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Heirloom Reports

Entries submitted by students

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Your First Blog Assignment

After reading previous posts on the Chester classroom website, write your own blog entry about your family heirloom.  Please include your family heirloom if possible.  Make sure the picture has been readied for web publishing.  Your blog entry should be about two to three paragraphs and concentrate not only on the information you learned, but your reaction to what you learned.  Read previous blogs first to understand better what you should do.  Check back every day to see if others have responded to your blog, and if they have, respond to them.  Please read your classmates’ blog postings and choose a minimum of five to comment on.

Monday, October 24, 2005

Shakers

Never knowing my Grandmother and being named after her, I decided to trace through a set of salt and peppers shakers to learn about her past.  She collected shakers from all over the world.  She recieved her very first set of shakers from my Grandfather in 1946 shortly after they were wedded.  Since he worked for the railroad he journeyed all over the world and he always brought her back a set of shakers as sourvenirs.  All of her family and friends contributed to her collection and over the years it grew to over 500.  No two sets look the same or come from the same location.  My mother, Marsha, on every weekend would dust the 500 shakers to be beatifully displayed.  She never considered this a burden because my mother loves to rearrange things and make things shine. 

When my Grandmother died in 1989 my Grandfather still kept the shakers displayed and Marsha would drive five hours from Chester to Deer Lodge to clean the shakers.  After thirteen years my Grandfather died in 2002.  This lead to the cleaning and seperating of my Grandparents’ valuables.  Each Grandchild was allowed to take a set of shakers to remember their Grandparents.  As everything was getting serperated into the auction and valuables were being claimed my mother found two boxes in the garage that had her name on it.  As she peered in eyes into the deep containers she revealed over 200 salt and pepper shakers that she had not seen in years.  These shakers had been handed down to her. 

She now proudly displays these shakers and cleans them every weekend just as she did when she was younger.  These shakers I know will be in our family for a very long time.  They will be past down from generation to generation.  My mother and I have already sat down and talked about how these mean something to our family and that one day my two sisters and I will get the chance to display them too.  I don’t know if I will have as much will-power to dust them every weekend but I will always remember by Grandmother, my mother, and my whole family when we were all together. 

A Gift From My Grandpa

A couple of years ago on Christmas day, I recieved one of the best presents I have ever gotten.  Sitting in the living room with my family and grandparents, I kept thinking of how this christmas was just the same as all the previous with good gifts, but nothing special.  As it turned out, this years years christmas was like none before it thanks to my grandpa.  My grandpa had a Savage 250-3000 which his dad bought for him in 1927 when he was old enough to hunt.  Even though his dad paid only twenty five dollars for the rifle and it probably wouldn’t be worth much these days, I would never sell it.
Throughout the last sixteen years of my life my grandpa has told me every story of his hunting trips what seems like at least ten times apiece.  I used to find the stories boring until I started going hunting with him, and now I love to hear any story he wants to tell me.  Due to his age and physical condition, my grandpa was forced to give up hunting a couple of years ago.  When the next hunting season came around and he decided this, I was overwhelmed by the feeling that I would never get to hunt with my grandpa again.  Even though I don’t go hunting with my grandpa any more, at least I still get to talk to him about all my stories now.  If anybody else ever took a look at this gun, they would see nothing but a beat up old hunting rifle.  But to me this gun represents all the memories of my grandpa and I out hunting that will never be lost, and also the love we have for eachother and our family.

My Grandfather’s Time

My Great Grandfather, Henry B. Kolstad, wore this pocket watch on his wedding day in 1930.  He gave the watch to his daughter, Doris, also known as my Grandma in the later years. The watch will have gone through four generations when it is received by myself.  Henry died before I got a chance to know him so the watch resembles something concrete to remember him by.  The face of FDR is located on the face of the watch. Being worn in 1930 makes it a mystery why is face would be on the watch because he became President in 1932. 

Sunday, October 23, 2005

Grandpa’s Tools

Back in 1980, land prices were at an all time high.  For this reason, and because of his worsening diabetes, my grandfather decided to retire from farming and sell the land north of Hingham that his father had homesteaded.  Among the things that my dad recieved as a result of his father retiring were his extensive set of tools.
This particular set of tools, which is a set of S-K heavy-duty 3/4 inch sockets, was purchased at Sandvig’s in Rudyard in the early 1950s.  Back then, the set sold for approximately sixty dollars and was one of the leading brands of hand tools.  Today, the same exact set from the S-K factory runs about 434 dollars.  For being almost sixty years old, these tools are remarkably well taken care of. The usual signs of wear and tear are present, but all of them still work like a charm; and my family is not easy on tools by any means. 
I know that my granfather was a tough, meticulous old man.  I know that he was a good business man with a keen eye for a good investment; and I also know that he like to have things that stood up to the test of time and durability.  His machinery was always shiny, the cabs were always clean, his cars were always washed, and they rarely ever had a problem.  His tools reflect that quality, and I think that he passed that down to my dad, who intern, passed it on to both my bother and me; we all like to have things that get the job done as well as look good.  If someone asked my opinion, I’d have to say that those tools are one of the best investments my grandpa ever made.

SURVIVAL OF THE FITEST

These heirlooms were passed down to my mom by my great grandfather Charles, two War ration booklets from World War II and the foreign currency money for U.S. soldiers, from both Japan and Australia. Each item shows a time of struggle in my family and a time of need. During this time food and everything else that you could buy in stores was scarce. Everything was being made to be given to our troops fighting in W.W.2. Everything was regulated and controled that every U.S. citzen could buy so much of a certain kind of product.
I learned that my Great Grandfather, being a carpenter, had very many useful skills to help him out during this time. He had built many houses and knew that by using very little supplies and creating as less as waste product as he could he could have a higher profit. This means by recycling everything he could have a higher benfit towards survival of this time. Just by looking at the war ration booklets, I saw that barely any of the stamps were used. This means my great grandfather was very self reliant and my mother, Tifanny, said that he had an amazing graden to live of off just as my grandfather does now. By looking at the Foreign Currency money I learned that being in possesion of this if my grandfather had to escape he had money to spend else were in a neighboring country. By seeing the actions taken place and what my great grandfather did I relised that he used he skills to his need and survived in the best way he could.
These heirlooms mean a lot to my family and myself, not just because they are old an valuable. It is because they show everything my great grandfather has passed on. Looking at them i have relised that alot of the skills my family shares today were taught by him to his son, my grandfather, and then to my mother, and so on. Skills like carpentry, when somthing is broken we never call a repair man we always do it ourself, unless if its somthing complicated like our satlite going dead or electricty problems. Even by knowing how to fix the simplest thing is a benifit to me.  I’d rather know how to do it than not be able to fix it at all and by being able to do the simplest task is the best way to survive in the end.

Model A

Until I was ten years old, my grandpa always took the grandkids out for rides in the Model A.  Our destination was always Killer Mountain, which has now sagged in its old age becoming a harmless hill.  The Model A fascinated, it was unlike any of the cars my parents had.  Windows were rolled down by hand, and there were no seatbelts to trap me to the seat.  The Model A was the most fascinating car ever.
Recent interviews with my Grandpa Allen have made my fascination with the Model A deeper than nuts and bolts.  It was once owned by my Great-great Grandma Daisy, her first and only car she had ever owned.  My Grandpa Allen received it when she passed away, claiming it was given to him because he was her favorite grandchild.  But being the teenager he was, my grandpa sold the Model A for a more contemporaty ride.  Luckily, he realized his mistake and bought back the family car.
I am extremely happy my grandpa bought back the Model A.  Many teenagers today, would have a hard time not getting rid of what seems like an uncool car.  I respect my grandpa so much more than I already do.  If he hadn’t decided to buy bacvk the Model A, all of my memories of it would be gone.  And it is the memories that make the Model A so special to me and my entire family.

Bucking Bronco Belt

As I look at the old, faded and worn belt buckle, new stories told by my father stream into my mind.  This old belt has so much history hidden in its shining greatness because it was bought by my Great Grandfather a long time ago. This family relic was probably bought at a dime store but is treasured and is worth so much more to my family. 

My Great Grandfather passed the bucking bronco belt down to his son, my Grandfather who passed the belt to my dad.  Dad remembers that this belt was practically glued to his fathers waist.  Wherever he was, whatever he did, that belt was always buckled around his pants. 

One memory that my father told my about was the day Grandpa let the chickens out and chased them around after my dad.  Dad said that Grandpa would tell that story to all of his buddies saying jokingly,"The look on that kids face was so dang funny.” But Grandpa never mentioned the look that Grandma gave him.  According to my dad, Grandmas look was even better.  Grandma didn’t quite approve of having her little son being chased around the farm yard by chickens.  Lets just say that Grandpa may have slept with the chickens that night. 

Grandpa’s Uniform

The first day that I saw that uniform I could picture a Saber jet flying through the air amid flak, bullets and rockets.  (The rockets didn’t come until the later part of the war.) My great-great grandfather down to my grandfather all served in the Air Force serving the United States with pride and dignity.  My grandfather, Robert served the Korean War as a crew chief working on Saber jets that flew against the Russian made/Korean flown MiGs.  Robert traveled all over the world but never went over to Korea to the main fighting, but did sign up to go to Iceland to fight and work on the jets. 
I thought that this was really interesting that three generations entered the military and served the United States when the fourth generation, my dads, didn’t go in.  That uniform means a lot to me because I plan on carrying on the tradition of serving in the Armed Forces.

Blanket of Love

Bertha ran three miles cross-country, through fields, brush, coulees, and creeks.  She was running to get help for her son.  Her son, August, lay dead from one swift kick in the head from a horse’s hoof.  This happened the year of 1925.
After Bertha’s husband died in Minnesota at age 37, Grandma Bertha and her three children are assumed to have moved from Minnesota to a homestead in Montana in 1896.  This homestead is where Bertha’s only son died, leaving her two daughters.  Living in a tarpaper shack with a cellar beneath, Bertha raised a robust garden to supply her family with food year-round and was generous enough to supply neighbors with vegetables when they were in need.  Although she would help anyone who required it, she was said to be an ornery widow.  This proved true only in the sense that she was a very assertive woman and men considered that to be an unattractive personality trait in “ladies”, hence it was spurned.  When asked why she did not remarry, she would say that she had no use for a man that would only put his feet up on the stove while she did all the work.  Grandma Bertha also raised milk cows and chickens. 
Through the 1900’s farm and ranch spreads north of Chester were a popular area for raising livestock.  By the late 1980’s and 1990’s most flocks of sheep had been replaced by herds of cattle.  In the times when sheep thrived within the area where Bertha lived, she would walk along the fence lines, gathering wool from barbs on the wire.  She then brought the wool home and washed it.  After washing it, she performed the rigorous task of carding the wool.  She used this wool for batting in large quilts.  Of many quilts that she sewed, one was given to a neighbor soon after he arrived in America.  The quilt was well used and as a result, another local resident, Ina Furlong, recovered it.  The quilt’s owner passed away and many years later this quilt was given to me, Bertha’s great great granddaughter. 
For me, this quilt is much more than just a family tie.  It is an honor to possess a visible piece of my family history that has been passed down for generations.  Through the stories that I have gathered about Bertha, I realize that she was an extremely hard worker and a very tough woman.  I see similarities in her and in my father and some of the same in my siblings, yet the resemblances are fading due to worldly changes in society’s principles and expectations.  For the most part, this bulky re-covered quilt gives me the opportunity to ask questions about my ancestors and learn from their experiences. 

The Practical Guide to Health

My mother recieved this book “The Practical Guide to Health” that used to belong to my great-great-grandmother.  This book was a valuable item in the early 1900’s.  Transportation was a problem and often times required a whole day to go a short distance.  Trips into town were limited to once a month.  When someone got sick or hurt this book was used as a resource on how to treat the individual. 
Remedies in this book seem funny to us today.  I wonder if some of them may have actually worked better than our modern day medicine.  People today are impatient and want an immediate cure.  Often times illnesses have to run a cource.  This book did not provide instance cures.  The purpose was to realive the symptonsl.  I feel this book could still be used today.  Some of the treatments may be helpful when added with our modern day medicine. 

My Farm

This farm, which is my family heirloom, has been in all my memories for almost as far back as I can remember. Not only is it just my home, but it’s also something that’s helped me become who I am. Starting a family back around the late 1920’s, my great grandma Francis had 2 daughters, one being Diane, my grandma and dad’s mom. Francis shared the same liking for this farm like I did from the stories I hear about her, and in the little time that I got to know her when I was younger. It seems as though the more time I spend here the more I learn about the past and how it’s playing its part my future.

23 miles south of town, our farm started out around 1,800 acres, then grew up to 5,000 as my family progressed and became more attached to the land. Now with my dad Mike farming full time here, his dedication and pride he has for our land shows every harvest.  But, as the land gets older and time grows shorter, I hope to spend more of my time here and see what this farm will look like in 50 years whether its better or worse. I will probably always be attached to it and will always consider it my home, as will the rest of my family.

Saturday, October 22, 2005

An Alligator to Remember

As a young child I would go to my great grandmother’s house 100 feet across the garden and help with chores.  Once this task was over I was able to do what I pleased, usually that meant playing with toys, playing cards, or running about outside.  On special days I asked my grandma (I always called her this because I was so close to her) if I could sew of course she allowed me to.  So I would go get the needle, thread, and the unusual gift to my grandma with cloth of puke green and sixty’s style pattern shaped to make an alligator with a bright green mouth and orange eyes.  On this alligator I would sew until my finger were dead to make sure every stitch looked perfect to impress my grandma.  Although the sewing looked terrible my grandmother looked in awe as if it were a masterpiece.  Once an insignificant alligator to my great grandmother it was now a fine place to display her great granddaughter’s sewing skills.

My grandmother had made sure every one of her children and grandchildren, and great grandchildren had received something of hers.  Our family being close to her got to pick and choose what we wanted.  But my grandma had picked out something special for me, the alligator.  My great grandmother had the alligator refinished for me before she passed away.  To this day sewing is one of my most favorite hobbies because it reminds my of the times I shared with my great grandmother.

Grandpa Orville’s Navy Wings

My Gradpa received his aircrew wings after serving three years in the Navy while stationed in the Phillippines during World War II.  Stories of his flying experiences were passed down from generation to generation.  My Dad, Orville’s eighth child, told me of Orville being shot down into the Pacific Ocean where he waited with his pilot for four hours before being rescued.  Orville saved his wings because serving in the Navy was something special to him.  He was proud of his accomplishments and the duty he had fulfilled.  The wings were not actually passed down to a particular child but found by my Dad at their farm house out in the shop.  He chose to keep them because they were something to remember his father by.  It’s also a special memento from WWII, and represents the history of his Dad’s time served in the Navy.  My Dad plans on passing them down to either my brother or myself.  I have formed a new found respect for the grandfather i never knew.  It feels like i know my Dad better by learning a little about his Dad and how they lived their lives.  The wings to me represent an era of hardship.  War is something no one likes to endure and at the young age of seventeen Orville went off to fight for his country.  I would be both happy and proud to receive my Grandpa’s wings now that i know the history behind them.

Friday, October 21, 2005

A Grandmother’s Love

Ever since I was young, I have always noticed the small, blue and pink ceramic honeybees sitting atop our window sill in the kitchen.  Until recently, I never understood their significance except that of collecting dust.  After having a thorough discussion with my mother, Kathy, about what these heirlooms mean to her, I have come to the conclusion that I would be nothing without my family.
When my mom was six years old, she went with her mom (my grandma) to Havre to visit her Grandma Blanche (my great-grandma).  Before stopping at my great-grandma’s house, they made a quick stop at the Atrium to go shopping.  She saw the honeybees and bought them for her grandmother.  After receiving the gift, Grandma Blanche was pleased and greatly appreciated them.  Years passed, and one day while Great-Grandma Blanche was dusting, she accidentally dropped and broke the honeybees.  For a couple years, she searched high and low for exact replicas and finally came across a pair at a garage sale.  It was kept a secret between my great-grandma and my grandma until a couple weeks after Grandma Blanche passed away.  They were going through Grandma Blanche’s belongings and Grandma Fern told my mom the story of how they were fakes.  Now, my mom has said that when she looks at the honeybees that were passed on to her she realizes how much of a caring person her grandmother was.  They had a very close relationship and the honeybees have brought me even closer to my own mother and grandmother.  With a little help from the honeybees, my family is meaning more to me each and everyday.

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