A Place for Family Treasures

SUMMARY: Books. Dogs. Bookends. To start with, anyway.

6:00 PM October 2, 2021. How can it possibly be getting dark this early already?

I'm typing away at the computer on my desk, trying to concentrate. But there's a niggling something at the edge of my consciousness. And finally I look off to the right of my bright, large monitor into the gloaming, and...

… something is staring at me with horrific wide white eyes from the shadows in the bookcase across this darkening room.

See it there on the top shelf, leaning against the little dark blue books? (Below the boxes, to the right of the vacuum handle?)

Let’s take a closer look, since the phone zoom is worthless.

Holy wow! Those aren’t his big buggy eyes!

They are his mustaches! Old friend of a friend.

He is nestling up to a collection of poetry in a set of books belonging to my great grandmother originally (My dad’s mom’s mom). 

Who is Betty?  Might be my grandmother, but no one called her that in my lifetime.
My great-grandmother?
Who is Glossie (seems vaguely familiar?) ?
Time to call on my Sisterclan hivemind! 
So I don't have to actually do the research myself.

And apparently my grandmother and her sister Hap were more or less bitterly divided about the fact that grandma inherited the books and Hap didn’t. (I don’t know: when I knew them, they were good friends and bought houses in Arizona in the same retirement town even though they were both from back east.) 

I was not the only sister who wanted them, but whatever negotiations we did, I brought them home. And have I opened them since I brought them home? I have no idea, but I like having them where I can see them easily. I do think about their growing fragility. The pages still cling tightly, but the spines are sketchy. I handle them with loving care when I touch them. We can keep aging, together.

They always held a prominent place of honor in my parents' living room. Dad had a set of bookends, wood, one of which was a large R and one of which was a large L. Those always… yes, bookended… those books. 

See the "R" and "L" around these books, top shelf?

And I have no idea whence those bookends came. Were they originally dad's, or were they his father’s? A gift? (I'm guessing yes on that.) So many things that I never asked and that they never wrote down. Unless that’s in the anecdotal history that dad wrote.

And... which sister took the bookends home? They were always around these books (at least since the late '70s), so I should've spirited them away when no one was looking, heh heh heh.  Of course... I already have several warehouses full of bookends plus a plethora of items that make fine book-holder-uppers, such as this little guy.

But I do know whence came the dog: My best friend since junior high. It was her Dad's and it reminds her of him. They lived together in their spacious-enough home until he died around 90, so I also knew him for a long time; not well, because he wasn't usually around when we were hanging out, but still. He had a lovely sense of humor. He was a "collector" and she's a minimalist, so she has spent time over a few years purging things. She knows I love dogs and asked whether I could rehome him--and I certainly could. Who could turn down that face? Another permanent member of the household.

So many treasures and memories, none of which will likely matter in any way to the next generation. Unless I collect these stories into a book and deliver it to all. Another project for retirement.

The Challenge of Mothers' Day

SUMMARY: My mom. Missing her.

I discovered recently that there are different Mothers Days depending on where you live. In the U.S., it was two weeks ago. In the UK, it's today.

Interestingly, a friend just posted on her blog some Mom Musings. Much of what she muses about matches my Mom's situation. 

My family contained 5 kids and Mom and Dad. And the dog. Dad worked "at work" (not at home); Mom stayed home. It was a full-time job. Probably more than full-time. At some point in my teens, I had to start doing my own laundry, sometimes. It was a mystery to me at first, but really it was one of the simplest chores I probably had to do then. I'm sure I resented it.

Mom in her 50s, peeling apples and prepping them for apple pie or some other apple dish.
On the back deck. (note the sugar/flour/spices mixture in the measuring cup.)

So she did all that Laundry. Making sure we had meals 3 times a day (if it were a school day and we didn't like the cafeteria offerings, she might make us sandwiches; my favorite was cream cheese and jelly), vacuuming, dusting, more laundry, always in Mom mode for her kids--

My dad's photo of her. Probably in her 40s. 

Even when we camped, Mom cooked. Yosemite, early 1960s.
(Dad would do the tent, carry things, find firewood and chop it up--like that.
At least, that's how I remember it. Reality says that they probably 
helped each other.) (Dad's photo)

Oh. Plus cranking out all those babies. Plus Diapers. Sleepless nights. Breast feeding.
Starting in her 20s.

Nine years later...#5.

So I don't know how she managed to have time for gardening. But she made that time for herself.  Earliest I remember was at the place we lived when I was in 1st/2nd grade, the first house that my parents actually owned. She let me plant some seeds, too, and they grew. I was hooked. At the next couple of houses, she grew food, too.  This is how we learned that dogs figured out that cornstalks held ears of corn--and how to get at them.

Mom in her 30s, at that first house with part of her garden! (Dad's photo)
The house was new, so bare dirt ruled when we arrived.

(Oh--and she always had other activities, too! A Girl Scout almost her entire life,
she served as troop leader for two or three years, as well. And Environmental Volunteers.
And League of Women Voters. And more.)

I have no photos of her doing any of those things except I think one photo of her standing at the kitchen sink (*found some others in Dad's photos just now* ... and a few more of mine*). All those everyday things that it never occurred to me to photograph until much later in life. OK, film and processing were expensive, but if I had had any tiny thought about reminiscing about NORMAL life, not just vacations and activities, I'd have taken so many more.

Mom in her 70s. She never wanted to lick the beaters herself, 
so would offer to anyone around, particularly her kids.
She didn't have much of a sweet tooth. Dad did.

I gradually started taking more, the older I got. But by the time I was really into it, Dad had retired, she was mostly arthritis-ridden, and Dad had started doing most of the household tasks (cooking (as little as he could get away with, not always the healthiest, which Mom had made a priority), cleaning, laundry). He mowed the lawn and trimmed the shrubs and trees and really took good care of the yard until we finally convinced him to hire a mow-and-blow team in his 80s.

Mom was the reason we had flowers to stand in front of
for all the important school photos.

[Poor Dad, I just thought about this now: Thought he was retired, but nooooo--took over Mom's full-time job. At least there were no kids living at home any more.]

Dad at 70. 

But yard wasn't the same thing as garden.  Mom still tried to keep up in one small plot out front, probably with Dad's help, or some of us kids. She loved flowers and birds. I learned so much about all those things from her. Someone hung a hummingbird feeder in front of their living room window, where she could see it from her favorite chair. And the hummers gladly came.

I miss all of that. I miss her. And Dad.

Dad in the kitchen

Mom in the kitchen

Christmas Paper Chain and Other Memories

SUMMARY: Red and green paper chain

Back at Christmas, I read a story online in which the protagonist makes and hangs a long paper chain made of green and red paper. Instantly it transported me--

Red and green paper chain! When I was young--maybe fifth grade, I made a short paper chain from red and green construction paper. Maybe at school? I used Elmers glue; I don’t think there were glue sticks back then.  One green, one red, repeat. But, inspired because the chain wasn't quite long enough, the next Christmas I doubled its length. 

Then, every year for probably eight years, I added more, MORE, MORE, until it could run all the way around my parents' living room and hallway and around the tree! I didn’t add to it after I went off to college, but I still hung it up every year. 

It needed a larger and larger box every year to store it for next time.

Eventually it fell apart--Christmas lives forever, but no so paper chains – – such good loyal paper rings, bringing a festive feeling to everything. 

Note: I talk about the chain in this old family xmas page, too, under "Poughkeepsie."

Also in this photo (by Dad):
💚 Mom! How young she looks!
🔴 The Little Drummer Boy album (behind the wing-back chair): always there!
💚 Painting (print) of three girls reading--was Dad's parents and
they had it because it reminded them of me and my sisters.
🔴 Advent calendar! On wall next to that. I'd forgotten about it!
💚 Old family clock and I don't remember its origin (but now a sister has it)
🔴 Mom's mug-collection cabinet (over Little Drummer Boy). She didn't really "collect" mugs--she had had a few favorites-- but we kept giving her interesting ones.
💚 Below Drummer Boy, a purple hippo in a blue tutu! I think
  I made that for someone as a gift that year--I'll have to ask--there's a story there, too.
🔴 Books. Of course. Everywhere in the house.

Goodbye, Mom, Four Years Later

SUMMARY: My story, or Mom's.

Backfill: Remembering Dec 27, 2016.  [posted on Facebook , then added and edited here, Dec 27, 2020 ]

Four years ago--

Today minus 3 or 4 days [or it might actually have been Christmas morning, but I think it was earlier]: Mom had been bedridden in the den for some time,  a month? two? Less? More? Weaker physically and mentally all the time. She missed Dad so much. 

I and other people were in the house. I wandered into the den, and Mom already displayed a big smile. 

"You look happy," I said.

"I am!"

"Care to share your happiness?"

"I'm waiting for my ride!"

Me--puzzled--"What ride?"

"Grandpa is coming with the sleigh to pick me up!"

Me -- "Okayyyy..."

We said other vague pleasantries--she wasn't talking much now. I wandered back into the other room and mentioned this to someone. 

Or it was an uncle rather than her grandfather, I don't remember now. 

She had old sleighbells that had belonged to that sleigh when she was a girl, and she loved those memories. She'd hang the bells on the door each Christmas season, so every arrival jingled a joyous welcome.   I wondered whether she was thinking of that.

She was so weak.  I went home and spent hours working on a slideshow of her and dad, realizing that no physical gift would matter to her at all now, but that she would like this.

Four years ago minus two days: Christmas morning. It became clear when I walked in that she wasn't going to be watching a slideshow or doing anything else. I think that she was just awake enough to say I love you when "I love you" is first offered, but not much more than that. I wish that I remembered more details.

Because, four years ago today, I was still surprised--were we all surprised?-- when she slipped away after my sister called us but before any of us arrived.

Did her grandfather arrive with his sleigh? I've often wondered. It must've been a glorious ride through gleaming unsullied upstate New York snow.

As I stood on her front lawn, watching her being driven away,  the skies saluted in the only way they could.

Preserving Land, Wildlife, Waterways, Endemic Plants and Flowers--and Sanity--

SUMMARY: Open space around me

Backfill: In response to a friend's blog post showing many lovely old barns in her area (Michigan) while musing on Christmas music and years past.

[NOTE: I'll clean up links & things later. sorrrrrrry....]

We lose rural landscape or any available open space so quickly here in the San Francisco Bay Area.  We are so lucky that a lot of open space has been preserved, by Open Space Districts (funded via donations and voted-on taxes, including the MidPeninsula Regional Open Space District (fondly called MidPen  https://www.openspace.org/), the East Bay Regional Parks district...) , the Santa Clara County Open Space Authority (relatively new compared to the other two https://www.openspaceauthority.org/), city parks, county parks (where I live: Santa Clara County Parks (ParkHere.org)), and organizations like hte Committee for Green Foothills  (recently rebranded Green Foothills https://www.greenfoothills.org/), all of whom work towards purchasing lands like these that could be converted to public spaces for hiking, biking, picnicking, wildlife preservation, and so on.  

When we moved here in the '60, barely any of it existed as public lands.

All those organizations, and more, fought for years and recently have been fairly successful at staving off or forever preventing major development in the historically rural Coyote Valley between south San Jose and Morgan Hill to preserve wildlife corridors at the very least (https://www.google.com/maps/search/coyote+valley/@37.1631954,-121.77322,27776m/data=!3m1!1e3).

I don't expect you to follow the links--they're just data--but yet there are so many times that I drive south or east out of the area and see malls or housing developments going up where there used to be lovely old buildings like those in your photos. Which remind me of my grandparents' old old used-to-be-red barn.  

My grandparents' barn/farm (early 1950s photos)

This is not in California. Looking past the farmhouse at the barn
This is also part of why my grandparents started going to Florida every year during the winter.
When I was a kid , the barn wasn't looking nearly this sturdy.
It was eventually taken down some time after the farm was sold.

From higher up in the farm (I think it was 20ish acres): Red barn (actually storage) to the left, white farmhouse center, brown chicken coop (actually storage) to the right. 
The property ended at the road and at th big tree visible between the barn and farmhouse.

Barns in preserved parkland around here

Old barn, still usable, being preserved, at Martial Cottle County Park  near my house
(CA state and Santa Clara County park cooperative). 
The hills in front are privately owned ranchland still,
but behind that might be the massive Henry Coe State Park.

Old barns being repurposed at the massive Henry Coe State Park, 
over 87,000 acres of rough terrain east and southeast of us.

 

Old barn in what is now Sierra Vista Open Space Preserve in the eastern hills, after purchase but before open to the public (2014). Not sure whether this barn stayed.

Family's old farmhouse in the same park. This was the first weekend that the park was officially open to the public. We asked about whether it was going to stay, and I *think* that the answer was yes but as you can see considerable work would need to be done. (Such as the door that opens 3 feet in the air.)

 

At Rancho San Antonio County  Park, in the west foothills, very popular hiking area,
barn still being used at the time. (2008)

Barn at Pichetti Ranch Open Space Preserve in the southwest hills (was a winery--still is, to a certain extent, also used for educational purposes) (2016).

Barn at Santa Teresa County Park (2004), just south of here and where I used to hike a lot,
still being used at the time.

Not sure whether this is the same barn, but I think so (the old Norred barn when this was privately owned and you could board and rent horses here) (2009).

Old barn along the Coyote Creek Trail somewhere (southeast valley).
Note the deer. (2012)  I don't know whether it's still preserved or had to come down. 
I need to be able to get out hiking again....

1952 San Francisco and Yosemite

SUMMARY: From a GI's perspective on the way to Korea. 

Backfill: date

My dad loved Yosemite. But the first time he saw it was Armistice Day, 1952, while waiting for the final leg of his trip to the Korean War.  As he was a New York City born-and-raised young man, I'm doubtful that he ever went west of the Mississippi before that, and other than a year at college in Michigan, not certain [without going back through his personal history] whether he'd ever been much west of the state of New York. He was an explorer, though: Discovered the mountains and hiking and climbing and camping in late high school and more in college and never went back to city living. Never one to be shy about travel, or any suggestion of somewhere new and different to explore, would get him moving.

Not sure that he felt that way about Korea, but-- bypassing that--

The draft scooped him up in 1951, and in November of 1952 he began the long journey to Korea--stopovers in Chicago and Denver and Oakland to refuel the plane before landing finally in San Francisco for a two-week layover in a camp in Petaluma.

Mom kept all of his letters home, and decades later he assembled them with commentary into a book.  Some excerpts from that first week in California:

We arrived in Frisco via Greyhound Bus from the airport. We bought our bus tickets up to camp, and then walked down Market Street at about 8 A.M. Finally gave up on walking, after being stopped by a number of people who said we really should take a tour to see the city [1], and bought some sight-seeing tour tickets. While waiting for the tour start time we went for a ride on a cable-car. The ride went from Powell and Market streets over the top of Nob Hill, by the Mark (Hopkins), through the edge of Chinatown and then back again. Had views of Alcatraz, the Oakland-Bay-Bridge, and some very nice houses.

Got back in time to take the tour, and had a pretty good time. Saw a lot of the Sights, and a lot of Real Estate. I wasn't impressed by San Francisco's zoning restrictions and rental policies as we were told of them by the tour bus driver [2]. And prices; wow!! Twelve to fifteen thousand (depending on location) for a five room attached bungalow.[3] And there isn't much room in either front or back. The plots are usually 50x70, or smaller.

The tour is over and we're having lunch on Fisherman's Wharf at DiMaggio's (Filet mignon). 

...

[after settling in at the camp]

...

We were fortunate, Armistice Day was on Tuesday, so we were given passes from noon Saturday until 0800 Wednesday. We spent those days touring: saw Muir Woods, Yosemite, and Devil's Postpile among other places.

He likely has more photos of this trip, but immediately at hand I have only this--

"Road to Yosemite Armistice Day 1952"

I'm not sure where exactly this photo was taken, but the road to Yosemite no longer is one lane without guard rails.  I remember Dad saying that parts were still unpaved. 

Dad told me in 2015 when we were discussing his photos:

On the Armistice Day Weekend in 1952, four of us GIs rented a car to go to Yosemite and Devils Postpile. The roads into Yosemite (Rte 120) and through Tioga Pass were single lane roads, with places to turn out to let other cars go by. Included with this is a photo showing a short stretch up in the high country.

I believe that the Sierra Nevadas made a lasting impression on the man who had already climbed a few of the highest peaks in New England. The eight highest there range from 5,000 to 6,300 feet (1520- 1920 m) above sea level. But the fifty highest in the Sierras range from 8800 to 14500 (2680-4420 m) --none more than about 200 miles from sea level at the coast).

I think he couldn't wait to get back to the Sierras and Yosemite when we moved to California less than 10 years later. And again about 8 years after that. We went many times as a family.

==================

Footnotes

[1] they must've been in uniform

[2] my dad's frustration and anger about ill treatment of black people was well established by then--and not too many years later that caused him (a white male) to resign from a job he loved otherwise.

[3] Today, the median price for a home in San Francisco is $1,310,500. I'm not sure what Dad meant back then by a "5-room" bungalow--was that bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room, and--?  And I don't know what size home today's median price will get you, but likely not much more than a 2-or-3-bedroom attached house with little or no yard.



>>  Visit the Wordless Wednesday site; lots of blogs. << >>  Visit Cee's Photo Challenge blog; lots of blogs. <<

Disneyland -- I ! Love ! It !

SUMMARY: summarytext

From a facebook MiceChat group discussion 5/12/20

I'm so glad my parents took me there more than once (at least twice when I was 5-6ish)--I ! loved ! it! -- and at least a couple more times in Jr. High and High School. And for the latter visits they let me wander by myself, as long as I made our prearranged check-ins. I ! loved ! it! And in those early years, Disneyland began to fill my heart.

One of at least 2 times in '61-62 when I was young.
(I know, because I have photos w/2 sets of clothing and 2 hairstyles!
Here, me in blue with long braids. Sisters  holding hands with Dad also and with Mom.)

 With my great aunt and uncle, looks like.  [unedited] Look at all the crowds!.... not!
Why am I always looking backwards over my left shoulder?
From shadows, nearly midday--where'z da peoples at?

In high school, I was lucky enough to travel on our speech and debate team for invitational tournaments and the coaches allowed us to come here, at least twice during high school. Holy mickey! I ! Loved ! It!  Thus ended my not-legally-adult visits. And by then, Disneyland fully inhabited my heart and has stayed there ever since.

My college freshman year, came with friends. My junior year, came with the Cal Band. SO MUCH FUN! By then, I knew my way around like the back of my hand; knew the ins and outs of getting in to Blue Bayou; knew the routine for which rides were popular... all of it.

February 1977 - just missed 20th anniversary year (by a few months)
Me in brown pants and sunglasses

Couple years later, visited with my fiancé. Came at least one time that I have no specific memories of shortly after we were married, before we came again with friends, and came again with family, and came again with friends, repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat....

I started taking photos more seriously when we visited right after the all-new Fantasy Land opened. The changes blew us away, and I realized that I had NO PHOTOS of the "before"!  (I look back at the "lot more photos" and there are maybe a couple dozen a year? back then, compared to hundreds and hundreds per trip now!) Sometime later, had a season pass for a year when it cost less than two weekend passes, and visited maybe three times that year. Since then, averaging roughly once every year and a half to 2 years.

I ! Love ! It!

The other person's facebook post reminded me of my multidecade journey, always starting exactly as they described it: going through the security line, walking under the bridge, and onto Main Street. (Well, except before 9-11, I don't recall a security check.) And, yes, nearly EVERY SINGLE TIME after I pass under the bridge, I find things to take photos of right there at the beginning of Main Street.

"Here you leave today and enter the world of yesterday, tomorrow and fantasy".

  - Walt Disney, 1955

Now I'll share selected photos from Disneyland anniversary years (mostly) with my traveling compadres. Just those years. Not all the ones in between (wellllll with a couple of exceptions).

1990 35th anniversary--
might have "35th" photo with actual Disneyland sign somewhere, not yet scanned?
Or magnet or mug or clothing...

August, 1995 - 40th anniversary

Feb 2000 - 45th anniversary
Me in the middle; my ex and my sis

x

Feb 2006 - 50th anniversary (note "50" in flowers for 50th anniversary)
(Linda's eyes blinked, sorry, sis! Me on end, same sis and bro-in-law)

November 2009.
OMG did I really not go during its 55th anniversary year?! (2011-mid-2012?)
Me on left, same sis and bro-in-law and her friend from Australia

Sept 2012!  Apparently we completely surrounded the 55th anniversary
without going during that actual time! Ratz! :-)
(My friend Les came with us but preferred not to be in the photo, so there ya go.)

November 2015 - 60th anniversary
For a change of pace in the group photo

Nov 2017 -- just because it's the biggest group we've been with at Disneyland
--technically in Downtown Disney, because only a couple joined us in the actual park.

I didn't get there in 2019, which would've been the 65th anniversary, but had expected I'd go this year while they're still celebrating. But no: thanks, COVID. [grumble] And thanks, hip and knee, for keeping me home.  [I don't exactly mean that, either.]  I *did* have an opportunity a couple of days after we got back from Walt Disney World, but turns out I had made a couple of commitments for that time (oh, and also ended up with a nasty cold, so really good that I didn't go then).

Had been doing so well on anniversaries! Well, if they reopen soon, mayyyyybe they'll still have "65th" up. But more than likely they'll take this opportunity to decommission it.  Still, hoping there will be many more anniversary years for visiting Disneyland.

And I did go to DisneyWorld during the Disneyland anniversary year, so that counts for something!

Nov 2019 - Disneyland 65th anniversary year
But this isn't actually Disneyland.
It's the Magic Kingdom. You can hardly tell. can you!

But you know what's really cool about that last image? Far as I know, it's the first time since the first photo in this post that these 3 sisters have been in a Disneyland (ish) photo together! How cool is THAT?!