Bumming

(Lyndon 14)
Sometimes he would go on long trips with friends out West, bumming their way.  My father was always so worried.  But he always came back with lots to tell.  And no money.

Rapt happiness Rapt happiness

(Dogs 32)
We were riding home.  It was happening all over again  --  this rapt happiness in a new dog.  We were bringing home someone new, someone warm and cuddly, someone as yet a stranger but soon to be a memboer of the family.

A happy reunion

(Dogs 24)
On one occasion when we went to Ripon [for Homecoming] we took Vica with us, a lifeless hunk on the back seat.  But as soon as she got out and saw Skip, and smelled him, oh the difference!  How she came to life!  She ran in circles, her tongue nuzzling him -- what a happy reunion!

The search

(Dogs 15)
Grimly we bought a "Milaukee Journal" and found the ads.  About four places had German Shepherds.  We set out in our car.  What else?  --  I said, "Lorin, why are we doing this?"  Lorin said, "God knows."  One place we found sold out.  One had only a male left.  One place we never did find.  but at last we had one prospect to report, a female "with papers," parents winners in dog shows, priced right if taken soon.

Arrival from KC

(Dogs 6)
All four of us [Ruth and the Kays] went to the station to meet the train and get the dogs.  We let them out on the Court House Lawn and they ran around like crazy, never stopping, wild with joy, tumbling with freedom.  It was evening, and I was worried for fear they would in their delight tear into the street, but they knew the grass was safer, and soon we gathered them up and went off home with our pets.

Jennie

(Dogs 4)
At this time a friend of mine [Ruth Pilger] in Milwaukee had married a man from Kansas [Doyle], and his bitch, a Scottish Terrier, had just had a pretty nice litter of pups.  So we bought one of those and decided that when he send for Midge, one of her pups should make the train journey with her in her box.

Antigo

(1930 June)
We washed up and went out to eat.  I am sure we had the best to be had, as Lorin was fond of his food.  The town was bleak and bare, its shops closed for the night.  So we took a little walk, leisurely, enjoyed the pretty yards and flowerbeds.  Families sat on porches watching us, strangers.  I was afraid to say how tired I was and tried to be good company.

Hotel

(1930 June)
It was about supper time as we came to the next town, spotted the only hotel, and decided to spend the night.  Was it Antiack?  It may well have been [but probably was Antigo].  Hotels in the northern part of the state do not present a very grand appearance. This one was poor and bare.  If there were carpets, they had been there a long, long time.  We stood alone in the entrance, rang a bell on the desk, and waited.  A man came from the back, sleeves rolled up, surprised we wanted a room.  After we checked in, he carried our cases up.

Another flat

(1930 June)
"If you want to stop at any of these places, let me know," he said as we whisked swiftly past lakes and lodges.  "Hell," he said, "there goes another tire."  He stopped the car to take off the tire.  A young officer came along on his motorcycle.  "Why are you stopping in the road?" he asked sternly.  "Officer, what could I do?"  And Lorin put his hand through the hole in the tire.  "OK.  OK.  But get it off the road."  "Yes sir."  And we got underway once more, with a few crude remarks about how Vina kept her car.

First flat

(1930 June)
Somewhere on a country highway, the car started to bump.  Lorin smothered an oath, got out, took off his jacket, and remarked we had a flat.  It surprised me that he knew exactly what to do tho it wasn't his car, nor did he have one.  I was to find out as time went by he knew a great many things.  I have remarked his aversion to labor; this dislike showed plainly as he at last got the spare on and tossed the flat in the trunk.  "That's done," I said.  "Not quite.  We still have to get it fixed."

Honeymoon

(1930 June)
I am telling you, Lorin became a lawyer; after Ripon he went on to graduate from UW law school and married me.  After we were married in June on Flag Day [at Green Lake], we headed north in his stepmother's car, borrowed for the occasion.  Northern Wisconsin was our goal and the sooner the better, as both of us were dog tired.

Keep on trucking

(1980 memoirs)
To this day I get more of a real thrill from riding in a truck than in any posh car.  I have ridden in the electrician's truck, oil truck, furniture truck, mover's van, plumber's, -- oh, I don't know -- carpenter's, house painter's -- etc.

Bus ride

(1980 memoirs)
One night when I said I'd go to the movie with Marvin, he called for me with his hotel bus!  I got up [on the driver's seat] with a boost from him and was highly amused!  He sort of took it for granted, though.  We may have done this again, but after that I think his boss caught on and fired him.

Bus driver

(1980 memoirs)
Then there was a nice boy, very dark, black hair, acne complection, white teeth who lived at a Ripon Hotel and drove a bus to the trains regularly.  This was a bus with long bench seats that were fastened to the sides facing each other.  Marvin rode up high outside as if it were a coach with horses.

E as in Mice

(1980 memoirs)
Eleanor married Dick Lange and they ended up in California.  She died a few years ago and he sold their home and moved in an apartment.  He has since grown closer to his sisters and one year came in a van to see me and others in Wisconsin.  He was an electrician -- worked for big companies....

Floridy

(1980 memoirs)
Before leaving this wall [with a bookcase] I must say that under this bookcase were shelves which held other treasures.  One time a doctor had told Henry [Clapp] that "if he wanted to make a good recovery" from whatever it was he had, he had to go "to Floridy" where it was warm.  As it was not advisable for him to go off alone, sick, and Frankie was the only one not needed at home, it was decided she should accompany him.

Hot potato

(1990s memoirs)
When I went to 8th grade [in Green Lake], I walked about a mile and a half and had a hot potato in my black muff to keep my fingers from freezing.  Coming home I was called for by a chauffeur sometimes or walked too.  One time I walked to a pier where a covered launch picked us up and took us to school.

Preoccupied

(1990s memoirs)
One day Lorin got on a sreet car [in Milwaukee] with someone on the seat near the window; he was obliged to ride [a short distance] from office to court house.  Then looked up and saw he had been sitting all along with his Auntie Mabel.

Street cars

(1990s memoirs)
I often got on the street car in Milwaukee and rode to town, sometimes holding Skip if car was crowded.  ...  I could buy a street car ticket and ask for a transfer ticket, which I could use to change cars and go in a different direction.  One family could use the same ticket but was not supposed to do so, but we did not have our pictures on them.

Barter economy

(1992)
My Aunt Lois gave me a $10 gold pen in a case and on chain around my neck, and I gave it for my first ride in a plane for 10 minutes.  Maybe it was $5 for five minutes - whatever.  Lorin watched me, would not go up, and said he was glad I was safe on ground again, but I wished for a longer ride.  That was at the football field, I think.