Category Archives: Becky G

Assignment 13: A Baby Named Annetta (Part 2)

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From trying to remember my grandmother’s story and researching about a historical event which took place in 1911, I’ve attempted to piece together the story of my grandmother’s birth. At best, this would be a piece of historical fiction based on a true story and not a true biography because I am not 100% sure of all of the details. This story of a true disastrous event occurring so close to my grandmother’s birth is a part of my family’s history.

Timeframe: October 1911. Place: a small farm in Oakridge rural area south of Black River Falls, Wisconsin. My great grandfather Albert watched the hard rain pound the house and ground around him. It has been raining for weeks and flooding was a mounting concern. He had another worry, Bessie, his wife and my great grandmother, was pregnant with their first child; very pregnant. The rising Black River perhaps already cut him off of the main town of Black River Falls as he possibly wouldn’t consider traveling across that long iron canopied bridge stretching across the swollen waters. He devised a plan to head south; perhaps all the way to LaCrosse roughly 50 miles away. His mode of transportation was a horse drawn vehicle so it may have taken several days of hard driving in the rain across wet and slippery roads.  In the drenching rain, Albert hitched his team to and helped Bessie to safely climb inside. They endured a dangerous and harrowing journey as they traveled southward to trying to stay ahead of the rushing river.  Little did they realize at the time, they would be traveling along the crest of the Great Flood of 1911.

In the meantime the Black River was swelling; it originated in Taylor County and passed in a southwest direction through Clark, Jackson, and LaCrosse counties emptying into the Mississippi River.  According to a New York Times article, it was believed that the concrete dams in place could hold back any amount of flooding water. On October 6th, at 4am, the first dam north of Hatfield gave way and racing water flowed around the dam and then continued along the river’s path. By 10:45am, the second dam closer to Hatfield broke sending even more rushing water towards Black River Falls. Word of warning was sent the residents of the doomed town that a raging flood raced in their direction. At first the villagers and business owners did not believe they were in  immediate danger but much to everyone’s shock and dismay in about an hour’s time, the unimaginable wave of torrential water arrived with disastrous results.

The water came in great torrents and the Black River Falls power plant was first to be struck and damaged leaving everyone in darkness by nightfall. The huge wall of water took out the iron canopied bridge, businesses, and houses carrying them downstream as seen in photos posted by The Merchant General of Black River Falls. The flooding water cut through the banks carving out the ground and destroying three blocks worth of downtown business and residential buildings all along the river’s edge. According to a news report from Clark County, A number of lumber and sawmill businesses were swept away along with a shoe store, a jewelry retail store, an iron works business, a hotel, a sash factory, and hardware store. Also destroyed was the county poor house along with many homes.  Barely enough warning was given for Black River residents to evacuate although without their possessions. They just kept backing away from the rushing water and climbing to higher ground.  Black River Falls had become nearly an island cut off from the surrounding countryside. The raging flood also destroyed many farms in its wake and families were stranded on rooftops (New York Times, 1911). Although the loss of animals and property were enormous, no resident lost his or her live that fateful day (Rupnow, 2011). After nearly wiping out Black River Falls, the torrential river raced towards more communities down the river and LaCrosse was in its path.

Albert, my great grandfather and Bessie, my great grandmother, must have been terrified of the pounding, rushing water as they continued their harrowing journey. While Albert held the reigns and drove the horses, I can imagine my great grandmother praying for their safe arrival in LaCrosse.  I’m sure she cried out in pain, knowing she was close to giving birth.

As predicted, the flooding, raging river propelled its way into LaCrosse damaging the city’s power plant. Somehow, through fear and determination and by God’s loving grace and protection, great grandfather Albert and my great grandmother Bessie reached Luther Hospital of LaCrosse. No doubt, a huge sense of relief showered over my great grandparents as caring doctors and nurses aided them.

On October 7,, 1911, one day after the Great Flood of 1911 struck and devastated Black River Falls, Wisconsin , a baby girl was born, a baby named Annetta; my grandmother. While she grew up on a small farm in Oakridge, the city of Black River Falls was rebuilt as residents determined to remain and rebuild their lives (Rupnow, 2011).

Many years later she moved to Black River Falls as a teenager to attend high school. She married and raised a family. She worked as a school bus driver and later as a store clerk. She may had other jobs that I am not aware of. Today Black River Falls continues to be thriving small town in rural Jackson County Wisconsin; it is also near where I lived and grew up years later. I spent many Sundays visiting my grandmother in her tiny apartment not far from the banks of the usually gentle flowing Black River.

Reference Links about the Great Flood of 1911 which struck Black River Falls Wisconsin:

From New York Times, 1911:

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/abstract.html?res=9902EED81131E233A25754C0A9669D946096D6CF

From Leader Telegram, 2011

http://www.leadertelegram.com/news/front_page/article_fc49aa4c-eb22-11e0-bc07-001cc4c002e0.html

Clark County History Bluff:

http://www.wiclarkcountyhistory.org/3data/79/79599.htm

Hiding in a Cocoon

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I’m trying to beckon that person deep inside of me.

I’m yearning to share myself with others, you see.

I’m trying to spread my wings but there isn’t any room.

I am so shy and nearly too late, I’m trying to grow and bloom.

Is there anyone out there?

 I anxiously wonder.

Does anyone see me hiding in my little cocoon?

I wistfully peek out at the sky, sun and moon

When afraid, my voice is but a lonely squeak.

And no one hears when I meekly speak.

My ears are of little help

As I miss a few syllables.

I come out and strain to hear what others have to say

I try to guess and find I’m wrong, oh, what a tearful day.

When I find I’m in error I receive an unkind scorn

And I hurt inside because I truly mean no harm.

So back into hiding I go; back into my little cocoon

Where there is no room to grow and no room to bloom.

A special note about this poem; my need to “hide” at times is often due to my extreme shyness in some social situations.  I just become incredibly quiet and my hearing impairment also interferes. I do have hearing aids but they do not help in every situation. While the hearing aid amplifies someone I want to hear, it also amplifies every sound around me and the voices I want to hear get lost in the noise around me.

Writing 101 Assignment 4: A Lady Named Annetta (Part 1)

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I realize that I am doing some of the assignments out of order but I wanted to share a special piece about my grandmother whom I miss very much:

I have special memories of my grandmother, Annetta . I and all of the grandchildren affectionately knew her as Grandma Hart.  She often signed birthdays and letters with “Grandma” and then drew a heart. My grandmother was a kind, soft spoken woman who had a large family and many friends. Her brunette hair had turned gray, she was tall with hazel-green eyes magnified by her glasses which twinkled with delight at picnics and holiday events while visiting with friends and family. I distinctively remember her gentle, musical laughter. She was a quiet lady who loved her family very much and enjoyed doing quiet activities which included reading, writing, crocheting, and attending a Bible Study.

Another favorite pastime she enjoyed was watching the Green Bay Packers. Grandma was not pleased when the Packers did not play well.  When I was older and had my own car, I would visit Grandma in her small apartment in Black River Falls.  Her apartment building was situated near the banks of Black River and her first floor apartment faced the Black River Falls Memorial Bridge She and I relaxed and visited on many Sundays in her tiny living room and she sometimes told me stories about her younger self. She showed me a hint of her adventurous side but truly, I had no idea until years later.

My grandmother, Annette Marie, was born in October of 1911 to parents Albert and Bessie. She arrived in this world one day after a great flood struck Black River Falls, Wisconsin. The flood was so severe that  some did not think the town of Black River would survive However, determined residents resolved to rebuild the small town which blossoms today. My grandmother used to say, “I was born on the crest of the Great Flood”.   She grew up in a rural area south of Black River Falls known as Oak Grove.  As you may guess, the area was full of oak trees except for one lone, tall pine tree. When great grandpa Albert was clearing the land, he reached this pine tree with his ax ready; he hesitated and my great grandmother yelled to him, “If you chop down that pine tree I’m moving back to LaCrosse.” My grandmother remembered that lone tree years later and wrote a story entitled, The Lonesome Pine.  Annetta, my grandmother, and her younger sister, Lela attended the Oak Ridge country schoolhouse.

Later my grandmother and her best friend, Irene, lived in a boarding house in Black River Falls to attend high school there. As a young teenager, Annetta was a bit mischievous and she loved to run. She once told me that she and her friend at lunchtime would run a considerable distance back to their boarding house, eat lunch, and then run back to school without being late.  I tried to study and determine the route she and her friend took. My first calculations were not accurate; my brother pointed this out by explaining that the bridge she ran across was a different structure than the bridge which existed today; also it was in a different location. Additionally, the high school which she attended was not the same school that I attended; again, a very different location.

From what I could determine in studying her route, she and her friend needed to race along a road south of town, cross the sprawling bridge which stretched across Black River, dash across perhaps a busy intersection near downtown, and finally scamper up a set of double hills before arriving at the three story school building. I had asked her why she didn’t just pack a lunch and take it with her and she laughingly replied, “But we liked to do it that way!”

She was silent for a few minutes while I thought about this and finally responded, “You mean you liked the challenge of it.”

“Yes!” she answered and laughed.

“Grandma, you and your friend invented your own physical education class.”

Again, grandma’s musical laughter filled her tiny living room.

At age 17, Annetta was married. She raised a family of eight children and became one of the first female bus driver for the Black River Falls school district.  She perceived her job as an adventure but also took her work very seriously.  She had commented in a newspaper article, “I had to get my little charges home safely.” She had felt a heavy sense of responsibility as she drove the children home through a blinding snowstorm; the journey was slow and treacherous. She worried that she’d run out of gas and wondered how she would keep the children warm.

My grandmother saw her children grow to adulthood, marry, and have families of their own.  Some had very large families giving her many grandchildren and numerous great grandchildren. She passed away in 1995.  Annetta lived all of her life in or near Black River Falls, Wisconsin. She was a well-liked lady known for her adventurous spirit, her large family, her writings, her quiet, caring nature, and her faith in God.  She had a very gentle way of sharing about her faith and trust in Jesus. Almost 20 years have come and gone, and I still miss her. There is a special place in my heart where I go to remember her; I recall her stories, the sound of her soft voice, and her sweet, melodious laughter. Most of all, I remember her deep and never ending love for her family.

Trying To Trust God Today

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I’m trying to trust God today and not rush in anything I do or say.

Such a challenging thing to do, to just trust, believe and to God stay true.

So many times, I just won’t believe, if one mishap occurs, I fail so miserably.

I fail to stop, pray and wait for God to show me which path to take.

I fail to pause and quietly listen to the loving and guiding words coming from him.

When trouble does suddenly brew, I tense up tight wondering, “What should I do?”

In my anxious and frantic state I might cry out, “Now, what? Who made this mistake?”

So I fume to God’s dismay refusing his tender nudge to accept his wiser way.

So often I fail to understand God’s love and his gentle guiding hand.

I fail to joyfully gaze and see, his fatherly eyes silently watching me.

I fail to believe and know that he’s determined where my path should go.

I fail to sit so quietly and just let his perfect calming peace come rest in me.

But today, I am trying hard to keep my eyes closely focused on the Lord

Therefore I am trying to trust God today and not rush in anything I do or say.

Writing 101 Assignment 14: Dear God I Want to be the Captain

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Dear God,

Today while reading a science fiction book, the word “captain” stuck out to me. Of course, I’ve seen this word many times and I’ve never consider myself to be a captain of a fine ship.  I heard that a famous poet, William Earnest Henley once said, “I am the captain of my soul” in his poem, Invictus.  Although, I don’t consider myself to be a captain I do like to be in charge and in control of my life and have a say in everything. This is especially true when I think I cannot trust in others.

Recently, I experienced a sudden mishap that caused me to not trust, to not be content, and to not believe.  Someone made an honest mistake, which for me led to unexpected and unwanted consequences; even somewhat costly ones. Sadly, I even lost faith in not believing that you would help me and that you would show me the solution, the answer, to my unexpected dilemma. I allowed myself to become too overwrought and irate about it. I also decided to not trust, Instead, I would do whatever I can to stay in charge of whatever the situation in life might be! Yes, that’s the answer, I will be the captain  and never mind anyone else’s help or suggestions offered to me.

Well, God, it didn’t take long for me to realize that I still needed to trust, wait, and be content. For during my overwrought state, I tried in vain to solve my own problem but nothing worked.  Many aspects of that situation remained out of my control including time.  I knew I needed to solve this problem within a certain timeframe and I became increasingly irate and frantic as all of my efforts amounted to nothing.

Though too impatient to do so, I learned that I just needed to wait.  I needed to discipline myself, be content, and choose to trust. And yes, as always, you The Forever Faithful One, showered your grace upon me although I did not deserve it. You led me to the solution in your own way and in your own time. I’ve no doubt now, that you were testing me and I failed utterly. So Lord as I wander along this life’s path and if I ever get it in my head, that I want to be the captain, the one in absolute charge, please lovingly remind me that you are the admiral in my life. And that you are the Heavenly Father in loving charge of me.

 

Writing 101 Assignment 11: My Childhood Home on a Sandy Prairie

 

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For assignment 11 in our Writing 101 class, we were directed to write about the home we lived in at age 12. We were also instructed to vary our sentence lengths in an effort to make the story interesting. So I will attempt this:

I grew up on a small farm on a sandy prairie in west central Wisconsin in rural Jackson County. I lived in the same house from about age four until I graduated from high school and left for college. I resided there with my parents, two sisters, and one brother. The house was a large, two story home built around 1910; a typical American foursquare with a pyramid shaped roof coming to a peak, a full basement, and a large corner porch extending along two sides of the home. Interestingly, about 1/4th of the basement is built of stone with a closet sized space attached. Perhaps, that was a food pantry in earlier days but I am not sure. The rest is built of cement and appears newer. When we moved in, the house was covered in old gray tiles but later, dad had the tiles replaced with white aluminum siding.

Continuing in the foursquare theme, each of the main rooms is nearly a perfect square or at least a rectangle, and each sits in a corner with an old chimney rising through the center of the house. Additionally, the stairwell arose through the center near the chimney. The main rooms on the first floor included the kitchen, dining room, and a family room. Perhaps this room was known as the family parlor in earlier times? The fourth room, when we moved in, was a laundry/utility room which mom and dad converted into an extra bedroom. The second level consisted of four bedrooms and small bathroom squeezed between two of the corner bedrooms. A hallway extended around the stairwell connects to all the rooms. No doubt, the house was renovated over time to accommodate electrical wiring and indoor plumbing. Old style heat registers still remain in each of the upstairs bedrooms but were no longer used. We used a wood stove for years as our main source of heat. According to an old story, this present house is not the original on our farm; a previous house was destroyed by fire.

I have no idea how old the red barn is but I can tell you it is huge. The first floor, of course is where the farm animals lived. Over the years while I lived there, it housed cows, pigs, horses, and even goats at one point. We’ve also had chickens and turkeys on the farm.  We had a number of dogs over the years but two of our favorite canine pets were Boots and Bambi. Boots was a small mixed breed dog who was terrified of thunderstorms. When a thunderstorm struck, he dived beneath the couch or a blanket with his small, brown body quivering from head to toe.

The second level of the barn was the hay mow where the cats liked to live and this space alone seemed to increase the structure by nearly 2/3. Every summer, hay was harvested and stored in the hay mow which served as food for the animals during the harsh winter months. When there aren’t stacks and stacks of hay up there, I and my siblings would play in the hay mow; we invented our own version of racquetball playing against the back barn wall.  A small feed room, an old stone silo, and a white brick milk house were all attached to the sidewalls of the barn. Other buildings on the farm included a granary, garage, and a corn crib. Over the years, dad added other buildings to the farms including a large pole shed which we  used for storage of farm equipment and for outdoor parties with the extended family.

We lived on roughly 65 acres of land which is actually a very small farm. My dad also worked as an electrician at the Jackson County Iron Mine which no longer exists. Since the soil was sandy and we sometimes had very hot and dry summers, the crops and the garden did not always produce well. We had our share of hard years. As children, we biked, rode horses, and roamed all over, trekking through patches of woods, along the field road, and circling the crop fields. Summertime was especially enjoyable as we could spend all day under the warm sun shining and brightening the marine blue sky. When the fields were empty of crops, my siblings and I sometimes played our own version of softball. There were only four of us so instead of a baseball diamond, we made a triangle. Therefore, One could pitch, one  could bat, and two were guarding the bases. Obviously we couldn’t play the full version of softball and I was never very good at it. All of my classmates in grade school could attest to that.

We had our share of chores to do which included caring for the animals and helping in the garden. Mom planted a very large vegetable garden which then led to harvesting and canning for the winter. We also helped to plant and harvest strawberries and cucumbers. We had very large strawberry and cucumber patches. Pints of strawberries were sold to customers stopping by and the cucumbers were sold to a local pickling/canning factory.

Life on the farm was usually very enjoyable. I don’t get to visit it as much as I would like. There is sadness there too, as both my parents have passed away. My mom and dad poured their hearts into our little farm. They both worked hard to make that old foursquare house on a sandy prairie a home of love and a place of many cherished memories.

Writing 101 Assignment 10: Happy Summertime Picnic

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Okay, for assignment 10, we were instructed to write about a favorite childhood meal and work on developing our unique writing voice. I am not sure that I was successful with developing such a voice.  But I will add that I do attempt to create uniqueness with my blog by maintaining a sense of hopefulness and inspiration with it. My family was wonderful in being hopeful through love, encouragement,  laughter, and through numerous family celebrations. While growing up, I remember special dinners commemorating certain holidays and occasions. Such special events included Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, birthdays, confirmations, and graduations. But I think I loved summertime picnics the most. Oh how I relished those picnics on the farm. We usually enjoyed picnics during the summer holidays (Memorial Day, Father’s Day, Independence Day, and Labor Day) when weather was cooperating. Also we had picnics while camping and just because we felt like it.

We usually were blessed with beautiful weather including clear skies, brilliant sunshine, and perhaps a warm and gentle breeze. The day’s forecast was not a guarantee though as sometimes it became cloudy and colder with the threat of rain upon the horizon. That gentle breeze at times transformed into blowing gusts as we witness our paper plates, cups, and plastic utensils fly in the sudden wind.  It can be quite the challenge to eat a plate of food when a sudden gust travels across the picnic table carrying almost everything away. Oops, there went my cup and napkin.

The preparations for the picnic were enough to make my mouth water as I smelled hot dogs, hamburgers or corn on the cob sizzling on the grill. The corn was fresh from the garden, tasty and sweet enough to melt in my mouth. We had beans and salads for side dishes but my favorite was the watermelon. That too was fresh from the garden and my mom sliced in it in thick wedges. We kids ate it with such gusto that our faces and hands were covered with the sticky, oozing juice. No wonder she insisted we ate it outside. Another special treat was fresh strawberries also grown on the farm.

And it wasn’t just the food that made the picnic special; it was the relaxed and fun visiting with family which was often punctuated with friendly teasing, humorous comments and laughter. And there was just something special about spending many summer days outside and just being with family. Almost every year, I never wanted summer to end. Oh how I loved those summertime picnics.

Writing-101 Assignment 8: At the Wrong Super8

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Hooray my big day has come. And I will soon be on my way to Washington.

But first, I’m to ride a shuttle to the big Super 8. Oh, I hope it isn’t late.

So anxious to be on my way, I cannot wait!

 I glance at my cell checking the time. Oh my, it is past five.

I should be on the shuttle by now but lo, such misfortune, I soon found out!!

They said they’d come; they said they wouldn’t forget me.

But they turned left instead of right heading to the cities.

Phone calls were made and they sent me a taxi instead.

Which wouldn’t take me to the big city; in dismay I shook my head.

So here I am stuck at the wrong Super 8 without my suitcase

Therefore no clothes, no hairbrush, and no medicine to take.

Oh yes, my luggage made it on the shuttle but not I

For I needed to store my car and then wait for my ride.

They told me to wait in a certain spot and so I did only to be hidden and forgotten by them.

So now, I am stuck in this blue room with a feeling of dread and doom.

A small desk, a TV, and one queen bed with three pillows for my aching head.

I glance out the window where the view is green; a park across the road looking serene.

But none of it is comforting as I now wish for that busy city scene.

A few cars, trucks, and semis drive and rumble by this quieter stretch of highway.

I call my  cousin who hears an earful, “He forgot me; that unthinking driver of the shuttle!”

She is kind suggesting a sandwich and some food but I wouldn’t listen: I was in no mood.

in this quiet guest room I sit slumped in my chair thinking how life isn’t fair.

Somehow, I thought with a furrowed brow, I must journey north and fly out tomorrow!

I make phone calls and send emails for transportation to the big city

But no one is answering so for tomorrow, I will have to wait and see.

The Fireplace

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Now that it is Father’s Day, and I am once again thinking about my dad. He once built a fireplace which added extra warmth  in the old house during the many cold Wisconsin winters. And stretching on the couch, feeling it’s warming glow, and watching the dancing flames was one of my favorite things to do on a cold winter evening. I’m still going through my photos to find a pic of it and when I find it, I will post that too.

The Fireplace

There once was a fireplace built by my father’s skillful hands
And not another was like it; not one in all the land.
It filled an entire wall, an awesome sight to be behold;
Made of gray and white bricks and many large stones.

The sight with all its warmth invited and having nowhere else to go,
I’d gladly sit and watch the flames emitting that brilliant orange glow.
I’d hear the crackles, watch sparks fly and see the flames stretching high.
Only to shrink again, to almost smolder but never really die.

The crimson flames would rise again trying to reach higher than before.
The swaying fingers had a life of their own as they shrank and rose some more.
As a young girl I felt warm and safe there and deeply loved
As if someone was kindly watching over me from above.

Often at night I’d stretch out reading a favorite book and soon fall asleep.
I wonder how often mom or dad tiptoed by that fireplace quietly checking on me?
That old house stands empty and the fireplace but a dark shadow of its previous days.
I hope another young girl will one day watch and rest in its warm and brilliant sway.

Writing 101 Assignment 7: The Battle Between Summer and Winter

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“I like summer!”

“Well, I like winter!”

“What’s so great about winter?”

“What’s so great about summer?”

“During the summer, the temperature is warm

And I can stay outside all day long.”

“Winter is an adventure when that mighty wind blows

And I bravely trample through drifts of snow.”

“But that northern breeze is just too much for me!

Soon I have a cold as I start to sneeze and sneeze.”

“You know, summer is no picnic either

With the pollen, the weeds, and flowers in bloom, I soon have hay fever.”

“Winter is so white and bleak with no vivid colors to see.

But summer is a vibrant rainbow of red, orange, purple, yellow, and green.”

“Summer is sometimes too drab with brown grass and dry dust floating in the air.

Winter ushers in the purest breezes which filter and clean the atmosphere.”

“Winter lasts too long, those months and months of snow seem to go on forever.”

”Summer drags on too when heat and humidity rise I just perspire and swelter.”

“In the summer, birds gladly sing while grazing, strolling wildlife can be seen.”

“Winter has its own wonder and surprises like seeing a brilliant sundog in the sky.”

“You know this battle between summer and winter can go on forever:

I know, let’s just talk about the weather.”

“That is fine with me but what about autumn and spring?”

“Well, I like autumn.”

“and I like spring!”

“Oh, no, here we go again.”