Monday, July 19, 2004
AUGUST 15TH AND 16TH....1967
Tuesday August 15th
We had a big breakfast and cleaned everything up good….ready to roll. We left Minden mid-morning sometime….my watch stopped so I’m without correct time. It’s a bright and clear day….promising to be another hot one. Uncle Alfred has taken his place in our caravan again as “middle man” and it looks natural to see him in our rear window. Becky had a bad time with a sore foot yesterday and feels kind of punk today. Other than that we haven’t suffered any problems to speak of and we feel fortunate in that.
We drove to Fremont and ate lunch in a well shaded and very clean park. My thoughts are of aunt Mary who taught school here for most of her life. How familiar this area has been to her over the years. She has had many students grow up to be pillar’s of the community and beyond. Though she never had children of her own she had a hand in shaping the students she taught.
The highway from Fremont passes in front of grandma Stricklett’s place and we see the house and road as we make ready to turn off and drive up her lane. Arriving on “the hill” we had quite a parking problem. The Powell’s had already arrived from Virginia, aunt Mary’s car, uncle Bud’s pickup and uncle Tom’s mother, sister and sister’s friend were visiting inside. Our station wagon and camper, uncle Alfred’s pickup/camper and the folk’s camper made quite a traffic jam but we got it all straightened out and parked our little “cabin” behind the barn on a grassy knoll, looking towards the old Fremont road.
Shortly after making camp, aunt Beulah left to go to Omaha to be with her sister, Mildred, and George and I took the kids to the pool while we washed clothes at uncle Bud’s launder-mat. When we picked the kids up and got back to grandma’s we fixed supper in the camper while the rest of the family drove down to the Marina for a fish supper. We cleaned up the evening chores and got things all prepared for bedtime. When everyone came back from the Marina we went to the house and visited with Buster’s family and all the rest until about 1:00am. We finally drug ourselves around behind the barn and piled in the camper for a short night’s sleep.
Wednesday August 16th
We got up slowly and had breakfast in shifts….then the guys went down and had coffee with Buster who took a little time off from the Chevy garage where he worked. I can imagine the stories flew thick and fast as they all exchanged the highlights of the past year with each other. While they were gone mom and I spent the morning visiting with everyone and I washed my hair. We are looking for Louis and Gail to come rolling in any time as they are able to come to the Stricklett reunion this year. Anticipation builds as more and more of the family check in on ‘the hill’ to greet each other.
We are sure missing aunt Beulah who always slept in our camper in her own little area. Doesn’t seem right for her not to be here for our nightly ritual talking over the events of the day; what was the most impressive….things we each noted along the way that stuck in our minds. We would lay in the dark, each in our own bed, talking until sleep overtook us.
Tomorrow is the day for our big family reunion. It will be at the park where I used to swim as a little girl. It cost 15-cents to get in for the whole time you wanted to be there and grandma or some of the aunts would give me money so I could go…uncle Buster gave me money once or twice. I remember I had to walk around the road and it was quite a long walk….although if you looked straight from grandma’s house you would be able to see the park if it wasn’t for the high hill between. I guess you would say, “as the crow flies.”
I would go after the noon meal (I can still hear the 12:00 o’clock whistle blowing) and stay all afternoon till I hardly had legs to walk back on after playing in the water so long. The whistle was an important thing at grandma’s. She and my aunts paid close attention to it for the whistle dissected their day into scheduled blocks……it blew to start the work day, at noon and an hour after, then at six o‘clock. ”There’s the whistle” and they would all scurry to finish what they were doing so as to be ‘right’ with the time.
I grew up with three meals a day…breakfast, dinner and supper. It was never lunch and dinner…..I only heard those words in the movies or when we visited “white collar” homes. I was a “blue collar” daughter I learned from snobby friends but I was always proud that my dad worked hard for a living which seemed to be disgusting to the “white collar” friends. I remember once a young boy came up to dad (while we were visiting in their home) and said “oooh…you have dirty fingernails.” He was old enough to know better and old enough to enjoy dad’s discomfort. The “dirty nails” were from grease, fixing cars, and couldn’t be washed out. I felt sorry for dad but not ashamed.
One time coming back from the swimming pool I took the short cut over the hill instead of going around where there were sidewalks. I walked the steep path and when I topped the hill I began running. To my surprise a snake was stretched across the path about half-way to the bottom but I was running down hill and couldn’t stop. I jumped over the top of him and didn’t stop until I reached the road again. I never took the short cut again…….
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
We had a big breakfast and cleaned everything up good….ready to roll. We left Minden mid-morning sometime….my watch stopped so I’m without correct time. It’s a bright and clear day….promising to be another hot one. Uncle Alfred has taken his place in our caravan again as “middle man” and it looks natural to see him in our rear window. Becky had a bad time with a sore foot yesterday and feels kind of punk today. Other than that we haven’t suffered any problems to speak of and we feel fortunate in that.
We drove to Fremont and ate lunch in a well shaded and very clean park. My thoughts are of aunt Mary who taught school here for most of her life. How familiar this area has been to her over the years. She has had many students grow up to be pillar’s of the community and beyond. Though she never had children of her own she had a hand in shaping the students she taught.
The highway from Fremont passes in front of grandma Stricklett’s place and we see the house and road as we make ready to turn off and drive up her lane. Arriving on “the hill” we had quite a parking problem. The Powell’s had already arrived from Virginia, aunt Mary’s car, uncle Bud’s pickup and uncle Tom’s mother, sister and sister’s friend were visiting inside. Our station wagon and camper, uncle Alfred’s pickup/camper and the folk’s camper made quite a traffic jam but we got it all straightened out and parked our little “cabin” behind the barn on a grassy knoll, looking towards the old Fremont road.
Shortly after making camp, aunt Beulah left to go to Omaha to be with her sister, Mildred, and George and I took the kids to the pool while we washed clothes at uncle Bud’s launder-mat. When we picked the kids up and got back to grandma’s we fixed supper in the camper while the rest of the family drove down to the Marina for a fish supper. We cleaned up the evening chores and got things all prepared for bedtime. When everyone came back from the Marina we went to the house and visited with Buster’s family and all the rest until about 1:00am. We finally drug ourselves around behind the barn and piled in the camper for a short night’s sleep.
Wednesday August 16th
We got up slowly and had breakfast in shifts….then the guys went down and had coffee with Buster who took a little time off from the Chevy garage where he worked. I can imagine the stories flew thick and fast as they all exchanged the highlights of the past year with each other. While they were gone mom and I spent the morning visiting with everyone and I washed my hair. We are looking for Louis and Gail to come rolling in any time as they are able to come to the Stricklett reunion this year. Anticipation builds as more and more of the family check in on ‘the hill’ to greet each other.
We are sure missing aunt Beulah who always slept in our camper in her own little area. Doesn’t seem right for her not to be here for our nightly ritual talking over the events of the day; what was the most impressive….things we each noted along the way that stuck in our minds. We would lay in the dark, each in our own bed, talking until sleep overtook us.
Tomorrow is the day for our big family reunion. It will be at the park where I used to swim as a little girl. It cost 15-cents to get in for the whole time you wanted to be there and grandma or some of the aunts would give me money so I could go…uncle Buster gave me money once or twice. I remember I had to walk around the road and it was quite a long walk….although if you looked straight from grandma’s house you would be able to see the park if it wasn’t for the high hill between. I guess you would say, “as the crow flies.”
I would go after the noon meal (I can still hear the 12:00 o’clock whistle blowing) and stay all afternoon till I hardly had legs to walk back on after playing in the water so long. The whistle was an important thing at grandma’s. She and my aunts paid close attention to it for the whistle dissected their day into scheduled blocks……it blew to start the work day, at noon and an hour after, then at six o‘clock. ”There’s the whistle” and they would all scurry to finish what they were doing so as to be ‘right’ with the time.
I grew up with three meals a day…breakfast, dinner and supper. It was never lunch and dinner…..I only heard those words in the movies or when we visited “white collar” homes. I was a “blue collar” daughter I learned from snobby friends but I was always proud that my dad worked hard for a living which seemed to be disgusting to the “white collar” friends. I remember once a young boy came up to dad (while we were visiting in their home) and said “oooh…you have dirty fingernails.” He was old enough to know better and old enough to enjoy dad’s discomfort. The “dirty nails” were from grease, fixing cars, and couldn’t be washed out. I felt sorry for dad but not ashamed.
One time coming back from the swimming pool I took the short cut over the hill instead of going around where there were sidewalks. I walked the steep path and when I topped the hill I began running. To my surprise a snake was stretched across the path about half-way to the bottom but I was running down hill and couldn’t stop. I jumped over the top of him and didn’t stop until I reached the road again. I never took the short cut again…….
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
