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Betts Bodoh
Correspondent

(Wabeno News) - Hi everybody. Every year about this time when my mother and father were still alive our family would visit them for Thanksgiving dinner. Shortly after my folks retired they moved to Palmyra, Wisconsin and lived on Blue Spring Lake. That was a short drive for us from Downers Grove, Illinois. To let my mom know that we would be coming I would send her a postcard letter with these words on it. Written by Lydia Maria Child, the poem appeared in Flowers for Children, Vol.2 in 1844.

“Over the river, and through the wood, to Grandmother’s house we go; the horse knows the way to carry the sleigh through the white and drifted snow. Over the river, and through the wood, to Grandmother’s house away! We would not stop for doll or top, for ’tis Thanksgiving Day. Over the river, and through the wood when Grandmother sees us come, She will say, ‘o, dear, the children are here, bring a pie for every one.’ Over the river, and through the wood now Grandmother’s cap I spy! Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done? Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!”

Now to follow tradition my mother would send back to me a postcard letter with the directions to her house, which went like this: “Over the river and through the wood to Grandmother’s house you’ll come. We’ll be here with turkey for everyone. Follow the river, and go through the wood, past where the white horse stood. ‘Tis then you’ll know that you are close, empty prairie, empty prairie, house, house our house. See you soon.”

Now this all took place in the early and mid 1960’s. It is funny how vividly I can recall those times. I must be getting old cause I can remember the past better than what I did yesterday or where I put that something today or what did I come downstairs for. Yes definitely, I am getting old.

Yesterday I had a couple of visitors who were originally from here and now live in Neenah, Wisconsin. They read the Forest Republican articles about Wabeno and wondered how I got into writing this column. That always makes me suspicious cause maybe they don’t like the column. Scary! Apparently he saw the fright on my face cause he said they like them. Whew! Now we got to talking. Soon my little friend Lindsey who visits me, came in the door of the shop. “The cookies are ready to come out of the oven,” she said. We rushed in to remove the cookies from the oven, the back into the shop we came to introduce her to them. “I know your dad and grandpa,” he remarked as they were about to leave. “You tell your dad George H. was here. He would remember me.” Now Lindsey has a phenomenal memory so when we came into the house I said to her, “Lindsey what was that man’s name again?” She was busy eating one of the chocolate chip cookies we made. “I don’t remember,” she replied. “How come you don’t remember? How are you going to tell your dad who you met?” “Well, I was thinking about those chocolate chip cookies.” Now is that funny or what?

What a delight to have her bless our doorstep with those sage remarks.

What a great place this is. Here we are in Wabeno with no little ones in our family close by and what has blessed our house but neighbors children. Those neighbors I am positive don’t realize how much they have given to us by allowing us to share their kids. Only in Wabeno.

P. S. To all of you out there who are from Wabeno, George Hosineau told me that when he cuts his arm or anything he noticed his blood is purple. Anyone notice that? I know Lonnie bleeds purple too. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You can take yourself out of Wabeno but you can’t take Wabeno out you. It’s always in your heart.

Well gotta go for now. Don’t you just love this place? I do!

Any news or interest write to Betts Bodoh, P.O. Box 222, Wabeno, WI 54566, e-mail lobolu@centurytel.net, or call (715) 473-3808.

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