Noted author and local historian Marilyn Cram Donahue shares her memories of Christmas from earlier times in the small town of Highland, California.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vNFR9LppM4Y&feature=youtu.be
Monday, December 31, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Love to Dance
When I was young, I danced in the
living room with the carpet rolled back against the wall and my mother’s
fringed light fixture pulled up by its chain so we wouldn’t bump our heads on
it.
I danced with Joe, who had rhythm. He
had been my friend since second grade, and we had an understanding. He got to
wind up the Victrola, and I got to choose the record. We danced while Frankie
sang “Embraceable You,” Vaughn Monroe crooned “Racing with the Moon,” and
Frankie Laine belted out “Tumbling Tumbleweeds.” Then Joe moved away. I needed
a new partner.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Washday At Cliffside
Great-Grandma Cram (Nancy Garner) was small in stature. She wore long dresses and bound her hair in a tight bun. Though she worked hard managing things at the big, seventeen room house by the river, she didn’t toil the way some pioneer women in the valley did, for the Crams had servants. Fong was the Chinese cook, and an Indian woman from the Serrano tribe in the foothills came to help with the washing, which was heavy work in those days.
The house was located near the banks of theSanta Ana , which changed course in the flood of 1882, and moved farther to the south. But in the early days, the river ran right in front of the house, and it ran all year. My Grandfather said it was six feet deep when he was a boy, and the cottonwood trees overhung the water and made shade along the banks where the seven boys and one girl fished and swam.
The house was located near the banks of the
The Baptism
When my grandfather was a young man, before he decided to follow his father’s lead and grow oranges, he took his wife, Kitty, and his children, Fred and Bess, to the desert to mine for gold. They lived in a tent in a mountainous area near the present Palm Springs until my father was eight years old and my grandmother insisted that it was time for him to attend regular school.
When they moved back to Highland , the minister of the Congregational Church, a Reverend Hartshorn, reminded Kitty that young Fred had never been baptized. He added that it was a serious offense to neglect securing your child’s place in heaven.
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