A HOLIDAY VISIT WITH INA -- DAY 26

Your box came the day after Christmas and so prolonged it for us. I gathered them all around and all enjoyed the beautifully wrapped gifts and the verses on them. The holly decorations were so lovely, too. Shirley and Henry immediately began to further embellish the house with them. They took down the big etching over the mantel and hung the large cluster you made there and used the silvered branches over the other two. What a lot of time you must have spent on them and how beautiful they are. We reserved some and the ball sprays for our Sunday dinner decorations. We made a lovely centerpiece of holly and the sprays and candles and dined in state with the best cloth, dishes, etc., all by candle light. So don’t feel bad that yours didn’t get here for Christmas as we had more opportunity to enjoy it. As I said it just prolonged our festivities, really. Ina Dobson to her son Vance, Christmas 1936
 
Thank goodness for candles, greenery, poinsettias and such which help extend the season as the symbols of Christmas fade away. KW

A HOLIDAY VISIT WITH INA -- INTRO

“Well, “they say” you don’t have to answer a Christmas card – see – till next Christmas. It is more in the nature of a gift, so to speak, though I’ve always hated not to do so. My way is to get a supply of New Year cards; then if I’m caught a few lines on the card fixes it or the card alone, see! I sent Portfors a Christmas card this year and they hadn’t sent me one so Nina called me up and we had a nice chat.” – Ina Dobson, Christmas 1934 *

Ina Dobson, c. 1940

I had planned to post a fictional Christmas adventure about my Grandmother Ina and her sister Bertha, the “Good Witches of Gilbert,” as an advent story. However, as October became November, I hadn’t finished the story, and worse than that, I hadn’t even started to make the props. I haven’t abandoned my story, but this year I need Ina to be herself instead of a character of my imagination. So, I have drawn from family correspondence once again to celebrate the warmth of an understated, old-fashioned Christmas.

Perhaps you'll recognize the words, the stories, and the pictures from previous posts, but that doesn’t matter. After all, Christmas means tradition, even though our traditions constantly change. To add to my inspiration, this year I purchased packets of vintage Christmas cards which I have scanned for sharing. I’m imagining that Ina sits down every day to review her collection of Christmas cards, old and new. The sentiments warm her heart as she ponders the deeper meaning of Christmas and the importance of family and friends.

I invite you to come back daily until Christmas Day to sit a minute or two with Ina. Perhaps you’ll bring a cup of tea or coffee (or hot chocolate) and maybe a Christmas cookie (be sure not to drop crumbs on your keyboard) as Ina shares memories and reviews a collection of mid-century Christmas cards. KW

*My paternal grandmother Ina Dickson Dobson refers to my maternal grandmother, Nina Saunders Portfors. The two families – the Dobsons and the Sanders (Saunders) – became acquainted when both farmed near Troy, Idaho, in the 1890s. But in 1934 when Grandma Ina wrote this, my mother was married to Fairly Walrath. KW

[The photo above was taken at Christmastime in 1935. Back row left are Fairly and Dorothy Portfors Walrath (my mother) and Dorothy's father, Grandpa C. O. (Charlie) Portfors. Seated in front of them are Grandma Nina Portfors holding Farrol Joan Walrath and to Grandma's left is Harriet Lee Walrath. To continue the back row: Sara and Francis Albert Portfors; Harry Lee Walrath; and Margaret and Ted Walrath. In front is Naomi Walrath holding Margot Walrath. Photo taken by Paul Seiffert at the home of Harry and Naomi Walrath.]

VINTAGE CHRISTMAS CARDS

Longtime readers may remember that I had in my possession a collection of Christmas cards that my dad received in 1946.

“Had?” you ask. “Past tense?”

Unfortunately, yes. This is the first I’ve written about the loss of these cards, which happened about five years ago.

Why my dad kept those cards, I don’t know. I had toyed with tossing them for years. About 1990, an antique dealer told me they had no value but suggested that since they had been saved for 45 years, I might just as well continue to save them. I did, and twenty years later, as I took more interest in mid-century ephemera, I finally saw them as wonderful. I carried them from the farmhouse to town so that I could scan them. I then posted the images on this blog and have continued to draw from that folder to illustrate holiday posts.

After Christmas, I put the two boxes of cards in a crate of items to go back to the farm. The crate was in the way in the house, so I took it to the garage and set it near the pick-up, which is also where we keep the recycling.

“Bad idea to leave it here,” the inner voice said, but it was cold and I was in a hurry. I left it there -- and forgot all about it.

A week later Mike announced he had loaded the recycling and was heading out to the bins. I had a vague feeling that I should be concerned about something. “Go look at the stuff,” said the inner voice, but I ignored it. After all, Mike knows recycling when he sees it, right?

Some days afterward, I saw that the crate designated for the farm was empty and knew that the contents had gone to recycling. At first I couldn’t remember what all had been in it, but eventually I thought about the cards. I was heartsick – and angry. Discussion ensued, but I was angriest with myself. I had been careless about preserving something I treasured and had then failed to follow my intuition.

I know. In the scheme of things this was a small loss, especially when I nearly tossed them years ago. It took a while for me to see that those particular cards were special only because it was fun to see familiar names and the nice messages they wrote to my dad, but the scanned images, used over and over, were becoming stale. So, I decided if I enjoy sharing these old-fashioned images as part of my Christmas, why not buy some? Vintage cards can be found on Etsy, for instance. I’ve already made a start to expand my collection.

“Things happen, Mom,” said son Clint. (The cards were tossed.)

“Stuff’s out there,” said daughter Hallie. (You can find most anything online.) KW

[The photos here were taken at the farm during our holiday stay.]

CHRISTMAS 2016 -- GET READY

The Dolls' Christmas, 2015

It happens every year. The holiday season comes and goes and leaves me wondering what happened. This year was no different, but fortunately I have instigated a few mind tricks to help me get through the post-holiday blahs.

1.    First, during December I imagine my Grandma Ina’s 1930’s Christmas. The purpose of her understated celebration, which she related to my dad in her letters, helps to keep me grounded. She loved Christmas because it helped to pass the time in the winter months. What we gain from Christmas in terms of memories and gifts should carry us through the dark months.

2.    Before Christmas I order a few things so that I look forward to the mail. This year I ordered vintage Christmas cards from Etsy sellers, a few copies of “Farm Journal and Farmer’s Wife,” from the early ‘40s, a cookbook (America’s Best Lost Recipes), and machine embroidery fashions for Barbie.

3.    Missing the decorations? Candles provide a warm glow on dark evenings. I deem snowmen appropriate to bridge the gap between Christmas and the welcoming of the first crocus.

4.    Most of all, Christmas is coming, and we have less than a year to get ready. I give myself permission to spend January pursuing my list of Christmas goals and projects, some of which have been unfinished for years.

I’ll get tired of it before long. The world will begin to warm up. Things will happen, and I’ll move gently along to other things.

By the way, 2016 is a leap year and so was 1932. So, the 1932 calendar correlates to the 2016 calendar. If I write about Ina next December, the year will be 1932. Christmas Day will fall on Sunday.

Shirley Ann models a shirt created from a newborn onesie

The dolls posing for this post celebrated Christmas on top of the storage cabinet in the sewing room. The shirt that "Shirley Ann, American Farm Girl," is wearing is actually an altered newborn onesie I purchased at Walmart on clearance for 79 cents. At this point its another unfinished item, my excuse being that I'm out of green thread. It could be that Annabell the Build-a-Bear would wear that shirt better than the doll. KW

CHRISTMAS EVE 2015 -- A REALTIME ADVENTURE

UPS truck stuck in lane

Mike and I have been in town all month. I haven’t done a thing toward preparing the farmhouse, the one in 2015, for Christmas. As I write this, a new slimline “pencil” tree, unlit, sits in the livingroom. Tonight maybe I’ll pretend I’m Ina and decorate my tree. Or maybe I’m too tired. Need a little Christmas? Light candles.

Neighbor Pete comes to the rescue with his old tractor

Anyway, Mike and I dined with Ken and Ginny at Meriwether’s in the Lewiston Red Lion last night. We had hoped to find some Christmas atmosphere, but the main diningroom was surprisingly un-Christmas-like – not so much as a wreath, a tree, or a table decoration in view. The meal and the associations were great, and that’s what’s important.

So, today – Christmas Eve – we decided to load up and head out to the farm – the same place where Ina and Jack lived in 1931.

Gilbert Grade was slick. As we arrived on top, Mike commented that his knuckles were white. Angling back over to our place, we could see the road had been plowed prior to the last snowstorm and someone had driven in as far as the neighbor’s. Fearing what might lie ahead, we stopped and chained up above Plank’s Pitch. It was hard on Mike who feels the cold in his hands these days, but he got it done.

We got as far as mid-lane – just past the “pine-apple” grove – before the Dakota bogged down in the snow. We let the dogs out, gathered a few things, and set out for the house on foot.

Pulling truck onto road backwards

Just then I heard the approach of a vehicle – UPS. “No!” I yelled; “go back.” Mike waved frantically. The driver stopped where the gate posts are. We feared it was too late, but the driver had yet to realize his plight. Mike walked down and accepted the package, and the driver returned to his truck. He tried to back out, but it was useless. Mike and I kept walking toward the house, and the poor guy may have thought we were abandoning him, but we had to get tools in order to help him.

Tractor stalls on Plank's Pitch

Mike grabbed shovels and headed back while I put on waterproof boots and texted Hallie about this remarkable situation. (Hey! I have my priorities.) She reminded me to take pictures, so when I got to the Dakota, I crawled in and found the camera, taking the pictures you see here.

Pete plows Plank's driveway for turn-around

Mike and the UPS guy were unable to free the truck, so the driver asked if we knew someone with a tractor. Yes, said Mike, and sent me to call Neighbor Pete. We try not to bother Pete, but this was different. However, I had to walk back to the farmyard and higher ground in order for the call to go through.

"Give 'er hell! You can do it! But it didn't happen.

“Oh!” said Pete’s wife, “I’ll send Pete right over with the tractor.” I thought she sounded rather happy about it, like maybe she welcomed this opportunity for Pete to get out of the house. And by the time I trudged back down to the culvert, Pete and the tractor were in sight.

Discussion ensued among the menfolk. Pete wasn’t sure the old tractor was equal to the job, but long story short, he pulled the UPS truck all the way up Plank’s Pitch.

The driver said he had no difficulties prior to driving our road, but other roads here receive better winter maintenance. He said he’d had enough and was going back to town without attempting further deliveries.

Old tractor pulls UPS truck -- "I think I can."

As Pete and the UPS truck disappeared at the top of the Pitch, we turned to walk back to the farmhouse. Mike said he was all for leaving and going back to town. I would have been fine with that, but just then the tractor reappeared, and Pete insisted on plowing the lane for us, which he did.

"I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could."

The problem is compounded by soft ground under the snow. It’s supposed to turn cold, and Mike and Pete agreed that it would be better if it did. Meanwhile, anyone coming here can probably get in – if it doesn’t snow again. Might be slick, though. KW