Heavy hands--light touch

New keyboard, new mouse, surely things will improve.  Such anticipation, but they weren't really failing before, just getting worn.  The need was for a new printer, and that was a huge need.  So I upgraded on the other things at the same time, also having them wireless.

Not sure it was the best idea.  I have to type slower, more deliberate, and sometimes that doesn't solve the problem. The letters just won't appear, or half of a word drags itself onto the screen and I have to backtrack to make sense.  I change the way I type, one letter at a time, not winning any contest with so many words per minute, I am not competing with anyone.  Sometimes this seems to help, but not always.   Am I waiting for the mood to get to the system---or what? The mouse will behave when it wants to, other times it dances around, a whirling dervish, totally disobeying the directions given.  All of these antics slow down my production.  This is not a good thing for a writer who has a deadline of at least three newspaper columns weekly.  

The biggest challenge is that my use of my flash drive is completely stymied.  When I insert the drive into my computer base, the mouse dies.  At least vanishes, no action whatsoever, thus no way to use the info brought home on the flash drive.  When I  remove the flash the mouse pops up again, not necessarily behaving, but at least present where I can chase him back to the positions needed. 

More than frustrating! Will have a neighbor who has rescued me in the past come to check this one out.  "Neighbors who know" are a wonderful thing, particularly when they accept that the tech world is somewhat of a mystery no matter how much I use it.  In the mean time I salvaged the boxes that the keyboard and the mouse belong to with the possibility of a return to the esteemed Staples outlet, along with my bill, etc.  And, being a person of little faith when it comes to this sort of thing, I have also kept the old worn and faithful keyboard and wired mouse. In the meantime I am trying for a light touch with my heavy hands, or perhaps it is a heavy touch with my light hands.

Hello again!

         So many times my brain has written more posts for this blog to share with the precious few who read it.  I am sure you have given up on me and with every reason. It has been two years!! I am writing so much of the time with my job and hobbies. If apologies are needed I do extend them.  My son tells me I need to put the link on FaceBook. 
          I had been telling him that I was writing about our backyard birds, the wild variety that inhabit our orchard or nearby habitats.   So now I am going to share that bit of writing with you.  This will also introduce you to our cats, brothers, but quite different in coloring and personality. They also provide much  entertainment.   
          Backyard birds. Our backyard is a bird haven. Not just in the warm months, some are here year round. Smaller birds lodge hereabouts during warmer months, but two gigantic pine trees seem to be the permanent home for a flock of magpies and they provide plenty of diversion for our observation. Such smart winged creatures, and beautiful as well. I am well aware that they are looked down upon by the human species, but I love them. However, none of them are the King of our backyard. That title goes to a handsome cock pheasant who has somehow eluded the hunters that are about each fall. He strides through the yard/orchard at will, not threatened in the least by the black and white scavengers. He is a wise one and the magpies do not mess with him. Today he flew up and knocked one of the apples off a tree in our orchard, high in its branches. He proceeded to come down and enjoy his treat, magpies flying through the orchard, but not interrupting his feasting. There were more apples available, in an orchard with 10 apples trees, those black and whites could get their own if they were able.

         King Tut (my name for him) must have truly loved his apple. In the  afternoon he brought a younger pheasant cock and three hens to the orchard. Just where they are hanging out I am not sure, they leave by flight to the north east. They are gorgeous to see, fun to watch. Sometimes the King brings in a larger harem, around a dozen, and the young.

  The magpies are back to their antics. They steal from the cats' food dish, boldly striding up, checking out the location of said felines and then make their grab. Whether the cats are interested in them I know not. Sassy and Purrci are both good mousers and are keeping our vole population in check. It is their job and I am delighted to see them fulfilling it so adequately. When we first got these two I wondered if they would ever get enough sense to do anything but play with each other and wrestle at every opportunity. The pair are worth their hire, and it is nice to have a good cuddle with them on a regular basis. It is a bonus for me.

December 5, 2017

           It is not cold enough to abandon the trusty motorcycles just yet. Plenty of them still go up and down the highway during our warmer hours. No one has reported any motorcycles carrying Christmas trees, but vehicles of every other description have been up in our canyons finding just the right evergreen for their holiday. Most go back with a layer of mud attached in one place or another.

            The LDS Ward was treated to the televised dedication of the new Meridian, Idaho, LDS Temple. Members from both Min Creek and Riverdale gathered earlier than usual to view the proceedings going on in the western part of the state.

            Another home has received a roof. This is the new home of Robert and Phee Crosland and has been under construction for most of the past year, since the family is the main building crew. Even the sons who are attending college arrived on weekends to get the final nails in the roof before serious snow sets in. The holiday weekend was a busy one at the Crosland place.

           The youth of our community often meet together for pancakes or waffles in a fireside setting. The adults managed to have a similar party. It was held in the lovely workshop of Clare and Linda Christensen. The men were the cooks. Crepes were the main offering and there were topping of all sorts, fruits, syrups, yogurts, whipped creams, whatever was needed was there. After much visiting a brief program was featured with Bob Erickson sharing memories of his growing up years in Mink Creek and how things have changed. Of course that triggered memories of others and a good time was had by all.

         There were several homes in Mink Creek which needed expanded parking lots over the Thanksgiving holiday. The family of Sheldon and Candy Longhurst had at least six extra vehicles finding parking places around their farm. This bunch comes annually with tree permits, ready to harvest a Christmas tree in our canyons to transport back to their homes. The Scott and Cathy Seamons family had sufficient numbers that they borrowed the recreation hall in order to have dining space for everyone. Bob and Claudia Erickson found parking spots for nine cars and set up tables in their garage, giving thanks for a day warm enough to make that comfortable. The Erickson home was central for children from Oregon, Washington, Utah and Idaho.

          Jimmie and AnnBeth Olson had Peggy and Jon Flinders and their girls from Rigby, ID, and Michael and Anna Olson and their family from Brigham City, UT, the keep holiday activities going for several days. Kim and Dianna Keller enjoyed having their daughter Courtney and Greg Knighton and their children down from Pocatello for the day.

           Karen and Layne Erickson and Paul an Terrie McKay went south for Thanksgiving. Only as far as Mt. Sterling, to the home of Bryan and Shannon Erickson where they were joined by Connie and Adam Westenskow, coming up from Woods Cross, UT. Kristi and Brett Hall traveled to Logan to be with sister, Kaylene and Chris Jensen and family for the day. Jeff and Deborah Olson enjoyed a visit from Jeff's daughter, Liz, from New York and they drove to Utah to spend some time with Jeff's younger brother, Kevin.

           A group from the Kerry Jepsen family met with the Erickson crew at the Mink Creek ballpark for some Turkey Bowl gridiron activities, taking the hustle and bustle, plus noise, away from the kitchens while food was brewing. No results are being posted, but all went home happy and healthy.

This is just a sample of those days of increased activity. Suffice it to be that our community was full of extended families from one end of our borders to the other.

          The calendar has been turned over and it is evident that Christmas is coming to Mink Creek. There is the beginning of seasonal decorations showing up on doorways and in yards. This past week we have had two morning of waking to the outside world being covered with snow. Nothing deep, a couple of inches at the most, but it does help set the season in motion.

          If any of you who read this have phoned a Mink Creek resident be informed that, once again, there are problems with phone lines. At my house it has been dead for 5 days, now working. Bur Station Creek homes are functioning, with much static and noise to be dealt with in a conversation. Moisture seems to bring its share of woes.

December in the A.M.

           November went speeding by this year and much of it was spent planning for the Thanksgiving family get-together.  We hadn't had one like this for ever so long and it started with just a family of five, including their college kids, wondering if they might join us for the day, our place being a central meeting place for all coming from 3 directions.  We were delighted at that possibility.
          And we continued to be delighted as the numbers grew.  Another family wondered could they join the group.  Sure, that added eight more.  With thirteen empty sleeping spots available, not including couches  we were set.  Another family discovered their school district had given them an entire week's vacation for this holiday, they would love to spend it on the old home grounds.  Why not?, we borrowed a neighbor's camper for extra beds.  When this one's college kids arrived there were still couches or blow up mattresses to accommodate.  Add six.  Then another three were able to do just an overnighter, and beds were available in a relative's home for such a short duration.  Add a cherry on top with one set of empty-nesters to come and go on Thanksgiving itself and we were set.
         There was much help, much kindness, fun and sharing, no one had to carry too big a load.  Most pitched in and there were a variety of activities, even a Turkey Bowl of football at our local ballpark the morning before the feast.  It had been planned to take place on our family park, but the Canadian geese have used our pond as a resting spot on their way south so the area wasn't fit for much activity.
         No one got hurt, the decibels were reasonable, there were plenty of activities other than hand-held devices and lots of conversations, not to mention the food.  
          Dining took place in a swept garage with tables set up for several days. It became a place of games and a spot to get away from the ongoing football games on TV.
          Some enjoyed a Black Friday outing.  A group went into our canyons and brought home Christmas trees. Christmas gifts were exchanged by some.  One generous aunt brought some lovely clothes to share with any female who wanted to pack them home, and a fashion show was underway.
           When all was wrapped up, the last car door closed and a few tears shed, it was time to reflect.  Even most of the "after work" had been done by thoughtful family.
          I was grateful for the modern washing machine and dryer for all those sheets and towels. Ten loads later I had remembered how it would have been to be doing all of that with my first washing machine, one of the old twin-tub wringer varieties of more than fifty years ago.  Just imagining sending all those batches through a wringer and hauling the wet  fabric out to pin on the clothes lines.
Yes, there are all sorts of reasons for gratitude.

Memorial Day Memories

           When I was a kid we would get up pretty early on Memorial day. After breakfast head to the cemetery, the windswept spot west of town where we would take care of family graves, unless we had done it a couple of days before. In my earliest remembering it was the resting places of my mother's grandfather, his son and two of my grandmother's uncles---all who had been killed in a mine explosion. Not all of them were in the cemetery, two were still entombed in the mine shaft where the accident had taken place, many were never removed because of the danger and the mine was sealed off. But there was a monument at the site and so still served as a reminder. Also was the grave of my grandfather's first wife with a tall white spike enclosed by a black wrought iron fence.

           My grandfather died when I was 10 and his resting place was added to our pilgrimage and cleanup duties. After taking care of these special spots we would often go on a fishing trip to the Freezeout Mountains, or possibly Pass Creek or Brush Creek by Snowy Range. Of course preparations had been made well ahead of time.

            Occasionally we would be in town for the afternoon program of speeches, etc.

            When I got married and Bob and I settled on a farm in Mink Creek, ID, life was still taking care of graves, generally the day before, of his family in the Mink Creek Cemetery and in the Grace, ID cemetery since his mother hailed from that area. Following these chores on the day itself was a McGregor family reunion, held in Thatcher, ID, at the school house. This is how I got acquainted with that side of his family over the years. It was always potluck and visiting with the woman side and sharing recipes was a plus.

            My first memory after marriage however was that of going with my in-laws to the Grace Cemetery and on the way home having my first experience with the early pains of childbirth. It is a memory etched in my life forever of course for various reasons. I remember Bob's uncle Vernon sho was driving, being being excited because it was a new experience for him, having never had a child himself. He took Grandma Jessie and me to the Erickson home and our vigil began. In the wee hours the next morning, she and I went to the hospital where she stayed with me for the next several hours. What a blessing to have my own LPN with me for the first time! Danalee arrived around noon, about 16 hours after the first pains and Jessie went to call Bob and tell him he was a father, he was driving our small load of personal belongings up from Provo to the farm we were buying in Mink Creek. I have written another story about this event previously so this is the limited version.

              One year Bob and I happened to be in Hanna for the only class reunion I have ever attended and we were there for Memorial Day doings. The program at the cemetery, a dinner with the reunion, a dance with friends. But this was only a one time thing.  Our children were being tended at my parents home while I reminisced with my classmates of yore. Memorial Day seems to be the day that Hanna chooses for Reunions, but we have only been there that time. People scatter, but this day brings many to their roots for just a few hours or days.

            Years have gone by, other than the new baby, activities are still similar. Reunion disappeared after a few years when it got too big, too involved. Then on our farm about 20 years ago, we began doing a McGregor Reunion down at our park on the farm. Sister -in-law Karen and I figured it was a way to celebrate the holiday, help our children to know it was a special day, not just one of farm chores, and whatever relatives happened to be in the area at the time were invited to join as they wanted.  One year it was so cold we had to wrap a tarp around the pavilion and heat it with a space heater for any comfort---still fun.

            I often wonder if there is anyone taking care of the Wyoming graves. I still feelconnected to those people. I know that my Bundy cousin will take care of things at the Casper cemetery, but he is now 88 himself and has had multiple heart problems this past year. Those Cowdin sites in Rawlins possibly go unnoticed. I know that my sister will be tending to our parents graves in Layton, UT. This makes me grateful that they spent their last days closer to us and so were buried within closer driving distance. Now we are the old people. Who will live close enough to tend our graves when the time comes? Years pass, the family spreads beyond reach, traditions change.

Dear Santa, Past and Present

             Children have been writing letters to Santa for a long time. The system must be one that has helped both Santa and parents. Just knowing what is desired by the young, helps to know what to put in Santa's pack.

            Many of the current letters ask for at least one electronic item. Often the whole message is about ipods and MP3 players, Smartphones and specific electronic games and devices.

            Looking over Dear Santa letters in the archives of my local newpaper ,the children of fifty years ago had quite different toys  mentioned on many requests: Sonic Blaster, Rocker Socker Robot, 5 speed racing bike with handle brakes, Walkie Talkie, Johnny Eagle Army gun, Ruthie doll, Baby First Step, a musical train, roller skates, Penny Bright doll, Barbie Dream House, Suzy Bake Oven. Some letters weren't so particular in the brands and asked for a sled or a basketball. Most made mention that they would leave a snack for the bearded gentleman, usually cookies. Some even said “Thank You” for the gifts of Christmas past.

             The letters from 1916, one hundred years ago, give us a picture of not only an earlier time, but with expressions of what was needed more than what was wanted. Here are some samples: a horse with wheels, a pocket knife, a pair of skates, baby doll, little wagon, nuts and candy, a baby buggy for a doll already in hand, a big top. One young lady asked for a “muff and fur.” The child or today would have no idea what a muff even is. The fur would keep her neck warm, the muff was cylindrical, made of warm fabric and held in front, a hand thrust into each open side, to keep the hands toasty. The requests of a century back that touched this writer the most were those of overshoes, mittens, an orange, and good things to eat. Many families were struggling for survival in the early 1900's.

            The passage of time shows that some things remain the same. Prosperity over poverty is indicated. The holiday, the wish for celebration is still strong.  It is still a time for hope, for kindness, for thinking of others beyond self.  The magic that comes with the season is still intact. The technology of today has everyone in its grip. Letters are still being written, even though the children of even 25 years ago could not have even imagined the items that are now on the lists of the average youngster of 2016.

Remember, oh remember

Today is the "evening before" historically, one of those dates that changed the entire world forever.
            I have wondered what was going through the military minds of the Janpanese generals, all who were involved in their decision to attack the United States the next morning.  Did they sleep well?  Were they excited about the prospects?
           A quote from one of my favorite history texts. "The United States was plunged into the inferno of WWII with the most stupefying and humiliating military defeat in its history.  In the dismal months that ensued, the democratic world teetered on the raw edge of disaster .....The Japanese fanatics forgot that when one stabs a king, one must stab to kill.."   Now, as I study history and read from publications dated in 1940, 1941, I realize that Japan was sending ambassadors to the US at this time who were  throwing up a blind in Washington as they talked about how peace-seeking they were, claiming to be no threat as the European Front raged on.
             I can't claim to remember the radio broadcast that announced this deed to the world at large on Dec 7, 1941. At that time my home was a ranch in the middle of Wyoming, with no electricity, no radio to bring the news. But I do remember young men that I loved being drafted into the US Army.
            By the end of the war I was a very little girl, in a small coal-mining town in Wyoming.  
 I do remember having blackouts, blinds pulled tight around the windows, all street lights darkened and hearing the drone of plane motors during the black of  night. It was confusing, why would a little place in the middle of nowhere be of interest in this big war?  Years later I realized that the very ground I walked on would have quite a bit of value in a war, the coal providing energy for the very things that are needed to battle.
             The Japanese families that lived in our community were soon moved to another area.  Because they were genetically connected to the enemy our government feared they might act as saboteurs in case of invasion. I didn't understand that either.  But times were changing, and there is often no control over changes that come our way.  I didn't have to understand.  My grandfather wouldn't be able to go over to his pals for a glass of Sake any more.   There were no more oranges placed on the graves of the Japanese ancestors  on Memorial Day,  It was a situation that one accepted, whether one liked it or not.  It proved to be unnecessary and the records show that the Japanese-Americans had a high degree of loyalty to their new country.  Their combat record was excellent, particularly those in Hawaii.
          We lived with things like rationing of sugar, hard paper discs that acted as money in some cases, but it didn't feel or sound like money.  I think they were called tokens.  Women entered the armed forces as they never had before.  Although the need for nurses was still huge, women  filled all sorts of jobs as WACS, WAVES, Marines and SPARS.
          Those stars in the windows of homes with a fighting man sent a multitude of messages.  One was that their soldier had given his life for the cause.  It was a time laced with occasional victories, it was a time laced with much sadness. 
            No war can be pretty, no war can be simple.WWII had some dates engraved on the minds of those that lived through it.  Those dates can serve to cause us to reflect and to be grateful for the world we now have. The outcome could have been different.  I hope to remember, to share the memories with those I hold dear.  The need for awareness in every present.  History should not be erased as time goes on,  there are too many important lessons that the world needs