Archive for the ‘Winter in Oysterville’ Category

History Forum on You Tube!

Monday, March 11th, 2024

Pacific County History Forum 3-6-2024 On YouTube!

Gillnetter Kent Martin explains how a drift works.

I hope you have time to look at this video.  It’s the best one yet!  As usual a great Forum AND the best video. Except for the body in the red jacket that keeps getting in front of the camera in the first few minutes.  Sorry.  I need to find a different place out of the camera’s relentless eye.

I LOVED hearing everything again!  And was I seeing all of us for the first time?  It sort of seemed like it.  This time around, I could really listen and look at the faces and the interest and the buy-in.  It was grand.  There’s something about being able to revisit an activity that you’ve participated in that makes it really special.  I suppose sportsmen know this in an absolutely visceral way — and probably are looking at their performances with a critical eye.  I’m sure I should have been, and maybe will next time, but mostly I was interested in hearing and seeing without having a little voice nagging at me about what I needed to do next.  Or not.

Dick Wallace tells about his summers at Derbyville when he was a kid.

I’m sorry all over again, of course, that we ran out of time before we got to see Michael’s presentation on the Ilwaco Fish Wars.  Maybe we can convince him to share it before we actually get started with our Wrecks ‘N’ Rescues Forum in April.  Speaking of which, we are already lining up some community experts to talk about shipwrecks and the long-lasting impact many of them have had on our community and on our development of rescue techniques and early warning systems.

Meanwhile, do look at Michael’s YouTube posting.  It is inspirational!  What a great community we have!

Surprises and Fun All Day Long!

Saturday, March 9th, 2024

Nancy Lloyd – Photo by Andy Dolan c. 2003

Today was the day that I was to Get Things Done.  It said so on my calendar in my own handwriting.  And so I did — but not at all as expected!

At the top of my list was to call my old friend Nancy Lloyd which I did, but had to leave a message.  Then I spent three or four good productive hours writing before going to Colleen’s to meet with another friend, Patricia Moss.  She has moved and this is the first time we’ve managed to catch up with one another in many months.  We had no sooner hugged and settled in with a cup of coffee than Nancy called and I had to beg off and tell her I’d call later.

Patricia Moss, Art Historian

Great “catch-up” with Patricia — hearing about her latest art sleuthing projects and, as always, being blown away by her meticulous research in her work as an Art Detective.  (Well, that’s what I call her, though I’m sure there is a proper and more academic title for her job.)  I always feel inspired by her single-minded dedication and, as usual when we parted, I was filled with resolve for getting right back to work.

But first… I headed south to Long Beach to the Performing Arts Center to see Spud Siegel and the Snakeskinners. Sandy Bradley, one of the band members, had called me earlier in the day to ask if I was coming  (No. Gormless, as usual.  And, yes if there was still room.  And yes, again, if I didn’t mind sharing a table with her brother.)

From The Bottom: Spud, Mick, Sandy, George

I was greeted at the door with a big hug from Spud and a request to do a House Concert here in Oysterville again next Fall.  Wow!  Details to be worked out later.  The last time he played here, he was with Mary Flower; next time it will probably be with one of the other Snakeskinners.  In addition to Spud on the mandolin and Sandy on guitar, the group includes Mick Doherty on hammer dulcimer and George Penk on fiddle.  Only Spud and Mick sing.  And I meant to ask George if he always performs barefoot, but I forgot.  Most of their numbers were Irish in deference to Saint Patrick’s Day — or perhaps they bill themselves as an Irish Band but from the smattering of non-Irish music they played, I doubt it.  They are totally eclectic and multi-national.

It was a fabulous evening and, despite pouring rain, glaring headlights, and pitch black surroundings, I made it home safely.  I called Nancy immediately, but no luck.  I hope I did not miss my opportunity entirely when I had to postpone things earlier today.

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God willin’ an’ the snow don’t fall…

Thursday, March 7th, 2024

Color!

In three days, Daylight Savings Time begins.  In twelve days, Spring begins.  And I am SO ready!

Every time I’m out and about, I seem to acquire more seed packets.  The brighter the colors, the less my resistance!  I bring them home knowing full well that I am WAY early weather-wise and that I must work on cultivating patience rather than garden flowers.

More Color!

My friends remind me that it’s not the first March that has had a seemingly inordinate amount of frosty, slushy, even downright snowy weather.  But… somehow, I’ve forgotten.  March is supposed to be the time when we begin getting ready for the delights to come.  We’ve already cut and enjoyed most of the daffodils.  We’ve given the camelias and rosebuds up to the deer.  ENOUGH say I.  Bring on the sun and the warmth and the joys of Spring!

I AM SO READY!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fish Tales & Memories at the History Forum

Wednesday, March 6th, 2024

Irene Martin. her foghorn, and me!

Today’s History Forum — our seventh! — was all about fish!  Pacific County fish tales going all the way back to the 1860s  and right up into present times.  The changes on the river and the riverbank — the methods, the equipment, the boats, and the memories — were shared by fishers who had been there, done that and loved it all!  Many of the rest of us joined in with our own memories.  And we asked questions:  “What’s a drift?”  “Where, exactly, was McGowan?”  “How did the Boldt Decision affect Sports Fishing?”

The experts were there to answer us and tell us so many things we wouldn’t have known to ask.  Irene Martin brought artifacts — a foghorn which looked a lot like a toy horn but was the only “protection” an early-day fisher had when fog shrouded the fishing grounds.  She also shared one of the earliest cans made on the river, with ends probably soldered with lead in those days.  The “opened” can (actually only barely opened and pried up — lethal looking) and an early can opener that looked a lot like a bayonet and for good reason.  Until some time after the Civil War, bayonets were exactly what were used for opening cans — until someone got inventive!

Oysterville Schoolhouse 2008 Today it wasn’t snowy but even though the heat had been turned to “comfort zone” yesterday afternoon, it was chilly around the edges!

Irene’s husband, Kent — a fourth generation fisherman with 40 years experience gillnetting on the Columbia and in Bristol Bay– explained what a “drift” was — how it was prepared, how the fishers used it, how one differed from another.  (You had to be there!)  It was a side to fishing that most of us landlubbers knew little about — and you could feel our appreciation expand!

Bill Garvin gave us an overview of his great-grandfather’s “company town” McGowan — how many year round workers lived there, how many seasonal workers, and an overview of living in a place where the only transportation out or in was by water.  Bill also had some great memories of  the McGowan of his childhood and of the stories  his mother told about growing up there in the teens and twenties.  (His mother and my mother were lifelong friends and, when I come to think about it, had many things in common, including grandfathers who had founded a town and growing up where transportation by land was the exception.)

Dick Wallace shared his boyhood memories of Derbyville which was a sports fishing summer camp owned and managed by his Grandfather Provo in the 1940s and 50s — a magical place for a young boy to make enough pennies to buy a pop at the Derbyville Store and to learn the ins and outs of boat-launching and fish-cleaning and all the other fishing lore necessary to an eight- or nine- or ten-year-old boy.  So many memories of a time along the River just west of where the bridge is now.  And so many heads nodding and that far-away look in the eyes of his listeners.  Remembering history!

Residences at McGowan, “A Company Town”

Pat Schenk shared great stories about his charter business — it, too, now in its fourth generation.  He spoke of the changes since the Boldt Decision, but not with complaint — mostly with a huge appreciation for his years in the business and the wonderful memories and fish tales he still enjoys telling.  And then… we were out of time!  I hope Michael Lemeshko will find a way to work in the Ilwaco Fish Wars next time.  I was looking forward to that.

But even so, it was a morning to remember and to share.  It was exactly what the History Forum is meant to be.  Thank you to all the participants.  Once again I felt the joy of living in a small community where we can learn from those who have lived history and so willingly share with the rest of us!  Now if only we can pass it on to those who are coming up — those whose memories will be of screen time and traffic jams and maybe, just maybe, if they are lucky, of catching their first salmon on the River.

I try to keep chastity of my eyes.

Friday, March 1st, 2024

Highly Recommended!

When it comes to internet information about Oysterville, I try not to look.  It’s better for my peace of mind, my blood pressure, and my general feeling about the intelligence of my fellow-historians and travel enthusiasts, in general.  But, sometimes I get sucked right on in which says very little about my own intelligence… or my will power.

The last few days there have been a lot of pop-up sites appearing about visiting “the oldest cities” in Washington.  On one of said sites, I was amazed to see Oysterville listed — as in when did we become a “city” and how did the article justify  our population of “20” (their figure) with the term “city.”  I couldn’t help myself.  I read further.

I found pictures of the church and my house along with other old residences in town.  Yep.  It was the Oysterville  my great-grandfather co-founded but… “in 1841″ said the article.  I don’t think there were any white settlements at all in Washington in 1841.  Espy and Clark arrived here in 1854, Clark took out a donation land claim and they platted the town.  For all of the years since, the date of Oysterville’s founding has been said to be April 12, 1854 — the day Espy and Clark arrived on the salt marsh drummed in through the fog by Espy’s Indian friend Klickeas.

“Oysterville” – Facts, Pictures, and More!

And, we’ve never claimed to be first.  We were founded a bit after Steilacoom which, according to its “official website” celebrated the commemoration of the 150th anniversary of its incorporation as the first city in Washington Territory on April 20, 2004. Presumably it took a bit to become well enough established to incorporate — a fete Oysterville never undertook, even in its heyday.  And I remember specifically in 1975 when Oysterville was awarded its “National Historic District” designation, that it was pointed out that Steilacoom had existed for a longer time that we had.

But being first is not the issue — certainly not for me or any of our family.  However, the year is important.  And what’s the bottom line, anyway?  If its incorporation, we are out of the running on all counts.  No matter.  I’m really getting tired of “arguing” with all the nitwits who can’t do a little research — as in Lord knows, there have been enough reliable books and articles written about our history.  1841, indeed!  No wonder I didn’t like history in school.  It is completely f***ed up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GOBSMACKED IN OYSTERVILLE!

Thursday, February 29th, 2024

February 29, 2024

Gobsmacked Sydney Laden With Birthday Wishes From Tucker And Carol!

This is a (totally inadequate) THANK YOU to my many friends, loved ones, acquaintances, blog-followers. book fans, and others who sent me birthday greetings on my Facebook Timeline yesterday.  I haven’t even had time to read them through properly yet, but I just want you and the world to learn how touched I am by your birthday wishes.  Some of you, I’m sorry to say, I don’t even really “know” and some of you I’ve only admired from afar for years, not dreaming that you knew of me at all!  Wow!

Also, I wish to give a special shout-out — and on behalf of all my writer friends — to those of you who mentioned my articles and columns in the paper, my blogs, or even my books.  For those of us who never expect NYT Best Seller status but write because we are passionate about our subject no matter how limited the readership, it is so lovely to get feed-back now and then.  I honestly have little idea whether  anyone reads my “words of wisdom” and I loved the affirmation from some of you!

As for my Big Piano Key Day — I spent it almost exactly as intended.  I didn’t want to do anything but hole up in my office and write, surfacing now and then for refills on coffee and for a bit of food.  In my excitement at this rare opportunity, I even forgot to put out the garbage (oh well!) but I did take phone calls and text messages — mainly because a friend had been taken to Portland in the wee hours yesterday and was undergoing open heart surgery for most of the morning.  The updates were infrequent but I didn’t want to miss any and the latest news is that she came through with flying colors.

In answering the phone, however, I scored many other birthday greetings — at least four of them in song from musician friends in Oregon, Washington and Arizona!  What a delight!  One call was from Tucker who asked if he could come over
for just a minute.  He sounded stressed and I was concerned about Carol who has been laying low with a cold, so I said,

Me with Marta and Charlie last summer — we didn’t get a zoom shot last night.

“Sure.”  He dashed between the raindrops bearing a dozen long-stemmed red roses, a birthday-frosted cupcake with a special candle, a lighter-gizmo for said candle, and a handmade card!  AND he was apologetic about the flowers because he had had to choose them, Carol being a bit out of commission.  OMG!  I was so touched.  Plus he took a picture — several of them at my insistence — after all I hadn’t even taken time to wash my face, let alone put on a bit of makeup all day!

But I did accomplish some writing tasks that were important to me and so the day was super-successful.  It wasn’t until my “Zoom Birthday Party” with Charlie and Marta last evening that I was aware of all the Facebook greetings.  “Mom, do you know that you have over 90 birthday greetings on your timeline?” Charlie asked.  And this morning when I finally took a look, the number was 100!  Gobsmacked is all I can say!  Gobsmacked and Thank You All!

Taking another look… with love!

Monday, February 19th, 2024

February 19. 2024

Kitchen As Seen From Stairway

A blog reader wrote me the other day and said she remembered “my” house (now belonging to my cousin Lina and her husband Dave):  I remember seeing this house and reading about it in one of the Northwest Home books. It was so charming…

I was touched — both that she would remember and that she would contact me!  The book she referred to is Northwest Style: Interior Design and Architecture in the Pacific Northwest by Ann Wall Frank with photographs by Michael Mathers, ©1999, Chronicle Books.  I scanned my bookshelves and found the book, rereading what the author with the improbable name of Ann Frank had written about the house all those years ago.

This cabin is a miniature house with a maximin story; a place where five rivers and a million memories meet.  A few feet eyond a moss-encrusted gate, an evocative shape rises like a gothic dollhouse from J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle Earth, so intimate with its environment that it becomes a private world.

The Living Room

I remember being a bit aghast at that first paragraph when I saw the book for the first time.  Yes, the gate was moss-encrusted, but almost 1,000 feet from the house and unseen beyond the road’s curve into the trees.  But, actually, the rest was close to accurate — after all, the original design was by Noel Thomas who, in those years, was making museum-quality miniature houses with his wife Pat.  And “a million memories”… at least!

The author went on a few paragraphs later with a more literal, less fanciful description which I think more closely fit my own feelings about the house:  The 900 square-foot cottage is a departure from the quaint romantic vernacular of Oysterville’s old Victorian houses, most of which are made of California redwood, reused from the ballasts of ships that arrived for trade.  With its cedar board- and- batten siding, simple A-frame open floor plan, and rustic charm, it is more reminiscent of the fish canneries, covered bridges, boathouses, and old barns of the region.

Yes.  That’s more the feeling I had about the house.  Except I wish she had understood what ballast was.  The redwood siding for the old homes in Oysterville WAS the ballast on the oyster schooners coming up from San Francisco.  Ballast might be anything from lumber to pianos to top hats or potatoes that the storekeepers had ordered from the Captain on his last voyage north (maybe two or three weeks before).  That cargo was used as ballast to help control the ship’s stability and to ensure safe passage.

But… the photographs are wonderful… and right now bittersweet.  Michael asked for an “introduction” to the house the first time Nyel and I met him back in 1998.  And, within that rule that says the world gets smaller and smaller, Lina and Petra probably crossed paths years ago in Portland when Tucker and Carol owned a toy shop just down the way from Tucker’s cousin’s bookstore where Petra worked!

The Book

 

When the east wind visits Oysterville…

Friday, February 16th, 2024

Friday, February 16, 2014

Fireside Evenings — Perfect!

I’m not crazy about the wind.  Especially the east wind.  It’s always in a such a great hurry to rush across the bay and through the cracks and crannies of this old house.    Our “state of the art” heat pump doesn’t have a chance.

The outside thermometer says it’s 46°  and the online wind chill report says it’s 42°.  Which only goes to show, you can’t trust technology.

The best quote about the East Wind:  “There is no good in arguing with the inevitable. The only argument available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat!” (James Russell Lowell.)

Actually, it’s my warm, plushy bathrobe I have on over all my clothes!  On days like this, I often think of my grandparents living here in the years before electricity.  There were fireplaces in the living room and library, a wood cook stove in the kitchen, and a pot-bellied wood stove in the most easterly room in the house — the room they called “the nursery” for it could be kept the warmest (probably with the exception of the kitchen) and was where the youngest children slept until they were old enough to go to school.  “Even so,” my mother said, “Papa kept the fire going all night and we rushed downstairs to dress by that old woodstove on winter mornings.”

On Friday, January 15, 1916, my grandmother wrote to her oldest daughter who was away at boarding school in Portland:

Medora, 1915

My Dear Medora,
     We had not had any weather before you left, compared with this week – It has been fierce!
Papa and I have been worried about your health and comfort. We were quite relieved to hear that Ruth had let you have scarf and sweater. Papa was disgusted to find your rubbers. We certainly hope you are keeping dry feet and taking care of yourself. The “town” has been coasting every night and of course Sue has gone. We will be glad when this unusual spell has passed, tho it shows no signs of leaving yet. In fact, snow is falling at intervals today and the wind howls.
 I have a pair of papa’s underdrawers over mine today. Papa insisted and I am glad he did, for I feel warmer.
We certainly miss you. It was such a comfort having you home. Don’t do any risky things dear. Remember what you mean to us and take no chances with your precious self.
                                                                  Always with love, Mama

As it turned out, this would be Mama’s last letter to Medora who died two days later of a cerebral hemorrhage,  It had nothing to do with the weather, but may have a lot to do with my dislike of that cold east wind,

“A fine double-breasted sort of woman!”

Thursday, February 15th, 2024

Brother and Sister Ed and Dora Espy at their graduation from Grace Seminary in Centralia, 1892


February 15, 2024

The highest compliment that my Great Aunt Dora Espy Wilson could pay to another woman was to refer to her as “a fine double-breasted sort of woman!”  As a youngster, I always wondered exactly what she meant by that, but it was certainly clear that it was praise of the highest order.

I thought of that today when I received a note from a woman in Lake Oswego, Oregon who wrote: …I am a volunteer at the Oswego Heritage Council in Lake Oswego, Oregon.  I am working on an exhibit about women in Oswego history and came across your website while researching Dora Espy Wilson.  As you likely know, she was born in Oysterville in 1872 to Robert and Julia Ann (Jefferson) Espy.  She moved to Oregon by 1895 and to Oswego by 1910.  Here she was active in the women’s club and served on the school board.  Though she was prominent in our town, we have no image of her either in the collection of the Heritage Council or the Lake Oswego Public Library. 

Dora Espy Wilson, on her return from Hawaii aboard the S .S. Lurline, c. 1951

I have a number of photographs of Aunt Dora, a few of which even give a hint as to her larger-than-life personality.  I sent them on to the volunteer and hope that she will find them useful.  I also asked for more information about the exhibit.  We have a good many relatives in the Portland area who might be interested in seeing it and learning a bit more about that era of her life.

I only know that her husband, King Wilson, was the Mayor of Lake Oswego but I’m not surprised that she was on the school board,  She had attended McMinnville College and Bellingham Normal School and had taught school for two years here in Pacific County before marrying King in 1895,  In addition, they had three children during their years in Lake Oswego, so I’m sure that she had a great interest in the schools both professionally and as a young mother.

Although she asked me for pictures, the volunteer did not ask for any of the particulars about Aunt Dora’s background or personality.  So perhaps this will be a totally “new look” at Aunt Dora.  Stay tuned.

 

The strangest valentine companion yet!

Wednesday, February 14th, 2024

February 14, 2024

My Valentine

I certainly didn’t plan my day the way it turned out.  Nor did I intend to spend it with this particular companion.  But, sometimes, you just need to do whatever is required and hope that it beats whatever the alternative might be.

It was a day spent trying to iron out kinks in my new computer.  And, truth to tell, my own kinks, as well.  I am the first to admit that if it looks different, I am immediately in a world of hurt and I am here to tell you that Windows 11 looks different from Windows 10.  BIGTIME!!  Though my son Charlie says he doesn’t remember that being the case.  Well, what can I say?  He’s the previous generation and that much closer to the realities of the 21st century.

The Interfering Printer

Worst of all,  it didn’t automatically embrace all of my programs and it seemed that I was stymied at every turn.  Yesterday I took it to the Computer Doctor who fixed it right up and took pains to review several “changes” with me. More than once.  I came right home and practiced and all seemed well.

But, first thing this morning, I needed to print something for the first time since TBC (The Big Change.)  For whatever reason (and don’t bother to tell me the possibilities — you may as well speak Greek or Chinese) I couldn’t fix it.  The Computer Doctor worked on it remotely and finally had to make a house call. Thinking one of the printer ports was wonky, he tried to get it to work wirelessly.  Nada.  And then… don’t ask.  I certainly didn’t.  We were up and running and I almost feel confident that I can proceed without more travail.

Compatibility at Last!

I’m trying to send good messages to this new computer — love messages for Valentine’s Day.  If you are able to read this lament (which I’m trying mightily to disguise as a love letter) you will know that so far, so good!

Here’s hoping  your Valentine Day was terrific and that your Valentine wasn’t as recalcitrant as mine!