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.

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 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.