Fall of 2018: Gaithersburg Gatherings!

Google-Eyed Gatherings In Gaithersburg

Dahlia and Grandma 

Suzy, Grandma Rita & Bob

Suzy, Grandma Rita and Kyle

Grandma Rita's 2018 Birthday Party

Suzy, John, Grandma Rita, Mary & Bob

July 15, 2018

Looking Back At Grandpa Bob & Grandma Rita's Life On The Internet

What Was Grandpa Bob's "Formal" And "Official"

Persona Like -- In Those Days Before Facebook

And The Internet?
(And a peek at Grandma's too.)

Here's some help from Lori...

 

Photos Of The Larry Neises Family

Larry Neises, Grandma Rita's Brother... And His Large Family

Dad's Day: Grandpa Bob

The early years: Dad at the Gulkana River.
Probably in the 1980's. 

DAD'S DAY ALASKA MEMORIES
GRANDPA & THE GRANDMA RITA BIRD

By Linda

We were planting vegetables yesterday for Dad's day. 

We were outside, and this robin was way up in the top of the spruce trees,

singing away.

Actually -- and this is a little known fact -- many robins are born and raised

in Alaska. So they are "Alaskans." At the end of the summer they go down to

other parts of America. But this is where they come from. 

There are many birds like that -- birds that people think are from where they 

live, but which actually are born in Alaska.

THE GRANDMA RITA BIRD

At any rate, Dad used to love the Alaska robins and how they lived in the tops of the trees and sang away up there. There was also another bird -- don't know what it was -- but its whistle sounded to him like "Grandma Rita! Grandma Rita!"  He used to sing along with it: "Grandma Rita!"  We called it the Grandma Rita Bird.

Thinking of Father's Day, Jeremy was saying that it was really as if Dad was his 

father, too. He remembers the first time he saw Dad and me. We had just moved to Milton Street, and it was the 4th of July. Jeremy arrived on a plane one  evening, and Dad and I went to the airport to pick him up.

Milton Street -- on a rare snowy day.

I remember Jeremy walking across the airport toward Dad and me. And Jeremy remembers it too.  Dad was looking at Jeremy coming toward us, with his arms kind of swinging down, like a gorilla pawing its way across the ground, with the fingers facing backwards. Like he was swimming. And Dad said, "That's how Arnold Palmer walks. His hands don't face his body, but face backwards like that. I didn't know anybody else could walk like that."  Then Dad and I started laughing. I still remember it. And Jeremy still remembers it -- us standing there, laughing. And when he arrived, we told him all about it, and how he clawed his way toward us… And that is how Jeremy and Dad first became such great friends. 

RUDYARD KIPLING

Jeremy was saying that one thing he liked about Dad was they both appreciated things like making fires, being outdoors, and doing all the things we do in Alaska. He was an enthusiastic Alaskan. When Dad was here, he'd whistle and sing, and chat, and recite poetry, and expound on everything. It reminded me of when I was little. My first memory of Dad reading something to me was 

when I was really small -- probably two or three. He read me Rudyard Kipling. I can remember him very slowly, reciting the section about "the great,  grey-green, greasy Limpopo River.' It was a story about  a small elephant in a battle with a crocodile. And Dad loved saying "greasy" didn't he?

Dad would assume comprehension (perhaps) far before it showed up. And he was always correcting my grammar, or explaining word meanings, or whatever.

I never thought this was intrusive or bossy, actually. I just thought, "This is what Dads do." And I still think that. I never worried about jumping in and correcting my own kids -- their use of "it's" and "its" and  so on. Public school can only go so far, can't it? 

DAD IN ALASKA

We had Dad here, speaking French to Michel Flouret and the French people, every summer for years, in August. These friends of ours would come through with over 15 tourists in tow, and they'd all speak French. And Dad would make them soup and bread, like we were a lodge.

We were talking about how Dad treated our house like it was an extension of Boy Scout Camp, or some kind of alternative teaching school for the kids -- and how he would read to them constantly, or they'd hang out and talk, or do things -- all the time, day after day. 

I was thinking -- how much time did Dad actually spend, in our house, cooking and gardening, and picking berries, and taking care of the kids, and teaching them -- and I think it amounted to  over 2 solid years of total contact and activities. Camping, fishing, canoeing, biking, cooking, baking,

reading, singing… Just carrying on.

So, out of the years the kids were in school, Dad was with them for at least 1/6 of that time! In the house. In the bed, wearing his knit stocking cap all night. Making breakfast. Day and night. Non stop. That's pretty neat. Not just "a visit" but total immersion…

Also -- there were all those years of talking with Dad on the phone 2, 3, 4, 6 times a day…

So that was my Dad's Day memories. I know  -- well, we didn't live in Maryland. But, in a crazy way, a lot of the time, Dad wasn't actually "in" Maryland either!

Pretty cool what technology can do. And -- the amount of help he gave us with our work was absolutely invaluable, both in personal contact and in genuine assistance. This wasn't a phony "job" or "distraction." He was actually a full-time employee of our company. Though -- gratefully -- not a paid employee!

Wysong Family Portraits: December, 2016

Baking Cookies All Wrong With Grandma Rita

Memories Of Christmas Past

By Grandma Rita, Christmas 2016

There were 10 of us for Christmas eve here at my apartment.  Lots of good food from Rick and Suzy.  We were glad to have Laura with us.  Also, Suzy brought Kyle.  

They wound up decorating Christmas cookies that Suzy had made a couple of days ago.  

I always remember baking cookies with Johnny Herron and commenting on the fact that his mom made such pretty, fancy ones and I made plain old cookies. 

Johnny was about 3 and he said, "Well, Grandma, can I eat the wrong cookies?" 

Grandma Rita's Memories: Singing In The Choir At Christmas

Grandma & The Good Music Station

December, 2016

I love listening  to the good music station - they are playing a lot of Christmas music. I especially like the renditions of music like the choir music we sang. I loved those l9 years of singing with Dad.  He was the best one in the tenor section.

I remember so well when Johnny Herron was 2 and Jay was standing in the back of the church holding him. 

As we paraded through the church in our gold robes trimmed in red, we went past them.  He was so excited see me and Dad. And when  Patrick was about 2  l/2, he ran  down the aisle when he saw me and Dad standing up in the choir loft about to sing.  He was saying, "I 'm going to get grandma."

Grandpa's Wildflower Analysis: July 4th, 1988 In Gakona, Alaska

Grandpa's View Of The World

From Tundra Rose To Red Elderberries

And Wild Sweetpeas

Grandpa Was "Retired" For Over 30 Years

Grandpa Bob's Retirement Became Official 

In April, 1986
(Click On Documents To Make Them Large)

Grandpa's Fishing Story: They Jumped Into The Boat

The Mighty Mississinewa Near Marion, Indiana.

In July, 1987, the following story was printed in the Copper River Country Journal in Alaska...

When I was a Boy Scout, we used to go down the Mississinewa River. That was our river. We'd go down the Mississinewa in boats, the whole Scout troop, and we'd stop and camp along the way.

We'd go over the places where there were ripples, sort of like a minor whitewater. One year, when we'd go through these, the bass would jump in the air. The boat would scare them, I guess. Every time the boat would go through the ripples a sizable number would land right in the boat.

When we got through, we had enough fish so we each had enough at night. When we got back, we told them, 'The fish jumped in the boats!'

And they all thought we were a bunch of liars.

About The Neises Family

The Neises Family

By Grandma Rita

Daddy was one of the younger members of a large family.  One child had died as a young girl.  I often wondered if maybe that was why Grandma and Grandpa Neises seemed so solemn, that there was deep sorrow or possibly guilt involved. 

I have very few memories of Grandpa Neises.  He died when I was about nine.  He was burning weeds in the yard.  The fire got out of control and he had a heart attack.   When we got the news, Daddy cried.

   I remember Grandma Neises teaching me to write A,B,C.  

This was before I went to school.  Grandma had a little chest, like a small jewelry box, which she kept on a closet shelf and things that had belonged to Matilda, the daughter who had died suddenly at the table.  Since Joan's middle name was Matilda, Joan and I would stand there and look up at the box, and contemplate what marvelous things that box held for Joan.  (I believe she got it one day, but I never found out what it contained).

Grandma Neises died when I was about 14.  Joan and I stayed for the funeral.  They had her coffin in the parlor which was almost always closed off by a sliding wooden door.  All the relatives filed past. She had always worn a long grey or black dress as if she were in perpetual mourning. When she died, her face looked stern and sad, as I had always remembered it.  All the children got a small pile of treasures when the will was read.  We got a silver coffee pot, which I remember only as a dull grey object that sat on the China closet.

Grandpa and Grandma Spader

Official U.S. data, 1920 U.S. Census. Grandma Rita's mother was Margaret Spader.

The Spaders

By Rita Wysong

(Note: from Spader Ancestry Book)

Peter Spaeder (Spader) and Mary Knappe Applegate were my mother's parents.  They were born in Germany.  Peter came to America at age 20, Mary came in 1888.  They were married April 17, 1893 in Plattsmouth, Nebraska.

Mother's parents came directly from Germany. Grandpa was Grandma's second husband.  Her first one had died.  They eventually settled in Howard, South Dakota. The old German ethic of hard work was very strong. They built a great big house, barn and other buildings. I don't know much about their early life or Mother's childhood. I used to ask about the Grandparents but got practically no information from Mother or Dad.  I do know they were hardworking, not given to frivolity.  I never remember hearing them speak In German, even to each other.

The head of the Spader clan was always my grandfather.  My grandmother died when I was about 12,  and I have little recollection of her, though I do think of her as a very quiet and mild person.  I remember her trying to thread a needle and she couldn't.  I was thinking how old she was, though I think she was relatively young when she died.  She just seemed old to me.  I do remember her favorite special dinner, delicious chicken and dumplings. 

At night, when I'd go to bed while staying there, Aunt Helen and Uncle Leo would get a big box of matches and light the little lamps on the way up the steps of a circular stairway (which was attached to the wall).  How I loved that soft bed with soft quilts and pillows (probably goose down).  However, if I had to go at night, I'd have to out to the privy.  Just knowing that would make me have to go.  I would come down the stairs, pitch black, go out to the kitchen, and to the toilet outside, with never a thought for a light. I don't think they had electricity until much later.  I remember the smell of the sulfur from the big matches and hearing Grandpa talk politics downstairs to Leo or visitors, and the strong smell of his pipe.

Once a friend of the family visited with a grown son in a wheelchair. Aunt Evelyn was there and couldn't bear the thought of looking at the boy, (falling over in his wheelchair, not able to say distinguishable words, and with little coordination or control), so she went upstairs and pretended she wasn't home. I was about 12 and was thinking of joining her, but decided I wouldn't.  I stayed downstairs when the lady came in.  She hugged me and kissed me and said how much she loved Mother.  The young man was a pitiful sight to me, but Grandpa  talked to him for hours in the dining room, just as if he were completely normal and insisted that the boy knew exactly what he said.  I really loved my Grandpa for that, and felt good about myself for not running upstairs like Evelyn.

Grandpa Spader lived in the family home in Howard with Leo and Helen.  I would visit for a week every summer.  

I'd ride with the mailman out to the farm.  He'd leave me off at Grandpa's mailbox and I'd walk the mile to the house.  The sunflowers were real high, crowding the corn.  The grasshoppers were thick and it was hot but I didn't care.  Once Leo and some neighbors were threshing as I walked into the yard.  Helen would call me "Hon" and I liked her fresh baked bread, honey and peanut butter that stuck to the roof of your mouth, for snacks between meals.  I'd go out to the fields and ride the horse, with the dog running along, and round up the cows in he evening.  It never occurred to me to be afraid of horses.  I just rode them.  I knew about trotting the horse to the mailbox each day for the mail, but I also would gallop them down the road.

The State of South Dakota.

Aunt Helen would greet me with a big hug.  It was usually so hot, that I would lie on the cold tile floor and listen to the phonograph.  I still remembered the operatic songs, even to adulthood.  I especially remember one called "Ramona".

  Grandpa used to make and bottle his own root beer, and I can still taste it. I remember the sounds of bottles exploding and breaking down in the cellar. 

Root beer is made from a common weed, called Sassafras.

When he came to our house when I was 7,  he wanted early spring dandelions for wine, so we kids picked a lot and got 10 cents a bag for them. 


When Grandpa visited us, he would tell us scary stories about the Black Forest and we were petrified.  

The Black Forest in Germany, far from South Dakota. 

Then, we'd beg him to tell us more. He was such a nice guy. He used to take me to Howard on Saturday, to Rafferty's Drug Store and buy me a double dip ice cream. 

A Model T Ford.

1930's wringer washer
(also called a "mangle"
for obvious reasons.)

Some other memories of Grandpa Spader.  When Minna was 3, she got her finger caught in a washing machine and was severely injured. Grandpa wheeled her in a buggy all the way from his farm to Howard.  It was before he had a car.  

At one time he had a Lincoln which was rarely used and a Model T.  I was going to church and finally got to ride in the Lincoln.  On the way, we saw a tipped over Model T and Helen's hat on the ground.  They had minor injuries. Normally I would have been riding with them.   I also remember a big hole in the wall leading into Grandpa's dining room.  Everyone knew that it happened when Grandpa was cleaning his gun and blew a hole in the wall.

1925 Lincoln

Grandpa would always drive the 40 miles from Howard to Mitchell for Corn Palace week.  It took so long that he would stop halfway and sleep in the car.  He was my favorite.  He even drove down for our graduation from high school.

When Grandpa was dying, I was sent up to Howard to "sit" with him.  I think he was about 75.