When Dreams are Really Memories

During the course of my life I've had a few recurring dreams. One of them begins at the top of a snowy wooded hill in the depths of winter. We pile onto a sled (or maybe it's just me) and fly over the snow and down the hill through the woods of pine trees in the dark of night. It's a long but smooth ride to the bottom (if there is one) with snow flying and the cold stinging my face. If I could compare it to something familiar, it might be a bit like the Polar Express roaring through the dark of night toward the North Pole.

I never knew why I dreamed this, or what might have inspired the adventure, until about a month ago. One of my mother's favorite cousins passed away in October. His son, a few years younger than me, shared some thoughts he and his youngest brother had written. In the midst of their memories was mention of a sledding run down the wooded hill on their property. Their memory clicked with me, and though these two brothers are younger, there had been a set of older brothers as well, brothers a few years older than me. Could it be that on a visit to their house my own older brother had taken me on a sled ride down the darkened hill through the pines one night? I believe that is exactly what happened. The dream wasn't just a made up story from my imagination, but a vague and all but forgotten childhood memory.

No photos of the actual place, just a few of my own kids on a local sledding hill. Look at 'em go!

Japan...

Long ago and far away a baby boy was born on a US Air Force base in Tokyo, Japan. His four older sisters remember the country of his birth much better than he does, and yet only his birth certificate reads Tachikawa Air Force Base, Tokyo, Japan.

Though he played amongst the bamboo trees, the only memory is in old photographs. He was not quite three years old when the family returned to the shores of North America, taking along a love for the Japanese people, their food, and language. Wasn't it just two weeks ago my own daughter wandered the Tokyo airport and purchased a small package of seaweed to bring home to her father? And those funny fish and shrimp crackers?

Today the country of Japan is in great danger and terrible turmoil. Our hearts are heavy as we read the news and watch footage of utter destruction. We pray for the Japanese people, hurt for their loss, hope for their safety, and realize the world will never be the same.

My Great Grandfathers

When I was a little girl there were two portraits hiding around the corner at Great Grandma's house. One was of Great Grandpa and the other was his father. Both these men were complete strangers to me, their photographs a curiosity.

My great grandfather, Joseph Shafer, was born on August 9, 1862. His mother, Mittie Jennings, died on Christmas day when Joseph was just four months old. Her parents eventually petitioned the court for custody of their two young grandchildren, my grandpa and his sister Hattie. By the time Joseph married Great Grandma, he was already 39 years old, she was almost 19. Together they had eleven children, 7 girls and 4 boys. Joseph was a farmer in the hills above Angelica, NY and raised horses. He taught my father to play the harmonica and loved to work in his garden. When he died in 1950, he left behind and old autograph book that found a home in Great Grandma's living room. When Dad took us to visit I would find the little book and read it.

I know very little of my great great grandfather, Garret Fred Shafer. According to my father's cousin, Janice, he was born in September of 1832 in Thomkins County, NY. Garret's own father disappeared when he was young and his mother was not well. The children were farmed out to other families and Garret was said to have been raised by the Van Campens. Garret married Mittie Jennings and they had two children, a girl and a boy. After his first wife died, Garret remarried and had other children. According to Great Grandma, the second wife was not kind to Joseph and Hattie. Garret eventually traveled west and died in April of 1905 in Altoona, Missouri.

Several years back my father was given the portrait of his great grandfather, Garret. The photo hangs in my parent's dining room and bears an uncanny resemblance to Dad. When Mom was still doing daycare the children often remarked on the picture of "Uncle Al."

Fort Ontario

Ben spent the past week at camp for work week and today we drove to Oswego to retrieve him for the weekend. Beth and Josh came along. Before heading home we grabbed some lunch at Wendy's, had a picnic in the grass, toured a museum (Check it out here. I had never heard this story.), and checked out Fort Ontario again, this time we went inside.

In an effort to cut spending, the governor of NY decided to close several state parks and historic places. Fort Ontario was one of them. Fortunately, people rallied and it is now open again. It was pretty cool to look around inside and go down into the tunnels where the artillery was once used. Very dark and a little spooky. It was also cool to walk around on top of the walls, or ramparts. Reminds me of a song...

Old Stories

I sneaked another peak at one of Dad's old diaries last night and found he had been hospitalized as a teenager because of some abnormality with his heart. He spent a week in the hospital while they ran tests and did x-rays and another week in bed at home, after which this entry was recorded in his diary... Wed. December 1, 1948- "The doctor came to see me and told me I can't go hunting, tramping, take gym, play mouthorgan, work, and just about anything else for a few months." Ten days later was this entry... "Sat. December 11, 1948- "This afternoon Arthur (his brother) and I went out to Victor in the Model A and started home after dark. On our way home we decided to follow the unfinished Cloverleaf highway (dirt and high). We rode a few miles going about 50 or more when we came terribly near to going off a high drop-off onto a railroad track where they're going to put a bridge in. Arthur swerved the car around on two wheels, blew a front tire, crashed through a pile of iron bars and tore one running board in two. If we'd gone over the bank we wouldn't have had a chance. When we got home Mother, Dad, and I went to a show and saw "Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid" and "A Southern Yankee". So much for taking it easy! Whenever Dad told this story I could see him heave a sigh, shake his head, and wonder in disbelief that he and his brother survived so many boyhood antics. He never laughed when he told this story. Note- As best I can tell the "Cloverleaf Highway" refers to Interstate 90.

The Snowy Day and More Cobblestones

That's right, we woke up to snow this morning. Not surprising here in western NY, but distressing just the same. It won't stick around long and maybe by next week, during spring break, we'll be enjoying sunshine and walks in the park. We can always hope so.

After visiting the eye doctor this morning we stopped at the public library. I found a book, Cobblestone Quest, to help me in my study of Cobblestone houses. Although there are a few scattered across the United States, 90%, are within 65 miles of Rochester, NY. This is The Maxwell Creek Carriage House which serves as a Bed and Breakfast. I'll have to look for it next time I drive that direction. (The photo is from their website.)

The book I borrowed doesn't give much information on the homes and buildings, just general information on construction. What it does do is take the reader on several mini tours. The tour closest to my house takes me past 25 cobblestone structures including those I posted yesterday and this one here. Built in 1839, it was originally the First Methodist Church of Williamson. The datestone identifies it as "Ridge Chapel". When the weather perks up I think I'll set off on a tour or two and take my camera along. Sounds like a great homeschool field trip!

100 Days for Mothers

It was a beautiful day to be a mom. The occasion was celebrated with another picnic gathering at Dave and Rachel's place. We filled the house with mothers, fathers, sons and daughters. Family spilled out onto the deck and spread over the lawn. Each year our numbers grow by one or two, encouraging us to cook up a few more burgers and bring a little bit more potato salad and baked beans. This year we added Josh and missed Jim who moved out to Minnesota back in September. Of course he did call to wish all the moms a wonderful day and let us know he loves us. (I'm so glad he called. It was good to hear his voice on the other end of the line and also nice to hear him on my answering machine when I returned home this evening.)

The sun shone bright this morning, warming up the day before slowly disappearing behind a cover of clouds. This was my first Mother's Day as a "grandma", a strange yet wondeful sounding title, and I'm looking forward to many more. I intend to love having grandchildren!

I hope all you moms and grandmas had an absolutely splendid day!

Happy Valentown's Day

While the kids and I were out yesterday, we passed this old building and stopped to take a few pictures. The structure was erected in 1879 as a shopping mall and community center. Looking ahead, Levi Valentine built his mall where the railroad was scheduled to pass.
Sad for him the railroad company ran out of both tracks and money long before they reached the Valentown Mall. The building was abandoned until Sheldon Fisher purchased it in 1940 and turned it into a museum.

I have passed by this spot many times but have never been inside the building. I am curious though. Maybe the kids and I will have go back when the weather warms up and take a look around. Anyone care to join us?

A Little More History

This afternoon we were invited to the home of some friends who live on the west side of Rochester. Having just posted photos of my great grandfather's garden and seeing as his house is just around the corner from these friends, I decided to find Grandpa's old house and see what, if anything, is left of his garden. This is the house in 1948.

I found the house without too much difficulty, but no one was home. Two guys next door told me an older lady lives there. I decided to be brave and check the back yard. Aside from scattered piles of rock and concrete, I saw two decent remnants of my great grandfather's artwork.

Behind the garage stands a miniature stone lighthouse. The light is broken and missing most of its glass panels but the base is in decent shape. It looks like Grandpa collected cobblestones to build his backyard creations. He did a great job, nothing about it looks haphazard.

A concret table remains at the head of the driveway. It doesn't seem possible that this table is nearly seventy years old but I have the proof in pictures from when my mom was just a little girl.

It's too bad the woman who lives there wasn't at home, maybe then I wouldn't have felt so odd taking a few photos in the backyard of a total stranger.

An Old Fashioned Rock Garden

When my mother was a little girl, she lived just outside of Rochester, NY in the town of Brighton. Her maternal grandparents, Charles and Carrie Hooper lived on the other side of Rochester on Chili Avenue. Mom's grandpa made beautiful rock gardens where ever he lived. He built walkways, fireplaces, and pagotas. There were bridges and birdbaths and he even had a greenhouse
I'm told that when he sold one house and bought another, he would make another rock garden in the new location. The gardens were quite elaborate and difficult for the new owners to keep up with but Grandpa never seemed to have a problem. Maybe he was retired and spent all his time out there weeding, watering, and working, I don't know... Whatever it was, his were some of the most beautiful gardens in the city of Rochester back in the 1930's and 40's. They even made it into the newspaper a time or two. Sometimes I wonder what happened to my great grandfather's green thumb and then I remember that on occasion I see my own children trying it on. Beth was sporting a rather lovely shade of jade as she worked my flower gardens several years ago. She even grew her own vegetable garden when she was about 16. Dave is often showing off his green thumb as he does his groundscaping job here and there. He loves to take a neglected area and fill it with flowers, ornamental plants and groundcover. I've also seen Ben show an interest in plants and growing things.
As a child I had a strange fascination with cemeteries. They were full of pretty rocks and trees and flowers. Looked like a rock garden to me. Maybe grandpa's green thumb isn't gone afterall!