Taylor Reunion 2008

Just the first of the pictures from this weekend!!

Great weather, which I hear is a rarity for this grand event. It was sunny and almost hot here, and the young fishermen lined up on the dock to try to catch fish for us to eat. Not sure that happened, but it kept them busy and happy.

LOTS of cousins!! Nancy from Florida, the Maneys, Cindy and Charlie Hawkes and families, Julie and Wes from Colorado (with their two dogs), Rick and Laurie, Charlie Lochner, Kathy and Gordie, Annie and Dennis and families (daughter Jessica has a wedding coming up October 4th which you will see more of later on this blog), and plenty of Kinsellas. And, of course, Aunt CB and Uncle Jack and Uncle Harold.

It was so wonderful to see everyone. I have not been to a reunion in ages, and this was so much fun. Rick brought his 'toy', his potato launcher, which launched potatoes, tomatoes, grapes and whatever, at unsuspecting jet skiis. Later, he tried to reinact WWII bombs that skipped several times before finding the perfect angle to take out German dams near industrial towns....apples DO skip on water when angled correctly!

Lots of goodies to take home--Concord grapes by the bunches, apples felled courtesy of Hurricane Ike, butternut squash, tomatoes. Reams of paper and pens from our drug lord, brother Chris, and pens, carabiners and squishy brains (as in stress balls) from our coroner, Wes.

The Food!! So much of everything!! Next year, I will know to bring lots of leftover containers--there were so many of the main dishes that I wanted to take home--sauerkraut, fruit salad, beans, veggies, tomatoes straight from the vine, deviled eggs.

And, you knew there were desserts! Several of our cousins (or were they brothers?) went right to the desserts, bypassing the salads and main dishes. Lots of pies--elderberry of course, cookies, brownies of all types, cakes, bars, shrimp....Just checking to see if you were reading or skimming....Yes, the ring of shrimp was with the desserts. Perhaps so that the shrimp lovers would not find it TOO early?

As I left, the fire in the firepit was going strong, and marshmellows were making an appearance. SO GOOD to see everyone and catch up, at least for a hug and smile. Stay safe, and we'll see everyone next September. As always, thanks to the Harold Taylor families for hosting.

Stay tuned for many more pictures! And, please send your pictures to me (Herdeg5@comcast.net) if you took some on Saturday! Thanks.

Picture One: Rick with white potato launcher, as the assorted crowd watches

Picture Two: Kristin, Cameron and Grandpa Tim (again, HOW can Tim be a grandfather?? So handsome, so young)

Picture Three: Gina (girlfriend of Brian), Brian Herdeg (son of Pat, grandson of Aunt CB), Pat Kinsella Herdeg (as in 'me'), background, Annie and Kathy (daughters of Uncle Harold)

Picture Four: Matt Kinsella (son of Tim), Brian, Gina, Tim Walker, Cameron Walker, Kristin Kinsella Walker (daughter of Tim, granddaughter of Aunt CB)

Uncle Dick Lochner, by Tom Kinsella

Dick Lochner wasn’t a father to me—he was a father to his own children—but he was my uncle, and a man who populates my earliest and warmest memories, a man who sometimes watched over me and with whom I shared many enjoyable experiences. In ways, he was only a step removed from my father, and I first loved him in that role.

My earliest memories of Uncle Dick are wrapped up in the parties we held for Fall and Spring birthdays. He and Aunt Esther would bring the family to Irondequoit to celebrate one season; Dad and Mom would bring us to Spencerport the next. I remember the house in Spencerport well, especially the basement. Uncle Dick would set up the movie projector and next thing I’d know Abbot and Costello would be drinking water while under water or we’d be watching Apollo moonshots.

Uncle Dick worked at Kodak. This made sense to me in a Kodak town when my Dad worked for Xerox. One time Uncle Dick took me and some of the other kids to a movie at Kodak Park auditorium. I probably wasn’t more than eight years old. In the middle of the movie ( some Disney cartoon, I think), I got violently sick all over myself and the chair next to me. It smelled horrible! Uncle Dick just cleaned me up a bit, gathered the other kids, then got me out of the auditorium where he cleaned me up some more and took us home. He made me feel there was nothing to be ashamed about, although I still feel bad for the people sitting next to us.

Another time Uncle Dick took me and Ted (and maybe Jim) to a Scout Jamboree. We had a great time, met lots of other scouts, and laughed the night away by the fire. Half the place seemed to know Uncle Dick and that added to the fun. It was the first and only jamboree I ever attended.

Very early memories of the cottage include Uncle Dick returning from fishing trips. He always seemed to have a stringer full of fish ( which would attract the snapping turtle). I had a special bond with him when I was younger because I too liked to fish. When I was old enough, he and I would head out early in the morning and late at night. We’d fish until the sun was hot or the lake was dark. It was during one of his fishing trips that he named White Birch Bay, years before we bought the lots in that same bay. One men’s weekend he and I drove up early and got into trouble because the fishing was so good. We stayed on the lake all afternoon, forgetting to drive into town for beer. Dad and the other Uncles weren’t too excited about the “great fishing” when they found out they had no beer.

Somewhere there’s a 16 millimeter film of Uncle Dick and me fishing. We had walked down to the Church’s point with camera and poles and were throwing in our lines. He took some film of me, then I shot him working the shore. After a while he decided to let me keep fishing while he napped a bit. You’ll know the reel. He’s lying on the hill, asleep and I’m busy turning the camera sideways and upside down trying to adequately catch his napping skills.

For a few years we were also golfing buddies, but it wasn’t much fun to play a round with Uncle Dick. I’d head up to the tees and hit the long ball somewhere into the woods. He’d head up to the tees and dink it down the middle of the fairway. At the end of the round I’d have a 72 or so (not bad for 18 holes, too bad we only played 9). He’d have a 45 or 50.

Uncle Dick was also an Algonquin stalwart, attending several years and making all sorts of literary history. Amidst the beauty of the park I came to know him as a man. He was no longer my fishing buddy ( I knew better than to dip my rod in Algonquin waters—he didn’t) or the Uncle who took me off on some day trip. He was the guy in the middle of the canoe who didn’t paddle that much. He didn’t sleep well at night and had a tape player in his tent to listen to Lake Wobegone tapes. He was one of the oldsters, with Dad, Uncle Harold and Uncle Ken, who showed me how to enjoy triscuits and Balderson’s cheese under a fir tree and how to properly self-administer paddle-pain reliever. I listened to his stories around the campfire and he listened to mine. It was at Algonquin that I came to see Dick Lochner the man.

As it turns out, I’ve been blessed with an extended family of loving aunts, uncles, and cousins. Like a photo album stuffed with pictures, they’ve filled my head. Uncle Dick stands tall in my album. He’s the guy with the smile, the gravelly Lochner voice, and the great laugh.

Picture One: Uncle Dick, August 1954, 'Old Man and the Sea'

Picture Two: Uncle Dick, May 1952

Picture Three: Uncle Dick, Tom Kinsella and Ted Lochner, July 1968

Picture Four: Uncle Dick, June 1967

Picture Five: Uncle Dick, May 1969

Sept. 11, 1924--Aunt Doris' Birthday, By Aunt CB

Today, Sept. 11th means much to all of the U.S.A.—but as Doris and I sat, watching the event unfold on her TV, she could only moan, “and on MY birthday! How could they?”

How could they indeed!—unload such a horror on the birth date of Aunt Dot, everybody’s sweetheart! Well, she and I knew one another pretty well and as she spilled some beans on my kids, I’m going to spill some here—this is only one of many such scenarios in our growing up years!

I’d just finished my Sophomore year in high school, and she was home on vacation from R.I.T. The fellow that I was currently dating had invited me to his parents' cottage for an overnight stay, and as he knew Doris and we’d double dated a time or so, she was included in the invitation.

We arrived, swam, ate a meal and swam some more and presently bedtime came. The cottage was a simple one, living room and kitchen combined and 3 bedrooms, and like many summer only homes, the walls of a room only stood eight feet or so, leaving the rafters exposed and all air free to circulate throughout the cottage. Now Doris and I, at this juncture, were pretty close and we’d worked up several themes that we were collecting word pictures for. One of these was a toilet and the manufacturer’s brand or name printed on them. Therefore, collecting our tooth brushes and toothpaste, we went together into the simple bathroom, readying ourselves for bed. Suddenly, Doris grabbed my shoulder, ( jarring my toothbrush) and whispered forcefully, “LOOK!”

Just as forcefully she turned me in the direction of her pointed finger, and covered her mouth with her other hand. What we both saw, big and bold, printed on the back wall of the inner toilet itself sent us into convulsions of laughter, peal after peal, and of course, all trying to be shushed up—for every creak was heard throughout the entire cottage.

There, stamped for all to see, throughout the life of many flushes, was a single word, THUNDERER! For the rest of our lives when together, the mere mention sent us into gales of laughter. Never did take much to get us going!

Picture One: Doris, Charlie, Cindy (it was her birthday), Steve and Michael

Picture Two:Esther, Doris, CB

Picture Three: Doris

Picture Four: CB, Julie, Doris

The Home Front---World War Two, by Evelyn Taylor

Living in Le Roy and working at Taylor’s Superette was an experience for a Rochester girl, gone “rural.” We had to deal with ration coupons, shortages in food and gas, price freeze, and black market.

Once a week a few very scarce items such as cigarettes, chocolate bars, coconut, and Jello would come in. Yes, even in the “Hometown of Jello” those Jack Benny six delicious flavors (strawberry, raspberry, cherry lemon, orange, lime) were scarce and much sought after.

Our regular customers were the ones who got those items, but the problem was to keep everyone happy. The limit on cigarettes was two packs to a family per week. That must have been a real hardship on most families.

Meat required the greatest number of ration points. I do not know the details of how that worked between supplier and merchant. I just remember how scared I was when my mother-in-law and I made a late night run in a “36 Ford wood- paneled station wagon to the Tobin Packing House in Rochester to get meat. No ration points were required!!!

Latest on Tropical Storm Fay, by Nancy Taylor Wright

Anyone that wants to see pictures of what we are experiencing all across Central Florida now with this storm and all the VAST flooding that it is doing, you can go to Channel 6 CBS locally here and see it all.

It is really so bad, and still have another couple of days of rain before it is out of our total area here, and then we have the situation of where all the flood waters in the neighborhoods go after -- to the St John's River and others -- flooding will happen all over again.

I am so over this, as well as everyone else here! I have cabin fever and I miss the sun! And my computer room office is leaking all across the ceiling in different spots -- my one leak has turned into many!

www.local6.com

Love,

Nance

A Pencil Behind My Ear,By Evelyn Taylor

Years ago a grocery clerk always had a pencil parked behind an ear. This was to take orders and add up columns of prices of items purchased.

My introduction to this job was at Taylor’s Superette in Le Roy during World War II in 1944. My father-in-law, D. Floyd Taylor, made his Main St. grocery store into a combination of full-service and self-service before supermarkets had become common.

There was no scanner of bar code or cash registers that printed a detailed account of items and told the cashier what change to give. It was necessary to be able to add long columns of prices and to make correct change. The latter required counting the change out loud to the customer. If the bill was $3.79 and a $5 bill was given, you counted the $1.21 change by saying: $3.79- 10cents is $3.89, 10 cents is $3.99,1 cent is $4.00 and 1$ is $5.00.

In the meantime, to insure there was no chance of the customer saying she had given you a larger bill than the five dollars, you placed the $5 bill on the ledge of the cash register until the change had been made and then it was placed in the drawer.

A clerk needed to be able to add long columns of items quickly. You put the prices on a large paper bag and added the column twice—adding down and then adding up. Hopefully, the results were the same.

Math was also important when you weighed an item for the customer as it was up to you to figure out what ¾ of a pound would be if a pound cost $1.79. There were no automatic scales that spitted out a printed label with weight and final price on it.

The clerk helped people find items on the shelves, weighed up bulk cookies and fresh produce, cut cheese from a large cheese wheel, cut butter from a large round of butter and weighed them. Then the clerk became the cashier for that customer.

And because this store was in a village and rural area, farmers came in on Saturday night to shop and share news of the week. They would bring in their baskets of eggs for credit, and the duty of counting them carefully was the clerk’s. Saturday night was busy and lively with talk of weather, crops, and news.

There was personal interaction between the customer, store- owner, and clerks. You knew the customers by name and did everything possible to help and please them. Much has been lost in the transition from the era of Taylor’s Superette to the electronic supermarket of today’s Wegmans.

Picture One: Eve and Dene Taylor, Delivering groceries in 1945

Happy Birthday Grandpa T

WILLIAM LLOYD TAYLOR

AUG. 5, 1892-1969

It was a Saturday night and Daddy had made a humungeous pan of popcorn. The next step was for him to carefully pour a sweetened thickened syrup over it as one of us carefully rotated the pan. Then we all greased our hands with lard and grabbed handfulls to squeeze into pocorn balls. Experience gained from making snowballs made this easy.

Now, if we were lucky, he continued on to cooking taffy. When boiled to the proper stage he poured it into a greased pie plate and as it cooled enough to handle, gave us each a portion to work, once again with greased hands. Well, greased or larded, as this stuff was hot at first! The main job here was to pull the lump between your two hands, stretch it out, fold it back upon itself and start again, the object being to incorporate air into the mass. The more stretch, the more air, the whiter the taffy.

Do I even need to tell you that Daddy’s and Mamma’s were white as snow, Arnon’s almost, Ruth’s too pretty good, down to Harold’s and mine. Our’s never rose above a sickly yellow! When enough elasticity had been achieved and it had cooled, you greased your kitchen shears and snipped it into one inch pieces. If you were clever, and had stretched it to thin strands, you might even braid three together for an artistic look. All these pieces rested together on the greased pan, until hard and cool to the touch, we were allowed to eat some.

Popcorn balls and taffy, the culmination of a good evening. It must have carried memories for Momma and Daddy too as taffy pulling evenings were common in their courting days.

Picture One: Lloyd 1912
Picture Two: Lloyd & Ethel on their 50th wedding Anniv. Sept 1965