I have already posted these on facebook, but this seems a more permanent record. And, more accessible. So here they are:
Grandpa Brubaker's Draft Registration Cards for World War One and World War Two. Imagine, a 50 year old man having to register for the draft in 1942! Be sure to read both sets of cards. They both rpovide some new details about Charles Edward Brubaker, Sr.
Friday, May 27, 2016
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Thank Goodness For Mr. Coffee
As
I poured my third cup of coffee this morning, I remembered an earlier time when
coffee was a bit more difficult and a challenge to make. I have always used some type of drip coffee
maker, a plastic device with a clock and timer built in. Yet, I think back to the days of the electric
percolator and marvel at the process of an earlier time. The pot consisted of steel and chrome with a
plastic resin base with a heater installed.
I remember Dad and his work to create that perfect cup of coffee. Making coffee each day, it is no wonder the
man had the patience of Job. There were
precise steps for making coffee. The
steps had a reason and they had to be followed precisely.
To
make that perfect cup, be sure to disconnect the electric cord from the
pot. Getting water in the wiring could
short circuit and ruin the pot. That
would mean no coffee for a few days until the broken pot could be replaced.
Next
fill the pot with cold water up to the line that was clearly marked with water
stains from the many hundreds for previously made pots of coffee. It had to be cold water. Luke warm or hot water and you might ruin the
heating element.
Pour
three heaping scoops of coffee from the Folgers three pound can into the coffee
filter. More than three scoops made the
coffee too strong, and less than three heaping scoops and you may as well be
drinking dirty water—too weak.
Place
the filter in the pot. This required a
certain bit of dexterity and coordination.
The filter was held together by a metal shaft running up through the
middle of it. On the top rested a tin
lid to aid the percolation process.
Putting the filter in the pot meant holding this contraption together
with your fingers while guiding the metal shaft down to the bottom of the
percolator where it would sit snugly in a recessed circle. All the while, water would do its natural
best to float and disassemble the entire filter assembly.
At
last, put the lid on the pot and plug the cord first into the pot and then into
the electrical outlet.
While
the percolator brewed the perfect cup of coffee, Dad would sit and smoke two,
maybe three, cigarettes. It is no wonder
Dad smoked two packs a day. After the
cigarettes, walk outside and get the morning paper. By then the wonderful smell of nirvana
permeated the kitchen. The coffee was
ready.
When
that first pot of coffee was drained, a fresh pot was brewed (repeat steps one
through six). Coffee was always present
in the house. Up until ten o’clock at
night the coffee pot remained hot, although not always fresh. At ten o’clock, with the beginning of the
news, the pot was unplugged, drained and rinsed. The filter was rinsed and placed upside down in
the dish strainer so that it would dry and ready for service in the morning.
I
think back on this and appreciate Dad a little bit more. I can appreciate the pleasure he must have
experienced with the purchase of his first Mr. Coffee. Even today, I appreciate the wonders of
modern technology and my Mr. Coffee.
Every night at ten o’clock I make my coffee. I still use three heaping scoops of coffee. Now, I use Starbucks
medium blend instead of folgers. But I set
the alarm on the coffee pot and go watch the news. I wake up the next morning to the smell of a
glorious cup of coffee waiting for me.
No patience required, just make the coffee, set the alarm and sleep
through the night.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
A New Use For The Blog
The Sherburne County Historical Society, where I am Executive Director, has just gone live with a crowd sourcing fundraising appeal. This is for a great project to exhibit quilts in Sherburne County and highlight the unique artistry of the people making the quilts.
Please share this appeal with all of your friends and anyone you think might be interested.
Thank you in advance.
http://igg.me/at/sherburnequilts/x/12760328
Hey, we all need some advertising in our lives.
Please share this appeal with all of your friends and anyone you think might be interested.
Thank you in advance.
http://igg.me/at/sherburnequilts/x/12760328
Hey, we all need some advertising in our lives.
Saturday, November 14, 2015
More Memories of Grandma
It has been a couple of months, for that I am sorry. But here is another bit of memory of Grandma Ruth Brubaker. My sister Micki shared this with me:
Grandma was generous.
Uncle Bud told me that when he was a boy, a teenager, he had two pairs
of pants, one with holes that were for everyday and one without holes for
church. One day he was looking for his
good pants. Grandma told him she had
given them away to some poor kid who didn’t have any pants without holes. Uncle Bud, exasperated, said “Ma, now I don’t
have any pants without holes.”
Apparently, she didn’t think of her and Uncle Bud as poor.
I am back to writing if anyone wants to share stories about the Brubakers.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Grandma's New York Trip
Reading Ruth Harmon Brubaker’s travel journal about her trip
to New York gives some insight into her personality. The excitement she put on the page as she travels
by train from Idaho to New York reveals new aspects of her personality. She has been described as patient and loving,
the journal shows an adventurous side of her life, an excitement to experience
more of life.
“We are in Erie, New York & it’s an immense industrial
city—Bethlehem steel plants on one side of the landscape—great cement plants,
etc., etc.—we’ve come thru miles of it,” she wrote. “We’ve followed along the shore all
morning. Boats, lovely one by the 1000s
just below us. Yesterday I saw a real
old Missouri steamer—3 decker but no way to take a picture of it.”
Grandma shows an interest in other travelers. She visits with everyone, she trades
magazines with nuns going to Chicago.
She engages a college student on her way home from North Eastern
University to Niagara Falls. In addition to her new student friend she strikes
up new conversations with interesting observations with others seated around
her.
“A man looks like a second Wallace Berry sits in from of me
and is going to his brother’s golden wedding,” she wrote. “He’s a grand person and had 11 sons and
nephews in the war—all came back safe but one nephew. Every few minutes he says ‘I wish Mama was
along but she ain’t so well—but she made me come anyhow.’ Well its noon and the little girl got off
& her folks just met her, they came to our window to tell us (me and the
man) goodbye. Swell, common friendly
people.”
The pages of Grandma’s travel journal reveal a very
intelligent woman, very observant and excited with every new adventure that
comes her way. I don’t think anything
really surprises her. Grandma marvels at
the immensity of life. Early in her
journey she notes the speed of the train.
“We are sure traveling fast—will cross the whole state of Nebr. in the
nite.” She is amazed, and marvels at the wonders she
encounters in her travels. But I don’t
think she is surprised.
Reading her journal shows an interesting side of her
personality. Grandma is well educated,
well read, and very intelligent. She is
patient and loving. She is truly a
fascinating woman with an array of gifts and talents.
Monday, August 3, 2015
Grandma Was A Catholic
As I
investigate Ruth Harman, questions that continue to arise include: what she thought and how she felt. An important question: how
did she develop such a strong Catholic faith?
Raised a Methodist; her father a minister, yet the entire family
remembers her as deeply faithful to the Catholic Church. It must have been difficult to move away from
the faith of her family and accept Catholicism.
An important question if we want to fully appreciate Grandma and her
life: How did she reach such faith in the Catholic Church?
It should
also be noted that her faith didn’t go unrewarded and her faith inspired
others. Mary Jane Hislop (Mom)
attributes one specific miracle to Grandma’s faith: When just a few months old Micki, my older
sister, suffered from a blockage. Her
stomach became blocked or her intestine was twisted, or something. The doctors wanted to operate. Micki hadn’t been baptized yet. Doctors gave her low odds of survival.
Grandma insisted that a Catholic priest come into the hospital and baptize
Micki before the surgery. Sometime
between the priest coming in and the scheduled surgery the blockage healed
itself. Mom knew divine intervention
healed her baby through Grandma’s intervention.
Grandma’s
strong Catholic faith included the education of her children. When the family could afford the tuition,
each of Grandma’s children went to private Catholic schools. The apocryphal story concerns Uncle Pat, who
was expelled from the Catholic School by the nuns because he kept spitting on
the floor. This same son later
studied for the priesthood.
At her funeral, Dad proudly noted, three priests participated in Grandma's funeral mass.
Obviously,
Grandma Ruth Harman Brubaker was very Catholic.
She came from a Methodist family and married into a Catholic
family. How did she arrive at her faith? Why did she hold such a strong faith? These are interesting questions with no easy
answers.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Life IN Boise
Ruth
Brubaker (Grandma) was the amazing glue that kept the family together. Throughout the family history, she is the one
constant force, apparent in either the background or leading the charge to live
life as a Brubaker. A well-educated
woman, she graduated from the Nebraska State Normal School and began teaching at
age 16. She married Grandpa and raised
her large family during the terrible economic times of the 1920s and
1930s.
An example
of Grandma Brubaker and her inner
strength comes from a collection of memories and oral histories, they all tell
the story about Grandma and her extended family when they moved to Boise, Idaho
in 1937. In an oral history from Charles
Brubaker, Jr, he explained: “We didn’t see dad (Grandpa Brubaker) much because
he was on the railroad. He worked
sixteen hours a day, when he worked.
When we moved to Idaho, he was supposed to trade seniority with a guy in
Idaho but the guy backed out. Dad was
stuck in Cheyenne while we were in Idaho.”
Grandma’s
extended family seems huge, and that caused some problems. In the Boise home the landlord allowed only
three children in the house. “When the
landlady came to collect the rent, us kids would have to hide,” dad said. “My
uncle was living with us; his wife and three kids; my mom and us eight kids and
my brother-in-law. It was wall to wall
people.”
Feeding this
huge group was another challenge to Grandma and the rest of the family. “My uncle and brother-in-law Bill went out to
pick fruit,” Dad remembered. “When they
got done the farmer couldn’t pay them (in cash) so he paid them in plums. We had a whole garage full of plums. We all ate those plums. I hate them to this day.”
Life in the
Boise house lasted only about one year. In
1938 the family moved to Midway, and later that same year moved into the city
of Nampa. Grandma’s resilience and
strength continued to shine through. But
those are more stories to tell at a later time.
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