Category Archives: Family Footprints

Our very own Mountain

Posted on by
Reply

It’s not every family that has a mountain named for them.  But that was one of the legacies my great-grandfather left for us.  For the record, this is no piddly little peak.  Mt. Brewer rises 13,576 feet high in the Sierra Nevada Range in California.

William Henry Brewer March 19 1902

William Henry Brewer, 1902

Back in 1860, Josiah Whitney headed up the first Geological Survey of the State of California.  He selected fellow Yale graduate William Henry Brewer to lead the field survey.  Over the next four years, my great-grandfather Brewer traveled over 14,000 miles mapping California’s topography as well as cataloging and collecting geological and botanical samples.

On July 2, 1864 Brewer and his team made the first ascent of Mt. Brewer.  The found the final climb to be much harder and higher than expected, traveling over steep rocks.  But once at the top they were amazed at the view – “Such a landscape!” Brewer exclaimed in his journal, surrounded by a hundred peaks over 13,000 feet.  In fact, from the summit Brewer’s survey party was the first to identify the highest peak in the range, Mt. Whitney.

GMBE 1970

The Great Mount Brewer Expedition, 1970

Over 100 years and three generations later, my older brother, my sister and her boyfriend (now husband) made the second family trek up Mt. Brewer.  Somehow it seemed fitting, as my brother is named after William Henry Brewer.  They boldly named their trip the Great Mount Brewer Expedition, and spent five days backpacking up the mountain and back.  They left the following entry in the log at the top:  “William Henry Brewer and party climbed this peak 106 years after our great-grandfather, William Henry Brewer.”  I was in awe of my siblings’ accomplishment, especially after they were featured in a big newspaper story when they returned.

Mt. Brewer Map

Carl and Erik’s planned route to the top

Now 150 years since Brewer’s first ascent, two of his great-great-grandsons are making the same trip.  My sons Carl and Erik leave this week to scale our family mountain.  If all goes as planned, they expect to complete their journey in three days, but have allowed four just in case.  Since they have planned a circular route, it means carrying all their gear to the summit.   I’ve been informed that only about half the route is on established trails.  Getting to the top requires finding their way off-trail.  They assure me that they are good with maps and a compass.

I’m thrilled that my sons care enough about our family history to carry out this challenge.  I’m excited to think about their new entry in that log at the top.  It’s an adventure I’ve dreamed of doing, but realistically will resort to living vicariously through their anecdotes and tales.  I’m sure there will be plenty to tell.  That’s a lot of mountain to claim and to climb.

Mount Brewer from South Guard Lake

Mount Brewer from South Guard Lake

Thimble Berry Jam

Posted on by
Reply

There is something irresistible about berries.  Especially those growing of their own free will, just steps from our doorway.  Begging to be picked.

IMG_1416We’ve seen the thickets of thimble berries growing in “our woods” every summer.  And each year the birds, critters and perhaps other berry lovers have gotten to them first.  This year appears to be a bumper crop.  Loads of big red berries hang from the branches, with many more promising to follow.  We promised ourselves that this year we’d pick them and make jam.

Thimble berries take me way back.  Julie, one of my best friends in school, went blueberry picking each year with her family, and I went along.  Not being a real lover of blueberries at the time, I was lured away by the sight of huge red raspberries not far away – something I truly adored.  I picked and picked and returned to the others quite smug and victorious.  That is until I was informed that I had picked thimble berries, not raspberries.  I’d never even heard of them before.  I quickly learned that they were not so tasty for eating.  But to make up for it, Julie’s mom turned my cache of non-raspberries into a delicious jam.

IMG_1411A few days ago it became clear that the time was NOW.  At least for the first round of picking.  Each bush had one or more perfectly ripe berries.  So Rich and I ventured out to see what we could gather.  Although it meant only a berry here and a berry there, the bushes were plentiful enough to make it a worthwhile hunt.  Moving across the road, we reaped even more berries – enough to come up with 4 1/2 cups between us.  And judging by the remaining unripe berries, we could easily duplicate that several times if we keep diligent watch.

IMG_5146I had to hunt down a recipe for jam, and was surprised just how simple it was.  Only two ingredients in equal quantities – thimble berries and sugar.  It also warned that cleaning the berries was as time consuming as picking them.  I won’t argue that point.  And picking was a lot more fun.

I dug out my canning supplies, bought more canning jars and IMG_5149reacquainted myself with the process.  Then I dug in.  (Notice “we” became “I” at this point…)  Soon the house was redolent with sweet berry smell as the mixture simmered on the stove.  It wasn’t long before it began to thicken and resemble jam, and filled more jars than I expected.

Somehow getting something that good from free fruit is deeply gratifying.  Now I suppose I’ll be expected to share it.  And why not – there’s more where that came from.

My Memory Garden

Posted on by
Reply

IMG_5091IMG_5097 IMG_5096IMG_5092 IMG_5094 IMG_5093 The blooms are gorgeous. Brilliant reds, oranges, yellows and purples populate the garden. For someone who knows next to nothing about gardening, it is a recurring summer miracle to watch the perennials grow and burst into color. It lifts my spirits each time I walk up the front steps and take it all in.

With time, the plants have grown and now compete for space, trying to crowd out nearby blossoms vying for attention. I have learned how to sow the seeds in the fall to spread the plants, thereby contributing to the confusion of color and congestion. But I love it that way. The more the merrier.

In a yard that’s left “natural” with long waving grasses and otherwise filled with trees, the garden can’t help but be a focal point. It’s the only spot in the yard we have cultivated.  It’s special.  In more ways than one.

It’s memory that brought this garden about. When my mother lost hers to Alzheimer’s, one of her loving caregivers gardened her back yard into a symphony of color. It was a delight to Mom, who loved both flowers and bright colors. It was a constant in her diminishing ability to understand. Flowers were still flowers, and a never ending source of joy to her.

So when we built our house, the first person we turned to for developing our garden was Mary Jane, the caregiver. She brought all her gardening skills to bear on the project, and left us with a beauty reminiscent of Mom’s back yard. She has become the caregiver of memories for me. Preserving a piece of Mom along with beautifying our front steps.

I know Mom would love our garden. I think of her whenever I look at the flowers.  I smile at the brilliant colors. And my heart is filled with warm memories.

Finding Family in St. Louis

Posted on by
Reply

Hailing from 3 widely flung states, I only manage to get together with my siblings – two sisters and a brother – about once a year. Normally it's a family reunion in Minnesota. But this summer the occasion of a family wedding has brought us all to St. Louis for an extended weekend.

With the Laumeier Sculpture Park nearby, it was a natural destination for a walk with my sisters yesterday morning. The park has beautiful grounds and, well, “interesting” sculptures. We failed to see the art in some of them, and could only laugh at the creative descriptions of others. But it made for an entertaining and humorous walk.

The signature sculpture in the park is made of huge steel barrels. It's quite eye-catching due to its huge size and brilliant color. We enjoyed wandering around its base, inspecting it at close range.

 

I rather liked this piece. It even looks like a sculpture. From afar it resembles children dancing or animals swimming. Yet on closer inspection it is largely abstract. The sense movement is obvious, though, and inspired Betsy and me to add our own interpretation to the piece.

 

 

Susie found her own niche in another sculpture. This one features a pumpkin face in the center of a small amphitheater. She found the nose to be particularly comfy.

 

 

But perhaps the best of all was the Tree Womb. It even invited visitors to come on up and enter its lofty space. So we did. There was a wooden floor inside and several windows. It would make a great place to camp out, although I rather suspect park officials would frown on that.

 

 

Today we went to the St. Louis Zoo with more family members. It's an amazing place with extensive animal exhibits, and all free to the public. There's nothing like a zoo to bring out the kid in all of us, including this all-adult group. I loved the big cats with their powerful lean bodies and beautiful colors. But it was the baby animals that captured our hearts.

No family gathering would be complete without sampling the local ice cream. We visited the liveliest place in town, Ted Drewes Frozen Custard. The place was packed, with throngs of people out front. But service was quick and the frozen custard worthy of the crowd. A most fitting way to bond with family members.

There is a lot to be said for reconnecting with extended family. I forget how much we laugh when we are together, and how good that feels. This trip has the added bonus of bringing us back together with our cousins and getting to know their children as adults. It reinforces how much much family means to me, and how fortunate I am to be related to these wonderful people. I'm so very glad I made this trip to St. Louis. With family.

 

 

The Rocks

Posted on by
Reply

Picnic on The RocksWe only knew the place as “The Rocks.”  It was our favorite picnic spot.  On any given day, if the weather was nice Mom would pack up the little grill, food for dinner, and marshmallows.  As soon as Dad got home from work we’d be off to The Rocks.

The prime feature of this site was the huge expanse of flat rock adjacent to Lake Superior.  It was the perfect sitting area, table, cooking platform and viewing spot.  We loved to run around on the rocks, dip our feet in the water and explore.  Mom always brought a towel because someone was bound to fall into the lake.

Adjacent to the The Rocks was a pebble beach, with an endless supply of rocks to skip or throw into the lake.  We spent hours filling Lake Superior with those rocks.

IMG_4204-001Little changes over the years alongside Lake Superior.  That area now known as Brighton Beach is just down the road from our house.  Who knew that years later I would return to Duluth and settle so near The Rocks?  The area is much more park-like these days, with an abundance of picnic tables and park benches for staring out at the lake.  But I still prefer to sit on The Rocks.

I’m continually drawn to this small section of shoreline.  In the summer I run or cycle through it almost daily.  If I set out on a walk, I always end up there.  When the wind churns up the lake, I head there to check out the crashing waves.  In winter I love exploring the continually changing ice formations.  When Mom died, I sought solace on The Rocks, listening to the lapping water.

DSCN8992Mom and Dad introduced me to The Rocks.  Now I enjoy sharing them with my kids and grandkids.  That pebble beach is like a magnet, the rocks irresistible to all ages.  No visit to Duluth is complete without going down to the lake and throwing rocks.  No matter what season.

No doubt, years from now it will still be the same.  And I have no doubt it IMG_0328will always have that same appeal.  The big flat rocks will host picnics, and the pebbles will find their way into the lake.  Its name may change again, but to me it will always be The Rocks.

 

 

Mothers Forever

Posted on by
1

Mothers’ Day evokes memories of those hectic years raising young children.  The sloppy kisses, hand made cards and the great Fishing-Opener-Mothers-Day weekends at the cabin are all part of my Mothers’ Day repertoire of happy memories.

But what is even more rewarding is to see it continue into adulthood.  As my children have grown into adults, our relationship has naturally changed.  They are all out own their own now, but we still enjoy each others’ company.  In addition to the usual family gatherings, I’ve been extremely grateful to be able to share some special times together with each of my children.

In this case, I think pictures speak better than words.

IMG_4788

Karen inherited my love of running, and we fulfilled a collective dream running the Boston Marathon together, crossing the finish line holding hands.

IMG_8970

Canoeing in the Boundary Waters is one of Carl’s passions – we spent 4 great days together on a mother-son canoe trip.

IMG_9547

Erik taught me to skate ski, which led me to take up marathon ski races – here we are before the start of the Mora Vasaloppet.

I have my own mother to thank for the same relationship.  Thinking back, one of the best things I ever did was to join her on a theater trip to London.  It seemed extravagant at the time, leaving my husband and family to fend for themselves while Mom and I traveled together.  But it was worth every mother-daughter minute.IMG_0982

Being a Mom never ends.  I look forward to many more years of special times and adventures with my children and now grandchildren.  I’m so glad it’s a forever thing.

A Day of Storytelling

Posted on by
Reply

Some things can't be orchestrated. They happen in their own time. When all the stars align. Today was one of those days.

We've been with Dad Hoeg for a week now, making sure his recovery stays on track. He honestly doesn't need us for much. We're mostly an insurance policy at this point, and we try to keep him company. I've done my best to plant leading questions and gently probe some family history, but all to no avail. He stays mum.

But after lunch Dad's tongue finally loosened. Something triggered a story, and before we knew it another followed. He got on a roll and was unstoppable. No need for us to encourage him, he had plenty of fascinating material. It didn't matter that some stories recycled within minutes, or that unrelated topics were spun together. Two hours later, we were still at the table with our dirty dishes in front of us – an unheard of transgression in a household where everything is tidied up immediately. But no one cared, and we were still listening intently.

I commenced making a batch of cookies thinking Dad was winding down, but no. He kept me company with more tales throughout the baking process. It was an afternoon of insight and delight. I happily abandoned my usual afternoon bike ride so as not to miss anything.

We took Dad to a pizzaria for dinner tonight. On the walls were pictures of New York City, baseball players and other memorabilia. That sent Dad down another trail of stories. We were fascinated as he related tales of the famous people he had treated or met during his many years of medical practice. I never knew that he had crossed paths with Judy Garland, or that Babe Ruth had been treated at the Duluth Clinic.

The whole mood of our visit was transformed today. While previously each day seemed so long and we wondered just how to fill it, this day flew by. We were taken on a number of journeys and privy to Dad's brush with the aristocracy and a life style of yesteryear. It was past 10pm by the time we all headed to bed – shockingly late for Dad.

Storytelling is a gift. And we were the grateful recipients today.

 

Spanning the Generations

Posted on by
Reply

It feels as though we are living in a time warp. Leaping three family generations in a week has dramatically influenced our daily routine and energy requirements.

Last week we hosted our two grandchildren, age 2 and almost-4 for three days while our daughter and her husband went on a long awaited trip. We were instantly reminded how busy toddlers can be, and the wisdom of having children at a young age. It's a good thing we are both very fit, as we needed all our reserves to keep up with these two whirlwinds.

Ben and Mya enthralled by the train

Even at this tender age, the kids have amazing memories. Ben eagerly awaited the reappearance of the Lionel train set that came out when they last visited in January. Unfortunately, the train proved a bit finicky and we had to do a lot do dancing and explaining while Rich spent a frustrating and hair raising day trying to get it to work. Fortunately he ultimately prevailed, and the train chugged around the track once more. Rich even replenished the liquid smoke so the engine could send up puffs of smoke. Whew!

Making our favorite chocolate chip cookies

My specialty is baking with the kids. Ben is meticulous about measuring and pouring ingredients into the bowl, and loves the whole process. Mya's favorite part is spooning out the cookies. Both like to eat the dough, particularly when I'm not looking. And we all proclaimed the finished cookies delicious.

From squabbles to hugs to the endearing things they said, they kept us on our toes. It was an action-packed three days. As usual, we were only able to squeeze in a couple of the excursions I had planned for them. Somehow just managing meals, naps, diaper changes and playtime seemed to fill the days. And it still resulted in lasting memories.

This week we are on the opposite end of the spectrum. Jumping from Minnesota and toddlers to Florida and Rich's dad has been quite a shift in focus. Recovering from a serious staph infection and lengthy hospital stay, Dad Hoeg has gradually been regaining his strength. The purpose of our visit was to help care for him at home and provide company and transportation.

Upon our arrival, we were surprised and pleased to see that Dad Hoeg has progressed to near-independence. In fact, today while we watched (with a little trepidation) he made his first solo trip, driving himself to the barber. While our care duties are light, we still continue to hang near the house. His routine governs ours. And our pace of life has slowed waaay dooowwwnn.

Mealtime!

The little things in life have now become the highlights of our days. A trip to the grocery store becomes a social event, as all the workers greet Dad by name. Watching any activity on the quiet street out the kitchen windows is always a source of conversation. Judge Judy is not to be missed on TV at 4:00pm. And going out for dinner is a big treat, for all of us.

Our environment has changed from dodging toys strewn across the floor to making sure our beds are properly made and up to Dad's rigorous standards. Nothing is ever out of place here.

Dad's improved health does allow us to get out and enjoy the beautiful warm weather. Even just sitting out on his patio is a pleasure. We've done a lot of reading, taken walks in the warmth of the evening after dinner and enjoyed the blossoming plants in his yard.

What a difference a week makes, navigating this generation gap.

 

Permission to be Kids

Posted on by
Reply

There’s nothing like the holidays to provide ample opportunity to shed our adult persona and reconnect with our inner child.  Add to that an abundance of snow, and the possibilities are endless.

1500812_704546786668_1722331551_oOn Christmas day my sons and I headed out on snowshoes to enjoy the deep powdery snow. After averting near disaster when my foot broke through into the flowing Amity Creek, we sought safer ground and stuck to trampling through the woods.  With big fat snowflakes falling, it was an idyllic scene.  We eventually made our way down to the Big Lake.  The snow layer was 1531867_704546991258_540783886_omuch thinner there, but Brighton Beach’s rocks were encased in a thick coat of ice, which was beautiful but treacherous for any kind of foot travel.  Backing up from the shoreline, we found a cache of rocks under the snow and proceeded to do what any kid would do there – throw rocks in the lake.  Since the shoreline was ice-bound, it became a game to see who could break through the ice with a rock, producing a mini spurt of water through the hole.  What better way to spend Christmas afternoon, than having a rock throwing contest amid ice and snow?

IMG_0684Throw a couple of toddlers into the mix, and the fun multiplies.  After a morning of sledding on the neighbor’s hill, my grandson proceeded to lead me on a tour of the woods in our yard.  Seeing the snow, trees and findings of nature through his active imagination was one of the most delightful hours I have spent in a long time.

Kids of all sizes love Christmas Bentleyvillelights, so a visit to Bentleyville has become an annual tradition.  This year the milder temperatures allowed us to linger and enjoy all the offerings of that expansive holiday display.  After roasting marshmallows and warming ourselves by the fire, the lively music caught the ears of the littlest ones who began to wiggle and dance. An impromptu family dance party ensued, as we couldn’t resist their merriment and joined in the fun.

As family members gradually drift back to their own homes and we resume our own routine after the holidays, I only hope that we can keep some of the kid alive in each of us.  It’s far too much fun to reserve for the holidays.

Holiday Music Traditions

Posted on by
3

Christmas is a season rich in musical traditions.  Coming from a family steeped in music, I have fond memories of Christmas caroling out in the cold with family and neighborhood friends.  I sang in countless Christmas concerts, and mustered family members to play musical instruments in church for Christmas services.  It was a joy to see the tradition continue when our children were old enough to sing in Christmas concerts of their own.  And when they went on to sing in college choirs we were treated to some of the finest musical tributes of the season.

With college graduations behind us, we decided the trips to distant campuses were no longer necessary.  Instead, we have visited local colleges to sample their Christmas music.  It’s amazing the talent we have in our midst.

This year, however, I was drawn back to the past.  In middle school and high school, our daughter Karen spent five magical years singing under the direction of Julia Fahey in the Partners in Praise Girls’ Choir.  It was an experience that would shape her life, both musically and personally.  The music that the choir produced, the discipline that it required, and the mutual respect that each member had for each other were of the highest standard.  They traveled internationally, performed spontaneously in public places and sang in prestigious venues, but more than that, they won the hearts of all who heard them sing.  As Karen put it, Julia taught them so much more than just music.

So when I realized that I would be in the Twin Cities close to the time of their annual Holiday Benefit Concert, it was no decision at all to extend my stay long enough to attend.  As always, it was an evening that filled my heart as well as my holiday music quota.  The girls looked so young and I didn’t recognize a single one, but it was the same choir.  They still had the that special sound, the spirit, and they owned the music. When alumni were invited up to sing, I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my face as Karen took her place among the other singers.  They all still sang like angels, just with richer more mature voices.

I couldn’t get enough of the music that night.  This was one holiday music tradition that was well worth going back to relive.  I just may have to do it again next year.