President’s Letter: July 2010

July 11th, 2010

Dear Family,

I’m in Ohio attending a Montessori training for teachers of adolescents this summer. While researching for a project on the U.S. Western Migration, I opened up the book Women’s Diaries of the Westward Journey by Lilian Schlissel.  The purpose of the research was to find information we could use to act out roles of people who migrated to the West.  We were practicing how if our students imagine themselves as people in the history they are studying, they will not only learn the history better but will gain a sense of themselves in the progression of mankind.

Here is a passage I came across:

Marriages on the frontier were often made before a girl was half through her adolescent years, and some diaries record a casualness in the manner in which such decisions were reached.  Mrs. John Kirkwood recounts that her brother Jasper decided to get married Christmas Day but was unable to find a minister or justice of the peace to marry him:

“The night before Xmas, John Kirkwood … the path finder stayed at our house overnight.  I had met him before and when he heard the discussion about my brother’s Jasper’s wedding, he suggested that he and I also get married. I was nearly fifteen years old and I thought it was high time that I got married so I consented.  Jack Kirkwood volunteered to go to Bethel and get Rev. Glenn Burnett … He came back with Elder Burnett early in the afternoon.  Shortly after he arrived, my brother Jasper and his girl, Mary Ring, who had just come from Missouri, stood up and were married.  Immediately after the ceremony had been performed, Jack and I stepped out and Elder Burnett married us.  No one knew that we were going to be married and they all were very much surprised.  I remember that we had a mighty fine wedding dinner and a big celebration.  One of the things I remembered best about the wedding dinner was a pie my mother had made from dried tomatoes.  You need not turn your nose up at it either for it was mighty good.”

Marriages arose out of a sense of mutual congeniality and the conviction that a man and woman together were necessary to do the work of living on the frontier.  Both young men and young women were free to follow their inclinations, and weddings were made expeditiously.  The young couple was expected to set off on their own, sometimes with a ‘chivaree’ or communal celebration, and sometimes with only a tomato pie.

Women’s Diaries of the Westward Journey, Lillian Schlissel, Schocken Books NY c.1982 pg. 45

My first thought was, “I know these people!”  Of course, these were the memories of Charlotte Matheny Kirkwood.  That certainly made it easier for me to role play and relate to the history we were studying and my connection to Charlotte’s family also brought my colleagues a little closer to it.  Even without a personal connection, though, this passage offers a chance for adolescents to more clearly examine their own present day identities and responsibilities by reflecting on the past.  Connecting with our past improves our future.

Does anybody have the recipe for dried tomato pie?!

I’m looking forward to seeing you all at the Reunion when I get back to Oregon.

Thank you to all who helped out at last year’s anniversary celebration.  This year the council has made one change and we have a treat for the kids:

THE COUNTRY STORE

This year instead of the raffle, the Family Council has decided to have a good, old-fashioned, country store.  Preserves or fresh bounty from your garden, hand crafts, plants and seeds, books, and items that would have been raffled off will be sold in the Country Store all during the Reunion in the interest of allowing more time for visiting.  So bring your “egg money” to spend on treats and treasures.  And bring your items to donate to the store.  If you were the lucky winner of one of the many books in the raffle last year and want a new volume to grace your coffee table, consider donating back last years’ copy and buying a new one at the store. Or do you have books, cd’s, or dvd’s that might be of interest to family members that you’d like to find a good home for while helping out the Family Association?

OUR SOUTH OF THE BORDER ROOTS

Arnie Young’s family, William S. Cooper descendants, will be bringing a piñata for the kids in recognition of Jasper Matheny’s life on the plantation in Mexico.

See you there,

Barbara

Charlotte, Barbara, and Roger Shipman and the tunnel (Charlotte Matheny Kirkwood descendents)

July 11th, 2010

By Roger Shipman  8/2/2009

At age 7 or 8, we lived near downtown Everett, Washington, “kitty-corner” from the fire station, which was right next to the opening of the train tunnel which ran ¾ mile under downtown.  That mysterious dark mouth always appealed to all us Shipman’s.  One day my sister Charlotte, 7 years older, announced (Mom and Dad being away) that she was going to explore it.

Barbara and I jumped on the chance to come along.  Bright daylight disappeared far behind us as we trekked into the gaping maw.  Suddenly we saw the headlights of a train coming toward us.  Charlotte, the fastest runner in our family, turned and ran with all her might, Barbara behind her.  I ran, too, but not so fast, and thinking I might not get out, kept stopping to hug the side of the rough tunnel, and looking apprehensively behind me at the rapidly approaching train.

Finally I decided stopping was no help, and I ran until I was out of breath.  Louder and louder behind me, the train kept me running, terrified, and I did not dare look back.  I ran out into the welcome sunshine, but the sides of the opening consisted of a dusty ravine.  I scrabbled on hands and knees to gain purchase on the slippery slope, fearing all the while that the awesome train would crush my legs.

Only three feet up, I slipped, and was face down on the dirt, calling out to the firemen in the building scant six feet above me, when the train thundered out of the tunnel.  My feet were only two feet from the tracks, and the train’s passage shook the earth, as I lay there in dread and terror, not daring to move, for the next two minutes – it seemed like two hours – while the train finally passed by.  Seeing the red caboose left me quivering with relief.

I think it was twenty years before any of us told my mother about that day.  Dad never did learn, as he passed away only about eight years later.  When, years after the event, I read that the suction and wind pressure would prevent even a strong man from clinging to the sides of a tunnel through which a train was passing, I trembled all over again.

Childhood memories of the family farm

July 11th, 2010

By Michael Marsh (James Andrew Hewitt descendent)  8/2/09

As the current default caretaker of my family’s 95 year old farm, which was originally owned by Olive Hewitt Smith, my great, great grandmother, there is a lot of early memories that I remember as a child.  The farm is 8 miles west of McMinnvillle, or along Baker Creek Rd.

I remember as a 4 year old getting my first dog, Oscar, as a puppy, and my mother complaining about the dog messing in the house and shunning him outside.  He was a cattle dog until he was ran over and killed in Meridian, Idaho in 1994.

I also remember my father building forts out of straw for me to play in, and getting up every Saturday morning when it was dark, unlatching my sister’s baby gate to go downstairs to watch the good ole ‘80’s cartoons.  My first memories were of living on this farm, and I can’t wait until I’m 31 when this farm becomes a century farm.