Tell your mother you love her. As often as you can.
Find good in everything, there's good, and love, in all, as people it's our lot to find it.
When you feel down, give something of yourself to another. It works.
Use your own best judgement. With charity towards others.
Forgive. Love. Give up your pride to help others.
And take time to consider the teachings you've gained. You likely have little less more valuable.
Tuesday, August 24
Sunday, August 8
family..mine and yours..
i have always loved these early pictures of family. my mother sent these for the blog this afternoon. from an email discussion 'tween her, aunt Chris, and cousin Jeff Morrison.
Who was Aunt Beatrice?
My mother's Aunt Beatrice was Beatrice Marshall Hardy, who married William Wilson, my grandfather Baillie Wilson's brother, 18 October 1892. They came from Scotland to visit the Wilsons on the farm a couple of times. Probably in the 20s.The rest of the people in this pic are my Granny, Marion Ballantine McLaren Wilson, Baillie and Ken Holte (my cousins).
Left is Auntie Lizzie Scott, next to her is Roderick Macdonald and his (2nd) wife my auntie Mary Morrison. I figure this picture was taken on the occasion of Rod and Mary's wedding, 27 March 1931 in Vancouver, Auntie Lizzie must've travelled from Edmonton out to Vancouver for the occasion, her sister Mary married at age 43. Think it's taken in Stanley Park, Vancouver. I've been working on the Macdonald line over the last coupla months with surprising results, thanks to the new fsbeta data base. And since you brought the Grahams to my mind yesterday, I went on that same site and found three death registrations, for Robert Graham, his wife Elizabeth Young and their son Robert, all in Vancouver. The Grahams lived next door to Mary Morrison and her daughter Millie when they lived on 4th Avenue in Kitsilano.
this is a picture of my mother Chrissie Wilson, as a teenager (2nd from right of the girls, I think) and some of her schoolmates at Preston School, Wildmere. I'm pretty sure the guy is their schoolteacher, don't know his name. About 1911 or 12. I'll send this pic to Christina, maybe she knows more about it than I do, I have a vague memory of having seen it before, but do not have a copy of it myself. So I'm not positive which of the girls is my mother.
I checked with my sister, and it is my mother 2nd from right of the girls, the girl she's talking to is her great friend Gertie Green, whom she exchanged Christmas cards with for many years.
Too easy on this one! That's my grampa Baillie Wilson, his daughter Chrissie (My mother), me and Jack. Three generations.
Mary Morrison at Cummings,this is at the farm at Cummings, AB, which is the name of the rural district where our first farm was located, 22 miles ssw of Vermilion. Taken maybe about 1919. Strange, she must've milked the cow out in the open, we always milked them in the barn.
Who was Aunt Beatrice?
My mother's Aunt Beatrice was Beatrice Marshall Hardy, who married William Wilson, my grandfather Baillie Wilson's brother, 18 October 1892. They came from Scotland to visit the Wilsons on the farm a couple of times. Probably in the 20s.The rest of the people in this pic are my Granny, Marion Ballantine McLaren Wilson, Baillie and Ken Holte (my cousins).
Left is Auntie Lizzie Scott, next to her is Roderick Macdonald and his (2nd) wife my auntie Mary Morrison. I figure this picture was taken on the occasion of Rod and Mary's wedding, 27 March 1931 in Vancouver, Auntie Lizzie must've travelled from Edmonton out to Vancouver for the occasion, her sister Mary married at age 43. Think it's taken in Stanley Park, Vancouver. I've been working on the Macdonald line over the last coupla months with surprising results, thanks to the new fsbeta data base. And since you brought the Grahams to my mind yesterday, I went on that same site and found three death registrations, for Robert Graham, his wife Elizabeth Young and their son Robert, all in Vancouver. The Grahams lived next door to Mary Morrison and her daughter Millie when they lived on 4th Avenue in Kitsilano. 
this is a picture of my mother Chrissie Wilson, as a teenager (2nd from right of the girls, I think) and some of her schoolmates at Preston School, Wildmere. I'm pretty sure the guy is their schoolteacher, don't know his name. About 1911 or 12. I'll send this pic to Christina, maybe she knows more about it than I do, I have a vague memory of having seen it before, but do not have a copy of it myself. So I'm not positive which of the girls is my mother.I checked with my sister, and it is my mother 2nd from right of the girls, the girl she's talking to is her great friend Gertie Green, whom she exchanged Christmas cards with for many years.
Too easy on this one! That's my grampa Baillie Wilson, his daughter Chrissie (My mother), me and Jack. Three generations. 
Mary Morrison at Cummings,this is at the farm at Cummings, AB, which is the name of the rural district where our first farm was located, 22 miles ssw of Vermilion. Taken maybe about 1919. Strange, she must've milked the cow out in the open, we always milked them in the barn.
Tuesday, July 20
Wednesday, July 14
Friday, May 28
request for granny.
please post your recipe for meatloaf. tyvm. recently saw that on the interthing. means thank you very much.
Saturday, May 15
Judy. In her own words.
Me and mother...granny to some and Marion to others.
Me with my mother and daughter.
Randy and sister Judy
Me with my mother and daughter.
Randy and sister Judy
Monday, March 29
Subject: For Blog, Family Hysterics
How many of my children/grandchildren thought mine was the first generation to join the Mormons? WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! We have connections to Richard Ballantyne, who actually founded the Sunday School in the LDS church, and dates away back to 1817 when he was born to his father, 70 year-old David Ballantyne, and his second wife, Ann Bannerman, a 19 year old Highland lassie who spoke Gaelic. Richard Ballantyne was born in a tiny little village (1 dozen families) in Roxburgh, nearby to Melrose Abbey, where the heart of Robert Bruce was traditionally buried. Shortly after Richard was born, his father David was struck by tragedy, a friend to whom he had loaned a great deal of money defaulted on the loan, and David and Ann were turned out of their home with only a cow and a few sticks of furniture left to their once-prosperous living. Forced to work as a common laborer, David went to work at a nearby farm, lived 11 more years....fathered several more kids, the night before his death in Springhall, Roxburgh, a voice called to him three times, "David, David, come away." Because of grave robbers active at this time, stealing corpses from their graves and selling them as cadavers, the widow Ann purchased a vault to secure David's body.
But our story is really about their son Richard....at age 7, he was herding his father's cows....at age 10, he became a gardener to a wealthy man, working 10 hours daily for 10 cents a day. At age 14, Richard apprenticed to a baker in Earlston, Berwick, (where your Waldie connections lived, my children....not mine! these are your Granny Naylor's ancestors, so this story is a gift to you from her!). After 3 years Richard was promoted to foreman and finally was put in full charge. His boss died, and Richard purchased the bakery from the widow for $25, last of the big-time family bargains!
About this time, Richard had a vision of Jesus Christ, and became very religious. At 21, he became an elder in the Relief Presbyterian church , and even organized a Sunday School in a small farm village a few miles from Earlston, at which 75 boys and girls attended. Rumors of a new prophet in America came to him, culminating with Elder Orson Pratt coming to Edinburgh, proselyting, in 1841. And, despite much opposition, Richard was baptized in the Firth of Forth about 30 miles from Earlston, followed shortly after by the rest of his family, and they stood alone in a sea of hate and distrust. But the notoriety certainly didn't affect his bakery business, in less than a year he had made enough money to afford emigrating the whole family to America, so he sold up his holdings in Earlston and off they went on the Yankee packet ship "Metoka", September 5th, 1843, bound for New Orleans. (By riverboat and stage from then on, joining the Saints and settling in Nauvoo.) Richard accepted the priesthood ordinations coming to him, plural marriage was just starting, and he himself ended up with 3 wives and 22 kids, while his sisters Jane and Annie became plural wives of John Taylor. Moving west with the Saints to Salt Lake, Richard retained his dream of effective teaching of the children of the church, and expanded on his early work in Scotland with the Presbyterian church, officially starting the LDS version of Sunday School in 1849.
Richard Ballantyne died in 1898 and is buried in Ogden City Cemetery.
Now you're saying, where is the connection to us? (you, that is!).....
Well, a cousin of Richard, another David, settled in Earlston, Berwick, as well, and became a merchant in that town, married a girl named Elizabeth Hislop, who just happened to be a sister of Ann Hislop, who married Alexander Waldie. (Dad's grandma Hill was a Waldie, Margaret Jane). Long drawn-out story, right? David Ballantyne's Elizabeth died at a fairly young age, followed within weeks by their only son Robert.....so, when the Waldies and their huge family emigrated to Canada in the late 1850's, they left behind their daughter Jessie in the care of their uncle David, assisted by another sister of Ann Hislop, Isabella, who housekept for them and served as surrogate mother to the little 9 year old girl Jessie. Jessie eventually married a travelling salesman named Hugh Stoddart and had a family of her own, but Isabella continued to live with them, unmarried and still foster mother and grandmother, until she died in Edinburgh at age 80-something.
Want some more claims to fame? some more Ballantyne cousins James and John Ballantyne, built a large publishing house in Scotland, mostly with Sir Walter Scott's money. James had two nephews who were to become famous, Robert Michael sailed for Canada and worked for the Hudson's Bay Company, wrote 80 volumes of stories about wildlife and travel. His brother James Robert, went to the Far East and became a noted Orientalist. (Note to Debbie: ever wonder why Shawn is so hung up on Chinese culture...he's a descendent of this family!).
Now I realize this is straight pure unadulterated genealogy, which I have researched over the last fifteen years, very painstakingly.....strictly for my husband's lines. Some of you are probably bored to tears with all these details, but to me they are completely fascinating, and I can only hope one of my grandchildren will inherit the Spirit of Elijah and someday continue with this research and be responsible for uniting this huge family in the eternity to come.
But our story is really about their son Richard....at age 7, he was herding his father's cows....at age 10, he became a gardener to a wealthy man, working 10 hours daily for 10 cents a day. At age 14, Richard apprenticed to a baker in Earlston, Berwick, (where your Waldie connections lived, my children....not mine! these are your Granny Naylor's ancestors, so this story is a gift to you from her!). After 3 years Richard was promoted to foreman and finally was put in full charge. His boss died, and Richard purchased the bakery from the widow for $25, last of the big-time family bargains!
About this time, Richard had a vision of Jesus Christ, and became very religious. At 21, he became an elder in the Relief Presbyterian church , and even organized a Sunday School in a small farm village a few miles from Earlston, at which 75 boys and girls attended. Rumors of a new prophet in America came to him, culminating with Elder Orson Pratt coming to Edinburgh, proselyting, in 1841. And, despite much opposition, Richard was baptized in the Firth of Forth about 30 miles from Earlston, followed shortly after by the rest of his family, and they stood alone in a sea of hate and distrust. But the notoriety certainly didn't affect his bakery business, in less than a year he had made enough money to afford emigrating the whole family to America, so he sold up his holdings in Earlston and off they went on the Yankee packet ship "Metoka", September 5th, 1843, bound for New Orleans. (By riverboat and stage from then on, joining the Saints and settling in Nauvoo.) Richard accepted the priesthood ordinations coming to him, plural marriage was just starting, and he himself ended up with 3 wives and 22 kids, while his sisters Jane and Annie became plural wives of John Taylor. Moving west with the Saints to Salt Lake, Richard retained his dream of effective teaching of the children of the church, and expanded on his early work in Scotland with the Presbyterian church, officially starting the LDS version of Sunday School in 1849.
Richard Ballantyne died in 1898 and is buried in Ogden City Cemetery.
Now you're saying, where is the connection to us? (you, that is!).....
Well, a cousin of Richard, another David, settled in Earlston, Berwick, as well, and became a merchant in that town, married a girl named Elizabeth Hislop, who just happened to be a sister of Ann Hislop, who married Alexander Waldie. (Dad's grandma Hill was a Waldie, Margaret Jane). Long drawn-out story, right? David Ballantyne's Elizabeth died at a fairly young age, followed within weeks by their only son Robert.....so, when the Waldies and their huge family emigrated to Canada in the late 1850's, they left behind their daughter Jessie in the care of their uncle David, assisted by another sister of Ann Hislop, Isabella, who housekept for them and served as surrogate mother to the little 9 year old girl Jessie. Jessie eventually married a travelling salesman named Hugh Stoddart and had a family of her own, but Isabella continued to live with them, unmarried and still foster mother and grandmother, until she died in Edinburgh at age 80-something.
Want some more claims to fame? some more Ballantyne cousins James and John Ballantyne, built a large publishing house in Scotland, mostly with Sir Walter Scott's money. James had two nephews who were to become famous, Robert Michael sailed for Canada and worked for the Hudson's Bay Company, wrote 80 volumes of stories about wildlife and travel. His brother James Robert, went to the Far East and became a noted Orientalist. (Note to Debbie: ever wonder why Shawn is so hung up on Chinese culture...he's a descendent of this family!).
Now I realize this is straight pure unadulterated genealogy, which I have researched over the last fifteen years, very painstakingly.....strictly for my husband's lines. Some of you are probably bored to tears with all these details, but to me they are completely fascinating, and I can only hope one of my grandchildren will inherit the Spirit of Elijah and someday continue with this research and be responsible for uniting this huge family in the eternity to come.
Friday, March 5
Letter from Jackie...
Hi Jeff,
If you would please post this on BLOG for me, that would be great! Thanks!
Jackie
Hello, my dear in-law family...
This is probably going to be quite long, so please bear with me! I wanted to write you all, and this is for everyone, Mom N, Randy's brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, and all of their spouses, children, etc!
I wanted to let you all know about a process I have begun, and that is the step-parent adoption by Russell of Kristen and Karina. The thought process in doing this has been a long time in coming, and for that there are several reasons, but I want to include you all in this each step of the way as Kristen and Karina's daddy's family.
Russell and I have been married now for 10 years, and Kristen is now 17, about to turn 18 in September, and Karina will turn 16 this coming May. We have been talking for years about the probability that someday Russell will adopt the girls, but given their ages now has to be the time if we are going to do it. There is a very real practical reason for an adoption, and it has to do with citizenship and the USCIS-United States Citizenship and Immigration Services.
As you may or may not know, when Russell and I became engaged and planned for the girls and I to move to the States, it began a very long and expensive process. It was a trail of red tape and paperwork that involved forms, consulate visits, medical exams, and waiting. The INS, as it was known back then, had to be very sure that we were not wanting to come into the States for any other reason other than for me to marry Russell and for us to become a family. Then, when we were approved, and we moved south of the border, we had to complete more paperwork immediately upon getting married to "adjust our status" and a few months later, again, after expense and paperwork, became conditional temporary residents. Two years later, the three of us became permanent residents, or legal "aliens", (boy do I love that term- NOT!), but that is the legal term by which they call us here, meaning that we have green cards. We have most of the rights and responsibilites of US Citizens, except for of course the fact that we cannot vote, or serve in the military or other positions that require US citizenship. The green card is issued every 10 years,and ours are up for renewal in 2013, for a fee of I believe $290 per person.
As most of you know about me, I was born in England, and apart from 5 years of my life, lived in Canada after my parents emmigrated in 1969, for most of my life until age 31. That whole time I was a permanent, legal resident of Canada but not a citizen. After I turned 18, I couldn't vote. I finally applied for and became a proud Canadian citizen right before I moved to the US! And now of course, I cannot vote here! It is very frustrating to live in a place where you cannot vote and have a say in the government! At some point in the future I may decide to apply for US Citizenship, as I have experienced living in a country where you are not a citizen twice now, and would like to vote at some point in my life! I would like my daughters to have that opportunity. Most people assume that after this long, the girls and I are automatically US Citizens simply because I married a US citizen, but I'm here to tell you that is not the case! As Kristen rapidly approaches turning 18, and Karina not far behind her, I want them both to have all the opportunities and chances available to them, and since they are probably going to live here for most of their lives now, like me, it will be so much easier for them to obtain their US citizenship this way, and become dual citizens of both Canada and the US.
If a child is adopted by a US citizen before they turn 18, that child automatically becomes a US citizen themselves, without having to go through all the red tape, paperwork and $675 naturalization fee per person. At some point in the future, we will have to still apply for a citizenship certificate for them, at a fee of $420 pp, but that's still a good bit less than the other fee!
Karina has expressed an interest in possibly joining the US National Guard, she is thinking of either going into pediatrics or dentistry, and they have a training program where they put their recruits through all their schooling, in return for a weekend a month of service. Of course, there is the possibility of them being deployed to any of the world's trouble spots,of which we are well aware. Kristen's boyfriend has just joined with them and has begun his journey to be a doctor with them. Karina would be eligible to join them if that's what she decides sometime during her 11th grade school year, as long as she is a US citizen by then.
The process which I have just begun of this step-parent adoption should be quite simple;we can file the paperwork ourselves at our local courthouse and then wait for a date with the judge. Because of the nature of our case and the unfortunate fact that their father has been deceased for some time, we don't forsee any problems, and we will only have a filing fee to pay versus hiring a lawyer to do it for us. It's supposed to take somewhere in the vicinity of 3-4 months to complete.
Kristen and Karina have asked us over the years if we were planning on Russell adopting them ever, and they are both agreeable and excited about it,both for the opportunities becoming able to be a US citizen will give them, and to officially be Russell's daughters as opposed to step-daughters. Although, that distinction has never been an issue or a problem, the girls have always regarded Russell as their dad and them as his daughters. It's just that officially being his daughters will give them citizenship in the easiest, quickest, most economical way. They have expressed however that they do want to keep the last name they have had all their lives, so their names will not be changing, they will still be Naylors, and both Russell and I are perfectly okay with that.In fact, I wouldn't have it any other way.
That being said, I want you all to know, and it is my deepest and most fervent prayer that you do, that Randy is not being dishonored by this process. First and foremost, God blessed Randy and I with Kristen and Karina, and it is through the two of them that he lives on. The three of us all lovingly and fondly remember our dear husband and daddy, and always will. Nobody will ever take his place. All of our 10 years together, Russell has been the most supportive and loving husband to me and daddy to the girls, and has loved them from the beginning of our marriage as his own. People that don't know our situation assume that the girls are his, and are very surprised if they find out , especially if they have known us for a while, because everyone acts and is family. He understands when we have bad days and understands on sad anniversaries when we are missing Randy, and wouldn't have it any other way. The girls love Randy, and he will always be with them, guiding them,and always hold a special place in their hearts. In fact, when Kristen gets married, she is going to carry pansies in her bouquet -she says that way her daddy will be with her, she remembers how those pansies grew wild for 2 or 3 years at the cemetery and how Mom N made those beautiful dried flower pictures with them!
Anyway, I felt like I owe you, as Randy's family, the respect and courtesy of the knowledge of the proceedings down here and the reasonings behind them. Most importantly, I hope you all understand that this step parent adoption in no way takes anything, the title of "daddy" , or the love, away from Randy. We loved him then, now, and forever. If any of you have any thoughts, comments or questions, please do not hesitate to contact me!
,
I'm so glad that Randy has a big family, I just wish we could see you all more often! Or at all! Maybe this summer... I am thinking of doing a driving holiday... but we'll see...
Love,
Jackie, Kristen and Karina
If you would please post this on BLOG for me, that would be great! Thanks!
Jackie
Hello, my dear in-law family...
This is probably going to be quite long, so please bear with me! I wanted to write you all, and this is for everyone, Mom N, Randy's brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, and all of their spouses, children, etc!
I wanted to let you all know about a process I have begun, and that is the step-parent adoption by Russell of Kristen and Karina. The thought process in doing this has been a long time in coming, and for that there are several reasons, but I want to include you all in this each step of the way as Kristen and Karina's daddy's family.
Russell and I have been married now for 10 years, and Kristen is now 17, about to turn 18 in September, and Karina will turn 16 this coming May. We have been talking for years about the probability that someday Russell will adopt the girls, but given their ages now has to be the time if we are going to do it. There is a very real practical reason for an adoption, and it has to do with citizenship and the USCIS-United States Citizenship and Immigration Services.
As you may or may not know, when Russell and I became engaged and planned for the girls and I to move to the States, it began a very long and expensive process. It was a trail of red tape and paperwork that involved forms, consulate visits, medical exams, and waiting. The INS, as it was known back then, had to be very sure that we were not wanting to come into the States for any other reason other than for me to marry Russell and for us to become a family. Then, when we were approved, and we moved south of the border, we had to complete more paperwork immediately upon getting married to "adjust our status" and a few months later, again, after expense and paperwork, became conditional temporary residents. Two years later, the three of us became permanent residents, or legal "aliens", (boy do I love that term- NOT!), but that is the legal term by which they call us here, meaning that we have green cards. We have most of the rights and responsibilites of US Citizens, except for of course the fact that we cannot vote, or serve in the military or other positions that require US citizenship. The green card is issued every 10 years,and ours are up for renewal in 2013, for a fee of I believe $290 per person.
As most of you know about me, I was born in England, and apart from 5 years of my life, lived in Canada after my parents emmigrated in 1969, for most of my life until age 31. That whole time I was a permanent, legal resident of Canada but not a citizen. After I turned 18, I couldn't vote. I finally applied for and became a proud Canadian citizen right before I moved to the US! And now of course, I cannot vote here! It is very frustrating to live in a place where you cannot vote and have a say in the government! At some point in the future I may decide to apply for US Citizenship, as I have experienced living in a country where you are not a citizen twice now, and would like to vote at some point in my life! I would like my daughters to have that opportunity. Most people assume that after this long, the girls and I are automatically US Citizens simply because I married a US citizen, but I'm here to tell you that is not the case! As Kristen rapidly approaches turning 18, and Karina not far behind her, I want them both to have all the opportunities and chances available to them, and since they are probably going to live here for most of their lives now, like me, it will be so much easier for them to obtain their US citizenship this way, and become dual citizens of both Canada and the US.
If a child is adopted by a US citizen before they turn 18, that child automatically becomes a US citizen themselves, without having to go through all the red tape, paperwork and $675 naturalization fee per person. At some point in the future, we will have to still apply for a citizenship certificate for them, at a fee of $420 pp, but that's still a good bit less than the other fee!
Karina has expressed an interest in possibly joining the US National Guard, she is thinking of either going into pediatrics or dentistry, and they have a training program where they put their recruits through all their schooling, in return for a weekend a month of service. Of course, there is the possibility of them being deployed to any of the world's trouble spots,of which we are well aware. Kristen's boyfriend has just joined with them and has begun his journey to be a doctor with them. Karina would be eligible to join them if that's what she decides sometime during her 11th grade school year, as long as she is a US citizen by then.
The process which I have just begun of this step-parent adoption should be quite simple;we can file the paperwork ourselves at our local courthouse and then wait for a date with the judge. Because of the nature of our case and the unfortunate fact that their father has been deceased for some time, we don't forsee any problems, and we will only have a filing fee to pay versus hiring a lawyer to do it for us. It's supposed to take somewhere in the vicinity of 3-4 months to complete.
Kristen and Karina have asked us over the years if we were planning on Russell adopting them ever, and they are both agreeable and excited about it,both for the opportunities becoming able to be a US citizen will give them, and to officially be Russell's daughters as opposed to step-daughters. Although, that distinction has never been an issue or a problem, the girls have always regarded Russell as their dad and them as his daughters. It's just that officially being his daughters will give them citizenship in the easiest, quickest, most economical way. They have expressed however that they do want to keep the last name they have had all their lives, so their names will not be changing, they will still be Naylors, and both Russell and I are perfectly okay with that.In fact, I wouldn't have it any other way.
That being said, I want you all to know, and it is my deepest and most fervent prayer that you do, that Randy is not being dishonored by this process. First and foremost, God blessed Randy and I with Kristen and Karina, and it is through the two of them that he lives on. The three of us all lovingly and fondly remember our dear husband and daddy, and always will. Nobody will ever take his place. All of our 10 years together, Russell has been the most supportive and loving husband to me and daddy to the girls, and has loved them from the beginning of our marriage as his own. People that don't know our situation assume that the girls are his, and are very surprised if they find out , especially if they have known us for a while, because everyone acts and is family. He understands when we have bad days and understands on sad anniversaries when we are missing Randy, and wouldn't have it any other way. The girls love Randy, and he will always be with them, guiding them,and always hold a special place in their hearts. In fact, when Kristen gets married, she is going to carry pansies in her bouquet -she says that way her daddy will be with her, she remembers how those pansies grew wild for 2 or 3 years at the cemetery and how Mom N made those beautiful dried flower pictures with them!
Anyway, I felt like I owe you, as Randy's family, the respect and courtesy of the knowledge of the proceedings down here and the reasonings behind them. Most importantly, I hope you all understand that this step parent adoption in no way takes anything, the title of "daddy" , or the love, away from Randy. We loved him then, now, and forever. If any of you have any thoughts, comments or questions, please do not hesitate to contact me!
,
I'm so glad that Randy has a big family, I just wish we could see you all more often! Or at all! Maybe this summer... I am thinking of doing a driving holiday... but we'll see...
Love,
Jackie, Kristen and Karina
Tuesday, February 23
Q + A! yet again. Unohoo.
I've reminded myself lately of my gramma morrison. she's in the only framed pic in my place, nicked it from me mom, looks great in my wall display, with cristmas cards from mom and judy, and all the ribbons and bow's that came with, and the our family book my sis deb and her girls put so much work into, bless their hearts, my camera, and 3 pieces of toffifay left from 12 jude gave me for christmas.
I don't have a direct, easy answer question, (on the q+a idea that i'm sure i'll beat into the ground), but, my dear mother, i would like to know more about your thoughts regarding my dear gramma morrison.
Perhaps i do have a direct question, how and why did i came to love her so dearly, and admire everything about her. You've said little of your connection to your Mother, i'd like a few words about that.
btw, i developed a cold in the last few days....blech...first time in years, i'm planning on 12 hours sleep, so, take your time.
Sunday, February 21
Q AND A!!!!DAMMIT!
WOOHOO, look at me, i'm going to play the only BLOG featured offering, 'ask whatever her name is', a question. you know who. so, unohoo, and you know who you are, speak on all you loved about my father?
my list would start with sense of humour.
don't blame me, you must answer, you signed onto this trainwreck yearishes ago.
my list would start with sense of humour.
don't blame me, you must answer, you signed onto this trainwreck yearishes ago.
Saturday, February 13
secrets from the past. don't expect real entertainment.
my mother once made up a song riff for church, don't know the why and wherefore, but it was 'if i were the bishop, i would do my gene-ene-ene-ene-ology'.(two syllables in each ene, for cadence sake), she might remember the rest of the lyrics she 'adapted' from 'if i were a richman' from fiddler on the roof. good movie. bit retro. we also watched the sound of music every christmas on the 12 inch sony in the tiny bedroom not much bigger than a double bed.
she's not writing much currently, blogwise, so here i am for my rare post occurance. like i said, don't expect entertainment from me. i'm on hiatus.
the k-ster...my bud kristy...i call her that cuz i think it's funny, and her dad was the master at making up nicknames for everybody in the family, well, she's said don't delete posts anymore...there's not much to this one, but i will follow her direction. she's a pretty cool niece.
she's not writing much currently, blogwise, so here i am for my rare post occurance. like i said, don't expect entertainment from me. i'm on hiatus.
the k-ster...my bud kristy...i call her that cuz i think it's funny, and her dad was the master at making up nicknames for everybody in the family, well, she's said don't delete posts anymore...there's not much to this one, but i will follow her direction. she's a pretty cool niece.
Wednesday, January 13
we're posting recipes now. yaay.
For the Blog:
Whoops! just got back from a cooking demo by our Activities Director, and she featured Choco Squigglies from Jean Pare's Company's Coming series (her specialty book on everything chocolate). These are fun to make and a delicious little treat.
Here's the recipe:
1 large egg
7/8 cup milk
1 cup flour
1/4 cup cocoa, sifted
2 tbsp sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
Cooking oil, for deep frying
Icing sugar for garnish
Beat egg in medium bowl, add next 7 ingredients. Beat until smooth. Pour batter into plastic squeeze bottle.
(Empty pancake syprup bottle works fine.) Measure cooking oil into electric fry pan to depth of 1 inch. Heat to 375.
Squeeze batter into hot oil making spiral or zigzag pattern within about 3 inch diameter area. Cook for about 2 minutes, turning once, until puffed and browned. Remove with slotted spoon to paper towel. Sprinkle with icing sugar. Serve warm. Makes about 12 squigglies.
YUM! This is sort of a mini-donut type of thing, with like one-enth of the calories. I would like to try it without the cocoa, and maybe put in some almond flavoring instead...maybe some nutmeg, but that, of course, would not belong in a chocolate cook book, would it? By the way, it also says not suitable for freezing, best eaten fresh.
Anybody wanna give it a try? Leland???? Have a rest from banana bread?
Whoops! just got back from a cooking demo by our Activities Director, and she featured Choco Squigglies from Jean Pare's Company's Coming series (her specialty book on everything chocolate). These are fun to make and a delicious little treat.
Here's the recipe:
1 large egg
7/8 cup milk
1 cup flour
1/4 cup cocoa, sifted
2 tbsp sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
Cooking oil, for deep frying
Icing sugar for garnish
Beat egg in medium bowl, add next 7 ingredients. Beat until smooth. Pour batter into plastic squeeze bottle.
(Empty pancake syprup bottle works fine.) Measure cooking oil into electric fry pan to depth of 1 inch. Heat to 375.
Squeeze batter into hot oil making spiral or zigzag pattern within about 3 inch diameter area. Cook for about 2 minutes, turning once, until puffed and browned. Remove with slotted spoon to paper towel. Sprinkle with icing sugar. Serve warm. Makes about 12 squigglies.
YUM! This is sort of a mini-donut type of thing, with like one-enth of the calories. I would like to try it without the cocoa, and maybe put in some almond flavoring instead...maybe some nutmeg, but that, of course, would not belong in a chocolate cook book, would it? By the way, it also says not suitable for freezing, best eaten fresh.
Anybody wanna give it a try? Leland???? Have a rest from banana bread?
Sunday, January 3
My brother Sandy
Rooting around in my bookcase today, I came across a fairly lengthy (100 pages, double-spaced) epistle written by my brother Sandy for the edification of his children and grandchildren, entitled "My Early Life: Growing up on the Canadian Prairies During the Great Depression". Written by Alexander B. Morrison, Bountiful, Utah, January 2002. And let me tell you, it is riotously funny, and oh, so well written, as only the author of a number of books can do, I have been giggling to myself, sometimes bursting into outright laughter, at some of the images he portrays, the whole thing is absolutely hilarious. I feel compelled to share with my family his take on cows! Here goes.....read and enjoy.
"As you would expect on a "mixed" farm, we always milked a half dozen cows. They came and they went, but on the whole they were a sorry lot, who didn't give much milk and didn't drop calves that were good beef producers either. Truth to tell, cows are pretty stupid beasts. There was Peggy, a black brute who would suffer some sort of periodic hormonal fever, and take off across country in search of male companionship. Fences were no deterrent to our Peggy, over or through them she went with abandon, and when the fever subsided she would be brought back unrepentant, having cut her teats to pieces. Attempts to put salve on her to ease the pain and encourage healing were rewarded by serious efforts to kick your head off. She was short both on gratitude and brains. Then there were our only three genuine Jerseys, a great milk-producing breed normally. They were bought at a farm sale someplace, and christened (by me) as Boots, Toots and Snoots. (Not one of my more memorable creative efforts!) The latter two were useless creatures, pretty to look at, but producing little milk. Boots was a good milker, and we had her for several years.
"It was the common habit of cows, some more than others, to periodically stretch while standing in the stall being milked. When they did so, their hind feet would slip off the end of the stall, and they would slide into the gutter, with a great splatter of urine and dung. Then, as they lurched to regain their footing, having come down heavily on the knees of the milker, they not uncommonly kicked the milk bucket, put their dirty foot in it, or knocked the poor milker off his or her stool. When such occurred, the aggrieved milker could be expected to belabor the cow over the back with the milk stool, while deploring the unwed ancestry and canine origins of the brute involved.
"A daily occupational hazard of milking was the likelihood of being slapped across the face by the wet tail of a cow seeking relief from flies. Since the tail certainly was not wet with sterile water, the effect of such a lashing was both pungent and painful. One of our most noteworthy cows, named Pansy (what a contradiction in terms that was!) had had her tail half-frozen off before we bought her. When she hit you with her tail it was as though you'd been poleaxed, or at least hit with a cement-filled sock. There were no long line-ups of those who begged to milk Pansy, as I recall.
"Pansy featured in one of our most enduring farm mysteries. One night as Uncle, Bob and I were milking, Pansy suddenly gave out an anguished moan, followed by a long and painful shudder from head to tail. The cause was a mystery and remained so despite earnest discussions for weeks afterward. Uncle opined that perhaps she had swallowed a nail which somehow had found its way into the hay supply. Others thought she had suffered a heart attack of sorts, or perhaps been bitten by a mouse. Bob remained strangely non-committal through it all. It was fully ten years later, when both of us had left home, that he finally made known the cause of Pansy's discomfiture. He had been forking hay into her manger that fateful night and had inadvertantly (or so he claimed) stuck poor Pansy in the nose with the pitchfork! No wonder she moaned!
"Each spring calves were born, not uncommonly with the help of a rope tied to their front legs as they emerged from their mother's womb. It was the task of small boys to pull when ordered to, but only when ordered to, so as not to risk injuring the mother or the infant. Within a couple of hours, having been licked clean by the mother of blood, plancental fragments and amniotic fluid, the calf would first take a few tottering steps , and then be fully mobile, able to keep up with the others, and bawling for nourishment. Calves were soon weaned from the udder to a pail. That could be a traumatic experience for both man and beast. You straddled the calf's body, with its head between your knees, (and hence controllable), and put your fingers in the milk and into the calf's mouth. In theory, as it sucked your fingers it swallowed milk, and learned to drink from the pail. But while some calves learned quickly, i.e. within a couple of days, others would butt the pail with their heads, usually spilling the milk all over the leg of the poor "teacher" or would gag and splutter and nearly drown. Finally, Father, in total frustration, would say "drink or droon (drown)" and by sheer force of character and brute strength, force the calf to be reasonable, give up and just drink, which they always did. Sooner or later."
WELL, THAT'S THE COW STORY! He goes on to do the pigs, the sheep, the horses, the turkeys, and all sorts of other doings on the farm. Perhaps my children and grandchildren will better relate to what it's like growing up on a farm, and the extent of the things we had to deal with. Certainly a different life from the city-raised experiences of our children and grandchildren. But no doubt they had their own challenges, of a different nature certainly, but all these early experiences still contributed to the characters and personalities of these grown-up actors in the Game of Life.
If you enjoyed this story, please let me know, and I may be persuaded to do another excerpt from Sandy's story of growing up in the dirty thirties.
Love to all,
Mom, Granny
"As you would expect on a "mixed" farm, we always milked a half dozen cows. They came and they went, but on the whole they were a sorry lot, who didn't give much milk and didn't drop calves that were good beef producers either. Truth to tell, cows are pretty stupid beasts. There was Peggy, a black brute who would suffer some sort of periodic hormonal fever, and take off across country in search of male companionship. Fences were no deterrent to our Peggy, over or through them she went with abandon, and when the fever subsided she would be brought back unrepentant, having cut her teats to pieces. Attempts to put salve on her to ease the pain and encourage healing were rewarded by serious efforts to kick your head off. She was short both on gratitude and brains. Then there were our only three genuine Jerseys, a great milk-producing breed normally. They were bought at a farm sale someplace, and christened (by me) as Boots, Toots and Snoots. (Not one of my more memorable creative efforts!) The latter two were useless creatures, pretty to look at, but producing little milk. Boots was a good milker, and we had her for several years.
"It was the common habit of cows, some more than others, to periodically stretch while standing in the stall being milked. When they did so, their hind feet would slip off the end of the stall, and they would slide into the gutter, with a great splatter of urine and dung. Then, as they lurched to regain their footing, having come down heavily on the knees of the milker, they not uncommonly kicked the milk bucket, put their dirty foot in it, or knocked the poor milker off his or her stool. When such occurred, the aggrieved milker could be expected to belabor the cow over the back with the milk stool, while deploring the unwed ancestry and canine origins of the brute involved.
"A daily occupational hazard of milking was the likelihood of being slapped across the face by the wet tail of a cow seeking relief from flies. Since the tail certainly was not wet with sterile water, the effect of such a lashing was both pungent and painful. One of our most noteworthy cows, named Pansy (what a contradiction in terms that was!) had had her tail half-frozen off before we bought her. When she hit you with her tail it was as though you'd been poleaxed, or at least hit with a cement-filled sock. There were no long line-ups of those who begged to milk Pansy, as I recall.
"Pansy featured in one of our most enduring farm mysteries. One night as Uncle, Bob and I were milking, Pansy suddenly gave out an anguished moan, followed by a long and painful shudder from head to tail. The cause was a mystery and remained so despite earnest discussions for weeks afterward. Uncle opined that perhaps she had swallowed a nail which somehow had found its way into the hay supply. Others thought she had suffered a heart attack of sorts, or perhaps been bitten by a mouse. Bob remained strangely non-committal through it all. It was fully ten years later, when both of us had left home, that he finally made known the cause of Pansy's discomfiture. He had been forking hay into her manger that fateful night and had inadvertantly (or so he claimed) stuck poor Pansy in the nose with the pitchfork! No wonder she moaned!
"Each spring calves were born, not uncommonly with the help of a rope tied to their front legs as they emerged from their mother's womb. It was the task of small boys to pull when ordered to, but only when ordered to, so as not to risk injuring the mother or the infant. Within a couple of hours, having been licked clean by the mother of blood, plancental fragments and amniotic fluid, the calf would first take a few tottering steps , and then be fully mobile, able to keep up with the others, and bawling for nourishment. Calves were soon weaned from the udder to a pail. That could be a traumatic experience for both man and beast. You straddled the calf's body, with its head between your knees, (and hence controllable), and put your fingers in the milk and into the calf's mouth. In theory, as it sucked your fingers it swallowed milk, and learned to drink from the pail. But while some calves learned quickly, i.e. within a couple of days, others would butt the pail with their heads, usually spilling the milk all over the leg of the poor "teacher" or would gag and splutter and nearly drown. Finally, Father, in total frustration, would say "drink or droon (drown)" and by sheer force of character and brute strength, force the calf to be reasonable, give up and just drink, which they always did. Sooner or later."
WELL, THAT'S THE COW STORY! He goes on to do the pigs, the sheep, the horses, the turkeys, and all sorts of other doings on the farm. Perhaps my children and grandchildren will better relate to what it's like growing up on a farm, and the extent of the things we had to deal with. Certainly a different life from the city-raised experiences of our children and grandchildren. But no doubt they had their own challenges, of a different nature certainly, but all these early experiences still contributed to the characters and personalities of these grown-up actors in the Game of Life.
If you enjoyed this story, please let me know, and I may be persuaded to do another excerpt from Sandy's story of growing up in the dirty thirties.
Love to all,
Mom, Granny
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