We Saw a Bear on Highway 65

It sounds like I've been reading too many Sugar Creek Gang books. 
         Maybe I can ramble on for a few pages in Paul Hutchens style. 

Mom, Krysta and I were driving south on hwy 65 on a bright Monday morning. 
Lupines and Indian Paintbrush were growing at the edge of the road.  Cattails in the
ditches looked like lightly roasted marshmallows on a stick.  The flower beds in the yards
we passed were breathtaking.  Our road wound around through forests of pine trees. 
Now and then fields opened up on either side.  We had just come to more trees when we
saw a black bear sprint out of the woods and bound across the road ahead of us.  By the time
we got to the spot there was no sign of the bear, not even a bush swishing back into place.


We had just been to Janine's house for coffee and muffins and warm conversation
with Ladina and Trenda and Mandy joining us.  Stories of days gone by came up when
Ladina, Trenda, Maria and I were little girls.  Hans, our younger brother, wasn't here yet
to share our escapades.


We talked about the trip by boat to the Angle.  The boat was a ferry and had a
gigantic steering wheel.   I remember the pilot let us steer.  Summer vacations
at the Angle reminded me of stories of bears at the dump.  We were told that bears
came to the dump.  If you sat very quietly in your car at dusk you could watch them
digging for food. 

It never worked for us. 

Summer after summer went by and we never saw any bears. 
After the road to the Angle was finished we drove in our car. 
There was always the excitement of crossing the Canadian border
and listening to Dad answer the questions the border patrol asked.

"Where are you going?" 

"How long were you at the Angle?"

One evening the man leaned in the window
          and looked in the back seat
                at all of us girls sitting in a row. 

"Did you see any bears?" he asked in a gruff voice.
We shook our heads, too petrified to say a word.

As Dad drove away we breathed sighs of relief and asked him,
"What would've he done to us if we had seen some bears?"
Dad chuckled and told us not to worry.  The man at the border
was just brightening up a boring, mundane day at his job.
                                  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Today, July 9th, 2015 would have been my Dad's 76th birthday.
Mom is visiting Dad's siblings in Idaho.  I'm sure they are sitting around the table
drinking coffee and sharing lots of memories.

Krysta and I tried to come up with something different for Father's Day this year. 
We ordered flowers out of a catalog for our shade gardens. 
I found some new flowers - Bear's Breeches.  We ordered them for Mom to plant
in her garden close to the Dutchman's Britches that come up each spring.

We chose thornless blackberry plants for Ellis. 
They will need a spot in the sun and one of these days we'll be baking blackberry pies.

Each day is filled to the brim with new adventures.
Those adventures turn into stories to one day be shared around a kitchen table
with family and friends.

Curious George and The Man in the Yellow Hat

Friends of the Library getting ready for the 4th of July Parade

After the parade Curious George is tired!

                                               Clifford, the little red dog, is taking a nap.

The Five Little Peppers

Deanne is interviewing Ellis and me and asking each of us questions about our
                                             "growing up years."
One ? she threw at me is: What is your earliest memory of your mom?

When I go back back back  back to earliest memories  sometimes it's hard to know if this is
my memory? or is it my memory of stories told to me when I was little?

One thing that is my memory without a doubt is this:

Mom read to us. 
She probably ended up reading until she was blue in the face
and completely sick of the books.
We knew those stories by heart
(and still quote some of them.)

When we were old enough to read Mom let us read.
She let us read in our spare time.
When we had chores to do she let us think of innovative ways to keep on reading.

  -- like the days we mowed lawn
Four girls in the family
 two push mowers
Two girls outlined the patches of lawn to be mowed.
The other two could amuse themselves while waiting their turn to mow.
   read
  play on the swing set
  play with dolls
  fix a cold pitcher of Kool-Aid for everyone.

We decided how many rounds we would take per person.
If it was extremely warm we took two rounds pushing the mower.
Then we'd drop in the shade and read like crazy until it was time to start
around the square again. As the patch got smaller and smaller we
could go around more times before we stopped to rest.

When it was time to do dishes we had some sort of schedule taking turns.
When it was my turn to dry dishes I propped my book up and read at the same time
as I dried dishes.
(It didn't work to read and wash dishes at the same time I found out.)

Mom took us to the Book Mobile in the summer.
We shared our books with her from the school library during the school year.

This is a long circular motion to get around to my earliest memory of Mom
and a little church library and two or three little girls begging every chance we got for
another visit there after church so we could check out our favorite books
                 - especially one beautifully illustrated edition of -
                     The Five Little Peppers.

Hard Shell Tacos

Don't shop for groceries when you're hungry.  How often I've heard this little piece of advice.
Sometimes shopping and hunger happens at the same time in spite of good intentions. 


One day I dashed into Aldi for supplies -- hungry as a bear.  Near the door boxes of hard shell
tacos were stacked.  The picture on the box showed grated cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, browned hamburger, tacos and the words *Taco Bell*.  Everything I needed to start some memories rolling.


The first time I ever tasted tacos was January 1974.  Our family traveled from British Columbia, Canada south through Washington to Portland, Oregon to visit friends.  I remember the novelty of the middle of winter and no snow!  Weather that was damp and chilly with clouds and rain . . .


This weather was unheard of for Minnesota girls from a small town west of International Falls, MN, the coldest spot in the lower forty-eight.  It didn't seem like January to us -- no winter coats or boots, scarves or mittens.  We traipsed about with light spring jackets over our shoulders and high top tennis shoes on our feet.


Our friends took us to sea world and a wax museum and to the coast where water stretched toward the edge of the sky.  There were lots of rocky cliffs and waves splashed into the rocks spraying salt water all over the place.


One of the delicious meals we were served was tacos.  I can still remember watching the process of spooning the meat into the taco then loading it with lettuce and cheese. Maybe there were tomatoes and onions to sprinkle on top.  I don't remember for sure. And then trying to eat all of that crunchy goodness without everything falling to pieces . . .
                                Like they say in How to Talk Minnesotan, by Howard Mohr          
                                 "This taco is really good but it's dripping down my arm!"


That evening while I browned hamburger and grated cheese I told Krysta stories of my first visit to Oregon and my first taste of tacos. 


*Add salsa to the mix and make tacos even more scrumptious and messy.

Caddie Woodlawn

We have a family tradition.

Every time we travel home from a funeral in WI we stop at Caddie Woodlawn's home place.
We started this 20+ years ago after Grandpa Ben's funeral. Somewhere we have a picture of
Jeremy, Evan, Deanne and Jorgan posing beside a wooden fence and soon - very soon - I will
scan it into this computer and show you what they looked like so long ago.

The next time we stopped was after Grandma Christina's funeral. We posed everyone for more
pictures. We were going to get school pictures to give away. They are in an envelope in a box
packed away with my good intentions.

This past Tuesday Mom and I headed west on Hwy 29. In Menominee we turned south on
Hwy 25. I kept watching for a brown historical marker that would tell me where to turn. This
busy road with trucks and cars speeding along is very different than the road that went past
Caddie's house all those years ago.

The little white house shaded by the surrounding trees has seen many changes since 1864.
You can read all about her and her family in the books, Caddie Woodlawn and Magical Melons,
written by Carol Ryrie Brink

One of these days I will pack a lunch and drive to WI on a warm summer day. I hope I can hike
to Chimney Bluffs and explore there. So far every time we've stopped we had some reason
we had to hurry away.

This time was no different. We were on the way home after yet another funeral. We are at a stage
in life when our family reunions are not planned but hastily thrown together because someone we love has gone on to a Heavenly home. This time my mother's brother went on ahead of us.
I can picture Ray visiting with his dad, my Grandpa Jason.

And as so often happens, when one goes on ahead, God gives us another family member.
My niece and her husband welcomed a little boy named Jason Emerson to their home.
He was born on Monday morning . . . 
The same day as Ray's funeral.

We have seen pictures of Jase and his delighted brothers, Jensen and Julian.
Maybe some day they will be racing up and down the trails at Caddie Woodlawn's park.

February ~ 1978 Maranatha Bible School

"What were you doing when you turned 17?"

Krysta asked me this on the morning of her 17th birthday.

My memories had to back up -------------------------------

   Krysta was amazed when I told her I was at Maranatha

Bible School.  Yes, they let 16 year olds go to Maranatha way back

in the long ago days.  Now students are asked  to stay home an extra

year and grow up a bit more before attending for the first time.


Just a teensy tiny history lesson here -- 

The grade school in Lansing MN was leased in the summer/fall of 1977.

There were a lot of renovations made and plans went forward to start

Maranatha Bible School. 

There were two three week terms in the winter of 1978.

I still remember visiting Deanne at Maranatha one evening in 2008

for an end of the term dorm party. I did some math in my head.

 I was wildly startled to figure out she was in Bible School

thirty years after I was there.

So many things change -- so many things stay the same.

Same dorm parties

Same skits with a few new ones added

Same laughter

Mothers and daughters stretching and growing and learning together.

Man's Cookies

When one wants to bake cookies it's a good idea to have flour on hand.
I grabbed the bowl and opened the door in the island where the glass canisters
are kept. For my recipe I needed two cups flour and two cups oatmeal.
I could see there was not enough for two cups flour. There was lots of oatmeal.
I had whole wheat flour and coconut flour. I could have experimented but
fortunately I didn't have to this time.

Before panic set in a happy memory came to me. At Chelsea's bridal shower we
exchanged recipes. One was for cookies made out of a cake mix. Thankfully I had
a cake mix. After that it was easy.

Dump the cake mix in a bowl.
Add two eggs
Add  1/2 cup oil
Mix together
Add 1/2 bag of chocolate chips
Drop by spoon on a pan
Bake at 325* for 10 -12 minutes.

When I make these again I might try a stick of butter instead of oil.
It would have to be softened of course. And vanilla. I forgot to splash vanilla in the
cookie dough.  They were quite delectable even with this major forgetfulness!

Here is the famous recipe for Man's Cookies that I was trying to make.
1 cup white sugar
1 cup brown sugar        
Cut in:
1/2 cup margarine or butter
Add
2 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla

Dry ingredients:
2 cups flour
2 cups oatmeal
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. soda
1 tsp. baking powder
Mix all together with a big spoon.
Add one 12 oz. pkg. chocolate chips
Add one or two tablespoons water if it seems too dry.

(I cut the margarine in half for this recipe.
The original recipe calls for a cup of shortening or margarine.)

Drop by spoon on cookie pan. Bake at 350 for 8 - 10 min. Do not over bake.
We take them out when they are still gooey looking and let them finish baking on the pan.

This is the very first cookie recipe I ever made. When I was about ten or eleven a young
couple at our church had a little baby. I helped as a mother's helper and learned how to make
these cookies.  They have been a family favorite ever since.