Forty years ago today was a big day in our lives…
(We were both 14)
Yesterday son John and I worked together hanging drywall. He said he liked the picture I’d put on Facebook the night before….(my grandpa’s baby picture).
I said to John, I just wish someone would have told me when I was growing up, big ears ran in the family. 🙂
Growing up I hated my ears. I was ashamed of them. Kids called me monkey. I swore that I would have plastic surgery when I grew up. Funny thing is, when I could finally gets my hands on the $3000 I needed for plastic surgery, I had to stop and think about it. They no longer bothered me. My ears are just a part of what makes me, me. -)
I’ve been working on family history this winter as I’ve mentioned recently and one of my dad’s baby pictures caught my eye.
I posted this series of photos on Facebook for my peep earlier this week:
Growing up, my self esteem sucked. No other way to put it. I had a terrible case of low self worth. I didn’t realize just how bad it was until I became an adult.
I hated my ears, I hated my name. I hated the fact that I was small for my age growing up, not good at sports like my little brother. I was different than him. I had a musical bent. A sensitive heart. And I was clueless when it came to girls.
Low self esteem casts a long shadow.
It affects all your relationships.
Low self worth is a festering wound in the soul.
I no longer battle with the self esteem issues I had growing up.
Restoring self worth in others is one of my passions.
A part of me would love to start a support group for kids who think they have big ears.
Question for you…What would you tell that little boy who came to you and said, the kids in school are making fun of his big ears, calling him “monkey, monkey, monkey,” and picking on him because he is so small?
Have a great day and thanks for stopping by. DM
It has been a very productive winter for me as I’ve had the time to work on family history. It’s an interest I’ve had for years that comes and goes. I’ve had individual folders with old family pictures, notes from conversations from people now passed, two different family trees books I am descended from…a lot of information that begs to be organized. Last Fall, I happened to run into Diane at a local picnic for a tour group in the area from Ostfriesland. (Part of northern Germany.) By the end of our conversation, Diane had offered to help me work on our family tree. She had the time, the know how and I jumped at her offer.
She reached out to me this past January and asked if I was ready to get started. I gave her some names and she started setting up a family tree. I didn’t hear anything for several weeks, and discovered in the meantime that since my wife had taken a DNA test there was a free ancestry account already in existence in our name. So while I was waiting for Diane’s results, I started doing some work on my own…adding pictures, uploaded stories, using the search tools in the local newspaper archives. It has been a great way to break up some of the time these past few months.
Night before last Diane wrote me a note. I’d given her a link to the family tree I’ve been working on, this is a portion of what she said:
“I can tell you that your instincts, Doug as a genealogist and family history keeper are excellent.”
That is the 2nd time someone as given me unsolicited affirmation about that area of my life. (lover of history.)
The first time was in 2009. I’d shared a link to a history blog I was working on with one of my favorite authors. Andrea Seu Peterson.
She wrote me back and said : “You may want to call yourself a contractor, but I think you’re a historian. “
I hesitate to share those two affirmations and yet, I believe there is a place in our lives for personal affirmation. God knows there is enough negativity most of us battle with that goes on in our private thought life. So, when a few words of genuine affirmation makes it into my life, I celebrate. :-).
So there you go.
I am a voracious reader, especially when I get on a topic that interests me. Heck, I grew up in a home where World Encyclopedias were on a bookshelf in our bathroom.
So for me, to receive two unsolicited affirmations affirming my work in the area of history, does as much for me as getting a piece of paper telling me I have a Masters degree.
I’d never seen any of the following pictures before…(except the one of grandma on the boat. I’ve share that one before.)
Picture of my grandmother (little girl on the left) She was 13 years old.
My grandma, front row second from left. Getting together with her friends right before emigrating to America. March 1929. She was 23.
Grandma on ship March 1929 coming to America
1949 Picture from my grandmother on her first visit back to Germany since she immigrated.
(She is in the center)
Twenty years had passed…She’d gotten married to an Iowa farm boy. She’ had three children. Her father had passed away while she was gone. She’d endured the Great Depression in America, experienced WW 2 as a German living in America. I think of the emotions she must have been feeling at that moment.
I miss her.
I need to get moving.
Thanks for tagging along.
Take care. DM
Few years ago, I got an e-mail from a college professor. Seems some of his students at the time had stumbled across the following blog post on another blog of mine. He wanted me to know he’d heard them talking about my blog outside of class around the campfire on a class trip. Talk about honored. Anyway, Spring is in the air. If I want to do any pruning it needs to happen in the next couple of weeks. So, to kick off the 2019 apple growing season, I would like to repost the following musing.
Ten Reasons Why You May Want To Plant An Orchard.
(and if not a whole orchard, at least a couple of trees) 😉
Hanging scale in our sales area
1. Photo opportunities. Our apple orchard constantly changes with the seasons. There is always something catching my eye and bringing me joy.
2. It provides the perfect blend of solitude and social interaction. I love my peace and quiet. There is nothing more nurturing for me than spending a Saturday morning alone, picking apples. At the same time, I do love meeting and bantering with the public on occasion, and when the mood strikes, I will load up the pick up and head to our local farmers market.
Hawking apples at the farmers market last season
3. Supplemental income. Sure there is some work involved in tending an orchard, but not nearly as much as you might suspect. One Semi dwarf tree will cost you $20 to $25.00 and once it’s mature, it can produce between 2 to 4 bushel of apples a year. = 80 to 160 pounds of fruit @ $1.50 a pound that’s $120 to $240 gross, from one tree…per year..not bad for some additional pocket change if you ask me
4. mental stimulation. While the basics of tending an apple orchard are pretty easy to grasp, there is always something new to learn. Did you know there are over 750 different varieties of apples in the United States alone, and over 2000 varieties world-wide?
5. Keeps you physically active. “ Keep those muscles moving” my grandpa used to say. Between the pruning in the early spring, to the picking in the fall, having an orchard provides me with lots of opportunities to be physically active outside, all the while,I’m getting paid and enjoying some fresh air. As I get older I will probably do more of that “you pick” marketing, but for now, I can still climb and honestly, I love picking apples. Last Saturday, I picked about 1200 pounds of apples in about 6 hours.
6. Provides me with lots of opportunities to bless others. I’m not going to brag and tell you how this works itself out except to say, I try to sell mostly our #1 apples, which means, what to do with the seconds? The opportunities to give are all around.
7. Get to enjoy some varieties of fruit that are hard to come by normally – plus if you can find them, you’ll pay through the nose. Sure we have Honey crisp, was told last year they were charging up to $5.00 a pound for those little rascals. So far this year, I’ve picked 11 crates of them and probably have at least another 8. My personal favorite is called the Ginger Gold:
It is every bit as crispy as the Honey crisp and sweet. Last year we had 32 crates of these little jewels.
8. Fresh apple cider. You haven’t lived until you’ve had fresh apple cider pressed from your own apples. It’s got a texture and taste you’ll never , ever find in a store -ever. If you come to visit, and the apples are in season, you can help me press out a batch.
9. You’ll give the bees something to talk about. Ever hear of the “waggle dance”?
10. Provides me with lots of spiritual insight.
Life is full of mystery. I believe God has hidden the answers to some of our questions about life in the apple orchard.
Pruning and suffering. I hate it when people try to slap pat answers onto my life when I’m in the middle of something hard. It makes me angry. So I will not disrespect you and do that now. Sometimes it feels like I’m getting “pruned” and when it does, I barely have enough energy to survive, let alone do more.
Fruitfulness (ever see an apple tree grunt? Me neither.
Seasons. Apple trees don’t produce fruit 12 months out of the year. In fact, they need large blocks of “down time” in the winter..to get ready for the next season. They literally need that time, which is why apple trees don’t do well in warmer climates.
Variety. Already mentioned this one, but it bears repeating. Apple trees vary widely and differently in the type of fruit they produce. I think people are created much more varied than culture tries to tell us. I found an apple tree on an abandoned farmstead a few years ago like nothing I’d ever seen before. Some heirloom variety I’m sure. It looked and tasted just like it was designed to taste. Definitely not some domesticated boring apple. So why do you and I sometimes think we have to look like everybody else? Nothing more beautiful than someone being 100% alive just the way they were designed:
As always, thanks for reading my stuff DM
I have two stories that rumble around in my head each winter, when the weather gets testy, this year I added a third.
(And you may have heard this one before).
Growing up, my Grandpa would talk about a train that derailed south of his farm in the dead of winter, January of 1929. The train derailed and “turned turtle” (went over on it’s back) when it hit a hard snow drift. One of the engineers (Roscoe Stevens) was trapped in the wreckage for over 3 hours. Grandpa said, (and I have this on tape) ” I can still see that man…had a damn rod as thick as my arm over his arm…he was laying there, couldn’t move. Both engines were lying in the ditch. then the doctor hollered,” Does anybody got some whiskey??? Come on, get some! If you got nothing, get some! We’ve got to have whiskey for this guy.” they poured the whole pint in him. He was suffering….It was 35 to 40 below. You don’t ever forget those things…”
Here are a couple of pictures of that train wreck:
You may have heard this one before too, that can happen around here. 😉
Back in 2011 I stumbled across the poetry of Elsie Strawn Armstrong on-line. She was a pioneer mother who lived from 1789 to 1891. She wrote a series poems called “Sketches Of My Life.” One of the most powerful accounts happened in 1831. They lose their provision of salt, which in that time apparently was a life and death situation. ( I know it had to do with food preservation for the coming year, but not sure how that all works…)
“Our salt was in a gum,
And was standing on the loft,
But met with a bad accident,
when the cover got shoved off.
I had some in a box,
That was standing down below,
Not enough to last till spring,
And we knew not where to go…
Elsie asks a man who had been selling salt if he had more to sell? He didn’t, and didn’t know when more would be in. He said...”If I go for salt, I’ll freeze to death, and perish in the snow.”
She goes home, and tells her children the situation.
When I got home, I told my children
What the man had said,
Then William said, I’ll go myself,
And take that big old sled.
“Mother do not be uneasy,
None but lazy people freeze,
Because they will not exercise,
They are so fond of ease.
There is no fear for me Mother,
I will jump and kick the sled,
I will keep myself in exercise
Run, and kick the wagon bed….
Their team was good and active,
All four year olds and strong….
The account goes on…
Fifteen year old Will and his little brother take off on a 90 mile trek in the dead of winter with their team. They have to cross a frozen river, deal with winter storms, not get lost, be on guard for roving Indians, (all while mom is at home second guessing herself, with the rest of her brood).
This week, just to make sure I was on my game because the weather man said we were in for it, we were going to get a “Polar vortex”,what ever the heck that was, I decided to add a third story to my winter attitude folder.
I decided to reread a portion of novel The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder.
It was perfect!
It was just what the Dr ordered!
I am torn.
Torn because I love winter.
I love winter storms.
I love being snowed in.
I love busting through drifts with my 4 wheel drive pick up.
Last thing I want to do is mock someone to whom the winter storms are a heartache. (My parents are in their 80’s and I know it can be hard on both of them). The thing is, from my vantage point, all of the negative, naysayers are the only voices I hear. Fellow lovers of winter weather seem to be either a dying breed or keeping their thoughts to themselves.
I grew up on a farm.
On the farm, when you have livestock, you don’t get to stay in the house when it gets cold. Sometimes just the opposite. Those are the times when stuff starts to break. Water lines to the cattle get frozen or the pilot light to the tank heater won’t stay lit, etc. etc. Christmas morning if you have milk cows (like we did) the cows still need milking, haying, might even have more manure to pitch than normal if you keep the cows in the barn overnight so they don’t freeze their utters off. 🙂
So here I am now in the year 2019.
All of our children are grown. No longer have cows to milk, tank heaters to keep lit. none of it.
Predictions of winter storms stir up within me feelings of thankfulness. I feel like some little creature tucked away deep in my burrow, Cozy. My larder is full. The house is staying warm. Smell of freshly baking bread is in the air. Garden seeds have started coming in the mail. The new little heating pad that goes under the seed starting tray is working like a charm.
I feel better. Now you know.
I got into a conversation yesterday with a young mom about this past weeks weather. She asked me what I thought about it. I paused, looked her in the eyes and told her the same things I’ve just told you here.
She smiled and said, “I feel the same way.”
Here’s a picture I took earlier in the week in front of our house:
Got to run. Need to go to the bank before they close. Take care. DM
My mom turns 85 this month.
I wasn’t sure what to get her.
What do you get for someone who doesn’t want or need more stuff?
Decided to take her out on a date.
A coffee date.
I am scheduled to pick her up tomorrow morning at 9.
Just the two of us.
I’m her first-born.
If you were to ask me to summarize my relationship with my mom in a word, I would say Confidant. (And it goes both ways.)
Confidant: One to whom secret or private matters are disclosed. A person with whom you confide things.
Mom lost her father when she was three. Raised by a single mother. Grew up during the Depression. Told me once, “She never realized she was poor, because everybody was poor in those days. Her grandmother helped to raise her while her mom worked. There was no social security in those days. Your family was your safety net. They ate pigeon pie. Fish her grandpa would catch. Her grandma has a big garden. Took turns sharing the bath water with half a dozen other kids on the back porch every Friday night. ”
Here’s where you (my blog readers) come in… 🙂
Mom and I will have no trouble carrying on a conversation when we are together. It never is.
BUT, I wouldn’t mind taking the opportunity to ask her a question or two about something of substance.
Early picture of my mom and three of us.
24 hours later….
Coffee date with her eldest
As it turned out, it was the perfect outing. We did talk family history, but it wasn’t forced. Found out mom initially went to college to become a teacher. (I never knew that.) Two different local businessmen offered to help her out with her tuition. (Never knew that either) 🙂
Across the street from where we are currently working is a group home for handicapped young men. The first day we were on the job, I swore I heard an auctioneer. Looked out the window and there was Billy, pacing back and forth with his microphone calling out to an imaginary crowd.
“Who’ll give me five dollar? Who’ll give me five???”
On and on it went, for 15/ 20 minutes.
If you didn’t know any better you’d have sworn it was a real auction.
This will be the 4th week on this same job, and Billy has probably had a dozen auctions since I’ve been on the job. He’s crossed the street a couple of times just to give us give us some crap.
(Crap is German for good-natured teasing by the way.)
Billy is a big boy. Place him in his mid 20’s. He’s all of 6 ft tall, 220 pounds. Cusses like a sailor…worse than a sailor actually. But behind that intimidating exterior, is someone’s little boy. I have no idea who his parents were, or what the specific details of his disabilities are. I do know he can walk. He can carry on a conversation. I think he works part-time @ a local can sorting place for people with disabilities.
Having 2 grandchildren ourselves with disabilities has given me a whole different perspective on people like Billy than I used to have. He’s mobile. Lives on his own with minimal supervision. He has a job. Has a lot going for him.
Where I’m going with all of this you may be wondering….
Well, yesterday I decided to buy something @ Billy’s auction. I was working in the driveway, cutting out stair treads when I heard him again. Looked across the street and it looked like he was pointing right at me while he was calling..
So I raised my hand and shouted “Yep.” Then “Yep” again. Finally shook my head and made a cutting sign across my throat, indicating I wouldn’t go any higher.
Pretty sure I just bought my own truck.