RECHARGING

Several years ago, I wrote a blog once or twice a week. I shared stories from my life, demonstrated different art projects I was in the process of creating, and sometimes shared my views about specific topics. I stopped because of several reasons - I had read that to succeed as an artist my blog should be all about art and specifically my art to keep people's attention and anything else I wrote about would only distract from possible sales. Since I was becoming less and less able to be in my studio, I obviously wrote less and less about anything. 

Well, silly me! I miss being able to share my thoughts and my stories and I really want to share what happiness I am able so what the heck, I am going to do it my way. I will reprint the stories and also write new ones and when I am able to create, I'll add it in. 

I hope you enjoy and I would love any feedback!

HOW THEY MET

When World War II drew in the United States, both of my parents stepped up for the sake of their country. Dad was from a small village in the center of South Carolina, Mom was from a small village in south central Pennsylvania. Dad enlisted in the Navy, and Mom as a nurse in the Navy WAVES. Dad was on a ship off the coast of Germany near Bremerhaven in the North Sea. The North Sea area is known to be quite unpleasant in winter storms and during that winter, salt water froze on the ship's rails and the seas were so rough many of the personnel were very seasick and they wondered if the winter storms would ever stop. Dad contracted pneumonia and later ended up in the hospital stateside near Baltimore. 

Mom was working on his floor and they met when she was with some other nurses making rounds. They would see each other often, Dad would joke around with her and wanted her to go on a date, but she said no, he was too young for her. Then she found out he was actually two years older, so she finally consented. They spent a lot of time together until Dad was discharged and went back to South Carolina; Mom was discharged as well and she went back home to Pennsylvania. 

They wrote each other frequently and then Dad had an opportunity to go to New York for a lodge group convention. My grandmother said after Dad left that when he came home, she didn't think he would be alone. Mom and Dad were married in a small outdoor ceremony in her hometown, then had a short honeymoon in Washington DC. 

Traveling to South Carolina by bus, they lived with my grandparents and I was born ten months later. Using the availability of the G.I. Bill, Dad enrolled in Auburn, took a part time job as a city bus driver to support the family and my brother was born about sixteen months afterwards. My maternal grandmother came to live with them to help out until my father graduated.

An interesting evolution in marriage took place after World War II: for the first time very large numbers of people married someone not from their hometowns or even their state. Dad had a brother in the Marines, and two brothers in the Army and they all married women from other states, which happened all across the country. Up until then, people generally married someone closer to home. 

A postscript to this story is that all of my uncles, and of course my Dad, came home safely from the War. It was not that way for many families, and we are all very thankful!!

Mom and Dad on an outing to Steeplechase Park

before they were married.

Mom in her uniform.

Written on the back of a photo

Mom sent my grandmother!

Wedding Day!

An article in the local paper 

about married student life. 

Graduation Day!

Live your life one day at a time!

Story: The Right Hand

The Right Hand
57th in The Story Series

During the last of her years, my maternal grandmother lived with my parents. She stayed active, doing housework and going for short walks around the yard. When one of the "grands" as she called her grandchildren, would comment on her staying so busy, she would often quote "When I go, I want to go with my boots on." I'm not sure where she came up with that phrase, as she was born and lived most of her life in Pennsylvania, so she obviously did not mean cowboy boots. Perhaps she meant some sort of work boots, or simply nothing in particular, rather just liking the sense it gave her of doing anything to be useful. My grandmother had seen a lot of heartache during her lifetime, but she didn't speak about it often. She read her Bible and she kept busy.

My grandmother, or Grandmother Alice as we called her, could beat just about anyone in Scrabble, even as she entered her 90's. Scrabble is not a game I particularly like, and John even less, but every time we went for a visit to my parents one of us was expected to play with her. Usually it was me. Grandmother Alice had her own set of rules as she got older. She had once been given a Scrabble Dictionary as a Christmas gift and took to using it during the game in her last years. When one of us would say "Grammom, that's cheating!", she would look at us and say "Then why would there be a Dictionary if you weren't supposed to use it? And when do you need it? - during the game!" Her memory was starting to become less reliant, and my mother would make regular trips into the kitchen during the day because Grandmother Alice would often now put pots of food or water on the stove, turn on the burner and then forget they were there.

Then, in April 1991, she experienced a series of small strokes, which dramatically changed her, and my parent's, lives. She could not talk and she was bed bound. Mom and Dad were her primary care takers and they were able to get home health nurses to come to the house and assist. I made a few trips to West Columbia from Charleston to spend time with my grandmother so my mother could get out of the house. The first time I saw her, I remember being somewhat shocked, she was so thin and did not look at all like the Grandmother Alice I had known all my life. During my visits, she would be restless and mumbling and nothing I said or did made any difference. I felt a bit frustrated and helpless as I watched her lying there.

The bedroom was right next to the living room, and the piano was right next to the wall which separated the two rooms. I sat down with a hymnbook and looked through to find some hymns which I knew were her favorites. Now, in reality, I could not play the piano. I had taken lessons in high school, but the only part I could honestly read those many years later were the notes on the Grand Staff lines, the part played by the right hand. And that was because I sang soprano in the church choir. So I would sit and play with my right hand. Thankfully, that was where the melody was, so even if I just picked out the notes, the tune was recognizable. I would sing along if I were familiar enough with the notes, other times, it was a piano "solo". When I would do this, my grandmother would grow quieter, and her eyes would close and she rested. Sometimes, giving up in frustration with my right handed stumbling performance, I would go back into her room and sing to her. That worked almost as well, but she did love the piano.

My grandmother passed away 6 months after her first stroke, 21 Oct. 1991. She was 94 years old at her death. Often I have missed her and for quite a while I would expect to see her when I would visit my parents. I was thankful that the little bit of solace I was able to share was because I could use my right hand; even though it wasn't perfect, it gave her enjoyment and peace.

(To read another story about my grandmother's love for the piano, click here.)

Come see my latest postcards I've received on Postcards Buffet!

Tuesday Story: Good Night!

I'm having a flaring up of ME/CFS symptoms so no art for today's blog. I did show a project I was beginning in yesterday's blog, if you care to look!

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Good Night!

40th in the Tuesday Story Series

As I have stated in several other stories, my grandparents on my father's side lived towards the middle of the state, about a 2 1/2 hour drive from Charleston SC in the days before Interstate 26 was built. We usually would go for the day (usually a Sunday) and that would mean returning home late at night. I say late, because most of the time the next day was a school day and for a bunch of kids to arrive home past their bedtimes meant whiny attitudes preceded bed, and then ran over into the next morning.  

Most of the time the children would fall asleep in the car on the way home. As I grew older, I would stay awake and my favorite activity was to stare out into the dark, and imagine the families behind the lit windows, away across a field, or in the big houses of the small towns we would pass through. I especially loved the clear nights which showed the stars densely packed in the skies. There was very little light pollution then, and our own galaxy, the Milky Way would just draw me in. These days, you have to go to very out of the way places to see the full Milky Way, and that makes me sad. The stars that one sees from the yard usually don't have any impact because their numbers are few and they just don't inspire awe in the viewer. We need that awe to remind us that there are many great things out there which we don't understand, but can enjoy the beauty. In fact, the beauty is really necessary!

Yes, it looked just like this.

The other aspect of those trips home would involve my parents singing. My mother didn't get her driver's license until I was 15, so my father did all the driving. They would softly sing together for miles - hymns, popular songs from their time in the Navy during WW II and other ditties so that my father would stay awake. One I remember hearing always left me thinking it was odd - Good Night, Irene. 

Published by Huddie Ledbetter (commonly called Leadbelly Ledbetter) in 1934, you can sometimes still hear the folk song sung at different events. It's a sad song, and expresses the singer's frustration about his romance with Irene gone wrong. But as a child, I just remember how odd the verses were to me, unfamiliar as I was to romance. Especially this one:

Sometimes I live in the country,

Sometimes I live in the town.

Sometimes I have a great notion

To jump in the river and drown.

Wait!............. REALLY??

My parents would just be singing it out, and I was pondering over the facts that you live in the country, you live in the town (Ok, I got this part) but then you just want to go jump in the river? What, you are tired of the country or town? Why would you want to drown? I thought that was the oddest song to even sing! And then I couldn't ask my parents about it because they thought I was asleep, and I didn't want to wake the others. Then, I'd forget about it until the next trip home from my grandparents house.

Years later, of course it made a little more sense. I would sometimes even sing along, since I was older then and not expected to fall asleep. As I think about it now, my parents probably missed those times of thinking we were all asleep, because they felt freer to talk. There were some interesting conversations, but that's another story!

This first version is Leadbelly singing it with the original words.

This version was done by the folk group, The Weavers. It became a hit song about 1950, and this was the version my parents sang. The Weavers changed some of the lyrics, but it was still a song about romance gone wrong.

Good Night Irene has been recorded by some famous names in music, such as Johnny Cash and Eric Clapton, even Frank Sinatra! But no matter who sings it, when I hear it, it takes me back to traveling in the dark, staring out at the starry skies and hearing my parents sing.

Come see my latest postcards I've received on Postcards Buffet!

Tuesday Story

I posted some art pictures yesterday, but do not have anything new to post art-wise today; please check back later in the week!

It was last year on the Tuesday after Christmas that I posted my first story, and in honor of that, I am posting it again. Hope you enjoy!

Christmas Past

1st story in the Tuesday Story Series - Repost

When my parents were first married, my mother became interested in a certain china pattern, Silver Pine. She was hoping to collect enough pieces to have something special for company. Then over the next decade, six children arrived and the few pieces she had collected were stored, and labeled in her mind as "someday...".  As my siblings and I became adults, and our parents grew older, we struggled every year with the "what do you get your parents, now that they really don't need anything" problem. One summer a novel idea presented itself during a conversation with my Dad. I asked him just how much my mother had of her "special dinnerware" and together we hatched a plan to really surprise her. 


I was an antiques dealer at the time, and had access to auctions, and shows where  I could find some pieces to fill in her collection. I contacted all my siblings so everyone could participate. I made a list of things she would need to complete a service for eight, plus serving dishes after my father gave me a list of what she had, and started searching. I ended up finding most of the things on eBay, and since I had several months lead time, I could take my time and search for pristine pieces. By the time Christmas arrived, I had found everything we needed and even some ice tea glasses which matched the dinnerware! All of us chipped in to pay for the things as time went along and we were all excited about the big day. 

That Christmas, we gathered at my parent's home, and all of us unloaded our car and piled the boxes on the living room floor. My mother was very curious once she got a look at the pile of wrapped boxes, but we wouldn't let her know who they were for until it came time to open gifts, then we made her wait till last. She and Dad sat down on the hearth and after opening the first box, she was speechless and had tears. Box after box was opened and china was laid out on the hearth and you could just feel her excitement! After everything was opened, she just looked at us and expressed her feelings by saying she just didn't know how to thank us, but the look on her face said it all! We quickly washed the dishes and used them for Christmas dinner and that was the loveliest table and one of the happiest Christmases I remember. Now that both of my parents are no longer with us, it is a very special memory!

I hope everyone had an enjoyable Christmas and is looking forward to 2012!

Come see my latest postcards I've received on Postcards Buffet!

Tag Tuesday - Valentine, and a Story: How They Met

For today, Louise at Kard Krazy had the theme Valentine. Even though it's still 3 weeks away, the January weather demands something cheerful, because we sure aren't getting much for cheerful outside! It's rain today, and a mix of rain and snow tomorrow. The poor folks in the New England area are having such bitter cold, and many other areas in the US are sort of just stuck in the January mode, needing something bright and cheerful. So I was happy to design yet another heart themed project! I have another heart theme on this post.

(click for details)

The background is two colors of tissue collaged; then I added two puffed fabric hearts and organza trim. I cut out an image I copied from my stash of old postcards (this one was postmarked 1907), added a double heart charm with a jewel brad and a metal Love sentiment. It's finished off with  Golden glass bead gel touched with silver leafing, and a pink heart ribbon. I very much enjoyed doing this tag!

HOW THEY MET

Today's story (5th in the series) came to mind as I worked on today's tag; it's the story of how my parents met.

When World War II drew in the United States, both of my parents stepped up for the sake of their country. Dad was from a small village in the center of South Carolina, Mom was from a small village in south central Pennsylvania. Dad enlisted in the Navy, and Mom as a nurse in the Navy WAVES. Dad was on a ship off the coast of Germany, near  Bremerhaven, and used to tell us that during that winter, salt water froze on the ship's rails and the seas were so rough, many of the personnel were very seasick and they wondered if the winter storms would ever stop. He contracted pneumonia and later ended up in the hospital stateside. Mom was working on his floor and they met when she was with some other nurses making rounds. They would see each other often, Dad would joke around with her and wanted her to go on a date, but she said no, he was too young for her.Then she found out he was actually two years older, so she finally consented! They spent a lot of time together until Dad was discharged and went back to South Carolina; Mom was discharged as well and she went back home to Pennsylvania. They wrote each other frequently and then Dad had an opportunity to go to New York for a lodge group convention. My grandmother said after Dad left that when he came home, she didn't think he would be alone! Mom and Dad were married in a small outdoor ceremony in her hometown and came back on the bus to South Carolina, living with my grandparents until they went off to Auburn on the G.I. Bill, carrying me along.

Mom and Dad on an outing to Steeplechase Park

before they were married.

An interesting evolution in marriage took place after World War II: for the first time very large numbers of people married someone not from their hometowns. Dad had a brother in the Marines, and two brothers in the Army and they all married women from other states, which happened all across the country. Up until then, people generally married someone closer to home. 

A postscript to this story is that all of my uncles, and of course my Dad, came home safely from the War. It was not always that way for many families, and we are all very thankful!!