Our Grandpa Charlie on Father's Day

Grandpa's name is Charles.  His friends call him Charlie.  We call him Grandpa.  Grandma calls him Sea Bee.

Grandpa was born in Deadwood, South Dakota in 1936.  1936 was a long time ago.  1936 was a really long time ago.  I think it's almost 100 years ago.  It was so long ago that Grandpa can remember the day the great General George Custer came through Deadwood on his way to parlay with the Indians and ask them to kindly give the Black Hills to real Americans like his family -  the English German Williamsons and the Italian Vercellinos.

 
This is Grandpa Charlie and his Grandma Vercellino.  He doesn't remember her very well.  She died when he was a little boy.  One day she was sweeping her sidewalk and something popped in her head.

Grandpa would have been sad, if he were bigger. 

This is my Grandpa with his dad Charlie.  Grandpa was an only child.  His mom and dad didn't get along very well, and when Charlie was a young boy they divorced. 

Grandpa Charlie lived with his mother Elda in a small town called Belle Fourche in South Dakota.  They didn't have a lot of money.  They lived in a small apartment over the bank.  Their apartment had a small living room, a small kitchen a bathroom and a closet.  His mom slept on the couch in the living room and Grandpa slept on a cot in the kitchen. Life was hard in those days, not like we have it today.  We are lucky we don't have to sleep on a cot in the kitchen.

For fun, Grandpa Charlie liked to ride his bike up and down the streets of Belle Fourche.  They didn't have video games back then or a TV.   He listened to the radio and played records on his record player.  Grandpa liked music.  Grandpa liked to go to movies and play basketball and baseball with his friends.   

School was OK, but not that fun because they didn't have computers.  Teachers were meaner in those days and could spank you if you were bad. 

 

One day when Grandpa Charlie was riding his bike he saw a pretty girl named Luella standing outside Roxies Boarding House in Belle Fourche.  Luella and her mother were visiting friends.  They lived on a ranch way out in Indian country in Montana.  Grandpa showed off and did tricks on his bike.  Luella liked his tricks. 

"Will you marry me?" he asked her.

"Yes," She said. 

One day after they got married, Luella said, "Let's have kids."  

Charlie asked, "How many?"

"I want eight!" Luella said.

"OK," Charles said.  

Grandpa Charlie worked hard building highways to feed all his kids. 

 

"Put the road there," he would say to the workers.  Then he would say, "I want some money because I have eight kids at home and they have to eat and have shoes and clothes and go to school."

 This is my Grandpa Charlie today.  I think he looks like Abraham Lincoln.

Charlie just had a birthday.

I think he's almost 100 years old or something.

Grandpa Charlie works at WalMart in Orem Utah.  He parks his red pickup truck where everyone else parks their cars.  Charlie's truck is the best because he loves his cars and takes care of them and washes them every week, even if they don't need it! Everyone at Walmart stops to look at Grandpa Charlie's red truck.
"What a pretty red truck," the girls say.
"I'll bet it has a big engine," the boys say. 

Some Walmart workers don't take care of their cars.  Look at the dents in the silver car.  It makes Charlie sad to see cars not taken care of.  

This is another picture of Grandpa Charlie's truck.  See how it shines.  You can see yourself in the shine if you look real close.  Grandpa has a sticker in the back window that says he is a friend to police and gives them money.

The sticker gives him permission to drive fast and not get a ticket because the policeman sees the sticker and walks up to the window and thanks him for giving money to the police.

Grandpa Charlie is smart.

Grandpa Charlie likes to help people at Walmart.  Here he is helping a man fill a water jug. He missed a few times and got the man really wet.

Grandpa Charlie can't work the cash register.  It has a lot of buttons and stuff.  Buttons can be complicated.  Grandpa says he'd work the cash register if they let him, but they won't. They don't think its funny when he tells them that if he had to work the cash register he would put one dollar in the till for them and one dollar in his wallet for him.

Grandpa Charlie is funny.  He makes the people at Walmart laugh.  He says that if he wasn't there the WalMart workers would cry all day long because they don't make enough money.

This is what Grandpa Charlie does when he isn't filling water jugs or taking care of Walmart's plants.  He needs to get lots of sleep.  Remember, he is almost 100 years old!

This is Grandma Luella.  She waits for Charlie every day to come home from work with her broom.

"You get out of your truck and get to work," she says.  "I've been home all day and nothings got done."
She has a broom she keeps with her.  She points the broom at him when she wants him to do things. 

"Grandma doesn't drive so good so she's lucky she has her broom" Grandpa Charlie says. 

  

"Look at this lawn.  The grass is too tall!" Grandma says to Charlie.  "You get the lawnmower and cut this lawn!"

Grandpa Charlie does what he's told so   He has to raise his hand and ask permission if he wants to stop mowing the lawn.  Grandma will let him stop if he needs a drink or has to go to the bathroom.

Poor Grandpa Charlie - he always has to work.  And he is almost 100 years old! 

"This is my room, but you can use it if I give permission," Grandma says to Grandpa.   Grandpa Charlie can use the kitchen too.  Grandma follows with the broom to keep him moving.  

 One day Grandpa stopped to watch Grandma's TV.  Grandma brushed his ankles with the broom to get him to move.
"This is my TV," Grandma said to Grandpa Charlie.  "You can't use it because I don't like your tv shows.  You use your TV in your room, and don't turn it up too loud!"

 Grandma walked Grandpa to his room in the back of the house.

"This is your TV. You stay in your room and watch your TV.  Don't bother me if I'm watching my TV because I might miss my shows if you come out and talk.  So you stay in your room and I'll call you if I need you," Grandma said while pointing the broom at his TV.

Grandpa Charlie's TV is really small, and his eyes are almost 100 years old!   I don't know how he can see something so small.

"It's OK," Grandpa Charlie says.  "Grandma had these rock things taken out of her eyes so she needs a big TV."

Grandpa Charlie always thinks about other people.

This is Grandpa Charlie's one room.  This is where Grandma says he can put his things. Sometimes he sleeps on his couch when Grandma's breathing machine is too loud.   Grandma has sleep apna or something.  She can't get enough air when she sleeps and the machine pushes air into her.  I don't know if it works.  She always seems tired except when she follows behind Grandpa with her broom.

Grandpa Charlie likes to read books about money and Indians and South Dakota and medicine.  He wants to live forever and says one day he will be peeing on all our graves.  His books are in piles all around his couch.  Grandpa Charlie likes candy like Werther's Originals and Spice Drops.  He keeps his candy by his couch.  He can't taste things very good because one day he tripped on a curb and fell down and hit his head on a fire hydrant.  He had to have stitches.  Since then he hasn't been able to taste or smell anything.  He says it is the first time in his life he can enjoy Grandma's cooking. 

This is another one of Grandma's rooms.  Grandma has the living room, her bedroom, her bathroom and her second living room.  Grandpa can come in here to use his bathroom. 

This is Grandma's deck.  Grandpa Charlie gets to mow the lawn around the deck and take care of the plants so Grandma can sit outside and rest.

This is Grandma's Gazebo.  She likes to sit in the Gazebo's shade and think of things for Grandpa Charlie to do.   Grandpa comes out sometimes and sits in the Gazebo.  He says he is resting. Sometimes he falls asleep.

"Sea Bee, You get up now and get to work," Grandma will call from the house.

Grandpa will get up and work.  He likes to work.  He says work will keep him alive.   

Grandpa Charlie is a simple person.  Grandpa Charlie is quiet person. He is happiest after a long day of work when he can drive home in his truck, sit in his room, eat his bowl of chili and spice drops, read his book and watch his little TV.

Grandpa Charlie is a simple person.

Happy Father's Day Grandpa Charlie.

The Family Gathers for Easter. Mid 1980's

Easter, 1985?  

Grandma Mattson with her younger grandchildren.

Lisa, Gina and Kirk agreed to be in this picture after much coaxing,  but wanted everyone to know they didn't like it one bit as stated in their expressions.

From the Fortress of Solitude
Pleasant Grove

Hello All,
The fact that I'm sitting here typing this post is a testament to my survival of our first week of space camps at the Space Education Center here in the garden of all that is good, better known to you as Pleasant Grove.   Our campers came from many parts of Utah with a few here and there from out of state.  The only hiccup in the camp was a slight disturbance early Friday morning.

I was chaperoning the boys in the school's main gym.  My assistant chaperons and I sleep on the stage.  The younger campers sleep on cots on the gym floor, the older boys are in the main sleeping quarters in the Voyager simulator.  Around 1:00 A.M. I heard the floor creak.  Someone was making the long trek across the gym toward the stage.  I sat up and turned on the flashlight.  It was a camper.

"I'm scared," he whispered.
"What are you scared of?" I asked.
"Our mission in the Magellan had a scary part."  His heard turned from side to side as we spoke.  He appeared to be on the look out for alien creatures lurking the shadows of our elementary school gym.
"I want to call home."
 I tried to talk him out of it, knowing that is exactly what his parents would do.  He wouldn't hear of it.  He was determined to go home.  We stood up and walked into the hallway.  I gave him the phone.  No one answered.  He looked like someone who had just been given a death by hanging sentence from a "Hang 'em high" judge.  His gulp was nearly audible.

"I can't go home."  He was choking back a powerful emotion, not wanting to appear too weak for someone just shy of 12 years old.

"What can we do to make things better?" I asked.  I was interested in resolving this matter so I could go back to bed.  I was tired and had a long full day ahead of me.

"I need more light and ambient noise."  What did he mean by Ambient Noise???  What kind of kid needs ambient noise to sleep.  Where was I going to get ambient noise?
"I leave my light on at home and have ambient noise," the boy explained.  He kept looking about.  He was making me nervous.

I considered my options and told him to fetch his sleeping bag and pillow.  I put him down on the stage floor near the entrance to the hallway.  The hallway had an emergency light.  He said it would do.  He crawled into his bag.  I walked back across the stage, layed down on my own pad and closed my eyes hoping for a quick release from the there and then.   A moment later I heard him sit up.  I could see him in the light.  He was on all fours peering down the hallway looking for alien invaders accompanied by the spirits of teachers long gone prowling the hallways for unsuspecting children to torment.  He stood up and stumbled toward me.

"I'm scared."
"You've got all the light you need."
"There's no ambient noise.  I can't sleep without ambient noise."
"Does the hallway scare you?"
"Yes."
"Get your sleeping bag and pillow.  You can sleep near the EXIT sign.  You'll be closer to us."
He paused for moment. "What about ambient noise?"

I prayed for release knowing the prayer would go unanswered.  The boy was my problem.  I got up and walked down the hallway to the school's environmental center.  I opened the double metal gray doors walked across the small room to the large electrical box and pushed the the gym's air conditioning override button.  The large heating and cooling unit that sits on the roof over the stage  engaged.  He was waiting for me in the hallway.  We walked back onto the stage.

"Listen, can you hear the air conditioning?" He cocked his head to one side and listened.
"Sort of."
"Will that be OK?"
"Well, its not that loud."
"Maybe because most people need it QUIET to sleep!" I shouted in my head.  "Will it be enough to help you sleep?" I asked.
"Maybe."

He crawled back into his sleeping bag.  I went back to my pad.  I could see him several paces away in the green light of the EXIT sign.  He was still.  I had found the just the right amount of light and ambient sound to get him to sleep.

Yes, welcome to my world of summer camps.  I know, I have no one to blame but myself.  It's my Center.  I set the schedules.  I design the camps. I made my own bed and must sleep in it.....

Easter in the Mid 1980's.

Today we step into Sherman and Peabody's Way Back Machine and visit the mid 1980's.  Our final destination, north Provo, Utah.   Jilane and Kevin Bodily and I were living in a semi retirement village at the time tending a townhome for an older couple serving an LDS mission.  The townhome complex had a club house.   The family was in town visiting from South Dakota.  We all wanted to get together for a  family Easter celebration and Easter Egg Hunt.  The clubhouse was the perfect setting. 

Brandon DelGrosso and Jake Mattson trying their hand a pool. Neither had played the game before (the pool table's green felt displayed the scars to show it).  JD stepped in to offer a few pointers. 

John DelGrosso with Forrest.  The boys got their first lesson from a master pool hustler.  John was good, but according to all reputable sources, our very own Kim Williamson DelGrosso was the one who really knew her way around the top of a pool table.  Kim declined the invitation to demonstrate her skills, referring to her husband instead.

"Pool tables are in my past," she explained, while quickly changing the subject.

Of course, what did the boys do as soon as horsing around at the pool table got serious?  While Forrest distracted John, Brandon and Jake saw their opportunity to slip away to look for other entertainment.  Neither was musically inclined, but what kid can walk away from a Wurlitzer Organ without stopping to pound on the ivory?  Brandon and Jake's goal was to make as much obnoxious noise as possible.  Mission accomplished, hence the earphones.

Jilane Williamson Bodily, Aunt Bev Mattson and Kirk Mattson

Luella Williamson, Cousin Shelley Mattson and Aunt Bev.  I don't understand the reason for Shelley's obvious lack of excitement.  Her expression speaks volumes.  Perhaps it was the fact that she was stuck spending Easter with us.  Perhaps it was the fact that Grandma Mattson was riding her case about something.  Perhaps she was shooting daggers at the boys playing the organ.  Tis a mystery never to be solved. 

The Hunt started right after lunch.  The orders were for the little ones to lead the way with a minute or two head start followed by the older cousins.  Joe Mattson,  having earlier in the day scouted the club house for the best hiding places, knew right where to look for the 'good stuff', leaving the little ones to scamper about in the grass outside.  My candid camera caught him in the act, violating the 'head start for the little ones' rule.

Candace Mattson and Ashley DelGrosso searched the lawn outside while Joe cleaned out the clubhouse.
"Picture!" I shouted.  Ashley immediately stopped the hunt and broke into a million dollar pose.  Candace, not as well trained as Ashley, ignored my command and saw her opportunity to strike while the iron was hot and gather all the eggs while Ashley waited patiently for the shutter to snap. 

Candace Mattson showing off the fruits of her spoils.  She is very pleased of herself.
1.  She got her picture taken and sported an amazing smile,  AND
2.  She had a bag of Easter Eggs, having cleaned out that section of the lawn while her cousin Ashley
waited for me to get the right settings for the photo.

Ashley cried.  Candace was ordered to share.  Candace bolted for the street.  

Forrest DelGrosso in his shirt of many colors.  Poor Forrest, he made the mistake that day of following two others in the Easter Egg Hunt......  

His cousin Jake....

and his very own brother Brandon.  Forrest couldn't understand that Brandon and Jake didn't have his best interests at heart.  In our family, Easter Egg Hunts have one rule and one rule only.  Give the little ones a head start, then its "EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!"  Forrest followed Jake and Brandon.  Jake and Brandon left nothing, not even stubble, in the fields.  Forrest was left with a nearly empty bag and a tough life lesson.  When someone shouts, "EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF" you go for it cause ain't nobody - not even blood or kin gonna look out fer ya when candy is involved.
   

 Autumn DelGrosso found the commotion, crying, screaming, hair pulling and scheming quite amusing.  Here she is in her stroller looking as cute as ever. 

Grandma Mattson, Pat Bodily (Jilane's Mother in Law) and Aunt Bev relaxing in the club house complete oblivious to the carnage outside.

 Lowell Bodily (Jilane's Father in Law), Jilane and Cousin Shelley. 

Kim Williamson DelGrosso with husband John visiting from Frisco, Colorado.

Uncle John Mattson, Grandma Mattson and Joe.

I may be mistaken, but I believe this photo caught Uncle John rifling through Joe's bag looking for the good stuff.  Isn't that what adults do?  Let the kids do the hunting, then demand access to their bags to find the best of the pickings?  It's what the adult does afterwords that defines character.  Do you barter with the youngling for that Cadbury's Egg or do you take it under the unwritten rule that "Might is Right?"

  
"OK, everyone get together near the fence for a picture!" Luella shouted for the fifth time.  No one listened.  A few minutes later, she successfully corralled them within the confines of the camera lens but still couldn't get them to strike a pose.  I had to step in and use my teacher's voice.

"PICTURE!"  My voice shook the glass in the clubhouse.  Three seconds later the picture was snapped and and recorded for posterity's sake.

Can you identify everyone in the photo above?  Left to Right, Angie Mattson standing behind young Amber DelGrosso, then Brandon, Forrest, Jake and Annette Williamson.  Joe is kneeling.  Ashley is beside Joe and Candace is at the very bottom.

We had a fun Easter that year.

Everyone has gotten older and our families continue to grow, adding new generations of Easter Egg Hunters.

Simply,
Victor

More on our McCrillis Ancestors. Mattson Line

From the Fortress of Solitude
Pleasant Grove

Hello All,
One of our distant McCrillis cousins emailed me this week with additional information on our McCrillis ancestors.  His email follows:

Hi folks. My name is Maury McCrillis. I'm the last of the Scots Gaelic speaking McCrillises and a direct descendent of Robert, our ancestor who served in the Revolution. My great uncle Herbert O. McCrillis wrote the seminal genealogy of the McCrillis families in America, an early copy of which I still make reference to for those interested in our early history. I'm happy to report that your information about Robert is spot-on accurate. Robert's father, as you say, was Daniel. Daniel's two other brothers were John and David. Our original progenitor, their father, was also named John. The original John came from Aghadowey (pronounced AHK-ah-doo-ee), having relocated from Scotland, likley Dumbartonshire, in or around 1690 following a Covenanter defeat at the Battle of Bothwell Bridge. He and the sons arrived at Nodle Island, Boston, in 1726 and about 20 years later build what is the original homestead, which still stands on McCrillis Road in Nottingham, NH. Anyone interested in more details about our early history can contact me at mccrillisancestry@hotmail.com. 

Le Dùrachdan, Muiris (Maury) 

I've written to Maury McCrillis asking for more information on our McCrillis ancestors and will pass the information along when it arrives.

In Maury's email he mentioned "a Covenanter defeat at the Battle of  Bothwell Bridge.."  I did a bit of research on the Battle of Bothwell Bridge and will share in today's post.

We begin with a Relationship Chart so you can see how we are related to John McCrillis.

John McCrillis (1675 - 1743)

is your 7th great grandfather

Daniel McCrillis (1710 - 1763)

Son of John

Robert McCrillis (1749 - 1819)

Son of Daniel

John Kenney McCrillis (1785 - 1868)

Son of Robert

Joseph E. McCrillis (1808 - 1890)

Son of John Kenney

Isabella Denora McCrillis (1851 - 1896)

Daughter of Joseph E.

Vesta Althea Dennis (1892 - 1978)

Daughter of Isabella Denora

Volet Mae Pierce (1918 - 1987)

Daughter of Vesta Althea

Violet married Walter Mattson

to

Luella, Linda, John and Marvin

to 

US

One interesting side note, my research shows that our 7th Great Grandfather, John was born in Londonderry, Ireland.  The email above clearly states that he was born a Scotsman and possibly a Covenanter.  Regardless, it is clear that the McCrillis family came from Scotland to Ireland around 1690 and then to Boston in 1726.

The Covenanters

Simply stated, the Covenanters were those people in Scotland who signed the National Covenant in 1638. They signed this Covenant to confirm their opposition to the interference by the Stuart kings in the affairs of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland.

The Stuart kings harboured the belief of the Divine Right of the Monarch. Not only did they believe that God wished them to be the infallible rulers of their kingdom - they also believed that they were the spiritual heads of the Church of Scotland. This latter belief could not be accepted by the Scots. No man, not even a king, could be spiritual head of their church. Only Jesus Christ could be spiritual head of a Christian church.

This was the nub of the entire Covenanting struggle. The Scots were, and would have been, loyal to the Stuart dynasty but for that one sticking point, and from 1638, when the Covenant was signed, until the Glorious Revolution - when Prince William of Orange made a bloodless invasion of Great Britain in 1688 - a great deal of suffering, torture, imprisonment, transportation and executions would ensue.

King Charles I had introduced the Book of Common Prayer to Scotland in 1637 to the fury and resentment of the populace. He declared that opposition to the new liturgy would be treason, and thus came about the Covenant.

 There followed a period of very severe repression. Ministers with Covenanting sympathies were "outed" from their churches by the authorities, and had to leave their parishes. Many continued to preach at "conventicles" in the open air or in barns and houses. This became an offence punishable by death. Citizens who did not attend their local churches (which were now in the charge of Episcopalian "curates") could be heavily fined, and such offenders were regarded as rebels, who could be questioned, even under torture. They could be asked to take various oaths, which not only declared loyalty to the king, but also to accept his as head of the church. Failure to take such an oath could result in summary execution by the muskets of the dragoons, who were scouring the districts looking for rebels.

The persecutions became more frequent and cruel on the Restoration of Charles II in 1660. As time went on more and more ordinary folk became involved, and skirmishes and battles took place against Government troops. In 1678 the Government raised an army of 6,000 Highlanders, who had no love for the Presbyterian lowlanders. This army swept through the west and south of Scotland, looting and plundering. They remained for many years, quartering themselves on the already impoverished Covenanters

Taken from http://www.covenanter.org.uk)

The Battle of Bothwell Bridge.  Sunday 22, June 1679.
  

At the close of the half-hour, or, as some reports say, before it, the royal troops opened fire upon the bridge. They had planted three cannon behind a parapet that had been thrown up during the cessation from fighting, but their firing was too high, and went over the heads of the Covenanters, who, with their one piece, replied so effectively that they killed several of the Royalists and drove them from their guns. David Leslie shouted after them as they fled, "Would they fleg for country fellows?" but still they ran; and the cannon would have been taken had not the barricade on the bridge barred the way for bringing them over.

New troops were brought up and renewed the attack, but still without success--the three hundred bravely defended the bridge.  For three hours they stood unflinchingly. The reinforcements they sent for to Hamilton Moor never arrived; their ammunition ran short, and messengers were despatched for more, when the answer came that there was none to spare, and that they must retire to the main body on the moor. "With sore hearts" they withdrew, for they felt that the bridge was everything, although Hamilton believed it was wasting time to defend it, and that the best course would be to let the enemy form on its south side, and then drive them into the Clyde.

They fell back in good order, and the royal troops at once crossed the bridge and formed upon the moor. When Rathillet and his brave companions retired to the main body he found them, he says, well drawn up, and very hearty, and all ready to march down upon the enemy. For the moment their divisions had ceased, "and every one seemed to encourage the other." Wyck's picture of the battle presents them as drawn up in eleven different squares, with six standards, two detachments of horse, one cannon, and a body of skirmishers in front. All appeared in a measure prepared, as they assured Hackston, for a battle "with hand strokes," when, just as they had begun to advance, a cry got up, which ran from company to company, that their leaders, who seem largely to have been friends of Welch, had disappeared.

To some extent the report was true, for Paton and Cleland were then doing their best to find officers to take their place. But there was no time to reason, for while the cry was running through the army, the horse, under Weir of Greenridge, made a movement of their own from the centre to the front of the left wing. The officer in command ordered them out of the way, but they cried out that they would not, as they had been placed where they had been to be cut off, and then, as if struck with some sudden madness of fear, they wheeled about, 140 horse, dashed through the left wing, broke it in pieces, and carried it away in their flight.

At that moment the cannon of the Royalists began to play, and their line made an advance, but there was no fighting; only 15 men were slain on the field of battle. The panic on the left wing spread to the right, and it speedily fled in like manner, Sir Robert Hamilton among the foremost, "leaving the world to debate," says one who was there, "whether he acted most like a traitor, coward, or fool." The royal troops, that stood in awe so long as there was any opposition, at once advanced when they saw their opponents flee without fighting, and eagerly gave chase, and slew nearly 400 of the fugitives as they fled before them. No quarter seems to have been given, save to 1200 who surrendered in a body and who were later imprisoned in Greyfriars' Churchyard.



From The Martyr Graves of Scotland by J. H. Thomson, 1875. [adapted]

Our Day at Trafalga. Summer 1985. Utah

From the Fortress of Solitude
Pleasant Grove

Hello All,
One summer day in August of 1985, while the family was gathered for Jilane Williamson and Kevin Bodily's wedding, I loaded the cousins and nephews into my old 1972 canary yellow Buick Skylark and took everyone to Trafalga (a diminutive amusement park in Orem, Utah).  It got the kids out from under the adult's feet, giving the moms some time to themselves for gossiping, shopping and what not. It also gave the cousins a chance to spend time with each other. 

Arrival at the park.  Left to Right - Brandon Delgrosso, Joseph Mattson, Jacob Mattson and Forrest Delgrosso.  In the background, my awesome Buick Skylark, the reason for Brandon's excitement.  One would think it was the Amusement Park that prompted their smiles.  No,  It was the chance to ride in the Skylark that made them so happy.  Well, everyone except Forrest.  I think he saw the water slide and bumper boats and knew his life was in danger.  He had a full day to survive one wild brother and two unpredictable cousins. Who wouldn't fret?   

Cousin Gina Mattson right after her first trip down the slide.  Believe it or not, but this simple slide was the first of its kind in Utah Valley.  It was simple but fun.  Gina wasn't one to have her picture taken, so getting her to stop long enough to force a smile was out of the question.   

Cousin Angie Mattson with Camille Mattson (in front) and Gina (behind) coming up for air after her first trip down.  Safety wasn't such a big thing in those days.  I don't recall a life guard guarding the small receiving pool.  Kids came down one after another, sometimes landing right on top of or into the slider who went before.  There could be a real pile up of small humans with bumps and bruises and a sometimes pools of tears.  Ah, the good old days. 

Forrest DelGrosso after his first trip down.   Forrest was having a great day.

Joe Mattson emerging from the slide.

Some of the cousins.  They stopped long enough for a picture (they had run out of slide coupons so they had nothing to lose).  Forrest, Joe, Jake and Brandon. 

Brandon DelGrosso 

Joe on Trafalga's Bumper boats.  They were not easy to steer and never picked up much in the way of speed, leaving the 'bump' of Bumper Boats highly exaggerated. 

Camille wasn't allowed on the water slide, but she did enjoyed the bumper boats.  

Jake has someone on his radar and is maneuvering in for the kill.  Notice the excitement on his face and the protruding tongue.  All trademarks that he smells unsuspecting blood - must have been Camille, trapped in the corner of the pool trying to figure out how to steer. 

Either that, or Jake could have been zeroed in on Forrest (seen above).  Forrest is cornered on two sides, trapped like a caged animal.  He wildly cranked the engine back and forth hoping to get enough momentum to get out of his cousin's way.

 Then there was Brandon with his knee high socks.  He always found some way of embarrassing us :)

Poor Candace Mattson, left at home and as cute as a button.  

Next picture post, A Family Easter Reunion.

Simply,
Victor

Luella's Great Memorial Day Potato Salad. A Simple Story

Luella Adding the Secret Ingredient - 

A Grandmother's Love

From the Fortress of Solitude
Pleasant Grove

The Queen Mother was up before the Sun contemplating her contribution to the Williamson Memorial Day Gathering at my sister's home in Highland this afternoon.  She mentally nodded her way through every step in the creation of her culinary masterpiece, the one dish we all line up for at all important family gatherings. At the "Amen's" sound, elbows start flying and 'not very nice' words are spoken as we all jostle, push and shove our way to the front of the line just to get a few precious spoonfuls of the one and only food the Greek Gods have added to their Olympian menu in the last 3000 years.
Yes, I'm talking about Luella's "Une grande salade de pommes de terre, le cornichon et oignon, assaisonné d'un amour de la mère".


My important contribution to this endeavor started at 7:00 A.M.  I drove to Timp Cave in American Fork Canyon and hiked up the mountain to the cave opening just so I could be mentally and physically prepared for the official 'tasting' which I knew I would be called upon to do later in the day.  After hiking the cave trail, I drove to WalMart to purchase a few other things for the picnic.  I knew Luella would be too focused on the cooking to remember that each family had to bring their own meat for barbecuing.  I wanted to spare her from the tasks any simpleton could do.  My help with the simple tasks would free her to focus all her physical and mental energies on the skilled cookmanship necessary to create a salad so tasty and pure, word has it that it has been added to the short list of recipes scheduled to be included in the National Register of Historic Dishes.


On the way home my cell phone rang.  
"Hello?"
"Victor, where are you?" she questioned.  In her voice I could hear sweat dripping down her wrinkled face and pooling into the seasoned potatoes below.  
"On my way home," I replied.
"Oh."
"What do you need?"
"Oh, I forgot to get a graduation card for Abrea."


I wanted to say "tough luck, I'm not going back," but my conscious got the best of me.  I remembered that my job for the day was to do the simple tasks.  Allowing her to get distracted, even for the slightest of moments, could cause a disaster of nuclear proportions in the mixing and blending of ingredients.

"Don't you worry and hang up right now. I'm all over this!" I said in my teacher's voice.  I closed my flip phone, put on the Battlestar's emergency flashers, sounded my horn and executed a perfect U turn on State Street.  It was a sight to behold.  


Abrea's card was purchased.  All was well.  

The Salad being transferred to a smaller bowl.  Later to be picked up by a Wells Fargo Armored Van and Taken to the Family Gathering

The Grand Lady Herself at the Completion of her Day's Work

Early this afternoon my home phone rang.  Luella was well into the fourth hour of cooking.  I knew I was about to be called upon to perform my one duty - the official tasting of eternal bliss.  I stood up to take the call.  

"Yes," my voice carried the importance of my mission.
"Its ready," she said in a voice as serious as a heart attack.  
"I'm coming."  


I put the phone down, walked into the kitchen, drank a glass of water to clean my palate, walked around the pool table to get my heart rate up and made the trek to Her Majesty's apartment.  She was waiting as I entered.  She held in her hand a crystal bowl etched with roses.  The potato salad glowed yellow and white against the glass.  I looked longingly at the chunks of potato swimming in a sea of mayonnaise, dill, pickle and a variety of onion.  The smell startled my nose, nearly forcing a sneeze.  I took the bowl by both hands, bowed once, took the spoon and partook of something so delightful, there are no words found to describe the taste.  Not even the great Stratford Bard himself could describe the miracle that is Luella's Potato Salad. 


"Be honest, what do I need to add?" she asked.  I thought for a moment while I savored every morsel still left between my teeth and under my tongue.  
"Perhaps...."
"Yes," her eyes widen with anticipation.
"Perhaps..."
"YES????"
"Perhaps a bit more pickle juice."  
"Yes, just what I was thinking."  She took a jar from the counter and bathed the top of the salad with just enough juice to cause it to slightly gurgle.  
"Its ready," she whispered.
"Yes, its ready."  I agreed.
  
She blew out the candles, put away the crucifix and opened the curtains.  She lifted the bowl of salad high over her head and announce her accomplishment. 
"Today we mortals eat like Gods.  Prepare Ye Williamsons for an infusion of light and joy."  She put the bowl back down on the kitchen table and held out her hand.  She was weak and in need of rest.  I helped her to her recliner and fetched a large glass of ice cold water to soothe her parched throat.


It is nearly 3:00 P.M.  It is time for the gathering.  
There is sorrow in our hearts for our family members not with us today.    


Simply,
Victor 


P.S.  One reason why I never watch her make the salad.  Things tend to get messy.


       




         

The Many Moves of the William Jonathan Williamson Family

From the Fortress of Solitude
Pleasant Grove

Hello Williamsons,
The story of the Williamson family begins in England.  Our first Williamson ancestors crossed the Atlantic in the 1600's and settled just outside Jamestown.  From there, our Williamsons moved to the Lynchburg region of central Virginia.  There our GG Grandfather George Matthew Williamson was born.  He married Margaret Ann Willis and moved the family to Payson Illinois (1860 census).  From there the family moved to Salt River, Missouri (1870 census).  The family moved once again, settling in Nodaway, Iowa (1880 census).  Sometime between 1880 and 1890 the Williamson family moved to South Dakota.  The 1890 census could have given us a better understanding of when and where, but the census was destroyed in a fire.

The 1900 census has our GG Grandparents George and Margaret living in Pennington County, South Dakota. The 1900 census also shows our 41 year old Great Grandfather William Jonathan and our Great Grandmother Effie Helen living on the Williamson Homestead in Pennington County, South Dakota.  William and Effie's firstborn, our Great Aunt Vennie, was born on the Williamson farm in South Dakota in 1888.  It was Dakota Territory at the time.  South Dakota wasn't made a state until 1889.

Our cousin Evelyn Skelton (Eppie) sent me two drawings of the old Williamson farm done by our Great Aunt Lillie Ethel.  Eppie is the Grandaughter of Great Aunt Josie.

 This was how the William Jonathan Williamson Homestead as it looked in 1902

The William Jonathan Williamson Homestead as it looked in 1910

Notice the house was enlarge for the growing Williamson family.

I wonder if the small house to the left of the main house may have been the home of

William Jonathan's parents, George and Margaret Williamson

William Jonathan Williamson and Effie Helen Victor had 9 children:  Vennie,  Ima Della, Inez, Lillie Ethel, Josie Elvery, Emmett, Walter, Charles and Morris.  All were born in South Dakota except for Morris. Some were born on the Williamson Homestead.  At least one, my Grandfather Charles, was born in Rapid City.

The Williamson Homestead was located on Townships 1-2N. Ranges 7-9E., Pennington, South Dakota.  The homestead sat between Exit 55 and Exit 59 on Interstate 90, just outside of Rapid City, South Dakota.  Today Rapid Chevrolet  and the Windmill Truck stop sit where the homestead once was.

The marker shows the where the Williamson Homestead was located right along 

Interstate 90.

This marker shows the current location of Rapid Chevrolet, built on the old Williamson

Homestead.  You see I90 to the north

The Williamson homestead was approx 160 acres, according to my father (Charlie Williamson) .  The land was free to homesteaders if you farmed it for five years.

Dad tells a story about the Williamson Homestead.  In 1959 Dad was a young surveyor for the South Dakota Highway Department.  He was surveying I90 just outside of Rapid City.

"I remember one day there was a man who stopped the survey and ran us off his land.  He told us he wasn't about to let the highway go through.  Said it would cut his ranch in two making it impossible for his cattle to get from one side to the other.  The Sheriff had to come out and calm him down.
The man asked me my name.   

"You're a Williamson!" He exclaimed. "My grandfather bought your grandfather's homestead!"

He told me his name was Ray Lang.  He said that the Langs and Williamsons were neighbors. The Langs bought the Williamson ranch when the Williamson gave up farming and moved to Rapid City.
The man told me that one day when he was three years old he was playing and fell into a water cistern.   "Your Great Aunt saved my life," the man said.  "I was drowning and your Aunt Della jumped in and pulled me out.  You can come onto my land anytime and go ahead and put your highway through."

Great Aunt Della's act of heroism made it possible to build Interstate 90 through that section of South Dakota without a lawsuit.

The Williamson abandoned the homestead sometime around 1909.  The red dirt was useless for farming.  They moved to 5th Street, Rapid City where my grandfather Charles was born.  They lived near the Our Lady of Perpetual Help Cathedral.  They once again tried their hand at farming.  Rapid City's Arrowhead Country Club sits today on the Williamson's second South Dakota farm.

Sometime before 1914 the William Jonathan Williamson family left Rapid City and bought a 600 acre farm in Sundance, Wyoming.  The farm was called Sugarloaf, named after the Sugarloaf Mountain with sits to the west of Sundance.  Eventually the Williamson farm was given to Inez and her husband Alfred Mauch.  William Jonathan gave up farming and opened the West Side Grocery Store and Filling Station in Sundance, Wyoming.

Error in this photograph above.  Left to Right, Great Grandfather William Jonathan Williamson, Leroy Lull and my Grandfather, Charles Williamson - not Gerald Blakeman.  Yep that's Grandpa Charlie furtherst to the right.

William Jonathan died in Sundance, Wyoming on December 14, 1934.  He was 76 years old.  Effie Helen died on April 9, 1944 in Spearfish, South Dakota.  She was 77 years old.

Simply,

Victor