eggs
In the 1950s, most people got their milk delivered early in every morning or sometimes every few mornings. If they were one of the fortunate few, they might also have eggs delivered. That was just how it was done back then. Almost like the summertime ice cream truck many of us remember from our childhood years, you could see the milkman all over town. It was a totally separate business. Milk was not found in the grocery stores, but rather came directly from the creamery. In some ways, I think it is sad that those days are gone now. When I was a little girl…actually a baby, my dad, Allen Spencer worked in a creamery in Superior, Wisconsin. I don’t remember it, of course, but I always found it interesting. My sister, Cheryl Masterson remembers it though. She told me that Dad “worked at the creamery. He loaded and delivered tankers of milk to the places that bottled the milk. He washed and cleaned out his own tank after the deliveries, too. I remember being there sometimes at night when they sprayed them out. That was at Twin Port Dairy.”
These days the idea of the milkman and milk delivery are long since behind us, but the idea of delivery is not…it 
has just been revamped. When Covid-19 struck, and people were told to stay home (except for essential workers), delivery was revamped. Suddenly, people who were supposed to stay home found themselves needing things, so the only available solution was delivery. People were having food delivered, groceries delivered, even alcohol became a delivery item. Of course, companies like Amazon already existed, and delivered many items to people who didn’t want to go shop, or who wanted to save money on things. Now, suddenly the post office, UPS, and FedEx were delivering many essential items to people.
After Covid faded into the past, the delivery system, somehow didn’t. People still have many things delivered. Many grocery stores also have pick up services, making people their own delivery driver. My daughter, Amy Royce and granddaughter, Shai Royce haven’t shopped for a week’s worth of groceries since Covid. My sister, Cheryl hasn’t either. They put in their orders, and they pick up their groceries the next day. My other daughter, 
Corrie Petersen and her husband, Kevin have theirs delivered to their house. People are so busy these days, that convenience is the key to a peaceful life. Whenever we go out to breakfast, we see delivery drivers picking up to go orders for delivery to their clients. People just love the convenience of having their food delivered while they stay home in their jammies, I guess. I can understand that, but we still like to go in and shop for our own groceries.
My aunt, Dixie Richards has been a caregiver for most of her life. Aunt Dixie was born in 1943 to George and Hattie Byer. She was the eighth of nine children. When she was born, her dad was 50 years old, and her mom was 34 years old. There were 16 years between her parents’ ages…not uncommon in those days. They married December 24, 1927. Her dad would pass away just 37 years later, and during his later years, she would be a big part of his caregiving and also her mom. Aunt Dixie was no stranger to caregiving or to having family living with you. Because her husband, my Uncle Jim Richards’ dad died when he was young, so Uncle Jim helped his family through the years.
Aunt Dixie and Uncle Jim have been babysitters for their grandchildren and for a number of other kids too. 
Many of the children of her nieces and nephews have spent time in the Aunt Dixie Daycare. They all remember it fondly. Aunt Dixie and Uncle Jim have always been there for their kids too, running errands while they were at work and unable to get away. They are the kind of people everyone knew they could count on. They had a heart of gold and would gladly give the shirt off their backs to help those around them in need.
Aunt Dixie always had a soft heart. She really hated to hurt anyone’s feelings. That was never made so clear to me than the time that she “adopted” the rooster that my mom, Collene Spencer had been given as a baby. Mom was sure that it was a hen, and she intended to raise it and have eggs for the family. Never mind the fact that raising chickens in town was illegal back then. I guess my mom was just ahead of her time, because these days it’s egal and lots of people raise their own chickens now. Sadly, for my mom, “Queenie” proved to be a rooster and not a hen, which presented my mom with a dilemma. What to do with “Queenie.” Keeping the “rooster that should have been a hen” was not an option, and she didn’t have 
the heart to kill and eat it, so she asked her sister, Aunt Dixie to take it and add it to her brood. Well, soft hearted Aunt Dixie did take “Queenie” and while I’m quite certain that the rooster became Queenie Noodle Soup at some point, I seriously doubt if Aunt Dixie ever told my mom that, and while Mom might have known it deep down, she never asked or assumed that her beloved “Queenie” was gone. I guess it was a matter of “Don’t ask, don’t tell.” Today is my Aunt Dixie’s 80th birthday. Happy birthday Aunt Dixie!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
Since buying their family farm, my nephew, Eric Parmely and his wife, Ashley have had a number of daily duties that are different from people who dwell in the cities and towns. Of course, there are the normal duties that go with a farm…everything from feeding animals, helping with births, gathering eggs, taking care of the land, and repairing fences. This year has been a little unusual in that like many areas across the United States, Wyoming has received an extra-large amount of snow, meaning that the rural roads, which are not always plowed by the county or state, are left buried in 3 to 6 feet of snow. That means that nothing is moving, and those people who happen to have tractors, will likely have to go out and help with the “digging out” process. That was the position Eric and Ashley found themselves in. One storm found them waiting for 3 days to get out, and then it only happened because Eric got out and became a snowplow. Of course, the whole thing didn’t totally hurt Eric’s feelings, 
because he loves his tractor, and this was a new way to use it. Men and their toys…right? The main thing is that they were finally able to get out and get back to the business of life.
Eric is a mechanic by trade and loves his work. That means that tinkering with anything mechanical is not really work. Getting on the farm equipment is that way exactly. When they bought the tractor, there were many evenings spent in the barn with his father-in-law, Albert Eighmy, son Bowen Parmely, and often Ashley and their daughters, Reagan, Hattie, and Maeve all watching as the work was done to this fantastic piece of equipment, so that it would be ready to be a regular piece of the menagerie of farm equipment necessary to run a farm. Bowen especially loves the tractor, because, being a boy, it seems to run in his blood. He is his daddy’s boy. The girls like to ride on it too, but they aren’t as interested in the mechanical side of things as Bowen is.
Eric has become a wonderful family man…a great husband and daddy. He and Ashley are doing the things 
necessary to raise responsible, decent, and well-rounded kids. Their kids are homeschooled, which is becoming more and more necessary these days, given the radical activities in the school system now. And the kids are happier too. Ashley teaches school, and Eric brings home the bacon…back to old fashioned values. Not every family is run this way, but it works very well for them. Today is Eric’s birthday. Happy birthday Eric!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
When my daughter, Amy Royce and her family moved to Washington and bought a house, she found herself the proud owner of a walnut tree and an apple tree. Her husband, Travis is the only one who really likes walnuts, but they all like apples. I think most people do. When the apples ripened, they picked them…lots of them. Then came the decision about what to make with them. For Amy, it was really a non-decision, because she knew she wanted to make Apple Butter…mostly because it reminded her of her great grandma, Vina Hein.
Every summer of Amy and her sister, Corrie Petersen’s childhood, Bob and I took them to visit their Grandma and Grandpa Hein. It was there that the girls first tasted Apple Butter. Since that time, Amy thought of 
Grandma Hein every time she ate Apple Butter. Corrie doesn’t like apples, so I guess Apple Butter is nothing special to her, but Amy…like the rest of us does, and Apple Butter is a very special. Having it remind us of Grandma Hein is icing on the cake. It’s a memory treat because she comes to mind when we eat it.
Going to visit Grandma and Grandpa Hein was more than just real cream, cows milk, and Apple Butter, though. The time we spent with them was precious. They were such an important part of our lives and we loved visiting them. We played cards, and the kids played with the toys grandma had, but it was still more than that. Grandma told us about her childhood, and showed us pictures of the family. It gave us a sense of belonging. We did belong, of course, but we found out how we belonged. Our visits were so much fun and the girls got to know their grandparents, and that was the most important thing, after all. There were other family members there too, and the girls got to know them too, but there was just something special about being able to spend time with Grandma and Grandpa.
Her style of cooking was very much ranch style. They butchered their own beef, and Grandma made all kinds of beef sausage that was used for sandwiches. They canned fruit, and the fruit with real cream was the dessert. Eggs from their chickens and toast with Apple Butter, were staples for breakfast…and plenty of coffee with real cream, which has ruined regular cream from the store for me. But the biggest memory for Amy, was the Apple Butter, so to be able to make it at home now is the best memory treat there could ever be.
Memories come from many different places. They can be triggered be sights, sounds, taste, touch, and even smells…which is exactly what happened to me this morning. Bob and I were having breakfast at Perkin’s, and when they brought my food and I poured syrup, the view of the food on the plate, and the smell of that syrup, sausage, and eggs, took me back about 45 years or so, to those hurried Sunday mornings when we were all scrambling to get ready for church. Five girls and two parents trying to get ready using one bathroom…well, you can imagine. My dad usually got up early and got out of the way…it was safest that way. Getting in the way of 6 women getting ready to go somewhere can be very hazardous, and since Dad had been around us all our lives, heknew very well when it was time to get out of the way of his girls.
We usually went to church after a quick bowl of cold cereal. It wasn’t much, but we knew that breakfast would be brunch that day, when we came home to have a relaxing and lazy Sunday afternoon. I remember the smells coming from the kitchen after church. bacon or sausage and eggs cooking, usually toast, but sometimes pancakes. I would get so hungry waiting for everything to be ready. The smell in the house was incredible. I remember watching my mom or dad cooking the eggs in the bacon grease, carefully flipping the grease over the yoke, so the yoke stayed runny. It was great for dipping your toast in, after it broke and ran all over your plate. There really was a reason you had toast with eggs and bacon.
Finally everything was ready, and we all sat down at the table. After we said our prayer, we were finally able to take that first bite. It tasted so good. I think sometimes it is a good 
thing to delay a full meal, because when you sit down to eat…finally, there is just nothing that tastes better. Then we would sit around the table, and talk about our lives. It was a time to catch up on things. As we all got older, we were so busy, and you can easily lose touch with what is going on with each other, if you do ever take time to catch up. As Bob and I sat there eating, I found myself missing those days very much. Since my Dad is in Heaven, and the rest of us have families, we are as busy as our parents were then. We seldom have time to catch up like we did in those days gone by. I really missed those days today.
By the time my Aunt Dixie joined the family, there were already seven children in it. That meant lots of help to take care of the new baby. If she was anything like she is today, my guess would be that she laughed easily and often. Aunt Dixie has never been a melancholy person, but rather always seems to look for the positive things in life. That is a trait that few people have these days, and one that will make her life always rich.
Aunt Dixie has a creative side to her too. She has a talent for making things that add a touch of beauty to her life and to those around her. I can remember the many family Christmas parties that Aunt Dixie and her family have put on, and her talent is easy to see. We have all been blessed by the things she and her family have made for those parties. They always bring something new to the feel of them.
Aunt Dixie has always loved living in the country, and has had her little farm for many years now. I remember when she came to the rescue of my sisters and me, when she took the chicken/rooster my mother ended up with after one of the kids brought it home from the fair. It was cute at first, of course, and Mom’s plan was to have eggs. Having chickens in town was against city ordinance, of course, but Mom didn’t think anyone would know, since it was just one chicken. Then it started crowing, much to the embarrassment of all the rest of the family. Finally Mom gave up and admitted that it was indeed a rooster. Then she had to figure out what to do with it. Aunt Dixie saved the day by adopting the rooster. 
Now, I’m sure he became fried chicken or chicken soup, but there are worse things in life…like having to listen to that rooster crowing every morning.
Aunt Dixie loves kids…especially her grandchildren. She has 5 grandsons, and then…finally, three short years ago, she received the granddaughter she had longed for. Now her life is complete…at least until the great grandbabies start coming, but that’s another story. Today is Aunt Dixie’s birthday!! Happy birthday Aunt Dixie!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
My cousin, Pam is the oldest of my Aunt Doris and Uncle Bill’s three children, and the only girl. She was always a quiet girl. I didn’t get to know her as well as I would have liked, but we moved away from Superior, Wisconsin when I was 3 and her family still lives there. Our families got together as often as we could, but as the years went by and we all grew up, the times spent together became fewer and fewer. Now, thanks to Facebook, we have been able to re-connect and get to know each other as adults. I feel very blessed to know her better.
My mom and my Aunt Doris were and still are the best of friends. There were some crazy events that took place when our moms got together. On one event, before I was born, Mom and Aunt Doris had walked to the store, with Pam and my sister Cheryl together in a baby buggy. They went to the store and picked up what they needed, and put their items in the buggy with the babies. That all seemed harmless enough, until they got home and went to take the babies and the eggs out of the buggy. The babies were fine. The eggs, however, had not fared so well. Both babies were now covered in eggs, and there wasn’t one unbroken egg to be found.
As an adult, Pam has shown what a sweet person she is. When my Mom and Dad were visiting the family in Wisconsin, they had the opportunity to visit with Pam at her home, which my mom describes as beautiful. Situated along the river, the yard was beautiful and the deer roamed freely through it. Mom said it was so peaceful there. While visiting, Mom mentioned that she was going to find a store to get some Smoked Ciscoes to take home, and Pam called a friend she knew who carried them at her store. Her friend sent them home with a huge bunch of Smoked Ciscoes for free. Mom couldn’t believe it. She had not meant for Pam to get those Smoked Ciscoes, but Pam, being the sweet person she is, just did it, and my mom has never forgotten her kindness. Today is Pam’s birthday. Happy birthday Pam!! We love you very much!! Have a great day!!
Years ago, when the different booths at the fair used to give baby chicks or fish as prizes for the different games you could play. My mom and dad were at the fair, and a little boy came up to her and asked if she would take his baby chick, because his mom wouldn’t let him keep it, so mom took it, and decided to raise it in the hope of having eggs. She named our chicken Queenie. We loved Queenie. She was yellow and fuzzy and so soft. Of course, the thrill of having Queenie wore off for us kids pretty fast, and Mom was left to her care.
With dreams of eggs for some time to come, my mom took great care of Queenie. And our little chick thrived on the care. She was probably the only chicken to ever live in a house. Mom kept her in a box in the utility room. She was a household pet…not that everyone liked her. She had a tendency to peck at the little kids, and they somehow didn’t think that was a very good idea. So mom had to keep Queenie away from the kids, and that meant the back yard was off limits sometimes…to the kids.
As Queenie grew, there began to be some…strange occurrences. Sounds that Queenie shouldn’t be making were coming from her. I’m sure many of you know what was going on, but my mom didn’t want to believe that her chicken was really a rooster. Her plans of having eggs were dissolving before her eyes, and try as she might, there was no denying it.
The neighbors started asking about a rooster in the city limits, and of course, mom was told she couldn’t keep him there, so she talked to her sister, my Aunt Dixie, and it was decided that she would take the rooster named Queenie, since she had a place in the country and other chickens.
My mom kept telling herself that Queenie was out at my aunts house, living it up as the King of the chicken coop, but we all knew that Queenie probably ended up as most chickens and roosters do…as fried chicken, or some other such tasty dinner entree, and it’s just as well, because whether we liked Queenie or not…eating him was definitely out of the question. He was a household pet, after all.
