LINDA'S LETTER TO HER GRANDS

Good morning,  to our grands!                                                April 18, 2020

I don’t know if it is because it’s Spring, or because God is gracing us with great sightings but we seem to be having the wildlife party around here.

It all started with geese showing up right before Hannah’s birthday.  They actually paraded right in the front yard.  Gramps and I can’t think of a time, ever, that we had a couple of geese come right up the hill from the pond and settle down for a rest in the front yard! HONK! HONK! They were very loud.  I even heard them over the television.  I had to start looking around to figure out just what all the noise was about!

Next came the coyote.  Last Monday I was chatting with my friend on the phone.  I was sitting at the kitchen counter looking outside when here comes a nice size coyote just prancing his way across the front yard.  I don’t think we have ever seen a coyote in the front yard.  I didn’t have the camera, so no picture, but I got up watched him walk all the way back to the woodshed, stop and take a glance back to the house, then mosey down the little hill next to the “bone digging” area. 

Yesterday, early evening, I looked at the pond and I was seeing lots of ripples in the water.  I mentioned to Gramps that there is quite a bit of activity on the pond- maybe the ducks are playing—I proceeded to take the walk down towards the pond the see the beaver!  “The beaver is back,” I said as I returned to the house.  We both went to check him out and sure enough, there he was just having a grand swim, with him even sitting up to check out the grasses.   (I am sure he is thinking, “where do I start first!—so much work!”  I looked over the bridge to the creek side and spotted the trail he has started taking- it is a pretty good path.

We had already seen the diggings of moles over on the far drive.  Last evening, I looked to the side of the house, under the kitchen window area, and low and behold, the moles have made it there.  I just mowed the lawn the day before and had pressed down some raises in the yard.  Now they had made themselves really known by circling all around the area near the porch.  This is war!   Gramps has traps, so we might have to do some trapping!

The elk are parading and partying on the road to the lower pond so we placed some cameras there hoping to see them soon.

Just to keep you informed of the “day and the life” around here!

Love you and missing you all

Gramma Linda

And then there are the hummingbirds!!

DON'T COUNT YOUR CHICKENS UNTIL THEY'RE HATCHED
“What does that have to do with the price of eggs?” A saying often heard when I was growing up, that I find myself still using. It means merely that what one is saying has nothing to do with the topic we are supposedly discussing.

Being so old I find there are many new phrases that are total “GreeK” to me as my comments are to the younger generation. One I use freely is “don’t count your chickens until they are hatched.” That is probably very confusing to many so decided while I am “killing time” I will talk about chickens and how the saying is very appropriate.

There was an era when many people had chickens and they came about the natural way....not with incubators where one could buy them already hatched. That actually was happening when I was a child and before. but I am still well acquainted with the natural method.

To raise chickens the natural way you needed hens and at least one rooster so the eggs would be fertile. While we always kept our chickens in a chicken house many did not. They put them in a house at night if possible to protect them from the other animals that enjoyed the taste of chickens. However, in the daytime they roamed about at will. That part was always a bit difficult because the chicken, duck and especially goose poop was quite yucky and walking through it was rather like tiptoeing through the tulips.

But to go on. In situations like that when the she decided it was time to be a mother, (which came at certain cycles) she would find a secret hideaway, and it might be anywhere. If the owners were alert enough they would keep them in the chicken house for that process but often they might nest in their own secret spot.
My Mom who loved and mostly cared for our chickens would watch for those broody hens, then off with their heads and we had chicken for supper. That was not the way of many though - so the wait would begin. First the mama hen had to get her nest full of eggs which took some time at an egg a day and then start to sit on them for three weeks waiting for them to hatch. So the pioneers and all in the past patiently waited to see how many chicks would come from those ten or twelve eggs.

As we are currently isolated we need that kind of patience for sure...perhaps that is a phrase we could invent for this time??

One never knew if the hen would be faithful enough to sit as much as she should or if the eggs would be properly fertile or the weather would create issues so the phrase “don’t count your chickens until they are hatched” had a true meaning.
So you see it is a valid phrase to be used in many situations. Currently it is very appropriate for many plans have been totally destroyed during this corona virus situation. Whether it is monetary or plans of other things until it is accomplished it is still like those eggs....can’t count as chickens until they are running around peeping.

That goes along with my favorite phrase when someone asks if I will do something and I use the phrase “If the Good Lord’s willing and the creeks don’t rise.” The scriptures are clear on this too for in James 4:13 we are admonished “Come now, you who say, today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, and spend a year there and carry on business and make money....you do not know a thing about tomorrow.

We definitely are experiencing this now, so may we all have the patience of an old hen as she patiently awaits her chicks and know from this time what really is demonstrated by the phrase.....”Don’t count your chickens until they are hatched.” God Bless Catherine

Catherine Dunlap (Mom) has some thoughts on our current state of pandemic being:

Money or Health?

Earlier today I read a comment supposedly by an elderly gentleman suggesting that we old people have seen worse so buck up. Well, I am of those older people at closer to 94 than 93 and do remember the Great Depression and all things since. So, I shall put my two cents worth into the conversation. Born in 1926, my entire early part of life was either depression or war. Yes, I do remember it, and we did make it through, and we will make it through this pandemic too.
However, let me say this a new experience and one I really could not have imagined so think we should talk seriously about economy versus lives. The depression was hard but most all of us were already poor with some more so than others. There were even some who continued to have their regular jobs and were as we said “better off” than others. My Dad was the clerk for our one room school at Aims and I recall he wrote a check against insufficient funds. Still not sure how that worked but we went to school.

It was hard and we were fortunate being on a farm where food was grown and preserved and milk and meat were available. I do remember having bacon and salt and pepper sandwiches for lunches sometime and all of the peanut butter stuck to the roof of our mouths.

During the depression the dust bowl also occurred, so many came here to the West coast in hopes of a better life. The saying was one could tell if they were a bit better off if they had two mattresses on the top of their vehicle. There are in every circumstance those who abuse the system - but not too many did it with toilet paper. There were still mostly outhouses. Catalogs were our connection to the worlds goods that were available if we got any money. They also provided a secondary use in the outhouse.

My Dads business during those years was selling wood. He hired wood cutters and one story stands out of hardships endured. One day a car pulled up by our house with six people in it all very young. There were two brothers married to two sisters with the sisters two younger siblings with them. None were older than 21. They had driven from the Dakotas looking for work and someone in Springdale sent them our way. Dad hired them and they moved in a building we had that was ten feet by sixteen feet. (Later that building became the start of our house and is currently my bedroom...a story for another time.) This small building had been used for a chicken house and various storage things prior to that time. It was not finished on the inside...just four walls, one door and one window as I recall. A small stove was installed and water was available outside. They all lived there but the oldest young couple did sleep in a bedroom in our house. The others all thrived there for the duration of the Depression until war came and jobs began to open up.
So, while hardships prevailed we all survived and have a lot of happy memories from that time. As for me now, I prefer staying isolated for the sake of peoples health and lives rather than the efforts to prevent an economic downturn by risking those lives.

This time is very different and so having lived through many trying times I do not want to minimize at all the stress and concern that is prevailing. None of us have done this before because the last really really severe pandemic was in 1918 and all I know about that was what my parents shared and it was very difficult. We have many safeguards as a result of the Great Depression Era so lets go for saving lives....not the rush to get the economy running.

ROADS TO AIMS
Because I have a lot of time on my hands as many folks do being really confined to home my mind keeps running so decided to approach the subject of how roads in the area got their names.

Thinking of our own families properties will start with our roads which are private but used by many. The one that is gated by the Aims Fire station has no name except we say to go across the canyon that is the way to go. However past Johannsen road, beyond the field and barn, is another gated road. That we call the Dump road. Now, that is really confusing to many because it is a bit odd. Well, the reason it is called that is because we so called pioneer folks were not always environmentally correct. The way to dispose of trash...including large and small items was to start a dump pile somewhere out of sight. After equipment such as tractors with blades and buckets we did dig big holes and when it was full bury the debris. Before that they were just there and we let nature take care of it. So, that is our Dump road but no one gets to go in and dig up anything to collect old stuff...ok ?

That road originally and is still useful to reach the Younker property which was originally Will and Maggie Thomas property settled in the late 1800s. Will Thomas was Jeannette Granberg's great uncle. Sometime back in the thirties when my Dad purchased property bordering their land, on part of their original acreage he and my brothers built another road into the property that goes off Hogg Mill Rd. They did that with horses and fresnos so it was a big job. Both roads are now used by those private persons owning property involved.

Now I will start with Gordon Creek Rd which I have no idea how it got its name. Very likely the creek was named that first and if anyone really knows how that got its name it would be great to know. It has been a road for a very long time and was quite rough in the early years. My parents told of walking to Springdale or riding horseback when they moved here in 1920. My Uncle Bob Kerslake had a car and could bring them back to the top of Gordon Creek Hill and then they walked the rest of the way because it was too difficult to drive if the weather was wet at all. My Dad would tell how coming up Gordon Creek Hill if gas was a bit low in his Model T he would turn around and back up so the gas would go to the outlet. When I was a kid it was so different than now...but that is another story.

Trout Creek Road I assume was named after the creek which has two branches that come together in the main stream prior to getting to Trout Creek Camp. That road was just a dirt type until late thirties...early forties when it was taken as a county road and improved. I had an old map that showed at one time the plan was to connect it to Hogg Mill Road. Can you imagine that?
The next real road is Johannesen and that was obviously the original owners. I do not know if they were the ones who had the still during the prohibition days and were hauled off to jail because somehow I think it was another name that my folks told about when that happened.

Groce Road is the next in line and it was named after Arthur Groce who owned property here for his relaxing time but was the owner of the Springdale Store that was located just east of the Springdale Chapel on the Columbia River Highway. They were lovely people and helped all of us get through the depression with their generosity. We charged and paid what we could and were very grateful. Not sure why it was not named Lowe for they were the first people to settle on property at the far end of the road. There is even a family burial plot on the place.

Hogg Mill is next. That of course was named after the owners of Hogg Mill which was a vital part of the area for many years. The mill burned down in 1928. The Hoggs moved to Washington State and he was involved with a bank there. He left a wealthy man in those times but the 1929 crash came and the bank failed. Mr Hogg distributed his personal wealth to the account holders who lost theirs. They lost their beautiful home and came back to Aims. They moved into the old cook house - a "rustic" building - which they filled with their lovely furniture. I have special memories of them. There are questions as to why some people think it is Hogue and that is what the original sign for the road stated. Those of us who knew the Hoggs objected and got it corrected.

So, we come to Bull Run Road and obviously it was because Bull Run was the place to go on that end of the community. It was a thriving place then with the Power Plant in full mode and the Portland Water Bureau hiring many people to do jobs that probably are done by mechanical devices now. There was an entire village thriving there which could be another story.

The first road to the right that has a sign is that Hog Bone one which makes no sense at all to me. If anyone had asked me...which they obviously did not I would have called it the Oscar Woods Road. Those were the ones I remember as an entire family grew up there. But, that was a long time ago and no one asked.
Next on the left is Connett Road. Of course that is appropriate, but Nettie Connett had made her own sign and put it up before the county got around to it so they had no choice. Of course Netties colorful lifestyle is well known and while some of it may be enhanced a bit one can read a lot about her at the Sandy Museum. Worth the trip to go there anyhow.

When we come to Warriner Road I really have no idea about that. We always called it the Walker Prairie Road. Suppose there was someone by that name lived there but Walkers prairie was really a prairie...now a forest and had wild horses in it that was weekend sport for young would-be cowboys to try to catch. Some did too.
Whoops....forgot off of Connett Rd apparently there is a Wilkinson Rd and it was named after some folks that had Ayshire cattle that had huge long horns and with free range laws they traveled around the area and was something we avoided if they came around. They were a sweet old couple as I remember but probably not nearly as old as I thought they were at the time,

Then comes Elsner Road. The Elsners were very early settlers and owned a lot of land which was only divided in the fifties so that was definitely well named. Laughing Water Road down the hill was no doubt named after the Creek and it is a happy Creek I guess or it would not have been named that. Perhaps that was named by Gus Elsner who was an early resident on property there.

So, I have whiled away a lot of time and now who knows what I will do with this. Killing time is theme a lot of the time at the moment. April 1, 2020

ANOTHER TIME KILLER
Wow, I have not watched a Hallmark movie all day. I do hope they all are living happily ever after and missing me. I regress....got carried away researching on Google and consulting with Jeannette Granberg to verify my memory as much as possible. So, here we go with another Aims story.
This morning my son Ben asked me how long the power lines that cross the Bull Run Road near the old schoolhouse have been there. That started my head working and so I started the research - I really do try to be as accurate as possible when all I have is my memories and no one to verify them. So will get on with when and how it transpired.

Bonneville Dam was dedicated in September 1937 by President Franklin Roosevelt as best I can determine. I know that both my brothers were in high school and got to watch the motorcade with the President and officials go up the highway. That sets the general time and I do believe that the line I am referring to was one of the very first to be constructed. There are several reasons it was a memorable time for me. The first is because the supervisor for the project as it progressed through our area boarded with us for the time they were working.

I remember him coming to the door and asking if he could rent a room and my Mom was totally horrified with the idea. We had just redone our house and it was barely livable she thought. However he convinced her it would be fine and thus he rented a bedroom for the weeks it took. He was a very congenial gentleman and ate his meals with us and my Mom packed him a lunch. One very humiliating time for her but funny for all the rest of us had to do with a lemon pie.
I digress from the story to explain the pie. Before lovely packages of pudding mix (just add water and milk and cook) or even instant types that only need beating there were cans of a do-it-yourself kind. We got those from the Watkins or Raleigh salesmen. They were only the thickening part of the pudding or pie mix. With it you measured so many tablespoons, so much sugar, and milk or water as need be and then cook. Well, being in a rush, or whatever, could cause one to lose count as obviously happened in this case. When the filling in the pie was cooled and the meringue added it looked lovely. However when she started to cut it to serve the error of too much mix was evident. The filling all came out like a piece of cement. Needless to say it created much laughter for all but my Mom and our boarder got a bang out of it too.

So, at school we also watched the lines being constructed and grumbled about the fact that we were going to have all that power over our heads and we were still in the dark. Of course that happened in other areas too so we just watched the power go streaming by and kept on hoping until 1944 when we finally got electricity. Oh Happy Day that was!

That was for sure one of the first, if not the very first line ever used to distribute power from Bonneville. The second line that goes close just west of our house was built in the early fifties. That information comes in consultation with Jeanette Granberg as her Mom was recipient of $700 plus dollars for the right of way to cross their property. Because she benefited from some of that money she can somewhat set a time. We believe it was in the early fifties because when she was a Junior or Senior in high school she got a NEW coat with some of the money her Mom got. She thinks the coat cost $50.00 and was the first brand new coat she ever owned. In addition it was later advertised in Seventeen magazine. That now was really something. Since we all grew up with home made clothes and even made out of flour sacks part of the time events like that were burned into our brains.

So, there is the story of what I remember about the power lines. May you all have a good memory to think about and know that years from now even the experiences we are having will become stories. Realize that is hard to imagine but it will be so. God Bless.

At the request of Sam Traxler:
GETTING THROUGH THE ECONOMIC STORMS

One thing leads to another is a true statement for another request has come from my Grand Nephew Sam Traxler, to explain how we got through the recession in the eighties. It is a certainty that I will not be totally accurate as to dates so we will agree on the range of early 1980’s. I could be certain if I got out my old ledger books but that would be a bigger task than I want to tackle. Thus it is the memories, not the specifics I will relate.

Many folks I know had no idea there was a Recession in those years but for the logging industry there was. In the late seventies we had the “gas shortage” and folks endured long lines and alternated days at the gas pumps to refuel. We were not bothered by that because we had our own gas pump. It was somewhere during that when we discovered shortages though and found the delivery person was only putting part of what he was billing us for in the tank and selling the rest on the side for his own benefit. We changed providers and I expect he was fired.
Back to the story. When Reagan was elected all was supposed to be well, but for us not so much. I believe at the time we were working for Longview Fiber who had purchased Publishers Paper Co. who had first given us a real logging contract back in 1965. Prior to that we had the dairy and were gypo loggers. We logged on our own property and in the neighborhood but not on a regular basis. After multiple sales, I believe they are now owned by Weyerhaeuser.
We were well blessed with ten months of work they tried to guarantee yearly. In the after effects of inflation, trickle-down Reaganomics was supposed to solve all the country’s problems but it was not an easy process (google assisted). So, for one year and I am not certain if it was 81 or 82, we were without a job. It was during that year that we survived on our savings (not a lot) and logging some of our own timber. That really was our fall back source of survival over the years on various occasions.

Of course at that time we still had our own meat, eggs, butter, and milk. When we sold the dairy cattle in 1965 we kept four cows to have for our use as well as selling milk to some of the neighbors. The evening milking had always been done by Ruth, Ardie and me plus the kids who were around. After the cows were sold, the various kids did the milking in the evening without the help of their mothers. When Marc, Ben and Eddie got big enough they fed the beef animals too but they all took their turns milking. The very last ones to have that job were Ben and Tami who graduated from High School in 1985. We then sold or ate the ones left and went to the store for milk.

Of course we still had a huge family garden and lots of canned food and fresh when available so the life style was different too. That was definitely helpful and a different kind of life than is currently the norm with most of us.
The logging on our property was a big part of our survival for sure. We were selling short logs, eight footers I believe to a small mill in Boring. My brother Allan was the truck driver hauling them on our 1963 International little dump truck which by the way is still around. There is also a story with that which I had forgotten. We had purchased it in 1978 at an auction from the City of Portland. My nephew, Larry Traxler worked for the city out of Dodge Park headquarters and told them of the auction where it was available. An interesting note is the cost of getting the registration changed was the huge pice of $2.00. Wow. That was the truck that hauled the logs and one day a policeman stopped Allan on the way to the mill thinking it was overloaded. After going to the scale it proved incorrect so no ticket but the fellow asked why was he hauling such loads of logs? The answer Allan gave was, “we like to eat”. Simple enough.

Actually that year when tax time came anything we harvested from our property is taxed under Capitol Gains which is often less than regular and we only made $685 earned income otherwise. So taxes were quite low and no estimates were required as was usually the case for we self employed folks. This then created another somewhat anxious time. The next year things were much better and we knew we would face double trouble. First we had made no estimates so it would all be due plus the next first quarter estimates also. We knew we did not have enough to cover it even though it had been a good year. There had been a lot of catching up to do.

It was winter and our usual time of lay off. Frank decided to get his fourth knee surgery, (first replacement) which put him out of commission for three months. That added another problem. We needed a bit of a miracle and the Lord gave us one. The pulp market suddenly became very good (maybe they needed toilet paper) so again, family property became the solution. We had to hire a timber faller because Frank was out of commission. We logged Jim and Ardie’s property up by the Dump Road which had a lot of pulp. By April 15th we had the full amount to cover all the taxes. I am a firm believer in the scripture that says “give unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’ss and to God the things that are Gods.” We got our miracle.

So, that is basically how I remember that 80‘s recession. It was not nearly as difficult as the so called Great Depression nor the Recession of 2008-09, but it definitely gave us a challenging year. And we still had a good time.

TO THE DISAPPOINTED CLASS OF 2020

TO THE DISAPPOINTED CLASS OF 2020

Currently we are going through a tough time for sure. While as the old hymn says, “there are no disappointments in heaven” on earth that is not the case. While it is those times we toughen up, going through them is not pleasant.
Lately I read comments of how hard it is for the high school seniors who are missing out on so much. It is a joyous time that is being sacrificed. However, recalling times from my past I want to assure them that in coming years they will have valuable stories to tell and strength because of lessons learned now.
In the local Corbett area there was no high school at all until 1914. Prior to that time the only way any student got a high school education was to go to Portland. Girls often did that working for some household as a nanny or house maid to pay for their board and room while they went to school. Because of family responsibilities my mother (Clara Kerslake Baker) was not able to do that. She was born in 1898 and graduated eighth grade in Springdale but there was no local high school yet, so she waited. Eventually she was in the first class at then Columbian High. She started as a freshman at sixteen.

Her stories of high school were very positive as she looked forward to getting her diploma and then being able to teach in a grade school. She also told wonderful stories about walking to school from Springdale, especially on those windy days we all know about in the Gorge.

Her dreams were shattered in her Senior year when her Mother became ill and she was forced to quit school and go home to be the primary caretaker of her Mom and her younger siblings. Over the years there were several elderly residents of Corbett given honorary diplomas to recognize the difficulties they endured. I was honored to present hers in 1985 when I was on the school board. She was 87 then, and was delighted to receive that diploma and it remained in a place of honor until she passed at age 100.

Granted life is much different now but disappointments for young people are not new and are part of what toughens us up for life.
I believe in my own actual graduation time the biggest disappointment was that only one boy was in attendance because the rest were already somewhere fighting WWII. That indeed was sad.

When anyone asks me about my high school years, which are usually the most fun times of ones life, in many ways I say that I can’t really relate. I started high school in the fall of 1939. Actually I was scared to death to go to the “big” school having gone all my grade school years in Aims one room school. High school itself was a scary transition.

It was really okay when I got there and life was pretty fun and then came Pearl Harbor and what was.....well, it wasn’t anymore. Early in 1942 the Japanese internment began and they took our Japanese friends away as if they were enemies. That was a heart wrenching experience that probably contributed to my convictions of justice (or the lack of it) to this day.

Of course, life immediately changed for all of us. Laborers were few so over those years if there were crops to harvest we would get out of school to help. Even remember working in Evans cannery a few times. The school year was short and all activities minimized because gas was rationed so travel was as well. There was a Junior-Senior banquet held in the school gym and we felt special for getting that.
Our year book was really special in the year I graduated in 1943. Of course we were encouraged to buy stamps toward purchasing a War Bond so even if it were possible we would have been ashamed to try to get something professionally done. So, we did our own. It was mimeographed with no pictures....just information about the class in writing. They are fun stories though. Paper was even hard to get and some things impossible so we did the best with what we had. All metal went to the war effort so no brads were available even. Therefore our year book is tied together with ribbon. Actually after 77 years it is still hanging together. That was good ribbon.

My hopes were to be a teacher also and I even had a scholarship which will really give anyone reading this a chuckle. Recently I found a letter in one of my boxes of saved things that informed me I had a $50 scholarship to Linfield college waiting for me.

Imagine that.

Then, came our actual graduation where I mentioned only one boy was left in the class to attend. At 18 a boy could be drafted but needed a parents signature at 17. A student in good standing, regardless of age, would get a diploma. The remaining boy was not 18 until September and his parents decided he could wait until school was out and so he did. Shortly after graduation he joined the Navy. That boy was Ross Johnson...yes the one and only wonderful Ross Johnson...a Corbett landmark.

My plans to become a teacher did not work out but the month we graduated one of the Weather Bureau employees, who had a wife and child, was drafted and another worker was needed. I got that job and started work on Monday after graduating on Friday. The weather station was on Crown Point...and my job there was very interesting. Many stories for a later time.

Life is an adventure and my hope is that because of this hitch or glitch in life we will all be better for it.

Congratulations to all those who have made it to this place in the journey of life and journal your memories.....wish I had.