months. No problem.
I was called to work for Bondo. They make products for repairing cars damaged in accidents.
It was a small office, but the girls were friendly and the work something I enjoyed doing. It went well. I was there about 3 months I think. Great fun and work I enjoyed very much.
Then I went to Safeway Bakeries where they needed a Route Biller. I really liked it there. It smelled good, and when we wanted a snack, we just went out and brought back to the office what ever we liked from the line that day. Not good for the waistline, but good for the old tum tum tum! I was in and out of there a couple of times. Loved it, and would have liked to stay, but it wasn't ment to be. Too bad!
I worked at Rivere Ware - Copper Bottom Cook Ware. It was the biggest office I worked in and I was asked to do a number of things. It seemed I was great at taking over when someone got sick and left things in a mess. I would have to go through the desk and find out what was in need of immediate attention. Mostly there I did payroll, but there were other duties as well. It was here I worked the switch board. I had taken a class at night school to learn that, and enjoyed it very much. Of course with all the new phone gagets, that soon became quite passee.
While I was here one of the women got sick and I had to switch over to take her duties. One was making out Savings Bonds where the funds were deducted from the paychecks of the emplyees by request each pay period. What I found was, this had not been kept up to date. I had to go to the supervisor and ask what he wanted me to do with it. Clean it up, or leave it until the gal returned. Of course, when you take money from a mans paycheck and he thinks it is being put into savings, it becomes a whole new ballgame. I was told to do what I could and get back to them. It took some doing, but I was able to figure out the system, get back into the payroll sheets and figure out just who had what going to where. It ment making out a very large order for the bank to make out the Bonds. When it was all finished it was quite a deal. I can't remember what happened to the gal. I think they told her she didn't need to come back. I stayed until they found someone else to work full time. I don't recall why I didn't stay, I usually was hired after such jobs were finished so successfully.
I believe I told you about working at the Evelope and Binder Company. That was one of my most favorite places. I had a chance to do so many things that helped hone my skills and make me a better all around worker.
I worked at LA Spring and Wire when Jay was in the Navy during the Korean War. That was a great deal for me. Within walking distance to where the folks lived. It wasn't fancy, but it was good pay and I liked doing the payroll there. I was hired outright, this wasn't one of those short term places to work.
Of course I worked at the Bank of America and did a number of things there. It was not my most favorite place to work, but it was a new experience and I learned more about Banking than I ever wanted to know. They kept sending us to one Class after another and of course we had to take the Safety Classes for Bank Robbery. The funniest thing that happened while I was working in the Main office in Anaheim was one of the girls was working the drive up window. Now you know the drive up window is bullet proof. However one early morning before the inside was open, the drive up was. A young man drove up, put a gun up to the window and demanded cash. The gal responded by handing him the money, and he happily drove away. She had followed all the safety rules. Don't argue just give them the cash. The only trouble was she was in no danger, he could have emptied the gun and it wouldn't have done a thing to her. Oh well.
We did have another robbery while I was at the Brookhurst-Ball Branch. It went down quite fast and the Manager chased the robber out of the Bank and through the Mall. Not suppose to do that, but it all turned out O.K. no one was harmed, and the Teller was able to get the ink on the bills.
I worked at the Statement and Safety Deposit Box window for a time. That was a way to get educated. I had an oriental gal come in one day and get very upset with me because she had been contacted because she was overdrawn. She quickly pulled out her check book and told me she couldn't be overdrawn, she still had checks. Yes, that is what she said, and whats more, she believed it!
Another time I had a person come in and wonder what was happening to their money. They were broke and they had no idea how that could be as they had been putting their money in the bank as usual. I went over all the account and could not find where their money was going to either. Then we went deeper into it. We finally discovered there account had been accessed in error at another branch when another customer came in for some checks and deposit slips. As it happened the encoding was for our Branch and not the one where the request had been made.
The people on the other end were concerned their balance was way too large, and was afraid to spend for fear they would have to make up a large amount one day. It took two of us working from opposite ends to get it all unraveled. It worked, and any charges were layed at the feet of the Branch where the error had occured.
It has always been my habit to check the encoding on every new check and deposit slip order that I get. Errors are not made often, but it only takes once to cause a large headache.
I was called to work at Blue Diamond Cement for awhile. That was a piece of cake. Jay was working as an Independent so I knew all about the business. I was able to do the office work and help backup on the routing as well. They really liked me there, and I would have liked to stay, but again I was filling in for someone who was out sick. They had priority over the job and I was satisfied with being appreciated. It is such a great feeling to know that you can step into something and carry it off with a bit of smoothness. I am not always so confident, but I have a great way of covering my fears when I start out. I don't believe anyone feels all that confident when they start in a new position. Not only to learn what you are suppose to be doing, but to find a nitche with all those who you will be working with. On the most part, people are a bit cool to part time workers, because they don't know how long they are going to stay. In my case, I do well as a loner, and do not try to force a place. That makes it easy for those around to make their own overture into a relationship. It usually comes during breaks or lunch time. Someone usually offers to put your order for a sandwich or salad in with theirs while they are calling it in. From there things just seem to work out.
I liked working Part Time. It made it easy for me to take the time I needed when the kids were not in school, or we wanted to take a vacation. You can tell them when and where you can work.
Oh, I forgot about Fluid Master. I worked there the longest, and returned a number of times. They liked me there, and I got along with the rest of the workers. I think there were just the three of us in the office. I had a cubby hole to work in, but it was fine. I had all the room and equipment that I needed. The work was something I enjoyed doing, and the office was not all that far from the house. If I needed something to fix my toilet, it was at my finger tips. The salesman were the very best. They were so good to the girls in the office. I had a lot of perks while I was with them.
It was there I learned all about Toilets. They had been called Water Closets at one time. I think the thing that touched me the most is "what is in a name". The first porcelain toilets were made in England by a man named Thomas Crapper. It was he who perfected the efficient instrument we all use everyday. Of course when they produced the porcelain bowl they imprinted it with his name "Crapper". Sad to think that a man who did so much for our daily comfort has his good name so slandered on a regular basis. Strange how things come into our lives and leave an impression we would never have known, except someone took the time to write a book about this dear soul.
Well, I guess I should finish this by telling you I didn't work for the money. I worked because Jay was in business for himself and Medical Insurance was so expensive for an Independent, I sought work to have family insurance. When I was looking for work my prayer was not that I would make top wages, but the Insurance coverage would be the best we could get. It saved us on many occasion. There were two things that I found I wanted to do while I was working. One was to meet my financial responsibility to the Church and the other was to obtain Insurance that would take the pressure off Jay so he could do what he wanted to do, be in Business for himself. It was a work in progress, and a joint effort on both of our parts. We made it work, and the work made it possible for us to take care of the needs of our family more efficiently.
I had warned Jay that being in business for himself would mean working longer and harder than he would have to if he was working for someone else. He wanted the challenge and was able to carry it off successfully for over 35 years. He had a great reputation and was admired by all who worked with him. He could have branched out as others had done and bought another truck or two, but no one would have kept the equipment up the way he did, and that would have worried him to death. It was my pleasure to work along with him, and help him reach his dream. He was a very dedicated person. I think we all knew that about him.
Written this 10th day of August 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Me and the Girl Scouts
You know I never belonged to the Girl Scouts when I was a kid. I did, as I believe I have told you before, joined the Campfire Girls. It wasn't until Dawn was ready for the experience that I got envolved. Which, now that I look back on it, is an understatement. One doesn't just get envolved, one jumps in with both feet and does whatever it takes to keep a Troup of young girls busy, occupied and happy. The worst part was the dues. I hated collecting and keeping track of them.
I planned the meetings, the crafts and when the girls were old enough we did Camping. The girls were always so willing, but so unable to do much of the work of setting up camp, or packing up when it was over. They did have fun however, and made friends and learned some skills that I hope have served them well since.
We went through Brownies and Junior Scouts. I had some experience with the Senior Scouts, but not in the way of leadership. Thank goodness. When I was finished with the Troup business, I got suckered into Cookie Chairman and what a job that was. Getting the orders in and delivered to my house, then getting them to the various Troups for sale. I really don't think it was all that much fun, and I know the girls didn't get that much money for all the work that goes into that project, but then that is the way things are.
I was called on a number of times to be Day Camp Director, and found that was both hard work, but rewarding. I remember the Camp we set up in the Whittier Area that had hills full of Poison Oak. I had to contact the Boys School and have the young men come out and clean it all out before we could set up our Activities. It was a good Camp, and very successful for everyone envolved. The planning, gathering the staff and making sure everyone was there and things ran smoothly was pretty invigorating for me. I was happy, however, when it was over.
I was a Trainer for the Joshua Tree Council, and had a great deal of work when I did that. Again I found myself among a great many wonderful women who cared for the girls and were willing to expend their time and talents for the Program. There were meetings to attend, classes to prepare for and lessons to teach. The making of a good Girl Scout Leaders just doesn't happen. Someone has to take the time to get the information out into the field so the girls can benefit. I have always wondered why the Church didn't take up the Girl Scout Program for the girls like they had for the Young Men, but then that is not mine to wonder why. I also worked in the Camp Crafter Program in Young womens and directed camps for them, or participated, in one fashion or another.
I was called as a member of the Board of Directors for the Joshua Tree Council too. That was a real challenge. We had meetings way out in the Valley, and a great deal more travel was needed. We went everywhere. There were meeting in Wrightwood as well. We held a Camp up there one summer and it was pretty nice. I wasn't a leader then, I was just one of the Directors there to oversee how things went. The site was special. I remember when I was out on a hike with the girls I lost my footing and went on my backside down a steep hill. My butt was sore, but I think my pride was worse off than any body parts. I didn't know you could get from point one to point two in such a quick fashion. Just lucky I didn't break something. It would have
been a chore getting me up from where I landed. After some time, I was able to drag myself back up to the top and carry on with the days activities.
I think the most dangerous thing I ever did while camping with the girls was to set up my area along the stream bed. The sound of the water was great to sleep next to. It wasn't until the next day I was told that was foolish. If there had of been a flash flood during the night, I would have gone down with the rest of the muck and mire. What was just a small stream could have been turned into a torrent of a river in a matter of seconds. I was careful to lay out my area more carefully after that.
I believe the most awful camping trip we ever took was with the last Troup I had. We went to Joshua Tree National Park. It normally is a great place in the Desert to camp and let the girls go hiking and learn some new skills. This was not the case this time. The wind blew until you couldn't even set at the table to eat. Everything had to be held down, or it was "gone with the wind". We put as many girls in the big tent as we could to help keep warm, but that wasn't a success. We nearly froze during the night. Finally, very early, I got everyone up and made hot chocolate while Camp was struck. No reason to stay longer. After we drank the Hot Chocolate, we loaded up and headed for the nearest town. I gave each of the girls a couple of dollars and we stopped at a resturant and had a hot breakfast and then headed home. I wasn't about to stand in that cold and try to cook something for them to eat. It would have been full of sand and cold before they could have raised a fork or spoon.
I learned a lot during these experiences. It took me from Pico River, to Whittier and into Bakersfield. There are always worthy volunteer work to be done, and it seems never enough dedicated folks to carry out all that has to be done. We are fortunate in the Church to have the many who take on the tasks of helping the youth of the Church learn and develope. I am however, just a greatful for the numbers of women who have dedicated their lives to keeping the Girl Scouts alive and well. I have met and worked with a great many who I would like to have had more time with.
I went to San Francisco with a group for a Conference. It was enriching and worth the time spent. I hate San Francisco, so that is saying a lot, coming from me. We walked, talked and I learned just what some women value who are not married or have children and yet will spend their time and energy helping girls who have no other means of learning skills or how to be a great person. This world is full of some pretty awesom folks. I feel quite priviledged to have rubbed elbows with some and got to know a number of others. If it weren't for such fine women, this world would be a much more colorless place. Beside a lot of girls who would never have the opportunity to grow and develope knowing how great the out of doors can ge. How great it is to sing those Camp Songs, or do the crafts that are such fun. The memories for both the Staff, Leaders and Girls is priceless, and I am happy to say, I played some small part in a number of girls lives. I can't recall names, I don't even remember faces, but I hope somewhere along the path, they learned something from me. I may never know here, but one day, as all teachers must, things will come to light that will show just how much we contributed to not only others lives, but just how much we took in return from those we have worked along side. Life has no resting places. It is full of adventure and interesting things. It is our job to seek out and utilize the talents we have been given. It is not what we take, but what we give that will make up the whole of our being. Looking back over it, I can honestly say, I have had a great life, one that has had both teaching and learning. For both are so very important.
Written this 10th day of August 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
I planned the meetings, the crafts and when the girls were old enough we did Camping. The girls were always so willing, but so unable to do much of the work of setting up camp, or packing up when it was over. They did have fun however, and made friends and learned some skills that I hope have served them well since.
We went through Brownies and Junior Scouts. I had some experience with the Senior Scouts, but not in the way of leadership. Thank goodness. When I was finished with the Troup business, I got suckered into Cookie Chairman and what a job that was. Getting the orders in and delivered to my house, then getting them to the various Troups for sale. I really don't think it was all that much fun, and I know the girls didn't get that much money for all the work that goes into that project, but then that is the way things are.
I was called on a number of times to be Day Camp Director, and found that was both hard work, but rewarding. I remember the Camp we set up in the Whittier Area that had hills full of Poison Oak. I had to contact the Boys School and have the young men come out and clean it all out before we could set up our Activities. It was a good Camp, and very successful for everyone envolved. The planning, gathering the staff and making sure everyone was there and things ran smoothly was pretty invigorating for me. I was happy, however, when it was over.
I was a Trainer for the Joshua Tree Council, and had a great deal of work when I did that. Again I found myself among a great many wonderful women who cared for the girls and were willing to expend their time and talents for the Program. There were meetings to attend, classes to prepare for and lessons to teach. The making of a good Girl Scout Leaders just doesn't happen. Someone has to take the time to get the information out into the field so the girls can benefit. I have always wondered why the Church didn't take up the Girl Scout Program for the girls like they had for the Young Men, but then that is not mine to wonder why. I also worked in the Camp Crafter Program in Young womens and directed camps for them, or participated, in one fashion or another.
I was called as a member of the Board of Directors for the Joshua Tree Council too. That was a real challenge. We had meetings way out in the Valley, and a great deal more travel was needed. We went everywhere. There were meeting in Wrightwood as well. We held a Camp up there one summer and it was pretty nice. I wasn't a leader then, I was just one of the Directors there to oversee how things went. The site was special. I remember when I was out on a hike with the girls I lost my footing and went on my backside down a steep hill. My butt was sore, but I think my pride was worse off than any body parts. I didn't know you could get from point one to point two in such a quick fashion. Just lucky I didn't break something. It would have
been a chore getting me up from where I landed. After some time, I was able to drag myself back up to the top and carry on with the days activities.
I think the most dangerous thing I ever did while camping with the girls was to set up my area along the stream bed. The sound of the water was great to sleep next to. It wasn't until the next day I was told that was foolish. If there had of been a flash flood during the night, I would have gone down with the rest of the muck and mire. What was just a small stream could have been turned into a torrent of a river in a matter of seconds. I was careful to lay out my area more carefully after that.
I believe the most awful camping trip we ever took was with the last Troup I had. We went to Joshua Tree National Park. It normally is a great place in the Desert to camp and let the girls go hiking and learn some new skills. This was not the case this time. The wind blew until you couldn't even set at the table to eat. Everything had to be held down, or it was "gone with the wind". We put as many girls in the big tent as we could to help keep warm, but that wasn't a success. We nearly froze during the night. Finally, very early, I got everyone up and made hot chocolate while Camp was struck. No reason to stay longer. After we drank the Hot Chocolate, we loaded up and headed for the nearest town. I gave each of the girls a couple of dollars and we stopped at a resturant and had a hot breakfast and then headed home. I wasn't about to stand in that cold and try to cook something for them to eat. It would have been full of sand and cold before they could have raised a fork or spoon.
I learned a lot during these experiences. It took me from Pico River, to Whittier and into Bakersfield. There are always worthy volunteer work to be done, and it seems never enough dedicated folks to carry out all that has to be done. We are fortunate in the Church to have the many who take on the tasks of helping the youth of the Church learn and develope. I am however, just a greatful for the numbers of women who have dedicated their lives to keeping the Girl Scouts alive and well. I have met and worked with a great many who I would like to have had more time with.
I went to San Francisco with a group for a Conference. It was enriching and worth the time spent. I hate San Francisco, so that is saying a lot, coming from me. We walked, talked and I learned just what some women value who are not married or have children and yet will spend their time and energy helping girls who have no other means of learning skills or how to be a great person. This world is full of some pretty awesom folks. I feel quite priviledged to have rubbed elbows with some and got to know a number of others. If it weren't for such fine women, this world would be a much more colorless place. Beside a lot of girls who would never have the opportunity to grow and develope knowing how great the out of doors can ge. How great it is to sing those Camp Songs, or do the crafts that are such fun. The memories for both the Staff, Leaders and Girls is priceless, and I am happy to say, I played some small part in a number of girls lives. I can't recall names, I don't even remember faces, but I hope somewhere along the path, they learned something from me. I may never know here, but one day, as all teachers must, things will come to light that will show just how much we contributed to not only others lives, but just how much we took in return from those we have worked along side. Life has no resting places. It is full of adventure and interesting things. It is our job to seek out and utilize the talents we have been given. It is not what we take, but what we give that will make up the whole of our being. Looking back over it, I can honestly say, I have had a great life, one that has had both teaching and learning. For both are so very important.
Written this 10th day of August 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Taking Time to Remember Mom/Granny
August the 11th 1984 my Mom your Granny slipped into Eternity. She may not have been "ready yet", but when the call came, she went just the same. There are a great many memories connected to this event for me. I thought maybe going over them with you might shine some light on what we shared.
My parents were a mixed bag. Dad, John Smith was an only child. His mother came to this country, but didn't like it and returned with Dad to England, leaving Charles here to work and make a new life. What happened to Eliza Bunn, we may never know. We do know that she gave Dad to his Grand Mother to raise. It was she who brought him to a new Step-mother in 1907.
I don't believe there was much of a difference between my parents. Dad had lost his Mother and was raised by a less than loving Step-mother, while Mom was raised by a Mother who loved and worked hard to keep her family together when the Dad up and left them to fen for themselves.
Both the folks had opportunity to learn how to work hard when they were young. They met on a blind date, and found themselves a partner who could understand their longing for a family and normal life.
Mom was always concerned for her Mother and Dad seemed to fall into step and do all he could to see Grandma Hall was cared for. I was shocked in later life when I was told by my Brother Ronald that Grandma Hall never liked my Dad. I just couldn't understand why. He certainly gave her no reason that I could see. I guess she was bitter about how she was abandoned, and Dad taking her Baby might have been some of the reason. Who knows?
Moving the family to California was for Mothers health, as has been stated before. I think he would have done whatever was necessary to see to her best interest. Both my Parents were possessed with above average intelligence, but had little opportunity for education. Dad became and avid reader and haunted used book stores in Los Angeles for volumes that would help him advance his knowledge. Mother took her own way of doing the same. She did beautiful hand work. Crocheting all sorts of things for the house. Her hands always seemed to be busy with one thing or another. She would sew for her and me. Back when I was a kid, they didn't have that many store bought clothes. Money was scarce and was needed for other things. I don't recall Mom ever using the colored flour sacks for material, but she did shop wisely, and bought Butterick Patterns. I don't even think you can find them anymore. They were the best however.
I guess you could say Mom was a club women. She loved being in the PTA and working with the Schools to see the kids had the things they needed. Of course you remember how I told you about the things she was envolved with when the War was going on. There was always something to keep her busy. Dad was always supportive and did the things that Husbands do to help their wives be successful in the out of the home activities. We all pulled together when she would go to the PTA conventions. She had a beautiful formal with silver slippers that I use to covet. They wouldn't seem all that fancy now, but then they were the ultimate end. She had an evening bag, in fact I still have it here in the safe at the house. It isn't all that glamorous now, but then it was pretty snappy. I remember she would go to the Beauty Parlor and have her hair done in a special set for the occasion. Oh, those were the days!
Once we kids were married and the "nest" was empty, Mom was a dutiful Grandmother. She would spend long hours at the sewing machine making "coveralls" out of cordaroy fabric for all the kids. They would have been a challenge for me, but she put the grippers down the inside of the legs, and measured oh so carefully for the shoulder straps. When the holidays would come around she was out shopping for just the right dress or pant outfit for which ever of the Grand Kids she was thinking of. I remember the first Christmas Dawn had. Jay and I wanted a Candy Strip dress for her. We could not find one anywhere. Ended up buying a light blue dress with Candy Cains on it. I believe we have a picture of her in it. Well, low a behold on Christmas day
what was the present from Grandpa and Grandma Smith? A candy stripe dress. I have no idea where she found it. But she did!
I don't believe there has ever been a Grandmother more caring than she was. She loved the kids and was always ready to do what she could for them. Baby setting was a special joy for her.
Dad loved it as well. What a very special lady she was, and is!
When she had to give up her home and move into that Senior Apartment Complex in Anaheim, she made the adjustment about as well as I think anyone could have. I was amazed the day we left the house on Belgrave, she never looked back. Her life was still in front of her and she was about to launch into it with all the jest she could muster.
We fixed her Apartment up so cozy and she had all her own things around her. I had gone through all the pictures and made up family framed groups so she had all her family, brothers, sisters, kids and grandkids around her everyday. She made friends quickly and except for the food, she seemed, at least for awhile content.
Her work in the Temple each week was a great joy to her and she enjoyed the travel with Sister Sorenson. We were fortunate that worked out so well when Mother didn't want to drive all that way out to Westwood. It was on that last night she worked that she came home tired. She had had her blood pressure medication changed that week, and that seemed to be the problem. On Wednesday she read to the blind in the Complex. That was something she enjoyed doing. Being of use to someone who needed her. Then in the evening she was asked to call for the Bingo in the Complex. I know she enjoyed that. I had made her a Bingo Purse. It had pockets for change and one for bills. It had a draw string around the top and was made of gold fabric with some sort of decoration on it, I don't remember just what now. I gave it with the money in it to one of her friends who had admired it so. Well following the Bingo she went into a friends Apartment to help her with the knitting project Mom had been working with her on. The friend asked Mom if she was feeling O.K.? Mom said she was just a little tired. Which of course seemed logical, it was late, but the truth was she was on the slippery slop then.
Following the knitting lesson, she retired to her Apartment and went to bed. Things seemed fine. When she awoke, she went into her bathroom and had her first stroke. She fell on the floor and was unable to get up because the side she was laying on was paralyzed. She was unable to reach her emergency cord to call for help. So she laid there, helpless from around 6 a.m. until they came up to check on her at 7:30 a.m. She was always down before then, and when she didn't show up, they thankfully went to see if she was alright. Of course she wasn't. They called Ronald, he had left for work, so Willetta went over, it was just a few blocks from where they lived. Willetta helped clean mother up and the ambulance was called to take her to Emergency.
Her Doctor was called, and after a preliminary examination he was satisfied that she was going to come out of things just fine. It was Thursday morning and he checked on her later to make sure she was O.K. She was still paralyzed, but her other symptoms were better, so he felt she would come along fine in a few days, and told us the worst would be a minor limp. Well, things took another turn on Friday night. Mom went into a series of strokes that just wouldn't stop. She sank into unconciousness from which she never returned. When I got to the hosptial, I had been in Atascadero with Dawn when the call came through the Sheriffs Dept. Mom was quiet but very feverish. Her blood sugar had elevated and they were giving her insulin shots to help. The nurse was very nice. She told us Mom could lay like that for any length of time, or if we felt we could help her, we could talk her through. That is what Dawn and I did. We encouraged her to let go and leave her body that had run into such difficulty that it could not respond any longer. It was both trying and inspirational. Slowly we saw a tear run down the side of her face. We knew then we had made contact. The hearing becomes pretty important at such a time. Both Dawn and I heard a faint sob, yet Mom did not move a muscle. The sobs became more noticeable. I believe I told you Mom was not able to cry. After a short period of time she slowly relaxed and slipped away. Ron and Willetta came in, but she was already gone. Ron thought she was still alive when he came into the room, but she was not.
We left the room and was standing in the hall outside talking. The Doctor called and expressed his amazment that she had passed away. He really thought she would survive this. It just wasn't ment to be. Ronald had his back to the door. While we stood there and talked over the whole incident, I noticed the number on the room Mom was in. It was 719. I gasped and Ronald asked what was the matter. I said: "look at the room number". We both were struck by what came to mind. Our Dad John Smith had been killed on 7-19 in 1955. Two Sweethearts were re-united, numbers farmiliar, saddness repeated.
When we met with the Sisters who worked with Mother at the Temple they said it was so like her to move on so quickly. I said: "yes, she had to be on duty on Tuesday, only on the other side of the vail." I am sure she still labors there, as she did here. With love for the Sisters and love of the work. What a wonderful life she lived, what a posterity she has left, and what a future we will all enjoy with her one day.
Written this 11 day of August 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
My parents were a mixed bag. Dad, John Smith was an only child. His mother came to this country, but didn't like it and returned with Dad to England, leaving Charles here to work and make a new life. What happened to Eliza Bunn, we may never know. We do know that she gave Dad to his Grand Mother to raise. It was she who brought him to a new Step-mother in 1907.
I don't believe there was much of a difference between my parents. Dad had lost his Mother and was raised by a less than loving Step-mother, while Mom was raised by a Mother who loved and worked hard to keep her family together when the Dad up and left them to fen for themselves.
Both the folks had opportunity to learn how to work hard when they were young. They met on a blind date, and found themselves a partner who could understand their longing for a family and normal life.
Mom was always concerned for her Mother and Dad seemed to fall into step and do all he could to see Grandma Hall was cared for. I was shocked in later life when I was told by my Brother Ronald that Grandma Hall never liked my Dad. I just couldn't understand why. He certainly gave her no reason that I could see. I guess she was bitter about how she was abandoned, and Dad taking her Baby might have been some of the reason. Who knows?
Moving the family to California was for Mothers health, as has been stated before. I think he would have done whatever was necessary to see to her best interest. Both my Parents were possessed with above average intelligence, but had little opportunity for education. Dad became and avid reader and haunted used book stores in Los Angeles for volumes that would help him advance his knowledge. Mother took her own way of doing the same. She did beautiful hand work. Crocheting all sorts of things for the house. Her hands always seemed to be busy with one thing or another. She would sew for her and me. Back when I was a kid, they didn't have that many store bought clothes. Money was scarce and was needed for other things. I don't recall Mom ever using the colored flour sacks for material, but she did shop wisely, and bought Butterick Patterns. I don't even think you can find them anymore. They were the best however.
I guess you could say Mom was a club women. She loved being in the PTA and working with the Schools to see the kids had the things they needed. Of course you remember how I told you about the things she was envolved with when the War was going on. There was always something to keep her busy. Dad was always supportive and did the things that Husbands do to help their wives be successful in the out of the home activities. We all pulled together when she would go to the PTA conventions. She had a beautiful formal with silver slippers that I use to covet. They wouldn't seem all that fancy now, but then they were the ultimate end. She had an evening bag, in fact I still have it here in the safe at the house. It isn't all that glamorous now, but then it was pretty snappy. I remember she would go to the Beauty Parlor and have her hair done in a special set for the occasion. Oh, those were the days!
Once we kids were married and the "nest" was empty, Mom was a dutiful Grandmother. She would spend long hours at the sewing machine making "coveralls" out of cordaroy fabric for all the kids. They would have been a challenge for me, but she put the grippers down the inside of the legs, and measured oh so carefully for the shoulder straps. When the holidays would come around she was out shopping for just the right dress or pant outfit for which ever of the Grand Kids she was thinking of. I remember the first Christmas Dawn had. Jay and I wanted a Candy Strip dress for her. We could not find one anywhere. Ended up buying a light blue dress with Candy Cains on it. I believe we have a picture of her in it. Well, low a behold on Christmas day
what was the present from Grandpa and Grandma Smith? A candy stripe dress. I have no idea where she found it. But she did!
I don't believe there has ever been a Grandmother more caring than she was. She loved the kids and was always ready to do what she could for them. Baby setting was a special joy for her.
Dad loved it as well. What a very special lady she was, and is!
When she had to give up her home and move into that Senior Apartment Complex in Anaheim, she made the adjustment about as well as I think anyone could have. I was amazed the day we left the house on Belgrave, she never looked back. Her life was still in front of her and she was about to launch into it with all the jest she could muster.
We fixed her Apartment up so cozy and she had all her own things around her. I had gone through all the pictures and made up family framed groups so she had all her family, brothers, sisters, kids and grandkids around her everyday. She made friends quickly and except for the food, she seemed, at least for awhile content.
Her work in the Temple each week was a great joy to her and she enjoyed the travel with Sister Sorenson. We were fortunate that worked out so well when Mother didn't want to drive all that way out to Westwood. It was on that last night she worked that she came home tired. She had had her blood pressure medication changed that week, and that seemed to be the problem. On Wednesday she read to the blind in the Complex. That was something she enjoyed doing. Being of use to someone who needed her. Then in the evening she was asked to call for the Bingo in the Complex. I know she enjoyed that. I had made her a Bingo Purse. It had pockets for change and one for bills. It had a draw string around the top and was made of gold fabric with some sort of decoration on it, I don't remember just what now. I gave it with the money in it to one of her friends who had admired it so. Well following the Bingo she went into a friends Apartment to help her with the knitting project Mom had been working with her on. The friend asked Mom if she was feeling O.K.? Mom said she was just a little tired. Which of course seemed logical, it was late, but the truth was she was on the slippery slop then.
Following the knitting lesson, she retired to her Apartment and went to bed. Things seemed fine. When she awoke, she went into her bathroom and had her first stroke. She fell on the floor and was unable to get up because the side she was laying on was paralyzed. She was unable to reach her emergency cord to call for help. So she laid there, helpless from around 6 a.m. until they came up to check on her at 7:30 a.m. She was always down before then, and when she didn't show up, they thankfully went to see if she was alright. Of course she wasn't. They called Ronald, he had left for work, so Willetta went over, it was just a few blocks from where they lived. Willetta helped clean mother up and the ambulance was called to take her to Emergency.
Her Doctor was called, and after a preliminary examination he was satisfied that she was going to come out of things just fine. It was Thursday morning and he checked on her later to make sure she was O.K. She was still paralyzed, but her other symptoms were better, so he felt she would come along fine in a few days, and told us the worst would be a minor limp. Well, things took another turn on Friday night. Mom went into a series of strokes that just wouldn't stop. She sank into unconciousness from which she never returned. When I got to the hosptial, I had been in Atascadero with Dawn when the call came through the Sheriffs Dept. Mom was quiet but very feverish. Her blood sugar had elevated and they were giving her insulin shots to help. The nurse was very nice. She told us Mom could lay like that for any length of time, or if we felt we could help her, we could talk her through. That is what Dawn and I did. We encouraged her to let go and leave her body that had run into such difficulty that it could not respond any longer. It was both trying and inspirational. Slowly we saw a tear run down the side of her face. We knew then we had made contact. The hearing becomes pretty important at such a time. Both Dawn and I heard a faint sob, yet Mom did not move a muscle. The sobs became more noticeable. I believe I told you Mom was not able to cry. After a short period of time she slowly relaxed and slipped away. Ron and Willetta came in, but she was already gone. Ron thought she was still alive when he came into the room, but she was not.
We left the room and was standing in the hall outside talking. The Doctor called and expressed his amazment that she had passed away. He really thought she would survive this. It just wasn't ment to be. Ronald had his back to the door. While we stood there and talked over the whole incident, I noticed the number on the room Mom was in. It was 719. I gasped and Ronald asked what was the matter. I said: "look at the room number". We both were struck by what came to mind. Our Dad John Smith had been killed on 7-19 in 1955. Two Sweethearts were re-united, numbers farmiliar, saddness repeated.
When we met with the Sisters who worked with Mother at the Temple they said it was so like her to move on so quickly. I said: "yes, she had to be on duty on Tuesday, only on the other side of the vail." I am sure she still labors there, as she did here. With love for the Sisters and love of the work. What a wonderful life she lived, what a posterity she has left, and what a future we will all enjoy with her one day.
Written this 11 day of August 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Setting by the hour with Ancestors
Doing this Genealogy has brought me more than pleasure, it has put me in touch with some pretty neat experiences. Oh, I haven't found all the folks I have been eager to find, but it has put me in touch with some I would have never guessed were part of the Lines that I am working on. At times I feel myself back in the early Colonies with those Pilgrims who were so eager to find a place, much as the Latter-day Saints, for a place to Worship and Recognize their God in the fashion they had longed so to do in their Native Land.
Finding the names of those people, and realizing that some of them are part of my Heritage. They sailed on the Mayflower, and signed the Mayflower Compact. They were the ones who were at the first Thanksgiving, and who learned from the Indians how to do so many things here in the New World they had never dreamed of before. Times were hard, and their supplies limited when they first came. They had to build and make themselves safe in a vast wilderness.
No conviences, water had to be hauled, shelters needed to be put up, crude as they may have been, they were made better for the change in the climate that was found here, in the New Land.
Taking care of the washing, the ironing, the cooking, the mending and the family. There were always babies being born, and injuries too varied to even prepare for. When the work was hard and the conditions most rustic, well, it was hard for everyone. I suppose the children had their way of making due, but I am sure they found the work filtered down to them as well.
I see the women with their blue dresses and white aprons bustling around the shelter making it as comfortable as possible. I see them striving to put something on the table that will be nourishing and good for all the family. The men have to rise early and get to the duties of the day. Then nights I am sure are filled with meetings to keep the Colony running smoothly. All the work is shared, and the prayers attended to, most properly.
How do you do when there are no stores to buy things from? If there is no Doctor around how do you take care of the illnesses that surely must have plagued them? Well, I guess you get up and do what ever you can. Hoping all along the way you will be successful in keeping things under control.
I am sure the Indians were helpful, once they were aware the Colonists didn't want to hurt them. The Indians had their own remedies. They had learned about all the good things that are around in Nature than can help keep you clean and well. They knew how to take care of the land so that it would yield food, and it would regenerate for future use. They didn't stay in one place long. Moving so that the land could repair from the use they had put upon it. Things the Pilgrims had never thought of as they left their city dwellings, though those weren't all that posh either.
As I work up the ladder of time and get closer to the times in which we live, I find myself wondering just how couples courted, who they met, what they did to entertain themselves, or make themselves attractive to one another. One has to remember that times were hard even in the 1700's and 1800's.
I recall visiting an Aunts farm and going into the "cooler" to get some buttermilk after they had churned. Just a room with screens at the bottom and the top to let the cool air in and the hot air out. This was the way they kept their things close to the house. Then they had "root cellars" where they kept the things that needed to be stored for use in the winter months. This was dug under the house, or a short distance from the back door. There were shelves ladened with all kinds of bottled goods. There were bushels of apples and pears. There were dried fruits that would keep better that way, and of course the root vegetables that had to be stored in straw beds. So many things that we don't have to do today. So much extra work.
The Laundry was done by hand, carefully hung on the lines for the sun to bleach them white. To help keep them white, especially the aprons, they were starched, so the dirt would not penetrate the fabric and leave stains. If they were doing real durty work, they used grey or black aprons. This was a way to keep their dresses from taking too much of the daily wear of the many projects that had to be done.
Mornings started early. The bread had to be made and put to set. Hot cakes or bisquets were made for eating at breakfast. Hot cereal, that usually had to be hand prepared before cooking. In many cases set out at night to soak up so it could be cooked in the morning. When it was possible they had meat and eggs. Breakfast was a big meal and needed to fortify the family for the duties that needed to be done. The main mean was started as soon as the breakfast dishes were cleared away. There would be a lot of cooking done before the Dinner Bell was rung around noon time. What ever was left from the Main Meal was stored carefully to be used for the supper meal that would be laid out for the family when the men came in from the fields.
Mother of course had to be busy with the handwork needed to keep the family dressed and warm in the winter. Where possible the wool was carded and then spun into thread for the weaving or knitting. There was always something to do, and far to few hands to keep it all done up and tidy.
I set here and push these keys so gently and pull up the names of my progenitors and have to loveingly press my mind into their daily routines. When I find another baby that has been born, I think of the care it will need, and the mother who will fit that extra duty into an already pressing daily routine. When the family is large, then the Mother has a few extra hands to see to the new little one. The chores are never ending.
Who makes the clothes? Who mends the shoes? Who cares for them during the night when they are not well? I shudder to think of how hard the times must have been for them. Could I have done it? I guess if I had of had the background they had. Would I want too? Not really.
I find the times in which I have lived has brought a number of hardships - or seeming hardships into my life. Nothing like anything they had endured, but then I think every time has its' on trials and tribulations.
When the men went away to the Revolutionary and Civil Wars it was really hard times. The women had to do the farming, and all the other things as well. When the First World War was being fought, our homeland was not under fire, and the population was quick to step up and mobilize. Women were able to work and help out. The families were able to assist with the children and housing.
When the Korean War came along, things had not altogether settled down from the Second World War, so there wasn't really that much of a change. Still War is War and when the men have to go, the women seem to make due and worry while they work.
I am so greatful for those who have gone before. Those who were willing to make the big change and settle this vast continent we live on. It started with such a small group, but look what it has become. When the Colonists saw that England was making things unbearable for them, they took up arms and fought for the things they knew were right. The costs were high, the chances they took many, but they put their shoulders to the wheel and did what had to be done.
I remember so well how the County rallied when the bombs fell on Pearl Harbor on Dec 7, 1941.
Only those of us who lived during those times know just how remarkable it was to see men go to the recruiting offices and sign up to serve. How the women were quick to fill the vancancies of the many plants that retooled to do War Work. Women became machanics, welders, riviters and so many other things. There were those who learned to fly and faried planes all over the country, even overseas to the men who needed them to fight in the Pacific and Europe.
I guess we could say the wonderful spirit of any generation can rise to the call when they hear it loud and clear.
Doing Genealogy makes for an interesting time spent at this "big eyed" monster. How I hope the things I am finding will be of inspiration to all those who look upon it, and remember the love and faith that went into all we have today, because of those great family members who stived to put things in proper order for those of us who enjoy the blessings today.
I never felt so much a part of something so BIG. "No man is an island". None of us can say we got here by ourselves, and that we don't owe a great deal of gratatude to the Mothers and Fathers, Uncles, Aunts and Grandpa and Grandma's who went on before we got here. We love each other, because we know each other now. We need to know those who have made it possible for us to be here now. Sometimes I think I can smell them. The warmth of the kitchens, the laundry freshly washed and folded. The tables ladened with good things, plain, but wholesome put upon the table. Bread baking, cookies made with course grain and molasses. Johnny Cake that is far from cake, but was well received when placed on the table.
I love my refridgerator, but wonder how they managed to cut large pieces of ice for storage in the "root cellar" for use later, or when they could salvage some small piece for use in making a meal more special. Well these are but a few things that have passed through my mind. I hope I haven't bored you. I just wanted to share with you the wonderment of things that come from seeking and finding those who are my ancestors. I love them each one. I appreciate them to no end. I look forward to the day when I can meet them and thank them for all they did to make my home what it is. Without them, I don't honestly believe I would have what I have today.
So many did so much for so few. It is amazing to me. I thank God for the insight into bringing them here, and helping them get through what they had to endure so I can enjoy it today.
Written this 10 day of August 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Finding the names of those people, and realizing that some of them are part of my Heritage. They sailed on the Mayflower, and signed the Mayflower Compact. They were the ones who were at the first Thanksgiving, and who learned from the Indians how to do so many things here in the New World they had never dreamed of before. Times were hard, and their supplies limited when they first came. They had to build and make themselves safe in a vast wilderness.
No conviences, water had to be hauled, shelters needed to be put up, crude as they may have been, they were made better for the change in the climate that was found here, in the New Land.
Taking care of the washing, the ironing, the cooking, the mending and the family. There were always babies being born, and injuries too varied to even prepare for. When the work was hard and the conditions most rustic, well, it was hard for everyone. I suppose the children had their way of making due, but I am sure they found the work filtered down to them as well.
I see the women with their blue dresses and white aprons bustling around the shelter making it as comfortable as possible. I see them striving to put something on the table that will be nourishing and good for all the family. The men have to rise early and get to the duties of the day. Then nights I am sure are filled with meetings to keep the Colony running smoothly. All the work is shared, and the prayers attended to, most properly.
How do you do when there are no stores to buy things from? If there is no Doctor around how do you take care of the illnesses that surely must have plagued them? Well, I guess you get up and do what ever you can. Hoping all along the way you will be successful in keeping things under control.
I am sure the Indians were helpful, once they were aware the Colonists didn't want to hurt them. The Indians had their own remedies. They had learned about all the good things that are around in Nature than can help keep you clean and well. They knew how to take care of the land so that it would yield food, and it would regenerate for future use. They didn't stay in one place long. Moving so that the land could repair from the use they had put upon it. Things the Pilgrims had never thought of as they left their city dwellings, though those weren't all that posh either.
As I work up the ladder of time and get closer to the times in which we live, I find myself wondering just how couples courted, who they met, what they did to entertain themselves, or make themselves attractive to one another. One has to remember that times were hard even in the 1700's and 1800's.
I recall visiting an Aunts farm and going into the "cooler" to get some buttermilk after they had churned. Just a room with screens at the bottom and the top to let the cool air in and the hot air out. This was the way they kept their things close to the house. Then they had "root cellars" where they kept the things that needed to be stored for use in the winter months. This was dug under the house, or a short distance from the back door. There were shelves ladened with all kinds of bottled goods. There were bushels of apples and pears. There were dried fruits that would keep better that way, and of course the root vegetables that had to be stored in straw beds. So many things that we don't have to do today. So much extra work.
The Laundry was done by hand, carefully hung on the lines for the sun to bleach them white. To help keep them white, especially the aprons, they were starched, so the dirt would not penetrate the fabric and leave stains. If they were doing real durty work, they used grey or black aprons. This was a way to keep their dresses from taking too much of the daily wear of the many projects that had to be done.
Mornings started early. The bread had to be made and put to set. Hot cakes or bisquets were made for eating at breakfast. Hot cereal, that usually had to be hand prepared before cooking. In many cases set out at night to soak up so it could be cooked in the morning. When it was possible they had meat and eggs. Breakfast was a big meal and needed to fortify the family for the duties that needed to be done. The main mean was started as soon as the breakfast dishes were cleared away. There would be a lot of cooking done before the Dinner Bell was rung around noon time. What ever was left from the Main Meal was stored carefully to be used for the supper meal that would be laid out for the family when the men came in from the fields.
Mother of course had to be busy with the handwork needed to keep the family dressed and warm in the winter. Where possible the wool was carded and then spun into thread for the weaving or knitting. There was always something to do, and far to few hands to keep it all done up and tidy.
I set here and push these keys so gently and pull up the names of my progenitors and have to loveingly press my mind into their daily routines. When I find another baby that has been born, I think of the care it will need, and the mother who will fit that extra duty into an already pressing daily routine. When the family is large, then the Mother has a few extra hands to see to the new little one. The chores are never ending.
Who makes the clothes? Who mends the shoes? Who cares for them during the night when they are not well? I shudder to think of how hard the times must have been for them. Could I have done it? I guess if I had of had the background they had. Would I want too? Not really.
I find the times in which I have lived has brought a number of hardships - or seeming hardships into my life. Nothing like anything they had endured, but then I think every time has its' on trials and tribulations.
When the men went away to the Revolutionary and Civil Wars it was really hard times. The women had to do the farming, and all the other things as well. When the First World War was being fought, our homeland was not under fire, and the population was quick to step up and mobilize. Women were able to work and help out. The families were able to assist with the children and housing.
When the Korean War came along, things had not altogether settled down from the Second World War, so there wasn't really that much of a change. Still War is War and when the men have to go, the women seem to make due and worry while they work.
I am so greatful for those who have gone before. Those who were willing to make the big change and settle this vast continent we live on. It started with such a small group, but look what it has become. When the Colonists saw that England was making things unbearable for them, they took up arms and fought for the things they knew were right. The costs were high, the chances they took many, but they put their shoulders to the wheel and did what had to be done.
I remember so well how the County rallied when the bombs fell on Pearl Harbor on Dec 7, 1941.
Only those of us who lived during those times know just how remarkable it was to see men go to the recruiting offices and sign up to serve. How the women were quick to fill the vancancies of the many plants that retooled to do War Work. Women became machanics, welders, riviters and so many other things. There were those who learned to fly and faried planes all over the country, even overseas to the men who needed them to fight in the Pacific and Europe.
I guess we could say the wonderful spirit of any generation can rise to the call when they hear it loud and clear.
Doing Genealogy makes for an interesting time spent at this "big eyed" monster. How I hope the things I am finding will be of inspiration to all those who look upon it, and remember the love and faith that went into all we have today, because of those great family members who stived to put things in proper order for those of us who enjoy the blessings today.
I never felt so much a part of something so BIG. "No man is an island". None of us can say we got here by ourselves, and that we don't owe a great deal of gratatude to the Mothers and Fathers, Uncles, Aunts and Grandpa and Grandma's who went on before we got here. We love each other, because we know each other now. We need to know those who have made it possible for us to be here now. Sometimes I think I can smell them. The warmth of the kitchens, the laundry freshly washed and folded. The tables ladened with good things, plain, but wholesome put upon the table. Bread baking, cookies made with course grain and molasses. Johnny Cake that is far from cake, but was well received when placed on the table.
I love my refridgerator, but wonder how they managed to cut large pieces of ice for storage in the "root cellar" for use later, or when they could salvage some small piece for use in making a meal more special. Well these are but a few things that have passed through my mind. I hope I haven't bored you. I just wanted to share with you the wonderment of things that come from seeking and finding those who are my ancestors. I love them each one. I appreciate them to no end. I look forward to the day when I can meet them and thank them for all they did to make my home what it is. Without them, I don't honestly believe I would have what I have today.
So many did so much for so few. It is amazing to me. I thank God for the insight into bringing them here, and helping them get through what they had to endure so I can enjoy it today.
Written this 10 day of August 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
The No's Have It!
Well I don't mean that kind of no's. Have you ever thought about your nose? Somewhere I heard: "it is as plain as the nose on your face". Yet I can't see my nose, whether it is plain or of some interesting or grotesque makeup! This I do know, my nose has seemed to become one of the most surgically interesting parts of my anatomy.
There are noses that were ment to be in other peoples business. Then there are noses that were ment to seek out the interesting and worth knowing things about us. Of course we all know about the noses that can be elevated to show a sign of superiority. Or the turned down nose that seems to hang down in depression and loneliness. There are noses that are red either from the cold, or the heat from within caused by too much drinking of a certain beverage. Noses that sneeze, those that run, some even snort when laughter is called for. No matter what the nose, they all are important and though they aren't visible to the person wearing one above their upper lip and between there eyes, they are important.
This one of mine has become of great interest, not because it is doing anything unusual, but due to a faulty tear duct that has become clogged and refuses to respond to treatment. This eye has
run so it looks as if I am crying a good part of every day. Then there are the times if fills with the most gastly icky stuff I can hardly focus. I have nearly used up a huge box of Q-Tips and a number of boxes of Kleenex keeping things under control. None of the medications, eye drops
or dabbing has brough a successful end to the problem, no it is the Nose that must pay the price
for the weak minded left eye.
After at least 7 weeks with an Opthomologist and no relief, I have been referred to a Double E,N,T Specialist for a surgical procedure to clean out the sack that normally drains the tear duct throug proper channels and replace it with a tube directly to the nose to do the job. Thus comes my poor nose in for another of those invasive procedures that present me with a week of headaches, bloody noses and a puffed up face. Sounds like fun huh?
The Dr. was most helpful in saying the swelling would be minimal and the discoloration also. I just laughed. I remember what I looked like following the first Rhino Plasti I underwent. My two eyes looked like two balls of hamburger meat. I was blind for a week, due to swelling. The only way people could tell it was me was by looking at my hands and fingernails. How about that for a quick identification?
Well I will have to admit the other 4 times weren't all that bad. It was just that cookey nose brace I had to wear for about 5 weeks to protect the implants they had put in my nose to make it look fashionable. Did I ever tell you that I have had an original nose followed by a different look everytime they redid the "last one". Jay used to tell everyone he had five different wives and only been married once. Like they told me, plastic surgery is usually elective. We give you a chart of noses and you pick out the one you would like. With me it was "pot luck". You get what the insurance company paid for.
The first look was like a ski shoot. Nothing at the bridge, but a neat upturn on the end. They had put the inplant on the wrong end. Ninty days later I returned and they did a nice job, but it was far from what I had been born with. Apparently my body didn't think that much of it either. It absorbed the material implanted and the nose began to droop. Back again and they tried something else. Again within time the nose began to take on a weird look. Silicon had come on the market and Dr. Harcourt was really thinking about using it, but after some further study he did not think it was such a good idea to put such an untested material that close to my brain, so he went with getting bone from my face and mixing with a proven apoxy and making an
implant to reshape the nose bridge and tip. It looked find, but was not more successful with my system. The last try was in 1965. It was the most extensive of the surgeries, and I swore it would never let them have another chance. They had removed all the bone from my face they could this time. If another surgery was necessary, bone would have to be taken from my thigh, which ment double whacking. The Lord loved me. The implant has lasted. I notice it
isn't as full as once it was, but it holds my glasses up and I can still breath through it so, what the heck, who needs a "new look". One of the nostrils kept sagging so they made a splint of ex-ray film and I wore that triangle in my nose for weeks until everything set up and of course the aluminum nose brace. I was some looker. If I can find the pictures, I will put them on the blog
so you can have a good laugh.
You might pray with me that when they go in this time - for the eye - they don't find a problem that will send us back to the drawing board for a new "nose job". Believe me at 80 I don't care if I am all that attractive. Who looks at this little old fat lady anyway?
Dr. explained they use to cut along the side of the nose and go in that way, but the results were not good, and left a scar. SOOOO! This new method was developed, and it has been the most successful of all. That is not to say they have not had to repeat the procedure on some patients. I know, I know, my batting average hasn't been all that super, but then I didn't have the support team then that I have now. I am counting on you guys in blog land to pull your stings for this old girl and help her get this one under her oversized belt with ease. After all you wouldn't want me to scare Santa Claus would you?
Now you know all about noses. They don't get in the way, block our vision or slow us down. Take them or leave them, we would have a difficult time getting along without them. Just remember on Grandma it is the most expensive part of her body, and must be protected at all cost. You see, if it should get broken, it can't be fixed. Thats one of the rules. Once the bone it started with, it is not replaceable. There may be "flathead" indians, but who in the world has ever heard of or want a "flatnosed" Grandma - think about that!
Written this 4 day of August 2009
by Eileen Rosenberg - one for the nose!
There are noses that were ment to be in other peoples business. Then there are noses that were ment to seek out the interesting and worth knowing things about us. Of course we all know about the noses that can be elevated to show a sign of superiority. Or the turned down nose that seems to hang down in depression and loneliness. There are noses that are red either from the cold, or the heat from within caused by too much drinking of a certain beverage. Noses that sneeze, those that run, some even snort when laughter is called for. No matter what the nose, they all are important and though they aren't visible to the person wearing one above their upper lip and between there eyes, they are important.
This one of mine has become of great interest, not because it is doing anything unusual, but due to a faulty tear duct that has become clogged and refuses to respond to treatment. This eye has
run so it looks as if I am crying a good part of every day. Then there are the times if fills with the most gastly icky stuff I can hardly focus. I have nearly used up a huge box of Q-Tips and a number of boxes of Kleenex keeping things under control. None of the medications, eye drops
or dabbing has brough a successful end to the problem, no it is the Nose that must pay the price
for the weak minded left eye.
After at least 7 weeks with an Opthomologist and no relief, I have been referred to a Double E,N,T Specialist for a surgical procedure to clean out the sack that normally drains the tear duct throug proper channels and replace it with a tube directly to the nose to do the job. Thus comes my poor nose in for another of those invasive procedures that present me with a week of headaches, bloody noses and a puffed up face. Sounds like fun huh?
The Dr. was most helpful in saying the swelling would be minimal and the discoloration also. I just laughed. I remember what I looked like following the first Rhino Plasti I underwent. My two eyes looked like two balls of hamburger meat. I was blind for a week, due to swelling. The only way people could tell it was me was by looking at my hands and fingernails. How about that for a quick identification?
Well I will have to admit the other 4 times weren't all that bad. It was just that cookey nose brace I had to wear for about 5 weeks to protect the implants they had put in my nose to make it look fashionable. Did I ever tell you that I have had an original nose followed by a different look everytime they redid the "last one". Jay used to tell everyone he had five different wives and only been married once. Like they told me, plastic surgery is usually elective. We give you a chart of noses and you pick out the one you would like. With me it was "pot luck". You get what the insurance company paid for.
The first look was like a ski shoot. Nothing at the bridge, but a neat upturn on the end. They had put the inplant on the wrong end. Ninty days later I returned and they did a nice job, but it was far from what I had been born with. Apparently my body didn't think that much of it either. It absorbed the material implanted and the nose began to droop. Back again and they tried something else. Again within time the nose began to take on a weird look. Silicon had come on the market and Dr. Harcourt was really thinking about using it, but after some further study he did not think it was such a good idea to put such an untested material that close to my brain, so he went with getting bone from my face and mixing with a proven apoxy and making an
implant to reshape the nose bridge and tip. It looked find, but was not more successful with my system. The last try was in 1965. It was the most extensive of the surgeries, and I swore it would never let them have another chance. They had removed all the bone from my face they could this time. If another surgery was necessary, bone would have to be taken from my thigh, which ment double whacking. The Lord loved me. The implant has lasted. I notice it
isn't as full as once it was, but it holds my glasses up and I can still breath through it so, what the heck, who needs a "new look". One of the nostrils kept sagging so they made a splint of ex-ray film and I wore that triangle in my nose for weeks until everything set up and of course the aluminum nose brace. I was some looker. If I can find the pictures, I will put them on the blog
so you can have a good laugh.
You might pray with me that when they go in this time - for the eye - they don't find a problem that will send us back to the drawing board for a new "nose job". Believe me at 80 I don't care if I am all that attractive. Who looks at this little old fat lady anyway?
Dr. explained they use to cut along the side of the nose and go in that way, but the results were not good, and left a scar. SOOOO! This new method was developed, and it has been the most successful of all. That is not to say they have not had to repeat the procedure on some patients. I know, I know, my batting average hasn't been all that super, but then I didn't have the support team then that I have now. I am counting on you guys in blog land to pull your stings for this old girl and help her get this one under her oversized belt with ease. After all you wouldn't want me to scare Santa Claus would you?
Now you know all about noses. They don't get in the way, block our vision or slow us down. Take them or leave them, we would have a difficult time getting along without them. Just remember on Grandma it is the most expensive part of her body, and must be protected at all cost. You see, if it should get broken, it can't be fixed. Thats one of the rules. Once the bone it started with, it is not replaceable. There may be "flathead" indians, but who in the world has ever heard of or want a "flatnosed" Grandma - think about that!
Written this 4 day of August 2009
by Eileen Rosenberg - one for the nose!
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