The Gathering Pt. 2 – Airport Anxiety by Valerie Halla

One of the perks from attending these “Reunions” with my cousins and Gus, is that I hear new stories and jokes. The best part is being with Gus, Mary and Bill because they’re a boatload of fun and we deeply love our family, especially our late Grandma and Grandpa Sanderson and Murdo history. Oh, and we laugh a lot when we’re together, big snorting, teary eyed laughs and giggles. The Side Stories that come along with our visits get us off track, however, these stories are tops.

As we get older, it becomes more difficult to travel and navigating around airports is a challenge. After an hour drive through traffic, I got to San Jose airport and checked my bag being told to remove my iPad from my luggage. Everyone knows the battery can leak – except me – but I could carry it onboard the plane. Next I went through security and the alarm kept going off. The nice TSA officer had me take off my earrings, then my necklace, and the beeping continued . His assistant came next to help. They had me remove my Apple Watch, but alarm was still beeping. The gal finally had me remove my big boots which had metal buckles and it worked. I was free! I passed. I got my jewelry and boots back and got my purse, cell and iPad off the belt thingy. Then I was off to find my gate and sit waiting for the cattle call to line up with strangers and wait some more. (There’s a ton of walking involved at airports so I advise going into training shortly before your planned flight.)

The flight was fine as I sat crammed in the middle seat between two ladies and one chatted about books since I sat reading mine. She was entertaining plus an ex- flight attendant so she spoke of her many trips to interesting countries. It helped pass the time. We got to Phoenix and already had lost an hour but I was happy to just deplane without a heavy bag to lug as I waited for others to pull theirs from the overhead compartments trying desperately to not conk anyone on the head.

More walking, fast paced walking. Many folks pass you if you’re not at an Olympic style speed. I retrieved my bag downstairs after waiting by the wrong carousel for ten minutes. I did spot a Starbees right next to the carousel and went there to buy a hot tea and revive my energy. MG texted as she deplaned in another terminal. I also tried texting and calling Bill and Gus as they drove from Ontario, California.

I texted Mary to meet me at Starbees by Carousel 4 in my terminal and that I didn’t want to be the first one to get lost. (I was having airport anxiety, with occasional panic attacks, followed by hot flashes.)

We were on our phones talking when she strolled down the aisle from her terminal into baggage claim. I saw her and we both said, “I see you!” Some people saw us and laughed. I saw her cute red plaid bag at first bouncing along on her shoulder and her darling face and black curly hairdo. The first thing she said was, “I’m scared. I just realized that I am the youngest one of the four of us here!”

I replied, “You’ll have to do most of the work, but it’ll be okay. Come have a cup of tea and something to eat and we will talk. My treat.” So we ordered and sat at a small table and caught up on our last few weeks with MG shedding the stress and work she has done selling a house, moving out in a surprise weekend vs a week, having furniture delivery delayed and just getting in vacation mode again. We laughed a lot and enjoyed our tea and breakfast sandwiches and got ready to meet the guys in about 90 minutes out on the sidewalk at Sky Harbor after a quick trip to the restroom. Our boots looked great and as we know, those boots were made for walking. Thanks, Nancy Sinatra.

MG- *** can you tell your great story about losing your brief case or files and having a guy named CM return them to you? I can’t do justice to it but it fit our situation because we kept looking at cars coming through that tunnel and thinking they were Bill and Gus picking us up!

Years ago, I took a late night flight from Milwaukee to Dallas and didn’t realize until the next morning that I didn’t make it home with my briefcase. I waited until I got to work the next morning before calling the airlines, assuming I had left it on the airplane. While I was trying to get through to the airline, another call came through from a guy who said he was riding the shuttle to the parking lot when he spotted a briefcase laying on the seat. My card was inside, so he decided the best thing to do was to call me and tell me he had it. As a matter of fact, he said he was going to be driving right past my office, and if I would meet him out front in about 10 minutes, he would drop it off to me. I was all kinds of grateful until he said, “My name is Charles Manson.”

I held my hand over the phone and whispered to my coworker, Carol, “Isn’t Charles Manson in prison?” She nodded, yes.

I grabbed Carol by the arm and informed her that she was coming with me to wait for Charles Manson to bring me my briefcase. I pulled $5 from my wallet to give the guy for his trouble.

Soon, a guy drove up, and I waved for him to stop. He rolled his window down, and I shoved the $5 in his face. He seemed offended. I said, “Do you have my briefcase?” He didn’t answer. He just looked at me, so I asked him if he was Charles Manson. He said, “No, lady!” And then he rolled up his window and sped off. I must have looked confused when Charles Manson drove up right behind the other guy and handed me my briefcase. He didn’t want the $5 either. He didn’t seem a bit weird and didn’t have spooky eyes like Charles Manson, the murderer. He probably thought I looked all kinds of weird, though.

By Mary Francis McNinch

Some of my favorite stories told at the Mesa Gathering were about Mack’s Cafe in Murdo, SD.

Karen Haugland Poppe regaled us with her memories of the iconic Cafe located uptown in Murdo, SD. It was on the NE corner across from the Murdo Show House and next to the Gem Hotel. In the years her parents, Nels and Doris Haugland, owned it, Mack’s provided a lot of great food and good times. It was the place all the farmers and ranchers and later highway construction workers came for breakfast and left with ample sack lunches all made with food prepared from scratch by Doris beginning in the very early morning hours of each day. My own memory of the caramel covered or frosted cinnamon rolls Mom would bring the girls who cleaned the rooms at her Chalet Motel make my mouth water. When I mentioned the delicious ham and beans Doris made, my cousin Valerie who had been wolfing down a plate of sweet desserts at the Gathering and was not paying close attention to the conversation piped up and said, “There’s ham and beans!?” Sadly, they were only another mouth-watering memory.

Doris would make hot beef sandwiches with a mound of mashed potatoes covered in rich brown gravy and some of the best meatloaf you could ever eat.

“What’s on the menu besides fly specks and ketchup?” Ben Dykstra, a local rancher, would ask as he sat down in one of the booths.

Karen told us things I didn’t know…like how her mother made sure those who didn’t have a good meal to eat on all the holidays got free food from Mack’s before her own family ate. Doris and Nels had a family of 6 and the 4 kids worked without pay. Karen said one year she complained that she wanted a job that paid. Her mother said, “Then go and get one.” She went to work at the Murdo Coyote Newspaper office. She said, “I went home covered in ink, but I had money in my pocket.”

Doris started her day a few hours before dawn, but the locals like my parents and numerous other couples would crank up the juke box and party after hours on the weekends. I remember Mom saying, “Marge Bork played The Orange Blossom Special a million times.” (One of Mom’s Lorettaisms was, “I’ve told you a million times not to exaggerate.”)

When Mom and Dad were building our new house next to Mowell’s, Grandma Sanderson, who was very hard of hearing called Mom and asked her what she was going to feed the men building the house for noon dinner. Mom said, “I’m sending them to Mack’s Cafe.” Grandma said, “Yes, and coffee.”

We talked about Slim, who worked at Mack’s and helped himself to packs of cigarettes, which he rolled up into the sleeve of his white T shirt. He didn’t much care for my Aunt Elna, and when she asked him to pass a note on to my mother, he told mom it came from the old bag.

Mack’s Cafe was where all the kids were welcome to fill up the booths and nurse a Coke after the movie until closing time. Sometimes, we pooled our money and ordered some delicious French fries. I always ate a Bing Candy Bar with my Coke.

Lots of my friends worked there. Marlene Rada Baker worked all through high school. Josephine Jost worked there, too. I had to work at Mom’s motel, but that’s another story. I remember Linda Kerns and so many others. I was in the Café one day, and Bill Jackson was sipping his coffee and said to the waitress, “This weather is like your leg…I’d like to see it clear up.” The waitress was his wife, Alice. She just filled his cup and moved onto the next customer without even smiling. She took the pencil from behind her ear and wrote down an order. She was a petite lady with red hair done in a perfect candlestick hairdo. Everyone wore a crisp white uniform and an apron.

I have such fond memories of that wonderful place. I’m sure anyone who lived in Murdo from the 1950’s through the 70’s have their own special memories of Mack’s Cafe.

Karen Haugland Poppe did her parents proud. She managed another iconic SD place called Wall Drug for 40 years… no ink.

We went to the “Gathering” in Mesa. A gathering is like a reunion only different. I was trying to explain it to my husband, Kip, on the way home from the airport, but I gave up after this conversation…

Kip: So how many people attended?

Me: Probably around 50.

Kip: Wow! Who all came?

Me: Almost everyone who came retired in Mesa. You’ve never met these people.

Kip: I didn’t know that many of your relatives were still alive and wintered in Arizona.

………….

My cousin Valerie Halla, my brother, Billy Francis, and our patriarch, Gus, and I all traveled to Mesa. Val flew from San Jose, CA, I flew from Dallas, and Bill, (who lives in LA), drove to Ontario, CA, to get Gus, and then drove on to Phoenix and picked Val and me up at the airport.

“The Gathering” is a very important event. Val…will you explain how it evolved from the  Jones County Picnic?

The Gathering Pt. 1

By Val Halla

You’re so right, Cuz. A Reunion is different from a gathering and an After Party is another story. Actually Kip is on the right track…sorta kinda… because many of our relatives have passed away plus friends.  That makes it even more special because even though our friends and family are gone, the Gathering still goes on.

My husband stayed home to work and care for our dog. His friend at work asked where I was and Ken said, “Valerie is at a Jones County Reunion in Arizona.”

“Wasn’t she just at a Jones County Reunion last summer?”

Ken said, “This is different but I am not sure how.”

I’m not really sure either. But it’s different. The one last summer was an All School Reunion. So how it evolved from the Jones County Picnic was I think because Bob Bowers started it and he lived in CA. I remember attending one in Long Beach. The snowbirds who left chilly South Dakota flocked together in CA and eventually found Mesa, AZ a better fit than over priced CA. Birds of a feather flock together so they formed a strong bond and kept the Picnic/Gathering going.  (It’s no longer called a Picnic because we are too old to sit on a blanket on the ground with the ants.)

Mary and I prepared for weeks before going to the Gathering. We were excited and it’s always fun being with Bill and Gus. Mary and I coordinated what we would wear and what accessories we would need. We also discussed makeup, paying close attention to our lipstick color. We had to have our hair done a certain way. We made a trip to Walmart (surprise) to buy a new curling iron and cheesecake to take to the gathering. Mary even took two showers and washed her hair twice. She wore spectacular earrings and a necklace with a crown charm. I wore the same thing I’d worn three years ago adding a different necklace and dangling crystal earrings this time. The boots were a major decision but we both wore them with long flowing skirts and black tops. She added a jeans jacket and I wore my old rust colored suede jacket.  After a few hours, we were ready even though still a bit unsure how we looked. Bill called to see if we were all set to go.

“When will you two gals be ready to go?”

Mary: “We need about five more minutes to do our makeup “

Bill: “That should take at least 20 more minutes.”

CONCLUSION TO PT 1:  Aunt Loretta’s wisdom…”It’s good enough for who it’s for.” That gave us the confidence to go. We looked good. We felt even better. We were ready. Mary drove the four of us to the clubhouse for the Gathering. That is, she drove us AFTER she found the right car. We only had to backtrack once because we forgot the Walmart cheesecake, which was a big hit.

This is Mary (MG) again. I see it taking several blogs to cover the Gathering. We still have dozens of other people’s stories to tell. Hopefully, we won’t have to change our outfits again.

https://www.edsullivan.com/artists/the-beatles/#:~:text=At%208%20o%27clock%20on,live%20performance%20on%20U.S.%20soil.

Where were you 59 years ago today? (Were you even born yet?)

I was at Suzanne and Cynthia Bork’s house in Murdo, SD. I was  12 years old. We were playing Monopoly in the kitchen when we heard the Beatles being introduced on Ed Sullivan’s “Really Big Shooo!”

I thought their hair was ridiculous!

My Name is Not Mud

by Valerie Halla

I often joke around that I got married just to get a cool new name. Val Halla is a great name, just ask a Viking, if you can dig up one.

A lot of people think that there’s not much in a name, but I disagree. If you’re a parent, you might have agonized over choosing a perfect name for your brand new baby. It’s sometimes easy to just choose a family name, or choose a celebrity name, or give the kiddos your own and your spouse’s names. Choosing a name for a tiny baby, which he/she will carry for a lifetime, is an immensely important decision. It’s a big responsibility

Teachimg school for 34 years, I became interested in names. I once had four Michael’s in my third grade class. That was a challenge to call correctly for Michael B. or Michael C. Kids become quite upset if you call them by the wrong name. They seem downright offended. As a teacher, a seating chart was invaluable. I have had a Beyoncé, an Itsy, a Golden, a Harvest, Sky, Violet, and a Tyler and a Taylor.

Today I tested a kindergartener named Tiger. He was polite, sweet and didn’t growl.

And our US Presidents have also had unique names. I loved the name Ulysses Simpson Grant and years ago named a dog Ulysses. Good old U. S. Grant.

A President named Dwight David Eisenhower who was already famous as a WWII General. His mother didn’t want a son whose name could be changed to a nickname, so she chose Dwight. I have often wondered who started calling him Ike. I like Ike.

I could go on about names and even started a bit on middle names, with Dwight David and Ulysses Simpson. I am proud of my middle name chosen by my Mom with a shorter version from her sister’s middle name Jeanette. My middle name is Jean. My Grandma wrote many letters to us over the years and referred to me as V.J. in each letter. I liked that. Names are important. Names are a strong part of us.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something for a while, now,” Kip said.

“That sounds rather ominous,” I said. “Are you not feeling well? Are you sick? Please tell me you’re okay! I need a driver. I can’t drive this rig out on the open highway! Someone could get seriously injured! Think of the dogs.”

“What are you talking about?” Asked Kip.

“What are you talking about?” I volleyed.

Kip would have walked over and sat on the couch if we had one, but because we don’t, he pulled out a chair and sat down on it, while I stood there and became increasingly concerned about where this conversation was going.

“You have to get over your need to put everything we own in a basket,” he proclaimed. “You have begun to put little baskets inside of bigger baskets. You can’t walk by a basket in a store without standing there for what feels to me like an eternity, trying to decide where you can put another basket and what you can put in it! And while we’re on the subject, what is the purpose of using paper plates if you have to put them inside a paper plate holder basket thingy?”

“But they’re all so cute,” I said.

“Babies are cute, baskets are beginning to irritate the heck out of me. I was looking for my wallet the other day and guess where I found it?”

“Well,” (I volleyed, again). “It was either in my handbag or in that cute little ‘container’ I found on sale at Tractor Supply.”

“A basket by any other name is still a basket,” he countered.

“I like baskets because I can pick them up with all of their contents and easily dust under them…I knew I had lost the argument before the words were even out of my mouth.”

Moving On Down the Road

by Baba Wawa

Now that I am in my 60’s plus a few years, and semi-retired, I think back but also forward to all the famous people I have interviewed and will. The most famous networks and newspapers have covered my stories. I have been featured in the La La Land Times, the New Yolk Times, the Washington Poopsy, and the Wall Street Urinal. I have graciously interviewed Kim Carcrashing, Merrilee Sweep, Brad Pitstop and Bom Trady among others. And who can forget the cooking series where I made peanut butter with butter crackers, prepped the frozen turkey for Thanksgiving and made an omelette with condiments atop it all? I bet Yram cannot forget. Or maybe she’s trying.

Days here in Happy Down in the Valley are peaceful, quiet and slow. Some interesting news: FLASH – I heard about Yram’s friends having a hectic time of it lately. Klip and May recently sold their house and moved into what’s called an RV which is kinda like a trailer on wheels. They moved because they didn’t remember to put out their garbage and recycling cans. Their trash piled up and the sanitation department passed them by. It rained a lot where they lived and their names were mud, literally. The pizza boxes, frozen turkey burger wrapping, empty cans, pie tins, and ice cream containers piled up. Did I say empty cans? They became frantic and rented a Uhaul to store and carry all their stuff, but I am suspicious. I think their trash is in the Uhaul. They could be hiding a lot of junk in there. Why are they pulling up stakes and driving on down the road to a Turkey RV Park? Plus, their RV (which stands for “rent a vacation”) hasn’t got those comfy captains leather plush chairs. No, they use lawn chairs and kitchen chairs and rocking chairs while driving, but at least they buckle up. It seems they are leaving town in a big hurry. Are they crazy? Can their situation get any better or worse?

Actually, Klip and May do have a great idea living in their RV and the dogs love it. They don’t have any more yard work, nor as much maintenance and the housework is minimal. They can pick up and leave whenever they get that wanderlust feeling, not to mention mooching…uh…visiting the relatives and old friends. I know Klip will find the best diners where they can eat biscuits and gravy, hash browns, eggs fit for a king, and bear claws and pastries galore. Did I mention pastries? Their bills will diminish for sure because living in an RV is much cheaper. It’s like being on a perpetual vacation. Can you imagine not having any utility bills? Even though the gas will be expensive, they can just stay a few months in one park until their nearby dumpster gets full, then move their home on wheels. However, the best part is that the garbage collector won’t miss them and they won’t miss him! What a life.

Maybe RV stands for Rich and Valuable. I will keep you posted. Baba signing off from my mini and very small mansion here in Happy Down in the Valley.

We are officially homeless. We closed on the sale of our house yesterday. When we finally got back to the RV, Kip said, “We can never go back there, again!” He said it like it’s a bad thing.

We are free! Free to travel unencumbered by yards, mortgages, garbage pick-up days…a major stressor. “We forgot to put out the garbage! Now it will sit there for another week!”

We have made a few tentative plans, but we can’t go anywhere until our new RV furniture gets here in mid-February or early March. In the meantime, we had to tie down a kitchen chair to drive to the RV park.

As always, our sweet pups seem to thrive in spite of all the chaos. It’s all they have ever known.

I will post pics when we get completely settled into our new full-time home, that being the RV we bought last year. I think we will be happy travelers for a few years before we contemplate the next stop on this our journey of life.

Ben Wheeler pop. 1000, is a cute little place with a great downtown square. The Forge is a great place to eat and there is a delightful little wine tasting/boutique that I plan to check out as soon as this bad weather leaves us. It’s been down into the 20’s with freezing rain.

Yup! We’re going to be just fine…as soon as we can find a place for all the stuff in the Uhaul…

By Lav Yeckel

I can’t sleep.

I can’t eat (much).

I can’t concentrate. I’m too excited about attending another reunion in a few weeks. My cousins and uncle and I are meeting again to party with some more South Dakota folks in Arizona. This gathering has morphed from an older Jones County Picnic. It’s a reunion of snowbirds and visitors who hail from a couple counties in our home state. We like to get together and talk over old times, compare memories, gossip, take pictures, tell jokes, remember folks we have lost, and eat. We don’t always know everyone there, but it’s fun to meet new people. We ask ourselves why we’re going. You might ask us why we’re going. My California friends ask me why I’m going. The answer is that we hold a bond, a special connection with these people who grew up in or near our small town of Murdo. These folks might be a bit younger or older than my cousins, Uncle, and me, but they knew our family. They might remember our Grandparent’s store or when Uncle Jeff ran the store. They might remember Uncle Bill’s Plumbing business or Uncle Jerry’s construction company or the motels my family owned. They might’ve known my dear Mom or Dad. Who knows?

My cousins and Uncle usually remember a lot more folks at the reunion than I do since I didn’t live in Murdo very long. That’s why I like going, because they make me feel better and make me feel like I’m part of something bigger.They fill in the blank parts of my life growing up partly in Murdo. They include me and can connect me to some awfully kind, friendly South Dakotans. They’re part of my history.

We four just met in Rapid City this past July for a school reunion in Murdo where we met MG’s fans and drank rhubarb shakes and had a bbq and dance, and attended Bill’s special 60 year alumni dinner, but we’re ready for another reunion no matter what kind it is. You might call us Reunion Groupies or Sanderson Groupies. Maybe we like to go to these things because we’re getting older and when you’re our age, it’s heartwarming to look back at all the good times, to know others remember you and your relatives. You fit in with their lives. They might even recall dumb things you did when you were young, and they still can laugh about it, even if you can’t. The stories abound, true or not.

So we will let you know about the Arizona Reunion and what it’s like, and share pictures and selfies. It will be a lot of fun. By the way, if you know of any other reunions coming up this spring or summer, can you let me know? Maybe you can get us an invitation or just pass the word along that we’re fun people…Reunion people. Thanks.

2022 at the Rhubarb Drive In, MG, me, Sherri Miller, and Dianna Diehm

I was so excited to be off on my long-awaited trip to see my son, Mason and his beautiful family. It’s a 1 & 1/2 hr flight from Dallas to Denver, a 1 & 1/2 hr, layover, and another 1& 1/2 hr flight to Gillette, where they live.

The flight didn’t exactly go as planned. We boarded the plane in Denver and then after taxiing down the runway, the plane suddenly stopped. The pilot said the GPS wasn’t working. I was in a hurry. Why couldn’t they just fly low and follow Interstate 25…easy, peasy.

GPS was not working well for United Airlines that day. I was slightly nervous when they told us that, but not as nervous as the guy sitting next to me. He flies several times a month, and he had never heard of an airplane’s GPS going down. Those words just don’t sound right in the context of an airplane ride, do they? I secretly wondered if they could use maps on their Iphone, but then I realized we all have to shut our phones off. I think it’s so they don’t mess with the airplane’s GPS.

We taxied back, deplaned, and walked to another gate to wait for a different plane to be readied. We were delayed (you guessed it, 1 1/2 hrs.). My son was trying to watch his son, Ethan, a freshman at Campbell County High School, play basketball. My delayed flight didn’t fit into my plan, either. Ethan scored 13 points, and the score was 13 to 13 at the end of the first quarter. Mason and I both missed it. Timing is everything. We made it to the gym for the 2nd half of the first game and all of the 2nd game. Eth plays for his freshman team and the JV1 and JV teams, but he can only play 6 quarters a day. The right team won all 3 games.

Anyway, I made it to my destination, and I had the absolute best time. Mason’s wife, Amy, is a wonderful person. She is a nurse and manages 3 offices for a group of orthopedic doctors, She and Mason have two great kids, Mason Jr. is 20 and is taking classes at Gillette College in anticipation of returning to UW next fall. He also does trim work for his dad. Ethan is 15. Amy’s mom, Linda, divides her time between Gillette and Florida. She has a place on Keyhole Lake, near Gillette, where she spends the spring and summers and then stays with Amy and Mason, when she closes the house down in the fall. She goes to Florida after New Years to spend time with her sister. I love hanging out with Linda, and we each even have our own mother-in-law’s quarters.

While I was there, I made my special chicken enchiladas, which, for some reason, didn’t taste very good. I redeemed myself with homemade banana pudding. Mason Jr. got an airfryer and mastered the art of cooking salmon. It was delicious. Everything Linda cooked was amazing. Let’s just say I ate my way through Wyoming and came back 5 lbs heavier. Ask me if I care. Well, I do now, but it was fun while it lasted.

Last Wednesday, I went to Buffalo with Mason where the company he works for is building 10 houses and they have lots ready to go for another 18. Buffalo, Wyoming is booming. Mason manages the project and is boucou busy. They don’t sell the houses until they’re finished so he gets to pick out all of the countertops, cabinets, paint, and floor coverings. I got to go with him to buy all of the light fixtures for 2 houses.

I have so much to tell you about regarding the sale of our house, but I will save that interesting story for another day. Hint: I had to trace 3 people down to get a deed signed that should have been signed 23 years ago. Do you think that was easy? The couple, who are 84 and 85, never deeded it to their son, or at least the deed was never recorded. He sold the lot to someone else, who sold it to us. I was wracked with nerves. I would love to tell you that Kip handled it worse than I did, but I would be lying. The son finally came through for us. Sheesh!!! Now, we are waiting for the appraisal. Stay tuned.

Amy is sending more family pics. Most of them are on her phone.