On December 17, 1986 Jake sat down and wrote us a letter. Now, you maybe didn’t receive this letter. I can tell you, however, that this letter is intended for you and me. The letter begins: “Dear Bill, Arline, Carolyn, Steve, Barbara, Craig, Chris. . . and DOREE, who else? Roger, Sue, . . . (and 67 others) and WHO . .. DOREE! Who did we leave out?”
Jake makes a big thing here of addressing Doree. She, however, is right in the room when he writes the letter. And write he does. Eight pages on a real typewriter, single spaced, elite type, and no margins covering so much territory it would take me several days to walk around it. Since he wrote this letter on Dec. 17, I figure it’s appropriate to share the Christmas parts with you.
THE CIRCLE
“Several times this fall I have done some baking – – – chocolate chip cookies, Kringler, lefse, and twice, those sticky cinnamon rolls with all the Karo syrup and gooey brown sugar and nuts on the bottom that end on top when you turn the mess upside down. We’ve eaten it all up. When I asked Doree if she wanted more she said no and told me to go write a letter.”
For the next four pages, Jake tells us about wool underwear, WWII B-17 pants, a Liberty Navy ship, his dad a guard during WWII, a trunk, Molly, a cow, fishing for trout, Uncle Roy chasing fish pirates in the Audace, a pink pitcher and more stuff like that. On page five, Jake returns to childhood and Christmas.
“Why is it that around this time of year, more than most times of the yer, we wander back over the years? Criminy. Bob, Arline, Ab, John, remember the Christmas cards we used to get from Uncle Bob with a dollar in each one? And where did we ever get all the presents that we stacked under the tree on Christmas of 1939?”
And Jess also has stories from childhood “stacked” in his head and he tells them to us.
“I don’t remember what Christmas it was, but I had spent two bucks, Des-Moines Register paper-route money I suppose, for a nice kit for you – Bob – a set of hair brushes and combs and tooth brushes and shaving cream, and about a barrel of lotion and a nice red ribbon. Like a dummy, I laid it down on a counter and wandered off, I think to the store across from the Post Office – where we used to duck in and dry out our gloves on the radiators and get warm — and some lady picked up my package. She swiped it. I saw it under her arm. I don’t remember what I tried to do. All I remember is that she wouldn’t give it back and I knew it was mine. Bob’s I mean.
“Summer turned into Christmas and it stayed all year long when Arline came wheeling home the bicycle she bought me brand new for sixteen bucks at Sears. Remember Arline? I can still see you down by the Texaco station, across the vacant lot, coming along the side-walk toward Walt William’s place. And when I think of it, it’s still Christmas.”
I actually don’t remember much about early Christmases, way back in Clear Lake, and the things I do remember, it seems to me Arline says I don’t. Doree says the same thing. That is I don’t remember ‘em right. About all I can remember for sure is the box of animal crackers and the orange from church. I think it was an orange. Maybe it was an apple. And I can clearly remember the time out at Uncle Alick’s when Uncle Bob played Santa Claus and scared us all to death. Wasn’t it his beard that kept falling down?
I believe it was around Christmas time when we lived in the brown house and I got lost in the the snowbanks in a blizzard and ended up in Mason City. Walking to Mason City I hung on to the telephone wires. It was either Mason City or Humboldt. I was two, only, but the memory is clear, and I’m sure it was Mason City. It had to be Mason City. Humboldt is way over by Fort Dodge, and I don’t remember getting lost in Fort Dodge.”
Christmas memories finished, Jess continues with stories about Clear Lake, Uncle Jess returning from Teller, Alaska, more cows, smoking cigars and so on. And then Jess remembers about family Sunday dinners
“For fun just now, I lit up a big cigar. A good cigar is a memory. Cigar smoke makes me think of Dad and Uncle Art and Roy and Jess and Joe. Joe used to smoke his cigars cocked straight cup in the air, and he could really smoke them short, so short it looked like chewing gum caught on fire – as Fred Allen said — and cigar smoke makes me think of you, Bob, and Ab, and all the speckled sea trout we caught, and good times on golf courses. It makes me think of Sunday dinners and how we used to pile into chairs and relax and smoke cigars after dinner while the women slaved out in the kitchen doing dishes. We were awful! Typical, but awful. I mean Ma and Myrt and Ida and Lil and Mabel and Peg used to do all the cooking: roast beef, potatoes, brown gravy, and bake bread. And all those pies, apple, with cinnamon and sugar, – juice running out – and lemon meringue, and then to boot they did all the dirty dishes while the men sat in the living room and smoked. Wasn’t that awful? That was the way it was, in those days. We were terrible. We should have gone out on the porch.”
And soon after Sunday dinner, Jess is ready to end his “CIRCLE” letter.
“When you start a letter you never know where it’s going, at least I don’t, usually. Doree told me to go write a letter to . . . and I thought, well I might as well include some more of you. I no more than got started when it hit me that this is December 17, and I ought to mention some of these things. . . .
“And so for memories. It’s common to say it, but the mind is an amazing thing, really. It’s … how these memories, people, places, events, stick in our minds sharp and clear after all these years, and comforting. . . . And that old Acuff gospel song: ‘Will the circle be unbroken, by and by Lord,by and by . .’
“I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure.
Tiny Tim said it best: ‘God bless us, everyone!’”
To view previous Olson Family Scrapbook – click here
