Down on the Farm

I don't much remember our arrival in Canada, but I remember waking up on the farm. We children were housed at the Eldege household. Many of us slept up in the loft that they called "au troisieme" which means on the third floor. When John Denver came out with Grandma's Feather Bed it reminded me of those days.

The grandparents house was across the road and had indoor plumbing. Nobody had warned me that there might not be such a thing. Eldege had an indoor bathroom but there was nothing plumbed about it. It must have been a chemical toilet of some kind. They did have a pump at the sink so nobody had to carry water or anything. I don't know if they had a bathtub of any kind. We kids, my age and younger, were washed by adults. When it was time to get properly bathed and dressed for the party, Mama did all that at Grandma's house that had a proper bathroom.


In the kitchen at the Eldege house they had one of those big steel wood stoves with at least 4 maybe 6 removable burners. It was a very modern one with a hot water reservoir on the side. It was the girls of the family that tended the stove. Put wood in the burner and lit the fire. It was so fascinating that they didn't use frying pans, eggs were placed right on the burner cover to cook.

I remember them covering the whole top with bread at breakfast time to make toast. Had to be at least a whole loaf at a time. They had a lot of growing boys who did a lot of heavy farmwork, not to mention all this visiting kids. Vonna and Tony were also there for the party with their six kids.

I have no idea what they did for refrigeration. There was a celler that one or another of the children would be sent to but I never was brave enough to go with them. We had a refrigerator at our house in Detroit. Vonna and Tony still had an ice box on their back porch and the ice man delivered ice. But down on the farm they didn't even have an ice man. I must have siblings that know more about that part than I do.

The twins, Fleur Aimee and Fleur d'Ange were my age and we hung out together. I went with them to get the cows in the afternoons. It was a longer walk than I was used to and up a couple of hills. They showed me their school house on the way. I didn't go with them to the barn to milk the cows in the mornings (too early) or in the afternoon either (too stinky). Plus, those big boys thought it was very funny to squirt milk at us. I'm thinking now that Rita and Monica were of an age to maybe do a little flirting (16 and 14) but I was oblivious to it then.

The barn, the smell, the flies There were dogs and puppies, cats and kittens, and I don't know what all; and we had free access to all of that. We rode on the hay wagon and I saw a picture of me on a horse but I don't remember riding him.

One treat for me was being exempt from Sunday Mass because there was insufficient transportation. The older adults traveled in Papa's Hudson and the younger adults hitched up the horses and buggies. I remember the confusion of transporting to Mass but I don't remember anything about how we all got to the party.

This picture of Grandma and Grandpa and eight of their ten daughters (collectively known as Les MaTantes) was taken at that party. One dauthter Jeanne who also lived in Detroit, did not attend. The other missing daughter was Flor who died young after bearing six children. When she died, a younger sister, Monique was sent into this motherless family to keep house for them. She ended up marrying her brother-in-law (Leo Pion) and bearing him six more children.

Les MaTantes who survive today are Alfreda, Julia, Monique and Marie Clair. One hundred and five years after the first sibling was born, that ain't bad.

On the Road

The education of travel is real. In 1949 we took a family trip to Canada. To us Canada meant the rural area of Quebec northeast of Montreal where our parents came from.

I learned on that trip that feet could swell to a point that you couldn't get your shoes back on. This happened to Mama. I remember the poor thing having to hobble to a gas-station bathroom barefoot. I made a conscious decision that that would never happen to me, and it never has. Could be because footwear has improved a lot.

I learned of Mama's trick of traveling with salt and pepper mixed into one shaker. There were no restaurant stops for us. There were a plethora of roadside tables and Mama had packed plenty of food.

There were no freeways either and we drove through many, many small towns and one great big one - Toronto. Street signs and store fronts were all still in English but many were starting to be bilingual and we had lots of laughs at the French names of things. As we got into Quebec signs became all French. We were familiar with the spoken slang French, but the written word was something else. Jerry Lewis was pretty popular then and one of his comedic sayings was "Stop already" so when the stop signs said Stop - Arretez it made us laugh. Another really funny word was the French word for swimming pool when it was advertised at a hotel. We rather thought they should hide the fact that they had a "piscine".

In our suitcases were the first store-bought dresses I ever remembered. Mine certainly and probably the other girls too. Mine and Monica's were the same style and fabric but different colors. We were traveling with our best foot forward to meet the family. Those store-bought dresses were for the big anniversary party. Mama had a lacy aqua dress that I thought was the most beautiful I had ever seen. I don't remember one more beautiful at the party, and a lot of our Aunts had "money". That aqua dress didn't lose its "most beautiful" status in my eyes until I saw Pat in her wedding dress.

I would imagine that Marcel and Bernie helped with the driving. They would have been 19 and 17. Well maybe not Bernie. The trip takes almost 12 hours now, it must have been at least 18 or 20 back then, especially with all those stops.

There is not one single memory that I can attribute to on the way home. Just a lot of crying when we left Canada. I don't mean just me (although I did my bit), everybody cried, a lot. That's what our family did when parting company. Maybe because it used to be so long between visits. Even when people from Canada visited us in Detroit, the leavetaking always took place at the Ambassador Bridge and involved at least an hour of crying.

Paulette (Me)

I was a beautiful, delightful baby. How happy the family must have been to see me. I mean, think about it as girls go, we had timid, clingy Rita; stubborn, pouty Monica and me, a ray of sunshine.

Mama said I was always smiling and happy. I liked to rock. Papa loved to rock babies. We bonded. The newest baby slept in a rocking cradle in their bedroom. Mama said I used to wake them up, not hungry or dissatisfied, but sitting crossways in the cradle and rocking.

I remember the happiest of childhoods, I remember long days with Mama as she cooked in the kitchen. Once those other kids were gone to school I had her all to myself. I was jealous of those kids going to school though. I really wanted to go too. One day I asked Mama "Do you love me?" and she said she did so I said "Then why don't you let me go to school?"

When it was time for Papa to come home from work I would stand by the alley gate to see him come around the corner from Lawndale. As soon as he was visible, I would start running to him and he would scoop me up and carry me home. I remember running my hand on his beard growth and laughing as he kissed me on the eye.

Of course after we got home, it was Monica he took up on his lap to give her sips of his beer.

I think I was a "good" child. I usually tried to do what I was supposed to. I do remember though, that many times if I had done something wrong or "bad" it seemed to be the fault of my sisters for having "let" me do that. I remember feeling bad when they were yelled at or punished for something that was my fault.

I remember Rita threatening me once. There was something I wasn't supposed to do and she said "You'd better not do that, or you'll be sorry". I was very worried about being sorry. That seemed like a terrible fate. I tried to avoid having to be sorry.

I was so proud when I got bigger than Monica. (Not so proud about it now) All the relatives made a big fuss about me. I was smart too, in the "choose the nickel or the dime" game, they had laughed at Monica for choosing the nickel because it was bigger. I couldn't wait till it was my turn, and I chose the dime.

I remember being put on display at parties singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow. In later years the three of us sang together, but that one was a solo. I don't know why, or if the other girls had solos too.

Pictures

I am trying to add another picture to the Uncle Marcel post that has Bernie in it also. I think it is too far back to go add pictures to each post. However, pictures are not cooperating with me today. I will try more later. My next piece is about my recollection of Marcel in the navy. I have pictures (if they will go up)

In the Navy

When I was about 10 years old Marcel joined the navy. It didn't make much difference in my day to day life, but, oh, the excitement when he came home on leave I don't know if Mama always knew when he was coming but it was usually a big surprise to me.

I remember times just before dinner when Marcel would come sauntering through the back gate. I don't know why I was so excited about that. It wasn't like he was going to spend his leave with me. One of the fascinating parts of his leaves was that they seemed to be measured by the hour. He would have a 36 hr. leave or a 72 hr. leave.

He took time during one of his leaves to teach Monica and Gabby how to do a handstand. (notice the pin curls in Monica's hair). During that handstand lesson Marcel also demonstrated his one-handed handstand. I was so impressed.

One day, dinner was ready and there was a big plate of Chocolate Drop Cookies in the middle of the table for desert. I seem to remember that it was Rita that did the baking of them, but knowing what I know now, I am doubting that memory. Anyways, Marcel came in the back door, spied the cookies and said "Oh, boy, hamburgers." We laughed.


The picture of Marcel in his sailor suit with Mama and Papa was taken in Canada in front of the Beauregard family farm house.

In 1949 we took a family trip to Canada. It was a big celebration. 50th Wedding anniversary of Papa's parents and 25th wedding anniversary of Mama and Papa. Marcel got leave to come with us. Pa had bought a Hudson (car) and evidently the seats were pretty wide because it fit all 8 of us. I remember Bernie and Gabby sitting in the front seat with Mama and Papa and we three girls were in the back, sitting on the edge of the seat or on the floor because Marcel was laying across the back seat sleeping.

I have some pictures and will do future posts about that trip.

Uncle John

John Gabriel Beauregard (hereinafter referred to as Gabby) was the last child to be born into the Azarias Beauregard household. As he neared his 2nd birthday Papa was heard to utter "We are going to be caught without a baby".

Being the most recent baby entitled you to all sorts of privileges. All those bigger kids were at your beck and call. All Beauregard children are intelligent and Gabby was among the best. It didn't take long (months) for him to have that "becking" and "Calling" down to an art form. It didn't affect me as much as the others because I was still pretty little and being the last girl, and being cute as the dickens, I was still enjoying privileges of my own.

Usually MRB privileges waned when the next baby was born. Gabby was able to carry these privileges well into his Grade School years and maybe beyond. I can remember instances of his chagrin when the outside world didn't share his parent's fascination with him. He truly expected all things to go his way. I think he used crying as a mechanism a little longer than the average kid his age.

When he was playing outside and things were not going according to his plan, he would slam through the back door and throw himself onto that dining room couch crying. Since it was on wheels, the couch would bounce off the kitchen wall so the whole household was aware of his presence. Marcel and Bernie had many a good laugh about this. Once, when they heard Gabby crying outside and were anticipating his next move, they playfully moved the couch out of its normal corner so that when Gabby threw himself into its customary spot, he hit the floor instead.

Gabby and I used to share comic books. Share might be too strong a word for what Gabby used to do. There was a used comic book store on Vernor near Lawndale. You could get well used comic books for 2 cents. Slightly used comic books were 5 cents and brand new ones were 10 cents. You could turn in the 2 cent comics for a penny so you only needed one more penny for each comic you bought.

I remember asking Gabby if I could read his comics once and he said "Beg me". While I was contemplating my best begging strategy he said "After you beg me enough, I'm going to say no". I might have hit him. He might have cried. I'm pretty sure I was bigger than him. Another time when I was looking forward to sneaking his comics after he went to bed he informed me "When I go to bed I'm going to keep them safe, under my pillow".

I'm not sure when Gabby managed to pick up the social skills he enjoys today. He turned out to be quite a delightful fellow in his adult years.

Baby Theresa

Things I know about Theresa


She was born during a hot month.  When the doctor was in the bedroom working on the delivery, he had a fan aimed to blow directly on himself. This meant that when the baby emerged, the first thing she felt was that blast of cold air from the fan. From the way Papa talked about it to me, I felt that he blamed that doctor for the fact that Theresa only lived a few days and that her cause of death was listed as Pneumonia.

I don't know if Marcel and Bernie attended the funeral, but one Sunday afternoon when the family was going to visit the gravesite Bernie ran over and picked up his little sand shovel. When Papa asked him why he wanted to bring that Bernie answered "To dig her up."

Theresa is buried in Holy Cross cemetery on Dix across from Patton Park. I think I only learned about that after Monica's baby Pamela died (February, 1960, I think) and was buried there also. After Pamela died, Papa bought a headstone for Theresa's grave.

After we moved into the Navy house, I went over to office of Holy Cross to locate the two gravesites. I learned then that there was another Beauregard baby buried there. One of Eldege's babies that had been born while the Eldege Beauregard family lived across Navy from our house. You may all remember that John Robert, Laurent, and Marc were all born in and had citizenship in the US of A.

This other Beauregard child (I don't remember a name) had malnutrition listed as the cause of death. I confronted Mama with this, thinking that if food were a problem surely they would have seen that the kids were fed. Mama explained that when a baby can't hold his food down, malnutrition is what they die from. I felt very stupid.

Uncle Marcel

All Beauregard men love babies. If you are a Beauregard man, carry that to its logical conclusion and don't even try to deny it. You love babies.

Papa was used to having babies in his life since his mother was having them regularly almost right up to the time when he moved away from home. Imagine his delight when, after five years of marriage the first baby finally came along. Marcel was the sun and the moon.

One story Papa told me about this first baby had to do with his bottle. Marcel was very attached to his bottle. They thought that when Bernie came along Marcel would be willing to give up his bottle, but alas, no. There were two bottles set aside for Marcel and the rest were for Bernie. Marcel could tell his apart (I'm not sure how, I know they weren't different colors or anything and they were all glass) and would have a fit if Mama tried to use one of his on Bernie. They respected his wishes but Papa told him to be very careful with his bottles because if they got broken they would not be replaced. Marcel understood and accepted this.

There came a time when Marcel was down to his last bottle. Papa had taken him for a walk and Marcel enjoyed his bottle on the way. On the way home, in front of the house next door to them, Marcel dropped the bottle and it broke. Marcel couldn't believe his eyes. He looked at that bottle for the longest time and finally said "broken" (I'm translating from the French here). He accepted his fate and continued walking up to and into the house.

At this point in the story, Papa got a little misty and said that he had to hurry into the house himself so that the neighbors wouldn't see him crying.


Marcel, with his long blond curls was a beautiful baby, I've seen pictures. The long curls did him in one day when a neighbor child marched up to his front door and when Mama answered the door the child said "Your little girl hit me". Mama said "I don't have a little girl". The child's incredulous reply was "Is Marcel a boy"?

One of the percs of being the oldest was manifest one winter evening when Marcel declared that there would be no "Lucy" in his living room when the Stanley Cup Playoffs were being televised. No one breached this edict.

The Strap

The strap was made of leather. The words "Hand Tooled" come to mind even though I'm not exactly sure what that means. The shape of the handle was like handle shapes I have seen on cheese cutting boards. Comfortable in the hands. It was 3 or 4 inches wide and maybe a foot or more long. It lived on a hook in the basement stairwell.

When the strap came off the hook, the going mantra was "Iwill,Iwill,Iwill,Iwill," even though, as Monica pointed out, most of the time it should have been "I won't." Nothing could put more butterflies in the stomach than seeing that strap come off the hook.

We girls, in our upstairs bedroom, liked to have a good time. Sometimes that good time involved getting in and out of bed and maybe some chasing around the room and into the closet. As an adult, when I could cross the room in two steps it didn't seem possible that I could have been winded from running around in it. Also, when 2 sisters were playing and leaving 1 sister out of the game (perhaps the youngest one) the left-out person was able to retaliate with "I'm going to call Mama."

Then, if Ms "left-out" couldn't be persuaded otherwise the chant would begin. "Mama,-- Mama,-- Mama,-- Mama," When there was no response we would start with "Papa,-- Papa,-- Papa,-- Papa." There were times when we were sure there was going to be no response and in a fit if giggles would all start with "Mapa,-- Mapa,-- Mapa,-- Mapa."

More often than not, there was a response and it would be in the form of a warning. Sometimes, what was going on upstairs, just got funnier and funnier and the giggling was just too far gone to stop abruptly. After the warnings came the footsteps. At that point things got serious as a crutch.

If the footsteps were on the way up, we could be sure the strap was in hand. Oh, My, God, how did we ever let things get to that point? Papa appears, the scrambling begins, three voices chanting "Iwill,Iwill,Iwill,Iwill." I don't remember Papa ever getting "nothing but air." He hit flesh with every swing. Later, Marcel admitted that he and Bernie used to follow Papa up there just to watch. I don't know how come they weren't in bed.

When I bought the house on Navy, we found that strap on top of a cupboard in the basement. Its bottom edges were frayed. Papa's famous last words on the subject "We never actually hit you kids with it."

Aunt Monica

Aunt Monica was a stubborn child. Everything she did was done with determination and perseverance. Unfortunately, her look of determination could be (and often was, by my father) interpreted as a scowl or frown. Thus she got the reputation of being angry a lot of the time.

Both Rita and Marcel's "first, clearest memory" of her was when she would go down the basement (sent by Rita) to get a kitten. Needing all four of her limbs to maneuver the steps the poor chosen kitten would get crushed on each step on the way up. I'm not sure how it got back down, but I can't imagine it was allowed to stay upstairs once my mother got wind of it.

Monica was always a tiny thing and I remember that she had to take a vitamin (possibly iron) every day. It was a little brown round pill and I was jealous of the fuss made over her to take that pill every day, until one day I smelled the pill and after that I was glad it wasn't me that had to take it.

I don't know if that is what motivated me to eat so much, but it wasn't long before I usurped her place in the hand-me-down clothes chain. As I think about it now, I think, "Poor baby, its bad enough to have to wear your big sister's clothes, but your little sister's?"

We used to receive "charity" boxes of clothes from the parish. My mother was a wonderful seamstress and would alter the clothes and sometimes even remake them for us. At one point, there must have been a family in the parish that had twins and donated their clothes to charity because Monica and I had matching outfits. I thought it was wonderful, but Monica was pissed.

I remember that when Papa got home from work and was relaxing with a cold beer before dinner, he would take Monica on his lap and give her sips of beer. It occurs to me now that it might have had something to do with beer being a treatment for anemia. I know for sure, it had nothing to do with him liking her better than me.

Working Girl

The very first "job" I remember was as for a lady on Whittaker right across from Bennett School. I just needed to cross the alley, go through a yard, through the playground and across the street almost directly even with our own house on Navy. I was more "mother's helper" than babysitter although we called it babysitting. I would go over after school and take the kids for a walk round and round the block. Occasionally friends would join me for these walks. In inclement weather I would play with the kids (2) and keep them occupied while mom went about her business

My last chore of the day was to feed the baby his bottle while the mom fixed dinner. When he finished his bottle I went home to my own dinner. I used to try to prolong his bottle because the mom would always listen to "Our Gal Sal" (a radio soap opera) on the radio at that time and I didn't want to have to leave in the middle of it. I got quite hooked on it. I used to pull the bottle out of the baby's mouth during the good parts (he made so much noise gurgling). But I always put it back in before he started to cry.

One wintry day the mom sent me to the store for something. The store was across Vernor about even with her house. The route to the store was through her back yard, across the alley, through the parking lot of what became Sammy's Pizzaria and across Vernor.

We Beauregard children never left the house in wintertime without our boots. This lady said "You don't need your boots for that short trip, just hurry". I was appalled, and exhilarated, and excited and apprehensive. I kept looking down at my school shoes as they boldly walked on the cold pavement with patches of ice and even patches of snow which had to be avoided at all costs lest someone (Papa) notice that my school shoes had been wet.

Negotiating through that parking lot was harder than I thought it would be and there were a few close calls on slippery ice. I came to appreciate the need for rubber boots. I was so relieved when I completed my mission without falling or getting anything wet, I vowed never to complain about having to wear boots again.

I think I probably broke that vow.

Aunt Rita

What I learned and knew about Aunt Rita

Rita was a timid child. When my mother needed to get her out from underfoot (remember all those other babies) she would send her out on the back porch on Navy to play. There was no playing on Rita's mind. All she could think of was getting back in. She would stand with her nose pressed against the screen door (which was locked) and either cry or wait patiently till she could go back inside.

When I was about 4, (she would have been 8 and Monica 6) the three girls were sent, every Sunday afternoon to the movies. Saturday was housekeeping chores day and Sunday was movie day. We were each given the 12 cent admission as our "pay" for doing the Saturday chores. There were two movie houses (shows) in the neighborhood, The Rio at the corner of Vernor and Central and the Capital on Vernor, just east of Cunningham's near Springwells. The Capital carried mostly Westerns and Horror movies like "The Mummies Curse" and "The Beast with Five Fingers" and was where all the rough kids went. We "nice" girls went to the Rio. When we left the house, we were admonished "Don't come home till its dark."

The walk from our house on Navy to the corner of Central and Vernor was a long one for a 4 year old and I'm sure "Are we almost there?" became tiresome to Rita. So she invented a game to play on the way. As soon as we rounded the corner onto Vernor, we would start looking for the sign that said Rio. Whoever spotted it first would say "I can see part of the R." The next one would say "I can see all of the I and part of the R" and so on until one of us could see all of the R, all of the I and all of the O.

It didn't matter when time we got there, we just stayed for both movies until we came to the part where we had walked in. After we had seen both complete movies one of us would be sent to the lobby to go look out the front door to see if it was getting dark yet. If it was we would go back and tell Rita and she would take us home. I remember walking home in the dark at Christmastime. Many of the store fronts on Vernor had Christmas trees and decorations. And the Western Auto store had toys and dolls in the window.

This went on for years and I remember being nervous one year because Rita was going to turn 12 and she would then have to pay the 60 cent adult admission. I knew instinctively that times would change then. And they must have.

At the age of 12 Rita became quite ill with an intestinal flu I remember her lying on the couch in the dining room (yes, I said couch and yes I said dining room. What we called the couch was more of a day bed on wheels. It had a bed spring underneath that rolled out and you could put the top cushion on the roll out part and it made a suitable double bed for company. This couch also plays a big part in what we remembered about Gabby. What we now call a couch was a sofa in the living room)

Anyway, Rita was lying on the couch in the dining room being visited by the doctor and nursed back to health. We had to be quiet and be nice to her. When she became ambulatory, the doctor recommended that she get away from the city and into some good country air. My parents had just the place. Remember Eldege and the farm in Canada.

Rita was dispatched with her big brother Bernie as her protector/escort by train to Canada. Bernie was 13. Rita remembers him taking very good care of her. He went to the Kiosk to buy the tickets. Made sure they and their luggage got on the proper trains. I think they had to change trains in Toronto. When Rita felt ill on the train, Bernie found the conductor and told him that his sister was going to be sick. Bernie got her to the space between cars where she could throw up onto the ground.

Not long after she got back she was put into the work force and I don't remember much about her after that. I do know that she used to buy me trinkets occasionally and I always looked up to her. She bought me a key chain with a plastic enclosed engraved rose and my name on it and I still have it.

Uncle Bernie

Things I learned about your Uncle Bernie.

Bernie used to skip school and go to Tiger Stadium (Briggs Stadium then) and sneak into the ball games. His best method for sneaking in was to go by the loading area when the concession stands were unloading supplies. He would grab a box of hot dog buns and take it through the gate. Put the buns down when he got inside and go sit in the bleachers. As the game progressed he would improve his seating position by watching which assigned seats remained empty.

He said he was doing this from the time he was 6 and I was skeptical about that part. But when I thought about it, before he turned 7 my mother had had 4 baby girls and was way too busy to pay attention to him. (For any of you that don't know, there was another sister named Theresa who only lived for a few days. She was born between Rita and Monica) I'm sure Bernie had to be pretty self sufficient by the time he was 6.

There came a time during Bernie's grade school career that he received 7 U's (Catholic school graded U as a failing grade) The priest announced it from the pulpit, although he didn't identify him by name. My mother cried for days.

Marcel and Bernie attended Ford Trade School for their High School years. It seems they rotated one week of school, one week of farm work (families were allowed to reap some of the rewards of the produce) and one week of shop work. This was a work and learn program that paid a salary. In order to receive the 20 cents per hour, they had to maintain a C average. If they got a B average they got a raise to 21 cents per hour. If they got an A average they received 22 cents per hour. Bernie never got less than A's for the rest of his learning career.

His comment was "Those Nuns just never new how to motivate."

No Color, No Brother

No color.
What I mean by no color is that the color was not spectacular like it was five years ago when we were here for a comparable weekend. There was some yellows and browns mixed among the green. But the vistas are still spectacular. We went out water-falling each day. The first excursion required a walk to the falls and after our wonderful picnic lunch (the pork loin is a whole other story) I stayed in that area while the others walked to the falls. I did bring along my cane with a seat and needed to use it even to walk to the place where the best picture of all of us was to be taken and used it to sit on while the picture-taking jockeying went on.

The next excursion - Lori was/is a volunteer with a forest service of some kind so she had friends in the right places. She called ahead and got us permission to drive on the hiking trails, someone met us at the gate to let us through and we were able to drive right up to the water falls. That was at DuPont falls. We set up a time to meet when we were done and he was there to open the gates to let us out. We met many envious people along the way.

The third excursion was to the Looking Glass falls that are visible from the road and we just pulled up and parked for a while. That was on Sunday and we stopped for lunch at a barbecue place called Hawg Wild where we had eaten five years ago. Sure enough, the food was just as good this time.

Color improved considerably on our drive home and we got the spectacular factor thru eastern Tennessee and most of Kentucky.

No brother -
The person that started this whole ball rolling failed to show up at the reunion. Its not important which brother that was but he had trouble with flight connections and ended up going back to LA on Thursday while the rest of us were gathering for that great pork loin dinner. We were all kind of irritated and yes, a little angry (not having been in his shoes) but we got over it and ended up just really sorry we didn't get a chance to see him. Party animal, though he is, we still managed to have a really good time without him.

We played the "blog game" (thanks Stephi) which engendered much discussion and laughter. We three girls were prepared with written remarks while the resident brothers winged it.

Lori, of course was the perfect hostess and. wonderful cook that she is, kept us fed very well. The famous pork loin was so good at dinner that I asked her what she had used as a marinade and she started naming ingredients but when she got to clam sauce I made her stop because I didn't want to have to think of that while I was enjoying the subsequent sandwiches.

Chalet Beauregard is multi leveled with outdoor decks on many levels. So our weather was always good. If it got too hot on the sunny deck, we moved to a shady deck. When it started to get cold in the shade we moved to a sunny deck. When the sun went down we moved inside. We couldn't have found a better "resort" to have a reunion.

We have decided that the next one will be in Uncle John's back yard. One of the many sarcastic barbs aimed at him this weekend. But we have also decided that we all love him like crazy even though our blog game remarks of our "first clearest memories" of him painted him as a spoiled brat.

All in all a great weekend, and its not over yet. Monica is still here for a couple more days and this afternoon we are going to Elise and Larry's.

Tehachapi

That's where the new Endurance is. I just happened to see it by chance. I was still taping the old Hawaii one because I never did see the ending. Megan told me that the grey team won, but I just wanted Yellow to outlast Orange but they didn't.

This year they had one day all together and three girly girls bonded and formed a clique. Then they had the first challenge to eliminate 3 boys and 3 girls and one of the cliquy girls was eliminated.

It is on here at 12:30 pm Saturday afternoon on NBC. That is within a bloc of time that NBC gives over to Discovery Kids shows and I think you can probably find the show and/or reruns on Discovery Kids (Adam found some for me last year when I was in California and had missed a couple of shows)

This week they will be choosing partners. I'll be glad when that happens because then I can just remember them by color and don't have to remember their names or faces.

In other news Monica is coming to town (my town) on Sunday afternoon. She will be staying with Rita and the three of us will be driving together to Brevard, NC on Thursday where we are having a sibling/spouse reunion. All the boys still have spouses. We return here on Monday the 17th and Monica returns home on Thursday the 20th.

Don't say I never tell you anything.