Old Things R New

My Take

DiVoran Lites

September 21, 1983

Last week we went to Dave’s on Wednesday to get the boat and motor on its way home. Lowell and Helen came here on Saturday and spent the weekend with us. She is a nice lady, and we enjoyed her. I was kind of tired, though. It seems like we had been with folks and doing things for a long time.

Ivan and Lowell, Brothers as young men 

Helen has been a widow for twenty-two years, making her living and socializing with other businesswomen. She says this is a whole new life for her. She’s trying hard to please Lowell, waits on him, worries about him, and even hopes to make him look better with a diet. She would marry him in a minute, I think, but he’s running scared and peeks out like a little rabbit, as Dad says. My neighbor, Ruth, said they should live together for a year because people change after six months of living together. Ruth is divorced, while Lowell lost his wife to cancer. 

I hope he goes slow. They both have a lot of adjusting to do. 

I’ve gotten myself in trouble a couple of times lately. Ruth brought me a gift-it was a chain cake-I think that’s what it is called. You take some sourdough or raised dough starter, something like that, in a bowl and the recipe and give it to a friend. It rises for seven days, during which time you add sugar and stuff. On the last day, you bake it for forty-five minutes in a Bundt pan, and it’s like a fruit cake. I told her I didn’t want it because I couldn’t remember to do all that stuff for seven days. (Besides, what if I got a cake from everyone? Ha! Ha!). She was surprised at my refusal, but we’re still friends.

Then yesterday, I helped with the opportunity table at the Church Woman’s Association luncheon, and when I saw two idols on the table, bells went off in my head; I got goosebumps and went to the leader I was working with. I said, “Those idols have got to go; we can’t have them for sale at a church bazaar. Who do you suppose brought them in?”

 Well, she whisked them into a shoebox and placed it face down on a bench. It seems her husband had brought them to her from Korea years ago, and she had wanted to get rid of them ever since. That’s the way it is with Christians because our guide, the Bible, says not to worship idols, and we take that to mean not to have them around.  The devil loves them. We don’t.  

Last week, when we went to David’s to get the boat and trailer, it had fallen, and it took the men twenty-two hours of labor and one hundred dollars worth of parts to get the boat and motor on its way home. 

That’s all for now, folks.

Love,

Mom

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

Tags: A mother's letters, Family Memories

My Take

DiVoran Lites

August 1, 1983

Dear Ones,

Well now, I don’t know when I wrote to you last. It’s a cloudy day here after a weekend of hot sunny days. Waunita and I wear short pants and sleeveless shirts to try and stay cool. 

We went to the beach on Saturday and Sunday. Sister Judy is here with us now. It has been a long time since she has seen our brother Smithy. He was almost grown-up when she was born. I prayed for a baby sister, and the Lord answered my prayer, but Smithy being a young man, didn’t seem to take much interest in her.

The first day, we went down the trail through the trees and the ferns. The bank at the water’s edge had worn away some. As we came out to the water, we had to hold onto the smaller trees while we carefully made our way down what was left of the bank. 

 We stopped at my rock, the black one about the size of a Volkswagen flattened out. It was looking smooth, warm, and clean, showing a purple-black color. We sat on it for a while. I caressed its smooth warmth.  We walked in the wet but more solid sand up to the battery at the park coming out just north of the pier. Along the way, we looked up from gathering white stones just in time to see an eagle glide by. He had a white head and tail. Shortly after that, we saw two blue herons flying over the water together. It reminded me of seeing them on the river at Mendocino.

The second day at the beach, we went down the same way and turned south toward East Beach. After a leisurely fifteen-minute walk, we came to a humungous old tree trunk with its roots lying on the sand. It was at least four feet around, and if you included the tree itself and the root system, you could see that it might fill a 10-foot square room. We wondered if it would be there for a while or if the tides would take it away.

L

As we turned back to the opening, we saw a young doe who had come out on the same trail. She froze into the background and stayed a long time as we continued to walk toward her. Then our dog Misty saw her, and she saw Misty about the same time, so she ran. I was puzzled about why she weaved so when running until I realized that she was up near the driftwood running on the soft, damp sand. Her tracks were quite deep. I hope she found her way back to the opening by supper time. The deer swim from one island to the next in search of food. The lettuce green seaweed is good for deer to snack on, but she would eventually need something other than the salty water of the straights to drink.

The park was almost full for the sunny weekend, and we enjoyed seeing children running around. They never seemed to walk. We watched an Asian group. They had a momma and poppa tent and a tent for 5 or 10 boys about nine years old. (It just looked like ten boys the way they ran around in circles.)

I went to church again yesterday. That young pastor is so happy he makes everyone else feel happy. 

I’m at Fort Flagler washing clothes. We had to shut the door to the laundromat. Even with my yellow sweater on, It’s cold. As we look out the big window, we can see that the water looks as gray as the sky moving softly. There are no ships or boats this morning. 

Dad’s hand healed up fine. He’s getting ready to pull his crab traps.

Love,

Mother and Dad 

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

Tags: A mother's letters, Family Memories

My Take

DiVoran Lites

My goal has been to learn to write as beautifully as my mother,Dora Bedell Bowers did. We started corresponding when Bill and I got married in California in 1957. Dora and Ivan, my parents were in Albuquerque, and my brother, with his wife and baby, were already in California.  When Mother went to heaven in 2006, the letters stopped. I’d like to share her love-letters with you. I hope you enjoy them as much as we do.  

April 15, 1983

Dear Ones:

I worried and worried the other night about serving my nephew and his wife when they visited. It was a bit of a shame because we have all kinds of different foods to choose from.

In the morning, Roger called and said they would be here after lunch but could stay only a little while. They came at two and left before four. They picked some Valencia oranges from our tree, sampled the lemon iced tea, and ate some Ruby Red Grapefruit from Coachella Valley. Later, I took two pictures of them and served strawberry shortcake. Not the kind Mother would have served, sweet, mashed strawberries over sweet biscuits with fresh, heavy-whipped cream from one of the cows I had milked. Mine was bakery cakes, strawberries from right here in Vista, and cool whip.

I think they will remember the stop, anyway. Dad gave them a bouquet of roses, some grapefruit, oranges, and lemons from our little grove. I gave Nancy a hot-dish pad that I crocheted when we were fishing at the Salton Sea.

Well, the sprinklers at home work. I told my sister, Judy as long-range planning, I prayed for new stucco on the house, the sprinklers to work well, and a new carpet, and we are moving right along in the Lord’s good timing.

Today, we are going to your Uncle Lowell’s for dinner and the night, then on to your cousin Kathy’s for lunch tomorrow. It’s about a 5-hour round-trip drive to Victorville. Then Sunday, I guess we’ll go back to the Salton Sea. You’ll recall that your Grandmother surprised us all by getting on a jet and flying from Colorado to see Kathy. 

The wind blew and tore our awning at The Salton Sea last week. We were able to repair it. Fishing isn’t really good yet.

We have renters for the house, but they won’t keep our cat Patches. We’re getting along fine with the neighbor’s cat here at the Salton Sea. He spends the days with us and goes home to the trailer next to us at night.

You would have enjoyed the desert in bloom at the Salton Sea. We saw a dainty and lovely.desert Indigo bush. The bloom was like a single pea bloom in Indigo. A fishhook cactus was interesting; it had stickers in the shapes of fishhooks. There is a museum at Borrego Springs that is great for learning about the plants. The hills are covered with Orange Ocotillo and yellow brittle-brush, lavender, verbena, tiny white flowers, and white ones close to the ground. Best I’ve ever seen it. I have an article from our paper and a picture of the hills at Borrego Springs. In the fall, the colors change with the seasons.

                  Love you all lots.

Is there any chance of your coming to WA this year. We’ll pay for between LA and WA again.

Remember how cool it was.

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

Tags: A mother's letters, Family Memories