Dad's Tackle Box

Find a Grave: Do You Know Where Your Ancestors Are Buried?

2011-12-27T18:14:00.000-08:00

I am on break from school, and the house is quiet. My Dearest Husband took the two older boyswith him to work. He’s a self-employedfixer-of-all-things, which is convenient when the kids need spending money(they are forced to earn it); and we usually don’t have to fight for a day offwhen he needs it. In a nutshell, I hadthe time to re-read some of my previous posts and do some writing that is notfor school. What a glorious day!

Nonetheless, some of my old posts made me sad. Brookdale Mall, which I posted about in May of 2009, has been torn down. It stood nearly vacant for some time beforeits date with the wrecking ball. Idiscovered the news as a cold shock on a Facebook post from a former classmateof mine. It was just as startling ashearing about the death of an old friend who’s been sick. You know it’s going to happen, but with selfishdesire we wish the ill to hang on with us for another hour, another day. Not for the sake of the dying, but out of ourown wish to hang on to what was.

On a more positive note, I did find a good krumkake iron on eBay, and finally gotaround to using it last weekend. I amnot the Krumkake Queen, however (yet), and half of them turned outoverdone. It is sad, but I am sure withmuch more practice I will master the art of krumkake baking and rolling! My boys are very positive that if I makethese year-round, by Christmas of 2012 they should come out a perfect shade of lightgolden brown. For now, we are allenjoying the dark ones with ice cream.

Since school has been absorbing much of my time, I have notbeen antiquing for ages! I am missing itenormously! My 5/19/09 post, InstantAncestors: $1 Each, brought to mind a worthy project that I have recently discovered& have squeezed in time for between holiday errands. It is called Find-A-Grave. I discovered this a couple of months ago whenlooking into my own family history, and was touched to find that there arepeople who volunteer to take photographs of headstones and memorials and postthem online for others who are too far away or for whatever reason cannot makeit to the graves of their family members. If you haven’t heard of this project, please check it out and support itif you can. It is very helpful for thosewho are working on family history projects. Each online memorial has a page for pictures of the grave site and theperson as well. There is enough space onthe memorial to post the obituary and link to other family members, whether ornot they are buried in the same cemetery.

Find-a-Grave

I realize this may sound a bit morbid, but this may be theonly sense of closure for some. The volunteerswho posted my own great-grandfather’s memorial (who are not by any meansrelated to me) were happy to transfer the “ownership” or maintenance of the memorialto me, and were quick to help when corrections were needed. I visited a local country cemetery last weekto take three photos as a new volunteer, and although I only found two of thethree I was looking for, I was amazed to find that one of my parents’ oldfriends from high school was buried in that cemetery. It may not sound fantastic, but I was prettysurprised to see that Virgil was buried about fifty miles away from hishometown where my mom & he went to school.

Well, I’m off to do something constructive before the guyscome home J

Five Signs You Are No Longer a Teenager

2011-08-24T11:47:00.000-07:00

http://www.flickr.com/people/jbcurio/

#5. Your Reactionto Music

You are amazed at the audacity of those “youngwhippersnappers” who listen to their music too loud.

You have children who listen to “music” that’s all just abunch of noise and screaming.

You yell “Turn that crap down!” from either end of astaircase.

You swear that music now just isn't anywhere as good as the stuff you grew up with.

#4. Class Reunions

You realize that the majority of attendees at your highschool reunion went up to their hotel rooms by nine. And it wasn’t for sex or to party. It was time for meds and sleep.

You need to look carefully into the eyes of your oldclassmates to recognize them. The eyesnever change, even though hair (if still present) and waistlines generally do.

http://www.flickr.com/people/onesec/

http://www.flickr.com/people/loungerie/

Reuniting with an old high school sweetheart in the presenceof a spouse becomes more of a topic for humor than jealousy. You're the spouse here... are ya jealous yet?

#3. Your FriendsChange

When you get a message from a long-time girlfriend asking ifyou know of anyone who might have a crib they could borrow, and you no longerrespond by “Congrats! When are you due?” Rather, the response is more typically, “Howexciting! Which one of the kids areexpecting?”

Friends email you pictures of their grandchildren and you nolonger think it a scandal that they’ve become grandparents so young.

Your friends are only available to hang out during thesummer months because they’ve decided to spend winters down south. The warmer climate is so much easier on thejoints after that last hip or knee replacement, you know.

Of course none of this applies to you, because you stillfeel like you’re a teenager. Well, onthe inside anyway. We won’t mention thatcrick in your back or your inability to sit “Indian style” (as you still callit, even though your children cringe at your inadvertent racism) on thefloor. Ha! Sit on the floor? You can’t even get up off the couch withouthanging on to something!

#2. Vacations

The “Family Vacation” no longer involves piling kids, ametal Coleman cooler and canvas tent into the back of a Country Squire orImpala station wagon (complete with wood paneling) and driving to Yellowstone. It now means that you fly (or drive your over-sizedrecreational vehicle, with compact car in-tow) to one child’s house on onecoast or the other, then meander up through two or three states to visit theother kid or two who are still too poor to afford the plane ticket to visit youat Christmas time.

You’d rather visit Branson to see all of the “good”entertainers than go to an amusement park like Six Flags.

You need to get the over-sized rental car in order to accommodateyour oxygen tanks.

“Camping” now involves a hotel room with a coffee pot.

#1. The Meaning of“Home” Has Changed

The mall, “the place to be,” where you hung out atwith friends during your teenage years has been declared condemned and torndown.

Your childhood home is now in a worse part of town than itwas when you lived there (there’s even a crack-house next door).

There is now a strip-mall, office complex or income-basedtownhome where Grandma and Grandpa’s house used to be.

You call it “going home” and your children whisper “it’stime to bring Mom and Dad back to the home” behind your back.

http://www.flickr.com/people/joebenjamin/

My Other Job(s)

2009-12-04T10:41:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid, my mom was a stay-at-home mom, or SAHM, as they are now called. Wow. I wish I could be so lucky.

My mom didn't just sit around the house, though. She was the superintendent of the Sunday School at our church, a member of the Ladies' Aid and also volunteered in the art room at my school. She sang in the choir. She went to Art School. For fun she went bowling every Thursday night with "the girls". And she always made our clothes - I don't think I had any store-bought clothing until after my dad died and she had to go back to work.

Maybe this recession has been a good thing, in a sense. People are learning to do with less, and many families are making it work on one income again. More people I know are making things at home, like clothing, gifts and even meals - go figure!

Now with one parent at home while the other is working, there might be something better than fast food on the table for dinner. And all of the family members can eat together, since no one can afford to send their teenagers out for dates at the movies.

This even means that parents might get a chance to meet their kids' friends. And even more surprising yet, their kids' boyfriends and girlfriends may even eat dinner with them - meaning they might get to know what their kids are doing and who they are hanging out with.

Of course in this day and age, most of the parents who are staying at home now are the men, rather than the women. At least that's what is the norm with the people I know. Most of the men I know who were laid off were working either in the construction trades or trucking. When no one is buying new homes, no one is building them, either.

It's been nice, in some respects, having my husband home during the day. My three teenage sons don't get away with much. In fact, most of the time they don't even bother trying anymore since they know it's not worth it to make trouble. Hubby's the mastermind at out house when it comes to devising repercussions for misbehavior.

Obviously, he's also way better than I am at lifting the heavy stuff, which means that the couch gets moved when the vacuuming is done. The heavy totes of seasonal stuff like summer clothes and beach gear get packed into the shed right away, and the winter sweaters and coats are brought in.

I can't help but feeling a little left out, though. When I get home from work, I usually end up cooking dinner (trust me - this is for the best, in our house. The guys all cook, but I like to eat before 9pm). While I cook, everyone else watches TV in the living room, because "their work is done for the day." I don't think "mom's chores" are ever done. It seems like I'm left with the chores I don't necessarily like, to boot. Not that I don't like working, but why do I need to be the one who's always running? As a friend of mine from highschool, Amy, said on her FaceBook status one day (and this should be known for all time as one of the greatest quotes, EVER): "Not only do I have to bring home the bacon, but I have to cook it, too."

We working moms still seem to get stuck with more work than our fathers did when they were the ones bringing home the bacon. I still do a lot of the stuff my mom did: the volunteering, the cooking, the coupon-shopping and the sewing. Only now I've got a full-time, sometimes 40+ hour-per-week job to fit in as well. I've also decided that I need to go back to school to finish my degree. By the time I get my BS in Business Administration that I started about 6 years ago, I will have three kids in college, if they haven't already beaten me to the graduation finish line.

In order to supplement the amount needed to cover books for school and other miscellaneous items, I've started an online store at Etsy, Rock Prairie Designs. I blog about how that's going at my other blog, Rock Prairie Designs. Trust me, I don't whine as much there as I might here or on my other blogs. It's just not professional :)

At least the work I do for my store is something I like. It's fun. Even if it ends up someday as yardsale fodder, as long as it helps me out now, cool. Stop by and check it out, and spread the word, if you like what you see. I can use all the help I can get!

I can't say I hold anything against my husband for being at home, either. He gave me an "art studio" - one day I came home and he had an area put together for my work space:

It's cozy, but just perfect. The light above the table is great.

Here's a pic of my most recent creation, finished in My New Art Studio :)

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-25T15:16:00.000-08:00

My birthday is this Saturday. Not to give away my "real" age, let's just say I've been celebrating the 28th anniversary of my birth for several years now. But that's alright, because if age is a state of mind, not body, then I guess I could say I really am going to be 28 on Saturday. Again.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/pinksherbet/ / CC BY 2.0

Photo by D. Sharon Pruitt

A co-worker brought in chocolate cupcakes today, since we all have Thursday and Friday off in honor of the Thanksgiving holiday. So even better than just getting chocolate, today's also my Friday - whoohoo! All of that almost makes up for the fact that all of the songs I grew up with can now be heard on the "oldies" radio station I often listen to at work. Not just the songs from my early childhood, but even the ones that came out when I was in highschool and college.

And I don't even have to cook the big meal for everyone tomorrow, since we will be at my sister-in-law's house for Thanksgiving. We're bringing the veggies and dip, another way I'm sliding this year. Nothing to bring that requires any effort whatsoever.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dolenga/ / CC BY 2.0

When I was growing up, Thanksgiving was a travelling event. Some years it was spent at various relatives' homes, some years it was celebrated at our house. If we hosted the event at our house, Mom took out the good silver the day before and I polished it. Mom's silver was not the cheap electroplate stuff you buy now. It was heavy, solid Sterling. It seemed to me like it took all day to make it shine. My mom would make a huge meal with all the trimmings. My sister Suzy and I helped. Suzy usually mashed the potatoes and I set the table, with Mom's good china and crystal that was kept in the antique mahogany china cabinet in the living room. We all got dressed up in our good clothes and spent the day eating and visiting with relatives. After dinner our family did the stereotypical turkey day thing: the men watched football on TV and the women cleaned up the mess and chatted over coffee and the newspaper ads for the Black Friday sales. My Uncle Stan usually had a bad turkey joke or two - generally aimed at me since my birthday was so close to the holiday. My Aunt Irene always brought a card for me, or mailed it if we didn't see each other that day. She's the only person in my family who still sends me a card on my birthday. This year's card just arrived on Monday. Good thing, too - I almost forgot!

Of course there was always pie for dessert - my mother's tradition was to buy pies at Poppin' Fresh (now known as Baker's Square). Grandma Dorothy had to have her favorite, French Silk; that was always on the menu, along with the pumpkin and the apple pies that were the other favorites. Now that I have my own family, we've assimilated some of the traditions from both my husband's side of the family and my own into what are now our family traditions.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/40389150@N06/ / CC BY 2.0

One kind of dessert that we absolutely have to have now is banana cream pie. It's my husband's favorite kind of pie and always disappears first. Since no one's claimed French Silk as their favorite, we just don't do it since my Grandma passed away several years ago. I like it, and am reminded of her every time I get it, but my personal favorite is pecan. So that is another one we have at our Thanksgiving dinners. Of course we have to have pumpkin, since that's the American tradition. Even if you don't care for pumpkin, it just doesn't seem right to skip it at Thanksgiving. Maybe it's just the smell of the pumpkin pie spices that make it so well loved: cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, allspice and cloves. It always makes a house smell warm and inviting, especially when those smells are mingled with the roasted turkey and freshly-baked dinner rolls.

Now that the "kids" on my husband's side of the family are grown and in some cases, grandparents already, our celebrations have grown beyond the confines of our small house, so we usually go to one of the sibling's houses that have enough room to fit everyone comfortably. Of course that means I don't have to cook. Some insane part of me rather misses that, though. I guess if my future grandchildren someday are going to have Thanksgiving at Grandma's house, I will have to get a bigger house!

Happy Thanksgiving!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/zedzap/ / CC BY 2.0

Church Ladies

2009-11-05T11:55:00.000-08:00

The winter clothes are officially out of storage, all our summer shorts and tee shirts are hidden away until the next heat wave begins. In Minnesota, that could be anytime between May to July. While unburying all of the winter stuff, I was rather happy to find some old but well-loved sweaters in a box that I couldn't find last year. I even have a couple that my mother gave to me several Christmases ago. Do sweaters ever really go out of style? I don't think so. At least as long as they don't have shoulder pads.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/31733144@N04/ / CC BY 2.0

I used to laugh because my mother seemed to dress so frumpy. Polyester pants with turtlenecks were her typical winter wardrobe. I hated her plaid wool skirts, worn over heavy knit opaque tights when the temperature dropped near freezing. I swore I would never go that route. I would wear denim until I was well into my eighties, and party like a rock star even if I needed a wheelchair or a walker to get around.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/playingwithpsp/ / CC BY 2.0

I think that started to change once my job required me to awaken at 5:30 am. Once you start going to bed each night around 9:30, the partying boat has all but sailed. My friends who still go to the bar don't even arrive there until then. I'm lucky if I can make it through the 9 o'clock news, which in my book is probably the best thing since sliced bread - stay up for the 10 o'clock news? no way!

As I go over my mental checklist of action items for tonight's Ladies Aid meeting at church, I realize that I am turning into my mother.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/ / CC BY 2.0

Not just a little, I mean the good, the bad and the ugly. There are a few exceptions, but they seem to grow smaller over time. The Ladies Aid is part of it, I find myself rather looking forward to going to our monthly meetings, just like my mother always did.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/10413717@N08/ / CC BY 2.0

Although tonight I really wanted to stay at home to finish crocheting the turtleneck sweater I started a few weeks ago. It will really go well with my polyester dress pants. Well, maybe they're acrylic. Whatever. They are much more comfortable than my jeans.

Speaking of Ladies Aid, that reminds me. I happen to like this website, http://www.biblegateway.com/. I've found it so helpful - anytime I need to know where a verse is, if I can't remember where to find it, this is where I go. On their homepage today, there was a little snippet that mentioned they had taken a poll:

"If you were given the chance to have dinner with someone from the Old Testament
who would you choose and why?"

I thought that was a good question. Pay them a visit if you'd like to read some of the answers, some of them were pretty good!

So who would you choose, and why?

Ice Cream For Dinner? Anyone?

2009-09-15T12:15:00.001-07:00

ice cream / gelado
Originally uploaded by lilivanili

Toasted marshmallows just don’t taste like they used to. Maybe I’m getting old. It doesn’t take forever to get them the perfect shade of brown without lighting the whole sticky mess on fire like it used to, and they seem way too sweet, now. When I was a kid I could eat the entire bag, even if it meant staying up past bedtime to get each one toasted.

I could never figure some things out, when I was a child. Like why the adults preferred sitting in the shade rather than playing in the sun on a hot summer day. Or why they didn’t find getting splashed by others while swimming at the lake or the pool as fun as I did.

Why can’t I have ice cream for dinner? I still haven’t figured that one out. Maybe I’m not so grown up, after all.

P.S. to the Last Post...

2009-08-21T14:41:00.000-07:00

Did I mention that I can smell my sister's sandalwood and patchouli incense burning when I listen to this playlist? She burned it so our mom wouldn't know what else was burning in our basement. I can even smell that incense while I'm at work - odd. I guess ghosts tend to live on in the music they listened to.

I Love Widgets!

2009-08-21T05:55:00.000-07:00

I found a really cool widget at www.playlist.com. If you want one for your blog, mine's at the bottom of my blog - go ahead & set one up. I've found it's way better than plugging in my headphones to my radio at work and hearing commercials, and of course I never remember to bring my iPod with me when I leave the house (even though it's as portable as it can get). Otherwise, just check it out. My song for this morning is 'Summertime' (Live), perfomed by Janis Joplin. Suits my mood today.

Turns out I will be going back to school - again! Even though I've got 4+ years of college under my belt and have studied all sorts of odd things: business, art, history and interior design, to name a few, I still have yet to acquire a degree in any of those subjects. I will still keep posting, although my post my be shorter, to the relief of some, I'm sure. My posts may also be a bit more sporadic, but I love to write so I know I won't give up blogging altogether.

Great-Grandma Hilda & Charlie, 1993

2009-08-09T20:24:00.001-07:00

Great-Grandma Hilda & Charlie, 1993
Originally uploaded by suzukiQ

My Grandma Hilda was my dad's mom. She always loved children, and she babysat for a lot of people. I am glad she was around long enough to see my kids.

My husband found some old photo negatives in our storage unit, so I brought them to Target and had a CD made. I'm really glad he found those, since Grandma passed away several years ago and we never took as many photos as we should have.

If you take lots of photos, you will remember things that you may have forgotten if you didn't see them often. Don't shy away from the camera - even if you don't think you photograph well. And don't give up on those people who run from the camera! If you are the one shooting, just think of it as a challenge. You will be glad you caught them on film :)

School Supplies

2009-07-30T13:23:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, an old neighbor of mine posted a picture to her Facebook wall that made me smile. Have you ever seen a picture that makes all those forgotten memories rush back in an instant? This was one of those. I saw the photo and could smell the chalk dust and hear the sound of the morning bell. I could once again feel the squish of finger-paint craftily concocted from soap shavings and tempera paint between my fingers.

In the photo stood two little girls, waiting for the bus on their first day of school. They wore plaid cotton dresses with scalloped, lace-trimmed collars and patent leather Mary Janes; large rectangles of construction paper pinned to their hand-knit wool sweaters stated their grade and teacher’s name, along with their own full names and addresses. The bus driver would know where to drop us off if we had those papers pinned to our shirts. If perchance one of us were to get off the school bus in the wrong part of town, some helpful adult would surely call our parents or get us home safely. Wow. Times really have changed, haven’t they?

Too soon, the new school year will be starting for my boys. At least I don’t have all the hassle involved with having children in elementary school anymore. Now our list of school supplies has been whittled down to the basics: note books, a few folders, 3-ring binders and pens. I no longer have to purchase 2 full 8-packs of dry-erase board markers per child, color crayons in a wide array of multicultural colors and an assortment of gadgets that will no doubt have disappeared within the first month of classes: scissors, ruler, protractor and the required daily planner (required, but available for purchase for $10 from the school store).

I think the only supplies required when I was little were a single pack of crayons, two pencils and a pencil box, an old shirt of my dad’s to cover my clothing during art class and a pair of gym shoes to change into in case I wore my Mary Janes with the slippery soles. My pencil box was an old cigar box that came from my dad. It was the perfect size, but it had a picture of Anthony with a naked Cleopatra on the inside of the lid. I was mortified to think someone might actually see that, but I don’t think anyone ever noticed.

Oh yeah – we had to bring our own paste, too. One thing the smell of paste will always remind me of is that in second grade, a little boy named Eric ate half my paste and part of my eraser, too. How bizarre is that? Who on earth would ever think to eat paste and erasers? I was so angry over that, to think that he wasn’t just taking them to use, but to eat them? I think he must have been pretty hungry. Yuck!
Do you have any funny grade-school memories to share? I want to hear them!

Our Old Green Chevy

2009-07-24T12:30:00.000-07:00

1977 Chevrolet Impala Picture by owner Matt Hubbard of Mount Airy, MD

I overheard part of a conversation the other day; what I heard made me chuckle. The man speaking was probably just a few years older than I. When he was a kid and his family would go camping, the family station wagon would be packed to the gills with kids, sleeping bags and camping gear. His mother would have to throw his food back to him from the front of the car if they went through a drive-thru for lunch, since he had exactly 2 square feet in the far back of the station wagon to squeeze into. It brought back memories of our brand-new, green 1977 Chevy Impala station wagon.

Thinking of that car reminds me of the email that I see every so often, I’m sure you have probably seen it too – the one that reminds us how lucky we are if we were born before 1980 and survived to adulthood. Funny as it is, to a certain degree it is correct. We never wore our seatbelts, and sitting in the “way back” was cool because it allowed you to make funny faces at the old people in the car behind you.

That car had a built-in toolbox compartment, and once when my dad was packing the car for a camping trip, I thought it would be really funny to play a trick on him by climbing into the toolbox (yes, I was that skinny once) and then jumping out and yelling, “BOO!”

I waited, crouched beside the car where he couldn’t see me, until he went back inside the house. Quickly, catlike, I slipped in through the open tailgate. A moment later I was carefully wedged in the tool compartment. To my surprise, when I pulled the door of the toolbox shut, it locked. I was trapped. I was curled into the fetal position in a plastic box that was only about a foot square in size, waiting for my Dad to come back, hoping he would find me.

What seemed like hours passed, Dad still wasn’t back. That was the one time my dad packed the car well in advance of our departure. I was sure he must have gone back into the house to read the morning newspaper. That would take forever! I started to panic. I couldn’t breathe, and it was really hot in that little black plastic box. With all my might, I pounded on the compartment door. Crying, sweaty and feeling like I was going to die, I screamed for my dad to help me.

And then, he heard me. Turns out I was only in there for about 20 minutes, but it scared the hell out of me. When he finally opened the compartment door, we were both so happy! It took a while to get un-wedged from my little black prison; my knees were stuck and my feet had fallen asleep. He made me promise I would never hide from him again, and I eagerly swore I never would.

I guess it is a miracle some of us did survive to adulthood!

An Heirloom Garden

2009-07-20T18:59:00.001-07:00

One thing that the all women of my family have in common is a genetic trait called a green thumb. I get it from both sides of the family. I can’t say that the trait has carried over to vegetables, but for some reason I can usually get houseplants and flowers to do what they are supposed to. Don’t look at my tomatoes, like I said, this trait only seems to work with flowers :) My tomatoes are rather spindly this year. I think it’s all the cold weather we’ve had. The cold weather seems to be great for my lilies, though. They just bloomed last week; perfect for photos!

This photo, Peony Ants 5-31-09 3, was posted to http://www.flickr.com/ by stevendepolo. In the next photo, Peony Raindrops 6-11-09 1, we get to see the ant-infested bud as it will look unfurled, after an early summer shower. Stop by to see the awesom photos on stevendepolo's flickr account. His girlfriend must have that genetic green-thumb, too. Her flowers are wonderful, and his pictures capture that dewey, freshness you can almost smell.

My Grandma Dorothy always had huge, bright-red poppies on the south side of her big stone house. Then there were the big, colorful peonies. They were beautiful, but always full of ants, which grossed me out as a child, until I was old enough to know what purpose they served in the flowerbed. Whenever I see those flowers, I think of Grandma Dorothy.

This picture, Large Red Poppies, was taken by scoobygirl at http://www.flickr.com/. She's got some truly fabulous pictures on her site there, do stop by and take a look. I see this photo was taken in Scotland. Maybe that's why Grandma grew them. Her father was Scots-Irish.

Ooh, a Party! I Love Parties!

2009-07-15T04:17:00.000-07:00

Here's a "Junk Event" that looks like it's worth attending! Unfortunately, due to prior plans I can't go - but if you can make it, you must take lots of photos for me!

Oronoco is located in the Southeast corner of MN. It's a beautiful part of the state, and Gold Rush Days is one of the biggest antique shows in the Midwest. Located not too far from Rochester (home to the famous Mayo Clinic), there are plenty of nearby places to stay if you are looking for a quick weekend antiquing trip. If you do go, be sure to stop at the Junkologie Block Party and say hi to Alvn for me!

Strawberry Fields

2009-07-10T13:12:00.001-07:00

2009_0621StrawberriesAndCBPie0004
Originally uploaded by suzukiQ

My Grandma Dorothy loved strawberries. She had an enormous berry patch, and when I think of her, I picture her armed with a paring knife, removing stems and slicing berries into an array of old Cool Whip containers. She would sprinkle sugar on top and the put the containers into the freezer for later use as ice cream topping or an ice-cube alternative for the sparkling fruit punch she made for weddings and baby showers.

I try to grow berries in my garden. They usually get to the almost-ripe-enough-to-pick stage, then the fuzzy demons from hell that most people call chipmunks raid whatever's available. I'm afraid this picture was all I got from this strawberry; the following day it was gone. Better luck next year, I guess.

Whatever. Here's a little music for your weekend...

Summer at Grandma's

2009-07-02T08:25:00.001-07:00

My Grandma Hilda lived in an old, white house in a tiny little town in western Minnesota. It was really old, and had a big front porch. When my cousin and I were little, we would go into the backyard to play under the lilac bushes - well, they were more like trees, really. We were very small, and the spaces under the lilac trees created big rooms to play in.

We spent more time outside than in when we were little. There were no computers or video games, no cell phones or text messages, and if Grandma had owned a television set, there wouldn't have been very good reception there, anyway. I happened to see this ceramic cat in an antique shop, my grandma had one almost like it, sitting in her living room. The one at Grandma's was all white, and it had blue eyes.

It's funny, what you remember from your childhood. I really liked that cat - that's one thing I remember vividly. The carpet it sat on was green, blue and gold stripes, and whenever I see those colors together I still remember my grandma.

My three boys are leaving this evening to go up north to spend some time with their grandparents. I wonder what weird little things they will remember about trips to Grandma & Grandpa's when they are older. I hope it's good things, like driving down the dirt road in Grandpa's 1965 Mustang, or canning tomatoes with Grandma. Maybe it will be scaling and fileting the big fish they caught, or how Grandma and Grandpa always took them to fun things like the Pine County Fair. I'm glad those memories of Grandma Grandpa's house won't involve which video games they played.

Have a WONDERFUL and SAFE Fourth of July!

My Great-Grandma's Harley

2009-07-01T13:43:00.000-07:00

Well, I can't say for sure that it was hers, but my mother does have an old pic of Great-Grandma Olga sitting on a bike like this one. She came over from Sweden one week after the Titanic sunk in 1912, following the same route. She was just 16 years old, and the only person she knew on the ship or in America was her uncle. So I wouldn't doubt the bike was hers - she had a reputation for being fearless! I'm sure that photo is buried with a ton of others that I haven't seen in a while.

This time of the year gets really busy for me, between work (as usual) and the extra stuff like the garden and, of course - riding my own motorcycle. I will try to keep up with all my blog posts - but beware, they may revolve mainly around motorcycles and summer stuff - aww, poor readers!

I love the old, vintage bikes like the ones from the 1930's and 40's. Of course they aren't built for comfort like my 2006 Boulevard is, but they practically ooze class, like so much dripping motor oil that has leaked from the lesser Harley Models of the 1980's.

If you were to travel cross-country on the back of one of these beauties, you would truly deserve an "iron butt" award. Most of the modern models most of us are familiar with come complete with shocks and deliver a fairly smooth, non-bone-jarring ride. Can you imagine what it must have been like to ride any considerable distance on one of these older bikes? Now, add rutted dirt roads, zero safety gear and a total ignorance of the "Start Seeing Motorcycles" campaign. Wow. My generation really is spoiled.

Can't Find My Way Home

2009-06-19T06:49:00.000-07:00

Music has a way of bringing you back to where you were when you heard a song, kind of in the same way your sense of smell can be a powerful memory trigger. It's funny, when I was a kid my main source of music beyond the car radio or the huge 1950's console stereo in the living room was the portable record player handed down to me by my sister.
She worked some long hours bussing tables, washing dishes and slip-sliding around on spilled guacamole at The Good Earth restaurant near the mall so she could buy her own brand-new stereo. That would have been in 1979 or 1980 or so, of course back then a brand-new stereo was not a cheap thing. Of course it didn't have a CD player, those weren't invented yet.

I find it funny now, that you can go into almost any antique store or junk shop and find old LP's and 78's. Records, that is. I had a couple record boxes like this one, for my 78's:

A red one held all of the really old records, such as my Rock Around the Clock by Bill Haley and the Comets, and Leader of the Pack by the Shangri-Las. Those actually came from my mother, who had always taken very good care of her things - so of course they were still in pristine condition. The newer ones, purchased by both my sister and I, were stored in a blue denim-look printed record box that was illustrated to look like a pair of old jeans. That was where I kept my singles by Rod Stewart, Rick Springfield and "Le Freak" by Chic. My musical tastes have improved by far since then, I woud like to believe. If I still had a record player, I would love to listen to my LP's that I miss hearing, from groups like Cream, Jefferson Airplane and Heart. I still hear Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath on the radio pretty often, but I'd love to hear my old albums from the phonograph in that old console again. Nothing beats the sound of an original classic played as it was meant to be heard. Skips and scratches? Whatever - just set a nickle on top of the needle and, unless the scratch was really deep, you'd never hear a skip.

Once again, thank God for YouTube. Otherwise, great recordings like these may just end up sitting in a dusty attic somewhere, as just "records". Without the record player, it's just a piece of shiny vinyl. So open your windows this weekend - it's supposed to be nice outside - and turn up some old music so the younger people around you will learn to appreciate what it sounded like before the mixing of individual tracks to find the "perfect" sound. These are true musicians; to play a song live as a band, blending harmonies naturally and without a recording studio, takes true God-given talent.

I'm still trying to figure out what color Steve Winwood's eye's are. I'm looking for irises, but all I see is pupil... he must have had a visit with Mr. Fantasy before this show...lol

Drumroll, Please...

2009-06-11T16:49:00.000-07:00

Thanks, Anne - otherwise known as chicamom85, or shall I say thank you Sasha? What a lovely award.

Here are the rules that go with this award:

1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award.
4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting.
5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers.
6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs, letting them know they have been nominated.

So here are 7 Things About Me:

* I am a Christian.
* I have two dogs.
* I am learning to speak Norwegian.
* I only regret some of my tattoos.
* I’ve gone white-water rafting in the Canadian Rockies.
* I’ve had 4 brand-new motorcycles but never a brand-new car.
* I have camped outside by myself in -40 degree weather for a whole week.

The seven blogs I am nominating for the Kreativ Blogger Award are... (drumroll, please!)

WhisperWood Cottage

Margie and Edna's Basement

Back Seat Bikermomma

Camera Commune

Can The Music Save Your Mortal Soul?

The Everyday Adventurer

LoLa's Garden Tweaks and Inspirations

Speaking of Road Trips...

2009-06-10T18:59:00.000-07:00

Of course I remember the Arlo Guthrie version of this song better - but this YouTube video is pretty cool. My last post got me thinking of all those long drives we would take when I was a child. Everyone in our family sang, and this is one of those songs we'd sing along to with the radio. A lot of the rural pictures in this video are similar to the scenes that would rush past the open car windows as we drove along. The radio and the singing didn't stop until we could smell the lake air and see the purple martins swooping down the banks and over the water's surface, catching their dinner of mosquitoes.

Hubby and I sing with the radio on long car trips, too - sometimes if it's a good song, the boys will all join in. I hope that's something they remember when they are old and gray.

Don't Think Twice...

2009-06-09T09:23:00.000-07:00

Bob Dylan reminds me of my Dad. Not that there is any physical resemblence between the two, but the music brings me back to long, dusty drives to the lake in our old green Chevy Impala station wagon. This was long before air conditioning became standard and before child safety seats were required. My sister and I would hang our elbows over the back of the front bench seat to get a better view of the road ahead; all the windows open to keep us as cool as possible in the summer heat. The A.M. radio would play and we would all sing along.

I found this video on YouTube, while browsing through the music. Sometimes people are put in our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. For different reasons, our paths often go separate ways; sometimes it's temporary and sometimes it's permanent. It can be an easy parting, or it can be a painful one. Whether by our choice or not, time goes on. Nothing stops moving and changing, we just end up moving right along with it day by day until eventually the pain's not as sharp and those people become a part of our memory;

but Don't Think Twice, it's Alright

Old Lures and Water Skis

2009-05-21T11:54:00.000-07:00

The weather is finally starting to warm up. For most Minnesotans, summer means getting out of town on the weekends and going "up north". Just make sure you don't leave work at the wrong time on a Friday afternoon; if you have to take westbound Highway 10 (which actually goes north) or northbound Highway 169 out of the Twin Cities metro area, your commute time will often double. I am fortunate enough to live and work north of the metro area already, so at the worst my commute home will double to an hour or so. Not bad, relatively speaking.

I found this lovely display of old lures hanging in a

window during our browsing at Artiques in Anoka.

Check out the yellow one with spots - I've never seen

a fish that looked like this!

Our fishing poles have been taken out of storage and the tackle boxes organized. It's also time to get the licenses renewed on our kayaks. The water is still pretty chilly, but I will be ready! Our summers are never long enough here in Minnesota. Maybe that's the reason we really make the most out of the short time we can enjoy being out on the lakes in their liquid form.

Maybe it's a strong connection to our Scandinavian roots, with 75% of the population having origins in Western European countries such as Norway, Sweden and Germany; it could be that we've all gone mad from being stuck inside or in the snow for over half the calendar year, but for some reason we'll do some weird things for enjoyment just to be out on the water in the summertime.

A brief history of water skiing, according to Wikipedia:

History
A patent for a water ski was given to a constructor in Sweden already in 1841, but whether it ever came into use is unclear. The word water ski (Swedish: vattenskida) occurs in the dictionary Nordisk Familjebok in 1921. The American Water Ski Association states that water skiing began in 1922 when Ralph Samuelson used two boards as skis and a clothesline as a tow rope on Lake Pepin in Lake City, Minnesota. The sport remained a little-known activity for several years. Samuelson began taking his "stunts" on the road, performing shows from Michigan to Florida. Numerous claims began to surface as to who was the first water skier, but in 1966 the American Water Ski Association formally acknowledged Samuelson as the first on record. Samuelson has also been credited[who?] as the first ski racer, first to go over a jump ramp, first to slalom ski and the first put on a water ski show. Katherine Lomerson of Union Lake, Michigan has been credited as the first woman to water ski, in 1924.[citation needed]Early water skis were first made of wood and skiers strapped them
onto their feet with rubber ski bindings, though modern water skis are made of
composite materials, including carbon fiber. The first patented design of a water ski that included carbon fiber was that of Hani Audah at SPORT labs in 2001, and its first inclusion in the tournament slalom skiing was in 2003.
I found the picture below in an antique shop a while back. I've heard some pretty wild tales of things my dad and other older relatives have done for fun (pre-video games & cable TV); so this picture had to come home with me.

Now, if I could just find a picture (circa 1945 or so) of a young girl, snow-skiing through a ditch in the middle of winter, towed by a rope behind an old Ford pickup truck going about 40 miles per hour... well, like I said, I've heard some pretty wild stories!

Instant Ancestors: $1.00 Each

2009-05-19T17:39:00.000-07:00

I get a whole hour for my lunchbreak. Somedays I don't bother taking one at all. Other days I am greatful for the chance to leave for a while. Last Thursday (I think - maybe it was Friday?) I picked up a sandwich and browsed through an antique shop near work. Even if I have no money to spend, I like to window shop; I make my mental list of Things I Would Like to Have Someday. My hubby & I are planning on building a log home someday soon, and I am beginning to form a visual of what that house will look like, fully furnished.

During my perusal of this particular shop, I happened across a small wooden box, with a hand-lettered sign that read, "Instant Ancestors: $1.00 each". So who says you can't pick your family?

It struck me at once as funny, sad and curious - all at the same time. Funny, that the person who was selling the photos put so bluntly into words what I had thought before when I had seen similar boxes of sepia and black & white photographs in other shops. Sad, because I thought of my own family photos; some are from the 1800's, of my great-great grandparents on down the line to my own parents. I treasure them now, but would my own photos end up in some antique shop someday? Curious, because I wonder where the descendents of these people are now, and if there even are any left. Do they realize these photos exist?

I fell in love with this photo. Not only because of the obvious, what you see; the composition is beautiful, the fading of age has only added to the visual interest by increasing contrast between the main focal point and the background. What I really like about this photograph is the pose of the subject, and the expression on her face. This picture doesn't look staged; on the contrary, it is a very candid shot.

So of course, I bought a few. If I don't care about these, who will? Now I have a few more things to look for the next time I'm browsing through the next antique shop: frames...

My Dream House, Continued

2009-05-18T09:21:00.000-07:00

When we entered the house, I asked the woman behind the counter if I could take some pictures for my blog. She liked the idea, as who would ever turn down some free advertising? If I like something, I'm always eager to share what I've found. In this case, I can say with confidence that I would love to furnish our new house (if it ever does get built!) with antiques. The prices on the furniture in this shop were so much cheaper than new, and to be honest with you, after working for a furniture retailer for several years I can honestly say the craftsmanship and quality is MUCH better!

I love things that have a past of their own. One thing I am looking for is an antique krumkakke iron (pronounced kroom' kakka, slightly roll the "r"). For those of you who do not know what that is, it's a very delicate Norwegian cookie of sorts, made by ladling a batter onto a beautifully patterned hot iron which closes like a waffle iron. When the cookie is golden, it is rolled around a thick wooden dowel, then cooled. We like to eat ours with whipped cream in the middle. They are also good with whipped cream and raspberry or strawberry jam in the middle!

I did not find a krumkakke iron today; at least not one that is old enough for me to want to hang on my wall. I did find a newer NordicWare model, but I think almost all Norwegian cooks already have those - so it's not as interesting. There were lots of other kitchen things on sale here, though, and this is just a small sampling ...

My middle son claims this room as his bedroom, if this house ever goes up for sale. I think he'd like to have all the old outdoor equipment, too. I told him to bring his money next time!

The staircase in this house is amazing. I will have to go back again to take more pictures if they aren't so busy...

The house is over 100 years old. I wonder about the many people who have lived in this house, how many hands have held onto this bannister; how many little children have sneaked a peek through its rails?

My Dream House

2009-05-17T05:58:00.001-07:00

2009_0516ArtiquesAnoka0057
Originally uploaded by suzukiQ

This magnificent old house is now home to Artiques, a fabulous antiques shop in Downtown Anoka, MN. Come back tomorrow and I will show you some of the really great treasures I found inside...

To Be Continued...

The Mall

2009-05-13T21:16:00.000-07:00

The mall - as I remember it, anyway. I don't think it changed much from the time it opened in 1967 until about my senior year in high school. It was a place to shop, grab a slice of pizza at Rocky Rococo's, a malt at Bridgeman's, or to just hang out. Picadilly Circus was the arcade where everyone hung out, those games were way better than the Atari games that were still new on the market at the time. It was about 2 miles from my house; unless it was raining we walked. If the weather was bad, we could usually beg a ride from someone's mom or dad.

Lots of kids had jobs here at Brookdale. One of my favorite part-time jobs was on the opposite side of the mall from Dayton's, I took pictures of little kids with Santa.

Dayton's at Brookdale Mall in Brooklyn Center, MN circa 1967. Photo from the Minnesota Historical Society.

This was long before the gangs started hanging out at the bus stop near the Sears store. They drove away business, eventually; finally the management made the decision to move the bus stop away from the building's entrance. I'm not sure if that made a difference or not.

I think it's funny that this picture is part of the Historical Society's collection. I guess a lot of my memories are probably kept there.

Introduction

2009-05-13T13:00:00.000-07:00

Dad's tackle box was hallowed ground. I was never allowed to play with its contents, and when Dad would take me fishing with him I was always fascinated by all the exotic forbidden things inside: rubbery lures, shiny lead sinkers, chipped wood muskie lures with hooks that seemed to be as big as the palm of my hand. Those things are all still in The Tackle Box; they are sacred, my boys are not allowed to use them when fishing as they are so old now they are "antiques". At what point do old things become antiques?

Dad died in 1981, so his tackle box became a reliquary of sorts. I opened it up one summery afternoon, looking for a leader for one of my boys. I laughed when I realized the travel-size bottle of Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil dad used about 20 years ago was still in there. I opened it up, the smell of coconut bringing me back to sunny days in the 14' aluminum outboard fishing boat with cracked wooden seats and oars longer than my dad was tall. I replaced the cap and put the little plastic brown bottle back in it's home in the bottom compartment.

That tackle box holds more than old fishing lures; it holds memories of times gone by. Occasionally it is opened up, the contents brought out and looked at, remembered; then we put them back to enjoy looking at another day. I am becoming addicted to blogging. I have the racing thoughts of an eight-year-old with ADD, so I am starting yet another little place in Bloggerland where I can tell the world all about the things I keep in my "virtual tackle box" - memories, photos and the like. I love shopping at the antique stores, so occasionally I'm sure you will find pictures of my finds & photos of all things retro.

Thanks for stopping by... If I Knew You Were Coming I'd've Baked A Cake... :)