Fellows Family History

Grammy Gibbs’ Cabin Memories

marionpatterson — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 07:33:57 +0000

“By August of that rainy summer of 1961 we were bored, with “nothing to do.” And, we were stuck at Grammy Gibbs’ cabin for the month. Today, by late summer pools, museums, and Game Boys have lost their charm, just as touring Cape Cod villages, dodging raindrops, and making jigsaw puzzles did then. Friends are vacationing with their families, leaving summer chums behind. Same as then.

“A great aunt saved us. She introduced us to Monopoly! Teacher by trade and kid at heart, she knew this board game would banish our boredom. And, it did.

“She coached us in the basics and included all of us no matter our age. Hour after hour our passion for Monopoly grew, literally monopolizing our time. The long periods of relative quiet, and our improved appetites and cooperation with chores naturally made the adults suspicious at first.

“Our aunt had taught us this game with one string attached – that we not let Monopoly interfere with normal schedules or responsibilities. If it did, The Game was gone. She meant it. We broke the contract once. But, after paying sufficient penance we were given a second chance.

“As rain pattered drearily on the roof of the summer house, we gathered to “go another round.” At first, we were all into the game for ourselves. Some won spectacular pots of “money.” Most of us lost soundly. When cousins arrived, adding to the ranks of players, we concocted a scheme – Marathon Monopoly.

“Our goal was simple – to keep the game going for as long as we could. We divided into teams and spelled each other, filled in for each others’ chores, and plotted against the other teams. We collaborated, schemed, and offered bribes. “I’ll clear the table tonight, if you’ll sell me Illinois Avenue.” But we never cheated, for our honor was at stake.

“Peer pressure diffused the occasional flare-ups. And, by our unspoken code, we took breaks and didn’t monopolize dinner conversation with the topic.

“Because we were behaving, the clueless adults were content to let us go our way, which we did gleefully with a 17-day run before other worldly plans interfered – School.

“Our enthusiasm for Monopoly did not go entirely unnoticed. Under the Christmas tree that year was a Monopoly game that I have since inherited. So, a few summers back, I dusted off the quarter-century old board, taught the kids the basics and we established a few rules. Now, each August as the dog-days descend, Dan, Nancy and a bunch of neighborhood pals go to it in the relative coolness of our house. How quickly children learn!

“Monopoly demands cooperation, trust, foresight, reading abilities, money handling, mental mathematical skills, stamina, manual dexterity to weave small tokens around competitors’, and a dash of luck. Similar skills are needed by school children today, and August seems to be just the right time to brush up on these. **

“The best part is that kids have a ball as they eagerly and knowingly engage in these skills. As a time honored tradition continues with a new generation, we are no longer “bored with nothing to do.”

**(Certainly, similar skills are needed by today’s “Twenty-First Century” learners. We refer to these as employability skills, and civic, financial and health literacy all based on competency of the core curricular areas of language arts, science, mathemetics and social studies.)

Yankee Summers

marionpatterson — Tue, 19 May 2009 01:42:00 +0000

Jackie Fellows Hull, daughter ~

“As a child living in New Boston, New Hampshire, in the late 1940s and early 1950s, I remember riding the yellow bus up the steep hill out of town and over a bumpy dirt road to Scobie Pond for our swimming lessons. It was interesting to me to be riding with a menagerie of students many of whom were high school age like the Whipples, Dodges and Barss clans.

“On our way bouncing over the potholed road we sang many different songs some of which we didn’t have a clue what they meant or weren’t a part of our young lives. They harked back to the early 1900s. Songs like “On A Bicycle Built For Two”, “You’re a Grand ‘Ole Flag,” and “Irene Good Night.” My very favorite was “You Are My Sunshine.” Then, to top all that off, the boys would begin a rousing sound of “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” That (beer) was definitely not part of my innocent life at that age.

“Arriving at Scobie, we all piled out of the bus onto a tiny spit of beach for our swimming lessons. Some kids were really excellent swimmers and would go out to the raft for lifesaving training or diving lessons. We, on the other hand, stayed in the shallow water doing dog paddles. Then there were the dreaded bloodsuckers that swirled about your legs. Totally, Ick!

“After all that excitement one-by-one we entered the bus to travel over the potted road back to town. Then, we climbed Meeting House Road to the trail that crossed the field to home. Oh, yeah, no moms waiting for us at Dodge’s Store to drive us home like today.

” I really miss New Boston and our house on Meeting House Road. That has always been home to me.“

Marion Fellows Patterson, daughter ~ New England in the summer. Blackflies herald spring along with “bluettes” or “pissabeds” as Dad called them. This followed quickly by mosquitoes and followed again by horse flies. There were more memories of New England and more charming than these, so share them!

Hi There, Welcome to the Fellows Family Website!

marionpatterson — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 19:02:22 +0000

Hello there! This is the home of the Fellows Family – here you’ll find picutres, stories, and memories from the Fellows Family. This site is currely being built, but you can use the RSS feed to grab updates.

Also, most content will be private – to gain access to the site, please visit the Contact page.

Thanks!

Spring Upon the Land

marionpatterson — Sun, 05 Apr 2009 21:43:00 +0000

Jackie Fellows Hull, daughter.

Spring always seemed to come in rivulets of melting ice inches thick on Meeting House Road where we lived in New Boston, NH. The slanting spring sun’s rays thinned the winter’s snow coat. Now we could no longer walk on top as we would sink to our hips in the soggy snow. Grass spears began poking through to let us know that soon the pasture would be painted in brilliant green.

Lilac nubs began pushing through their winter casings soon to be gorgeous purple, white and maroon. We always picked some for the Memorial Day parade which wended its way to the top of Meeting House Road into the cemetery that stretched further to the crest of the mountain. We would clutch our fragrant prize and scurry across the pasture to the bow way and meet the trudging band and citizens. I can still hear the band’s trumpets and drums echoing from near the Piscataquog River in the center of New Boston. Then the sharp crack of the rifles as salutes were given to the fallen soldiers. Then silence followed by the thrump, thrump, thrump of the drums.

Paula Lelansky Little, niece. Spring is my favorite time of the year. The crocuses and daffodils heralding a new season! Always, when we were young, we helped my Dad get his vegetable garden ready – tomatoes, corn, squash, etc. etc. I remember when I was “responsible” for the radishes – so fun watching them grow and then of course eating them! Now, I’ve gone back to Mother Earth. I’ve gotten my compost and mulch piles going, planting herbs, flowers and bushes, watching all my perennials pop back up that I’ve been planting every year, cleaning out gardens. When I went with Jennifer Merton (Joe Gibb’s daughter) to Aunt Bunny’s (Nancy Gibbs), I dug up some of her garden flowers/plants. Sadly, the rose bush (Grammy Gibbs’) didn’t make it in my garden, but the foxglove and other flowers come up every year and I love having a part of Grammy’s and Aunt Bunny’s gardens! Bosky Acres lives!

Marion Patterson, daughter. Sapsuckers (the picture to the left is of holes drilled by the sapsuckers as they migrate north)…shad bushes…bluets that Dad called “pissabeds”…black flies….

Rich Patterson, son-in-law. “In spring, the chain pickerel get active and are fun to catch. So, while living at Cedar Lake, in Denville, NJ, I’d fish for pickerel and perch. Bass like warmer water and bite in late spring. Saw my first woodchuck of the Iowa 2009 Spring season late last week (March).“

Susan Fellows, daughter.

“The biggest memory I have for Spring was Dad rototilling the garden patch then sending us out amidst the black flies to “pick the rocks” on the newly turned earth. Seemed every year there were more and more rocks. Dad always got the earth ready by Memorial Day and had his green peas planted by then so they would be ready for July 4th when Mum would fix either creamed tuna or salmon gravy over potatoes and peas as a side dish. That I did enjoy. The fresh peas, for that matter everything from the garden was so much better tasting than produce from the store.

“Another Spring project was putting the screening over Mum’s high bush blueberry patch. It was quite the event. One year Craig Lelansky and Aunt Sally, I believe, were up for a week-end. Someone took a picture of Craig watching with his silly grin at the unfolding operation.

“Dad would go fishing at “his” favorite trout streams. He would hike into the woods where he knew there were beaver ponds and creeks which no one else bothered with, in search for “native” rainbow trout. They had a brighter pattern on the sides and pinkish meat inside. Farmed trout weren’t as pretty in color and the meat was a non descript ecru color, not pinkish but more egg shell color. I liked the native trout as the flavor was so much better but I didn’t care for the flavor of farmed trout. It became more difficult every year to find native trout and Dad got kind of sad knowing they were a disappearing creature.

“Back to the garden. Dad planted green peppers and tomatoes which he disliked immensely, but Mum liked them fresh as did we kids. Other plantings included onions, cucumbers, pole beans, bush beans, wax beans, three separate plantings of corn about 2 weeks apart so there would be corn coming in from the end of July ’til late August. Oh, the corn on the cob was so, so good. He also planted sunflowers so he could have seeds for the birds in the winter, pumpkins, yellow, crook-necked squash, butter nut squash, lettuce, radishes, spinach, carrots, parsnips which he left in the ground ’til Spring because over the winter they became very sweet. Sometimes he planted turnips/rutabagas. All the good stuff was eaten as it came into season and Mum canned many items . After we got a freezer she froze many items except tomatoes, wax beans and several other products from the garden.”

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John Fellows, son. Dateline Spring:

“Often with lingering accumulated snowfall slowly melting and frozen ground below Mom, Dad, and I would sit down about now and figure out the coming season’s planting.

“It was assumed and not discussed that the ground would be prepared in advance. The important topic was what and where the expected harvest would be planted.

“Greens. First into the soil would be greens. Chard. Spinach. Beets. And yes, radishes.

“If/when those sprouts broke through, and hard frost was only a possibility, then cultivation began in earnest.

“Peas. It was always a race with Mother Nature. It was always the goal to have fresh pod peas for July 4^th. Too early in the ground and the seeds would freeze or rot. Too late and the pods wouldn’t be full for the 4^th.

“Beans, corn, squash, cukes, melons, and taters. Into the ground their seeds went, tamped, unseen.

“Hours later, not a change. Days. Still nothing. Then a week or so later, cheek to the ground, early in the morning before school or work, an odd crack in the ground could be observed. All day the thought of that crack consumed the mind until returning to the plot that evening it was confirmed: a sprout! And not just that one, but many! And the next day many more! The Garden! It is growing again!”

Syrupin’ Season, Maple Syrup, Indian Creek Nature Center

marionpatterson — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 02:26:00 +0000

~ John Fellows, son. . HARD WORK, POORLY PAID. Sweet results for those that extol the virtues which, with just a tip of a wrist, enjoy the sweat of others’ brows.

~ Heidi Swanburg Luba, granddaughter.
Syrup season – finally!!! I just found out that Pennsylvania produces a large amount of syrup and has a few festivals. Hopefully we can get to one before the season is over.

My memories of syruping season:

I used to help Grandpa collect the maple sap from the old, aluminum buckets suspended from the spigots that had been pounded into the maples trees growing on Sunset Acres in Goffstown, NH. (I never did get to see Grandpa drill the holes in the trees and pound the spigots in.) Then, I would watch and wait not so patiently as the vast amounts of sap were ever-so slowly boiled down into a nearly-clear maple syrup. Watching Grandma scrape the scum off the top always “grossed me out” wickedly.

My mom, Jackie Hull, also had buckets hanging from her maple trees in Amherst, NH. I loved going out and seeing how slowly, or how quickly, the sap ran into those buckets. Of course, I had to try the sap thinking it would taste good, but it didn’t really taste like much.

One day I hope to tap the maple tree on our property in Washington, NH, and teach our daughter, Kirsten, how to make maple syrup and go one step further and make pure maple candy.

~ Marion Fellows Patterson, Daughter.
“Days Lengthen. Sun strengthens. Sap begins to rise. We welcome the first harvest of the season – Maple Syrup. The picture to the left is the front page of the Cedar Rapids Gazette and shows Les Fellows tending an open vat of sap at the first annual Maple Syrup Festival at Indian Creek Nature Center in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. In spite of a cold day, Les stayed all morning and talked with visitors showing them how the sap thickens, and finishing it off long after even the most enthusiastic novice had left. Yvonne greeted visitors inside with plates of pancakes and local syrup from the Center trees.

“The Floods of June 2008 contaminated our supply of syrup and scores of gallons had to be destroyed. At $80 per gallon value, wow! You can do the math.

“But we are ready for a new season and the sugar shack just opened for business. Rich tapped some trees using two old spiles that Les gave him years ago.

“Long live the maple trees!”

***

~ Heather Swanburg Yelle. Granddaughter.
“…and the clock strikes March! Ready, set, go…tap those trees!

“I remember Grandpa going out in his big winter work boots, overalls and big jacket to tap the trees. The ground was often muddy and Grandma made Grandpa come in through the cellar door to undress.

“As long as the weather began its thaw the sap began to flow crystal clear. It was like water. I could never understand how thin and water-like the sap was in light of the fact that if you touched it on the outside of the tree, your clothes got sticky. (What a six year old thinks of.)

“It took forever for the sap to be boiled down on the regular stove at Tibbetts Hill Road in Goffstown, NH. It was like a sauna in the kitchen and the windows fogged up thick with steam. It was especially impressive at night when you couldn’t see out the windows and found that you were staring back at yourself.

“Hours upon hours we waited. Then, it was done. It was a pint of pure liquid gold. Mmmmm! A drizzle on the pancakes the next day and we were happy! Now, every time I go to New Englnad, I get a small jug of syrup and a piece of maple sugar candy. It is a shame that it is so expensive, especially when we grew up on it for free!”

***

~ Jackie Fellows Hull, Daughter.
“Long ago,(1940s and 1950s) in New Boston, New Hampshire, Dad had an old wood burning stove in the backyard that he kept stoked with cut wood from surrounding trees. In the months of February and March when the sap came in, he would boil the sap on that stove in a huge vat. I remember the steam rushing skyward out of the pan. Over several hours, it had evaporated gallons of moisture to leave a sweet residue of maple syrup. Sometimes Dad would pat down new fallen snow into an oblong pan and pour hot sytrup over it. This congealed into a yummy candy almost like sticky caramel or salt water taffy.

“In my adult life, I tapped maple trees at my house on Route 101 in Amherst, New Hampshire. I poured gallons of sap into a huge cooking bucket and created my own maple syrup. The maple sap fragranced every room with a delicately sweet aroma. Lucky for me all the walls were painted and not wall papered! I remember the taste of sap was an illusive sweet maple flavor. I do miss these adventures as a child and as an adult.

“Today, our syrup comes from Canada, althrough we do have a maple syrup industry in the Highlands of Virginia where they have an annual festival March 14 and 15, and 21 and 22, 2009. http://www.highlandcounty.org/maple.htm.

“The cost of syrup is well over $40 a gallon now. Since I buy it by the ounces, I ignore how much it costs and just buy it!”

**Editor’s Note: 2009 prices range from $60 – $90+ per gallon.

***

~ Rich Patterson, son-in-law.
“My first experiment with tapping trees came when I was in my early teens. I bought the book, Stalking the Wild Asparagus, by Euell Gibbons, and tapped a tree or two in New Jersey and boiled the sap on the kitchen stove. I think I produced about a teaspoonful of syrup.”

Editor’s Note: Join us at the Indian Creek Nature Center’s 26th Annual Syrup Festival March 7-8, 2009.

***

Winter Food Fare

marionpatterson — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 21:45:00 +0000

~ Marion (Fellows) Patterson, daughter. As we hunker down in the depths of winter, we remember some of our favorite foods growing up. Some continue to this day to be part of our continuing traditions. A favorite, especially this winter, is Boston Baked Beans, steamed Brown Bread, and hot dogs on Saturday night.

Share what you remember about favorite foods then and now. Have any morphed into a new dish? Treats and sweets. Main dishes. Sides. Share and share alike! Could there be a cookbook in this? Here is a Nancy Patterson favorite – real pizza. Aunt Sue used to make pizza when Chef Boy-a-Dee first came out.

~Heather Swanburg Yelle, granddaughter.

“When I was growing up, there were a couple of winter comfort foods that I remember eating at Grandma’s house…yes, the first is the brown bread and baked beans…and don’t forget the hot dogs too! We had this every Saturday night with Grandma and Grandpa. We then got ready for bed and sat in front of the stove in the living room to keep warm.

“Hot chocolate and popcorn were made using Nestle Quik & milk, and the popcorn was made on the stove the old fashioned way with oil. Yummy! Those were great Saturday evenings with Grandma and Grandpa as we then sat down to watch Lawrence Welk, Bobby Vinton and then, sometimes we were lucky to sneak a peak at Donny and Marie at 9p.m. The good ole’ days.

J “Jackie (Fellows) Hull’s lasagna…

2. Heidi (Swanburg) Luba’s and Dawn (Swanburg) Mahany’s home made pretzels…

3. My own chocolate pancakes from a Nancy Drew cookbook…

4. Devil’s Float, shared from my mom with my sisters and me consisting of a chocolate cakey brownie with a thin chocolate liquid sauce that sank to the bottom and became gooey and yummy!

5. Home made pea soup…

6. Eggs a la King, also known as a la Golden Rod, on top of rice or toast…

7. Home made macaroni and cheese (not the icky box kind)…

8. Jackie (Fellows) Hull’s home made Anadama Bread with home-made Strawberry Jelly from the spring…

9. Tuna Casserole (Peter Hull’s favorite…not!)…

10. Home made Chicken Pot Pie or Chicken and Dumplings.

“Didn’t someone mention making a cookbook? Perhaps the winter foods that are mentioned in the blog could become the start of that. Let me know so I can send the recipes wherever they need to be sent. A second thought, perhaps the recipes could be organized by season.”

~ John Fellows, son. Favorite “Northern” Winter Food:hmmessage P {margin:0px;padding:0px;} body.hmmessage {font-size:10pt;font-family:Verdana;}

“Mary Lynne’s Butternut Squash Soup. Makes four –six satisfying servings.

3-4 C Roasted Butternut Squash meat. To prepare: Rub a two pound squash with any kind of oil or fat. Stab deeply in one or two places. Place on oven-proof pan. Roast at 300F for two hours or until skin browns in a few places and is soft to a fork.

1 ½ C half-and-half or light cream

1 ½ chicken stock. (If using roasted squash, cast off some drippings, use the stock to deglaze the roasting pan)

½ large onion chopped.

2-3 Tbsp minced shallot

2 Tbsp light brown sugar or unprocessed cane sugar

1 tsp sea salt

½ tsp white pepper

¼ – ½ tsp cayenne pepper

¼ – ½ tsp powdered ginger or 1Tbsp fresh grated ginger

½ – 1C cooked brown or white rice.

2-3 Tbsp oil or fat.

Gently scald half-and-half in heavy 2-quart pan. Add chicken stock when scalded. Remove from heat.

Saute onion and shallot in oil/fat in sauté pan. Add sugar, salt, white and red pepper, and ginger when onion is nearly translucent. Stir and sauté for a few more minutes on medium-low heat until onions are translucent. Remove from heat.

In large heavy pot mash roasted squash. Add half-and-half mixture, sautéed onions, and cooked rice.

Thoroughly mix. Pour mixture into blender and puree. Return to large pot and gently heat just to a very slow, tiny-bubble boil. Stir occasionally. Turn off heat. Let sit for as long as you’re able.

Eat with a slice or two of warm or toasted baguette. Brie or blue cheese are also nice accompaniments. For “country-style” do not puree in blender, just mash as much as you would with a potato masher.

Favorite “Southern” Winter Food:

Florida Stone Crab Salad. Serves four for lunch.

Two pounds Stone crab claws. (“Mediums” are the least expensive, “Jumbos” have the most meat per pound.)

2 Haas Avocados. Ripe. Halved. Shell and pit removed.

2 large farm-grown tomatoes. Sliced crosswise in ¼” slices.

2 Scallions. Sliced in ¼ – ½” slices.

4-8 large Romaine leaves.

Dressing:

¼ -½ C Mayonnaise

¼ -½ C Plain Yogurt

1 Tbsp Dijon mustard

½ tsp white pepper

½ tsp cayenne pepper

½ – 1 tsp sea salt

1 large lime. Juiced.

1 large lime. Cut into quarters.

De-bone crab claws into large mixing bowl.

Dressing: Whisk all ingredients in small bowl.

Gently fold dressing into shelled crab.

Lay romaine on 4 plates.

Place one halved avocado inside-up on each plate.

Arrange tomato slices around avocado.

Scoop crab onto each avocado.

Sprinkle each with scallions.

Place a quarter lime on each plate.

Serve with sliced baguette.

~ Susan Fellows, daughter.
As Marion said, homemade baked beans, brown bread with raisins, and frankfurters on a Saturday evening, homemade soup and bread or crackers for lunch after a wintry morning outdoors, grilled cheese sandwiches YUM!, oyster stew with oyster crackers, homemade split pea soup with bits of ham and crackers. I have a fun memory of pea soup! Basically anything Mum made!! Hot pies, doesn’t matter what kind. It was all yummy.

~ Dawn (Swanburg) Mahany, niece.
“My all time favorites were Grandma’s home made donuts and root beer. They have been on my list of things to make for years!”

~ Rich Patterson, son-in-law.
A favorite winter food back in college and today is “A good bean stew with lentils and Gaines wheat and, perhaps, some venison.”

~ Sigrid Reynolds, friend of Marion and Rich.
“So fun — even if I really did not quite grow up Yankee and my mom was a 50′s follower of all things boxed. I can only relate to baked beans and brown bread that we had from a jar and a can. However, there were some wonderful oyster stews made by caterers at my grandma’s Thanksgiving. Is that bizarre or what? Now, I make it myself. Smiles!”

~ Heidi (Swanburg) Luba, niece.

“We had great fun visiting Grandma and Grandpa’s house in the winter. After the Blizzard of ’78, our sleds took us from Grandma’s back door all the way down past the gardens and Christmas trees to the distant stone wall. What a blast! The snow-packed, ice -laden slope made for a ride similar to Space Mountain at Disney World. Of course, this two -minute ride led to a 20-minute trudge back up the hill to that little, cedar-shake Cape where Grandma would be waiting with hot chocolate complete with a thick layer of Durkee’s Marshmallow Fluff! YUM.

“And who could forget, making maple syrup snow cones with the season’s first snow and the previous year’s maple syrup! Thanks Grandpa, for showing me how it’s done. I can’t wait to teach Kirsten when we move back to NH.”

~ Susan Fellows, Daughter. (follow-up to a reference earlier to pea soup)

“One winter when I was about 10 or so, Mum fixed split pea soup for lunch one blustery winter day. I loved oyster crackers for my soup so I put a BUNCH in my soup. Little did I know the soup would expand to about three times the original amount. One rule at our house was if you take some food to eat, or prepare it for yourself you have to eat it. Well, needless to say I had much more than I could eat, but Mum said, “You fixed it, Sue, so you have to eat it.” I sat at the table until about 4 p.m. before I finished the green mush. Believe it or not, I still love split pea soup!”

Winter In New England

marionpatterson — Fri, 09 Jan 2009 00:44:00 +0000

~ John Fellows, son. “As a kid growing up in New Hampshire, winter meant two things: “sledding” and walking my paper route. School was something you did in between. Walking my paper route meant that my two-mile straight-line route (round-trip four-miles) was measured each day in footsteps rather than bicycle pedal revolutions. Fortunately it wasn’t often that the snow drifted above my waist so I seldom had to swim through the snow.

“When the snow was truly deep it meant the “sledding” was also truly good. There was a small hill about a half mile from Carr Court that no one visited during the summer but that could be counted on for attracting a dozen or more kids when snow was on the ground. In those days it was just kids, toboggans, “saucers”, cardboard, and no adults anywhere. If there had been sleet or rain recently on top of the snow then metal-rail sleds, Flexible Flyers, appeared, too.

“If the conditions weren’t good for tobogganing -generally conditions improved the more times the run was packed down by another toboggan group – then we’d entertain ourselves with exploring the swamp below the hill or the rocky woods beyond. This is where, we fantasized, the ghosts of Revolutionary soldiers swirled in the morning mist. We pretty much stayed on this side of the swamp.

“One day we built a really big snowman. The snow was warm and wet and rolled into massive balls that only required additional heave-ho from numerous adolescents to make them bigger. As it turned out we managed to build a snow man with a really huge base and a couple of significantly smaller top sections just yards away from the bottom of the hill and the beginning of the high-speed run-out portion of the downhill run. Looked good to us! “I wonder what that’ll look like when we go screamin’ past it?!”

“A few days later a light, fresh, dry snow had all my buds and me at the top of the hill with our toboggan. The first few runs were OK but not very long. Then the snow got packed and the runs got longer, faster, and more directionally random.

“‘Beebug’, Mac, and I saw that the conditions were perfect for a great run. Being the smallest, I positioned myself compactly in the front. ‘Beebug’ readied himself behind me with his hands on my back. Mac, behind him, hands on his shoulders… and in good 1960 Olympics fashion, they slid the ‘bogan back and forth a few times and then with a hearty GO! pushed hard and they ran as fast as they could before jumping aboard.

“For as long as it lasted it was the best run we’d ever had… being in the front it was presumed that I was going to be able to steer this basically unsteearble collection of wooden slats and human bodies. Being in back offered the opportunity to bail out when things looked like they were going bad. Mac and ‘Beebug’ elected to exercise this option. Freed from their weight the ‘bogan accelerated and veered further from my control.

“I remember seeing the huge base of the snowman filling my field of vision. Then, I remember my friends telling me I should go home because of the gash under my chin. I remember Dr. Bacchus telling me I wouldn’t feel any of the stitches. I remember wanting to tell him he was full of sh… but at age nine and in the presence of my mother I just grimaced.“

~ Susan Fellows, daughter.

“I recall some fun things we used to do as kids in New Boston and more stuff that wasn’t so fun at Tibbetts Hill Rd. in Goffstown.

“As kids in New Boston, NH, one year we had had a good snow storm which turned to ice making Molly Stark Lane, the road in front of our house, perfect for sledding. Jackie and I were probably 10-12 years old,Lucy about six, and Marion probably too little to join us that day. We invited Lucy’s friend, Denny, and my friend, David, to join us. We had four sleds so Jackie and I went on our sleds, Lucy and Denny on his and David on his. We started at the very top of the Lane and zipped down to the almost level part right in front of our house. We were able to keep our run going on down the rest of the Lane to the bottom by Joe Thompson’s Garage. We slowed, then stopped before we would have gone out onto the main road, Rte 13.

“Joe can flying out of his garage calling out to us, “What do you kids think you’re doing? You could have been killed if a car had gone up the Lane.” We replied, “Gee, Mr. Thompson, the hill is so fantastic for sledding because it is so icy. No car could make it up the lane if it tried, that’s how icy it is.” Joe asked us if we were going to sled some more. We all chorused, “You bet! It’s great sledding!”

“We trudged back to the top of the Lane, about a mile it seemed, and began our second run. This time being more cautious because we were a bit concerned about cars coming up the Lane. When we reached the bottom by Thompson’s Garage, we found two sawhorses blocking the Lane with a big sign across the top. “Hill too icy. Please go through town.” Such fun we had that morning. As the day went on, the ice melted to the point we couldn’t do anymore sledding. We all went in the house where Mum had made hot cocoa and cookies for us all. Marion joined us for the treats.

“I can recall Dad getting so upset with the plow drivers who regularly plowed snow Dad had shoveled into the road or onto banks downhill from the house. He was in touch with the town managers re: this problem who promised they would speak to the driver’s. They were instructed to lift their plow blades when passing cleared driveways. Sometimes they did it sometimes not.

“In Goffstown, as an adult, perhaps one of the frustrating jobs was the day we woke to 2-3 feet of snow, blowing, and drifting. Just a mess. I was home for the week-end from my job at Mary Hitchcock Medical Center in Hanover, NH, and was due back that day. I called and told them I was snowbound. Then it was time to attack “the monster.” Dad tried to use the snow blower but the snow was so deep it wouldn’t blow out without some help. John and I had to shovel off at least a foot or more to get the level down to where the snow blower could handle it. Out we went ahead of Dad, John and I Shoveling. Chinky, our dog, supervising from the five foot-plus banks along the driveway from previous storms. We were all so proud we made it to the road after about two hours of shoveling and snow blowing. Turning to head back, to our dismay, we were greeted by a driveway drifted in again with one-to-two feet of snow. Obviously, the wind was blown out of our sails. All three of us were starving. Mum had prepared good hot homemade soup, hot coffee or cocoa, and grilled cheese sandwiches.

“After lunch and a rest to regain our wind, it was back out to attack “the monster”, again. This time it didn’t take as long, although John and I still had to shovel snow to a level that the blower could handle. Dad then re-situated the snow fences as they were partly buried in the snow and were not effective.

“Once Dad could no longer manage to do the snow blowing because the cold wreaked havoc on his emphysema, the job of plowing was delegated to a neighbor who made a path so I could get out for work. When I returned from work I had some more cleaning up to make an “apron” at the front of the garage, blowing paths to the cellar door and the front door for escape routes in case of emergency. This last is what helped me to decide to make my way south to Florida around my 50th birthday. Mum joined me in Florida the first two winters I was there.

“I have been back to New England during the fall of the year for the “color” but as yet have not spent ANY time in the Northeast during the winter, since. One year when I was at Mum and Frank’s house in Washington State they had one little storm after another, amounting to 1 1/2 ft of snow. I knew then I wasn’t missing anything by living in Florida!!!”

~ Marion Patterson, daughter. Winter memories in New Hampshire are varied for me.
* Making snowmen and adorning them with scarves and a hat in New Boston.
* Sitting in the upstairs south bedroom window at Carr Court reading Dr. Zhivago as wind created “snow devils” – spirals of snow whirling upwards – and carved drifts.
* Walking across town to Church when plows hadn’t been out yet.
* Watching “Wide World of Sports” and knowing every male and female skier on the circuit, then venturing out on the tiny slope between our house and the Maples’ Apartment barn to slide down on second-hand skis.
* Trekking across the field and tackling the hill that John describes above. It was something! We loved the thrill of the ride and managed to cut a path into the alder swamp but gingerly hopped from clump to clump so we didn’t sink into the cold, dark water.
* The year before Mom and Dad built the house up on The Hill in Grasmere, Mom dropped me off at the field there and I skied down and trudged up several times. Then, a pack of dogs startled me near a tree. I scrambled up and kept my ski pole at the ready in case they did more than sniff around. I was less interesting to them, so off they trotted.
* One of my more memorable Christmas gifts in high school was “Buleah”, a tall package dressed up and decorated like a tall-doll. Well, they were poles and skis! Wow!
* In college, Kathy Wentworth’s mother, Phyllis, took us to a rope tow in southern NH where we showed off our new found skills from the skiing class we had taken at Plymouth State College (now University). Actually, we spent more time on the seat of our pants than on the skis.
* As physical education majors, we had to take skiing, so each Tuesday, we clomped off with skis perched jauntily on our shoulders and poles in hand. Classmates bound for calculus looked enviously at us. We shrugged like it was a hard ship and reiterated, “This is a required class.”
* When I graduated from college I bought my first cross-country skis that I still have, learned to wax them, and enjoyed many days in Massachusetts and Iowa, and a few in Kansas skiing.
* In February 1987, Dan enjoyed sliding down the mounds that Sue had snow blown near the drive.
* The best pair of gloves I ever had, I just recently bid farewell to. They were thick leather gloves useful for the rope tow, shoveling, and just horsing around in winter. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.

Christmas Memories

marionpatterson — Sun, 04 Jan 2009 01:13:00 +0000

~ Heather (Swanburg) Yelle, niece.

“Every New Year’s Day, Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Sue would have a small New Year’s Day get together. We’d watch the parade and football game while munching on goodies spread out on the kitchen table. Friends and relatives came. It was the last holiday hoorah for us kids before we had to head back to school.”

~Susan Fellows, daughter. “Well, let me think. My favorite Christmas was the year Jackie and I decided there was no Santa. We had a fool-proof way to prove it, or so we thought. First, we would leave cookies and mild for Santa, who didn’t exist, because we knew that every other year we had left coffee and donuts. Dad loved coffee and donuts so we figured if the cookies and mild were still by Dad’s chair the next morning, it would prove Santa was a fraud. Second, we lefet a large handful of hay on the ocuch tied with a bright red ribbon for the reindeer. If that was on the couch in the moring that would seal “Santa’s” fate! Next mornig, everything was gone!! Mom and Dad sure made a great Christmas.

“I used to make a white cake with boiled icing then covered it with coconut for Dad every year after I was “certified” to cook by Mom.
“I was not a doll person but Mom had always wanted me to have a doll. One year in my stocking was a hard plastic doll with moveable arms and legs, dressed in a cowboy outfit she had made.

~Rich Patterson, son-in-law. “Lots of pleasant memories and one not so. Good times in Denville over many years. Especially skating on Cedar Lake. This was always a fun possibility when coming home from Idaho. Also, it was always fun to have Grandpa and Grandma Zieger, sometimes Grandma Patterson, and often Aunt Cook (aka Grace) and Jeannette at the house.

“I remember the first Christmas after Manny and I got married. We were living in part of a big house in Moscow, Idaho, and didn’t have much money. I was working for the school district and knew they’d be disposing of a nice white pine ChristmasTree. They had put it out back of the school and we were going to walk down and retrieve it when we spotted a kid dragging “our” tree home.

“Christmas in Cedar Rapids with the kids young was always fun in our little house at 1511. The kids were always excited and fun to be around.

“My negative Christmas was one I was alone-1972-living in an apartment in Mosocw and learning of the massive bombing of Hanoi. Nixon’s bombing seem so awful and pointless.

Christmas is a fun time. Everyone enjoy it.“

Frugality

marionpatterson — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 02:37:00 +0000

“Use It Up. Wear It Out. Make Do. Do Without.”

Remember this favorite quote from Yvonne and how frugal our folks were? (All the generation of the Gibbs siblings and their partners.) So, share a memory of how they saved.

Paula Little and Dawn Mahany coincidentally spurred this idea. See their entries below.

~ Heather (Swanburg) Yelle, niece.

“The thing that I remember the most is washing dishes with Grandma Fellows, which was a ritual after every meal. Everything was washed, pots and pans, dishes, silverware and……old bread bags (over and over). They were hung by a wooden laundry clothes clip above the sink to dry. Then, Grandma would use them again for food or, in many a winter’s time for us Grand kids, to put into our boots to keep our feet dry. I continued to do that through junior high. Living in snowless South Jersey, my kids have not had the opportunity to wear bread bags in their boots!
If we ever move back to New England, I will be sure to use this trick with them.

~ John Fellows, son.
“Dad’s frugality as it concerned me was earthy.
“*Fishing? “Good catch, John, a bit small so let’s put it back. Maybe it’ll be here even bigger next year.”
“*Gardening? “Wrap your hand around the cob of corn, if you feel the kernels without pressing hard, it’s ready to pick. If not, let’s check it in a few days. Don’t strip down the husk to see what it looks like inside.” Of course I had to yank a few husks now and again just to see what was inside.

“Frugality Dad’s way in 1960. Catch a copper-belly trout in a fresh water stream. Let it go. It’s native. See a cotton-tailed rabbit scamper within gun sight, don’t make the shot. There will be more next year. Shoot the 12-point buck that browses occasionally on your lower land.

“Yup.

“My Dad and I were together when he shot that buck.

“From the day I could understand language I knew my Dad hadn’t bagged a deer since just before the day I was born. It was a badge he wore. “I haven’t brought venison home for Thanksgiving or Christmas since that ‘kid’ (me) was born.”

“Well, that day we tried. Hard.

“Dad hit it. BAM! I knew the sound of Dad’s 20-gauge and I knew he didn’t pull the trigger at shadows. We were together about 50 yards apart in fresh mid-calf snow just beyond the power-lines west of our home on Tibbetts Hill. I also knew to stay put and stay silent until I got a signal from him. He signaled to come to him. As silently as possible, I did.

“I’m guessing my snowshoes cracking the underbrush made much more noise than my mouth wanted to make. In a few seconds I arrived at his side.

“He hit it somewhere that caused steady bleeding. In the late November New Hampshire snow we tracked that noble beast’s blood trail through woods and across fields for over eight hours. It finally scrambled across a large frozen pond neither my Dad nor I was willing to scamper. We could see its unnatural, wound-hampered, missteps in the snow and ice across the pond.

“We rounded the pond as quickly as possible, and in the dimming twilight, realized we’d pushed the wounded buck across not just the pond but across a back-road and up an embankment.

Rushing as quickly as good-sense allowed we followed the edge of the barely frozen pond. As my Dad and I staggered breathlessly up to the road we heard two shots.

“Blat-blam!

“The reports of the gun blasts startled me. I was too tired to perceive any impact they may have had on my Dad.

“The buck lay dead before us, not ten feet up the embankment from where we stood, with two men with 12-gauge shotguns claiming it as theirs between us and it.

“I don’t think my Dad expected me to remember this but he said, “Well, ain’t that a damn kettle of fish.”

“We walked a mile or two down the hill in the descending dark to a payphone, called my Mom, his wife Yvonne. She picked us up, and it was just another day in the life.

“Dad and I were entertained by the article in the next week’s Goffstown News that the buck was the largest taken in New Hampshire that year.

“I think my Dad proved to me that year that he could kill a deer.”

~ Susan Fellows, daughter.

“Mum and Dad were very careful with spending whatever funds came to them via work, at first just Dad working then once we were all in school Mum worked as a secretary. Only items necessary for us, clothing, shoes,food, etc. were purchased and each of us at some point in our young lives wore hand-me-downs except John, the only boy.

The only time I can think of when they splurged, spent more than usual, was for birthdays and Christmas. I remember each Christmas wondering where all the gifts came from. They were usually useful and practical, but always there was at least one toy, sometimes more.

“…the most frugal memory that I can think of is Mum’s habit in later years, starting in the 80s I think,

of wearing clothes until they were worn out. When her socks got worn she darned them until they wear no longer “darnable” then she would cut off the foot, stitch across the bottom and wear the re-sewn tops as her socks. She had a light fleece nightgown that Dad had given her in the 1980s which she wore until you could see through the shoulders and almost the back. I gave her a multicolored shirt, in the early 90s which she still wore regularly until she was no longer able to get around by herself.

“This next memory is perhaps not frugality but necessity. Dad went hunting every year. Up until the year John was born he got a deer, the meat from which we enjoyed as venison steaks, roasts, stew. The year John was born was the last time he got a deer he could claim as his. He also hunted rabbits with his trusty beagles. Over the years he had several, one at a time. I don’t remember them all, but one was Tippy, another Freckles. Dad would bring home rabbits and squirrels which Mum fixed as stews. They were good but I can’t say I really liked them.”

***

~ Paula (Lelansky) Little, niece. “During these times of economic woes and more attention again being paid to environmental issues, I’m reminded about the way Aunt Yvonne would find a use for all kinds of things. As we all know, she had grown up during the Depression. When our family was visiting the Fellows one summer in the late 1960s, I found a butter wrapping (without the butter!) in the refrigerator at her house and asked her why it was there. She told me that she used it to butter pans and cookie sheets. She also used part of the postage stamp booklet pages for documenting pictures in her photo albums! Back then as a kid, I didn’t get it. Now I do!… and before I throw something away, I often wonder what Aunt Yvonne could do with “it”, instead of tossing it — saving $$ and the environment!”

~ Dawn (Swanburg) Mahany, granddaughter.

“I am so very thankful for the moments I shared with Grandma Fellows. She was such a feisty, unique character who always made me smile. I especially loved the thoughtful care packages she sent to all, far and wide. It truly amazed me the effort she put into passing these items along. A package arrived from Washington one day, and as I opened it, the thought occurred to me that this might be one of the last I would ever receive from her. So I stopped and took the time to document all she had sent me. I am so glad I did, because I smile every time I reread the list. Perhaps some of you will smile and/or chuckle as you read the list too, as I’m sure many of you have received similar packages.

Elasticized bundle of scrap papers – all types/colors

2 empty film canisters- to store little things

Shower caps – which turned out to be food storage covers

A piece of deer pelt – from a deer Grandpa shot

Old cat calendar – for the kids to enjoy the pictures

Cloth Kleenex holder (travel size) made of calico material – for purse

Black corner mounts for photos

God bless Grandma and her frugality. We could all use a bit of that in these economic times. I love you Grandma and miss you.”

Christmas Clubs and Holiday Memories

marionpatterson — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 00:53:00 +0000

~ Dan Patterson, grandson.

“One of my favorite memories of Grandma Fellows is also one of my favorite Christmas memories. When I was fairly young, I really wanted a pair of roller blades for Christmas. I remember talking with Grandma on the phone about how cool the skates were, and how one of my favorite baseball players also skated a lot. Gram used that opportunity to talk with me for quite a while about my favorite baseball teams. I remember getting pretty excited about the Yankees and the American League. Gram asked who my favorite players were, who I thought would win the World Series that year, and what I liked about baseball. We spent much more time talking about baseball and why I loved it than about what I wanted for Christmas. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that conversation was a greater present than any toy she could have purchased. When Christmas came I opened the present from Gram, and found a beautiful hooked rug that Gram had made. The rug had all my favorite teams stitched into it, and obviously took her a lot of time, planning, and energy to make. Roller blades would have been used a few times, then forgotten. The rug Grandma made still lays on the floor of my old bedroom in the Patterson house in Iowa. Instead of getting me a toy, Gram really listened and knew what I really loved, what really mattered, and what would make a truly lasting memory.”

***

~ John Fellows, son. “My Dad was a hard Man, just a bit of Indian, and toughened by years of experiences he never wanted me to see. I know he loved me. He told me so once. I’ll never forget one moment in my childhood when the pastor and his wife came to dinner in our home. It was a sublime early-summer night in New England circa 1960. Crystal-clear. Mid-50′s chilly. During the after-dinner conversation, the pastor’s wife inquired of my Father why she seldom saw his shadow grace the entry of her husband’s church. He responded, “My dear, I worship daily, would you like to see my cathedral?” She agreed she would.
God love my Dad. He grabbed my shirt tail and the pastor’s wife’s elbow and led us outside. After a few moments of silence as our eyes adjusted to the darkness, she asked, “So where’s your cathedral?” He simply said, “Look up.” I love my Dad. May He and my Mom enjoy their eternity together.

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***

~ Henry Patterson, Rich’s father. “I believe Christmas Clubs started in the Great Depression and my mom and dad always signed up for them. I remember that Claire and I also were in them when we were first married. Claire has a different memory. One would sign up in November, just about Thanksgiving time and the life of the Christmas Club was until the next Thanksgiving. One could put payments into them for any value that you chose and if you missed a payment it was OK and no penalty was charged. When you signed up you were given a coupon book and the teller would remove one ticket each time a payment was made. If my memory is correct, it seems to me we put in $ 1.00 a week. The money was used for presents for our family and extended family. A little interest was added to this, but I do not remember how much it was. The Christmas Clubs worked so well for people and, I presume, the bank also, that Vacation Clubs started up following the same format but went from June to June. My guess is that a new round is starting in 2008 because of the very poor economy.

The beautiful smells started in my house a few days before Thanksgiving and lasted until a bit after Christmas. My mom and Grandma would make stolen, cakes and breads. They would place the dough in pans and set them on the radiators to raise. Our whole family would celebrate Thanksgiving at our house and we would make a round robin at Christmas. You know my grandmother lived between us and my aunt and uncle, so we had a great time being together.

After marriage we spent the Big Days with Claire’s Mom and Dad who was a great cook and baker. Once we moved into our present home Claire did all of the Big Days and we would have a house full of extended family. Many times the ping pong table was set of in our big living room.”

****

~ Carol Begian, niece. “Mom always had Christmas clubs started for us three kids in the 1960s. When I started my own in the 1970s, I saved about $50.00 and got no interest. Then in the 1980s, I worked at a bank and had several accounts for Danny, my now 31 year old son, and me. Later in 1990, there were no longer booklets and ticket stubs for increment paying. You just deposited into your Credit Union Christmas club account and when October came they automatically transferred the amount saved to the lowest interest bearing savings account!! Now we get interest, but none of the excitement of the the booklets and making visible headway through the stubs and money deposited.”

***

~ Susan Fellows, daughter. “Years after the trees that Dad had planted in the lower field (Tibbetts Hill Road in Grasmere, NH) for selling in the future, they finally were ready to sell. Dad and John loved to rib Mum. One cold Sunday at dinner, John and Dad were talking about the trees, how nicely they had grown, how pretty they were. Then Dad said to John, “Did you see in the newspaper today that Christmas was being banned this year?” John replied, “Yeah, I think I heard that somewhere,” at which point Mum chimed in with, “They can’t ban Christmas. Can They?”

“Mum baking for days before both holidays, homemade bread (rolls), apple pie for Dad, mince meat pie made from the venison Dad had provided that year hunting, pumpkin pie and my favorite and Marion’s, lemon meringue pie. Dad would have some of each except lemon because he disliked most fruits but especially citrus. We kids were delegated to cleaning the silverware, how I hated that job, then on the morning of the big days, we made the relish plates with celery stuffed with cream cheese, dates stuffed the same way, pickles of every description Mum had made from our own garden produce. Then, we arranged a bowl with mixed nuts, in the shell, accompanied by the nutcrackers. Seems we all contributed to each holiday in our own ways, even the little kids (Lucy, Marion and John).

“(This next one is going in my memoirs which I am writing for a class cousin Judith is teaching and is really fun.)

“One Christmas Eve when Jackie and I were 11 and 10 years old, all four of us girls had been shuttled off to bed with hot bricks wrapped in heavy towels to protect us and keep our feet warm. “Goodnights” and “Sleep tights” spoken, we all tried to go to sleep. Jackie’s and my room was over the kitchen, an addition to the house before we bought it, but our room was a step down from the rest of the house. Later in the night, something caused me to stir and awaken. Looking around the room my eyes came to the doorway. There looking back at me were two glowing spots. I whispered to Jackie, “Are you awake?” “Uh, I guess so.” “Do you see what I see in the doorway?” I asked. My answer came as Jackie leaped into bed with me. We pulled the covers and laid there shivering with fright. What was it? The objects were high enough in the doorway that it couldn’t be the ca,t and, Chinky, our dog, was not allowed upstairs.

“In the morning, we told Mum and Dad our story of the night before. They looked at us like we crazy and told us it was probably a dream. We both knew that wasn’t so, it was a GHOST!

“Many years later, at a Thanksgiving dinner when all four of us girls were able to be together, Jackie and I told our story. Lucy and Marion looked at one another and said “Do you mean it happened to you too?” TRUE STORY, I SWEAR! I guess that’s enough remembering for now.”

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