Caryn
At some point in the life of every family, there is only one driver left who is unable to drive themselves to the places they need to go. In our family, my grandson, Josh Petersen is our last non-driver. At this point, especially if your 15 year old is working, transportation starts to become a real problem. Everyone else in the family is working too. Schedules are pretty much completely opposite for this child from all the others in the family, or at least part of the time.
Enter Grandma. Fortunately for my daughter, Corrie I don’t have to be to work until nine in the morning and I can leave for a few minutes to go get him, and Josh never has to be to work before nine in the morning. Otherwise, things could get really bad. Josh’s work is a little too far from the house for him to walk, so his schedule impacts everyone. It isn’t that we are upset because we have to take him places, but just that we suddenly see a serious need for him to be able to drive himself.
It is an odd position we suddenly find ourselves in. Who ever wishes their child was older? Nevertheless, at this point, we do. This boy needs to be able to drive himself places, and it’s only a few months we are wishing away. Still, I find myself thinking, if Josh is 16 years old, then the summer is over, and this last winter was so awful that I don’t want that either. It truly is a tough position we find ourselves in. When I think about it, Josh should still be that little boy he was such a short time ago, and I can’t believe he is almost ready to start driving by himself. But, the other side of that coin is that he has a job, and it’s summer now, so he can work during the day, so that messes with the ride situation a lot more. What do you do?
The summer will turn to fall so fast, that we will wish we had this time back, and that is the sad thing. Josh will be driving himself everywhere he needs to go, and we will think where have all the years gone. It is a natural progression of time and life, and I am always sad when those childhood years have passed. So, for this summer at least, we will take him where we need to and be thankful for the little bit of time we have left before he will be so much more independent and we find ourselves wondering where he is at any given moment. Because we will no longer have that full knowledge like we had when he was a little boy.
When my girls were little, curls were all the rage in hair styles. It’s funny how hair styles change, and we change with them. When you are a teenager, it is vital to wear your hair the right way. Later on in life, we wear what we like, because each of us knows the style we feel most comfortable with. And the trends don’t matter so much.
As a kid, I hated curlers. They were so uncomfortable to sleep in. The minute electric curling irons came out, I swore off curlers for good. I’ve never gone back. Funny thing is that for my girls, I somehow decided that curlers were ok. I guess it’s a right of passage, I had to go through them, so they would be fine in them too. I did try to use the softest versions I could find, because the goal, after all, was curls, not torture. At some point, I tried the curlers my mom had used on us as kids…socks. I guess every parent does what they can to make their child as comfortable as possible, while still achieving the desired effect…curls. The biggest problem now was getting the curls to last. Corrie’s hair did pretty good, but with Amy’s straighter hair, not so well.
Their curly haired years didn’t last very long, so I guess they didn’t like curlers either…even of the sock variety, which were much more comfortable than they other types. I still liked curls in their hair, so we tried perms and curling irons, but in the end, or should I say, as adults, they have both opted for the straighter styles, and it’s probably for the best. I think I like straighter hair 
better after all. My own hair has just enough natural curl to have tweaky looking spots, and frizz when it is humid, so I now use a straightener on it.
The days of sock curlers were funny and short lived. Unfortunately, I don’t have a picture of the girls in those…or at least not one I can get a hold of right now. It’s probably best anyway. My girls have been really good sports when it comes to the pictures I post of them, but they really might draw the line at having sock curlers, tied in knots all over their head. Nevertheless, they did wear them, and that is a picture that will live in my memory for a long, long time. It was just so cute!!
For years, Bob and I and our girls went to visit his aunt and uncle, Linda Knox Cole and Bobby Cole and their children Sheila and Pat, in Kennebec, South Dakota, where they owned and operated a hotel. One thing about visiting relatives who own a hotel, is that you don’t have to worry about where you will be staying. For many years, we really enjoyed going over to visit Linda and Bobby once a year. While we were there, we didn’t do anything special. We visited and played some cards. It was a very laid back, unhurried sort of mini vacation. The girls always liked going over, because they had cousins to play with. We didn’t always have a week or more to go on the trip, so more often than not, the trip would take place on a three day weekend, and would end with the girls having to go to school the next day. That left the trip home for the girls, in a full head of curlers. The good news, is that I hadn’t started curling their hair in socks yet, so I suppose that made it a little better for them. They never acted like they were embarrassed about being in curlers…even when we took pictures in the curlers.
One year, the trips to Kennebec just stopped. The hotel caught fire when a bolt of lightning hit it. While they knew the strike was close, they did not know it had hit the hotel until they smelled the burning wood from the upstairs rooms. The hotel was a total loss…at least the income areas of the hotel. The last time I saw the hotel, it was a charred shell of what it had once been. It was a sad time for everyone, because it was the beginning of change…a change that would end the yearly trips to Kennebec. After weighing the options, Linda and Bobby decided to move to Winnemucca, Nevada. While my in-laws tried to see Linda and Bobby during their snowbird days, with the onset of Alzheimer’s Disease in my mother-in-law, and the advancement of COPD in my father-in-law, their snowbird days came to an abrupt end too. After that, Bob and I saw Linda and Bobby a couple more times, and now, sadly it has been probably five to ten years since we saw them last.
During the years when we were busy taking care of my in-laws, Bobby had a heart attack. He survived and tried to make some healthy changes in his lifestyle. The one bad habit he could not give up, was his smoking, and in the end, it would be his smoking that would bring on his death. A couple of years ago, Bobby was diagnosed with Esophageal Cancer. They tried their best to fight the cancer, and hoped for a longer life for Bobby, but that was not to be. 
Bobby passed away on May 31, 2014. So much has changed over the years. Time and distance have kept family members apart, because of mounting health issues. I wish Linda had been able to see her sister, my mother-in-law, Joann, before the time came when she could not remember who she was. And I wish they had not had to go through Bobby’s last years alone too. Rest in peace Bobby. We love you and we will miss you.
They say that when a girl picks a man to be her husband, she often picks a man who is much like her dad. It isn’t maybe a conscious thing, but it seems to be a fact anyway. Maybe it’s because for a girl, their dad always makes them feel like a princess, so it can be hard to move away from that when you get married. I think to a degree, most girls pick someone similar to their dads, because that is the first male influence on their lives, but it would sure seem that, my sister, Alena Spencer Stevens came the closest of any I’ve ever seen when she married her husband, Mike Stevens. I don’t know if she saw the 
similarities back then, but I doubt it, because I don’t think most girls choose a husband based on that similarity, but she definitely sees it now. Mike is a lot like Dad in his work ethic, the type of work he can do, and in his mannerisms and temperament. They are even similar in their looks!
Alena loves to do many of the recreational things that our dad loved to do, such as camping and fishing, and she loves to sit around a campfire, so much so, that she and Mike were the first in our family to buy a backyard fire pit. That is very Dad like. I suppose that being Dad like is one of the main reasons that Alena would choose a man who is much like Dad to be her husband, because that is the type of person she is most comfortable with.
Alena is a very soft hearted person, and like Dad, she doesn’t like to see people being picked on, unless of course, it is in fun, and then she would prefer to be the one doing the picking, rather than being picked on…but then, wouldn’t we all. Alena is pretty good at playing practical jokes too. In fact, she has been since she was a little girl. She pulled enough pranks on the rest of us over the years, that we learned to be pretty watchful of her. It was the best way to defend yourself. Her favorites were, of course, the ones where the rest of us ended up scared, so she could laugh at us for being a chicken…I wonder why, when we thought someone was breaking in when Mom and Dad weren’t home and it was midnight or so. Good job Alena!! Today is Alena’s birthday. Happy birthday Alena!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
From the time she was a little girl, I knew that my daughter, Amy Schulenberg Royce could take care of herself. She was always a tiny little girl, and finally grew to the great height of 4′ 11″…or so I thought. Her husband kept telling her that she was only 4’10” and when she got tired of arguing with him she had him measure her, and sure enough she is 4’10”. Nevertheless, height isn’t everything. My little girl has always been feisty, and she let any poor soul who messed with her know that she was in charge. Don’t get me wrong here, because Amy is very much the peacemaker, and she really dislikes confrontation, but that doesn’t mean that she will let people push her around. It simply means that when she is done putting up with something…she is done, and you would do well to get out of the way.
I think that in many ways, that feisty determination has been something that has served her well. Many people think that stubbornness is a bad thing, but being a stubborn person myself, I know the value of stubbornness. A stubborn person really hates failure. They will set their sights on something, and against all odds, they will achieve that goal. That is exactly the kind of person Amy is. She is a never give up type of person, just like her mom. We are stubborn, but it is stubborn in a good way. Stubborn in a determined way.
Amy is a successful insurance agent now, and it has been my pleasure to work with her for the past several years. It’s not always easy to work with your child, but with Amy it has been easy. She has a great work ethic and would never put me in a position of needing to take her 
aside and chew her out for her work habits. Yes, we are both stubborn and determined, but we also work well together.
Amy’s life is changing now, with her children growing up. Amy has found a new passion…travel. She and her family went on their first cruise, to the Caribbean, and had so much fun that she can’t wait to go on another one. At this point, she and her husband, Travis are planning a cruise through the Panama Canal. They are so excited about it, and I am very excited for them. Today is Amy’s birthday. Amy, I am so proud of the person you have become. Happy birthday Amy!! Have a wonderful day!! We love you!!
About the time my sister, Cheryl turned 12 and went to junior high school, things started to change around our house. We had always danced in some form in the house, but not much of the dancing that went along with rock music. That year marked the end of the immature child’s play for Cheryl, and the introduction of the teenage world for the rest of us. Cheryl and her friends practiced dancing in our living room every chance they got, and the rest of us tried to follow along. As with most people, there were those of us who had a natural rhythm, and those of us who…just didn’t. Unfortunately, I found myself in the latter category. Maybe I was just in those awkward pre-teen years, or something, I don’t really know, but for whatever reason, I was more the bull in the china closet type of dancer. It wasn’t that I hit anything, but more that my moves were really klutzy and I couldn’t seem to hear the beat or find any semblance of rhythm. I suppose that in time and with a lot of practice, I could have figured it out, but I simply decided that I was probably never going to be much of a dancer, and for many years, I danced only with my sisters in the living room, because I figured that if they laughed at my moves, I could live with that, but if my friends did so, it would be the most humiliating thing that could ever possibly happen, and something I chose not to risk.
I don’t recall just how good my little sisters were, but I remember that Alena has always been a pretty good dancer. She was a lot like Cheryl in that way…just a natural talent for it. Caryl, does real well these days too, and has even taken dancing lessons, so she can do some of the really cool dances from days gone by…like the ballroom type of dancing. I don’t remember just how good Allyn was, but then she was only three years old when we started dancing in the living room, so I’m sure she was uninhibited and we all thought she did just fine…and she seems to do just fine these days too. In a way, my younger sisters might have been given a great advantage with those early dancing days, because they weren’t in the awkward years of growth, and they weren’t self conscious either.
Even though I felt self conscious in those days, I still stuck it out, because it was fun to hang 
out with Cheryl’s older friends and my sisters, doing something totally goofy…at least in my mind. I don’t remember if Cheryl ever hated having all her younger sisters hanging out in the same space as she and her friends were, but my guess is that she probably did, because having all your little sisters hanging with your friends is always tough when you are a tween or teen. Nevertheless, she was stuck with us…at least for those dance sessions, and it was probably ok with her if we danced with her when her friends weren’t there. Whatever the case may be, I learned pretty much all of the little bit I know of dancing right there in my parents living room, with my sisters, and I learned that dancing isn’t exactly my forte.
There is something about naming a child after yourself, or your parent, that appeals to a lot of people. My dad was named after his dad, and my Uncle Bill Spencer was named after his grandfather. Sometimes it’s the first name that came from the parent, sometimes it’s the middle name, or sometimes it’s both. For my Uncle George Hushman, who didn’t know his own family until much later in life, life presented him with a perfect plan for a namesake. When Uncle George married my Aunt Evelyn Byer, he became the second George in the family, because his father-in-law, my Grandpa George Byer was the first George. Since Uncle George didn’t know his family at the time he married my Aunt Evelyn, he pretty much adopted her family as his family.
I don’t know if their first son, George was named after Uncle George or Grandpa George, or if it was both, but I kind of think it might have been both. Then, when he had a son, my cousin George, named his son George. Suddenly there were four Georges in the family. Of course, with the four Georges came the need for nicknames to distinguish between the three and then the four of them. My cousin George became Bub, and his son, my cousin once removed, George became Hush. It seems like anytime a child is named after a parent, nicknames are inevitable, but the parent truly still has a namesake. I’m sure that my grandfather felt honored to have so many named after him, even if he shared that with Uncle George, and I think they both liked the whole thing enough to want a picture of the four Georges as a keepsake. And now, there is a fifth George, with the addition of Tuff.
My husband, Bob was named after his grandfather, Bob Knox, and so my Bob became Bobby to his family…but that was not allowed by his wife, mind you. I can’t say as I blame him, really, I mean it is a little juvenile when you think about it. My nephew, Rob was also named after his dad, and we all called him Robbie, but his wife, Dustie was not allow to use that either…again, too juvenile. Naming a child after someone else can be a little problematic for the one being named, when they grow up and the name seems far too young for them.
For my Uncle Bill, being named after his grandfather was the greatest honor that could have been bestowed on him. He wore the name with pride…often mentioning the connection in the family history along with his signature, as a way of honoring his grandfather. I think that is what having or being a namesake is all about. It is a show of love for the person who had the name first, as well as for the child named after someone very dear to their parents. Maybe it began as a tradition, but even then, it is a show of honor, love, and great respect, and it is a cool thing to do.
Funerals so often become a type of sad family reunion. Family and friends, who have drifted apart, now come together to say goodbye to a loved one or friend, and wish there had been a just a bit more time to reconnect, before the passing of their loved ones. Everyone lives a busy life, so time always seems to slip away, and before they know it, someone they cared about very much is gone. No one ever means to let the time between visits slip away, and yet I can name two grandfathers right now, who moved away from the state their parents lived in, and it ended up being the last time they saw their fathers alive. In those days, there were more situations in which the children moved away, never to see their family again. The distances were just too far to travel back and forth, like we do these days. Those parting goodbyes were much more sad, because they were real goodbyes.
When my great grandfather, William Malrose Spencer left Iowa with his family to move to Wisconsin, he had no idea that it would be the last time he saw his dad, Allen Spencer. Obviously, anytime we leave a person’s presence, it could be the last time we see them, but it is far less common when living in the same town than living several states away.
It looks to me like my great grandmother my great grandmother, Henriette Hensel, went back to Germany only once after she immigrated to America with her sister and her brother-in-law. Her husband, my great grandfather, Carl Schumacher went back to visit, but taking the entire family again would have been quite costly, so he went alone. I’m sure they were very happy to see him and hear about their life, but it was nevertheless, most likely the last time. I’m sure my great grandmother was sorry she couldn’t go, but by then she has Rheumatoid Arthritis, and travel was difficult.
Even in this day and age, of easy travel, a move far away could prove to be the last time a family gets to see the departing loved one, but thankfully with things like the telephone, Skype, FaceTime, email, and Facebook, staying connected isn’t as difficult as it used to be. It doesn’t replace the reunions, because one on one time spent with loved ones is so important, but it is better than the way things used to be. Somehow, a letter from home is not quite the same as being able to see them in person, or at least via Skype or FaceTime.
Recently, I received an email on my Ancestry account. It was from a woman named Laura Weber. Through her husband’s DNA, she was able to connect him to the Spencer side of our family, and this brings the family connections to another fork in the road. It seems that Laura’s husband, Nicholas is a descendent of Clifford Spencer, who is the son of William Spencer and Viola Fuller, and is my grandfather, Allen Luther Spencer’s younger brother. Clifford first married a woman named Annie, and they had a daughter named Ethyl Pearl. They were divorced, and he married a woman named Hanna, and they had three children, Loraine, Clifford, and Wanda.
Ethyl Pearl always felt very much alone after her dad left, and while she grew up around her mother’s family, she never really got over losing her dad. She married a man named Claude Coleman, and they had six children, Joyce, Duane, Laura, Claude Jr, Alfred, and Lois. Her husband was not the staying kind either, and in the end, I think it might have been for the best, or at least as far as my Uncle Bill was concerned. For part of their your life, the Coleman children lived with my grandmother, Anna Schumacher Spencer, and the children went to school and helped out on the farm. It was a good life, but like their mother, they missed their dad…no matter what the circumstances of his departure.
Ethyl’s daughter, Lois married a man named Weber. He and Lois had three biological sons, and one adopted daughter. One son, Peter passed away in 1981, and their adopted daughter, 
Terry passed away in 2008. The sons who are still alive are Mark and Joe. Mark married a woman named Margaret Mason. They had Nicholas (Nick), and then divorced. It is Nick’s wife, Laura, who made the connection with me, and we are both very excited about this new connection.
It is so amazing to me to be able to connect with yet another branch of the family. I hope to have some pictures of Lois in the future, as well as possible introduce the Weber’s to the rest of the family. I have been so excited about the family members I have found through the DNA I sent in to Ancestry. It has opened so many new doors, and there will be more in the future.
In years gone by, the choices for recreational activities were pretty limited. There weren’t any radio stations to play music for dances all the time, things like television and computers were still in the future. So, what did people do to entertain themselves. Of course, there were things like the occasional barn dance, and the county fair, but in reality, there were not a lot of choices. The saloons wee an option for the men, but not for the nice women…in fact they were embarrassed if anyone knew that their men were in the saloon at all. Not that the men were very influenced by how the women felt about it. If they wanted to go in there, they did, and that was it.
The saloon was where the men could get a drink and socialize with friends, or they could play poker. The other things that happened in the saloon, such as the womanizing and fighting, were not talked about in good moral company. That didn’t mean that all men engaged in such immoral activities, but I’m sure some did. Of course, just having those dance hall girls in the place, is enough to make most women suspect.
Poker was pretty much the card game of choice in the saloons, but maybe some of the men played it elsewhere. Back then, I doubt if the women would be caught dead playing poker, because it was probably considered a sin. These days, playing poker is considered simply a fun activity, and it is played in homes, casinos, and even bowling alleys. Lots of people play, and have a great time doing it. Times were just different back then, and sometimes I wonder if that wasn’t a better thing. There seemed to be an innocence then that we don’t even have in our grade school years in school now.
Nevertheless, I don’t think there is anything wrong with playing cards, or even poker for that matter. I play a little poker at the bowling, alley, which is much different than regular poker, in that you just draw the cards when you get a strike or spare. Personally I’d rather play, Cribbage or Spades, over poker in most situations, but in all reality, I’m not much on playing cards anymore. I suppose that is because there is too many other activities to occupy the mind these days. I have to think I like that better than I would have the days when cards were the main entertainment.
