Archive for the ‘Springtime in Oysterville’ Category

And way before me was my Uncle Willard!

Monday, March 25th, 2024

Cornelius Kistemacher died September 17, 1943 so it is possible that Willard’s story about him appeared in this December 1943 issue of Good Housekeeping Magazine.

Just when I think that I’ve turned over every scrap of the “family papers” to the Washington State Research Center, I seem to run into something else.  Today it was a story that my Uncle Willard Espy (“Wede” t0 friends and family) wrote  for a column called “Family Man” for Good Housekeeping Magazine in the 1940s.  I tried to see if any of those stories are now online or if Good Housekeeping still exists.  As far as I can tell, they are not but it does.  I hope they don’t mind if I excerpt a little from one of Wede’s columns for this Blog:

A letter from the folks in Oysterville tells me that my old friend Mr. Kistemacher has died.  I feel especially sorry about it because when we were out there last summer we never visited him at his home.  I meant to sit with Hilda in his kitchen and drink green beer while his Edison phonograph played ‘Turkey in the Straw”  and Mr. Kistemacher accompanied the music very exactly and mournfully on an ocarina, doing a curious stately pelican dance, his big Dutch nose hooked over the instrument and his red cheeks bunched up like two wizened little apples.  But he was out the day we called, and it is too late now.  I suppose you would have called Mr. Kistemacher a ‘character,’ Oysterville used to be a great place for characters, and some are there yet…

Mr. Kistemacher was Gladys Kistemacher’s father — which made him Bud Goulter’s maternal grandfather.  In Marie Oesting’s  1988 book, “Oysterville  Cemetery Sketches,” she related two stories about him.  The first was by Helen Heckes:  “That’s Glady Goulter’s father.  He was a little Dutchman.  Rather excitable.  He just sputtered when he talked.  But he grew peonies, something I’ve tried to do ever since; I can’t make them grow.  But he had beautiful peonies.”

Bud Goulter

And Les Wilson had this to say to Marie about Mr. Kistemacher:  “He made real good home brew.  I used to work with a guy — off and on — on the mail trucks.  The North Beach Transit Company had a truck, 2 trucks, that they hauled mail and supplies.  I’d go with this guy, and that’s where we’d end up, was up at old Kisty’s and take up chicken feet, whatnot,  He always had a bottle of home brew there for us  This was just hops and malt with plenty of sugar in it; it had quite a kick to it.  We’d usually end up the last delivery with him, and then we’d have a beer or two.”

I was especially pleased  to note that Wede had called this series “Characters, God Bless Them!”  I think he would have loved my “Saints or Sinners? Characters of Pacific County” running weekly in the Chinook Observer  — and would probably have had a good many to add to the series!

 

And so it begins…

Sunday, March 24th, 2024

I’ve blocked out the week to work on my upgraded (though actually much simplified) website so the Oysterville Daybook reports are likely to be slim-to-non-existent.  However, I do want to thank all of my readers who took the time to respond to my questions about your own desires, what would make accessing the Oysterville Daybook easier, etc.  I have conveyed your responses to my website guru who gave me a blanket “no problem” response.

I was especially pleased with the idea that several of you posed about having a “search button” on each blog so that you can go back and find what else I’ve written about a topic in the past.  I was delighted to get a “no problem” response to that suggestion, as well.  (And I must confess, I fear you will find that over the years, I’ve repeated myself many times on certain topics!)

Of those answering my plea for feedback, I found that about half of you access my Oysterville Daybook blog directly from the website and the rest of you find it on Facebook.  I don’t think any of you mentioned whether one way or the other is easier in terms of getting my feedback to your comments or questions.  I have the feeling that FB allows me to be more responsive but I’d like to hear from you so we can make the process easier if need be.

Again, thank you for your continued support.  And, while I’m at it, thanks to those of you who have contacted me about one or more of the Saints or Sinners stories running weekly in the paper.  I love hearing your feedback!  And, since my life will be rather closely focused during this next week (translation: not much exciting to blog about), this might be a good time to discuss some of those stories.    Sturges Dorrance has written me several notes about the Dorothy Elliott piece relative to his own summer camp experiences and those of his daughters.  Perhaps tomorrow I’ll start there.

Deer and Daffodils Everywhere You Look!

Saturday, March 23rd, 2024

In the southwest corner of our garden.

The sun shines betwixt and between scattered showers.  The peepers are peeping out in the bogs and the geese and ducks are honking and quacking as they fly overhead.  And just in case you doubted the season, daffodils are everywhere.  And so are the deer.

The other day as I was driving from Nahcotta to Oysterville,  I pulled over as five (count ’em! five!) lovely doe people crossed the road in front of me.  They moved in their usual leisurely fashion and the only forewarning I had that there would be a third and then a fourth and a fifth was that the first didn’t wait for the second one and that second one wasn’t a young’un.  They were all grownup lady deer, ambling slowly, oh so slowly, across the road.

Too, more than once I’ve had to stop as I went up Wiegardt’s Hill headed for Ocean Park.   Fortunately, everyone coming and going has slowed and then waited, too There is no “Deer Crossing” sign, but the locals know.  And… while we wait (usually for only one or two in that spot) we can enjoy the bright daffodils that the Ocean Park Village Club and Tom Downer have planted along the walking path on the north side of the road.

Deer Sign on the Camellia

So far, I have seen plenty of deer sign and nibbled camellia leaves in my garden… but no deer people.  They must know when I’m otherwise occupied.  I do love to see them, but I don’t love the havoc they leave behind!  And, will I have any roses at all this summer?  I’m thinking that there are other delicious morsels coming out in the woods around town about now — but I don’t know how to convince our visitors to choose those over our garden plantings.

Thank goodness, though, that they aren’t interested in rhododendrons or poppies or peonies or daffodils or… as far as I know — nasturtiums or lilies.  At least, they leave some of my favorites alone.  More or less.

Wasn’t it apostrophes? Now I’m not so sure.

Friday, March 22nd, 2024

WHOOPS!

There used to be a running joke among elementary school teachers that Americans just could NOT get how to use apostrophes.  I thought (silly me! that it was the one basic bit of usage that was the least understood by the most adults.  I’ve written several blogs explaining apostrophes, the most recent being Apostrophes Are Simple Really written back in 2011.  Here’s the link: https://sydneyofoysterville.com/2011/apostrophes-are-simple-really/  Check it out.

Now, though, I’m not so sure that apostrophes are the most mis-understood of the basics in English usage.  I think it goes right back to the identification of a syllable — second only to the A-B-Cs as far as understanding how to read and write.  “Who cares?” you may say.  And you may be right.  But, I for one think that if you can’t identify a syllable, you probably are in need of reading and writing assistance.

I found a great explanation online which I’ll  include in this blog, but first I want to thank my friend Vicki for posting a game involving the first syllable of the player’s name.  I was amazed at how many of the responders couldn’t identify their very own first syllable!  Maybe they don’t care, but to me it’s another of those big announcements regarding the failure of our education system.  The first grade teacher in me came bursting forth!

Clapping Out Syllables

Here is a simple lesson for you to practice in the privacy of your own home — maybe using the first names of family members:

  • “All words have syllables. A word might have one, two, or even more syllables.”
  • Reading has two syllables: read (clap)—ing (clap).” To demonstrate, clap as you say each syllable.
  • Blue has one syllable: blue (clap).”
  • Pumpkin has two syllables: pump (clap)—kin (clap).”
  • “Now you try. Clap your hands for each syllable in the word pig.”

This is from the Spelling section of the All About Learning Press website.  Check it out!

May the birdwalking long continue!

Thursday, March 21st, 2024

Bill Harley

I just ran across this statement online: Commentator Bill Harley recounts how his best teacher meandered off the subject at hand and left an indelible impression on him. “Birdwalking” is a term of derision used by educators about this practice.   Apparently the remark was made on January 7, 1997 on the NPR show, “All Things Considered.”

‘Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Duit’

Sunday, March 17th, 2024

Bill Grennan, all decked out for St. Patrick’s Day 2024. (And Me).

Since our Friday Night Gathering was the nearest date to St. Patrick’s Day that we’d all be together, Bill Grennan took the opportunity to come in full regalia — an Irish Green Kilt with all the accoutrements, including a matching Green Bowler!  He looked terrific — a photo op waiting to happen.  I was sorry I didn’t have “a kilt o’ me own” but was pleased that Tucker asked me, anyway, to pose with the Kilt Man of the Peninsula!

Though kilts are definitely part of Ireland’s culture (and anyone can wear one). there is a bit of disagreement about when  they became popular.  Many say the Irish first played the bagpipes, and the Scots first wore kilts.  Since they are both Celtic nations, both wear kilts with pride and both remain silent on what is worn underneath. (Though I did read recently that kilt wearers are about “half and half.”  Half wear underwear; half go commando.   I can’t help but wonder who exactly did that survey.  And how.)

Bill in his Kilkenny Kilt, 2012 — and check out those Ghillie Brogues!

While Scottish kilts can be traced back to the 1600’s, Kilt-wearing became common in Ireland during the mid-1800’s, although not long ago, an aged Irish kilt was dug up in a farmer’s field. It was traced to the year 1590.  So the discussion continues.  Even so, it wasn’t until the early 1900s that kilts became synonymous with Gaelic heritage.

While there are thousands of family or clan tartans in Scotland, in Ireland, there are only a few families with registered kilts, including Murphy, O’Neil, and Fitzpatrick.  Kilts in Ireland are tied to a person’s county or region. There is a designated tartan for each of four Irish provinces: Connacht, Leinster, Munster, and Ulster. A man from Cork would probably wear the Cork Tartan, and so forth.  Bill Grennan’s people come from Kilkenny, the county town of County Kilkenny in Ireland. It is situated on both banks of the River Nore, at the center of County Kilkenny in the province of Leinster in the south-east of Ireland.  He usually reserves his Kilkenny tartan for very special occasions.

 

 

 

 

THE OYSTERVILLE SCHOOLHOUSE!

Wednesday, March 13th, 2024

The Oysterville School – Under Oysterville Community Club Stewardship since 1957

YIKES!  Miss Giraldo, my first journalism teacher at San Rafael High School, would never forgive me!  In my blog yesterday about Maggie Stuckey’s Soup Event I left out the fourth crucial W that every beginning journalist knows by heart.  WHERE?  The answer:  THE OYSTERVILLE SCHOOLHOUSE!

I think I covered the other W’s adequately, but just in case you missed that blog, here is the crucial information:

WHO?  MAGGIE STUCKEY, THE QUINTESSENTIAL QUEEN OF NURTURING

WHAT? MAGGIE WILL BE SHARING THE JOYS OF THE SOUP NIGHT TRADITION AND THE MAGIC IT BRINGS TO OUR SOMETIMES FRACTIOUS WORLD.

WHEN? WEDNESDAY, MARCH 20TH, FROM 2:00 TO 3:30 (OR SO)

WHERE?  THE OYSTERVILLE SCHOOL HOUSE

WHY?  MAGGIE BELIEVES IN “TEACHING BY DOING” AND SO SHE’LL SHARE A NO-STRESS WAY OF BRINGING PEOPLE TOGETHER, BREAKING DOWN BARRIERS, OVERCOMING ISOLATION AND FEARFULNESS — ALL WITH FRIENDSHIP KINDNESS, AND OPEN-HEARTED CARING.  AND SHE’LL BE SERVING  SOME OF HER DELICIOUS SOUP AND TALKING ABOUT THE SUCCESSES HER “SOUP NIGHT” BOOK HAS HAD ALL OVER THE COUNTRY! (And she’ll have copies of her book for sale: $20 cash or check only.)

And sometimes that H question, HOW is included as essential to an informative article.  But, in this case, we’ll leave the HOW up to Maggie.  She, after all, is the one with the magic formula and we will be the lucky recipients of her secrets!

Many thanks to Blog Readers who caught the error of my ways and full apologies to Maggie for my gaff!  Whatever was I thinking???  (Probably that all roads lead to Oysterville and, OF COURSE you’d find your way! )  I do hope you catch this follow-up information and spread the word to Maggie’s fans and, especially to those of us who are all about community and a wonderfully simple and delicious way to reinforce our friendships and togetherness!

 

Lordy! Lordy! Should I be thanking Mrs. C.?

Wednesday, August 23rd, 2023

Fall Down, Go Boom!

Only two pictures were knocked off the wall as the plumbers eased the hot water tank down the stairs — and neither one was damaged!  There were drops of rusty water left along the route and, once again, I congratulated myself on choosing that cranberry colored carpet years ago!  It is the most forgiving color imaginable.  And the entire tank-moving-operation could have been so much worse!

Step One in the Upstairs Water Heater Removal Project was to drain the water remaining in the forty-gallon tank — presumably forty gallons of (now) cold and somewhat rusty water if the outside overflow was an indication of what had settled at the bottom of the tank.  I (hovering downstairs and out of the way) offered one of our very long garden hoses (perfect!) for draining purposes but then heard a bit of discussion between the plumbers about a window!

Splitting from Bottom to Top

“You can run the hose downstairs and right out the East Door,” I called out.  They looked it over and within minutes that tank was empty and could be muscled downstairs on a dolly step-by-step — which is when the pictures got knocked off and the drips occurred.  When the tank was safely outside, they said, “Take a look!  I think we were just in time!”

OMG!  the entire seam up the back of the tank was splitting — popping out screws as we watched!  I truly think Mrs. Crouch was on our side for once.  Perhaps she’s super-sensitive to water having reached her demise by drowning.  Whatever the reason for our narrow escape, I am thankful beyond measure.

Oh!  And another thing!  We thought we had turned off the electricity to that pesky hot water tank.  Nope!  It wasn’t the upstairs breaker switches as we’d assumed, It was the ones downstairs!  So does that mean the water going out the hose was hot?  I didn’t think to ask,

And another thing… the water in the sink in the bar that wouldn’t turn on Saturday was an unrelated problem — the filter in the spigot was completely clogged with rust. (I do think Mrs. C. might have had something to do with that…) Now that’s also fixed but the house and I aren’t out of the woods (or water) yet, plumbing-wise.  Stay tuned.

Delbert Knapp, Esq. – The Old Lamp Lighter

Monday, June 19th, 2023

Delbert Knapp, Esq.

In the case of Tucker’s friend, Del, and the lamps in my house — it’s the lamps which are old, not the lamp lighter!  (And speaking of age… are you old enough to remember that song, “The Old Lamplighter of Long, Long Ago”?)  I can’t help associating Del and that song because he has worked on two of my old lamps to get them alight once more.

Fixed Last Summer

The lamps belonged to my grandparents and were originally gas lamps.  I have no doubt that they were used in the parlor and only for special occasions.  Otherwise, how would they have survived seven children and all the hubbub that went with their growing up years?

The Lamp With The Replicated Globe

Actually, one of the globes did not survive and my mother had a friend in San Francisco duplicate it from the pieces that had been saved.  It was in the 1960s and my mother, at that time, owned The Little Lamp and Shade Shop on College Avenue right on the Berkeley/Oakland border.  She specialized in custom lamps and shades and if she couldn’t make it for you (or in this case for herself), she knew someone who could!

 The Ailing Lamp

I’m not sure when the lamps were converted to electricity, but probably 80 or 85 years ago.  And in that length of time, parts wear out — especially switches.  Del is a genius at electrical (and probably other) stuff.  He spent the better part of two days last summer working on one of the lamps and it has been perfect since then.

Tonight, he tackled the other one — the one with the replicated shade.  One of the switches has not worked for some time, so Del to the rescue!  He was able to fix the pesky switch but needs to replace a light bulb and we didn’t have the right size on hand.  Tomorrow he plans to go to… yep! … Jack’s Country Store to find one small enough for his purposes.

 

Signs and Peonies

Sunday, June 4th, 2023

The First Red Peony

I’m not one for believing in signs and portents…  But maybe, just maybe, there’s a message in our garden’s one red peony.  It’s the only red one.  It’s never bloomed before.  But Nyel was ever hopeful.

He had planted the peonies years ago, babying them along year after year.  Most of the plants didn’t survive and the ones that did all had white buds.  Nyel had hoped for red.  Or at least pink.  Like the ones his grandmother grew back in Idaho.

“They were always in bloom in time to be taken to the cemetery on Decoration Day,” he would tell me.  They were his favorites when he was a kid. And the lilacs, too.

Teresa at the Planter Box said our winters just aren’t cold enough here.  “Put ice cubes around them every morning in winter,” she said, but it seemed too onerous.  Nyel was determined, though, and year by year the plants grew stronger, the stems stood straighter, the buds stayed on the stems long enough to bloom, and Nyel was encouraged — even if they were all white.

Nyel’s Peony

But this year… up came one red peony.  A beauty, too.  Yet, I wanted to scream at it:  “YOU ARE TOO LATE!  NYEL’S NOT HERE ANYMORE!”  But I didn’t.  I chose, instead, to think of this as his “one year anniversary gift” to the garden and me.  Maybe next year there will be two.