September 2, 2015

Was Great Grandpa Named John GORMLEY Nordgren?

John Nordgren small
 His Middle Name Is Gormley?

My genealogical head-scratcher for the night is/was I was looking at some of my recent ancestors who might be in the latest release of the SS records and happened upon someone who has my GGrf in their tree with my pictures (which is OK, I make them public) but it shows in their tree that my GGfr’s middle name (of which I have no record) as Gormley. John Gormley Nordgren. This person who added it is connected to the Croasdill family, which includes John’s youngest child, my aunt Edith Nordgren Croasdill. Edith took care of her father near the end of his life, so maybe someone in her family ran across my Nordgren family documentation.

I think this person who owns the Chester_Chesler Family 2015 Tree on Ancestry will contact me soon so we can solve this mystery!

The Good Smells Of Childhood

Quince2

Quince2

I was always a “noticing” kind of person. Good smells always put me in a certain frame of mind. Some were cozy, some exciting, some, downright appetite provoking.

This is just a sort of reminiscence of the ones I remember, in no particular order.

The smell of the people around me was most likely some of my first memories. Mom always smelled of cigarettes, coffee and on special occasions when I was very young there was the fragrance of Tweed perfume. I imagine she had it from before she was married and it always made me think of her life in Seattle where she lived with her parents before she married my dad. In later years she wore violet perfume on special occasions because we had found a source for it when we lived in Iowa and she would wear it when she knew we would be seeing each other. She also wore Charlie, which I didn’t especially like, but she did.

My grandma Yates always had the fragrance of face powder and toilet water. A sweet, older lady smell that was light and not overpowering. I don’t remember a particular fragrance my grandma Moline wore. I know she used Oil of Olay though because I remember seeing it on her dressing table.

My dad was fond of Mennen after shave, and his dad liked to wear the simple smell of “I just shaved”, as in the lingering odor of the shave cream he wiped off.

Where we lived, at the end of Dennis Street in Tumwater, Washington, was a seasonal mix of spring, summer and fall smells. I guess winter had a smell too, if you count the Christmas tree (a real one, cut in our back field) in the house. Spring seemed to erupt in our front yard with everything at once. The people who had lived in our house prior to us had planted bulbs and shrubs that were well-established by the time we moved in during the early 1950’s. I probably visit these memories of my childhood yard more often than I should, but this was part of “my world” and I cherish them.

It was the bulbs that came up first in the yard. Old ones like muscari and snow drops. Then, the irises would peek their pointy leaves up from the cold ground and signal the advent of more to come. All of this was followed quite closely by the buds on the quince bush, the sweet smell of the lilacs and the apple and cherry trees bursting into bloom.

Mom was never one to stifle our creativity, so she willingly let us raid her sewing cabinet for thread and needle to string leis of quince flowers as our own tribute to celebrating the spring equinox. The poor visitors to our house in spring were always gifted with sprigs of lilacs to put in makeshift vases until they could carry them home.

Summer brought the seasonal smells of dry grass, or the lovely aroma of wet dry grass after a summer shower. Although I’m writing about smells, I remember those summer mornings when I’d wake up and hear through the early morning summer stillness birds like the ubiquitous robins, the sparrows and chickadees.

I didn’t get much chance to go camping when I was younger, but I did get to sleep outside in the front yard in a sleeping bag with a comfy air mattress for cushion. Waking up in the early, early misty morning air was almost intoxicating. So close to the earth you can almost feel it breathe. I would just lay there and drink in the quiet.

Other smells come to mind too. That wonderful new baby doll plastic smell, the minty fragrance of Doublemint gum when grandma would open her purse when we were sitting in the pew at church on Sundays. How did she know I needed something to stave off ‘starvation’? I suspect she might have been treated to the same thing herself when she was growing up.

Is there nothing more warm and inviting than going through the door of someone’s house whose been cooking a turkey since the wee hours of the day? The sage smell of the dressing; the crispy skin done to perfection by a veteran cook; and all the other smells like candles burning, fresh homemade yeast biscuits coming out of the oven, a recently ironed white damask table cloth, and the blackberry cobbler tempting us to skip the main course and dive right into it.

My life has been constantly assailed by food smells, environmental smells like the brewery, a pulp mill, the smell of my dad when he would come home from working with wood all day and there was a mixture of good honest sweat along with sawdust. One facet of life, the smells, but oh so memorable.

© Carol Yates Wilkerson 2015 – All Rights Reserved

Throw Back Thursday – When Greg Worked As A Deckhand

foot ferry, kitsap sun,

foot ferry, kitsap sun,

I [Greg Wilkerson] worked on this vessel as a deckhand in ’88/’89 when it was the passenger ferry that did the early runs to PSNS from the downtown Port Orchard, WA dock. Occasionally, I would work on the Retsil and Thurow as well. I also got to work on the Spirit of ’76 and every once in a while the Eagle. Each one was so different and special in their own ways. And each Captain I worked with while I was there was as unique as their favored vessel.

I learned a lot in those brief years working rain or rain (joking). Scraping rust, sanding, painting and washing just to do it all over again. In hindsight it seems so strange that there I was, as a 14-16 year old, riding my bike down to the dock and checking all the fluids (oil, coolant, fuel) and starting up the engines so they could warm up for the 1st run of the day and being responsible for the safety of the passengers while we were underway; and the counting and tallying of the fares, then going to school and then after school going back down and doing it again for the return passengers from the shipyard. I was very fortunate to have this opportunity and often look back on the experience and smile.

Our son Greg wrote this last November 2014 after I sent him an article about the Carlisle II that was in the Kitsap Sun (our local paper). He is now in his 40’s and has a son that is 15, the same age he was when he began working as a deckhand. That was his first real job and he matured (seemingly) overnight. A tall, thin young boy that he was when be began the job, he left it when we moved to Florida because Jim’s job took us there.

Greg the surfer 1991 FL

Greg in Florida 1991

He was exposed to the co-workers of his dad where Jim worked at Puget Sound Naval Shipyard and saw them go into work each day ready to put in another shift, and took their fares as they went home tired each night. Most likely, in Greg’s eyes, he was “one of them”. Greg met friendly people, enthusiastic tourists, and became the personable guy he is today.

View of the U.S. Navy Puget Sound Naval Shipya...

View of the U.S. Navy Puget Sound Naval Shipyard, Bremerton, Washionton (USA), in 1913 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: Ships at Puget Sound Naval Shipyard, ...

English: Ships at Puget Sound Naval Shipyard, Bremerton, Washington, seen from Port Orchard across the harbor. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: BREMERTON, Wash. (April 5, 2010) Work...

English: BREMERTON, Wash. (April 5, 2010) Workers at Puget Sound Naval Shipyard and Intermediate Maintenance Facility hold their TIP passes as they wait for transportation. The shipyard and maintenance facility Transportation Incentive Program, or TIP, has been recognized by the Washington State Department of Transportation for their commuter program, which along with the worker/driver program is a well-established alternative to driving to work every day. (U.S. Navy photo/Released) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When Grandmas Go Wild – Lillian V Epstein Moline

Eppie Moline and Dave Y

When Grandmas Go Wild

My Grandmas personalities seemed to me to be at opposite ends of the “wildness” spectrum, and it was most obvious in this picture of my mom’s step mother Lillian Vera Epstein Moline. My other grandmother, my dad’s step mother Josie McVey Yates, was as docile as they come. I did hear her say “shit” once, but it was not her normal language.

I didn’t see my Moline grandparents as often as my Yates ones because they lived in Seattle and when I was growing up going to Seattle was a ‘big excursion’. I say that because before Interstate 5 was built all we had for the main road was Highway 99, and it took hours to get to Seattle on a two lane road.

My two sets of grandparents knew each other because at one time they lived in the same mill town of Bordeaux, WA. Grandpa Yates worked in the mill as a “setter” for the saws that reduced the big trees to long slabs of dimensional lumber. My grandpa Moline, who had more education, worked for the Mumby Lumber company as a salesman. His wife, “Eppie” was a registered nurse, but when they moved to Bordeaux in 1933 she kept it pretty quiet that she had any medical training so as not to be constantly asked for help.

Grandma Eppie had a very outgoing and humorous personality. Most likely because when you’ve been a nurse, you’ve seen it all and some human behavior can be pretty funny. Eppie’s ethnicity was Jewish. She was loud, liked to tell jokes, play bridge and smother us with slobbery kisses. Kisses were given while blubbering when we first got together for a visit, and the same at the end of the visit.

I can’t be sure who took this picture, but I suspect it was my grandpa Al (Elvin Moline) because Eppie would have done this kind of pose for him, and my brother Dave would have posed like that to go along with the frisky behavior. Grandpa Al always had a camera with him and usually one of the more expensive ones, rather than the “Brownie” box camera that my parents had. I’m just guessing, but I think this picture was taken in the 1950’s sometime, just going by the makes and models of the cars. The Ford in the background belonged to my Grandpa Yates and as far as I know he bought it new, with cash.

Other clues in the picture are my brother’s size which makes me think he was around twelve or thirteen. The shed in the background eventually was re-roofed and dad built a car port off the side facing us in the photo. I know one thing, this picture was taken before October 12, 1962 because several of the trees in the picture didn’t survive that storm. Surprisingly enough, the tree under where Grandpa Yates parked his Ford was a huge cherry tree and it did make it through the “Big Blow”. The other big tree in the background was an apple tree and it didn’t survive.

I realize that anyone else looking at this old black and white photo won’t have the same feeling about it that I do. Even my brother probably has other, deeper, memories than I do since he was older. This picture, for all of its ‘old-timey’ look and the antics of my grandma, is my connection to my history when we lived on Dennis Street in Tumwater, Washington. We didn’t live in a grand house, and we lived all the way at the end of the end of the road, but it was my world. I have history here. I have good and bad memories of living here. And, for the time the photo or this article lasts, it’s proof that we lived interesting lives. Rest in peace Grandma Eppie, you are not forgotten.

Lillian Vera Epstein Moline 1904 – 1975

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History – Weather

© 2007-2015 iPentimento|Genealogy and History All Rights Reserved -- Copyright notice by Blog Copyright