pictures
Going through your parents things after they have passed away, is one of the hardest and most time consuming things you will ever do. It is also one of the most rewarding. With the passing of our mother last month, my sisters and I now beginning the task of going through the treasures of their lifetime. Their house has been in our family for about 56 years, and in that time they gathered many things. Of course, like every long term household, there were things to be thrown away, but I think what really surprised us was that there were many things that we didn’t want to throw away. In reality, they really kept only the really good things…the treasures of a lifetime filled with love, laughter, and happiness.
There were treasures of our dad’s military days, including old newspapers from World War II, Dad’s soldier’s handbook, pilots manuals, and a training manual from his flight engineer training. There were baby clothes he had worn, as well as his Christian books. Treasures from their Silver and Gold Wedding Anniversaries, and souvenirs they had collected over the years. And there were pictures…lots and lots of pictures There were pictures from our childhood, pictures from his war years, pictures from Mom’s younger years, and Dad’s younger years…so many pictures. Of course, those will be scanned so that we can all have copies of them, and then we will divide them up. We didn’t even have much time to really look at them, but we could tell that they are treasures, because they are the stories of many lifetimes.
I don’t think that any of us could really fully comprehend all of what we had in front of us, but as time goes on, we will really realize what gifts we have been given. These were the things that our parents loved. They were the things that they searched for. Especially the souvenirs, because Mom and Dad loved to travel, and they loved to have mementos of those trips. They traveled to so many places. They truly, really lived, and the things 
they kept were the things that reminded them of all the wonderful times they had on those trips…their treasured memories.
I’m sure that as time goes on, there will be many stories to tell about all they things they have done in their amazing lives, but that will be a story for another day. For now, the biggest story of the day is the discovery of these, the many treasures of two lives so very well lived. Nothing held them back. They did the things they wanted to do. In fact, it never occurred to them to think they could do anything they wanted to do. They just went out and did the things they wanted to do. They built a beautiful lifetime, and then left us the treasures of that lifetime.
I don’t know for sure how it all started, but over the years, my father-in-law, Walt Schulenberg collected a number of old license plates that were both unique and average. My guess is that he found one that he really liked, and he saved it, putting it up on the wall of the garage. Before long, the number of plates grew, because there was always another unique license plate to add to the collection. After a while the license plate collection grew to include plates from the different states he had been in, and his son, Ron Schulenberg even brought him some from the countries he was in during Desert Storm…which were quite different from all the others.
These license plates started out gracing the walls of the garage, which is a fitting place for such a collection, but as time went on, there were enough of then to warrant adding the barn shop my father-in-law had, and finally the back fence to his display areas. In reality, while I found these interesting to look at from time to time, my father-in-law’s license plate was not something that occupied any kind of a special place in my mind. I suppose that if I was a guy, I might have felt differently about it. It is a guy type of collection, after all.
After someone passes away, and you find yourself sorting through all their things, you begin to really get a feel for what was important to them. Not just the major things they had placed a high degree of importance on, but the lesser things too. The things they just liked, because they thought those things were cool. That was how it was for me, when we started going through my father-in-law’s things. No, I can’t say that I wanted those old license plates, but they were interesting. They were a reminder of my father-in-law, and the things he liked.
After the funeral, we took some pictures, as often happens after funerals, simply because many people who come, don’t live here and you want their pictures, because you don’t see them often enough. Many of the people in the family wanted their picture taken by the back fence, showing that collection of license plates. The other day, as I was looking through some of the old pictures, I came across those that were taken that day. It 
made me think with interest about the array of license plates my father-in-law had collected, and in reality about the kind of man he was.
The things that were cherished to him were really the life moments. Things like his knife and watch, his tools, his woodworking supplies and chair making supplies, and yes, the license place collection, were things that had a special meaning to him. They were like the stories of his life. They were the accomplishments he had made, the places he had been, and the reminders of just how precious life was. While the license plates were not something I was interested in receiving, I am very glad that I have pictures of them to remember his passion for life.
Living to be 95 years old is an amazing accomplishment, and one that few people are blessed enough to achieve. Today, that is the place where my husband, Bob’s great uncle, Frank Knox is. I think Frank was always my mother-in-law, Joann Schulenberg’s favorite uncle…doesn’t every girl have one or even two. When I found my mother-in-law’s childhood scrapbook among the photo albums and old pictures she had in a box in her closet, as we were preparing to sell their home to help pay for her care, after my father-in-law passed away, I noticed several pictures with her and her Uncle Frank, as well as pictures of him alone.
Frank was stationed in England during World War II, as was my dad. I’m not sure where in England, but it would have been interesting to see if they ever crossed paths. It’s possible that worry and the unknown were things that made my mother-in-law love 
seeing her uncle, because even when kids are young, they are well able to understand the dangers that their loved ones are being placed in, and they worry that they will not make it home. There really is no definite skill that keeps a soldier alive in a war. Some just come home, and others don’t. That is probably the thing that makes the homecoming so very sweet.
The first time I met Frank was the end of June, 1976, when they brought Frank’s parents, my mother-in-law’s grandparents for a visit. It was partly, I’m sure so that they could meet their two great great granddaughters, my girls, Corrie and Amy, but also to see the rest of the family. Living so far away, in Yakima, Washington, they didn’t get to see this part of the family very much, and Great Grandma and Grandpa were getting older. We did not know it then, but it would be the last time we saw Great Grandpa, since he would pass away the following August…just two months later. I think we all felt very grateful to Frank, his wife, Helen, and their youngest son, Richard 
for bringing Great Grandma and Grandpa Knox to Casper for such a lovely visit.
Frank is a very intelligent man, and while his mind may not be quite as sharp as it was in his youth, he still remembers all of us and his little niece, my mother-in-law, Joann Schulenberg. He always calls her on her birthday, and while she won’t have a phone this year, we will make sure that we get them on the phone for that very important call. And perhaps we can surprise him today with a phone call from her, because I think she probably did that too, before Alzheimer’s Disease stole the memory of the date from her. Today is Frank’s 95th birthday. Happy birthday Frank!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
I never knew my dad to be a big sentimental saver, who kept every little knick knack or scrap of paper, so when he saved something, I have to think that it meant something, or was something special to him. Pictures were the exception, of course, but I was surprised when I found a couple of post cards from his sister, my Aunt Ruth when she was on a trip in 1946. She doesn’t say who she was with, but since she was married at the time, I have to assume that she was with my Uncle Jim. One post card, in particular, stood out for me, mostly I suppose because I like things of historic value. The post card was of the Spiral Bridge in Hastings, Minnesota. Hastings is in southern Minnesota, and while I would have a hard time believing that my dad never made the trip down to see this famous wagon bridge, I have no real proof that he was ever there, but I believe Aunt Ruth went over it on the trip back in May of 1946. Still, whether Dad went over it or not, he must have thought it quite interesting, because he kept the card the rest of his life. Dad was always interested in the historic value of things too, and I’m sure that is where my interest in those things began. He took the time to show us many historic markers and places of interest.
The Spiral Bridge was built over the Mississippi River in 1895 as a wagon bridge. It was built with a large spiral ramp on the south end to allow enough clearance for the river traffic to pass below the bridge. These days we would have a vertical lift bridge, such as the one at Duluth Harbor, or a draw bridge, like the Tower Bridge, but back then, they didn’t have the capability to build such a bridge and the river traffic had to get through. The Spiral Bridge easily handled the river traffic and the wagon traffic. In 1895, there weren’t many cars around, and most people still traveled by horse and wagon. A bridge that had too steep a rise would be really hard for horses, so it was necessary, for the sake of continuing the movement of river traffic, to create a ramp of sorts so the bridge was high enough. The spiral ramp on the Spiral Bridge did just that.
With his interest in historic, and unique things, I can hardly imagine that this historic bridge would be the thing my dad would have missed. Sadly, it is not something we can go see today, because it was torn down in 1951 to make way for a high bridge that would provide a straighter entry and make modern day traffic flow more smoothly. The spiral ramp, while a great idea for wagons, slowed automobile traffic considerably. With the 
modern day automobile, came the need for a new bridge, and the Spiral Bridge, while historic and unique, was nevertheless obsolete. I suppose the builders of the new bridge were excited to see a brand new, modern bridge take the place of the old, outdated bridge, but I like antiques. Houses, bridges, furniture, and even cars, provided that I don’t have to drive them much, all hold my interest, but there are people who prefer to have everything very modern. I suppose too, that it was a necessity, and they just couldn’t move the new one to a different location. Whatever the case may have been, I’m glad my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Jim got to see it, and I really hope my dad and the rest of the family did too. It was a little bit of history that I know they would have loved. Bridges are cool, but the Spiral Bridge was amazing.
Safely tucked away, in a closet in the basement of my home, sits a red box. It is a homemade hope chest, built by my dad, when I was a little girl. Dad built two of them, one for my sister, Cheryl and one for me. This was long before hope chests became popular again, or maybe they always were, and I just didn’t know it then. I loved that little hope chest. I suppose some people would have thought it plain, but it held a very special meaning to me. My daddy had made it for me, and told me that it was to keep my treasures in. The original paddle lock was lost long ago, and replaced with a new one. I have lost the key to that one, so now a bobby pin has to suffice. It really wouldn’t matter if it was unlocked, I suppose, because to most people it’s contents have no real value. It holds no gold, silver, or diamonds…just the treasures from my past.
When I opened it last night…the first time in a long time, I saw my girlhood treasures, like souvenirs from trips taken as a child, my first wrist watch, and cameo soaps I got from…who knows where. I saw my high school diploma, and my husband Bob’s, both in pristine condition. There were treasures from my children’s lives, like perfect attendance awards from church and preschool, pictures of our family at that time, cards sent to me on special occasions, and baby cigars from a number of different births…I don’t suppose anyone would want to smoke those now. There was a baby blanket I had been given, and high school pictures of my sisters and sisters-in-law. There are three model cars…remnants of Bob’s past, and a multitude of key chains from his years of collecting them. If you looked at these items, I suppose most people would think many of them to be worthless, but to me, they are treasures…they are my past.
I realize that I am a sentimental person, and that I save things with sentimental value. I have accepted this about myself. I know that many people don’t like to save things. They don’t like the clutter, and I do admit that it can create clutter. But, I don’t really want my world to be so free of my past, that it seems sterile. This isn’t an operating room, after all, it’s my life, and my memories. I like most of my past, not to mention, my family’s past, and I want to be able to see and remember it. That is simply who I am. I can think of so many fun times in my past…camping trips with my parents and sisters, hiking with Bob, vacations with our kids, just to mention a few. In my opinion, I have lead a very nice life, and I want to always remember that. As I looked through the contents of my hope chest, my mind drifted back to a time when my family was young. The years have gone by so fast. It made me feel a little bit sad.
The contents of my hope chest have changed over the years, as my hopes and dreams have changed. As a little girl, I had the trinkets of a little girl in there, and as I grew, the things in my hope chest grew to take in 
my new self. Once I was married, the hope chest became a memory chest, instead of a hope chest. which was designed to collect the things a girl would need for her wedding and marriage. I think I like the latest job my hope chest has, because memories come from a life filled with good things. And maybe that is a fitting end for a hope chest, because it does start out as the hopes and dreams of a girl, and ends up with the memories of a life well lived.
As another summer moves into the past, yet another of my grandchildren has had senior pictures taken. This year, we will have only one graduate, instead of two. Nevertheless, as each one graduates, I feel a little sadness. Before my very eyes, my grandchildren are growing up, and moving on with their lives. I want them to be little again. This year’s graduate is my grandson, Caalab Royce. Caalab’s favorite things are his guitar, his truck, and his dogs. That said, he decided to incorporate his guitar and his truck into his senior pictures, and chose the Washington Park Band Shelter as his backdrop. The pictures turned out great.
Caalab isn’t one to spend a lot of time posing for pictures, and would much rather take those spontaneous selfies with his mom, sister, and me. I think maybe he would rather make funny faces that the nicely posed type of shots that senior pictures are. He just doesn’t have the patience for that sort of thing. Still, I think he had a good time in the end…or at least it looked like he had fun. I think I will have a lot of trouble choosing my favorite among the shots Jessica Coleman at Poetic Images Photography took. The pictures are really good, and I think they capture a lot of who Caalab is. And isn’t that what a good photographer does…capture the essence of the person.
When I think of another of my grandchildren being out of high school, I am beyond surprised. It seems impossible that my grandchildren could be so grown up already. Caalab should still be that little boy who began playing with my hair at six months of age, and has never stopped wanting to do that. He should still be that smiley boy, who is full of mischief…oh wait, he is still that smiley boy, who is full of mischief. Maybe not so much has changed after all, and in reality I do have this school year before he actually graduates. And I hope he will always like to come and hang out with his grandma and papa, because we would miss it if he didn’t. Spending time together is of the utmost importance to me, because my family is of the utmost importance. I suppose that is why the changes of having the grandchildren growing up are so hard. When my girls grew up and got married, I hoped and prayed that they would stay in Casper, because I wanted to be a part of their daily lives. Thankfully, so far that has been the 
case. Now it is the grandchildren…and I hope they will stay in Casper as well, because I want to be a part of the lives of my great grandchildren too.
Graduations are new beginnings, and the senior picture is the first step toward that new beginning. The end of summer, and the senior pictures always serve as a reminder that life is short, time flies by, and change is inevitable. I just wish I could be the exception to that rule, and that life could always stay the way it is right now…or maybe back just a few years to when I was still the one taking my grandchildren to school each day. It was so nice to see them every day. I felt infinitely blessed…still do, because they are the best.
A big part of picture taking with children is getting them to smile. Kids can be moody and irritable when you make them sit or stand still while you try repeatedly to get just the right shot. I suppose that is when people started trying to find creative ways to make a child smile. “Say Cheese” seems to be one of the most common ways to get a kid to smile…or at least it used to be. Most kids have heard that so much that it is not quite as funny as it once was. Most parents and photographers have had to get a little bit more creative.
It’s almost like the more embarrassing the situation they can come up with, the more the kids laugh. Like when the photographer asked me if I had any 
boyfriends, and I made a funny face, as I gave thought to who I liked at that moment. Many kids have to laugh…or more likely crack up at that question, because a lot of the time, they aren’t even sure if they like the opposite sex or not, but…well, maybe they do…just don’t tell anyone that. I think that is when you get some of the funniest faces with kids…when something is a combination of embarrassing and funny, such as that moment when someone thought you said “cut the cheese”, and not “say cheese”. Of course the next thing that happens is that one or the other of the kids breaks out in uncontrollable laughter. It doesn’t do much for the nicely posed picture, but it can be a great picture if you are looking for a real life funny shot.
I think several of us have been caught in that funny moment shot, she someone conveniently 
snapped a picture when we had the goofiest look on our face. My grandson, Caalab Royce is famous for taking those goofy shots of me…his Gma. Then he threatens to put them on Facebook, or just show it to everyone he can think of, because it is so funny looking. All he has to do is get ready and say “Gma” and it will invariably end up in a funny picture.
I guess it doesn’t matter what you do to get people to smile, sometimes you just have to be very creative. And even then, you may not get exactly the reaction you were hoping for. That’s just the way it goes with pictures. You get what you get.
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.
As I was reading the notes I was given on Frederick Schumacher and his wife, Anna Richard Schumacher, I read that they lost their home to a fire in 1956. I can’t imagine losing your home and all of your precious memories in a fire, and yet it does happen. I don’t know what memories Fred and Anna lost, but my guess is that it included photographs of their babies as they grew up. Those are things that are so hard to get back. All you can do is hope that someone among your friends and family members has pictures they can share with you. I’m sure it was such a shock…everything was gone…in an instant. All you had left was your family and the clothes on your back…and you were grateful. How could you feel gratitude after such a devastating loss? Of course, it is because your family had survived, and in reality, everything else is just stuff. Nevertheless, as time goes by, you begin to realize that you really lost a lot that dreadful day. It’s no wonder you seem to be having a hard time getting past it. I have to wonder if sleeping at night is difficult, because you feel a deep need to be on your guard. Still, you have to move forward for your family.
A fire affects everyone in the family…even grown children who have homes of their own. When 
fire destroyed my Uncle Jim Wolfe’s home on Wolfe Mountain outside of Newport, Washington, there was no way to get help up there in time. The road is just too rough and the area too remote to get fire trucks up there, so when Uncle Jim’s home caught fire, the only thing they could do was to try to save what they could…and it was not much. All of the memories were lost…pictures, keepsakes from my Aunt Ruth’s life, all of the pictures of the childhood days of my cousins, as well as all of Uncle Jim’s items for day to day living. Before long, Uncle Jim needed to move into a nursing home where he could get 24 hour care for his Alzheimer’s Disease. For my cousin, Shirley it was like losing one more of her precious memories…having her dad living just down the road from her. Her mother, my Aunt Ruth had passed away, in 1992, and this was just one more blow to Shirley.
Fires destroy the dreams, as well as the memories, of those who have an unfortunate encounter with them. For my cousin, Shirley, it has meant trying to find friends and family 
who might have childhood pictures that they could copy for her. We have been searching for pictures, but have not found a whole lot for her. I am still hopeful that someday we will stumble across a huge cache of pictures that will fill all the memory holes in her life right now. It is amazing to me that in this day and age, we are still unable to save some homes from fire. It’s not so much a remote home, like my Uncle Jim’s, but even homes in town, are completely destroyed be fire. Still there are factors like how long it took to report, and what type of fire it was that can affect the ability to save it too. Whatever the reason, dreams and memories are lost in the twinkling of an eye, and they are really hard to get back.
I have often wondered why people didn’t smile in pictures taken many years ago. It didn’t really make sense to me, because it seems that most people were happy with their lives. So why not show that they were happy in the pictures that were taken to remember them. Weren’t these pictures were intended to show their descendants who they were and tell a little bit about their lives? I always thought that it was a bit sad that there were so few smiles. And I have wondered why people didn’t tell their kids to smile, but upon further thought, and a look at the picture of my in-laws with all the grandchildren they had at that time, I think maybe I now have a little bit better understanding of it. Maybe it wasn’t totally intended at all, or maybe it was. I suppose we will never know.
I was there when these newer pictures were taken, of course, so I know for sure what was going on. We had taken pictures of several families, and multiple other group shots. We had been through the fidgety kids, the bouts of tears, the laughing at the ones in tears, and we were past nap time for some of these kids. We did our very best to get them to smile for the camera, and most of the time they did pretty good. Nevertheless, by the time we got to this picture, we were pretty much over the picture taking, and no one was doing any smiling. Sometimes there is just simply nothing you can do about a bad picture, except to chalk it up to experience, and move on. You can hope that the next time pictures are taken, everyone will be in a better mood, but quite likely you will find that there will be at least one or two who will feel the same way next time as they did this time.
Looking back in those old pictures, I thought maybe it wasn’t a matter of collectively deciding not to smile. Maybe they had work to be done on the farm, and they didn’t really want to be there taking pictures. Or maybe they just hated being all dressed up in their Sunday best on a week day, or maybe the kids were fussy and needed a nap, and maybe they were just tired. I mean, after all, everything was a lot harder then. They didn’t have the modern conveniences we have today. Maybe they were just too tired to smile!
