Genealogy
A few days ago, I got a message on Facebook that would bring full circle another chapter in my family’s past. My cousin Pam, who is my Uncle Bill’s daughter, and her husband, Mike were planning a spontaneous vacation, and wanted to come to Casper to visit us. We were beyond excited!! We quickly contacted all the local family so they could plan to attend, and then sat back to wait with great anticipation on Thursday’s arrival. It felt like a long wait. We had been in contact through Facebook, and we were thankful for that, because of it we had been given the chance to get reacquainted with Pam already. The visit here would be a face to face continuation of our Facebook conversations.
Finally, the moment arrived. It felt almost like we had never been apart, except that there was so much to catch up on. We talked about the usual things, like family, lost loved ones, our sadness over Uncle Bill’s Alzheimer’s Disease and his struggles to figure out what happened to his sisters and brother, who have all passed away. And we talked of the old days, when we were all kids. They funny things her brothers used to do, and all the trips we got to go on together. Very quickly he years just melted away like ice cubes on a hot day. It was wonderful to be back in touch, and especially wonderful to see Pam again and meet her husband, Mike.
The evening went by far too fast, and before it hardly got started it was 11:00 and time for 
everyone to get some sleep, so we said good bye to Pam and Mike, and they headed back to their hotel room. Our time was over…the precious moments had slipped by so fast, and we knew that it might be a while before we will see each other again. It makes me sad to think of that, but we are going to try to make plans to head out there sometime soon, to see Pam and Mike again, and hopefully many other family members that we haven’t seen in far too long a time. Sometimes it takes a spontaneous visit to remind you that precious moments are just far too important to miss out on.
While going through my father-in-law’s belongings, since his passing earlier this month, we have come across so many interesting things…things we knew nothing of, but should not have been surprised about. One of the things we found that was particularly exciting to me, was a box of old letters written back and forth between my in-laws, during the last months before their marriage. Old letters give their reader such insight into the true person the writer was. At that time, my she was living in Colestrip, Montana, and he was working in Rosebud, Montana. Being in love and so far apart is never an easy thing, but they made due, knowing that soon they would be together for the rest of their lives.
While the letters always contained the usual “I miss you very much” parts, there was something else in one letter from my father-in-law that I thought was so sweet. In the letter he asked how his “girls” were doing. I looked up at the date on the letter, because he said “girls” and not girl. It was written on February 28, 1949…my mother-in-law’s birthday, and a little over 3 months prior to their marriage on June 6, 1949. So, what “girls” was he talking about? In the next sentences I found my answer. He clarified, when he wrote 
the name of that sweet little girl…Margaret. The little girl he loved so much and found to be so sweet, was my mother-in-law’s baby sister, who has long since been given the nickname, Margee. He went on to say, “I think she is the sweetest thing. I would like to have one just like her.” That comment brought tears to my eyes. It was just such a sweet thing to say, and it came straight from his heart.
I have always found my father-in-law to be a very good judge of character, and in my opinion, he hit that one spot on. Margee has always been a sweet person, who is willing to help in whatever way she can, and when she retired, and we were at a place in my mother-in-law, her sister’s care, where she could no longer be left alone, Margee stepped up and sat with her whenever we needed to take my father-in-law to the doctor or hospital. That, in my opinion, proved just exactly what he had seen in her when she was just a little baby, and though I have always loved her, it so completely reinforced my feelings for Margee, that it…well, lets just say it will be impossible to ever repay Margee for all she did for us. When we needed her most, and she proved over and over what a “sweet” person she is.
Dad saw something is his sister-in-law to be that would always make her dear to him. He had 
known her for all of her life and she had been his sister-in-law since she was just a little over 4 months old, so really, she was as much his little sister, as his sister-in-law, and she had never known a time when he was not in her life, so I guess he was more like a brother than a brother-in-law too. He got to see over and over what a sweet little sister she would go on to become. The few little lines he wrote in the middle of the letter, were not what the whole letter was about, but they leaped off the page as I read them…because I knew the rest of the story. I knew how that “sweet little girl” turned out, and how he had called it exactly right. She certainly was and is a very sweet girl.
I saw a picture today of an antique treadle sewing machine, and it took me back to the visits to Bob’s grandmother’s place in Montana. Grandma’s house was filled with antiques. Of course, at the time she bought those things, they were probably fairly new when she bought them. Of course it was not the antiques in Grandma’s house that really came to mind, but the living room they were in, and all the wonderful times we had in that living room. It was the talks and laughter we had there, and looking at her old pictures, and watching my girls playing while their grandmother just enjoyed the time she got to spend with them and us, and the time we got to spend with her. Precious time.
I remember watching my girls trying to play the piano. They played happily…until we could no longer stand it. Even the songs they played fairly well…like Chop Sticks…got old after a while. Still, like my in-laws the memories of moments at and in front of that old piano will always stay in the memory files of my mind. They aren’t there just because of watching my girls playing there, but because of the reminders they bring of Grandma and Grandpa, and the wonderful visits we always had when we went for our yearly visits.
I remember the times that Grandma would show us the 
beautiful china she kept in the antique hutch. The hutch was so beautiful. Of course the hutch also contained various little knick knacks and other little mementos from grandmas life. You can tell a lot about a person by the things they collect, and Grandma loved beauty. From the things she sewed to the things she collected. Her beauty, both inside and out, was revealed. Still, it was not the hutch that brought the warmth to the room, but the memories the room contained. Grandma’s house was always such a pleasant place to be. It was a house filled with the beauty that was Grandma, and I can tell you from my own experience, that Grandma was a beautiful lady…inside and out.
During the early years of my grandparents marriage, they lived in several places, as many people do. They spent time in Lisbon, North Dakota, and several areas of Minnesota, including Loman, Minnesota, where they had a homestead. My Aunt Laura was born in International Falls, Minnesota, which is 21 miles from Loman. These days, that is a 24 minute drive, but back then it was quite a bit more, especially since not everyone owned a car in those days. In 1918, 1 in 13 families owned a car. Then by 1929, 4 out of 5 families owned a car. A lot has changed in the years since then. Most families have at least 2 vehicles. Nevertheless, at the time my Aunt Laura was born in 1912, cars, or motor buggies as they were called, were a novelty item owned by the wealthy. That said, I would expect that my grandparents were living in International Falls at the time of my aunt’s birth, and then moved to Loman, Minnesota after that time.
At some point in the year 1918, my grandfather and grandmother decided to leave the life they had built in Minnesota, spread their wings, and head south to look for greener pastures, so to speak. They had gone as far as Kansas City, presumably by train, where they bought what I’m sure was their first automobile, and headed off to Mena, Arkansas. I’m not sure how long they were in Mena, Arkansas, but eventually they ended up in Ranger, Texas, where it would appear that he might have worked in the oil fields for a time.
I can imagine how exciting this trip must have been for my Aunt Laura, who was 7 years old at the time. Not only was she going on a whole new adventure, to a whole new place, but she was going the family’s first automobile. When you are used to going places in a horse drawn buggy this new mode of travel must have been very exciting. It had speed without the horses, and better control. She could feel the wind in her hair as they flew down the road. It was a huge new adventure, a fast paced adventure, for a girl who was used to life in a slow paced world.
I’m not sure just how long they lived in Texas, but I do know that by the time my Uncle Bill was born in 1922, the family was back in the north, living in Superior, Wisconsin. Maybe they didn’t like the heat or maybe they missed the Great Lakes region in general. I don’t know why for sure, but I do know that except for a few short years, my grandparents would live out their lives in Superior, Wisconsin. Aunt Laura, who didn’t like the cold much would spread her wings again later in her life and head out west, finally settling in Oregon, where she felt most at home.
On the back of the violin is a name, Allen Spencer. I assumed that it was carved lovingly into the wood by my great great grandfather when he was young. I have no way of knowing just exactly when it was written, but it would seem like something a child would do. Grandpa was born in 1826, and died in 1883, and as near as I have been able to find, the violin might have been made in 1866, which would mean that my great great grandfather was 40 years old. No matter how old he was when he engraved his name into the violin, the length of time the violin has been in our family tells me that music to some degree has been in my family for several generations. That violin was handed down from my great great grandfather, to my great grandfather, William Malrose Spencer, to my grandfather, Allen Luther Spencer, to my Uncle William Malrose Spencer II, who passed it on to my dad, Allen Lewis Spencer, with the request that we keep it in our family. We have had several violinists in our family, my sister Allyn, and my daughter Corrie, to name two. The violin is in great condition, and has been well used throughout the years.
My grandfather, Allen, enjoyed jamming with his brother-in-law, Albert, who was playing the accordion. I can imagine that their jam session was a lively time, as those two instruments don’t usually go together. Nevertheless, when a couple of brothers get together and try to outdo each other in their play, and from what I have seen of these two brothers, they liked to joke around. They always seem to have a twinkle in their eyes in the pictures I’ve seen. I have a feeling that the brothers could be…maybe a little mischievious.
When we received the violin, it occurred to me that this was a pearl of great price, so to speak. Maybe the name engraved on the back reduces the value in the eyes of an antique dealer, but it only increases the value to us. So often you have very little that belonged to your great great grandfather…especially when he died 73 years before you were born. That is the real thing that gives it value to me and my family. This was something that my great great grandfather, great grandfather, grandfather, my uncle, and my dad all took pleasure in, and something my mom, my sisters, and our families will all take pleasure in for years to come…because it was my great great grandfather’s violin.
I didn’t know my Aunt Deloris as a child, which is to be expected, but one thing I have noticed is that she was always smiling. I only wish some of the pictures I have were a better quality. The things Aunt Dee, as we all called her, saw around her seemed exciting to her. And yet, she seemed to have a shy side to her. The Aunt Dee I knew in my childhood would bear that out too. She had a shy smile that always warmed my heart. I loved to have her come over. And it was always so much fun to hear the stories about the past that she and my mom talked about.
Aunt Dee was always coming up with some new invention or idea. She wanted to find a way to feel like flying, and not alone. So she came up with the idea of using her dad’s trench coat and she and my mom got in it and off they went. She loved doing things for her family, like catching fish at the river, and putting them in a wading pool for the other kids in the family to enjoy. She bought a piano for the family for $35.00, and it was in her mom’s house until her passing. She taught the rest of the family a dance that she learned in 5th grade, and to this day, my mom remembers that dance.
I remember her laugh, that could light up a room. She would come up with some funny thought, and then start laughing. Well, you couldn’t help but laugh right along with her. I have a feeling that her sisters and brothers found a lot of her schemes…or at least the scheme failures, to be pretty funny too. When things worked exactly as planned, it was just pretty cool.
Aunt Dee passed away in 1996 from Brain Cancer. If she were still alive, she would be turning 81 years old today. I still miss her very much. She had a loving nature that was very endearing. It makes me sad that we were not able to have more time with her. Happy birthday in Heaven, Aunt Dee. We all love you very much.
Through the ages, kids have thought that the work done by their parents is fun. They do their very best to mimic everything their parents do. The funny thing is that often, the things they see as being vitally important, are the mundane tasks that we do because we must, but try to get done with as quickly as possible, because they are so boring. I’ve never been able to figure out why those tasks catch the eye of our little ones, or why they place more importance on those tasks than some of the really important things we do every day. I suppose it is just the difference between the thoughts of a child and the thoughts of an adult.
All in all, it’s not a bad thing that kids like to mimic their parents, because before long, they can do the real chores that they were pretending to do before…if they still want to by then. Of course, that is when your real work starts, because when you tell your child to do their chores, most kids take on a look of being instantly half sick. Their shoulders drop, along with their smile. They look like they have run a marathon, and here you are making them slave around the house, when you know that the only marathon they have been running is a marathon session on the play station. Funny, how that can suddenly be exhausting when you ask them to stop and do those chores.
Then, in your mind, you see that little kid, begging you to let them help, and if you were ever going to get anything done, you knew you were going to have to buy them a pint-sized version of whatever cleaning tool you were using. If you were ever going to get your work done, you were going to have to find a way for them to help you without actually using the tools you need, because you really don’t want to discourage them. The days that kids want to help are few and far between, after all, and before you know it, watching your kids doing the chores with a smile, are over.
Years ago, when most women didn’t hold down a job outside the home, because we were considered too delicate, and maybe not quite smart enough, for such things, women were raised to keep the house for their husbands. Of course, no one gave much thought to the fact that one of the hardest jobs in existance then or now, is being a mother and homemaker. If a man had to do that job, and many have over the years, they would tell you that they prefer a job out in the world any day. Nevertheless, back in the day when few women worked outside the home, everyone seemed to think that women spent most of their time having afternoon tea and socializing with their friends. And to a degree, maybe they did. Taking a break from our daily work is not uncommon, and is even necessary, if we are to be able to do our work well, and be willing to come back to it the next day and do it all again. Thus the need for a Girls Day Out, or as is often the case these days, Girls Night Out.
Of course, years ago, women seldom went out in the evening, unaccompanied by a man anyway. It was considered unsafe. I find that a bit odd, considering that it seems to be far more unsafe for women to be out, especially alone, these days than it did in the old west, or even back in the 50’s and 60’s. Of course, maybe things didn’t happen to women as much back then, because they usually had a man with them. I’m sure that we could debate that for some time, if we chose to, but on the lighter side…girls day or night out has been something women have looked forward to through the ages. It was a break from their daily work…a time to cut loose and have some fun.
Much has changed over the years. I heard it said somewhere, in reference to that Knight in 
Shining Armor riding a White Horse that women are always thought to be looking for, “That knight in shining armor is still out there, but these days he is riding a white Honda Civic, and he needs you to help him make the payments.” Most women work outside the home these days, not that the ones who stay home don’t have their hands full. It still doesn’t matter what your job is, everyone needs a break, and these days, the trend is toward Girls Night Out. After all, the men have had Boys Night for years, and somehow nobody ever thought that was so wrong…right? Sometimes, it is nice to leave the kids home with their daddy, and just spend a little time doing the things you can only do with your girlfriends. Cheers, girls!!
A while back, my daughter, Amy saw a picture of four hands forming a square. They were four generations of a family and that struck her as very special. So the next time we were all together, we took the pictures that were like those she had seen. We were very pleased with how the pictures looked. It was a very different way to do generational pictures.
I started thinking about what those hands represent. They represent the past, present, and future of our family. Yes, you could say that my mother’s hand is the past, but then so is mine, Amy’s and even Shai’s. Parts of our lives are in the past and part of our lives are in the present, and yes, parts of our lives are in the future. Within those hands is the hope of the future and the wisdom of the past. Our mistakes are now living in the past, and the future is what we will make of it. The choice is really ours.
Those hand have done so many different things. They have cuddled new life and changed diapers, shaping the future with their loving touch. They have been the disciplinarian of young lives, teaching responsibility and respect for others. They have played and worked…held books and babies. Everything we do, in some way includes our hands. They have shaped what we are. Some hands are calloused…the hands of a manual laborer. Some are soft, possibly the hands of an office worker. Some are dry from too much soap and water, possibly the hands of a nurse or caregiver. Some hands are permanently stained with oil or paint, while some are soft and manicured. It all depends on what things are going on in their lives.
So much can be seen in our hands, whether it is physically seen, or simply seen because you know the person. Our hands are so expressive of who we are, and when you look at four generations of hands, you can see all the differences that you know exist between the hand’s owners. It was such a good idea to take the picture, because it will always be a reminder of the past, present and future of who we were, are and will be.
Not having had anything to do with the business end of ranching, I find myself fascinated when I look at the pictures of branding, and hear about calving. While others who have been around it for some time, might just think of those things as all in a day’s work, or maybe even as a lot of work. My family were, at least in the years of my lifetime, city dwellers, so until Bob and I got married, I knew very little about country life, other than the little bit of time I spent at a friend’s house, which was not a ranch, and who I was only around during my junior high school years. That said, when I married Bob and we went to visit his grandmother in Montana, I got my first real taste of ranch life. Of course, as a guest and a girl, I didn’t get in on the tough stuff, like calving or branding, but I heard a little bit about it, and in reality, it was quite interesting to me, and I wouldn’t have minded getting to see it.
Bob’s grandpa owned the ranch at that time, although his son, Bob’s Uncle Butch is a 
rancher too, and owns not only his own land, but Grandpa’s ranch too, now that Grandpa has passed on. Bob used to spend summers visiting his grandparents when he was a kid, and I’m sure he got in on some of that fun stuff, although I don’t know if he considered it to be fun, but my father-in-law finds the whole process interesting to this day, and often talks to his brother, Butch about how his herd is doing, and how the calving is going. He has told me about his own experiences in calving too, such as the time he had to help a neighbor pull a calf that the mother was having trouble giving birth to, because the calf was coming out wrong. I’m not sure I would want to watch that process, but I guess when it happens, it is all hands on deck, because you can lose both mother and baby, if you don’t get it handled quickly, and even then you can lose them, because, sometimes the calf is just too much for the mother. A sad, but true fact of ranching.
These days, most of the ranching is done by Uncle Butch and his son, Scott, along with Scott’s wife Terri, and their kids, Laura, Carson, and Lindsey. I’m sure some things are 
done much differently these days, than back in the early years of Grandpa’s ranching career, but some things don’t change much. Cattle still have to be rounded up, and that still requires horses, riders, and of course, skill…probably another reason I live in the city. Not that I can’t ride, but I’d do best on some old worn out horse that doesn’t move too fast. I find that to be the best way to stay on the horse. From what I’ve see of the Scott and Terri Hein family, they could hold their own with the best of them. I’m sure that being around ranching, your whole life helps with that, but I have a feeling this is in their blood.
