What happened on Monday

After making an appointment on Friday, with a big shot from our local Y, I arrived at 7.45 AM on Monday. The parking lot was full and the Gyms were humming with all machines at full speed and mostly men panting, working up glowing patinas and much sweat.

My Y big shot who listened to my story about being totally graceless when attempting to rise from a sitting position and my desire to strengthen my quadriceps and my gluteus maximus introduced me to two chairs that she felt could improve the strengths of the two areas I mentioned. I did ten ups and downs with ease on the first one and then when I came to the second one I felt very insecure. My feet were sort of enclosed to make them feel secure, but the seat I sat on was a flat square surface, no bigger than a small book. I managed one push back, thinking I was going to run out of room in the back and land on the floor, but miraculously it stopped in time. The second one began OK, but half way back I fell off the chair, landed on my shoulder and my butt while my shoes were still tied in the foot thing. Luckily, as soon as my feet were untied I attempted to get up. My Y big shot and a gorgeous man who interrupted his work on a nearby machine helped me up.

After discussing my problem, I decided that I would attempt to strengthen my problem areas at home, and then I would join her class in balance when it begins in April.

There is no way could ever feel secure and dignified at that place. I hope they will hold the balance class somewhere else.

The reason for waiting

The party was a huge success.

Saturday was an unusually beautiful day. No clouds on the horizon and no wind. The girls were fully prepared and rose from bed with a song in their hearts. My neighbor, Mary Fran, who had been such a big help in securing the room at the church, said, let me know if I can be of help. She let them go earlier than first thought possible. And with that they began the decorating and the preparing the food. I was not there, but when I arrived the hall was decorated and the food was getting ready. Wine or water and cold and warm treats were served as people were arriving. It was wonderful seeing both old friends and new friends from my new digs. And then the time came to sit down to eat. We had never decided how people should sit, so it just happened. I would have liked to sit next to every one there, but that was impossible. A chair with a balloon tied to it was my designated spot.



Several people have asked for the recipe for the OLIVE-STUFFED CHEESE PUFFS that were served before lunch. Here it is...
1 1\2 cups flour
2 cups finely grated sharp cheddar cheese (about 8 ounzes
i\2 cup unsalted butter, melted
4 to 5 dozen olives, well drained
Combine above items. Take about a teaspoon of dough, enfold the olive and shape into a small ball. Place balls on an ungreased rimmed cookie sheet and freeze for one hour. When frozen put balls in freezer bag and freeze until firm. Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees and bake until golden brown. About 15-18 min.



The main course was a chicken salad inspired by the Barefoot Contessa. What made ours better than anything I've tasted before was the addition of the Chutney. She mentioned col Gray's but I had made my own apple chutney. We used it freely and I could have eaten the whole huge dish of salad dressing with a large spoon. People are still raving on about how good it was. We bought seven or eight pre roasted chickens from Costco. And we bought the wine from Walmart at an embarrassingly low price and I, with my uneducated taste of wine, thought it was delicious.

The cake was ordered from a restaurant with a strange name. People around here pronounce it DUPIES. It is a French name that sounds ultra-elegant when you pronounce it correctly. DUPUIS. There was one chocolate cake and one lemon one and both were great.

For me the greatest part of the day was seeing old friends and hoping there was time to spend a few moments with each one. That was not possible, but I now have hopes of seeing each and every one for breakfast or for lunch so we can talk. Our friends from California were unable to come because of health reasons but Sam's nephew and wife came from the California and as it turned out they ere terrific at helping with the party. Sudenly they took it upon themselves to put all the dishes in the dishwasher that spews out hot clean dishes every five min. So when my three girls were finished restoring the place as it was when they arrived, the dishes were done . ( Janice, this was the spot were you called and we had our long talk. Which I enjoyed so much . Wish you had been able to come.)



Martha and I had time one day for me to have a lesson on PLOT. I will spend the time trying to put all that knowledge to use on my blog. It concerns my short attempt to paint portraits of as many famous San Franciscans as I could get near. I had permission to paint the portraits of Bishop Pike, Don Sherwood, Herb Caen, Willie Mays and Governor Brown. I am sad to say that I only achieved two of them and I do not know if I failed to do the others because Bishop Pike died or because we moved, or because I was unhappy with the results of the two I did paint. You'll have to wait and see. With Martha as my Plot helper I should have an easy time.

The week of the party

On Monday my three daughters arrived. That was enough of a gift for me, for it was wonderful seeing them all together. Rare sight. They were here about five minutes and then the planning began. Jane was in charge of decorating the wonderful room we had arranged to use in St. Andrew Episcopal Church in Port Angeles. A large sunny room with eight large round tables. So we prayed for the sun to shine on the designated day and that nine or ten people could gather around each table. In addition to the room we could also use the memory garden with its roofed area for people who might arrive early. Wine and water and a few nibbles would be served there.

Gilbert who was performing in a play in Sequim, said we could have dinner in his house, and since he has a dishwasher and I do not, we quickly agreed to take our Lamb Shanks and mashed potatoes there. It was a joy again to see all of my four children in one room. I can not remember when that had happened. When Sam was sick Gilbert was missing, and when we had his, Sam's, requested party in his honor, Martha was missing. This was an occasion for the books. How lucky can one ninety year old be?

On Wednesday we girls shopped and then had lunch at the John Wayne Marina. Another wonderful memory. The sun was shining on all the masts and on the fishermen who were bringing in their catch while we were eating. Then a stop at Mad Maggie's where the girls all have been lucky in finding some treasure but this time it was my turn. I found hat I was going to wear for my party.

Wednesday evening we ate spagetti and went to see Gilbert in Cabaret. Fabulous play, and I ran into many people from long ago when Sam treaded the boards. The star of the show, who sang like an angel, remembered me from the time her father and Sam were poker players in The Odd Couple, and she and I had to find time to play during rehearsal. She was about eight or ten at that time.

Thursday we bought the already cooked chickens we needed for the chicken salad for Saturday. And all the other details for the party food. And then the chopping and slicing and stirring began. Anna was more or less in charge of that part of the preparations. Martha was making lists upon lists and we never could have survived without them. And Jane never stopped making tissue paper flowers for the tables. Everyone helped with this also. Except me. I sat in my chair and enjoyed the view. I am now ninety and I can do what I want! I tried one flower but it was too difficult.

The girls were sleeping in a nearby Cottage and that was a lifesaving stroke of luck. We could use their totally empty refrigerator and freezer. What luck. And finally it was Saturday. I will tell you next time about that Saturday.

New subject

Thank you, all, for commiserating with me about the loss of Cap.
Someone asked about his history. Our son, Gilbert, owned a fine hunting dog, a Brittany. He still owns him, he is two years older than Cap was, and still in good shape. Twelve years ago Sam and I announced to the family that next time we returned from a planned trip, we would go to the pound and adopt a dog. Gilbert said he was going to have the first pick of the puppies that Rusty had fathered. He thought they would be ready to leave their mother by Christmas when we were supposed to visit them in Colorado.

When we arrived late in December we found this beautiful little puppy dog who looked like a smaller version of his father. He was the cutest dog we had ever met. January 4th when we flew back to Washington State he was old enough to travel in a little piece of luggage that fit under our seat on the plane. He remained for the rest of his life a beautiful well mannered dog. Our neighbors loved him as much as we did, and when I moved to this senior center cottage he was again beloved by the people who got to know him. His life changed and he became a more inside dog, but he had his friend to snuggle up to. This friend is now wondering what happened to Cap and he is still searching for him. A neighbor said to me the other day 'do you remember how Cap used to carry Edgar, the cat, by his head all but lost in his mouth. It was at first a scary sight but he never hurt the kitten.

My three daughters arrived last Monday to arrange a Birthday Party for Anna and me. You have never seen such an operation.
All decorations are homemade, the planning for the menu, the shopping, the laughing, the patience has been an experience to observe. Tomorrow is the big day. And then they all leave the next day. It is going to be difficult to see them go, but how lucky I am to have all these wonderful memories to look back on. And then Baseball season will begin and life will be thrilling again.

You May Wonder

The reason for my absence from this page. It is so sad, it is hard to talk about. My best friend died last week. My dog, Cap, who was 14 years old, died with some help from his veterinary. He had a happy life, he was essential to my happiness, but he grew into old age with several discomforts. He lost much of his hearing, he had arthritis in his hips and he lost some of his appetite. When he lost control of his bodily functions he was utterly embarrassed and his big brown eyes asked for understanding. It was time for me to think of him and forget how much I was going to miss him. And so I said farewell hoping that in some later existence we would all get together again, Sam, Cap and I.

As most of you know I had my 90th birthday on the 25th of January. Anna, my eldest daughter had her 60th birthday on the 21st of the same month. Now her two sisters have decided to throw a party for her and for me on Feb. 20. And so the whole world is turning upside down with all the preparations for this approaching event. When it is over, I will tell you all about what happens. And then I will try to continue what I began when last we were in touch.

The School House

The building was not safe. Either for a schoolroom or as a residence. The first time it rained, it was obvious that repairs had to be performed. Nils went to the Board and told them what occurred the first time it rained. There were buckets everywhere and depending on the strength of the storm some buckets had to be emptied during the night. The Schoolboard which consisted of old farmers who were of the opinion that this school was there to keep their sons from being available for help on the farm, gave Nils a sum that was rediculously small, and said, You fix the roof. Nils said 'I was hired to teach your children, not to become a roofer.

Nils called on a man he had seen repairing a roof on a farmhouse nearby. This man came and investigated the roof in question. Nils showed him the amount he had been given and asked how far this would go. The man laughed and said 'That's the amount I would charge for putting up a ladder. And so the family went along with pails pinging day and night with the raindrops, and the teacher suffered interruptions from his daily task of keeping the young ones attention during the school day.

In the residence another baby was born. Her name was Karin. When she was a toddler the roof fell down. Everything was sopping wet, the bedding, the clothes, the rugs. And something had to be arranged so the school could function and the family would be safe. It was horrible for the teacher and for the family. Karin had lifelong effects of the collapse and the world would suffer a loss for Karin had the voice of an angel and aspired to sing at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City. A scar would prohibit this.
Only a few people beside her family would ever hear this beautiful voice.

Nils thought 1900 was time to retire and then he moved his family to Viken, a coastal village bout an hours walk from Alrum. He lived until 1933 And often voiced his disgust with the fact that he has made more money for doing nothing than the years he had worked hard to educate those farmers children.

life in Alrum

It was a difficult life for Botilda. I have never heard anything about how her family treated her after the marriage. She certainly married beneath her socially. She died ten years before I was born so all I have of her are photos and in every one she is seen knitting stockings for her brood. They were not socks the way our children's were, but things that went up over the knees. And did she have a yarn store to rely on? Or did she sheer wool from the sheep and spin it into yarn? I remember my older brother having to wear long socks like that when he was a child and the yarn was so itchy on his legs that he sat on the side of his bed crying in the morning because of the misery.

In my case, I had to wear stockings like that, but I must have had to wear hand-me-downs from my sister, and they were as smooth as silk. Probably a darn here and there. You should have seen the ugly garment we had to wear to hold these stockings up. A sleeveless thing that buttoned down in front. And then there were elastic bands hanging down from the sides, which buttoned on to the sides of the socks. As you can see, I don't know if I should call them socks or stockings. The item that held them up was called knappe-liv. Knapp means button. How is this getting to either Nils' or Botilda's story, much less Blendas'. I have a feeling there will many diversions like this in this story. Can't help it. By the way, the elastic bands I spoke of were bought in the store. They had buttonholes every other inch so they were buttoned first on that garment and then on the stockings.

Tomorrow I will try to tell you about the dwelling they lived in and about the horrible discomforts they all suffered.

Blenda's Parents

Nils Olsson and Botilda Tengwall somehow met and fell in love. He was born in 1838 and Botilda was a couple of years younger. Nils' mother died in childbirth and I know nothing about his early childhood. When he was a young lad he was sold into serfdom.( I tried to find out from Google how this was done, but I am not smart enough to handle this wonderful invention, the computer) Serfdom is a polite term for slavery. A farmer needed help running his farm and because of his lack of male children, this was a way of solving his problem. I think it was called being 'indentured'. I am guessing about some of this, but also vaguely remembering some of what he told us when we were dropped off in his care while Blenda cycled to the store for some forgotten item. He had a stepmother who was kind to him and he suffered when he was forced to leave at ten or twelve. He lived far away from his family, had to sleep in the barn, was given poor food, and when he was sick with a high temperature, he got no food. This lasted a certain number of years, seven I think, and when he was set free he could somehow get an education. How he managed to get an education I don't know, but he became a teacher and a very well read person.

Botilda's life was as different as one can imagine. She was well educated. She grew up in the city of Helsingborg. She grew up with love and security. She was artistic and each of our four children have a watercolor hanging in their house, painted by Botilda. Every time I see one of them I am a little jealous, but I gave them to them. I am happy to see that they like them as much as I do.

Nils and Botilda were married soon after Nils found a teaching job in a small farming community about an hour North of Helsingborg. Teachers now are underpaid but his takehome pay was pityfull. He did get living quarters. The last time I was home I visited the building. Half of the building was the schoolhouse and the other half was the living quarters for what early on became a huge family. A month after they were married their first child was born. His name was Otto. He left for America when he was fifteen or sixteen. And who can blame him. By the time he left, there were eight children living in what was a small place. Poor Botilda, in those days women were expected to say yes when their husbands felt the urge. I never heard of anything they could do, to keep from getting pregnant.

Otto had a friend who had emigrated the year before. This friend worked in a grocery store in Walla Walla, Washington. He assured Otto that he too could get a job in this grocery store. From then on an Olsson child emigrated regularly from Allrum to the USA.

A Birthaday

This is about a birthday that I will never forget. Shreve posted yesterday, on my blog, that it was my ninetieth birthday. And with that the whole world responded. There were birthday wishes from around the world. I am so overwhelmed! I appreciate the nearly one hundred people who took the time t wish me well. I will try to remain grounded, but I feel like flying. Thank you,Thank you.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about my Mother. So much time, in fact, that I am going to try to write her memoir. And in doing this I have become closer to her with sympathy for her fairly difficult life. Her story will begin with the birth of her Father in 1838. Her mother died in 1910 and I think it was a great loss for Mother. I will call her Blenda from now on. She had no middle name for she was either the youngest in the family, or next to the youngest, and they had run out of ideas for middle names for the last two.

I will have ideas for blogs for a long time to come. Any comments will be welcome. When I have said enough somewhere, and when you want to hear more, I will love hearing suggestions. I love comments. More later.

And again, Thank you.

Happy Birthday Grandma!!!!!!!

Now we can't say you're "nearly ninety," because you are ninety!! And you're amazing.

Carver continued

Joe commented on the previous blog. Said he would read some of his Carver books. And asked, had I read any of his books. I read all the ones I managed to buy. His next question was, how did I like his writing. He was a skillful artist. I why asked Ray why he wrote about such losers. My question hurt his feelings. He claimed they were not losers. After having read most of Sklenicka's 500 page book I understand why he was hurt. It seems he wrote about his own family and his own life.

What I admire most about him is his stubborn and difficult pursuit of education. He may not have reached his dream of degrees but he certainly was well educated.

Ray Carver's Funeral

Sam and I were invited to the celebration of Rays life. It consisted of two dramatic happenings. Or actually three. The first part was at 11AM. We arrived in a timely fashion and were asked to be seated in the part of of their house which normally functioned as the dining room. Chairs were lined up in rows and after we sat down we glanced in the direction of the living room. There in front of the fireplace was a four poster bed with Ray sitting, leaning on pillows, in what looked like a comfortable posture. A young man was sitting next to the bed, holding Ray's hand, and conversing with him in an, to us, inaudible voice. It was an emotional scene.

Ray's friends, his fellow writers, all stood up and read a short poem or story that was authored by Ray or by the reader. Richard Ford, who was a professor in Ames Iowa, was especially remembered. He looked like one of the charachters in the comic strips in the New Yorker. I asked him if anyone in Ames Iowa had told him of this and he said 'I do not think people in Iowa read the New Yorker.'

Ray's first wife was there and spoke of hers and Ray's love affair as being the one that would go down in history as the one and only. The young man holding Ray's hand when we arrived was Ray's and Maryann's son.

We left as soon as it was comfortable and were told that we were expected at the graveyard at 2PM. And to come back to the house afterwards. Sam had been told that he was having walking pneumonia and chose not to go to the graveyard were the cold wind was blowing. I asked our daughter nr3 to come with me and the same people who had spoken at the house spoke again. The site was unforgettable. The drama heart wrenching. The wind from the Pacific Ocean was icy. We left early. Jane who is a librarian knew all the dignitaries there.

We dropped in on the get together at Tess' house but by this time Tess looked so exhausted that we felt the nicest thing we could do for her was leave early, hoping some of the other people there would leave early too.

We did say good-by to Ray. Some time later I asked Tess if the whole funeral was something Ray and she had designed before he died, she said 'Ray never spoke of his dying. He always felt he would make it.'

Continued

In the spring that year I had the opportunity to go to Russia with an art group from Seattle. It was the beginning of Glasnost. A person whose name was Walsh had organized the friendship games in Seattle and he and the Russian premier who had the birthmark on his forehead, worked out all the sticky details and in so doing became friends. And so he helped iron out all the difficulties that arose around our art tour.

We had an interpreter\docent who had to take us everywhere but we had more freedom than the time before we visited Russia. In a previous blog I told you about my difficulty when I wanted to go to the theatre that showed Eugene O'Neill's play 'Desire under the Elms'. I knew the play by heart and the language did not bother me. I enjoyed the emotions that were stimulated by the superb acting. We visited many painters in their studios and we even got to go down to see the art that was in storage at the museums. We visited Moscow, St Petersburg, and Tiblisi, Georga. And as a dividend we visited Chekov's home and a couple of other writer's houses. It was a wonderful trip.

This was all told you as a preview of what happened with Ray Carver. The same year when the 4th of July came about, we had a party on the beach and Tess and Ray were invited. Ray was not well. Ray asked about my trip to Russia. I told him that I felt that the trip had affected my painting. He said he would like to see in what way. I said that he could see it when they were on their way back home, for the walk back up to our house seemed like waisted energy on his part. He said No, I want to do it now. And so we struggled up to my studio and I showed him what I had accomplished since my return. He was very complimentary and agreed there was a new strength in my paintings. And then we went back down to the beach.

Next morning the phone rang and it was Ray. He wanted to know who arranged the trip to Russia. I gave him the details and also gave him the travel agent who had been in charge. Unfortunately, these bodies of business only worked with tours and did not work for just a couple. August second Ray died.

Lois Sizoo

Lois and a few of her friends managed to make Eugene O'Neill's, Tao House, into a National Monument. It is located in Danville, Ca, and it is the place where he wrote five of his most famous plays. There may be four or five errors in the previous sentence. The spelling of Eugene's name might be one, calling the Tao House a national monument another. So take it with a dose of salts.
But Lois and her husband Wesley were coming for a visit. And I knew we would have fun.

I called Tess Gallagher and asked if she and Ray could come for dinner the following night and they were happy to come. Dinner conversation was mostly about the availability of finding Ray's books in the two bookstores in town. We had already searched, finding only one of his. We told him we would go to Canada the following morning to see what we could find there. I knew Lois would fall in love with Munro's Bookstore in Victoria. And then the conversation centered about Ray and Tess and the teaching jobs they both had during the school year.

Next day we visited the Butchart Gardens, the bookstores. and a wonderful place for a Japanese lunch. Tired but happy we returned on the afternoon Ferry. We had enough leftovers that we did not have to cook supper. Sam and Wes were pouring their drinks when the phone rang. It was Ray who wanted to know how our day had been. I told him that Lois had found three of is books. He said 'I would like to drive down the hill and sign the books for her. This generocity was typical of Ray. He was a lovely man.

There will be more about Raymond Carver later. One month before he died he come to our 4th of July party on the beach.

Raymond Carver

A friend from California sent me pages from the NY Times about this 'new writer' who lived in Port Angeles. This was a year or two after we moved there in 1983. It was exciting news. He was compared with great giants in literature. I thought, how smart he was, to see the benefits of living in this area of the world. As I was driving around town I wondered occasionally what part of town he had chosen to live in.

An old lumber train that ran between Port Angeles and Port Townsend came through our area about once a day. When we heard it coming around the bend, with wheels complaining that the curve was hard on it's aged under structure, we would gather up any grandchild visiting, making sure some one had a penny in a pocket. We would run up the hill and wait for the train. One child could put a penny on the rails. And then we waited. There were a couple of curves before the train arrived and the noise made the waiting into high drama. The locomotive looked old fashioned but the engineer leaning out his window was as welcome as Santa Claus at Christmas. His friendly smile as he waved to us, made us feel happy for the rest of the day. And then the lucky child whose penny had been squashed had a concrete memory of how much fun it was to visit Grandpa and Grandma.

Why should this little tid-bit of history come at this time. One time when we were waiting, a neighbor whose property edged the railroad property was waiting with his pre-school-aged son and we introduced ourselves and as we returned to our houses he informed us that in this house lived a famous writer. He was away teaching on the east coast at the moment, he said. I could see the house from our kitchen window and I would often look up to see if there were signs of life yet. And so began our friend ship with Ray Carver. More about this as I get into Carol Sklenicka's book.

A new year

I think my maternal grandmother died in 1910. If she did she was about 70 years old. All I know is that she died from Struma.
Anna and I both were operated on for the same kind of thing way back. Anna who used to sing in church, had a lovely voice before the operation. I lost nothing but aquired a lovely scar on my neck. Struma is the German word for Thyroid.


Happy New Year for all who may read this. And I hope your Holidays were happy too. Two granddaughters were here in Port Angeles and all of us had several happy get-togethers. And I received many beautiful, and many practical, and many tasty Christmas gifts. It was a wonderful season.

I have three new books to read. And if I read them now I will never have time to write blogs. I will try to use some control and only read at pre-ordained times. I cannot read in bed for I fall asleep after the first page.

One book is called February House by Sherill Tippins. It looks fascinating and is about theatre people and singers and free thinkers. Leafing thru I saw a man called Lee and I hope it might be about Canada Lee who was the star of Native Son on Broadway and in the movie Life Boat with Tulula Bankhead. He never got his just rewards for being a great actor. The second book is about Raymond Carver by Carol Sklenicka. It is a huge book and I am looking forward to reading that too.And then I borrowed City of Thieves by David Benioff. It deals with the Leningrad siege during WW11. If my blogs are shorter than usual remember I warned you.

Polsbo

Yesterday a friend called and said 'Come with me. I am going to Polsbo to buy my Christmas bread. My family loves the braided cardamon loaves of bread that you can buy only there. I quickly agreed to go for I needed lingon berries and marzipan. We had a good time in spite of the rain. My friend, Bea, whom I know from bridge is an excellent driver. We had a hot cup of Rainy Day Chicken Soup before heading home.

I got home in time to watch Oprah for her second day of interviewing Whitney Houston. What a talent! So glad she is returning to her public life. I will never forget when she sang the National Anthem during the final celebration of the Los Angeles Olympics. Nothing has affected me so deeply except for the time our ship sailed by The Statue of Liberty in 1938. I get tears in my eyes when I think of it. We bought the tape of Whitney 's and in my move a couple of years ago, the tape was misplaced and I hope to find it soon.

Today is Bridge Day and this blog will be short. It is short. Must feed my animals.

Advent

One year I decided that it would be fun to make the month of December more fun for our four children. Late in November I went to the lumber yard and bought a piece of plywood which I covered with a gray material on which had sewn Santas and snowmen. Then I attached twenty four hooks. On these hooks I tied four small presents, all wrapped in four different colors. Each child got to draw the color they wanted.

The gifts were insignificant but something they either needed or something they liked to snack on. Sometimes the present was something that could not be a surprise for them. (Such as a pencil) I remember their cries of delight when they got something meaningful or something tasty. Toward the end of the period they got a small box of thank you cards to be used after Christmas and then there was a small envelop with postage stamps and on the twenty fifth I remember trying hard to find a 'diamond ring' from the dime store for each of the girls and something equally ridiculous for Gilbert.

After a year or so each of them had their own calendar. Four times twenty four is ninety six. It was a chore wrapping these ninety six items, it was a bigger chore amassing all these items and I sometimes wondered why I had begun this tremendous chore. But the girls enjoyed it and so it went on into their college years. I now see Anna, my number one daughter( I don't know if it is correct to say oldest or eldest) fix one of these for her younger daughter. (who is about to try for her Masters)

I think Anna also made an advent calendar for her Mother'in'Law. It gave me a good feeling that that old ritual might go on and spread far.

Happy Day After Lucia.

Santa Lucia

December 13. When I was young, that date meant Christmas was coming soon. When I was old enough to carry a tray with a coffee cup and little lucia breads with cardamon aroma I became the Lucia in our house, for I was blonde and my sister had black hair. I had never been more important than my sister before, and the feeling that filled me was ecstasy. I think it was my first feeling of some kind of importance. Our celebration was strictly homebound and after people got out of bed my role returned to normal and I slouched back to my place.

When I was married and had children that old feeling was aroused in me again and we really celebrated. We invited five or six families for breakfast at 6 AM. (Only one person said nothankyou but sent her husband, five boys and one daughter) We had our blondest daughter carrying the tray with the Lucia rolls and with candles on her head. Then we all sat down to eat and when eight o'clock came around all fathers went to work and most of the children had to run for the school bus. We had between thirty five and forty people around our tables. Before we left the bay area I would often meet some parent of a friend of one of our children's friends who had come for a Lucia party who still remembered the fun.

We would of course tell everyone about the origin of the ritual. In the pre Christian days the people of the North felt they had been forsaken by their Gods and they thought the Dark had lasted too long when suddenly they discovered that the night just passed had been a minute shorter than the night before and they knew their Gods had not forsaken them and they celebrated the return of the Sun.

Three of my three daughters have called this morning and said:Happy Lucia Day. And so, Happy Lucia Day to all of you who may happen to read this. Next blog will be about our Advent Calendars.

This time I mean Robert

The title last time I wrote was certainly misleading. I will try to be more correct this time, but I have a few words I have to say about Richard. He was one of the signers of the Declaration of independence. And so we come to story of Robert Stockton. Sam and I had a suitcase full of things we had discovered about him. And so we sat with all this knowledge and didn't know what to do with it.

Martha, our number two daughter had become a Speech Pathologist. She owned a clinic in Los Gatos California where she was employing five or more therapists. One day her husband said that he had been hired to run an office in the Denver area and they were going to relocate. She sold her clinic and off they went. They stayed in Colorado about a year and returned to their house in Los Gatos. Martha asked if she could have our research on the Stocktons for she did not want to get back into the speech area again. We were happy to give it to her for we certainly had found out we were not writers. She has worked on and off for twenty years on the Commodore and I don't think she has given up on the project yet. She found out that a writer had to have a plot before starting to write, so she studied the subject, wrote a book on the subject and lo and behold she was so successful with her new work that Robert and Richard were put in a waiting line to be dealt with later. She now has a page, an URL for people to learn about Robert, which you can reach by writing Commodore Stockton

Richard abolished flogging in the USA Navy. He was sent by President Polk to make California the next State. President Polk did not tell him that he had sent someone else overland to make California our next State The two met in Los Angeles after Stockton had secured the State for the USA. He was Governor for one day of California. Stockton was well known in Northern California where he had spent time in Monteray. The city of Stockton was named for him and the land where the San Jose Airport is located once belonged to him. I remember so well going with Martha to Princeton where we spent a lot of time at the University and at Morven and at the graveyard. We had much fun and we gleaned a few more facts about him. He was instrumental in the building of waterways and canals and and there was talk about him running for political office.