Guernsey girls cross the Atlantic

William Head, Sr. -- St. Peter Port, Guernsey Island.

The Guernsey Girls with a bevy of cousins: St. Peter Port, Guernsey Island. 

For over a century five generations of our family have graced the hallowed ground of beautiful Oregon – the Drenched Country.

 

Upon arriving in the countryside west of the city of Portland and the Willamette River, my 40-year-old mother made the comment “Everything is either green or green – it makes me bilious.”

This may have been prompted by the very rough trip she took across the Atlantic from Guernsey Island. Or it might have been from a retort to Eleanor Roosevelt, who publicly announced that “the British serve only two vegetables: Brussels sprouts and Brussels sprouts” -- which are also green of course. {editor's note: unsure on the date/age mentioned because Everilde was 17 when she arrived in Oregon, not 40, and Eleanor Roosevelt was not famous as yet in 1912}

Mother's family came from the isle of Guernsey in the English Channel. Grandfather was a wealthy owner of an estate who, together with his two brothers in fact literally “owned” the island with their business of draying, breeding, and butchering the famous Guernsey cattle {ed: Guernsey were dairy cattle so it seems unlikely it was this breed, and although documents do suggest the Head family were well-off by the time the Guernsey Girls were young, nothing I've seen implies they 'owned' the island. When William Sr. was 19 his sisters were listed in the Guernsey census as housemaid and dressmaker and William Jr. as a 'carter'}.

 

Mother tells of the live-in dressmaker, upstairs and downstairs maids and the black stable boy who attracted hundreds of residents, sometimes bicycling across the island to peek at the only black man ever to live on Guernsey. A picture in my photo album shows him grinning from ear to ear, wearing a handsome broad-brimmed hat and posed with a magnificent mare.

In 1874 {ed: incorrect date, it was 1906} Grandfather, having the means and desire to travel on the Titanic, tried to make reservations for his family of seven {ed: Titanic first sailed in 1912}, Grandmama and five girls: Mildred 16, Elva 13, Everilde 10, Olive 7 (she celebrated her birthday aboard ship), Ruth 2. {ed: Ruth was 4 when they sailed}

Fortunately, the ship was already booked or none of us would be here today. {ed: the family did emigrate to the U.S. from Canada in 1912, perhaps that is where this story comes from}. He had to wait several weeks to get any passage because the giant Titanic had exhausted all the coal supply.

They eventually boarded the “Lake” in Liverpool...the normal 300 passengers, there were 60 from the large number of immigrants picked for steerage. The Head entourage naturally were in first class and when the captain found out that the young girls after days at sea were very ill from seasickness, he ordered a crate of fresh grapes from the hold to sustain them for the 14-day trip. The sugar and the juice from the grapes offset dehydration and upon arriving in old Quebec city after several days of fighting the ice in the St. Lawrence River, they were unable to enjoy sightseeing for the two days spent before continuing to Prince Albert.

Canada: a mere interlude

Everilde (right), with friends. In Canada? Possibly.

Saskatchewan was to become their home for six years until they were allowed in the United States and Oregon – the Drenched Country, as they called it.

While in Prince Albert Mildred, the eldest, left to teach school in Calgary, where she met and married her husband Harold Cross-Rose, of the distinguished Cross family (Rose stemmed from the famous war between the Whites and Roses). {ed: in the family Bible Mildred's husband is listed as Harold Wallace Rose}

While in Prince Albert a sixth daughter, Esther, was added to the family and Grandfather purchased large farm holdings in wheat on the outskirts of the city. Sans servants and fancy gowns, the girls settled into days of horseback riding (side-saddle of course), picking wild berries on the plains, learning basic domestic skills and in the evening by the fireside hearing wolf packs howling out on the snowy hillsides in winter.

Grandmama found this life a little harsh and opted to move to the confines of the city with the three youngest. The rest of the family then joined her for Saturday shopping sprees and church on Sunday. In an attempt to grow into their new mold, the girls on the farm tried light chores and learned to cook.

All generally went well until Elva (they had no refrigerator and it was too early in the fall to cut ice for that purpose) prepared a half dozen mutton roasts for the threshers in residence before leaving for the city. After arriving home from the weekend they found all the threshers down with food poisoning and they were deathly ill long enough for the rain to come and ruin the wheat crop.

When at last the day came to leave for the United States (after Grandfather had come to Oregon and purchased 60 acres of land, a large farmhouse and numerous outbuildings) they began to pack their most treasured belongings from Guernsey: fine linens, silver, china, bisque and porcelain brick-a-brac. The lovely Carpathian elm burl bedroom set was crated for shipment but Grandmama insisted on hand carrying her favorite hammered brass tea kettle used for 'high tea' and the bisque fisherman's heads.

The property was many miles from the city and several from the small town of Orenco {ed: a company town named for the Oregon Nursery Company and now surrounded by Hillsboro}. The old red electric railroad company tracks passed at the foot of the three-block driveway to the farmhouse.

.... had erected a sturdy railroad stop building and asked Grandfather to name it. He chose Quatama in honor of the Indians, who at one time occupied the area. From then on the area was known as Quatama Station.

Upon arrival of the Head family roots were laid down for four more generations.

The red stone

William Head, Sr. and his wife Maria Louisa Le Poidevin, Guernsey Island

The roots with which this first American family came went back considerably, to the 15^th century. Grandfather's mother, my great-grandmother, presided on the isle of Guernsey as quite the grand dame. Christened Maria Louisa Ann Le Poidevin, she made it forever known that her forebears were nobility who were forced out of France during the revolution. Most important was the Le France families, who boasted a count or two and were somehow related to King Henry VIII.

When I was 15 years old my mother gave me a beautifully cut 'pigeon blood' ruby ring given to her by this grandmother, Maria Louisa. My mother said she was told that when the family fled France most of the so-called high born booked passage on small ships headed for the Channel Islands or England. As passage was obtained (reportedly at a great price) the servants wrapped the horse carriage wheels in cloth sacks and blankets so as not to be heard leaving during the night. They took only what clothing they needed and of course their jewels. The ring aforementioned was found by a servant in the dusty road one morning, obviously dropped during the night's exodus. She dutifully delivered it to the madame lest she be accused of theft.

It is with great sadness I relate that shortly after receiving the ring I was teaching my younger sister to cross the row of rings, then popular in playgrounds, and the ruby was wrenched from its setting and fell into the sawdust below. In spite of offering a dime each to a bevy of small boys to retrieve it, it was never found. Many years later a Gypsy fortune teller said “I see you still grieve for the red stone that was lost in the sawdust.”

And I guess I still do.

From France to Great Britain

Country roads on Guernsey. Back of photo said "boys who work for Daddy."

Grandfather, being raised in the environment he was, had quite a bit of arrogance in his manner. We were always interrogated with remarks pertaining to our friends such as “Is that Johnson spelled with an 'o' or 'e'?” or “Is that German or Jewish?” and “if he's Catholic he can never be a Freemason.”

Through the many years and efforts of mother's cousin, who was a schoolmaster at Eaton, we recently shared copies of the family tree. Through relatives in France he was given documented church records. Poor grandfather would have turned over in his grave, given the following information:

On January 4, 1611, Thomas de France was committed to prison for 'humiliating' Marie Hopkins and was ordered by the clergy to marry her. His behavior might have been provoked by the antics of some of the de France relatives before him, as many had lost property through debts to the Crown. Another Thomas de France, either his father or uncle, had 12 years before in 1602 become drunk in a tavern and 'fell into a douit (stream) and drowned in a few inches of water.' He was an elder at St. Saviors Church.

Also, if that were not enough of a scandal later in 1624 Jean de France was strangled and burned at the stake for sorcery. Following were sorcery trials for Judith, Jeanne, and Pierre de France, the results of which we have no record.

Other than these skeletons in the closet on Grandfather's immediate forebears were fine upstanding people. His father, William Lindsay Head, was a building contractor and gentleman farmer and was one of 11 children born to Henry Head (born in 1807 in Plymstock) and Mary Ann Fox (of the Plymouth Foxes).

Grandfather's mother was the daughter of Thomas Henry Le Poidevin, a seafaring captain {in the 1841 census Thomas is listed as simply 'sailor'}. Her mother was Elizabeth Heaume de France, born 1810. The French segment of the family goes back to the de la Courts in 1274; other than the lineage itself, we know nothing (which may be just as well).

Little Alice Croucher, orphan

Alice Frances Croucher Head

Of Grandmother's lineage we know very little. She was born in Dorset, England. The family name was Croucher, her father was a railway engineer who fell on the tracks in an accident and was crushed to death at a young age {Alice was only one}.

Her mother remarried and died shortly after (most likely of cancer), leaving Grandmother at the age of 12 and her sister Amelia, age 16. Family friends thought it was improper for the girls to remain living with a stepfather at their ages so plans were made for them to go to Scotland 'in service' to a wealthy family who resided in what had been the summer estate of Mary Queen of Scots.

The girls were quite young so their main duties were that of nannies to the children and simple seamstresses. They were full of mischief and one story told by Grandmama was that of the time that Amelia, now engaged to a rather high-strung young man, dressed a dressmaker's mannequin in a long black dress, high white collar (as worn in Queen Mary's time) and powered it with sulfur Of course the mannequin had no head.

They lead the unsuspecting young man into the wine cellar on the pretext of being sent for some vintage wine. When they approached where the mannequin had been hidden Amelia blew out the candle and made moaning noises. There in plain sight was the headless 'ghost' of Mary Queen of Scots giving out an eerie light. The poor man had to be helped to bed where he remained all the next day and evening.

As the girls gained skills enough to become full-fledged seamstresses and could qualify as governesses, they were sent for by the de Summary family on the island of Guernsey. As was the custom they spent their days in the upstairs children's wing where they had their quarters and were served meals with the children.

Their 'place' was not downstairs, but as they grew older they frequently snuck down the servants back spiral staircase in the evenings to visit with the adult servants who gathered in the kitchen to discuss current events or gossip around the estate. No doubt this was the only way they became aquatinted with the ways of the world.

Alice and William

William and Alice

Grandfather and Grandmother more than likely belonged to the same parish of the established Church of England and met there. Social life on the island revolved around morning mass and vesper service in the evenings. Grandfather also conducted services for the seamen at St. Peter Port harbor, when he became a Baptist for a short time. He never seemed to stay with one denomination for any great length of time but bounced from the English Church to Baptist in Guernsey, Episcopalian in Canada, Baptist again in the U.S. but finally stayed Presbyterian for the latter part of his life, where from time to time he conducted services at First Presbyterian in Portland, although he was never ordained.

We cousins always tried to stay in pairs when he was around, as he never cornered more than one of us at at time for a private lecture about sinners becoming saints, which we had no great desire to be.

The Heads lost a great deal of investments, bad years in wheat in Saskatchewan, foreign bonds during World War I and again in real estate during the Great Depression (they were worth what would have been several million dollars in my generation). They led a very comfortable life. Grandfather, although owning a large farm, did no labor himself. He did, however, enjoy tending his own vegetable garden – strawberries and asparagus beds and also gathered the eggs, milked Bessie the cow, gathered and stored the supplies in the root garden cellar.

Imagine yourself an only child

Jeannette and Everilde, 1920

My first memories of childhood go back to age three. Having probably been read “Red Riding Hood” the night before I awakened screaming in fear of a seven-foot wolf lurking behind the colorful Indian blanket used in lieu of a door in my room. I also remember burning with fever in a dark room when I had measles.

When I was four my sister Doris was born and we went camping in the deep woods in Gales Creek.

We had to drive across a stubble field and ford a stream. The ford touring car had a “running board” on each side and my dad had built two black vinyl covered boxes on either side, one to store food and one for blankets. When evening came Dad put pillows and blankets in one box and told me that was my bed and baby sister would sleep between my parents (the front seat turned down to make a bed). This was all well and good as I watched the moon and thousands of stars and listened to the babbling brook wending its way over the rocks through camp among the whispering tall firs.

However, later when the moon had waned and it was very dark I awakened to the sound of rustling in the bushes and saw two bright shining eyes peering out. Bears were something I knew of through nursery rhymes so I lay there until daylight, afraid to cry out for fear of the bear discovering me outside the car in the black box. That same summer my cousin Bob and his dad killed three mountain lions for bounty in the area; I suspect that is what I saw.

Later, I didn't like my sister very well and that feeling continued for many years because I felt she was favored, especially when she had a first-year birthday “party” and I could not remember ever having one (although I might have because at that age I only remembered scary things and when I was punished).

A troublesome child

Jeannette Elizabeth

I was very good at pretending and the worst punishment I remember stemmed from that. We had a piano delivered in a huge crate and I decided to be a cow and put my head through the slats as I had seen Bessie in the barn at the farm. After screaming with my head stuck my mother finally had to call a neighbor and together they pried the boards loose.

The next week I was a lion at the zoo and squeezed my head between the bars of my iron bed. This antic took a great deal of expensive olive oil and a good hour to extract me. The following week Dad was making sauerkraut and the crocks were placed on the back porch. He filled each one as the cabbage matured but one was empty. 

When I had an urgent call to our one bathroom and found it in use I decided to pretend the empty crock was the outhouse at the farm. Unfortunately I slipped down and ended up with my knees locked under my chin. No amount of pulling by Mother and Aunt Olive gave results so Mother frustratedly said I could just stay there until Dad came home several hours later. When he at last did I was finally rescued by laying the crock on its side and one person pulling me and one pulling the crock, resulting in my now numb behind being revived by some very healthy blows.

At this point I decided to not pretend so much, especially after being sent to my room without dinner (after pretending I was an eagle and had to be retrieved from our neighbor's 100-year-old, three-story chestnut tree).

I shudder to think what would have happened if our parents had found out about us getting lost lost in an old mining tunnel which started falling apart, or having to climb down beneath the railroad tracks on the trestle when the train was coming and hanging on for dear life 100 feet above the ground.

I was always plotting running away from what I'm not sure. Perhaps to divert attention from my sister I tried it once when my sister was about a year old. I rolled up an Indian blanket (they were very popular in those days, usually wool and having bright Indian designs). Mother packed me a lunch and told Buster dog to go along to watch me. I left on my tricycle but didn't get far as mother had been making cookies and I was afraid sister would eat them all.

Another time I ran away because Dad warned I was going to get a switching (worse than a spanking). I went to a tree house in the nearby woods where I watched the house for hours as mother and neighbors searched for me. I thought this was working very well and waited until dark and sneaked into our playhouse Dad had built us. When Mother finally found me Dad had taken to his bed with a migraine and Mother was hysterical so after deciding they liked me after all I gave up on running away (that is until I was 16 but that's another story).

Carter's Little Liver Pills

Jeannette, Everilde, Doris - and Buster

Our childhood was better than most, although not as pleasant as that of some of my friends whose parents were very kind to each other and where there was a lot of laughter. Mother was always whining about how poor were compared to her background and she and Dad argued constantly about such things as who won WWI, creamed spinach, buying produce out of season, whether Grandfather was a snob or not, whether to buy store-bought toys and if it were necessary to wear stylish clothes.

Mother was a bit of an effort because of the amount of time spent being bilious and having 'female troubles.' This condition caused our medicine cabinet to look like the corner drug store. We had Carters Little Liver Pills, Doan's Kidney Pills, Lydia Pinkens Vegetable Compound for Women, two shelves of assorted prescriptions as well as homemade concoctions of salves, lotions and liniments. Every two weeks we were told we looked “bilious and green around the gills” (wherever gills are).

Hence we were led to the kitchen sink and forced to swallow of syrup of figs. I usually threw up the first few tablespoons – hence the sink. In recent years through hypnosis it was revealed to be the cause of a chronic gagging problem I have lived with for years, which has improved somewhat with treatment.

Jack-of-all-trades

The house that Dan built, Vermont Street Portland

Dad was always measuring, sawing, and nailing things. Our sled was homemade, made of polished wood and five feet long. The neighbor kids begged for rides all the time but since everything we had was homemade I secretly wished for a “flyer” with steel runners. We had stilts made of two-by-fours, gymnastic bars made of gas pipes and my first tricycle as all wood (wheels, pedals and all). We had a playhouse with wood furniture made of old boxes, that was complete with windows, doors and closets with adult “dress-up” clothes.

We had a reflection pool complete with water lilies and lots of goldfish to watch. The pool was a Rube Goldberg design of Dad's fed from tubes leading from our water cooled gas refrigerator (Dad was warehouse manager for the gas company so everything in the house was gas). The water filled the pool, then more tubes led the overflow thru ditches to irrigate the tomato plants and the surplus flowed to keep the scotch broom hedge watered that hid the chicken yard from sight as mother felt it was a blight to our terraced and well-landscaped half-acre of grounds on which our modest but attractive house set.

Dad completely built the six-room house himself including plumbing, wiring, painting and wallpapering. In these skills he had no background whatsoever but did an excellent job, sometimes by trial and error. There were three perfectly manicured terraced lawns, ornamental shrubs and trees, a rock garden, a fruit tree area, loads of flowers and a large vegetable garden buffered by a tall privet hedge so as not to be seen from the house or street (the latter at mother's insistence).

The chicken house/tool shed was a replica of the big house, paint, trim, windows and all. When the broom hedge that hid the chicken yard bloomed in spring the big Rock Island Red hens loved to eat the blossoms so during that time of year our egg yolks were orange.

Dad also dug out the large basement-cum-workshop himself, cemented it and installed a large gas furnace. One end was dedicated to a cellar room with wood walls, bins, and shelves which was surrounded by earth and kept food and root vegetables all winter. There were hundreds of jars of canned food in rows; by early fall in addition to sawdust-filled bins of potatoes, carrots, turnips, apples and pears, crocks of sauerkraut and eggs preserved in some horrible gray gelatinous substance that I hated to reach into when asked to bring eggs to the kitchen.

The kitchen was large and boasted a new combination gas and wood stove with warming ovens and pipes running through to heat water when wood was burning. When the water was cool a chain turning on the gas water heater was pulled and a big red flag was displayed to remind Mother to turn it off before it got too hot and exploded, as frequently they did and she frequently almost did.

Losley house in 2012

Daddy's girl

Jeannette, middle back and Doris in front

Most of the conveniences and things that gave us pleasure at home were the result of Dad's inventiveness and efforts. Each new brainstorm he came up with was reason for excitement. I thrived on excitement and changes in routine. Perhaps I tried subconsciously to be Dad's 'boy.' I helped plant potatoes, weed the gardens, stored wood for the fireplaces, painted our playhouse furniture, helped fell and carry the Christmas tree found along the railroad sidings (Dad said they would grow too big and be taken down anyway), climbed trees to pick cherries and gathered eggs and helped clean the hen house.

At Easter Dad taught me to color eggs with grasses, onion skin and beet juice in the Swiss method. I also read lots of books with subjects much beyond my years because Dad liked to read them too and seemed pleased at my reading ability. I learned much later that he had only finished fourth grade and was learning through my books. (ed note: Dan may have quit and restarted school, but in 1910, when he was 15, he was still a student at Orenco School)

Sister Doris spent all her time with Mother in the house, playing with her many dolls, changing their clothes, bathing them and putting them to bed with a lullaby. She helped bake cookies and helped with the bread making and canning and listened to Mother's “soaps” on the radio. Mother did not sew, knit, crochet, read (except Ladies Home Journal and Redbook), garden, or have hobbies of anything that was of interest to me. {ed: this must have changed in later years because Everilde did most of those things at some point.}

She was however an excellent cook and her white laundry sparkled with the aid of generous amounts of bluing. She starched our dresses stiff and ironed for hours, included towels and sheets. I felt she was mostly unhappy; she hardly ever laughed. Dad was always busy with his projects, she received little attention and I soon caught on to her little successes in getting it.

She often feigned being 'bilious' and went without dinner amid sighs and tears, after I had seen her in the kitchen “tasting”amounts of food equivalent to a full meal. She loved to put beautiful cakes out on Sundays and occasional teas (she had me decorate them with swirls and flowers and rosebuds of rich frosting) and gained much sympathy while guests gorged on them and she refrained, saying rich foods did not agree with her. She often wrote long letters to friends and relatives describing her very hard plight in life.

Window shopping

The engaged couple: Dan and Everilde

Mother's greatest joy in life was to go shopping at the large Meier & Frank store. She was known as “one of William Head of Quatama's daughters.” On each floor she was greeted by the floorwalker, a sort of official public relations employee; this seemed to make her appear full of pride.

We would shop for hours on each and every floor, mulling over hundreds of things we neither needed nor could afford. The day commenced with the stop at the candy counter where I could choose one “opera stick.” This took awhile as there were 20 or more flavors. I suspect this stop was a protection against my fussing to go home while there was still candy to put in my mouth.

Once in awhile she would buy something that she would decide to return. Of course this gave an excuse for another shopping trip the next week. If these trips lasted all day I would be treated to a scoop of ice cream served in a chilled silver bowl with a cream filled wafer.

One excuse Mother used to extend these trips was that we would save bus fare by waiting to drive home with Daddy. My sister, when not left home with a neighbor and spared these trips, usually slept in the store-provided buggies or just watched the crowds of people while I in turn had aching legs and feet. To these day I abhor shopping to the point I'd rather be strung up by my thumbs.

The highlights in our lives as children were Christmas, the winter snow, Easter and summer at the beach house – and of course, visits to the farm. Much later in life I was to be reminded of these times as I talked and laughed about them with my sister, even though she was in pain and dying of cancer, we giggled over our memories.

A Christmas to remember

The Guernsey Girls circa 19290s, with husbands and children -- plus Alice and William

Christmas was always a big thing. Dad was forever locked in the basement building presents for all. We made presents ourselves and decorated boxes to put things in and made Christmas ornaments. We always had a small tree in our room, I suspect perhaps to confine all the homemade paper ornaments out of the living room and the big tree.

The first Christmas I remember was one that Mother lit the little swirled wax candles in their holders on our tree and told us to remember it well, as it would be the last time we'd decorate with candles for safety's sake. Under the tree we always had a little village placed on cotton batting to look like snow. The churches and the houses had lights in them and there was a skating pond (a mirror) with figures on the ice.

I learned that Santa was not a real person when I was six but kept it a secret for the next four years. My reward for this was being able to arrange “Santa's” toys, including my own, under the tree after Doris was in bed. I also got to share Santa's cookies and milk and put them on the mantle to look realistic. This made me feel quite grown up.

I can remember only one Christmas on the farm. Doris was only a few years old but young enough to be fooled by Aunt Esther's portrayal of Santa, complete with costume and beard. I recognized her voice, though she tried to change it. All our cousins were there. all my aunts were there with their husbands except Esther, not yet married and teaching school in Estacada, not far from Mt. Hood.

Grandpa stood at the end of the 'grownup's' table; only three of us older grandchildren were allowed to sit there, the rest had to sit at the children's table – resulting in a lot of cat-calling before being seated. We felt very important and shot “I told you so” glances at the others through dinner. With great pomp Grandfather sharpened his sterling silver-handled carving set and cut perfect thin slices from the 36-pound turkey, serving the youngest first in the tall stack of heated plates.

Grandmother sat surrounded by all the covered vegetable dishes and we passed our plates to be served our choice. The centerpiece was a low bowl of fresh holly. The cranberry jello salads were on individual salad plates and topped with small Santa's made of maraschino cherries and bits of marshmallows. There were tall glass pitchers of chilled cider and baskets of hot rolls and several boats of hot turkey giblet gravy to pass.

We would never forget this beautiful dinner, served with silver with a buttercup design, sparkling white china and napkins and a tablecloth of real damask. After the table was cleared the alcohol tea kettle was lit for the tea and then the finale came – a flaming Christmas pudding with brandy sauce and topped with a sprig of holly.

This was without a doubt the best Christmas for all us children.

From then on the grandparents wintered in Laguna Beach in southern California.

Seasons of celebration

Doris Losley with Buster, 1920s

Oregon-the Drenched Country bequeathed us with great quantities of snow in the early years. We would awaken one morning with our bedroom windows all frosted with beautiful patterns of snowflakes and ferns. In order to see out Dad told us to heat nickels on the wood stove and put them on the frosted window. This made peep holes that were a lot more fun to look through than if we had scraped them clean. The milk came in the very wee hours so by the time we went to get them the cream (it was always whole milk) had frozen and popped above the top six or so inches. We were allowed one of these 'top hats' and mixed it with clean snow and sugar or maple syrup and it put all ice cream to shame by our standards.

Outside our dormer window where the two angles of roof met the icicle were almost two feet long. Sister would get the broom and I would lean out the window to catch one of these crystal clear treasures. As she hit it I would catch it and we would suck on them until our tongues were almost frozen. If we had a silver thaw we loved to gather the ice images of laurel leaves and various things that gave a sparkling clear image of the leaves and arrange them on the salad dishes at dinner or drop them in old punch.

Mother loved birds and bought us each a book on them. When the tree was taken down she bought suet and gave us stale bread, which we tied on the branches with bright leftover ribbon. We did it every year but years with snow were the best. We placed it in the sheltered overhang outside the living room so we could watch the dozens of birds enjoy it. Some of those birds are now rare and seldom seen but whichever of us named the most species was given a reward. Because she was younger Doris was given a handicap but I didn't care as I always won anyway.

Our neighbor's children didn't have a sled and the only steep safe hill went in front of their house so I tried to go sledding when they were not around because if they were home Mother said I had to share and there was four of them and only one of me. Sister wasn't allowed on the hill and had to be satisfied with a big dish pan and the bank on our sideyard unless Mother found time to pull her in our homemade sled along our road.

Sunday nights in winter were always our favorite. The living room was opened – it was closed the rest of the week except Saturday when I had to vacuum and Doris dusted where she could reach. The piano was opened (though no one played worth a darn), Dad built a big fire in the fireplace and Mother brought in the tea tray with cinnamon toast and we settled into “One Man's Family” on the radio, later that program was not Dad's preference and we listened to President's Roosevelt's 'fireside chats.'

After Christmas we looked forward to Easter, spring and May Day. At Easter we were allowed to shop for bonnets for Easter Sunday. If money was short we went to Newberry's and purchased silk flowers and ribbons and I loved to redo last year's hats with the fresh materials. I liked them better than new ones and compared them with not so pretty ones all through church services, never hearing a word.

Grandmother incidentally insisted on a new bonnet each year even when she was in her late 90s in a rest home and couldn't attend church.

A blue May Day for a green redhead

Jeannette, the redhead

Long rainy wet winters probably make spring look twice as desirable; with the first daffodils, pussywillows or crocus my spirits would soar. I no longer had to draw and paint them to enjoy them. We would watch for a month the snowballs, wild currant, tulips, and wild trillium, and memorize their locations so we could pick them for May baskets.

Mother made a list of widows and persons with troubles or illness. On May 1 we would fashion little baskets with handles out of brightly colored paper, fill them with fresh flowers, put them on the door handle, ring the door bell and run and hide. I think everyone knew where they came from as they knew Mother was from the British Islands and Canada where May baskets and Maypole dances prevailed. 

We once had a Maypole dance at Multnomah School and we practiced winding our streamers in a pretty design around the poles. Each girl was designated a different pastel color for her ribbons and dress; when Mother learned I had been given pink (one of my favorite colors) she went to school and told them I never, ever, ever could wear pink because of my bright red hair and I could only wear green, blue, or brown. Brown was out of the question and another mother has already insisted her blond daughter wear blue so I was given pale green and after I had gone in circles forever watching that green ribbon in my green ruffles I temporarily suffered from Mother's biliousness. Mother's so brainwashed me on this subject I dared not wear any other colors until I was 21.

Quaker, the cat

Grandfather and Grandmother Head, with ? two daughters ?

Each summer those of us of a close age took turns at the farm. My two weeks were shared with cousin Betty and cousin Bob. We got along great except when Bob hid in dark corners of the barn and jumped out at us or taped things onto Quaker the cat's tail so she couldn't catch mice. We also were scolded a few times (my grandparents didn't believe in spankings – unlike Mother and Dad – and it would've been an effort for them to spank all six anyway).

Most scoldings were because we let Bob talk us into things, like going out on the trestle and jumping from the hay loft in the barn. I spent a lot of time tracking down Quaker the cat. She was a gray Maltese with a white Quaker collar. One winter when Grandfather and Grandmother went south for the winter we took the cat to our house, where she kept the basement mice-free and was an affectionate pet. The next spring she disappeared; we waited a week then drove to the farm and there she was. She had traveled 15 miles to get there. The Heads had not returned from the south so we took her back home. 

She seemed content enough until Dad bought me a Smoke Persian kitten for my birthday. When Quaker the cat saw my new kitten she climbed on the roof and would not come down for any reason. We finally were forced to put her food out our dormer window on the roof. When the weather got cooler she snuggled against the chimney and would come to the window to be petted but if we took her down and outside she went right back on the roof. We got an unusually early frost that year and she contracted pneumonia. In spite of all our nursing she died and our only consolation was that she was 10 years old and had lived a good life on the farm.

Wild strawberries and crawfish orgies

Head family farm. Orenco. Late 'teens or '20s

Our summer days' high point was crawfishing. Grandmama had made us three big traps using rings from an old barrel with flour sacks sewed to them. We tied pieces of old meat at the bottom and went to the creek. We always looked for a place with lots of old logs or tree roots to drop our traps. Sometimes we put them in early in the morning and picked them up before dinner time so we could prepare the tails for seafood cocktails. 

When we had lot of bait we left the traps in all night and the next afternoon Grandmama had filled a washtub with water, added pickling spice and a little vinegar set it over the outside fire pit in the backyard. There was always three dozen or so 8-10 inches long in the overnight trap and a hundred or more smaller ones (we always put the very small ones back for future years). After plunging them in the water and watching them turn from brown to bright red-orange we got a jar of homemade mayonnaise and sat on the back steps equipped with nutcrackers. We spent the next hour or two cracking shells and dipping the delicious meat into the mayonnaise until the crawfish were all gone. In spite of the fact that these orgies ended with the occasional stomachaches we were always ready for the next one.

There was a wild strawberry patch at the bottom of the lane that yielded sweet little berries. We agreed to not eat one single berry while picking them. This was very difficult but afterwards a desert of hot homemade shortcake smothered with berries and topped with whipped cream courtesy of Bessie the cow made us glad we hadn't eaten them in the field.

The Losli side of Orenco

Maria Losli

Doris didn't have a chance to have quite as much fun because the cousin closest to her age was Betty's sister cousin Snobby Patty, who didn't like to get dirty. Cousin Patty somewhere derived the standard that anyone worth spending time with had to live on Lake Oswego, belong to a private beach club, perform a perfect Australian crawl and own their own boat. Unfortunately Doris qualified for none of these and she didn't mind getting dirty.

To compensate for not having much in common with cousin Patty Doris spent much time with Grossmama, Dad's mother, who lived across two large pastures from the Head farm. Other than stuffing herself with Grossmama's delicious homemade bread, butter, and cherry jam there was not that much else to do there. The original farmhouse had burned and been replaced with a small house and the farm animals were all gone.

Grossmama lived alone, sitting all day by the window, her hands flying a mile a minute as she worked her shuttle that produced beautiful Swiss lace {ed note: Grossmama actually made Armenian knotted lace (also known as Mediterranean lace), which was made with a needle}. She was always so glad to see us coming from the farm across the fields just as Mother had more than a decade before. She always came smiling into the yard, wearing her long black dress and waving her long white apron up and down in greeting. She understood but spoke no English so our visits were limited if Dad was not there to translate.

The Losli connection

Dan Losley (front, far right) with sisters and their spouses, 1960-70s?

Our Grossparents had raised 12 children and at age 97 Harold Bell, a well-known portrait artist, painted Grossmama and entitled it “Mother of Twelve.” It hung in the Portland museum for a time and the portrait was published in the Oregon Journal newspaper.

Grosspapa Losli {ed note: census records show the name as both Losli and Losle} (Mother insisted Dad change his name to Losley, not unlike Mosley or Bosley, which is British) came with two brothers from Switzerland from a small town near Berne in the late 1840s {ed note: census records have Daniel, Maria and 5 children emigrating in 1888}. They came to join friends in an area of dairies known as Little Helvetia, now known as just Helvetia. The area was scattered with many Swiss or Switzers as many called them. The majority of them were either farmers or dairymen.

Grossmama and Papa separated after their 12^th child; the six older boys {census records list 5 Losli boys. It also shows the senior Loslis in the same household in 1910, 10 years after the youngest was born} lived with Grosspapa on a large dairy ranch and Dad and his sisters with Grossmama at a house about five miles away. I can only remember being at the dairy a few times, once while going to the well for water and a man came up and pulled up the bucket for me. He had bright red hair like mine and was very nice but did not come in the house. I found out later it was Dad's oldest brother Godfrey. {census records list John, born 1877, as the oldest son} Grosspapa had red hair too and two of Dad's sisters.

I learned that Dad did not speak to his older brothers, Godfrey, Jake and John (twins), and Fred and two whose names I can't remember {ed note: census records say only 5 boys and Jake and Fred as the twins}. So there were a dozen or so cousins I never got to know; I only knew my cousins of the five younger sisters {ed: seven sisters, only two younger than Daniel}.

We always spent Fourth of July with the sisters and their families. We would affix an American flag to the top of the radiator cap and in our Ford touring car with the top down to various parks and feast on fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, dill pickles, and punch, then fetch two huge watermelons cooling in the creek and cut huge wedges to eat. My Aunt Marty always spent the whole day locked in the car because she didn't want to get dirty and hated mosquitoes.

We know little of my father's side of the family except that Grosspapa and his brothers came to Oregon and later sent for their wives and children after they had bought farms and settled down. Grossmama came with a note pinned on her coat with instructions of where she was to be delivered in Helvetia. She had two small children and was expecting a third. {census records don't agree with this. The census of 1900 says father, wife and 5 children came the same year} Grosspapa spoke fair broken English but Grossmama never learned a word. We went to see her on Sundays every few months for a big dinner with a plate of homemade bread stacked 12 inches high. Mother hate it because everyone spoke nothing but Swiss {ed note: Swiss-Germans speak a unique hybrid dialect} and Dad seldom translated anything.

I found that Losli was a very common name in Switzerland in the lowland dairy country. Grosspapa brought a beautiful bronze bell from his head cow in his herd with him to America and a sprig of edelweiss from the Alps meadows. Dad gave me the bed which I treasured but it was stolen years later from our beach house when we were gone. When my dad died my mother gave me his birth certificate It was very ornate with gold leaf. From that I learned that Grosspapa's parents were of noble heritage and his name was ???????????????????.

My fondest memory of Grosspapa was when he came across the country road herding his cows to the barn wearing his clumping wood-soled shoes and yodeling at the top of his voice, his bright red hair gleaming in the sun. The few times I saw him he would take me on his knee and give me a nickel and pat my red head.

Summers on Siletz Bay

Jeannette and Doris, at the shore

In my early childhood my best memories are of when Grandpa Head bought two lots of Cutler City on the Siletz Bay {ed note: Cutler City was eventually incorporated into Lincoln City}. Dad and my Uncle Bill and Harold built two cabins, one named the Bear's Den. We spent several weeks each summer there, three or more families at a time. Usually the men came down on weekends {ed note: Seaside had a weekly Friday evening train route commonly called the “Daddy Train”} and Grandma and Mom and her sisters stayed.

 My cousins and I would swim and play on the beach and went clamming at low tide. We older ones took big buckets and filled them to the brim. Grandma would spend all day grinding and canning for chowder and then pound the biggest and fry them for a dinner served with fresh baked bread and homemade applesauce and green salad, sometimes with dandelion greens.

Down the street a man had a group of row boats for rent. One trip we went down there and he had named them Jeanne, Doris, Bob, Betty and Patty (all painted on the side) after those of us who usually were at the beach at the same time. We were also allowed to use them at no charge. Sometimes we fished for flounder on Drift Creek. When Dad came down he went to Boiler Bay and stayed until evening when a fisherman always came close to shore to clean his salmon and Dad would go out on the rocks and toss him a silver dollar and he would toss Dad a large salmon, enough for two dinners and some salmon sandwiches.

Skunk cabbage and blackberries

Jeannette, in back on left, and Doris in front with doll

Some summers we would go to Dad's sister Rose's cabin at Little Beach at Gearhart and at low tide Bobby would take a rake and pull two or three large crabs out of holes in the estuary. It was a curvy trip to Gearhart and Doris and I always got car sick at an area covered in skunk cabbage. All Doris' life she hated yellow and said it made her sick.

Each year Mother took us blackberry picking. We took snowdrift pails and filled them to make yummy pies and jams, our favorite so we didn't mind picking in the hot sun. Once at school Mother won a raffle, a wool comforter which after 65 years we still use on camping trips. {ed note: In the early 1980s Gram took me in her room and opened her cedar chest and took out a simple wool comforter inside to give to me. She told me the story about the raffle. Several years later a new puppy in our house ate half of it and I cried for days. I have no idea what comforter Mom is referring to. I have absolutely NO memory of wool comforter as a child – it was likely her 'literary license'.}