

We also enjoyed sharing stories and images of the people in our childhoods. Some remembered Grandma as stern; others as a softy. (I maintain that perhaps those images reflected our own behavior.) Regardless, a fun weekend!
![]() Until I was eleven or twelve I lived in the same small Minnesota town as all of my cousins and grandparents on both sides. And there were a lot of them; twenty grandchildren on my dad's side and seventeen on my mother's side. Our cousins were our first friends. Ever holiday was split with time at each side of the family. But about the time I was in fourth or fifth grade, the fracturing began. One by one, families moved to Iowa, California, and other Minnesota towns. We had fewer and fewer gatherings. Eventually, some of us managed to gather for weddings, and later, funerals. Covid put a halt to even some of these. ![]() Every few years, someone takes the initiative to organize a reunion. This year, cousin Jeff volunteered to have a gathering at his beautiful country home near St. Peter, Minnesota. Sister Gretchen started an email campaign. Of the thirteen surviving cousins, seven were able to make the gathering, plus four of our children and two great grandchildren--a fraction of the whole group but a nice size to reminisce and share family stories. Two family members have been doing a little genealogy research and have raised a few questions. Our grandfather, Andy Jensen, came to the US in 1914 as a blacksmith. He had lived in Argentina for two years after leaving his native Denmark. He married Grandma, a Norwegian (considered a mixed marriage in those days). But one of the researchers discovered that Grandpa's parents may have come from Sweden! Does this mean we should have been having Swedish cookies along with all of the Danish and Norwegian ones every Christmas? Enquiring minds want to know!
We also enjoyed sharing stories and images of the people in our childhoods. Some remembered Grandma as stern; others as a softy. (I maintain that perhaps those images reflected our own behavior.) Regardless, a fun weekend!
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One of the best, anyway. For several years, Howell Station, below the dam at Lake Red Rock near Pella, has hosted our extended camping group the third week in August. We like it because of the spacious, level sites, large trees, and lots of paths for bike-riding. The group was smaller than usual this year, due to silly events like weddings in Spain and vacations in Colorado. ![]() Other popular pastimes are eagle watching, fishing, and sunsets. Because the campground looks northwest across the Des Moines River, there often some pretty spectacular sunsets. This week, heavy clouds a couple of nights precluded those displays, but Tuesday night was good. Of course, there's always trips to Pella to the quilt shop, the bakeries, and the other shops. Much-needed rain Monday afternoon and evening chased us into town for supper. My friends Ginge and Clare came out Tuesday and we made a quick tour of the shops and the flower gardens. As indicated by the photo of the fence at the top, birdwatching is popular. Bald eagles like to get 'take-out' for breakfast in the area of the Des Moines River below the dam. Once we spotted seven on the sand bars at one time. When we walked across the footbridge one morning, a magnificent specimen swooped toward us, but I was too slow to get a photo. The same thing happened Friday morning when I spotted a pileated woodpecker--every time I snapped a picture, he moved in the last second. Wednesday, Don came down with his boat and we took a tour of Lake Red Rock while he checked out fishing spots. It was a beautiful day and the scenery was wonderful. ![]() Victuals weren't lacking, even though the group was small. Breakfasts included sausage gravy on biscuits, wheat germ pancakes and sausage, and French toast made from cinnamon swirl bread from the bakery. Suppers featured pork sandwiches, BLTs, and burgers plus a variety of sides. So, although I did quite a bit of walking, a return to my regular exercise routine this week is especially necessary, especially after the Triple Berry Dutch pie ala mode, on Thursday night from, of all places, the meat market. Hopefully, we will all be back there next year for another go. ![]() This past weekend, I had the great joy of witnessing the marriage of another of my grandchildren. Tuan Nortman and his fiance Rhianna chose to keep the festivities small and somewhat informal, which was just as well, since three days before the wedding, they closed on and moved into their first home. Anyone who has been through either of those events knows that one alone can be challenging, exhausting, and full of mishaps. Doubling up can increase things exponentially. ![]() Tuan and Rhianna are nothing if not creative, and they put their own stamp on everything from the venue and vows to the menu and music. The wedding was at a dance studio in Indianola. This is in keeping with a non-pattern established by three previous grandkids' weddings: the Des Moines zoo, a rec center, and a barn venue in Alabama. I can't wait to see where the next one is. Anyway, they wrote their vows and chose a variety of music. Tuan asked his parents to cook an all-Asian meal for the reception: fried rice, egg rolls, a Korean beef and noodle dish, and garlic chicken. Family members and friends helped set everything up. Their attire was not the traditional white satin and tux but instead showed their spontaneous, creative sides. ![]() But there were a few flies in the ointment. Besides the wedding, I was looking forward to seeing all three of my kids together for only the second time this year, as well as six of the eight grandchildren. But life interfered. Early in the week, granddaughter Brooke tested positive for Covid so she, her husband, and two daughters had to beg off. Saturday morning, son Andy woke up feeling poorly and he too had a negative test, Grandson Steven served in another wedding that he had committed to a year earlier. So there were fewer of us to watch the couple's first dance and wish them well in person. But the others were there in spirit. America's love affair with cars is evident by glancing at the titles of popular songs over the last seven decades. Songs like "Hot Rod Lincoln," "Brand New Cadillac," "Little Deuce Coupe," "Mustang Sally," "G.T.O.," "Little Red Corvette," and "Camaro" speak to the cults of brands, styles, colors and other defining characteristics, especially during the times in the last century when differentiation was more common. Having often had the only car in a parking lot that was not black, white, or gray, I think the variety of the past is a great part of the appeal of classic car shows. This past weekend, the CLASS Car Club show was held in Clear Lake, Iowa for about the 35th year. Hundreds turned out to watch classic cars cruise around the lake on Friday night. Car festivities were of course combined with rock 'n' roll performances. This is Clear Lake, after all--home of the Surf Ballroom. Saturday, the cars were on display all around the city park, as well as along several side streets. Entries included of course, Corvettes, Mustangs, GTOs, and other 'hot' cars but also pickups, station wagons, and family sedans. A local band was scheduled to play in the bandshell this evening, but looking at the weather radar, I doubt it they were able to pull that off. When we decided to go to this event, it was too late to get a camping spot in Clear Lake, so we returned to Beed's Lake near Hampton. As usual, I take way too many photos here so will just post one of the dam and one of the bathhouse. Another great trip.
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AuthorSome random thoughts about writing, camping, and eating. Archives
February 2025
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