One of the challenges that I took up several years ago was studying the genealogy of my family. The combined ancestor trees of Judy and I sprawl out in four directions. There is the Dinsmore line from my father, Chester; the Cook line from my mother, Alois. For Judy there is the Starr line from her dad, Clifford (Pat) Starr and from her mother Eula there is the Allen line. This week we have been in Colville Washington. It is in Stevens County in the north east corner of Washington State. My mother and her seven brothers and sisters grew up here and as you might imagine I have cousins everywhere around here. We spent several hours yesterday searching out deeds and homestead patents from my grandfather’s farm on Bear Creek and my great grandfather’s homestead in Rathdrum Idaho. We have copies now of the actual deeds for the land grandfather Billie Cook put together for his farm. What is totally amazing is he started purchasing these plots of land during the great depression. His first purchase was a half interest in 120 acres from the Washington State Bank Supervisor from a failure of the Colville Bank in 1929. With some of pieces he bought the deed stipulates that he must catch up the back taxes. The puzzle is how Grandfather Cook had the money to put together a 640 acre farm. We know they never were rich. They did log timber from time to time to pay bills and taxes. We now know that my old employer, Boise Cascade, is the owner of all that property. It just seems like every time we find new documents to solve one puzzle we discover a brand new puzzle.
Today we are going to extract “Arcturus” and the “Shop Annex” from the courtyard of my Aunt Lindie’s farm. As a teenager I came and stayed a couple different times here on this farm and helped with haying. Cousin Monty and I swapped memories of those bygone years. The same tractor that I drove then is still here now. It is an antique at 53 years old. What does that make me? This farm is a time capsule. The barn in front of our windshield held the hay and a milking parlor for half a dozen cows. Most everything is still intact. Loops of string still dangle from the beam overhead. These were looped around the tuft at the end of the cow’s tail to keep her from swatting you. I can almost smell the hay and other scents, and hear the soft rhythmic shhhhthuckÂ…shhhhthuck of the milking machine. The echoes of those sounds have long since died away. The manure pile has decomposed and has been returned to the land. The mud of the barnyard is now lush grasses and this is a park of memories now. We will visit Aunt Lindie in the care center on the way out of town and life will march inexorably on.
Tomorrow we will cross over into Canada and a new series of adventures. Stand by for more stories.
Judy and I send our love to all.
