Showing posts with label Family History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family History. Show all posts

Sunday, November 29, 2020

GILBERT FARM WIVES, 1919

My Aunt Lynn (Myrtle Dobson) took this picture of farm wives at “the Cunningham sale” near the farming community of Gilbert, Idaho, in the summer of 1919. I suspect that the Cunninghams were selling out and leaving the area. It’s the only photo of this type that I find in my grandmother’s collection. I think it was a poignant occasion. The small farmers, many of whom were original homesteaders in the area, were selling out. Perhaps Ina foresaw that this group would not be together again. The Gilbert post office closed in 1920, meaning that their hopes for a real town had not materialized.

It doesn’t matter about the event. In fact, 100 years later, even the identities don’t matter very much. These were hardworking farm wives of the pre-electrification era. The picture speaks to me without words, as I hope it does to you.

The women are Identified as follows:

Standing, l. to r.: Mrs. Wells, Mrs. Cordell, Bertha Dobson, Ida Chandler Dickson, Ida McCain, Ina Dobson (my grandmother), Mrs. Dieterle, Mrs. Trutton, Kate Lugar (standing behind Mrs. Laura Moss), Effie Hill, Mrs. Reese, Mrs. Phar.

Seated, l. to r.: Mrs. Cunningham, Grandma Chandler, Emma Pratt, Mildred Boehm.

Bertha Dobson was my grandmother’s sister, affectionately called “Aunt” by Ina’s children. Ida Chandler Dickson, called “Ida-Ben” to distinguish her from another “Aunt Ida,” was married to Bertha and Ina’s brother, Ben Dickson.  

Mrs. Cordell and her son Jay were guests at Ina’s Christmas Eve parties, as were John and Mildred Boehm. Someone told me that Jay Cordell was interested in courting Aunt Shirley, but when Henry Shockley came along, he backed off. KW

Friday, July 3, 2020

REMEMBERING EARLE DOBSON


My uncle, Earle Dobson, was the third child of my paternal grandparents, Julian and Ina Dobson. He was born near Troy, Idaho, on May 8, 1896, and carried as a babe in arms to the homestead at Gilbert where he grew up.

I don’t know what happened to the documentation of Earle’s life, so I’m piecing the story together. A short item in the Lewiston Morning Tribune of September 22, 1922, states that Irl Dobson and Bernice Dryden were married at the Methodist Church in Lewiston and that both were students at the “normal” (Lewiston Normal School). They taught at several Idaho schools before he accepted a position as shop and mathematics teacher at the junior high in Idaho Falls around 1930. I think Bernice was also a teacher, but I’m not sure she taught in Idaho Falls. She developed health problems while still fairly young.

In their early years in Idaho Falls, Earle and Bernice, who did not have children, lived simply, perhaps in a furnished apartment or even a rooming house. During summer vacations, they returned to the farm, where Earle helped his parents and Bernice visited her family in Peck, a village near the canyon below the farm.

Picnic at Melrose, Idaho -- July 4, 1933
“You should see Earl rise early, work and manage here,” wrote Grandma Ina in July 1933. “He is good about taking us around, too,” she said. He took them to a picnic at Melrose on the Fourth of July, and also to Troy where they heard their bishop preach a good sermon. And he also “kalsomined” the living and dining rooms. He always sent his parents good gifts for Christmas and contributed financially to their welfare.

Earle and Bernice, 1943
But Earle’s participation on the farm came to an end, probably about 1940, and Ina began to look to my dad, 8 years Earle’s junior, for help. Why the change? I suspect that Grandpa Jack was failing and in need of more than summer help. Or, maybe Earle and Bernice had saved enough for a house and wanted to establish a home of their own. At any rate, they bought a house in Idaho Falls, and during the summer months, Earle was self-employed as a painting contractor.

As for hobbies, Earle was a good amateur photographer and enjoyed taking scenic pictures. In his day, the automatic settings on which I rely were non-existent. He fiddled with a light meter and set the camera accordingly, taking pride in the resulting picture. (It occurs to me that if he were here today, he would probably fiddle with a GPS.) He also loved to fish. He and Bernice lived modestly, but he did not spare expense when it came to his tools and equipment. He believed in having the best he could afford.

Grandma Ina and Uncle Earle, 1949
In 1949, Earle treated his mother Ina to a plane trip from Lewiston to Idaho Falls. It seemed fitting to him that one who had come west in a covered wagon on the Oregon Trail should experience air travel. She was 78.

Bernice became an invalid. She had arthritis and died of cortisone poisoning at the age of 58 in 1959. Her illness and passing were hard on Earle, and he retired in ill health at that time. He bought a house in Nezperce, and for several years his older sister, Myrtle, lived with him there. During that time, they enjoyed visiting the farm and relatives in Orofino.

Unfortunately, Uncle Earle was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease, and during the last five years of his life, he was unable to communicate with us. He died in October 1975 at the age of 79. KW

Photos:
1) Studio portrait of Earle, 1950s
2) Earle, Henry Shockley, Shirley Dobson Shockley, and Myrtle (Lynn) Dobson -- Henry and Shirley's wedding day, June 24, 1937, at the Gilbert farmhouse
3) Picnic at Melrose, idaho, July 4, 1933 -- Earle Dobson, Bernice Dryden Dobson, Pearl Dobson Sanders, Albert Sanders, Ina Dobson, Julian Dobson, Stanley Sanders; in front, Shirley Jean Robinson (Aunt Ethel's daughter)
4) Earle and Bernice at home in Idaho Falls, Christmas, 1943
5) Ina Dobson and her son, Earle, in Idaho Falls, September 1949


Thursday, February 27, 2020

A LUNCHEON IN OROFINO

The Walrath / Dobson Family Home, c. 1960

I grew up in post-WWII Orofino, Idaho, a sleepy rural village of 2,600 or so, serving farmers and loggers. By the time I came on the scene, the town was about 75 years old – beginning to age but reasonably well-maintained. Fast forwarding 70 years to the present, the region has fallen on hard times, and it shows.

So, when an organization to which I belong announced a luncheon in Orofino to be held in the very neighborhood which had been the center of my youth – where I lived, rode my tricycle, daily walked a block to my grandfather’s house and two blocks to school – well, I decided I didn’t want to go.

However, two things worked to change my mind. I knew my late sister Harriet would want – no, make that expect – me to attend, but mostly I realized that I’m not the only one who can’t go home again. It’s just hard for me to accept that I qualify as – well -- “older.” I should quit acting like a brat, I told myself.

So, I signed up to go. It was a beautiful day, a lovely drive along the Clearwater River, a delicious dinner, and pleasant fellowship. I’m glad I didn’t miss it. And yes, my friends asked to see my old house, so we drove by. Like I said – it was a long time ago. KW

Friday, January 10, 2020

VINTAGE RECIPES


My mother had three recipe boxes – her first, her second, and the one that was current as she moved from the family home. (Hard to believe that was almost 30 years ago.) Also, one drawer of her kitchen desk was devoted to recipes from magazines, newspapers, friends, product packaging, etc., and in the basement, she had a drawer filled with a similar collection from bygone eras. On a shelf were Grandma Portfors’ (mother’s mother) two recipe boxes. To my way of thinking, all this constituted a treasure trove. I braced myself for a fight with my older sisters.

 “What about the recipes?” I cautiously ventured.
“You can have them,” said one. The other, nodding in agreement, said, “and take the cookbooks, too.”
“You don’t want them?!” I asked in disbelief.
“No,” they answered emphatically and in unison.

Score! I came home with Mother’s (and Grandma’s) recipe boxes, her cookbooks, and a packing box full of loose recipes and pamphlets. I couldn’t believe my good fortune! Harriet and Joni had just let me walk out of the house with our family’s recipe history. (It would be 20 years before I fully recognized my love of fading vintage paper.)

The recipe boxes are still intact – sort of – but I had to work through that box of loose clippings and pamphlets. I couldn’t keep it all, but I came out of it with an interesting collection of vintage recipes.

Today, recipes abound. All you need is your smart phone and internet access, but back in the day it wasn’t so. The homemaker kept her eyes open for tasty recipes to expand her repertoire.

So, I have this bulging folder full of old recipes. Some are so faded that it’s time to salvage them if I’m going to, and I thought it would be fun to share some of them here. It may not be practical to try these recipes in your own test kitchen, but they have vintage value nevertheless.

Let’s start with Aunt Ethel’s recipe for “Chicken Fried Hot Dogs,” which my mother wrote on a recipe card. Interesting that Mother would go to the trouble to write this out. If I served this to my husband, he would think I’d taken leave of my senses, but back in the day, we weren’t so concerned about all that fat and salt, and some folks even said that a good ol’ beef wienie hit the spot. KW