games for kids from one to ninety-two

It's not that I love puzzles, but putting about ten pieces of a 1000-piece puzzle at Christmas--yelling BINGO each time one fits--is not something I want to go without. It is one of those traditions that I'm glad has remained in the family, despite most of us being (outwardly) less than enthusiastic about pulling out the card table and opening the puzzle box every year. My dad is the puzzle-meister, and I don't know if it's the BINGO that he likes the most or just making sure we have a low-stress excuse to sit together for a few minutes at Christmas, but he hasn't given up yet. And aren't we glad?

I think the puzzles started in American Fork; I was probably about 10. We even pasted "my" puzzle onto cardboard one year, framed it and hung it in my room for the next 8 years. (It was a sea turtle scene.) I'm pretty sure my dad intended each kid to get one pasted and framed, but the messy glue and the...moderate enthusiasm for puzzles assisted that part of the tradition to end. And that's ok. The puzzles have persevered and will continue to. Even Andy participated this year, even though he was home in Logan and the padres have moved to Las Cruces, by sending this scene of Provo, Utah. I think this gift sort of emphasizes the family support of the puzzles; we'd all like to be involved, and if it's from a distance, even better.

A looser tradition surrounds Tripoley in the Peterson clan. It's not technically a holiday tradition, but it is a game that it is tradition to play as a family once or twice (or thrice) a year--passed down through the generations. My first time playing was Thanksgiving 2008 with Nate's Peterson Grandpa. We can't play it every Sunday like Pictionary or Catch Phrase because it would lose its magic. It is a production of sorts; sorting and counting the chips, getting out the board, refreshing our knowledge of the hierarchy of poker hands, getting out the board. We have to play long enough to make it all worthwhile, and also there's the pretend gambling. These once- or twice-yearly games often occur near the holidays because we gather around the table after we eat, and playing Tripoley prevents us from staring dumbly at the ceiling or having to rely on intelligent conversation.

Some people call it Michigan Rummy, which I think is the name Grammy's mother (Grandma Christa) used for it. Grandma Christa was an earnest Tripoley player. She hand-painted a big wooden board (as opposed to the felt or plastic boards we usually use) with a big pretty cat in the "kitty" space. That is Nate's Clark/Christensen side, and his Peterson side also had a big player too, in Grandma Hazel. If you know me, you know those great-grandmotherly traditions are hard to resist so I bring up the game at every few family gatherings to make sure we all carry it on.

Some lesser-talked about family Vets

-Since Nate and I both have Mayflower ancestors, we probably have some Revolutionary War soldiers in our families, but neither of us know about that. One more thing to look into!

-My Grandpa Stricklan's grandpa William and his brother fought on opposite sides of the Civil War. William was in Indiana by then, so he fought for the Union.

-My Grandpa Stricklan's uncle Frank was in the Air Force in WWI.

-My Grandpa Paul Stricklan was requested to stay in Idaho and keep his sheep and milk route during WWII to help with the food shortage.

-Nate's grandpa fought in WWII and Korea. His brother Gene also fought in WWII.

-My mom was born on Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma but I can't be sure why. (For someone interested in family history I sure know next to nothing, right?)

-Nate's cousin Ryan was a Marine in the early 2000's. He served at least two tours in the Middle East.

And here are some rather random soldier photos that my Grandma Stricklan kept in her family albums:

Paul's cousin Lester Miller born 1918

Virginia and Bill Palmer

RT's story as he wrote it: "I'LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS...JUST YOU WAIT AND SEE!"

"I'll Be Home For Christmas...if only in my dreams" was the song playing through the speakers at the "Ship Store" on Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay.

I was 17 when I joined the Navy, and upon high school graduation was immediately sent to the San Diego Naval Training Center for Boot Camp. Upon completion of "Boots" and a short leave  home, I was given the opportunity to attend a basic engineering school and upon graduation was sent to Treasure Island for assignment to a ship and overseas duty.

The Christmas holidays were coming fast, and I was becoming a bit lonely, thinking of home in Smithfield. Plus I saw many sailors packing their bags for Christmas leaves, but thought I wouldn't be eligible because of the previous leave. But why not? So I submitted a request and, to my surprise, it was granted as of December 23. I hurriedly packed a small bag, put on my winter uniform, caught a train to the Oakland Train Depot, bought a ticket and was on my way that night.

It was a long trip with many stops, arriving in Ogden Christmas Eve. I hurried up 25th Street to the Greyhound Depot, but was told, "Sorry, no buses until 11:00 am tomorrow." Christmas Day!

I walked back to the train depot feeling discouraged, sat down and asked for Heavenly Father's help. I stepped out onto Wall Street and stuck out my thumb. I was mighty cold, but I did get a ride.

I was dropped in Brigham City about 11:00 pm on the Tabernacle corner, but had no luck getting another ride. Things in Brigham were pretty much closed, but I saw a lighted sign about 2 blocks north and found it to be a small hotel. The manager invited me in to warm up. there was very little traffic, but about my fourth trip back to the corner I could see two headlights, and I offered a silent prayer. Maybe it was a loud one! The car turned east. (That was the road going into Sardine Canyon and over the mountain into Cache Valley.) They saw me and stopped.

The car was warm and comfortable. What a blessing. They asked who I was and where I was going. The wife said the were the Bowmans from Lewiston and had just left their son, a new Navy pilot, at the train depot so he could return to his station in California and duty in the Pacific.

About 1:30 or 2:00 am they let me out at 160 South Main in Smithfield just in front of my home. I was elated and rushed up the driveway to the side back door. I knocked lightly a few times, saw the hall light come on, the door window curtains pulled back a little, and I saw my Mom's eye. What a surprise! They didn't know I was coming. The door opened, and I was greeted with hugs and kisses from Dad and Mom.

After the shock and some conversation, they suggested not waking my 7-year-old sister Helen, and that I could be one of her Christmas presents. What a joyful time when she came into my bedroom and saw me, even before she had gone down stairs to the tree.

What a great "I'll Be Home For Christmas" that was..."Just you wait and see!"

Christmas 1943 (the previous year) Helen, Myrle, Ralph

Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween from the old times! I've got some costume ideas for the kids. Crazy scary masks? Guns? Yes!