Scrapblog now has at least two readers

You aren't posting, but you're reading. Today two more cousins -- Jane and Chris -- acknowledged the scrapblog as a fine thing. Jane said she "loved" it. Chris dubbed it "very solid." Solid! That's certainly what we aim for in a scrapblog, though solidity is not easy in a virtual scrapbook. Still, we're sure Chris meant well, and will actually look at the blog as soon as he can take a break from the hard work of harassing that nice man Sid. The scrapblog editor understands that the cousins, aunts and uncles are too shy to post, or perhaps they just plan to have their attorneys subpoena the scrapblog editor directly. Still, you-all should know that those who acknowledge that the scrapblog is tres fab get their photos in it pronto (conversely, those who acknowledge it by threatening to sue get their photos taken OUT of it pronto). Here is a very nice snapshot of Jane and Chris, circa December 1999. Jane looks lovely as always. Chris looks like the love-child of Bert Blyleven and Leon Trotski: "Oh [bleep], are we on the air! And what's that in that disembodied hand? An icepick?"

Why we are the way we are today

One need only consider the previous generation to discover why we middle-aged cousins are less than serious about many things. In this eye-opening 1974 photo, which appears to have been taken by Diane Arbus, Alverna, Ed, Kate, Mavis and Elmer (the latter two in natty matching leisure suits) compromise their dignity with ELTON glasses Chris had brought back from a St. Paul concert by the glam king. It was the year of Elton John (aren't they all?), and the strains of "Funeral for a Friend" and "Saturday Night's Alright for Fightin'" often interrupted Pam's calculus study and beading discipline.

Four on the farm

You can get a good sense of how big the Spricks' farmhouse in the countryside outside Lake City, Minn., was in this undated photo. Note the pump just off the porch. No matter how bleak the scene, the Sprick women -- Annette, Kate, Florence and Grandma Sprick, in this case -- always wore dresses. Not long after this photo was taken, the Depression got the best of the farm, and it was auctioned off.

Almost family

Laurie Hertzel, the Star Tribune's writing coach and famous published author, is almost family. In fact, she goes way back with the Millers. Here she is at a Newspaper Guild picnic in 1988, holding little Zachary. (This photo was taken by Darren Carroll, another old friend with Duluth roots.) Laurie taught Pam to make a blog, so if you have complaints, subpoena her directly.

Alle augen

For those of you who forgot Grandma Sprick's prayer, here it is in needlework as it was set up against Grandma's funeral flowers when she died at age 99 in 1986. It means: "The eyes of all wait upon thee; and thou givest them their meat in due season. Thou openest thy hand and satisfiest the desire of every living thing." As you all know, that's Psalms 145:15-16. Cousins? You didn't know? Grandma is looking at you! Mom once told me that just before Grandma died peacefully in the armchair at our house in Old Frontenac, she looked startled and said, "Oh, I forgot -- " and was dead. What do you suppose she forgot?

A summer's day in the 1950s in Lake City, Minn.

Greetings, cousins, aunts, uncles and Sprick groupies. The scrapblog editor knows you're out there, because she's hearing from you. Uncle Joe has sent polite corrections on dates (the scrapbook editor had written that the U.S. centennial was in 1874 -- good enough error for a Burnt Wienie nomination, Uncle J.?), and cousins Leah, Sandy and Sam have written to say they like it. So far, no one has sued, but stay tuned. After a day spent trailing some young Mormon missionaries for a Star Tribune story (the life of a religion reporter is never dull), the scrapblog editor came home with a Mormon yen -- to do some genealogy. Nope, not in order to do postmortem baptisms, but just to see what we can find in the deep, slightly musty boxes of family photos rescued from Alverna's garage in Lake City, Minn. Here's one we found -- a few of our female forebears on a day of leisure in the early 1950s. That's Marion, Florence and Patty-Lou, Grandma Sprick, Emma, Vi and Adelaide, with Annette peeking over Flo's head. The photos was apparently taken outside Grandma's old house in Lake City. They're so glamorous and dressed up; must not have been a fish-cleaning day.

A bright moment in a dark year

What a wretched year 1938 was worldwide -- thank God our Sprick and Augustine relatives had the good sense to get out of Deutschland in the 1800s, before things got really horrific. Here's a bright moment in that year out near Theilman, in Wabasha County in southeastern Minnesota. These are our beloved aunt and uncle Annetta Sprick and Harter Kulseth. These true soulmates would be married two years later, right smack in the middle of the 1940 Armistice Day blizzard. Look how happy they are! And look at that car! Hey! What happened to that car? Shouldn't one of us have inherited it? Who's hiding it in their garage?

Back, back in time, further than we 've ever gone

Here's a real old photo I found in the bottom of a box in Mom's garage. In the scribble on the back, I can make out the names of at least three forebears -- Grandma Sprick, standing at left, baby Emma at far left, and toddler Annetta, at far right with the jaunty bow. That's probably Grandma's beloved stepmom in the chair. Can't make out the other names, though one appears to be "O'Brien." Where's Alverna when we need her? She'd know who these folks are. Anna would too. We need to get Anna online. Interesting P.S. on this one: Notice the lawn. One gathers that in those days, people didn't mow their lawns, at least farm yards (nor did they use noxious chemicals on them). Lord knows they had enough else to do. Can you imagine washing clothes for 12 kids? The online scrapbook editor can't even keep up with one teenager's laundry.

Three little Spricks

The year is 1923, the place, according to the back of this old photo, "Home on South Sixth Street in Lake City." The cute moppet-heads are Anna, Marion and Clarence Sprick. Marion looks a lot like her grandson, Nick B., did at this age.

Life on the farm

Life on the farm was fun, Mom used to tell us, fondly reciting stories like the one about the time she and some siblings were strolling through the cornrows and had to run for their lives from a skunk. Those were the days! Here's a photo of the farm kids having fun. That's Florence, Kate and Alverna on the one swing, and Lloyd Eggenberger, Elmer and Lloyd Baker on the other. No date on this photo, but early 1930s would be a good bet.

Happy Birthday to Aunt Florence!

Aunt Florence, who remains lovely, turned 81 on Jan. 20. Happy Birthday to her! Here she is in December 1964 with her children, cousins Patty-Lou, JoAnne and Karl.

What makes a family?

Pam's nieces, the princessas E. and H., welcome you to our family scrapbook! E. is 3 and H. is 13 going on 18, as her dad likes to say. Many members of the Sprick and Miller families are adopted, but frankly, after a week or two, no one remembers which ones. A real family is more than genetics. It's love and a home.

The shocking truth about the cousins

In the 1970s and 1980s, here is how the cousins looked. Is this proof we're getting old, or what? In the top photo, the usually mild-mannered Sammy appears to be about ready to deck Chris with a shovel. While one can think of many reasons why one would have wanted to whack the 15-year-old Chris with a shovel (at the time we were planting 500 little spruces and Chris maybe wasn't doing his share), one strong possibility was that Sam just couldn't take those striped pants anymore.

Uncle Ed

Uncle Ed (Edward Henry Sprick, Oct. 28, 1910-Jan. 20, 1985) of Lake City, Minn.) has been dead for more than 20 years. But nobody who knew him will ever forget him. He was a gritty, gravely-voiced, tough, kind man who knew the land and the human soul like the back of his weathered hands. He was full of shrapnel and wisdom. He had no children, but all of his nieces and nephews are his children.

Future slot editors at major metro daily

Early in their reading careers, Pam and Chris put on facial expressions that would be eerily echoed years later when they would work as copy desk slots on a major Midwestern metropolitan daily. Is Chris reading raw Sid?

The grandmother of us all

Maria Augustine (Augustin in some old records) Sprick, grandmother of Pam, Chris, Cathy and their cousins. Remember the bread she used to bake? And the way she'd always say, "Oh, that way," when she fully took something in? Grandma lived to be almost 100, and stayed sharp till the end. She used to say sadly of her friends who were still alive but maybe not fully cognizant, "He [or she] is dead, but he [or she] hasn't laid down yet." She spoke English with a little German syntax, as in, "Throw the cow over the fence some hay." The German words she most loved and that we remember her best for are, "Alle Augen warten..." All you cousins out there better remember that prayer, or we're going to have to have a little talk.

Cousin Sarah, then and now

Cousin Sarah B. with Aunt Anna this past Christmas (2006), and in September 1965, when she was a year old. When Sarah is happy, as she was at the Christmas celebration, she says, "Mmmmmm....happy! Sarah is happy!" It makes everyone else happy to hear it.

Noah and his grandmother

Noah with his grandma in 1994 and 1990. They had lots in common: curly hair, pride and stubbornness, and liberal ideals. In the first photo, she is teaching Noah to fly. In the second, she is probably telling him one of her great jokes about George Bush (the first one, who was president then).

Our grandfather, Claus Sprick

Most of us never met Claus Sprick (10/13/1874-11/24/1942), our grandfather, who died long before we were born. He had a very hard life, and it shows in his face. On July 4, 1876, the U.S. centennial, Claus, just 1 year old, arrived with his family in New York harbor from Germany. Wonder if they thought the fireworks were to welcome them?

Five aunts

It was 1954, and sisters Florence, Emma, Alverna, Annette and Marion were all dressed up for a family reunion. The online scrapbook editor is going to make a wild guess that this photo was taken in the basement of Adelaide and Norm's house in Oak Center, Minn. Note to anonymous photographer: If you're photographing five glamorous women, DON'T STAND THEM NEXT TO A BOILER!

A timeless beauty

Aunt Anna, now 86, has always been a beauty. Anna is a Navy veteran and was the best first-grade teacher Red Wing, Minn., ever had. She can be counted on to head down into the basement with her purse not just for tornado warnings, but for watches. (Answer to "Where's Anna?" question on the 8/03/08 posting: In her 1934 confirmation posting, Anna is the cute girl second from left on the bottom row.)

Noah and his friends

What are Noah and his friends doing in this photo? I do not know.

A very good papa

On the day cousin Chris turned 49, little E. had a double ear infection. She took some comfort sitting on her dad's lap.

Cousins, April 1967

You people know who you are.

A wonderful uncle and aunt

Uncles and aunts become especially priceless after your parents have passed away. Here are Uncle Elmer (Joe) and Aunt Mavis Sprick. They are beautiful and wise. And both of them look like movie stars!

The three graces

Two friends who are almost family to Pam, Totos and Colleen Stoxen. Here, we might have been drinking a little vino. It is hard to say.

Chats and her children

Tthe Reverend Doctor Barrister Cousin Chats, who went to Hamline, Georgetown Law School and Princeton while her two older siblings were still memorizing addition tables, has accomplished many things in her life. But she's most proud of rescuing two pit bull-Lab mixes from horrible people who had tortured them. She and her wonderful husband, Michael, gave them the best home on Earth. Here she is with the lucky puppers, Trixie and Knoxie. Trixie is blind in one eye, and if you gaze closely into her sightless orb, you can see your future.

The woodsmen

Cousin Dan is a great woodsman, and has passed that on to his sons, M. and N. Here they are by a tipi frame they built by their cabin in Old Frontenac, Minn. They also built this two-story treehouse. The online scrapbook editor had an Aunt Anna moment when they all climbed up there: "Oh dear! Be careful! Don't fall!"

Three treasures

Here are the scrapblog editor's wonderful nieces: Countessa M. with Little Princessa E., and Princessa H., who was born to communicate. Aren't they beautiful and radiant?

Are you a true Sprick? Take this test!

Here's a simple test to determine if you're a true Sprick, of the Claus-and-Maria Augustin brood. Can you identify all of the people in these photos? The first one is from the 1930s, the second from 1958.

Alverna and Bill Miller

There's plenty the scrapblog editor could say about her parents, Alverna and Bill Miller, but for now, it'll suffice to say they were wonderful parents and are deeply missed. Mom died last year (April 24, 2006) in a car accident, and Dad died on March 1, 1996, of malignant melanoma. They are still very alive to their children and grandchildren. A couple of pretty poems in honor of them: MUSIC I HEARD Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread; Now that I am without you, all is desolate; All that was once so beautiful is dead. Your hands once touched this table and this silver, And I have seen your fingers hold this glass. These things do not remember you, beloved, And yet your touch upon them will not pass. For it was in my heart that you moved among them, And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes; And in my heart they will remember always, -They knew you once, O beautiful and wise. -- Conrad Aiken THE DEAD The dead are always looking down on us, they say, while we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich, they are looking down through the glass-bottom boats of heaven as they row themselves slowly through eternity. They watch the tops of our heads moving below on earth, and when we lie down in a field or on a couch, drugged perhaps by the hum of warm afternoon, they think we are looking back at them, which makes them lift their oars and fall silent and wait, like parents, for us to close our eyes. -- Billy Collins