Stephanie says

1923 – 1991 My uncle, Leland Post, was the eldest son of my grandfather Elmer Post - with his first wife. Divorce was pretty scandalous at that time. My grandfather, who had a creamery and made cheese in Blachly Oregon, had full custody. My grandparents married in 1931 when Lee was eight. He saw his mother only infrequently. Ethel and Elmer had three children, my mother Helene, and uncles Lynn and Howard. When Leland was a young boy, he was angry at his father and planned to run away from home. He didn’t have any money so he loaded up a wagon with cheese wheels and went around selling cheese for cheap. Elmer heard tell of it when one of the neighbors asked if something was wrong with the cheese since Leland was selling it for so little. In 1941 my grandfather sold the creamery and started a logging business in Powers Oregon. Leland was 18 and moved with the family to help with the new business. Poaching was commonplace in Coos County. A Powers cop stopped by for a chat ...

It is dark and dank in this place. And scary. The smell of pigeon shit and fusty soil are stuck in my nasal passages as I crouch, a loaded AK47 grasped so tightly in my right hand it makes an IMPRESSION. Heavy mud caked on my overalls weighs me down as I inch along toward safety. Flashes of gunfire light up the night sky behind me, followed abruptly by the cacophony of automatic weapons discharging. In that brief instant of light I can see I’m on the right path. My heart beats rapidly, fear makes my breathing hard. I hear a whisper. “Susan. Keep coming this way. Keep down.” Thank God, it’s Kevin. Kevin, my fearless and athletic lover, leads me through a maze of crumbling buildings away from our enemies. I stay at his heels as we slither through oozing mud, bird crap, and who knows what else, to a nearby two-story house, our reconnaissance point. I send a silent pray of thankfulness to the heavens when we reach the interior unscathed. A wave of light from another burst of gunfire expo...

A little drizzle Then a downpour

Dear Jeanne: There you are in the Middle Kingdom - craving French food. Certainly by now you've had the finest Chinese food available - something you'll be unable to get once you get home. But for now you're craving glorious butter. There is a certain irony in this... I recall being so sick of Italian food after one mere month... I craved - get ready for it - Kentucky Fried Chicken - got a bucket from the colonel when I got home. That was probably the last time I've eaten at KFC... They do make an excellent coleslaw. Speaking of irony, I'm reading Julia and cooking from Weight Watchers. I think it's your cookbook actually that I've ended up with somehow. Been doing the soups and the minestrone recipe therein is pretty damn good. So is the clam chowder. Your cuz

My grandmother Ethel’s family travelled the Oregon Trail near the end of the great migration west. They left from Neligh Nebraska and made their way gradually to Oregon. Grandmother, born in 1903, was the only one of six siblings born in Oregon. Her brother Minor Billings, born in 1890, was old enough to recall events from the time of the family journey. (I typed up some stories for him but will have to delve further to find them. I have not been as organized as I would wish.) Minor was an avid fisherman from the get go. Here is his 1915 hunting license - I do have some of his fishing licenses. Portrait of Minor in 1917 On the back of this photo is a notation in my grandmother's hand "A very fine person". Franked enveloped dated Oct. 7, 1918 from Minor at Fort Lewis, Wa. Addressed to Miss Ethel Billings, Blachley, OR. And it made it! Following WWI, Minor worked for the forest service until he retired at age 60. He married along the way although it was ...

King's Hawaiian Bakery Sweet Bread, ono delicious bro! I lived on the windward side of Oahu, with my husband Jim and my brother Michael. We were in our mid-twenties and having a roaring good time living in Hawaii. We didn’t have a car in the early days but our apartment wasn’t far from the ocean. We’d jog over and have a swim or do a little boogie boarding. We bought Hawaiian sling spears, rubber band propelled eight-foot metal tubes with three long prongs that spear the fish. I carted that sling around for miles and miles over the years but my single catch was a sea cucumber, a very sluggish creature creeping to its doom on the ocean floor. Jim and Michael quickly mastered the sling, Michael in particular caught lots of mahnini, elusive octopi and claw-less lobster. Once he killed a Moray eel and stuck it in the kitchen sink when he got home. The eel was only playing dead however. It slithered out of the sink and hid behind the refrigerator. I was fortunate to arrive in tim...

I walk my dogs at this pioneer cemetary. Fog is so deceptive and somehow elegant. Here's my big guy - running off-leash! A two-year old who never avoids a mud puddle.

I'm busily scanning family photos, a task that I've finally begun. My grandmother was a school teacher so there are a number of school photos of her. To my horror I look just like her. Change the hair color to dark brown and there I am. Accckkkkkkk.

Pinned. Can’t move. Pressure on my chest. Gripped by terror. Can’t breathe. Heart pounding so hard I’m afraid it will burst from my chest. Pinned. Can’t move. Can’t breathe. I try to fight, can’t move. Groan. I hear “you’re dreaming, wake up” And reality breaks through the surface of the nightmare. I awake drenched in sweat, gasping for breath. This Is A Theme Thursday Post. Click this link to check out what others have written on the subject of surface.

The move from Central Oregon to Yoncalla went quite well. I led the caravan at the wheel of a U-Haul van with Rosie cowering in her crate at my side and towing my ‘62 F100 pickup, next came Gus and Octavia in my car with Moose in the backseat, followed by Carlos bringing up the rear in Gus’s truck with Lilly and Bella strapped in their car seats. Carlos had the little girls to entertain but they love their uncle and behave for him. Gus and Octavia enjoying some quality alone-time were hampered with Moose, aka Mr. Flatulence. Lots of time spent rolling down the windows whenever he cut a foul one. I figure I got the best of that deal. Gus actually suggested switching dogs at our one rest stop. Yeah, right. Gus and Carlos began unloading as soon as we got to the new house while Octavia and I made a grocery run. We got back to find Gus searching for tools and Carlos nowhere in sight. Turned out he was locked in the bathroom. The door latch mechanism wouldn’t respond to turning t...

My grandfather, Elmer O. Post graduated from Oregon Ag (now Oregon State U - go Beavers) in 1917. After college he opened a creamery and made cheese. He operated a creamery for 24 odd years. He's the good looking man in the rubber apron. No bias here. He was visiting us shortly after attending his 50th class reunion in 1967 - I remember asking him how he could possibly recognize anyone after 50 years. Impertinent. As that milestone approaches for me, it doesn't seem as improbable as it once did...

Photo courtesy of Oregon Truffle Festival “In the rarified world of truffles, Oregon is known as the premier center of research and expertise outside of Europe.” Who’d have guessed? We’re talking Eugene Oregon specifically, a mere 40 miles north from my home. There are a variety of events scheduled, for the well-heeled anyway: Cultivation Seminar; Growers' Forum; Truffle Dog Training – which is of particular interest to me. My black dog has a keen sense of smell and is pretty smart (of course). I could train my big boy but he’d scarf down any truffles he found – he eats orange sections for heavens sake. I’ve read my share of the “A Year in Provence” genre and the subject of truffles get a lot of ink. But to date I have not tasted one. That is about to change. There is one event in my price range, for $20 I get truffles tastings, wine tastings, and a commemorative wine glass. I’ll let you know. I may have found my calling. http://www.oregontrufflefestival.com/news.html

polka dot piggies This Is A Theme Thursday Post.

On a wintry dark and rainy evening animal crackers and cocoa were exactly what I wanted for my supper. No cocoa to be found in the cupboard but a few squares 60% bittersweet chocolate melted in hot milk did the trick, a melting candy cane for my stirrer. No animal crackers to be found alas, so substituted toasted sour dough cut in dunking strips. And all was well. Animal crackers, and cocoa to drink, That is the finest of suppers, I think; When I’m grown up and can have what I please I think I shall always insist upon these. (Excerpt from Christopher Morley poem.)