Return trip to the Palouse

My grandma Joyce Mae Druffel Heitstuman passed away on May 6. The call came from my mom about two hours after we pulled into the driveway on our return from Pullman for Gretchen's graduation. She'd ill for a while, and though she'd rallied in the past from a similar medical situation, she wasn't up for it this time. I'm quite certain that I'll miss her the rest of my life. 

Due to some crazy logistics, I ended up flying back to Spokane on Wednesday, hanging out with my sister, and then going down to Colton on Friday. Where, in true Colton fashion, I was soon drafted into moving farm machinery with my dad. They'd had a wet spring and couldn't get into the fields until the second weekend in May. It was a frantic race to get so many things done. 

My cousin Blake had to instruct dad on hooking things up. 

What, you've never moved farm equipment during your bereavement leave?

My chore at my grandmothers house was to fluff her garden beds in advance of the post-funeral open house. Remember my post from yesterday saying I needed to expand my color range? Yeah... my grandmother seemed to get it right. Check out her raised beds:

One interesting thing about my Whitman County family: they don't mulch their garden beds. I don't know why? I suspect it has to do with spending the money on mulch? That they'd rather have to hoe the garden than spread mulch? Or have to water daily since water evaporates more quickly? Either way, it's a mystery to me. 

In addition to spring bloomers, she had an interesting variety of sedums and succulents worked in.

Though the weather was beautifully spring-like the four days I was there, it did get cold at night. So cold, in fact, that my dad and uncle raced out of the house at 10pm to drain the water from a piece of seeding equipment in fear of a freeze. Good thing they did; it got down to 23 degrees. Down to 20 out at my grandma Jan's farm. Check out the difference between these two plants; the one against the foundation made it and the more exposed version didn't.

In a really funny twist of fate, my childhood friend Sarah is dating a wonderful guy whose dad is from Colton. Jeff's dad graduated with one of my dad's brothers. It's a small world. Since they'd have a place to stay, and since Sarah knew my grandparents well too, they came over for the service. It was very sweet of them. Sarah got to see my dad's mom, Grandma Jan.

 There are more stories to tell, of course. I'm still processing it in a major way. I'll miss my grandmother, but I'm relieved that she's out of pain. It was nice to have a chance to visit with friends and family, and nice to be in Whitman County on such a beautiful spring weekend.

Dad's parents get married

My mom's parents were married in the fall of 1951. Sometime about a year later, Bob and Joyce threw a party at the little house they were renting in Colton.

A classmate of Bob's, Dan Kramer, called a girl he knew from school in Colton, and asked her to come with him to Bob and Joyce's party. Jan Reisenauer went with Dan Kramer to a party at the Heitstuman's, and married shortly thereafter.

Janet Reisenauer, 1952 graduation from Sacred Heart nursing school

All four of those people are my grandparents. See, small town. I told you.

Dan and Jan were married in October of 1954; in the same church in Colton that Bob and Joyce married in three years prior. I've never asked, but it's unlikely that Joyce Heitstuman attended, as by October 1954 she was nearly 9 months pregnant with my mom.

This is the first photo in their album. I'll share the rest over the next few weeks!

My family is from a small town...

No... really. A small town. Like it's the biggest it's ever been, at 350 people in 2010. Both of my parents are from Colton, Washington, and graduated in the class of 1972 together. With 19 other people.

Somewhere back in the the family tree I think some cousins are married.

But don't worry, I don't have a third arm coming out of my forehead... yet.

So how does this relate to the photo below? Well, I've been showing you photos of my mom's parent's wedding in 1951. And in the background of this wedding photo is my mom's dad's dad's blacksmith shop. Great grandfather ben was a blacksmith, who fathered 10+ (13? 11?) kids before dying just after the age of 40. Until I saw this photo, I'd never known where Ben's blacksmith shop was.

And why all the discussion about my parents being from a small town? Because this photo is from my other grandparent's wedding. Dan and Jan, my dad's parents, met at a party at my mom's parent's house, and were married in 1953.

Don't worry, I'll be sharing those photos too!

Bob & Joyce

My family is Catholic. Extended, serious, give money and land, send your seven kids to Catholic school, full out mass Catholic. Since they came over from Germany, and settled in a Catholic farm community.

DJ and I will not be having a Catholic wedding. Simple eight-minute lakeside ceremony is our style. I'm a recovering Catholic. But I appreciate the traditions and customs that are reflected in my grandparents wedding ceremony photos.

(DJ: Dress photos ahead. Proceed at your own risk.)

Throwback Thursday- Wedding Dress style

Psst. Can you keep a secret? Wanna see a 50 year old photo of my wedding dress?

I’ll tell the full story of my wedding dress once I get scanned copies of other photos from my mom, but this is a preview. And a throwback.

(DJ: I don’t care if you know what dress for our wedding looks like. Heck, you saw most of it in your mom’s closet over Christmas. I almost showed it to you twice. You’re welcome to click the link below if you want to know in advance. The purpose of this break is to respect your wishes to not know what I’ll look like on The Big Day.)

Summer

Since no one showed up to the North Church potential historic district tour last night, I was home at 8pm. You might think this is late, but for me recently, pulling up to the curb with the number 7 preceding other numbers on the clock was pretty darn awesome.

I took the opportunity to sit on our front porch and read for a little bit, but I kept getting distracted by the beauty of the evening. The green grass mowed into neat lines with military precision. The sun setting to the west, creating fingers of golden light streaming towards me. The potted flowers spilling out of their containers in a riot of maroon, yellow and royal blue. The still quiet of the slightest breeze. My legs browning up from outdoor tanning and exercise. That wonderful temperature of evening in the summer.

Sitting there made me think of summer evenings when I was a kid. I spent a lot of shuffling back and forth between my grandparents houses in Colton, Washington, on the Palouse. It was a great way to grow up, and although my Welch’s freezer pop has been replaced with a Corona and lime, my appreciation for summer evenings has not changed.

I used to sit on my grandma Joyce’s back porch with a book I’d raided from her collection of Nora Roberts and Danielle Steele novels. I swear I learned more about sex from those books than I did from any class or friend!

I’d sit out there with my romance novel and Popsicle and read until I couldn’t see the page. Beyond the book’s pages and as the summer lapsed the wheat fields would turn from green to gold. The chik-chik--chik-chikcachikachikachikachika-chik-chik-chik of the sprinkler played the soundtrack to my summers, along with the 6 o’clock siren that would wail every evening for reasons I now forget.

I’d move inside, say goodnight to grandma and grandpa, and either read in the living room or my bedroom until my eyes couldn’t stay open. Grandma’s snoring replaced the rhythm of the sprinkler, and the open window always smelled like turning wheat.

My grandma Jan also lives just outside of Colton, and I spend similar amounts of time there in the summer. My memories of the Kramer farm are different; eating tootsie pops all day long, drinking diet Pepsi until I felt sick because we weren’t sure the cistern was sealed enough to create safe drinking water; dad remedied this problem in 2007. Playing Barbies with my cousin, who was gracious enough to play Barbies with me into her late teens. Watching innumerable movies since they didn’t have cable TV. Laughing with dad and his brothers Dave and Aaron when they came in from the harvest field. Eating French toast grandma Jan made. It was at the Kramer farm that I found my favorite move, “Blazing Saddles” which is clearly appropriate for a 10 year old girl!

As my grandparents get older, I am grateful that I was able to spend so much time with them as a kid. It was freeing to run around their properties, playing with cousins, eating strawberries out of the garden and staying up as late as I wanted. I also forged a bond with them that I feel lucky to have. I hope I can ship my kids off to grandmas too someday, although my parents, at least, will likely be at the lake instead of on the farm in Colton. DJ’s mom’s house has a great forest behind it that would be fun to explore and built forts in.

Summer always seems to go by so fast. You wait for it, and then get so busy once it’s here that you barely get a chance to enjoy it. Thinking about this last night in the perspective of my aging grandparents made me realize that I guess life is like that; you look forward to something, make plans for something, and then get through it so fast that you don’t look around and enjoy it.

I’m going to make a better effort of enjoying the here and now.