Forgotten Grandma Photos

I don't think I posted this after the trip from Denver to Sidney, as Pooteewheet pilfered some of them for Facebook, and that can trick my brain into thinking I already said something about them.  But better late than never, particularly as my father can find them online and share them with her.

While we were getting grandma settled into the trailer, Eryn set up her sculpture garden for her.


The squirrel in the front is new.  When we were at the grocery store, Eryn picked out a new addition.  She had several choices, but felt the squirrel was best.  Grandma was exceedingly happy to get a new animal that Eryn picked out herself.


A different view.


Eryn also got a new sweatshirt.  I was worried that it was white.  And too big.  But she's always growing, so the size wasn't as big of an issue.  It looks really nice on her and she looks just like an official Sidney Eagle.


Grandma (Great Grandma) and Eryn right before Grandma drove us to Williston in the rain storm that later turned into several inches of snow.  I believe there's an 88 year difference between the two of them.  Pretty neat to have a great grandma who's still moving and can hang with you at that age.

Vacation, Day 4: Sidney, Montana

It may take me two months to blog about all the days of vacation. It's a good thing I don't go on vacation very often. Our fourth day was a relaxing day in Sidney. I got up early and biked from town to the old farm, about 22 miles or so. I remembered Montana being really flat when I was younger. Biking the countryside quickly dispelled that myth. There were very few flat parts. My sister had warned me, as she'd driven out there the day before, but I'd have gone even knowing how hilly it was.

My biggest problem biking wasn't the hills, but the flat tire I got about 18 miles into the ride. Rather than stop and change the semi-knobby on my mountain bike in what was rapidly becoming some serious heat, I biked it in, slowly losing more and more air until it felt like I was riding on mushy sponges and the bike wobbled back and forth as the tires compressed. But I made it and found some shade and my rims were none the worse, so it was the right move.

Pooteewheet and Eryn joined me at the farm (I was only doing a one-way trip, so we could swim at the Sidney pool during the afternoon) to check out where I'd spent many of my summers when I was younger, farming, picking rock, and generally screwing around.

For instance, this hay baler. I used to stand on the lower edge, put my hands on the upper edge and rock back and forth and back and forth, gaining momentum, until like a fly wheel it would start to spin.

At which point I'd drop into the barrel and spin around like I was in a dryer. Most of the time I just came out a bit bruised, but there are a few gun holes in the side, and sometimes you'd catch a pantsleg and rip it, or an arm and rip some flesh and get a good bleed going. It's amazing what's more fun than picking rock or flying a kite (I liked to fly kite, until I ran full tilt into a tree and momentarily knocked myself out, after which I didn't like it nearly as much).

Eryn didn't ride with me, but rode her bike around the farm. Here she is with the old house in the background. My grandparents didn't live in it when I was there. They always had the trailer home. But I used to play in the house. It was musty and full of mice, but surprisingly cool because of the trees, and quiet, so it was a great place to play board games.

The grain silo. I'd go up that ladder and sit on top of the silo for hours. I think grandma decided it was dangerous, so she added the "NO". The name on the cement is from my cousin Thomas. He probably had to have someone help him spell it at that age.

The old outhouse. It had electricity! I did use it once or twice in my dim memory.

The inside of the old house. This is where I used to play. Looked nicer then. Had a floor. The ceiling was starting to fall apart even then. I still have dreams about this place.

One of the old trucks grandpa used to haul grain. I can't remember which ones worked when I was younger, but I've been in some of them. One of them only ever held a big gas tank to fuel the farm machinery. Pooteewheet took a very nice picture here.

Afterwards, we went down the road a few hundred feet to the old dirt road that goes back to the oil well. I used to look for agates and petrified wood there when I was a kid (Eryn was just looking at some of my finds last night, as my favorites are in my dice box, including one that looks like it has the red spot of Jupiter in it), so we went to canvas the road. It's easier after it rains and things are shiny, but we found quite a few agates and a lot of petrified wood, including some larger pieces. It all went in the car so it could spend the next week and half criss crossing the country. I was a little worried that one of the national parks would think we'd pilfered it from within park borders, but then it's not like they dig around in your car unless you look like a fugitive couple on the way to Canada.

Vacation, Day 3: Sidney, Montana

Day 3 was Grandma's 95th birthday. Easy to remember as we were out there for her 90th five years ago. We celebrated at the same place, the Elk's Lodge, where my grandpa was a member. I don't know if Dad was a member (of the Elk's). I know he was a DeMolay boy. I know because Grandma always say, "Johnny was s DeMolay boy." I don't know what his rank/level/office was, but if you're a member, doesn't that imply you're an organist?

Pictures of grandma over the years. There's a nice interview with her from 1995 here. Holy crap, that was 15 years ago. Grandma was only 80 then!

The grandkids. Zoom in so you can see my brother's face (in the orange shirt). Looks like he's being goosed. I bet it's Thomas' fault (in the maroon). Completing the back is my cousin Gary. Front is my sister, Grandma (if it weren't obvious), James, and Kristy.

The whole fam damily, including spouses and great grand children.

Ronnie, who used to live with us when I was younger. He does computer consulting in Sidney. I suspect he doesn't have much competition.

My family with Grandma.

Mom and Grandma. Pooteewheet was disturbed that I had relatives at this event who were cousins who were married to each other (not pictured here). Not second cousins. First cousins. During our trip, the fugitives from Arizona were on the loose, and they were first cousins who were dating. It was disturbing to Pooteewheet that a.) it wasn't just criminals, and b.) my relatives had compounded it by having a child (with developmental problems). I pointed out that we only attend these things every five years and we don't really deal with all of my relatives in the interim. For good reason sometimes.

Eryn and my mom playing catch the dragon.

Grandpa John wants to get in on the action.

Ollie and Artie, my nephews.

The great grandkids with grandma.

Eryn playing cards with my brother, Andrew. I can tell you what Eryn is thinking. "YOU'RE A CHEATER! YOU'RE A FUCKING CHEATER! YOU POS, YOU'RE DEALING YOURSELF THE SAME DAMN CARD OVER AND OVER OFF THE TOP OF THE DECK JUST SO YOU CAN FINISH UP BECAUSE YOU'RE AFRAID YOUR NIECE WILL WIN. I HOPE YOU DIE. I WANT TO HELP YOU DIE. THIS IS WAR, AND IN WAR THE UNJUST SHOULD NEVER PREVAIL. I CAN CUT YOU WITH THIS CARD. I CAN KILL YOU WITH IT. YOU'LL BLEED OUT HERE ON THE FLOOR OF THE LOYAL ORDER OF THE ELKS, MIXING YOUR BLOOD WITH THAT OF YOUR CHEATING ANCESTORS. DIE DIE DIE CHEATING UNCLE SCUM!!!"

The kids with grandma. My Aunt Joanne is missing as she died of cancer many years ago, but they look like a happy group.

Eryn's comforter that Grandma made her with the ballerinas on it. Ellen wanted us to show it to Grandma, but I don't know if she ever got to see it. We'll send her a picture just to be sure.

Vacation, Day 2: North Dakota to Montana

Grandma's 95th birthday wasn't until August 8, so we spent our first night not so far away in Belfield, North Dakota. I was feeling pretty ramped up in the morning, the start of a two week vacation and all, so I got up bright and early, just after sunrise, and headed out of the hotel on my bike to take the interstate to Medora. You heard that right, the interstate. I biked on I-94 between Belfield and Medora. My brother had told me this was the only road, although a subsequent inspection of Google maps tells me otherwise. I did do some web research first to see if I could pedal the interstate, and the answer was an absolute yes, although the information was incredibly sparse. I have this suspicion that very few people are willing to admit you can ride on the interstate because they think it's so stupid. For those of you who doubt, I refer you to the Federal Highway Administration, which doesn't tell you which states allow riding on the highway, but does assure you that if there isn't a big sign that says "no bicycles" (e.g. Minnesota), you're pretty much safe...perhaps allowed is a better word...to ride the big tar.

Despite everyone telling you you're pretty much a meat waffle (c'mon...name the movie!), it's not that bad. Wide shoulders, and if you go just after sun up, with the sun behind you so the drivers aren't blinded, you can be fairly assured a.) they've sobered up since 2 or 3 a.m., b.) they can see you because the sun isn't in their eyes, c.) they have to go really out of their way to cross over six feet of shoulder, and d.) you can hear them coming and get out of the way because in ND there's only about one car every 5-10 minutes at that time of the morning. It was absolutely gorgeous, fairly quiet, and a cool 65-70 in the sun-is-only-now-coming-up liminal. (flickr album).

I did slightly slower than the speed limit. Not because 75 is really fast for a bike, but because I was checking out the prairie dog town on the way into Medora.

I stopped at the first rest stop. Most of the people there had horses. I had an iron horse. Or a steel horse. Ooooo....it's all the same. Only the scenery changes. Every day. It seems like we're wasting away. Another place, where the roads they are so cold. I'd pedal all night, just to get back hom. On a steel horse I ride. I'm wanted. Dead or alive. Dead....or...alive! That's for Julie.

The wide version. Pretty cool if you click through. I like the bend I got in the panorama.

Proof I was at Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Home of buffalo, snakes, and bicyclists!

I was going to go over here, and then it started crying.

I didn't see any wildlife. I'm glad. I hear they're bike thieves.

The wide angle without the bicycle, in case you're a bigot.

The womenfolk followed in my steps, three hours later. Eryn bought the dragon she's holding, "Puff", at the hotel in Belfield. She's still sleeping with it, despite grandma Ellen and Grandpa John giving her $100 to spend on vacation as she pleased, which was split evenly between stuffed animals and little golden guides (spiders, stars, minerals and more). We got an agreement earlier on that we could get rid of almost as many animals as she purchased during the trip.

A great picture of Eryn in North Dakota, home of dragons.

When I got to Medora, I ate breakfast at the Cowboy Cafe. Delicious. The smell of bacon and hashbrowns wafted into the street. There was a line by the time I ate and space was limited, so I offered to share my table with the three women in line behind me so I wasn't taking up space for four by myself. One of them was from the Twin Cities, but had brothers running the sheet metal shop in Sidney, Montana, which was where I was headed. We talked vacations, oil wells, housing booms, housing busts, and had a pretty good time sitting together.

Pooteewheet and Eryn were still quite a ways off after breakfast, so I decided I'd go look at the Maah Daah Hey mountain bike trail that was supposed to be in the neighborhood. It was outside of town and there was a sign, so I took off. Until that point, I'd ridden mostly long but manageable hills, but the road to the trail was up, up, up, up. Near the top I met a woman coming from the other direction who said, "Hey, the sign up to here said 8% and you made it! I hope you have another gear, because it's 9% from this direction!" Ugh. I headed down the hill anyway and took the dirt road to the Maah Daah Hey. As I was pulling up to the trail sign, I did a rolling dismount, only to have a rattlesnake slither under my tire, then under my foot, and into the weeds. Got my adrenalin going.

I looked at the sign, and it assured me I was an idiot for not watching out for snakes. Despite knowing a rattler was in the grass somewhere, I rolled down the trail to check it out. Some serious sand. I was tired after only half a mile. It would be cool to use Dakota Cyclery to do the trail ride where they drop off your food and water in lock boxes for overnight stays 2 or 3 times. If you had comfortable riding boots that came up to your ankles. Or could change a flat with a rattler embedded in it. Seriously...I'm tempted. I think I'd remember it the rest of my life. If you're a mountain biker and have an interest, let me know and maybe we can plan something a year or two out. I biked back up the 9% hill to town, my bike squeaking in an ominous way. I'll get to that in a later post. It started here.

We headed toward Sidney, with only a brief stop in Glendive to look for petrified wood and check out Glendisaurus, the triceratops who lives in Glendive, Montana (where I have/had relatives).

Here eyes burnt out quite a while ago, but otherwise she's holding up well. The park is a pleasant place to stop, although it felt like 100 in the sun.

Eryn and I inappropriately touching her. Isn't the cloaca somewhere near here?