In 1975, we moved from 1319 Corwall in Topeka to 3800 SE 25th Street in the Shawnee Heights area. We were walking distance from the grade school. I walked most days. My best friend, Amy Domme, lived right down the street. We spent a lot of time riding bikes, swimming, making “water babies” out of balloons, playing with my dollhouse, having fashion shows and telling each other scary stories.
My first memory was of my little brother being born. I was pissed. I remember sitting on my dad’s lap crying….send him back! My first pangs of jealousy. I wasn’t the littlest or the cutest anymore.
I also remember from a very young age wanting to be an artist. So much so that I had a big blank wall in my room that was the perfect canvas. I had this cute little yellow step stool too. I loaded up my crayon apron, stepped up on the yellow stool and began coloring on my canvas. It was glorious. My parents were out that night and my Aunt Mar was babysitting me. She walked in to the room with her friend Pat, saw what I did and said, “My, you are quite the artist, Stacey.” I replied, “I know I am.” 🙂
Fast forward to kindergarten round-up. Part of the enrollment was taking an eye test. I had been watching too much Little House on the Prairie and had watched the episode where Mary went blind. Apparently I thought it would be cool to fake being blind at kindergarten round-up. They let me in anyway.
In Kindergarten, I remember my teacher, Ms. Riviera, was very beautiful. She taught us so many things. I tired really hard to be a perfect kid, but I was a bit of a rebel. I held the scissors the wrong way way, with the pointy part facing out while I was walking. I accidentally stabbed Ms. Riviera in the thigh. She was not pleased. After a good cry, I’m sure I went back to eating Play Dough. That was a big no-no…but I really enjoyed the the salty deliciousness.
My parents had all my little kindergarten friends over for my 5th birthday. I was a rather up-tight child (really, I was, despite the stories above) and I was very upset because the house was a mess and my mom was drinking beer about 20 minutes before my friends were to arrive. I was crying and very stressed out. I was wearing my long dress with a patchwork quit design with ruffles. It was my Little House on the Prairie dress and I thought it was beautiful.
ljf oiueji peu 0un je 0u apoei [0i aewi [09u weir [09eu awei [0wu EWI 09EU WF
Dad and mom lived their dream of owning a farm and livestock. Now it was Pat and I’s time to start our life dreams.
In May 1957, Pat and I left the farm and moved to El Dorado, Kansas. I went to work for the Kansas State Highway engineers, doing surveys and testing on the new road they were building from El Dorado to Leon, Kansas. We would do sampling of the gravel and clay and different sizes of gravel to be put on the roadbed to see if they were the correct amount of each size of gravel and enough clay to hold the gravel together. I worked for the engineer department until September 1957, at which time I went to work for Skelly oil refinery in El Dorado.
I was hired the same day as another guy by the name of Bob Duncan. Bob and I were the first of 25 new employees hired in the next 45 days. The first two weeks of our employment Bob and I spent cutting weeds with the idiot stick. I thought I didn’t know they made gasoline out of weeds and our sweat. After about one year of assent to work at the boiler House where they made steam for the refinery and cooling water for the cooling towers to keep the equipment cool and air for instruments. I worked there for the next 10 years. My good friend Johnny Ramp worked for Skelly but at a different part of the refinery and we both worked shift work on the days off we would cut firewood in the wintertime to sell. In the summer we would haul hay.
I had an opportunity to buy into a fertilizer plant after 11 years working for Skelly. I quit and became part owner of Mears Fertilizer in El Dorado.
We built the fertilizer business and had to hire two more employees. We sold liquid fertilizer and anhydrous ammonia. I saw a lot of the farmers around the area. After three years we built a process unit on the semi and started making our own fertilizer as well as converting acid, and hydrous ammonia and water. Of the three ingredients of an inline reactor would produce a 10-34-0. Fertilizer product after each tank was filled we sampled and sent to the state we never had a failure on the product we sent. After two years being the minor owner it looked like I was going to be away from home running this machine all over the Midwest so I sold my part of the business and went back to work for Skelly oil refinery . I was the first employee who had quit to be rehired in the last 20 years. I felt quite lucky to get back to work where all my friends are. I did not go back to my old job at Skelly Oil as there weren’t any openings at that time and I went to part of the refinery that was called light oils I worked there for about two years doing jobs that the operators units did. While working at Skelly I ran for county commissioner of Butler County District 2. I won the election and took office in January 1977. I continued working for the refinery while serving on the county commissioner job. The county commissioners job we would meet one day a week but actually it consumed more than two or three days a week. I worked with a bunch of guys at the refinery where I could trade my days for their nights and continue working for Skelly also.
I was promoted over the next several years and retired in July 1992 as unit Forman in the chemical department with 25 employees.
Why did you decide to put your stories in a book?
Well, my dad passed away at 46 and mom at 53. I had never talked to them about their life, prior to me coming on board to the family. But I always wondered you know, about what I could find out if I was still talking directly to them. I have remembered some of the stories as I lived them. Hopefully, my friends, kids, grandkids, and family will be able to get some information from this. And they will start asking me questions about my life or some of the family’s life, and they can get it down and have it for future references.
As I got older and was able to remember the stuff that had affected me. I kind of remember those better than what my parents had passed along to me. I got some information from my dad’s second brother, Fred Woodall, before he died at the age of 94. He lived in St. Louis in his later life, and I got some of the answers through him. His memory was fading as he got older. I am almost eighty-five now and I can tell that my memory is slipping, and it takes me longer to remember accurately.
What would you like your grandkids and great grandkids to know about your parents?
Well, dad was a farmer rancher and he loved animals, big and little, and he would never get rid of any pet. The cat population around the farm was probably between 30 and 40 about all the time. Dad fed them good enough that none of them ever ran away they just kept breeding, expanding the population. His horses and cattle were something that he had a lot of pride in and he took well care and fed them well. So, mom, she was a very good cook. She cooked at the school for several years. But at home, she always had big meals, always had desserts. She was very caring and nice to be around person. Although, if one of us kids, I have one sister and if we did something that shouldn’t have been done by me, we always got a little switch or sometimes.
What would you like to say to your future generations?
Growing up I was an ornery kid. I wasn’t distructive. But hopefully you grandkids will remember to do the right thing. That’s about all the information or advice I would give. Just you know what’s right and what’s wrong. Be kind to others.
Love you. Grandpa
Family Roots – Phillip Eide
Who was the oldest relative that you knew? What do you remember most about them?
That would have been my Mother’s mother who we called Ma. I remember that she didn’t like kids. We used to go over to her house on Monday evenings, Lucille would drive us. Ma would spend the time watching professional wrestling on TV and ignore us kids. Her house was out in Brooklyn Center on Oseo Road. She lived with my Uncle Marvin, as he was single. She was something of a racist. There was a black wrestler by the name of Sailor Art Thomas who was a “villain” and then there was Verne Gagne, who was one of the good guys. She used the “n*” word in reference when talking about Saylor Art Thomas. She lived to be in her 80’s.
The other thing about Ma was German culturally, from the Alsace region of Europe, which is either German or French depending on who won the last war. She used to tell us that we are direct descents of Joan of Arc. I didn’t really know who Joan of Arc was, but I knew she was someone very important and I was very proud of that fact. So when I was in the 1st grade for show-n-tell, I decided to exclaim that “I am a direct descent of Joan of Arc”. The teacher said “Thank you, Philip. You can take your seat now.” That night at dinner, I said I shared this at school today. The response from my siblings was universally “you idiot”!
The Story of Aunt Lucille
Lucille lost contact with the family for a while and nobody knew where she was. One day, Ma got a phone call from Lucille, “would they like to meet her downtown for a drink.” They met her downtown for a “drink” where she told them she had given birth to a little boy. [Note, Jim has done some research on this and he was born in a home for wayward mothers in South Minneapolis.] So initially at least, Jim was living with Ma. Lucille may not have been because she was working for the Jenelle’s at the time. As a young toddler, Jim did something so terrible, that Ma left him alone in the house and called Lucille to come get Jim, she was not going back to the house until he was gone. Jim lived briefly with Lucille at the Jenelle’s, both of whom were raging alcoholics. One of their neighbors was a psychiatrist, Dr. Holcrant, who told Lucille that she had to get Jim out of the house. So then Jim came to live with us.
In the beginning – Arrival of Philip James Eide
Telling my story, as incomplete as it is, is coming to an end.
About 40 years ago on Father’s Day, I took my daughters and their mother to nearby farms to pick strawberries and cherries to make jam as I was eager to share with my family the experiences I enjoyed when I was a little boy. I was proud to show my heritage of French country life in the summer time.
This year, as I was recalling helping my mom to make large quantities of jam with Bernard, my brother, I was missing the sweet smell of cooking plums on the open fire. I had to do it again. I drove 100 miles to Winters, near Davis where I went to college when I first arrived in California. I found an orchard with the fruit I was looking for. We call them “Prune d’Ente” in France, the variety used to be dried into prunes. I came home with about 50 pounds of plums and for the next three days I made the jam. The aroma of cooking plums was as great as I remember, almost like I am still in Augey with Bernard, a complete circle in a sense.
Thank you, Caroline, Valerie, Melanie, Nicholas, and my grandchildren for helping me write my story.
This is my gift. I love you all.
Dear Pop,
When I think back on my childhood, there is one particular thing that stands out for me-growing up with a French dad. From a young age, I recall wondering why we called you Papa and not Daddy? I have memories of sometimes being embarrassed when one of my friends couldn’t understand something you were saying. But I also remember a sense of pride knowing that our family story was kind of different from other families. I remember that excitement and build-up before taking one of our long trips to France to see family members we hardly knew but who were so excited to see us. I have memories of Mamie’s visits and her offering me my first glimpse of life in another part of the world-strange dry toast for breakfast, card games where I always won, hard candies that only appeared when she was around, colorful money, and a language I didn’t understand. That sense of wonder and pride most certainly influenced my decision to journey to France by myself to get to know your native country a little better. I’ll never forget that fateful day when I learned about SRJC’s ‘springtime in Paris’ offering. It seemed so obvious to me that I needed to go, much to mom’s dismay! And I can’t help but wonder, even if you didn’t initiate your own immigration to the United States 25 years earlier, if I didn’t take after your sense of tenacity and drive to make it work out. I know I certainly can relate to what it must have felt like to be so far away from your family but also to the feeling of discovering something new and taking a path that was a little unexpected.
After marrying Martin and starting my family in Germany, I quickly came to realize that I wanted my children to know their grandparents, their aunts and uncles and cousins as well as the easy and welcoming feelings that came from the summers spent in Santa Rosa. All those countless barbeques and days around the pool certainly engrained such a strong sense of family for myself and my kids. Moving back to France in 2007 was fraught with mixed feelings for me-not an ideal job prospect for Martin and a whole new school system for Anton and Max that led to many tears and some trauma. I often questioned what we were doing here. Luckily, vacation time in France is plentiful and sacred and would allow us to escape our stressful Parisian life for a few weeks at a time. Whenever we would visit La Greyze, one of the first things I did was call your sister Rosy to see when I could pay her a visit. Having her close by was comforting to me and I was always amazed to see how similar her eyes were to yours and by default, to mine. I needed that connection to home when I often felt so far away.
After all these years, I look back and am grateful to have grown up with a father who was a ‘little different.’ I am grateful to have inherited several cultures and follow a path that opened me up to several more. I am proud to be able to pass on these cultures to my own children who know their roots well and can take the best of all worlds.
Love, Caroline
Dear Pop,
Recently you made the comment that you were surprised that I had created a very traditional life and settled in Santa Rosa. You had expected me to be “guiding climbing trips on Mt. Everest.” Aside from the fact that I don’t mountain climb, I have to agree. I’m not sure if it’s my 50 th birthday creeping up on me but I find myself asking all those existential questions: How did I get here? Where am I going? Is this enough for me?
When I reflect on how I got here I think about our family’s experiences and how I fit in. From very early on I had the sense that I was different than my sisters. I suppose I became the typical middle child searching for my identity by the time I was a toddler. Who can blame me really? Always being compare to my sisters, rarely getting individual attention and even being dressed in matching clothes. Mom would try to convince me that the dress she made for me was different because it was shorter or had a pocket on the other side. But I didn’t buy it. Everyone thought we were so cute in our matching dresses and the message I got was “go along with the program.”
I remember a time when I was about 5 or 6 years old when mom took me out for a “date” with just her and not my sisters. We went to a movie and out for ice cream and I got to bring a friend! That was a real treat. I chose a friend from school that was not also a friend of my sisters. Obviously, this experience had a big impact as I still remember how it felt to have a friend and my mom all to myself.
By the time I was an early teenager I was in full middle child mode. I had finally succeeded in being removed from catholic school and allowed to attend public junior high school. I was thrilled about the freedom of expression without the constraints of school uniforms. But the best part was that I could start over with a whole new crop of friends all my own that I didn’t have to share. It was at this time that I also had the opportunity to explore my own interests and discover what I was good at. I soon realized that I was good at sports and they afforded me a lot of positive attention and something in common with you, Pop. It’s no surprise that the time I spent traveling with my soccer team was some of the most fun I had growing up. But when I was 17 and traveling through Scandinavia playing soccer, mom met me in Oslo and I remember being so excited to see her. Up to that point, I hadn’t even realized how home sick I was.
During the teenage years, playing sports definitely kept me out of trouble (for the most part) and opened up doors for me. Not surprisingly, I couldn’t wait to go away to college and was willing to go to any good school that would take me on their soccer team. After less than one year at UC Irvine, I transferred to UC Davis. Coincidentally, this the same school where my parents met and then both my sisters eventually attended as
well! The first month at Davis I took a job working in a small family owned restaurant. It turns out mom worked at this same restaurant when she was a student there! I remember thinking: What is happening? How is my life taking the same course as my mother? It turns out that was only the beginning.
After college I moved back home in Santa Rosa. In my mind this was just a temporary stop over, a launching pad for the adventurous life ahead. Then I met Rob. He was not like any other guy I had dated. He was kind, patient and chill. Very different from me. I remember thinking at the time that he made my life easy, supporting me emotionally and practically while I pursued my nursing degree. Marriage had never been a priority
for me to that point. Too traditional. Something my sisters would do. However, after several years of dating, I had the sense that I really wanted to legitimize our relationship. Marriage would make others take us seriously, I thought. What I later realized is that those traditional family values were more important to me than I would admit to.
I became especially grateful for our family and its solid values when we all came together to take care of mom when she was sick. We all had our roles and were united in our objective. The months I spent with mom in Seattle while she underwent cancer treatment might be the most influential experience of my adult life. It is during this time that Rob and I decided to expand our family. Jack was born just 9 months after mom passed away. That time period was such a blur but I remember finding out I was pregnant and thinking “and so life goes on”.
Needless to say, Jack has become the center of our little (very traditional) family. Here we are, living just blocks from my childhood home, spending weekends traveling to sporting events and Jack attending the same Catholic high school as his aunts and uncle. He gets limitless attention from his parents and lives the only-child life I always craved. No wild adventures that I still daydream about. For now, it’s exactly the life we need and love. What I realize is that the more I look outward for fulfillment the less satisfied I am. Some day I would like to travel more of the world but I will always stay grounded by the dependable anchor that is my family.
With love and gratitude,
Valerie
Dear Pop,
When asked to write a tribute letter for your family history book, I was a little dumbfounded; I could not get my thoughts together. Do I write about a childhood memory, a trip we took as a family, a trip we took just you and me? I wasn’t sure. After more than a week of contemplating, I decided that I will attempt to write about our father/daughter relationship from my perspective, mixing in some fun family memories.
We all know family is important to you. You go to great lengths to provide a fun, safe environment for your children and grandchildren. You have constructed your house and back yard to ensure that your family will come and enjoy barbeques and holidays. The number of meals and get-togethers we have had at your home is too many to count. Pop, you have many great qualities as a father; in addition to your generosity, your protective nature always shows.
When I was a little girl, I would run errands with you on the weekends. As we walked from the truck into Friedman’s Home Improvement (or wherever we were going), my little hand would be wrapped around your middle finger as we walked through the parking lot. I always felt safe with you.
Another memory I have is the day trips to Geyser Peak Winery during the summer. These were such fun and crazy times. I remember the hayrides down to the Russian River. At times, 15-20 kids sat anxiously on hay bails, hanging on for dear life, pulled by a tractor driven by a semi sober adult. After a long day of playing, eating, and drinking, you would pile four dirty kids back into your Ford Truck; we often rode “legally” in the truck’s bed during the 40-minute drive home to Santa Rosa along Hwy 101. How we survived, I am not sure? Despite this somewhat reckless time, I always felt safe.
Fast forward some 40 years later, my feeling is the same. The highs and the lows of my life, you have been there. I mostly felt your protection while I was going through my divorce. I realized very quickly that you would be by my side through thick and thin. Quietly, and sometimes fiercely, you always looked out for me, and you made me feel safe and secure during a very uncertain time.
Your sage advice and calm support gave me the courage and strength to move from hard times to believe that my future could be full and meaningful. “We” have come a long way. Thank you for your wisdom in providing road maps, even when the journey was windy and unguided.
Being the mother to Zachary and Logan, I can only hope to offer the same support to them. I hope they can turn to me during the good times and I hope to guide them through the hard times. I hope they always feel welcome into my home for family gatherings and holidays.
Thank you for being my protector, I felt it as a little girl, and I feel it as an adult.
With Love,
Mel
Dear Pop,
Congratulations on writing your memoirs and documenting our extensive family history. We’ve all had many ups and downs over the years, as all families do, but I’m proud to be part of such a caring, supportive, diverse, multi-lingual, international, humorous, affable and talented family. Through it all, our family maintains it’s ‘joie de vivre’ and is always (usually) happy to spend quality time together.
I remember a few trips we took when I was kid that really stick out as highlights from childhood. Looking back on that long road trip to Oregon, I realize now you were probably trying to give me special attention, as our home life was highly ‘sisters-centric.’ At least that’s the way I viewed it, but I’m sure they’ll disagree. We spent most of the time in the truck, but I was so excited when we arrived at each new campsite. You taught me to fish at the vineyard reservoir, which prepared me well for the trip. Previously, we did catch and release, but in Oregon we caught all those trout and fried them up for dinner. I was too squeamish to clean them myself, but certainly enjoyed the meals. We also road four-wheelers in the dunes. We had so much fun that we went back another day to do it all again. I noticed you bought several four wheelers for the vineyards after that. Later on as a teenager, I flipped one over while laying out trellis wire at Viansa, and narrowly escaped great bodily injury. You found it very humorous when I called you for help to get the four wheeler out of the ditch. I was not amused at all, but that’s a whole other story. There were other camping trips too; the one with Nick Abbott and the bears comes to mind. The park ranger at Yosemite came around to remind campers to be sure to lock their coolers in the bear boxes at night. For some inexplicable reason, we did not follow that advice. Nick and I were awoken suddenly to someone yelling and banging pots and pans loudly near our tent. We went outside to see that someone was you. A crowd gathered to see us try to scare the two huge black
bears out of the tree. Eventually the ranger came and somehow got the bears down and chased them off. In the morning, I remember being super bummed out that the bears had eaten most of our Hershey bars meant for making s’mores.
Now that I have two boys of my own, I look forward to making great memories with them too. My childhood memories have such a lasting and deep impact on me, and I will always try to remember that for Julien and Elliot. Pop, you taught me that family is the most important thing in life. Without each other, what do we have? I truly admire the way you find ways to get us all together, even during a pandemic. You’ve got a lot of great memories yet to be made, and it’s comforting to know we’ll all be making them with you.
With love,
Nick
©2020 Porch Swing. All rights reserved. | Terms of Use
