Violet Alpha Sillers Rodgers, 130th Birthday

My maternal grandmother, Violet Alpha Sillers (I called her Nana) was born 130 years ago today, February 23, 1895, in River John, Nova Scotia, Canada.  She passed away on January 8, 1987, in Alhambra, CA.  She was a very pleasant, loving, and wonderful grandmother, you couldn't ask for a better one.  Her brother, Ernest Sillers (Uncle Ern to me), was also born in River John.  

She married Hiram Stephan Rogers (born April 11, 1887), who was also from River John.  I called him Papa.  I don't know how, when, or why they ended up in Pasadena.  They lived at 1254 N. Hill Ave.  Before my mother was born and raised in the home, they had a baby son.  It either died at childbirth or shortly thereafter.  The family never discussed the son further.  I don't know if or where the infant is buried, or it's name.  I don't recall anyone directly ever telling me this, but something tells me it was named Stephan (like my grandfather's middle name), but it may have just been known as "Infant Rogers."  

My grandfather owned a grocery store in the Nelson Building at southwest corner of Washington and Hill, Pasadena.  I think he may have retired about the time I started realizing the world existed as a tiny child in the late 1950s.  I vaguely remember going into the store once or twice.  I don't think my grandmother liked the new owners.  

I have fond memories of the house.  I remember a basement that I was only occasionally allowed to enter.  It was like a magical cave to me.  In the rear enclosed side porch, there was a wringer washer that was always fun to watch my grandmother use.  I remember a stool in the kitchen where I could sit and watch my grandmother cook and sometimes "help."  I remember the front living room, where my grandfather would play with me, and the dining room table where I seem to eaten a lot of peeled, chunked, and boiled potatoes with a bit of butter and salt on them, and pot roast.  Naps were in my mother's childhood bedroom.  Her furniture set was saved in the family until just a couple years ago, when my granddaughter Cassy needed part of it.  Sadly, we broke up the set, gave her what she wanted, and donated the rest to charity.  

The backyard had an incinerator that they rarely used.  I remember what seemed to me as a large tree in the back yard that I played with toy cars and trucks making roads in, around, and under the tree roots.  The backyard had lots and lots of flowers.  On one occasion, I snuck into the detached garage and found a pair of roller skates from my mother's childhood.  I strapped them on thinking it would be easy to skate down the driveway.  I made it a very short distance before one of the leather straps snapped, and I went down hard.  Life lesson.    

When I needed to be distracted, Papa would take me for a walk.  The same route each time.  We'd leave the house, walk up the street to Washington, and turn right.  We'd continue along Washington to the first street, Wesley, and turn right again.  We'd walk downhill to Asbury, and turn right to Hill then back home.  

About ten years ago, I was in Southern California for work, and on a whim, I pulled off the freeway to the house.  I found myself parking along the curb in front of the house, and decided to take a walk.  I followed the same route around the block.  It was eerie how much of the surroundings came back to me.  As I walked, I remember a gas station at Washington/Hill.  It's not the same, but it's a gas station still, just different.  I remember the same type of fencing in front of a couple of homes on Wesley especially a specific chain link fence, and the smell of germaniums at one particular home.  It was a strange and wonderful experience.  

We lived at our home in Anaheim during this time.  Occasionally when Nana would babysit me, she would take me to nearby Washington Park to play and run around.  If I was good, which of course I always was, while playing at the park she would give me my favorite sandwich, white bread with the crusts cut off, with a large amount of soft butter and brown sugar for the inside.  Nothing healthier, no?

We later moved to Tucson, and eventually moved to nearby La Canada.  It was during this time that my Papa died, May 3, 1962.  I don't remember much about it, but I knew I was being kept away from the adults dealing with it.  My mother got the call about him while we were at home.  She immediately grabbed me and drove to their home.  She was distraught as she drove, and went through some Stop signs and red lights.  I'd never seen my mother cry before.  I still hold an impression of that drive in my mind.  

These are scans of Polaroid photos from her 80th birthday celebration (1975), at her rest home at 1428 S Marengo Ave, Alhambra, CA 91803.  The business has changed names since then.  I think it was an Episcopal home then, and looking at Google Maps, appears to have been extensively remodeled.    

Standing at the table, my mother, Dorothy Stone (left) and my Aunt Aldine.

Seated, to the left, an unknown woman.  To the right, my Uncle Ern, Violet's brother.

At the table, my mother, Dorothy Stone. Standing, an unknown woman and to the right with her back towards the camera, my grandmother, Violet.

From the right, my mother, standing.  Seated is Violet, then Ernest.  The others are unknown to me, and were possibly other residents of the facility.  

These next photos are from a time that "Nana" visited us at our new home at 1237 Laurel Lane, Lafayette, California.  I don't know the date, but it was likely 1966-1968.  The first two are inside our kitchen, and the last one is in the front yard in front of the steps my dad built (I helped) that led from our front yard up the hill to the top of the driveway.  

This one was taken at the same time as when "Nana" was opening her gift. My mom has a gift too, so I don't know it was Christmas or something else.  It seems odd that it would be Christmas, but opening our gifts like this because it wasn't our style.  

1959, My First Camping Trip, Big Pine, California

This is the closest I ever made it to climbing Mt. Whitney.  It would be interesting if the "east side" experts here recognize any of the views or locations.  

This was my first camping trip with my parents and I remember my parents saying we were camping at Glacier Lodge.  I believe this site is the Big Pine Creek Campground adjacent to Glacier Lodge, just outside Big Pine, California.  I don't know what the ownership or relationship of the campground to the lodge was in 1959.  I researched it some, and it was interesting to learn the glamorous history of Glacier Lodge, and fate of the lodge and its replacement.     

All-in-all, it was a great trip with some hiccups.  

It rained during this trip, and my WW II Army veteran dad was using a dark green Army surplus canvas tent.  When it started raining hard in the middle of the night, he made me get out and help dig a drainage trench around the tent.  Inside the tent, he told me not to touch the roof of the tent, and then I did, causing a leak inside.   Hence, I learned why not to touch it.  My father was not pleased.  

I don't think this was my mother's style of camping.  She doesn't have her normal happy smile on.  As a family, I don't think we ever tent camped like this again.  We only tent cabins and RVs after this trip.      

I was four years old at the time, and the VW in the photo was our new (white) 1959 Bug.  I remember the car well.  Not long afterward, we moved to Tucson, Arizona.  My parents would drive across the desert at night to visit family in So. Cal. in it while I curled up in the cubby behind the back seat to sleep.  The bright red Coca Cola metal ice chest stayed in family use until the late 1970s.  It was a workhorse of a cooler.        

Some history of Glacier Lodge: 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glacier_Lodge 

David and Dorothy Stone

Our neighbor's campsite.

1959 Volkswagen Bug (white)

January 4, 2025 Photo Dump

Scanning some photographs today.  Most of these are from Polaroids or matt finished photos, hence the clarity isn't the best.  

Here's what I know about each one.

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Mom, Dorothy Stone, probably mid-late 1970s while in Palm Springs with my father, Raymond Stone.

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Ray and Dottie Stone, at our home at 10876 Galvin, Ventura, CA celebrating something.  Likely my father's birthday on June 6 in the mid to late 1970s.

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Probably the fall of 1975 or winter of early 1976.  Me, crashed out on my bed at our Ventura home with new puppy Sandy.  Jeannette and I had take a quick trip, maybe even a day trip, from Ventura to Morro Bay.  While walking on a mostly empty beach, this puppy came up to us. We asked around a lot for anyone who might know the puppy, and couldn't find anyone who recognized it or any friends who had puppies.  We couldn't find anywhere to leave the puppy, so I took it home to Ventura after leaving information with others on how to find me so I could return it.  On the way home, we named it Sandy (since it was found on the beach).  It was a cocker spaniel mix, heavy on the cocker spaniel.  We never heard from anyone about the dog.  

My mother bonded with it very strongly.  So much so, that 2-3 years later when Jeannette and I bought our first home, my mom didn't want to give it up--and we let her keep it.  

Sandy in the backyard of the Galvin Street home.  

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Looks like my 21st birthday celebration at our home in Ventura.  My mom, me, and girlfriend (future wife) Jeannette Jarvis.  

Is that leftover steak on the table?  

Oh, the shame!  Hahaha!!

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This is Aldine and Ernest "Ern" Sillers.  He came from Nova Scotia, Canada, and if I recall correctly, she was from Boston or close by.  She certainly had the New England accent throughout her life.  They never had children.  He was actually my mother's uncle, Violet's brother.  

"Uncle Ern" was a Father in the Episcopal church, rising to the level of Bishop.  Uncle Ern was fun and funny guy.  A quick, respectful, and quiet wit.  He planted churches that still survive.  The one I remember best is St Marks Episcopal Church, 10354 Downey Ave, Downey, CA 90241, http://stmarksdowney.org . 

We usually went to there home for Thanksgiving (just behind the church at 8355 Bigby Ave, Downey, CA 90241).  After the meal and while Aunt Aldine and my mother would clean up, Uncle Ern would take me for a walk around and through the church telling me interesting and funny stories.  

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The photo below was marked on the back, Thanksgiving 1977.  The two most recognizable people in it for me is my Uncle Ernest "Ern" Sillers, and seated to his left with her hand on her chin is his sister and my maternal grandmother Violet Rodgers (mom's mother).  

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Anna Creelman in front of her home in Camarillo, California.  Her husband was Aubrey Creelman.  They originally owned a number of acres of land in Camarillo for growing avocados.  I don't know how my mother knew them.  I think they were close friends with my grandmother or grandfather.  

We visited them a time or two a year.  By then, they had sold off most of their orchards, and only had an acre or two left.  Dad would get as many avocados as he wanted.  Aubrey was a typical farmer/rancher, smart, witty, and cleverly handy with tools.  I still have and use some of tools that he marked with green paint.  

This one is marked July 4, 1977.  I don't recognize the location.  In it is my mother, Dorothy Stone, Fred Petrasek, and Virginia Petrasek.  My mother and Virginia went to U.C. Santa Barbara together, and were truly like sisters from different parents.   We visited them often at thier home in Sherman Oaks.  Laura was my age.  Allan is a year or two younger.  They are the ones who let me go on most of their summer 1969 vacation in a Winnebago.  We went to the east coast, saw the launch of Apollo 11, and then I eventually flew home from Providence, Rhode Island.  

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Graduation from Buena High School, Ventura, California, June 1972.

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Unknown formal dance or prom in Ventura, California.  "Proud mom" photos.   The scanned photos don't show it well, but my tuxedo was very dark Navy blue in color.  I don't recall who I went with or which dance this was though.  

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One my mother did mark was this photo from May 1974.  The young lady is Karen Grahek.  We dated for a while, and I loved hanging out with her and her family, who were some good pranksters.  I think in another post, I showed an embroidered shirt of my blue 1973 VW Sport Bug that she did for me.  Like people do, we went our separate ways in life, and both became our own.  

Oddly enough, it wasn't until the destructive Thomas Fire Ventura in December 2017 that I learned that her and her husband's home was just a couple houses away from my parent's former home.  Sadly, both homes were lost.  My parent's had passed away by then, but Karen and her husband lost everything.  

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1975 Chevrolet LUV (Light Utility Vehicle) pickup truck.  I bought it new, and very stripped, from the Chevrolet dealer in Ojai, California.  Jeannette was with me.  I ended up modifying it a lot, as you can see.  White spoke rims, and slight lift in the rear, and an awesome BMB Camper Shell (Fillmore, CA).  

I was part of a truck club called Lil Truckers Ltd.  The jacket I'm wearing was the club jacket.  

The wrinkle on the side of the truck in front of the rear wheel well happened in the parking lot of Save-On Drugs, at Victoria/Telegraph Roads in Ventura.  Jeannette had borrowed my truck, and as she backed out of a stall to leave, someone else backed out of their spot and tagged the truck.  I played hell getting the truck fixed by the guy who did it.  It took a while, but finally got it squared away.  

My father's small aluminum fishing boat is in the background.

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Some Polaroid photos my parents (Ray and Dorothy Stone) took of each other on the patio of their home at 10876 Galvin, Ventura, CA.  I'm guessing about 1980.  Sandy, the dog, had aged a few years.  

The patio cover they had installed was large and really nice.  The folding chairs in the background of one of the photos were aluminum framed with redwood slats.  I don't think I've ever sat in a more comfortable folding patio chair.  

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Probably about 1981-1983, my father relaxing at their home at 941 Scenic Way Drive, Ventura (the one that burned down in the Thomas Fire after they sold it and had passed away).  This was in the "den" that was on the south side of the house.  From that vantage, you could look out the back sliding glass door and enjoy a great view of the Santa Clara River Valley with the Pacific Ocean in the distance.  A nice way to fall asleep.  

A Wonderful and Cool Anniversary

 

Ok, I’ll preface this with, yeah, we didn’t take many photos.  But, it’s similar to our trip in March, so they’d be about the same.  

We knew we wanted to get out of the summer heat for our anniversary, and we succeeded.  On Sunday, July 7^th we headed over to our new favorite getaway town, Cayucos.  We stayed in Space number 7 this time.  Space number 9 last time.  What we didn’t foresee was another, different, health issue that mostly grounded me—again.   

As we left the Fresno area heading toward the coast, it was exhilarating to watch the temperature slowly climbing as we crossed the San Joaquin Valley into Avenal and Cholame, and then started dropping.  Late morning temps were in the high 90s° F headed to a high in Fresno of 113°.  In Cholame it was 101°, but by the time we got to Paso Robles, it had dropped to the mid-90s again.   

The trailer was looking a little dirty, so we found Golden Hill Self Wash in Paso Robles, and were able to wash off the storage yard dirt.  Kari was much happier.  The spray from the wash was like an outdoor swamp cooler.  It felt refreshing.  

Heading west on SR-46 out of “Paso,” toward SR-1, it was fun counting down the temperature as it dropped the further we went.  We stopped in a large dirt turnout a few miles short of SR-1 and enjoyed lunch in cool weather and a distant ocean view.  

Arriving in Cayucos, there was a nice Marine Layer, and it was 63°, substantially lower than what we set our air conditioner at home.   It was heaven.  The whole week was just the same.  We kept an eye on the Fresno temperature, and just smiled at each other.  

As we were preparing to come here for our March trip, I dropped a heavy hard plastic box on my right foot, with a corner striking the top center of my foot.  It was excruciating, I could barely walk, and it was restricting the first few days during our visit.  I felt terrible not being able join Kari walking around town.  It slowly got better, yet still hurt for weeks.  

After returning from the March trip, we had several projects we wanted to complete before the summer weather hit.  The finished removal of the aforementioned orange tree from hell was one of them.  Up and down a ladder, twisting around to hang new curtain rods and curtains, older plants dug up and removed, replacement plants put in, and finishing touches on repairing the heavy front water fountain.  Finally, adding an awkward to install shelf over the bed in the trailer.      

I freely admit the obvious, I’m not in shape anymore—except maybe the shape of plump.  During all those projects, I beat myself up pretty badly for things I once was able to do much easier.  And frankly, I probably should still be able to do them without the damage I caused my body.  I felt like I strained or pulled muscles, ligaments, and everything else in my legs.  Knees, which my doctor had previously shared suffer unfixable damage with age, hurt so much I could barely walk.  

And somewhere, somehow, for the first time in my life I pulled a hamstring in my right leg.  Hopefully it’s the only time.  My gosh it was painful.  I communicated my woes with my primary physician via the handy app, and he confirmed my suspicions.  He told me to continue to stay off my feet and keep cold compresses on it.  The hamstring slowly got better as expected.  Not so much the knees, especially my right knee.  On this trip, sadly I was once again severely limited to walking distances.  (I am going in for a consultation with my physician soon.)

The trip continues.   

I was able to walk around town a little bit.  Twice we walked to Bijou Bakery for breakfast.  They have a great seating area under a large canopy.  The bacon quiche and pastries were delicious.   

Spending several days in the coastal climate is always a reminder for me about growing up in similar climates.  We really enjoyed our time, reading, relaxing, and Kari taking Parfait on long walks around town.  As she walked, she noticed several properties for sale.  That led to wondering how outrageous the real estate market is in Cayucos—and it is—to realizing once again, the only way we could move to a place like this is to win the lottery.  Kari purchased tickets, knowing that with any winnings we have already agreed to give have the net to our church.  We’ll be staying in Clovis. Our church is getting an extra dollar this year. 

Our time in Cayucos briefly overlapped with Fresno friends.  On our second to the last night, we had dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Luanda Garden Bistro.  We dined in a recessed garden patio with Fresno friends Chris and Bill Trollinger and former Fresnan Sharon Van Loon who is now a local in the area near Cayucos.  On our final night, we joined those three again at a home next to our RV park rented by Fresno friends Tina and Gary Kinsey, who were hosting a traditional taco night for their large family gathering.  It was crazy, delicious, and very fun.    

We broke camp the next day and headed south to Ventura, stopping for lunch in a dirt pullout along US-101 north of Santa Barbara for an ocean view trailer lunch.  

We noted how trashy the highway is thanks to discourteous people tossing their litter out.  By coincidence, as we ended our lunch, a CalTrans team showed up and started cleaning the area.  Some heroes wear orange.  

Ventura County’s Hobson Beach Campground was our destination for three nights. 

There really isn’t a view of the Pacific Ocean from the campground site due to the protective rock wall, yet the sounds of the ocean are constant.  I was a bit worried it would be noisy at night because there were so many children running around during the day, but at 10 pm, the only sounds were the ocean.  The campground also has a snack bar with good food, and the showers clean.  

On Tuesday, July 16, our 36^th wedding anniversary, our first full day in Ventura was fulfilling the primary need to dos, first, visiting the grave of my parents.  

Stepping back to November 16, 2023, I mentioned in a prior post I was in Ventura for my aunt’s funeral, who is buried a short dis from my parents.  After her service, I went into the office to inquire about my parent’s grave.  Their flower vase was originally donated by the Ventura South Rotary Club.  The base is basically two pieces.  One is a tube that is permanently installed in the ground, and the other piece was smaller in diameter.  One way in the hole, and there's a metal cover for the hole.  Pull it out, flip it over and put it back in, and boom, flower vase.  It was always off center and at a different distance from the headstone as compared to others.  It’s always hard to find, and it never seems the groundskeepers flipped the lid back up to cover the hole.  I have measurements and photos from prior visits to help, but we usually have to dig around stabbing the ground at an angle with a long screwdriver to find the edge of the tube because without the top in its proper place, grass fills it up.  So my office visit in November 2023 resulted in submitting a work order to have the vase checked and moved.  There was an understanding that I might need pay for a replacement, but they would contact me if there was an issue.  I never heard anything, so my presumption all was well.   

This visit, no matter what we did, we couldn’t find the vase at all.  Over twenty years, and this was a first.  Not wanting look weird, but the two of us were kneeling over a gravesite, one with a hand trowel and the other with a long long screwdriver, stabbing away probably looked rather odd to someone paying attention to us.  I was beyond frustrated that I couldn’t find it.  Kari kept checking while I drove to the office and waited for them to finish with another client.   I shared the situation about the vase, when I was there in November, the work order I wrote out and handed in to them personally, and our current frustrations.  There was keyboard typing, file cabinet checking, and hushed conversations off to the side. 

The resulting report was, they had no record of the work order I had submitted.   Yet, for a fee of $25, they would locate the vase by the end of the day, but recommended in the future to call in advance and pay the fee and they would locate it beforehand.  Not knowing Kari’s progress, I declined their offer for today and left the office.   

Kari hadn’t had any luck, so I went with Plan B.  I dug a small hole with the trowel, stuck the flowers directly in the ground, added water and compacted the dirt around them.  

I’ll call in advance next time.   

Consolation came in the form of required delicious corn burritos from Foster Freeze.  I’ve talked about them before, and I’ll talk about them in the future.  But that’s enough for today.   

The final stop before heading back to the trailer was a stop at McConnell's Fine Ice Cream on Main St.  Barbara Streisand had mentioned it in her book, especially the coffee flavored ice cream.  Kari bought a selection, and they were all good, especially the coffee.  I saved it for home in Clovis, and topped it with something my mother did, chocolate syrup with a topping made of crushed cornflakes and peanuts mixed with melted brown sugar and butter. Yum!

Our anniversary dinner was a grilled steak, small red potatoes that were mashed, and salad.  Simple and delicious.  I only wish I left my nicer shirt on before taking our anniversary selfie photo.  I'm still crazy in love with this woman.  I'm a blessed man.  

Wednesday, July 17^th was live person visitation day. The morning started with a visit to our campsite by former Buena High School classmate Tim Hoctor.  When we head into Ventura, Tim is one of the folks we always wonder how he’s doing.  I’ve always really liked Tim, but in all honesty, Tim and I weren’t the closest of buddies.  We attended different Junior High schools so we didn’t have that bond.  At Buena, we had classes together, hung with the same common folks, and attended the same parties and events. 

Tim, as a career realtor, was really helpful after my father died when we were preparing to move my mom to Fresno and sell their Ventura home.  Since I was working in the Bay Area at the time, Tim would occasionally stop by and see my bedridden mom as we were getting the house ready for market.  Later, Tim shared that he always enjoyed talking with my mom (just that makes one feel good), but added something she shared with him.  I think it was the last visit with my mom, and Tim asked her if there was anything else he could do for her.  She said, he could go outside and smell the grass for her.  Tim said it was an emotional moment.  We had a great chat getting caught up with each other’s lives, mutual friends, and travel adventures.  

In the afternoon, my cousin Bill Stone and his wife Shelly hosted us at their home.  Kari had never met them, and it was really nice getting caught up and sharing with them.  They included their current desire to move to Oklahoma so they could be closer to their daughters and grandchildren.  They surprised me with a photo album that had a lot of photos of my father when he was younger, many during World War II.  I’m going to enjoy going through it and exploring some of my father’s past that he didn’t like to talk about, something not unusual for many WWII veterans. 

On July 18^th, we headed home, back to the heat.  It was our first trip over the Grapevine with our little rig.  It performed very well.  Lunch was parked at the Taco Bell in Wheeler Ridge so Kari could run next door to In-N-Out to pick up burgers. 

The only incident, or close call, was north of Bakersfield on SR-99 approaching Merced Rd off-ramp.  Some people just gotta drive like idiots.  Enjoy the video.