Graber Olive House

Jill's Journal: These are clearly our little Vanna Whites, with the grand exception being that they’re holding olives/olive oil as opposed to the keys to a new car. Looking at this picture, is it any wonder a “talent scout” approached us this week about having Madelyn audition for a career on the big or little screen? She’s a ham.

The girls and I went on a lovely little factory tour of Graber Olive House in Ontario. The tour was very interesting and we certainly learned more about olives than we knew before, but I think the thing we’ll remember most is our sweet, tiny tour guide, Betty. She’d just turned 82 the day before we met her. When the girls told her we travel, she absolutely could not wrap her head around such a thing. She’d stop mid-sentence and say things like, “But what about school?” “But what about doctors?” “How do you cook?” And after we’d answer her, she’d say with genuine pity, “Oh, I feel so sorry for you.” Her couple-of-decades-younger co-workers would say things like, “Now Betty, people don’t camp anymore in those motorhomes. They’re very modern and have lots of space.” Betty would poo-poo them and fire off more questions. And then again, “Oh, I feel so sorry for you.” A moment’s pause and then she would start all over again. It was quite hilarious. But by the end, we’d heard some of her life story and all sorts of tales about her great-grandson, so she must have thought we were okay in spite of how strange she found us. Sweet, sarcastic, little Betty. She just lost her husband last month, has a handicapped daughter who lives with her, and misses her great-grandson terribly (he’s in Missouri), so if you ever stop by Graber Olive House, give her a hug. She might slap you, but she'll appreciate it nonetheless.

Betty kept calling this the “new barn,” although I believe she said it was built in the 1920s. Graber Olive House is the oldest existing business in Ontario and has been here since 1894. Spanish missionaries had planted the first olive trees in California in 1769 and the trees flourished. C.C. Graber bought this land in Ontario in the 1890s and quickly realized growing conditions could make olives a California delicacy. He was right: today, most of the olives consumed in the United States are grown in California. These days, Graber’s descendants and their employees still hand-pack each can of olives at Graber Olive House. This is a small family business and high school students come in after school during the late fall olive season to glue the labels on the cans. Betty estimates Graber Olive House turns out about 250,000 cans annually.

The original Graber of Graber Olive House invented this olive sorting machine and it’s still used today to sort olives by size. Graber was the first person to sort and sell olives by size.

These exact curing vats are “new” to the operation, having been installed in 1931.

Here’s where the cans get packed. Betty said they do it by hand to ensure quality. They’re quick; she said they can pack about 40 cans a minute.

This canning machine is another new addition; it came through the Panama Canal to get to Graber Olive House in the 1940s. Graber olives, by the way, are never pitted. They’re picked (hand-picked and gently placed into felt-lined buckets) only when they’re perfectly ripe, which makes them too tender to pit. (Olives can only be pitted when they’re green and hard).

Graber no longer grows the olives on site; they have a ranch in California’s central valley, where growing conditions are even more ideal, and truck their entire harvest to their headquarters here in Ontario to cure and pack. In this day and age, it’s so wonderful to find a family-owned business still thriving. We definitely enjoyed our short time at Graber Olive House, even if Betty does feel sorry for us.

The Guilt Factor

Jill's Journal: I feel guilty. My poor husband is overwhelmed by everything still on his plate before we leave town. And yet, there’s not a whole lot I can do to help him right now except keep the kids out of his hair.

So the girls and I have been having a lovely time (hence the guilt). We’ve done everything from the pool with the wonderful Heather to pony rides with the lovely Katy and crew. We’ve played in the great outdoors with the fantastic Colby and her girls before heat and hunger drove us all indoors for a nice lunch instead. We’ve spent a marvelous day in the country with the incredibly hospitable Mary and family. (Is there any town in Kentucky more charming than Wilmore? Seriously, even the utility poles, each one of them for 1 1/2 miles, have hanging flower baskets.) We even attended a fitness day at the Bluegrass Airport, where a brand new runway was opened to the public to walk, bike, skate, etc. for an afternoon and the girls got to enjoy sitting in a police helicopter and on a police motorcycle. We’ve tried the bumper cars at GattiTown, we’ve had a bonfire, we’ve had water fights with a hose. And the list goes on.

I’m trying to make the best of it because, trust me, we are all so stinkin’ eager to get on the road. To be so close and yet still be sitting here, 10 days or more after we thought we’d be gone, is frustrating. And while the girls are having a great time, I think even they are getting restless. Erika, our 6-year-old, said to me yesterday, “Mommy, it’s a house on wheels. Aren’t we supposed to go somewhere?”


Yes, dear girl, yes. We are indeed. We’re going to go on the ride of your young life, I promise. Be patient just a little while longer.

Settling In

Jill's Journal: Happily, we are settling into the fifth wheel nicely. The girls are enjoying their new space and love their bunk beds. The place is sparkling clean thanks to an insane amount of bleach and elbow grease. Everything is unpacked and in its place. And life is good!

Of course, we haven’t moved an inch yet since we have several things to wrap up this week in Lexington. But, with two very smooth nights and days of “camping” under our belts, we’re feeling pretty good about the future. And I must confess: we’re not really camping. Sure, space inside is at a premium. But with 1 1/2 bathrooms, a separate master bedroom, a four-bunk bedroom for the girls on the complete other end of the trailer, a decent-sized kitchen, a living room bigger than a New York studio, and even a washer and dryer ready to be installed, we could definitely have it a lot worse. It really is a “house on wheels,” as the girls call it.

The 36 hours before we officially moved in were filled with drama. The closing date on our house got pushed back for the fourth (or was it fifth?) time. We underestimated how much we had yet to do to finish moving out (doesn’t that always happen?). And some improper wiring leading to the RV blew out everything that was plugged in: our new refrigerator, microwave/convection oven, entertainment system, etc. Even little things like an alarm clock and drill were completely decimated.

But that was then and this is now. The good news is that we really did close on our house on Friday morning and managed to finish our move-out with minutes to spare! It was bittersweet to hand those keys over. It’s the only home all three of our little girls have ever known. Victoria was even born there, literally, so it will always hold a special place in our hearts.

More good news: although we do have to replace all those expensive appliances without ever having gotten a chance to use them, at least they can be replaced. It’s just time and money (and a few gray hairs). And if that’s the biggest hiccup we have on our journey, we’re doing just fine.

And one more blessing I have to mention: good friends. One of the hardest decisions we had to make was what to do with our cat, who has been a part of our family for 15 years and has seen other pets come and go. But my dear friend Roberta ended up making it easy for us. She willingly opened up her home and welcomed our old gray kitty on Friday. Roberta’s home is an earthly version of cat heaven…once our cat acclimates, I have a feeling she’ll wonder what kind of purgatory she was in with us for the last 15 years!

“House on Wheels”

Jill's Journal: On this Christmas Day, I’m struck by the fact that this is the last Christmas we might spend with extended family for a few years and certainly the last one we’ll have in our beloved little house. As sentimental as I am, I’m not sad about this. We have some beautiful memories and the anticipation of what the future holds. Can’t beat that.

Our girls have full knowledge of “the plan” and are excited. That’s a blessing in itself. Erika brought home the CUTEST thing ever from Kindergarten recently. For an assignment in her “writing workshop,” she drew a picture of an RV with the words, “I want to live in a house on wheels so I can see the world.”

Yes, I melted.

Lead Us Not into Temptation…

Jill's Journal: Rob’s been back for about 10 days now from his 5,000-mile journey to pick up our fifth wheel. It’s wonderful to have him home and wonderful to finally have seen our “house on wheels,” as the girls call it. It’s not fancy, but it’s perfect for us. It’s incredibly spacious when all four slide-outs are used and so full of cupboards and drawers that I’m not one bit worried about storage. In fact, if we were just using it as the average family does – for vacations or weekends – I would truly feel it is excessive! But we’re not; we’re going to live in this thing full-time and it feels just right. I love it. And the girls are enamored with it! They want to move in right now. So do I. SO DO I. Waiting another nine months to hit the road is going to be even harder with it just sitting out there, tempting me…