We LOVE YOU, Aunt Pam

To all,

I’m asking for prayers for my sister, Pam, who just received some very scary medical news. She received the partial results to her screenings, the biopsy on her lymph node shows scattered melanoma cells, which is not good news. She is a wonderful lady who not only is a great sister, friend, and loving mother, she is a devoted Christian. We as a family have strong faith in the power of prayer and I am asking for your support with prayers for Pam as she goes through this process.

I apologize to you that know and are related to Pam to hear this news via the internet. I wish I could talk to each and everyone of you in person, but I felt the need to get the prayers rolling asap.

Have a very Merry Christmas,



Love Margaret

A Gift to My Family

December, 2005

To My Dear Family - now and into the Future,

I hope you enjoy this Picture Album and Collection of Family Stories as much as I have enjoyed putting it together. Our family is rich with history and it should be preserved and shared with all. As time goes by, I encourage each of you to add your memories and pictures to this record. In this way, our children, grand children, great grand children and for generations to come, will be able to look back and know some of the proud history of this unique and wonderful family. As we pass this legacy on to future generations, and with God’s help, we will be giving them strength as they journey through their own lives. They will understand that the generations before them also faced many of life’s challenges. And, in good times and in bad they found guidance from a loving God and family to overcome those difficulties and richly enjoy life.

I only wish I could be with each of you to share the memories as I remember them - the good times and challenging times. Better yet, magically I wish that you could have listened to my Grandma Nellie, (I only had one grand parent as I grew up) my Mom and Dad, and all my Aunts and Uncles, (I had many), tell the stories in their own words. As a child, some of my favorite times were to just be with them and listen to these adventures recalled over and over again. Like all of you, I would wait patiently for my name to be mentioned in these stories. It always was as they had many “little Georgie” stories. They made me feel special and always included me in their activities. In many ways I was perhaps closer to their generation than mine. At a minimum, I had a foot in each camp!

They laughed as they described themselves as the generation of “hunters and gathers”.  Whereas, hunting and gathering often pertained to deer, elk, fish, wild mushrooms, wild asparagus, and other food items, they also hunted and successfully gathered a joy for life that may be hard to duplicate as the world and our lives have become more complicated.  This generation grew up before televisions and often without radios. The only entertainment they had was playing with one another and along with friends creating “Huckleberry Fin” like adventures. Then, for the rest of their lives, they would tell each story as if it happened yesterday. They would regularly get together, sometimes just a few and sometimes fifty or more and sit in a circle to share new stories and recall old memories. There was also a good mix of jokes tossed in to spice things up. Each person would have a turn to share their story. Everyone would listen intensely even if they had heard the story 100 times before. These stories always begin “do you remember the time that”? Everyone would laugh as an encouragement to have the story told again. It was always very entertaining and these gatherings would keep people up well into the night. I remember one occasion, Mick & Curley’s 50^th anniversary, when someone finally announced that it was 3:00 am. Still no one wanted to go to bed!

If you listened carefully, you could learn a lot about life and the values of this family:

• How to raise a family of nine when you have just lost your husband to a tragic illness
• How to share in the family chores no matter how young you were
• How to, as a young boy yourself, take your little brother into the woods in heavy snow to cut down trees, split and deliver the wood by horse and buckboard to the local grade school for 10 cents a cord, and give your earnings to your mother for family needs
• How to feel good after a hard day’s work even though your hands were covered with blisters
• How to as a young hunter, share the harvest of a deer with your neighbors so that they would have meat for their families as well
• How to be thankful for a simple dinner made special with the love of a mother
• How to go to bed in a room shared with many of your siblings and feel good that you had your own pillow and a warm place to sleep.

There were so many wonderful stories and lessons.   

There were also the heart felt, very personal stories that were not told until much later in their lives. These were often told privately, but always seemed to be needed to be told and intended to be shared with others later. These were the stories that were always in the backs of their minds, the ones they could never forget. The life experiences that even after fifty years could still make them stare with a sobering look into places I couldn’t see. There were many pauses as they collected themselves and often tears in their eyes. These stories were so powerful, that I will never forget them and even as I write this I get blurry eyed.           

These were stories of courage:

·         Volunteering the day after your country was attacked and going to war in places in Europe, Africa and the South Pacific that you never knew existed

·         Continuing to fight on after you’ve seen so many killed during the great desert battles of North Africa and wondering if your little brother was still alive as his battalion was in heavy fighting as they crossed Europe heading for Germany

·         Saying goodbye to your new husband the day after you were married, and except for a brief last minute, surprise rendezvous in San Diego just before his final departure, not  to see him for two and a half years as he fought the war in the South Pacific

·         Pinned down in a fox hole with ice water up to your waist, scared for your life and survive several days and nights in deep snow with temperatures well below zero, and a dead friend lying next to you in the middle of one of the biggest battles of WWII (Battle of the Bulge)

·         Shot in the leg and near death as you hang on for dear life underneath a floating barge drifting down the Rhine river in Germany, to be rescued by a friendly family miles and days later, sheltered in an underground food cellar, only to be discovered and taken prisoner by the German Nazi’s, rescued later by advancing Allied Forces, air lifted to England on an emergency flight with advanced gangrene infection in your wounded leg, told by the doctors that they must remove your leg in order to save your life,  making the decision not to let them do it, surviving the trauma and upon returning home, proudly walking down the long dusty driveway to surprise everyone

·         The emotion of a mother being told that her son was missing and presumed dead in war only later to receive a Mothers Day card from him and not knowing if the son’s wishes were sent before he was killed or was there a possibility that he was still alive? Yes, he was still alive and it was he that proudly walked down the driveway!

These are but a few of the older stories. There have been countless more before and after these of World War II. Other Uncles and Aunts got up long before sunrise to go to low paying physical labor jobs to help in the war efforts, or to just earn income so they could feed their families during these difficult times. They were all hard working people and paved the road for an easier life for all of us. I must also add that each of them had good lives and enjoyed the fruits of their hard work for many years. I will try to write down as many of their stories as possible and encourage others to do the same.

In more recent times, to ensure that everyone was able to visit the entire clan at lease once a year, the family started an annual Family Reunion in 1969. It has been held each year without exception since then. Some years had more attendees than others but we always got together. I think the biggest gatherings were around 150 people. There was three times too much food – but it was always the aunties’ best recipes and prepared to perfection. It was kind of a silent competition. I remember feeling as though I must eat some of everyone’s dishes. I knew all the aunts were watching, and I wanted them to feel that their efforts were appreciated. I remember the younger, new wives like Mary Jo, worrying for days before the reunion, what to bring and would it be good enough. The pressure was there!

Water fights were a regular event at each reunion and were always reminiscent of the spirit of the family. We knew that at any moment, the fight could begin! All enjoyed the playfulness and no one was left out and no one was dry! I remember one year someone ran to her new car thinking that would be a safe haven. The bad news was that the window was still down and the glass of cold water hit the intended target on the nose! Oh yes, the inside of the car also was wet!

The family reunions were initially held at Swauk Creek Camp Grounds on Blewett Pass. They were later moved to Lake Roosevelt at Canyon Springs State Park .  This location was determined to be more central to everyone’s travels. Uncle Ralph and Auntie Marian always seemed to consider everyone’s needs and found the best location. The reunions generally started on Friday night and lasted through Sunday afternoon. We were always sad when they came to an end and it was time to say good bye.

I hope that these traditions go on for many years to come. We need to stay connected with one another and our memories and stories of the past. I have seen how it enriched the lives of my elders, cousins and family.     

Love to all,

Uncle George