Reminiscing
When I look at the pictures of my dad and his brother, my Uncle Bill, I can see how much they loved each other. They may have tried to look tough, but there was a lot of brotherly love between them. They were best friends, playmates, but most of all brothers. The way Uncle Bill took care of his little brother, and the way my dad looked up to his big brother…you could see it in their eyes. They were the two middle children with their older sister Laura, being ten years older than Uncle Bill, and their sister, Ruth being 2 years younger than my dad. Because they were together and just the two of them, except for their sister, Laura’s care, and because Ruth was too little to play for a couple of years, the boys were very close….like a lot of brothers are.
Through their young years, the boys worked together on the farm, and in several other work ideas they came up with. They shared a love for guns, dynamite, and cars…you know, the usual guy stuff. I know that when their little sister, Ruth came on the scene they were good 
friends with her too, and she was most likely a tomboy because of them…a matter of self defense, if you know what I mean. Because Aunt Laura was so much older than the rest of the children, I think they must have looked to her as more of a babysitter than a playmate…although she was great when it came to being pulled around on a sled or in the wagon.
As they grew up, they took several trips together to go work the harvest in North Dakota, among other things. I’m sure they had a great time just hanging out together, and finding work and places to stay was fun and challenging. They had an especially challenging time on one trip, when the only place to stay was at the local jail. I’m sure that was a bit odd for both of them. They had to be treated the same as any other prisoner. They took all their belongings, and searched them, and had to know all about their background, but they let them stay on the bunks covered with strips of steel and cardboard…not particularly comfortable, but the place was warm and dry, so they were grateful.
On their last visit together, my dad was not in good health. We weren’t sure the brothers would ever get to be together again, but my cousin Bill Spencer and his family made the trip so that we could make it happen. It was such a sweet reunion for them. They talked a lot, played cards, and in general, just spent time together. We were all so grateful to Bill for bring his dad, my Uncle Bill out so they could have one last visit. My dad passed away in 2007, and thankfully Uncle Bill has dementia, so that is something he doesn’t have to know. The miles between them make it possible to keep him in the dark a bit, because I know it would be very sad for him to know that, and sad for us to tell him.
My second grandson, Caalab always had a smile that lit up his whole face. He had…and still has…a great sense of humor. Teasing people is definitely his strong suit. His sister, Shai didn’t always like his teasing, but then she didn’t always like him either. These days they are such good friends that it warms my heart. That usually happens as kids grow up, but when he was little, Shai really wanted to send him back…or as her t-shirts said…sell him. I think these days she is glad they kept him. I love watching how they interact now. He will just go buy her a Starbuck’s coffee some mornings, because he knows she likes that and needs to wake up. And she will do the same for him. They are getting so grown up that it brings tears to my eyes.
I still remember Caalab as the little boy who couldn’t keep his hands out of my hair. It all started when he was just 6 months old. I have never seen a 6 month old baby who was so 
gentle with hair, but Caalab was. He never pulled my hair, just gently ran it through his fingers. His play changed over the years, and some of it was pretty comical. One that everyone remembers is the times he slapped my hair…pulling it gently out until his fingers reached the end, then slapping it out of his hand. Lots of people asked me if that bothered me, but after 16 years of having Caalab’s hands in my hair, it was just normal…and he never hurt me. He was great like that. Now that he is older, and has a job that keeps him really busy, I miss that little boy who always played with my hair. He still does it when he is around, but he is just so busy now.
The next year will prove to be a busy one for Caalab. While he only needs one class to graduate, he plans to take several college classes too, so that when he starts college, he will have a head start. I don’t think he has decided what career he wants to pursue yet, so the college classes he takes as a senior will be basics, but that’s ok too. Get those out of the way 
in high school, and he can go into more specialized classes in his freshman year.
Today that sweet smiling little boy is about 6 feet tall and all muscle. I can’t believe how tall he has grown. He towers over me now, and bears little resemblance to the little boy he used to be…except on the inside. Caalab has a heart of gold, and while he loves to joke around and tease, he is a kind boy. He is always doing sweet little thinks like bringing me flowers for my birthday. He never ceases to amaze me. I have been so blessed to be his grandma. Today is Caalab’s 17th birthday. Happy birthday Caalab!! Have a wonderful day!! We love you!!
Have you ever noticed that during the teen years, none of those kids want to smile…in fact, their pictures look like they are mad at the world. The only real exceptions to that rule is selfies and pictures with friends, that their parents don’t always have access to. Looking back on some of the pictures of me as a teenager, I think, “What was wrong with me? I really must have had a very bad attitude!!” I know several other people who would admit to having a bad attitude as a teenager, and I would have to say that I was one of them, although maybe I wasn’t as bad as some people. Nevertheless, I know that there were a lot of people who had a much better attitude than I 
did, and looking back now, I wish I had been more like those people. A bad attitude really is a big waste of time, energy, and most of all, happiness.
Really, I don’t think my attitude was so horrible. I knew kids in high school who you just steered clear of, because their attitude was the worst, and you certainly didn’t want to say or do something to make them mad at you. You never knew what might happen, and I was not interested in getting beaten up. Sometimes in junior high and high school, things can be like a gang war, when you have the kids with a bad attitude, and someone who isn’t like that, looks at the kids with a bad attitude just slightly wrong, it turns into a big fight.
Thankfully most kids keep their bad attitude more to themselves or 
to family issues at home, but sometimes it does spill over to the school environment. Today, we would call those kids bullies…and rightly so. When a person cannot control their temper and they lash out at others, they have to be stopped. But these are not the majority of people, they are the minority.
For most of us, the bad attitude that we have periodically or just during a phase of our lives, it kept more to a small arena of people, who suffer in silence…or maybe not so silently…until the person with the bad attitude gets tired of wearing a frown all the time, and starts to live again. Thankfully, the teen years are only ten years out of life, then they are over, and life is better again.
When a young life ends, there are always far more questions than answers. It is simply incomprehensible to think that the son, dad, brother, and grandson that you thought would always be around, is suddenly gone. When we found out yesterday, that Bob’s first cousin once removed, Brian Scott Kountz passed away at 9:45 pm on June 21, 2014, it was such a hard day. Brian was Bob’s cousin, Sandi Kountz’ oldest son, and he had a brother, Kyler Avey and a sister, Destreyia Cannon. He was the first grandchild of Bob’s aunt, Margee Kountz. He will also be missed by his uncle, Dan Kountz and cousins, Zech and Stasi Kountz, and extended family and friends.
When someone passes away, it seems like the memories that lived only in your memory files, start coming to the surface. Memories like the ones Stasi has of how Brian lit up a room by simply walking into it. He had a great laugh, and he touched the hearts of all who knew him. One of the favorite memories Stasi has of Brian is watching “Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air” and eating Mac and Cheese together. It isn’t necessarily the major life events that hold a special place in our 
hearts, but rather the moments that seem to stay with us forever, after losing a loved one.
I think a lot of us will remember Brian for his old cars. He always seemed to have a car that was like a big clunky boat. And that was just fine with him. He might have a rusty Cadillac or an old Blazer, but he didn’t care. He loved those old cars, and as a young man of only 24 years of age, maybe they were also what he could afford. He had a tendency to go 4 wheeling with his SUV, and that was probably not the best thing for the car, but like all kids, there were priorities…and then there were priorities, and adventure was simply a priority. Mechanics and cars were of great interest to Brian. He was taking mechanics classes at the time of his death, and his future plan was to open his own shop. He was happy. His life was taking shape and before long, he would be a successful businessman.
Even though he was like all kids in the things that he liked to do, his family was the top priority in his mind. Brian took being the oldest child very seriously. He was a good big brother, who would give the shirt off his back for his brother and sister. He was especially 
close to his little sister, Destreyia, which is typical of lots of big brothers. I’m sure they had their moments when they fought like cats and dogs, but when it came to anyone else picking on his little sister…look out, because he would do whatever it took to protect her. There were so many things that bonded them together. Brian was her rock, and she was his sunshine. For Brian’s mom, Sandi, he was her first born, and like all moms, each child has their special characteristics. Each one holds a special place in their heart. Sandi has always seen the potential that Brian had, and she was his biggest cheerleader. She encouraged him to take the mechanics classes, and she knew that he would be a big success when his training was over. The hardest thing about today is knowing that all Brian’s plans and dreams are over now…his future no longer exists. Rest in peace Brian. We love and miss you already.
In trying to connect the Stanton side that exists through my dad’s half brother, Norman Willis Spencer, to the Stanton side that exists in Bob’s family through his grandma, Nettie Noyes Knox, I have come up with some interesting information. While I have not made the connection that I’m almost certain exists between the two sides, I did find out that within the Noyes side of the family, there is a Stanton family member who was of some significance to America too. His name was Thomas Stanton, and he was Bob’s 7th great grandfather. There are many ways for a person to have a degree of influence on American history, or history of any nation. Some people become kings or presidents. Others might have been great warriors, while still others might have made some great discovery.
Thomas Stanton was a trader and an accomplished Indian interpreter and negotiator in the colony of Connecticut. He is first noted in historical records as an interpreter for John Winthrop Jr in 1636. He fought in the Pequot War, which took place between 1634 and 1638. He nearly lost his life in the Fairfield Swamp Fight in 1637. In 1638 he was a delegate at the Treaty of Hartford, which ended the war. In 1643, the United Colonies of New England appointed Stanton as Indian Interpreter.
He began a close alliance with the Thomas Lord family, who may have been friends from England and who had recently emigrated from Towcester, England. He married Thomas Lord’s daughter, Anna Lord, about 1636 and went into a merchant business alliance with Richard Lord. Some of Thomas’ land transactions involved serious difficulties, because people often sold and resold land without obtaining a clear title. An Indian sachem gave Quonochontaug to Stanton, but did the chief really own all of this land? A Stanton tract might overlap a tract claimed by another settler. These and other transactions like them, resulted in lengthy and costly litigation. Questions about the ownership of some of Stanton’s land and ambiguities in the will led to years of family and legal fighting.
But, probably the biggest claim to fame that Thomas Stanton had was that he was one of the four founders of Stonington, Connecticut, and one of the first settlers of Hartford, Connecticut. The present territory of Stonington was part of lands that had belonged to the Pequot people, who referred to the areas making up Stonington as Pawcatuck and Mistack. It was named 
“Souther Towne” or Southerton by Massachusetts in 1658. It became part of Connecticut in 1662 when Connecticut received its royal charter. Southerton was renamed “Mistick” in 1665 and again renamed Stonington in 1666. Thomas Miner, Walter Palmer, William Chesebrough and Thomas Stanton were its four founders.
Upon Thomas death on Dec 2,1677, his will could not be located, and legal battles concerning the distribution of his property continued for years. When his wife, Anna died 11 years later, his estate was still unsettled. At some point, when going through some papers belonging to the city of Hartford, Connecticut, someone found the will, but that would not bring the estate to the point of being settled. The estate remained unsettled for a total of 40 years before the will was accepted and the estate settled. That is the kind of thing that can happen when money and land are involved.
For years, when I would research the Spencer side of our family, I continued to run into a woman named Alice Viola Spencer. I kept wondering how she fit in exactly. Early on in my quest for my ancestry, the relationships were a challenge for me. As I ran into her again and again, I learned that she was my great aunt…my grandfather, Allen Luther Spencer’s younger sister. She somehow seemed a bit out of place compared to the rest of his siblings. All the girls were ladylike and feminine, but Alice had a very regal style. I have often wondered what she might have been like, and I find myself wishing I had known her. I think I need to locate some of her grandchildren so that I can ask them about her.
Alice Viola Spencer was born in Mondovi, Wisconsin on May 5, 1884, and was married to Dennis Alburtice Dunahee in Ladysmith, Wisconsin on May 14, 1902. Their son, Bertie Raymon was born on Feb 19, 1903 in Ladysmith Wisconsin. At some point after Bertie’s birth, they moved to Dewey, Oklahoma, and in 1920 they would move to Twin Falls, Idaho, where Alice lost her husband on March 22, 1938. He was only 59 years old at the time of his death. By the time of his father’s passing, Bertie…who now went by Raymon, had moved to Los Angeles, California. I’m sure that having Raymon in California, and her husband Bert’s passing were the main reasons that Alice would leave her home in Twin Falls and move to West Covina, California, which is where she was at the time of her death, on December 11, 1944, at the young age of only 60 years.
It appears to me that Bert and Alice would only have one child, and that their son, would follow in their footsteps and have only one child as well…LuAlice Irene, who was born on December 5, 1930 in Twin Falls, Idaho. LuAlice would marry, Walter C Ball, and Alice would finally receive four great grandchildren. I’m sure that after two generations of only children, LuAlice and Walter’s children would be a bit of a culture shock…and not a bad one either. I can’t think of anything more fun than listening to a house full of giggling children. I wonder what Alice thought of all those little great grandchildren. I’ll bet it was the thrill of her life.
When my grandkids were all little, spending the night with their friends didn’t always work well, but they always knew that they could spend the night with Grandma and Grandpa. Being too young happens to a lot of children. My nephew, Ryan Hadlock, saw his sister Jessi Hadlock Sawdon get to go home for a week or so with her grandparents, my parents, Allen and Collene Spencer, and he really wanted to go too. The adults were all worried that he would miss his mommy and daddy and they would have to make a special trip from Wyoming back to Colorado to take him home. But he promised that he would not do that. Finally, it was decided that they would take a chance on him, so to Wyoming he went. My mom tells me that he was such a good boy, and they were so glad they had given him the chance. I’m sure there were other times that Ryan got to spend the night, but since his family moved back to Casper shortly thereafter, it probably wasn’t such a long way to go when it came time to take him home.
A lot of things can precipitate the need for a rather young child to spend the might with 
their grandparents, and some aren’t so good, like when my youngest grandson was born 5 weeks early, bringing on the need to take him to Denver until his lungs were strong enough to send him home. The time that Josh was in the hospital was 2 weeks, but to 2 1/2 year old Christopher, it seemed a lifetime. While he loved Bob and me, he honestly thought that his parents had gotten a new baby and a new home, and that they didn’t want him anymore. He did very well the first week, but the second week took it’s toll on him, and he would literally cry and the drop of a hat.
Not every slumber party situation is under the best circumstances, or at the best age for a child, but as time goes on, they grow a little, and while they have friends to stay the night with, it doesn’t mean that having a slumber party with Grandma isn’t still a lot of fun. Once, when Bob had to be out of town for a week, I hit upon the idea of having a slumber party with the grandkids. So the came over with their sleeping bags, and on that night my bedroom was wall to wall bedding. My granddaughter, Shai Royce and I slept I the bed, and the rest of the room was taken up by Christopher Petersen, Caalab Royce, and Josh Petersen. We had a great 
time. We played, and watched television, and ate junk food…you know all the necessary essentials for a great slumber party.
It’s funny that, while that slumber party was probably ten to twelve years ago, and my grandchildren are getting pretty grown up, with the youngest, Josh at almost 16, they still remember that slumber party. There were a lot of really good memories made that night. Kids need grandparent time as much as they need parent time, and sometimes, even the most loving parets need an evening away from the kids. I can’t think of a better way to get that than having a slumber party with Grandma.
Have you ever noticed that the minute you dress a boy in good clothes for a special occasion, they find a mud hole. They just have an uncanny knack for finding them right about then. It’s never their fault, you know. They always tripped and fell into it, or just didn’t see it. Of course, both excuses are designed to keep the guilty boy from being in trouble. They don’t even have to go outside to find dirt. It is attracted to them like a magnet. I’m not sure who this boy is, but Aunt Laura was quite content to stay clean and pretty.
Now I’m not saying that little girls can’t find a good bit of dirt too, but they tend to be a little better about staying clean when they are dressed up. Maybe it’s 
because the boys really don’t want to be dressed up, and little girls…in most cases…like to look dressy and pretty. Having had daughters myself, I can tell you that their clothes stayed pretty clean for the most part, so when they did get really dirty, like the time Amy backed into a pan of oil in her grandpa’s garage, because she was trying to see her Uncle Lynn, who is 6’6″…to her approximately 2’4″ stature at the time. There was no doubt in my mind that it was a complete accident. Girls also might get dirty if they are trying to put makeup on…as was the case with Corrie one time at my mother’s house. Even then, she didn’t get it on her clothes. They just weren’t the kind to get so messy on a regular basis. My granddaughter, Shai was the same way. She didn’t like being messy, and when she got messy…in any way…she cried almost hysterically until you changed her. She was always a 
girly girl, and getting dirty just simply didn’t fit into her plan for the day.
But those boys…all boys…seem to have no issue getting and staying dirty. And it doesn’t matter how old they are. Bob comes in from the garage sometimes just covered with dirt and grease, and it doesn’t bother him a bit. If I go out there to help him, and I get even a speck of grease or dirt, it must be washed of as soon as humanly possible. That is just the way it is. I don’t think of myself as a prissy girl, but I guess I am a girly girl. I can get down and dirty, but when I’m done, it is time to clean up, but for most boys, getting dirty is the best part of life.
Bob and I are very much into hiking. We love hiking on different trails in the areas we travel to. Of course, our all time favorite place, so far, is the beautiful hike to Harney Peak in Custer State Park in the Black Hills of South Dakota, and we try to get up there every summer. We have also hiked the Southern Rim of The Grand Canyon in Arizona, and gone down into the canyon a little ways…that was beautiful too. Closer to home, we love the Bridle Trail that is located right here on Casper Mountain and the Platte River Parkway that meanders along the Platte River for almost 8 miles one way. Nevertheless, the reality is that you can’t always be on one of the beautiful trails, because there just isn’t time after work. So most evenings find us walking the city trail that is located a block from our house.
This trail just wanders along next to the alley between the houses from 2nd Street to 15th Street. We usually walk this one between 1 1/2 to 2 hours…thus walking between 6 and 8 miles a day. It isn’t a difficult trail, but it is a slight uphill grade going from north to south, and then a slight downhill grade going from south to north. It is a pleasant trail, and well traveled. We run into people we have never met, people we know only from the trail, and occasionally someone we know from the rest of our lives. But, these aren’t the only friends we run into one the trail…there are many others.
Many people are out walking their dogs in the evening, and while all these dogs are curious about us when we pass by, there are several that are quite special to us. They are all well behaved dogs, and they always come up to us and greet us with tails wagging, hoping that we will take a moment to pet them and talk with them. You really can’t resist, and these friends always understand that you are on a walk, and you can’t talk long, so after a friendly pat, they go merrily on down the trail looking for the next friendly encounter.
There are also the friends who are not on the trail. the dogs in the yards, wishing the could go with us. Some of them just bark at us for a couple of weeks, and then we become boring to them and we are ignored, but others are always there to greet us. Two of the most interesting dogs we pass are the two that are always on the roof of the homeowner’s garage. The deck connects to the detached garage in such a way that the dogs can run freely on the roof. The first time I saw it, I was shocked, but now it is just a normal…even if it is a little bit of a traffic stopper, site. Of course, we also see the birds, and occasionally a duck or two, and we encounter deer, rabbits, squirrels, and the occasional friendly pet cat.
All in all, while our walk on the trails are designed to be relaxing exercise, they really are filled with activity. We may not realize just how much activity there is going on around us all the 
time, but it is there nevertheless. I always love late spring, summer, and early fall, because we have so many for opportunities to get out there on the trails then, and I really miss my trails in the late fall, winter, and early spring, because it is just too cold to get out and reconnect with nature. It’s funny that we have all these furry friends, because Bob and I choose not to have pets of our own. We are too busy. Still, I miss all of my furry trail friends when we are away.
On June 17, 1885…129 years ago today, the Statue of Liberty, in a dismantled form, arrived in New York Harbor. It was a gift from France to commemorate our friendship with them during the American Revolution. While the Statue of Liberty would not be officially assembled and dedicated until October 8th, 1886, this was it’s official arrival. The Statue of Liberty’s 300 copper pieces packed in 214 crates were transported on the French ship “Isere” to America. Although the ship nearly sank in rough seas, it arrived in New York on June 17, 1885. The Statue’s parts remained unassembled for nearly a year until the pedestal was completed in 1886. What really shocks me is that there were only 350 parts to make up the Statue of Liberty. That seems impossible. Having been to, and inside the Statue of Liberty, I know how big it is. I would have guessed more like 1000 pieces. Today Lady Liberty has become known around the world as an enduring symbol of freedom and democracy.
Having been to the Statue of Liberty, I find it very interesting to think that it arrived here 129 years ago today. I don’t know how many of you have been inside the statue, or how far up you were able to go, but I have been to the crown. I was very disappointed that we could not go to the torch, but for safety reasons, the torch has been closed to visitors since 1916, after an incident called the Black Tom explosions in which munitions-laden barges and railroad cars on the Jersey City, New Jersey, waterfront were blown up by German agents, causing damage to the nearby statue. That was something I didn’t know, and sadly there was nothing that would change it, but I was inside the Statue of Liberty, and it was so amazing…like a dream, not a reality!! I know that lots of people have been there and lots have been inside, and lots have even been to the crown, but I had not…and then I had…and, it was surreal!!
When I think about all the people who have sailed past this statue as they came to their new home…and how many of them were my ancestors or Bob’s ancestors, it is just mind boggling. If she could talk…what stories could she tell. The Statue of Liberty has seen so much. Ships have come and gone, immigrants have arrived, the city has changed…and been attacked. What stories she could tell of happiness, sadness, floods, hurricanes, and terrorism. She has seen the transformation of her near neighbor from the location of Fort Gibson, to the current site of the Ellis Island Immigrant Station. She watched the planes fly into the World Trade Center…and their fall. When I think about all the changes that have taken place in our nation since Lady Liberty arrived, I wish she could speak, because the stories she could tell of our nation’s history would be amazing.
