How Mom's Parents Met

This story is the "Prologue" to my mother's autobiography, something she wrote based 
on how her parents, Robert Vester Owen (who went by Ves) and Olevia Lois Purinton, actually met.

*They married on February 28, 1923*

This is a fish story. At least it is about a fisherman. Well, actually, it is about a farmer who went fishing. This fellow's name was Ves Owen and he took a notion once to leave his Oregon homestead and go fishing. Somebody convinced him there were fish to be caught at this place in California called Clear Lake. So this Ves Owen, he struck out to find them.

Not far from Clear Lake sits Kelseyville, as well as some other towns but in this story they don't matter very much. It was Kelseyville where Mr. Owen finally wound up. One day he was looking for a place to board, because he'd decided to stick around and work for a spell. Money was the only object at the moment-- this Mr. Owen was a seasoned bachelor with only himself to worry about, and so why not?

Ves Owen, but I'm unsure of his age here. He was almost 24 years older than Olevia.

Well, this seasoned bachelor went up and knocked at this door to ask for lodging. And how was he to know that he would eventually get involved with that young thing who answered his knock? Her name was Olevia and she was eighteen, but of course he didn't find that out until later.

Olevia Purinton at 18, I think.

He said: " Hello-- I heard you might have a room to rent" or something like that.

And she said: "Well, you had better come back later when my Auntie is here."

Olevia's Aunt Frankie was a trifle dismayed when she heard about this.

"Olevia," said Aunt Frankie, "you know I said before that we had no more rooms available."

And Olevia said: "Yes, but I knew when you saw his blue eyes you would change your mind."

The upshot of it all was that Mr. Owen got the room, and eventually he got Olevia, too. Whether or not he ever got any fish I don't know, but in this story that doesn't matter very much. And whether or not this is all strictly factual, I don't know either, but it made a nice story to tell the children.

The earliest photo I could find of Ves and Olevia together-- 

here they are with Bob and Lois, their two oldest children,

 probably 1929/1930

Mom, written on Mother's Day 2020

(This is a reprint from my Grandma blog that I write for my grandkids. 

Today I posted about Mom~~from Valerie)

Eileen with her big sister, Lois

I'll start with the basic personal history facts: Eileen Jane Owen was born on October 19, 1934 in Corvallis, Oregon. She was the youngest child of Robert & Olevia Owen (these were my grandparents and you will meet them in future blog posts). She had a red-haired brother named Bob and a musically-inclined sister named Lois. Another baby named Gene Franklin passed away as a two-week old infant, four years before Eileen was born.

 Eileen with the doll, her mother and sister, and Daisy the sheep

 Eileen, Lois with the doll this time, and Bob

She seemed to have an idyllic childhood growing up on a farm in Western Oregon--the kind that nowadays we can only dream of or read about in books. To quote her autobiography: 

"When I was four we moved to "Sunnymount," which was just up the hill from the Price place [nineteen miles south of Corvallis]. This was my favorite home during my childhood. There were always lots of neat things to do such as looking for green frogs at the spring or catching garter snakes or "fishing" in the tiny brook that trickled down through the grape thicket. (It didn't matter much that my fishing pole was built from a stick, a string and a safety pin because there weren't any fish.)

"It seems incredible to me that I survived by childhood. Occasionally I read of a child falling out of a tree and sustaining fatal injuries, or drowning in a river, and I always wonder how I'm still here. I mean considering all the time I spent in trees and on rivers, without so much as a broken bone or other near disaster.

"Monroe, situated between the Coast Range and the Long Tom River, was plentifully supplied with good wading water and good climbing. I spent a large amount of time in either one or the other, and in between I scouted for wildflowers, watched crawdads, and climbed in and over old cars in the junk yard.

Because she was so much younger than her older siblings, everyone treated Eileen special. Her dad was older--54 when Eileen was born so he retired well before her friends' dads did. She thought it was a grand arrangement because her dad would sing, joke, and tell stories all the time, and she thought she was the luckiest girl in the whole wide world.

Eileen with her father and Bob and Lois

The whole family, Eileen on the far right

There are many stories to tell about my mother but this is her through my eyes: She liked to write and read. She played the piano and she could sing. She sewed a lot, and was creative and artistic in many ways. She liked people. She didn't like to cook. She loved October. She appreciated nature. She wrote poetry, letters, journals, and family histories. She enjoyed quips and clever plays on words. She liked to learn. On road trips she made us stop and read historical markers. She liked to play games. A messy house was her nemesis. She was always busy with church callings and assignments. She was a dedicated member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints with a great faith in the Savior. She was known for giving great talks in church. She was a diligent visiting teacher and friend to many. She was exactly the right kind of mother to me. Growing up I always thought she was the smartest person I knew.

Traces of Mom

(This is a reprint of a post I did in 2013 written on Memorial day of that year.)

I know it is no longer Mother's Day.  Although my plan for this post pre-dated Mother's Day this year, timing never worked for me to actually sit down and write it.  It takes a quiet time with a few less demands pulling on me from my house, my life, and even my computer.  Memorial Day this year turned out to be the moment (for at least right now).  Now this is actually just a post for me and my mom.  You are welcome to read it but it is long and specific for her.

After spending some time at the cemetery yesterday with Gary and his family, I am also in that mood of gratitude for those who had gone before--certainty my mom and others that I know but also for all those who have served and died for our country to provide and protect those precious freedoms we enjoy.  Our neighborhood is filled today with flags flying in tribute to those men and women.

Back to my mom (or Grandma Giberson to my children):

Eileen Jane Own Giberson
My mom at our first house in Richland
@1962



My mom and dad
This was taken in Amarillo Texas
@1972

My mom and dad sporting our Giberson reunion t-shirts from 1994
That was the last reunion my mother attended.

I had to put this picture in for my kids.
My mom liked "pigs" and it started as a cute
little quirky thing, but it exploded into a huge
collection.  Not only did we as children find
pigs for her but friends and ward members
did as well.  She also had several "pig" books.
She loved to read and she loved to read
to her grandchildren and my kids loved it too.

Like all moms, my mom worked hard for our family, She cooked (which she didn't like), she cleaned (which was a huge undertaking with 8 kids), she sewed most of our clothes when I was young, and she managed the organization of 8 kids, one husband, and demanding Church assignments for both of them.  She was extraordinary as a woman. She made life happy for us, she loved flowers, she loved books and music, she kept a journal. She was a friend to all and I never remember her saying bad things about anyone.  She was always willing to extend the benefit of the doubt.  Most of all she loved God and understood her place with him.  I remember six months after she had a life saving heart transplant hearing her stand and bear her testimony and saying, "I have been so blessed in my life.  I have not had many of the difficult trials which others deal with."  I actually didn't think anything about it until the next sister stood up and said something to the affect that if Eileen didn't think 10 years of congestive heart failure and being away from her family for four months for a heart transplant was a trial, we all better stop feeling sorry for ourselves and get busy. That was my mom.  Her impact on all who knew her was upbeat, positive, and loving.  I saw a quote which fit her recently. It goes something like this:  Don't live your life so that everyone knows you're here. Live it so that they will miss you when you are gone.  That fits her well.  She is missed, in some ways more now than right after she died.  It has been over 18 years (now 25 years).

But this post isn't really about my mom (although it is good to put some pictures of her in here for future generations), but it is about the "traces of her" which I have found physically within my own house.  I have noticed over the years how many of the things I choose for my house are related in some way to my mother.  They remind me of her, they remind me of home, and they remind me of mothering and love.  Some are possessions of hers, some are things I did on purpose because of her and others were just accidents.................but whatever the reasons I found her touch throughout my house where she has never been and it is a reflection of the major influence she had as my mom in making me who I am today (even though in many ways I am included in the group of siblings who "take after my dad the most).

Traces----

Logo from our last reunion--designed by my nephew Niles Giberson
Mom came up with the name "Giberiginal" with some help from siblings and
she used it as a trademark on the back of her homemade birthday cards and
other cards she made---long before card making became a "thing".
It was fun to use it again for our logos for the reunion.

This is our last Giberson family photo which was taken
in Austin, Texas, in 2003 (I think).
The little pig represents Mom.
Family photographs and family reunions were two
very important things to my mom and my dad.

These are some mystery books of my Mom's.
She and I both loved mystery books
as young girls and I love having these treasured books of hers.

My mom's streamer chest which she took
her stuff to BYU. (I didn't take my stuff
to BYU in it.)

My mom loved flowers and she was known
for stopping the car while on vacations to
go look at flowers.  I loved that now and have
done the same to my children.
Not sure if I loved it as a child.
We had irises in our Richland house
and here are ours in Syracuse.

In Richland, we had tiger lilies out our
kitchen door.  Here are some I planted in
Syracuse as a reminder of that.

My mom did love pigs and upon
her death we each took a couple of pigs.
These are from her collection.  She painted the
white piggy bank.

I am not a personal fan of pigs.  I am more of an elephant person.
However I saw this once at RC Willeys and felt drawn to it.
After going back and forth, I finally got it.
Odd tribute to my mom, but it still makes me smile each time I
see it.  (And now everyone will know why that pig is
in my dining room floor.  I actually have a few other
pigs scatter around my house as well.)
My mom would laugh!

When Gary and I moved into our first house, my mom
sent us a package with something for each of the main
rooms of our new house.  This was a needle point she made
for our yellow bathroom.
This has hung in every house since then.
It currently is in our laundry room.

In that same package came four wooden letters spelling
"Hall" for the hall, of course.  She thought she was so
clever.  We used those for years as well but
they have been recycled many years ago.
However I did my own version for this house----

The Piano--
My mom played the piano and organ.  Many of the classic music pieces I recognize because my mother would play them at night as we were falling asleep. I loved having a mom who could play, but steadfastly refused to learn how to play myself as a child. (And as an adult with some piano lesson experience, it was probably a wise choice as I do not have the "piano/music" gene possessed by my mother and many of the "Owen" family tree.)  Gary "fell in love" with my family as my mom played the piano and we all sang after a Thanksgiving dinner. That event led him to consider that he would have to marry me to be a part of that so the rest is history. All of that is a side note to the piano.
After we got married, I immediately noticed a piano missing from our home.  It was just a part of my life that I couldn't imagine building a home without one.  It was an exciting day when we bought our first piano which we had in West Jordan and sold when we moved to Hong Kong and since then we have had electronic pianos. Luckily God blessed us with Tosha who was a music soul like my mom so we have had piano music.  Except for Scott, all of my kids have enjoyed the piano from time to time.  As for me, I try to play on Sunday each week.
Thank, Mom, for music.

My mom had this quote on her wall, long before quotes
were fashionable.  It is a take off of a scripture.  It says
"Sufficient each day is the mess therein."
For me, it serves to remind myself that I might want
to take care of today's messes today
 (rather than piling the laundry to be folded....later!)
This hangs in my kitchen which incidentally is painted yellow.
My mom always wanted a yellow kitchen.  Me, too.
Yellow is a bright and wonderful color.

I had bought a Thanksgiving rabbit and my mom, after seeing that,
made me that rabbit for my birthday complete with hearts--it works for both
valentines and my birthday, although now it sits in Scarlett's room because she loved it, too.

My mom taught me to love to swing.
And so we must have swings.
Jena loves to swing as well.

This is my grandmother's treadle sewing machine.
I can remember my mom sewing clothes on
this machine for us.  Crazy!  That was seriously
hard work to sew and work the pedal.  My mom said years later that sewing
was a great pleasure and stress reliever for her.  I can't imagine it
as the thought of sewing can make me break out into
a cold sweat.  My cousins just recently brought this
to me from Oregon.  My parents had returned it to
Grandma when they finally got an electric sewing machine.  However,
Grandma wanted my mom to have it when she died but they never got it to Texas.
After my mom died my aunt was determined that I have it.
So they brought it when they came to attend a wedding of a nephew.
I was so excited and grateful for their sacrifice to bring it.
And it still works so if I need to sew after an earthquake,
I am prepared!?????

My quilt--
My Mom made this for me for Christmas of
my freshman year at BYU.  This was a ton of work.
It included scraps of material from dresses and clothes
she had made me throughout my life.
Circles--can you imagine sewing that?
It was on my bed throughout college and until I got married.
And then on extra beds for years.
Then one day I noticed it was getting worn so I took it "out of commission"
and it sit on a shelf in our bedroom.  As I type this I realize that I am
wrapped up with the quilt my mom made for Gary and I when we got
married.  It is a blue tied quilt that continues to
keep us warm years after it no longer was our bedspread.
If we can find it as Ben and Tosha have used it over the years.
Quilting is one part of sewing that I am trying to add to
my life.  I apparently love material and a beautiful quilt
is such an amazing treasure.

My mom and dad loved maps and taught us
to use them.  My brother took it a step further and
majored in geography in college.  I was actually one class
short of a minor in geography myself.  This hangs in
our living room but I (and my brother Todd) both have
map collections as well.

I love my mom and just like my home, my heart and mind are filled with her memory.  I so wish that my children could have known her and loved her personally, too.  She loved them so much and prayed for them.  She died before Jena was born, but I feel a calm peace that she knew and loved Jena before we did. 

Happy Mother's Day, mom.  And thanks for everything!

THE DAY WE FLOODED THE MOTEL

Today I am going to share a story about me and my brothers as written by my mom--your Great Grandma Eileen Giberson. "The Day We Flooded the Motel."

In 1960, my parents took my brothers, Todd and MIke, and me to southern California on a vacation. My little sister, Robin was not quite a year old and she stayed with my aunt and her family so that we could enjoy the vacation without a baby. Here is the story by my mom:

"One entire day we spent with Judy, Todd, and Mickey at Disneyland. Richard (my dad) and I did take a dim view of the ride through Senior Autopia (by then freeways were hardly appealing, even miniature ones), but otherwise it was a wonderful day. I guess my favorite item on that particular Disneyland visit was Tom Sawyer's Island. We enjoyed taking the kids because after all they were the biggest ones we had and we didn't realize how small they really were. Now, I can't imagine packing a 2 1/2 year-old halfway around Disneyland--that Mickey was a chunk!---- but then, we were young, strong and didn't know any better.

This picture was taken just a month or so before this vacation.
Richard (Dad), Judy, Eileen (Mom)
Mike, Todd, Robin

I guess things were bound to go wrong at the motel. The manager was a women with not only a hawk nose but an eagle-eye. She seemed to know every going and coming that took place, at least in our case...

I absolutely swear that what happened was not my fault. We were getting ready to go to the beach and who would have expected our water to be turned off so repairman could work on the pipes out in the flowerbeds. When I started to wash the breakfast dishes, I discovered we had not water, cause unknown.

Clean breakfast dishes were certainly not a prerequisite to an enjoyable morning at the ocean so we skipped that little detail and went on to the next. The last thing I did before we piled into the car was to check both kitchen and bathroom faucets, hoping that they were turned off. With little ones around, it was anybody's guess.

Have you caught on? Yes, indeedy--- "as luck would have it" the bathroom faucet was left on full blast! While we were out blithely playing in the sun and sand, the water was turned back on and that tap relentlessly filled up the sink, the bathroom floor and went on to soak a quarter portion of the carpet in one bedroom. The problem was discovered before our return (just how, we dared not ask, afterward.) Our first intimation of trouble was when we drove into the parking lot and the landlady was waiting for us on our doorstep. She would have made a good college dorm mother.

We had the decency to cringe a little when she described, in properly dramatic tones, how the repairman had been forced to drill a hole in the bathroom floor to drain out the water. We waited until she left before we laughed.

(If you've ever lived with a water-soaked carpet, you can appreciate that our remaining four days in San Diego were spent as much as possible in other surroundings.)"

I remember that first trip to Disneyland and the pinkish orange stucco motel we stayed in. In my mind, I always thought that it was my little brothers who were the guilty parties--they being too small to understand to turn the knobs back the other way if no water was coming out. I am sure that I would known better at 5 year old.

PETS

Growing up in Richland we would have kittens/cats now and then. I don't remember any in particular, but Judy and Lynette said they remember names like Happy (who gave birth to Snip, Snap, and Snurr--names taken from a favorite book at the time), Crackers, and Salt, and Pepper.

Lynette with Happy

A cat (maybe Crackers?) at our Richland house

We had a dog once whose name was Tuf. He was part Boston Terrier and not very big. Judy remembers receiving him for her Christmas gift one year. The name came from a math game we played (and it was a tough game especially when playing with the math-smart people in our family.) I remember one traumatic experience--not sure how it happened but I was with Tuffy (I think most of us called him that) in the field across the main road from our street. I don't know if I was taking him for a walk or what, but I couldn't catch him and I was chasing him and calling his name but he wouldn't come and I cried and cried because I didn't know what to do. In my memory I remember going home crying to Mom and she said not to worry. I don't know what happened after that but the dog appeared at home later.

When I was about 14 or 15 we had two kittens that we named Starsky and Hutch after two police detectives in a popular TV show.  Starsky & Hutch  One character had dark hair (my favorite of the two) and the other was blond, so you are right if you guessed that one of the kittens was black and the other was--not blond--but lighter colored, like an orange color. Sadly Starsky didn't survive, but Hutch lived a very long time. They had other siblings with names like Bruno and Cinnamon, all born to a mommy cat named Nephi. Obviously we originally thought she was a boy. Some tried to call her Nephiette after that but it didn't stick.

(above) Great-grandpa Giberson with Hutch. (below) Hutch in his delicate older years.

My lasting memory of Hutch, though, is when I was home from my first year at BYU and working everyday. In the morning, (before my alarm would go off, of course) Hutch would come and scratch at my bedroom window (right above my bed) until I was forced to go to the front door to let him in the house. There was no way to sleep through that scratching, scratching, scratching and the insistent meowing, meowing, meowing...

Grandpa Robert "Ves" Owen

My grandpa's name was Robert Vester Owen although he went by "Ves." He was the 11th of 15th children of Benjamin and Jane Owen. He had a very interesting life. He was born in 1880 and he saw the world change a lot during his life. He served in World War I. He drove a stage coach for part of his life. Mostly he was a farmer and then he worked for the railroad in Portland, Oregon. He didn't get married until he was 40 years old to my grandmother Olevia Purinton Owen. My mom, Eileen Jane Owen, was their youngest child.

Grandpa died when I was only four years old--same age as some of his great great grandchildren are now so I don't remember him very much. However there are a couple of things that I remember very clearly that I want to share with you.

When I was little, we had to drive about four hours to go from our house to our grandparents's house in Portland, Oregon. They lived in on the bottom floor of an old house and to get up to the house you had to drive up a dirt driveway through some trees and rose bushes to reach the house. I have a clear memory of driving up in our car and seeing my grandpa and grandma waiting together on the porch. I remember thinking that they had been waiting all day just to see me. I remember that my grandpa would hug me and I knew that he loved me so much.

My grandparents had a round kitchen table where we would eat great dinners that my grandmother would cook using her wood burning stove. I can remember my grandpa singing after dinner. He was a very good singer, like my mother and aunt were as well. He would sometimes sing for shows at Church and in the community.

My grandfather also wrote poetry. I didn't know that when I was a little girl, but when I was older, my mom gave me a small book with some of his poetry. One of my favorite poems that he wrote was called: "To Robert Jr." which was my Uncle Bob.

There's a race to be won

When the day is done.

And a place,

In the Race

For you.

I am wearing your colors

And hope,

At the end,

To cheer

When I see them come through.

I memorized that poem when I was younger, because even though it was written to my Uncle Bob, I believe that my Grandpa loves me and will be waiting for me at the end of my race....just like I will be for each of you----a long, long time from now.

WELCOME BACK, ALL GIBERSONS--YOUNG AND OLD!

Valerie and I (as we have begun trying to share the stories of our families with our grandchildren) decided that there would be many stories that might be of interest to our extended Giberson family as well.  So we decided to use giberiginal.blogspot.com as a way to share them with a broader audience.  Feel free to add stories of your own.  Contact Valerie or I if you need help with that.

We hope that you enjoy learning more about our family and the many people who went before us.