Tribute: Helen Louise Acker Edwards 1921-2016

Helen has been a part of my life since 1986.

She was the best Mother-in-Law I could EVER dream to ask for and also a wonderful grandmother and great grandmother to my children and grandchildren. 

I loved her!

I loved how she and Harry accepted 5 year-old Emily and I into their hearts when I met and later married their son, Vince. Emily immediately became a beloved granddaughter; something she cherishes to this day. 

 
I loved Helen's creativity – She was always making something from doll clothes, to rag rugs, to stuffed animals, to small paintings of things she enjoyed.

I loved her joyfulness – She always had a ready laugh.

I loved her mischievousness (especially when paired with husband, Harry!) – Ask the kids how many ways they unwrapped their Christmas money over the years!

I loved her resourcefulness – Once they were stranded for a week during an ice storm without electricity. (Click on ice storm for that story!) Harry had to return to his non-motorized wheelchair which was a true hardship on the couple in their 80’s. I wanted to find a way to rescue them and find a place for them to stay for a few days but they took it all in stride. They spent their days playing cards next to the fireplace, covered in blankets for extra warmth, as the temperature inside their house plummeted into the 40’s. They ate dinner every night that week cooked in a coffee can she placed in the coals of the fire!
 

I loved her fun loving take on life. – When they took Brittany for her hospital visit once, the giant stuffed lion had to come along! It got its own wheelchair ride; following Brittany up to the children’s ward!

Her ways were something I enjoyed immensely!

When I lost my own mother, she stepped in to help fill in a little of the void left in my life.

When my husband, their only son died, they made sure I knew I would always be part of their family.

A few years later we found ourselves in the same club; the “Widow’s Club.” We laughed, cried, and shared. We shared our dreams, worries and secret thoughts surrounding the
experience.

I will truly miss having her around but I know we'll laugh together again someday.

Sentimental Sunday - Summer Memory 1963, Age Eight

It's the first day of summer. Summer mornings bring back memories of home.

I wake to my open window as the sun and a cool morning breeze hit my white cotton curtains. They sway in the air, nudging me from my dreams. I stretch, enjoying the morning coolness that will be gone all too soon from this summer scene, and then lay still to listen for the noise of others in the house. Hearing nothing, I sit up, put my feet on the smooth wooden floor, and gaze out the window in front of me. I'm looking for my mother. After a few moments perusing the straight rows of corn, potatoes, beats, beans, and other assorted vegetables, I spot white fabric billowing in the breeze. I know it must be Mom's housecoat I've spied between the single row of fruit trees and the blackberry bushes that stretch the length of our small grove. 

Shari (8), Kristi (6), Laurie (3)

I open the door and step out into the hall where I can see my little sisters, still sleeping in their twin beds, through the slightly open door across from mine. It won't be long before they wake and the house becomes active and full of life. 

As I walk past my parents' room, I notice their bed is neatly made and ready for the day. The windows have been opened and the single air-conditioner, that has run through the night in my parents' window, is getting a rest; waiting for the sun to make its way to the room's west windows. Dad's watch, pocket protector with his pens and mechanical pencils, and change for his pocket are no longer in their spot on the corner of the dresser; a sure sign that he has already left for work for the day. 

I make my way through the living room with its large picture window, on through the dining room, and into the kitchen. Every room looks, smells, and feels like summer.

My Mom is nowhere to be found in those rooms but I see signs of her presence. The double doors in the dining room lead to the backyard. They are open and doing their best to bring in cool air before the afternoon heat takes over. A coffee cup with a brown liquid ring sits on the kitchen table next to a small plate displaying evidence of toast with jelly; a crumpled paper napkin completing the picture. 

Vera Dibbens Johnson

I continue past the churning washing machine in the utility room and out the wooden screen door that leads to the north side of the house. I feel the cool morning breeze as it penetrates my summer pajamas. The small porch sits comfortably between two large flowerbeds full of columbines and snap dragons. English ivy has wound it's tendrils over the red brick of the north wall for so many years that the brick is no longer visible.

I run barefoot, down the steps and into the wet grass, on my way to the garden; our collie, Laddie, matching my steps on the other side of the chain link fence.

As I scan the garden again, I spot Mom bending over a row of snap beans. Her fingers working quickly to pull the ripe pods from their branches. She has nearly finished filling the large plastic bowl. She looks up and smiles as I come to stand beside her on the soft, cool garden soil. I help her finish filling the big bowl and we head for the kitchen where I will help her snap the ends off of the fresh beans. 

As my sisters bounce into the kitchen, I know the rest of the day will be full of summer activity. But, the early morning time with Mom cements the rich memories in my mind forever. 

Shoveling Snow - Wordless Wednesday



The first home I remember. The house is still on Sheridan Street in Wichita, Kansas.
It looks like my parents had already started me on chores! I think I could have used a bigger shovel!



Their eyes were my eyes - No Tombstone Tuesday - Part 2

The woman on the left is my 2nd Great Grandmother, Anna Ruth Jarman Dibbens. She was born very close to the place this picture was taken in June of 1843 in Newchurch, Ryde, Isle of Wight, England, and died shortly after this picture was taken in Southsea, England, on December 20, 1919. It's the journey in between those two dates that is the real story.
Anna married Arthur R Dibbens in November, 1865 in the island and they started their family with the first five children; three of whom survived and moved with them to America in 1873 where they added three more children to their family. By 1876 they were living in Wichita, and finally settled near Kingman, Kansas by 1900. They found the land they had been looking for along the banks of the Ninnescah River. The family moved into a sodhouse on that land with six children and survived at least one river rising while in the sod house, but it was worth it as they watched their kit home coming toward them on wagons. It had traveled to them by train from halfway across the country; a mail-order house that is still standing over 100 years later. (I hear there is a picture of the kit being delivered somewhere at a local museum but I have yet to find it.) I began this blog back in 2009 with some pictures and stories about that house, which is still a home. (pictures of the home are in my blogs from 2009.)

Anna and Arthur raised their children in the kit home, making several trips back to England. The last trip to England to visit family was in 1919. The picture above was taken during that trip. Anna died, just across the bit of ocean that separates the island with the mainland, in Southsea and was buried in Highland Road Cemetery in Southsea: Plot M, Row 2, Grave 23. Her stone is no longer there. The acid from the bombings that happened over the area during WWII destroyed many of the stones in that cemetery according to the historian who works there. Her stone may be gone but her legacy lives on and... her eyes are my eyes.

Here is the passport application for their last trip to Isle of Wight and Southsea, England.

Wordless Wednesday, Thanksgiving with the Rutkowski Family

November, 1971

My Great Grandpa Frank Rutkowski is either the father, grandfather or great grandfather of everyone else in this picture except for his wife, Flossie, sitting next to him. Just a small part of the Rutkowski family. My grandmother was Frances Rutkowski Dibbens standing on the right next to my cousin, Mike. I was a junior in high school.