I Just Rediscovered My Blog!

 I Just Rediscovered My Blog! I was wondering where I "put" it! All of a sudden I remembered what I named it and there it was!

Not that I have anything to write at this time, but it is great that it's there and I can write something!

Stay tuned . . . who knows, I might think of something, soon!

The Hurricane, Harvey

I'm sitting here at my computer working on my quilt guild's web page and I am so distracted by the news.

I keep thinking of those that are in Houston and the surrounding areas. Thousands of people have lost EVERYTHING! Their homes, their jobs, their memories and some their lives.

We take our lives for granted. We go to work, come home, make dinner, watch a little TV and go to bed, just to wake up and do it all over again. We pretty much don't think about it.

But, what would you do if you woke up in the middle of the night with your bed swimming? What do you do first? So many things must go through your head. Where are the kids? What do we do? Hopefully, you have had some warning, but even with that what do you prepare ahead of time?

If you're lucky, you can drive out to higher ground. You've thought to pack the car ahead of time with the supplies you will need for the few days you will be out of your house.

But those in the path of Hurricane Harvey . . . no matter what they planned, it probably wasn't enough. You might be one that drove to higher ground, only to find out it wasn't high enough. You packed what you thought you would need, but your house is now totally under water and you have lost EVERYTHING! You have what little you brought with you and that is all. It must be devastating. I can't even imagine it.

You may be without documents that prove who you are. The deed to your house, your prescriptions, your kid's immunization records, these are the few things that first come to my mind.

The other things you have lost only come to you a bit at a time as you reach for the book you were reading, the sewing you were doing, the photo album, the home movies, and all those things that make your life, YOUR LIFE.

I know they are probably thinking they should be grateful to get out with their lives . . . but human nature being what it is, our stuff matters to us. It's not the be all to end all, but it is who we are.

At the moment we are helping to save us, our families and any other person that we can. But the water recedes and we are faced with the aftermath, no job, no insurance on the property and no place to live.

I am disheartened to hear on the news of landlords attempting to evict people from the homes that survived! They greedily believe that they can rent these dwellings for astronomical prices because they are still standing and there will be a great need for housing. Not just for residents, but for all the workers that come in to help clean and rebuild. Shame on them. Hopefully, those that have received these eviction notices will not go quietly but turn to the many agencies that are there to help.

The federal government will step in with "help" as always, but there are so many scammers out there both on the receiving end and the giving end of "help," I don't blame them for being confused and untrusting.

Here in California, I can only watch and worry about them. Donate some money and pray that, in the end, this will turn out better than other disasters. But deep in my heart I know that is wishful thinking.

"Disillusioned" a RANT

I didn’t think I could be any more disillusioned by our lawmakers. But somehow "they" always manage to surprise me. The Postmaster General has been lobbying to get rid of Saturday delivery for more than a year now. He thinks it will put the Postal Service on the right track with their budget. (I don’t, but that is for another rant.)

Today I get this in my e-mail, "On Friday, House Majority Leader Eric Cantor (R-VA) released a plan to temporarily finance the Highway Trust Fund by using the elimination of six-day mail delivery as a "pay for"—Washington-speak for "budget offset."

Where exactly do "they" think the money will come from? The USPS Postmaster General says it needs the funds to run the Postal Service. The government doesn’t pay anything toward to USPS budget so there are no funds there. The Postal Service doesn’t pay any taxes. The people that mail the letters and packages and use other postal services pay for what they use.

Or is it just as I suspected all along . . . "they" want to use the Postal Service as their "piggy bank." There is all the money "they" made the Postal Service pay to fund the retirees health benefits for the next 75 years in ten years time. It’s a big pot of money just sitting out there not doing anything, so to speak. I guess "they" have already forgotten that the Postal Service is already "off-budget" so "they" can balance the budget.

How many pots-of-money do "they" think the Postal Service has anyway? I’ll tell you, one, and every bit of it is needed to keep the United States Postal Service a viable institution.

Our Congress has voted down, every time, money to fund the Highway Trust Fund. How do "they" think the Highway Trust Fund will do what needs to be done? This business of being revenue neutral or whatever they call this need to offset everything is a bunch of hogwash. Which Congressperson will be the first to say, my state can do without [fill in the blank with their favorite "pork barrel" idea] so the Highway Trust Fund can obtain the funds necessary to keep going. Just as I thought. NONE of them.

Please let your Congressperson know you think this is a stupid idea. The next thing you know "they" will be eliminating another day of mail delivery to fund the next thing and then the next.

Let’s keep six days of delivery and let Congress find the money elsewhere.

End of RANT. (For now.)

Our Wedding, November 16, 1979



Pat Kemp (Kritlow), my maid
 of honor and me.

My friend, Pat Kritlow, reminded me today about my crazy wedding. Gordon and I were married 34 years ago today, November 16, 1979.

We were both letter carriers in Corona del Mar, CA and I loved the little church on my route. Although neither of us is religious, we thought it would be a nice place since I delivered their mail.

Keep in mind he was 41 and I was 29 and both of us had been married before. I already had a daughter, Jennifer, 10, from a previous marriage. We had no plans for other children.



Herbert Wilson, best man and Gordon's step father, his mother, Eileen Wilson
on the left. My mother, Alice Hansen and my step father, Ed Hansen on the right.

The pastor started off with telling us about marriage, the sanctity, commitment, etc. and then he started in on children. We had to take classes and understand what marriage and raising children were all about. Wait, didn’t he remember what we had said?

Jennifer Lippincott and Mary Kemp.

When the "interview" was over, and we were out of earshot we both started laughing. We were NOT getting married there!

We didn’t want to get married at "city hall" so after checking around I found a minister with a Chapel we could get married in. I thought it was a good sign his name was the Reverend Wright. I had Wright’s in my family. It was a nice office building with a courtyard and the "Chapel" was a separate room with a wallpaper arbor and an arched trellis and lots of chairs in rows. With close family invited there were about 15 people there.

Upon arriving we checked in with the secretary. The Rev. Wright was finishing up with another wedding and they went out the backdoor. He led us into a small room next to the "Chapel" to sign the papers and pay him. It was $50 cash only. Twenty-five dollars went into one pocket and $25 into the other. It seems $25 got reported as income and the rest . . .  And for only $5 more we could get a picture and for another $5 we could get a recording. We declined.


Gordon's brother, John Wilson and Gordon. Definitely the long
and the short of it, hair wise. One of myfavorite pictures.

So we all filed into the "Chapel" and proceeded with the ceremony. It started off as the usual wedding ceremony but pretty soon the phone started ringing in the office and kept ringing. He pounded on the wall and told her to answer it. Still ringing. So the Rev. Wright put down his book, went into the office and answered the phone! It seems he and his secretary were having a disagreement and she was refusing to answer the phone! A few minutes later he came back in to finish the ceremony. He had forgotten his place, the fact that it was not a double ring ceremony and our names.



My mother, Alice and my niece,
Jorli Baker.

It was quite hilarious, at least to Gordon and me. It also kept my mother from crying and Gordon’s mother wasn’t sure we were actually really married.

Oh, and a few weeks later, while delivering the PennySaver, I found an ad for the Reverend Wright in it. He advertised in the PennySaver!

It couldn’t have been a better start for our marriage and on reflection, I sure wish I had paid the $5 for a recording!

DYING IS HARD WORK. SOMETIMES YOU CAN ONLY HOLD THEIR HAND.

My mother, Alice, has died. After my brother, sister and I spent the last three days of her life with her, she died, peacefully on Sunday, July 7. 

After leaving for home Saturday night, I remember telling my sister, Nina, that Mom would probably die now that she got to spend time with all her children. She died the next day after a short walk in the wheelchair. While visiting with my sister and her husband, she just faded away. She was surrounded with love and was in no pain. Although it is sad to see her go, it was a good death. She was such a warm, loving, vibrant woman and a wonderful mother and role model. 




She was a fun loving person. Her much repeated motto was “If you aren’t having a good time, it’s your own fault.” She lived that. She would always have something to look forward to. Even the smallest thing, like going out to lunch with the girls.








While never religious, she taught us right from wrong and how to treat others. We grew up “color blind.” I don’t think she knew what prejudice was. Living in Texas for a while, her best friend was Sadie from across the road. She wanted to go out to lunch with Sadie and she kept refusing. Sadie finally had to tell Mom that she couldn’t go because it would be frowned on. You see Sadie was the sweetest, most generous person around, but she was African-American. Mom was very saddened by that. She really didn’t like Texas much. Too many religious prejudices, race prejudices and it was too darn hot! She moved back to California.

She taught us table manners. I remember recently having lunch with her and my grandchildren, (her great-grandchildren) 13 and 17 at the time. I reminded them that Grandma Alice, even at her most forgetful (she had advancing Dementia) would poke them with a fork if they put their elbows on the table. Sure enough, at some point one or the other put their elbow on the table and was rewarded with a fork to said elbow.

She was a hard worker. Our father, Dewey David Baker, died when he was only 44, a massive heart attack. She was just 40 with three kids to raise. The only job she had was working in a pharmacy. She took on more hours and also took on the job of serving food and cleaning up for the local caterers. A side benefit of that was the leftovers! Whoever heard of leftover Prime Rib! She was the queen of “planned overs” as she liked to call it. The “joke” in our house, if you could call it that, was if the house ever caught fire, grab Mom’s recipe box. That’s where she kept the checks from her catering jobs until she got to the bank. I have that recipe box. Such memories.

She eventually remarried. Dating was fun for her, but hard on us kids. By this time she had also taken in, and became guardian of, our cousin, David Word. It was a full house. My brother and cousin gave every date the once over and some didn’t come up to snuff. Some got nicknames. Old Weird Harold and Superman come to mind. She loved to dance and went to dances as often as she could. After a succession of dates with some very nice men my mother met Ed Hansen. He loved my mother and didn’t let the ribbing and shenanigans of Mom’s kids deter him. They married and had 29 wonderful years together. 

My mother nursed Ed through Alzheimer’s Disease until his death. She told me after his death that she didn’t want to remarry, but she wouldn’t mind having a “Saturday Night Man.”

She did love the boys and the babies. Taking her out to lunch was always a kick. She always wanted to sit where she could see everything. Babies especially held her attention. She was always wanting to know “How much for that baby.” Luckily the families always took it as a compliment and let Mom talk to the babies. Now men were another thing altogether. She always said Hi and usually got a Hi in return. I remember sitting her down at the coffee shop part of a Barnes & Noble. When I returned with her coffee, which was her favorite beverage, there was an older gentleman sitting with her. He introduced himself and remarked that he hoped it was okay that he joined our table as my mother had so graciously invited him to sit. Of course I said yes. We had an enjoyable fifteen minutes of conversation until he needed to go home to his wife. Another time at Polly’s Pies she waved at a nice older gentleman, he came over to talk to her and I realized he was the same as her, he had Dementia as well. As his companion watched the interchange, he asked my Mom to marry him and gave her a big kiss! She loved it. His companion smiled and led him away.

She had a fierce sense of humor right up until the end. One day taking her to lunch, the restaurant we went into was not crowded. The hostess, a cute young lady, said “take any seat you want.” With that my mother reached over, pinched her butt and said “is this seat taken.” Oh - my - gosh! Luckily, the young lady laughed and told me she had a grandma just like her. She took no offense, but I made sure I watched Mom closely after that! 

Abiding by her wishes, we kept her in her mobile home where she had lived for 35 years. We had some wonderful caregivers for her. Last November, when she no longer knew where she lived, we moved her to Salt Lake City to a wonderful care facility. My sister lived close by and was able to keep an eye on her. Mom told us she didn’t want to stay there forever, but she did think it was a nice place to visit. They loved her and took wonderful care of her. As with any person with memory issues she could be a handful. But when they found out that she behaved much better when she had a male attendant, if there was one on the shift, he took care of Alice. All with our blessing. We knew our Mom!



Our sister, Nina, visited a lot and my brother and I came up whenever possible. At least one or the other of us was there every couple of months. Sadly, even with regular visits, as soon as we left, she forgot we had been there. At least she still knew our names and sometimes the names of our spouses.

Our last visit, we all came to see her together. We took her for walks in the wheelchair, brought her coffee and talked with her and sat with her and held her hand. She was very happy to see us. We could see her fading. She left us knowing she was loved and cherished.

Mom, have fun with your friends, Mom and Dad and even your sister, Adelma.

I love you, Mom. 

Sort of a Mystery of Charles and Carrie Baird

I haven't used this blog much but I have been collecting "stories" about my ancestors through genealogy. I thought I might share a few. This is about my great-grandparents on my mother's side.

Sort of a mystery of Charles Boettner Baird and Carrie Chapman Young Baird and their son, Douglas Baird Wright

I grew up with the story that Grandpa Wright's parents were killed in a car accident and made him and his sisters orphans. As the story goes, they went to live with a neighbor and one day another neighbor looked over the fence and said you have too many, we will take the little boy. And that was how Grandpa Wright went to live with the Wright family. Being a kid, I never thought too much about it. We had met his two sisters, Aunt's Charlotte and Idabelle. Both were married and had a good life.

Since becoming interested in genealogy all the main "characters" have died and I have been piecing things together. The story was not too far off as it turns out.

Using Ancestry.com, death records and census records I have found that sometime between 1900 and 1910 Charles Baird and his wife, Carrie, died. The 1900 Census shows them living at 129 Carr Street in Los Angeles. When I found this census I was surprised to find that there was another child, a girl, named Elizabeth Mary Baird! I'd never known this.

By the 1910 Census, their daughters, Charlotte and Idabelle had gone to live with the Vawters. Charlotte and Idabelle Baird are listed on 1910 census as "Wards," living with the Vawters at 504 Cherry. When looking at a map during that era this was just a street or two over from Carr Street.

Their son, Charley Baird (seems to have been born Charles or Charley in late 1900) went to live with the Wright's. The Wright's house at, 128 Carr Street, was just across the street from where he lived with his parents before their death. So maybe the "over the fence" comment is not too far off.

Douglas Baird Wright abt. 1955

Charles, renamed Douglas by the Wright’s, is listed with the Wright's as an orphan on the 1910 census and as their son on the 1920 census. The Wright's had no children and, as we were told, always wanted a son named Douglas. In the 1920's Douglas officially changed his name to Douglas Baird Wright.

Their oldest daughter, Elizabeth Mary Baird, was 17 in 1910 and I couldn’t find her anywhere in the Los Angeles area during that time frame. After much searching I finally found her on the 1910 Census living with a Boettner relative in Brooklyn, New York.

By the 1920 Census Elizabeth was shown as Mary E Montane, having married Peter Montane sometime between 1910 and 1914 when I found her on a passenger list returning from Cuba to New York.

The 1930 Census shows she married at 17. She and Peter and their only daughter, Charlotte are now living in Santa Monica, probably to be near her brother and two sisters.

All of the children remained in the Los Angeles area. Douglas lived in Newport Beach, California for a while in the 1930's, building the third house on Lido Isle and living there for a many years while maintaining a Chicken Ranch on Santa Isabelle St, in Costa Mesa, California. During WWII they lived on the ranch. Douglas and his wife, Mae, eventually moved back to Los Angeles County.

Looking through old pictures recently I found some old notes that said that Grandpa Wright's "real" parents are buried at Rosedale Cemetery in Los Angeles. As the note says Charles died of TB and Carrie "died of overwork." I called the Cemetery and found that Charles Baird was interred on 8 January 1902 and Carrie Baird was interred on 29 Jan 1904. They are both at same place in the Cemetery. I am trying to track down their death certificates, I wonder what they will say?

Finishing is over rated . . . or is it?

I am a quilter. Well, if truth be told, I am mostly a quilt STARTER and fabric collector. This last year, attempting to finish my sewing room, I have found SO many unfinished quilt projects! There must be 30! I love to take classes and learn new techniques and I seldom finish the project started. Why do I do that?

We draw names in our family for Christmas and I was making a quilt for the person I got. That was one finished quilt a year. Now everyone has a quilt . . . what do I do now! My nephew, Casey, says he got the first quilt so it is his "turn" again. LOL I like that. He liked the quilt I made for him and wants another.

Of course my grandson, Robert, thinks he needs a new quilt. Well, maybe he does. The quilt I made for him is "Buzz Lightyear" and I gave it to him when he was four. He's now 12 and four inches taller than me and he's worn out the quilt. In fact I have it here to fix . . . one of the fabrics, only the yellow in one block, has disintegrated. Literally disiningrated. I think I will put on a new binding too. The quilt has been loved to death over these last eight years. That makes me very happy.

One year at Road to California . . . my friend Pat and I LOVE to take classes there . . . I decided to make all the class quilts out of the same fabrics. That way I could combine them into one quilt and call it my Road to California Quilt. Great idea, huh? Is it done? Of course not. I just can't win.

I still don't have a quilt made for our bed! It seems that the only way I can finish a quilt is to give it away.

Last year at my guild we had a challenge to complete five UFOs (unfinished objects for those that don't know). I had my list and my good intentions. That's all. I didn't get one done. But, of course, I did start a few more.

I am still working on getting my quilt studio (doesn't that sound more fun than bedroom!) organized. I have 48 baskets with fabric all sorted by color, kind etc., it takes up a whole 10' wall. But, I am at a standstill . . . I have at least 10 more boxes of fabric! What to do, what to do? My sweet husband says buy more baskets! I think make more quilts.

Maybe the answer is . . . give away (or finish?) the ones I've started!