Penmanship

Many young people in the late 1800s took pride in their handwriting skill. I have several autograph books, from that time, filled with entries. Some are scrawled in a childish hand, but many pages look like works of art. The picture with this entry is one of those, and I find it quite beautiful. The individual who crafted this page used colored ink, however the ones done only in black are also fascinating.

In some instances, autograph books were traded at school, worked on during the evening and returned the following day. At gatherings of family, or friends several individuals sat around a table exchanging their books and writing messages to be treasured by the recipients.
Careful penmanship was taught in school during the late nineteenth, and early twentieth centuries. The writer's sitting position, angle of the paper on the desk, and grip on the pen were strictly supervised. Children carefully copied row upon row of loops, curves up-strokes, down-strokes and circles. This would now be considered a huge waste of classroom time.
Today, only those who practice the art of calligraphy take the necessary care to generate beauty with written words. It is sad to see something that was once practiced by many be reduced to a very few.
We now rely on computers, printers, e-mail and text messaging. Cursive writing is still taught in school, but often without an eye for perfection. The message is easily delivered, but too often it is hurled across space with little thought given to content and less to grammar, or beauty of presentation.
Many sneer at "snail mail" and never write personal letters to family and friends. This is a shame. There is a unique joy in receiving a handwritten letter from someone you hold dear, carefully penned with you in mind. It's an expression of love--a linking of hearts.

Bertha's Story

Aunt Bertha's Story

My Aunt Bertha has been previously mentioned in this blog. In fact, I've credited her with the development of my pack rat tendencies. I grew up as sort of a strange duck, and an after thought in my generation. My parents and I lived in a big old house, built by my grandfather, and Aunt Bertha resided in an apartment upstairs.
My parents were older and I was an only child. Since they were very protective, I was kept fairly close to home, and spent time with my great-aunt. In the picture above, she is the little girl with striped stockings on the left end of the front row. She showed me pictures and told stories to accompany them. This, in its original form, is one of the stories she told me when I was about the same age as that little girl in the picture.
In the spring of 1865 a wagon caravan formed near St. Joseph, Missouri. The caravan was bound for Oregon, the land of promise for all.
After the twenty, or more, wagons had joined up, they elected experienced, trustworthy and honest men for the captain and scouts. They all knew the country ahead was wild and populated with renegades. When the caravan started its journey across the plains. The scouts were deployed either north and south or east and west.
In one of the wagons, pulled by a team of oxen, traveled Stephen Downen, his wife Mary Jane Piper Downen, and two small children, Frances and Evaline. Other relatives also traveled in the caravan as well as many friends.
They had several experiences with renegades on the trail which caused them to have to corral the wagons. At one point they came upon the remains of the train that had preceded them. The entire party had been massacred. After about six months of hardship they reached Portland Oregon where the caravan broke up.
The Steven Downen family settled near Salem where a son, William Martin, was born. They remained there for about two years. In 1869 they came down the Oregon trail to Red Bluff California, which was barely a town at that time.
They next moved to Grand Island on the Sacramento River where the men worked for a large cattle rancher named Steel. The family lived in a house on stilts because of the over flow of the river.
They then moved to Freshwater where Grandfather Piper started a blacksmith shop. After he sold the blacksmith shop, in 1871, he and his wife, the Stephen Downen family and others returned to Missiouri and settled in Rochester County. There Grandfather started the Piper Mill on the Platte River. There was a grist mill on one side and a saw mill on the other. Bertha Downen was born in Rochester in 1874.
In the spring of 1880 they all returned to California. This time they traveled by train, bringing with them food enough for the entire trip, in a large basket. They landed in Williams and lived out in Freshwater. About a year later they moved to Artois, and then to Orland.
This is the story Aunt Bertha told it to me, which I transcribed in childish writing. I'm glad I was a strange duck and willing to listen. After all, the main things we leave behind are our stories. Please tell yours to someone who will listen. I would love to have you leave a comment to share a bit of it here.

Farming

Farming

Yesterday morning, after church, all the local farmers stood in groups talking about seeding and how early it's starting this year. Hearing their excitment made me consider the changes in farming practices over the last hundred years, or so.

This picture was taken in Northern California, near the site chosen for the first two book in my current series, and about the time of my work in progress. This "Combined Harvester is at work on the Tom Vestal place and powered by 32 horses and mules. I guess that would be 32 horse power? There are four men listed as operators--the driver, header tender, separator tender and roust about.

Today, one man drives a combine with maybe 360 horse power, and covers more land in a day that his predecessor did in a week. The same is true in many aspects of the farm industry. So much has changed, but there is a lot that remains the same.

No matter how hard a man works on the land, or how much modern equipment he has, the results of his labor are still in God's hands. He is always at the mercy of the weather. No rain, too much rain, a late frost, or an early one can cancel his best efforts. Equipment failures, high imput costs, or accidents can cut down the meager profit from farming.

Any of us, who is acquainted with a farmer, should keep him in our prayers. Even those who don't know farmers personally should pray. After all, farming feeds us all!

Education

These two "maiden ladies", both my grand-aunts, lived in the town where I grew up. The smaller of the two is Bertha Downen, featured in my first blog post, and I knew her very well. The taller lady, May Reager, passed away when I was three and I only know her from the many stories I've heard. This is one of my favorite pictures, taken while Bertha fastened May's gloves for her, and showing their difference in height.

Aunt May was a teacher, and so am I. It is interesting to reflect on the changes in educational methods that have occured since her time. She would find it difficult to recognize the modern classroom, and I'm not sure she would be pleased with all of the changes.

May began her teaching career in 1895 and taught in rural school until 1912 when she transferred to the town of Orland. She worked there until 1939, retiring at 69 years of age. I've known many of her students. All spoke of her with love, and some with humor. She expected, and received, good discipline and respect from all of the children in her care. Her height may have given her an advantage, as she was over six feet tall and quite impressive in appearance. She cared deeply for all her charges and often purchased clothing, or shoes for those in need.

One of her methods of correction would not be allowed today's classroom. She kept an empty hot water bottle in her bottom drawer. It was used sparingly, but well remembered. If a mischievous pupil created a disturbance, she would bring out the bottle, put the naughty child across her lap and apply a few whacks to his backside. This didn't cause injury, but made enough noise to leave a lasting impression.

When May retired, her school was re-named, The May L. Reager Building. I returned, as a young teacher, to my hometown and taught 2nd grade in that facility.

Downen Family 1901

While substitute teaching in a grade 2 class today, I read the children a book about pioneers. When I told them it took the pioneers, in their covered wagons, six months to cross the country, and it is now possible to drive across in six days, they could hardly believe me. Travel has become so easy--driving, flying, fast trains and ships, we have trouble putting ourselves in the shoes of those pioneers. Travel for them was a struggle that often ended in disaster. They trusted God with their lives and future, and looked to him for daily help, and comfort.
I told the students that my great-great-grandmother rode from Missioui to California in her rocking chair, placed in the back of her daughter and son-in-law's wagon. I also told them I may have that chair. That great-great-grandmother Cynthia Piper is not shown in this pictue. The older lady and gentleman in the front row are her daughter, Mary Jane and her son-in-law, Stephen Tiner Lacy Downen.

If you look closely at the chair Mary Jane is using, and compare it to the one in the header at the top of this blog, you will see it is the same one. I don't know, for sure, that this chair crossed the plains, but it could have.

Another thing we do, that people back then didn't do, is constantly discard furniture in-order to purchase the latest style. Of course, furniture back then was built to last, and I am grateful that it was. Much of what I use daily is at least 100 years old.

Why Me?

Have you ever had a day when you said, "Why me? Why can't anything go right?"

I think we've all felt that way from time to time, even though we know God is in control and His plans are perfect.

Whenever I start to plan a pity party I think of my Grandmother Ada Noble, pictured above with her sister Lizzie, and decide my life is really pretty good after all. She was born in 1862 and married in 1882. By 1900 she had given birth to 7 children, in perfect rotation--girl, boy, girl, boy etc. The two youngest girls died, one shortly after birth and the other in a fall from her high chair.

In September 1900, her husband Emery drove a herd of horses to a distant town for a sale. While he was there, he was kicked over the heart and killed instantly. Since she was responsible to care for and raise five children, she established a bording house.

All went well for a few months and then disaster struck again. Three of her children came down with typhoid fever. One of her sons recovered, but her two remaining daughters passed away, one on December 31, 1901 and the other on January 1, 1902.

I would like to say, from then on everything went well for that gallant lady, but there were other problems. However, I think you have heard enough to get the picture. I do know she continued to rely on the Lord. I have her Bible, which is well used and well marked. God was her refuge and her strength and He is mine as well.

Communication

On this first day after the Easter Weekend, 2010, many of us have watched friends and relatives leave for their distant homes. It is always sad to see our loved ones depart, but very easy to keep track of their progress as they travel. We have email, text messaging and telephones of all sorts. We can also be fairly certain that we will see them again, in the not too distant future.
Things were very different on April 16, 1849 when my great-grandfather, Martin Reager, left his home in Missouri to seek his fortune in the gold fields of California. He left behind his father and several siblings, his mother having passed away a few years before this departure.
Martin was only 19 years old, traveling with his grandfather Corder and cousin Jim, in a conestoga wagon pulled by a team of oxen. He would never return to his home in the east. They joined a train of 60 wagons planning to reach the Golden State by the Laramie Trail. The journey took five months, nearly exactly, and they arrived at the Lassen Ranch near the present site of Vina on September 17th.
Letters were the only method of communication at that time, 161 years ago, and they were slow to arrive. The latest news would be sent, but was sure to be far out of date by the time it reached family members any distance away. There was no way of knowing of your loved ones were in good health, or even still alive.
The only means to have peace of mind, in those pioneer days, was reliance on God. Individuals had to commit their loved one into His keeping and trust that they would meet again in heaven, if not in this life.
Times have changed and we are able keep in touch with our distant friends and relatives. Still there is very little we can do to help and protect them. Our only true course is still to pray and rely on the One who holds the future and holds them in His hand.