Category: 1914

Happy Memorial Day weekend everyone! Like so many holidays, our commercial culture has been successful morphing this to its own purpose (Summer’s official start! Get that barbecue out!) Actually, it started in May because that was when flowers were blooming to decorate the graves of Civil War soldiers.

For a long time it was known as Decoration Day. After WWI, it became a day to honor those that died in all American wars. Then, after WWII the name Memorial Day became more commonly used.

In this post, I’d like to especially honor the American soldiers that died in WWI, some 116,000 men, including some from Middletown, NY. Many of these, including my subject for today’s post, were part of New York’s 27th Infantry Division. (I was really interested to find a source that stated that more than 400,000 New Yorkers served in the military during World War I, more than any other state!)

If 116,000 deaths seems like a low fatality rate, recall that the United States stayed out of the war for the first few years. In fact, Woodrow Wilson narrowly won re-election in November 1916 with the slogan “He Kept us Out of War”. It wasn’t until early 1917 – a full 2 ½ years in – that public opinion shifted in the U.S. 

That was when the Germans resumed submarine warfare hoping to win the war. Also, in January 1917, the British intercepted the “Zimmerman Telegram” in which the Germans offered Mexico some of the US territory in return for Mexican aid. This led to the US Congress voting to declare war on Germany, on April 6, 1917.

Now, of the 116,000 deaths, you may be surprised to learn that the majority (63,114 according to this source) were due to disease, not combat. In fact, almost half the losses occurred on US soil when the influenza pandemic swept through training camps in the spring of 1918. The virus then travelled to Europe with US troops and caused more deaths once there.

It strikes me how much more relevant that feels to us in 2021, having lived through a similar pandemic. 

Without further ado, let me introduce you to John William Boyd, former husband of my grandmother’s 2nd cousin, Mildred Dunning Hurtin. Mildred graduated from Middletown High School in 1913 and married John after the war, on April 14, 1919. The marriage did not last (John remarried in 1943 and moved out to California) but Mildred gave birth to a daughter, Jean, in 1926 and records indicate that the two remained close.

I plan to revisit Mildred and John in a future post because I found a related story of interest. For now, though, there’s plenty in John’s role in WWI. Within his 10 months of service, he was promoted from Chief Clerk of the Administrative (G-1) Section, General Staff to Sergeant Major of a battalion. 

I’d venture that by July 1918 John’s division was in France, training under British mentors. By August 1918, he was likely taking part in the Ypres-Lys Offensive, which was launched to liberate Belgium and part of northeast France. The American troops fought alongside Australian, Belgian, British, Canadian and French troops, and managed to force a German retreat there.

I found some terrific (in both senses of the word) photos on an Australian government website with pictures from these battles. Many of the Allied forces were killed by machine gun fire, gas attacks, snipers and artillery fire. It was a step forward, though, and part of the “Hundred Days Offensive” that would bring an end to the Great War.

John Boyd also participated in the Somme Offensive or the “Somme Push” in late 1918. Helped by British and Australian artillery units, he and the remaining 27th Division members helped to break the defensive “Hindenburg Line” that the Germans had established.

 You can find some further information and pictures about these battles here: https://www.awm.gov.au/visit/exhibitions/1918/battles/hindenburg

Wikipedia (among other sites) also have good reference information about Major General John F. O’Ryan, and about NY’s 27th Division, if you’re interested in learning more.

One piece of research I was pleased to find was a newspaper article from 1925 that mentioned John Boyd. It looks like his instincts and valor to came in handy once the war ended! After all the deaths he must have witnessed on the battlefield in Europe, he must have held the preciousness of that boy’s life even dearer.

A happy Memorial Day weekend to you all. May we remember those who bravely served our country and who put other’s welfare ahead of their own to make our country – our world – a better place.

XXX

Summertime is soon upon us again, my friends – hooray! We moved our deck furniture out of the basement last weekend. My husband let the girls help to sponge the chairs with some soap and hose them off. The two of them then ran around the house breathless (“daddy let us help!”) and completely soaked.

Even though my husband and daughter are suffering from terrible allergies this year, it’s hard to keep anyone inside. Jack and Jill gave us some seeds to plant so once they germinated at the windowsill, my youngest helped to dig out a hole in the front bed. (And then dig many more holes willy-nilly, dirt flying everywhere.) I’ve been out every night to keep them watered. I’ve actually never grown anything from seed and am anxious to see if we’ll get any flowers!

Have you been out and about this past week? Do you get as nostalgic this season as I do? I pulled out my old diaries again (against my better judgement) and found one from May 1997. I had just gotten home from college and was calling around to meet up with all my returning friends. I wrote one entry from the tennis courts where my younger sister had stopped by on her way to Senior prom.

It definitely got me thinking again about those “small” pieces of personal history or family history that take place, always against the backdrop of world history. In May 1997 an IBM computer beat the World champion of chess and a tornado killed 27 people in Texas. But to me, it will be remembered for the month I came home from school and took a picture with my sister going to prom.

Similarly, the pictures in my grandmother’s album from this time start to run into the buildup to war. On June 28, 1914 Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated. On July 28, 1914, Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia, which started World War I. But the pictures from that time in the album, of course, just show the day-to-day of life in Middletown. Today’s is a trip to a neighbor’s house, Mrs. Ennis.

The picture was taken at the farm of Michael and Clara Ennis, in Wawayanda Township near Ridgebury. Mr. Ennis (Michael) was born in Bloomingburg on February 24, 1866 and had three sisters: Elizabeth, Ellen (a nurse) and Catherine. They had one son, Joseph J. who was born in 1902.

Joseph went on to marry Ruth Field Bennett and was a bookkeeper in New York City (so says the 1930 census). They lived at 74 Irwin Avenue which is…essentially where Middletown High School sits today. The children were Ruth (born ~1924), Joseph (born ~1927) and Clara (born ~1929). I’m not sure who’s in the picture except for the Dunning children. I’m pretty sure my grandmother is the one looking rather like me in the front, and that Clara is the one with the pretty gingham bow.

Besides knowing the name of the Ennis’ children and grandchildren (and that their farm was in Town of Walkill) I couldn’t find anything else much about them. In fact, the only big reference to the family came from a copy of the Times Herald Record from August 19, 1937.

On page 2, you’ll find the “world news” of the day detailing the horrors of the Spanish Civil War. This beside the “personal history” of the Middletown Fire Department and the Ennis Family getting Nosey the Cat out of an oak tree.

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And my conclusion, something I pondered on a very nice outdoor walk today, is that it all matters. Clearly, the history of the Spanish Civil War mattered. In fact, my first job out of college was to dictate very long interviews my professor had recorded with Spaniards who had lived through it. It was fascinating, putting on my headphones and hearing ‘live’ accounts from the elderly subjects in their own language. At any rate, the history mattered so much that it was my professor’s life’s work.

But what about a trip to Mrs. Ennis’ house? How does that matter? Maybe not entirely but then…these are the bows the girls wore, this is how they let the children hold the baby, it’s sunny but the baby doesn’t have a hat on, the shrubs haven’t been neatly trimmed. The moment gets a chance to live again. By looking at the picture, it’s like history folds over on itself for a minute and I love that.

Hope you are all doing well and enjoying your moment in history today.

In honor of Mother’s Day, the picture I chose from the album for today shows Ida Beakes with her daughter Carol. When I first started looking through my grandmother’s album, this is one of those photographs that I lingered over longer than the others. 

There are lovely period details in it, including the china, the chairs, Ida’s dress and the electrical outlet. Ida’s expression, though, and Carol’s positioning – snuggled up against her mother – are what make it poignant. Ida is spooning food to her daughter and it appears that they cherish that time together.

Whereas in the last photo I couldn’t be sure I had the right Wickham, I’m 100% that the mother in this picture is Ida Parthenia Beakes, born June 7, 1883 in Laurens, New York. She married George W. Beakes (born August 15, 1878) and the two were lifelong residents of Middletown. 

Their daughter Carol (Marion Carol) was born in December 1912, just a month before my own grandmother was born. The Beakes then moved to 30 Lenox Place in Middletown where they’d live for the next 26 years together. From 1914 to 1922, George was the teller at the Orange County Trust Company and in 1937 he was promoted to Assistant Secretary at the bank (at 59 years of age!)

The Beakes attended First Presbyterian Church alongside the Dunnings. Daughter Carol graduated from Middletown High School (class of 1930) and went on to the New Jersey State College for Women in New Brunswick, New Jersey. In 1934 she married Warren J. Buck:

BUCK – BEAKES

Warren James Buck, son of Louis I. Buck, 109 Monhagen Avenue, and Miss Marion Carol Beakes, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. George W. Beakes, were married Saturday at the bride’s home, thirty Lenox Place. The ceremony was performed by the Rev. Dr. Robert O. Kirkwood of First Presbyterian Church before a small assemblage of friends and relatives of the couple. There were no bridal attendants.

After a reception for wedding guests, Mr. and Mrs. Buck started on a wedding trip. Their home will be at 611 Cedar Lane, Teaneck, New Jersey.

Ida passed away on August 20, 1976 at 93 years old. Her obituary states that she lived the last years of her life at 104 Academy Avenue and passed away at Horton Memorial Hospital. “Surviving her is a son-in-law Warren J. Buck of Norwalk Connecticut and several cousins in Middletown,” it said

Which made me think, what happened to Carol? 

You can’t imagine how stunned I was to pull up the New Jersey papers and find that she had taken her own life at 23 years old. Two short years after he officiated her marriage, in effect, Rev. R. O. Kirkwood officiated a private funeral service for her at the home of her parents.

Friends, I had a good cry about this in my car on the way to pre-K pickup. 85 years after the fact, I cried that Carol didn’t have the resources she needed to get well. I thought how tragic it would have been for her parents and her husband who must have wanted her happiness so much.

Most of all, maybe, I felt sorry for Ida, who sent her to Brownies, to summer camp in Parksville, NY, who watched her recite “God Loves Me” in front of the church, and even to college after the breakdown in High School. I felt so sad for Ida who must have felt that marriage would be a balm for her, that now her daughter might be safer.

But her daughter’s untimely death wasn’t the end of the story for Ida. The darkness didn’t overcome the light. Ida lived 40 more years, in service to others as evidenced by just a handful of later newspaper clippings:

October 27, 1938: “Mrs. George Beakes will represent 1st Presbyterian Church tomorrow morning from nine until noon when they conduct the sale for the blind on West Main Street.

December 13, 1938: “Mrs. George Beakes was appointed chairman of a committee to plan Christmas dinners for several needy families”.

What’s more, at her passing, she gave a substantial endowment to First Presbyterian Church that likely allowed the church to function for many more years. Thanks to Ida, my sisters and I grew up there, just like Carol and my grandmother and countless other children before and after. I can’t speak for others but the faith I learned there has gotten me through some dark times myself.

So in honor of Ida and of mothers everywhere here is a poem. I hope you enjoy it and send you all a big hug.

Mom's Words

Hungry? Tired? Baba? Sissy?
Mama? Dada? Boo boo? Kissy?
So big, so big, peekaboo!
No, that outlet’s not for you!

Oopsie daisy, you’re OK
Clean up, pick up, put away
Yummy veggie, one more bite
Jammies? Teeth? We said good night!

I’m coming! Later. I don’t know.
Just turn it off. ‘Cause I said so.
Uno! Sorry! Life is tough.
Stop yelling. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH.

Thank you? Did I hear a please?
Put that coat on ‘fore you freeze.
Don’t be fresh. Don’t slam that door!
All strapped in? I love you more.

- Martha Gonzalez

Hello all! Hope you are all enjoying this nice Spring we’re having. With COVID numbers moving down in our area, I’m starting to feel hopeful again.

My daughter’s school is opening back up again full-time starting next week and I’ll have my second shot this coming Thursday. Can you remember how this seemed unimaginable even in the Fall? Can I get a hallelujah?!

In this and the next few posts, I’ve decided to showcase some of the “friends and acquaintances” from the Dunning album. These are all within the 1914 time frame.

My picture today features a “Mrs. Wickham” who I have decided must be Mrs. Emma Hunt Wickham (1851-1918). Here’s my rationale on that:

1. The age checks out: She’d be about 63 in this picture, taken in 1914. Though she does look older, I’d argue that if I did my hair that way, wore that dress and sat in a rocker, there’s a good chance I’d look 63.
   
2. The photo says “at her home”. This squares with Emma Hunt Wickham who would have lost her husband (Reeves B., a farmer) in 1909.
   
3. That home (the farm) was located in Ridgebury, New York, which is a hamlet of the Town of Wawayanda. That would have been close to where the Dunning farm was and likely that they would have been visitors and…
   
4. She was an active member of the Ridgebury Presbyterian Church. As we have seen in prior posts, those Presbyterians did not hesitate to gather with each other!

Her obituary was published 4 years after this photo was taken, in the Middletown Times-Press dated March 23, 1918. It states that she was the daughter of William Desaix Hunt (also a farmer) and Sarah Young.

The obituary also states that “at the home of her parents, on the lower road, she was united in marriage with Reeves B. Wickham, November 15, 1871.” (How funny is that? The town of Wawayanda was so ‘intimate’ that her parents house could be described as “on the lower road”).

In fact, her late husband Reeves B. Wickham’s farm is mentioned in a document called “The History of Orange County”. In that document, it says that the population of the Town of Wawayanda was 1,906 inhabitants in 1865 and actually decreased to 1,574 inhabitants by 1905.

Anyone that grew up in or near Middletown knows that the Wickham family did not die out, however. Emma herself left three sons and one daughter: William H of Middletown, Clarence of Slate Hill, Howard R. and Mabel Wickham Quackenbush. And, of course, Wickham Avenue still runs right through the heart of the Town of Walkill, blessed by Chase Bank and Little Caesar’s and Shop Rite on its left and right.

And there. I’m late for Pre-K pickup. Tell me what you’re up to these days? Any new outings and adventures? Sending a big family hug. XXXX

This month, we had a contractor come visit our house to give us a “ball park” figure on adding an upstairs bathroom. Never having done this before, I didn’t quite know what to expect. I expected the worst.

I imagined that as soon as he came in, the contractor would take in our disordered living room at a glance. Stained rug in need of vacuuming, stained sofa with stuffing coming out the bottom, he would get the picture. I imagined him comparing it to the grander (and cleaner) houses he’s worked at, thinking “how are they going to cough up the money for this?!”

On the contrary, he barely looked around. We all spent the first bit staring down at his sneakers, which he had taken off and tried to place on our doorstep. “No, please! Just leave then inside!” we insisted and pointed out the pile we already keep in our entryway.

We thought his gesture was a sort of polite safety precaution for COVID. I later found out that leaving shoes outside your house is an Asian custom (so maybe he picked up that habit from his Asian clients?) Whatever the reason, he went straight upstairs after this shoe dance to share his vision for the work we were planning.

The contractor, (I’ll call him João so I can use that cool tilde over the “a”), speaks English as a second language. He came to the U.S. from Brazil as an adult the same way my husband did from Argentina. This provided instant camaraderie for the two of them.

I liked João too, though. He looked me in the eye when I asked a question and included me in eye contact when my husband asked a question. I really appreciate this. Even if I have no idea what the car repair guy or the electrician or some other technician is talking about, it’s important to me to feel like part of the conversation.

I have my doubts that my great-grandparents’ general contractor included Eleanor too much in the conversation but I may be wrong! Take a look and judge for yourself. Below you’ll find Mr. Shafer (Peter) holding my grandmother, Marjorie. Doesn’t he look a bit like the walrus from “The Walrus and the Carpenter” in Disney’s version of Alice in Wonderland? Completely of another era.

Mr. Shafer is listed in the 1920 census as being born in New York and married to Minnie A. Shafer (also born in New York). They had a daughter Bertha (20) and Beatrice (9). Bertha later married a salesman named Harold Bonds and moved to New Jersey.

The strange thing is that the 1940 census lists Minnie and Beatrice as living with Bertha and Harold in Essex, New Jersey. Minnie is listed as a practice nurse and Beatrice as a stenographer.

I thought that maybe Mr. Shafer had died and that’s why they left but, in fact, I found a Middletown newspaper bit from July 1932 saying, “W.G. Tice has sold his modern home at 22 Oak Street to Peter Shafer, who will occupy it”. Did they split up? A mysterious mystery!

But there’s more! Below, you’ll find a shot of Mr. Crumley, painter. I had researched him as Harry F. Crumley, son of Charles and Eva F but I might be wrong about that.

There’s also Mr. Collins, seen here at work on the column. This was likely Otis Collins or Thomas D. Junior of 121 Linden Street. Thomas Senior was a lawyer and it seems like he made both sons work as painters in the summer. (Both sons were listed in the newspaper as making honor roll in June 1918).

The closing photo of the contractors for today shows how the children must have enjoyed the process of the home renovation. You can see Ferris up on one of the carpenter’s shoulders, Clara being held round the waist and Marjorie popping her head up from behind. I find this very telling, too, about how much of a small-town community Walkill must have felt like then.

There is a closeness between the workers and their employers that seems rare nowadays. I mean, he’s a nice guy, but the idea of João holding my baby or propping a kid on his shoulders for a picture is completely laughable.

I hope you had a good March and that you are on your way to vaccination and a semi-normal life again! I have not been able to get an appointment yet but am excited that the age bracket has finally opened up.

How are your gardens coming along? I planted some daffodil bulbs last year all over the yard and it has been so much fun to see where they’ve sprouted. Who said nothing good came out of 2020? Big hugs to you all.

“Is it true you were born in the eighteen-hundreds?” Sophia yelled through the window.

“What of it?” Grandma answered, very distinctly. “What do you know about the eighteen-hundreds?”

“Nothing, and I’m not interested, either,” Sophia shouted and ran away.

The Summer Book by Tove Jansson

I thought this was such a funny episode in the book I read last year. Grandma has a tendency to be private and defensive. Her prickly responses set off equally prickly ones from her granddaughter, who doesn’t like to be thought of as young and uninformed.

If you’re looking for a good book to escape the drudgery of this season, I highly recommend The Summer Book. The reason I picked that quote, though, is that the two visitors to the Dunning house in the below pictures were born right at the end of the eighteen-hundreds.

The woman in the white dress with the magnificent bow is Harriet Beyea Clark. She was born in 1894 to Samuel E. Clark and Lydia Carr. She’s posing here with a familiar cast of characters: Aunt Kate holding my grandma Marjorie, sister Clara squinting into the sun, and great-grandmother Eleanor deep in conversation with Ferris.

You’ll notice that pile of rocks and boards below the deck there. This is the period that the Dunnings rebuilt the house and I suspect this was part of the demolition .

Harriet’s beau, Frank Vincent Simpson, was also born in 1894, in Hurleyville (Sullivan County). He became a building contractor, located on 224 East Main Street in Middletown. I assume that he was involved somehow on the house renovation but I’m not sure they would have a 20-year-old heading the project!

Harriet and Frank married on New Year’s Eve 1914. He was drafted a few years later for WWI, some time between 1917 and 1918. On the draft registration his height (tall, medium or short) is listed as “short”. His build (slender, medium or stout) is listed as “slender”. “Brown” is noted down for hair color and “grey” for eye color (which is kind of amusing…grey?)

On May 21, 1917 I found that Frank was one of 15 men to be “honorable discharge[d]…from the organization, because of dependent families.” He returned to Middletown and was employed by Ed Pitcher of Goshen as a carpenter/house carpenter. As of the 1930 census, he and Harriet were raising three children in the Town of Walkill: Norma (11), John C. (9) and Lawrence (3).

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Daughter Norma ended up marrying Allan Mitchell (an Otisville man) and went on to have three children as well (Pamela, Judy and Allan Jr.). Son John C. attended Northeastern college in September 1940. Son Lawrence showed up as 3 yrs. old on the 1930 census but I couldn’t turn up anything on him. Anyone know a Larry Simpson growing up?

I saved this picture for last because it’s so idyllic. Look at that countryside. Look at the affianced couple with their fancy pre-children clothing . Everyone looks like they had a good day. Remember all those older pictures where people didn’t even smile?

It’s been a difficult week in my personal 2021 world. Our local day care had to shut down my daughter’s pre-K class (again) due to a positive COVID case. My husband and I took turns playing Barbies and Zingo for 15 minutes every couple hours, and my older daughter tried to entertain her once school was over but…it was sad.

Whenever something like this happens my husband and I do try to count our blessings. None of us have gotten sick. We’ve still got our jobs. It’s similar to when it rains in New York and people say “could be worse, could be snow.” Thankfully, it seems like we’re turning a corner on both fronts (winter and COVID). Just have to be patient…

Hope everyone and their chickens are staying nice and toasty warm. Hugs to you all.

Snow, snow, snow. My husband just finished shoveling off what was left of yesterday’s storm. We got another 4 or 5 inches on top of the 3 to 6 we had the week before…on top of the 20+ inches from the beginning of February.

Then again, that’s part of the bargain when you live in the Northeast. And it provides the perfect opportunity to showcase this 1914 picture! Clara and Ferris are outside showing off what looks like some good packing snow.

I did my research to determine what date this picture was taken and came up with two possibilities. It looks like either February 14, 1914 (which was a historic snowfall day for Albany) or March 1st or 2nd, 1914 when even Central Park got over 14 inches.

One thing I don’t care for with snowstorms is the relentless grey and white of the landscape. It’s apt that the movie “Groundhog Day” takes place on that holiday. All February I’ve also felt like I’m living the same grey day over and over.

That’s why you will note that I’ve enhanced the picture above! Do you like it? What do you think? I found out that the MyHeritage site has free tools where you can upload black and white photos and enhance them. One tool makes blurry pictures a little less fuzzy. Another adds color to them and sort of brings them to life.

I’ve only used the color tool for this photo but am interested to try it out again with some of the other album pictures. So what are you all up to this weekend? Jack and Jill have gifted us their old sled so we’re going to try that out on a local hill. When we tried to order one online the delivery dates were in March so – once again – Jack and Jill to the rescue!

Sending you a big, warm hug.

“We are not makers of history; we are made by history.”

Martin Luther King Jr., in a sermon from the book Strength to Love

Happy rather belated Martin Luther King Jr. Day! I reference his quote partly to celebrate the anniversary of his birth and partly because it seemed to have relevance to the investigation of my great-great grandfather Horace W. Dunning.

In context, that quote from Dr. King’s sermon meant, ‘yes, right now history is making you, but it doesn’t have to be that way.’ He was exhorting people to stand up against injustices and to be active in supporting civil rights.

As in, “No, history! I’m not letting you run roughshod over me like a bunch of white conspiracy theorists through the halls of the Capitol building!” Hmph.

It brought to mind the story from 2015 where a mother from Houston called out a McGraw-Hill text book. One section of the history book stated that the slave trade “brought millions of workers from Africa to the southern United States to work on agricultural plantations.” She argued that the wording glossed over the ugliness of that history. McGraw-Hill ended up rewriting it.

This woman – like all of us – was “made” by history but she also “made history” herself, in this case, by arguing her case with the publisher. I think it’s just what King was getting at in his sermon.

Speaking of national history, did you watch the inauguration ceremony on Wednesday? My daughter’s teachers turned it on for the children and it was the sound of her clapping from the sofa that clued me in to tuning in from my work laptop (shhh).

Not yet at an age that would make her embarrassed to do so, she sang Amazing Grace loud and strong along with Garth Brooks. I promise to stop harping on “made from history” but my daughter learned the song over many visits to church. Which we went to because I grew up going to our local Presbyterian church…

…because grandfather went and great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather before that. Do you know how many generations of us (and likely you and your ancestors, too) have sang Amazing Grace? Over so many years, isn’t it um...amazing...to think that all of us sang the same notes and the same tune?

American Girl Doll Rebecca Rubin’s classic outfit from 1914 New York City!

I’ve included a photo of the American Girl Doll known as Rebecca Rubin, too. When I saw my grandma’s plaid outfit in the first picture I said, “hmm…that reminds me of something”. The doll’s outfit is modeled on a 1914 pattern so now you can rest knowing that the American Girl Doll company does its research!

Well, it’s been a long post but then…it’s been a long January, friends. Sending you a big family hug on this snowy day.

Happy New Year 2021, everyone! Are you up to the challenge of a new year? Have you made any resolutions (besides “get through it”)? I’m suffering from a 2020 emotional hangover. They say there’s a shot you can get to help with that but I can’t seem to get my hands on it…

One nice thing about the prior year for our family was an exchange of niceties with our kind next-door neighbors…I’ll call them Jack and Jill. Jill stops by weekly with coloring books, chalk, bubble wands and seasonal craft projects for my daughters. I protest but she always says “I feel so sorry for them. I wanted to do this”. When Jack runs to the bakery, he’s sure to come over with cupcakes.

Right before Christmas, we found them on our doorstep laden (and I mean laden) with packages for all of us. As we sipped their delicious wine, and devoured their cheese and sausage, my husband and I agreed that there are some things that real estate can’t account for. Jack and Jill are priceless.

We’ve done our best to compensate, of course. My older daughter runs across our lawn with me to their house whenever we make a new batch of corn muffins or chocolate chip cookies. We’ve gotten into a habit where she rings the doorbell, sets the treat on their front step and then runs the 6+ feet back waiting for Jack or Jill to peek out. 

It’s a happy moment – waiting and knowing we get to treat them to a nice surprise.

Though, yes, there’s also a split second where I worry that we’ve interrupted their afternoon nap.

It has certainly made me think about my grandmother’s life on the farm. In a place where people lived further from each other and without Netflix, it’s likely that her family’s relationship with the neighboring farm families must have been strong too. They wouldn’t have needed to bother the neighbors for a cup of milk (hardy har har) but the children would have been school friends. 

Note to self: find out which farms neighbored the Dunning Farm!

Today’s pictures are from a page in the album entitled “Clara, Ferris and Katie with the Furs”. Like me over winter break, I assume that Eleanor and her sister-in-law may have been desperate to entertain the pre-K contingent. My grandmother (either 1 year old if this is early 1914 or almost 2 if late 1914) may have been inside throwing a tantrum. 

During the summer, Jill told us about a tradition she has of writing down nice memories on card stock and then storing them in a jar. On Christmas Day, she and Jack then take turns reaching in and reading each of the little notes out loud. It’s a way of remembering all the good and funny things that happened over the year.

She (of course) cut up some card stock for my daughter and I emptied a pickle jar so that we could do the same.

Well, friends, it was a grand success! I highly recommend it, especially in a year where the ‘big picture’ may not seem so bright. I saved a few of our funny ones so you could get a taste.

1. Child #1 (9 yrs. old) wanting mom to towel her off after a bath: “I got myself dry last time. I’m due for a towel off.”

2. Child #1 picking up mom’s free weights: “Well, at least someone around here cares about upper body strength!”

3. Child # 1 playing mom to Child # 2 (4 yrs. old) who proceeds to do something dangerous.

Child # 2: “Can I do it again, mom?”

Child # 1: “What kind of a fake mom would I be if I didn’t let you take risks?”

Nothing that will be written in the history books but just…the little things that made us laugh or that we were grateful for throughout the year. In the end, that’s what makes up a year, right? Trying on mom’s furs on a dull winter day.

It’s a pleasure to “speak” to you again. Please take a second to tell me about some of your 2020 moments! Or your 2021 goals (More puzzles? Books? Ooh..travel – remember that?)