Mike and Rose

I am the animal lover in the family. I dragged home several over the 20 years of our marriage. Mike grew to love the animals. Well, maybe not the cats. Most definitely, not the cats. But he tolerated them because he loved me. But in spite of his protests, he grew to love the dogs.

Rose was probably our biggest challenge. She was willful, stubborn and had a mind of her own that no amount of cajoling or threatening could change. And she was naughty. Just because she could. But she also was one of the most lovable dogs I have ever had.

Rose had lived in a kennel with a run for all of her four years before I got her. She was a breeder dog and knew only her owner who fed and cared for her. So living in the city was a new experience for her. She was distrustful of people, and although she learned to walk on a leash, it wasn't her favorite thing to do.

Rose's stubbornness manifested itself most on her daily walks with Mike and Buster. She would decide that she just wasn't going to go where Mike and Buster were going, and would simply sit down, brace her front legs, and refuse to go any further. Mike had to pick her up and carry her a ways, set her back down, and then she would walk with them. Until she decided she didn't want to. Again. I would kid Mike about taking Rose out for a "drag."

In time, Mike did a wonderful job of socializing her. As he walked Rose and Buster, he often stopped to chat with people he met on the trail by the river, or on the downtown streets. Rose got to the point where she would go up to people and let them pet her without trying to sink her teeth into their hand, which was the goal. Mike would often come home from their evening walk, and tell me about some young lady or other who stopped to pet Rose. I kidded Mike that he just walked her because she was a "chick magnet." But his walks with her were the reason that her personality changed from being fearful of people to enjoying meeting new friends. It is thanks to Mike that when, after he died and I found that I was unable to give Buster and Rose the time and attention they deserved, she was able to easily make the transition, along with Buster, to their new home with a loving couple who could spend the time with them that I couldn't.

http://www.4shared.com/file/53073720/bf1e9175/Mike_and_Rose.html

She never lost her stubborn traits, however, and often was a trial to Mike. After Mike's death, I had the occasion to talk with our vet. He laughingly recalled a day when Mike and Rose stopped in at his office, which is four blocks away from our home. The vet said that apparently Rose had been particularly stubborn that day, and Mike's first words to him were, "I hate Yorkies." While going through some recent photos, I came across these three taken a month before Mike died. This was typical of their morning play. I'd say that he didn't hate Yorkies all that much.

Grandma Paul

My Grandma Paul was one of the sweetest women I have ever known. She was kind, loving and always had time for me, both when I was a child and when I grew into womanhood. She was a quiet woman. I never heard her raise her voice. I expect that she did, out of necessity, when raising her large family. All mothers find the need to raise their voices from time to time to get the attention of their misbehaving children. But she had infinite patience when it came to her grandchildren. She had the ability to make me feel like I was the most special child.

My family had moved from Blackduck to St. Paul in the late 1940's. Mom and Dad felt that their opportunities were limited in Blackduck, and that they would be better off financially if they went to the city where jobs were more plentiful. We lived at that time with Grandma Paul in her house on Hewitt Ave. in St. Paul, just across from Hamline University. It was a wonderful time for a little girl, who adored her Grandma and was able to spend time with her on a daily basis.

Grandma worked at Brown & Bigelow company at that time. Grandpa Paul was ill with heart trouble, and Grandma worked to support herself and her children who remained at home. Brown & Bigelow was a company that printed calendars and small art prints. I don't know what her duties were, but I remember hearing that she was a supervisor of her department.

Mother was a really good cook, and she no doubt learned from Grandma. I remember, in later years after my family had moved to Willmar, we would go to Grandma's house in St. Paul for special occasions. Grandma could make a meal that was truly memorable. Many times she would make roast beef with all the trimmings, and possibly the best gravy that I have ever tasted. It was rich brown and oh, so good. In my family, whenever someone was able to make good gravy, it was always referred to as "Grandma Gravy."

There are traits that seem to be passed down from one generation to another. Grandma wasn't fond of having her picture taken, which is probably why I don't have many good photos of her. I am more at ease behind the camera than in front of it. She disliked large crowds of people, as do I. She would attend functions where there were many people, but she always seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when she got home.

In the 1960's, Grandma left the Twin City area and moved to Willmar, where my Mother and Aunt Em lived. She stayed in the apartment on the upper floor of Dad's house on Becker Ave. I was already married by that time and raising my own family, but I took every opportunity to visit Grandma. I took my children to see her as often as possible, as I wanted them to know their Great-Grandma. Every now and then she would watch them for me while I ran some errand or another. Kelly told me about spending time with Grandma then. He loved to go upstairs to be with Grandma, and he told of sitting and playing checkers with her.

It became a Saturday afternoon ritual for me to act as beautician for Mom and Grandma. I would wash their hair for them, put it up in rollers, and when it dried, comb it out for them. Both Mom and Grandma then considered themselves ready for Sunday morning church services. Grandma had the most beautiful white hair. I often wished that when my hair turned from brown to gray, that it would eventually become white like hers. Alas, that was not to be.

I have heard several versions of how Grandma met Grandpa in Blackduck. This is the version that I know to be closest to true. Grandma had come to live with her sister, Amy, in Blackduck. She worked at a cafe there, and that is where she met Andrew Paul. He had been widowed at a young age, and had a small daughter, Dorothy. Apparently, Andrew took many of his meals at this cafe, and a friendship blossomed into a romance. They were married in May of 1914. They raised six children of their own; Duane, Adella, Elaine, Margaret, Marjorie and Emily. Another daughter was stillborn in 1932.

http://www.4shared.com/file/52540244/4b4d7f38/Grandma_Paul.html

I particularly like this picture of Grandpa and Grandma. It was taken in 1924, when Grandma was pregnant with my Mother. Mom always joked that it was the first photo ever taken of her. I can't help but see the resemblance between Mom and Grandma. Many of the children look like Grandpa, but Mom had many of the facial characteristics of Grandma. I have always been told that I look like my Mother. Which means that I look like Grandma. Which is probably the best compliment I could ever receive.

I was blessed to have my Grandma for 32 years. She died in June of 1978, and is buried next to Grandpa in the cemetery in Blackduck, along with their daughter. After all this time, I still miss her and think of her often.

Michael

http://www.4shared.com/file/51152980/d1d0a27c/Michael_Lee_Miller.html

Comparing Notes

I had a lovely surprise a couple of weeks ago. Kelly and his wife Jackie came from Bemidji to visit. This was only the second time I had the pleasure of Jackie's company, and I love her as a sister already. She is such a nice lady and a perfect match for my brother. And she is willing to sit while Kelly and I talk of old times. That makes her a real gem in my book!

http://www.4shared.com/file/50450321/d1cad3a/Comparing_Notes.html

We spent a Saturday afternoon going through old family photos. There were many that Kelly remembered and some he had never seen before. We talked of old times and old memories, and of the stories our Dad had told us, comparing notes. We seem to talk of Dad more often than our Mother when we are together. I think that is because Kelly doesn't remember a time that Mother wasn't ill. Most of our memories of her include time spent in hospitals or other aspects of her battle with rheumatoid arthritis. Mom didn't talk of her family very much, so we don't have those memories to draw upon. But Dad was full of stories of his brothers and the shenanigans they would pull. Or stories of his life and growing up, the various jobs he held and of places he had been and things he had seen. So we talk of Dad.

I finally found out the ending to a story Dad had told me years ago, but would never tell me how he and his brothers got the Model T car up on the roof! Dad told me that "Someone, I don't know just who," had taken the Model T car belonging to a prominent man in Blackduck, and had left it on the roof of his garage. Dad many times would start a story with those words, "Someone, I don't know just who," and by the slight crooked smile on his face and the twinkle in his eye, you would know for certain that his brothers or sisters or cousins were involved, and that he probably was right in the middle of whatever happened. Anyway, the story was about this car winding up on the garage roof. Dad would never tell me how this was accomplished, but while Kelly and I were reminiscing, I asked if he had ever heard that story. He said that he had, and that Dad and his brothers took the car apart and reassembled it on the roof. Mystery solved. This proved to me just how far the Matheny boys would go for a joke.

Kelly and I love to compare notes. I am 15 years older than Kelly, and have 15 years worth of memories that he doesn't have. But he lived near Dad in the last years of Dad's life, and was able to talk with him much more often than I could. So we compare notes. Sometimes Dad would tell me part of a story and tell Kelly another part. The whole of the story comes together when we compare notes. How lucky I am to have my brother who is willing to spend time with me comparing notes and memories. I hope that before we are both too old to remember anything, we can diminish the miles that separate us and have more time to walk down memory lane and compare notes.

She's Back!

I can now sit at my computer without my body screaming for a cigarette. So I am back. I still haven't caved in and bought cigarettes, and if I have gone this long, I expect that I won't. I will own up to taking one drag off someone's cigarette - just one drag - but the funny thing was that I didn't want any more. I am liking this being able to breathe and not cough thing. Been a long time since I could climb the stairs to our apartment without wheezing. So I believe that I will continue on this course. Thank you all for your support. It has helped more than you can know.

I have two scrapbook pages for you today.

The first is of David and his family. They took a road trip over Memorial Day weekend to the North Shore, and this page is of them at Gooseberry Falls. He said that the kids really enjoyed the trip.

I have always loved a good road trip. While I still had a car, I found it necessary for my health and well being to take an occasional road trip. Sometimes there was a destination and sometimes not. Didn't matter. What mattered was getting away from the monotony of everyday life.

I think I get this little bit of wanderlust from my Dad. He loved to just get in the car and drive. Didn't matter where. He just liked to drive. Most times our family road trips were confined to less than 100 miles in any direction. Sometimes we would go to Benson to shop. Other times we would just wander the countryside, stopping perhaps at an old schoolhouse just to snoop around or play on the playground equipment. Or maybe we would wind up at Ronnie and Em's in time for cake and coffee.

Once we stopped at an old schoolhouse. There was a swing set that included a trapeze. Dad was showing off. He often showed off for Mom. It tickles me to think that after all of the years they were together, Dad would still try to impress her. Anyway, Dad was showing off by doing chin-ups on the trapeze. He was doing really well. Had done five or six chin-ups, when something went awry. Maybe his hands slipped or maybe he just was so busy showing off to Mom that he didn't pay attention. Anyway, as he lowered himself from that particular chin-up, he caught the bottom of his nose on the trapeze. It made sort of a crunching sound. And then bled like a stuck hog. A couple of handkerchiefs and an old towel from the trunk later, he got the bleeding stopped. We went home. Dad was grumpy. Mom didn't say a word. In later years he would tell this story on himself, laughing and saying that's what he got for being a show-off.

Once we started a rambling drive and wound up near Granite Falls. We explored the river bank, finding driftwood that Mom took home to use in some craft project, and clam shells as large as a salad plate. The bank was more muddy than sandy, and Libby and I wound up covered in mud to our knees. We explored most of the day, stopping to eat a picnic lunch that Mom had fixed before leaving home. It was a fun Sunday afternoon. I miss road trips.

http://www.4shared.com/file/49190153/63d8b740/Shes_Back.html

The second scrapbook page is of Mom's father, Andrew Jackson Paul and his siblings. They are standing left to right: Walter Eugene Paul (m. Maud Ethal Mandery), Melvin Curtis Paul (m. Bessie Mabel McNab), Grace Vedder Paul (m. George Potts Watson), Clara Lydia Paul (m. Arnold August Pfenninger), Andrew Jackson Paul (m. first Harriet Lucina Felt and 2nd, Gladys Adell Morehouse [my Grandmother]) and Arthur Brayton Paul (m. Lillian Caroline Felt [sister to Andrew's first wife]}.

Walter was the youngest of these children of Hollis Brayton Paul and Adella Caroline Curtis Paul, and was the one in the family who seems to have been the most interested in preserving the Paul family history. (I have added the names of the spouses to make it easier to identify some of the people mentioned in the letters).

One by one Walter's brothers and sisters left home, but stayed in touch with the rest of the family through the writing of letters, as did other members of the family. Over the years, Walter saved many of these letters and his son, Kenneth transcribed them. I find them fascinating. They give a peek into what life was like for these ancestors of my Mother.

I am including in the Zip file the 60 letters that Kenneth sent to me, just as I received them. I particularly liked the ones written by my Grandfather, as they shed a little light on his personality. There is at least one written by my Great-Grandmother Adella. When put in chronological order, these letters are kind of a timeline of the lives of the Paul family in the late 1800s and early 1900s. I hope you find them interesting.

I Won't - Here's Why

I am taking a hiatus from my blog. I realize that I haven't posted for a couple of weeks. The hours that I am putting in at work have made me too tired at the end of the day to work on anything new. Now that spring has finally sprung, our customers want their dogs fluffed and buffed. It is a busy time of year. I am not complaining about being busy, however. I look on it as job security.

I also will not be spending nearly as much time at my computer for some time. It is while sitting at my computer that I smoke more than I should. I am out of cigarettes. I will not buy any more. I have tried to quit smoking many times in the past, and have failed at each attempt. I am determined to succeed this time.

It is not easy. I have symptoms of withdrawl. I am not feeding my addiction of nearly 50 years, and my brain wants nicotine, and I refuse to give it any. And I am CRABBY. At this moment, I would cheerfully chew up anyone who comes near me. Mike is hiding out in the bedroom. The dogs stay away. Even the cat doesn't like me. I don't blame him. But I will not buy another cigarette.

We are spending the weekend getting rid of the smoke odors in our home. All of our bedding, clothing, towels, curtains, etc. will be washed. I am buying a new carpet steam cleaner and Mike will clean the carpets early next week. Our landlord has some primer paint that will seal the walls and ceilings so that we don't have to scrub them all, and then we will start painting each room. I hope it will be a little bit easier to deal with this when the smell of smoke is gone from our living quarters.

I am doing my level best to think positive. I spend time thinking about what to do with the nearly $300 a month I will save by our not smoking. I also think of what it will be like to have clothes that don't have burn holes in them. Or what it will be like to stay indoors when the weather is bad because I am not going outside for a smoke. This also helps.

I promise not to be one of those smug, self-satisfied former smokers. I really dislike those people. I will not frown on those who smoke. I understand how incredibly tough it is to quit. I firmly believe that I will go to heaven, as I am going through my own personal hell right now, and I wouldn't wish this withdrawl thing on anyone. Please forgive me in advance for being cranky and out of sorts. I am sure that it will pass.

I want a cigarette about three feet long right at this moment, but I won't. I won't.

And this is why I won't.

http://www.4shared.com/file/44582898/3a41d8a6/I_wont_-_heres_why.html

Hockey Star

We have a hockey star in the family.

Zach learned to ice skate when he was three years old. When he reached the age of five years, he started playing hockey. He played for the Mini-Mites for two years. This year, he played in Mites 3, which is the highest level in that hockey program. His team is the Bulldogs.

Zach says that he likes playing the center position best because he gets to skate all over the ice. He likes the position of goalie the least, because they wear so much equipment, and it isn't all that comfortable!

I am continually amazed by the things Zach can do. At age seven, not only does he plays hockey, he also swims and plays chess. And, he can say the alphabet backwards. I can't! At age seven, I was playing hide-and-go-seek and hopscotch. And struggling through "Dick and Jane" books.

This generation of children is so much further advanced than was my generation. My grandkids can whomp me any day of the week at video games. They play sophisticated games on the internet that I don't even understand. I am not too crazy about their choices in music, but I recall that my parents weren't too happy with my music, either.

There is something to be said for a slower, less frantic way of life like I had as a child, but there is also a good deal to be said for the advances that have been made since then. These kids will grow up with so much more knowledge at their fingertips, and with skills that I could not even imagine. I am so lucky to be able to watch them grow and develop these skills.

We are very proud of you, Zach. This page is for you.

Love, Grandpa and Grandma

http://www.4shared.com/file/43378193/5c519087/Hockey_Star.html