tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52736363718866762552023-11-16T08:46:59.279-07:00Reaching BackLinks, photos, and information about the Richard Wilson and Suellen Rasmussen family lines.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01327132186827061045noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5273636371886676255.post-59950067142688540962008-01-29T15:19:00.000-07:002008-01-29T15:40:50.738-07:00More on Grandpa WilsonI was going through a bunch of pictures to see if there were others of my grandpa I could put here. I found this one of him when he was just a little tyke. It's amazing how much he looks like my brother's boys.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeIrnNUOdOh_o_kGsUhpQTpxqiYyIGzquB8tx70rplZfnta2aj4cINNk02iSW8iBB4nKh5ml-gIpSeubg9n507Flg-igh244eB06BRv6fELlRe65TA44fdVhFfzAvHsScagur_sBpU-zQ/s1600-h/Russel+G.+Wilson.baby.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeIrnNUOdOh_o_kGsUhpQTpxqiYyIGzquB8tx70rplZfnta2aj4cINNk02iSW8iBB4nKh5ml-gIpSeubg9n507Flg-igh244eB06BRv6fELlRe65TA44fdVhFfzAvHsScagur_sBpU-zQ/s320/Russel+G.+Wilson.baby.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161027950415065410" border="0" /></a><br />Here are a couple others of him. First, of him at home, closer to the age I remember him.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlHcsM1zQJBQxNJTvZ3M_EECZ45j_RrBXk1p9IVZWvTu_wh7dSaAPGeWPy0avCCCjQbFens3NuRFtmFjhLHTxSrKB5fJL1_AB9nKBbbUBji7L8_ebkkJOvhfxZ-A0Yy3mcMpM8W0j1las/s1600-h/Russel+G.+Wilson6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlHcsM1zQJBQxNJTvZ3M_EECZ45j_RrBXk1p9IVZWvTu_wh7dSaAPGeWPy0avCCCjQbFens3NuRFtmFjhLHTxSrKB5fJL1_AB9nKBbbUBji7L8_ebkkJOvhfxZ-A0Yy3mcMpM8W0j1las/s320/Russel+G.+Wilson6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161030119373549906" border="0" /></a><br />And this one of a comment he submitted to a newspaper, at the age I remember him best.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA5cKKpcCH-EsFNKd9S9XRkFU4nZulUuQKQb3usWZjwhALzeTRbfZprFGgr3v4KzunPKUSrP5JGGHvn5SDQKIry7DM6LixY1GnxruSBjWNp2PdR20m-pcZn2JFtIqmaOYJAiC11olZoCY/s1600-h/Russel+G.+Wilson7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA5cKKpcCH-EsFNKd9S9XRkFU4nZulUuQKQb3usWZjwhALzeTRbfZprFGgr3v4KzunPKUSrP5JGGHvn5SDQKIry7DM6LixY1GnxruSBjWNp2PdR20m-pcZn2JFtIqmaOYJAiC11olZoCY/s320/Russel+G.+Wilson7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161030123668517218" border="0" /></a>You may have noticed that some of the labels list the spelling of his name with only one "L" and others with two "L"s. His name is really spelled with only one "L". Most people just called him "Russ" anyway. I just called him "Grandpa".Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01327132186827061045noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5273636371886676255.post-46156523380599443312008-01-06T18:30:00.000-07:002008-01-06T18:49:13.550-07:00Sheep HerdingGrandpa wrote a few poems during some of his long, lonely hours out herding sheep. This was before he married my grandma, and he obviously missed her.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Wishing</span><br /><br />Sitting here all alone, Day by Day<br />Looking into the valley and feeling unaware<br /> Trying to drive my blues away<br />And wishing I were there.<br /><br />The Pine trees are swaying - low<br />That wind is a bear<br />And "OH", how that snow does blow<br />And I'm telling you, that I wish I were there.<br /><br />Yes, the coyote yells and moans<br />But when I hear the cat or cougar<br />I know I am in hell and<br />Wishing I were home.<br /><br />Your grass will soon be growing<br />Your ground will soon be bare<br />But I hope my wish will soon come true<br />And someday, finding myself there.<br /><br />Composed by<br />Russel G. Wilson<br />Evening of March 8, 1932<br /><br />_____________________________<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lonely</span><br /><br />Lonely, and feeling mighty blue<br />Lonely, for the sight of seeing you<br />Short and true, dear friend<br />But my thoughts of you will never end<br /><br /> "me"<br /><br /><br /></div>Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01327132186827061045noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5273636371886676255.post-23087059184835936692007-06-20T21:18:00.000-06:002008-01-19T16:54:41.975-07:00Grandpa WilsonMy Dad's dad, was Russel George Wilson. He was born Christmas day, 1911 in Kimberly, Idaho. Here are some early pictures of Grandpa. I learned some fun things about this man that I didn't know before. When I knew him, he was very quiet, often grouchy, fought his way through cancer, and eventually died on 3 December, 1986 in Twin Falls, Idaho.<br /><br />I do remember he had a small motorcycle, and would take turns taking me and my siblings on rides around "town" on it. I loved it!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwS2fqAvXjsrs2CZlH8UcuZJ5dBBKg7UFYpPS10DVcpEVXVKfziKyPJMN3WVohviyCk3BHVJ4YL0p5fqnU6lMskAyqFVPoZSrwIvt72EX7Mia7S0ntReFSSePxxVgQh04vkA0tZVI4tW8/s1600-h/FamPics+%281%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwS2fqAvXjsrs2CZlH8UcuZJ5dBBKg7UFYpPS10DVcpEVXVKfziKyPJMN3WVohviyCk3BHVJ4YL0p5fqnU6lMskAyqFVPoZSrwIvt72EX7Mia7S0ntReFSSePxxVgQh04vkA0tZVI4tW8/s320/FamPics+%281%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078354250853303442" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsm6VqYHC9asW5l9AD_rkLCmTaWGy7Hnr6UGfwdNcYO0wXQ0nOTjMCb5HmnRuwJYhJhGaIPJxL9qkiiW8Vs28lThQYBVoGnrF-IknH1IbX4ryJL9s1R0sAmGM8_vq3nXNTGgX7S_1eX4/s1600-h/FamPics+%282%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsm6VqYHC9asW5l9AD_rkLCmTaWGy7Hnr6UGfwdNcYO0wXQ0nOTjMCb5HmnRuwJYhJhGaIPJxL9qkiiW8Vs28lThQYBVoGnrF-IknH1IbX4ryJL9s1R0sAmGM8_vq3nXNTGgX7S_1eX4/s320/FamPics+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078354255148270754" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB47JK3ZTID81rN6oC6XEuCw7442uznFowvRm8teBMAixIA3qSiBhSKa2oyXt_LI40_0S3XnM0NvZHrrK_EsWfOGcPNtPEaNQpTLrnTnoNSNyjscizohGy7oyKzX9nkGDSEHHcZFFSXZs/s1600-h/FamPics+%289%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB47JK3ZTID81rN6oC6XEuCw7442uznFowvRm8teBMAixIA3qSiBhSKa2oyXt_LI40_0S3XnM0NvZHrrK_EsWfOGcPNtPEaNQpTLrnTnoNSNyjscizohGy7oyKzX9nkGDSEHHcZFFSXZs/s320/FamPics+%289%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078354259443238066" border="0" /></a>Ila is my Grandma Wilson, Russel's wife.<br /><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl6G9SUk5d9LLB4IWX0MnElIkjSHVO0Z4PezcepxiIiUtw6mBnmvXJXqEAs8HLncCTv4UjQhUic1A7DBdaltUX9oYhFHYYTk1tQj1uTcL9DL76t1lksTmTWl9qdX3BkWWBl8-qI03dNYs/s1600-h/FamPics+%2810%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl6G9SUk5d9LLB4IWX0MnElIkjSHVO0Z4PezcepxiIiUtw6mBnmvXJXqEAs8HLncCTv4UjQhUic1A7DBdaltUX9oYhFHYYTk1tQj1uTcL9DL76t1lksTmTWl9qdX3BkWWBl8-qI03dNYs/s320/FamPics+%2810%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078354268033172674" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFsNcI-zceXaintymnsw9cHfgRqxVXGJeRAcBLBwOhzuhAoY7RDG8brWf3HuyotFrUG9fdKHKZlRQBgiFPxz8QLcxJaEaUZp4wcUNpOrKrLltOoPXzrfV3kd9QnoRi8RXUV9IF9j5RRs/s1600-h/Russel+Wilson+1911.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFsNcI-zceXaintymnsw9cHfgRqxVXGJeRAcBLBwOhzuhAoY7RDG8brWf3HuyotFrUG9fdKHKZlRQBgiFPxz8QLcxJaEaUZp4wcUNpOrKrLltOoPXzrfV3kd9QnoRi8RXUV9IF9j5RRs/s320/Russel+Wilson+1911.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078354272328139986" border="0" /></a>Grandpa was a sheep herder before he married Grandma. It must have been a long and lonely job. He wrote some poetry while he was out there. I'll share that next time.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01327132186827061045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5273636371886676255.post-60066919842686784422007-05-30T22:46:00.000-06:002007-05-30T23:07:00.495-06:00Portrait PedigreeI know the individual images are pretty small here, but its a start. Eventually I will show each image seperately with more detailed information.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qYIziJyTqQ1lSPRl-RPrhMgPijpLyITwqOqtkNXOyUSieSA54sH5BBnUOlIE7_osrxQS6qepv6KdR61bY3W5rUGK-HMc2ajruGd8EmTUG0BeJydNB13miOA-DTHL7Mkjqqd5FH3AwZ4/s1600-h/Wendy+Ancestors1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 407px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qYIziJyTqQ1lSPRl-RPrhMgPijpLyITwqOqtkNXOyUSieSA54sH5BBnUOlIE7_osrxQS6qepv6KdR61bY3W5rUGK-HMc2ajruGd8EmTUG0BeJydNB13miOA-DTHL7Mkjqqd5FH3AwZ4/s400/Wendy+Ancestors1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070586546437863698" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOczkMtbrkKCL6EMkWxvz4_BIXWgh-KTFYUCnauLjKV9c25-M9aCFwosRBUAnPkMVfxcWBPdddzhrgnVYHs-vCuzIP0lyhKBvRpT7iDwDATIMnmFgJgowYBNCLqM9CfQT4yIvfZjMDq8/s1600-h/Wendy+Ancestors2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 415px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOczkMtbrkKCL6EMkWxvz4_BIXWgh-KTFYUCnauLjKV9c25-M9aCFwosRBUAnPkMVfxcWBPdddzhrgnVYHs-vCuzIP0lyhKBvRpT7iDwDATIMnmFgJgowYBNCLqM9CfQT4yIvfZjMDq8/s400/Wendy+Ancestors2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070583685989644530" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgowdIN-p3ztIY4h_H_34oL5JD6SjqTQeYyGBVafD_ciD_ENKbYqIE4w3dicmp2nG3lYNLAClHmtaVu8tMUHiGkXnztvvhsVkUZafTQUD3l20i7q_DRwxf2OPdAw4EpXoqn0tRqJPI2URE/s1600-h/Wendy+Ancestors3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 418px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgowdIN-p3ztIY4h_H_34oL5JD6SjqTQeYyGBVafD_ciD_ENKbYqIE4w3dicmp2nG3lYNLAClHmtaVu8tMUHiGkXnztvvhsVkUZafTQUD3l20i7q_DRwxf2OPdAw4EpXoqn0tRqJPI2URE/s400/Wendy+Ancestors3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070583690284611842" border="0" /></a>Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01327132186827061045noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5273636371886676255.post-45880043061375281512007-05-30T16:02:00.000-06:002007-05-30T16:13:32.556-06:00Turning our HeartsA few years ago I took a trip with my roommate to Idaho to visit my Grandma. As we were chatting, she began talking about some of her past and her memories. My roommate wisely advised me to buy a digital recorder and get an oral history from her. I did. It opened up a new world for me. A world in which my family stretches beyond who I see and know here and now.<br /><br />Following my visit with my Grandma, I visited my aunt, and then my great-aunt and uncle. I found pictures, head stones, stories, memories - most importantly I found my family. And now I'm reaching back to find even more.Wendyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01327132186827061045noreply@blogger.com1