SISTERS

SISTERS:  

All three of my sisters spent the summer with me when my son, Charlie, was about 18 months old.  I am the oldest of seven children.  I must digress briefly at this point.  I was taught in school that children were not to be referred to as kids, because kids are baby goats.  So it is a pet peeve of mine when I hear kids used far too often on national news.  Back to the narrative.  My next youngest brother, Richard is a yearish younger, Phil is sevenish years and then a gap of ten years to Ellen, one year to Gale and Carla born the same year.  Next an EIGHTEEN year gap to the youngest brother, James.

The family had driven down for my younger brother's wedding to my husbands sister.  It was a lot of fun.  I begged my folks to let me keep the girls and I would fly them home in time for school.  I graduated from high school at age 17 and missed out a lot so this was a good time to get caught up. 

I was still working and the girls provided babysitting.  When I got home we would load up and go to parks, just driving and sight seeing, shoe shopping.  One time we drove to the south bay to attend a Sea World type park.  We had water splashed on us by the very large killer whale and multiple dolphin tricks.  We had a riverboat ride and saw greenery and the driver told jokes.  One jokes was, 
"How do you stop a rhinoceros from charging?"  
"You take away his credit card".  
Complete silence until Charlie started cackling wildly, then everyone giggled at him.

We went shopping, shoes were a big deal. We experimented with makeup and plucking eyebrows.  Everyone got their hair done.  Gale went blonder, Ellen went spicier brown and Carla went from curly black to fuzzy orange.  It was hideous.  Poor thing.  I made her stay in the car when I went back to get black dye to cover it up.  We took pictures and she has used it as blackmail ever since.

We went to the County Fair at Santa Rosa. The best building was sponsored by all of the gardening centers. The entire building was made to look like a mill with water wheels and water sluices and all sorts of stunning baskets of fuscia's hung all over the place.  The girls went to the race track to throw a few dollars away on the ponies. 

I am pretty sure we went to Stinson Beach and played in the sand and surf.  We also went to the San Francisco Zoo.  It was fabulous!! Nearby was the Fun House, a genuine, fun house and the girls had a ball. 

We went to The Golden Gate Park and the Japanese Gardens and walked over the moon bridge.  I always purchased candied coconut there at the gift shop.  Nearby was the Museum which had a very large pendulum and then we went to the sit in the dark and watch and listen to the story about the stars, wonderful.

Across the street from the museum was the art museum.  There was a huge collection of jade objects on display.  There was also an Andrew Wyeth exhibition there as well.  It was gorgeous.  There is one title I regret not learning.  It was a large canvas done in extreme close up straight down of a clear creek bottom.  There were minnows.  I wanted it but that would have never been possible.  I would be happy with a print but have never seen the picture again.  I may be mistaken that Wyeth painted the thing.

Of course we went to visit Grandma LaVann's ranch.  The men insisted on instructing the girls how to shoot either a rifle or a shotgun.  One of the shotguns came apart after being shot and that was the end of the shooting lesson.   

I did most of the cooking that summer. One experiment did not go over well.  I fried some chicken hearts and served them over a bed of rice with gravy.  Met with universal  refusal.  Oh well.  I should have marinated them in coke until tender, then fried them until crispy.

Two of the girls slept on a pull out in the living room. One morning husband left early and started a small fire in the fire place to burn some trash.   About 30 minutes later there was a loud bang, by the time the rest of us scrambled out of bed, there was still a one foot tongue of fire coming out of an exploded aerosol can.  Thanks for the wakeup.

The girls were ready to go back at the end of summer, Carla and Ellen went one week and Gale the next.  Gale was nauseous prior to the trip so I purchased some Benadryl and gave her a couple of pills.  Pretty sure she slept most of the way to Boise.

CANALS ETC.

Now I shall tell the tale as best as I can remember of how the irrigation canals came to be built in Gem County.

My Grandfather Berglund dug some of the canals in the Emmett valley.  This was in the 20's.  The Black Canyon dam was created not too long before that and initially was intended to generate electricity.  Eventually it was determined that canals would be a good thing for irrigation.  If there were orchards then they were of the dry land variety.  Idaho is a semi-arid state so water was a good thing.  

Grandpa Berglund was born in Charlottenburg, Sweden and came to America with his father in the late 1890's.  His name then was Ander Pierson and it got changed on Ellis Island. They traveled to Minnesota and farmed there.  My father was born there and he was the oldest.

My Grandfather Horn farmed in the Emmett Valley.  He never had an orchard.  He grew corn and other small acreage crops and he had a small dairy. He and Grandma Horn were both born in Missouri and moved to Colorado. My mother was born in Colorado.  She was the youngest. 

The canals were plotted to go North and South.  The North canal ran along the bench and provided for the many orchards.  The South branch ran along the slope.  One of the canals diverted and ran through the middle of town.  We weren't supposed to swim in the canals because the water was to swift, but if you didn't get caught it was mighty fine.  Dad told me that he used to steal watermelons and throw them in the canal and run ahead and pull them out.  

By the time the drainage ditches got out to my Grandfather Berglunds farm, they were very deep.  My cousins used to catch gigantic frogs.  The nearby slough produced lots of crawdads but I never got to eat any of them as they were considered a trash fish.

The canal that fed into the irrigation system near my Grandfather Horn's farm was reduced to a smallish drain ditch which might have a cement sluice gate.  He would go out irrigating with a shovel and change irrigation patterns throughout the season.

Because there were so many orchards the growers depended heavily upon migrant laborers, usually Mexican.  They financed a joint housing effort and built up a long building of cinderblock with individual rooms.  I am not sure if there was water and there probably outhouses.  Those were torn down long ago.

The orchards themselves were subject to frost in the Spring time.  The growers watched the temperature gauge.  They would have set out smudge pots in late Fall. This pots were a largish pot that contained oil and had about a three foot smoke stack.  These were lit as the temp dropped near freezing.  The growers new exactly where the temperature would fall first and exactly how far up the slope of their orchard this went.  It was a fairly exact science.  The morning that the smudge pots were burning was very smoggy.  Smudge pots were banned a few decades ago. Growers switched to sprinklers and large fans.  

As land values raised, County Assessors would go out to re-evaluate the land.  Many growers had to sell off their orchards because they could not afford the taxes.  Some began to develop their orchards into houses for the increasing number of commuters who drove to Boise for work and the orchards have sadly dwindled.

They still hold an annual Cherry Festival in Emmett and it is always second or third week in June as this is the month to pick cherries.  I picked cherries as a youngster.  It was easy work except for the 20 foot tall ladders.  Those were terrifying. The fashion of pruning branches to 10 feet or so did not come into fashion until decades later.  

I remember one very cold winter there.  Temperatures had dropped to minus 35 degrees. The school buses had to be kept running all night long.  There was no such thing as weather closures for school.  The girls were given special permission to wear pant under their dresses.  That's all I can recall at the moment.  Have a safe Labor Day.

TEACHERS

I recently watched the Jeopardy rerun of the Teachers Tournament.  I began thinking of favorite teachers.

I remember my first grade teacher, Mrs. Smith, I also remember vividly during the test of writing numbers one through ten, leaning closer to a desk mate to peer at their answer. I wasn't sure how to make an eight. 

Thereafter school was a series of different places because my father worked for the power company and we moved from job to job.  Finally, when I was going to be in grade four, Dad and Mom found that the burgeoning family would suffer academically (Hah!) unless we settled.  So back to our home town we went.

At one point during this same period my brother and I attended Letha School.  The folks were renting a farm house that dictated that we attend this small country school.  It had four rooms and eight grades.  I was in the third/fourth grade room.  I remember watching the fourth grade students performing and thinking that I would not have much problem doing the same thing.  There was also a Christmas Pageant that year.  I got to recite something while holding a sock.  Acting was not for me.  God meant for me to be the best audience ever.

I was enrolled mid term in Wardwell grade school.  That school was built near the turn of the century and the third floor had already been condemned.  It was a large three story brick building and had fascinating metal fire escape slides.  Never got to have a go at them. I learned my cursive writing in fourth grade, everyone who ever had this particular teacher had the same handwriting.  I was left handed and smeared my hand by writing upside down but rounded cursive was the product. 

Middle school was two blocks away at Parkview Junior Highschool which had been the original high school where my mother attended until she decided she had benefited enough.  My fifth grade teacher was Alice Brownfield.  She was in her 40's, brown hair, slender and kind.  She taught art and we learned how to draw in perspective.  Each day the classes were let out for lunch and we played just across the street in the city park, we built up quit a head of steam.  Right after lunch, Mrs. Brownfield would read in her beautiful diction,  a chapter from a book to let us run down a little.  She read us "Beautiful Joe" and "Black Beauty".  She also had us read books from the school library and one of the things she asked was to identify the title of the book within the body of the writing.  That is something that has stayed with me ever since.  I have always silently cackled 'there you are' when I found the title.  Since having my Kindle, I get to highlight it and make a note. I don't know if students nowadays get that kind of single class teaching but if not, they are missing something.

Now about that school library, I had seen the movie "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn" and my heroine was the little girl who was reading the library systemically A through Z.  I was not so linear.  At that time I was typically enthralled with the horse culture and read anything equine.  My favorite author was Glenn Balch, from Idaho, who wrote many horse/kid adventures.  I then discovered the kid detective adventures. Nancy Drew and the Hardy Brothers were endlessly fascinating.  I read so much that my grades suffered.  Someone in authority snitched to my Mom and between them they agreed that I was banned from the library until my grades improved.  Ugh. 

One time, as a kid,  while visiting my Aunt and Uncle in Boise, I found a book to read.  It was of all things, "The Bishops Jaegers" by Thorn Smith.  I laughed my head off to the point, my aunt asked Mom if I should be reading that thing.  My favorite character from the book was Aspirin Lil who used safety pins to keep her sturdy cotton panties in good repair.  I did not realize until later that each of the characters stories were connected by their under garments.  The book stands up well.

Highschool went merrily along and I graduated with a C + grade and went on to live with cousins in California and found work there.

Fast forward to the mid 70's to my displaced housewife status.  I moved back to Idaho and ultimately went to Boise State University to enroll in the Health Records program. It was a two year Associate of Science degree and I felt I had the time and energy to grind it out.  Among the many topics I needed to study was Western Civilization.  The class was taught by one of the wildest professors I had ever known.  He told us the first day of class to tell him what grade we wanted and what we would do in class for that grade.  We were all stunned in disbelief.  I opted for an A and to do a project.  The classes were a joy, we never knew what was coming up.  No one read the book because it had NOTHING to do with the class.  The prof was interested in crime and criminals. One week it would be Burglary week.  Next week it would be sex change week. Since I was working part time in a local medical record department I had been tasked to find a pathology report on a prisoner who routinely swallowed stuff.  The pathology report listed the number and quantity of sharp objects found and ended...and a partridge in a pear tree.  I decided my project would be to get this guy to come to the class to speak.  He did not want to come to the class.  Maybe I should have offered something sharp to chew on.  I got my A.

I also had to take bonehead English.  The tenured professor teaching that class was very superior.  Someone asked him about the verb to be and he lectured for a solid 30 minutes on the subject.  The entire class was stunned into submission and no one asked him another question for the remainder of the semester.  

Education never stops, if it does, you should check your pulse.

BOOK REVIEW sorta kinda

I was listening to Scott Simon on NRP this morning interview someone who wrote "The Palace"  It is a story of a very large mansion built in Prague in the 50's.  He writes about a Nazi general, a rebel and of all people Shirly Temple Black.  I'm going hunting on Amazon later on.

I have just yesterday stumbled across a series of books beginning with "Storm Glass".  It is set in a fantasy sci/fi place where society is divided between the people who live in the Fells and the upper crust who live on floating mountains.  All is governed by The Mysteries.  One of the young ladies is named Cettie, she is a 12 year old urchin who is taken from the Fells into the upper house. A princess named Sera lives in another house.  So far these girls have their challenges.  The world building is fabulous and ranks right up there with any of the Darkover tales.  I pray that she can outwrite my reading...nah not gonna happen.

I have mentioned this author before, Viola Grace, AKA Zenina Masters who writes mostly novellas that are between 60 and 80 pages in length.  She writes a very tight story.  One series is set in Earth future.  Earth has become a protectorate.  2000 people have volunteered to go into the universe to try and blend in.  Sixty percent of them are women because it was thought they would mix in better.  Terran Times follows some of these stories.  One of the qualifications is that each person have a talent and some are psychic.  I have read very clumsy sex scenes by authors who are of the insert tab A into slot B, pumpty pump, slurp, slurp and thank you ma'am.  Viola writes appropriate sex scenes that fit what ever world the characters are interacting upon.  If tentacles are involves, they are very tasteful tentacles.  Enjoy!

A VARIETY OF THINGS ENDING WITH GENERAL MAUNDING REGARDING EDUCATION

1.  First of all Facebook is screwed up this morning, I cannot post as I get that Do You Want to Leave and when I do it disappears.  Dang it!

2.  I wanted to talk about Americans being denied passports because a few Texas midwives prepared illegal BC's for illegal immigrants.  
    A.  States take routine exacting protocol prior to certifying BC's especially home births requiring documentation such as baptismal certificates.  ( Pretty sure the priests won't make fakes)
    B. Why does the government want to deny passports?  Anyone can stroll across the border north and south.  Oh, because passports can be used to GET ON AIRPLANES.
   C.  Being of a suspicious nature, I would have all states keep  very strict track of all of the numbered paper BC's in circulation, STRICT I tell you. Document anything such as destruction etc.  Free idea, get it here while you can.
   D.  DOH !!

SECOND TOPIC OF THE DAY:  Education.  I was educated in the standards of the day.  Despite advances in teaching and the onslaught of history since 1965, I believe the quality of education and dumbing down of America has happened.  So my 1965 C average held up well to 1975 University requirements. (Displaced housewife doncha know).  At my last semester, I managed to make the Dean's List such as it was.
I attended the new High School in my home town, graduated in the gym just like many classes.  There we sat, en mass most politely ignoring the class pregnant girl as she marched stoically across the stage.  One of the teachers very kindly strode forward as she passed to make some inane announcement.

THIRD TOPIC OF THE DAY: Pulitzer prize.  I have wondered if there will ever be a Pulitzer for blogs.  I have only read a few Pulitzer books, one I adored.  It was The Color Purple.  The writing was Pulitzer worthy due to the subtle change from Ceelies sixth grade level education to her sisters sophisticated letters from Africa. The realization of the actual change was gentle but there, what genius. The movie just waiting in line, as the crowd emptied, this really handsome man saw us waiting and winked and told us we were going to LOVE it.  My girlfriend stammered, "Wow a sensitive man! I want him!" and surprisingly the movie was so immersive that I felt distinctly black and mourned the jerk back to reality.  On the other hand, the ONLY reason I read Cloud Atlas was because Tom Hanks was in the movie trailers.  The Pulitzer part was probably because of the post apocalyptic Hawaiian English pidgin spoke.  Gah!! I learned much later that a Cloud Atlas was a compilation of cloud forms.  Huh. Much better. My own writing is handicapped by cataracts complete with floaters. Yay, font that keeps slipping from LARGE to tiny and ignoring spell check when I THINK I AM RIGHT. Also, auto correct.  DEATH to autocorrect.  Lastly if there is a Pulitzer for humor one should obviously go to the woman who wrote "Pullet Surprise" and one should go to Dave Barry. Now I am going to Google a number for Facebook. May the Gods be with me.

HERE IS A THOUGHT

For no particular reason, as I lay in bed this morning listening to NPR, I suddenly had a blinding idea.

If I were an editor who handed out assignments, I would contract with Mr. S. Rushdie to write an alternative reality book.  

I have often thought that there should be a world where the multi-verse doorways have been discovered.  The pertinent one is located in Mecca and appears yearly during Hajj.  

A Muslim physicist discovered the "Door to Paradise" (Great book title) that hops around the site and accounts for some the pilgrims disappearing during Hajj.  

Pretty soon rumors of the Door enters the awareness of several billion Muslims, in particular the Rohinga.  The worlds largest refugee camp starts to empty out and they are not showing up anywhere else.  They show up in Mecca and some skip the rituals and walk through the Door, again it is a bit mysterious but a dead giveaway is a line of Muslims who simply walk into a spot of nothing as they circle the Kabba. The Door seems to be one way. 

Life on the other side is in a strangely empty Arabian desert and the people begin to build and live their lives.  Of course as other factions discover the Door some of the old problems start to exhibit and the situation calls for a truly brave leader to keep things calm.  

Not sure how that would get handled but there has to be a miracle or two along the way. I can visualize how access to the Door, once its location and implications are discovered is monetized.  Could get tricky.  

I think this theme would easily extend to three books.
1. Door Into Paradise.  2.  Well of ZamZam  3.  Hajj.  Now Mr. Rushdie, go forth and write, please.

Wonderful books

A few months ago I stumbled across a book about intelligent puppies.  The author is Robert Udulutch.  I got a notice that there is another Spot and Smudge book.  Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyy!! I wrote him an email raving about the books and how I wished I was rich so I could produce the books as movies.  Although I DID ask Netflix to do the books as a series because they did such a stunning job on "Lost In Space".  I can only live in hope.