DAY 12 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

We are “about as usual,” (blessed phrase!). We sleep late and “eat hearty.” – Ina

It was the era when most women took pride in housekeeping and the rural home arts, and Ina was no exception. She kept a tidy house with a place for everything and everything in its place. If an item didn’t fit in, she tossed it out. Books and magazines were handed on and didn’t accumulate. She had no patience with dirt and dust, and that’s saying something in the farm environment.

After her regular chores – feeding the chickens, doing the breakfast dishes, and some light housekeeping, Shirley settled down to work on the doll she was making for Sadie. She had drawn a pattern and cut it from muslin yesterday, so she was ready to proceed with the sewing. First, she embroidered an adorable baby face. Should the eyes be open or closed? Shirley opted for open eyes and a little bow mouth.

Meanwhile, Ina checked her store of preserves to see what they could spare as gifts. She would give June a jar of huckleberry jam and send a jar of strawberry preserves to Earle and Bernice. They had harvested plenty of navy beans, so she would share with various ones of the community. And she would send some popcorn to daughter Pearl in Alberta. Jack was proud of the popcorn he grew.

Then it was time to fix dinner. The noon meal was the main one of the day, and I guess they ate heartily of the meat, vegetables, and fruits that Ina put up. Today they had bean soup, bread, cheese, and apple wedges.

Shirley quickly washed the dishes and got right back to her handwork. She was absorbed in the work of stitching by hand, backstitching with precision as Ina and Aunt Bertha had taught her. With short lengths of thread and taking the tiniest of stitches, she worked around the doll’s shape, leaving an open place at the top of her head for stuffing.

Jack returned from the mailbox this afternoon with two Christmas cards from Iowa relatives. “So early?” observed Ina in a tone something like disapproval. As sunlight began to wane, Jack opened the cards and Ina read the enclosed letters aloud while Shirley continued her stitching. When it was too dark to continue sewing, Shirley carefully put the unfinished doll into a little sewing basket and helped Ina prepare the house for the evening.

[In real time, yesterday’s high was 60 while the low this morning was 50. Such strange, unseasonable weather. It was breezy yesterday, but the predicted high winds did not develop here and we’ve had only a little rain, compared to the west (wet) side of the state where they experience devastating floods.] KW  

DAY 11 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

We’ve been very busy making so many things but it has been fun to see what we could do without money. – Shirley

“Mama,” exclaimed Shirley suddenly, startling Ina who was deep in thought, “let’s make a doll for Sadie. It would be such fun and even more fun to see her enjoy it while she’s here.”

Shirley thought she had presented an excellent idea and was disappointed at Ina’s long pause.

“I thought we were going to make an apron,” answered Ina at last.

Now it was Shirley’s turn to pause thoughtfully in order to form a diplomatic reply. One had to take care in standing up to one’s mother. So, she pointed out that while serviceable, an apron wouldn’t be much fun for a four-year-old. And since no one could afford a store-bought doll this year, why not make one?

The real Shirley Dobson, c. 1928

“But Ethel will be here in just a week. The time grows short,” Ina reasoned.

“Oh, but Mama,” Shirley pleaded, “I can make a doll in a few hours, and we only have to make the doll. If we don’t have time to make clothes, we can do that after Christmas while Sadie watches.”

“Yes, that’s so,” said Ina, finally catching Shirley’s enthusiasm. So, together they dove headfirst into the scrap box in that cubby under the stairway and came up with a piece of muslin, perhaps a piece of an old dish towel or apron, that was just right for a small doll.” Shirley set to work that very afternoon, drawing a pattern on the order of a cloth doll she had seen in a magazine and carefully cutting the muslin.

And now, we can’t write more because we’re busy. KW

[In real time, we’ve had record-setting warm temps – officially 65 in the Valley on Dec. 10. A farmhouse Christmas will be possible this year for sure. The imaginary family of 1930 is waiting for us.]

DAY 10 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 

[I can just hear you asking, “Is anything ever going to happen in this story?” To which I say, maybe not. Perhaps this December is a time of quiet contemplation. And if you’re like Mike, you wonder where fiction leaves off and fact begins.]

Jack gave a sound that was half sigh, half groan as he refolded the newspaper and tossed it onto the table. The news out of Washington D.C. was terrible, and he had just finished reading dire predictions for the years ahead. The depression would deepen, they said. Across societal lines, men would be without work. Many had lost their savings. The good thing, thought Jack to himself, was that here on the farm, they would at least have enough to eat.

Meanwhile, thought Jack, womenfolk everywhere were preparing for Christmas as if nothing had changed from the more prosperous years, but he was on board with Ina’s plans. As he saw it, they needed the diversion. Ina was capable of making somethings out of nothings, and it was not more than they could afford to have a Christmas Eve meal and celebration with friends and family.

And on that note, Jack took himself out to the barn. KW

[In real time, it's a balmy 61 here today. Wind is predicted but hasn't happened yet.]

DAY 9 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

Ina pulled packing boxes saved from last year from the “cubby” under the stairs. Let’s see – she would need four altogether – no, three. She sat down at the dining room table and commenced to think of her children, the gifts she would give them, and the boxes she would pack:

1)  The first box would go to eldest daughter Pearl who farmed with her husband, Albert Sanders, in northern Alberta near Stettler. Their one child, Stanley, was now ten years old and outgrowing toys. She would have to think about what she could send to Stanley. And while Ina didn’t believe in mailing until the week before Christmas despite the pleas of the Post Office, Pearl’s box had to be mailed early owing to the distance.

2)  Daughter Myrtle, who preferred to be called Lynn, lived in Portland where she worked as a photographer’s assistant. She would be home for Christmas. No need to send a box.

3)  Son Earle and his wife Bernice lived in Idaho Falls where he taught shop and mathematics at the junior high. They came home in the summer so that Earle could help Jack with the farm work and harvest. They needed him then, and Ina was grateful, but it meant that they didn’t come home for Christmas. It was just as well, Ina thought to herself. Winter travel over the mountains was treacherous.

4)  Ethel is the fourth child. Her husband was a G-man, a newly coined title for a federal agent, and they moved wherever his assignments took them. This year, as we pretend, Ethel and her daughter Sadie would spend Christmas on the farm, and Ina paused to reflect on what a joy that would be.

5)  Since 1926, son Vance had been a private piano teacher in Raymond, WA, where he also played with jazz ensembles in nightclubs. He had not been home for Christmas since 1925 and would not be home this year either. But he would send a box of wonderfully creative gifts and holiday decorations which added so much to their Christmas, and Ina would reciprocate as well as she could.

6)  The last child, Shirley, was ever Ina’s “righthand man.” She was cheerful and energetic as she helped with chores, and Ina would supply a few of Shirley’s “wants” to make her Christmas special.

So, just three boxes would do it, and Ina lined them up against the wall in the dining room plus one extra to collect the gifts for those who would be home. She would keep Shirley’s surprises in the bottom drawer of her chest. Yes! Her Christmas giving was shaping up nicely. KW

DAY 8 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

The first week of December has slipped away, and a new week begins. Technically, it was washday again, but Ina had already decided to keep it light and just rinse out a few “unmentionables” so that she and Shirley could get on with Christmas doings.

Frankly, Jack was relieved to be released from laundry duty. It was time to deliver a tree to the schoolhouse, so he went up the hill to June and Bertha’s house where Bertha and her daughters were busy doing a full load of laundry. Bertha was reluctant to have June leave, but he promised to scrub the floor when he returned. After all, everyone wanted to support the school, which was the heart of the community.

So off went Jack and June to search for a nice 7- or 8-foot tree. It must not be too lopsided nor too large at the base. They found one that was just a little flat-sided, but they deemed it good and carried it to the school.

The teacher, Miss Dorothy Johnson, was glad to see the tree coming and hurried the students through their lessons. Jack and June found the makeshift wooden stand used from year to year and nailed it to the base of the tree. Then they set it up in the corner near Miss Johnson’s desk and made sure it was stable before they left.

That afternoon, Miss Johnson had the older students cut strips of red and green construction paper and then she asked them to help the younger students make paper chains to decorate the tree. The youngest children had to be watched closely to keep them from nibbling the paste.

It was a fun day at school, and the children were glad of this diversion from their studies. Miss Johnson was glad, too. The children were distracted these December days before Christmas vacation.

[I can only imagine what school was like at the one-room schoolhouse prior to rural electrification, which was still in the future. At any rate, there were no strings of lights on the tree. It would have been dangerous to burn candles, but did they do it?]

“Oh!” said Ina that afternoon as Jack reported on setting up the tree at the schoolhouse, “that reminds me. I must order candles for the tree. We burned them down to nubs last year.” KW

DAY 7 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 

Here we are at Sunday, and Ina was busy as soon as she arose. While Shirley washed the dishes after the customary breakfast, Ina prepared a pot roast for Sunday dinner and slipped it into the oven. Then she dressed in her Sunday best for Sunday school at the church.

The congregation at the little Methodist church had dwindled over the years. Many of the early homesteaders had sold out and moved on. Farms were now larger and there were fewer families. With just a small congregation, a circuit minister was assigned to visit once a month, weather permitting. But Ina and Bertha believed in nurturing the Christian spirit, so they took turns presenting a Sunday school lesson when the minister was absent.

Today, Ina presented an early Christmas lesson on the Old Testament prophecies of the Christ child’s birth. It was an inspiring message and the congregation was attentive as Ina spoke. They closed by singing, “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.”

After the dinner dishes were finished, the three of them pursued quiet activities. Jack napped before the fireplace while Shirley and Ina wrote letters and addressed Christmas cards. In the evening, Shirley tuned the radio to a Portland station and they enjoyed listening to programs. Radio -- the coming thing! They marveled at the technology that allowed them to hear voices and music from far-away places. KW

DAY 6 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 

All night long the wind had whistled and howled around the house, and they felt the effects of the chill in the house as well, but the day was bright and beautiful even though breezy.

Shirley tried a new recipe for gingersnaps, but they all agreed that Ina’s old family recipe handed down from her mother was still best.

The operator at the Western Union office called mid-morning to read a telegram from Ethel providing the details of her pending visit. She briefly explained that Ernest would be on assignment during Christmas, so she and Sadie would come to the farm for Christmas and an indefinite stay. They would arrive by train from Spokane on the 18^th.

“The 18^th! That’s less than two weeks away,” exclaimed Ina, suddenly startled again by the rapid passage of time.

Hearing the rising panic in her mother’s voice, Shirley hastened to reassure her. “Never mind, Mama,” she said. “Let’s look at your lists and take first things first. After all, we don’t have to finish everything before Ethel arrives. She would love to help us.”

So, they sat down and revised the lists. They could postpone Christmas baking until Ethel and Sadie were there. Ethel was a good cook and always brought new recipes when she came. But they must finish Sadie’s Christmas presents, and they were still undecided on just what to make. As for decorating, Ina did not allow it until Christmas Eve. 

“So you see, Mama, it’s not so much. We can do it!” KW

DAY 5 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 
The Christmas doings were women’s work as far as Jack was concerned. For the most part, he stayed out of the way. Still, several important tasks were entrusted to him – carrying mail to and from the mailbox, including outgoing and incoming packages, and cutting the Christmas tree. Last summer, he had spotted a nice little fir tree out on the canyon rim, but he now had second thoughts. He wanted to take Sadie with him when he cut the tree, and the canyon rim was too far for a little girl to walk.

So, after a hearty lunch, Jack set off to the draw on the northern boundary of his property with his faithful companion, “Dick the Dog,” at his side. Before long he spotted a young fir that would make a perfect Christmas tree to set on the library table. It would still be a good stretch of the legs for little Sadie, and he hoped Ethel would allow her to go. He smiled to himself as he thought of Sadie.

Jack & June -- which is which?

Having accomplished the task at hand, Jack walked up Plank’s Pitch to the mailbox. He pocketed the mail – no Christmas cards or packages yet – and walked home by way of June and Bertha’s house where he stopped in to warm himself and chat a spell with his twin brother and family. The coffee was good and so were the gingersnaps, which tasted just like Ina’s. He and June made plans to cut a tree for the schoolhouse next week, and then he ambled on home. KW

DAY 4 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 

[Author's note: Please understand that this story is based on life in a remote rural farmhouse. As family history, it may or may not be true. I call it fractured family history. To continue:]

After a light supper of beef vegetable soup and bread, the three of them – Jack, Ina, and Shirley – sat reading under the Aladin lamp at the dining room table. Shirley was delighted to discover the next installment of a serialized novella she had been following in the most recent batch of shared publications. Ina was pondering an inspirational article in the Christian Herald, and Jack was reading political opinions in an outdated newspaper. Just then the jangling telephone startled them, and Shirley, being closest, rose quickly to answer it. 

“Shirley,” she heard her sister Ethel say, “let me talk to Mama.” 

Ina quickly took the receiver and stepped up to the mouthpiece while simultaneously turning over the three-minute egg timer that she kept near the telephone to time long-distance calls. 

“Mama,” Ina heard Ethel say, “Ernest . . . on assignment during Christmas.  . . . Sadie and I . . . to the farm for Christmas.” 

Ina could barely hear Ethel for the static on the line. “Yes, do come,” she shouted into the mouthpiece.

“What, Mama?” answered Ethel. “I can’t hear you.” 

Further communication being impossible, they each rang off. Ina had no idea when Ethel would arrive, but it was no matter. Ethel would make her plans known in some way. For the time being, it was enough to know that Ethel and Sadie would be home for Christmas. She and Shirley were both too excited to sleep, and while Jack said little, he was pleased, too. Ethel was always a lively addition to the household, and four-year-old granddaughter Sadie was the delight of their hearts. Sadie’s presence would make this Christmas.  

Ethel with her daughter Shirley Jean

[Ethel and Ernest Robinson had one child, a daughter named Shirley Jean after their respective sisters. However, I call her Sadie in my story because apparently two Shirleys in one blog is confusing, even if one is Shirley Jean. Even back in the day, the family would call her S.J. to avoid confusion. The real Shirley Jean, my cousin, was born in 1926 and passed away in 1996.]

DAY 3 – A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 

We continue our imaginary December visit at Ina’s farmhouse in 1930.

It was still cold but brighter than the previous day. Ina sat in the dining room mending by the light of the north window. Sensing her mother’s pensive mood, Shirley retrieved her Aunt Ida’s wonderful reminiscences of their first Christmas here at Gilbert, Idaho. [Ida Dickson Patchen was Ina’s sister, six years older.]

I think the best time I ever had working for that especial time was that very first Christmas at Gilbert. Those little evergreens inspired me to attempt something out of nothing. Our little sister Mabel helped me, and we put in all those long, long afternoons and evenings that otherwise would have hung heavy on our hands doing things for the little folks. Remember how it surprised you and Bertha and how after we had come and gone tramping through the snow on Christmas Eve, Jack had you light the lamp again and together you inspected our handiwork. The way you four Dobsons looked when we presented our trees was pay in plenty.

As Shirley read the letter aloud, Ina’s thoughts drifted to those first homesteading days. You see, when she and Jack came to this ridge in 1895 and ‘96, they weren’t alone. June and Bertha, her parents, her brothers Ben and Frank, and her sister Ida and her husband Ed Patchen took adjoining homesteads. After the obligatory five years, Ed, Pa, and Frank sold out and moved to Drain, Oregon. Even though Bertha and June had remained, as did Ben, the departure of Ma, Pa, and Ida constituted a blow to Ina’s support system. She had felt abandoned.

Sometimes memories of past Christmases are bittersweet, but Ina knew all of this was in the past and there was no use to think about it. So, she engaged Shirley in conversation about the Christmas Eve dinner they would provide for family and friends. We must not live in the past. The present has need of us. KW

DAY 2 -- A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

Jack is honest, hardworking, ambitious, independent, public-spirited. Wanted to carve his own way and not work for someone else, wanted his sons to do likewise, and never wanted his daughters to work for others. He’s always been strictly decent, does not believe in “filthy communication.” -- Ina Dobson

Remember – We’re imagining it’s December 1930 at a farmhouse on Russell Ridge in remote central Idaho, observing Christmas preparations with my paternal grandmother, Ina Dobson (1870-1957).

It had turned cold. The fog rose up from the river and settled on the ridge. Ina could barely make out the barn. The day was dark and dreary – “a dull day,” as she called it, and as Shirley ironed away by the cookstove, Ina’s thoughts drifted back over the years. Christmas is a nostalgic time, and sometimes memories rest uneasily.

She and Jack (Julian) had married in a double ceremony with her sister Bertha and Jack’s twin brother Junius on Christmas Day, 1891. It was a small affair held at her parents’ home. A few neighbors dropped in to wish them well and have a piece of Ma’s pork cake.

Actually, their marriage was not a love match. Circumstances had brought them together, and it seemed natural that they should marry. Pa was anxious that she and Bertha should marry and form their own households, so their marriages were arranged. Ina had understood the situation and supported Jack’s goal of owning his own land and being his own man, made possible when the reservation opened in 1895.

So, she and Jack had worked together to establish a family, prove up on the land, and make a working farm. She had done her part and had no regrets. They had known from the beginning that it wouldn’t make them rich. It was subsistence living but a good life nevertheless.

In 1930, Ina was 60 and Jack was 66. The future seemed uncertain, especially since the stock market crash the previous year and the ensuing recession. But Ina knew it was no use to think of these things. Instead, she shook herself free of her reverie and turning to the box of Christmas cards before her, she began to compose a newsy holiday letter to her aunt in Iowa. KW 

DAY 1 -- A FARMHOUSE CHRISTMAS

 

God rest ye merry, gentlemen,

Let nothing you dismay,

Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day

To save us all from Satan’s pow’r when we were gone astray

Oh tidings of comfort and joy! -- English Traditional Carol, 18th Century

Imagine it’s Monday, Dec. 1, 1930 – 95 years ago.

It was still dark outside when Ina arose at 5:30. Even though it was washday, her heart was light and her spirits bright. It was finally December, and she allowed herself the frivolity of the season.

As usual, Jack was already up and had stoked the fire in the stove, made coffee, and set pots of water heating for the washing. Ina quickly dressed and set about making breakfast – oatmeal, bacon, eggs, and toast. She always made a hearty breakfast.

The aroma of coffee and bacon had roused 20-year-old Shirley, their youngest child, who appeared in the kitchen to dress beside the stove. Soon breakfast was ready and as if on cue, Jack arrived from the barn. Some mornings breakfast was accomplished in a leisurely fashion, but not today. They ate quickly, anxious to get on with the daily chores and the washing.

Of course, washing was a physically-draining, time-consuming task, and Ina was glad that Shirley was on hand to handle the manual agitating, somewhat like churning butter. Shirley was a strong, energetic lass and also a cheerful worker. Meanwhile, Ina made the beds – top sheet on bottom, fresh sheet on top, and clean pillowcases.

As Shirley hung the last load of clothes, Jack mopped the kitchen floor with the last rinse water before he dumped it. And that was how they did.

It wasn’t a “Christmassy” day, but while she worked, Ina was preoccupied with her holiday plans. That afternoon she made list after list of holiday preparations – sewing, baking, writing, wrapping, packaging. But the truth of it was that Ina loved the exchange of gifts most of all. She had little money, but such as she had, she would give to those she loved.

Having thus organized, Ina was ready to move forward. She would take it one step at a time. She could stand all the Christmas doings. She knew she could! KW

PRELUDE TO ADVENT 2025

 On Monday, December 1, I will commence my annual advent visit with my paternal grandmother, Ina Dobson, whose farmhouse is our second home. I treasure Ina’s love for her understated celebration, which she called a “skimpy Christmas with everyone well-remembered.” I expect to post every day until Christmas, imagining holiday preparations in 1930. Interestingly, 1930 is the only year in the ‘30s when Christmas Day fell on Thursday as it does this year.

 We have a new feature on this blog. By signing up in the widget to the right, you will receive email notification of new posts. Once you sign up, I expect you will receive a request to confirm your email address.

 THANKSGIVING DAY, 1930

Ina sat in her comfortable upholstered rocking chair with her feet up on the matching footstool and a coverlet across her lap. She had been reading a magazine story about the first Thanksgiving, but at 4:00 p.m., it was already too dark to see the print. Jack’s snoring as he dozed “before the blazing fireplace” was hypnotic, and she felt herself also drifting into slumber.

The community Thanksgiving potluck at the schoolhouse was all they could have wished for in the way of a satisfying meal, and now they were content as they counted their blessings. The food had been simple but delicious – roast beef, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, homemade bread and preserves, plenty of pumpkin and mince pies, and gingerbread cookies. Ina had roasted a young chicken and also provided baked beans. What? No turkey? No, turkey wasn’t available in this community, but they had plenty of beef, chicken, and pork.

It was no secret that some in this remote farming community were struggling to get by. In silent agreement as they cleaned up after the meal, the gentle farmwives quietly bundled leftovers and handed them to those that they knew were hungry.  

The gathering had included an impromptu program. One clever farmwife gave an inspirational reading, and several of the youngsters recited Thanksgiving poems learned at school.

As the program drew to a close, several farmers with cars offered to take some of the attendees to the Thanksgiving program at the other one-room schoolhouse on Russell Ridge Road. Certain of the young people, including daughter Shirley, had piled into two cars for the five-mile trip. Ina was pleased that Shirley could get out with others of her own age. Such opportunities were infrequent.

Rousing herself, Ina reached for a calendar. Of course, she knew that Monday would be December 1, but she was startled nevertheless to realize that was only a weekend away. KW

“It’s Christmastime in the city”

  

Entrance to Wild Lights at Woodland Park Zoo, Seattle

Mike, Bess (the dog), and I are just back from visiting daughter Hallie and family in Seattle. What fun! Four-year-old Silas is quite the communicator now, and he told us all about his imaginary car, the GOI. He also has another imaginary car, a luxury sedan that he calls Innis Bursaille (spelling courtesy of Hallie). [Sorry -- no photos of imaginary cars.]

Silas with his foot resters

He also used his magni-tiles to invent “foot resters.” They worked for Silas and Hallie, but my feet were too wide for the rester. I made the mistake of bringing the foot resters close to each other and they bonded. That was temporarily upsetting for Silas, but I couldn’t help but laugh.

Silas sitting in the flower

And we did fun things! Friday evening we went to “WildLights” at the Woodland Park Zoo. We didn’t see many live animals because they are resting out of the cold now, but the lanterns and lights were spectacular and well worth taking in.

At the National Nordic Museum

The next day (Saturday), we went to Jule Fest at the National Nordic Museum. This was an outdoor craft fair, a fundraiser for the museum, and we enjoyed touring the various booths. Nick stood in line 15 minutes for ebelskivers, and Sunday morning, he made them himself for our breakfast. (Nick’s ebelskivers are excellent.)

As Bess and I walked in Hallie’s neighborhood one evening, we saw lots of Christmas lights on the houses. And Hallie also put out her Christmas lights while we were there. Silas was excited about the lights over his “bush house.” He imagined how it would be to sleep outside in his bush house, but you know how it is. That kind of thing is best experienced in imagination rather than reality.

On Sunday, we visited Swanson’s Nursery. Mike bought a small Christmas cactus for us, and I found a 2025 Christmas ornament for Silas. Our theme is woodland animals, and this year we chose a beaver. We began with a fox.

Our visit came to a close all too soon, but that’s the way it is. It just won’t go on forever, and it’s just as well. They have things to do, and so do we.

“Soon it will be Christmas Day.” KW

OUT WITH THE OLD!!

 

The pantry in disarray

The best feature of this small modular home is its walk-in pantry. Maybe the designers tossed in a good pantry as a consolation prize for the owner. When we first moved in, I just stood and stared at the bare shelves. Not only were they bare, but at that moment, I had nothing to put on them and couldn’t imagine that they would ever be full to overflowing. Of course, that bareness didn’t last and from time to time, I have to clear it out. 

After -- neat and tidy

But – cleaning the pantry is a tedious undertaking and I will procrastinate for years, but last week I decided it just had to be done. I set a card table in front of the pantry door and starting on the top shelf and moving left to right, I began the process of removing and examining each and every item. In the end, I was amazed at how it all fell into place.  

Sometimes I had to remind myself that the past is past. I don’t need to lament throwing away expired items, no matter how much they cost five years ago. I also tossed most everything that had been Milo’s, and I combined up partial packages of this and that. It didn’t seem like so much, but it surely made a big difference.

After -- even room for more goods

It was time consuming and a bit strenuous. I thought about asking a family member to help, but I decided that by working alone, I would have the freedom to change activity as needed. I worked off and on all day, but I was pleased with my efforts.  

Can you believe we’re already halfway through November? And it’s so warm! We’ve yet to have a hard freeze, and the blue aphids still swarm. Daytime highs are in the 60s and lows in the 40s. KW

A TRIBUTE TO MISS JONI WALRATH, STUDENT TEACHER

Mrs. Bonner's First Grade Class, Orofino Elementary School, 1955-56

These first-graders of 1955-56 were members of the second group of baby-boomers to commence their education at the new Orofino Elementary School. Pictured in the back row are Miss Joni Walrath (student teacher) and Mrs. Irene Bonner (teacher). As half-sisters, Joni and I (third student from left in back row) were members of the same household.

Joni majored in elementary and secondary education at the University of Idaho. Her goal was to finish in three years, and her advisor told her this could be accomplished only if there wasn’t some conflict in scheduling. As progress toward her degree was reviewed in September 1955, it was discovered that she could achieve her goal and graduate in May 1956 IF she could complete her student teaching during this first semester. It was late to make those arrangements, so she approached the Orofino School District, which would allow her to live at home. 

But – of the three first-grade teachers, only Irene Bonner was qualified to supervise a student teacher. School had already started, and I, Joni’s little sister, was a student in Mrs. Bonner’s class. Rather than move me to another class, which they feared would be traumatic for me, it was agreed they would just make the best of it. The situation was explained to me, and I was instructed to address Joni as Miss Walrath. I wasn’t obedient.

My birthday is late in August, so I was a young first-grader. Well, for whatever reason, I just didn’t get it. I was always in trouble for something. And – I never finished and turned in my work. Observing this, Joni told Mother, and Mother hastened to meet with Mrs. Bonner.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Mother asked Mrs. Bonner, who just shrugged, and Mother suggested a plan to make sure that I learned the importance of finishing my work. For every graded paper I took home, I would get a star on a chart that Mother drew. Mother continued to be closely involved with my schoolwork. Honestly, I don’t know what kind of student (let alone what kind of person) I would have become if Joni hadn’t done her student teaching in my class.

Joni graduated from U-I in May 1956. Two weeks later, she and Patrick Nuinan began 60+ years of married life. Pat passed away in 2017. Now 91, Joni resides in Meridian near her son. KW

DON’T CALL ME “DEAR”

I don’t feel old – at least not most days – but I can tell that people see me according to my calendar age. The sagging jowls and graying hair (what there is of it) give me away. And I’m amused by how people react to me.

I’ve been addressed as “miss” more than once by flustered young men who apparently don’t know how to address an older woman. I find this startling. Whatever happened to “ma’am?” Technically, I haven’t been “miss” for 50 years. You were “miss” if you weren’t married and “Mrs.” if you were. The feminist movement didn’t like this -- especially not "miss" -- and insisted on a more generic title. I remember when I was instructed to replace “Miss” and “Mrs.” with “Ms.” at my first job.

As far as the title of address for a woman of more mature years, the French have a good solution. A mature woman is “madame” regardless of marital status. Or at least, this was the case 50+ years ago. Things might have changed.

I’ve been called “dear,” even when no term of address is warranted, like when I bought stamps at the post office the other day. The clerk didn’t use any form of address for the gal in front of me, but when it was my turn, she called me “dear” three times. I’m sure she meant to be respectful of the “old lady” she was serving, but it’s still an acknowledgement of age. In my family, we use terms of endearment infrequently, so I notice it.

Perhaps my least favorite form of address is “young lady.” This is as bad as calling me “old lady.” I suspect they think they’re complimenting me, as in “you’re doing so well for your age,” but in fact, it still says they notice my age. Why should my age be a matter for attention? My money is as good as anyone’s and perhaps better than some!

But – I say nothing to these people because it’s more polite to ignore it than to speak my mind. I credit them with meaning no offense. Maybe I shouldn’t be offended, but I do think a form of address other than "ma'am" is belittling.

On a similar topic, Mike and I were loading a large bag of dog food into the car at Walmart. I steadied the cart while he shifted the bag into the GTI. For sure, it’s a little harder than it used to be. A white-haired woman approached us and asked if she could return the cart for us. The cart return was just the next stall over, but we politely accepted her offer with thanks. Once in the car, we broke into laughter. “We must really look old,” I said. But on the positive side, it was a gracious act on her part. We should be thoughtful of one another. KW

NOT WHAT IT USED TO BE

Harold Peary as The Great Gildersleeve

Halloween 2025 is history. This morning, Mike stated his disappointment that we had no trick-or-treaters. Prepared with his collection of Halloween masks, he lamented, “It’s just not what it used to be.”

 

He’s right, of course, but I had to chuckle to myself. I listened to Halloween-themed podcasts this week, and Ozzie Nelson and The Great Gildersleeve both lamented in pre-1950 radio programs that Halloween wasn’t what it used to be. Remembering the “harmless” pranks of their youth, the kids’ interest in “trick-or-treating” seemed tame to them.

And there was Halloween mischief back in the day. My dad always pulled the garbage can into the garage to avoid having to pick up the strewn refuse. Mike remembers rock-and-roll playing from a church tower, and reaching even further back in history, overturning outhouses was a thing to do.

But today, we seem to have moved on from such “tricks” – thankfully so. Looking into our street to assess the Halloween situation, it was exceptionally still – no children moved from house to house, no excited voices filled the air. The houses on either side of us were totally dark, sending a clear message – “Don’t even think about it!”  

I stopped in at the Dollar Tree yesterday, where everything is no longer a dollar, but I was pleased to note that they are devoting one aisle to craft supplies. They even had ergo crochet hooks! Stockers were frantically changing Halloween into Christmas. KW

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

 

In this photo from 1984 taken at a pre-school Halloween party, Mike carves a jack-o-lantern for 5-year-old Clinton, a.k.a. Skeletor. 

[RE]IMAGINING INA

Watching the autumn light and shadow play on the farm fields on an enchanted evening, my thoughts wandered back a century to my Grandmother Ina and how she must have lived in this house. KW

As the sun was setting and the house grew chilly, Ina pulled her old sweater more tightly around her shoulders. Another 15 minutes and she would have to light the kerosene lantern on the sconce above the wood cookstove. As it was, the north-facing kitchen was already too dark to read a recipe, but it would have to be darker yet before the kerosene lantern would make a difference.

Ina never tired of the magnificent effects that sun and shadow brought to the landscape – always something she hadn’t noticed before. But she would enjoy autumn more, Ina thought to herself, if it weren’t for the chill in the air that presaged winter. Winters were hard now, and especially hard for Jack, her husband. But – Christmas was always a bright spot for her, and it was time to get ready in earnest! What would her advent theme be this year, she wondered.

They’d had a frost mid-September, so she and Shirley, her last child at home, had put the garden to bed with the exception (maybe) of certain root vegetables. The garden and orchard had produced plentifully this past season, and the pantry shelves were filled with enough canned vegetables, fruit, and meat to see them through the winter. Just thinking of her well-stocked pantry gave Ina feelings of warm satisfaction.

While she could still see to move about the house, Ina performed all the little tasks that made their evening comfortable. She lit a little fire in the wood stove in the bedroom, just enough to take the chill off the room. She also built a fire in the fireplace and laid their nightwear on a chair in the kitchen to warm near the cookstove.

During the long dark evenings of fall / winter, Ina always looked forward to several hours of quiet evening reading, but this evening she was especially eager to tackle a fresh stack of already well-read magazines and papers sent over by a neighbor. Once her household had perused them, Ina would pass them along to the next household, adding to the stack any magazines and newspapers that had come to them from other sources. And that was how they did.

She stoked the fire in the cookstove and retrieved a jar of leftover chicken soup from the ice house to warm for their supper. Plenty of meat and vegetables remained, but she would cook more noodles and add broth and seasonings. Why was it that leftover soup was always short on broth? KW

[We had our first frost in the Valley this morning. We have yet to light a fire in the little stove.]

SUPPORT YOUR INCARCERATED “LOVED ONE”

It happens to some of us. Someone you love is incarcerated, and suddenly you have to do things you never dreamed you’d ever have to do, beginning with research to determine how you can communicate with and support your “loved one.” (The system refers to the inmates as “loved ones.” YOU love them. The system doesn’t.)

Society has all sorts of offenders, and we have consequences for them. My opinion is that prison hard time should be reserved for the worst of the lot – you know, murderers and thieves, psychopaths and sociopaths – but a large percentage of those incarcerated suffer addiction and / or mental illness. (Addiction is mental illness.) Naturally, you’re angry with your loved one for getting himself (or herself) into this mess, but if he has any support at all, you’re IT. You see his good along with his bad, and so you cherish and encourage the good.

Don’t be fooled by the resort-like atmosphere set forth by the prison website. That picture of a kitchen well-stocked with nutritious food is not reality. Don’t be taken in by the warden’s friendly grin. Don’t think that guards and staff members are caring and compassionate. Remember those prison movies where we actually have sympathy for the inmates because the warden and the guards are so heartless and corrupt? Well, those are based on fact.

The system also says that they will help your loved one by providing treatment, educational opportunities, chapel, and positive social interactions. If this is true, it doesn’t happen for everyone. Statistics show that if an inmate doesn’t have mental issues when processed into prison, he will when he is released. He will need plenty of help and encouragement, and again – you’re IT.

Don’t hesitate to make contacts within the system on behalf of your loved one. Follow your instincts. Don’t be afraid of being rebuffed. If you’re worried about your loved one, call the prison and ask questions. Document or record your calls. If the worst happens, as it did to us, you will have documentation that you served notice. 

Once incarcerated, your loved one can call you, but calls are expensive. He can message with you through the prison email system but only after you establish an account within that system. For the most part, it worked well for us, but all communication is subject to review. Nothing is private. Save any messages you receive from your loved one.

The prison experience is at least tolerable if the inmate has money in his commissary account. I think the Idaho prison system provides a blanket, towel, and slipper socks. For some reason, the prison provided these to us with Milo’s effects, and I was appalled by their worn condition. In the beginning, the prison also provides a few necessary toiletries – toothbrush, toothpaste, and soap. It’s not much. However, with money, an inmate can buy food and supplies to make life more comfortable – shoes, a pillow, a second blanket, exercise shorts, underwear, etc. Our son Milo was hypoglycemic and needed snacks to augment his meals, which tells you that the average man is not provided enough food. He bought a hot pot to warm ramen soup and make tea, and he also bought a small fan – cheap goods sold at a premium.

The corrections system in our country breaks those who come into it. It not only penalizes offenders but also their families. The concept of the “debtors’ prison” is alive and well in our country. Many of the incarcerated are poor to begin with, and a family that loses its breadwinner is at risk of homelessness. As incongruous as it seems to most of us, some families don’t have computers, which means they can’t visit with their loved one or supply him with commissary funds. Often an inmate has lost his family and everything he owns, which opens the door for a host of other problems, including hopelessness and homelessness. KW

[For a perspective on current prison life, I read the blog, Book of Irving.]