As I mentioned the other day, my Aunt Mary Rose Glahe passed away on Christmas eve day. She was a very special person to me.
When we were growing up, her family lived right outside Olympia, Wa. The trip now is about an hour down the freeway, but back then it was about double that. We went down there or they came up here pretty regularly. I was close to my cousins growing up, but eventually the moved to Utah, which to me was the equivalent of moving to the back side of the moon. After they moved, I think the only time I saw them was in 1970 for my Grandfathers' funeral in 1970.
A few years ago My cousin Ginger and I got back in touch, and have visited back and forth a couple of times a year. She and her husband, Pat have a beautiful home in Coberg, Oregon.
When Mrs A and I first started going down to Coberg to visit, Aunt Mary Rose would come over and visit along with her brother, my Uncle Fred.
When we first got back together, we figured out that it had been about 32 years since we has seen each other. But the minute I walked in the door, it was like the years in between had evaporated. We spent several hours remembering things we had done when we were kids and such.
I had spent a couple of weeks in Olympia with them a couple of times, working in the strawberry fields. The most significant thing I remember about strawberry picking is that they paid us in silver dollars. That and the strawberry fights, and eating strawberries until I couldn't eat any more. In fact, to this day, I am not real fond of strawberries.
I also recall the time we went camping at the ocean at Westport, at Twin Harbors State Park. In the middle of the night a rain storm moved in and we got drenched. When the air mattresses started floating, we had enough, broke camp and headed home. Olympia was about held way home, so we showed up and Aunt Mary Rose and Uncle Franks' house wet, bedraggled and chilled to the bone. I was never so happy to see their porch light.
Shortly after she passed, Ginger sent a very nice piece talking about their experience, and included some stories of life with her parents. A couple of them were downright hilarious.
I read them sitting there on the couch laughing right out loud with tears running down my face.
4 comments:
(Hpe this is not a repeat, I sent this once but it did not show up.)This is sister "L" not to quibble too much but Grandpa died June 5, 1971, not 1970. I know that for a fact because I spent the summer of 1970 on the farm. Mom and Dad did not want to let me because I was only 10 but Grandpa talked them into it.
"L" again. You have the advantage on me being a few years older. I really don't remember the Glahe's much, definately not them living in Olympia. The only thing I remember is that Rick was nice and Steve was very mean to me. Of course tht is subjective, I also remember certain brothers who shall remain nameless torturing poor little(angelic) innocent moi.
I am sorry for your loss... Even tho it was some what expected... it is still hard to take and understand. I have done this many times... laughing till you cry. Most of the time I can't tell if the tears are from the laughing... or if they are tears from crying.
Keep remembering the good memories!
Happy New Year
"L" You are, of course correct. I got out of the Army in 1970 and spent that summer on the farm rehabilitating my right sholder. Grandfather's funeral was the next spring. And as far as torturing little sisters, that is what they are there for. And I was an equal oportunity torturer.
~grey: Happy new year to you too. I will always hold the good memories close, When the world turns cold and indifferent, they will always bring a glow in the dark.
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