The Magik of the Internet Part Deux

I've shared before about how much I love the connectedness of the internet - finding distant relatives, making new friends, having the answer to any question right at my fingertips. To me the world wide web is magik. Oh, and that part deux? Homage to one of my favorite commercials - the woman who finds her French model boyfriend on the internet. Bonjour! ("They can't put anything on the internet that isn't true.")

Recently internet connections helped Bud return the loss of something of value to its rightful owner. It was while on his morning run he found a Samsung tablet and nearby its case. It was along the highway so he expected it to be broken, but picked it up anyway. Once home he found that it was a little scratched but otherwise okay. At first there was little discernible to identify the owner. I noted that the default weather was set to a town in Texas. Bud noticed that many of the marked pages had to do with Disc Golf. Then he found something with a name on it. I entered the name on Facebook and had several hits, one of which was in the same town as the Texas location set for weather info. Bud noticed all the likes concerning disc golf. We decided there was a very good possibility we had found the right person. Bud found the man's e-mail information and sent him a message along with our phone number. At 9:30 that same night the guy called - it was his tablet. He hadn't even missed it yet. As I had suspected, he had put it on top of his vehicle, forgot about it and then took off flinging the tablet to the side of the road. The man was working on a crew that traveled to various locations around the state. When he returned to town a few days later, he got his tablet back. Without the internet we would never have found the owner.

The other recent connection is much more personal. Several months ago I received a Facebook friend request from one of my son's cousins. I accepted the request. It was interesting to see the man's pictures and read his posts. Then one day he commented on one of my posts and referred to me as Auntie. Oh, how that warmed my heart. It had been 47 years since his uncle and I had parted and he was no longer a part of my life. The little boy I remembered was a grown man and still thought of me as his aunt - so maybe not everyone in my former husband's family hated me?

When my son planned a camp out to celebrate his birthday, he posted a general invitation to all on his Facebook page. I was happy to see that my former nephew planned to attend also. I was looking forward to seeing him again.

We arrived at the campsite and there he was. He goes by Al now, though it is hard for me to call him anything but Alan. We walked up to each other and into a big hug. The first thing he told me was how he remembered when I went to their home in Kansas City to take care of him and his younger siblings while his Mom was in the hospital having a baby. He said I packed the best lunch for him to take to school. I told him what I remembered most about that week was how exhausted I was taking care of so many little kids (five counting my little boy). When his mom got home she berated me for doing everything for them - said the kids were supposed to pick up after themselves and do other chores around the house.

Here is a picture of Al on the left and my son, Doug, on the right. You can certainly tell these two are related.

Funny thing about getting older, at least for me, the things that tore apart families and even other friendships don't seem nearly as important. What you remember is what those people once meant to you, how you wish you might see and talk to them once more.

My little nephew Alan was so sweet. I loved him and his siblings. His hugs touched my heart.

The grown up Al hugged his Auntie and I felt those same heart tugs. The magik of the internet.

The Wonderful Wonder Horse

First-born Douglas just turned fifty-two which means he was a little more than sixteen months old in this picture - Christmas, 1963 - taken in the living room of the old Methodist parsonage in Brooks. The 'Hanzie house' we had been renting in south Brooks was sold to Gene & Carolyn Dixon so we 'moved on up' across the RR tracks where we rented the old parsonage. It was a cute house too, but cold; hard to heat.
Christmas was coming and I wanted it to be a good one for our little boy. He was big enough to play with toys. I wanted in the worst way to buy him a wonder horse but they were expensive - somewhere in the thirty dollar range if I remember right.
I don't remember now how I managed to buy his horse. I might have put it on lay-a-way and paid a bit each week. However I did it, it was there next to the tree on Christmas morning. I can't decide what the expression on his face is - more "Hurry up and take the dumb picture so I can get off this horse!" than "Whoopee! Ride 'em cowboy!" If Doug ever had a name for the toy I don't remember it. I always just referred to it as the wonder horse.
The horse served many riders over the years including siblings Kari and Preston as well as cousins Andrew, Lorrie and Christine before being 'put out to pasture'...... (Stored upstairs in my parents' house.)

..........Until the next generation came along. This is Doug's first-born, Brock, riding the wonder horse in the living room of the house on the acreage we rented from Mrs. Elliott south of the Fairview Church. Brock looks as though he was enjoying the ride more than his Dad did.
Those wonder horses must have been well built because we now have a third generation riding this same old pony.....

....Brock's second-born son, Sawyer, turned one last month. At his birthday party Grandpa Doug presented him with the wonderful, only slightly faded, wonder horse. Sawyer's mommie, Paullina, labeled this picture "I'm a cowboy, Mom. Cowboys don't smile." when she posted it to FB Monday.
Just knowing that three generations have ridden the wonder horse and having these photos of them makes that original purchase price very well worth it!

Out of curiosity I looked up the present price for a wonder horse and this Radio Flyer "Blaze Interactive Riding Horse" came up. It says the list price is $269.99 on sale for $149.99. Glad I'm not debating buying one today! Of course the Blaze version has three stages of riding sounds - walking, trotting and galloping - and includes brush and feeding carrot accessories.
Sawyer might like Blaze's sounds, but since he already makes his own shifting sounds while playing on his riding car, I'll bet he can make his own horsie sounds on Grandpa's original wonderful Wonder Horse.

"And It's Too Late, Baby, Now It's Too Late..."

Carole King's lyrics reflect how I feel about some of the things I'd still like to do but don't feel able to. Things which require physicality and stamina.

Then there is Jim Valvano's famous quote, "Don't give up, don't ever give up!", which I hear on a regular basis because it is one of Bud's favorites.

I'm starting to think about our upcoming trip to Oregon to see Kari and Ken and their new home which makes me think of previous trips and sights we've visited along the way. Waterfalls come to mind. There were all the waterfalls along the Historic Columbia River Scenic Byway we saw as we left Portland after our first visit there a few years ago....

including, of course, the famous Multnomah Falls.

Then there was our 2006 trip to the West Coast beginning with seeing almost all the waterfalls in Nebraska.

Yes, there really are waterfalls in Nebraska most of them along the Niobrara in Northern Nebraska. Smith Falls is about 18 miles east of Valentine.
And the next time we head east, I still have experiencing Niagara Falls on my 'bucket' list.

But these are the falls I really want to visit that I'm afraid I have left too late - Ramona Falls in Mt. Hood National Forest. You see, even though the trail is classified as 'easy to moderate' the distance is 7 miles. I don't think there is any way I could do a seven mile loop hike. Even to see my falls.

Then I think about that 'don't ever give up quote' and remember that I made it all the way to the top of Seven Falls in order to see where Helen Hunt Jackson was inspired to write her novel Ramona. And that I made it all the way to the top of Temple Mound at Moundville Archaeological Park in Alabama last April after looking back and realizing I was already halfway to the top.

Maybe if I started training now I could work myself up to seven miles and seeing Ramona Falls could become a reality. As Confucius said: "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

"It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them."  George Eliot 

Fishin' In Hawleyville

Sometimes all it takes for an idea for a post is a car trip with an old friend. Yesterday I took Ellen to Shenandoah for a belated birthday lunch. We have been friends since our freshman year in high school.

I have wanted to have lunch at The Sanctuary, an old church turned restaurant, for a long time. Each time I planned an outing there with someone it didn't work out. Finally! The ambiance was as I expected, the food was good and the companionship even better. We had a nice luncheon. (To paraphrase The Wizard of Oz, "Pay no attention to that man behind the sign!" I was aiming for a shot of all the pretty flowers.)

As I most often do if a trip affords it, I take one route going and a different one coming back. I checked the IDOT website before going to see if there were any detours or road construction delays. It showed only one, which turned into two. I decided to use my knowledge of those blue line highways and head off across country which took us into Shenandoah from the north via Essex. So when we left I decided to go back on Highway 2 through Clarinda. As we were leaving that town headed toward Bedford Ellen said, "We could go through New Market." To which I replied, "Or Hawleyville."

Ellen had never heard of Hawleyville and we did not end up going that way, but I had to tell her about my memory of fishing in Hawleyville with my Grandpa Joe. We had been shopping in Clarinda with my grandparents. On the way home through Hawleyville, which never was too large of a town and now only has a few homes left, Grandpa decided he wanted to stop at the East Nodaway River bridge and go fishing.

Somewhere I do have a more recent picture of the bridge which looks very much the same today as it did in this picture from 1908 which I found on the internet. (Credit to Merrily Tunnicliff) Grandpa must have had a fishing pole with him but he didn't have any bait.

The car was pulled over along the road side and down the bank to the river Grandpa, Dad and Ron went. Mom, Grandma and we girls stayed on the bridge to watch them fish.

The thing I remember most about that day was what Grandpa used for bait - cockle burs! Those little green, spiny, stickery seed heads from one of the most noxious weeds like the one shown here. Who on earth would think of using a cockle bur for fish bait? Grandpa Ridnour! To the amazement of the bridge onlookers, Grandpa began catching fish! I'm pretty sure he caught enough to take home for their supper.

When I consider it today, I believe the fish Grandpa caught that day were most likely bullheads - they are known to bite on just about anything. I can remember eating my share of these catfish relatives. We caught them in our pond as well as the small creek that ran through our pastures.

Or maybe my Grandpa was just a natural born fisherman - a fish whisperer in today's nomenclature. He did love that pastime. This picture was taken on one of their trips to relatives on Grosse Ile, Michigan in the Detroit River. Left to right, Murl and Martha Kendrick (Martha & Grandpa were first cousins), their son-in-law and daughter, Dayton & Cleo Lessner, my grandparents, Delphia and Joe Ridnour. Grandpa looks pretty happy with that day's catch.

It is a very good day when you can enjoy an outing with a good friend and recall a significant childhood memory.

(Hawleyville is north of  Clarinda on Hwy 71 about three miles and then east on J31 about three miles until you cross over the East Nodaway River. As the old saying goes, "Don't blink or you'll miss it.")

Ah-h, Recipes - But So Much More

I believe it was late last summer when a classmate of mine posted on the Facebook page "You know you're from Corning if....." that his cousin had published a cookbook and provided a link to Amazon for those interested in ordering a copy.
I remember being happy for Julie and impressed with her accomplishment. Writing a book is hard work. I also thought that if only my Mom was still alive I would order a copy for her. Mom's favorite pastime was reading cook books and trying new recipes. She was such a good cook but somehow that gene passed me by. I am not a good cook and trying new recipes is not one of my hobbies.

But the news about Julie's book stuck in the back of my mind. A few weeks ago I looked up her cookbook online which you can also do here . I was so intrigued by the history included with the recipes that I decided to get my own copy. As soon as it arrived I read it from cover to cover.

I was even motivated to try some of the recipes. Julie says that the Broccoli Salad is one of her personal favorites. It has always been one of the first salads I go for when someone brings it to a potluck, but I have never before made it for myself. I have now.

Salads are my favorite part of any meal. If you had asked me though if I've ever had Acini De Pepe Salad I would have said, "What? Never heard of it".

Turns out I have had it - and liked it - I just didn't know what it was called and certainly didn't know how to make it. I do now.

Recipes Along the Way by Julie Marie is, as this post title says 'Recipes - But So Much More'. Perhaps knowing her and her family makes the family history more interesting to me, but the history about our state is also intriguing. It includes a copy of The Constitution of the State of Iowa saved by her ancestors back in 1857 as well as copies of old newspapers from around the state. I love the way Julie entwines articles from those papers with what may have been going on in her ancestors' lives at the same time.

I also appreciate how little stories about family members introduce or follow a recipe - for instance the vignette about her Grandpa Goodvin and his taters following the recipe for Fresh-fried Potatoes. Or the comments about her Aunt Marie's 90th birthday party and how she connected with people just ahead of Aunt Marie's Pork and Bean Salad recipe. Pork and beans were a staple of my childhood but I don't believe I had ever heard of Pork and Bean Salad. I had to try it. (See, Julie Marie has me trying out recipes!) Not only did I think it was good, so did my husband and he is not a lover of salads like I am.

History and recipes - not a combination you would normally think of until you think about family history and how recipes are handed down from generation to generation. Perhaps reading Julie's book will inspire you to share some of your own family history and recipes.

My Mom would have loved this cookbook.

Johnny Tremain and the Reason We Celebrate July 4th

Whether I was born with a love of history or it developed as I did, a book from the same year had much to do with it.

In 1943 Esther Forbes' book about the American Revolution was published. The following year this Young Adult book, Johnny Tremain, won the Newbery Medal. The story is about 14-year-old Johnny's life in pre-revolutionary Boston. I was probably close to that age when I read the book. I know it left a lasting impression on me. I always found reading historical novels much more palpable than learning history by rote.

So, on this 238th anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, I think about all the boys and young men like Johnny who have fought and died for our country's freedoms. Perhaps it was our visit to this year's Freedom Rock yesterday that made me think of Johnny Tremain...

....you see this year's depiction has a Minuteman on the front along with an injured returning vet and a current soldier. Bubba Sorensen repaints this giant boulder each year to honor our Vets for Memorial Day. You can learn more about Sorensen at www.thefreedomrock.com as well as on his Facebook page 'The Freedom Rock'.

I find myself as intrigued by this pole and the mementos left by other visitors as I am by the rock. I wish I knew the stories behind some of them.

Sorensen has created "The Freedom Rock Tour" of Iowa in which he plans to paint a smaller version of The Freedom Rock in all 99 counties.  My home county, Adams, got their's last year. He was working on it during 'Retire the Red Raider' weekend which I wrote about here. My brother, Ron, took part in the dedication ceremonies for the Adams County Freedom Rock this past Memorial Day.

The county I now live in, Union, has their rock in place near the old Phillips 66 station which serves as our information center. I believe it will be painted next year.

It will be interesting to see how Sorensen transforms this rock into one unique to Union County as he continues his dedication to honor and remember Iowa's Veterans not only on the 4th of July, but every day.

Lost Lake

I have pictures that could go with the title of this blog - like this one:

The lake of my childhood - Lake Binder. My older brother learned to swim here when there was still a humongous (in the eyes of a little sister) diving tower.
It is also the lake of my teen years where couples would go to park and car loads of their 'friends' would go to bushwhack them.
That same older brother told me of taking girls out there and scaring them by shining his spotlight on the remaining gravestones of the old Queen City Cemetery all the while telling ghost stories. He said there was one corner around the lake where a spotlight could be shone just right and it looked for all the world like ghosts shimmering. Timing the ghost story with the ghostly glimmers was certain to result in scads of screams.

Lake Binder isn't lost - the lake is still there.

As is this lake from our North Shore trip in the 90's. I like the moodiness of this picture with the lighthouse in the distance. I don't think of Lake Superior as being a lost lake, but I do think of all the ships lost on the lake - like the famous Edmund Fitzgerald. Gordon Lightfoot's song heard here will be one I'll always relate to this lake.

Hamilton Pool in the Hill Country of Texas isn't a lost lake but we thought ourselves lost before finally getting there. The fact that we had the place to ourselves that day did make it easy to imagine it as the private pool of the Tonkawa and Lipan Apaches it once was.

This is the Lost Lake of my post title:

Sarah Addison Allen's sixth novel and probably her best so far. I love all her books. In some ways they are fairy tales for adults. They are magical, mysterious, enchanting, haunting. This book is so beautiful it made me cry. Then I learned that the author wrote it during the time she was fighting breast cancer. She says she is now two years cancer free. Thank goodness. I want her to keep writing books forever so that I may keep reading them. She understands the power of the connections that bind us forever. Put Lost Lake on your summer reading list. You won't be sorry.