home
My Aunt Ruth and Uncle Jim lived in the Casper area for a time before moving to Reno, NV and later California and finally Washington state. We used to spend time at their place in Dempsey Acres when they lived here. All of us kids had a great time out there. They had a great garden that took up 3/4 of an acre, and 100 chickens. They raised most of their own food, and added wild game to the mixed as supplement to their own animals. I remember how good that stuff tasted. You 
can’t get that in a store, so I will just have to supplement my store bought with the farmer’s market, I guess.
After their move, we didn’t get to see them as much, and I always wished that hadn’t been the case. When they did visit, we always had such a great time. Aunt Ruth and Uncle Jim were really fun people to be around. Whenever they came to visit, I remember thinking how different…sophisticated they were now, but then I would be reminded that my Aunt Ruth always wore moccasins, the kind with beads and such on them. That reminded me that you can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t 
take the country out of the girl. That very much proved to be correct because after a number of years in the cities in Nevada and California, Aunt Ruth, Uncle Jim, and their entire family moved to Washington state and bought land in the mountains. Finally she would feel at home again.
Aunt Ruth passed away in 1992 and Uncle Jim is in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s Disease. It makes me sad that I can’t talk with them again on this Earth, because they always had such interesting stories to tell about all their travels and life in the places they lived. I know I’ll see them again in Heaven, but right now that time seems so far away, even though it could come at any moment.
My grandmother was not a Southern Belle, but I think maybe she could have been. She was a beautiful woman, with a flair that few people possess. I have seen pictures of her and her sisters, or just her, dressed up as a Southern Belle, and I think she might have made a very fine Southern Belle. It’s funny to think that someone could have been maybe living in the wrong time, or that maybe some people could have lived in more than one time. Of course, her life wasn’t too far beyond those times, but it was far enough. And of course, there was also the fact that she didn’t live in the South.
I have often wondered what it would have been like to live in the pre-civil war days. The beautiful gowns, and the lazy days. Of course, I don’t think I would have liked the whole idea of slavery, but if I could have done the lazy days and beautiful gowns without that, I think I might have liked it. In dreams, you can do that whole setting aside the bad parts and still having the good parts, so in my own imagination, I am able to sit on the veranda with a glass of lemonade, a plate of cookies, and wearing a beautiful gown, not having any responsibilities, just parties and visits with friends. But, in reality, I probably would have become very bored with that in no time.
My grandmother was an amazing woman, who raised 9 children, and never drove a car. She stayed at home with the kids, and cooked and cleaned, and raised those 9 children to be responsible, respectable citizens. First, I can’t imagine never driving a car, much less raising 9 kids without driving. I don’t know how she managed that, but that does seem to be a little similar to the Southern Belle type of woman…one who was taken care of, and yet 
in reality, was the strong, capable mistress of the home…sort of like Scarlett O’Hara’s mother was…beauty with strength mixed in. Yes, I think that describes my grandmother quite well.
No, she wasn’t a Southern Bell, and didn’t live in that era, but she was a beautiful woman, who has grace and strength. She ran her home with authority, and sometimes, with the palm of her hand, and yet she made Grandpa feel like he was king of the castle. They were quite a pair, and while they weren’t rich southern landowners, they were so much richer in so many other ways, that I don’t think they felt like they missed out on one thing.
My sister, Caryl has lived away from Casper for most of her adult life. Her life has taken her to the San Diego, California area, the Seattle, Washington area, Idaho Falls, Idaho, and finally to Rawlins, Wyoming. While that was probably an adventurous life for her and her family, it was also one whereby she had to spend most of her time away from the rest of her family, and especially Mom and Dad. I know that is not an unusual thing these days, but in a close knit family, it presents some very emotional situations. Every time Caryl’s family came to visit, or stay for a time while her, then husband Warren, was out to sea in the Navy, we were so excited to see them, but when it came time for them go home, our hearts were torn again. It was an emotional roller coaster, for all of us.
This was especially hard on our parents, as you can imagine. Their little girl was always so 
far away from them, and as parents, your kids are always your babies. It was hard on them, but it also presented the opportunity to travel to see Caryl and her family, which was the one highlight of the situation. Mom and Dad made many trips to see Caryl and her family, and in return, Caryl and her family took them to see many wonderful sights. It was a great time for all of them. Mom and Dad got a view of those areas that can only really be seen by a local resident to the area. Caryl and her family showed Mom and Dad such great times, and took them on trips that they always remembered.
When Caryl and Warren divorced, she came back here for a time and it was a joyous reunion. When she married Mike and moved to his home in Rawlins, it was sad, but they were much closer than Caryl had ever lived before, so we got to see much more of her and her family. I think that was such a blessing to Mom and Dad, especially during Dad’s last years. They were 
able to see so much more of Caryl and her family than they had since she was first married as a girl in her twenties.
Soon, Caryl’s life will take another turn, one that seemed so unlikely all those years ago. Caryl and her husband, Mike have bought a piece of land on the west side of Casper, and they plan to fix it up, build a house, and when they retire, they will be moving back to Casper. It is a life that will finally come full circle, and Caryl will again be home. Today is Caryl’s birthday. Happy birthday Caryl!! We are all looking forward to the time when you will be back here with the rest of the family!! We love you!!
I grew up in an age when people spanked their kids. In fact, I can’t think of one friend who never had a spanking. And my mother could discipline with the best of them. I just don’t think she liked it much. Oh, she could get in there and scream as well as anyone, and she wasn’t a push-over by any stretch of the imagination. But, in reality, I don’t think that she really liked all the screaming and arguing that went on in a house full of girls. You see, my dad was the only man, or boy in the house for all of our young years. Counting mom, it was 6 to 1.
Raising 5 girls with all of the emotions that can go on with 5 drama queens, I can’t help but wonder how she managed to keep her sanity. Part of her way was to tell us, “Just wait until your dad gets home!!” And it was a threat that would bring fear to our hearts, although I don’t exactly know why. My dad had a way of working out a situation without the need for a spanking, much of the time. Mom’s big threat was all the trouble we were going to be in when dad got home, and believe me, if you deserved it, you got it…big time, but if it could be worked out without a spanking, dad could do it. He really didn’t spank us much, we just knew that if he did…boy were we going to wish he hadn’t had to.
Mom’s way, on the other hand…whenever possible anyway, was to spread the sunshine and smiles. I remember that even if we had all been screaming and fighting, when all was said and done, Mom would sing some song like, “Let a smile be your umbrella, on a rainy, rainy day.” Or she might sing, “Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side, keep on the sunny side of life.” Anything to stop the fighting and hopefully put a little cheer back into the house. Mom always hated the fighting that could go on in a house full of girls with very different points of view…and believe me, we could go at it. So much so that sometimes Mom would just decide that if fighting was what we wanted to do, we were going to do it!! Have you ever tried to fight on demand? It has a way of making you feel 
really ridiculous. At some point, you give up and end up laughing about the whole thing. I guess she was a pretty wise woman.
Mom always wanted her kids to be happy. She wanted our lives to be…just a little bit like living in Perfect. And while she knew that there was no real place like Perfect, she knew that her words and songs could add a little sunshine to our lives, so that has always been her goal. To this day, whenever we seem down in the dumps, or life is filled with stress, we can count on Mom to tell us, “Keep on the sunny side!!” That is just how she is. it’s who she is…the Keeper of the Sunshine!!
Remember how your kids had a favorite show on TV when they were little. It’s funny how they would watch that show over and over again. After watching, and worse yet listening to the same show for days, and even months on end, you got to a point where you thought you would go insane. Even shows you thought were cute the first…say twenty times you saw them, became completely annoying before very long. And if it happened to be a show you couldn’t stand in the first place…well, it simply grated on your very last nerve every time your precious child sang that song…again!!!
I’m sure my parents felt the same way. As parents, we try not to make our kids so aware of just how much their favorite show makes us crazy, but we can’t help but be grateful when a new show finally takes the place of their old favorite. Thankfully kids outgrow their original favorites fairly quickly, in most cases, but still, sometimes there are shows that seem to really outstay their welcome in your home.
Some shows seem to span the generations, and you find yourself wondering how they could possibly still be on TV. Who are the crazy parents who continue to let their kids watch these ridiculous shows. Remember Sesame Street. Oh my gosh!! I couldn’t even stand to have that show on in my house. I know my girls liked it ok, but they simply had to watch it at someone else’s house. And I know that many of you couldn’t stand to watch the Barney shows. Oddly that one didn’t bother me too much. Maybe it was the fact that I was a grandmother the first time I watched Barney, so some of the things that used to really annoy me didn’t seem so important anymore…except Sesame Street, which I can’t stand to this day.
Thankfully, the years of children’s’ shows only last for a short time, and our lives can get back to watching normal shows…you know that ones that are mostly not animated. I say mostly because there are a few animated shows that are ok to watch as adults…provided they aren’t watched too many times. Nevertheless, for the most part by the time our kids are done with children’s’ shows, we are definitely done with children’s’ shows…at least until our grandchildren come on the scene, at which time we make the sacrifice…again!!
As far as my nephew, Tucker is concerned, his big brother is the greatest friend ever. Riley is 11 years old and Tucker is 4 years old. To a little boy of 4, a brother who is all grown up like his big brother Riley…well, he is just the coolest person ever. Tucker and Riley live out in the country, and while Tucker has a couple of friends who live close enough to play sometimes and spend the night together once a week, Riley remains Tuckers closest friend and his hero big brother. And when Riley is staying at a friend’s house, Tucker really misses him a lot. It’s very hard for a little boy to understand why is big brother gets to go do so much, and he has to stay at home a lot more. He just wants to be big…like his brother. Seven years difference in age can make such a big difference in what is allowed and what isn’t.
When Riley is at home, he plays with Tucker quite a bit, so Tucker feels that loneliness a lot when Riley is away. And for a little guy, a weekend can easily seem like forever. I’m sure Tucker wonders why his brother doesn’t stay home with him more, but as we all know, the older a kid gets, the more friends they usually have, and they would much rather hang out with their friends than their little brother. Even if they do like playing with their little brother too.
But, when Riley is home, and it’s a snowy day…well that’s when the fun really begins. The boys get to go out side and do all the things boys really like on a snowy day. They could throw snowballs, or build a fort, or go for a sled ride, or build a snowman. It doesn’t really matter what they are doing, a snowy day is one of the best days for a kid, and for Tucker that kind of day is only made better by being able to spend it with his big brother, Riley.
Time will change things, of course, and Tucker will go to school and have more friends. He won’t always feel so lonely when his brother is playing with his own friends or at work, or college. Still, no matter where they are, or what they are doing, Riley will always be Tucker’s big brother, and…I think his hero too. There is just nothing like an older sibling who has been there for you. And someday, maybe Riley will look at Tucker, and think, “Hey, maybe you’re my hero too!”
When Eric was born, his older brother, JD was very excited about having a little brother, but that didn’t mean that he knew how a little brother needed to be cared for. That wasn’t really unusual for a little boy of 17 months. Nevertheless, we all wondered how Eric managed to survive having an older brother like JD.
The first hint that Eric might be in peril came when JD stuffed an eye drop bottle, with the lid on thankfully, down Eric’s throat when he was less than a year old. Thankfully, their mom, my sister-in-law, Jennifer was very nearby and heard little Eric’s struggle to breathe. She immediately called 911, and they walked her through what to do. While Jennifer is a nurse, you can’t thinks straight when it is your own child.
Having survived that ordeal, life got back to normal for the two brothers…for a while 
anyway. When Eric was about 3 years old, JD’s curiosity would again get the better of the situation, and JD would lock Eric in the trunk of the family car…thankfully it was parked in the garage at the time and not in the hot sun. Jennifer heard his muffled yells for help and rescued her youngest son from his big brother a second time. Now, I know you think JD hated Eric, but the opposite was the truth. They were inseparable.
And if having his brother out to get him wasn’t enough, Eric decided to give it a go himself, when he fell off of the deck of the family’s bi-level home. He landed on the concrete below, but somehow managed to stay in one piece…with everything in working order. Talk about having nine lives, I think Eric must be part cat.
Through the years many future challenges presented themselves, since the brothers were very much into motocross, and with motocross comes a number of bruises. Still, that did not diminish their love for extreme sports. They have tried many different extreme sports, and usually do quite well at them.
But, probably the craziest thing Eric wanted to try almost happened on the day he had a friend over and he called his mom at work to ask if it would be ok for them to jump off the roof of the house and into a snow drift. Of course, Jennifer told him no, but he continued to try to persuade her to allow it. So, finally she told him that if he insisted on doing that, he had to wait until she was at home…because someone needed to be there to call 911. Needless to say, that was one attempt at Eric’s demise that didn’t happen. We’re glad you made it through it all, Eric!! Happy birthday!!
As I continue to read through my dad’s letters to his family during World War II, I have been reading between the lines, and behind the scenes that he was able to share. During a war, the soldiers involved are unable to speak about the operations they are taking part in. Still as young men and women, far away from home, they want and need to write and receive letters. They need the closeness of family, and yet they don’t want to worry their family, and they are bound by military rules, not to talk about the missions. So much so, that letters must be read to make sure no information accidentally gets out.
Knowing my dad in his later years, and getting to know him through his letters home, I know that he was not a man who wanted others, especially his family to worry about him. So, he never told of pain or fears. Which leads me to believe that my dad wouldn’t have told his family, and especially his mom, what he was feeling during the bombing missions he went on every day. Not even if he could have. That was just the man my dad was…as a young soldier, and as a adult husband and father.
Still, in reading his letters, the need for comfort and reassurance that existed in him every day, whispered quietly from between the lines and behind the words my dad wrote in his letters. He asked for good news concerning men he knew that were in the service too. Hoping that if they were ok, he would be too. Of course, I can’t be sure that those were my dad’s feelings or his thoughts, but I know that is how I felt when I looked at the pictures he took of flak from the German Fliegerabwehrkanone. This was an 88mm gun capable of rapid fire. The resulting shell fragments would rip through the planes and it is said that it took over 3,300 rounds to take down a plane. And those guns did take down planes. The B-17 bombers had to fly through these traps on the way to and from their targets. How could these boys go through that every day and not have fear that they would not come home. I know it took great faith in God to move beyond that fear…to keep going…to survive the 
day to day nerve racking missions.
I have great respect for all of our soldiers, because they push their fears back every day, and hide their true feelings from their loved ones so they don’t worry. And yet, when I look at the pictures Dad took of the flak all around their plane, and read the letters telling his family that he is “ok and feeling fine”, which is really a way of saying he is still ok, and not telling them much of anything I think I understand what true bravery is. That was typically my dad, never allowing his feelings to worry his family. I feel that I know my dad better from his letters and it makes me appreciate what a wonderful man he was even more. I love you Daddy!!
When a soldier is serving his country, so far away from home, he often feels like he will not be returning to the same world he left when he joined the service, or was drafted, as used to be the case. The letters from home mean more to that soldier than their writer could ever imagine, and yet, so often, what starts with the best of intentions…to write daily letters…soon slips and ends up being every couple of weeks or once a month. That schedule works well for the person writing from home, but is terribly hard on the soldier, so far away, and wondering if they have been forgotten.
My dad’s letters home from World War II, while varied in content, really said just one thing…I wish I was home. In his letter from July 4th, 1944, he talks about all the great things the family did on Independence Day. My dad writes, “The picnics, drives, swimming at Manitou Falls, the ball games, and all kinds of stuff like that.” He goes on to say that it all seems “so long ago” and I can almost hear the sense of loss in his words. Then he talks about how he can “remember each little detail” and how the “little things like that stick in a fellows memory their whole life, because those things that seemed unimportant at the time, all go together to make up one wonderful word…Home.” He continues, “And the fourth of July is as much a part of that word, as the front door is a part of the house.”
I have found that there was a writer living inside my dad too. Something I had no idea about before. His words painted such a clear picture that I almost felt like I was there. And, between the lines, lived the pain of the loneliness that a young soldier was feeling. Then, I could see my dad, pulling himself up by the bootstraps, and setting aside his feelings so his mother wouldn’t worry, when he lightly said, “Say, let me know what you did on the fourth. Will you? Where you went and if you had fun.” He went on to talk about the flowers that grew in England…a subject he knew his mother would like, although my dad always did like Lilacs too, and missed them in England. When I was a girl growing up, our yard was always full of them. I guess he always wanted to feel like he was home and Lilacs were a big part of that to him.
Dad always tried not to let his feelings worry his mother. I’m sure that is what every soldier has to do. Still, I can’t help tearing up when I think of his feelings. I have always thought of my dad as such a strong man, who always knew what to do, and he was when I knew him, but there was a time that he was, as every soldier is in war time, a scared kid, trying to be brave and not let anyone know what they are feeling, and most of all a kid, wanting to go…Home again.
When my sisters and I were little we were told things like “You get things by ages” meaning bicycles and such. We also got privileges by ages. I think it is probably that way in most families. Kids need to be a certain age in order to be safe doing certain things, and going places…so we knew that was just the way it was. Naturally, whenever we became old enough for something new, it was a pretty big deal. Looking back on it now, it’s almost funny how big a deal something so small could be.
We lived on East 3rd Street, where my mom still lives to this day. It was and is a quiet, safe neighborhood. There was a gang of kids that lived on our street, and oddly, it was mostly girls, which worked out well for our family which contained 5 girls and no boys. There was a variety of ages among the girls on our street, so we usually had a friend our age. We all had pretty much the same standard of rules…I’m pretty sure our moms discussed all that and agreed on something…well ok, maybe not, but the rules did seem the same. In the summertime, you could play outside with your friends as long as you checked in regularly, stayed on our street, and came home before suppertime. After supper, we got to play outside again, until it got dark, then it was time to head home.
As some of us got older, and were allowed to venture out into the surrounding neighborhoods on our bicycles or on foot, and the ones left behind started to feel the sting of being younger. It just seemed unfair to us somehow, not that our sisters got to go somewhere that we didn’t, but that they got to be the older one. I guess we just knew that arguing the point was futile, but we sure didn’t like it much.
I will never forget how grown up I felt when I was finally allowed to leave the street in front of our house on my bicycle. My friend, Toni and I were allowed to ride our bicycles clear down to East 8th Street…wow, what a day!! We felt so grown up. We actually went just 5 blocks. Not really a very big distance, and considering that I now live on Sally Lane, two houses off of East 8th Street and I can walk to my mom’s house in about 5 minutes, it occurs to me just how small a distance that really is. Still, at that time, it was like traveling to the moon. We were free at last, and we felt that freedom clear down to our toes.
