The balance of the 1952 winter stories
I will use this post to collect any stories that I do not have elsewhere. If I update it, I will move it to the new date.
I do not remember any winter before the 1952 era - probably because I was so young at its start (three or so years old).
My first real memory of winter is a singular one. I know now that we were moving from a sawed lumber shelled, sawdust filled, very warm but small cabin by one sawmill to the sawmill where I lived until the beginning of second grade. I assume that the first sawmill closed and the other was a competitor which won. Maybe the mill simply moved?
That first memory is short and sudden. I was riding a freight sled which contained our furniture. I ventured near the tail-end. The caterpillar operator shifted gears, the jerk disconnected me from the sled, and I was suddenly looking up at Dad from a hole in the snow in the road. I am sure I complained but he told me to just get up and catch up with the sled. I rolled over, got into the track of the treads, ran and he pulled me up over the distance and back onto the sled. I have tried several times to get back to that mill but have never succeeded. I have pictures and it is a beautiful place.
I have no order for the next few memories. One memory is of a winter with much snow (I would guess the same one as the coyotes). I dug tunnels in the snow in the yard and loved it. However, as the spring came and the snow began to disappear, Dad's feet regularly plunged through the less solidly frozen snow and waist deep into my tunnels. He laughed about it, for which I was glad.
I would guess that it was this same cold winter that my sister nearly froze and I got some frostbite in my feet. We were sledding on a nice hill a few hundred feet from the house. Dark came like a hammer and the temperature plummeted. My sweet little sister was so tired that she begged me to drag her on the sled so I helped her on and drug the sled home. She could barley move by the time we got home. Mom and Dad gave good instruction that in weather that cold everyone needs to keep moving. I am glad she lived. I am sad that my feet have hurt in the cold every since.
My final and favorite memory of winter before 2nd grade is of one with little snow. I was lamenting, crying, very sad, when the snow began to disappear so soon. My darling little sister said "Don't worry Bobby, there will be other winters." What a sweetheart. That is who she is. We had lots of adventures over the years.
I do not remember any winter before the 1952 era - probably because I was so young at its start (three or so years old).
My first real memory of winter is a singular one. I know now that we were moving from a sawed lumber shelled, sawdust filled, very warm but small cabin by one sawmill to the sawmill where I lived until the beginning of second grade. I assume that the first sawmill closed and the other was a competitor which won. Maybe the mill simply moved?
That first memory is short and sudden. I was riding a freight sled which contained our furniture. I ventured near the tail-end. The caterpillar operator shifted gears, the jerk disconnected me from the sled, and I was suddenly looking up at Dad from a hole in the snow in the road. I am sure I complained but he told me to just get up and catch up with the sled. I rolled over, got into the track of the treads, ran and he pulled me up over the distance and back onto the sled. I have tried several times to get back to that mill but have never succeeded. I have pictures and it is a beautiful place.
I have no order for the next few memories. One memory is of a winter with much snow (I would guess the same one as the coyotes). I dug tunnels in the snow in the yard and loved it. However, as the spring came and the snow began to disappear, Dad's feet regularly plunged through the less solidly frozen snow and waist deep into my tunnels. He laughed about it, for which I was glad.
I would guess that it was this same cold winter that my sister nearly froze and I got some frostbite in my feet. We were sledding on a nice hill a few hundred feet from the house. Dark came like a hammer and the temperature plummeted. My sweet little sister was so tired that she begged me to drag her on the sled so I helped her on and drug the sled home. She could barley move by the time we got home. Mom and Dad gave good instruction that in weather that cold everyone needs to keep moving. I am glad she lived. I am sad that my feet have hurt in the cold every since.
My final and favorite memory of winter before 2nd grade is of one with little snow. I was lamenting, crying, very sad, when the snow began to disappear so soon. My darling little sister said "Don't worry Bobby, there will be other winters." What a sweetheart. That is who she is. We had lots of adventures over the years.
posted by G'pa Bob at 11:35 AM
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