My husband, Steve, has some great cousins and they, in turn, have great spouses and significant others. But, the one thing that has amazed me about my husband's family is that the information about the family is --as known in the PR business -- a progressive reveal. One layer at a time, one relationship at a time, one story at a time. It keeps things interesting.
So, on Saturday, six of us (Craig and Sharon, Ted and Judy and Steve and Jessie) piled into the SUV, heading off to meet shirt-tail, button-hole relatives in rural Wallace, Idaho. Cousin Craig is a magician. He moves buildings, as did his father. Now think about this. Raising a structure up off its foundation and actually carrying it on multiple wheels and beams to another location...all in tact. He's very good at it. Craig's reputation as a house mover is nationally known and we're always impressed with the national trade publications that highlight his projects.
So, here's Craig moving an early 20th century homestead, must have been 20 by 40 feet at the most, in the back woods (my term) of North Idaho. Craig, being Craig, is chatting with the owner and comes to find out that they know his button hole relations and we should all get together.
They say the world's population is just 6 clicks away from each other. Well, we found out that in many ways, this group of family members is one, two or three clicks away from each other, and this over a period of some 80 years.
Driving into the Panhandle of North Idaho, a slim finger of land, less than 80 miles across, between Washington and Montana, is like arriving in the land of Oz for me -- the kid from the plains of Nebraska. Steep mountains, tamarack pines going up to the sky and the clear and mysterious north fork of the Coeur d'Alene River babbling through it. Fishermen in their hip waders dotted the river at not infrequent intervals. Late season campers in tents and RVs still held out the hope of weather warm enough to not freeze the die-hard outdoorsman souls.
We were warmly greeted into the campgrounds of the Babin family, a place where, in warmer weather, year-to-year camp sites are coveted like season tickets to a winning college football team. (Go Huskers, Go Cougers). A huge outdoor structure welcomed us as warmly as the family who appeared from down the road and over the creek and near the store. A welcoming fire in the immense fireplace set the stage for the conversations and photo sharing that happened for the better part of that Saturday afternoon.
The family stories were, as are most, interesting only to the family involved, but it was amazing to witness the enthusiasm with which these stories are still told by the Babin and Catlow/Wuerst families and the ease with which we all were embraced by our new-found "button-hole" family.
The original family home still stands. Its proximity to the long-gone rail line is obscured by the lush growth of the mountains. And we were often reminded that the railroad was an important part of the history of this part of Idaho and an integral part of what happened in this family. Not uncommon in this part of the Inland Northwest, the fortunes and misfortunes were intimately linked to the freight and passengers who traversed this wild country.
So, a cadre of cousins shared a sunny fall Saturday afternoon and then we found the Snake Pit. More later.
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