My life changed forever during these two months. About 7 1/2 months after the birth of our first grandchild (Gifford Neill III), our seventh and last child arrived, John Peter Neill Nov. 4th, 1969. It was over nine years since our previous one, Mary. So Marjorie was already now a grandma, and now a mama once again! This one was especially "on purpose". She wanted to find out what it was like to have a baby this time again after being saved. She also, so to speak, "gave him to the Lord".
Gifford Jr. had already left home and was living in Winsted. Patricia was away at college at John Brown University in Siloam Springs, Arkansas. My dad and uncle Dave were still living next door, up the road towards the center of town.
I think it was within the previous year that Bill Barker and his family moved to a nearby town and started meeting with us. He had found us through the Stream magazine, asking them who were subscribers, and they gave him the name and address of our minister's mother-in-law. Earlier, our minister, Stan Albanesius had got us copies of the Hymnal from the Stream publishers, with many of the hymns written by Watchman Nee, Witness Lee, and John Ingalls.
Some time prior to this, I had gotten and read a book by Watchman Nee entitled "The Normal Christian Life". I was very impressed with the book; having the strong impact that all believers are actually one. In one instance, Watchman was on a trolley in Shanghai, and met another believer who asked him: "Who are you affiliated with?" Watchman's response was: "I'm affiliated with you!" I was very impressed with this thought, and actually used it myself in a similar situation.
At that time the Stream magazine was written by Witness Lee in California, and covered the idea that basically all believers are one and should not be divided. Many of the hymns cover this same thought. Another thought accentuated was that the church is Christ's own body, and He lives in each believer. All this is of course fully covered in the Bible, but for some reason it hasn't been accentuated in Christianity as a whole. So the church really itself is the Christ in every believer, especially as we gather together (but I believe, even when we're apart).
In any event, we had been singing these hymns, and Stan had been preaching these things gleaned from the Stream magazine by the time Bill Barker and family joined us. He felt I think fairly well at home since he had been meeting with a similar group prior to moving to Connecticut. But it was all new to us, and sometimes Bill would use the term "church" that sounded like it had more significance than I knew.
Some time during the first part of December 1969, a friend of Bill Barker's invited Witness Lee to come and share with us. Witness Lee was to have, I believe, a conference in Boston after this. So Witness Lee arrived to share with us, accompanied by John Ingalls, Titus Chu, Dave Shields, and two other brothers. Basically he shared with us the gospel "in miniature" as it were, plus calling on the Lord, and taking the words of the Bible in prayer,i.e. "pray-reading" the word.
After three meetings, I thought I had heard it all, and brother Lee went on to Boston. But prior to them leaving, John Ingalls shared that there was to be a conference in Erie, PA during the Christmas holidays. And with a smile on his face, John Ingalls said "Down with Santa Claus!" I thought it was a rather strange time to have a conference, but I felt that someone from our group really ought to attend, but I said nothing at the time.
To be continued.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Little Known Fact
My Dad (Tom Neill), my sister (Barbara Neill), and I lived in California for the better part of two years. My Dad in Santa Monica in the early part of the 20th century, my sister in Santa Barbara in the mid-20th century, and myself in San Marcos in the early part of the 21st century. As far as I know, my mother never went west of the Hudson river.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Hartland VI
It's been a long hiatus and in the meantime, I've sold the place in Streamwood, IL and temporarily moved in with Tom & JaeHi in Goshen, IN.
Where was I? Oh yes. I got involved with the Congregational church in Hartland. Over the several years we had a number of ministers. One was rather bad, and after him it seemed to me that we needed an "antidote". I wound up as one member on a committee to find another minister. We got the Connecticut Congregational central office in Hartford to send us resumes of potential ministers. I have to say that some of them looked like THEY needed help. But we noticed one who, to another member and myself, looked somewhat promising. The other member pointed out one line on the recommendation: "Not very much happened during this mans term at this church except perhaps in the hearts of 5 or 6 members". She said: "Look, see what this says! This means that he brought them to the Lord!" I myself, though a dormant Christian, thought that sounded pretty good. So we took steps to hire the man.
The Congregational church system is very liberal. Their philosophy is that each church is run by the congregation, whatever the congregation wants, that's it. So one congregation can be Modernists, and another can be gospel preaching.
As we interviewed Stanley Albanesius, he shared with us that he had some reservations about infant baptism. But we wanted badly enough to have him as our pastor that we neglected to inform others about this reservation, and ultimately it came back to "bite" us, or rather bite him. (Sorry, Stan).
It was due to Stanley Albanesius that I was revived from my dormant Christian condition, and indirectly also due to him that our whole family ultimately accepted the Lord Jesus as our Savior. For several, including Marjorie and some kids, it came about this way. Evelyn Hohloch was a strong believer in the church there, but never one to be "pushy", nor one who would ever do any "organizing", etc., but very quiet and reticent. Yet she had a strong burden from the Lord to rent a bus (which she did), for a round trip to Boston to a Billy Graham Crusade. Stan was thunderstruck, and thought the bus would never be filled, but it WAS! (Thank you Evy).
The gospel was preached faithfully by Stan every Sunday. But this was against the wishes of many of the congregation. Ultimately, it came to a head, and a vote would be taken. I confess that I am an optimist. Stan was a pessimist by nature, but he called himself a "realist". I thought he would win the vote, but Stan thought otherwise, and so together we made plans for that eventuality, if it should happen: On the occasion of Stan coming out on the short end of the vote, I, by pre-arrangement would get up in that very meeting and announce that next Sunday there would be a meeting in my garage with Stan preaching, plus all the Sunday School classes would continue to meet (I believe with the same teachers) in our house and office rooms over top of the garage. He lost the vote and I made the announcement.
The next Sunday there were more meeting at our house than at the Congregational church in the center of town. We continued to meet regularly in our garage and house from 1963 to 1970. My Dad and Uncle Dave came to one of those first meetings, but didn't return. On rare occasions the whole church would have a "love feast" at our house. Twice there were weddings, and at one of those weddings there were 99 people in attendance.
I heated the garage with electricity, having made a special deal with the power company so it would not be excessively expensive. I had had heating elements embedded in the concrete slab of the garage, and also a temperature sensor in there as well. This, combined with a timer to apply power at off-peak times did the trick. The thermal time constant of the slab was rather large, so we could get away with this arrangement.
During this time I continued to use the garage during the week for electronics production, having at peak, 6 employees plus our kids. Every Sunday we would move things over to make room for the church meeting. Also, on Wednesdays, Ethel Albanesius had an after-school children's bible study, and she led many of those kids to the Lord during those years in our garage.
Having a small business, there were "fat" years, and lean years. Both were rather memorable. I had started out consulting for Regent Controls of Stamford, CT, Wendell Caroll, Pres. Once I had obtained my Masters Degree in EE, in 1961, he wanted to have all 5 of my days, but I wanted to cut him down to no more than 3 days. So finally we parted ways, and I went out and in about 1 week had obtained about 4 or 5 new clients.
After a year or two of this I gradually drifted also into some electronics production, with the goal of making more money. My Dad tried a bit of the production work, but didn't like it. My Uncle Arnold was visiting, and tried it a bit also. Marjorie wanted no part of that kind of work. I have a photo of her and me on this subject wherein our facial expressions tell all. You will get a kick out of it if ever I get around to posting it.
Time to quit.
Where was I? Oh yes. I got involved with the Congregational church in Hartland. Over the several years we had a number of ministers. One was rather bad, and after him it seemed to me that we needed an "antidote". I wound up as one member on a committee to find another minister. We got the Connecticut Congregational central office in Hartford to send us resumes of potential ministers. I have to say that some of them looked like THEY needed help. But we noticed one who, to another member and myself, looked somewhat promising. The other member pointed out one line on the recommendation: "Not very much happened during this mans term at this church except perhaps in the hearts of 5 or 6 members". She said: "Look, see what this says! This means that he brought them to the Lord!" I myself, though a dormant Christian, thought that sounded pretty good. So we took steps to hire the man.
The Congregational church system is very liberal. Their philosophy is that each church is run by the congregation, whatever the congregation wants, that's it. So one congregation can be Modernists, and another can be gospel preaching.
As we interviewed Stanley Albanesius, he shared with us that he had some reservations about infant baptism. But we wanted badly enough to have him as our pastor that we neglected to inform others about this reservation, and ultimately it came back to "bite" us, or rather bite him. (Sorry, Stan).
It was due to Stanley Albanesius that I was revived from my dormant Christian condition, and indirectly also due to him that our whole family ultimately accepted the Lord Jesus as our Savior. For several, including Marjorie and some kids, it came about this way. Evelyn Hohloch was a strong believer in the church there, but never one to be "pushy", nor one who would ever do any "organizing", etc., but very quiet and reticent. Yet she had a strong burden from the Lord to rent a bus (which she did), for a round trip to Boston to a Billy Graham Crusade. Stan was thunderstruck, and thought the bus would never be filled, but it WAS! (Thank you Evy).
The gospel was preached faithfully by Stan every Sunday. But this was against the wishes of many of the congregation. Ultimately, it came to a head, and a vote would be taken. I confess that I am an optimist. Stan was a pessimist by nature, but he called himself a "realist". I thought he would win the vote, but Stan thought otherwise, and so together we made plans for that eventuality, if it should happen: On the occasion of Stan coming out on the short end of the vote, I, by pre-arrangement would get up in that very meeting and announce that next Sunday there would be a meeting in my garage with Stan preaching, plus all the Sunday School classes would continue to meet (I believe with the same teachers) in our house and office rooms over top of the garage. He lost the vote and I made the announcement.
The next Sunday there were more meeting at our house than at the Congregational church in the center of town. We continued to meet regularly in our garage and house from 1963 to 1970. My Dad and Uncle Dave came to one of those first meetings, but didn't return. On rare occasions the whole church would have a "love feast" at our house. Twice there were weddings, and at one of those weddings there were 99 people in attendance.
I heated the garage with electricity, having made a special deal with the power company so it would not be excessively expensive. I had had heating elements embedded in the concrete slab of the garage, and also a temperature sensor in there as well. This, combined with a timer to apply power at off-peak times did the trick. The thermal time constant of the slab was rather large, so we could get away with this arrangement.
During this time I continued to use the garage during the week for electronics production, having at peak, 6 employees plus our kids. Every Sunday we would move things over to make room for the church meeting. Also, on Wednesdays, Ethel Albanesius had an after-school children's bible study, and she led many of those kids to the Lord during those years in our garage.
Having a small business, there were "fat" years, and lean years. Both were rather memorable. I had started out consulting for Regent Controls of Stamford, CT, Wendell Caroll, Pres. Once I had obtained my Masters Degree in EE, in 1961, he wanted to have all 5 of my days, but I wanted to cut him down to no more than 3 days. So finally we parted ways, and I went out and in about 1 week had obtained about 4 or 5 new clients.
After a year or two of this I gradually drifted also into some electronics production, with the goal of making more money. My Dad tried a bit of the production work, but didn't like it. My Uncle Arnold was visiting, and tried it a bit also. Marjorie wanted no part of that kind of work. I have a photo of her and me on this subject wherein our facial expressions tell all. You will get a kick out of it if ever I get around to posting it.
Time to quit.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Hartland V
It's hard to tell just what year things happened. I know more where things happened rather than when. One subject I can cover in relation to the kids is money. I wanted them all to be very appreciative of, and responsible for money. Thus I've always been totally against an "allowance", in other words, money received on a regular basis for no apparent reason. So rather than that, I simply gave all the kids the opportunity to work and earn money. I belive it was beneficial. (Not only that, a lot of work actually got done!) Of course, everything done wasn't paid for, but everything to do with the business was.
I got them all to start a savings account at a bank. But I also allowed them to withdraw it. My theory was that if they were not allowed to withdraw it, they would lose interest in it, and feel that it wasn't really theirs.
I also had fun with them with money. I might have already mentioned it, but in the back yard in East Hartland, we got the field plowed, and had a big vegetable garden. But there were always a lot of stones. So one day, I told all the kids, "I'll give you 2 cents for every small stone, and 5 cents for every big stone you pick up and put on the stone wall; you can use the express wagon. This deal is only good for the next 60 minutes." Man, you should have seen those stones fly off the land, onto the express wagon, and onto the stone wall! It was breathtaking! And a lot of fun!
One Christmas Marjorie gave me a change machine, to dispense quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies. She gave me that to facilitate paying highway tolls. But I also put it to good use in another way. At times totally unpredictable by me or anyone else, out of the blue, I would announce to the kids: "Money time!" They would all gather round, and I would dispense to each kid an equal amount of quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies. It was fun for all concerned.
One Sunday afternoon I walked with the kids up to the north end of Old Town Road to the "Skyliner", an ice cream place, and got them all ice cream cones. Then I said to them: "I want you all to remember this day, because it will always be known as 'The Good Old Days'"
For one summer we traded Gifford Jr. for Marlene, one of Chuck & Ellie's daughters in Pittsburgh. Chuck Minster was Marjorie's brother.
I always thought our place in Hartland was a wonderful place to raise our kids. The air was pure, and every cloudless night you could look up and see the Milkey Way. Also, the moral environment was good, due to the Evangelical Lutheran Free Church, which was full of born-again believers. Their pastor called on us about 3 times to get us to come to their church, but for some reason, I didn't. Instead, I joined the Congregational Church in the center of town, and became active in it.
The government of the Congregational Church was indirectly by the congregation. It was governed by the Ecclesiastical Society, which consisted of most of the members, and was founded back in colonial times. In reading the constitution of the organizations, you could easily see that in those early times, they were all very strong believers. However, at the time we moved to Hartland, most were simply what are called "modernists", in other words, not what we would call born-again believers.
To be continued. (I want to continue where I left off next time).
I got them all to start a savings account at a bank. But I also allowed them to withdraw it. My theory was that if they were not allowed to withdraw it, they would lose interest in it, and feel that it wasn't really theirs.
I also had fun with them with money. I might have already mentioned it, but in the back yard in East Hartland, we got the field plowed, and had a big vegetable garden. But there were always a lot of stones. So one day, I told all the kids, "I'll give you 2 cents for every small stone, and 5 cents for every big stone you pick up and put on the stone wall; you can use the express wagon. This deal is only good for the next 60 minutes." Man, you should have seen those stones fly off the land, onto the express wagon, and onto the stone wall! It was breathtaking! And a lot of fun!
One Christmas Marjorie gave me a change machine, to dispense quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies. She gave me that to facilitate paying highway tolls. But I also put it to good use in another way. At times totally unpredictable by me or anyone else, out of the blue, I would announce to the kids: "Money time!" They would all gather round, and I would dispense to each kid an equal amount of quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies. It was fun for all concerned.
One Sunday afternoon I walked with the kids up to the north end of Old Town Road to the "Skyliner", an ice cream place, and got them all ice cream cones. Then I said to them: "I want you all to remember this day, because it will always be known as 'The Good Old Days'"
For one summer we traded Gifford Jr. for Marlene, one of Chuck & Ellie's daughters in Pittsburgh. Chuck Minster was Marjorie's brother.
I always thought our place in Hartland was a wonderful place to raise our kids. The air was pure, and every cloudless night you could look up and see the Milkey Way. Also, the moral environment was good, due to the Evangelical Lutheran Free Church, which was full of born-again believers. Their pastor called on us about 3 times to get us to come to their church, but for some reason, I didn't. Instead, I joined the Congregational Church in the center of town, and became active in it.
The government of the Congregational Church was indirectly by the congregation. It was governed by the Ecclesiastical Society, which consisted of most of the members, and was founded back in colonial times. In reading the constitution of the organizations, you could easily see that in those early times, they were all very strong believers. However, at the time we moved to Hartland, most were simply what are called "modernists", in other words, not what we would call born-again believers.
To be continued. (I want to continue where I left off next time).
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Hartland IV
Most years in Hartland we had a vegetable garden, sometimes a real big one. As I told everyone at the time, I did it not to save money, but to be agricultural. Since I grew up on the farm and had electronics as my hobby, the situation was now reversed; I now had electronics as my occupation, and "farming" as my hobby; whatever. Even later on I got my Uncle Fred to transport two of my dad's chicken coops over, and we had about 25 chickens.
One year I let each kid have a patch of the vegetable garden as their very own, and they grew whatever they wanted.
After a while I was able to raise fantastic vegetable crops. I used my pickup truck to go over to Austin's goat farm in the center of town, and haul in a good bit of goat manure. However, that effort was part of my semi-undoing as it put my back permanently out of whack. Foolishly, I strained it in two ways: over-doing it in loading the truck, and later when spreading it on the vegetable plot, I simply did it by twisting my back rather than my knees.
At some point in time my dad, with Uncle Dave, moved up to Hartland. Dad bought the place from Ted Aagre who moved back to Norway. My sister Barbara and her friend Tesha Lewia had both been living at my dad's place (the old homestead) in Vernon / Rockville, where I grew up. I could tell you a little bit about Barbara: She worked at a museum in Charlotte, NC for some years, and then for some years at another museum in Santa Barbara, CA. She finally wound up working at the Nature Science Center at the Museum of Natural History in NYC. There were always children's school classes going through there, and Barbara was always very much involved.
Once my dad moved to Hartland, things were different, and more fun. What had been Aagre's house came with ALL the land between his house and mine. So I immediately bought a slice of land from my dad, simply to move the property line a reasonable distance away from our place. And then we could take the fence down too, and made a pathway between our two houses. My dad would go for a walk past our house almost every day. The kids would drop in on him every so often too.
We did not have delivery mail service in Hartland. To get the mail, most every day I would hop on my bike and ride down to the Post Office to get our mail from Mrs. Emmons, the post mistress there. One memorabld day I walked. Maybe it was about 1959. I received a letter from the University of Connecticut, regretting to inform me that I had failed a course, thus failing to obtain that Masters degree in Electrical Engineering. It was then, or was it much later, that I identified with that saying, "beware of those two impostors, 'success' and 'failure'". I had failed the oral examination for the Masters degree. (I do not do well in trying to think on my feet; I do much better sitting down; in fact I get most of my best ideas about 4 AM while still in bed). Anyway, after another year or so, I was able to repeat the oral examination, this time passing it, and got my MSEE in June, 1961.
On a different note, I once caught a very strange insect in the garden and I was very curious about him, so I put the little critter in an envelope, still crawling around inside, with my return address on it, and mailed it to the Department of Etymology, The University of Connecticut, Storrs, Conn. About a week later I got a letter from them saying they received the letter, but the little fellow was all totally in pieces and they couldn't identify him
Some summer nights I'd be in my office with all the windows open, working away. With no screens on the windows there would be a zillion insects gathered around the florescent lights in the ceiling, and it seemed each one was different! I never put locks on the windows either.
Oh, sorry, I got ahead of myself. Once my dad moved to Hartland, he gave the old homestead to Barbara and me. We worked to fix it up a bit and tried to sell it without success. So finally I bought my sister's half, and rented it out. Eventually I sold it, and we added a dormer to our house in Hartland, making 6 rooms and a bath upstairs. There were two brand-new bedrooms, and in the front, Patricia had the southwest bedroom, and Yvonne had the northwest bedroom. In the winter, I think some of those bedrooms were rather cold, though all were heated.
Later, my dad gave me money to build an addition to the house, on the north side. There were bolders in the way, and it took some bulldozing to move them. Gladwin Parmalee built the addition, and he had Ron Cari pour the slab. Ron Cari was a contractor who made the news once. His wife was being "courted" by some guy in a convertible. One time he caught that convertible parked out front of their house, and he got one of his cement trucks and filled that convertible with cement!
I digress. But let me back up and digress a little more. Another one of my favorite stories: When my dad and Uncle Dave moved to Hartland, they registered to vote. For a good part of his life, my dad was a socialist. He used to vote for Jasper McLevy (the mayor of Bridgeport), for governor. He would quote him: "The Democrats were in power, and all corrupt. The Republicans hadn't been in power for quite a while, and oh how hungry they were!" My dad used to read the paper, and noting all the pages devoted to stock prices comment: "There must be an awful lot of people gambling in stock." Later, once he sold all the land of the farm for building lots and development, he put most of it into stock, and became a registered Republican.
With my Uncle Dave, it was different. He worked in the woolen mill all his life, and once they went on strike, but the business moved south, while they were still on strike. Anyway, as I said, once my dad and Uncle Dave moved to Hartland, they registered to vote. Out of curiosity, I went to the Town Clerk's office, where they, on request, gave you a list of the town's registered voters. I got two lists, one a long one of the registered Republicans, and the other one, a much shorter list of the registered Democrats. My dad was on the first one, and Uncle Dave on the second one. I mentioned this to Uncle Dave, and his eyes just twinkled.
Uncle Dave was a different kind of person. Very, very quiet. He read quite a bit, but my dad said that "Dave couldn't tell you what he read about." He did, however, give a very good speach upon his resignation from his lodge in Rockville, and it greatly surprised my dad.
Well, I must close now.
One year I let each kid have a patch of the vegetable garden as their very own, and they grew whatever they wanted.
After a while I was able to raise fantastic vegetable crops. I used my pickup truck to go over to Austin's goat farm in the center of town, and haul in a good bit of goat manure. However, that effort was part of my semi-undoing as it put my back permanently out of whack. Foolishly, I strained it in two ways: over-doing it in loading the truck, and later when spreading it on the vegetable plot, I simply did it by twisting my back rather than my knees.
At some point in time my dad, with Uncle Dave, moved up to Hartland. Dad bought the place from Ted Aagre who moved back to Norway. My sister Barbara and her friend Tesha Lewia had both been living at my dad's place (the old homestead) in Vernon / Rockville, where I grew up. I could tell you a little bit about Barbara: She worked at a museum in Charlotte, NC for some years, and then for some years at another museum in Santa Barbara, CA. She finally wound up working at the Nature Science Center at the Museum of Natural History in NYC. There were always children's school classes going through there, and Barbara was always very much involved.
Once my dad moved to Hartland, things were different, and more fun. What had been Aagre's house came with ALL the land between his house and mine. So I immediately bought a slice of land from my dad, simply to move the property line a reasonable distance away from our place. And then we could take the fence down too, and made a pathway between our two houses. My dad would go for a walk past our house almost every day. The kids would drop in on him every so often too.
We did not have delivery mail service in Hartland. To get the mail, most every day I would hop on my bike and ride down to the Post Office to get our mail from Mrs. Emmons, the post mistress there. One memorabld day I walked. Maybe it was about 1959. I received a letter from the University of Connecticut, regretting to inform me that I had failed a course, thus failing to obtain that Masters degree in Electrical Engineering. It was then, or was it much later, that I identified with that saying, "beware of those two impostors, 'success' and 'failure'". I had failed the oral examination for the Masters degree. (I do not do well in trying to think on my feet; I do much better sitting down; in fact I get most of my best ideas about 4 AM while still in bed). Anyway, after another year or so, I was able to repeat the oral examination, this time passing it, and got my MSEE in June, 1961.
On a different note, I once caught a very strange insect in the garden and I was very curious about him, so I put the little critter in an envelope, still crawling around inside, with my return address on it, and mailed it to the Department of Etymology, The University of Connecticut, Storrs, Conn. About a week later I got a letter from them saying they received the letter, but the little fellow was all totally in pieces and they couldn't identify him
Some summer nights I'd be in my office with all the windows open, working away. With no screens on the windows there would be a zillion insects gathered around the florescent lights in the ceiling, and it seemed each one was different! I never put locks on the windows either.
Oh, sorry, I got ahead of myself. Once my dad moved to Hartland, he gave the old homestead to Barbara and me. We worked to fix it up a bit and tried to sell it without success. So finally I bought my sister's half, and rented it out. Eventually I sold it, and we added a dormer to our house in Hartland, making 6 rooms and a bath upstairs. There were two brand-new bedrooms, and in the front, Patricia had the southwest bedroom, and Yvonne had the northwest bedroom. In the winter, I think some of those bedrooms were rather cold, though all were heated.
Later, my dad gave me money to build an addition to the house, on the north side. There were bolders in the way, and it took some bulldozing to move them. Gladwin Parmalee built the addition, and he had Ron Cari pour the slab. Ron Cari was a contractor who made the news once. His wife was being "courted" by some guy in a convertible. One time he caught that convertible parked out front of their house, and he got one of his cement trucks and filled that convertible with cement!
I digress. But let me back up and digress a little more. Another one of my favorite stories: When my dad and Uncle Dave moved to Hartland, they registered to vote. For a good part of his life, my dad was a socialist. He used to vote for Jasper McLevy (the mayor of Bridgeport), for governor. He would quote him: "The Democrats were in power, and all corrupt. The Republicans hadn't been in power for quite a while, and oh how hungry they were!" My dad used to read the paper, and noting all the pages devoted to stock prices comment: "There must be an awful lot of people gambling in stock." Later, once he sold all the land of the farm for building lots and development, he put most of it into stock, and became a registered Republican.
With my Uncle Dave, it was different. He worked in the woolen mill all his life, and once they went on strike, but the business moved south, while they were still on strike. Anyway, as I said, once my dad and Uncle Dave moved to Hartland, they registered to vote. Out of curiosity, I went to the Town Clerk's office, where they, on request, gave you a list of the town's registered voters. I got two lists, one a long one of the registered Republicans, and the other one, a much shorter list of the registered Democrats. My dad was on the first one, and Uncle Dave on the second one. I mentioned this to Uncle Dave, and his eyes just twinkled.
Uncle Dave was a different kind of person. Very, very quiet. He read quite a bit, but my dad said that "Dave couldn't tell you what he read about." He did, however, give a very good speach upon his resignation from his lodge in Rockville, and it greatly surprised my dad.
Well, I must close now.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Hartland III
Rarely in any of my previous posts do I recall relating much regarding our vacations, which were always memorable. It's difficult to pinpoint them in time, so I'll just relate some of them, somewhat in order. I believe I related some of the ones wherein there were just the two of us.
However, once we had a bunch of kids, vacations were different. I remember when we were still living at Lake Garda, I bought a big, fancy tent with steel ribbing and a waterproof floor. Also a chemical toilet. We were going to "rough it", and headed north to Maine. This was before the days of the Interstate system, and even before Boston's outer loop, Route 128. So we had to drive right through downtown Boston to get to Maine. We went to a Maine State Park and camped by a lake. In those days, at that park there were no prepared campsites, you had to do it yourself. So I cleared and leveled a spot on a gentle hillside near the lake and pitched the tent, and nearby established the chemical toilet. We went swimming every day and had a great time. One night there was really a torrential rain, with rivlets of water coming down the hillside, and you could feel the water flowing under the floor of our tent! But we kept dry.
Quite often we would make the 500 mile trip to Pittsburgh to visit Marjorie's folks. Once, just to be different, I took a ruler and drew a straight line from Unionville to Pittsburgh, and we followed it as close as existing roads would permit. It was fun, driving through the Pocano mountains of eastern Pennsylvania. Took an extra half day, but it was worth it. In those days, often we didn't have much money, and we took care of eating by stopping at a grocery store for a few supplies, then cooking over a primus stove we took along.
Once my Dad rented a cottage down at the shore on Long Island Sound. So we were able to stay there for several days. The Sound stayed rather chilly until rather late in the season. But it was fun.
We regularly used to go to Rocky Neck State Park to go swimming in the Sound, but one day when we were there, the place was filled with people from New York, and I remember swimming past a floating hot dog. I decided the place was too crowded, and resolved to find a better place. So our next place to try was Hamonasset State Park, which also had campsites. So we camped there once, but it was also crowded. Shirley was not quite a toddler and had trouble sleeping when we camped there. We called her "All day, all night Shirley Ann".
The next place I think we tried was Misquamicut State Park in Rhode Island. I really don't remember that much about it, but it still was on the Sound, not the Atlantic Ocean.
Ultimately we found a really nice place to swim in the ocean. It was a little further, but the beech actually faced the ocean, rather than just on the sound, so the waves were bigger. This was Scarborough State Beach in Rhode Island. It wasn't as crowded, though a lot of people did come down from Boston to swim there. There are movies of the kids there.
Back to Hartland: Not long after moving to East Hartland, I put up a TV antenna. I was up at the peak of the roof putting up the antenna, complete with antenna rotor, so that we could aim it for Hartford, Springfield, Boston, or New York. While I was busy up there (even though I'm scared of heights), guess who came along: A life insurance salesman, who tried to sell me a policy right while I was up there on the roof!
When I was "prospecting" for a house in Hartland, I happened to stop in at the younger Parmalee's place, and asked about the typical weather. Mrs. Parmalee said "It's cooler here all year round". And so it was. One winter I had a large thermometer under the apple tree in the front yard, and early one morning in the dead of winter, the thermometer stood at -25 deg. F. Bu there was no wind, so it wasn't so bad. Typically each winter we would shovel snow as high as the car.
Slippery conditions made interesting driving in Hartland. In the winter, sometimes coming home from work could be a challenge. There was particularly one spot, rather steep, and curved. If you go too slow, you loose traction and will never make it up the hill. If you go too fast, you'll run off the road on the wrong side of the road.
Connecticut has a lot more fog than is typical for the Midwest. I remember one very foggy night coming home from work. I heard on the radio that a plane had landed at Bradley Field, but then got lost on the ground in the fog. They sent a vehicle out to guide the plane in, but it too got lost, so they had to send a man out on foot to guide the vehicle to guide the plane in. That same night, I drove right out from under the fog, and when I got to the center of East Hartland I could see the stars!
But on several other occasions, it was a different story. One night on the way home from work, the fog actually got thicker with higher altitude, and when I got to the top of the hill, I was simply following the yellow line at the edge of the road, because that was all I could see. However, at the intersection of Hartland Blvd (Rte 20) and Mountain Rd, the yellow line ran out, and I had to continue strictly by "dead reckoning" to get past it. You could see your hand in front of your face, but not much past it.
Winter was a fun time for the kids too. They used to take their sleds up to Pell Hill Road and slide down into Old Town Road. One kid would stay at the bottom of the hill on Old Town Road and be the lookout for any oncoming cars.
Which reminds me. At any time of the year they would have fun riding down the stairs in cardboard boxes.
Trips to Pittsburgh were always an adventure. And it would take forever to have everyone ready to start the trip. Neither were the trips without incidents. One classic case I'll never forget: We had gone 5 miles on the start of this 500 mile trip, just to the bottom of the hill, to Granby, and two juice jugs had crashed together and broke, and one kid was already "car sick"!
One tough trip in midsummer, we failed to find a motel with vacancy, and had to sleep in the car and it was terribly hot and muggy. Patricia was quite little yet, and was crying, and scratched her belly with her finger nails. Those marks were still there a month later!
After several years working at Kaman Aircraft Corp., I decided to change the direction of my life. I didn't like being an "employee", especially a "permanent" employee. I felt trapped. In the winter time the only time I saw my place in Hartland by daylight was on week ends.
There was a fellow working at Allen D. Cardwell Electronics in Plainville, Ct while I was working there. He was a consultant. I figured, if he can do it, so can I. So that was my goal. I contacted and had an interview with Wendell Carroll, the owner of Regent Controls in Stamford, CT. The result was a consulting contract whereby I worked for them 4 days per week: Monday and Tuesday in Stamford, Wednesday and Thursday in Hartland. I devoted the fifth day to pursuing that Master's degree in Electronics Engineering. It worked out beautifully, and I had much more time with the family.
Well, of course I have a whole lifetime to write about yet, but it's getting late, so must quit for now.
However, once we had a bunch of kids, vacations were different. I remember when we were still living at Lake Garda, I bought a big, fancy tent with steel ribbing and a waterproof floor. Also a chemical toilet. We were going to "rough it", and headed north to Maine. This was before the days of the Interstate system, and even before Boston's outer loop, Route 128. So we had to drive right through downtown Boston to get to Maine. We went to a Maine State Park and camped by a lake. In those days, at that park there were no prepared campsites, you had to do it yourself. So I cleared and leveled a spot on a gentle hillside near the lake and pitched the tent, and nearby established the chemical toilet. We went swimming every day and had a great time. One night there was really a torrential rain, with rivlets of water coming down the hillside, and you could feel the water flowing under the floor of our tent! But we kept dry.
Quite often we would make the 500 mile trip to Pittsburgh to visit Marjorie's folks. Once, just to be different, I took a ruler and drew a straight line from Unionville to Pittsburgh, and we followed it as close as existing roads would permit. It was fun, driving through the Pocano mountains of eastern Pennsylvania. Took an extra half day, but it was worth it. In those days, often we didn't have much money, and we took care of eating by stopping at a grocery store for a few supplies, then cooking over a primus stove we took along.
Once my Dad rented a cottage down at the shore on Long Island Sound. So we were able to stay there for several days. The Sound stayed rather chilly until rather late in the season. But it was fun.
We regularly used to go to Rocky Neck State Park to go swimming in the Sound, but one day when we were there, the place was filled with people from New York, and I remember swimming past a floating hot dog. I decided the place was too crowded, and resolved to find a better place. So our next place to try was Hamonasset State Park, which also had campsites. So we camped there once, but it was also crowded. Shirley was not quite a toddler and had trouble sleeping when we camped there. We called her "All day, all night Shirley Ann".
The next place I think we tried was Misquamicut State Park in Rhode Island. I really don't remember that much about it, but it still was on the Sound, not the Atlantic Ocean.
Ultimately we found a really nice place to swim in the ocean. It was a little further, but the beech actually faced the ocean, rather than just on the sound, so the waves were bigger. This was Scarborough State Beach in Rhode Island. It wasn't as crowded, though a lot of people did come down from Boston to swim there. There are movies of the kids there.
Back to Hartland: Not long after moving to East Hartland, I put up a TV antenna. I was up at the peak of the roof putting up the antenna, complete with antenna rotor, so that we could aim it for Hartford, Springfield, Boston, or New York. While I was busy up there (even though I'm scared of heights), guess who came along: A life insurance salesman, who tried to sell me a policy right while I was up there on the roof!
When I was "prospecting" for a house in Hartland, I happened to stop in at the younger Parmalee's place, and asked about the typical weather. Mrs. Parmalee said "It's cooler here all year round". And so it was. One winter I had a large thermometer under the apple tree in the front yard, and early one morning in the dead of winter, the thermometer stood at -25 deg. F. Bu there was no wind, so it wasn't so bad. Typically each winter we would shovel snow as high as the car.
Slippery conditions made interesting driving in Hartland. In the winter, sometimes coming home from work could be a challenge. There was particularly one spot, rather steep, and curved. If you go too slow, you loose traction and will never make it up the hill. If you go too fast, you'll run off the road on the wrong side of the road.
Connecticut has a lot more fog than is typical for the Midwest. I remember one very foggy night coming home from work. I heard on the radio that a plane had landed at Bradley Field, but then got lost on the ground in the fog. They sent a vehicle out to guide the plane in, but it too got lost, so they had to send a man out on foot to guide the vehicle to guide the plane in. That same night, I drove right out from under the fog, and when I got to the center of East Hartland I could see the stars!
But on several other occasions, it was a different story. One night on the way home from work, the fog actually got thicker with higher altitude, and when I got to the top of the hill, I was simply following the yellow line at the edge of the road, because that was all I could see. However, at the intersection of Hartland Blvd (Rte 20) and Mountain Rd, the yellow line ran out, and I had to continue strictly by "dead reckoning" to get past it. You could see your hand in front of your face, but not much past it.
Winter was a fun time for the kids too. They used to take their sleds up to Pell Hill Road and slide down into Old Town Road. One kid would stay at the bottom of the hill on Old Town Road and be the lookout for any oncoming cars.
Which reminds me. At any time of the year they would have fun riding down the stairs in cardboard boxes.
Trips to Pittsburgh were always an adventure. And it would take forever to have everyone ready to start the trip. Neither were the trips without incidents. One classic case I'll never forget: We had gone 5 miles on the start of this 500 mile trip, just to the bottom of the hill, to Granby, and two juice jugs had crashed together and broke, and one kid was already "car sick"!
One tough trip in midsummer, we failed to find a motel with vacancy, and had to sleep in the car and it was terribly hot and muggy. Patricia was quite little yet, and was crying, and scratched her belly with her finger nails. Those marks were still there a month later!
After several years working at Kaman Aircraft Corp., I decided to change the direction of my life. I didn't like being an "employee", especially a "permanent" employee. I felt trapped. In the winter time the only time I saw my place in Hartland by daylight was on week ends.
There was a fellow working at Allen D. Cardwell Electronics in Plainville, Ct while I was working there. He was a consultant. I figured, if he can do it, so can I. So that was my goal. I contacted and had an interview with Wendell Carroll, the owner of Regent Controls in Stamford, CT. The result was a consulting contract whereby I worked for them 4 days per week: Monday and Tuesday in Stamford, Wednesday and Thursday in Hartland. I devoted the fifth day to pursuing that Master's degree in Electronics Engineering. It worked out beautifully, and I had much more time with the family.
Well, of course I have a whole lifetime to write about yet, but it's getting late, so must quit for now.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Hartland II
I mentioned the birches in the swamp north of the house. In the winter sometimes there would be an ice storm and the birches would be coated with ice. I've seen them bent over so far that they would almost touch the ground.
We lived in East Hartland from 1956 to 1970. When we first moved up there, I had a regular engineering job with Kaman Aircraft Corporation in Bloomfield, and I was occasionally working towards a Master's degree at the University of Connecticut. At the time we moved up there, we had 5 children: Gifford Jr and Patricia, born in Hartford, Yvonne born in Maryland, and Tom and Shirley born in Bristol.
Shortly after moving to East Hartland, I joined the Congregational church there. And shortly thereafter, our neighbor across the street, who was the treasurer of the East Hartland Congregational church was found to have been embezzeling funds. For some reason, some of the Norwegeans in town pitched in to help solve our problem, including running the offender out of town within 24 hours. When questioned about it, the Norski's said "Oh, we're pretty good Swedes" Apparently that is a Norwegean saying for "tough guys". Note that Norway was under Sweden for a long time. This may explain a little Norwegean ditty: "Ten thousand Swedes ran through the weeds, chased by one Norwegean".
We moved in the fall of 1956, at the time of the presidential election, and Eisenhower was running for a second term. Prior to moving, I had watched former President Hoover on TV putting in a good word for Eisenhower. I also remenber hearing an interview on the radio with Kerenski, the Russian Premier prior to the Communist revolution. They asked him, "would you consider returning to Russia?" He said "No, not as long as the Communists are runnng the governement".
Once we got to East Hartland, the election took place. On the eve of the election, England and France invaded Egypt without telling up first. I think we put pressure on them to get out of Egypt.
Not long after moving, a couple of my co-workers at Kaman Aircraft asked if they could come up and stay at our place for 24 hours, to take part in a big amateur radio contest. East Hartland being 1,192 feet altitude gave it an advantage for high frequency propagation. So we agreed, and as part of the deal, they agreed to leave their equipment behind for several weeks for my use, as I still had a Novice ticket, WN1WWO.
In preparation for the move, I had put the place at Lake Garda / Unionville up for sale, without results. So I temporarily gave up, and rented it.
That fall in Hartland, I remember for some reason there were a zillion and one crickets along the south side of our house there.
Our property line came fairly close to the house on the south side. Ted Aagre lived in the house to the south, and his original intention was to sell several building lots out of that land. He and his wife were originally from Norway, but he also was a retired boat buildier from Long Island. He had built our house and sold it to Arthur Aasland. Arthur Aasland was more recently from Norway. He didn't really have a last name, but took the name of Aasland, as that's the region he came from in Norway. I don't believe he attended the Norwegean church, nor the Congregational church either, for that matter. He's the one I got the Norwegean sayings from.
I got Ted Aagre to build for me a couple of bookshelves, which Yvonne has now. There is no back, as they lean against the wall. I was very particular as to the distance between the shelves, so that tall books could be accommodated.
Pretty much every year we had a vegetable garden, and Marjorie started to have flower gardens, especially around the west (front), and south side of the house. One of her main specialties was roses.
There were always a lot of rocks turned up once the garden was plowed. So I came up with a "limited time offer" for the kids to pick up rocks and add them to the stone wall. Let's say I offered 2 cents for a small rock and 5 cents for a large rock. This was a very limited time offer, like one hour maybe. Man, you should see those rocks move like lightening from the field to the stone wall! I belive I have a picture of all the kids sitting on the stone wall afterwards.
Thanks kids for giving me the "nudge" to continue with this history. It's better I do this than waste time watching TV.
We lived in East Hartland from 1956 to 1970. When we first moved up there, I had a regular engineering job with Kaman Aircraft Corporation in Bloomfield, and I was occasionally working towards a Master's degree at the University of Connecticut. At the time we moved up there, we had 5 children: Gifford Jr and Patricia, born in Hartford, Yvonne born in Maryland, and Tom and Shirley born in Bristol.
Shortly after moving to East Hartland, I joined the Congregational church there. And shortly thereafter, our neighbor across the street, who was the treasurer of the East Hartland Congregational church was found to have been embezzeling funds. For some reason, some of the Norwegeans in town pitched in to help solve our problem, including running the offender out of town within 24 hours. When questioned about it, the Norski's said "Oh, we're pretty good Swedes" Apparently that is a Norwegean saying for "tough guys". Note that Norway was under Sweden for a long time. This may explain a little Norwegean ditty: "Ten thousand Swedes ran through the weeds, chased by one Norwegean".
We moved in the fall of 1956, at the time of the presidential election, and Eisenhower was running for a second term. Prior to moving, I had watched former President Hoover on TV putting in a good word for Eisenhower. I also remenber hearing an interview on the radio with Kerenski, the Russian Premier prior to the Communist revolution. They asked him, "would you consider returning to Russia?" He said "No, not as long as the Communists are runnng the governement".
Once we got to East Hartland, the election took place. On the eve of the election, England and France invaded Egypt without telling up first. I think we put pressure on them to get out of Egypt.
Not long after moving, a couple of my co-workers at Kaman Aircraft asked if they could come up and stay at our place for 24 hours, to take part in a big amateur radio contest. East Hartland being 1,192 feet altitude gave it an advantage for high frequency propagation. So we agreed, and as part of the deal, they agreed to leave their equipment behind for several weeks for my use, as I still had a Novice ticket, WN1WWO.
In preparation for the move, I had put the place at Lake Garda / Unionville up for sale, without results. So I temporarily gave up, and rented it.
That fall in Hartland, I remember for some reason there were a zillion and one crickets along the south side of our house there.
Our property line came fairly close to the house on the south side. Ted Aagre lived in the house to the south, and his original intention was to sell several building lots out of that land. He and his wife were originally from Norway, but he also was a retired boat buildier from Long Island. He had built our house and sold it to Arthur Aasland. Arthur Aasland was more recently from Norway. He didn't really have a last name, but took the name of Aasland, as that's the region he came from in Norway. I don't believe he attended the Norwegean church, nor the Congregational church either, for that matter. He's the one I got the Norwegean sayings from.
I got Ted Aagre to build for me a couple of bookshelves, which Yvonne has now. There is no back, as they lean against the wall. I was very particular as to the distance between the shelves, so that tall books could be accommodated.
Pretty much every year we had a vegetable garden, and Marjorie started to have flower gardens, especially around the west (front), and south side of the house. One of her main specialties was roses.
There were always a lot of rocks turned up once the garden was plowed. So I came up with a "limited time offer" for the kids to pick up rocks and add them to the stone wall. Let's say I offered 2 cents for a small rock and 5 cents for a large rock. This was a very limited time offer, like one hour maybe. Man, you should see those rocks move like lightening from the field to the stone wall! I belive I have a picture of all the kids sitting on the stone wall afterwards.
Thanks kids for giving me the "nudge" to continue with this history. It's better I do this than waste time watching TV.
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