July 19, 1987
Birthday Bob is going to write a little about the great day and how it really ran from June 16th to July 4th. It took me 80 years to get to this birthday, so why not hold it for fifteen days or so. Some of my family was here all those days, and for three days everyone was here. Usually it takes a tragedy to get a family together, but here we had twenty-two, plus girlfriends.
Everyone was at church, plus friends who had come to hear Amy sing. Amy is my granddaughter and Bob and Sue Johnson’s daughter. She is a graduate of Grinnell College and also the Manhattan School of Music in New York City. She did a lovely job and the accompanist, Virginia Orwig, did her usual fine job. My people sat mostly in the center section. How much better the aid to hearing works with a full house.
I got dozens of cards. Twenty were from people who read the reprint of my “Corner” in the local paper. Fifteen of these cards were from other towns, and ten were from out of state. Again, my thanks to John Baldridge.
Now, back to my usual mind wanderings. Lester VanZee is helping with the National Campers’ Association’s big gathering in Ottumwa. I believe he said they were expecting 3,000 units. Water lines and electrical services are being laid out in the fields where they will camp. We hope to get a story from Lester.
You learn something everyday. Roberta Rice, Louise Strohman’s daughter, is visiting from Alaska. She was admiring the honey at the store, and I asked if they had a season long enough that bees could work. She said that was no problem, but they were not carried over the winter. This is true of ladybugs too. In the spring, you just order two or two and a half pounds of bees and you are ready to go again.
Did you read the article of “Iowa Boy” in the Des Moines Register where he commented on visiting the graves of his father and uncles? I have corresponded with him several times. He had an ugly dog contest, and I sent him a picture of a dog. He wrote to me saying it would have won the contest had it been my dog. In this letter he asked me about his family and relatives. I answered in some detail, and have had two or three letters since. His father was Laurence Offenburger, who lived here and later moved to Shenandoah. Many of us older people remember Barney Offenburger, an uncle of “Iowa Boy”. I knew all of the uncles of “Iowa Boy”. His Uncle Henry worked for me for years.
Irma Haas tells me she and Leonard were offered quarters in the Mallory Castle when they first came to Chariton in 1953. We’ll have more on this later.
This little episode has to do with horseweeds and rhubarb leaves. In the bottom land one block east of our old home place was the headwaters of Mallory Pond. Horseweeds grew here by the thousands. We boys made hideouts in these weeds. We cut the weeds at the ground to make a room. We then cut off the surrounding weeds about six feet high and laced binder twine back and forth to support a rhubarb leaf roof. Today we learn we shouldn’t handle these leaves. It made a shady place until it rained and then the leaf roof had to be redone. This whole thing had one drawback. Mother could look out the upstairs windows and see smoke occasionally curling up from our hideout. This meant only one thing. We were sneaking a smoke. We could hear her call and upon arriving home, we got a hand treatment right where we sat down.
A short time ago I wrote about the goodly number of speakers Chariton had for Memorial Day, 4th of July and other days. Somehow, I left out the name of Henry Gittinger, who was with the Chariton Leader for years. He was able and willing to speak at any time. He was fiery and didn’t mince words. I apologize to the twelve or fifteen people who called my attention to the fact that he had been left out. Over the entrance to Hixson Studio are the words “The Leader”, as this was the paper office then. I heard William Junkin, editor of the Herald-Patriot years ago, say Henry was a diamond in the rough. As I have gotten older, I have discovered this phrase covers a lot of ground.
Have you noticed the days are getting shorter? A minute every day.
Our ride -
After missing two Sundays because of my birthday company, Charles Prior, George Dunshee and myself took a ride. We were out four hours. We did real well on flowers. We went south on Highway 14 to the Baker corner and then east to the first road running south. As you start south the land on the left was the old Drake Botany grounds. Lots of this ground was timbered then. The Rock Island would bring a passenger car of students to this area and set off the car, picking it up in the evening. This way the students had classes all day long. Most everything is gone but we did find butterfly weed, bouncing Bet, evening primrose, gumweed, black-eyed Susan, purple coneflower, swamp milkweed, a beautiful bed of horse balm, harebells, and germander. Fifty years ago this road was lined with beautiful yellow and white violets.
I talked to a lady who had been away from home for a month. Upon her return she discovered some home-canned corn and kraut had spoiled, creating a terrible odor. Those of us who have experienced this know what she was up against. She said if this odor could have been captured and turned loose on the enemy in Vietnam, the war would have ended at once. I don’t know about this, but it is a bad, bad odor.
I have read that rabbits are quite smart. Since there is no cable for them, they have formed their own antennas with their ears.
Several years ago on a cold winter night there was a knock on my door. I knew the young man, but he didn’t realize this was where I lived. He told me his car had stopped and his wife and children were very cold. He asked if they could come in and get warm. I said yes, and that we would call the police to come and help as this was an emergency. They came and got his car going and followed him home, six miles into the country, to be sure they were safe. The next summer he stopped one evening with a half-gallon of homemade raspberry ice cream. I didn’t want, nor expect anything, and I am sure they could have used it. He insisted and I did like it fine. It was black raspberry ice-cream.
Makes me think of mulberry rhubarb pies. During World War I we made these by the hundreds. We had the mulberries and rhubarb and the two women who helped Mother at the house canned these in half-gallon jars. Mother was right on top of this to see that the mulberries were clean. The pies sold for nineteen cents each and were nine inch size. The German bakers we had made wonderful crusts and that is the start of a good pie. We also had loads of gooseberries at home and a touch of these helped to take the flat taste of the mulberries away. Green tomato pies were also made, and they were delicious. They were also great for miners to put in their lunch pails, which gave their noon meal a little zip.
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