Month: July 2023

Those 70ish girls…Try that in a small town

Mary Francis McNinch7 Comments

On with the adventure. We left Amarillo, TX on Saturday morning and headed for our next stop…La Veta, CO. We’re early risers, and I knew we would get there hours before the check-in time of 2:00 pm. When we arrived at 10:30 am, I panicked.

Me: What are we going to do until 2:00? We can take the legendary scenic drive along Highway 12, but we might not find a place to turn this big RV around? La Veta is a small town. There aren’t that many places we can go in this big RV!

Kip: Yeah, try that in a small town. You’re forgetting that we tow a Jeep. We’ll find a place to park the RV, unhook the Jeep, and take the scenic route.

Me: Oh…

Here are a few pics from Saturday.

Hello, healthy eating. Maybe we’ll start tomorrow. Those fries were great!

Sunday…Once again, we woke up early and headed for The Great Sand Dunes National Park. We stopped along the way and let the dogs go for a run.

What a fun day it was! We saw the sand dunes where people climb as high as they can go and then slide down on a board. Like surfing in the sand.

Next, we went to Zapata Falls. Kip hasn’t quite healed enough from back surgery yet, but I climbed the treacherous 1/2 mile, straight up, rocky trail to the falls. I seriously need to start that healthy eating and add regular exercise. I had to stop and rest a few times. I took a lot of selfies to save face. I couldn’t pretend my shoes needed tying and get some rest that way because my tennis shoes are no-tie slip-ons. Here are a few of the more scenic pics of the day.

The boards they use to sand surf
The Zapata Falls experience
Oh well, bad hair day
The trail to the falls got steeper and rockier
You could walk between the crevices and under the falls. I didn’t.

When we got back to LA Veta, it was time for Kip to panic. He couldn’t find the keys to the RV. After 5 minutes of trying to see under the Jeep seats and watching Kip search his pockets at least 4 times, I finally said, “Are you sure you took the keys from the key hanger thing and locked it?”

He assured me he had. I checked, and he hadn’t. Don’t worry, we’ll make it. Sometimes, we need a little help from our dogs.

Those 70ish girls… Our RV adventure.. The Eiffel Tower

Mary Francis McNinch2 Comments

We got up Wednesday morning, walked the dogs, finished getting the RV ready to go, hooked up the Jeep, drove to Love’s in Van, TX, where we got gas, aired up all the tires, and weighed our rig. (You have to be under a certain weight.) All that done and it was only 10:00 am.

We got onto I-20 and drove 27 miles past the exit we wanted to take to get on a more scenic backroad highway. We turned around and drove 27 miles back. All we have is time.

We stopped for a late lunch and made it to the Eiffel Tower and Veteran’s Memorial in Paris,TX by 4:00.

Honoring Texas soldiers who fought in the various wars.

The dogs were great and didn’t seem bothered by the fact that we folded up their house and drove it down the road.

Nellie and Rylie (naptime)
Nellie enjoying the ride

We stopped for the night at a nice little RV park in Whitesboro, TX.

The next morning…

Kip: I really need to lose a few pounds.

Me: Let’s enjoy ourselves for a couple of days, and then we’ll start eating healthy.

RV: Next stop… Germain bakery

Those 70ish Girls- Multiple Honeymoons 1970’s Style – Pt. 2

Valerie Halla

After our cost saving wedding and reception on 24th of July of 1971, we took off that evening on our first honeymoon in our 1964 VW van.

We had just purchased the van for $800, first selling my Mustang which my folks had bought from cousin Bill. My folks- (especially my Mom) – made sure we paid my parents back for every penny with which they had paid for my used 1968 Mustang. The VW had a “lawnmower” engine in it, at least that’s what I called it, which some mechanics had put in for us on the spot, and it needed the valves adjusted every few hundred miles. The top speed for our van was about 50 mph. It wasn’t painted and just had primer on it. We never did paint it. It looked iffy and temporary like a gray box on wheels. You would’ve laughed seeing it. We loved it.

Ken had gotten reservations at a lovely inn up north that we never used. Instead we stopped somewhere in Santa Barbara and slept in the van our first honeymoon night. Next we headed north to Big Sur, first camping at Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park which is an exceptional California jewel of nature. The redwood trees tower over you and the river runs through it, all making you wonder how God and Mother Nature could’ve created such majesty. We were enthralled.

HIGHWAY 1 WINDS ALONG THE PACIFIC OFEAN LEADING TRAVELERS TO BIG SUR AND ALSO ACROSS BIXBY BRIDGE.

We camped at the lovely Pfeiffer State Park then went on up to Lake Shasta north of Redding. We were cooking our own meals on a used gas stove and eating cheaply. A can of chicken noodle soup and crackers tastes pretty decent when you’re on the road traveling. We liked eating simply.

A vivid memory I have of our first and second honeymoon was being in the Slow Lane with all the trucks. I kinda missed my zippy 1968 Mustang but the van offered a free bed, travel and chance at camping in interesting places

During this first idyllic honeymoon, I called home from time to time and mailed picture postcards. My Mom informed me on one call that the school district had been in touch and wanted to know if I would be back when school started as a teacher’s aide. She kept urging me to let them know. She couldn’t do it. I had to come home and contact them in person, filling out paperwork. She wasn’t taking “no” for an answer and I wouldn’t ever say that to my Mom anyway.

So we drove back home at a snail’s pace. I took care of signing up to work next school year as an aide in my parent’s neighborhood school. We spent a couple days regrouping and getting food ready to take on our continued camping trip. Now we would have a partial steady income with the promise of my side job in hand, and with the rest of the summer free, off we went on honeymoon two.

HONEYMOON TWO: ME DRIVING THE VW VAN TO THE GRAND CANYON AND ZION AND BRYCE. AHHH, LIFE IN THE SLOW LANE.

Ken had me close my eyes until he led me up to the rim of the Grand Canyon because I had never seen it before. Honestly, it was eye opening and supremely satisfying to see that natural wonder.

KEN COOKING DINNER ON OUR USED COLEMAN STOVE AT CAMPGROUND IN ZION NATIONAL PARK – JULY 1971.

We kept driving and camping with the goal to visit our friend, DAVE, who had been our best man at our park wedding ceremony. He was in the Marines but had recently been discharged and lived in St Louis, Missouri. He was an all around good player.

KEN GETTING HIS HELMET ON AND DAVE IN ST LOUIS READY TO TAKE A RIDE ON HIS MOTOR CYCLE. OUR 1964 VAN IS IN THE DRIVEWAY AT DAVE’S MOTHER’S HOUSE.

We kept traveling to friend’s and family member’s houses so we could save money and take showers. We also wanted to see them. Iowa, South Dakota and Chicago were on our itinerary. Love leads you on to interesting places and to interesting people.

WITH GREAT AUNT TET IN IOWA WHERE WE SPENT ONE NIGHT. SHE WORKED FOR MANY YEARS AT THE FAMILY GENERAL STORE IN SD AND RETIRED TO A SMALL TOWN IN IOWA WHERE SHE HAD RELATIVES. SHE AND GREAT AUNT MELITHA SERVED US A BIG BREAKFAST THE MORNING WE LEFT. IT WAS DELICIOUS & GREATLY APPRECIATED.

KEN AND GRANDPA SANDERSON FISHING IN THE BLACK HILLS. WE STAYED WITH HIM AT HIS APARTMENT IN SPEARFISH AND OF COURSE WENT TO THE PASSION PLAY AND HIKED UP TO SEE THE THOEN STONE, WHICH IS A LONG STORY.

Next we headed to Murdo. Grandpa went also in his own car. Ken went fishing again with him and was more tired than Grandpa at day’s end.

WE STAYED AT AUNT ELNA AND UNCLE JERRY’S HOUSE. THIS PICTURE WAS TAKEN LATE AT NIGHT IN THEIR DRIVEWAY.

After a few days of rest,we drove on, being refreshed and ready to get on to Chicago where Ken had been born and raised.

This picture shows Aunt Elna reading a letter, Ken and I and cousin Stephanie. I wore one of the 1970 style cheap shorts. You would take an old pair of pants and cut them off, then fold up the bottom part. This was taken the morning we headed out for Chicago.

ONTO CHICAGO.

Ken and I stayed with his grandmother in her old brick house in Chicago. She lived alone. She made fabulous homemade meals for us and let us stay as long as we wanted. We visited some of Ken’s old school chums. They partied a lot. I rode the EL with Ken and broke down crying riding through the slums. Poverty wasn’t anything I had seen before. It saddened me. I recovered. It was a muggy, hot time in the city in summer, but we enjoyed it all.

KEN’S GRANDMOTHER AND I OUT FRONT OF HER HOUSE IN CHICAGO.

We eventually got home and rented a small apartment by our college to finish up classes for teaching. We were back to reality and life, at a faster pace. A young man bought our van promising to pay the full amount later, but he never gave us the full price we had asked. It was sad to see it go. We rented an apartment at $90 a month.

AN OLD VW BUG WITH A TRAVEL RACK ON TOP. THIS BUG IS NOW WORTH QUITE A LOT.

AN OLD VW VAN WITH A STICKER THAT WE NEEDED IN 1971. OUR OLD VAN DID NOT HAVE A BUMPER.

Today, now in my 70’s, I went to a car show downtown and saw those old Volkswagens displayed by VW van and car clubs with their shiny fixed up older models. It took me back to our two honeymoon’s in 1971 and driving our old VW van, being in the slow lane, always in the slow lane….loving every minute.

Those 70ish Girls – Back to the 70’s by Lav

Valerie Halla

This photo is at our small wedding reception in 1971 with my new husband and his brother. Those long sideburns and the long hair were popular then as were The Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd and others. The Vietnam War was still raging and we had lost high school classmates in it. Things seemed unstable in the world but love kept us going.

Being 70ish I have often looked back into the past which is something many aging people do. Yesterday was our 52nd anniversary so I had lots of memories to revisit. Things were different and people seemed to be different, the whole world was different in the 1970’s.

Maybe you were fortunate to have parents or a relative who set aside a chunk of money for you to have a big wedding when the time came, adding a large fancy reception as well. I was not as lucky. Plus my midwestern raised Mom was practical, frugal and did not believe in throwing away money on a simple thing like getting married. My parents did not have much money and I had a couple low paying part time jobs while getting through college. That meant a cheap, cost cutting and efficient wedding. Sounds simple, but it led to a stressful time and a major realization that my fiancé and I had to put our collective foot down eventually. We knew we wanted it to be inexpensive and creative.

We planned for the day to be in July and wanted to go to a park we liked for a ceremony with only family. We got a judge to promise he would do the honors at the park for a small fee. Judge Bach arrived in his shiny new corvette that day in July of 1971. He said some perfect words before the regular “I do” part. He said we were free thinkers and we were getting married in the park because that’s what we wanted and we two were independent, young and original, wanting a uniquely simple place to be married and we were in love. Others in our family wanted us to get married more traditionally but we decided to do it our own way. My Mom said we were too young and did not even have decent jobs. I still needed to do my student teaching, but we both had gotten our college degrees that summer. We persevered. We were getting hitched and the purple wedding invitations had been sent out.

AT THE PARK WITH MARRIAGE LICENSE IN HAND, WE WERE OFF TO THE CONDO CLUBHOUSE FOR THE DO IT YOURSELF RECEPTION.

THE NEW BRIDE AT THE RECEPTION WITH TWO GUITAR PLAYERS WE HIRED TO PLAY AS PEACEFUL BACKGROUND MUSIC.

THE WEDDING CAKE WAS SMALL BUT DELICIOUS FROM A LOCAL BAKERY. I PAID FOR IT AND FROZE THE LEFTOVERS BECAUSE THE SMALL GROUP DIDN’T EAT MUCH.

MY MOM, UNCLE BILL, WHO WAS THE BEST DRESSED GUY THERE AND WRITING US A CHECK AS A GENEROUS GIFT AND MY DAD. I ALWAYS LIKED UNCLE BILL AND HE HAD FUN THAT DAY.

Another thing I had planned with my frugal Mom and cousin and best friend was our cost cutting reception. My cousin and Mom would cook the appetizers and make a punch in our big punch bowl from KMart. My husband’s folks would buy the champagne. They were against the whole idea of getting married in a park and the do it yourself reception. But we didn’t listen. I would pay for the small wedding cake and bouquet and a couple centerpieces. We would hold it at my parent’s clubhouse in their large condo complex. I even bought my own non traditional wedding dress and I made my necklace and lace shawl myself. My cousin and best friend made their own dresses and were quasi-bridesmaids just helping at the reception. We had hired two classical guitar players also which lent a peaceful sweet addition to it all. It was a fun day in the end. My fiancé’s parents weren’t too happy in the beginning, they persisted and had offered to pay for a small chapel, but we declined their offer. Some stress and rough feelings came forth. However, it all worked out. We set down what we wanted as a simple 1971 style wedding and reception.

After some food and cake, I threw the bouquet and Ken threw my blue garter. We had a good time with about 30 friends and family members attending and it didn’t break the bank. My Mom and Dad were happy and Ken and I were happy. We got ready to leave that night for our first honeymoon in our 1964 VW van with its built in handmade bed and we took camping gear we had bought separately. We had gotten money and a few gifts so the gifts stayed at my folks house and the money we used to travel plus we had some savings thanks to Ken saving his good tips and pay as a bellboy at a new hotel near Disneyland. We kissed our job’s goodbye as we kissed our friends and relatives goodbye and took off at a brisk 50 mph in the old VW van for Northern California.

Coming soon : Part 2- Multiple Honeymoons 1970’s Style

Murdo Girl…The church on the hill

Mary Francis McNinch3 Comments

Mary Francis McNinch's avatarThose 70ish Girls

I want to tell my story. The parts I still remember.

Many things have happened from my January through December.

Some hardy pioneers came to homestead out this way.

They built a little town when they decided they would stay.

First came a general store and a place to shoe their horse.

They quickly built a jailhouse… after the saloon, of course.

They homesteaded for years before taking ownership,

And discovered what they needed most, was a special place to worship.

I wasn’t built on Main Street or close to town at all.

I was built upon a hill as was the protocal.

There was wedding after wedding here. I can’t count that high.

Looking forward to their future, a strong knot they hoped to tie.

Some unions were quite joyous, some were crazy from the start.

But who am I to judge what is in the human heart.

I…

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Those 70ish Girls- Lazy Does It by Lav

Valerie Halla1 Comment

Been doing some soul searching, look backs and walks down memory lane lately, which happens when you’re approaching life’s final scene of Act 3. But the play hasn’t brought down the final curtain yet. I realized that I have a few cousins who put me to shame. They can work circles around me as well as earn millions in one day while I am easily living almost as high on the hog as a church mouse, if a hog can even be compared to a mouse in the same sentence. And why would a mouse live in a church? There’s obviously no cheese there.

Regardless, one tends to compare and evaluate one’s successes and shortcomings in life, looking back periodically while at the same time our 70’s envelope us like an old holey, comfy afghan that’s seen better times. Did I accomplish all I set out to do? Did I give life my best shot, never compromising unless necessary and did I work hard for what was important, carrying, caring and uplifting others along the way? The goals I set for myself in high school were to be a vet, then I decided I couldn’t stand animal blood nor do surgery on people’s pets, plus I couldn’t get decent grades in science classes. So I switched to being an English major in college because I loved reading great books, with the goal of teaching school some day and sharing the love of reading. It wouldn’t pay much, but it would make me happy. Can you choose between making money or being happy at what you do? The lucky ones can do both and some of my cousins have been lucky at that: they are happy at what they do plus they have made good dough. I made lots of mistakes in life. I learned from many and turned things around. I concluded that I’m happy with how things have gone.

So I have also decided not to compare myself to my wonderful, talented, hardworking and well off cousins. What’s the point? They might have multiple houses, beautiful big cars, money to burn but they have worked long hours and years for what they have and some have married well. That can help. Some are still working every day even into their 70’s. I couldn’t do that. I am happy for them. Bravo. Good for them. However, I’m done. Retired. Capoot. Yet still the final curtain awaits.

IS THIS THE CHURCH MOUSE YOU ARE LOOKING FOR?

Lest you think that I give up too easily, that’s true. I happen to feel retirement is a form of giving up. That’s what is so beautiful about retirement. I can be lazy and pretend every day is Saturday, yet say when asked, “Me? No, I don’t work anymore outside the home. I’m tired and tired again so I’m retired.” It’s a solid and honest excuse.

Another good thing about being retired, is you can give back and still sorta kinda work by volunteering. It makes me feel good to help in my community. I guess some cousins are doing what they like to do. Aunt Loretta had it right: I wasn’t made to work that hard, was her comment. She knew you had to stop at some point and enjoy life.

And there is always plenty of work and always chores around the house to accomplish. Now I am looking for those crummy old mousetraps we had here somewhere. Got a pesky mouse sharing our food with us. Darn mouse. Guess it moved to our poorhouse from the church.

DID YOU SEE A MOUSE? WHERE?

WE AREN’T SURE WHAT WE ARE.

I’M JUST TIRED. MAYBE TOMORROW I WILL RETIRE.

Those 70ish girls…Come for coffee

Mary Francis McNinch11 Comments

I had the best dream last night. It was one of those dreams that seemed real. When I woke up, I tried to recall every detail because I didn’t want to forget anything that happened.

In my dream, I moved back to my hometown of Murdo, SD. The strange thing is that I didn’t move into my childhood home. I moved into my Aunt Elna’s house. Aunt Elna, Uncle Jerry, and my 3 cousins no longer lived there. It was just me, and I was the age I am now…70ish.

The kitchen was still bright and shiny clean, and all the furnishings were the same as they had been. The piano was in a little alcove in the bedroom, and there were twin beds in the room that had belonged to my cousins, Andrea and Stephanie. Their brother, Greg’s room, was downstairs. I remember that before they put the bedroom and laundry room down there, you could open the door to the pantry in the kitchen and look through a railing into the basement, which to a little kid seemed like a long way down.

After washing Uncle Jerry’s kaki work pants, Aunt Elna put wire stretchers inside of them before hanging them on the line to dry…Brilliant! They had a crease and didn’t have to be ironed.

In my dream, my days were full. Miraculously, I was able to make the homemade cinnamon rolls that Doris Haugland, who owned Mack’s Cafe, used to bake. All kinds of people would stop by and eat rolls, drink coffee, and gossip. There was also a half-eaten Fern’s Cafe gooey chocolate cake sitting on the counter. People kept cutting off little slices of it and eating it on their way out.

My friend, Karen, who still lives next door, stopped by as did my cousin, Mark. Cousin Lav was there, too…mainly for the cinnamon rolls.

All of the ladies who used to meet for coffee at one another’s house or at a local cafe stopped in. They were the same age they were back in the 60’s. Mark, Karen, Lav, and I were all 70ish. Grandma Sanderson wasn’t there. Maybe she didn’t have a ride. Mom or Aunt Elna used to pick her up and take her “to town” for coffee. She only lived down the street, but going “to town” was what she did when they lived at Horse Creek and had to go into Murdo to buy groceries.

My brother, Billy, having coffee uptown with Aunt Elna.

Several ladies who visited me while I lived in Aunt Elna’s house would mention who they had just seen at the Post Office or whose car was parked in front of someone else’s house.

It was all great fun. I didn’t even mind washing the mountains of coffee cups and saucers they left behind. Even though the cups had bright red lipstick on them. Funny, I had never noticed that Aunt Elna didn’t have a dishwasher.

That’s sort of how my dream went. Or maybe it was a fantasy. It sure was fun to live in that house that I still remember so well.

Those 70ish Girls- Lost and Found in Translation- By Lav

Valerie Halla1 Comment

Two year olds have their own language. Just as I was getting some experience and knowledge in understanding what our grandson was saying during our week of babysitting, it was time to come home, a two day drive. The parents seemed to understand him and would translate, but mostly they were at work, so we were on our own.

“Yook, yook! Up dayer, Gimmy!” The two year old gave me those instructions as I searched the pantry shelves looking for blueberry applesauce packets. Luckily he repeated his instructions and helped us a great deal when we asked, “What? I don’t understand.” He was like a broken record and also super patient saying things over and over. If it were me, I’d say it three times then think, “What are you, a big dimwit? I want some applesauce and it’s right in front of your nose! I’m telling you what I want in my best English!” Thankfully our grandson was kind and respectful as we attempted to understand what he said. We sure grew to appreciate him and his language no matter how hard it was to comprehend. He would often say, “It’s tricky.” Boy, we sure agreed with that.

Or he would tell us to Google a song or a sound:

“Googol yiun ! Googol nocerus ! Googol sound fire truck! plite car!” We would comply politely and tell Mr. or Mrs. Google to play the sound a fire truck makes or whatever he asked. Sometimes he would ask, “Googol, blippi train song!”

If you’ve never heard nor seen Blippi, you’re in for a real treat. Especially if you’re around two or three. We saw a lot of his videos and heard a ton of his songs. Or you would love Raffi songs. You’re not up to snuff with two year olds if you’re not up on current songs, celebs and toddler stuff.

A trip to the zoo was an eye opener also and a lot of fun! It was a true bonus seeing the real animals and experiencing how the lil’ guy views them through his eyes and observations. He had a blast as did we.

YION ROARS!

EYAFONTS ARE BIG!

I PREFER BARKING AND IT GETS ME WHAT I WANT USUALLY. JUST KEEP THE MINI-HUMAN AWAY FROM ME, PLEASE.

When he could manipulate a toy truck or some toy train tracks and move the train along, he would say, “I did it!” When we were all working together on a train set or some complicated toy set up, we would all say, “Hey! We did it!” That was a good feeling and saying those words was uplifting. His energy just motivated us to be the best grandparents we could be at 70ish! You know what I mean if you’re a grandparent.

GOOD JOB! WE DID IT! AND IT ONLY TOOK US TWO HOURS TO SET UP!

Napping was a must, not just for him but for us. Thank goodness there were two couches downstairs for Poppa and I to use to take naps. The dogs shared them with us which was a bit tricky, but we did it. Nightie night.

I’M CUDDLING WITH MY FAVORITE TOY. I DON’T TALK TODDLER JABBER. I DON’T TALK AT ALL. MY EYES SAY IT ALL.

Those 70ish Girls- Babysitting Naptime by Lav

Valerie Halla

Tired? Exhausted? Out of energy and zip? Talking in monosyllabic phrases? Raising your tone of voice a bit to a soprano level? Reading books about Curious George and Spot out loud? Getting down on the floor with your creaking knees and aching back flooding you with pains and protests? Sounds just like us; you’re babysitting grandkids. And you’re 70ish.

My husband and I, known here as Poppa and Gimmy, have been babysitting our two year old grandson for a week. We also arrived last week for his two year birthday celebrated with family one day and gobs of presents and food, then the next day with friends and neighbors and a few presents. Luckily there were gallons of coffee at that one and some muffins. We needed gallons of caffeine by then. At his first party, he absolutely loved the balloons and garbage truck decorations. Yes, he’s a garbage truck aficionado. Then he opened one gift which was next to impossible to open since it was securely attached with plastic pins and plastic shrink wrap inside the bank vault style box. Momma had to help open it. Forgot to mention that this was accompanied by his Dada and two preteen half sisters struggling to assemble his lil tykes bike we had given him. Filling out this three-ring- circus in the living room was Poppa taking long videos simultaneously. You shoulda been there…actually you probably would’ve skipped it and kept your sanity.

IT SHOULD BE READY TO RIDE IN ABOUT AN HOUR IF WE CAN FOLLOW THESE TEN PAGES OF INSTRUCTIONS!

After an hour of opening the first and second gift, our two year old wasn’t opening anymore. He was absolutely fine with the toy garbage truck complete with four trash cans and one dumpster that Mama had opened, and he played with it the rest of the day, as happy as a kid at a garbage dump or landfill or recycling center- those being his favorite hangouts.

CAN WE USE DYNAMITE TO GET IT OPEN?

Anyway, at 70ish we learned how wonderful naptime can be when babysitting. We would conk out on the couch while the two year old napped. Even the dogs would have Naptime. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks? Nap when toddler naps. Even new parents should at any age. It’s a valuable lesson for Poppa and Gimmy.

WALKING AND TALKING. Can we nap when we get home?