Transportation 100 years ago

When my mother was a little girl, her family still kept a carriage horse in the barn that did useful tasks like pulling their cars out of the muddy lanes that approached their graceful farm home two miles from the main road near Franklin Grove, Illinois. I believe she told me the children never rode "Beauty" because she hadn't been broken to ride. Because I was madly in love with horses, I couldn't imagine having a horse that close and NOT riding it. My maternal grandparents were "early adopters" and owned automobiles probably before 1910. Draft horses were still used in the fields because tractors weren't reliable enough, but I believe they were stabled at the tenant farm barn. My father's family in the next county, however, used draft horses regularly in farming. My father told me they sometimes rode one to church, the Pine Creek Church of the Brethren (now disbanded). Draft horses are so massive, so wide and so powerful, I have difficulty picturing this. My grandmother was blind and the four older children would have been quite small. But then, picturing her walking there with little ones doesn't read either. (repeat from 2005 blog about draft horses)

Art show reception this Sunday

 Reception December 11, 2022, 2-4 p.m.

Bob and Norma, married for 62 years and UALC members since 1976, have both been painting since 1972 and this show is the story of their years together with a few samples of their watercolors and acrylics. Both were interested in art as children, but only Bob pursued it as a career and avocation. Norma enjoyed a library career. He became an architect with fine arts and design classes in high school and college, plus some classes at an art institute as a child. Norma had the family dining room table with art supplies and paper, but no classes. Her teachers in kindergarten and first grade “featured” her art of a May pole dance, and horses were scribbled in the margins of school papers and books. The Bruces met at the University of Illinois in 1959 and married in 1960, but art really wasn’t a focus. Bob’s interest in painting was rekindled by his friend Ned Moore in 1972, so he dug out his old brushes from college art classes. That piqued Norma’s interest so she began taking a few workshops with local artists and later at Lakeside. 

They’ve chosen paintings that tell about their lives. In the library lounge are some stories about Illinois where Norma grew up and where they vacationed with their children, Phoebe and Phil, in the 1960s-70s. Norma’s mother had renovated her parents’ farm home in the 1960s near Franklin Grove, Illinois, as a retreat center and the Bruce family enjoyed roaming northern Illinois looking for farm scenes to paint. Included are paintings of family, two by Bob of Phil who died in 2020, Norma’s childhood friends and family from the 1940s, and her paternal grandmother in her wedding dress. Norma’s grandparents owned the Lustron in Mt. Morris on the postcard. It then was purchased years later by her father after her mother died in 2000.

 
In the hall in keeping with the rural and farm theme in the library lounge they’ve hung some flowers and vegetables, although they don’t garden. These are usually from a workshop at Lakeside or a “how to” book. Also in the hall are paintings of animals—Norma particularly liked horses, and owned one as a youngster (no paintings of him).

Also in the hall they’ve included paintings of travels after retirement in Ireland, Israel, Egypt, Alaska, and Spain—two borrowed from the current owners for this show. Bob went with the UALC mission group to Haiti for 10 years and taught architecture there. At the library door is Bob’s painting of three children from Westerville who were neighbors at Lakeside reading their Bible together. They are homeschooled and Bob helped with their art instruction. Also you’ll see Bob’s paintings of two UALC pastors who’ve had a big place in their lives.

 
The Bruce family began vacationing at Lakeside on Lake Erie in 1974 and owned a summer home there from 1988 to 2022. Paintings from those years are in the Fireside Lounge. Bob taught many classes at the Rhein Arts Center in Lakeside and both took advantage of the classes in watercolor, acrylic, pen and ink, jewelry making, silk painting and pottery. Bob has been in the Lakeside summer art show for over 40 years and in 2021 published a book of his Lake Erie paintings.

 
1. Driftwood, Lakeside - Norma
2. Lakeside Transportation - Norma
3. Romancing the Freighter, Lakeside - Norma
4. Bring Three Friends, Lakeside - Norma
5. Marblehead Lighthouse - Norma
6. Post cards of Lakeside – Norma
7. Ice Cream More Ice Cream, Lakeside – Robert
8. Lakeside Women’s Club – Robert
9. Werden’s Porch, Lakeside – Robert
10. Lighthouse Spiral Staircase, Marblehead – Robert
11. Mouse Island Race, Lakeside – Robert
12. Lakeside Orchestra – Robert
13. Keeping Watch, Norma’s father, 1944 – Norma
14. Playmates, Forreston, 1946 – Norma
15. Grandma’s Wedding Dress, 1912 - Norma
16. Phoebe and Phil at the Marblehead Lighthouse - Norma
17. Snow Horse, Forreston, 1950 - Norma
18. Shuffleboard at Lakeside, 1974 - Norma
19. Phil Bruce with Guitar, 2018 - Robert
20. Phil Bruce, 2012 - Robert
21. Daysville Road Farm, Franklin Grove, 1974 - Norma
22. Olive in her Garden, Franklin Grove - Robert
23. Red Barns Vignette, Franklin Grove - Robert
24. Whitney House, Franklin Grove - Robert
25. Reflection no Horizon, 1974, painted at Franklin Grove farm - Robert
26. Red Geraniums in Brown Pot - Norma
27. Pink Geraniums - Norma
28. White Daisies – Norma
29. Squash in a Bowl – Norma

30. Vegetables on Lace – Norma

31. Purple Iris – Norma 

32. Jackie’s Daffodils - Norma 

33. Hall Children Reading their Bible -Robert 

34. Pastor Dave Drumel - Robert 

35. Pastor Paul Ulring - Robert 

36. Mendenhall Glacier, 2001 – Robert 

37. Camel and Pyramids, 2009 – Robert 

38. Wailing Wall, Jerusalem, 2009 – Robert 

39. Haitian Girl, Ouanaminthe, Haiti – Robert 

40. Ireland Landscape, 2007 – Robert 

41. Street Scene, Grenada Spain, 2015 - Robert 

42. Postcards of Alaska, 2001 – Norma 

43. Bay Horse, 1974 – Norma 

44. Mustang – Norma 

45. Cat on a Hot Pink Porch, Lakeside – Norma 

46. Baby Duck – Norma 4

47. The Plaza, Grenada Spain, 2015 – Robert 

48. Corbett Lustron, Mt. Morris, 2001 – Norma 

49. Mark fishing at Lakeside, 2022—Robert 

50. Friend fishing at Lakeside, 2022—Robert

 #38

 #21 

The farm on Daysville Road

 In May we sold our summer home in Lakeside, Ohio, after owning it for 34 years. Part of the sale contract was we would stay until Labor Day, so we did get to enjoy one last summer. That's just a little longer than we owned our home on Abington Road where we raised our family. We bought it in 1988 and I still was suffering from a bad case of "empty nest." I remember how much fun it was to decorate it--we were starting from scratch because everything needed to be refreshed, remodeled, or replaced. In May 1989 Bob and his friend Ron changed the paint color from white to mauve, which it remained through summer 2022, our last year.  Some knick knacks and mementos made the trip from Columbus to Lake Erie, although I didn't want it to look like our home in Columbus.  I shopped in Sandusky for things like sheets and towels, and I believe the wall paper (all the rage then) in cream, mauve, rose and blue, came from a Columbus store. 

One of my own paintings seem to fit the theme of the master bedroom--sort of rural and folksy with maple furniture from the 1940s, so it made the trip to the summer home and stayed for 34 years.  This is an acrylic painting I'd done around 1978 from a photo I'd taken in around 1974 of the field of soybeans and neighboring farm at my mother's family farm near Franklin Grove.  I believe at the time I was told that was the --------- place, and it may have even been a distant relative, but I've forgotten the name. If I had the Lee County History book, I could perhaps look it up.  

I doubt that I painted the buildings accurately because it was the sky, particularly the clouds, that caught my eye that hot day. The sun was high in the sky and the fluffy clouds created a shadow on the fields.  The farm land in that part of Lee County is very flat, so when you're outside, you have a feeling that it's all sky--maybe like Montana which is called "big sky." A story that was told to me, I think by my father, is that this area was all marsh in the 1800s when the white settlers arrived. It was near Inlet Swamp.  I'd heard from my grandmother that her father had tiled the land to drain the water. He got the land very cheap, maybe $1.00 an acre because it was swampy and wet--considered worthless for farming.  If I could see what's west of that farm on Daysville Road in the painting I think it would be Old Mill Road and Franklin Creek Park.  

 So this painting hung in the Lakeside house for 34 years, and is now in the bathroom off my office.

An old photo of Phil

Today I received a nice photo of our son Phil who died in April. My cousin Sharon who lives in Canada sent it in a letter. It was taken in 1981 at a gathering at my mother's farm in Franklin Grove for the funeral of my cousin, Sharon's brother, Richard Weybright who died when he was 43. Phil was 13. Phil loved our vacations at the farm. I remember being there, but didn't remember who else was there except for Richard's parents. Richard had died in November 1980, so apparently the ashes were brought "home" from Arizona for burial in Ashton, Illinois where my grandparents and their son Clare who died in WWII are buried.

From left: Phil, Aunt Muriel, Chris Corbett, Bob, Dale Jasper

 

Down on the farm, 1969

  

Our children loved our vacations at my mother's farm located between Franklin Grove and Ashton, IL. My niece Cindy sent this treasure. I'm thinking this is June, 1969 and Cindy's family was living there. We'd come down ( we always said "down" when traveling from Mt. Morris to Franklin) to check out the remodeling progress. Eventually my mother created a wonderful retreat type facility for church groups. So Phil was about 7 months old in this photo. My nieces and our son Stan (deceased) were all within weeks of each other in age. That's Cindy on the far left. Squished and wiggling in her cousin's arms is our Phoebe. The guy with red hair is Bob.

My summer of 1958, part 4

What does an 18 year old do for a social life while living on a farm with her grandparents?  Not much except spend time with adults.  See Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 for the story about why I was living on a farm the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college. Transcribed from my diary!

Perhaps it was a good thing, but my boyfriend had to go to Minnesota for the summer of 1958 for civil engineer camp. According to my diary, he called about 11:30 on June 6 and said he would stop by before leaving, so I grabbed a pail of water to wash up, put on some clean clothes and we said good-bye before he left. Going after the mail, either walking or driving to Franklin Grove, was a favorite activity and I got my first letter from him on June 9. I would often stop at the local drug store to get a Coke and read my mail the diary says. I mentioned letters from college friends, some other boys I’d dated, and my great uncle Edwin who lived in Ohio.

On Saturday June 14 I was picked up by a relative so I could go to my uncle’s wedding, which was a lovely event and I sat with my other grandmother (groom’s mother). I spent the night at my parents’ home and my brother drove me back to the farm after church with them.  That Sunday afternoon Aunt Muriel and Uncle John came down with my cousin Gayle and we girls had a good visit.  By this time, Grandma and I were wearing on each others’ nerves, and I noted in the diary I started to read Norman Vincent Peale’s “Power of Positive Thinking.” I was probably acting like a normal, self-centered teen-ager, which I’m sure was difficult for her. I didn’t sympathize then, but for her age and declining health, the stresses in her life and still being in deep grief over the death of her sonin WWII, she was doing better than I realized then.

The big activity of June 16 was cleaning the house and ironing clothes and in the evening I walked in the bean field and watched the men making hay. I’m sure I wished I was at the skating rink or movie, although I didn’t write that. Finally, someone my own age showed up.  On the evening of June 17 friends from high school/college—Sylvia, Sharon and Lynne drove down from Mt. Morris to see me and I wrote we had a lot of fun talking.

Uncle Leslie and Aunt Bernice would come out from Chicago about once a week and all of 5 of us would go to Dixon to eat and shop for groceries, and Bernice and I would chat while Leslie talked to his parents.  She often brought cake or cookies with her.

One rather interesting “social” event was meeting a woman, Mrs. Sharkey, on Sunday morning June 22 when I drove to Dixon, and I attended a Catholic Mass with her at St. Patrick’s  (my first and only until 2017) and she loaned me her prayer book.  She was a widow and invited me to her apartment for coffee, and I note in my diary that her china was the same pattern as Grandma’s.  In late summer 1960 I went to Dixon to the store where she worked and bought my everyday china from her. A sweet memory of a dear Christian woman.

It’s not clear from my diary why I was in Dixon on a Sunday morning, probably looking for the Church of the Brethren thinking I'd see friends from college, but later that day I drove to Mt. Morris, had supper with my other grandparents because no one was home at my parents.  Perhaps I just wanted a bath (we still had no indoor plumbing at the farm).  I recorded that my Aunt Lois (who died this last December at 91) had a baby girl the day before (that would be cousin Rhonda) and that I drove my Dad’s new red Ford Ranchero.  Dad never removed the keys from his cars, so I suppose I just hopped in and went for a joy ride stopping to talk to people I knew!

On June 25 Grandma wanted to see Dr. Boyle in Mt. Morris so we drove there and I had a chance to visit with my girlfriend, Lynne.  On many days I wrote that I walked down the lane to the neighbors after supper. Often they would give me fresh produce from their garden which I would work into my menus  Addie and Dale were 38 and 39 (died in 2016 and 2017),  had four adorable children and were fun to be around.  I also went to church and their Sunday School class, really old folks like 30 or 40, and I don’t mention meeting anyone my age.  I also visited an immigrant couple, Dora and Zieg, down the other lane who were learning English by watching TV (my grandparents didn’t have a TV).  On June 30, two sisters-in-law of my boyfriend stopped to visit me at the farm.

On July 4 after baking a cherry pie, making a big dinner of meatloaf and baked beans and sprinkling the laundry (no permanent press then—wash, starch, dry, sprinkle, iron), I walked to the neighbors down the lane and Martha Brumbaugh came by and offered to take me to Mt. Morris, so we went after supper and I caught up with high school friends Nancy, Priscilla and Lynne to attend the July 4 talent show in Mt. Morris. Sylvia drove me back to Franklin Grove that evening. Rereading this, I am surprised at all the driving back and forth and I seemed rather casual about the transportation  arrangements.  If Sylvia hadn’t offered, how would I have gotten back to the farm? It’s about 19 miles, with hilly, winding roads, and a long lane off the high-way, or about 40 minutes. Did it ever occur to me at 18 how many people I inconvenienced?  If so, I didn’t mention it.

On July 5 I wrote I had a 4 page letter from my boyfriend and I was beginning to miss him!  How shallow is that? He’d been writing several times a week. Also I went to the garden and picked over a quart of raspberries and some rhubarb.  Then I made 2 pies.  Aunt Muriel, Uncle John, their daughter Dianne and my mother came down in the evening.  I hope I served them some pie, although I didn’t write that in the diary!

         

I don’t have a photo of my cousins and Aunt Muriel from 1958, but this is 1959 at Gayle’s wedding. Aren’t they lovely!

From July 7 through the 11th my entries are very short.  Sylvia and Dave came to visit, I went to the neighbors to help with a birthday party and got home at 1 .m., I cleaned a lot, baked a lot, took a pie to Dora and Zieg.

July 12 is my last entry in the diary of my summer at the farm. I baked a blueberry pie that day, Uncle Leslie and Aunt Bernice came and we went to Dixon where I bought a wedding gift for my high school friend, Tina, who had moved to Florida after our junior year.  And I mentioned no one would want this job. . . nothing I did was right, and there are no other entries.  I think my father picked me up the next day or within a few days, and I spent the rest of the summer in Mt. Morris.  And I was probably much more appreciative of my own home, my mother’s cooking, and just doing what teen-agers do.

My summer of 1958, part 3

What does an 18 year old do all day while living on a farm with her grandparents who aren’t thrilled to have her “help?” See Part 1 and Part 2 for the story about why I was there and what the farm was like.

The diary I kept that summer reveals a lot of cooking and cleaning, certainly more than I do now. Also some gardening—surprise—didn’t remember that at all!  Although I thought they were rather set in their ways and not too friendly then, 60 years later rereading the diary, I’m amazed and admiring at their flexibility and good humor at my housekeeping abilities.

June 1: “The food situation was bad.  Bacon and cold baloney are the only meats in the house. For some reason there are about 2 doz. lemons.  I fixed an orange and banana fruit dish and mixed some peas and potatoes for something hot—and also a meat sandwich.” Note:  when I was a child I thought eating baloney sandwiches at grandma's house was a wonderful treat since my mother never made them.

June 2: “We had scrambled eggs for breakfast, chicken a la king, biscuits, pineapple-cottage cheese salad and tapioca for dinner (noon) and “left-over loaf” and a mixture of green vegetables and fruit salad and tapioca-applesauce.”

June 3: “I mixed up some apricot-buttermilk  bread and put that in the oven at 7:30 a.m. I fixed grandpa and me soft boiled eggs and we all had mixed fruit.  They seem to enjoy fresh fruit in most any type of combination. . . For dinner I fixed hot dogs with bacon, corn and fruit with the fresh bread. . . I bought $10.84 worth of groceries—12 boxes of Jello and 2 puddings to make sure we wouldn’t run out for awhile.  For supper I fixed liver, boiled potatoes, orange-carrot-banana Jello salad and bread.” (My parents showed up around 8 p.m., I made coffee and Dad and I talked in the kitchen) “ and he sure liked that bread I made.”

June 4: I fixed pancakes for breakfast; they might have tasted better if the skillet were  not so rusty. I fixed minute steaks, beans, orange Jello salad and bread pudding for dinner (noon). . . for supper we had soup.

June 5: “The oatmeal I made for breakfast tasted like paste. . . macaroni and cheese for dinner—not much better than the oatmeal. . . soup for supper.

June 7: “I dusted some before breakfast—we had cereal, eggs and juice. . .[ate lunch in Dixon]  For supper I fixed liver, mashed potatoes, tossed salad, relish plate, and strawberry shortcake.  I used the good dishes and really had fun, but what a clean-up job..  After dishes were over I tried to make a strawberry cream pie, but it didn’t work!”

June 9: A reversal of meals--onion soup and baloney sandwiches for dinner and meat loaf, cabbage slaw and melon for supper.

June 10: Oatmeal for breakfast; hamburgers, corn creole and pear salad for dinner; fruit plate for supper with custard.

June 11: Ham, asparagus, cabbage salad and custard.  Soup, sandwiches and Jello for supper.

June 12:  Grandpa's birthday.  I baked a date cake for him, "a major project." Lima bean casserole. Took some cake to the neighbors in the evening.

June 13: Made out a menu and schedule for next week. Chicken pot pie for dinner; meat plate, potatoes & peas and tomatoes and banana bread for supper.

June 16: Hamburgers, mashed potatoes & gravy, tossed salad and blackberry pie for dinner.

June 20: Baked a coffee cake which didn't turn out, so I put it in Jello. Creamed ham and rice for dinner; hotdogs, corn and Jello for supper.  Decided to quit, but had a long talk with Grandma and we worked things out.

June 24: Baked a raisin pie; baked chicken for supper and salmon for dinner (noon) trying to use up food due to refrigerator repair.

June 26: I baked all morning (complained to diary they weren't appreciative). Home made rolls, strawberry parfait, deviled eggs, asparagus and tuna cakes.  Baked pinwheel cookies, ate 10, and sent the rest to my boyfriend in Minnesota. Supper was creamed dried beef and peas on hot rolls.

June 27: Baked rolls for breakfast and made cocoa. Macaroni and cheese for dinner, corn bread and creamed chicken for supper. 

June 30: Cleaned out the kitchen cupboards; washed plastic bags. Pork chops, baked potatoes, corn and apricot tarts for dinner

July 2: Hamburgers, tossed salad, fruit for dinner and potato salad, tomato slices, beets and rhubarb parfait for supper.

July 3: Cess pool backed up into the basement. Liver, asparagus, corn and fruit for dinner.

July 4: Baked a cherry pie, meat loaf, baked beans, fresh rolls.  Salad and soup for supper.

July 11: Fried chicken, lima beans, dressing, cranberry sauce, and crumb cake. Made Henny Penny muffins (uses left over chicken in batter) for supper, then baked a peach-butterscotch pie for the neighbors' anniversary.

I didn’t note in my diary if these menus were my choice or theirs, but reading them over in the following weeks I see a lot of hot dogs, liver and asparagus—which it seems I would go out and cut stalks along the lane. And they were a generation that loved Jello—one of the first convenience foods of the 20th century. Rereading the meals, it seems like a lot of food and they were probably not used to that.

The cleaning I mention makes me wonder how they felt about that—true, they couldn’t do a lot, and dust would blow in from the fields, but if someone came in my house and immediately started dusting everything would I be pleased or insulted?

June 3: “I took down the curtains in my room, washed them and the windows, dusted the halls and stairsteps and ran the sweeper.  Every time I pumped a pail of water I felt guilty—but it does my muscles good even if the water supply is low.” There wasn’t a washing machine so I assume I hand washed the curtains.  I always wrote about washing dishes right after a meal and what time I finished, because I think Mother warned me not to leave any dirty dishes around (not sure it was bugs, mice, or Grandma’s preference).

June 4: “I cleaned out the bread cupboard before breakfast and then had my coffee while I listened to the radio.  **This “revolution” in France seems a long way off from the tranquility of the farm.” . . . in the shed “I found the clippers and decided to try my hand at sharpening them on the old wheel.  I’m not much of a bush clipper, but I attacked the job with unusual pep and concern.  Well, at least we can see the bird bath now from the dining room. . . After dishes I ran the dust mop around and swept a few rugs with the broom.” It seems Grandma wouldn’t let me run the vacuum cleaner which was the whole house kind with tubes built into the walls. I mentioned it several times in the diary, with no explanation why.

June 5:  “I spent most of the morning sewing up the hem in Grandma’s navy blue slip and mending a pillow.   . . In the afternoon we all went to Ashton to look at some cattle Dale wanted to buy, and they finally decided on 89 head. . . After cleaning up the supper dishes I cut a fresh bouquet.”

June 6: I put on an old shirt “and a pair of peddle pushers and went out to the garden for lovely 2 hours of sweat and dirt.  I took my good old time about spading the garden—mixed it with a little tool shed browsing and knife sharpening. . . When I finished my “garden” looked like a fresh grave, but I was happy.”

June 9: “After supper I planted tomatoes and wrote letters."

June 10: "started in on the filthy stove.  The mouse dirt was really thick and there were old nests behind the stove.  I put clean paper in the drawers and put the pans and stuff in them."

June 11: Scrubbed the bathroom floors. Dusted 4 rooms, mopped the kitchen floor and washed the two porch doors. Scraped the paint off the dog door stop.

June 17: Cleaned the silverware and dusted my room and the two west bedrooms. I wrote that I was an intrusion on their privacy and they never said thank you.

June 19: Walked to town after supper, but the lane was like quicksand so it took longer.  On the way back I spoke Spanish and sang hymns. (This sounds sort of pious, but I think it was boredom.) I had also walked in on the 18th after supper to the Ives Drug store, and because it was getting dark by 9 I cut through a freshly cultivated bean field and snagged my dress on barbed wire, was wearing sandals, so was a mess when I got back, but "saved 10 minutes."

June 20: Cleaned dining and living rooms, swept the pantry, clipped the grass on the west fence--was still pumping water.

June 27: Cleaned the dining room and 2 living rooms and mopped the porch; caught a ride with a neighbor to Ashton to shop for groceries. 

**I have no recollection of a revolution in France in the summer of 1958, so I had to look that one up.  And sure enough, there was one due to the Algerian War of Independence (1954–62) which led to collapse of the Fourth Republic and its replacement by the Fifth Republic led by Charles de Gaulle who returned to power after a twelve-year absence (Wikipedia). So there I was sipping coffee and clipping bushes in Illinois and not paying attention while deGaulle was forming a new cabinet in France.  Without TV and the Internet we just had no idea. . . 

My summer of 1958, part 2

In the summer of 1958 I lived on my grandparents’ farm near Franklin Grove, IL when they were in their 80s and I was 18.  (See Part 1)  They were lured back to Illinois with their young son Leslie in 1908 from Wichita, Kansas, where they had lived since 1901 with  the promise of this farm home to help her ill father, then in his 80s. They took care of him until he died in 1912.  My grandmother was the only survivor of his four adult children, her oldest brother Ira having recently died of blood poisoning from an injury on his farm near Ashton and the home place. (Diphtheria and childbirth having taken the other two, Will and Martha, in the 19th century.)  Ira was the one who was helping her father manage the farms.

What our family knew as the farm house had been put together using a small house ca. 1850s, and a larger, early 1900's style, an unspectacular, 8 room, boxy farm house. Grandma had it remodeled adding a huge gracious dining room, with a bedroom and balcony above it where she had hanging plants and flowers and a second staircase, a big airy kitchen with "modern" features like a built in corn cob storage for the blue and black cookstove, manual dishwasher, a metal topped table with flour bins, a walk-in pantry/storage room, an upstairs servant's bedroom, plus two bathrooms, a dumbwaiter, a generator in the basement and a utility sink at the back door for washing up before entering the house. The dining room and the bedroom above it were the new part that joined the 19th c. and 20th c. houses together.

Some updates had been done by 1958, but the house was in poor repair.  Grandpa was not “handy” and Grandma was not a fastidious housekeeper, being much more interested in the business end of farming. And they were old—his hearing had failed, and she’d had several small strokes and falls. So, according to my steno pad diary the well wasn’t working and I was hand pumping the water I used for cleaning, cooking and dishes.  I don’t mention our drinking water in the diary, but it does give me pause to think we were probably drinking unsafe water.

I didn’t understand it then, but do now—Grandma fretted to the point of tears that she wasn’t there when Martin came to fix the well the first time.  According to my diary, Martin didn’t return until June 6.  I can’t recall how the laundry was done, but mentioned in the diary  (June 3) that Grandma had worn herself out and was out of breath gathering up laundry and we had to rush to get her to the hair dresser.  On June 6 I noted I drove to town, mailed some letters and picked up the laundry—it was $8.10.  That day after working in the garden I wrote that I washed my hair and tennis shoes—and I used only one bucket of water to do both jobs!

I wrote that the well drillers came on June 18th, and by the 20th were finished after 105 feet of drilling and finding 41 feet of water although I was still pumping pails of water for household use. A plumber had to reconnect the house to the well source.   Usually, taking a bath wouldn’t be  an event for a teen diary, but I mentioned it on June 27, and washed my hair on the 28th so maybe it was awhile before we got water in the house.

My summer of 1958, part 1

If you had said to me, “Remember the time you lived at the farm and the well was dry?” I would have responded, “I remember the farm, but don’t recall a problem with the water.”

That’s why it’s nice to have a diary, that retro pen and paper version of a blog, which stands for [world wide] web log. While searching for another notebook, I unpacked a box and found my diary from 1958, a stenographer’s notebook with green tint pages and perfect handwriting in real ink, telling about my days with my grandparents on their farm between Franklin Grove and Ashton, Illinois.  I was there from June 1 to July 12, 1958, and indeed, the water problems were a focus of the first few weeks. I’d totally forgotten that part about pumping water, using a bucket, and driving to my parents’ home to take a bath.

To back up a bit, you need to understand my mother.  Just the sweetest and dearest soul, and always had a solution to anyone’s problem, especially anyone in her family. After my freshman year at Manchester College I wasn’t happy, and wanted to transfer, but I also needed a job for the summer.  My Oakwood dorm friends had all secured something interesting or exciting, and I was faced with going back to Mt. Morris and perhaps working at the drug store where I worked in high school, if it had reopened by then (had been a fire), or fill in at the town library (yawn) where I’d also worked in high school.

The steno pad’s first 10 pages were filled with notes comparing Manchester with Murray--the history, religion connections, majors, costs (Manchester’s tuition and fees were higher, but room and board lower—and all laughable by today’s standards, ca. $1,000/year).  Also in the steno pad were notes about the University of Chicago in a fine arts curriculum and vocational guidance with a minor in Spanish. Expenses were higher—about $1,755, but student jobs looked plentiful.  And then notes about the University of Illinois, what would transfer, a major in Spanish and a minor in Russian.  The notes end there, but I did transfer to Illinois and just by coincidence, that’s where my boyfriend was.

So back to Mother.  I got a little sidetracked.  She knew I was unhappy and that I didn’t have a job;  she knew her parents who were 82 and 84 (b. 1876 and 1874) shouldn’t be alone in their big old farm house in very poor condition. Although Mother and her siblings Muriel and Leslie, and the neighbors checked in often, it wasn’t the same as someone in residence. Neither one of them would consider moving, although they did spend their winters in an apartment in Orlando, Florida. Somehow, Mother convinced me I’d be doing her a favor if I worked as a housekeeper for Grandma, and she also convinced Grandma that Norma needed a summer job. Perfect.  She was a master at this! My grandparents didn’t really want me there (weren’t convinced they needed any help) and I couldn’t have imagined a less inviting or a more lonely place to be (I had spent the summer of 1957 in California at a church mission in Fresno and a year at college with many friends), but my mother appealed to my “missionary” spirit which was still rather strong in those days. I was the 50’s version of the SJW—social justice warrior.

I arrived at the farm about 4:15 on June 1, 1958.  My brother drove me there and helped unload all my clothes. . . .Stay tuned for the next installment of the Summer of 1958 down on the farm.

Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Remembering Uncle Clare--Friday family photo

In sorting through the basket of Christmas cards and letters this week, I found one from my cousin Sharon who lived in a Chicago suburb when we were children.  She is the daughter of my mother's oldest brother, Leslie.  The letter was dated December 20, 2000. Our parents' brother, Clare, had been killed in WWII in October, 1944. I recall my mother saying he couldn't be a pilot because of a hearing problem, but was trained for photographic mapping.  He was an aerial engineer for the 24th Mapping Squadron of the 8th Photo Group, Reconnaissance (10th Air Force) which served in the China, Burma, India theater. Clare and a pilot in his unit were killed in an explosion when their plane hit a gasoline supply, through the stupidity of his commanding officer who insisted the men go up in a blinding storm. No one else in that unit lost his life and we only found out how Clare died when a great nephew, Steve, attended one of their reunions in the 1990s.

Sharon writes in December 2000: "I just finished gathering Steve's information, pictures, and letters from Clare and sent it off December 7.  I hope it gets there.  I copied the letters from Clare and the photos, just in case.  Leslie (Sharon's father) had at least 40 letters from Clare which I also loved reading.  I had no idea he had been stationed in so many places around the United States.  He was even out in Kingmore, Arizona, for awhile.  I told Steve how we cousins would walk down the hall to "Clare's room" and peek in and see the flag and the purple heart.  He was someone we wished we had known.  Gayle remembered that too. [As did I.]

I have one vivid remembrance of Clare visiting us in Chicago and giving me a stick of Dentyne gum.  I was 6 by then in 1944 and I remembered because of the pungent flavor of the gum.  I thought it was so good.  Then I read in his letters it really did happen and he even took a picture of Richard and me standing by the back door.  The negative had been laying in the letter for 56 years.  He told Leslie they didn't bother developing it because they thought it was too faint and maybe he could have it made up.  When I held it up I could see 2 little kids on it, so I took it in and sure enough it was Richard and I as we were that day with Clare. [I remember Clare visiting our family in Mt. Morris, so it may have been the same trip.]

Leslie wrote Clare in September, 1944, and it must have come back to him [my grandmother also had a letter returned to her that he never received]. It was with Clare's letters.  It must have been so awful. I said to our daughter I wish I could've been more responsive to it all then and she said, "You were just a child."  So I said to Steve if his children don't grasp it all right now, they will someday and your book (Steve was working on a book about Clare's life) will be there for them.

While I was copying pictures for Steve's project, I made up some extra ones for my cousins.  I'll get them off to you in the new year.  These pictures and letters make me feel like I didn't miss out on knowing Clare after all.  We enjoyed visiting with Howard in October and having him help me identify pictures, names and places.  Muriel also was a big help.  We noticed from my old pictures there had been 2 Marmon cars over the years with Charles and Mary (our grandparents). I asked Muriel how they got all that camping equipment in the Marmon for their trips out to Kansas and she said they strapped it to the running board.  Mary would prepare for weeks."  

Sharon mentioned that the camera store had been able to develop the glass plates that came to her from her father's collection of slides, movies, and negatives. He had died in November, 1999 in Arizona when he was 97. In the developed plates below, Clare is in each one, and the lower right has my mother with him. Although Sharon doesn't say, I assume Leslie took the photos since he isn't in any of the photos in the other plates.

Some of the developed glass plates from Leslie's collection sent by Sharon.

Bison return to Illinois

The next time I’m in Franklin Grove, I think I stop by the preserve and try to see the bison.

At least 30 million bison grazed the North American prairies in the 1500s, allowing plants to grow and attract native animals. But over-hunting killed most of the iconic creatures, crushing the population to less than 1,000 by the 1800s, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

With the help of ranchers and conservationists, bison have made a comeback. A 2007 U.S. Department of Agriculture census shows more than 198,000 bison on private properties across the country, with more than 1,200 in Illinois. An additional 20,000 bison roam public land in the U.S.

Ninety miles west of Chicago, staff and volunteers have worked since 1986 to restore Nachusa, a 3,100-acre mosaic of agricultural land and prairie fields. http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2014-04-22/news/ct-illinois-bison-met-20140422_1_prairie-fields-bison-tallgrass

And a new baby. http://www.inquisitr.com/1992159/illinois-baby-bison/

Friday family photo—down on the farm

Cousin Gayle and me summer of 1984

Friday Family Photo--Mother's girl friends

September 18, 1995

[This letter from my mother begins with a story of my birth, which was induced with some castor oil so the doctor could go fishing. However, Mother said I came so fast I wasn't wrinkled and red, so I became "Peachy" at a very early age.]


"We have had a busy week-end with the 150th celebration of the Church of the Brethren at Franklin Grove. Saturday morning we went to the Pinecrest sale and then at noon we grabbed a sandwich and hurried to the celebration at the Emmert Cemetery on the highway to Franklin. [There are nice photos of the building and "Dunkard" cemetery at Flickr, but I couldn't download.] It was a nice meeting. Lucile Kinsely and Arlene David were there. Ada Blank, who is 93, recalled memories and Lucile spoke about her father's ministry of 37 years. That was the period of the free ministry. We had three pastors and they all made their living as farmers.

The church at the cemetery was the original building with a start of 13 members. There must have been a fast growth. Annual Conference was held there in 1865 or 67. The railroad track was on the other side of highway 38 and the train stopped there for people to get off or on as they needed. That was service.

When that new church was built in Franklin after the old one burned at the edge of town, boards were taken from the Emmert Church since there were no longer services held there. It all makes an interesting story and is the story of many small communities."

Lucile Buck and Arlene Beachley, 8th grade graduation photo, Pineview School. Mother and her girl friends went on to graduate from Franklin Grove High School in 1930, and all started that fall at Mt. Morris College. Arlene died a few years ago and when I looked up her obituary I learned her first name was Norma.

Monday Memories--my brother

This is the most recent photo I have, taken at his class reunion on July 5. He was president of the class and seems to be the MC. There was another photo of him wearing a crown, but there's just too much of that going around these days, so I'm not posting it.



This photo was taken at my grandparents farm, probably around 1948 because my cousin Dianne appears to be about a year old. The arrows are my sisters and me. My uncle Leslie must have taken the photo because he's the only one missing. My brother now lives on that farm after 30+ years of living in Bradenton, FL. He's the little guy in the plaid coat with the big smile.

Home from our Easter Trip

Isn't this a fabulous painting of Abraham Lincoln? It's the cover of this year's Illinois Travel Guide published by the Bureau of Tourism. Art work is credited to Gregory Manchess.

After Maundy Thursday noon services, we took off for Indiana and spent time with Brother Bob and Sister Jean, enjoying their good company and great accomodations with a yummy dinner at Bob Evans. Also got to see and chat briefly with niece Joan and her son Caleb who were getting reading for their parts in an Easter Passion Play at Cornerstone Baptist. Friday bright and early we hopped on the Indianapolis outerbelt and headed for Oregon, Illinois passing by our old "home towns" of Urbana and Champaign, Illinois where we lived in the early 1960s after college. We never pull off any more--the people we knew there either in the U of I library system or the local architectural scene are gone. Even the buildings and streets, as on most college campuses, are different than 50 years ago.

In addition to my sister and husband, we visited my Aunt Muriel and cousin Dianne in Mt. Morris, my brother and wife in Franklin Grove, several friends from my high school class, and attended Good Friday services at the Mt. Morris Church of the Brethren, and Easter Sunday breakfast and service at Trinity Lutheran in Mt. Morris where we saw many we knew, some younger, some older, and caught up on the news. I think I talked to 6 members of my high school class.

For the Good Friday community service (3 of the 4 churches) we sat with my aunt--how wonderful to hear her voice singing the hymns, still strong at 92 and hold her hand during prayers. The Lutheran teens were raising money with their Easter breakfast for a service project, so it was a win-win opportunity since it was very tasty. At the Church of the Brethren we toured the Loaves and Fish food pantry which just opened in the fall. The community has really gotten behind this new service opportunity and it is well stocked and funded.

Aunt Muriel is quite a collector--and usually I go home with a few books, but this time I resisted. I need to be clearing my own shelves! But if it weren't for her "archives" I would have had a problem with some of my publishing projects when I was a librarian. She was able to lay her hands on a basket of letters and projects I've done over the years. Looking through it, I saw many items I'd forgotten.

My brother and wife live on the "family farm" originally owned by my great-grandfather. I recognize those dishes on the plate rail as being there when I was a child. My grandmother renovated and modernized this 19th century house around 1912-1915 to use as her family home after returning to Illinois from Kansas to help her father. The room we're standing in was part of that addition. About 40 years ago my mother renovated and modernized the house again and used it as a retreat center, and now my brother is restoring it again.

Where to eat, drink and be merry--new restaurants in northern Illinois

Rockford, Illinois has a new restaurant at The Anderson Japanese Gardens, 318 Spring Creek Road. While enjoying delicious, healthful food (year round), you can overlook the fabulous garden (open May 1 - October 31; November through April weather permitting) which instills "a sense of clam and provides a place for quiet meditation." If you have guests coming, this is definitely the place to take them.

There is a new coffee shop/restaurant in Oregon, Illinois called Rachel's and this is definitely a place you need to look into. We visited on the 11th and a lovely young lady, Pam, assisted us. The menu looks terrific and the coffee was good. And desserts? How does Grandma Warner's Southern Pecan Pie sound to you?

Mt. Morris has a new spot for hanging out and munching, called The Mounder Cafe. I met two friends from high school there. I didn't pick up their menu, but everything looked great. Also there was a very nice art show in the hall.

Monday Memories--The Stereopticon

There are so many memories in this photo I almost don't know where to begin. The room is the north living room of what had been my grandmother's house, but which was the house of my daughter's grandmother in 1973, my mother. It is my recollection that my great-grandfather purchased this property when another farmer lost it to debt, maybe in one of the late 19th century panics. He and his son Ira farmed a lot of land in the Franklin Grove-Ashton area of Lee County, Illinois. Ira died from an infected cut finger in 1908 at the Ashton farm. Around that time my grandparents who were living in Wichita, KS, lost their little baby, Oliver, at birth. Grandfather David offered them this farm if they would come back and help--he being about 80. At least that's what I have in my head. Around the same time he made significant gifts to the Brethren Church in Wichita where my grandparents worshiped.

It was an unspectacular, 8 room, boxy farm house. Grandma had it remodeled adding a huge gracious dining room, a second staircase to a lovely bedroom with a canopied balcony, a big airy kitchen with "modern" features like a built in corn cob storage for the blue and black cookstove, manual dishwasher, table with flour bins, a walk-in pantry/storage room, an upstairs servant's bedroom, plus two bathrooms, a dumbwaiter, a generator and a sink at the back door for washing up before entering the house.

By the late 1960s the house had fallen on very hard times and was almost unliveable, and when my grandparents died, my mother went to work to transform it to the house it actually had never been, and it became a family and religious retreat center. One item you can see through the windows are the grape arbors my mother rebuilt and coaxed grapes into growing again. Thus my little family traveled from Ohio and took a week's vacation there for about 10 years.

My daughter is five years old in this July 1973 photo and totally engrossed in the stereopticon my mother and her siblings had used, and which my siblings and cousins had enjoyed on the slow Sunday afternoons we had visited in the 1940s and 1950s. She's lying on the couch that my Grandma bought in the 1950s to update the look--the arms were so wide you didn't even need TV trays (there also was no TV)--with her head on the pillows her grandma made.

The little girl in the photo would still jump into my arms and sit on my hip with her long brown legs almost touching the ground. She has a band-aid on her foot from running barefoot all day, and her golden brown hair had not yet seen a scissors. She's wearing a little green and yellow nightgown I remember well, so I think it was twilight--my kids didn't run around in the morning in night clothes. From the looks of the dirt on her feet, we had probably skipped bathtime, and I'm guessing that under all that thick curly hair was a sweaty, sweet smelling, damp neck--the windows behind her are open to bring in a little air.

Ah, the Monday memories. As I was finishing this, my daughter rushed in the door to use the computer. "Oh mom, do you have a band-aid?"

Friday Family Photo

This is such a great photo, I wish I could tell you more.


The information on the back is that it was a "barnstorming airplane pilot" in 1916 in a field at the O.D. Buck farm in Franklin Grove, IL. For those of you who are from Mt. Morris, the Bucks were parents of Lucille Kinsley, wife of our high school principal; like my grandparents, the Bucks were members of the Church of the Brethren in Franklin. The little girl in the white dress and hat holding her father's hand is my mother. She's much more interested in her brother Leslie, who is taking the photograph--he would have been about 14 years old. You can see some automobiles over on the left, one of which they would have driven to see the plane. The pilot charged $2.00 for one or two customers to go up with him. I suspect the little boy on the right might be Clare, my mother's other brother (1910-1944). He died in WWII as an aerial engineer for the 24th Mapping Squadron of the 8th Photo Group, Reconnaissance (10th Air Force) which served in the China, Burma, India theater. Sort of ironic when I look at this photo seeing what may have been his early interest in planes.

There are lots of elements of 1916 high-tech in this photo--a young teenager with a camera (this print I scanned was made from a glass plate--he also did his own developing), an airplane, electrical poles with lots of lines, and numerous automobiles. With a magnifying glass I can see 3 women in the most visible car. The women seem to be wearing hats, and the men dress clothes, so it might have been a Sunday.

2958 Friday Family Photo

Isn't this the most magnificent woodwork? It is called "pumpkin pine" and was used throughout my grandparents' home in Franklin Grove, IL. It is the heart wood from old growth white pine, so is extinct, I think. When I was a little girl, it had darkened, or may have even been stained dark, but my mother refinished every square inch in the house in the late 1960s. In fact, because she did it all by hand, she developed carpal tunnel and had surgery on her wrists. At one time there was a huge left over board in the garage--boards that width just don't exist anymore for pine.
My grandparents were lured back to Illinois from Kansas around 1908 with this farm (my interpretation) to help her father, then in his 80s. She was the only survivor of their four children, her oldest brother having recently died of blood poisoning from an injury on his farm near Ashton. The farm house was pieced together from a small house ca. 1850s, and a larger early 1900's style. Grandma completely remodeled it, adding this gracious dining room with a bedroom and balcony above it where she had hanging plants and flowers.

The photo was taken in July 1987 at an impromptu family picnic with a bunch of cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents and siblings from both sides of my family, some meeting for the first time and probably last time. For over a decade, Mother had used the house as a retreat center for church groups and family reunions, but by 1987, my niece was renting it from her and that very happy period of Mom's life was over.

Mother is the little one on the left--all the furniture you see--the oak dining room table and chairs, and the birch kitchen chairs--was refinished and recaned by her in the 1960s. Next to her is my father's cousin Sharon, her daughter Christie, then my sister and me. I think we had about 20 people at the picnic--played badminton, croquet and enjoyed the beautiful scenery, which might just look like soy beans, corn, towering pine trees and acres of blue sky to the rest of you, but looks like home to me.

HT to my niece Amy, who gave me this photo, languishing in the attic of the farm house for years.

Friday Family photo

This isn't the best quality because it is a scan of a photocopy, but I was so thrilled to get it last week. The handsome young man on the right is my Uncle, and I think I know why my Mom used to say my brother (and now his son) resembled him. This is the graduating class of the country, one room school, Pine View, in Lee county, Illinois. Often in these rural schools, the teacher wasn't much older than the students (which in fact is still true in some high schools where a new teacher/graduate might be 22, and some of the students 18 or 19). However, I think it is interesting that the teacher and her 3 female students are all wearing identical dresses. I'm wondering if it was a home economics project, or if the photographer had clothing on hand for the photo shoot. Is anyone an expert on studio photography, or have you seen this before? I know many photographers in those days had suit coats and ties on hand for the men, and much later when my father had his formal portrait taken in the Marines in his dress blues, he didn't really own the uniform.

1916, when this photo was taken, was a good time for farm families, and my grandparents were doing well. My uncle went on to high school, I think he had a year or two of college, and then travelled in Europe (WWI was over). However, the disaster in this country known as the Great Depression was actually affecting farmers by the early and mid-1920s because many, including my grandparents, had over extended themselves during the war because of the demand for food. When the war was over, the market for their crops stopped, but they still owed on the loans.

Monday Memories

Grandma's farm
Did I ever tell you about Sunday night suppers?
Thirty years ago, my children thought eating sandwiches and potato chips for Sunday night supper on trays in the living room was just about the most exciting treat ever! That’s because we didn’t do it very often. Our only TV was in the living room, so they probably watched a Disney show. I was pretty strict about eating together as a family, and even for breakfast, the table was set. By 1976 the lime green shag living room carpet (we didn’t have a family room until 1982) was about four years old, so we probably didn’t do it at all when it was new (and they would have been too small to manage a tray much before that).

When I was a child in the 1950s, Sunday night suppers were special, too. Oh, Mom made wonderful dinners--my mouth waters as I think of it. She’d put the roast in before we went to church or she fixed fried chicken when she got home. The table in the dining room in our house on Hannah Avenue or in our Forreston home would be set with the white linen table cloth and the good white china with a gold rim. Dad would always say the prayer--and I would know the ending if I heard it today, but I‘ve forgotten it now. I’m sure there were mashed potatoes and gravy and vegetables and fruit from the cellar where she kept the home canned items in gleaming glass jars. Even though at the time I didn’t think the clean up and dishes were so great (no one had dishwashers then and she had 3 daughters), I remember that fondly now as a time to chat with Mom.

As good as dinner was at noon, Sunday night with various relatives stopping by was especially nice. Can’t even remember now what we had--maybe sandwiches or left-overs, perhaps a second helping of her fabulous apple pie. But it was casual and relaxed. And occasionally Daddy would disappear and come back with 2 pints of ice cream (we had a refrigerator, but no freezer). We children would just die of excitement and try to guess the flavor until he would get back. Mom would slice the two pints into six even portions and put them into cereal bowls. You wanted it to last as long as possible, but Dad ate quickly and would look in our bowls with his spoon poised and tease, “Do you need any help finishing that?”

Also, I know my Grandmother Mary was without electricity for only a short time after WWII at her farm in Franklin Grove, but I remember Sunday evening suppers in the 1940s of sandwiches on trays by kerosene lamp. Grandma wasn’t much of a cook, but I thought her baloney sandwiches spread thick with butter (we had neither at our house) were a fabulous treat. After a supper of sandwiches, her homemade grape juice from her backyard arbor, and factory canned peaches in dainty little glass dishes, we’d load up the car and start down the gravel lane for home. I’d press my nose against the car window and watch Grandma waving good-bye from the porch silhouetted against the flickering kerosene light in the kitchen.

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