June 25: Celebrate

The last week in June is a big one for celebrations like last night's send off for high school graduates filled with all the mixed emotions of joy, pride, and realization of the potential of a new chapter that began as they flipped their tassels. Those celebrating will not remember the words of any of the speeches, but they will remember how they felt nervous and happy and unsure and excited by the future as they celebrated. I focused, as best as I could, on that joyous celebration while acknowledging the potential for our world standing on those risers! 

My mind did wander, at one point to a similar late June evening, just three years ago when the graduate's sister stood on those same risers and to that time years ago when my daughter graduated from high school in a similar ceremony where friends also gathered to celebrate their stories that were really just beginning. I also remembered watching the graduate's mother celebrate her high school graduation and remembered the illicit while sandals I wore to my own, long ago, while acknowledging the Lion King, Circle of Life moment! 

Celebrate 

The chapters

Along the journey.

June 24: I Barely Knew Them

I'm plowing through old photographs this month and realize there are some relatives I barely knew.

Like my Dad's oldest sibling, Uncle Phil (Philip) who had already left the farm for Northwestern University before my father was born. He worked as an engineer for  NYC Transit and lived in a small brick house with his wife, Aunt Nettie. They had no children, but shared their narrow home in Brooklyn with a disabled niece. I think we visited twice and remember the smell of his cigar filled the house and made me feel sick. They shared boxes of chocolate candies wrapped in foil. When I was in high school, he spent several months before he died in a NYC hospital ward. My mother asked me to write a note to put in a card to send each day. After he passed, someone found a note gifting me with his black, side-mirror-less, rear-mirror-less, and radio-less 1954 Ford sedan. I had just gotten my license and part of me felt like the luckiest person in the world as I decorated it with big flower stickers as if I was a real hippy. Even then, I knew I really did nothing to deserve that gift. 

Like my Dad's second oldest sibling, Uncle George who had also left for the Army (I think) before that last child arrived. He married Aunt Madelyn and settled in his hometown working in the infamous NY State prison of Sing Sing. I remember going to their very modern (to me) ranch home one time, but I was young and have no idea why we were there! They had one child, my cousin Sheila, and spent their retirement playing golf and raising her children in Florida. Through stories, I know my uncle thrived for many years after much of his intestine was removed and outlived two pacemakers! After my son was born, I found my son's given name was Uncle George's middle name. Coincidentally, they were gifts from God.                                                                        Uncle George, Sheila Jimmy and baby

SOL26: June 23: Semi-quincentennial

 

I'm sharing with the Slice of Life Community today. Lately, news of the Reflecting Pool has me remembering the 200th Birthday celebration,

In the days after dinosaurs roamed and before cell phones, I lived just over the Potomac when our nation was celebrating its 200th birthday. (I realize writing this confirms any doubt that I am aged to perfection!) 

We left our car parked along a side street somewhere in Virginia and walked, I think, over the bridge to visit hoards of food, craft, and trinket vendors who were hawking their wares along the Reflecting Pool. I must admit I never noticed if it was clean or dirty, but I remember the reflection of the Washington Monument was perfectly centered in the enormous pond. 

As the sun prepared to set that day, there was music.  Perhaps it was a band, but maybe it was piped over loudspeakers. The nation was, at that moment, in a peaceful state of affairs after the decade of Vietnam and the Watergate Scandal. While the economy was struggling and there were few jobs to be had, I think we were optimistic. (Perhaps that was young love?) We watched the fireworks at Lincoln's feet filled and walked home. 

I wish I wanted to go back and visit for the semi-quincentennial. 

June 23: Changing Directions

 When I started this month-long-journey through a box of photos from family, I thought I would quickly scan and toss. I started remembering people and places, while reaching sad dead-ends when I could not identify so many leaves from my family tree. I am now sure that even in this AI infused information age, if we do not write down our stories, they will be lost! 

These are my Mother's people and her words are as important as the images. I did have to use Google to determine that Guilford 1916 (upper image) was likely the seaside town of Guilford, Conn. It is the Quick family and the tall young man in the back would become my Grandfather. I'm left to wonder what this struggling family was doing all dressed up so far from their rural NYS farm? A wedding? A funeral? A vacation seems unlikely?

Thankfully, the lower photo is labeled Grandma (Great-Grandma to me), Grandpa (Great to me), Aunt Evie, Uncle Sam, and Uncle Percy. I never knew any of them, but I do know that Percy was an early lineman for the local electric company, Central Hudson. When my daughter was doing a summer internship there, she learned from a wall honoring him that he had invented safety protector used long ago at the top of electric poles!

On the back of the page in perfect script, my mother wrote, "1912, Margaretsville," which would indicate my maternal Grandmother's hometown. Here's where it gets squirrely. My mother writes, "(her) Grandma, Grandma Patten and Dominic?" I think this might be my grandmother's half brother but all this is sending me down the genealogy rabbit hole, where all this is headed. There is no way this project is going to be done in a month! Sigh. 

J

June 22: Call of the Sea

This month, I am capturing old photos that are important in sustaining the memories of people who have shaped the complex image of family in a way that combines both images and stories.

It was a wonderful long weekend in Vero Beach, where they had already established a retirement community and an enviable circle of support. It had been bitter cold back in NY, but shorts and tee-shirts were THE garb there! Over dinner, there were tales of relentless golf matches and planning for an upcoming Valentine's Day Party. They celebrated every event because they all matter. 

The smell of the sea and signs for seafood were everywhere and yet it was the familiar pull of family that filled the weekend with joy. I had seen pictures and I had heard tales of their place at the sea, but I had no idea they spent the entire weekend on the edge of the sea where the rhythm and healing power of the waves were steps away. I ventured into the sea even if it was February as they watched!  

It was my only trip to their Place at the Sea as Barbara would be taken by a horrid strain of the flu not long after. Yet, Vincent has continued to hear the Call of the Sea and find retirement love and warmth in the warm breezes and salty air. While I never made it back, I still can hear the Call of the Sea and I've carried the reminder that every birthday and significant matters and deserves its moment to shine.

June 22: Saving Memories

Today's Ethical ELA Host, Leilya, has the most wonderful bionic line as it says she "lives in Ponchatoula, LA, a small town celebrated for its strawberries." Today's prompt asks us to write a poem about a souvenir, whether it is real or imagined. It may be something you bought, something you remember, something emotional or invisible, or something unexpectedly small but meaningful.

Pink sands of Jobson's Cove, 

Gale force winds of the Cliffs of Mohr, 

Innumerable Limone di Siracusa, 

Drenching and deafening Gullfoss,

Endless switchbacks of Bright Angel Trail,

Beside memories of the Ionian Sea,

Powerful reminders.

Yes, that one picture could use to be straightened!

June 20: Ethical ELA: Just a Dream

 

Today's Ethic ELA asks us to write a poem about your perfect getaway or escape. It may be real or imagined, near or far away, luxurious or wonderfully simple. It may be a place from memory, hope, or longing. My space is just a dream, fashioned from memories of finding peace and happiness at the sea.  They arrive with smiles, knapsacks, Stepping out of busy lives,  Returning from beyond, Grabbing coffee, sitting briefly Before the sea calls to them, too. Returning sun-kissed, windblown Momentarily carefree, to share On the porch after sunset,  Over tea, in the swing, On indefinite walks, at sunrise, Over elaborate sandcastles On a rainy night, sunny morning, Momentarily sharing my dream Returning to the salty memories, life Before pressures, busy live, sweet memories Grabbing a towel for one last dip before Returning to share memories, dreams Stepping slowly, back to the sea They leave my dream.

June 20: To Tony From Kitty

This one was crumpled and torn, I honestly wasn't sure who it was or when it was taken. Was this at a train station where a really confident young woman was waiting? Her smile seems to say, "I know what I am doing!" 

I love her dress which suggests a late 1920's time frame (I think). I stared at the photo, like several I uncovered this week, and realized the love letter on the back told me this photo was a "selfie" type photo from a young women, smitten with a young man. She likely had someone take it for her in order to give it to her beau, Tony!  

I am enthralled by her choice of the word "from," perhaps because the word "love" had yet to be uttered in describing their relationship! 

Kitty lived and worked in Brooklyn and He lived in the far-away borough of the Bronx! In time they would marry and become parents of three; she would become my other mother.

The look of young love

Eager, hopeful, excited

Has not changed a bit

 

June 19: That Safety Bucket

A long time ago, back when car seats were mandated in NYS but not nationwide, we were gifted the "latest and safest" infant car seat by a Car and Driver neighbor/reporter who was reviewing this giant bucket! It was bulky by today's standards and there was no way anyone was taking this monster out of a car to run into a store! I smile thinking of those new, car seats that turn into strollers with a click and would fit inside this big-old-thing!

Yet, it seemed safe and it seemed to offer a newborn side to side protection. To be honest, it barely fit in my compact Dasher with the other car seat for the toddler sister! But, the state-of-the-art 3-point harness did seem to be a positive change and so I shoved my baby into it until that harness no longer fit! 

I decided to share the picture as a reminder that I really did try to be safe and follow guidelines even if I did put my babies to bed on their bellies and I did have bumpers on their cribs until they took them apart to escape! The little one in the bucket was a master at escaping, but I did try to keep him safe!  That is another story!

 

June 18: Hunger

 

Deep in the Depression, my Grandfather, Gerow, built this playhouse in the yard. It immediately became a special place for his children as well as the neighbors!

I wonder if this was a time when there was little work for a welder and jack-of-all trades who could fix almost anything in spite of limited education ? I wonder if he was bored of if he always had a plan to sell it? 

As the story goes, for a few magical months, Natalie, about 5, Lucille, about 10, and Mary Etta, about 15 created a lifetime of memories there. As my mother who was too young to grasp the hunger and poverty of the day told the story many years later, they all were heartbroken when the little house was sold. 

As I reflect on the story, I suspect there is a whole lot more to the story! I suspect the  building and selling was about hunger. Those were hard times and clearly, my Grandfather in the background, was much thinner than in later years when I knew him! There was not always enough food is the one thing they all agreed upon.

I'm also grateful my mother wrote under the picture, "Don't I feel proud of my playhouse, 1936!" 

Hunger

Parents do hard things

To put food on the table 

Quiet the rumbling