tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24183638802705471552024-03-13T12:42:31.701-06:00AN AMERICAN DYNASTYThe Story of a Dakota FamilySpace Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.comBlogger574125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-79393094100956011712024-03-10T17:24:00.002-06:002024-03-10T17:24:21.103-06:00The Full Story of Mom and Dad's Wedding Service and Reception From the Lead Daily Call<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Pleasant Grove</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqwUqqZjIadnCKZEc-ELBuINzwbROpDD6Fo6mnMRyRY8G0K6vtV41dioekAXTlWbQPBFOIBZk_gLBduZhesHL8K3A0eGjY2Nf2QcT_17HQpT0PImX2xX_h83Gpu0yh6fMs3ukTR6XRNS2Jxcei9R9MlrGisTsulPjcWcohdUs4DTMwICkyiDPpPiOXIog/s1502/Screenshot%202024-03-10%20at%205.10.38%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1502" data-original-width="1442" height="607" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqwUqqZjIadnCKZEc-ELBuINzwbROpDD6Fo6mnMRyRY8G0K6vtV41dioekAXTlWbQPBFOIBZk_gLBduZhesHL8K3A0eGjY2Nf2QcT_17HQpT0PImX2xX_h83Gpu0yh6fMs3ukTR6XRNS2Jxcei9R9MlrGisTsulPjcWcohdUs4DTMwICkyiDPpPiOXIog/w583-h607/Screenshot%202024-03-10%20at%205.10.38%20PM.png" width="583" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Hello All,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> I subscribed to Newspaper.com recently because that is where you'll find the missing stories of our ancestors. It's expensive, no doubt about it, but worth it because look at what I found. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5j43ORcl1vLXKFVYezUKeyuJk8aIPmeKEiPdSH3ZuCMAb5qTkRO_DlZxKuSnvbbOx4pjcRrRECfIZmvRcVOmEA9xTOwARYINdx-f8mkb65WmwIDyS6AorDt8_EoNs_Xjd-2gf2oygWm2jzeA9KopI3QGkACUc4ZzyRCB5alV4r6hyphenhyphenGEvGhAYB-kBJsSY/s1678/Screenshot%202024-03-10%20at%205.10.29%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1588" data-original-width="1678" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5j43ORcl1vLXKFVYezUKeyuJk8aIPmeKEiPdSH3ZuCMAb5qTkRO_DlZxKuSnvbbOx4pjcRrRECfIZmvRcVOmEA9xTOwARYINdx-f8mkb65WmwIDyS6AorDt8_EoNs_Xjd-2gf2oygWm2jzeA9KopI3QGkACUc4ZzyRCB5alV4r6hyphenhyphenGEvGhAYB-kBJsSY/w501-h475/Screenshot%202024-03-10%20at%205.10.29%20PM.png" width="501" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> This is the full newspaper article covering the wedding of Charles and Luella Williamson as printed in the Lead Daily Call on June 23, 1956. The marriage took place on June 17, 1956. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMKmfXmBalB0MW29a089XtGdOBZSjwmWk72RnxUYGYnfJlboaHj1jt9lZtBklrEnWdgM_WlTG8KspoSdb96j1sqWNW04RqKWWKePxf9F2H9juNfLCGYoQkbQdy1RlF7gXvLkRgZQSAY_9j9DQAcNQfaPhaClKucxPap2lJkIbne8eUBH-7Nq6aLVu_cGQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1914" data-original-width="1638" height="665" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMKmfXmBalB0MW29a089XtGdOBZSjwmWk72RnxUYGYnfJlboaHj1jt9lZtBklrEnWdgM_WlTG8KspoSdb96j1sqWNW04RqKWWKePxf9F2H9juNfLCGYoQkbQdy1RlF7gXvLkRgZQSAY_9j9DQAcNQfaPhaClKucxPap2lJkIbne8eUBH-7Nq6aLVu_cGQ=w568-h665" width="568" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimqe8rin4cYIG-r9mxewTZAtiMelDVqvCUAMbGNcTRuVfLEy7wcQZOQuFJT8tEvY2-9egMOv8rM2Y5rh6tqdax_VpS55IUhPGzbt31l_9xWnDNs5GlhpKkgnF_IUTpmmjIPcwFECctjpbAlN-WFqZWsGREG7zkX04bv7lqVfZ1f54jEXY0pzVfMRDrUp4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1710" data-original-width="1646" height="595" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimqe8rin4cYIG-r9mxewTZAtiMelDVqvCUAMbGNcTRuVfLEy7wcQZOQuFJT8tEvY2-9egMOv8rM2Y5rh6tqdax_VpS55IUhPGzbt31l_9xWnDNs5GlhpKkgnF_IUTpmmjIPcwFECctjpbAlN-WFqZWsGREG7zkX04bv7lqVfZ1f54jEXY0pzVfMRDrUp4=w572-h595" width="572" /></a></div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> The song "Believe" was sung at the wedding. It was one of dad's favorite songs. He loved the version sang by Mario Lanza. Below is Mario singing Believe.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Qp7LIQ6tqyg" width="320" youtube-src-id="Qp7LIQ6tqyg"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> There will be many more discoveries to come. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Victor</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-78288462143928424412023-11-23T10:42:00.004-07:002023-11-26T10:04:08.612-07:00Happy Thanksgiving. The Family Prepares to Feast<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJC5U8ri5kQ8oaOvL8edEs8XlwuprJbaLLkRhf-s_c8bPd9O0IomfqwXyV2k7n0rGfMKFGYROdw3HXLmkevPvzDuP1hKO6QzHRxLK1szDWOmNZj_4cEnsMQ7gGXRltrEa6ZuuJyv3qm-a6U4O_l0ysjjfo4ynk1S58DX-hjcgHyLtaAKOho8lt8ryutZQ/s1268/Screenshot%202023-11-23%20at%2010.33.32%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1268" data-original-width="1240" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJC5U8ri5kQ8oaOvL8edEs8XlwuprJbaLLkRhf-s_c8bPd9O0IomfqwXyV2k7n0rGfMKFGYROdw3HXLmkevPvzDuP1hKO6QzHRxLK1szDWOmNZj_4cEnsMQ7gGXRltrEa6ZuuJyv3qm-a6U4O_l0ysjjfo4ynk1S58DX-hjcgHyLtaAKOho8lt8ryutZQ/w487-h498/Screenshot%202023-11-23%20at%2010.33.32%20AM.png" width="487" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Charles and Luella Williamson's First Thanksgiving as a Married Couple at the Mattson home in Spearfish, South Dakota. November 1957. Sitting at the table facing us is Elda Williamson (dad's mother), Luella Williamson, and Charles Williamson. Kim is there somewhere. She was 4 months old at the time. I'm there as well but not visible (if you know what I mean). I was born in June 1958.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span></span></p><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Pleasant Grove</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">Happy Thanksgiving!</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"></span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> It's 9:47 A.M. here at the Fortress. I'm at my computer passing the time as I wait for the big feastorama about to take place at Ashley and Mike's home in Highland. </span></span><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> The family is growing in size as the years pass. We're expecting between 55 and 65 to be there, all decked out in their finest sweatpants with expandable, elastic waists. <br /></span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"> </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">Table discussions can turn heated w</span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">ith both the political right and left wings of the family under the same roof; not to mention the High Mormons, Middle Mormons, and Lost Mormons. </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">At such gatherings it is important we remind ourselves that we are a loving family that respects and cherishes diversity because diverse is what this family is, like so many others in our modern world. I also take a moment to remind the political active that NO political discussions are allowed around Great Grandma Luella. Failure to comply will result in banishment from the dessert table and time out in the Decompression Room. </span></span></div><div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"> This year's Decompression Room will be the Costa's rarely used living room just off the family room. Diffusers will scent the room in a special DoTerra blend of fragrances tailored for family events like today's; think a green pasture surrounded by Ponderosa Pines with just a wisp of sunshine lingering in the air to help you ease quickly into your happy place. Candles will decorate the room in dancing light. Music will tug at the ear with celestial melodies selected from tracks recorded by the Sisters of the Abbey of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">We didn't have a Decompression Room last year. It made for a tough afternoon, leaving only the bathrooms or the cars as places of refuge. </span></span></div></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"> </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">This year we're taking a risk and letting the family choose where they sit to eat. Normally we separate based on several factors. Conspiracy theorists, High Mormons, and those with an open mind usually make for good table fellows. Democrats, Middle of the Way Mormons and the unaffiliated are good together. The little ones have their own table, but tend to ignore the plates their mothers prepare. I see them sneak their way to the dessert table once the adults have their noses squarely in the feed trough.</span></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"> Today's choose where you want to sit approach will test the family's civility. T</span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">he standard used to judge whether the seating decision was a wise one or not will be based upon w</span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">ho is not speaking to whom at the end of the day. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">I'm looking forward to today's circus.</span><br /><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><br /></span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">Victor</span></span></div></div>Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-58717963204106169542023-09-04T14:29:00.005-06:002023-09-04T14:54:17.206-06:00Uncle John Mattson. Great Man. Great Memories. A Son of the West. <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkH72XhP8oJ5nIIhCEaDDyk9o7UcJt_FtMdRhuJTlTwDPB2re8tkqSphiBmevsDl4r76UVJWBUCB4HYHmGd_039R5G9IQSeCt_0oUSvj0sZNXmw4liyqftv4SozcE4XnNGfZOwIU585DWm70au3BqvW3VnoPTDDoa5wVV_AA9minK87W8fCm_fedEjfE/s2320/Screenshot%202023-09-04%20at%2012.24.27%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1478" data-original-width="2320" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkH72XhP8oJ5nIIhCEaDDyk9o7UcJt_FtMdRhuJTlTwDPB2re8tkqSphiBmevsDl4r76UVJWBUCB4HYHmGd_039R5G9IQSeCt_0oUSvj0sZNXmw4liyqftv4SozcE4XnNGfZOwIU585DWm70au3BqvW3VnoPTDDoa5wVV_AA9minK87W8fCm_fedEjfE/w560-h357/Screenshot%202023-09-04%20at%2012.24.27%20PM.png" width="560" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #374151; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the heartland of America, under the vast and unending skies of Montana, a legend was born. John Mattson, a man of humble beginnings, would go on to leave an indelible mark on everyone his life touched. His story is a testament to the resilience and determination that defines those touched by the spirit of the frontier. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #374151; white-space: pre-wrap;">Born in a simpler time, John took his first breaths in Montana, where the open plains stretch as far as the eye can see. He was raised on a dry sheep ranch. His childhood home was a converted chicken coop nestled in a quiet draw. It was a place where hard work and grit were as much a part of life as the sweeping vistas and the whisper of the wind through the sagebrush.</span></span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 1.25em 0px;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span face="Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, Segoe UI, Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Noto Sans, sans-serif, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Apple Color Emoji, Segoe UI Emoji, Segoe UI Symbol, Noto Color Emoji" style="color: #374151;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">In those formative years, young John attended a one-room schoolhouse, a place where education was simple but enduring, much like the values instilled in him by his parents. It was here that he learned the importance of community, self-reliance, and the potential that could be unlocked through hard work and determination.</span></span></span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: #374151; margin: 1.25em 0px; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hPdpNliPfzU?si=qoAGIyNd620IQw85" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: #374151; margin: 1.25em 0px; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">John Loved the Black Hills of Dakota</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: #374151; margin: 1.25em 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">As he grew older, the Mattson family moved to Spearfish, South Dakota and to the Black Hills he grew to love. In this land of towering pines and pristine streams, John built a life with his beloved wife Bev by his side. Eventually their journey brought them to Utah where they raised their family. John </span><span style="background-color: white;">was a devoted father and husband. He taught his children the same values he had learned on that sheep ranch, instilling in them a respect for the land, a strong work ethic, and an unwavering commitment to family.</span></span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: #374151; margin: 1.25em 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Today, we pay tribute to John Mattson, my uncle. He passed away last week at the good age of 80. He walked the rugged path of life with courage and integrity. His life reminds us that the spirit of the West lives on in those who dare to dream, work hard, and love deeply - and in that legacy we find inspiration to carry on the traditions and values that have shaped us into who we are.</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: #374151; margin: 1.25em 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">In the end, John was ready to "Fly Away". Waiting for him on the other side were his parents, his sister and brothers, and so many others wanting to celebrate his homecoming and to hear those stories of the ranch we all know so well. </span></span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border: 0px solid rgb(217, 217, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: #374151; margin: 1.25em 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I don't have many pictures of my uncle. I put what I do have into a slide show as a tribute to a life lived well and full. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/861023500?h=529692d1d1" width="640"></iframe></div>Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-7764625452019343862022-12-24T13:20:00.003-07:002022-12-24T13:22:23.987-07:00The Williamsons at School. A Few Interesting Documents that Haven't Seen the Light of Day in a Few Decades and A Holiday Remembrance for Those Who've Gone Up the River. <p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> From the Fortress of Solitude</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Pleasant Grove</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">While working at my desk this Christmas Eve I grew board with the task at hand and opened the FHSPF (Family History Still to Post File). The FHSPF is where I keep the odds and ends of family history that haven't made their way into this blog. The school records below stood out asking to be officially recorded for posterities sake, and so here they are. Be sure to either call or text your belated congratulations to the family members highlighted below. Although it's been a few decades since the report was issued, a hearty "Well Done!" is always appreciated. Plus it gives you an excuse to contact them to wish them a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. </span> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja5Fclz9hXyJXM8VuSZknzormV3phfqFsvZ5_iQmbbbNexJUyPOZhLEDGdE37s7UZDEG-ZmUnHTo0t6GC7P9829FfSp_xIIU_0g4RjTrdtgv3LjmiagtQb7fsp9MBCjYw0jXO1v4U540n5ipMYkPOkFxd4v0XVmVMzzCzgCJhqksYz_5fdRPWVhM-v/s690/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-24%20at%2012.28.41%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="690" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja5Fclz9hXyJXM8VuSZknzormV3phfqFsvZ5_iQmbbbNexJUyPOZhLEDGdE37s7UZDEG-ZmUnHTo0t6GC7P9829FfSp_xIIU_0g4RjTrdtgv3LjmiagtQb7fsp9MBCjYw0jXO1v4U540n5ipMYkPOkFxd4v0XVmVMzzCzgCJhqksYz_5fdRPWVhM-v/w584-h378/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-24%20at%2012.28.41%20PM.png" width="584" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Congratulations Lisa on earning the "Doing Much Better" classroom award. Remember this award when you feel down in the dumps and need a quick pick me up. Draker, please print this and place it on the refrigerator at Creekside. Lisa will insist it not be on display but being the owner of the home, I insist. </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_xCfgACjkxsX5_p4HbXPaboe_JKhNszckLe_WUHHF3fAIa6cp4hois-xkeYoj2Ky2nHEdWemcFRzeCIQndSDlw_EVs8T5_WuD8WM-JyQoymqTRNXEvcb5gCQLOdCcUSpjvJWegAKJ2QLK9hBK2qQka7RT9M-y_g3Q58X2zNbJdyMWH-wIbW8sF-BR/s661/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-24%20at%2012.29.37%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="661" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_xCfgACjkxsX5_p4HbXPaboe_JKhNszckLe_WUHHF3fAIa6cp4hois-xkeYoj2Ky2nHEdWemcFRzeCIQndSDlw_EVs8T5_WuD8WM-JyQoymqTRNXEvcb5gCQLOdCcUSpjvJWegAKJ2QLK9hBK2qQka7RT9M-y_g3Q58X2zNbJdyMWH-wIbW8sF-BR/w609-h381/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-24%20at%2012.29.37%20PM.png" width="609" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Who says Kevin hasn't accomplished much in his 61 years of life. Look at these statistics! On the down side, shall we all agree that Kevin peaked physically that year and it's been downhill ever since. </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlw9TRNOHb0niWO0Ty6mrruze4brQpPEH5W1H6txFgJLzd97xvZo1KnKXxBj4UwCw4AjWQamFT-B3bE6wTo1UFBvMdBhJzDduYQrMAJbIjgMLllb8ffgEbBHEsnzTk7Ckbh5O65pCBKzQwm6ag_InJU3hPibLIzkIY0gp-1IB9YnCNr46tGPxTErZG/s680/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-24%20at%2012.29.53%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="680" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlw9TRNOHb0niWO0Ty6mrruze4brQpPEH5W1H6txFgJLzd97xvZo1KnKXxBj4UwCw4AjWQamFT-B3bE6wTo1UFBvMdBhJzDduYQrMAJbIjgMLllb8ffgEbBHEsnzTk7Ckbh5O65pCBKzQwm6ag_InJU3hPibLIzkIY0gp-1IB9YnCNr46tGPxTErZG/w606-h299/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-24%20at%2012.29.53%20PM.png" width="606" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As if Jilane hasn't enough to brag about, now we get to hear her boast ad nauseam over these academic stats. Yes Jilane, I see you were 76th out of 409 students. Yes Jilane we see you had a 3.06 GPA. What gets me are the lies. Why would teachers add such comments to Jilane's 7th grade report card as "Pleasant, Cooperative, Courteous, and Assumes Responsibility Well?" OK, I'll give her the "Assumes Responsibility Well" but the others were clearly meant for someone else because they don't describe the Jilane we all know and love today. </span> </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvD1WrCydwD8ch3baHS6KNYZH5eQ6KFwilfRiFNjsM_-_WJBpCXbJPFv_KnU3qeJVNgydCu5D0n5VsjDvPcgyde3Yq0i_5ePTArPIksxy3G9HBIA-FlCt44RM0Bd-yg_Qd8hmYDYwIbhNlMNj2DSd4XLsozzec3Ts30wMfBzOLsW5iq_rVJbzHOJ5c/s922/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-24%20at%2012.30.07%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="922" data-original-width="692" height="757" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvD1WrCydwD8ch3baHS6KNYZH5eQ6KFwilfRiFNjsM_-_WJBpCXbJPFv_KnU3qeJVNgydCu5D0n5VsjDvPcgyde3Yq0i_5ePTArPIksxy3G9HBIA-FlCt44RM0Bd-yg_Qd8hmYDYwIbhNlMNj2DSd4XLsozzec3Ts30wMfBzOLsW5iq_rVJbzHOJ5c/w568-h757/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-24%20at%2012.30.07%20PM.png" width="568" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And finally we honor Lisa once again by publishing her 3rd grade end of year report. I'm sure Lisa will blush with embarrassed pride when learning of the release of this official transcript but the crimsoned cheeks are well earned. What more could a child want than to have her teacher write,"I've really enjoyed having you in my room this year," on her year end report. Being a teacher myself, I know the teacher meant what she wrote. How do I know? I write "I've enjoyed having you in class this year," on all of my student's final reports but reserved the use of the word "really" for special students who I actually enjoyed having. You see the subtle difference? </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And Finally, a Remembrance of Those Who've Recently Passed. Kevin, Charles, Forrest, and Marvin.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was looking through old Christmas photos and found several pictures of four beloved family members who've recently passed. I put them in a slide show set to a song I really like (note the word really). It's a sad song but it fit my melancholy mood so I used it. I suggest you turn down the sound and just enjoy the photos. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Merry Christmas to Everyone! </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Victor</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/784147955?h=bdef8381d6" width="640"></iframe>Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-3606292731979260002022-09-04T14:58:00.005-06:002022-09-04T15:12:27.612-06:00Our Family's 5 Generation Photo. Grandma Logan to Grandma Violet to Grandma Luella to Kim to Forrest.<p style="text-align: center;"> <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKsH6WWEH7nD3zRa1-5axzZ30yGQfD0ozWdiIciVEb4Xqk-F1kqK4JyjViKAa2jTO7zRfAnheCTmWm-Vj5M3Y0cY2hZA1fUmSWzkA6UVF1WNl80lU8yi1khex1zCR0St_vDeY7_K0rhiZI_0eX42oBSmhEX8-6t7DN8MiJC1Y92Sxr7_hbnDdsXQm/s1569/Screen%20Shot%202022-09-04%20at%202.42.04%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="940" data-original-width="1569" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKsH6WWEH7nD3zRa1-5axzZ30yGQfD0ozWdiIciVEb4Xqk-F1kqK4JyjViKAa2jTO7zRfAnheCTmWm-Vj5M3Y0cY2hZA1fUmSWzkA6UVF1WNl80lU8yi1khex1zCR0St_vDeY7_K0rhiZI_0eX42oBSmhEX8-6t7DN8MiJC1Y92Sxr7_hbnDdsXQm/w573-h344/Screen%20Shot%202022-09-04%20at%202.42.04%20PM.png" width="573" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Rapid City. 1974</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Pleasant Grove</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> The photo above is our family's one and only 5 generation photo taken shortly after the birth of Kim's son Forrest. In the photo are:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">1. Great Grandmother Logan (Forrest's great great grandma)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> GG Logan is Luella's grandmother and Violet's mother.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">2. Grandma Violet Mattson. Violet was Luella's mother. (Forrest's Great Grandma)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">3. Luella Mattson Williamson (Forrest's Grandma)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">4. Kim. (Forrest's mother)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> Everyone looks so young. Luella is only 35 years old. Grandma Violet is 56 years old. Grandma Logan is 84 years old.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> The picture was taken in Rapid City. Grandma Logan was visiting from California. </span></div>Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-73200606893982577182022-04-24T15:48:00.007-06:002022-05-01T12:05:27.731-06:00New Dates for Uncle Stanford Charles Williamson<p><span style="font-family: arial;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span></p><span style="font-family: arial;">Pleasant Grove</span><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Hello All,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">After a bit of digging I found more information on Uncle Stanford Williamson, the last child of Grandpa Charles and Elsie Williamson (dad's step mother). Up until today I didn't have his exact birth and death dates. I have them now. Below is a photo of that information from my family tree:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh558VDtD2gbUoUHeTBsehMNtoTaTjLJomEBvIsQqX-uXOLVIlvlUiWLSnlqEifnC-xEbyejjeucE3ISR9cgzHIMku5Bp6AQ7CrAQrjo2QwOFppCkz_lmndEvxLx9L3Zk5q60SoklEA_sty71wp2K2LAPP4d9rlwLIe-5_lIuw1vKO9RkPvjzfcdeIV/s1196/Screen%20Shot%202022-04-24%20at%203.39.55%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="1196" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh558VDtD2gbUoUHeTBsehMNtoTaTjLJomEBvIsQqX-uXOLVIlvlUiWLSnlqEifnC-xEbyejjeucE3ISR9cgzHIMku5Bp6AQ7CrAQrjo2QwOFppCkz_lmndEvxLx9L3Zk5q60SoklEA_sty71wp2K2LAPP4d9rlwLIe-5_lIuw1vKO9RkPvjzfcdeIV/w590-h343/Screen%20Shot%202022-04-24%20at%203.39.55%20PM.png" width="590" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Stanford was born premature and developed pneumonia. He lived 7 days before passing away. He was buried in Potter's Field at Mt. Moriah Cemetery in Deadwood South Dakota in an unmarked grave. Charles and Elsie didn't have the money for a single plot and headstone. The cemetery has a record of his burial but no exact location. For that we must rely on the memories of those that may still know. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Victor</span></div>Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-85644518648787619192021-12-31T12:18:00.000-07:002021-12-31T12:18:25.171-07:00A Change to Grandma Mattson's Birthplace<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Previous family trees give Torrington Wyoming as the birthplace of Grandma Mattson (Luella's mother). Today I found the WW1 draft card of her father, Walter Pierce. The card was signed in September 1918. Grandma Mattson was born in June 1918. You'll notice the card indicates the family was farming in Sioux County Nebraska. The card states that Morrill was the address town. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Morrill is not located in Sioux County but close to it. I'm assuming then that the family farm was in Sioux County very close to Morrill. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_5vyp5GKw8pfMqUyTL_0q77LadtyGqJgHUT0vvDH4Ellr7W-hLBwJO7S24S9SbavimXLoZxXgeZNaDn3wuiGBj4Po8TwPbtbNeLve4PNEJIYyj7lZ_6pfruqc2H0hB3I-j2hvYWudyzTFW8xsITvdboD0YVS4vDZD97o4GsDLaa2D7nnZPeTaWEL9=s1630" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="808" data-original-width="1630" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_5vyp5GKw8pfMqUyTL_0q77LadtyGqJgHUT0vvDH4Ellr7W-hLBwJO7S24S9SbavimXLoZxXgeZNaDn3wuiGBj4Po8TwPbtbNeLve4PNEJIYyj7lZ_6pfruqc2H0hB3I-j2hvYWudyzTFW8xsITvdboD0YVS4vDZD97o4GsDLaa2D7nnZPeTaWEL9=w583-h289" width="583" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The farm must not have worked out, because the 1920 census shows the family living in Goshen County, Wyoming. Torrington is the county seat for Goshen County. </span> </div><br /> <p></p>Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-31233511339136766732021-12-31T11:38:00.004-07:002021-12-31T11:38:37.281-07:00Great Grandma Vesta Logan's Burial Marker. Vesta Was Mother to Violet Mattson.<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjosNm1pRLp3r-jM2dg7Wi2X7nB2GQg-0Q_6l1LuR5eU3V13TA1defnSuIF0gbkHupCcj7p1X7Eff7-nd1IqaXQ4TxEsjRQi8IQMBZN5GPrtjBJDKJ8XYIQOYBLts81f_LxabAXYp0JZGIAV7WgVl6y_Dr4tNfgimq99ctrjHgh-Q8bCznoGedX2JWT=s1052" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="645" data-original-width="1052" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjosNm1pRLp3r-jM2dg7Wi2X7nB2GQg-0Q_6l1LuR5eU3V13TA1defnSuIF0gbkHupCcj7p1X7Eff7-nd1IqaXQ4TxEsjRQi8IQMBZN5GPrtjBJDKJ8XYIQOYBLts81f_LxabAXYp0JZGIAV7WgVl6y_Dr4tNfgimq99ctrjHgh-Q8bCznoGedX2JWT=w589-h361" width="589" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">This is the burial marker for our Great Grandmother Logan, mother to Grandma Mattson. Vesta is buried at the Crestlawn Memorial Park Cemetery in the city of Riverside, California. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfL3FBFkFcwNa2q1PIDglzO9twHbR33oyrldhTrx-N_XJD8Q5SfxZK1nf-sK_vwdC1ORdRtpiyuM3-kmy4mg0rihx0NHt2UnyvxwkzXl5sRlnah1GFM2TY_kGyztevQE5FRxGVJJxQYz5uacWpOn_qwrO3zniob-YR2KgD2sSQ_1nxHUW38i6-pmQZ=s556" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="556" data-original-width="312" height="722" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfL3FBFkFcwNa2q1PIDglzO9twHbR33oyrldhTrx-N_XJD8Q5SfxZK1nf-sK_vwdC1ORdRtpiyuM3-kmy4mg0rihx0NHt2UnyvxwkzXl5sRlnah1GFM2TY_kGyztevQE5FRxGVJJxQYz5uacWpOn_qwrO3zniob-YR2KgD2sSQ_1nxHUW38i6-pmQZ=w406-h722" width="406" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Great Grandma Vesta</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><br /><p></p><br />Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-666086874400331742021-12-31T11:19:00.004-07:002021-12-31T11:19:49.156-07:00Learn More About Grandma Elda's (Mother to Charles Williamson) Trojan, South Dakota<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Elda Vercellio, mother to our dad Charles, who later became our beloved Grandma Leissman was born in Trojan, South Dakota in 1905. Trojan doesn't exist today. Trojan was six miles outside of Lead. Later the family moved to Lead itself and build a home just below the current site of Lead / Deadwood High School. </span> </p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">This is a short 4 minute video on the history of Trojan, South Dakota. </span> </p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6rmb8_ZzOw0" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe>Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-92184514691959323212020-05-09T15:23:00.001-06:002020-05-09T15:23:36.256-06:00Williamson Lines: Newly Surfaced Photos of Our Great Great Grandparents Nancy Morris and Whitty Victor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjejN32p6ofKipJH36qicA2-OmiCfZJ0lUSDPwq4fLdEN9IjeTBYGKhRs6iQYOCoC0Ayk-Fd-qBOw9YDMj-kA6IgO8TjDttmVo1X_ZoaS0cA-yiQhjQoqvFH_8ZYJlqoIG3l3InDkWp3X8/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+3.02.58+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="1233" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjejN32p6ofKipJH36qicA2-OmiCfZJ0lUSDPwq4fLdEN9IjeTBYGKhRs6iQYOCoC0Ayk-Fd-qBOw9YDMj-kA6IgO8TjDttmVo1X_ZoaS0cA-yiQhjQoqvFH_8ZYJlqoIG3l3InDkWp3X8/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+3.02.58+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">Brent Heeren is a cousin related to us through Nancy Morris, wife of Whitty Victor (both pictured above). Brent was kind enough to forward this photo of our Great Great Grandparents he recently received from another cousin in the Morris family. </span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxAyq48hkgZk-Y8YArdHMo_NxntnPd7ngpzqoq-4McwycrBA2o0Amv0z7irDJnhqZG_zyBvXJsYVEXG_silKdW79_wV90Sp22AEYy3OXoyiV82w_8cmQ5mZGUrHNUjNo9YtLMMLltox4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+2.58.34+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="360" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxAyq48hkgZk-Y8YArdHMo_NxntnPd7ngpzqoq-4McwycrBA2o0Amv0z7irDJnhqZG_zyBvXJsYVEXG_silKdW79_wV90Sp22AEYy3OXoyiV82w_8cmQ5mZGUrHNUjNo9YtLMMLltox4/s400/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+2.58.34+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczwjI7MyGh2RDc5joo2IDU1tmZm9eYAfBnviMc3Zsgt71LbZ4ltZhaW67UpodOggT6DUorQRJcm0ejA6FPfy4Bl6tdAgLOaZXKoijd2sWj8aIG9fcdC3D8RKR-bxKTDhLXAAKFqIO40Q/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+3.11.13+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="162" data-original-width="855" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczwjI7MyGh2RDc5joo2IDU1tmZm9eYAfBnviMc3Zsgt71LbZ4ltZhaW67UpodOggT6DUorQRJcm0ejA6FPfy4Bl6tdAgLOaZXKoijd2sWj8aIG9fcdC3D8RKR-bxKTDhLXAAKFqIO40Q/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+3.11.13+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> This family history blog has several posts with more information on the life and times of the Victors. Do a search in the blog using the search feature located within the right side bar of the blog. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Would you like access to the Family Tree? My extensively researched tree which accompanies this blog is hosted on Ancestry.com. For access to the tree please send your name in an email to: Director@SpaceCampUtah.org. It would be helpful if you state your interest in the tree or how you are related to either the Williamson's or Mattsons.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Victor Williamson </span></div>
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Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-86676894052524451972020-05-09T14:47:00.001-06:002020-05-09T14:47:36.540-06:00Mattson Family Documents of Interest. Mortgage on the Spearfish Home. Walter's Discharge from the CCC's. Oil and Gas Lease on the Mattson Ranch. Walter Mattson's Burial Expenses. Divorce Papers for Grandma Mattson and Merle Dame.<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Pleasant Grove</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here are a few more documents found in Uncle John's old desk and pulled from oblivion by Kirk.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">The Mortgage on the Mattson Family home in Spearfish</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The document below is the mortgage on the Mattson home in Spearfish, South Dakota. 336 N. 5th Street.</span> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHzeQnaI9TFSpgAMEODW6IPsvv-Lj4ZwTrShEWEMjB06MjbEz5ygL6Hu8gVbcBLtS-Gx2MDTIC3-9iGTkOGpgonH_6NeFIHiFOaNUSOhOzNzUbPfbRWi8FzUNwU36IdJzE8TBya70e4Fo/s1600/1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="893" data-original-width="520" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHzeQnaI9TFSpgAMEODW6IPsvv-Lj4ZwTrShEWEMjB06MjbEz5ygL6Hu8gVbcBLtS-Gx2MDTIC3-9iGTkOGpgonH_6NeFIHiFOaNUSOhOzNzUbPfbRWi8FzUNwU36IdJzE8TBya70e4Fo/s640/1.png" width="372" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhygYtggcxfiUIx56kOPdyDqxeYbj48qWYobosaQZ8-EE1ksszXpi6euYRjnfQV5vi1td_lAqkdCgrMLbnPh8RFkuAJQwo_ZSQ1F2xR0nj1ApB1JsIklxW5EJ16pFvjbrbGiCKz4uhmNEo/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1163" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhygYtggcxfiUIx56kOPdyDqxeYbj48qWYobosaQZ8-EE1ksszXpi6euYRjnfQV5vi1td_lAqkdCgrMLbnPh8RFkuAJQwo_ZSQ1F2xR0nj1ApB1JsIklxW5EJ16pFvjbrbGiCKz4uhmNEo/s640/2.jpg" width="464" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwpEAp-b0t4wwWzj2fj-YxVrioAEQGqmbvXZQigq8M6O70Pp6AwbntH7Q6sKo_RT1h-3eCDdn_5B0XTKexLtniVynOt7U_dsx5lTWQFqGBBTmULB19xmhz3N9nH8RRCCdbIRfL7S53Q-w/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+2.25.23+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="895" data-original-width="1374" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwpEAp-b0t4wwWzj2fj-YxVrioAEQGqmbvXZQigq8M6O70Pp6AwbntH7Q6sKo_RT1h-3eCDdn_5B0XTKexLtniVynOt7U_dsx5lTWQFqGBBTmULB19xmhz3N9nH8RRCCdbIRfL7S53Q-w/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+2.25.23+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old Mattson home in Spearfish as it looks today.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQi77bj4WUnbaxPDHi09ea8_tclHCjVSI0qLI49VmniEsg6rHQUVUOFqUfTVEXBudDfr1woogc4I3G5ByG6240lsq_D6gz0492qfYw75wInx9lyOqlxo8H68NjeempscsKTuJCEPj8iO4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+2.29.51+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="722" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQi77bj4WUnbaxPDHi09ea8_tclHCjVSI0qLI49VmniEsg6rHQUVUOFqUfTVEXBudDfr1woogc4I3G5ByG6240lsq_D6gz0492qfYw75wInx9lyOqlxo8H68NjeempscsKTuJCEPj8iO4/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+2.29.51+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Violet in front of the home shortly after purchase.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwtzJEymhzKlya_Xy9AVW31EFvbDHeiFWxDMz63Jm5sIrAC4zFE5d71cuy1o1zg0KRp2AX02sPDq4MNr9AqP0pPikdJBbPLul93Z_vw-ql1lsUR2tObkMT4Y26tWBNEVWKvODKgPA6hNA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+2.30.09+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="866" data-original-width="885" height="626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwtzJEymhzKlya_Xy9AVW31EFvbDHeiFWxDMz63Jm5sIrAC4zFE5d71cuy1o1zg0KRp2AX02sPDq4MNr9AqP0pPikdJBbPLul93Z_vw-ql1lsUR2tObkMT4Y26tWBNEVWKvODKgPA6hNA/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-05-09+at+2.30.09+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The home in the late 1950's or very early 1960s.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Grandpa Walter Mattson's Discharge from the Civilian Conservation Corps</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Grandpa Mattson worked for the CCC in the 1930's. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The Civilian Conservation Corps (</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">CCC</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">) was a voluntary public work relief program that operated from 1933 to 1942 in the United States for unemployed, unmarried men. Originally for young men ages 18–25, it was eventually expanded to ages 17–28.</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> He signed on when he was 23 years old. The release document stated he was an excellent worker and excellent team leader.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Documents Related to the Burial of Grandpa Walter Mattson in Belle Fourche.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Grandma and Grandpa Mattson's Tax Returns for 1971. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Very humble people living a simple life. There is something to be said for that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Oil and Gas Payment for the Mattson Ranch in Montana. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Apparently the land was sold when the family moved to Spearfish but the oil and gas rights stayed with the Mattsons.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Grandma Mattson's Divorce Papers Against Her Second Husband, Merle Dame</span><br />
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Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-25598781818206639752020-04-12T13:15:00.000-06:002020-04-12T13:19:27.362-06:00The Mattson Line. Newly Discovered Items: Last Will and Testament. 1947 Taxes on the Family Ranch. Grandpa Mattson's Baptismal Recommend Etc. <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Pleasant Grove</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Happy Easter!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Kirk Mattson called last week. He'd found several things in Uncle John's old office desk he thought would be of interest to the Mattson line of our family. Porter dropped them off at Jilane's and she made the harrowing journey one block to my home, risking corona virus and all, to safely deliver the papers to me. I'll be posting them in the next few blog posts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Item 1: Grandpa Walter Mattson's Last Will and Testament</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walter Mattson 1942</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Item 2: Grandpa Mattson's baptism and Confirmation Recommend into the LDS Church. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">November 1966</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Violet and Walter Mattson (1960's)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Item 3: A letter to Grandma Violet Mattson from a Pierce cousin living in Alabama seeking help in tracing the Pierce family line. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Item 4: The 1947 Tax Statement for the Mattson Ranch at Hammond Montana. Of interest in the exact land survey of the land and the amount Grandpa Mattson owed in back taxes. Ranching wasn't profitable for the Mattsons. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnzsVcAM_rzIhFHzVfjG1GZCQzSwKKfJzt52sklI7YtDOqjIrhN3KO_vNSYk-SD_1JghVUkQfXeKdVrGlf3veEbtMr8ee_uYFytY2fD5J9pcXaeLzbG8M88pfVtNjAS25ok4gHJ5Lb8-Y/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-04-12+at+1.09.03+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="858" data-original-width="1310" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnzsVcAM_rzIhFHzVfjG1GZCQzSwKKfJzt52sklI7YtDOqjIrhN3KO_vNSYk-SD_1JghVUkQfXeKdVrGlf3veEbtMr8ee_uYFytY2fD5J9pcXaeLzbG8M88pfVtNjAS25ok4gHJ5Lb8-Y/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-04-12+at+1.09.03+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mattsons of Hammond Montana. 1944</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Item 5: Grandma Violet Mattson's Certificate of Recognition for 7 years an employee of the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology in Rapid City. She worked as a cook in the school's cafeteria.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Violet Mattson working in the cafeteria at the South Dakota School of Mines Cafeteria.</td></tr>
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Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-37204186889941557102020-04-05T11:24:00.000-06:002020-04-05T11:24:13.770-06:00A Few Recent Finds for both the Williamson and Mattson Line.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Pleasant Grove</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hello All,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Just a few recent finds to publish today. These are also in my Ancestry.com tree. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1. This is the death certificate of Walter Ernest Williamson, a brother to our Great Grandfather William Jonathan Williamson. So if there are Williamson's in Billings Montana, we may very well be related.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN0eiirSuAuJlL2LdY9uDSXDzQ6vOiFOzl4GSn44k_h9y-TPL1br8cETq11i9f5u0MRs2kOTOHk3tXSFGpDiVGRsHJd4Z5b8GbYWuEEPcAnhiLPKNicO8468fnwjQC68iIyO9AUMPyiLE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-04-04+at+12.41.09+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="940" height="578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN0eiirSuAuJlL2LdY9uDSXDzQ6vOiFOzl4GSn44k_h9y-TPL1br8cETq11i9f5u0MRs2kOTOHk3tXSFGpDiVGRsHJd4Z5b8GbYWuEEPcAnhiLPKNicO8468fnwjQC68iIyO9AUMPyiLE/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-04-04+at+12.41.09+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Walter Ernest Williamson was the undersheriff of Treasure County Montana. He was a cowboy in his younger years riding the range for many of the larger brands of South Dakota and Montana.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC6DzBPD7B79qTIZYyDZhc30CWooF46HND16oVAOStjQKP9w1oAlL-hap3vHJzIJdbh_xNIYeS0Y8SlzVl1GHqdv54N8qzdh18i5uhQrjtWJYB9pUn1wE8DdakPXEU-2u2OhafZa8v5Go/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-04-04+at+12.47.52+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="731" data-original-width="241" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC6DzBPD7B79qTIZYyDZhc30CWooF46HND16oVAOStjQKP9w1oAlL-hap3vHJzIJdbh_xNIYeS0Y8SlzVl1GHqdv54N8qzdh18i5uhQrjtWJYB9pUn1wE8DdakPXEU-2u2OhafZa8v5Go/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-04-04+at+12.47.52+PM.png" width="210" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2. Item number two in today's discoveries is the World War II draft card for our grandfather Charles Williamson. Notice how his signature resembles dad's. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUOjGuig-RDcuZ5Kurc03ldOPfySq1dRADuxwZEgfcwASXwIuXI2CL9sASxm1DlbBYWGYp1wGsumi7EHi4Q_P5LjVvvX4bSa_77KYX6b03QGJnppegzCTJJfjHx5olPkmvlcsgSU5l92s/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-04-04+at+1.10.32+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1077" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUOjGuig-RDcuZ5Kurc03ldOPfySq1dRADuxwZEgfcwASXwIuXI2CL9sASxm1DlbBYWGYp1wGsumi7EHi4Q_P5LjVvvX4bSa_77KYX6b03QGJnppegzCTJJfjHx5olPkmvlcsgSU5l92s/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-04-04+at+1.10.32+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">3. Item three. a picture from the 1955 Spearfish High School Yearbook. Luella was in the Glee Club. "I didn't like the director, Mr. Theland. He had a beautiful wife but like to flirt with the senior girls. Not me, I was a junior". </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjOOVNamRuRnBKQge5M8vjZ_BVXAMI6U0bkgpIQo8vPKAYkncqEPdPb363brQhgUZPTFmZU9nSUfUxaV6JbC27P_heBHzMwcKSJtVO_5NMWhWX8hs1WS0WEHSYCth_-jLoRmUMR3zziw4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-04-04+at+1.28.21+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="929" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjOOVNamRuRnBKQge5M8vjZ_BVXAMI6U0bkgpIQo8vPKAYkncqEPdPb363brQhgUZPTFmZU9nSUfUxaV6JbC27P_heBHzMwcKSJtVO_5NMWhWX8hs1WS0WEHSYCth_-jLoRmUMR3zziw4/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-04-04+at+1.28.21+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">4. Item 4 The baptismal record of our grandfather Walter Mattson (Luella's dad) into the Swedish Lutheran Church in Lead. His parents were not members, so the baptism was sponsored by his Aunt Sand. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf05Pqj4KILOGHO3jkZxdOLc3WfEydDosrsgG8nnMQdSIta0hSuE1o1E6n3yT1UghdjVGv_X82OMDxi41LLU6OMUPmHsKC4S9dtOGSmV6YVSzHOqW-wN-VoOyRevFy-weHxR6OoLsyWAo/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-04-04+at+2.05.42+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="1600" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf05Pqj4KILOGHO3jkZxdOLc3WfEydDosrsgG8nnMQdSIta0hSuE1o1E6n3yT1UghdjVGv_X82OMDxi41LLU6OMUPmHsKC4S9dtOGSmV6YVSzHOqW-wN-VoOyRevFy-weHxR6OoLsyWAo/s640/Screen+Shot+2020-04-04+at+2.05.42+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">5. The death certificate of Samuel Pettit Williamson, another of our great great Uncles, brother to our Great Grandfather William Jonathan Williamson. That means we have Williamson cousins in </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Coeur d' Alene Idaho. </span></div>
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<br />Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-90597608164250866622019-10-20T14:19:00.002-06:002019-10-20T14:19:35.061-06:00The Family Gathered for Grandma Mattson's Funeral. September 1987.<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;">There is a certain melancholy one gets when perusing old photo albums. Those of us showing age marvel at how quickly time has past. We look at our faces in the photographs and compare them with what answers back in the mirror every mornings. We curse the passing of time and its ravages on our youth.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;">"If I could only have those years back," some mutter, wanting to relive those happy days long gone, forgetting that the passage of years has an effect on memory's reliability. We forget that time can gloss over the rough spots. </span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;">Others mutter, "If I could only have those years back," out of regret for poor decisions made and the wish that what was done could somehow be undone and a different path taken.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;">I remind myself that today is the day I'll look back upon in the future and ask, "If I could only have those years back." Well, we have those years now. We are not dead and buried, the sun shines and oxygen moves in and out of our lungs, so never forget the preciousness of the present. Today there are decisions to make and people to love and places to visit - so make every hour count. Pull up the regret anchor weighing down on your soul. Take the thought that your best years are behind you out with the trash. These things belong in the past. The past has already been lived. Its the future that waits to be written.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;" /><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: medium;">Grandma Mattson's Funeral. September 1987</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.84px;"> Our beloved Grandma Mattson died in September 1987 in Rapid City, South Dakota. Violet Pierce Mattson was the mother to Luella, Linda, John and Marvin Mattson. She was preceded in death by her husband Walter. Grandpa Mattson died in February 1973.</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;"> Most of the family gathered in Belle Fourche, South Dakota for her funeral and burial. </span><br />
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Grandma Mattson's grandchildren are pictured above. Kirk is the tallest. I'm standing next to Kirk; and thank you for commenting on my distinguished appearance. Kim Williamson DelGrosso, Grandma Mattson's eldest grandchild (and my sister), stands next to me. <span style="font-size: 15.84px;">I won't labor the length of this paragraph to list the others. I've mentioned the most important, so let's leave it at that - shall we?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.84px;"> Grandma Mattson's Great Grandchildren at the funeral. I'll list them for you and let you identify them in the photo based on the descriptions. </span><span style="font-size: 15.84px;">Amber, the sweater of many colors.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;">Autumn, in her calico 'done gone to Sunday Meeting dress'. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;">Ashley, always so photogenic.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;">Jazmine Burrows, shy and feeling very embarrassed because of her sister. It's all she can do to keep from giving Nicole "something to cry about!" She bites her fingers instead. It is a coping mechanism. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;">Nicole Burrows giving her best attempt to wake the dead. It was a funeral; you got to give her credit for trying. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;">Brandon DelGrosso. It's just Brandon. He's the kid that always looked so innocent. It was important to know where Brandon was at all times. Seen and heard was good a good thing for that boy. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;">Forest DelGrosso holds Sierra Burrows. Best Smile of the bunch belongs to Forrest, and he managed to pull it off even with the smell from a very dirty diaper.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;"> Luella Mattson Williamson, Grandpa Emerson Leissman, Charles Williamson and Grandma Elda Vercellino Leissman at the funeral luncheon. Emerson was stepfather to Charles. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.84px;">Elda was his mother. </span></div>
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Elda Vercellino Leissman with her grandchildren. Janice Williamson Burrows, Kim Williamson DelGrosso, Annette Williamson, Lisa Williamson, Victor Williamson and Grandpa Leissman.</div>
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Here we are at Grandma Mattson's graveside. I remember how we struggled with Grandma's coffin from the hearse to the grave through the wet soggy marshland Belle Fourche calls a cemetary. It was all poor Uncle Ray could do to stand upright. I struggled behind Uncle Ray, carrying my share of Grandma and his. I know Grandma took great delight is watching us from the other side. Her sense of fun was all too present that day.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.84px;"> Notice the flowers in the childrens' hands? Both the grand and great grandchildren thought to liberate Grandma Mattson's flowers and distribute them to several of the other graves nearby. I suppose it was a kind gesture and perhaps welcomed by the spirits at hand. It started when Luella gave permission for a few flowers to be taken to Walter Mattson's grave (Violet's husband) and things got out of hand. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.84px;"> I was all good in the end. Grandma's coffin was flowerless, but at least she made a good first impression on her new long term neighbors. Wouldn't you agree? </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family and friends gathered around Walter Mattson's headstone</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle John filming a prairie dog at Custer National Park</td></tr>
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Before and after the funeral we toured the Black Hills. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another stop was to visit other family graves at Hot Springs</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw_SVqECZsZ4uLhyphenhyphen7MqQpLY5MwmMfJONZ1ftvo-mP5Y64YvjNvcc0fuLzk8gE6ET0Txt0oXwLivwGfaOlCO8VV8v2MUjLtNQQNqeQJTem_-X5XTn_LioXDReOs9tkecJQ4QKHJP9AVorc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-10-19+at+10.35.47+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: transparent; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="997" data-original-width="1498" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw_SVqECZsZ4uLhyphenhyphen7MqQpLY5MwmMfJONZ1ftvo-mP5Y64YvjNvcc0fuLzk8gE6ET0Txt0oXwLivwGfaOlCO8VV8v2MUjLtNQQNqeQJTem_-X5XTn_LioXDReOs9tkecJQ4QKHJP9AVorc/s640/Screen+Shot+2019-10-19+at+10.35.47+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-wi8hVPAxDFmzWDNRkIpz06YIfvOoPZ3NJmCKFdOAmg_Wus29WKkdr0zI2WZ5gbD0WsnH3Tq5EMUKMFCwCcGrAAVndVDOaY-TpjxV_rahzy_TfOH_ksp4ZnkXg-PqrHuyrE3K8zmEN-8/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-10-19+at+10.36.32+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="665" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-wi8hVPAxDFmzWDNRkIpz06YIfvOoPZ3NJmCKFdOAmg_Wus29WKkdr0zI2WZ5gbD0WsnH3Tq5EMUKMFCwCcGrAAVndVDOaY-TpjxV_rahzy_TfOH_ksp4ZnkXg-PqrHuyrE3K8zmEN-8/s640/Screen+Shot+2019-10-19+at+10.36.32+AM.png" width="426" /></a></div>
Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-78931742562271928832019-07-06T10:50:00.001-06:002019-07-06T10:50:51.303-06:00The Williamson 10 Visit the Deadwood Photo Emporium. July 2018. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: inherit; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK_9pLOriV4OAQd2rtipd_kc1Ut5EHsccgkGt6dis0BuljwULrtaQmx9A38UmlSZPSOE9EzkA0yPx8s3Y5zP-XPvLtDI4d7lVdkax0lQTs_7a7_Rt2fsYX1ZJiumgC6M89y_LMFquJ79I/s1600/img146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1146" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK_9pLOriV4OAQd2rtipd_kc1Ut5EHsccgkGt6dis0BuljwULrtaQmx9A38UmlSZPSOE9EzkA0yPx8s3Y5zP-XPvLtDI4d7lVdkax0lQTs_7a7_Rt2fsYX1ZJiumgC6M89y_LMFquJ79I/s640/img146.jpg" width="458" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Miss Luella and the General (Charles Williamson)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Gettin' the General and Miss Luella together to get their picture took weren't easy but we done it. We got 'em together in Deadwood's Portrait Emporium just beyond the smell of the Chinese laundry. Miss Luella sat proud with cigar in hand and an ace or two up her sleeve. The stage was due in and she was itchin to get a game goin' so we had to hurry it up - and that's somethin' the General don't <span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">do. He, and the town's other old timers, like to start their day by chewin over the latest news hot off the Daily Pioneer's telegraph outside Saloon #10. </span></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> At 11:00 he finds his way to the stage depot to wait on the Cheyenne Stage from Custer. He dispenses a warm "Welcome to Deadwood!" to the weary travelers as he helps them down to the dusty street. With a crooked smile he gives directions at no charge. Those heavy with silver are encouraged to find Miss Luella in the Silver Spur where she's waitin' with cards in hand to ease their burden. Others get his ponderin' word for the day and directions to the hotel. "You can never tell which way the pickle’s goin’ to squirt" was his thought on picture day. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Williamson Ten</td></tr>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /> "Back off." Miss Luella was one to always speak her mind to the General. "Two hands NO. You can put one hand right here," she pointed to her shoulder. "And let there be no thoughts about anything else." Miss Luella was not happy with the General. "That dandy you sent over yesterday was a dry well. Hardly worth my time." She snorted, spit, and missed the spittoon.<br /> "Woman, you're missin a good chance to shut up," the General answered and changed his pose by puttin' one hand on her shoulder and the other on his belt pistol. His index finger stroked the trigger. His crooked smile gave away his thinkin'.<br /> Miss Luella grunted. "If you got somethin' to say, say it, but you better have a fast horse awaitin'" The General and Miss Luella bantered back and forth while the photographer powered the flash-pan. There was the sound of horses in the distance.<br /> "That's the stage," Miss Luella sat up. "Take the damn picture, I'm low on cigars and I smell silver."<br /> "Silver and gold," the General corrected Miss Luella's observation.<br /> "Nobody asked you so close yer mouth, yer breath smells like a cow pie on a hot day."<br />There was a flash and the picture was took...</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Williamson Gals. Not too happy if the gold diggers ain't spending</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Williamson Gals with Miss Luella after a winning night in the saloon</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Williamson Twins (Janice and Jon) just in on the Cheyenne Stage</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Williamson Boys with the General and Miss Luella</td></tr>
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Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-66129366963859058252019-06-04T14:41:00.000-06:002019-06-04T14:41:07.754-06:00A Short History of Elda Vercellino's Birthplace. Trojan, South Dakota.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpRlPcdGqgv1QSuZAJdQeyGMnA1YNwDJVZObF4VjKQLiXHISyffFoFhc3-RhSEw7GvNP8tosYOUWYv6aF6D7an0C1-RQS1x5hLejg4WrVR_3Xt2kfq52h5ooNErUcDN7j5oWuiti9lsE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-06-04+at+2.05.52+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="855" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpRlPcdGqgv1QSuZAJdQeyGMnA1YNwDJVZObF4VjKQLiXHISyffFoFhc3-RhSEw7GvNP8tosYOUWYv6aF6D7an0C1-RQS1x5hLejg4WrVR_3Xt2kfq52h5ooNErUcDN7j5oWuiti9lsE/s640/Screen+Shot+2019-06-04+at+2.05.52+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Vercellinos around 1916. Elda is on the far left.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elda Vercellino was born in Trojan, South Dakota on June 28, 1905. Her parents had just arrived back to South Dakota from living in South Africa. Her father took employment at Homestake Mine. Trojan is gone now but this short video from South Dakota Public Broadcasting gives the history of this once thriving mining town equal in importance to Deadwood and Lead back in the day. </span><div>
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Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-73148136630389288202019-01-06T15:40:00.001-07:002019-01-06T15:40:17.222-07:00The Last Day of Early Morning Seminary. May 1980<div class="_5pbx userContent _3576" data-ad-preview="message" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_11y" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 6px;">
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The end of May, 1980. The last day of early morning seminary. It is 7:30 A.M. The 9th graders are on their way to their first period classes at Stevens High School. They posed for a couple photos on the Church steps. Super kids - all grown up now, but for me frozen in time just the way you see them in the photos. After they left for school I went back into the church to lock things up and took a final picture of our classroom. Paula and Jilane left a mess on the blackboard knowing I'd have to clean it up. How kind of them....</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top Row Left to Right: Jeff Holyoak, Paula Thomas, John Christensen.<br />Bottom Row: Don Christensen, Jilane Williamson, Shelley Burnett</td></tr>
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Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-38805152323973569162019-01-01T10:25:00.001-07:002019-01-01T10:25:19.640-07:00Taking My Early Morning Seminary Class Camping in Spearfish Canyon. Spring 1980 <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hello All,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Today I continued scanning my old slides from long long ago. In my box labeled "1" I found these old slides of a camping trip I did with my Seminary Class in the spring of 1980. I returned from an LDS mission to Birmingham, England the previous September and was immediately called to teach a rambunctious 9th grade seminary class, an early morning seminary class. They had already driven one teacher away so the Bishop called me in to get things under control. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The kids were great. What wasn't great was getting up at 5:30 A.M. to be ready for the 6:30 A.M. class considering I worked the swing shift and Magnetic Peripherals Incorporated building computer boards and didn't get home from work until 11:30 P.M. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> As a seminary class we decided to go camping in the spring of 1980. The Black Hills still had pockets of snow here and there but overall it wasn't too cold. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Diving into another box of old slides. My goal is to digitize them all and get them out there so the people in them can enjoy the memories. Today I'm starting a set of photos taken in the spring of 1980. I was the 9th grade early morning seminary teacher for the Rapid City 2 Ward and here are my students from that school year (minus a few). We went camping in the Black Hills as one of our activities. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had recently returned from an LDS mission. The bishop called me in to tell me that this group had already driven one teacher out. I told him I was up to the challenge, although taking the class meant very little sleep. I worked the swing shift at MPI making computer boards. I didn't get off work until 11:00 P.M. and had to be up at 5:30 A.M. for the class. They were a fantastic group of young teens. The biggest challenge was getting the girls out of the bathroom and into class. Seated: Rosie Miles, Shelley Burnett, Paula Thomas. Back Row LtoR: David Rich, Brad Purdy, John Christensen, Jeff Holyoak, and Don Christensen</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">John Christensen making the plunge into Devil's Bathtub on our way up to the Cleopatra Mine.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jeff Holyoak was on breakfast detail. I know its Jeff by the color of his coat (in another picture). OK, the class was pretty good at scripture chasing but cooking over a campfire was a skill not mastered. Seminary Class Campout. Spring 1980. Rapid City 2nd Ward.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The up and at 'em gang on the campout.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeff Holyoak</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Christensen</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sleeping Arrangements </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0EB02HDG7lI3iTvT040f8pPLnqmbkuEaSjdIfrFQQtKQqo_aS9b7ZeAzwwQS-vbDhaRf6TmSx9AzsAZViPG6_zPLB24jHjMu2C1JSx6ugd8bbAmtkHAoNF2nJ6tfLHngWHPYQGWNwO8/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.41.40+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1018" data-original-width="1533" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0EB02HDG7lI3iTvT040f8pPLnqmbkuEaSjdIfrFQQtKQqo_aS9b7ZeAzwwQS-vbDhaRf6TmSx9AzsAZViPG6_zPLB24jHjMu2C1JSx6ugd8bbAmtkHAoNF2nJ6tfLHngWHPYQGWNwO8/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.41.40+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don Christensen and David Rich</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif13fEeU6FXyV2b_IIIX5UgkW4eukolAso21-x86he_QvehoIyVa79jvkszjnr6o4GN_cQGhtqsXlhyphenhyphenTQFoTO05Hw-MN87o2_VWaZ7bwB6RCVxwbR7i5xmKZXceaHu9kugXvw_CPMSPeQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.41.50+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1020" data-original-width="1524" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif13fEeU6FXyV2b_IIIX5UgkW4eukolAso21-x86he_QvehoIyVa79jvkszjnr6o4GN_cQGhtqsXlhyphenhyphenTQFoTO05Hw-MN87o2_VWaZ7bwB6RCVxwbR7i5xmKZXceaHu9kugXvw_CPMSPeQ/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.41.50+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Rich</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeiMEYpZzvYPsEGMcNJ9pVjRW30V7h5TsYG86wsO6u9SCmuS_QDeOUoBh9O_QBjtCP1vssCc8RwEd8zS5jWqA4-PBUn7Ky7yu24SdVQ0ordZPshAHVXIOJcowu0IO9WmC4jMnqz0tFaOg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.42.01+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1021" data-original-width="1523" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeiMEYpZzvYPsEGMcNJ9pVjRW30V7h5TsYG86wsO6u9SCmuS_QDeOUoBh9O_QBjtCP1vssCc8RwEd8zS5jWqA4-PBUn7Ky7yu24SdVQ0ordZPshAHVXIOJcowu0IO9WmC4jMnqz0tFaOg/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.42.01+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A blurred Brad Purdy</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_TBa9xpn3nh1TTN6GomXRHhgk2D2niTe1Wfap52W8e4lgFI1klKjTa7RTO0Ngg3qRS4EnpGfd3ysIhhocKsJoE0X8rAN26ekjXYd1iRb75hvIGxlSW726cH4Mz81PYc3M09unl6OAaY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.42.20+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1020" data-original-width="1544" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_TBa9xpn3nh1TTN6GomXRHhgk2D2niTe1Wfap52W8e4lgFI1klKjTa7RTO0Ngg3qRS4EnpGfd3ysIhhocKsJoE0X8rAN26ekjXYd1iRb75hvIGxlSW726cH4Mz81PYc3M09unl6OAaY/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.42.20+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; line-height: 18px; outline: none; width: auto;" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">More photos from our seminary class campout in the beautiful Black Hills in 1980. Myself, David Rich, and Frank Thomas were the chaperones. Bro. Thomas enjoyed the comfort of his front seat instead of a tent. I'm sure it was warmer. Bro. Thomas passed away recently. He played a major role in establishing Mormonism in the Black Hills</span></span><span class="fbPhotoTagList" id="fbPhotoSnowliftTagList" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; line-height: 18px;"><span class="fcg" style="color: #90949c;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span class="fbPhotoTagList" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="fcg" style="color: #90949c; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00MqFrDJzGo1PTsYe4M0km5kEePGQ5odM7tJldHJJjlJVwVrtWu7Cibsz67jLsGfZAI97xO35W55LfDjqvOmfU2u2gU5F22GxtagZKeDHNXlDBmkfBdstdCa0yB2FLSg-pKmTeeNCxc0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.42.53+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="685" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00MqFrDJzGo1PTsYe4M0km5kEePGQ5odM7tJldHJJjlJVwVrtWu7Cibsz67jLsGfZAI97xO35W55LfDjqvOmfU2u2gU5F22GxtagZKeDHNXlDBmkfBdstdCa0yB2FLSg-pKmTeeNCxc0/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.42.53+PM.png" width="428" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; line-height: 18px; outline: none; width: auto;" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">My early morning seminary class camping trip. May 1980. Doing a bit of hiking in the beautiful Black Hills before supper.</span></span><span class="fbPhotoTagList" id="fbPhotoSnowliftTagList" style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; display: inline; line-height: 18px;"><span class="fcg" style="color: #90949c;"> Left to Right: David Rich, Rosie Miles, Shelley Burnett, Don Christensen.</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdoXX-l1Nxgj9f74PoIuFIg4LG1L3y2pTs3FaQ_IWoaZv4pVMeP9jO9-9H5bOR1Mw4lm9mw_NaAlP_rfwp69yeaiYH7OzLdSEEmISHO9Id9-vPu5Fg5U1CGOpgtNsn6aHH7agZ2HCQ6h8/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.43.29+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="986" data-original-width="1315" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdoXX-l1Nxgj9f74PoIuFIg4LG1L3y2pTs3FaQ_IWoaZv4pVMeP9jO9-9H5bOR1Mw4lm9mw_NaAlP_rfwp69yeaiYH7OzLdSEEmISHO9Id9-vPu5Fg5U1CGOpgtNsn6aHH7agZ2HCQ6h8/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.43.29+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Paula Thomas enjoying the few, or feeling a need to get away from the rest of us. Seminary campout, spring of 1980.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilbz4tt8V7VBAuFDAz7Q9gDpS-bfOcFeDLtNDg3xs0APIl2M-0TJvTwk6uu0M9zGk9IXJKFZ6hhVNxcZzuMg3QEoa2yGawyQmn_v3dQtvxIdm7dwNcziSHNqGNeIYLbmffii4WFtF6BHQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.45.18+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="982" data-original-width="1472" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilbz4tt8V7VBAuFDAz7Q9gDpS-bfOcFeDLtNDg3xs0APIl2M-0TJvTwk6uu0M9zGk9IXJKFZ6hhVNxcZzuMg3QEoa2yGawyQmn_v3dQtvxIdm7dwNcziSHNqGNeIYLbmffii4WFtF6BHQ/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.45.18+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We hiked up Squaw Creek in Spearfish Canyon passed the Devil's Bathtub and ended up at the Cleopatra Mine</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQAi9DNNSNWfH3yffM3xJOSAyVKHhYkYN4BUhgP00pBSAz6K7Z1ZWeyTHwPsGrcXeY1dUpvZEKJqw0FEmjaFEH7SU5QAETJRBh9duqJ74eihYPiBa8se3y7Q2Qnhr4_f7Dr75XGDdTQF0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.45.34+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="988" data-original-width="1474" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQAi9DNNSNWfH3yffM3xJOSAyVKHhYkYN4BUhgP00pBSAz6K7Z1ZWeyTHwPsGrcXeY1dUpvZEKJqw0FEmjaFEH7SU5QAETJRBh9duqJ74eihYPiBa8se3y7Q2Qnhr4_f7Dr75XGDdTQF0/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.45.34+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Brad Purdy, Don Christensen and David Rich piling everything in the back of John Christensen's truck "Ulysses". Seminary campout, spring of 1980.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20XtbQmm_N9r0kItwkApQhNpcxgxxUvpwYtBHGhJtMHSqk0FD_5cx8y1Hi21HMwBNCQoczyycSEVdIcWE2hGQ42BUXMSyadnHpaxcg0nVxthe9lezPi9DBBB_I6mlBDzUgsPGbI_A2KY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.46.11+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="988" data-original-width="1445" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20XtbQmm_N9r0kItwkApQhNpcxgxxUvpwYtBHGhJtMHSqk0FD_5cx8y1Hi21HMwBNCQoczyycSEVdIcWE2hGQ42BUXMSyadnHpaxcg0nVxthe9lezPi9DBBB_I6mlBDzUgsPGbI_A2KY/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-12-30+at+2.46.11+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shelley, Rosie, My, John, Don, Brad, and Jeff.<br />Let's not forget Ulysses, John's truck. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The campout is over. The hike is over. We're done for the day and getting ready to head home. It was a good campout. Spring 1980. </span> </div>
Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-34452394597255949302018-12-27T11:43:00.000-07:002018-12-27T11:43:04.508-07:00Meet the Two Young Boys Who Rode Out the Rapid City Flood of June 9. 1972 With Me Up on a Rooftop. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02OzgK9AcQIXKzb-bpXrrTkFebwrjhFdZluGINBMnjidkHqp_vtYQKPjeJxLH4-IjX5CE6Tc5ABRuYcmMXp97iDbdqIuHaHld9cKovDZN_wz_1jbMf6nYBh2CdG71IIwo2ON69cwB_7E/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-12-27+at+10.37.01+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="942" data-original-width="1443" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02OzgK9AcQIXKzb-bpXrrTkFebwrjhFdZluGINBMnjidkHqp_vtYQKPjeJxLH4-IjX5CE6Tc5ABRuYcmMXp97iDbdqIuHaHld9cKovDZN_wz_1jbMf6nYBh2CdG71IIwo2ON69cwB_7E/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-12-27+at+10.37.01+AM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William Stiebel and Jonathan Jung</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"> I found this picture today in a buried photo album. These two boys and I spent a long night together on a rooftop the night of June 9, 1972. That night one of the nation's deadliest floods swept through the Black Hills of South Dakota killing 238 people and injuring 3,057. Meet William Striebel (left) and his cousin Jonathan Jung, both from New England, North Dakota. William was 4 years old. Jonathan was 3 at the time. Many of you know the story so I won't go into detail. </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline;">Suffice to say I was babysitting them that night. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline;"> Our story started in the family's Winnebago motorhome and ended on a nearby rooftop which happen to sit straight in the path of a massive wall of water pouring into Canyon Lake from the surrounding hills. That home was one of the few that remained on its foundation. The Red Cross and National Guard found us the next day. I was 13 years old. T<a href="https://www.lds.org/ensign/1972/09/night-of-disaster-in-rapid-city?lang=eng" target="_blank">his is a link to the Ensign magazine story on the flood published in Sept. 1972.</a> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline;"> My dad and i were both interviewed for the story. Months later, their parents found my address and sent a check (afterall, I was babysitting that night) from New England along with a letter of gratitude and pictures of both boys. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline;"> Anyway, many of you have heard the story but never properly met the boys. Well, here they are - handsome little guys, energetic but so well behaved considering the carnage around us. They were spared much of it under a blanket near the chimney.</span></span><br />
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<br />Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-13050210034635522762018-11-22T12:18:00.001-07:002018-11-24T07:32:23.832-07:00The Williamsons Prepare to Feast. A Thanksgiving Day Photo Bonanza. Trip to the Black Hills June 1996. Christmas Eve Family Party 2001.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9ycFKPUI4xainLXjRIHR3d74YVlHqm62OLdiAMWc90ugFjqJMy4ibAoERIdCK_lnhqFdzNuPxMzyEK9ie_DUv9-OZXTgSdqNQ6q7i7cspKWg2ogZwN5sYpOePUlTfrcXuXnWD7vx_wI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.42.43+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9ycFKPUI4xainLXjRIHR3d74YVlHqm62OLdiAMWc90ugFjqJMy4ibAoERIdCK_lnhqFdzNuPxMzyEK9ie_DUv9-OZXTgSdqNQ6q7i7cspKWg2ogZwN5sYpOePUlTfrcXuXnWD7vx_wI/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.42.43+AM.png" width="626" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Thanksgiving at the Mattson Home in Spearfish 1957. The Williamson's first Thanksgiving. Kim<br />
is down for a nap and I'm enjoying the meal from the inside if you catch my meaning.<br />
Grandma Elda, Luella, Charles sit on the far side of the table</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pleasant Grove</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Happy Thanksgiving!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It's 9:47 A.M. here at the Fortress. Janice is getting ready to go with Jilane to prep Ashley and Mike's home for the Family Thanksgiving Extravaganza Eat Until You Drop Buffet. Jilane has been out running, thinking an hour on the trail will allow for that extra piece of pumpkin pie. I'm at my desk scanning photos for today's photo dump into the blog. I don't have many unencumbered days, so I take advantage when the opportunity presents itself. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37j4I0kx6zBoGBTgvzE5Aqst9O8Qx_1BhvQ0jIxJXCCfmvGBX7SmMFYMFkThGDQXQgVCc7SVR9jAQXJxYc8XbRItM58aqxfNxySWD1BBm8-O752LTr_3S_PtkI3V9J4bxtKFEpJv2Nq0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.36.57+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="714" data-original-width="1273" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37j4I0kx6zBoGBTgvzE5Aqst9O8Qx_1BhvQ0jIxJXCCfmvGBX7SmMFYMFkThGDQXQgVCc7SVR9jAQXJxYc8XbRItM58aqxfNxySWD1BBm8-O752LTr_3S_PtkI3V9J4bxtKFEpJv2Nq0/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.36.57+AM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luella feeling a bit tipsy with her Coke Zero with that special something added to help her through the day.<br />
Thanksgiving 2011</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Prepping for a Williamson family All You Can Eat involves several rolls of plastic wrap. Think Dexter. The floor, walls, and ceiling must be covered; If not, repainting is the only known way to completely eliminate evidence of the clan gathering. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> To help steady nerves, a special room is reserved for decompressing, especially needed today. Both the right and left wing of the family will be under the same roof; not to mention the High Mormons, Middle Way Mormons, and those who avoid the topic all together.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoiC4jD1z9Ya85zNgWsnbasQjUxUBYL6j2jJfY8sbLyuu2wfEWPWpuKsd-SsVaLsIoIX-4nqTiMAG8JrrQxH0bfZkaijh17llRrvVhlm5olENT8RsTGupGTMdneraBc8UUOPWblRGCp2w/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.34.49+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="542" data-original-width="663" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoiC4jD1z9Ya85zNgWsnbasQjUxUBYL6j2jJfY8sbLyuu2wfEWPWpuKsd-SsVaLsIoIX-4nqTiMAG8JrrQxH0bfZkaijh17llRrvVhlm5olENT8RsTGupGTMdneraBc8UUOPWblRGCp2w/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.34.49+AM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enoch upset in Time Out for fingering every pie on the dessert table</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOOk02EaqpPfVH7vDuwgM52m7xeAJQoyXmeeuvajraeSXpKadJTtoSslJqxvuspLDfGGXlmh_o4vmGh2b6f1UZH1iRPNAIlZdU7E0mcS8TVAAtSd1kfpaoSd69xyQhXU9ibsOdxSkDEE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.35.16+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="521" data-original-width="665" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOOk02EaqpPfVH7vDuwgM52m7xeAJQoyXmeeuvajraeSXpKadJTtoSslJqxvuspLDfGGXlmh_o4vmGh2b6f1UZH1iRPNAIlZdU7E0mcS8TVAAtSd1kfpaoSd69xyQhXU9ibsOdxSkDEE/s400/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.35.16+AM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enoch pouted while his naughtier cousins found other ways to protest their confinement in Time Out. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHNuQLNVun1CC-_MNl5h-Eq2YMwqhFWiF6uECBr1qYzEDPol1hXZP4shd3akOhhVeiInDt-nTtesrqXIrSO2pl7UdWev6idtORY5Jd5IiUb2McDlYVshCjBPL9bxNZi8yom70ZwJO-9mY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.35.41+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="383" data-original-width="556" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHNuQLNVun1CC-_MNl5h-Eq2YMwqhFWiF6uECBr1qYzEDPol1hXZP4shd3akOhhVeiInDt-nTtesrqXIrSO2pl7UdWev6idtORY5Jd5IiUb2McDlYVshCjBPL9bxNZi8yom70ZwJO-9mY/s400/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.35.41+AM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> At such gatherings it is important we remind ourselves that we are a loving family that respects and cherishes diversity because diverse is what this family is, like so many others in our modern world. I also take a moment to remind the political active that NO political discussions are allowed around Great Grandma Luella. Failure to comply will result in banishment from the dessert table." Because of the recent passage of the marijuana proposition, I was thinking of putting up a sign banning discussions of medical marijuana but </span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">decided against it </span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">after a few discussions with the family elders. It seems the Williamson's aren't as divided on the subject as I thought.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1zrrCOSlV2_ZcTsYJ6ZbuXw9Q0Be_bFy_zBKyYG6oDahHSQlXPff6xtC5jBm-v1v8FD2M_JYp160MjH22SwEddW1TBZ0mFAxu7CvWRHXhMJDPgm55q-i21ZVlFL0i0FBbD3h5YARNj4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.41.43+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="399" data-original-width="568" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1zrrCOSlV2_ZcTsYJ6ZbuXw9Q0Be_bFy_zBKyYG6oDahHSQlXPff6xtC5jBm-v1v8FD2M_JYp160MjH22SwEddW1TBZ0mFAxu7CvWRHXhMJDPgm55q-i21ZVlFL0i0FBbD3h5YARNj4/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.41.43+AM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luella about to tuck in and clean that Thanksgiving plate in record speed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOUSfynaw5G8lCvnUZ6L-0qJtFs3JWFh4y3x__2ZOirHI0L461uv8186I_xE7hgTUedZ2T4OHLWeAFhE3i_KSy7J831BqKeZ_0czh6o16bg5-SMKImx-bgGt6PtvNh0I51gEheLQrEIWg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.36.15+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="1277" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOUSfynaw5G8lCvnUZ6L-0qJtFs3JWFh4y3x__2ZOirHI0L461uv8186I_xE7hgTUedZ2T4OHLWeAFhE3i_KSy7J831BqKeZ_0czh6o16bg5-SMKImx-bgGt6PtvNh0I51gEheLQrEIWg/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.36.15+AM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kim was asked to eat by herself after having pretty much offended everyone.<br />
Thanksgiving 2011</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> This year's Decompression Room will be the Costa's rarely used living room just off the family room. Diffusers will scent the room in a special DoTerra blend of fragrances tailored for family events like today's; think a green pasture surrounded by Ponderosa Pines with just a wisp of sunshine lingering in the air to help you ease quickly into your happy place. Candles will decorate the room in dancing light. Music will tug at the ear with celestial melodies selected from tracks recorded by the Sisters of the Abbey of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> We didn't have a Decompression Room last year. It made for a tough afternoon, leaving only the bathrooms or the cars as places of refuge. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEugTPRAE48kvxSTU-q0HbQktcjpb_labOlwAq2LnPRfp0hznurgp_lZUCCWqMpyrhWrVFjd1f9KgseANPXEcwfIS3tEwvmZD7zbBXBdHc1oM6I586dc72k07AX7Xo_T0DJcXsxCeEotU/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.35.26+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="505" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEugTPRAE48kvxSTU-q0HbQktcjpb_labOlwAq2LnPRfp0hznurgp_lZUCCWqMpyrhWrVFjd1f9KgseANPXEcwfIS3tEwvmZD7zbBXBdHc1oM6I586dc72k07AX7Xo_T0DJcXsxCeEotU/s400/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.35.26+AM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes only a good wash with the garden hose will clean one of the little ones.<br />
We focused on table manners and etiquette this year with the little ones.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> This year we're taking a risk and letting the family choose where they sit to eat. Normally we separate based on several factors. Conspiracy theorists, High Mormons, and those with an open mind usually make for good table fellows. Democrats, Middle of the Way Mormons and the unaffiliated are good together. The little ones have their own table but tend to ignore the plates their mother's prepared. They find their way to the dessert table once the adults have their noses squarely in the trough.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5Tx7UByWSqpuD2-TXJKaErDw5XSZ7E7sC5h_ISyay7ylagm3kmGssv4qB__f_yYWzEvNhmFs0bJV8aaE2k_wL4VH0CKJKF1TtB9JiH6J1eF9ATFfJhX8NkXYqazSkTpdgenNFt2lbvs/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.36.34+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="713" data-original-width="1136" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5Tx7UByWSqpuD2-TXJKaErDw5XSZ7E7sC5h_ISyay7ylagm3kmGssv4qB__f_yYWzEvNhmFs0bJV8aaE2k_wL4VH0CKJKF1TtB9JiH6J1eF9ATFfJhX8NkXYqazSkTpdgenNFt2lbvs/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.36.34+AM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JD is stationed in the kitchen during Thanksgiving ensuring only the finest dishes brought to the gathering are<br />
sent out for consumption. Those dishes that fail the JD test find their way to the disposal when no one is looking.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7wXcePJdmeAW__4lwKhhMT_Bc7N3-aSb_LPz1nCOwHPz17GzcMIWnE0pOdDC072wdE1d4L1NcVAJK7mnY3BV-go1Sc1sCVe7O20IjkTB8X7fTHeQuf14cvYMT4SeJADWNVKey0DUL2EQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.37.17+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="1279" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7wXcePJdmeAW__4lwKhhMT_Bc7N3-aSb_LPz1nCOwHPz17GzcMIWnE0pOdDC072wdE1d4L1NcVAJK7mnY3BV-go1Sc1sCVe7O20IjkTB8X7fTHeQuf14cvYMT4SeJADWNVKey0DUL2EQ/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+11.37.17+AM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enoch, Jace, and Foxton, happy after four trips to the dessert table. Enoch looks like he's about to lose it.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Today's choose where you want to sit approach will test the family's civility. T</span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">he standard used to judge whether the seating decision was a wise one or not will be based upon w</span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">ho is not speaking to Whom at the end of the day. </span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm looking forward to today's circus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> And now, the photo dump.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Victor</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A Few Pictures from Our Short Trip to the Black Hills. June 1996</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG5jdFruaRRN2nl9tQccqJdFl9Sry7-d9TwCm5o4rBIep28n12fs2_DHiZum0y0AlpTg2nRYXdIC8EDa3LzBP97BGLvQOr79RdvpaZwheedjkdtgm6lCMp7CMyyxcQQ2N4XzrKX2FMc-o/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.41.27+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1012" data-original-width="672" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG5jdFruaRRN2nl9tQccqJdFl9Sry7-d9TwCm5o4rBIep28n12fs2_DHiZum0y0AlpTg2nRYXdIC8EDa3LzBP97BGLvQOr79RdvpaZwheedjkdtgm6lCMp7CMyyxcQQ2N4XzrKX2FMc-o/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.41.27+AM.png" width="424" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Luella Williamson is always excited to see the Black Hills. I caught her in a reminiscence with this candid photo. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUB48IKahNgiaxIKthDoJIgaOqxYxs-8sDpd2P15gQLUWeMrG15IGlwFtLPva08MERIDKpJYBKpSUEsLPB9mevbfq5H4vdZ23H9Q3plc1K6mS62nQBynPkV21omsUCBX96HPFJs9K06lg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.28.01+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1002" data-original-width="1463" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUB48IKahNgiaxIKthDoJIgaOqxYxs-8sDpd2P15gQLUWeMrG15IGlwFtLPva08MERIDKpJYBKpSUEsLPB9mevbfq5H4vdZ23H9Q3plc1K6mS62nQBynPkV21omsUCBX96HPFJs9K06lg/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.28.01+AM.png" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Stopping to pay our respects to the first home I remember is a must on any trip to Rapid City.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> We lived here at 39 East Signal Drive until we moved just before my 8th birthday in 1966. The place is a bit of an eye sore today but just seeing it brings back many happy memories. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFrvkfxc7D0-7ywFPQpA3hHVtTkvcp81LJAwqllbOsAvnwiTYFwKp91JUYw1-Y-Zne0FjSXyzYNVRZuy1KvnaKdi9xVu5RjMWxzvFr9M8nUA8CRVTatV3WCQPBJoGSKw9Xqv0AZZR8Qs/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.30.01+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="947" data-original-width="1465" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFrvkfxc7D0-7ywFPQpA3hHVtTkvcp81LJAwqllbOsAvnwiTYFwKp91JUYw1-Y-Zne0FjSXyzYNVRZuy1KvnaKdi9xVu5RjMWxzvFr9M8nUA8CRVTatV3WCQPBJoGSKw9Xqv0AZZR8Qs/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.30.01+AM.png" width="640" /></a> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Our tour of the Williamson family homesteads always involves a driveby of our home at 210 N. 42nd Street. We lived here from 1966 to 1968. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5e377p9DiLOupU-GiwRLphEtVcFnR_CKRkY_ZPlOEAccfUr3ozECXqPbPnvvphPBqwe_aSDrZLTNfmq3SljJjC1dAnbH0eI24iKovO6u-Pv8yY5HySZDCi61iJ9yzD1FkwF-H7gZdixE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.39.15+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="997" data-original-width="1469" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5e377p9DiLOupU-GiwRLphEtVcFnR_CKRkY_ZPlOEAccfUr3ozECXqPbPnvvphPBqwe_aSDrZLTNfmq3SljJjC1dAnbH0eI24iKovO6u-Pv8yY5HySZDCi61iJ9yzD1FkwF-H7gZdixE/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.39.15+AM.png" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Uncle Marv ran this Jerky stand outside of Hill City back in the day. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5jBisRTPOHo6psOsPm7M3ZnPsNuWWBYey4WWelOX7rCliws4OQZlUe8K_u0c5w2v0Ciofl1WhqWT9rdRT7WTjcjCGSoRVCYEx2fNycv_XHc3D3zOxbWgoIBuahZH0uoyiNKlriO2U5w/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.40.10+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="1467" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5jBisRTPOHo6psOsPm7M3ZnPsNuWWBYey4WWelOX7rCliws4OQZlUe8K_u0c5w2v0Ciofl1WhqWT9rdRT7WTjcjCGSoRVCYEx2fNycv_XHc3D3zOxbWgoIBuahZH0uoyiNKlriO2U5w/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.40.10+AM.png" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Uncle Marv, Cindy, Luke and Haley. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Luella with Haley and Luke at Mt. Rushmore. Who is that peering over the wall? It couldn't be Charles in a playful mood. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Kim DelGrosso. Don't know how this got into this mix of photos, but we'll enjoy it nevertheless. June 2000</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4VZoGqVuu0weVCGMe5vUASC6SlUv7Oo513g3EKkbRjGVBb13_GtNt6in6wQvaRJfJplajkfqPnJKcBvzXP0oSqO_Gi_CeT5rfcAeCJ3Jj3cxVhBB1eTvxE0M1Sva8X5uRC4X2trIFTyQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.40.49+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="736" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4VZoGqVuu0weVCGMe5vUASC6SlUv7Oo513g3EKkbRjGVBb13_GtNt6in6wQvaRJfJplajkfqPnJKcBvzXP0oSqO_Gi_CeT5rfcAeCJ3Jj3cxVhBB1eTvxE0M1Sva8X5uRC4X2trIFTyQ/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-11-22+at+9.40.49+AM.png" width="462" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Celebrating My Birthday at Jilane's Home. June 1998</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> A little bit of this and a little bit of that is what you get when you do a photo dump. Forest DelGrosso and Lisa Williamson Coronato in Jilane's kitchen. Lisa is pregnant with Adia. She's going to hate me for posting these two photos but such is the burden one carries when recording family history. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Williamsons Gather for Christmas Eve Festivities. December 24, 2001</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Christmas Eve 2001</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span>Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-76004965704667455822018-07-26T17:39:00.002-06:002018-07-26T18:17:56.382-06:00The Vercellino Family History. Great Grandfather John Vercellino (Grandma Elda's dad) Passport Application to Return to the United States from South Africa. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6E8xWAbL3RPpXvZMOTeSVAsXM5sCinvGLVITXTKmOzggW134HJ4mT7xF_tjYvedxm9MNiApwuV8r-mFDrfiO6Jmn3XdZBIVHzejVHsfWN5JZfdxpe8lSnGaod5gzyEoDTS4aOU9urPyk/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-07-26+at+5.44.15+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="868" data-original-width="680" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6E8xWAbL3RPpXvZMOTeSVAsXM5sCinvGLVITXTKmOzggW134HJ4mT7xF_tjYvedxm9MNiApwuV8r-mFDrfiO6Jmn3XdZBIVHzejVHsfWN5JZfdxpe8lSnGaod5gzyEoDTS4aOU9urPyk/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-07-26+at+5.44.15+PM.png" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great Grandparents Marie and John Vercellion</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Pleasant Grove</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hello All,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I spent several hours today researching the Vercellino family lines. In the search I came across our Great Grandfather John Vercellino's passport application filled out in South Africa for his return trip to the United States where he eventually settled in Lead. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I found several interesting things worthy of more research. First we note that John and Marie have one child, Raymond (Remi). John and Marie took a trip to Italy where their son Raymond was born. They left Illinois and moved to Cape Town South Africa. Great Grandfather John worked in a diamond mine. His intention was to stay no longer than 2 years. They didn't. Now I can give the exact length of their stay. They arrived in Cape Town in February 1903 and returned to the United States in December 1903; a short stay of 10 months.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">John Vercellino was a guard in the diamond mine. Only blacks could work in the mine because of the heat. His job as a guard was to search the miners when they'd come up form the mine to be sure they weren't stealing diamonds. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Great Grandmother Marie was the primary cause for the move back to the United States according to family stories. Marie was so frightened of the native South Africans that John bought her a pistol with these instructions, "When someone comes and knocks on the door, NEVER open the door. Look out the peephole first." One night a black man knocked on the door. She was frightened wondering why a black man would be on her doorstep. She took her pistol, no questions asked, and shot him through the door. She looked again and saw him running away. This incident lead to a quick return to the United States on the St.Louis. It is also interesting to note that Raymond's real name is Remeigo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> They moved straight away to Lead, South Dakota where Grandma Elda was born in 1905. John's brother Fred was already living in Lead and had been for several years. He owned the Christoforo Columbo Saloon and was known for his excellent homemade wines. The family stayed in Lead where both John and Marie died. </span></div>
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Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-55170761632969904042018-07-23T17:36:00.002-06:002018-07-23T17:36:26.737-06:00From the Vercellino Line: Robert Hastie Our Distinguished World War II Bomber Pilot. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0TTHx2eTJPN1veRUATk5UVZad-bnaUh9s8QdJJzl-CvKzmoG78ro9HQdUpN0nSCzmaTNvczQZTW3rrmillr5FoWGKPMSX4IlARJ2_kv9xfqg8gy6MTJWuNbwO2tg6OTBCpgNK-0q7AQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-07-23+at+5.17.29+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="752" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0TTHx2eTJPN1veRUATk5UVZad-bnaUh9s8QdJJzl-CvKzmoG78ro9HQdUpN0nSCzmaTNvczQZTW3rrmillr5FoWGKPMSX4IlARJ2_kv9xfqg8gy6MTJWuNbwO2tg6OTBCpgNK-0q7AQ/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-07-23+at+5.17.29+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pleasant Grove</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hello All,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Today I want to highlight the work of our cousin, Robert Hastie in World War II. Robert was the son of Mabel Vercellino, daughter of Fidele Vercellion, Grandma Elda's uncle. Fidele was the owner of the saloon / bar that we visit quite often in Lead. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #01133f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">First Lieutenant Robert B. Hastie was born in Lead, South Dakota Apr. 24, 1924 and moved to Kenosha, Wisconsin, where he graduated from high school and enlisted in the U.S. Army Air Forces as an aviation cadet. During WWII, he served as a B-17 pilot in the 95th</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #01133f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #01133f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">Bomb Group 334th</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #01133f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #01133f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">Squadron flying 35 missions over occupied Europe, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">the only group in </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eighth_Air_Force" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Eighth Air Force">Eighth Air Force</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> to earn three </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Distinguished_Unit_Citation" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Distinguished Unit Citation">Distinguished Unit Citations</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">.</span><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Freeman245_4-0" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-Freeman245-4" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[3]</a></sup></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #01133f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"> He then transitioned into Mosquitos and flew reconnaissance with the 25th</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #01133f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #01133f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">Bomb Group 654th</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #01133f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #01133f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">Squadron. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #01133f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He returned to the U.S. in 1945 on the Queen Mary.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaeECVf87G27vxTEvkz9Y0sOGGFED4yBTRhlFSPxD59IFi89ZgmzMD4k4XH0CWUxPP2pPbcYcoT-uq7q919cwArEtWEIV55sZojgd8mOKTTJh3hniJE49LL2AVvC73RGxaTfM2zUeJBR4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-07-23+at+5.20.48+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="551" data-original-width="357" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaeECVf87G27vxTEvkz9Y0sOGGFED4yBTRhlFSPxD59IFi89ZgmzMD4k4XH0CWUxPP2pPbcYcoT-uq7q919cwArEtWEIV55sZojgd8mOKTTJh3hniJE49LL2AVvC73RGxaTfM2zUeJBR4/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-07-23+at+5.20.48+PM.png" width="414" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After service in WWII, Hastie went to Northwestern University on the GI Bill and graduated with a degree in engineering and was in the Pi Tau Sigma International Mechanical Engineering Honor Society. He married the former Bette Lu Haake, also of Kenosha Wisconsin who was a registered nurse during the war. They moved to Dallas, Texas where he worked as a pipeline engineer for Atlantic Pipeline Co.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His High School Yearbook photo</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In 1955 he flew to London with his wife and two children on a Stratocruiser to help rebuild Europe with the Joint Construction Agency. They returned to Texas where they had a third child. He continued in pipeline engineering with the Atlantic Pipeline compant as it merged and combined eventually becoming ARCO. His proudest work and most technically challenging position was designing and becoming Project Manager for the Trans Alaska Pipeline. He made many trips to Alaska to prepare and build the pipeline and insure it was operational, and became a Vice President of ARCO Transportation in Los Angles CA area, where he retired in 1985 and still resides.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In retirement, he flew light aircraft with friends on trips around the country and went sailing in Southern California and charters around the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robert went to Horham, England, in 2005 to take one last flight over the home of the 95<span style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 0; position: relative; text-shadow: none; top: -0.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">th</span> BG(H) during the European Air Offensive of WWII. Friends in Horham provided flights for the air crews, including letting Robert take the controls of the aircraft for the symbolic flight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robert’s decorations include: Pilot Wings, European-Africa-ME Campaign Medal (with 5 Bronze Stars), Air Medal (with 4 Oak Leaf Clusters), AAF Presidential Unit Citation (with 1 Oak Leaf Cluster), Russian Commemorative Medal (The 50th Anniversary of the Victory in the Great Patriotic War) 1994, Polish Uprising Cross 2004, Polish Merit for Warsaw 2004, and the French Knight of the Legion of Honor 2014. He resides with his wife in Huntington Beach, CA.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Military Service Details: USAAF WWII service 19 Nov 42 to 1 Nov 45; 30 Jan 1943 basic training at George Field, Illinois; 1 Mar 43 flight training; 20 Feb 44 Student Officer B-17s; 9 Apr 44 advanced crew training Rapid City, South Dakota Air Base Class of 44B RTU; 4 Jul 44 transferred overseas ETO, 8th AF [Kearney NB-Bangor, Maine-Gandor-Prestwick Scotland on 9 July 1944]; 11 Jul 44 95th BG(H) 334th Sqdn Horham, UK, 13th Combat Wing/ 3rd Air Division/ 8th AF (flew 35 combat missions over occupied Europe in B-17Gs thru 6 Jan 1945); 4 Feb 44 25th BG 654th Sqdn Watton UK (flew reconnaissance missions in B-26s and Mosquito MK IIIs); Jun 45/ 2 Aug 1945 returned to USA on Queen Mary; Reserve Status Camp McCoy 1 Nov 45 to Apr 53; honorably discharged</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Campaigns: Air Offensive Europe, Normandy, Northern France, Ardennes-Alsace</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Operations: Frantic; Market Garden; Warsaw Uprising; Battle of the Bulge</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From Wikipedia:</span></div>
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The 334th began strategic bombing operations in July and continued until flying its last operation on 20 April 1945. Its targets included <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harbor" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Harbor">harbors</a>, <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marshalling_yard" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Marshalling yard">marshalling yards</a> and other industrial targets along with attacks on cities. The squadron received its first <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Distinguished_Unit_Citation" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Distinguished Unit Citation">Distinguished Unit Citation</a> (DUC) during an attack on an <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Factory" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Factory">aircraft factory</a> at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Regensburg" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Regensburg">Regensburg</a>, Germany on 17 August 1943 when it maintained its defensive formation despite severe attacks by enemy <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interceptor_aircraft" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Interceptor aircraft">interceptor aircraft</a>.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Maurer95BG_5-5" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-Maurer95BG-5" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[4]</a></sup></div>
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B-17 "The Thomper" (BG-X) of the squadron under attack<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-10" style="font-size: 9.89632px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-10" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[a 2]</a></sup></div>
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On 10 October, during an attack on marshalling yards at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%BCnster" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Münster">Münster</a>, Germany, the squadron was subjected to concentrated fighter attacks on the approach to the target and intense <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anti-aircraft_warfare" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Anti-aircraft warfare">flak</a> over the objective.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Maurer95BG_5-6" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-Maurer95BG-5" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[4]</a></sup> Despite these obstacles, the formation's bombs were clustered close to the target.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-11" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-11" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[9]</a></sup> It was awarded a second DUC for withstanding these attacks to bomb its objective. From 20 to 25 February 1944 the squadron participated in the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Week" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Big Week">Big Week</a> offensive against the German aircraft manufacturing industry. A few days later, on 4 March, the squadron attacked <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berlin" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Berlin">Berlin</a> despite adverse weather that led other units to either abandon the operation or attack secondary targets. Despite snowstorms and heavy cloud cover, the unit struck its target while under attack from enemy fighters,<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Maurer95BG_5-7" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-Maurer95BG-5" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[4]</a></sup> although the cloud cover required the group to rely on a pathfinder from the <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/482d_Bombardment_Group" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="482d Bombardment Group">482d Bombardment Group</a> to determine the release point.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-12" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-12" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[10]</a></sup> It received its third DUC for this operation.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Maurer95BG_5-8" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-Maurer95BG-5" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[4]</a></sup> This mission was the first time any unit from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eighth_Air_Force" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Eighth Air Force">Eighth Air Force</a> had bombed Berlin.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Freeman245_4-3" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-Freeman245-4" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[3]</a></sup></div>
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95th Bomb Group Boeing B-17Gs in combat formation</div>
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The squadron was diverted to bombing priority tactical targets during the preparation for and execution of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Overlord" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Operation Overlord">Operation Overlord</a>, the invasion of Normandy in June 1944, attacking communications and coastal defenses. It hit enemy troop concentrations to facilitate the Allied breakout at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint-L%C3%B4" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Saint-Lô">Saint-Lô</a>. The 334th attacked enemy troop concentrations during the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Bulge" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Battle of the Bulge">Battle of the Bulge</a> from December 1944 to January 1945 and bombed airfields to support <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Varsity" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Operation Varsity">Operation Varsity</a>, the airborne assault across the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhine" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Rhine">Rhine</a> in March.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Maurer95BG_5-9" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-Maurer95BG-5" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[4]</a></sup></div>
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One of the unit's more unusual missions was flown on 18 September 1944, when the 95th group led the <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/13th_Combat_Bombardment_Wing" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="13th Combat Bombardment Wing">13th Combat Bombardment Wing</a><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-13" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-13" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[11]</a></sup> to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warsaw" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Warsaw">Warsaw</a> to drop <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ammunition" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Ammunition">ammunition</a>, food and medical supplies to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polish_resistance_movement_in_World_War_II" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Polish resistance movement in World War II">Polish resistance forces</a>fighting against German <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_occupation" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Military occupation">occupation</a> forces,<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Maurer95BG_5-10" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-Maurer95BG-5" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[4]</a></sup> landing at bases in the Soviet Union. The squadron had previously participated in shuttle missions to the Soviet Union.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-14" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-14" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[12]</a></sup></div>
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The unit flew its last mission on 20 April 1945, when it attacked marshalling yards near <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oranienburg" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Oranienburg">Oranienburg</a>. In the first week of May, it airdropped food to Dutch citizens in Operation Chow Hound. From <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/V-E_Day" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="V-E Day">V-E Day</a> until departing the theater in June, it transported liberated <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prisoners_of_war" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Prisoners of war">prisoners of war</a> and <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Displaced_persons" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Displaced persons">displaced persons</a>.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Maurer95BG_5-11" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-Maurer95BG-5" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[4]</a></sup><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-15" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-15" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[13]</a></sup> The air echelon flew their planes back to <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bradley_Air_National_Guard_Base" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Bradley Air National Guard Base">Bradley Field</a>, Connecticut, while the ground echelon sailed once more on the <i>Queen Elizabeth</i>.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Freeman245_4-4" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-Freeman245-4" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[3]</a></sup> The squadron was reunited at <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sioux_Falls_Army_Air_Field" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Sioux Falls Army Air Field">Sioux Falls Army Air Field</a>, South Dakota, where it was inactivated on 28 August 1945.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Maurer95BG_5-12" style="font-size: 11.2px; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/334th_Bombardment_Squadron#cite_note-Maurer95BG-5" style="background: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">[4]</a></sup></div>
Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-86832686327333148772018-04-02T19:59:00.002-06:002018-04-03T18:06:47.103-06:00Charles Williamson's Home Movies: 1958-1959Charles Williamson's Home Movies: 1958-1959<br />
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Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-73876065726177779462018-02-19T17:16:00.001-07:002018-02-19T17:16:24.994-07:00Luella Doesn't Like her DNA Results and Seeks Second Opinion on Her Sami Origins. <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pleasant Grove</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Luella Williamson Doubts DNA Results from Ancestry and Seeks Second Opinion from 23andMe.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Can you help me with this?" Luella asked. I had stopped by to say hello one evening. It was after another long day in the classroom and starship simulator. I was tired, grumpy and suffering from extreme teacher exhaustion; the kind that comes from eleven hours of non-stop talking. By this time of night I'm easily drawn to nausea from hearing my own voice or the voice of anyone else with a set of vocal cords. The cure is a simple supper in a quiet room illuminated by one heavily shaded 60 watt bulb enjoyed in the company of my 75 inch ultra wide screen Jupiter 5000 television with multiscan gadgets incorporated into micro circuits and diodes of some kind or another. I knew I was in trouble when Luella asked her question. "Can you help me with this?" could be anything from screwing down her toilet seat which seems to have been 3D printed in North Korea to helping her understand her Dish Network remote. I cringed as she reached down to retrieve something from under the brown skirting of her Komatsu power chair (advertised with atomic hydraulics for the lifting of the elderly from a relaxed reclined position into a proper upright stance for forward motion) would determine whether or not I was to enjoy my next hour or so.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> She held out a small white box with gray lettering which spelt "Welcome to You!" "What is it?" I asked, genuinely curious. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> "It's to test my DNA," she replied sheepishly knowing full well what my reaction would be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> "You've already done that?" I reminded her. "You and Dad did the Ancestry DNA test." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> She settled herself for a protracted debate. "Well, I didn't think it was right. I know I'm more Finnish than it said. I feel the mystical call of my Sami ancestors calling to me across the eons of time, across the evergreen Lapland forests brushed by the northern lights. So, I want another test." </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMITq4P89g9KdMiGcJiwQ3JxRuX5rj1AqEXt_PsDer7xtkoX6hug6asToiM40e6mPdTukrlEx-PvquVhFbBA0eOOgVMRBmHz7c2l7-DVvw29g9nhkRI9VRSrDfiiAbOYBVrmUTp6X2Ww/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-02-19+at+5.12.09+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="837" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMITq4P89g9KdMiGcJiwQ3JxRuX5rj1AqEXt_PsDer7xtkoX6hug6asToiM40e6mPdTukrlEx-PvquVhFbBA0eOOgVMRBmHz7c2l7-DVvw29g9nhkRI9VRSrDfiiAbOYBVrmUTp6X2Ww/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-02-19+at+5.12.09+PM.png" width="314" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 Sami Women. Luella feels strongly drawn to the one on the right</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I was speechless, which is unusual for me. "So let me get this straight, you're unhappy with your DNA test so you'd like to get a second opinion from 23andMe? Am I summing this up properly?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> "Well, the TV said this test is better because it looks at more of the DNA and sees more things."</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOB9dpu2d2QnboMTUYbdlN_gdiXND3wd1tG5iTnVEtqXUtBI58FWDtM5jUdPWvpw4p2ffywJrQTbJAoDDT3b6F5bcO3UJPNNbq8lzci8vCDwqWxd6Z8vCyH3X4pdaKcob4NZsjDcV1Lb0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-02-19+at+5.10.17+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="894" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOB9dpu2d2QnboMTUYbdlN_gdiXND3wd1tG5iTnVEtqXUtBI58FWDtM5jUdPWvpw4p2ffywJrQTbJAoDDT3b6F5bcO3UJPNNbq8lzci8vCDwqWxd6Z8vCyH3X4pdaKcob4NZsjDcV1Lb0/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-02-19+at+5.10.17+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is it the clothing or a fondness for reindeer?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /> I thought for a moment and came upon another course of action to meet her needs. "We could hire a hypnotist to come out and put you through a series of hypnotic regressions to find your Sami self from a previous life. That way you'd learn more than just a series of suggestions of migration patterns and percentages of ancestry." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> She held out the box. "It's time to spit."</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMlfQM6ccxMGQSMEnh5YIVydnsh7vgmmjMHoeLoZ1nF7218P6K55xFRU-PU4uKtA7UlHYO_lYrcn2l7E5yOVyNRv-uETypBc5J1Xh1hJkcwvzzhf1uXkad6l2xX5jcNLclkF5s87MZpBQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-02-19+at+4.08.43+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1333" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMlfQM6ccxMGQSMEnh5YIVydnsh7vgmmjMHoeLoZ1nF7218P6K55xFRU-PU4uKtA7UlHYO_lYrcn2l7E5yOVyNRv-uETypBc5J1Xh1hJkcwvzzhf1uXkad6l2xX5jcNLclkF5s87MZpBQ/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-02-19+at+4.08.43+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luella gathering another load of precious Sami DNA </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiscmbiZzglycnmqvLvgI_n3oBG-Ta8l3P7gFxv4jxfb6BIxM7BHdW4LIc5fje-xcMneOLwldRBtz_maxl5Rk2BKRSNa80sells2CRUKQtwLk6osNOjpwjPbp531WrsXoq8KgtA4vwDoIg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-02-19+at+4.14.14+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1331" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiscmbiZzglycnmqvLvgI_n3oBG-Ta8l3P7gFxv4jxfb6BIxM7BHdW4LIc5fje-xcMneOLwldRBtz_maxl5Rk2BKRSNa80sells2CRUKQtwLk6osNOjpwjPbp531WrsXoq8KgtA4vwDoIg/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-02-19+at+4.14.14+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She dribbles what little her 79 year old salivary glands can muster into the Tube of Dreams</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyM2awgbqwKkBkNFazg3MVHzdbXKDenMtG7jepfol5TrwsKng6y6gygtlSeLooQNAXe3F4aRcJ1U5gAw2fheMxHMLUYrXF03zPqvOjZgapKBlVIKiI_Dv3z84EsSF7NkMRnwJ9vDuT3s/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-02-19+at+4.14.39+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="1332" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyM2awgbqwKkBkNFazg3MVHzdbXKDenMtG7jepfol5TrwsKng6y6gygtlSeLooQNAXe3F4aRcJ1U5gAw2fheMxHMLUYrXF03zPqvOjZgapKBlVIKiI_Dv3z84EsSF7NkMRnwJ9vDuT3s/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-02-19+at+4.14.39+PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Queasy with effort, feeling a brush of lightheadedness, she pauses to recharge. It was dreadful to watch.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I think I'll send a note and a $100 bill with the collection tube back to 23andMe asking them to fudge a bit on her results. "Please 23andMe, my 79 year old mother is on her second attempt to find her Finnish, Lapland, Sami roots. Watching her fill another spittube is more than a Christian soul can bare. Please take the money and do a faithful son a favor by adding several more dots to the map above the 65 Degree N. Latitude line running along the Swedish / Finnish border. I'll be forever in your debt."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Victor</span>Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2418363880270547155.post-75926482241003622902017-12-26T16:52:00.000-07:002017-12-26T17:11:21.199-07:00Christmas Eve 1986 at the Family Homestead in South Dakota. Bitter Cold on the Outside, Kerosene Fumes on the Inside. Good Memories (At Least As Seen in the Rear View Mirror). <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From the Fortress of Solitude</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hello All,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In today's digital reunion I'm going to repost several pictures from the family's Christmas Eve celebration circa 1986. I rescanned the slides using a different scanner than the one I originally used when I first posted these photos in 2012. Still, the photos are far from perfect, but it was the best I could do back in the day of film cameras and unreliable flashbulbs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I begin with a darling photo of my two grandmothers. They found a bit of quiet for a nice gossip in our small kitchen at 2214 38th Street, Rapid City, South Dakota. The kitchen was an add-on to the house built before we called it home in 1968. Because it was added to the house, it had a natural gas wall heater of its own positioned behind Grandma Liessman. It was a miserly heater, keeping most of whatever heat it generated to itself. The pilot light was ever a martyr to the slightest gust of wind. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The living room carpet paid the ultimate price for our frigid kitchen. Eight kids, freezing South Dakota dark winter morning and icebox kitchen; where would you eat your Malt O Meal cereal? Precisely, in the living room as close to the one heating vent as possible. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Grandma Mattson was always too warm. We kept her internal temperature down by keeping her well supplied with cold tap water (on pain of death, we had to "let the water run" before filling the glass). For some reason, we didn't seem to know the purpose for making ice in the fridge. Why would you when the streets were covered with a foot or more of the stuff. Grandma Leissman, on the other hand, was inexorably cold, as seen in the photo below. Her sweaters added a bit of substance to her diminutive frame. She knew her son was a Scrooge when it came to burning money up the chimney.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Our Grandmas give Christmas its nostalgic charm; weren't they, after all, the same age as Santa? Perhaps they went to the same school. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Just look at these two Grandams. How proud they would be of this American dynasty they forged!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Grandma's Mattson (Luella's mother) and Liessman (Charles' mother) in our small kitchen on Christmas Eve 1986. Two of a Kind. Both lovely ladies, even on their bad days. </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">You can tell it's Christmas by the spread. See the grapes? Fresh fruit was a Christmas treat for us. Tinned fruit cocktail in heavy syrup was the norm for the rest of the year. It was the poor man's fruit.</span></div>
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<h1 class="title fn" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 24px; margin: 1px 0px; padding: 3px 0px; position: relative; text-align: center;">
<br />Two Of A Kind</h1>
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From a Poem by Julie B. Bradstreet</div>
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Two funny beautiful ladies</div>
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That mean so much to me</div>
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May be gone from the land of the living</div>
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But with me they will always be</div>
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Because my memory holds them dearly</div>
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And my pen recalls their ways</div>
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And most of all I love them</div>
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A love that always stays</div>
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It stays inside my memory</div>
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And is often on my mind</div>
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Because ladies like my grandmas</div>
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Are rare and hard to find.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: medium;">Grandma Mattson at the Piano</span></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Uncle Marvin (ghostified<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> by my enthusiastic flash) with Grandma Mattson tickling the ivory on her old piano. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">I </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">still</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"> hear her singing.</span></span></td></tr>
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That was the piano Kim and I learned to play on. It was grandma's piano from the ranch. Never in tune (I think it and the kitchen's heater were in a relationship), its innards held a collection of dead moths and forgotten tunes. No one could coerce a singable melody from its strings like Grandma. It knew to behave when Violet stroked its keys. Grandma's quivering voice singing those old Montana tunes gave our Christmas Eves a magic we only realize now that we're older. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luella with the Grandmas preparing the Christmas Eve party snacks</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Meanwhile in the living room....</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Luke Mattson with his dad Marvin Mattson, then Lisa Williamson and Cindy Mattson.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Baby Hallie Mattson plays on the floor. Lisa is in her bare feet meaning she had no intention of entering the kitchen. She, like dad, had her goodies served to her. Annette did most of the waitressing if memory serves me correctly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.84px;">There, in the photo above, for the world to see is our kerosene portable heater (the blurry object in front of Luke). We risked death, or at least brain damage, every time we used the thing. It was Dad's way of keeping a lid on the gas bill. Why turn up the furnace when we could heat the house the old fashion way! </span>It's<span style="font-size: 15.84px;"> a wonder any of us survived those winters without constant and reoccurring carbon monoxide poisoning :)</span></div>
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(Maybe we didn't. The brain damage and memory loss we suspect in each other could well be the result of that heater!)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Uncle Marvin Mattson with son Luke. Marvin was my mother's youngest sibling</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;">There is no doubt about it. Luke and Hallie were the darlings of that Christmas Eve gathering. Lisa and Annette graciously surrendered the title after realizing believers always trump non-believers at Christmas time.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bB4FMWhVssVIPSeiUgnKSq7AqCo3bpq9A2eJDjQ4TQdWXpFEEVXwcdetA8IcviFNouz0r8hQmQWRDC9i5UIqgRALQndBUbvX6mrh6G_C6tdSkxVJCDR-ztiwDFU0EcNdB6yjXyxDlSTl/s1600/Picture+18.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #1691a1; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bB4FMWhVssVIPSeiUgnKSq7AqCo3bpq9A2eJDjQ4TQdWXpFEEVXwcdetA8IcviFNouz0r8hQmQWRDC9i5UIqgRALQndBUbvX6mrh6G_C6tdSkxVJCDR-ztiwDFU0EcNdB6yjXyxDlSTl/s640/Picture+18.png" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cindy Mattson with daughter Hallie</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hallie and Luke.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Luke's had enough of all of us, and he wasn't the only one......</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm wondering if the carpet came that way, or the result of eight kids and hundreds of meals?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaBWaWXEw-Tw0H235qiOV5lJKSqX7C2uk00Xi6yLXO4_MOR-7VEVjTJjNk0S9M43Dzda1oOgg3iMMSQff1NilZ8u79CDsT4EdN6qf3LWqDRDAwcjznWKxDQWG5pOTPJ0fckbyCpWRiTjQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.02.12+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="947" data-original-width="1409" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaBWaWXEw-Tw0H235qiOV5lJKSqX7C2uk00Xi6yLXO4_MOR-7VEVjTJjNk0S9M43Dzda1oOgg3iMMSQff1NilZ8u79CDsT4EdN6qf3LWqDRDAwcjznWKxDQWG5pOTPJ0fckbyCpWRiTjQ/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+3.02.12+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Yes indeed, Grandma and Grandpa Liessman joined Luke in a short mid-party nap. It was</div>
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either Grandma Mattson's singing or the kerosene fumes that got to them. I remember they did seem a bit loopy <span style="font-size: 15.84px;">when it was time to wake them up and send them on to their motel. I worried about Grandpa Leissman driving under the influence of Kerosene, but considering how he drove when he was sober, perhaps the fumes would help. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdtxBPP88IGDjLdvnPbesbu-dPoxBkfJXOnbp4DTF5PIvdE1UOApq0ChQJSstsV6bk-uIsoFr_kh9ftG11Nux1Gbf-ikw51_4u3bsQuufRjV6wx4VvVymwSqdvj-dSTpLwbYVvWn-rTgo/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+2.59.02+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="1421" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdtxBPP88IGDjLdvnPbesbu-dPoxBkfJXOnbp4DTF5PIvdE1UOApq0ChQJSstsV6bk-uIsoFr_kh9ftG11Nux1Gbf-ikw51_4u3bsQuufRjV6wx4VvVymwSqdvj-dSTpLwbYVvWn-rTgo/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+2.59.02+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Dad (Charles) with the youngest in the family and Grandpa Liessman. <span style="font-size: 15.84px;">I may be mistaken, but there is definitely someone needing his two front teeth for Christmas 1986. I think Annette was trying to get away while Dad was doing his best to keep her there. She was acting as a buffer between himself and his stepfather. We had strict orders NOT to leave him alone with Grandpa Leissman. Grandpa had a way of droning on with the same stories year after year. It was amazing how long he could pontificate without coming up for air. With Annette between them, Dad could escape to the bathroom (he never went into the kitchen - another story for another time) the moment Grandpa's attention shifted to Annette. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikwK2t64gMF1OO2EZhcLgeclAvBNA1pu0gL0ROOWP0W4vUwMfuI8shG2hodHjCiAJ7gFkN889u3W4ByywhRmqj7hsFLmE0XL2bgpkGnN7wyMfd4iFtQ_rsVDHvSTDZETR_xZwP2XdLRpE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+2.50.09+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="1419" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikwK2t64gMF1OO2EZhcLgeclAvBNA1pu0gL0ROOWP0W4vUwMfuI8shG2hodHjCiAJ7gFkN889u3W4ByywhRmqj7hsFLmE0XL2bgpkGnN7wyMfd4iFtQ_rsVDHvSTDZETR_xZwP2XdLRpE/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-12-26+at+2.50.09+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And so we bid farewell to Christmas Eve 1986. I was home for the holiday enjoying some family time. It was my fourth year teaching at Central Elementary School in Pleasant Grove, Utah. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Are your grandparents still alive? If so, never miss an opportunity to talk to them about their lives. Ask about their childhood. All they want is a bit of your time. It would mean so much to them. I promise you won't regret it when you get older. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Simply,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Victor </span></div>
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Space Camp Utahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08889309488645850869noreply@blogger.com0