The Old Dress...

My mother and father went through the Great Depression at the old ranch house in Paradise Valley, near Bonners Ferry.  They still lived there until after I was born, and they then moved to Sandpoint because my dad had the lineman's job with Northern Lights. 

One of my happiest times as a little girl was when we made the trip up to Bonners together, and went to the old abandoned ranch house.  There was a beautiful old-fashioned pump organ in the living room, and I loved to sit there an play it. 

I know that this is what started my love of organ music. 

My folks would search through the house for things they wanted to bring to Sandpoint, but over the years; things disappeared.  Vandalizing teenagers dumped over my pump organ, and we found it,   smashed to smithereens on the floor. 

Mom cried. 

She must have loved it as much as I did. She said she would much rather that someone had stolen the organ than just smashed it up like that. 

Eventually, the house got too dangerous for someone to go inside. It was built in the 1800's, and said to have originally been a stagecoach stopover for travelers going to Canada. 

Years passed, my parents both passed away, and the old farmhousse had to be demolished for safety's sake. 

When I was in my mid-fifties, I moved back to Bonners Ferry, lived in a little trailer on the back of the same property, and got a job working for Ruralnorthwest.com, an online newspaper that also had a printed free version that was handed out once or twice a month. 

My job was to deliver the bulletin and to set up advertising, and I also went along with "Uncle Bud" Larsen, our  local feature writer, when he was on writing assignments. 

One such assignment took us to the studio/home of a local artist, Jean Mace. 

While visiting together, I explained to her that my parents had lived in the old farmhouse at the top of Paradise Valley hill, and she said that she well-remembered the place, and had actually been inside it several times, exploring. 

She said they had needed a costume for a party and she rummaged through the old clothes left in the upstairs bedroom at the ranch,  and found a beautiful old dress that was perfect for her to wear to the costume party. 

Then, she went to her closet, brought out my mother's old dress, beautifully preserved, drycleaned and on a hanger.  

We both shed tears as she gave me that dress, and a tangible piece of my family history. 

The story was featured, along with pictures, in the local newspaper, and the dress is safely being kept for my daughter at the home of my son and his wife. 

The Kind-heartedness of Northern Lights

There are a lot of things that good people have done that I could tell you; but this one is not about a kind-hearted person, it was a wonderful gesture of help from a company.

 My power company, to be exact.  The year was 2001, if memory serves me right. 

I had been living in the little trailer on the property in Idaho with no heat or lights because I just didn't have the money necessary to hook up electricity out there. Summer was not too bad. I could go down to the river and bathe, but usually, I just stopped at the laundromat on the way home from work, washed/dried my laundry, and went into the bathroom and cleaned myself up. 

Winter was harder.   I tried to heat the trailer with a kerosene heater, and it barely touched the intense cold of those Idaho winters. I shivered under my blankets every night. 

One night, the heater sooted over, and smoked up the house while I was sleeping. I remember waking up to a faint peeping sound that I thought was my alarm, and I felt way too groggy to be getting up and going to work, but I was trying. 

As I came awake, the noise got louder, became a screeching wail, and I realized (horrified) that it was the smoke alarm and the house was black with smoke. I dragged the smouldering heater outside into the snow, and opened both doors to the trailer. 

I had been freezing before, now I was even colder; but I  realized how close I had come to being dead, and I was grateful to still be alive. 

I was 55, and didn't want to be a pioneer, and now, I was on the verge of giving up. 

 Northern Lights, our power company, called me and said they would run the power in for me, only charge me a fraction of the price it should have been, and let me make payments on that part. 

My dad had been one of the very first linemen for Northern Lights, and had worked there until he retired. They wanted to help me in honor and rememberance of my dad. 

You never saw anyone as grateful as I  was when they ran the line up to the old trailer, and put that power box in. 

This Picture is of my dad and I with the first Northern Lights linetruck. It was taken in Paradise Valley in about  1946. 

The trip to Solomon Mtn. Lookout (or, "We Miss the Lake Turnoff")

Solomon lake is hidden away in between the mountains north of Bonners Ferry Idaho.   Now, it has a nice campground area, which you will see in the accompanying  video.

However, back in the early 1950's; it had none of that.

The road leading to Solomon Lake back then was little more than a trail, and parts of it could be so muddy, we had to drive the old Buick clear off of the road and through the brush to get to the lake, especially early in the summer before things had dried out.

Not only that, but there were all sorts of interconnecting Forest Service roads on the way to Solomon Lake, and there were absolutely NO markers to tell you which was the right road to take at an intersection.

One fine Saturday morning,  we were headed up to Solomon Lake for a weekend of camping and fishing. Our Buick was loaded down with camping equipment, food, picnic plates, and the cast iron skillet that mom always used to cook over the campfire.

Behind us, was Grandpa Bailey in his 1950 Ford wiith the old wooden boat on top, and behind him was his daughter and son-in-law, Adeline and Jim King,  and their family, driving their snazzy little Nash.

Somehow, we missed a turn, and since it was impossible to stop or turn around, we just kept driving and finally ended up on top of one of the mountains surrounding Solomon Lake.

At the top, we were able to turn around and head back down again, although it was fast getting towards dark.

In the dark; it was even harder to find the right turns, and we missed the turnoff for the lake yet again.

A couple of hours later (traveling at about 5 mph the whole time) we reached the top again, this time at Solomon Lookout, on the top of Solomon Mountain.

Since it was so late, and no one wanted to chance missing the turn-off for the third time; we made a hasty camp that night at the lookout-----with no water source, naturally.

The next morning, we woke early to discover a big black bear investigating our camp; so we quickly decided to forgo any kind of breakfast and headed back down the mountain.

I guess the third time was the charm because this time, we happily ended up at the lake, and enjoyed the rest of the weekend camping there.

The lake is actually longer than it looks in this video because it is kind of like an hourglass shape; so it seems to end, goes through the narrow part, and then widens out into the second part of the lake .

(the video is one I found on Youtube)

http://youtu.be/bze0NafsavQ

Christmas Shopping in Spokane With my Mother.

  My  mother loved Christmas shopping ! !

 I think that she would buy things during the year when she found something on sale, but when the Christmas season came, then we spent days in the stores, finding just the perfect presents for everyone. 

We lived in Sandpoint, a small town of about 5.000 people, so there was not a lot to be found there; but a 2 hour drive away was Spokane, WA, a much larger city. 

I don't know if they still do it; but back in the Fifties, every window in every store had some sort of a Christmas scene, or at least whatever was in the store windows was "Christmas-ified". Many of the Christmas scenes were animated, and had some sort of sound or music as well. 

We spent many hours just wandering around the blocks and looking at the wonderful Christmas displays. 
My mother went to stores like "The Crescent" and "Bon Marche", and they also had Christmas decorations and scenes all through the stores, plus a whole "Santa's Workshop" with elves and toys and all sort of wonderous things for a child to look at and thrill over. 

Lunch was the Newberry's special: turkey, dressing, and cranberry sauce; which we ate sitting at their lunch counter.

 I think it cost about $2 for the special. 

The stores had giftwrappers, so sometimes my mom had the presents wrapped at the store; others we took home and she wrapped hersilf. 

She had one of those little fancy bowmakers, so we had lots of colored ribbon and made pretty bows for all of the presents. 
Before we came back home, we usually drove through some of the streets that had special Christmas decorations on their houses. 

It was (of course) always very dark before we even came close to heading back home, and probably midnight when we actually got back home again. 

Such wonderful times we had at Christmas, and I am so thankful to have those wonderful memories of my Mother and going Christmas shopping together.

 

Christmas at the house on Ella Street.....

From as early as I can remember, I have loved Christmas Trees !  My dad worked for the power company, so he was out in his big line truck every day. Throughout the year, he would spot what he deemed a perfect Christmas tree, and when it was time for us to put up our tree; he would cut it down (with his hand saw, of course) and bring it home tied on top of the line truck. 

My mother had old ornaments that they had saved for years, and some that my grandparents had put on their Christmas tree. One was a parrot made out of a piece of construction paper and colored by hand, and my dad had made it back when he was in First Grade.  That parrot always had a special place on every Christmas Tree. The ornaments were very delicate, and carefully packed away every year and put in large boxes on the top shelf of the bedroom closet. 
The garlands were next, and then the tinsel (actually made of tin back then, and very breakable) went on top. 
On the top of the tree was a very old ceramic-type of Christmas Angel, and she also had a little golden light  that illuminated her. 

The only kind of lights that we ever had on our Christmas tree were Bubble Lights. How I loved those Bubble Lights ! In the evenings, we turned off all of the lights in the front room, and just enjoyed the lights from the Christmas tree reflecting in the shining ornaments.  
Mom would put on the Bing Crosby Christmas Carols record on the little phonograph, and as we listened to White Christmas, and watched the flickering Bubble Lights; the world was perfect.

Of course, underneath the tree were the boxes of presents , all carefully wrapped by my mother, some to be opened on Christmas Eve, and some not until Christmas Morning.  
On the old buffet (that had belonged to my Grandmother) was usually a plate of homemade fudge, and a very, very old wooden church that my German grandmother had brought over when she came to America in 1901. 
I have no idea how long it had been in her family before that; but it had a music box inside that we could wind up and it played "Silent Night".   
The little church was painted white and sparkled with something that looked like snow. Inside was a little red Christmas light that made the cellophane windows of the church light up.  

Even though our house was nothing special, when Christmas came; it was a Magic World all of its own.....

Grandma Compton goes to the Johnny Cash concert.

It was probably in 1966. I am not sure of the exact year, but her son (Uncle John to my kids), had joined the Marines, and was sent overseas to fight iin Viet Nam.

Johnny Cash was John's favorite singer, although he also did a darn good job of singing us some of Johnny Horton's best hits, accompanying himself on his guitar. 

Johnny Cash had come to Seattle for a concert that year, and Grandma Compton  had determined to go and meet him, and have him autograph the concert program for her  son in the military. 

She had ordered tickets to go, and also decided that she needed someone with experience to accompany her to the concert, and then help her find her way around the backstage area, get through the crowds, and make sure that she got that much-desired  autograph from Johnny Cash. 

That person was me. 

The big day came, and we prepared to go to the concert. Grandma Compton had never been to a concert like this before, but she was a very proper English Lady; and she DID know how to dress up ! 

We walked out the door with Grandma in her finest dress, dainty shoes, hair all curled and fluffy (it was naturally curly anyway, but this was special)., and her makeup was flawless. 

She had a beautiful Blue Fox full-length  fur coat, and she was also wearing that. 

We enjoyed the concert, and at the last song, I started hurrying her out of our seats, and off for the back stage, hoping to beat the crowd there. 

By the time we got there, all the people who had left before the last song were already there, but at least we were able to get in line for autographs.

As we stood there in line, Johnny Cash signed one program after the other, about as fast as he could scribble his name. He never looked up, just kept writing.

Finally, we were at the front of the line. Grandma Compton started to explain that she was there to get an autograph for her son in Viet Nam. 

At the sound of her voice, Johnny Cash looked up to see who was there speaking in that aristocratic English accent. 

He literally stood there spellbound looking at this fine lady in her Blue Fox  fur coat.  I am sure this was FAR from the usual fan that he signed an autograph for. 

Then, he took the program, and wrote a special note for John, and autographed it for her.  Grandma Compton was happy....

It was an epic and memorable  experience.

The 50's Camping and Fishing Trips

When I was a little girl, we used to go on fishing trips on the weekend when Daddy didn't have to be on call with Northern Lights. 

The Baileys lived next door to us, and  "Grandpa Bailey" always went on the fishing trips with us. The two families had lived across from each other in Paradise Valley, gone through the Great Depression together, and they were just like family to us.

My mom would fry chicken, make a huge bowl of potato salad, and then we packed whatever else she wanted along for meals.

There was always a large can of pork and beans; which we always called "Fishin'Beans", since that was the only time we ever usually ate them. 

Sleeping bags, air mattresses, and my mom's hammack all went in the back of the car somewhere. 

She would pack little plastic toy sets (boats, cars, etc) for me to play with at the water's edge, and often my swimming suit if she felt it was safe enough for me to actually be IN the water. 

Grandpa Bailey had an old wooden rowboat, and it  pretty much spent the summer months strapped to the top of his car, a 51 Ford.  Our car was a 1953 Buick Special; so neither car was especially suited for off-road travel to the lakes where we went fishing.

Brush Lake (north of Bonners Ferry), and Solomon Lake,  were two of their favorite spots, but we also went other places sometimes.

 The roads getting back into the lake were not much more than two dirt tracks in the grass back then; and if you made a wrong turn or missed the right road, you just had to keep on going until you got to the end. 

One such trip, we missed the turn for the lake (Solomon, I think), and hours later finally ended up at the lookout up on top of the mountain. No one wanted to drive back down that road in the dark, so we made a hasty camp, and spent the night there.

 After having a big black bear nosing around camp the next morning, we didn't waste any time packing up and once again heading down to the lake.

Mom always slept in her sleeping bag in her hammock, but the rest of us were on the ground on the airmattresses. I well remember waking Mom up at nite because some critter (packrat?) went scurrying across my legs and feet.

 I KNEW it was actually a bear, about to eat me up; but she would assure me that she could see my sleeping bag , and there were no bears on it !  (I still slept with my head buried into the sleeping bag).

When we had caught some fish, Mom would cook those for us to eat. Pancakes and fresh trout (cooked over a campfire) is to this day, one of my most favorite breakfast memories ! !