As you all know, Grandpa recorded stories of his life and gave each of his children copies of the tapes. I've been working on transferring them to a digital format. For now I just played the tapes and recorded them on my computer. Not the highest quality, but it will have to do for now.
Anyway, they are available on iTunes now. You can subscribe to the podcast, download each "episode" or track and then burn them onto a CD or put them on your iPod. Grandpa's voice can be available at the click of a button!
The recordings for the previous podcasts about Grandma Nell are available, as is Tape 1 from Grandpa's tapes. I'm still working on the rest of them and they'll be available in the same place as all the others when I get them up and going.
Here's the link.
You can also get there via the iTunes store. Bring up iTunes, click on the "iTunes store" link on the left hand column, when the store comes up, simply type Rue Paul Ware into the search field in the upper right hand corner. Let me know if you have any questions!
Also, Nicky, could you possibly put a link to these in the sidebar too? Thanks!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Happy Birthday Grandma Nell
While Grandpa was in the Rehab hospital up here, I spent a lot of time with him visiting and looking at photos. One of those days I talked with him about Grandma Nell a little bit...
Their first date
Coin Toss
Dating and Marriage
Early life in the military
Utah
About Nell
Their first date
Coin Toss
Dating and Marriage
Early life in the military
Utah
About Nell
Saturday, July 31, 2010
My Favorite Cookies
The other day, as I was preparing things for Garth and I to get away to the mountains, it was my job to go to the grocery store for supplies. Garth told me I needed to get cookies and candy, which creates a big problem for me. I don't like to make little decisions about things like which ones to get. As I looked at the packages I knew immediately which ones I wanted....the frosted animal cookies. During my high school years these became my favorite cookies, for some strange, now-unknown-reason. I remember loving these cookies. So what does that have to do with Dad? The year was 1976 and I had just returned from a choir trip to Washington DC and back with the Ogden Institute Choir. My sisters will remember that as a very painful time for me when I ended up in the hospital with an abscess in an "unmentionable" place. Imagine sitting on the bus for 2 weeks, and then returning to find that sore just a few days later! I know I was blessed to not get that sore while on the trip, but that it waited until I got home. Anyway, Dad and Mom actually drove all the way to Ogden to pick me up and take me home because I was so sick. Of course, that next night was Linda's Junior Prom and from there on it was all downhill for me, ending up in the hospital for several days. So what about iced animal cookies? I'm getting to that.
After that terrible experience in the hospital, when the doctor finally put a big needle into that sore and drained it right there...I'll spare any more details .......I was finally feeling better and Mom was able to sit by my bedside after everything was cleaned up. Dad had to leave for a little while, so he said. When he returned he had a cold Coke for Mom, and a big bag of iced animal cookies for me. He remembered that they were my favorite. He said he knew I had gone through so much pain and he wanted something that I really liked to help me forget the pain.
Many times when I walked into the kitchen at home, he would tell me to get in the top drawer and get myself some animal cookies. He kept a supply of them in there regularly. I can't eat iced animal cookies without thinking of him. He knew I loved them. They can take away the worst pain.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Made me think of Grandpa
Thought this post was interesting.
Colored photos of 1930s-1940s America!
Now we know for sure that it wasn't black and white back then. Makes it all seem much more recent.
Colored photos of 1930s-1940s America!
Now we know for sure that it wasn't black and white back then. Makes it all seem much more recent.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
A Strange Memory
I'm not sure just how to start this "memory" post, but I keep being reminded of this memory so I guess I will just start writing.
It keeps happening lately when I am walking through Wal-Mart grocery section, back by the juice and drink section. When I walk past the lemonade, fruit juices and things in the glass bottles, back in the back in the open coolers. Something jogs a memory or feeling about a vacation we were on or something like that. I have this fleeting feeling that we were looking for a drink and thinking how exciting it was because we didn't get to purchase things like that in our normal, everyday life. But because this was a vacation, we were able to get something special to go with our lunch. Do any of the other sisters remember a time like that? It seems like we were out of state, in a large grocery store, buying things for lunch. I remember thinking it was cold because of the open coolers and we were trying to decide which glass bottle of drinks we were going to get. I can't place where or when it was happening, but if feels so real.
It is funny what little snippets of memories we can feel more than remember. I wish I could ask Mom or Dad about it. It is probably something that no one else remembers, just something that is tucked away in my mind, but I feel it so many times when we walk through that place in the store. I never stop to buy anything, just get that same feeling each time. It must have been something that really impressed me at the time. Probably excited because it was something new!
It keeps happening lately when I am walking through Wal-Mart grocery section, back by the juice and drink section. When I walk past the lemonade, fruit juices and things in the glass bottles, back in the back in the open coolers. Something jogs a memory or feeling about a vacation we were on or something like that. I have this fleeting feeling that we were looking for a drink and thinking how exciting it was because we didn't get to purchase things like that in our normal, everyday life. But because this was a vacation, we were able to get something special to go with our lunch. Do any of the other sisters remember a time like that? It seems like we were out of state, in a large grocery store, buying things for lunch. I remember thinking it was cold because of the open coolers and we were trying to decide which glass bottle of drinks we were going to get. I can't place where or when it was happening, but if feels so real.
It is funny what little snippets of memories we can feel more than remember. I wish I could ask Mom or Dad about it. It is probably something that no one else remembers, just something that is tucked away in my mind, but I feel it so many times when we walk through that place in the store. I never stop to buy anything, just get that same feeling each time. It must have been something that really impressed me at the time. Probably excited because it was something new!
Sunday, July 18, 2010
March 19
So I have spent the bitter part of the week dealing. Like really dealing. Emotionally,mentally, physically dealing. We are going through infertility treatments currently and have become a walking pin cushion. We really felt like this last cycle was the one. As our Endocrinologist was looking things over it looked like 3 were going to be released. And then the due date was discussed if in FACT any of the 3 decided to stick around.
The Due date was March 19.
We found it Ironic because we were adamant on Naming this child after her grandmother ( if it was a girl) so her Middle name was going to be Lori. And we all knew her name was going to be Emmalee. Well around November things were crazy with us and we decided that we didn't feel just right about everything and things backed off. Then grandpa died.
The other day we were talking about Names because we weren't sure if we were pregnant or not. I asked D if I could name my sweet baby after Grandpa Rue. When we have a child and it is a girl Her name will be Emmalee Rue Brown. Then when we found out the due date we knew it would be perfect.
But like life, it didn't go perfect. There will be no baby On March 19. And in true RUE fashion, I tore apart my kitchen table and went to town sanding it. The smell of the sawdust and the feel of the wood... I knew that I learned something from him.
Wow... I am still sanding.... And in the end it will perfection. Nothing less
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Blessings
I grew up in a home where many priesthood blessings were given in times of need. I remember the night before I started jr high. I was very nervous and my dad came down to my room and gave me a blessing. Many, many times over the course of my life, my dad gave me a blessing.
They didn't stop when I got married. Unfortunately, Vernon didn't grow up in an LDS home. He didn't understand the power of the priesthood. He hadn't even heard very many blessings given by anyone. He was very hesitant to give them. So even after I got married, I turned to my dad to give me a blessing. Dad/Grandpa not only gave me blessings but my children as well.
Every year, the night before school started, we made the journey to Grandpa's or he came to our house. It was a long standing tradition. He gave them blessings when they were sick or hurt.
Last week, I was sick. I was very sick. I wore out the floor from my bed to my bathroom. After 24 hours of thinking "this is the end," I asked Kent to give me a blessing. As he did so, I thought back on the blessings of my dad. As much as I'm grateful that Kent, my sweet husband, can give me blessings now, I still miss my dad doing that for me.
The morning of his funeral, I woke up with cramps. Cramps combined with nerves from having to speak, made it hard for me to stand up straight. I had planned on asking Kent to give me a blessing before the funeral. We were at the church, along with the funeral directors. The church was quiet, the snow was falling and Kent and I went into the Relief Society room to give me a blessing.
Kent pulled the chair over by Grandpa's casket and he gave me a blessing there. For us it was a very spiritual experience and one that I am so thankful for. I knew my dad was there.
The other night, as Kent gave me that blessing, I knew that once again, my dad was there. I am so thankful for a father, who honored his priesthood and who loved me.
A side note: Several years ago I was talking to a non-member. They said they didn't understand why women would want to be a member of this church where we were basically second class citizens because we couldn't hold the priesthood. Their question didn't bother me at all because I knew that I was not a second class citizen.
A couple of years ago, I had a terrible cold. I think I almost OD'd on NyQuil. I had taken so much to find even a little relief that it made me sick to my stomach. I spent the better part of the night on the bathroom floor. When I was able to get up, I went in and woke up Kent and asked him to give me a blessing.
A week later, Kent had a terrible cold and he was on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. I asked him if he wanted me to call someone to come and give him a blessing.
Light bulb moment: For me, the priesthood was immediately available. I didn't have to call someone, wake them up, wait for them to arrive. All I had to do was wake up Kent and the blessing was there. Not the case for him. He didn't get a blessing that night because he didn't want to bother anyone.
So - second class citizen? No way.
The priesthood was available to me immediately. I benefit from the priesthood in my home without having the responsibilities that go with it. No one will call me in the middle of the night to come and give them blessing. I think women have the best of both worlds as far as the priesthood is concerned.
I'm grateful that the priesthood is in my home - available and immediate. Thank you Kent.
They didn't stop when I got married. Unfortunately, Vernon didn't grow up in an LDS home. He didn't understand the power of the priesthood. He hadn't even heard very many blessings given by anyone. He was very hesitant to give them. So even after I got married, I turned to my dad to give me a blessing. Dad/Grandpa not only gave me blessings but my children as well.
Every year, the night before school started, we made the journey to Grandpa's or he came to our house. It was a long standing tradition. He gave them blessings when they were sick or hurt.
Last week, I was sick. I was very sick. I wore out the floor from my bed to my bathroom. After 24 hours of thinking "this is the end," I asked Kent to give me a blessing. As he did so, I thought back on the blessings of my dad. As much as I'm grateful that Kent, my sweet husband, can give me blessings now, I still miss my dad doing that for me.
The morning of his funeral, I woke up with cramps. Cramps combined with nerves from having to speak, made it hard for me to stand up straight. I had planned on asking Kent to give me a blessing before the funeral. We were at the church, along with the funeral directors. The church was quiet, the snow was falling and Kent and I went into the Relief Society room to give me a blessing.
Kent pulled the chair over by Grandpa's casket and he gave me a blessing there. For us it was a very spiritual experience and one that I am so thankful for. I knew my dad was there.
The other night, as Kent gave me that blessing, I knew that once again, my dad was there. I am so thankful for a father, who honored his priesthood and who loved me.
A side note: Several years ago I was talking to a non-member. They said they didn't understand why women would want to be a member of this church where we were basically second class citizens because we couldn't hold the priesthood. Their question didn't bother me at all because I knew that I was not a second class citizen.
A couple of years ago, I had a terrible cold. I think I almost OD'd on NyQuil. I had taken so much to find even a little relief that it made me sick to my stomach. I spent the better part of the night on the bathroom floor. When I was able to get up, I went in and woke up Kent and asked him to give me a blessing.
A week later, Kent had a terrible cold and he was on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. I asked him if he wanted me to call someone to come and give him a blessing.
Light bulb moment: For me, the priesthood was immediately available. I didn't have to call someone, wake them up, wait for them to arrive. All I had to do was wake up Kent and the blessing was there. Not the case for him. He didn't get a blessing that night because he didn't want to bother anyone.
So - second class citizen? No way.
The priesthood was available to me immediately. I benefit from the priesthood in my home without having the responsibilities that go with it. No one will call me in the middle of the night to come and give them blessing. I think women have the best of both worlds as far as the priesthood is concerned.
I'm grateful that the priesthood is in my home - available and immediate. Thank you Kent.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Just Grandpa
I only have/had one Grandpa. My dad didn't have much to do with his family and my Grandpa Watson died when I was younger. They were all the way in California.
I was thinking about the name of this blog, "Memories of Grandpa Rue". For me it kind of feels like there is more information there than I need. I am not making a dig at the title or anything of the sort. This blog is meant for a lot of people to use, and lots of them have/have had more than one Grandpa. I am simply making an observation that in my life he wasn't Grandpa Rue. He was just Grandpa. It is kind of like if I were talking to my mom about Nicky and said, "My cousin Nicky." All I need to say is "Nicky".
In my life if I were referring to some other Grandfatherly figure, they received the modifiers. Grandpa Olsen, Grandpa Guy, Grandpa Watson. If "Grandpa" was ever mentioned in conversation, it was Grandpa Rue.
In fact, it feels funny saying "when 'Grandpa' was mentioned in conversation... it was Grandpa Rue". My thought actually went more like this, "when 'Grandpa' was mentioned in conversation... it was Grandpa". It is kind of like when you talk to your friends about your parents you say, "My mom." When you're talking to your sibling you don't say, "My mom" you say "Mom".
Things changed when I had Daphne. Suddenly we were dealing with 3 more Grandpa's than I was used to! Again, they all received the modifiers. Well, except when we were talking to Daphne about Grandpa, then he became Papa Rue. Otherwise, when "Grandpa" was mentioned in conversation not directly involving Daphne, it meant Grandpa Rue.
He was also the last Grandpa Trevor had. When we first married he kept calling Grandpa "Grandpa" and I had to tell him that he didn't have to do that. In our family we just used names. Josh and David didn't call him Grandpa and Larry, Garth, Vernon, and Kent certainly didn't call him "Dad". He was Rue to all of them, or sir depending on how stern he was being. Trevor told me that he hadn't had a Grandpa in a long time and kind of wanted to have one again.
I'm telling you, there must have just been something about Grandpa. He's just Grandpa and that's all there is to it.
I was thinking about the name of this blog, "Memories of Grandpa Rue". For me it kind of feels like there is more information there than I need. I am not making a dig at the title or anything of the sort. This blog is meant for a lot of people to use, and lots of them have/have had more than one Grandpa. I am simply making an observation that in my life he wasn't Grandpa Rue. He was just Grandpa. It is kind of like if I were talking to my mom about Nicky and said, "My cousin Nicky." All I need to say is "Nicky".
In my life if I were referring to some other Grandfatherly figure, they received the modifiers. Grandpa Olsen, Grandpa Guy, Grandpa Watson. If "Grandpa" was ever mentioned in conversation, it was Grandpa Rue.
In fact, it feels funny saying "when 'Grandpa' was mentioned in conversation... it was Grandpa Rue". My thought actually went more like this, "when 'Grandpa' was mentioned in conversation... it was Grandpa". It is kind of like when you talk to your friends about your parents you say, "My mom." When you're talking to your sibling you don't say, "My mom" you say "Mom".
Things changed when I had Daphne. Suddenly we were dealing with 3 more Grandpa's than I was used to! Again, they all received the modifiers. Well, except when we were talking to Daphne about Grandpa, then he became Papa Rue. Otherwise, when "Grandpa" was mentioned in conversation not directly involving Daphne, it meant Grandpa Rue.
He was also the last Grandpa Trevor had. When we first married he kept calling Grandpa "Grandpa" and I had to tell him that he didn't have to do that. In our family we just used names. Josh and David didn't call him Grandpa and Larry, Garth, Vernon, and Kent certainly didn't call him "Dad". He was Rue to all of them, or sir depending on how stern he was being. Trevor told me that he hadn't had a Grandpa in a long time and kind of wanted to have one again.
I'm telling you, there must have just been something about Grandpa. He's just Grandpa and that's all there is to it.
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