Pictures

My great-grandfather, Jacob Willard Zumwalt, was born in 1828. He is obviously a young man in this picture, probably not over twenty years old. I have this picture, taken about one hundred-sixty years ago, in my possession and it is still quite clear. Many photographs, in my archives, are well over one hundred years old. Most of these have survived with less damage than more recent snapshots.
Nobody seems to truly know how lasting our current digital pictures will be. This is a recurrent discussion topic at scrap booking sessions. Digitals are easy to take, touchup, and format. They can even be printed at home, but how will they look one hundred years from today. Some people store their pictures on CDs, believing they will last for generations, but I have been told that there is no assurance that these will survive over time.
I treasure the pictures of ancestors, in my collection, that helped to settle the "new" state of California during the nineteenth century. The stories of their lives are fascinating, but seeing their pictures makes them more personal. Will historians in future years be able to look at the faces of their great-grandparents who are living today?
Like so many things in 2010, pictures appear to be transitory. Few objects are manufactured to last. Garbage dumps fill with items that were the newest and the best only short years, or even months, ago.
In a fast changing world, it is reassuring to know that God is the same yesterday, today and forever. Biblical truth remains constant, and the words of Jesus apply today the identical way they did in Jacob Willard Zumwalt's time, and before.

Grad Then and Now

Over the past month many of us have watched, or heard about, graduation ceremonies. Young people in large and small communities across Canada and the United States have walked proudly forward to receive their hard earned diplomas. It is a wonderful celebration to climax years of hard work for the students, and often for their parent also.

During the month before the big event much time and energy is devoted to passing exams, choosing flattering pictures and locating the perfect clothes to wear for the big night.

This picture is of a high school graduating class in the year 1911--very close to 100 years ago. Don't these students look solemn? This group lived in Orland California and the young woman on the left is my mother's eldest sister, Hazel, and yes this is the entire class. I have a note written by Hazel shortly before this momentous event. She writes, "Here we are in all our glory. We are busy as can be with our essays. Just about finished my Latin essay, but my California Poets essay is hard--can't find material."

It sounds as though the subjects taught were a bit different than those we hear about today. The important thing is that God had his hand on these seven young people as they went forth. Hazel became a teacher and worked for a few years before marrying her banker boyfriend. The other three ladies all happily married. The young man in the center of the back row eventually became the county superintendent of schools and served in that position for many years.

In all the excitement of graduations today, we must remember to pray for the students leaving school and entering life. They need God's guidance more now than they have through all their growing up years. Parents will not always be there to help them over the rough spots they will certainly face, but God will never leave them if they will put their trust in Him.

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.