Prairie Schooner Lady

Prairie Schooner Lady
By
Betty Waltenspiel
This book was created as part of Lifescapes, a cooperative project of the Washoe County
Library System, the University of Nevada Reno English Department, ElderCollege and the
Nevada Humanities Committee.
Copyright © 2005 by Betty Waltenspiel
Washoe County Library System
Northwest Reno Library
2325 Robb Dr.
Reno, NV 89523
http://www.lifescapesmemoirs.net
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Contents
Prairie Schooner Lady – page 4
Granny on Line – page 11
Corn Dancer – page 12
The Dinosaur Hills – page 13
Anniversary Synonym – page 14
Summertime – page 15
Holiday Parade – page 16
Author’s Biography – page 17
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Prairie Schooner Lady
Delia Thompson Brown
August 3, 1837 Delia Thompson was born in Huntley, Ill. She chose a romantic date and
was married to John P. Brown on Valentine's Day, Feb. l4 1854. Six years later, May 7,
1860, the adventurous couple heaped all they owned into a covered wagon and with eight
family members set off on their long journey even to the land of gold. Jogging day after day
endless miles, always spurred on by the same golden dream that incited the great westward
movement.
After a long journey the Brown family decided to spend the winter in Silver City. Arriving in
September 1860 they remained there almost six years. The story of their trials and
tribulations is as well a first hand account of history in the making on the Comstock.
Their small party, resourceful and determined, passed Chimney Rock and Fort Laramie,
wound down through the great Utah Territory to Big Bend along the Carson River. Spring
rains drenched their flesh, desert sand storms attacked them and they were blistered by the
summer sun. There were fortunes to be made in the far west. Finally they bumped up Gold
Canyon to become witness to the whole panorama of Nevada's "big bonanza". Here then
are some of Delia’s own words.
Today we are to leave this place and home and friends and start upon a long journey, even to
the land of gold. 'Tis hard to say the last good-bye, though we know (or at least think) 'tis
for the best. How I wish I had passed through that scene, the hardest of all for me.
Well, 'tis done - I have taken the parting hand with my mother who will be lonely now , and
kissed her a last good-bye - my heart was too full to speak. I have parted with my brother
and sisters dear, perhaps nevermore to meet, for this earth has many ways. I felt as much at
parting with my little niece, Dora, she was dear to me as my own and depended much on my
company. Poor child, she will be lonely, but time will pass so she will soon forget. Perhaps I
do wrong to express so much of my private feelings, but 'tis done so let it pass.
Traveling with my husband, John P. Brown, age 34, and myself, age 32, are my brother,
Harlow Thompson; John's four brothers, James, Lyman, Henderson and Hendrick (twins),
and John's three sisters, Martha, Paulina and Malvina (called Mallie). We started about half
past ten o'clock a. m. and made several calls to say farewell to loved ones. We finally passed
the last of our acquaintances and then there were no more leave takings.
Our ride was through a beautiful prairie land and I was quite surprised at the change in the
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appearance of the country in the last few years. Improvement seems to be the order of the
day. Many neat farm houses have erected and the farms show signs of good cultivation. It
speaks well for the intelligence of the community. We met with nothing worthy of note.
We came to the village of Genoa where we expected we could be accommodated with things
for the comfort of man and beast, but in this we were somewhat disappointed. There being
but one store in the place, the owner of that could charge as much for things as he chose
and his conscience allowed him to make awful charges. We concluded to go on and camp
near some good farmer. After inquiring at two or three places we found where feed could
be had for horses and so we camped, had our first supper and prepared for the night.
Martha and Pauline slept at the house as Martha was very tired. The boys slept in the barn,
John and I in the wagon.
Covered wagon camping
There was a slight sprinkle of rain before we were up but faired off and was very warm but
so sandy and dusty it was very unpleasant. We camped at noon at a comfortable farm house,
had dinner and fed the teams and started on our way. By the sway, we had one adventure.
Wash's horse was going along with his saddle on and took a notion to roll. John got our and
cracked his whip at him and he stated and went through a wire fence, but there was no harm
done, only broke the saddle girt. We encountered a severe storm of wind and rain. Our
colts were not inclined to go at also we were obliged to "heave to" as the sailors say. I feared
our schooner would capsize. When the violence of the storm finally abated we drove about
4 1/2 miles and pitched our tent comfortable. The only trouble I had was to make some
bread for supper and had neither rising nor sour milk, but finally got some biscuits that were
good and now I don't care. Our stove is capital. I tell you there is no excuse for anyone to
be very long in cooking a meal - that is to say if they have anything to cook. We shall be apt
to live well while passing through this farming land.
Well here we are the very back kitchen of a large brick hotel at Oregon City on Rock River.
I suppose the landlord thought we were only some emigrants and the front parlor was no
place for us. Well never mind, we can get warm here just as well. It is so cold and
unpleasant there is not much chance for sight seeing. We are steering for Fullton where we
will cross the Mississippi. It is not in sight from our camp and as it is my week to work I
had no time to go see the place. Soon after we had dinner and started on our way I missed
my little satchel that had all my little necessary things for the trip, but it was too late to go
back for it. I would rather have lost anything else.
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We had bread and milk and rabbit and prairie chicken for dinner. Our meals are all about
alike, not much variety but while we are going through a farming country we can get plenty
of milk, butter and eggs. We wanted some potatoes but there were none to be had. This is
the driest country hardly enough water to drink. The road could not be better, but I tell you
it is awfully sleepy work to ride and as walking is worse yet. But shall walk next week I think.
Well Pauline has to do the work this week and so I am free. We shall drive to Iowa City
where John is to get his wagon fixed and so we shall make another stop. A Party of
emigrants just passed us: there are so many on the road, some to Piles Peak and some to
California. This is the greatest place I ever saw for public houses. Every little ways is the
sign hung up and occasionally a little shanty with beer and groceries on it.
Here we are on the open prairie again and have a fine place, good feed for the horses but
food and water are not very plentiful. Iowa is the most even country I was ever in. Have
passed a steady stream of wagons and teams since we started this morning. Ten ox teams in
one train have camped here this noon. We have called for "putuppana" at one of the public
houses. That is to say we are camped on a bank of the beautiful Skunk River - there, does
that not remind you of a sweet scented perfume? We are going to have beef steak for
supper. Had lots of eggs for dinner. Indeed we might as well eat eggs as not for they are
only four cents a dozen.
Traveled about thirty-five miles yesterday and now are ready to go again. Pauline and I are
going to walk a short distance - I think I shall walk more by and by and ride horseback too.
We came in sight of a long white stone lying by the road side and the horses commenced
pricking up their ears and getting ready to be frightened but John held the reins and rather
headed them to the stone. All of a sudden one of the horses turned around and jumped at
the same time. I thought surely the wagon was going over and then I wondered what would
become of us. But one of the boys came up on that side and made the horses jump a little
the other way. That righted the wagon and the lead horses ran. It was fortunate for us that
Polly and Bony were steady and tried to stop. We finally circled around into the road again
and no harm done but it was a narrow escape. We ate dinner in the wagon today for the
first time. We did not like to cook right here in town and set our tale, so John went to the
bakery and got some cakes, crackers, etc. We ate it without ceremony - it was good I tell
you. Oh, I forgot to say, we had the nicest mess of fish for breakfast this morning. How
time is passing and each day bearing me further from home and friends. Well I trust we
shall meet again. I have one tried and true friend with me and that is my own dear husband.
Tomorrow I commence cooking again. Well I don't care - I am going to put on my short
dress and don't care how I look.
I have burned my face badly. 'Would you know the reason? Well, I came bareheaded and
the reason for that was one of the boys was so careless he got my bonnet last night and
shredded it all to pieces. I could not find my old sun bonnet, so I burned my face. I look
worse than common now, but maybe I will come to my good looks again.
We are at the foot of a mountain in plain sight of the Salt Lake. There are 46 wagons here
and I don't know how many horses or persons, but I think a sight of this train will be
sufficient to frighten most any company of Indians or Mormons either. We had a female
fight in our camp yesterday between two "grass widders". I think it is time we left. We
passed through a small Mormon city celebrating the 24th of July. Pink seemed to be the
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prevailing color; Pink shirts for the little boys and blue "denim" pants. Little girls had pink
dresses or white trimmed with pink. Last night the wolves howled around and the ladies in
Mr. Webster's tent routed men out to fight the Indians. I never saw such folks to get
frightened at nothing. I shall be glad when we reach Carson Valley. We are now out of the
Goshute tribe who are hostile to the whites and have sworn vengeance on them.
Here we are at Sand Springs. We had an alkali plain to go over - this looks like ice by
moonlight and it is a good road. Next day we're in Carson Valley. We concluded to tie up
the horses but they ate nearly everything there was. They ate my sunbonnet up for one thing
and so I must wear my hood. Oh what a time we had yesterday. There came up a shower
just as we had set the tent. It did not wet much, only made it a little sticky. But after the
shower a while the water came running down from the hills and soon we were afloat - bed,
stove and all. Had to take up the bed and raise the stove - you see I had bread baking and
the fire went out. Finally we had to move the whole arrangement to higher and drier
ground. So that was all got along with and we had our supper and done our work and went
to bed. In the night the remainder of our train came up. They had a love of a time coming
form Sand Springs and now we are here altogether again. Guess we shall remain so until we
reach Carson River any way and there will come a separation and we may not meet again
"For earth has many ways."
We met a train that came through the Humboldt Route and had good grass and water all the
way: only one 50-mile desert. The way we came has been desert all the way from Salt Lake.
It is rather provoking though both we and our horses have lived. Oh something funny
today, a lady asked Martha if I was her mother. Now I feel imposed upon to be thought
Mother to such an old grandmother of a thing as Martha. Well never mind I am only three
years the oldest and feel more than a dozen younger. John came home this morning about
half past eleven o'clock. Soon after their arrival three or four gentlemen came up on
horseback and made quite a visit. One of them was in pursuit of a girl to do housework so
Mal concluded to go and try it - a week for six dollars. One of the gents name was Mr.
Brown, a great "pussy" man, but very social and pleasant. They say, however, they nearly all
gamble and I don't doubt it.
Well here we are near China Town. John got home last night and said he had made
arrangements for living at Silver City this winter. We are very comfortably situated in a
room belonging to Mr. Fairbanks. We can stay here until our house is built. Everyone
thinks it is a better place for making money than California now is. I guess some of the folks
would smile to see our room, but we think it is very nice. I have hung up a curtain and made
two bedrooms and still we have quite a large room left. Have to cook out doors yet and that
is the worst thing there is, but when money is more plentiful we will have a stove.
We are in the city of Omaha. There are lots of Indians here. There was one came to our
camp and wanted money and something to eat, so I gave him some bread and John and
some of the boys gave him some money. But I don't think it is a good plan to give them
much for they will bother too much. We have a camp on the prairie by a small creek - it is a
lovely place and a lovely night. There are fourteen wagons and lots of men, some women
and children. There is music in one of the tents and we are going over and dance on the
grass.
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John and I are going to ride in the new buggy and some
of the girls too. I want to ride beside John, of course,
but come to riding they all want to ride with him. So I
told John we would stick to the old wagon as I had
rather ride there. I thought it would be better for
Martha to ride under cover but she didn't do so. Well
never mind, everyone to their liking. I don't have to
work this week, so I do not have to leave the wagon if I
do not choose.
The water in the Platt is about like the Missouri, very
muddy. There was no wood handy, so we ate our
dinner cold again. Mostly we can find a little to pick up
and with the corn cobs we manage very well. We passed a drove of sheep bound for
California, large train beside. Bad news from Pikes - the Indians have killed about one
hundred men. They sent to Fort Kearney.
We are on the Loupe Fork which we ferried over. Such a slow job - only one team at a time,
then pulled by ropes. Very much like loading a vessel at White Lake. John went first and
got stuck in quick sand. We are near Pawnee cornfields. They are busy planting corn, at the
least the squaws are - the men are off fighting the Sioux, I believe. These Indians are neater
about their person than those of White Lake, but they go nearly naked and are the greatest
beggars ever I saw. I think there is something very dignified in their appearance. When they
are trying to talk and their gestures are so grand. They have a fantastic way of fixing their
hair, and ornamenting their ears with enormous rings. I could hear the drums beating at Ft.
Kearney which is two miles from the river on the opposite side. We keep on the north side
of the Platt, so shall not see the Fort. Yesterday the boys came riding in and said the
buffalos were coming but did not get any buffalo. They ran the other way.
We are now among the Sioux Indians. They have plenty of money and lots of ponies, but
cannot get much to eat except what game they kill. They think more of crackers than of
money. We passed a new made grave this morning an emigrant I suppose. The name was
John McRee of Mercer Co., Ill., buried June ninth. It looks so sad and lonely, I should think
of all things dread to lie here alone.
We have to be cautious and see that the horses don't drink the alkali water. In some places
the salaratus is thick on the top of the ground. The boys saw fifteen antelope yesterday but
were not fortunate enough to get any. John has a three horse team as they did not succeed
in selling the buggy or getting a horse. Our boys finally bought a horse - paid fifty dollars.
Salt Lake City in two weeks if we have good luck. Seven weeks today since we left Ruth's
and no letter yet. I would hardly believe some folks were what we find them here, but I
must keep guard over my words. I don't half enough here among so many sensitive ones.
Well experience teaches us many things if we are disposed to learn.
Yesterday afternoon we came to the great Ice Spring: this surely is quite a curiosity. Only
think of finding snow not more than six inches under the turf and grass growing over rank
and thrift.
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Today I have been to Church (Methodist), for the first time since leaving home. Held in a
hall downtown, I never saw a more attentive audience, the congregation consisting mostly of
gentlemen and very few ladies out. Martha, Mrs. Kellog and I are the only women
churchgoers. Our preacher, the Rev. Samuel B. Rooney, isn't afraid to tell the truth however
plain and near home it may hit. After church we went to visit the Atkinson's. A young man
was there, gay and lively. He was intoxicated and going home on horseback fell in a shaft
about one hundred and thirty feet deep. Both he and his horse were killed.
Tomorrow is the fourth of March, 186l, and our new Republican president, Abraham
Lincoln, takes the chair. A big ball will take place in our city, the Firemen's Ball, which will
also celebrate the formation of the Volunteer Firemen's Company. There will be a great
crowd and drinking and fighting because of the wild outsiders. There are many dances but I
don't care to go as I am no dancer and ladies are very scarce. The population of Silver City
has increased to about one thousand men and only about fifty women altogether."
Mute testimony to tragedies in the Brown family during their years in Silver City are four
graves, all over one hundred years old, lying in the disintegrating plot in the city cemetery.
Two young children of the John Brown's were buried there, and other relatives. A few feet
above the lot is the grave of Hosea B. Grosh, one of the brothers who first discovered rich
silver deposits on the Comstock. While prospecting in Gold Canyon, Hosea ran a pick in
his foot and died of lockjaw Sept. 2, 1857.
I have condensed Delia’s wonderful hundred pages of history for my children and
grandchildren to read and rejoice in having such a brave and colorful family member.
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Granny Online
How did Grandma arrive into the computer age? All of our
grandkids have been born into the computer age so it's only
natural they would wonder what went on before it came about.
When I was in grade school in the 1930's my family had a radio.
We had started with a metal box type of radio that had a metal
speaker which sat on top. Then we advanced to a large wooden
rectangle. I called it "Gertrude" because it looked sort of homely
and maybe a little shy. It sat on four long skinny legs. But she
gave me a lot of pleasure as I listened to "The Lone Ranger" and
"Little Orphan Annie". In order to follow the plots more
carefully I sent away for special coded cards that let me translate
the clues given over the airways.
Molly Lavender Gill
Anyhow the next miracle of modernity was a telephone owned by our landlady. Which I
was allowed to use only on a strictly limited basis to confer with my friends in Junior High
School.
Moving on to Senior High School the typewriter entered my life. It was a constant battle. I
never did master the thing. Even though as a secretary in the Foreign Service Institute in
Washington, D. C. my frustrated employer tried to advance my skill level by having me
attend remedial classes.
Walking down a Washington street and seeing much to my amazement a television set in a
store window. Showing news reel pictures to one and all. Moving on to actual computers
George and I took classes in community college. My best effort was the solitaire game
Events move so rapidly it's hard to keep up. At this moment the cell phone in my purse
rang with its special tune "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" to tell me our friend will be
installing our new computer today. It's kind of frightening as it will not only scan the
internet but also allow me to produce pictures from our digital camera. What wonders does
the future hold. Grandma can hardly wait.
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Corn Dancer
A redwood fence that, since it has been there for over forty years, has some great knot holes
in the most artistic places. This wonderful fence surrounds our backyard. The fence goes
from the front of the house facing south to the side of the garage. The part made up of the
garage walls is white painted board and battens. There are no windows but since the garage
squats below ground, the beams stick out over the yard. Five graceful planters hang one
from each beam with pink petunias smiling out of them. Then we come to the garage
"man" door which is white with nine panes of glass and a cement stoop. Here our tortoise,
"Sherman", who when he's feeling adventurous climbs up and using it for a pedestal turns
his head expectantly waiting for applause which never comes.
One of the most precious inhabitants of our yard is a persistent dove. She first came into
our lives as an example of what not to do when building a nest she located an old table
standing against the wall of the driveway. Since it was leaning on its side, the top was a thin
piece of aluminum about four inches wide. Here our dove carefully built her nest. I say
carefully to give her the benefit of the doubt. Her nest was almost identical to a pile of
toothpicks some one had discarded. But, she was not to be denied she laid two eggs in their
precarious location. The next summer she searched industriously around the yard and
discovered an old wooden planter who’s' plant had met with an unfortunate end. She edged
herself into the tiny space between the expired plant and the side of the planter and there
proceeded to lay two beautiful little eggs that soon hatched two baby doves. She went
through this procedure three times during the summer and produced a mighty progeny of
six doves. Bless her heart, she has returned again even though the nights are still freezing,
and two more eggs are ready to expand the dove population. We are not really sure that this
is the same dove each season but whether or not we are delighted with her and love to watch
her mothering ways.
The corner where the house and garage meet is
home to the "Corn Dancer". He was made
from the trunk of our apple tree which died
years ago. Originally he was painted in what we
hoped were typical Corn Dancer colors. But,
over the years, he has become just dried apple
tree brown, with darker colored gouges to show
his clothing. His nose and ears are pretty much
a true weather beaten wood shade. Legend has
it that the Corn Dancer is the Indian fetish
who’s' duty it is to provide rain for the dry folks
living in the desert. Since Reno is usually on the lookout for rain, we feel we have done our
part by providing his benevolent manifestations. In addition, the Corn Dancer guards our
cement patio while we sit to enjoy our beautiful lush green grass and all our colorful flowers
blooming in their various weathered pots.
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The Dinosaur Hills
As my Mother and I arrived in Reno with an embarrassingly tiny amount of ready cash we
had to find a way to avoid starvation. My Mother, bless her heart, arranged to be the cook
for a ranch in Beckwith, California. We made our way there by some means which I don't
recall. I had never been on a ranch before so I was all eyes and ears to see where we had
landed. The family made us at home and took us to our upstairs bedroom. The first night
was really spooky as the ranchers had decided to separate the cows from their calves and the
calves spent the night bellowing their unhappiness in mournful moans.
The family consisted of two sons and their father. There was no way for me to get to
school. It was in the next town down the road but too far for me to walk. So I just skipped
school that year. I helped my Mother some with the chores. The family milked a cow and
there were always some large pans of milk on the back porch waiting for the cream to rise.
This made for great topping on our cereal or any deserts.
A barn was located about a half a city block from
the house and chickens and pigs lived there
happily.
The tragic part was when they
slaughtered the pig. It was quite a gory sight as
they hung the pig up on a scaffold so all the blood
would run out. The revolting part was the
chickens that would gather around and pick up
the blood as it ran out. I really haven't liked
chickens much from that day to this.
The family members were very friendly to us and
occasionally took me with them to do their chores. Jules, the older son, made his rounds on
horseback and I got to ride along behind him on the saddle. If they had business in town
they would let me tag along. A trip to Beckwith was an exciting event as there was
absolutely no other entertainment except the radio.
I had a little Brownie box camera and a set of developing solutions so that I could develop
my own pictures. I still have some of my efforts I tried to get pictures of the surrounding
hills because they looked to me like the spikes on the back of a big dinosaur lurking in the
distance.
We didn't live there for more than a few months and returned to Reno where I restarted my
education at Reno High School. Driving on the highway past Beckwith I have tried many
times to locate the Dinosaur Hills but they have never appeared.
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Anniversary Synonym
Since I lived in Salt Lake City, Utah, in my youth I remember celebrating the 24th of July.
Which, I think, was the date when Brigham Young arrived there and said "This is the place."
I was taken aback when I moved to Reno to find people celebrating the 4th of July with
parades of bands and horses then completely ignoring the 24th. Anyhow I remember
Christmas was always celebratory but I don't remember anything about Thanksgiving.
As an adult my brand new husband and I had Thanksgiving dinner with our adopted friends'
family in Reno, right after our wedding. Then we jumped in a borrowed car and drove to
San Francisco to honeymoon. Since finances were more or less minimal we stayed with
George's sister Mary Lou and spent our days looking at San Francisco. Especially
"Fisherman's Wharf" and the "Top of the Fairmont Hotel" to see and listen to the Mills
Brothers.
As our children came along we put more emphasis on Thanksgiving itself. It became a ritual
to drive to the bay area and spend the day with cousins, aunts and uncles. Due to the
excitement of the trip we always forgot to celebrate our wedding anniversary which fell on
almost the same day. Finally when our adult offspring realized that we were approaching our
fiftieth year of married bliss they organized an amazing party for us at Sky Tavern Sky
Lodge. The setting was beautiful that night. You can't beat the moon shining on snow
covered mountains. We had tables for over one hundred people. There was a dinner, an
open bar and "The Sierra Swing Band" in their tuxedos playing for dancing. Each table was
set with rich red tablecloths. In addition each was covered with a gold runner and a
magnificent center piece of red roses. Each red rose was perfect and had a center of gold
colored petals. Included was a three tiered wedding cake decorated with the wonderful red
roses and a doll bride and groom standing on the very top. The party was so impressive that
people occasionally still mention it.
Since the family decided to have the party at Sky Tavern Ski Lodge they changed the date to
August so people wouldn't be afraid to drive up there. On our real Thanksgiving date the
Mt. Rose Road is usually completely covered with snow and ice. Our true wedding date was
November 23, 1949. But the people who remember to congratulate us usually give their
good wishes in August, the date of the party
We have decided that Happy Thanksgiving translates into a satisfying synonym for Happy
Anniversary.
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Summertime
The first summer I remember was in Salt Lake City. We lived in the Pierpont Apartments.
They had a big front veranda which was on the second story and we could sit out there and
watch the world go by. Returning to Salt Lake fifty years later I was happy to see the
Pierpont morphed into a setting for boutiques and realtors. There was also a wonderful
vacant lot across the street and we could play 'Kick the Can', 'Hide and Go Seek', and walk
around on our stilts which we had made by squashing tin cans with our shoes and walking
around with the cans on our feet. Summer seemed almost never to end. The time between
lunch and dinner was hours. Not seconds like it seems now.
Occasionally we would go with my Uncle Carl and his family up into the canyons around the
city. That made a really exciting time as we could climb on railroad trusses high over the
gullies and do other wonderful things that were definitely unhealthy.
The first summer I remember in Reno was spent working at Chism's Ice Cream Company
packing pop sickles. There was a window right in front of the packing table with a great
view of the world outside on West Street. Anyhow, the pay was good and I could eat all the
ice cream I could hold. There I met my first memorable crush. A really nice young man
named Jim who took time to come to my house and repair my bicycle, "Suzy", the boy's bike
without a seat. My friends Lou and Mo and I spent lots of great times riding around the city.
Jim’s good deeds went beyond helping pesky bike riders. On one occasion he jumped into
the Truckee River and saved a boy from drowning. My Mother and I used to walk along the
river out to Idlewild Park to watch Jim play baseball.
We didn't need a motor home or even a tent to enjoy camping. Patty, our dear friend’s
mother, was lucky enough to know the Caughlins; who owned a large chunk of south west
Reno. Their house still stands at the corner of Mayberry and McCarran. At the time I was a
teenager the house was surrounded by meadows with one dirt road leading up into the trees.
The road is still there, but it leads into a huge subdivision. Patty got permission for us to go
up there and camp. Lou and I would pack our bikes with our bed rolls, for the uninformed
those were the precursors of sleeping bags. We just carefully rolled our blankets into an
apple pie bed and loaded them on the handle bars of our bikes. We also had a large tin can
with an opening on one side so that we could make a tiny fire to cook our hot dogs or bacon
and eggs. Yes it was a beautiful setting. Alum Creek went slowly by and we even made a
song. We called one of the nearest hills Saddle Mountain.
Saddle Mountain enshrined by lofty pines,
Saddle Mountain where the sleepy moon reclines.
Lazy Alum Creek goes slipping by.
Flirty stars and planets polka dot the sky
Silly thing tree and lazing in the sun made Saddle Mountain fun.
Patty played the ukulele. I still can almost see the faces of my dear friends in the firelight.
My husband, George, and Bill, who married Lou later, sometimes came up for a picnic. As
well as Lou's sister, Mo, her brothers, Mike and Terry; and our dear friend Milo. Has that
been sixty years ago? Yes I guess it has.
15
Holiday Parade
By exerting the one small effort of inserting a plug I produce a miraculous result
My Christmas tree lights up to wish me well.
Perhaps other grander light sources exist
But never one more radiantly friendly.
Living fifty years in this well loved old house
The individuals in the parade of trees have been different, of course,
But many of the ornaments remain the same.
A series of turkey dinners have provided the consummate comfort food.
Opening presents always brings a wonderful tingle of excitement.
The dear faces of friends and family bless our celebrations with their love
But the happy glow of my Christmas tree says it all
Blessed Christmas!
Waltenspiel Family next to the Christmas tree 2004
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Author’s Biography
In 1940 my Mother and I, as Betty Zang, arrived in Reno to start a new life and escape a bad
home environment. Reno made room for us and we prospered in a limited way.
In 1947 I graduated from UNR and taught school in Minden.
In 1949 I married my best and dearest friend George Waltenspiel, morphing into Betty
Waltenspiel. We now have three grown children living reasonably near by and also five most
marvelous grandchildren. Reno has been very good to me and I love it.
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