A Pink Kentucky Morning...

Ok... enough family for a bit, let's go back to traveling! This picture is one of few that I've taken on the road. It's been scanned, so it's not perfect, but it still shows one of the reasons I love to travel.

It's all so beautiful...

This was a pink Kentucky morning. I have never seen this quality of light where I live. I've often said, although I've never been to Europe, given the time and the money I would still do this country over and over. It's so ever changing and so incredibly wondrous. Every corner I turn is a new place... something I haven't seen before, or something I've never seen 'in that light'. I would have to get really tired of this country to want to go somewhere else... although... hmm..

There is, on any normal sized map of the United States, a place that includes parts of Tennessee, Kentucky, North Carolina and Virginia. If you put a circle in the middle of the place where those states meet, you will find some of the most beautiful country anywhere. The Great Smoky Mountains. Gatlinburg. Maggie Valley. Pigeon Forge. The Blue Ridge Parkway.. (sigh). Horse farm after Horse farm. Cumberland Gap...

I could go on and on...

and I will...

sooner than later...

Inch worm, Inch worm, Measuring the Marigolds...

This picture of my mother was painted by my grandmother... well, almost. I’ll explain in a minute.

This is what we called my mother’s ‘measuring look’. She put it on when she was skeptical, or askance, or just trying to figure out something. i love this look., and was so pleased to find it again when I was perusing the old pictures. The picture below was taken in 1941, at least 25 years before the painting, but ‘the look’ is there, clear as can be. The pictures in that section have the title "the morning after"... I have NO idea what that refers to, but clearly my mother is not the happiest camper on the block....



My grandmother was an artist. She didn’t start painting until she was in her late 50’s, and took to it like the proverbial duck. She started with water colors and progressed to other mediums, ending with oil painting. I have always thought that water color painting was the hardest, as it allows for so little error. The painting below was a closer example of her later work. I have it on a wall, and, while it is not my favorite, I do like the way she was heading when she stopped painting. My step grandfather didn’t like her working downstairs in the house in Oakland, so he made her quit. Nice guy...

This painting was done in one of her classes, and my mother was the model. My grandmother started the painting, but asked the instructor again and again for ‘help’ until he had done a great deal of the painting, as she hoped. My mother was apparently ‘taken’ with one of the other artists, and was trying to figure out just what she was trying to paint..... hence the ‘look’. I love that it was captured in oil forever....

Maui...

My sister took this on their trip to Maui..

I just figured it was time for a nice, peaceful sunset...

enjoy...

Sew Sew...

My mother and my brother, 1942... This is a hand colored picture, colored by my Mom. She did a lot of this, and occasionally did it for the local photography shop, which earned me a picture in their window when I was about a year old.... an infamous angel even then!

My mother could sew. I've mentioned this before, but it bears repeating, as she could REALLY sew. It was a way of saving money, but I think it gave her greater pleasure than that...

She was very talented. Her mother was an artist, something that I will address soon, as I've found a wonderful picture of my mother that was later replicated by my grandmother. My mother could paint, but I think she found more pleasure in the tactile art of sewing. Creating. Molding. She made outfits for my sister and I that matched, when we were younger, and sometimes they were similar, but not exactly the same. I have video of the grandchildren learning to sew by my mother's hand. As I think I've said before, my sister picked up this talent and is very good at it, but I was too impatient. It's the A. D. D, (grin). I CAN sew, but I refuse to baste and all that stuff, so my creations were ... well... not consistent.

but my mother could really sew..

I will include some more pictures as soon as I scan them, but I have this one ready... She made this suit for my brother...


Isn't he a cutie!

Teddy?... is that you?

This is my great grandfather... mother's side. I told you I had a picture of him where he resembled Teddy Roosevelt...

He was the father of the China boy, my grandfather. His father was a Captain in the 5th Massachusetts during the Civil war. He worked for Hedge and company, a firm about which I can find no information.

Ok.. I'm back. I know very little about my great grandfather. I know more, of course about his wife, the doctor. My grandfather wrote his life's story (the little braggart) but included very little about anyone except for himself. They moved a great deal, which seems to be a theme on both sides of the family except for my parents. I guess somebody has to settle down sometime. My great grandparents lived in Auburn Mass when they first returned from China, on the 'Coffin Estate".. I wonder if it's still there... Then several places in Boston, and Muncie Indiana (her family was there), New York City, Bayone New Jersey and Jacksonville Florida... where my father (no relation) was born, later.

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came

My Bonnie lies over the ocean...

My father's mother. This is a killer dress, and I'm putting it here for bonho! This picture was probably taken in Denver, when my grandparents and my father and aunt lived there, sometime about 1919?

My grandfather had TB, as we've discussed. One of the places they sent him to live was Denver... I'm supposing it was because of the dryness of the air, but I somehow think that would have been mitigated by the altitude... talk about thin air for poor lungs! My father had it in his back, and it was only due to this dogged determination of this woman that he was not a cripple. By the time I met my grandmother, she was old and quiet. Patient to a fault, she use to sit and french braid my hair. I can still feel her long nails parting each strand of hair. I loved having her braid my hair...

Before all that, though, she was the one person who kept my father from being a hunchback all of his life. For 6 years she oversaw the changing of body cast after body cast, and finally the fusing of his spine in his teens. He wore a brace most of his life. A lesser woman might have given in, too tired to cope with the constant needs and demands of so exhausting a task. My aunt suffered, I think, from the lack of attention, as she married poorly and her life was... well... sad.

but, because of this woman's patience, my father met my mother...

and the rest, as they say, is history...

Made for each other...

My father's parents. They were married in 1905. This is their wedding picture. As I've mentioned, it was a bit late for both of them... almost 30. They both lived in New York. Not the city, but in the Mount Vernon area. One of the things I love about this picture is - that is my brother's face on my grandfather... or vice versa. I also have a picture of someone who might be his grandfather, and my brother's eyes are in that picture. I love how family similarities show up in the strangest places (grin).

They moved to Jacksonville Florida, where my father was born in 1912. My grandfather contracted Tuberculosis. My father had spinal TB, as we've mentioned, and spent 6 years in body casts. My Aunt had weakened lungs... or that's what they called it. They both died in their early 70's.

Here is a picture of my grandmother,, my Aunt and my father. I absolutely LOVE the bow, not the first or last time she wore such a thing. She was proud of her hair and her clothes, as was my grandmother, all her life. Dressed to the nines, both of them, whenever possible. I never saw either one of them in a pair of pants. My grandfather was never hale and hearty. He had a heart attack in the early 50's, but he was 75 at a the time. He died in 1963. She died in 1972. He was a gentleman, and she was his lady love.

This picture was taken on December 7, 1941... before the fit hit the shan, as they say. It was early on a Sunday, and the word had not reached this coast (or was not heard by them). My brother is the child with my father. My grandparents were old when I was born. I have no memory of them except as old. My grandmother was patient and sweet, and my grandfather was the greatest listener in the world.

They didn't belong in the 20th century. They were of another time....

First Love....

My first love...

Having said that, let me qualify it just a bit without tarnishing it. He was not the first boy I loved or had a crush on. He was not the first boy who set my heart a flutter, but he was the first with whom I had a relationship... my first... well, you know... and...

he played a banjo..

and a guitar...

he made music.

I was lost from the start.

I'm delving into this topic today because I heard from him last week. I found him on the internet about 10 years ago and we exchanged e-mails at that time, but he mostly sent those stoopid joke e-mails that I so hate... having no real discussions to sustain us, we drifted apart again.

But he called last week. He doesn't sound well. He's not well. I won't go into his infirmities, but life has been a lot harder on him than me. I told him it was his fault for going back to MIT and leaving me in Los Angeles (grin). It was a good call in 1963, although it hurt like hell. He went back to school and got his next girlfriend pregnant, something over which I had total control at the time... apparently, she didn't.. or lied to him and then got pregnant. Doesn't matter. He has been married 3 times, and if we had gotten together it would have been 4... four sure... (!). He is happily married now, although he sounded wistful.

We met... hell, I don't remember... but it was the heyday of folk groups, and we joined with a neighbor and tried out with some big folk promoter. Didn't work... I would have said we probably weren't charismatic enough, looking back on it. We could all sing, but, knowing what I know now about the "it" factor in music, I'm sure we didn't have it... "it" that is...

We had that first experience kind of romance. We did silly things and said silly things and behaved badly around people we didn't know. I don't think I've had that kind of relationship since... not that giddy girl thing. It was heady stuff... a girl could get used to that kind of stuff.

He was out here to study at UCLA for the year and then he went home. I thought for a while he might come back, but then, miraculously, they opened a taco stand in Boston, and I knew I'd lost him forever. Mexican food and I might have called him back, but I lost the edge...

to a taco stand..

in Boston!

go figure...

My Father Loved Cars...

This is a picture of my mother and my brother... He was almost a year old, and could already drive... or not, I don't remember, I wasn't there.

My father loved cars. Now that may be the only understatement I make on these little missives... My father LOVED cars. His only 'extravagance' in life was to have new cars whenever he could. As he grew more successful, the cars were better. He was, at his essence, a salesman. He knew that part of what he was selling was himself... Hell, it was most of what he sold. He had new cars often. He reasoned that the more successful he looked, the more successful he would be.

and he was right...

As he got older, the cars became Cadillacs. I don't know if he loved them as much as this red delight, but he still worked on them whenever he could, and washed them himself even when he could afford to have it done by someone else. That's how I met Steve McQueen, but that's another story for another time. He kept every part he removed from an automobile jussst in case he might need to... I don't know, put it BACK sometime? I have no idea. He was a child of the depression, and never forgot.

When my father semi-retired, he bought a porsche. He finally decided that he didn't have to make an impression on anyone anymore. All for him... He didn't fit in it very well, it was low down and small, and he was not flexible, but he loved it. He had to get rid of it because my mother couldn't drive it, and there were times when she might have to, so he got a Datsun 280ZXGL... he called it his 'old people's car'.

I just called my sister to ask her what kind of Datsun my father had, as cars have never been my thing. I've driven a van since 1976, when I swiped my dad's OLD delivery truck. It was a 1969 Ford, and I kept it running and traveling until 1985. Not a bad feat, but certainly not conducive to harboring a love for vehicles... My current van is the 6th or 7th vehicle I've ever had.. in more than 45 years of driving. The last two lasted a total of 32 years. Anyway, my sister started on all the cars my father owned. All of them... years, colors, models.. things of which I have NO memory. I especially don't remember any bi colored vehicles...

Where was I at the time?

it really must be all about me...

Lulu, Little Lulu, with Freckles on her chin...

This is my Aunt Lulu. I don't remember ever meeting her, but here she is little as life... I found this among the family pictures. She was my father's mother's sister... Phew, that's a mouthful. No wonder they invented the word Aunt.

I don't know when this was taken... my grandmother was born in 1877, and little Lulu was either her older or younger sister. I'm thinking younger, as I seem to recall that my grandmother was the last (shockingly) to be married. She was nearly 30 when she married, which was old in the early 1900's.

I'll have to tell you more about that side of the family...

sometime soon...

No Dogs on the Furniture!... riiight...

I’ve spent so much time on my kitty that I have neglected another member of this family... my sister’s dog, Casey.

Our family has a history of golden retrievers. My sister got her first when she and her husband were in Hawaii. Bob was flying in and out of Vietnam, and my sister needed company and protection (riiight... ). Along came Saffron (does the name tell you to what generation my sister belongs?... I thought so...). Saffron was a very smart dog, and my sister a very patient teacher, so Saff knew lots of tricks. She lived a long time and was joined back here by Rory, a deep red colored sweetie. Rory was .. well... dim, and had a very Eeyore personality. At Christmas, Saff knew what present was hers, and to not open it before she was told. Rory never could open his, but developed a sort of , “Oh well, probably wasn’t for me anyway’ attitude.

Their next puppy was Maggie... maybe the sweetest golden ever. My nephew was her ‘boy’ and she raised him as well as she could. Watching them play together was a great joy.

In the meantime, my mother and father became the recipients of one of Rory’s puppies... Katie. There’s a picture on one of Dad’s blogs of him with Katie at his side when she was no bigger than a minute. We knew that the dog would be around when my father wasn’t, and she was such a great companion for Mom. After Katie died, my poor Mother had 3 goldens that had terrible problems... rescue dogs. They lasted an average of about 8 months. Our only consolation was to tell Mom that they couldn’t have had a better place to spend their last months than at her side.

My sister now has Casey, who is a lot older than these pictures... I put them in because I just love them...

Open Wide...

Even though this picture is in black and white, it's more modern than some of mine. This is my niece and my nephew. She's engaged now and all grown up, and he's in college, studying whatever nonsense they're teaching nowadays.

I love this picture... we all do this, this modeling. My niece is doing it instinctively with him, showing him exactly what she wants him to do. It's an excellent teaching tool. I use it with Mom now and again, to illustrate or demonstrate what I need for her to do...

... take your place on the great Mandala...

On Her Hunnymoon...

I spent some time today cleaning out some folders on my desktop, and ran across this picture. It was taken the same time as the honeymoon picture of my Mom and Dad. There's something in my mother's smile that enchants. She was 18... so young and so happy. I love the outfit, again, the little boxy blouse and long full pants... well, maybe not long on my mother, but they made her look taller than she really was. She wrote a letter to her parents, who, after putting her in the boarding school, were living in Mobile... the boarding school was in California. You do the math.... Maybe that was part of how special my father made her feel. She had scholarships to several schools, but chose UCLA so she could be close to my father. She wrote a letter to her parents, probably emboldened the maturity his love and esteem provided, that TOLD them she was leaving school because she 'couldn't concentrate' and just wanted to be with Dad all the time.

It shows in this picture...

and, just another little fashion plate... ME! and my brother, with Henry... our chicken during the war. Another long story I'll tell someday... My mother made this coat and hat. The collar and trim were cut from a piece of Otter pelt that my grandfather brought back from Alaska in the 1920's. I think... the story was he traded chewing gum for the pelt. I don't doubt it, he was a man who loved a bargain. Yes.. I know... OTTER... sigh... it was beautiful though, and I still have the pieces of fur. They feel as soft and warm as they must have almost 90 years ago. I don't agree with wearing fur, but....

I totally get it...

Lady of the Lake...

This is 'my' lake in Oregon. The area in which I wish to live is the in the right of the picture, towards the bottom in the trees... there are tiny houses there. Well, actually, some of them are not so tiny, as Californians by the hordes are moving to Oregon and, when they actually come to rest somewhere, they build massive houses so they don’t really feel they’ve left their old city at all... I'll take any size house I can get...

sigh..

Just a peaceful picture for today...

I have to go and sort out some pictures to add to my blog folder so I have something to talk about to keep you all entertained!

In the meantime...

rest by my lake for a while...