Canada 2019 – Part 2

July 5, 2019

The first day of the reunion wouldn’t start until about 5:30 p.m. on Friday, so we had the morning to ourselves.

I had taken my Mickey Mouse jacket—my favorite piece of clothing. However, the zipper had been giving me a bad time, and it finally broke. The weather reports I had looked at a couple of weeks earlier had said it would be hot. By the time we arrived, the prediction was for cool weather with a chance of rain. So, I needed a warm replacement for Mickey.

We also needed to take a salad or dessert for Saturday’s meal, and I had discovered there was a Costco in Lethbridge, where we were staying.

After breakfast, we headed out to shop. We had free wi-fi at the hotel, so I programmed the address on my phone. While we drove to Costco, it rained. However, it had pretty well stopped by the time we arrived. We decided on a large fruit tray since it could be either a salad or dessert.

Then we went on to Walmart. It drizzled on the way, so in addition to some toiletries and a hooded sweatshirt with “Canada” on the front, we picked up a small travel umbrella. Larry had intended to throw one of ours into his suitcase, but he forgot. Of course, by the time we walked out, the umbrella was no longer needed. (We never used it…)

Since by then it was two o’clock, we were hungry and decided to find somewhere for lunch. We drove around until we spotted a breakfast/lunch place. What a find!

Cora had a terrific menu. Everything looked good. I ordered their veggie skillet: vegetables (with no mushrooms) covered with melted cheese and a bechamel sauce. Larry had the fruit crepe—a HUGE crepe! It was served on a platter, and the crepe hung over the ends. The fruit was covered in warm custard, and three huge mounds of whipped cream perched on top. He was a really happy camper. So was I. We had hoped to get back there before we left, but we never made it. Wish they had locations here in California.

We put the fruit tray in the mini-refrigerator in our room, and then headed out for the reunion at Centennial Reunion Park in Sterling.

Through the years, traditions had been established. The first was dinner on Friday night: hot dogs and watermelon, followed by “flap jacks.” I have always used this term to refer to pancakes, but the family also calls these “Navajo Fry Bread.” More about them later.

One of the first people I spotted was Marilynn, who had invited us. It was nice to see a friendly face. She showed us where to go. Even though the event was held in a park, it had a great building with large kitchen, dining area, and restrooms.

Several of the attendees and their families camped, and the park had facilities both for tents and RVs. I don’t camp. Last year, I even wrote a blog about why.

Larry helped set up the tables while I signed us in and introduced myself. Everyone wore nametags (thank goodness). Each of the members of DeLoss’s family also indicated which of his children they were descended from. I wrote my grandfather’s name, and had to explain the relationship several times. Larry just wrote “Lorna’s husband.”

The hot dogs were grilled, served with all the trimmings, and dinner began amid lots of visiting.

Later on, the bread dough was brought out and torn into pieces about the size of small pancakes, thinner in the middle and thicker around the edges. They were fried in lard. (The gals all swore this was the secret.) Several sauces were  available: maple syrup, honey, golden syrup (the best), corn syrup with cinnamon, and several others. Of course, Larry had to try them all.

The ladies kept making these until all of the dough was cooked. They decided not to bring as much dough to the next one! However, I think all of these treats were eaten.

Then a fire was built in the fire ring. Of course, marshmallows and toasting forks came out, and everyone ended up sticky.

Since the sun doesn’t set until around ten at night, the group didn’t start to break up until about then.

We returned to the hotel to rest and anticipate meeting even more of the relatives on Saturday.

To be continued…

Canada 2019 – Part 1

I have always known about the Canadian cowboys in my family. In fact I wrote about them on my blog. But I had never met them. My aunt had, however. She and her older sister were born in Canada when my grandfather moved his family there. My dad was born in Nevada not too long before the move.

My aunt told me she had attended a couple of the family reunions in Calgary  and said I should go sometime. But I never got around to it, and then my aunt died. 

A couple of years ago, we had our DNA sequenced, and guess who showed up—several of the Canadians. I have corresponded with them ever since, so I felt I knew who they were. This year, the cousin in charge of the reunion invited me to come. I had lots of questions for this branch of the family, and they were curious about the California branch, so I said we would attend.

My grandfather was one of twenty-three children—his, hers, and theirs. Grandpa was one of the thirteen by his father’s first wife, Mary Jane, and so was the head of the Canadian branch. Marinus DeLoss Lund was the third oldest. My grandfather, Henry Ramsbottom (an unfortunate name from his maternal grandfather) Lund was number nine. Grandpa was eight when his mother died. DeLoss (the family often called the children by their middle names) was seventeen.

Marinus DeLoss Lund family circa 1918

Parents in center: Marinus DeLoss Lund (called “DeLoss”) and Mary Ellen. Back row: Clark, Andrew DeLoss, Clatie Jane, Manila, and Arthur. On Marinus's lap is Hazel and on Mary Ellen's lap is Harold. Between the parents are Rozzel in front and Mary behind. Crystal stands next to her mother. Not yet born: Ersel (Bronc).

In 1902, when he was twenty-six, DeLoss moved to Canada. At the time, land grants were offered to anyone who would settle a parcel of land.

In 1919, my grandfather joined his brother in Canada. DeLoss had a ranch in Raymond and raised cattle. All of the family had been involved in the family ranch in Utah growing up (The Hat-L-Bar). Grandpa was a blacksmith as well as a carpenter and cowboy. I imagine his services were welcomed on the ranch in Canada (the Hat-L).

Both of my aunts were born while they lived in Canada. Not long after the younger one was born, they returned to the US and joined other family members who lived in California.

When the invitation came to attend this year’s reunion, I decided I couldn’t pass up the chance to see where my dad’s family had lived and to get to meet some of those relatives in person.

July 3,2019

On Wednesday, July 3, 2019, we left Orange County airport in the afternoon. After a layover in Salt Lake City, Utah, we arrived in Great Falls, Montana. The cousins had said it was a bit closer to Sterling, where the reunion would take place, than Calgary.

We arrived late, so we took a room at a hotel near the airport for the night. This was a good idea since we were tired.

July 4, 2019

By the next morning, we were rested. After breakfast, we set out for Canada.

The border crossing took nearly an hour—probably because of short staffing due to the holiday.

Before we left home, Larry had called Garmin and paid for the addition of the Canada map to his GPS. We crossed the border, and the GPS stopped working. Fortunately, I had also programmed the route to our hotel in Lethbridge on my phone, so we were able to use it to find our way there. The trip was made more pleasant because I had brought my iPod with over 20,000 of my favorite songs, and we listened to them on the road.

The three-and-a-half-hour drive passed through incredible farmland. It was easy to see why Montana is called “Big Sky Country.” The landscape runs directly to the horizon in all directions. The clouds in the clear, blue sky were gorgeous pillows of white marshmallow. The whole thing looked surreal.

Not long after we passed into Canada, storm clouds gathered. Several times I mentioned to Larry how much the vista looked like an Andrew Wyeth landscape. The crops were vibrant green and yellow (mustard?) as far as the eye could see. Right at the horizon, light shone below the clouds, illuminating the fields. Above, the sky was in shades of gray. The view looked more like a painting than reality. I told Larry if anyone painted it as it looked, no one would believe them.

We arrived at the hotel, checked in, and then went to a nearby Tim Horton’s for a bite to eat. These fast food places are ubiquitous in Canada. We weren’t too hungry, so the small meal hit the spot.

As we arrived back at the hotel, I discovered my purse was missing. I didn’t panic, but I was afraid I had left it behind. However, we returned to the restaurant, and my purse was still hooked to the back of the chair I had used. To celebrate, we ordered a ten-pack of “Tim Bits.” These are doughnut holes—just enough for a sweet bite.

Back at the hotel, we watched a little TV and then prepared for the first day of the reunion.

To be continued…

The World’s Most Expensive Flag - continued

Here is the follow-up blog my husband, Larry K. Collins, wrote about his beloved flag in 2012:

Previously, my wife, Lorna, blogged about my owning the world’s most expensive flag.

It’s true. Some forty years ago, in 1970, just after we moved into our first house, a person came to the front door selling American flags for some worthy cause. I don’t remember what the cause was, but I’m sure it must have been worthy.

A twenty-five dollar donation, and I became the owner of the flag, complete with mounting bracket, and two-piece aluminum pole topped with a nifty genuine plastic eagle. I reasoned, we didn’t have a flag and needed one for the house. It was a weak moment, I must admit.

On our next trip to the local drug store, Lorna pointed out the identical boxed flag sets on sale for $2.95. And for the past forty years, she has reminded me of my extravagance on every holiday: every Presidents Day, Forth of July, Memorial, Labor, Veterans Day, etc.

Because of the expense, I have endeavored to take very good care of my prized flag, carefully storing it at night and bringing it inside in inclement weather. And it’s lasted for more than forty years, far longer than just any old $2.95 flag deserved. Still, over the years it had become somewhat faded and thin in places.

Now, I have sad news to report. Yesterday evening, July third, I was shocked to see that the extended wing of the genuine plastic eagle had caught and ripped a one-foot gash parallel to, and between the twelfth and thirteenth stripes. Unfortunately, the material has become too thin and worn to accept sewing back together. I must conclude its time has come. It will need to be replaced.

I put it out on July 4, 2012 for the last time. I figured it deserved one last day in the sun before being officially retired.

I went on the Internet to discover the proper way to dispose of an American flag. Here’s what I found on USA flag site (usa-flag-site.org) and The Flag Keepers (flagkeepers.org).

There are several ways in which you may give your American flag the proper retirement without showing disgrace to this great country. If you would like to dispose of the flag yourself then the most fitting way is to hold your own, private ceremony. The U.S. Flag Code states, "The flag, when it is in such a condition that it is no longer a fitting emblem for display, should be destroyed in a dignified way, preferable by burning." After your flag has been burned, the ashes should be buried. If you cannot burn and bury the flag yourself, Flag Keepers will retire your flag in a proper and respectful ceremony for a price. Or several other organizations that will retire your flag are: VFW, American Legion, Boy or Girl Scouts of America, and Marine Corps League.

Since I’m not personally into burning flags and burying ashes, I will contact the Marine Corps for proper retirement. [The flag ultimately went to the local VFW for disposal. Lorna]

Also, while I’m on the subject of flags, I have a story told me by my cousin-in-law, Ron Walker. He was Director of National Parks from 1973 to 1975.

During his tenure as director, a park ranger was killed in the line of duty. Ron immediately directed that all National Park flags be lowered to half-staff. About twenty minutes later, his phone rang.

“Ron,” the voice said. “This is President Nixon.”

“Yes Mr. President” Ron quickly responded, all the while thinking. Why is the president calling me personally?

“Ron,” the voice continued. “I was just wondering why the flag on the White House is at half-staff.”

Then Ron remembered. The White House is also a national monument, and therefore subject to park rules. He explained the situation to the President.

“Fine,” Nixon responded, “I just wanted to know. Proceed.”

He hung up, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief.

While I have treated this blog lightly and with humor, there is a seriousness to it. My old flag itself is merely a piece of cloth, and dye, and stitching. It is not my country. It is a symbol of my country, honored for what it represents, not for some magic or inherent value. 

The new replacement flag will be just as much a symbol and just as honored as was the old one. However, the old flag has been part of our family for so long, through the bi-centennial, 9-11, births and deaths, and all the other events of our lives, both good and bad, for the past forty years. As I fold it up for the last time, I’m reminded of standing on a hill before my father’s flag-draped coffin and hearing the sweet tones of a lone bugle playing "Taps."

The World’s Most Expensive Flag – With the Genuine Plastic Eagle

This is another encore blog from 2012. Larry wanted to see it again. We hope you will enjoy it.

On every national holiday, we hang out our flag. Actually, we’ve been doing it since we bought it a couple of months after we moved into our first house in 1970. Someone came to the door selling flags, and Larry bought one for twenty-five dollars. He said it was for a good cause, but he couldn’t remember which one.

The next day I went to the local drugstore and saw the same exact flag on sale for $2.95. Since then, I’ve called it “The World’s Most Expensive Flag with the Genuine Plastic Eagle.”

Of course, we’ve flown it on every patriotic holiday since then, and often for an entire weekend or longer.

On the old house, it flew from a holder on the porch post. It was really convenient because we could stand on the porch, reach around, and drop it in the slot.

However, on this house, Larry mounted the holder between the windows on the second floor. That meant we either had to use a tall ladder to get to it from the outside or open the nearest window and lean out to get the post into the holder.

When we returned from Japan in 2001, we replaced all our windows with vinyl-clad energy-efficient ones because the old ones had aluminum frames, and many would no longer open due to damage from the salty sea air.

The stucco then required repair, so we removed all the termite-ridden wood siding and trim at the same time. After the house was tented and the repairs were made, Larry installed a new flag holder between the upstairs windows. The new holder doesn’t hold quite as firmly as the old one, but it works. And opening the window and hanging out is still required to install the flag. (We took one of the screens off as soon as the window was installed, and it remains on the floor behind the sofa to allow for quicker flag access.)

On September 11, 2001, I was very grateful to have had the world’s most expensive flag in the house. I put it out that day to show our love for our country and the solidarity we all felt. Many of our neighbors also displayed new flags, purchased for the occasion, during the ensuing days, but ours was first.

The old flag may be a bit faded now, but it has been well cared-for over the years. Larry reminds me that we’ve had it for forty-two years, and it’s still going strong. So maybe he didn’t pay too much for it after all when the cost is amortized. And, after all, it does have a genuine plastic eagle!

Happy 4th of July!

This is an encore of a blog from July 4, 2003. Thought you might enjoy seeing it again.

I’ve been thinking about one of the most memorable ones in my life. I happened to read it again today and wanted to share it with you:

Independence Day - July 4, 2000 *

Our last year in Japan, we invited a large group to our home to enjoy a traditional 4^th of July barbecue. Our California friends, Dave and Ruth, had just arrived for a visit, so it was also a chance to introduce them to our co-workers, friends and Japanese “family” including Misayo-san and Kazue.

The evening before, we had decorated the apartment using fans I had purchased in the US, embellished with a flag motif. With a red tablecloth and white napkins and accessories, it looked very patriotic.

While I was at work, Ruth made potato salad for the festivities. In addition, I had prepared baked beans, a green salad and brownies. We served assorted chips and other snacks, besides the customary hamburgers and hot dogs. Most of our guests brought additional snacks, sweets and desserts. We fired up the charcoal in the small barbecue we had purchased at the Price Club. Two of the Japanese guys commandeered the spatulas and became our cooks for the evening.

Many of the people who attended were Japanese and had never experienced a real “American-style” 4^th of July before. We played lots of patriotic music, and ate our meal on the balcony while enjoying the twinkling lights of Osaka at night. We lamented the absence of fireworks, but God had other plans. He provided a fabulous thunderstorm that no man-made pyrotechnics or laser show could begin to match. And He waited until we were finished with our barbecue before it began.

Most people viewed the heavenly display from inside, but our friend Casey insisted on remaining out-of-doors where he could get the full effect of the thunder and lightning.

Everyone enjoyed the party. Dave and Ruth got to meet our friends, and we were able to introduce the Japanese to a real “red, white and blue” Independence Day celebration.

Perhaps being so far away from home at the time, this particular holiday was especially precious to us.

We’re grateful for each one we get to celebrate, and for living in this fabulous country. Spending time elsewhere heightened our appreciation for America and its blessings!

So, celebrate in whatever way has meaning for you. Freedom is a hard-won privilege. Don’t ever forget it!

* Excerpt from 31 Months in Japan: The Building of a Theme Park

©2005 Lorna Collins