Ane Marie - Chapter I

The Ventriloquist and the Pregnant Lady

If this were a movie, it would open on an out of focus muddy, rain-swept street. The street would be lined with gray, aging buildings. At the bottom of the screen would appear the text, 'July, 1874'. There, at the end of the street, would be a tent, flapping in the wind, making those popping sounds that tents make in the wind. Another noise would build until it was a distinct laughter and applause. Rowdy noises from a small crowd being entertained by jugglers and acrobats. You'd zoom in through a hole in the tent wall, past the gate-keeper collecting the penny sized entrance fee, and you would see a young man in his mid twenties performing such an act, with the quick banter that makes a ventriloquist all the more intriguing to watch. But then, as the sounds became more distinct, you would realize that the jokes and banter were all in Danish.

And if you were really there, then the smell would hit you. There are smells that tell you immediately where you are. This smell is of the ocean and fish. Lots of fish. You'd look around and you'd see that most members of the crowd were fishermen still dressed in their rain gear, their faces dirty and their beards matted and untrimmed. They'd be just off of the boats and smiling. Some of them would even still have their money from their share of the catch.

Amongst them, gathered in small groups, would be children and young women, laughing and giggling. In one of these groups would be a young, very pregnant woman. She's not laughing so much as she is intently watching the juggler. A smiling child turns to her and calls her name, "Ane", to which she does not respond. Then, in a louder voice the child yells out, "Ane Marie". She turns to look at the child. That's when you'd see clearly the tear stained face of this red haired beauty.

Amidst the ever present grime of the times, her high cheek bones and strong features would have made her stand out, but her hair is like an ember in the darkness, almost glowing. Surrounded by the blond, brown, black and gray of the crowd, she stands out. In the spring of 1874 it was not an easy thing for anyone, especially the common folk, to keep clean. She, however, sparkles. Obviously she has taken a great deal of time to be ready for when the tides brought him home to her. By her clothes you can tell her station in life is to be a member of the working class, but right now her shine and aura lifted her above the mob.

But he doesn't seem to care. Her husband of less than a year has just returned from two months at sea, and there he is, entertaining everyone else in town, instead of rushing to her. This morning, in her cramped and lonely room, she had admitted to herself that it was his spirit and talents that had made her pay attention to such an older man. But it is his love and devotion that she wants and desires. She has always wanted to be loved by this man and right now it is as if he can not see her for the laughter and applause of others.

Finally, as he turns a bit to the right, he spots her and his smile gets bigger. He almost drops the fish he is holding. He's seen her and she has seen his smile. The wave of warmth that sweeps over her is worth all the water hauling and scrubbing and brushing and worries. He'd smiled. Tonight he would hold her and the baby and all would be right with the world.

And they would have some money to put in the box for their own place. Her mother and father were as kind hearted as they could be, but "When?" was an ever present though unspoken question. There was only so much room in her father's house. Her brother Rasmus had only moved to the home of his wife's family about a year before, just after he and Ane Kjerstine had gotten married. Sophie, Ane Marie's older sister, had also finally moved with her husband of four years and her two babes into their own place. But that still left seventeen year old Anders, fourteen year old Johanne and ten year old Juliane stuffed into the small farmhouse that papa had built. Twenty nine year old Lars was usually away on the fishing boats, but his things were kept at the house too.

Juliane grabs her sleeve and calls her name again, "Ane Marie, can we go home now?"

"Not yet. He's almost done. He just started with the fish. Can you see?"

Ane Marie squats a bit to get Juliane's point of view. From this vantage point she can just see Ole's head, but she can tell he has begun tossing a large fish above the heads of the audience. She wonders out loud, "How ever does he do that?" Juliane giggles. "I don't know, but if he drops them he better not bring them home."

"Come on." They head towards the back and out through a flap so they can go around the outside and be there when he finishes. An "Aw!" from the crowd says that he has finished. Otto, the gatekeeper, nods goodnight. The rain pelts them as they leave the shelter and they hurry to the split in the tent wall's side. And they wait, hunching over. It's only a minute or two, but in the rain it seems longer.

But when he comes out the time was nothing to Ane. He puts down the bucket the fish are in and grabs her. Hugging her against his own messy rain gear doesn't bother her. She hugs him back even harder, nesting her head under his bearded chin. Her arms don't even go around the barrel of his chest. Turning her face up into the rain and the radiance of his smile, she stretches to kiss his chin and his lips.

The tugging on her arm takes a long time to get her attention. Finally they turn their heads towards Juliane and Ane Marie stares the daggers that young sisters are used to while Ole just smiles. "Let's go!", Juliane shouts. She grabs the bucket and starts tromping off past the tent and up the street. By now the small group of fishermen leaving the tent are bustling around the two lovers. They both turn and he grabs her around the shoulder with one arm, hugging her to him still as they move away from the tent and after Juliane.

In this rain the flickering lights from the windows don't reveal much and the farther down the street they travel the farther apart the buildings and houses are. Quickly they are on a dirt cart path heading up a hill. In the darkness the few candles in the few windows are flickering about the same as the stars. But you can't see any stars tonight. The rain is pretty constant, but it is nothing more than the normal spring rains for this northern island.

As they started up the hills he had taken her left hand with his left hand and placed his right hand on the small of her back, as if they were dancing a promenade. He was guiding her around the puddles and rocks, helping her to climb the gentle slopes. But her mind was a year away, back when they first danced in May of 1873.

He was tall and strong. He didn't smell of fish back then. The celebration was her brother Rasmus' wedding. Ole and Rasmus had been working together on a ship out of Copenhagen. When Rasmus announced that he was getting married he surprised his bunkmate and asked him to be the best man. Ole said yes, "As long as I don't have to dance with someone ugly."

The wedding day, May 26th, 1873 had come and Rasmus was afraid that Ole wouldn't be there. He hadn't arrived the night before, as planned. But on the morning of the wedding, before everyone else was even out of bed, a knock on the door announced his arrival. Ane Marie had been up, stoking the fire for breakfast. Mama told her to go answer the door.

She opened it to the bright light of the sun. Standing there, casting a large shadow on her, was Ole Andreasen. "Good Morning!", he said, but she just stood there for a moment. A split second was all it took for her to realize that he was staring back at her. "Come in, come in.", she said sheepishly. She blushed and, turning, called for Rasmus to come to the door.

Rasmus came quickly, a towel still around his neck. He wiped his hands and gave Ole a hug. He turned to Ane Marie, still standing there, holding the door, and introduced her to Ole. "Ane Marie, this is my good friend, Ole Andreasen. Quick, go get him some coffee." Turning back to Ole he chuckled. "Come in. Come in." Rasmus shut the door and followed his friend into the main room. It was May on the calendar, but the fireplace was still going. "What happened?"

"The owner of the show asked me to stay after the tryouts. He said that I wasn't very good, but that I was the only one he was going to let come back. I'm in! I get to start next week."

"That's good, but how much will you get paid?"

"He didn't say. But I'm sure that it will be enough to help. I can work with a live audience, instead of just my friends."

Ane Marie listened to the conversation from just inside the kitchen as she got Ole a cup of coffee. She wondered what kind of an 'act' this tall fellow had. When she brought the coffee in she saw Ole juggling a couple of balls with his right hand. She watched in amazement as he took the cup from her and sipped the steamy contents, never breaking the rhythm of the conversation.

When he saw her mouth open in amazement he chuckled. "How do you do that?"

"Practice. Every hour we're on the boat, waiting to haul in the nets, I practice."

Rasmus started to laugh. "He made a fish talk to Will last week and Will lost three fish overboard. The Captain nearly threw Ole in after them."

"He just doesn't appreciate the skill it takes." He looked at Ane Marie and started to explain. "Throwing your voice is actually done in two parts. First you have to 'listen', you know, turn your head, look at the speaker and second, you have to control the sound. It's really just focus."

Mama shouted from the kitchen, "Boys! Boys! Come get some breakfast. We have a lot to do before we go to the Church. Rasmus. Your wedding is in three hours. You need to be ready. I've laid out your clothes. Please try and keep them clean until after the ceremony."

"Yes, Mama." Rasmus grabbed Ole's shoulder and pushed him towards the kitchen and away from Ane Maria. One more smile and he turned from her and followed after Rasmus. Just as he went into the kitchen he turned and saw that she was still watching him. He smiled again.

When she saw him turn and look back at her, her heart did something that she had never experienced before. It did a flip flop. She turned bright red and quickly turned away. With her high cheekbones and dark red hair, she had seen lots of young men enamoured with her. But none of them, not Olaf or Gregg, none of their stares had every made her blush. And this man only looked at her for a moment. As she straightened the wood around the fireplace, picking some out some to take to the kitchen, she kept an eye on the door to the kitchen, hoping he would come back. She could hear Mama laughing. When she stood and turned she could see the red and yellow balls going up and down. Now they were in his left hand, but that was all she could see. It was enough. She took her armful of wood and walked purposefully towards the kitchen. When she got to the doorway she stopped to say, "Excuse me." But she didn't need to. He was already looking in her direction, waiting for her, turning to allow her to enter.

She already had her clothes laid out for the wedding, but now she felt that she needed to get 'more' ready. She put the wood in the bin next to the stove. "Mama, can I go get ready now?"

"Yes, but send Juliane down to set the table."

As she turned she could feel his eyes before she saw them. He was riveted to her. He dropped his fork but she grabbed it before it hit the floor. He reached out to take it from her.

"Thank you. You've got quick hands. Maybe you should learn how to juggle."

She just smiled and excused herself. She hurried up the stairs, but as she did she could hear Rasmus laugh at his friend. "So. You like my sister, hey?"

"I definitely will dance with her. She has your mother's eyes and none of your annoying characteristics. Hey, when do I get to meet this new wife of yours? Honestly, Mrs. Olson, if it wasn't for all of your preparations I'd believe that she was a figment of his imagination."

"Oh, she's real alright. But you can't see her until I do and then it will be too late for you because then she will be my wife."

"She is very real, Mr. Andreasen, and she is very beautiful. She is very faithful. She goes to every meeting at the church. I think that she will keep my boy on the straight and narrow."

"He has been really boring lately. That Church and Ane Kjerstine are all he talks about. According to him her face is as radiant as the sun and… " Rasmus shoved Ole off of the chair he was sitting on. The scraping sounds of the chair covered up the middle of his description. "… so soft and tender." Ole picked himself up and put the chair back in place.

"Boys! No rough housing in here today."

They both chimed in, "Yes, mama."

"And Rasmus, you promised not to talk about that Church today while everyone is here. You promised."

"I haven't said any..", but her stern glance stopped the words. "Yes, mama." He turned and grinned at Ole. "Come on, Ole. Let's get you cleaned up. You smell like the barn you slept in."

"Finish your breakfast first and then tell Ane Marie to get back down here. I need to help her finish getting ready."

"Yes, mama."

The two young men scarfed down the eggs, potatoes and coffee. Then they struggled to get through the door at the same time, pushing, shoving and laughing so hard that they got another glare from mama, but they made it out before she scolded them again. "Ane Marie!", Rasmus shouted up the stairs, "Mama wants you to come back down. She's ready to help you."

Ane Marie shouted back, "Coming.", but her voice was too loud, like she had been standing at the top of the stairs listening to the conversation all along. When she did turn the corner she was all dressed for the wedding. Even Rasmus stopped to stare at his beautiful young sister come down the stairs. And Ole, well, Ole was mesmerized. She didn't bother to blush this time. She just glided down the stairs and into the kitchen, smiling at him with those bright green eyes of hers.

Ole was following her in rapt attention when Rasmus shoved him so hard he nearly lost his balance. "Hey! Come on.", Rasmus said.

It was their turn to climb the stairs and get ready.

And she, when she heard their footsteps on the stairs, turned and peeked, but all she saw were their shoes as they got to the top of her view. She turned back to mama, who was staring at her.

Sheepishly she went to her and turned around so mama could put on the necklace that her great grandmother Elizabeth had worn when she had been a lady in waiting at the court of the Danish King.

"Are you sure, mama? This is so beautiful."

"Not that it will be seen very well under your beautiful hair, but it is part of my inheritance. We might as well get some use out of it."

"Thank you, mama. I will be very careful with it."

"I know." Mama stepped back and looked at her middle daughter. Tall and straight, Ane Marie really was a sight to behold. Dressed like she was today in these clean clothes. Mama smiled and Ane Marie reached over and hugged her. "Careful, you'll get all dirty.", she said. But she hugged her back. "Now, go get your sisters and start heading to the church. You need to be there in time to help. Tell Ane Kjerstine's family that we will be there as quick as we can."

"Yes, mama." Ane Marie went to the bottom of the stairs, but her sisters, Johanne and Juliane were already coming down. They were giggling and looking back up the stairs, and giggling, until they saw her. Then they laughed out loud. They grabbed their coats and would have rushed out the door before she could ask them what it was that they thought was so funny, only she stood in their way.

They hesitated, but then blurted out, "Ole was talking to Rasmus about you. He wanted to know everything about you."

"Really?" But that was all she had to say. She turned and, when they couldn't see her face, she smiled and led the way down the road to the church. It was several kilometers to the church. The girls fell in behind her, still giggling and talking to each other.

When they reached the church they could see that the Pedersens were already there. At least some of them. Ane Kjerstine wouldn't be there until the last, but the rest of her family were busy doing the last minute straightening up and placing bouquets of flowers all around the door. As they got closer they said good morning to Ane Kjerstine's brothers, Peder and Hans.

Since both of Ane Kjerstine's parents were gone, her older brother, Peder would be giving her away. He had taken over the farm and Ane Kjerstine lived there with him. Word had it that he would soon be going to America to be with his 'Mormon' friends.

"Hello, girls."

"May we help?"

"Yes. We need to get some of these flowers into the Bride's Room. Can you do that for us?"

"Yes. That's what we're here for. How is Ane Kjerstine this morning?" Each of the girls went to the cart where the flowers were laid. Careful not to get their clothes and hands dirty, they took the rags from the side of the cart and wrapped them around the stems of the flowers, and then took their bundles into the church.

"Don't know, actually. She and her Maren were still in her room when we left."

Hans said, "They were crying." Ane Marie and her sisters stopped at the doorway and looked back in concern.

Peder Lars gave him a quick glance, but then said, "Nothing to worry about.", he smiled. "I'm not sure which one was crying the loudest. Something about Ane Kjerstine's hair. But they'll be here soon enough."

The concerned look vanished from the girls faces. They knew how Ane Kjerstine worried about her hair. "So will the rest of our family.", Juliane said.

Ane Marie added, "Rasmus' friend, Mr. Andreasen, arrived just as we were leaving. They will be here as soon as he gets cleaned up" Then they were through the door and into the church.

Even though the windows faced the sun, the interior was much darker than the bright sunlit doorway. It took the girls eyes a moment to adjust, and then they turned to their right and went into the small room at the back of the chapel. This Bride's Room as really a coat closet, but every bride to be for the last century had used it to keep hidden from the eyes of the groom until the last moment. There was even a small door to allow them to enter, or leave, though family members usually guarded the door, once the bride was inside. Ostensibly the guards were to keep anyone from stealing the bride. But more than one maiden had been turned back from running when the door had bumped up against a burley family member.

The candles were already lit, so the girls arranged the flowers on the small table and low benches that lined the room. The benches were really shelves that usually held the muddy boots and shoes of the parishioners on Sunday. They had been scrubbed clean and all of the coats had been removed. The pegs on the wall were now conveniently empty. The girls took several of the stems of flowers and cut the blooms off an inch or two down from the blossom. They placed these flowers on the table. Then they set about tying up two or three stems of flowers with the stems now missing blossoms. They hung the neatly tied bundles on the pegs. The smells of the blossoms would never hide the musty order of the room, by themselves, but they did brighten the dark walls. Hans brought more flowers. The girls all said, "Thank you." He just grunted and hurriedly went back to help his brother.

The girls continued their work and they were done before their mother arrived. Mama inspected the room and the girls handiwork and smiled. "Good job. Ane Marie you stay here and help Ane Kjerstine when she gets here. Johanne and Juliane, you come with me. We need to get the benches wiped down."

"Yes, Mama." Then Juliane turned back to Ane Marie. "I guess you'll just have to wait to see 'him' again." Then she giggled and closed the door. That left Ane Marie alone in the room with only a couple of candles lit. But her thoughts were light enough for her. Slowly she went to the other end of the room and opened the small door. No one was there yet, so she closed the door. She had time to begin dreaming about her own wedding day, when she would be brought through this back door, to hide until the last moment.

Ane Marie - The Introduction - Or The 'Facts' We Do Have

Ane Marie

Copyright @ 2010

Aurora Publishing

First published in the United States of America by

Aurora Publishing

4 Sandridge Drive

Bella Vista, Arkansas 72715-5404

Mike.Kline1@COX.NET

The Introduction - Or The 'Facts' We Do Have

From what I was told, our ancestors were pretty strong willed individuals, prone to doing what they thought they needed to do, even when others thought them crazy. Take my Great-Great-Grandma, Ane Marie Olsen.

That's her on the far right of this photograph, taken between 1921 and 1922. The little girl in the middle is my mother, Zelda Lorraine Brown. Everyone in my generation has been told the stories. If she were alive today, Ane Marie would be over 150 years old and she would still be a driving force in her family.

The following story is how I remember and imagine the facts.

In My Garden - The Day She Left

By Amanda Marie Kline

The day she left was the worst day of my life. I was working at the Stateline Casino in Wendover, Nevada at that time. I was delivering drinks and one of the security guards came and stopped me and told me to call my family right away.


As I went to the bar to use the phone, Jimmy the bartender at the time told me that I had a phone call. I answered and it was my sister Rebecca. She told me about Grandmother.

When she told me that my Grandmother, my best friend, wasn't going to make it to the next morning, I went crazy. I started to bawl my eyes out. I was selfish and I wasn't thinking about anybody else but me. "What was I going to do now that she was gone? I lost the only person in my life that really understood me and respected me.

I told my sister that I would be there as soon as possible. I was thinking that my life was over because my best friend was gone.

The day of my Grandmother's funeral I wanted to do something special, but I was too late. My family had already decided to do things without me. I wanted to tell people about hou she turned my life around.

She believed in me

She loved me for who I was

And for who I am now

And now she is gone

My Grandmother - My best friend

Life is too short, but love, respect and belief are forever and eternity. To my best friend, my mentor.

In My Garden - Of My Mother On The Occasion Of Her Funeral

Of My Mother On The Occasion Of Her Funeral

by Michael Edward Kline


I almost changed the format of the meeting to that of a testimony meeting so that all of those who wanted to say something or perform something had a chance, but Mom wanted a few things to happen today. She wanted music. With the help of Sister Carty and the Grandchildren and Rodney and Jon, we are doing that.

She wanted her family to be part of the program, and we are doing that.

Most of all, she wanted all of us to know how much she loved us. She wanted each of her grandchildren to remember their special bonds and moments, to know that she loved and cared for each one of them as individuals. There's an even dozen of them, like Easter eggs in a carton, colored and decorated by their own styles and experiences, each as precious as the Cartier jewels that she felt they are. She knew of their talents and problems and she wanted to do so much for each one. She cuddled each one until they were old enough to stand on their own. She spoke to each one of them about their dreams and hers. They all know something special about her that she shared only with them. And she knew a lot about each ones hopes and desires.

Her ten children, 5 boys and 5 girls were her cherished ones. She was a terrible image as a mother-in-law because she wasn't one. Each son's wife became her daughter, sharing an openness and love matched only by their own mother. Her daughters brought home new sons to bless the house and become part of her love. Tim and John hold places in her heart as dear as my own. Christine, Cindy and Edith were her girls as if from birth. Her love for these made only stronger her love for those whom she had born. We all have these moments so special and dear. In the last few days we have shared some of these with each other and refreshed the spirits by the joy that each one recalls. Mother had a gift of insight and understanding that let her see when something little and insignificant to the world would mean the world to us. From special words and nicknames to daring feats, she did so many that we can not share them all. She held all night vigils for sick children or sat with them at rain soaked campsites or made overnight trips to San Francisco and back with a young pregnant daughter. She shared her love of the scriptures and good books, reading to us all and giving us a chance to set worthy goals as we sat around her knees.

She loved her brothers and sisters and felt their joys as her own and their anguish and sorrows too. She shared stories with us of BB guns and bottled beets and carriages on muddy streets. She held their hands and touched their hearts, keeping pace with each of them along their way, listening to them and laughing with them and crying for them as they shared with her this love.

More than anyone, she wanted her companion, friend and husband to know how much she loved him and thanked God for him every day. He truly broke the shackles of a dismal and lonely future when he came into her life and took up the yoke with her to pull us through this world. For forty-four years, they have toiled together, planting flowers and ideas around the world. Their vines run long and bind us to them forever. Mother often spoke of how right it was for them to have found each other. She spoke often of the conversations with Grandma Rilla Belle Kline who said that the Lord was just putting together what should have been from the start. Her capacity to love was nourished by his willingness to synchronize their hearts and desires. Together they formed a bedrock anchor to which all of us look. Many of you know about the constant moving Mom and Dad did for the first eight years, but here was always home. All of their children have moved around the world and back, but Mom and Dad's house has always been a place of rest. Never mind the noise or the crowd, we always feel that we are safe to lay down our worries and fears and rest here.

Mother was connected with the things happening to the world in special ways. Her talents for expression have been passed on to her children and grandchildren. The music and poetry have flowed through to all of us.

In My Garden - Zelda by Ivene Rodeback

Zelda

She said to me, each time we met,

"You're the sister of my heart."

I said to her, "I know that's true

Our sister spirits will never part."

No matter how far apart we were,

It really was quite true.

We seemed to feel each other's soul

And our friendship grew and grew.

I'd whisper all my secrets,

She'd tell her thoughts to me.

Our tears and joy we shared as one,

My faults she'd never see.

She loved her family dearly,

But Owen was her star.

She really hasn't left us,

She'd never go that far.

She'd brag about her children,

They could do no wrong you see.

We'd agree that all our kids

Were as good as they could be.

One thing we have in common

And you'll notice right away,

If you come to visit one of us

The dogs are there to play.

We'll miss the way she loved us.

We'll miss her laugh and smile,

The wisdom that she blessed us with,

Her classy, noble style.

Some of us walk with Angels

And we did when she was here

But now she's free and with her love

Can always be quite near.

You cannot doubt, you've heard it said

That Angels do abide.

So when you feel a warm sweet breeze,

It's Zelda by your side.

In My Garden - Obituary

1998 Zelda Lorraine Brown Kline

The following obituary appeared in the Salt Lake Tribune and the Deseret News, Monday, September 14, 1998:

"Zelda Lorraine Brown Kline, a published author, a lover of the scriptures in which she was well versed, a former US Coast Guard office in WWII and mother of five, died September 11, 1998 at the University of Utah Hospital. Born April 3, 1921 in Ogden, Ut, she grew up in Preston, Id and Nyssa, Or., graduating from Nyssa High School. Zelda and Owen were married September 3, 1954 in Holiday, Ut. And sealed September 3, 1968 in the Salt Lake LDS Temple.

A member of the LDS Church all her life, she is survived by her husband of 44 years, Owen Arthur Kline and her five children and their families: Michael (Christine) Kline, Amanda (John) Farr, Evan (Edith) Kline, Jonathan (Cynthia) Kline and Robyn (Timothy) Bosley; and 11 grandchildren. Preceded in death by father, William A. Brown; stepfather, Evan Jones; mother, LaVerna Jeppesen; sisters, Joyce Young and Esther Janette Brown; brother, Raymond Jay Jones, and granddaughter, Amber Beth Kline.

Funeral services will be Wednesday, 1 p.m., at the Kearns Central Stake Center, 4575 West 5415 South. Friends may call Tuesday, 6-8 p.m., at McDougal Funeral Home, 4330 South Redwood Road, and Wednesday at the church, 12-1 p.m. Interment: Utah Veterans Memorial Park."

In My Garden - 1 June, 1998 - Memories

Again, I lay thinking of yet another time and place, 71 years ago.

I have felt sorry for myself these past days. My back is broke. I feel a lot of pain and I feel resentful that I could not care for my home or my husband or my family.

Jon and his boys are here and this is where they should be, but our small house seems at times over filled, yet it really is not, not when I think back to 1927. I was six, my small brother, Mark, not even a year and half and even at that young age knew that Mama carried yet another baby in her body. We children of that time were not unknowing. We lived with animals and the spring brought forth lambs and calves. We watched the baby chicks hatch in the big black dripper pans that were stacked around the big black coal stove.

I'm thinking tonight of how hard it must have been for my mother and grandmother, yet, without hesitation, Marcus and Amanda had come to Salt Lake, gather up LaVerna and her children and had taken them home to a house, a much smaller house than mine. They cared for us with love and sometimes scolding, but I remember mostly love.

My mother was only 24, yet she was already a widow with two small children and a third one on the way while another one lay in a small grave in the North Ogden Cemetery. How she must have worried about tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come.

As I look at the picture of Marcus and Amanda on my bedroom wall, I remember that they were only in the forties. If, in my memory, they seemed old, it is only because age came earlier 70 years ago.

How crowded we had to have been in that tiny house at 605 South State. Yet, in spite of the fact that I sometimes cried for the daddy that had often carried me on his shoulders, I more often found a happy world with cousins, Aunts and even a Great Grandmother up the street.

How hard it must have been for those wonderful people, our Grandparents. Grandpa made us rooms on what had been a lean-to back porch. Houses for our income group came with one bedroom. By the door of the kitchen stood a wash stand with a big pitcher of water and a bowl to wash in. A rod across the back held a towel and crotchet wash cloths. Above was a mirror, quite flawed. On my living room wall are two colorful ceramic parrot vases. They held toothbrushes then, but today I count them among my treasures.

A big kitchen table sat in the center of the kitchen, covered with oilcloth. It was used for so many things, to make the daily bread, which was made at least every other day. It was to peel the apples on that were to be used to make apple butter for that bread. On its cleaned off surface, my dresses and the boys' shirts, my bloomers and Grandma's big aprons were cut out and pinned together, from the rolls of cloth that came from the Golden Rule Store. Often my dresses and the boy's shirts, my bloomers and Grandmas aprons all came from the same cloth because it was cheaper to buy cloth by the "bolt". In the corner of the kitchen, a big black Monarch range kept us warm in the winter and "hot" in the summer. The coffeepot was always there. Usually there was a pot of soup or chicken. Sometimes there were doughnuts or crullers, frying in hot lard in a big black old pot that had come across the plains to Idaho and which had once hung over open campfires. It still did, on occasion. When it was unbearably hot, Grandma cooked over a fire set on a brick box in the back of the house. The pot sits on my floor by the fireplace today.

Then the table would be cleaned and the dishes put on for yet another meal. The kitchen seemed big to the child that I was, but it was not. When we were all at the table, the dishes were bumping against each other and we had to be careful not to touch the hot stove. Hot water came from a reservoir that was attached to the side of the stove. Dishes were gathered on to a dishpan, washed, rinsed, and then drained in a large black dripper. Grandma had many of these pans) they were used for everything, baby chicks, and bread, to hold jars in the oven as we canned the garden things of summer. It seemed there were always pans of mason jars there when Grandma wasn't baking. How I long today for one of her golden sponge cakes.

She was strict though; the parlor doors were mostly closed to our invasions except for holidays and sometimes Sunday dinner. Saturday I had a wonderful chore there, I could sit by the library table to dust the books stored there and could take my time.

Sometimes the patience ran thin and they called each other (the grown-ups did) names. The washing was done in two tubs and scrub board, with the clothes being hung out on the outside lines summer and winter. Those same tubs were used for our Saturday baths. However on those days, the big stove always yielded good pot roast or soup and crusty bread, and steamed and wet linoleum floors. (In the summer the whole process was moved to the wash benches outside the door and the small cook stove that stood under the open porch roof by the grain storage house.)

Now I wonder how Grandma and Mama stood up to things that summer. Mama's pregnancy was a bad one, even to my young eyes, and Grandma plodded around constantly on swollen feet and legs. (she cut holes even in her Sunday shoes to accommodate her swollen toes.)

She went always, it seemed, going when I arose in the morning and sitting in the kitchen sewing long after I went to bed. She fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, milked the cows and then fed us our breakfast - oatmeal. Grandpa had long ago left the house for his job on the railroad as track inspector and repairer, but he kept his yard immaculate, planted gardens after he came home and still found time for us children.

It was a happy, sad summer. Now I understand the terrible stress that was there with the grown-ups packed together in a little space, the tightness of money, and the need to make every penny count and always preparing food or washing or mending clothes. Remember, there was no TV or even radio.

What I liked best was when Grandpa made a fire in the coal stove in the dining room, lit the lamps and played the big tall gramophone. He had crafted a jumping jack clown from painted wooden sticks and, after the machine was wound up, the doll would clack, clack and fall.

Somehow the summer and fall passed. The gardens were harvested. The dead leaves were burned, along with a lot of animosity. Mom was really sick by then and spent most of her days on the old horse hair couch. On Halloween, we carved the home grown pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns. Grandma made her good peanut brittle and the home made cider was ready to be tasted.

A few days later Mom gave birth, as the Bible says, "and so it was that the days were accomplished that she should be delivered and she brought forth her son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes".

William Arvel Brown, 1935

There weren't many rooms in our "inn" either, but William Arvel Brown found a host of welcoming arms and hearts on that November 6th, 1927. We older children were bedded down in quilts on the parlor floor but I was allowed to come to the bed where Mama was surrounded by Aunt Lindy, Grandma and Mrs. Evans from across the street. I got to hold him.

The years have passed and, as I think back, I feel somewhat ashamed of my griping. That was a hard year on everyone with the crowding, the grief and the lack of money. I also believe it was love that was there and that has survived since. I remember Grandma Amanda, as she knelt on the floor to tuck me back in bed and Grandpa Marcus gleefully carrying around the small bundle he already called "Tubby". Oh, our crowded fighting days were not done, but we all survived. Grandma had a temper to go with her red hair, but she also knew about loving and sharing.

Another year found us in our own little house, the key word is "little", but we found space to be together. In today's world, there's not a lot of that kind of caring around. Big houses can also be crowded.

1985 Laverna Maude Jones