Archive for the ‘Relatives’ Category

In Oysterville, it’s the Year of the R…

Tuesday, March 7th, 2023

Red House Roof Project

In many places of the world, this is the Year of the Rabbit — specifically the Water Rabbit.  The sign of Rabbit is a symbol of longevity, peace, and prosperity in Chinese culture and 2023 is predicted to be a year of hope.

In Oysterville, it appears to be the Year of the Roof.  As we speak, there is a roofing crew at the Red House removing shingles and applying acres of blue tarp.  Large bundles of cedar shingles await their turn at covering the 1872 home of our great-grandfather, R.H. Espy.  I know he’s smiling down and applauding for his Red House Greats — especially for David, Chief of Operations among the RH cousins.

Both the Red House and the Oysterville Church are sporting spiffy new chimneys, too — at least from the roofline up.  The chimney on my lower roof is on the schedule to be repaired next week (God willing an’ the creek don’t rise).  That will be the third old structure in recent months to sport a newer, safer, skyline.

New Chimney – Just like the old!

Meanwhile, all the residents of the National Historic District have been discussing, examining and answering surveys about the use of modern “alternative” materials when building or repairing their homes.  As it has become increasingly difficult to get traditional materials (old growth cedar shingles, for instance) historic sites all over the United States — even Historic Williamsburg — are approving alternative look-alike materials.  The Oysteville Restoration Foundation is hoping to approach the County with a proposal for changing the ordinance that specifies such matters for Oysterville.  Stay tuned.

So, next time you visit the village, I invite you to look up and admire the recent improvements to the health and safety of our old buildings!  Long may they endure!

My First Cousins

Monday, February 13th, 2023

Wallace, Sydney, Charles — the three oldest — at Fort Canby, 1938

I once had nine first cousins — seven on the Espy side and two on the Little side.  For most of our lives we have lived far apart but I consider myself lucky, indeed, to have known all of them — both on their home turf and on my own and lucky, too, that all of them have been in Oysterville.  Even my father’s nephews Craig and Brian have been here — twice I think.   Two others — my oldest cousin, Wallace Pearson, and Willard’s youngest daughter Cassin Espy actually lived here for a bit, years ago and not at the same time.  But in both instances, I was here and got to know them well.

I am the third oldest in age — the oldest of the six of us still living.  I am shamelessly sentimental about all of them — I love them to pieces, am SO proud of their accomplishments, of their characters, of their families, and of being related to such a remarkable group.  Do I ever tell them so?  Not that you’d notice.  If absence makes the heart grow fonder, it also plays havoc with staying in touch. Charlie and I are talking about going East next fall and paying a visit to each an every one.  I SO hope we can make that happen.

Cousins Mona, Joey, Freddy, Cassy with Great Aybt Dora and Their Mother Hilda – 1947

Yesterday I received a  lovely letter from Craig Little, the oldest of my father’s two nephews and the one who looks so much like Dad that even the two of them remarked upon it.  Three years ago Craig was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease although I’ve only recently learned of it.  He wrote me a long email letter yesterday — I can’t imagine the effort it took — and attached an article from the local paper (Cortland, NY) that he wrote for them recently.  I wish I could quote the entire article, but here are a few of the things that struck me:
There have been positives, as well.  I have already mentioned how the diagnosis of PD explained to me (and  others) many of the behaviors I had been exhibiting for some time…  I have learned to be more patient because nearly everything — from getting dressed to eating a meal — has to be done with INTENT, doing but one thing at a time.  I have slowed down considerably which, if you “go with it” can give you a fresh perspective and experience of things like nature that you never took the time to notice before…
    (Guest columnist Craig B. Little is the Distinguished Service Professor Emeritus at SUNY  Cortland.)

 

Contact attempted? Perhaps…

Wednesday, January 4th, 2023

Josiah Crouch, San Quentin Mug Shot, 1897

You can be sure that the first thing I asked Cuzzin Ralph when he came down to breakfast this morning was whether or not the Crouches had made themselves known.

“Well…” was his hesitant response, “maybe.”

It seems that when Ralph (who is a big guy) was in the upstairs bathroom (which is a small space), the bottle  of his contact lens solution disappeared from the shelf beside the sink.  A careful search revealed it floating in the toilet (“clean-water-not-to-worry” Ralph assured me).

He reported that he scooped up the bottle, washed it off thoroughly, and proceeded with his day.  “But,” he said — and more than once — “I can’t see how that bottle got way over into the toilet.”

“Unless…” we both said together.

“And it was contact lens solution,” I said.  “Do you suppose they thought it was some sort of solution that would aid in contacting you?”

We ate our breakfast and pondered that for a while.  No conclusions were reached.  But there’s always next time.

 

Cuzzin Ralph Confronts the Crouches.

Tuesday, January 3rd, 2023

Cuzzin Ralph and Sydney Working on WRE Archive, 2008

So many folks have asked me how I thought the ghosts of the unrighteous Reverend Crouch and his once-upon-a-time bride Sarah would react when Cuzzin Ralph came to spend a day or two.  It’s not that Ralph hasn’t been here before — many times in fact.  The Crouches (either or both) have had plenty of opportunities to make themselves known to him.  But so far…

Cheryl, Ralph, Sydney, Nyel, Virg — Christmas 2021, Oysterville

Not a moan or a groan or a typewritten note.  Not even the lid of an incense burner tossed across the room.  And if you have read my two books, “Ghost Stories of the Long Beach Peninsula” (2014) and “Haunted Histories of the Long Beach Peninsula” (2021), you will know exactly of what I speak.  I believe that ghost buster Madam X, who also made her appearance in “Haunted Histories…” would have had the perfect explanation.  In fact I think that my mother did, too.

Mrs. Crouch, as my mother often said, hung around this Oysterville parsonage because she was happy when she was living here in 1893.  My ghostbusting friend, Madam X, often said the same thing about the souls she confronted.  Some just didn’t want to leave — they liked where they were.  And if they were bothering those still on this side of the veil, it was usually because they didn’t realize it.

Cuzzin Ralph At My Gate, 2023

Mrs. Crouch has never really been more than a playful nuisance to anyone living in this house.  We’ve all been curious about exactly what happened to her and to her womanizing husband.  But, we’ve just been after the historical facts — especially Ralph who has used his internet research skills to great advantage.  Since the Reverend never tried to cover up his behavior — or to change his ways –I can only conclude that he was well-satisfied with himself and has no grudge to bear against Cuzzin Ralph for telling his story the way it was.

But… we will see.  The cousins are only halfway through their stay here.  So far, the Crouches have maintained their silence and have “behaved” as far as we know.  But… you never can tell for sure with ghosts.

 

A day late and… you know the rest.

Monday, January 2nd, 2023

Cheryl and Virg, 2016

I promised myself that when the New Year began (as in yesterday), I would write one short story a day toward the eventuality of a new book I have in mind.  Well, here we are at Day Two of 2023 and Story Number One is still safely locked in my head.

I’m not beating myself up over it — not even vowing to get it plus Story Number Two done today.  That’s because my promise-to-self was not a New Year’s Resolution — just a way of setting a goal.  In fact, my actual resolutions — to develop more compassion and empathy — are being given a test with this very story-a-day promise.  “Cut yourself some slack, Sydney,” I say to myself.  “You had other fish to fry yesterday.”

Cuzzin Ralph, 2019

That’s the thought I woke up to this morning, anyway, and I do think compassion and empathy can be directed toward oneself as well as toward others.  Don’t you?   Besides… my Jeffords cousins are arriving this afternoon for a few days of visiting.  That’s my Cuzzin Ralph (who has done all the Rev. and Mrs. Crouch research for me), plus his sister Cheryl and her husband Virg who used to live here at the beach.  I’m so excited!  I haven’t seen Ralph since the sheltering began and Cheryl and Virg only oh- so- briefly at Nyel’s Bon Voyage Party.

So that’s why I had other things to do yesterday — making ready for the relatives!  But, honestly, they are the easiest guests EVER!  They bring food for the main meals AND do the cooking and, even in the days when Nyel was fit and well, they’d come and help with various projects around this old house.  (I have a little list of things for them if they will be so kind… mostly involving Ralph, who is tall, getting the top ornaments off the Christmas tree.)

Nope.  Not a bit hard to cut myself some slack this time!

 

 

Traveling: Let me count the ways!

Monday, August 22nd, 2022

Sydney at “Three Pines” (Knowlton, Canada) – 2016

For me, traveling has always fallen into three distinct categories:  the planning/anticipation part; the journey, itself, with all the attendant surprises and unforeseen adventures; and the aftermath — re-living the experience with interested friends, pouring over the once-in-a-lifetime photos, staying in touch with new acquaintances, even trying to replicate a recipe from that quaint bistro along the Seine.

Each travel experience, of course, includes all of the above parts, but I think my focus  differed according to my age.  It was the journey, itself,  that was of greatest importance when I was a child.  By the time I was old enough to plan my own trips, it was probably a toss-up between the planning and the actual journey that I most enjoyed.  And, by the time I reached my seventies, I confess that the aftermath of most trips was what I liked the most — safely home in familiar surroundings, basking in the memories..

Charlie at Pisa, 1958

And now?  The jury is out.  I’m not even sure how much more traveling I want to do.  Do I have the energy?  The stamina?  Do I want to be one of those old ladies who spends much of a trip “resting” in her hotel room while my companions are out and about?  And for that matter, do I really want to travel with a group?  Or am I too set in my own ways of travel?  A lot to ponder…

On the other hand, I spoke to my son about the idea of traveling with me to the East Coast — maybe this Fall or next — “to visit the relatives.”  All of my first cousins (and several seconds) plus my good friends Barbara and John are “back east” and none of us are getting any younger.  Charlie, too, has relatives on his Father’s side back there. I thought maybe this Fall — but it’s getting here way too quickly.  Maybe a year from now — if Charlie is still willing…

 

When the Red House Cousins come to town…

Wednesday, August 17th, 2022

From Lexie’s FB Page – (Thanks Lexie!)

I went visiting this afternoon — four houses north and two generations south.  It was a hubbub of activity at the Red House as it has always been my live-long life!  Those cousins of mine can pack more activities and fun into a short stay than any other ten families I know.

As I knocked at the open door and walked into the kitchen, Anna was mixing a serious looking cocktail that involved egg whites and pisco (a kind of brandy) and Angostura bitters — “pisco being about 95 proof” said her dad, Jim.    “Beeg and I met pisco in Lima Peru seventeen years ago,” he told me.  “We brought the bottle back with us and last night was the first time it has been opened.”  Pisco Sours — one for me, one for Jim — we being the Honorable Elders of this particular family gathering.

Although, “gathering” doesn’t quite categorize what usually happens at the Red House!  More of a meet, greet, and off to fly a kite or take a swim or, in the case of Anna’s husband, Rob — to paint another section of the house with a fresh coat of red.  (Or at least that’s where I think he disappeared to!)

I caught glimpses of all five of the “youngers” — Lexie’s boys, Kahrs, Anders and Bo and Anna and Rob’s two, Anwyn and Walker.  But not all at the same time and not all doing the same thing.  Kahrs, flat on his back in the lane managing the kite flying overhead.  Anwyn in the kitchen, in the back yard, down the lane, in the tall grass.  Bigger kids so far out in the bay it was hard to tell who was who.  No one still.  Everyone having fun.

Red House Cousins!  Wow!  And that wasn’t all of them by any means — only the ones here and now.  YAY!

Report from Oz – Day Six

Tuesday, March 15th, 2022

In The Center of Things!

Here in the Emerald City– sunny today with a shower now and then in the afternoon.  Everything seemed to move slowly — I was a bit late to Nyel’s hospital quarters and missed the Doctor Team’s visit.  Apparently, though, I didn’t miss much — no big changes in his oral meds or IV drips or other protocols.  Weight loss: miniscule.  Tremors, continuing.  Stomach distress, a bit better.  Lotsa questions.  Few answers.  And so the HUAW (Hurry Up And Wait) experience continues.

Cousins – Sydney and Si 2022

No one has yet broached the “go home” subject.  I’m sure they first want to have some “results” to show for all these days in Oz.  Tomorrow it will be a week that we’ve been here and, already, we are losing track of time.  Nyel was sure that he missed Jeopardy yesterday because it was the weekend.  I missed, too, because Cate called from Arizona — had heard at lunch (with Cindy and Tom Downer and other Peninsula Rainbirds) that Nyel is in the hospital!  Wow!

I checked in with the Oysterville Postmistress this morning — cleared Carol and Tucker for mail/package pickup.  Then got to worrying about running out of my own meds while up here — to say nothing of paying some bills and needing clean clothes.  And possibly sox!  Put out a distress signal to friend Michael Lemeshko who has offered to drive me to O’ville and back on Saturday — details not yet finalized.  What a guy!  It will be a wonderful chance to catch up on his progress on his latest book — this one about Seaborg and the beginnings of Ilwaco.   And to talk about the Community Historians and how we can contribute to next steps.  Michael already has a plan afoot…

The Oldest and The Youngest Espy – My Mom and Si – Labor Day 2007 

And this evening — dinner with Cousin Abigail Hook and family — “The Red House Cousins” in Oysterville.  I think we’ve seen one another (distanced and masked) only once since the Pandemic struck and it’s been longer than that since I’ve had even a glimpse of the kids.  I’m pretty sure they are both taller  than I am now and, let’s see.  Are they both teenagers by now?

Do I feel just a tad guilty about going out “on the town?”  You bet I do.  I console myself that there will be stories to relate to Nyel tomorrow and, if I remember to take them, pictures to share!

 

Just Say No

Friday, December 17th, 2021

Santa Ralph in Lacey, 2021

I remember that it was in the 1980s that Nancy Reagan kicked off her “Just Say No” campaign as part of the U.S. “War On Drugs.”  Those three words quickly became a catch phrase for just about everything whether it was illegal substances, an unsolicited (or unwanted) invitation, or a tempting dessert that promised a gazillion extra calories.

Unfortunately, those three words still rattle up to the surface when least expected and when I certainly don’t want to acknowledge them.  Take an email I received from my cousin Cheryl today.  Her brother Ralph — Cuzzin Ralph of the Amazing-Research-on-Reverend-and-Mrs.-Crouch fame — has just arrived here for Christmas.  Not “here” here — but not far, either.  Cheryl and husband Virg live in Lacey and they are proposing to come visiting with Ralph on the 20th and 21st.  YIKES!

Cheryl and Virg, 2016

Talk about conflicted!  We haven’t seen C&V since Valentine’s Day 2020 and it’s been even longer since we’ve seen Ralph who lives far, far away in Virginia.  But, quite honestly, we have way too many things happening between now and Christmas to squeeze in one single additional thing.  “Just Say No!” said my head.  “Maybe just one day but not overnight,” said my heart.  And so, we are “negotiating” by email.

I’m not sure how it will turn out.  Sometimes, you just have to leave things in the lap of the gods…  I hope they are feeling benevolent this Holiday Season.

 

As much as I hate to admit it…

Monday, October 18th, 2021

Debi and Sydney – Porch Visit

… I really don’t like oysters all that much.  Fried oysters, yes.    My great-grandmother’s baked oysters, yes.  Smoked oysters — especially those!  But on the half-shell or in stew or in a sandwich, I’d just as soon pass.

So, when Debi Snyder, my 4th cousin twice removed, told me that she wasn’t crazy about oysters either, I was pretty sure it’s a genetic thing.   I use as proof of this an “infamous” (in the Espy family) comment made by my redoubtable uncle Willard Espy.  When, in 1980, he was interviewed for a Seattle TV Station and was asked about his feelings concerning oysters he said in his most dramatic tones,  “Actually, I was very nearly conceived, I am sure, in an oyster bed and I certainly was reared in oyster beds.  When I was a boy when we had guests for dinner we would have oyster cocktails, oyster soup; we would have fried oysters and surely we must have had some form of oysters for dessert.  And I can’t stand an oyster!”

It was during a “porch visit” with Debi a few days ago that our Espy oyster disconnect came up.  She and her husband and daughter were here on one of their periodic Peninsula visits and had just been having a bite to eat at Oysterville Sea Farms.  “Oh!  How was it?” I asked.  “The business recently sold and we haven’t been up there as yet.”

Oysterville Sea Farms, 2015 — A Bob Duke Photo

“My husband and daughter loved it!” she said.  “And I loved the view, as always.”  And that’s when she confided that seafood — even oysters — were simply not her thing.   “I feel a little guilty saying so, right here in Oysterville!”

“I think it’s genetic,” I told her.  And we laughed.  That’s another part of being Espy that might be genetic.  We all like to laugh and we all have a great sense of humor.  Well… almost all of us!