#52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks - Week 4: Close to Home
This week’s topic evokes memories of the Sunday drives of my childhood. Most today find it hard to imagine loading the family in the car and heading out for a drive just for the fun of it. But back then gas was cheap and Lord knows my Dad loved to drive.
During the week while Dad was at work, we walked or road the bus to get wherever we needed to go. Sunday drives were a treat. They provided a chance to see what lay beyond our neighborhood---and the promise of an ice cream cone or A&W Root Beer float.
Late Spring always brought a visit to Lincoln Memorial Park to lay flowers at the graves of Dad’s family: his mother Ida Maria (Westlund) Nielsen (1877-1950), his father George Nielsen (1869-1948), his brother George Martin Nielsen (1912-1944) and his aunt Emma Westlund (1877-1950).
Spring also meant a drive through Portland’s West Hills and a stop at the Rose Test Gardens where we’d wander through rows and rows of beautiful roses.
In early summer Dad would head west towards Happy Valley or Gresham where fields held a bounty of fresh strawberries, which Mom would can and make into jam.
On hot summer days Dad might head towards the Clackamas or Sandy rivers where the dense forests provided shade and a welcome coolness. With all the windows down to catch the breeze, my sister and I would ride with our hands out the window floating on air.
Late summer found us heading towards Mount Hood where huckleberries were ready to be picked. Oh how I loved the huckleberry pie and pancakes Mom made after one of those trips!
Occasionally Dad would head east from Portland along the old Columbia River Gorge Highway to Crown Point or Multnomah Falls. In the days before I-84, this narrow, winding two-lane road hugged the hillside providing spectacular views of the river and glimpses of beautiful waterfalls along the way.
A frequent drive would be to northeast Portland where Dad’s cousin Florence Marie Nielsen (1895-1984) lived on NE 66th. Her home was always a welcome stop. Sometimes we might call at Florence’s mother’s house, which was just around the corner from Dad’s childhood home on SE 43rd Street. Martha (nee Fossom) Nielsen Jensen (1875-1955), widow of Dad’s uncle John Peter Nielsen (1867-1898), lived there with her sister Mabel Lawrence (1886-1956).
Mostly Dad simply drove us around the city without seeming to have any specific destination in mind. Perhaps he’d head to the West Hills or Northeast Portland or the Reed College neighborhood where meandering residential roads took us past upscale homes. Perhaps he’d head south to Canby where we’d ride the ferry across the Willamette River. Or, perhaps we’d go to Laurelhurst Park where we’d stop and walk around.
If money wasn’t too tight, something more than ice cream might be in order. Mom and Dad eschewed chain restaurants preferring to patronize locally owned places instead. Favorites included Tad’s for its chicken and dumplings, Little Bit O’Sweden off Sandy Blvd., The Original Pancake House or the Crab House on Barbur Blvd., Sylvia’s or Yaw’s on Sandy Blvd, or the Canton Grill on 82nd.
It was different then. Life seemed to move at a slower pace. I miss those Sunday drives.
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