Family Member Story 3-21-21
Story involving an extended family member
Fishing Buddy
I’m not exactly sure of the year, but Ryanne and I would go to spend some time with Gramma and Grampa in the summer in Reardan, WA. Uncle Ed was living there still. He had a boat and Grampa and Uncle Ed were going to go fishing at a nearby lake. I wanted to go along, so they relented and allowed me to accompany them on their fishing trip. Gramma packed us a lunch and we headed out to go catch some fish. We were out on the lake for a long time and we didn’t catch a thing. Finally the guys decided to pack it up and head home. When we arrived back at the house, Grampa announced that I was bad luck and I was not going fishing with them again. He was true to his word, I never did go fishing with him again.
Cousins
I think it was the summer of 1988, because I don’t remember going to stay with Colleen before she got married. Anyway, she decided that we were going to go meet some cousins that lived in West Bountiful, the Storers. This cousin of ours had three daughters right around the same ages as Ryanne, Megan and I, their names are Rochelle, Sabrina and Melissa. I don’t remember all the details of that first meeting, but after a little while Rochelle and I went to the basement to do laundry. There was some cereal stored in there as well and for some odd reason we started calling each other cereal names. It has stuck with us and often when I wish her a happy birthday I will use a cereal name just for fun.
--Carrie Keiser
As I remember him, my Grandpa Edwin L. Holmquist was a quiet man mostly, especially around any size of a crowd. With two or three other people he might brighten up with a quick observation or if he felt lively he would chirp up with one of his Naughty Little Johnny jokes or a bawdy limerick, for which he had a prodigious memory. I suppose he learned most of those when he was a boy or young man, since after that time he did not seem to socialize very much, working long hours as a dairyman and farmer, far distanced from other people, to support his dairy herd which in turn provided for his family of wife and four children.
As a family dairy farmer, it meant that he was up long before dawn to get things ready for milking the cows and then after the hours of milking, the cleaning up after the cows and feeding them—all of which he repeated about 12 hours later. Day after day and month after month and year after year and decade after decade and pack after pack do Salem cigarettes. By the end of each day’s long and arduous routine, he might relax with his newspaper and cup of MJB coffee or watch a hour of television before an early bed time.
In between morning and evening milkings, Grandpa was busy with the farm labors that supported the dairy—mechanicking on the heavy machinery to plow, harvest and store hay and grain for the cow herd, shoveling the prodigious amounts of manure the cattle produced constantly and moving it back onto the crop fields as fertilizer. He was constantly busy every waking hour with all that and so much more, especially during the growing season. In the cold and winter, he dealt with ice and snow and keeping things thawed and feeding those cows who had little pasture when it was snow covered.
With all of that and over time, he had little time for socializing and he got more and more used to his daily routine taking up all of his time. By the time I got to know him, he was moving on through his late fifties, sixties and slowing down a bit in his seventies, by which time the family-farm-sized dairies were economically outmoded, obsolete and then extinct. However, Grandpa kept a few cows around to milk for his own table and to sell calves to larger herd operations and his younger son stayed around and did much of the heavier work as time moved on.
My younger brother Craig was around during that later period, living across the road from Grandpa and Grandma during his junior high and high school years. Craig spent more time with Grandpa who by then had more time to spend with grandkids—rather than chugging along in a tractor seat doing some kind of farming or other from dawn to dusk. So Craig heard more of the jokes and limericks and rhyming poems that Grandpa knew and must have often rehearsed to himself while he was milking and irrigating and plowing and haying. As I said, Grandpa had a prodigious memory for these and seemed to be able to go on for hours, once he got started and was not interrupted by careless youthful things or chores.
I myself have no real memory talent for these tales and I only remember a very few. So I was always a good audience for Grandpa because every time I heard him tell one, it was like it was all new to me. However, one I do have a memory for is about the Swedish-immigrant farmer who knew only a little English and so his bedtime story for his children was about the Biblical warrior “who slew ten-tentousend Finlanders with the yaw-bone of da donkey’s ass,” in the appropriate cartooned Swedish accent.
Grandpa would tell these quips while looking at you with his by-then merry blue eyes over the tops of his gold-rimmed, roundish glasses and usually without his top denture plate in. And he would always chuckle lightly at the jest he had just made. I also was very impressed he could easily recite from memory the entire Jack London poem-story of the Cremation of Sam McGee!
My mother told me a few stories about her father-in-law when he was younger than when I knew him. One in particular was that he and my grandmother really liked to dance together and were pretty good at it. It was not unusual in our little farming community, even while I was growing up in the 1960s, for dances on Friday or Saturday nights every couple of months, when everyone would gather for a dance with some live music by local bands—a piano player, drummer, saxophone player or other horn. One particular annual dance was held in some cold-weather month in the gymnasium of a local grade school which earned a nickname after a while, “the Greenfield Stomp.” That was one of the few times I ever saw my grandparents dance, moving easily around the wooden floor in a modest waltz or two-step.
My mother told me that in days gone-by that their community dances could literally go on all night, because these work-weary farmers did not want their rare entertainment to end. Many times, it seems, Grandpa and Grandma would arrive back at their dairy farm just in time to change their dancing clothes for their working overalls and muck boots and start the milking. Thus the very real meaning of the saying, “dance ‘til the cows come home.” I have a feeling the rest of the day-after limped by with a few leftovers and napping. Which Grandpa was able to do well in his easy rocking chair, which no one else was allowed to occupy if he was in the house.
Often though, if the group of people was very large, Grandpa Holmquist would be easily talked-over, especially by his wife or other faster-talking relatives. He seemed to be content with listening while in such social settings and Grandpa would say very little or nothing. And so I fear that memories of him are less distinct than with other, louder family members and I also fear Grandpa Holmquist could fade away from family lore more quickly than other louder or more colorful characters in the family that he so stoutly supported.
--Cary Holmquist
3 Very Short Remembrances of Incidents with a Family Member
--Myrna Flynn
The first I will call: 'Snakes"
When I was 10 or 11 and my brother, Ed, was 14 or 15, we went to Lake Ellen, which is near Colville. Dad and Jim went fish, Mom to read a book or crochet, Ed and I went to explore.
We hiked up the hillside, along the lake. All of a sudden Ed stopped walking. He said, "Stop! Look down." I looked down and saw rattlesnakes. We started throwing rocks at them. They slithered away down to the lake and started swimming across the lake. I didn't even know snakes could swim! They were the first rattlers I had ever seen. Which is amazing because I spent most of my childhood walking, biking or huckelberrying in the woods.
The second I will call: "Running on Little Sleep and a Mouse."
My cousin, Rita, and I were headed back from Ephrata to Lewiston, Idaho. I am sure you know how when you get really tired and every little thing can seem hilarious.
Rita was driving along and this little mouse ran in front of the car. Rita stopped and the mouse stopped, the mouse would run back and forth back and forth and back and forth. We sat there and laughed until tears ran down our faces.
The third I will call: "California, Arizona and Home."
When Colleen got home from her mission, she asked me if I would go with her to visit Diane Vanwinkle, who had served a mission in Missoula and they had become friends. We left on our journey and car troubles started. If I remember right, we made it to the town where Diane lived, but then we had to have repairs made.
We went to church with her and there was a lady, an actress, she read a story so beautifully. I can not remember the story, I just remember her reading ability.
When the car was ready, we headed for Phoenix, Arizona to see Martin. We got there around 2 AM. Again sleep was coming on, and I headed down the wrong way turning onto the street to Martin's. Colleen yelled, "Mom, you're in the wrong lane!". Somehow I got over into the right lane and we made it to Martin's. He was a little half awake and was surprised into accepting hugs from us. (he was like me and not a hugging person.) We spent the day with him. then on to Salt Lake where Colleen did some job hunting. Then, on back to Missoula and home to Frenchtown.
Family Story Slingers Project
A Relative
Uncle Larry
Daren Flynn
March 19, 2021
My mother had five sisters and one brother. Mom and all of her siblings were born in Canfield, Idaho, where their dad, Thomas Edgar Shearer, operated a dairy and a saw mill. My grandmother, whom I never net, as she died of injuries suffered in a car accident in 1931, was Clara Belle Young. Thomas, who was known as Edgar, and Clara had one other child, Edgar Mayne born in Oregon and died at two years of age. I'm not sure when they moved from Oregon to Idaho, but it was sometime between Edgar Mayne's death in 1899 and the birth of Lela at Canfield on March 3, 1905.
Uncle Larry, Lawrence DeWitt Shearer, was born in Canfield on November 23, 1909. He grew up on the farm and as Mom said in a letter to Colleen, "We all had work to do. There was garden to care for, hay to put up for the cattle, cows to milk, pigs to feed as well as chickens. It seemed as there was no end of chores. We had no modern conveniences like we have now. Everyone shared the house work, cooking, washing, ironing, and canning. Grandma Shearer lived with us until her death. ... We lived about two and a half or three miles from the school. The school was a small one room building. We had one teacher for all grades, one through eight."
They moved from the farm when Mom was eight and in the fifth grade. Larry would have been 13 and ready for high school. Lela had already left the farm to attend high school and it was decided that the move was necessary for the other children to attend high school. They ultimately settled in Kamiah, Idaho.
Uncle Larry, after high school, got into the construction trade and became a heavy equipment operator. In 1930 his residence was listed as Craig, Lewis and Clark, Montana. R, Powell, Montana in 1935 and School District 24 Project, Yellowstone, Montana in 1940. (I assume he was working on a construction project there.)
On January 9, 1943, Uncle Larry entered military service at Port Hueneme, Ventura, California as a Navy Sea Bee. The Sea Bees, The United States Naval Construction Battalions, were organized after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Prior to the attack the Navy had been building bases on far flung islands in the Pacific using civilian contractors in case the US entered the war. Once that was done, international law no longer permitted civilians to resist enemy attack. So on December 28, 1941 Admiral Ben Moreel, Chief if the Bureau of Yards and Docks, requested authority to activate, organize and man a unique, special organization that would support Navy and Marines in remote locations and defend themselves if attacked. On January 5, 1942 he was given that authority and the U.S. Naval Construction Battalions were organized on March 5, 1942. With the Moto: "Construimus, Batuimus" .... "We Build, We Fight," "Can Do".
Manning the Sea Bees was done by recruiting experienced, highly skilled craftsmen, including electricians, carpenters, plumbers, equipment operators, any construction or building tradesmen were welcome.
The first Sea Bee Battalion was deployed on January 17, 1942, just two weeks after the formation of the new Naval Construction Force. It was composed of 296 men and arrived at Bora Bora on February 17, 1942.
More than 350,000 men served in the Sea Bees during the Second World War in more than 400 locations building air strips, bases, roads, bridges and whatever was needed with whatever materials they could get. Their contribution to the war effort was inestimable.
A movie entitled, The Fighting Sea Bees, was filmed in 1943 staring John Wayne. Uncle Larry, a heavy equipment operator, was in that movie.
After the war, Uncle Larry continued in the construction business and was listed as Construction Supervisor in Billings, Montana in 1956 and in 1965 as a heavy equipment operator. Uncle Larry died in Bozeman, Montana on October 3, 1981. His wife, Helen, joined the Women's Army Corps on February 20, 1943. She died in Bozeman, Montana on March 19, 1979 at age 70.
Uncle Larry and Aunt Helen had no children. I don't know if they were childless by choice or otherwise. I do know that Aunt Helen, was stationed in New York while Uncle Larry was at Port Hueneme, and according to a letter Larry wrote to Mom, Helen had an operation which he was worried about.
Myrna and I visited them in, I think, 1966. I don't remember much about her condition, but Uncle Larry was not in real good shape. He suffered from emphysema.
The Time Brandon and I Stayed with Gramma Grace and Met Ada, Bill and Edna
By: Ryanne Leavitt
Today, as I think about relatives I have had the chance to meet in the past, my mind is brought back to a trip that Brandon and I made to visit with Gramma Grace one summer...which summer it is hard to say...I think it was between 1984-1986 but who can be for sure?? I asked Brandon, but he doesn’t even recall the trip...but that is boys for ya.
I don’t know or remember where Clancy, Carrie or Megan were during this time. I thought maybe Megan was with Mum, but try as I might, nothing has jogged my memory on where anyone else was at this time...
I remember Da brought us there in the old Green and White Cab over semi, and we have photographic evidence, if only I could find where they are. We were to stay a few week with Gramma at her always clean and proper house. She had the coolest thing, it was like a chase lounge, but it plugged in and you could change the relaxation position. When we would visit and mum was there she would stop me from playing on it, but that summer, Gramma let me sit in it and adjust the setting all I wanted! That in and of itself, made the the stay stick in my mind, but there were other things that made the visit stay with me...if not all the details (I mean, give a girl a break I was 8-10 years old).
Gramma always made us a good sized breakfast, of eggs and oatmeal or eggs and pancakes, but she NEVER ate it with us, she only had her dry toast and cup of coffee.
Gramma never learned how to drive so we walked all the places we wanted to go while there and she always had her grocery “trolley” thing that she used to pull her purchases home in.
While we were there Gramma’s sister Aunt Ada and her husband Uncle Bill came to take her/us to see another of Gramma’s sisters...Aunt Edna. I don’t remember all the details of the car ride to see Aunt Edna, I do remember there was lots of laughter. Bill was cracking jokes and I don’t think I had ever seen Gramma Grace laugh so much in all my life.
While we were headed down the road, a super huge rain storm started. At first we were still making good time, but then the rain started coming down in torrential fashion. I mean, Uncle bill had the wipers going at top speed and it was making no difference at all, it was as though we were under a huge never-ending bucket of water that was spilling on the roof of the car. Uncle Bill stopped the car on the side of the road and we sat for probably 20 minutes. In all my life I have yet to be in a rain storm like that one again. Uncle Bill, from my recollection, was quite the jokester and had us all laughing as we waited the storm out.
After the rain we headed on our way, the road was a bit windy and I had never gotten ill in a car before, but this was my car sickness debut. I felt queasy and sure we were going to have to stop or the car was going to have a new, not so pleasant fragrance. I was going into full out panic mode, when gramma put her hand on my shoulder and assured me that if I put my head down in between my knees and breathed deeply I would be fine. And sure enough, the yucky queasiness went away and no one was forced to endure the smell of sick. I have, on occasion, had to use that technique again, with varying degrees of success....gramma must have use magic on me that day!
We eventually made it to Aunt Edna’s house. It was cozy and filled with hand made corner shelves that Edna’s husband had made before passing away. No joke, when I was in the 8th grade and we were allowed to pick what we wanted to make for our second wood-shop project, I selected a corner shelf because the ones at her house were so beautiful. Yeah, mine didn’t look all that awesome, but I did try! I remember there being a lot of laughter during that visit. Gramma seemed to light up when she was spending time with her sisters.
If any of you find a picture of Brandon and I in front of Gramma’s roses that where on her back porch...pease let me know, I am beginning to think I made the whole thing up!
--Colleen Holmquist--
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