Me
When I think of people who are always happy, the first person who comes to mind is my niece, Kellie Hadlock. I really can’t think of a greater tribute to a person than to be known as the happiest person I know. That is the kind of person everyone wants to be around, because she lifts your spirits when you are feeling down. She makes you laugh in spite of your own sour mood. She leaves you feeling better that when she entered the room. Those comments don’t just come out of some misguided sense of obligation, but they are spoken about Kellie, because that is just how everyone feels about Kellie. Kellie finds life to be delightful, and even when she might have the opportunity to be sad, she just thinks herself happy.
Kellie is an insurance agent in Casper, Wyoming, following the example of her aunt…me!! Of course, her mom was an agent for a time too, and a very good one, but since I was the one who got her mom into it, I will take the credit for insurance being in Kellie’s blood. Kellie was nervous when she first decided to go into insurance, and I can hardly blame her for that. Taking the insurance examination is a daunting task, and studying for it is no picnic either. Nevertheless, Kellie persevered, and before long she was licensed, and is doing quite well as an insurance agent, and I know that her clients love seeing her smiling face every time they see her.
Kellie is the youngest of my sister, Allyn and her husband Chris Hadlock’s four children. Her and her siblings have a unique relationship. They tease each other, and even call each other names, but it’s all in fun. I suppose that if people listen to them, who really don’t know them, they might think them rude, but they are anything but rude. They love each other very much, but they are also some of the funniest people I know. Kellie and her family thrive on teasing and making jokes. How cool is that? Just think…every day of your life is filled with random laughter, jokes, and silliness. It’s almost like being in a comedy show 24/7. Today is Kellie’s birthday. Happy birthday Kellie!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
As kids, one of the first things we like to do is swing. I suppose it has to do with being rocked as babies or being in a baby swing. Whatever the reason, swinging is a favorite recess pastime…if you can get on one at recess that is. Nevertheless, it doesn’t take very long for kids get bored with regular swinging, and decide that it’s time to change it up a bit.
The first thought is to go higher and higher. That provides a thrill for a little while, but sooner or later, every kid decides that they are brave enough to jump out of the swing. The first few attempts might not go do well, but with lots of practice, they soon become an expert at it. That doesn’t mean that there 
won’t be any more skinned knees or broken bones, but they might be fewer…and maybe further between.
I remember my elementary school days well, and while I didn’t get to the swings first very often, I did learn how to jump out of the swings at some point. I also remember the gravel on the playground, and the times I felt said gravel dig into my knees. It was no picnic. I never broke a bone jumping out of those swings, in fact, I reserved my first broken bone for my 59th year of life…not a great move, if you ask me, but there it is.
While I don’t exactly recall how many times I fell trying to jump out of the swing, I can tell you that it 
didn’t stop me from trying. The key is in the timing. If you jump too early, you fall, and if you jump too late, you fall. I’m sure you have a little wiggle room, but not very much. Still, with all the falling that happens when kids try to jump out of the swing, you won’t see kids in general quit trying. It’s all part of what makes the swings fun. And seriously, you only live once, so you might as well try the things that look like fun. And to kids, jumping out of the swings is where it’s at…until the next new challenge comes along, anyway.
Like all good things…our Anniversary Weekend has come to an end. That’s that bad thing about long weekends, holidays, and vacations…they end way too soon. It doesn’t matter how much you like your job, we all hate to see the weekend come to an end. It’s no different for me, and I find myself a little sad that the annual trip Bob and I take to Thermopolis to celebrate our anniversary is over. When we go to Thermopolis, we don’t go to the pools in town, but rather just enjoy the hot tub at the motel. We don’t go there to be around a lot of people, but rather just to be with each other.
This year’s trip was extra nice, because the temperatures were in the sixties. The early Spring was evident everywhere. The geese don’t really leave…at least I don’t think they do…because with all the warm water, staying warm is easy. Nevertheless, the birds were all everywhere, twittering and being all lovey…sure signs of impending Spring. The fishermen were out in force, and enjoying the warm weather to get back out there and enjoy a favorite sport.
Since we don’t fish, Bob and I were able to get out and do our favorite sport too. There is such a lovely river trail at the edge of the motel property, and it runs all the way up to the hot springs and pools, making for the perfect walk. For us though, this was the 
celebration of 41 years of marriage, and that makes it an amazing trip for us. It’s our time to disconnect from everyday life, and just enjoy each other’s company…almost like a second honeymoon that you take year after year.
Sadly, this weekend trip like all other good things must come to an end, but as we head home, it is with a renewed relationship. That’s one of the beautiful things about these mini honeymoons, we come home more in love than when we left, if that is even possible. Bob has been such a blessing in my life, and of all the good things that have to come to an end, I’m thankful that we have not, because he is the love of my life, my soulmate, and my one and only. I had a wonderful weekend, Honey. I love you!!
This past week, my grandsons, Chris Petersen and Caalab Royce, both made flying trips into Casper. Chris drove from Sheridan to celebrate his birthday, by driving with his mom, my daughter, Corrie Petersen and his brother, Josh to Fort Collins the next morning because his dad, my son-in-law, Kevin Petersen had taken his dad there for surgery. Kevin hated missing Chris’ birthday, but there seemed to be no other way…until Chris made that flying trip down from Sheridan. Caalab made his flying trip because of a birthday to…his sister, Shai’s. Caalab couldn’t stand the thought of his sister having her birthday without someone in her immediate family there. I was so proud of both of these boys, because the both have such thoughtful hearts.
If there is one thing I don’t like about having grown children and grandchildren, it is that they get so busy, and sometimes move so far away that they can’t come and visit their mom/grandma quite as often, and those flying trips seem to become the normal course of events. Still, each one has to live their life in the way the choose. I’m learning that more and more, and I know it will become more and more the future, whether my family lives near me or not. For me now, the thing to do is to cherish each and every flying trip as it comes along…especially the surprise ones, like the trip my grandson, Caalab made this time.
In reality, I’m sure there will be a number of flying trips I will take to visit my kids and grandkids too. You can’t 
go to another state for a week, see all the sights, spend time with your kids and grandkids, and not have it be a flying trip. Those trips are filled with running here and there moments, because you want to do everything you can in the time you have, so you can make memories of the events that will last until you see your loved one again.
My grandson, Chris had to head back to Sheridan on Tuesday, and my grandson Caalab flies back to Bellingham, Washington late today. I’m sad that they were such quick trips, but I am so thankful that I got to see my two precious grandsons, who don’t live in Casper. And every time those who live away, head back home, I find myself feeling thankful for those who still live here. It keeps loneliness at bay.
With each passing year, I find myself feeling more and more amazed that of all the young marriages there have been over the years, Bob and I managed to find each other and be one of those “made in Heaven” marriages that withstand the test of time. Bob and I were married when I was eighteen, and he was twenty…fairly young by any standards. I know that family and friends never expected it to last, and many have told us how surprised they have been over the years, that it has lasted. I can’t say why it has lasted, except that we just love each other. There is no magic formula…just love each other. Love is the glue in a marriage.
For a long time, Bob and I have taken a trip to Thermopolis on one of the weekends around our anniversary, and we always look forward to that. It is a time in a small town, where there isn’t much to do…except to be together. We walk along the trails, soak in the hot mineral tubs, and enjoy wonderful meals. We talk and just renew our commitment to each other. If there is anything special that we have done for our marriage, this would be it. Doing things as a couple is such a great way to bond. Bob and I love to hike, 
and that makes Winter a less than favorite season, but we love the rest provided it’s not too cold. We find hiking to be a great way to exercise, as well as getting outside and getting some fresh air.
I can’t say if these things are what has kept us close, but we are close, so maybe they are. All I know is that I love Bob more today that when we first married. He is my soulmate, and my one and only. I don’t know what brought us together, other than God, but I’m certainly glad God did bring us together, because my life has been wonderful since the day I met Bob. God knew what I needed, when He sent Bob to me. Today is our 41st wedding annversary. Happy anniversary Honey!! I love you!!
It happens every year, although maybe not to this degree, but when it has been a long cold winter, the ice can get really thick on Lake Superior, and when it begins to thaw, ice can make its way onto the shoreline because of the movement of the deep water. I saw a video a few days ago that showed Lake Superior thawing and the ice shards coming ashore. They weren’t thick, because this Winter, while bad enough back there, was not as bad as the one we had in 1958, when I was almost two years old. That year, the ice was so thick, that it came ashore as very large ice slabs. When the ice comes into the shore on Lake Superior, it can overflow onto streets and yards near the shore.
I can’t say that I recall the time we spent on the ice slabs that year, but apparently the 
ice slabs, shards, or just ice in general are things that the people along Lake Superior celebrate. I suppose when Winter is a longer lasting season, finding a way to have fun in it is essential. Enter the Ice Festival. From what I can see, and I hope some of my Duluth/Superior family members will fill me in, there are a number of events. On the website, I saw ice sculptures, ice princesses, bon fires and s’mores, warming houses with hot drinks to warm up with, food, fireworks, children’s story time, and crafts, so there is truly something for everyone, and it’s all about having fun.
I don’t know if we were at an Ice Festival when my parents took us out to see the ice slabs on Lake Superior’s shores, but in looking at the pictures, I must say that they were definitely impressive. I know that the ice festival is not as much about the ice 
slabs around the lake, but rather about the fact that, at this point, most people are really over Winter by now. Finding fun things to do that are associated with ice, as well as the coming Spring, is a way to lift everyone’s spirits. I can tell from the pictures my parents took at the time, that they and we were impressed with ice slabs that had come on shore that year. I think anyone would have been impressed, because they were huge that year. Some of them were half my height, not that I was tall, but that really is pretty thick. I’m sure it was somewhat cold out there, and back then, little girls wore dresses a lot of the time, but my sister, Cheryl Masterson, and I did not seem to mind the cold. I guess it was the wonder of it all. Maybe that is why they have an Ice Festival..so people can embrace the ice…so to speak.
Yesterday morning on my way to work, I saw a man driving a white Buick Park Avenue. I know that seems like a completely normal event, but for me, it triggered a memory. The man driving the car wore a baseball cap. I couldn’t see his face, but it wouldn’t have mattered, because the image was already in my head, of my dad, Allen Spencer driving around in my parents Buick Park Avenue. It was their idea of a luxury car. They wanted one they could be comfortable in, when they went on vacations. The Buick Park Avenue fit the bill perfectly. Mom and Dad loved that car. When they pulled the trailer all the time, of course, they used the Suburban, but when it was just the two of them and maybe a few more, they really enjoyed the comfort of the Buick.
When I saw that Buick yesterday, I felt a twinge of sadness, but still I had to smile, because in my mind, I saw my dad…healthy, happy, and just enjoying the drive. You see, my parents loved to just go for a drive. It didn’t have to be going to anywhere, because it wasn’t always about the destination. It was about the journey. 
Sometimes in the evenings, when we were kids, we would all load up into the car and Dad would take us for a ride. We always ended up someplace where we could see the whole city. We had dubbed it the jewelry box, and as little girls, we could imagine that all the lights were diamond necklaces, and other jewels glistening in the sunlight…even if it did have to be dark to see it. It was never about where we went though, because it was just the whole family together going for that drive. Driving was a pleasure my parents never got tired of. Even when they no longer drove, they wanted to take a drive. My sister, Cheryl Masterson often took them on those drives…a memory she will always cherish.
As I drove on to work, I felt a mix of happiness and sadness, because of the man in the white Buick Park Avenue. Happy, because it was such a sweet memory of my dad, and sad, because I miss him and my mom so 
much. I feel so blessed to have such sweet memories of them. They did so many things in their lives, and they were so truly happy together. That is a greater blessing than many others, in a time when so many marriages don’t last. A family that has two parents, who love each other, and who manage to create such sweet memories out of something so simple as going for an evening drive, is a blessed family indeed, because later on, you will find that it isn’t the big moments like a trip to the Grand Canyon or New York City that will really stand out in your memory. It is the little moments…the everyday moments, that seem so insignificant, but have such a sweetness to them, that you will always remember. And you just never know when something will trigger a reminder of those sweet little everyday moments.
The Spencer line in America began with four brothers who, along with one sister and her husband, immigrated to America in about 1630. The brother my family descends from is Michael, of whom the least is known. I’m not sure why so little is known about my ancestor, but I have decided to start a journey to find out…along with the journeys of so many others I’m working on. I hope not to hit a dead end. My sister, Cheryl Masterson inspired this new tangent I have set out on, when she asked me which line we came from. She and I are both members of the Spencer Historical and Genealogical Society’s Facebook group. Her thought was to see if there were other members who come from Michael Spencer’s line, but to date, there are not. Michael’s line is a bit of a mystery at this point. While we know that we and a number of other family members come from that line, we are not a group large in number.
So, let us begin. About five years after his arrival in America, that is, in or about 1635, Michael and his brother Gerard moved to Lynn, Essex County, Massachusetts, where Gerard reportedly appears as a journeyman in Lynn in 1635. Then we see that after the death of his brother Michael, Gerard was appointed administrator of his brother’s estate in 1653. So, what happened to Michael between 1635 and 1653. Michael married Isabel West in 1636, the year after his move to Lynn, Massachusetts. Isabel married a second time about a year after Michael’s passing, to a man named Thomas Robbins. Michael and Isabel were the parents of five children, John, Hannah, Susannah, Michael, and William.
On September 1, 1634, Michael was granted four acres on the west side of the river in Cambridge. It was also recorded on October 10, 1635, that he owned one parcel on the south side of the river, also about four acres. And in the 1638 division of land at Lynn, Massachusetts he received thirty acres. Still, since he passed away at the very young age of just 42 years, I have to wonder if he was somewhat sickly. It’s possible that his sons worked the land in his stead. I have not found any indication of him being in poor health, but I also have not found any job that he held within the community either, so it makes me wonder.
On November 29, 1653, Michael’s brother Gerard was appointed administrator of Michael’s estate, and charged with the task of disposing of the estate for the needs of his children. The documentation states that the estate was small, and so it was necessary to sell it to help pay for the upbringing of his children. Bringing up five children is no inexpensive task…and at the time of Michael’s passing, none of the children were married yet. The older children might have been out of the home already, however, because on November 30, 1654 the court, with 
Gerard’s consent and agreement gave some of the estate to Thomas Robbins, because he was raising one of the children, Michael, who was six years old. This was because Thomas had married Isabel.
That is about the extent of Michael Spencer’s story. His life was too short to have done very much with it, but he does hold as a claim to fame, the fact that he was indeed one of the original four Spencer brothers who was responsible for most of the Spencer line in America today. I can tell you that his children and other descendants faired nicely, however…because, my sisters and I are five of them. And there are many more, just in my grandparents family alone family alone…even if our total number is small.
Today, my grandson Chris Petersen heads back to Sheridan for his final semester of college. It has been a long two year road, and hard on all of us, but we are proud of what he has done. Nevertheless, while he has been here over a month, it seems like he just got here. Time flies by so quickly, and somehow along the way, this one or that one of your kids and grandkids seem to fly away. Some literally!! As each one goes, you are left to wonder what the draw of that place is, or sometimes, like with Chris, you know that it is not that place, but rather the dream. You know that they have to follow their dream, and you truly want them to be happy…even if that takes them far away from you.
The reality is that the future of our children is not ours to set. It is theirs. All their lives, you watch carefully, noting their talents and abilities, and wondering where their future lies. I think that for most parents, the hope is that their kids future wont take them too far away, because while we have been watching their little lives as they grew, our hearts just never planned for that moment when they would tell us that their future plans and our idea of their future plans are simply not the same. As they leave, you feel like your heart is being torn from your chest. You fell like the tears will never stop, and in reality, sometimes…when you least expect it…when you thought you were finally ok, those wretched tears come rushing back to you again.
As Chris leaves, I think about the fact that once again, half of my children and grandchildren don’t live nearby. It makes me feel lonely. For Chris, the homesickness will flood in, because he is once again alone there, without his family, with whom he is very close. I know he would rather stay here, but he can’t. And with job placement looming ahead, we know that the distance will grow. I want Chris to go where they place him, because it is a once in a lifetime experience. He won’t have to stay there permanently. I know that his ultimate dream lies in a different place, closer to home, if not right here in Casper. But, dreams can change. He may like the place where his job placement takes him. He may choose to stay there, or go somewhere else. And if he does, we will be ok here. We will miss him terribly, and we will notice that empty chair where he should be, but we will know that he is off following his dream…like other family members before him…and we will adjust.
Change is a part of life, whether we like it or not. Our children, once grown, are not children anymore. They are adults with the right to make their own choices. We can’t live their lives for them. We are their past in a way, even though we will always be there for them, and they can always call our home their home. We are home base, but the world is out there. It is theirs to see and explore. So as each one leaves, all I can think is…and off you go. Remember where you came from, walk with God, don’t forget the way home, and while we miss you, we’ll be alright…right here, holding down the fort.
When I was a little girl, we had a rocking pony. Most families with little ones did. It was a great entertainment item. I don’t know how my sisters felt about that pony, or if they ever had a chance to ride it if I was around, because I loved that pony!! According to my mom, it was the most important toy I had. I rode it everyday…sometimes all day…or at lease until my mom said I had to take a nap, eat dinner, or go somewhere. Otherwise, that pony was my baby. I might have agreed to leave the pony if we could play with kittens or something like that, because I loved kittens too. You see, there were important things in life, but some things are just more important. That pony and kittens…in my life, those things were just more important.
Mom liked to take pictures of her girls, especially when we were all dressed up in the frilly dresses she liked to dress us in. Usually this was not a problem. Like most kids, we liked having our picture taken, but if we were very near my pony…I could be easily distracted. The lure of a ride on my pony was so strong. The pony was so much fun. I rode it hard. I never rocked the horse, I galloped. The pony and I rode so hard that the base came off the floor and eventually put ruts in the wood. How could pictures possibly live up to that? They couldn’t in my book. That pony was the coolest toy ever!!
I don’t recall my thoughts from those rides, but I have a pretty good idea that I was thinking of galloping along the prairie in the wind…or maybe all I thought of was how it felt while I was riding that horse…as fast as I could 
go. Whenever I was on that pony, speed was all that mattered. It made riding hard to resist. It was also hard to think about silly things like getting a picture taken. I have to wonder if my parents got frustrated with me sometimes, or if they simply understood.
Sometimes, Mom and Dad lost the battle for the photo, where I was concerned, because while my sister, Cheryl Masterson always posed nicely for the pictures they wanted to taken, sometimes, I just couldn’t be bothered, because my pony and I had places to go, people to see, and things to do. As I said, some things are just more important that other things. That was my pony…the most important thing in my little world, so Cheryl was in the picture and I was in the background.
