Week 27: The Great Outdoors

I’ve never thought of myself as an outdoorsy kind of person. I’m pretty sure that those who know me don’t think of me as outdoorsy, either. I need a hot shower, a flushing toilet, and electricity for my hairdryer. And, I’m way too old and arthritic to sleep on the ground.

But, I may have to rethink that. I love to bicycle, but only outdoors. An indoor stationary bike is my version of torture. My usual path is along the San Gabriel Channel, which is always full of birds of one sort or another. Yesterday, there was a white heron, eating some smaller prey, either a fish or a frog. Last week, there was a whole family of ducklings, waddling behind their mother mallard. Occasionally, I will see a pelican or a turkey vulture. Always, there are loons, gulls, and smaller birds, unknown to me.

I’ve recently discovered the free app ‘Merlin’, developed by Cornell University Lab of Ornithology. It’s designed to listen for and identify birds in the environment around you, and it is fascinating. I think I might yet become a birder.

And, I have discovered these past few years love of love hiking. I’ve wandered along the South West Coast Path and in Shenandoah National Park. I’m hoping to go next year to Spain for the Santiago de Compostela, of course with my trusty hiking partner, my cousin, Sue.

Being outdoors has been healing these past few years, when so much of my life was upended during and after the COVID years. It’s not just me, either. There’s plenty of scientific research about the benefits, both physical and emotional, of being outside.

So, what does “The Great Outdoors” have to do with my family history?

Let’s find out, shall we?

Working Outdoors:

The earliest photo I have of my family outside was taken in 1885, in Thayer, Kansas. It is of my Gard ancestors, my great-grandparents. The family is posed outside their very simple wooden farmhouse. The Gards were farmers, so of course, their work meant long hours outside, whatever the weather. They didn’t need to find ways to be outdoors; rather the opposite, I imagine.

The next photo taken outdoors is of my grandfather, Charles Keene, Sr., in 1895, in Massachusetts. He worked out of a wagon and delivered produce in Saugus; again, this work was outdoors, and I can imagine that in Massachusetts, it could be downright dangerous at times. Charles is the young boy holding by the horse.

By the later years of the 1800s and into the 1900s, it was more common to have photos taken outdoors, especially with the advent of personal cameras which were portable. Still, professional studio photos continued to make up the majority of photographs.

Below is a photo of my great-grandparents, Willis D. and Eva Kesterson Gard, and their daughter, Vida Bula, my mother’s mother. It was taken in about 1898 in Los Angeles, in front of the store my great-grandparents ran.

Around this time, my great-grandparents must have purchased a camera, because I have candid outdoor photos of my grandmother, beginning when she was about two years old, in 1898-1899. My goodness, she was cute!

I don’t know who the man is in the photo below, but I do know that it was taken in 1907 in Wisconsin, depicting “sugaring off”; I’m going to guess that it is some one on the Norwegian side, my mother’s paternal grandmother. Like many Norwegians, they settled in Wisconsin, where the terrain and the weather were much like their homeland. Due to the lack of a studio marking, and the fact that it was taken outdoors, I’m surmising that someone in the family owned a personal camera.

Hunting and Fishing:

Around 1908, I begin to see photographs from hunting trips. The photo below is a postcard, made from photograph, to send to friends and family. It was sent to my great-grandfather Willis Wells from his sister, Hattie. It is their brother, Berton, and his freshly killed deer.

Our family had many hunters and fishermen through the years; Uncle Berton, my Grandfather Wells, my father, and my brothers. I know growing up that my dad’s hunting trips weren’t for fun or trophies; we ate the meat he caught.

The note on the back of this photo 1943 only said, “Dad’s pheasants.” I believe this is my mother’s father, as my father and his father were active military at this time.

Both my dad and Nampie Wells, my mom’s father, enjoyed fishing. Below is opening day for trout season 1947, in Nine Mile Canyon, up in the mountains above our Inyokern home.

Th photo below is one of my very favorites; it’s my Nampie Wells, august 1962, at Wickiup Dam, Oregon, enjoying a bit of fishing.

Cycling:

I am not the first cyclist in my family, either. The 1918 photo below is of my distant cousin, Homer Pratt, on his motorbike, which today would probably be called a moped.

In 1968, my parents bought us three younger kids a dirt bike. Oh, the fun we had! We made trails and jumps in the empty field next door and spent hours riding. we thought it was the coolest thing, but now, looking at the photos, it wasn’t much bigger than a banana-seat bicycle.

Hiking:

I’m not the first hiker in the family, too. the photo below is of my Grandmother Wells, taken in 1919, atop Mt. Wilson. It’s probably my favorite photo of her.

The Beach:

I confess I am not a beach person; I love the ocean, but the beach has too much sand for me. My dad’s family, however, spent many afternoons on the beach, around Santa Monica, which wasn’t too far from their Los Angeles home and even farther than their home in cold, wet, unsunny Massachusetts. The photo below, (one of many at the beach) is of my father, Charles Keene, Jr., and his grandmother, my great-grandmother Keene, taken in 1920.

The Keene and Wells families both spent time on the beach in Long Beach, as well. The photo below is from 1922, taken at Long Beach, and is of five of the six Keene siblings, Betsy, Bea, Emma, Charles, and Virginia. (Uncle George wasn’t born until 1923.)

This is a photo of my mom taken in 1926, on the beach at Long Beach. It’s one of my favorites

Below is a photo of my mother with aunt Ida and my great-grandmother Wells in Bixby Park, Long Beach, circa 1923-24.

Gardening:

Another outdoor activity enjoyed by my family is gardening. I am absolutely rubbish at it, although I still try from time to time. In vain. But I digress… The photo below is my mother, Bula, and her mother, Vida, in the garden of their home on Gertrude Street, Los Angeles, in 1922. My mother would love to garden her whole life, growing flowers and vegetables where ever she lived.

Nana’s mother, Great-grandma Gard, also loved to grow flowers, even into her 80s and 90s. The photo below of her in her abundant flower garden was taken in 1948.

The photo below was taken in 1956-57, when my parents still lived at China Lake, before the move across the valley to Inyokern. Mom is holding baskets full of apricots from her trees. Like I’ve said before, she made the desert bloom.

Playing:

Meanwhile, my dad’s family of six siblings seemed to be outdoors all the time, either at the beach or scrambling up the hillsides near their Los Angeles home. The photo below is of all six of them, in 1925.

Camping and Adventuring:

My dad’s family also liked camping, and when we were young, Dad often took us camping as well. The photo below is Death Valley, 1927, with the note, “Sunday dinner.” I bet whatever it was, it was delicious. I love food cooked over a campfire!

My mother’s family spent at least one Easter vacation, in 1938, in the desert. Below is my mom, ready for a shoot-out.

Then there is this… My Aunt Betsy in 1949, in Yellowstone, taking a casual photo with a bear.

By 1950, my parents had a travel trailer, heading most often up Highway 395 to Lake Crowley.

Below is one of my favorite photos of the two Keene brothers, Charles and George, on the fishing trip to Lake Crowley, 1950.

My mother’s grandparents (Willis and Theoline Soland Wells) eventually settled in Hamilton, Montana, where like many ancestors before them, they were farmers. But, that wasn’t the extent of their outdoors activities. My Aunt Mabel grew vegetables and fruit in her enormous garden and orchard. I have photos of the family enjoying the outdoors in the mountains and streams, picnicking or hunting. The photo below was taken in 1927-1928. I believe my mother’s father, Nampie Wells, is on the far left.

i have quite a few photos of my dad’s family picnicking up in the Sierra Mountains. The photo below is of my Nana Keene and Aunt Virginia at the Mt. Whitney Cafe, 1950.

Here’s another outdoor adventure from Dad’s family. My parents and their three older children joined my grandparents and aunts in the mountains, 1953. The photo below is of my aunt Bea (with the head scarf) getting a cup of cowboy coffee from my mom. seated behind Mom are my oldest sister, Jeanne, and Nana Keene. On the other side of the table is my brother, Bob (on the table), my father, and his father. What I loved in this series of pictures is that all the women are wearing skirts!

The photo below is of my younger brother, Richard, and me on a family vacation to Santa Cruz in 1970.

Horseback Riding:

I did not inherit my dad’s love of horseback riding; I admit, I am a scaredy cat. The photo below is of my two oldest siblings, Bob and Jeanne, in 1948, riding our aunt Virginia’s horse, Smokey.

My dad rode horses for most of his life. he was in the Cavalry in the Army, and when I was small, he and his friends would take pack mules up in the mountains to hunt. here is in 1973, on my brother Bob’s horse, Tinkerbell.

Swimming:

None of us are avid swimmers, but growing up on the desert, there’s nothing like dip in the pool to cool you off (I really wouldn’t call it “swimming.”) Here’s my mom and my three oldest siblings in what I think is the navy base pool, 1948.

Out in hot, dusty Inyokern, even a kiddie pool was a treat. this is 1960, and my brothers and I are enjoying a splash.

Well, this post is already too long and, but I had so much fun looking through my photos. I have loads more, but I will spare you and save them for another day. What I learned is that my family isn’t as indoorsy as I thought. We’re not exactly REI material, but neither are we afraid to occasionally get out and get up close and personal with nature (Too close, Aunt Betsy!).

And, nothing tastes better than a breakfast of pancakes and bacon cooked over a campfire. Am I right???

’til next time.

Week 22: At the Cemetery

I didn’t do so well with “52 Weeks” assignment for 2023, did I?

In my defense, I had a lot on my plate and was struggling just to keep up with the laundry and get dinner cooked. Thankfully, some of those pressing issues are lessening, and I am looking forward to getting back to doing more of what I love. 

And, I love cemeteries. I love the peace and the reminders that we all are fragile. I love the tributes written in stone, love letters to lost ones. I love the feeling of connecting, on some unspoken level, with my loved ones once again, even if it just my wishful thinking. 

My brother, Don, visited a few months back, and on one cool and windy afternoon, we visited the cemetery where our Uncle George is buried. Don lives out of the country and hadn’t been back to see Uncle before he passed or to attend the funeral. 

It took us a few minutes to find the gravesite, and then, there he was. 

The grass hasn’t grown around the headstone much yet (but, it will, I am confident), so it looks a little unkempt. But, standing back, the view was lovely, across the still-green hills of Santa Clarita, with the five flags of the American branches of service fluttering in the wind above the memorial wall.

When I was a girl, I remember being at a lot of family funerals, so much so that I can conjure up a very vivid picture in my mind of my family’s section of cemetery at Rose Hills, complete with the train tracks and the occasional train.

In my very vague memories, it seems that there was a continuous stream of funerals in the years 1963-64, when I was 5-6 years old. The cemetery was a constant during those years.

My great-granduncle Maurice Gard passed away May 23, 1963. He, along with his brother, Frank, were siblings of my great-grandfather Willis Gard, who passed away in 1926. Maurice’s ashes, and those of his late wife, Alameda, are buried at Hermosa Gardens Cemetery, Colton, California, in the same gravesite as his mother, Phoebe Gard.

September 24, 1963, my maternal grandfather, Lawrence Wells, died. I can still vividly recall hearing my mother scream and moan in grief on hearing the news. I faintly remember the funeral and burial, but only, I think, because I have seen the photographs so often. (That’s me in the blue dress.)

Almost a year later, September 10, 1964, my great-granduncle Frank Gard passed away. He was the brother of my great-grandfather, Willis Gard. I have very strong memories of Frank and his brother, Maurice (mentioned above); they were the stereotypical little old men in many ways, with their waistbands somewhere around their sternums and a shared house full of cats. As a veteran of the Spanish American War, Uncle Frank was laid to rest at Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery in San Diego. His is one funeral of which I have no memory.

December 28, 1964, my great-grandmother Gard passed away. She was a constant, if not fairly silent, presence for my early years. She lived with her daughter, my Aunt Dola, and Dola’s husband, Frank, for many years. She is interred at Rose Hills next to her husband, Willis (brother of great-grand uncles Frank and Maurice), who died nearly 40 years earlier. 

There was a bit of a pause until the years of 1967-68, when in ’67 my grandaunt’s husband, Paul Kurtz passed, and in ’68 my great-grandaunt, Johanna Soland passed. 

There have been many more funerals, especially at Rose Hills, in the intervening years. It is always a loss, of course, but they are also a reason to reconnect with cousins, aunts, nieces, and nephews who I don’t see often enough. Funerals are a bit of a reunion, I think.

Cemeteries aren’t scary places to me; they are where I find my family. 

‘Til next time.

Week 6: Social Media

Love it or hate it, social media is here to stay.

As I reflected on this prompt, I realized that every generation has had its own form of social media, ones we wouldn’t today consider to be so.

From the Lascaux cave paintings to whatever the youngins’ latest craze is (TikTok? Post? Reddit? I am hopelessly old-fashioned and behind the times here.) people have always craved connection and communication with others.

In history more recent than cave paintings, letters were common, from clay tablets to fine tissue paper for Air Mail. Usually letters were sent to a single recipient, but they could also be shared with others, much like our modern-day emails.

My mother-in-law participated for years in a family “round-robin” letter. Person One, say Aunt Violet, would write a newsy letter and send it to Person two, her sister, who would then write her own newsy letter and add it to Violet’s letter to the next person in the chain, with each person in the round robin repeating this until it all came back around to Violet with multiple letters. Violet would take out her original letter, and add a new one, sending the letters ’round again. And, ’round and ’round it went.

This type of letter sharing reminded me of an early social media sharing site, Xanga. Our family had our own private site, where each member could contribute a new story or add comments to an earlier post. It was quite fun while it lasted, but other social media sites quickly overtook it. I am still kicking myself that I didn’t download the file.

Sadly, letters weren’t always saved, so the ones I do have are precious, giving insight into an otherwise incomplete picture of a relative. The letter below is from my husband’s side of the family, from his great great grandfather to his daughter, my husband’s great grandmother.

The letter reads:

Iowa Falls Iowa

? 23 1902

Dear Daughter Mary I received thy letter to day was sorry to hear of they poor health but be thou brave and try to stand it if thee hast to have an operation I would try everything else first. I am well as ??? we dug 75 bu (bushels) of potatoes sold 22 bu and 50 ct per bu and I have sold $12 worth of cabbage and 3 bu of beets and have lots more to sel I hope these lines will find thee better so farewell. I remain thy loving Father

James Morgan

Lovely, isn’t it? 

Another way to stay connected, without the length of a letter nor the more costly postage, was through the sending and receiving of postcards.  I like to think of these as quick Twitter posts.  Just a few lines, perhaps more than 140 characters, but usually not by much. They were much more public than letters, as anyone could read the message written on the back.

Because postcards were so quick to write, I think many more were sent, just based on the fact that I have many, many more postcards in my collection than letters.  Here are few below.

This postcard is from my great-great grandmother Sarah (Kendall) Kesterson to her daughter, my great-grandmother, Eva Kesterson Gard.  It is postmarked Aug 2 1912, Cherryvale, Kansas, and says:

Dear Daughter surely hope to have time to write you a letter soon… I had Jude Brown of Altoona-a week …Aunt Mary 4 weeks next tues morning at 4am she goes to Colo next monday all are well here Aunt Natt and Ly… are so much better and Aunt Mary is at Olive’s today  This lady is Mrs. Hendricks (I think referring to the photo on the front.)

The postcard below is one of possibly over a hundred that my grandfather, Charles L. Keene, Sr., sent to his mother, my great-grandmother, Lydia Ann (Thompson) Keene.

This card reads:

Dear Mother

Thelma is better Temperature 99 this a.m. Dr says everything looks very favorable and with good luck can come home in four weeks

Charlie

Unfortunately, Thelma, his first wife, wouldn’t come home.  She passed away from typhoid fever in the New Bedford hospital. 

Another form of social media connection was the practice of leaving and collecting calling cards.  These were akin to short texts, to let someone know that you were thinking of them. From Wikipedia:

A visiting card, also known as a calling card, is a small card used for social purposes. Before the 18th century, visitors making social calls left handwritten notes at the home of friends who were not at home. By the 1760s, the upper classes in France and Italy were leaving printed visiting cards decorated with images on one side and a blank space for hand-writing a note on the other. The style quickly spread across Europe and to the United States. As printing technology improved, elaborate color designs became increasingly popular. However, by the late 1800s, simpler styles became more common.

By the 19th century, men and women needed personalized calling or visiting cards to maintain their social status or to move up in society. These small cards, about the size of a modern-day business card, usually featured the name of the owner, and sometimes an address. Calling cards were left at homes, sent to individuals, or exchanged in person for various social purposes. Knowing and following calling card “rules” signaled one’s status and intentions.

I have lots of calling cards in my archive, from flowery to very simple, more modern ones.  The ones in the phot0 below are in an old geography book that was used as a scrapbook, filled with Morgan family memorabilia.  The card at the top is an early type of campaign flyer for John T. Morgan, a candidate for County Assessor. 

My grandmother Wells had two types of calling cards, one very traditional (“Mrs. Lawrence E. Wells”) and the other a more modern, even feminist, version of her name “Vida G. Wells.”

Another form of social media was scrapbooks and autograph books.  My grandmother Wells’ high school graduation scrapbook is fill with pages like this one below, which I think is a bit like our timelines on Facebook.  You might remember this page from a few posts back.  There are pages and pages in her scrapbook of these notes to Vida, wishing her well in the future or remembering school days together.  

Social media has always been with us; the difference now is its reach, its anonymity, and its transient nature.  Most of us aren’t saving our texts or tweets for posterity. (Which frankly, might be a good thing.) And, we can hide behind made-up profile names.  For the majority of us, this is how we stay in contact with our friends and family; our ancestors had the same desire and need for connection. 

I just wonder what, if anything, my descendants will have to discover about my life.   

‘Til next time.

 

 

Week 4: Education, Part 2

I have realized that I have often written about my Nana Wells and her accomplishments. I hope I haven’t bored you. But, it seems that with each new discovery, I gain more respect and admiration for her. She was in many ways a woman ahead of her time (driving a car, a working mother, etc.), all the while maintaining a very traditional family and outlook.

So, let’s get on with the story, shall we?

After graduating high school in 1915, Vida attended Los Angeles State Normal School, graduating in 1918 with teaching certificates for both manual arts and home economics. (A “normal” school was a teacher-training institute, named because they taught the “norms.”)

Vida could have rested on her laurels here, just renewing her certificates yearly as required, but she went several steps further.

According to her record of employment written in 1932, Vida was employed after graduation in the East Whittier Elementary school district for two school years, from September 1918-June 1919 and then September 1919-June 1920.  

In the summer of 1919, between her two years at East Whittier, she attended the University of California, taking three classes: Education, English, and Home Ec.

In 1919, Vida met Lawrence Wells, and they were married October 3, 1920.  When they married, Vida was teaching Manual Arts in Riverside, to the east of Los Angeles.  She taught in Riverside from September 1920-June 1921.

My mother, Bula, was born August 19, 1921, so Nana was on her feet for most of her pregnancy, without air conditioning, in Riverside, where it is always hotter than in Los Angeles.  

According to her 1932 work record, she took one year off work when Bula was born, the 1921-1922 school year, then from September 1922 until 1932, she worked continuously for the Los Angeles School District.  (She worked far past 1931; this is just from the record I have posted below.)

 

Again, Vida did not rest.  In 1924, she was awarded a “life diploma” in Manual Arts.  With this diploma, her teaching certification for manual arts stayed with her for life.

She continued to attend classes, while teaching full-time and having a child, at UCLA and USC.  In addition to the summer session of 1919, she also attended UCLA from 1924-1926.  She attended USC in 1932.  

(Reading through some of her letters, it is clear that the only reason Vida could work full-time and attend school while having a small child, is that her parents, my great-grandparents, Willis D. and Eva M. (Kesterson) Gard cared for Bula.  My grandfather, Lawrence, was gone for the first year and half of Bula’s life, and when he returned, his work was never steady.)

Here is her report card for the 1932 summer session at USC.

The next school year, September 1932-1933, Vida applied for, and was granted admission with advanced standing to Santa Barbara State Teachers College.  While she continued teaching, she took three college classes, September 1932-May 1933, Political Science, Principles of Mathematics, and Parent Education.

She also took classes during the summer: Activity Program, Reading Teaching, and Music Appreciation.

In 1934, right before my mother’s 13th birthday, Vida earned her Bachelor’s Degree.

Vida still wasn’t done.  

She applied for, and was granted, a life diploma in 1934 to teach in any subject in any school in the state of California.

In June 1935, she had her formal commencement for Santa Barbara State College.

And, Vida still wasn’t done…

In 1948, She attended USC, taking a class in Elementary School Supervision and Administration.

Although I do not have records of Vida taking more classes in the years between 1935 and 1948, and then 1948 until her retirement in 1959, I wouldn’t be bit surprised to find out that she had. 

Here is the announcement of her retirement in a local paper on May 21, 1959.

According to the article, Los Angeles School District employees were required to retire at 65.  Vida was 63 at the time, so she had taken advantage of the district’s early retirement option.  Frankly, I think looking at her record, she deserved it.  She had worked steadily for decades, both in educating children and herself, and perhaps it was time to take a break.

The photo below has no date, but I think it is probably from 1935, when she received her Bachelor’s Degree.

I was not quite one when Vida retired, so I only knew her in these later years.  I am so pleased to have had the opportunity, through her records, to learn more about her career.  She is an inspiration to me.

‘Til next time.

Week 4: Education, Part 1

I have been waiting for this prompt, ever since my brother, Richard, sent me a HUGE box of our grandmother’s school records and memories.  After our mother’s passing, Richard inherited a shed full of family mementoes (and random skeins of yarn and plant pots, too). 

Vida Bula Gard Wells, Nana Wells to her grandchildren, was a life-long learner and teacher.  I knew growing up that she had been an educator, and she had retained a very stern stare that only a teacher of small children with years of experience can carry off.  

By the time I arrived in the family, Nana had retired, so I never got to experience her as a working wife, mother, or grandmother.  

In contrast, my older sister, Jeanne, had the opportunity to watch Nana in action, and remembers that Nana had complete control over her class and never had to raise her voice.  I believe that. My siblings and I never even thought of sassing or disobeying her; she had complete control over us, too, without ever raising her voice.  She was stern and loving. 

What I did not know before sorting through all the papers and documents in the box was that Nana was so far ahead of most women of her time in her pursuit of education.  From the time she graduated high school in 1915 until 1948, she actively sought more learning and qualifications. Because of this, I’m going to make this story into several posts.

So, let’s begin shall we?

In the box that Richard sent me was a large fabric-covered scrapbook from Nana’s high school days, programs from her graduation, and her diploma. 

She attended Polytechnic High School in Los Angeles and graduated January 28, 1915. 

From the postcard, it seems rather grand, doesn’t it?

From the photo in Nana’s album, that’s exactly what the school looked like, with the addition of a power pole or two.  

The program from her graduation:

Her diploma:

 

Below is the class photo for Winter 1915; I have added a circle around Vida.

The scrapbook has photos of her and her classmates, handwritten notes on the pages, and drawings done by her friends.  The page below has Vida’s photo at the top and photo and message from a classmate, Pearl, beneath.

Below is a a page of photos from various classes, such as chemistry, algebra, and home economics:

Below is one of several full-page drawings:

Vida’s high school graduation was just the beginning of her education, not the end by any means. I will have more to say about that in my next post.

‘Til next time.

4.13.2022: More Poking About the 1950 US Census

The 1950 US census still isn’t completely indexed, but I have learned a new way to search that isn’t quite as cumbersome as going page-by-page blindly. This applies to Ancestry, so I’m not too sure if it is applicable to other hosting sites.

On Ancestry’s front page, on the right-side panel, you will see a box with a list of US censuses by date. The newest one is, of course, the 1950. Click on that to bring up the search page, but at the moment, just disregard most of the page. Instead, at the top, click on the hyperlink for “Explore Maps.”

This will bring you to a page that has a search box, where you can enter an street, town, or a specific address. This is where it’s very helpful to have an address for your relative!

Now the interactive map will bring up that address and the enumeration district. This is when you will need to begin to go page-by-page, but trust me, it’s much simpler when you have it narrowed down to one district. There aren’t too many pages per district, perhaps 10-20, so it can go very quickly.

Using this method, I found both sets of my grandparents this afternoon. Thankfully, I knew both of the street names, which quickly narrowed the search.

The census page below is for my maternal grandparents, Lawrence Wells and Vida Gard Wells.

They are still living at 667 Humphreys Ave, Los Angeles, the same house where Vida’s parents lived when Vida was newly married to Lawrence. I don’t know where Vida’s mother, my great-grandmother, Eva Kesterson Gard is living; perhaps with Vida’s sister, my Aunt Dola. I will need to research that.

667 Humphreys Ave., with my mother out front as a young girl, circa 1930.

Lawrence, 49, is the proprietor of a watch repair business, which at this time was in their home. After they moved to West Beverly Blvd. in Montebello, he opened a little shop next to their house. In the prior week, he reported that he had only worked eight hours. Vida is a school teacher, 54, who worked 25 hours the week prior to the census.

My three older siblings in front of the house at 667 Humphreys Ave. with the watch repair sign in the background.

There isn’t too much new information here for me, except for the fact that Lawrence is finally reporting his age accurately!

Below is the 1950 census sheet for my paternal grandparents, Charles L. Keene, Sr., and Perpetue Bergeron Keene.

They are living at 5116 Longfellow Ave., Los Angeles, which is the house I remember from my childhood. Charles is 66, and Perpetue is 56. They are both working and are proprietors of a “retail lunch stand.” I would so much like to find out more about that! What did they serve? Hot or cold? What neighborhood? Or did the lunch stand move around like today’s food trucks? Is this where I get my love of food trucks from???

5116 Longfellow Ave., Los Angeles: My Uncle George is holding my oldest brother, Robert, with five nieces and one nephew, circa 1943.

What I hadn’t known before this census is that my Aunt Betsy and Uncle Jake were living with Betsy’s parents, Charles and Perpetue. (Aunt Betsy (Elizabeth) was the third child and third girl for her parents. My father, Charles, was next to be born.) In 1950, Betsy was 33, born in Ohio, and worked as a dressmaker at a custom dress shop. Jake was 40, born in Tennessee, and worked as a bus driver.

Again, no a lot of new information, but I find it interesting regardless. It’s a little slice of life, a snapshot of sorts, or a time capsule, to give a clearer picture of my family.

Now, off to see where Great-grandma Gard was!

“Til next time.

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks 2020 | Week 47: Good Deeds

November 18-24

I think teachers are a special sort, don’t you? They live their lives doing good deeds, one after the other, with very little recognition. I think in the past year, in the midst of this pandemic, with its school closures and online learning, we have all realized the great work that teachers do.

There have been several teachers in my family. In my last post, I wrote about my great-grandmother, Theoline Soland, and three of her siblings who were teachers.

My grandmother, Vida Gard Wells, and her sister, Dola Gard Strong, were also teachers. Looking through my digital files, I found an interesting newspaper article about my Aunt Dola and her years as teacher in the Los Angeles School district.

The text reads:

“Born too late” lament of kids at Dalia Hts.

“Gee, I wish I could have had her! Why couldn’t she wait another year?” said many a Dahlia Heights School youngster. With the close of the school year, June 15, comes the end of the teaching career of Mrs. Dola G. Strong, one of the best-remembered and most-loved teachers in the Los Angeles school system.

Mrs. Strong, Sixth grade teacher and music director at Dahlia Heights Elementary School for the past 14 years, will have completed 40 years in the East District schools.

A graduate of Second Street Elementary School, near which she has lived for the past 50 years, Mrs. Strong proceeded through Polytechnic High School and UCLA. She was at one time president of the Los Angeles Music Teachers’ Association, and member of the Cecilian singers, when that group was under the direction of Louis W. Curtis.

Dahlai Heights Principle, Mrs. Lily Griffin, says of her, “She has made enduring friendships; pupils remember her long after they leave.”

Special Help

“The slow-working ones, the ones with problems, the ones who need extra work to keep their interest–she has the knack of winning their confidence.” Also, said Mrs. Griffin, “Mrs. Strong has never been too busy to help new teachers.”

A tea will be held in Mrs. Strong’s honor on Sunday, June 3, from 3 to 5 at Dahlia Heights, by the members of the PTA. All her friends and well-wishers are invited.

Upon retiring, Mrs. Strong and her husband, who retired two years ago from Lockheed Aircraft Co., will move to their ranch near Palmdale.

Aunt Dola certainly was known for her good deeds in the classroom and in her school environment.

In the same folder with the article about Aunt Dola, there was also a wonderful article about her sister, my grandmother, Vida Gard Wells.

The text reads:

TEACHER OF THE WEEK VIDA WELLS

Children need kindness and understanding, in a classroom, as well as at home. These two important factors are as necessary to a child’s mental health (or more so) as is the acquisition of knowledge and the learning of skills.

Often a teacher’s personality is the meduim through which warm wholesome relationships between teacher and pupils can be developed and maintained.

At Miramonte, Mrs. Vida Wells, of room 23, a veteran teacher, not only instructs the children in the 3 R’s but adds the “extra something” which to the children is love, or kindness, or just plain understanding; “something” which makes them happy and inspires them!

There’s a “homey” atmosphere in room 23, a sort of a “big family idea” with Mrs. Wells playing the dual role of tacher and mother. It’s even more interesting to hear Mrs. Wells say, “I have always thought of my class as a big family and I their ‘other mother’ while at school. I have tried to live by the Golden Rule and encourage the children to do the same. Kindness had always been one of my objectives… it goes a long way with children.”

During her teaching service, Mrs. Wells has taught in several grades as well as in a variety of subject matter. However her interest in youth has not been confined to the classroom or to her own family envirens. She has devoted much time and energy to Children’s Camps. “I feel that camp life does wonders for children,” says Mrs. Wells.

A cheerful friendly person, Mrs. Wells is a native Angeleno. All her schooling also was received in Los Angeles including her college studies at UCLA. She recieved her A.B. degree, however, at Santa Barbara State and has done graduate work at USC. Incidentally she attended the Second Street school and Polytechnic high school in Los Angeles.

A charter member of the Native Daughters of the Golden West, Mrs. Wells also belongs to the Rebekah lodge.

During the coming summer, the Wells family plans a trip “back east” with a possible tour of parts of the United States and Canada in mind. And it’s practically a certainty that Mrs. Wells’ fifth-grade will get an “extra something” to enrich their social studies unit on the United States, next fall.

Nanna certainly was loved and known for her good deeds, wasn’t she?

I find it interesting that both Vida and Dola were teachers, and very good ones, in the same school district. Occasionally, in a letter or a note, I hear hints of competitiveness. Which wouldn’t be unusual for siblings, would it?

My brother, Richard, has been scanning hundreds of photos from our mother’s belongings, and recently he found a set which is probably from Vida’s trip across the country in the summer of 1954.

Maybe a possibility for another blog post?

‘Til next time.

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks 2020 | Week 45: Bearded

November 4-10

Beards.

Love ’em?

Hate ’em?

I must confess that I am not a big fan of beards, although my husband and two sons all currently have whiskery faces. I just think that beards are like over-grown hedges around a house: Who knows exactly what or who is lurking in there???

Thankfully, the hubs and sons all have short, nicely trimmed facial hair.

I decided to scroll through the thousands of photos I have, searching for men with beards. (Thankfully, I don’t have any photos of bearded women in the family.)

Here are a few of my favorites.

Harriet (Stanley), Alberta, and William Pettingill, 1960

William Pettingill and Harriet Stanley are my 3rd great-grandparents. Their daughter, Alberta, is my 2nd great-grandmother. This photo is the oldest dated photo I have in my collection, dated 1860. I rather like the style of William’s beard here, as it allows his entire face to be seen.

I am guessing that the photo above is from sometime during, or more likely, after the Civil War, 1860-1865. These are my 2nd great-grandparents, William Perry Gard and Phebe Stewart. I can see the weariness of war in William’s face. Can you, too? His hair and his beard look scruffy, but I imagine that personal hygiene wasn’t high on his list of important things to do each day. I think that staying alive had a higher priority.

The photo above is my great-grandaunt, Josephine Gard, and her husband, Levi Orem. Josephine was the daughter of William and Phebe of the prior photograph. Levi’s beard is long and bushy, but at least it’s mainly confined to his chin!

What I find most interesting about this photo is the photographer, Mrs. S. P. Mast, a woman. I did a quick search on 19th century photographers and didn’t find her listed, but I did see that it would have been rather unusual for a woman to be a professional photographer during that time. Something to research on another day.

I know very little about the photo above, its date, or the people. I suspect, based on other photographs stored with it, that these are from the Norwegian side of my family, my mother’s grandmother, and from around the same time, mid-19th century. (One of these days, I will run these unknown photos through a facial recognition program.) This gentleman’s beard is of the era of the beards above, not covering the entire cheek, but rather limited to the chin and neck. And, not too long, either!

Aside: Looking through more photos, I believe I have identified the woman. I think she is Regina Knudsdatter, wife of Jacob Olsen, brother of my 2x great-grandfather, Hans Tobias Olsen (later Soland, after the family farm). I think her mouth is similar. What do you think?

And, if that is Regina, then the man with her is probably Jacob Olsen, who is sporting a fine set of whiskers in the photo below. With the beard, though, it is hard to see more of his facial features.

The man below is William C. Kendall, a 3rd great-grandfather (1825-1900). So, again the same approximate vintage as the photos above.

Again, he has the style of beard that is chin and cheeks only, without a mustache. A little Google research and I learned that this style was ushered into popularity by Abraham Lincoln. It is called the ‘chin strap” or “chin curtain.” I also learned that in the US until the Civil War, facial hair was considered radical. Beards became wide-spread due to the war, with the assumption that it reflected strength and masculinity. A full beard, as Jacob Olsen has above, wasn’t popular until the late 1800s.

Apparently, as with clothing styles, facial hair can help to date an old photo.

And, then lastly, I will leave you with this photograph of my great-great grandfather, George Kesterson, taken when he was 82 years old, in 1920.

The style of beard, in all its pure white glory, worn by George upon closer inspection is really just a goatee, a very overgrown goatee. I’d like to know how he drank his coffee.

Or, on second thought, perhaps I’d rather not know!

‘Til next time!

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks 2020 | Week 39: Should be a Movie. The End.

I have written the title for this post before I have actually written the post itself, in the hope that this will indeed bring this long, often sad, saga to a close. It’s been quite the ride, hasn’t it?

I will let you in on a secret: I haven’t actually read all of the remaining six letters yet, so I don’t want to get my hopes up for a happy ending, especially when I see the return addresses.

So, let’s do this.

Lawrence’s next letter was written September 12, 1927, after Vida and Bula had gone back to Los Angeles.

…I got a new tire after I had looked all over the country.
I left Butte about 11 o’clock and got to Missoula about 3:30 so that was not half bad.
Paul did not have anything done in the way of moving the shed (?) that they were waiting for me to Boss the job but he was going to have it all jacked up ready to slip the timbers under it nothing has bin(sic) done towards moving it yet.
Paul shipped a car load of spuds and I had to sew the sacks and help load the trucks.
My hand(s) were all blisters when I got through the first day as I did not tape my fingers or have any gloves.
Now we are finishing apples and I am nailing the tops on the boxes which is hard work.
Paul just got through milking and wants me to take him to Woodside to settle up on that last load of spuds so I don’t know whether I will get this finished tonight or not.
Saturday I put four lights in the garage and hog pen so that much is done. I started to dig a little out of the basement so I could put cement in Paul went after a rope Saturday to help pull the wheelbarrow out of the basement but I have not seen the rope yet he got to talking and forgot all about it.
Paul is having some sand and gravel hauled in now so it is beginning to look more like some thing was going to happen. (I have to leave now.)
I just got through with dinner and wiped the dishes for Mabel. I have got to go out and help her pick tomatoes as it looks as though it was going to freeze tonight it is getting chilly now and I caught cold yesterday so I feel the cold more . It rained last night and was to wet to pick apples this morning so we worked in the basement until 11 o’clock and then had lunch and started picking apples at 12 o’clock. I think that we can finish them tomorrow.
Paul sold 2 car loads of spuds last night so as soon as the weather permit(s) he sill start digging again.
There is snow on the tops of the mountains now and has bin(sic) there for several days. I had to go get my sweater on I have got to cut another entrance in the basement and close up the old one…
Time to get back to the apples.

Well.

There has certainly been a big change in Lawrence’s work situation. He is no longer solely at the creamery with his father, Willis. He is now working out on the farm with his sister, Mabel, and her husband, Paul. And, it sure sounds like they are all working quite hard, digging out a basement, picking apples and tomatoes, and unearthing potatoes, among other tasks.

The next letter was written September 20, and perhaps Lawrence is not full-time out at the farm afterall:

…I went to Missoula to the fair and gave out some of those little (?) that dad got for advertising and made a few calls an some grocery stores and got one customer dad sent 60 lbs to him this morning so that is not a bad start I wanted to call on some other ones but I did not have time…
I had my curtains fixed and got some new head lights…
I left here thursday night and I had to get home to close dads store Saturday night as he went to lodge doings I don’t know what time he got home it was 12:30 before I closed and he did not show up by then.
Paul is digging more spuds but I am working on the basement I am making a new stair way on the north side of the house as he is going to build on to the parlor and that will close the door. It sure is hard work doing it all alone Paul promised me help but I haven’t seen any of it yet. I have not got the shed moved yet and I don’t know when I will now.
Paul had another bunch of pigs when I got home from Butte, I don’t know how many but there must be at least 8 or 10.
Mabel is canning corn and has bin(sic) at it for 3 days now but she is almost through she is going to wash tomorrow so I have got to go in after the laundry.
if you thought that Mabel was buisy(sic) when you were here you ought to see her now she is doing last weeks ironing now.
Mabel said that we were going after clock change about next Sunday. I don’t know where we are going but we are going…
Mable said for you to send a picture to her of Aunt Jo.
(Lost a blue short of mind and we can’t find it do you know were it is??)

I’m exhausted just reading about the life on Paul and Mabel’s farm.

I do remember being on the farm in the summer, in the height of canning season, and it is true: Aunt Mabel was a whirling dervish. I can still smell the sweet, hot peaches in the canner.

Aunt Jo was Mabel’s mother’s sister; I have written about Jo Soland and her sister, Ida, here on the blog.

The next letter, dated September 26, brings with it the news of possible change again for Lawrence.

I just got your letter asking for a touch. Well the chances are very small but I will see if I can’t find a few sch(e)ckles to send in this letter but they can’t be many or I won’t have enough to buy gas to get to Portland with if I don’t look out. I have got to get another tire in I can and I have got to send in my last payment on the car so go easy on the amount of touches you made from now on until the 15 of next month.
I ought to go to Missoula next Monday if not sooner and get some more butter ordered but I don’t think that I can get away. I have got the shed all moved and tomorrow I am going to build the forms for the bridge so I can put the c(?) in for that the same time as I put the false back in. I have about every thing out of the basement now but Mabel’s fruit I will get that out tomorrow morning if she can help me I don’t want to get it mixed up…
I sewed sacks all day yesterday and now I have all kinds of blisters on my hands. I did not have to help with the spuds today as he had all kinds of help today, Paul has only about a 1/2 day left of spuds and then we are going to fly at the basement and that out of the way as it will take all of the time left to finish the concrete.
I had to help dad with the fair and I am sure glad that it is all done… I hardly had time to eat.
I forgot to tell you that I got a bath in the creek when I was moving the shed cross the creek I fell down and got all wet now my coveralls are on the line getting dry. I had to change everything what I had on except my cap that pants that I had on shrunk but I don’t know how bad. I have not tried them back on yet…

Sigh… Vida is back home in Los Angeles, and she is asking Lawrence for a “touch”, a bit of money. Lawrence doesn’t sound very willing or able to share. The reason given is that he won’t have enough money to get to Portland.

Portland? On his way home to California? Getting a job there? I have questions.

And, I sincerely feel for him sewing those heavy burlap potato sacks together. Burlap is a very sturdy fabric, perfect for potato sacks, but it’s incredibly rough, like sandpaper to your hands. I can honestly say that Lawrence is earning his keep, working both the farm and the creamery.

Bula, on the right, and a little friend, Las Vegas, September 7, 1927

In California, both Vida and Bula were probably back at school, after a quick trip to see a close friend of Vida’s in Las Vegas.

The 2nd Street School, where Vida taught and Bula attended, circa unknown

The next letter is dated October 4:

Well another milestone is pasted(sic).
Well I don’t know whether I will be able to leave by the 15th or not but I hope to I won’t get through with the basement until next week some time and then I have got to make the doors for the garage that will take 2 or 3 days t get then nailed and hung and then I have got to spend a couple of days on my car so I won’t have to stop and do any work on the way.
We just got through taring and papering the side walls in the basement…then Sunday we will tar the floor so we can run that in Monday. Then Tuesday I will have to put in the steps and put the door on then that will be done…
Mabel has not marked the pictures so I will bring them when I come…

Did you catch that??? It sure sounds as if Lawrence is finally, after three long, hard, years, on his way back to southern California. I am not ready to breath a sigh of relief just yet, as there are two more letters sitting beside me.

October 12, 1927, postmark Hamilton, Montana:

Dear Vida and Bula,
Well it won’t be long now.
We will finish the basement tomorrow if it don’t rain.
We had a little hail, snow, and rain today…
Wednesday I start to get the Buick in shape then comes Paul’s ford and Lewey Worth’s then I start to travel.
I will get a camera in Missoula at a discount as I will get it at the Missoula Drug also some film. I sure hope that the weather is good so I can get lost of pictures.
It may be an extra week before I can get started there will be at least 6 or more days of work on the cars.
Lewey wants me to put in a light in the barn loft but that won’t take long. He was over here not long ago and asked me if I would have time to take a few nocks(sic) out of his ford.
I could not say no so I will have to do it. I don’t think it will take long at least I hope it won’t.
About that money that I sent you you can keep it for a present of Oct 3. I think that I will have enough if I don’t have to get another tire which I have I don’t.
The Skalhaha(sic) is not closed yet but they have had a lot of rain and most of the cars are going around by Missoula.
Yes, I had the pants with the white stripes in, on the day I took a bath in the ditch they did not shrink much though only a little at the bottoms but not bad I have them on now.
Mabel said to tell you that she was still looking for the Sears and Roebuck or the Monkeyward catalogs.
Yes, I got the pictures that you sent…
From the looks of things I will leave here about next Monday or Tuesday…

Are you beginning to breathe a little easier now? Lawrence is indeed on his way home.

Home.

Three years, and possibly more, from when we began this story. He sure has changed, hasn’t he? He sounds stronger, even a bit excited. His signature on this last letter is a quickly scribbled LEW, as if he wants to hurry and not spend time with silly signatures when there are cars to fix, so he can leave.

In this letter are two references that might not be clear. The first is the Skalkalo Pass, which at 7,258 feet would be impassible in an auto in the 1920s.

Below is a photo of Lawrence in 1929, stopped on the Skalkaho Pass.

August 31, 1929

The second reference is to the “Monkeyward” catalog. That was the name my family had for the Montgomery Wards catalog. I don’t know if other families did the same, but that sure was us. Those catalogs were the Amazon of our days, where you could get anything delivered, even a house.

And now, finally, we are at the final letter, postmarked October 19, 1927, in an envelope from the Palace Hotel in Missoula, Montana:

Well here I am on my way.
I am going to Spokane at least tomorrow I don’t know just how much further I will be able to go as I am going to do most all of my driving at day light until I get to S.F. then I will drive at night.
I have bin(sic) waiting for a call from Ross but I guess that he is not home yet so I will go to bed and get an early start.
As ever yours
Lawrence E.
I was just talking to Ross and I am gong to have breakfast with him at the Royal cafe as he and another fellow are going hunting.
L.E.W.

And, with that last letter, we come to the end of this could-have-been-a-movie saga in the lives of my grandparents. All these letters were stored in a carved wooden box, made by Vida at Polytechnic High School, Long Beach, in 1918, and signed by her on the bottom. They must have meant something very special to her.

I think Vida and Lawrence went on to have a happy life together. At least that was always the impression that I got, although, as I was so young when Lawrence died, that probably isn’t very reliable. We do have hundreds of photos of their life together, and in those, I get an impression of comfort and affection between them. I do hope so. We always want those we love to be loved and happy, don’t we?

This one last photograph is my favorite of Lawrence, or Nampie as we kids called him. This is a man in his happy place, at peace with himself and the world.

Lawrence E. Wells, March 1963

I miss him.

‘Til next time.

52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks 2020 | Week 39: Should be a Movie, Part 11 of Several (And seriously, does it even matter at this point???)

Update: In case you are confused over the missing Part11 of this saga, apparently so was I! I had written the draft and saved it, but somehow completely forgot to publish it! Things will make a lot more sense now. So, here it is:

1927: Things have again turned tough for my grandfather, Lawrence, who is back in San Francisco after apparently being able to spend Christmas with his family after all. His boss has died in a tragic accident, the rain has made his work impossible, and his teeth (it would seem) still are needing attention.

We left off in February, and his next letter is postmarked the 17th of that month:

..each night brings the same thing no work only promises and one can’t live on promises at least I am not getting fat on any of them instead I have lost 10 lbs and still going down. One good thing I don’t smoke but very little now it won’t be long before I can quit all together. I don’t smoke any sigarettes(sic) now only my pipe and one can of tobacco lasts one week so that is not bad…

I still remember putting my nose deep into Nampies tobacco cans and inhaling the sweet scent of pipe tobacco. My Nanna reused those cans for buttons and so did my mom; it is one of those smells that can instantly transport me back to my childhood.

The letter continues:

…It has bin(sic) raining here for the past few days… I got soaked yesterday walking around looking for a job.
Tell Mother that she will have to be satisfied hearing from me through you as I have only one stamp to mail this with. Also thanks for the Valentine that she sent to me. Also thanks for your Valentines as they both came in handy but it all went for eats and car parts.
Tell Mother that I will put the statement in the hands of the doctor as soon as I get it. I am almost sure they will get results…
I don’t know whether you can read this or not as I am so shaky that the pen won’t work good. I don’t know whether I am going or coming.

So, things are much the same as they have been.

The next letter was written March 3, and Lawrence still hasn’t found a job, but he writes about Uncle Maurice and Aunt Ella:

… I have a shock for you. I have bin(sic) out to Aunt Ella’s twice in the last 2 weeks and found them at home. I found out why I did not find any body the other times that I went out there she has bin(sic) staying in the office most all day.
Things are starting to kick up a little bit now but not much it had to rain last night and it wanted to rain all day…
There are a coupil(sic) of boys that are going to ship out with the Edison up at Big (?) or one of the other camps and if there is any chance I think that I will go with them. There is not much in it but you are sure of your eats and that is the most important thing.
I tried to get on the river boat here but there was no chance and not much chance on anything else.

Poor Lawrence…

The next letter from Lawrence was written March 13, 1927, his 26th birthday. There are hints of what the future might hold for him in it:

… I got a letter from Dad yesterday and he would like to have me come up there and help him, but I would not stay through next winter as I don’t think that I could stand the cold weather. But I would not mind going up there for the summer. If I do go you will have to come up after school is out. The trip will do you and Bula good. Mother could look after the place while you are gone and then next fall I can go back with you or I can wait until about the 1st of November and then go to L.A. I expect that Dad will want me to stay as long as possible.
By going up there I can get all my debts paid and then I won’t have them to worry about. then too if that school is still running I can take that in and get a clean start.
What do you think about it? be sure and answer that question…
O yes I almost forgot to thank you for the shorts and Bula for the hanky. You will probably get the shirt back before you get this letter. it is to(o) big did you think that my neck had gotten a 1/2 size larger than it was when I was there last or did you think that some one had hit me on top of the head and flattened my neck or what, Ha Ha.
I only wear a 15 in a dress shirt as they seldom shrink a half size. 15 1/2 is the size of any work shirt as the(y) shrink when washed….

The return of the shirt apparently did not sit well with Vida, and there is more talk of a big change in the next letter, dated March 20:

You said that I did not try on that shirt but I did that is why I sent it back. So you got fooled that time just because I folded it up is no sign that I did not try it on…

And, now you can continue on to Part 12, which will hopefully now make perfect sense!