Posts Tagged ‘Winter in Oysterville’

Despite Murphy’s First Law…

Wednesday, February 7th, 2024

Logging Truck – Spruce Division

Today’s History Forum was one of the best yet — not necessarily subject-wise (although that was fabulous) and not necessarily because of the visual aids (there were technical problems).  But this Forum, our sixth, definitely involved the most participation– conversations, questions and answers, “show and tell” items, and general give and take — of any of our Forums to date.  We are all finally getting the hang of what a Forum is!

According to the OED, A forum is a place, situation or group where ideas and views on a particular subject can be exchanged.  A History Forum is a community for historians and history enthusiasts.  And that was us today in the proverbial nutshell — about thirty-five of us, I think, although it never occurred to me to count.  Among those who spoke of their experience in the timber/logging industry was Steve Rogers of South Bend who described himself as “the son of a son of a logger’ and whose father had the last logging operation on Long Island here in Shoalwater Bay.

Roy Nott of Aberdeen  — whose career with Weyerhaeuser began at their Raymond Sawmill pulling lumber — which he described as “the most boring job he ever had.”  But he stuck with it,  He was a contract logging supervisor for Weyerhaeuser after college and his responsibilities included the Deep River and Naselle areas.  He managed the logging operations for Rayonier on the Northern Olympic Peninsula and went on to become the VP, Pulp and Forest Products for Rayonier with an office in Stamford, Connecticut. — but has since spanned the globe and some 50+ years.  He shared a paper he wrote, “The Logging Eras of Pacific County, Washington,” and I suspect that we will eventually see it as an issue of The Sou’wester, Pacific County Historical Society’s quarterly magazine.

Jean Nitzel of Surfside, after listening to some of the exchanges between members of that corporate lumber world, described her husband Bill’s work as “a real logger” — a choker setter who worked day-in and day-out in the Naselle area, “unless it snowed,” she said.  She remembered a period in the sixties when it snowed for an unprecedented time here in Pacific County “and he got a full two-week vacation!”  Debby Halliburton of Ocean Park talked about another aspect of the industry —  a box factory that literally kept Cathlamet from becoming a ghost town during the Depression.  It’s importance went far beyond the paychecks that people earned– “it created the basis for a real sense of community>”

And Bob Rose talked about the logging operation(s) on the Rose Ranch which has ‘s celebrated its centennial year.  “There were times,” he said, ” when the dairy business was more or less subsidized by our logging operation, even though it’s fairly small.” Dave Williams and Steve Rogers spoke a bit about the forestry conservation efforts of Columbia Land Trust and there was general discussion about the effect of climate change on the growth of “traditional” species and what that might mean for the future.

It was a rich discussion and the time flew by.  Quietly, back in the northwest corner Michael Lemeshko recorded the Forum and he says it should be up on YouTube by Saturday.  Murphy’s First Law, “Anything That Can Go Wrong Will Go Wrong” had struck just as the Forum began when Steve’s Power Point Program could not be run on Michael’s computer and we are all hopeful that the remaining techy magic was working properly. You can check it out by Googling Pacific County History Forum on YouTube!

Our Heavenly Oysterville Sky!

Tuesday, February 6th, 2024

February 6. 2024

Evening Sky

Where was I when the sky was showing off?

Or was Tucker the only one it was struttin’ its stuff for?

Do you think it’s because he has an artist’s eye?

Or does he spend more time looking than the we do?

Perhaps he and the heavens have a special arrangement —

One we aren’t privy to.

But never mind.

We don’t need to know the secret…

Tucker shares with us, anyway!

Thank heavens!  (No.  Thank Tucker!)

 

On being the oldest one in the room.

Saturday, February 3rd, 2024

I wonder if I’ll ever get used to being the oldest one in most of the gatherings I attend.  Not only that, I’m often the only one whose family has lived here through six generations, me being within the fourth one!  Increasingly, I find that in discussions about “recent” history — especially about the history here in Oysterville. our memories are not always in sync and “recent” is a completely subjective and relative term.  ‘

Even more difficult is that I get the distinct feeling that when my recollections are different from everyone else’s that I’m being just a tad patronized as in “she’s just a bit confused.”  So, usually, I avoid these discussions and just listen while the group comes to whatever creative conclusion might work for them.  Last night, though, I sort of forgot my resolve and got into it with several of the Friday Nighters about a situation I remembered very well but the others… not so much.   But none of the rest of them were living here when it happened.

Counting me, there were 12 of us here — half of us living in Oysterville, the other half living south or west of the village.  It was mostly the Oysterville folks who got into the discussion though everyone was interested.  It had to do with the old Bard-Heim Dairy Barn (long gone) and Polly Friedlander’s house (still anchoring the north end of the Oysterville National Historic District.)

The statement was made that Polly’s house was built so that the glass breezeway between the two main buildings would give a “see-through” view of the old Bard-Heim Barn which had been built on the property in 1930.

“Yes,” said I (foolishly), “but the barn had blown down in a storm well before the house was built.

Many voices weighed it.  “No.  That’s not true.”  “Polly told me, herself.”  “That’s exactly why the house was built that way.”

“Maybe it was designed with that idea in mind,” I said (being foolisher and foolisher!) “but the barn blew down long before the house was built.”  And I proceeded to tell about Polly’s attempts to keep the barn standing by hiring a Barn Guru of some sort who was supposed to be propping up the building but, as it turned out, he was painting totems to the barn gods on the posts and beams that had not yet rotted out.  “They would protect the barn,” he told Polly.

I, of course, could not come up with exact dates so I backed off — feeling inept in front of so many younger and more certain voices.  Today I searched my files and found a clipping from an old Chinook Observer showing the barn with this caption:  “The landscape of Oysterville was forever changed during a 1990 storm when the 60-year-old Bard Heim Dairy Barn blew down, a victim of years of deferred maintenance and neglect. It was one of the last barns in the area and had come to symbolize the generations of farmers who had tended the uplands while their neighbors had worked the oyster tidelands in the little community by the bay”

And, I found a copy of an email sent to me by Polly on December 12, 2004,  about a decade after the house was completed:  ...the Bardheim Cottage was built in 1994 as I mentioned.  It is on the property dominated by the Bardheim Barn for so many years.  The fenced garden was created in the corral and the decayed fence replicated.  It was one of the two first houses built under the current Design Review Guidelines.

Yep!  I feel better now.  Sometimes when I’m outnumbered like I was last night, I feel like maybe I am slipping a cog or two.  Well, at least I know now that I wasn’t when it came to THAT particular issue!

I

Thanks for all your kind remarks!

Friday, February 2nd, 2024

February 2, 2024

It’s been a bit busy here this week — people to see, places to go, catching up to do.  No special reason.  It just happens sometimes. Usually those sorts of weeks are a pain in the tush.  But not this one.

For whatever reason, this was the week when my mail was full of kudos and compliments from unexpected quarters — mostly about my “Saints or Sinners” stories that have been appearing in the Chinook Observer each week for the last few months.  Not only have a number of readers weighed in with plaudits and pleasant remarks, but even some descendants of those saints or sinners have written to corroborate information and to let me know of their appreciation.

I probably speak for most writers when I say that positive feedback is not all that easy to come by and is much appreciated when it does arrive.  You’ve probably noticed, yourself, that most often the “Letters to the Editor” are more critical than celebratory.  But, what has come to me lately through Face Book or in response to my blog posts are comments and remarks that warm the cockles of my heart.  Thank you!

I try my best to respond to each person who reaches out.  I’m not always successful, though, and for that I am sorry.  Please do not give up on me!  I’ll try to answer your questions, and let you know how much I appreciate hearing from you.  In large measure, your feedback keeps me going.  Woot!  Woot!

Abnormally quiet today in Oysterville.

Tuesday, January 30th, 2024

January 30, 2024

It seemed extra quiet in Oysterville today.  Somehow, I expected more traffic, more looky-loos driving by.  But I didn’t see even one car.  Not that I spent my day looking out my west windows at the street, mind you.  But after a lifetime of feeling the rhythms of the village… you just know.

About one o’clock I walked down to Michael’s place to take a look for myself at what is left.  I wasn’t even within sight of the house before I smelled the aftermath — that acrid smell of a big burn.  Even as I thought that, I wondered how I knew to call it “acrid.”  I don’t think I’ve ever smelled that particular odor before, yet it was distinctive and the name seemed obvious.  (Later I looked up the word acrid and found this: Acrid exactly fits the smoke from a fire—a burning building or forest, for example.}

Garage unscathed? We can but hope.

I was pleased to see that the Fire Department had posted the area with KEEP OUT signs and even more pleased to see that the garage seems to be completely intact — although I don’t know what smoke damage might mean to photographs and negatives — if indeed the smoke filtered through.  (Though I’ve been in his house several times over the years, I’ve not been in the garage building. My understanding is that the area above the garage has functioned as Michael’s photography studio. )   When Bob Duke wrote yesterday:  “Not all of his legacy is lost. Volumes of his aerial photos of the lower Columbia are archived at the Heritage Museum in Ilwaco” I was relieved.  But at the scene of the fire yesterday, Michael said that all his negatives had burned… I wondered if he had kept those in the house or had, perhaps, been working on them there.  I’m hoping that when he made that particular remark it still looked as though the garage building would soon be involved and he was second-guessing.  And that it turned out better than he had feared in the midst of the confusion and fright.  I hope so.

Meanwhile, I understand that Michael is situated in Ocean Park and that friends have provided him with clothing and food for the short term.  Meanwhile, Oysterville neighbor Betsy Nordquist has organized a GoFundMe site for Michael.  The link is:  https://gofund.me/2100b5f1 and all contributions are greatly appreciated.

 

 

 

…but for the grace of god…

Monday, January 29th, 2024

January 29, 2024

We all live in wood houses in Oysterville.

We warm ourselves in front of woodstoves and fireplaces.

In our gardens are the vestiges of the orchards of a hundred years ago and more.  Old, gnarled trees that speak to us of our ancestors.

The woods march right into the village from the west.

Alder trees hurry to fill in the cleared areas.

We live with wood.  We depend upon wood.  And we are ever-vigilant about fire.

But this morning, Michael said, “It got away from me.  I was starting a fire in the woodstove and it got away from me.”

We are so glad you and Linus are safe, Michael.  It all could have been so much worse.

 

A GoFundMe Site Has Been Set Up for Michael
https://gofund.me/2100b5f1

One damned adventure after another!

Saturday, January 27th, 2024

Mathematics. Open book with maths doodles with lettering. Education vector illustration.

When we got to the section of the third grade arithmetic book that dealt with “story problems.” I was fond of telling my students that this was the part of math that they would use for their entire lives NO MATTER WHAT.  After all, I’d tell them, life is just a series of problem-solving events.  And we’d spend a half hour or so sharing problems we had experienced (“when our new puppy chewed up one of my school shoes — my only pair, too!”) and how we solved them (“I wore my flip-flops and my mom wrote the teacher a note and after school we went to the store and got a new pair of tennis shoes.”)  Gradually we slipped into problems involving math and mostly it went pretty well.

Now that I’m old and getting pretty tired of all the problems life tends to throw my way, I’ve had an Attitude Adjustment.  I no longer consider these bumps in my road “problems,”  I look upon them as “adventures.”  Perhaps just a matter of semantics?  Yes, perhaps.  But helpful, nonetheless.

Today it has been a matter of keys.  My car key AND my house key.  They are on the same key ring which is not small by any stretch of the imagination.  When my friend Erin picked me up for a meeting to be followed by lunch at a Peninsula restaurant, I locked my front door, put my keys in my purse (or could it have been my pocket?) and off we went.  I was being chauffeured and, as it turned out, treated to the meal — an adventure indeed!  But when we got back to my house some hours later, my keys were not to be found.  We searched my porch, purse, pockets,  all to no avail!  Then Erin’s car, our meeting space and, finally. the restaurant!

In my considered opinion, this  particular series of events no longer qualifies as an “adventure” no matter what sort of spin I put on it.  I am definitely back into the problem-solving mode.  If only I could assign numerical equivalents to each circumstance and assign appropriate arithmetic operations to it… Sigh!   And could it be that I was leading all those little kids astray all those years ago?  If so, I apologize.  And I sure do wish you were all here to help me solve this particular story problem!

AND JUST AS I WAS READY TO POST THIS, A MESSAGE FROM ERIN!!! “We found your keys!”  I don’t know any particulars yet —  just that the problem is solved and it turned into an adventure after all!  Yay!!!

Even the hunting horns didn’t help!

Friday, January 26th, 2024

Fred and His Bugle

If you are lucky enough to know singer-songwriter Fred Carter, you know that there isn’t a song he’s ever heard — even if it was only once — that he cannot play!  Usually, his instrument of choice is a guitar — but he’s a master of almost any stringed instrument.  But… when it comes to the bugle, not so much.

Mark Clemmons with the biggest horn.

“I really REALLY want to learn to play taps,” he told our Friday Nighters a few weeks ago.  “I get so tired of going to funerals for our Vets and hearing then play a tape. It’s just not the same!  I want to be able to step up and play taps for them.  For real — not on a tape.”  But, Fred’s been trying for a whole year and so far… no luck.

That was all Tucker Wachsmuth needed to bring his collection of German Hunting Horns to tonight’s gathering!  Seven of them, I think.  And in various sizes.  He demonstrated a few notes on each of them before passing them around for the rest of us to try.  As might be expected, it was definitely “a guy thing.”  Everyone (of the men, that is) — especially Bill Grennan! — was able to “make a joyful (?) noise” with one or more of the horns.  (Oh!  Did I say everyone except Fred?)  It was the noisiest Friday Night I ever remember!

Fred was still bravely clutching his bugle as he left with the others.  Dejected?  A little.  Defeated?  Never!  He is determined.  And knowing Fred, he’ll have mastered taps before the next hunting season is upon us!!

 

Yes!!! What Helen said. The “kinky” part.

Wednesday, January 24th, 2024

Helen Wolfe Dietz – My Role Model With Regard to Kinks!

So… here I am, early in the morning — it’s still BIG DARK outside — looking at my new computer screen and trying to figure out where I am and how I got here and, most importantly, what to do about it.   My coffee cup needs refilling which usually means I’ve finished Wordle and am well on my way to completing my blog for the day — unless, of course, other matters are pressing.  Today “other matters” all involve one thing — a new computer and a new Windows program — technically two things, I suppose…  and  they (the other matters) are way beyond pressing.  More like crushing and pulverizing.

But a few days ago (or maybe only yesterday) when I was whining and worrying about getting this new extension of my life, my friend Helen wrote:  ” I’m working my way through the kinks of a new computer. It should work really well when I figure it out.”  KINKS!!  I couldn’t help giggling (if old ladies can be said to giggle) and I heard Nyel say as clear as clear:  “Be patient, Sydney.”

Morning Memory from May 2017

Another cup of coffee.  A deep breath.  An attitude adjustment.  And maybe a bit of introspection — as in why do I find unfamiliar territory so daunting, anyway?  I’m pretty sure I didn’t always feel this way.  Not about most things…  A shrink would probably tell me that as we feel our control of our surroundings diminish, we become more fearful of new things yadda yadda yadda.   But better “advice” for me is “just pull up your big girl panties and get on with it!”

And now the sky is growing lighter.  Soon the sun will peep over the Willapa Hills, the bay will reflect today’s allotted measure of visible sunrise, and maybe this blog will get posted before the sun sets.

Me ‘N’ My ‘Puter

Tuesday, January 23rd, 2024

A thinking laptop cartoon character with a question mark.

I spend a lot of time at my computer.  More than with any of my friends or loved ones and certainly more than with any other screen device.  It holds all my “secrets” (such as they are) and is the repository for much of my memory — both in pictures and words, long-term memory as well as short.

So, it’s probably not too weird that when it goes wonky, I feel disoriented and insecure.  Lately, programs that have always responded predictably have been giving me grief.  Occasionally, a familiar site presents itself differently and, scariest of all, I can’t always find my way around in once familiar territory.  I was beginning to feel like one of us has the beginnings of dementia — or maybe both of us.

So, it was a great relief to me when I called my Computer Guru and he took a look.  “You know,” he said, “your computer is pretty old now.  It may be time to consider getting a new one.”  It will have a wider screen and half-again as much memory!  At least, he didn’t suggest that it was my own aging brain that was the trouble — though I have no doubt that that’s part of the problem.  But if I can survive the learning curve of changing from old to new, my ‘puter troubles should disappear — or at least be manageable.

Although, as I think back to my first experiences in CPU-Land some forty  years ago, I don’t think my personal confusion has changed much with regard to cyberspace and its denizens. Dealing with my own aging mind, however,  would not be a matter of replacement as we all know. Becoming confused when dealing with my computer is scary enough.  I hope we can leave it at that for the foreseeable future!