Tuesday Open Thread ~ The Remembering Room
Welcome to Tuesday's Open Thread. I'd like to begin by first thanking QMS for all the wonderful and thoughtful essays he's written during his tenure as an Open Thread contributor. I will miss his Tuesday morning musings and his humor but I can also appreciate the demands that life and work place on us at times. Stepping in for him, especially committing to weekly postings, gave me pause. What if I don't have anything interesting to say that week? Then you'll show up and do the best you can, a friend of mine reassured me. And that, as they say, was that. So, let's see what happens, eh?
“The time is ripe for looking back over the day, the week, the year, and trying to figure out where we have come from and where we are going to, for sifting through the things we have done and the things we have left undone for a clue to who we are and who, for better or worse, we are becoming. But again and again we avoid the long thoughts….We cling to the present out of wariness of the past. And why not, after all? We get confused. We need such escape as we can find. But there is a deeper need yet, I think, and that is the need—not all the time, surely, but from time to time—to enter that still room within us all where the past lives on as a part of the present, where the dead are alive again, where we are most alive ourselves to turnings and to where our journeys have brought us. The name of the room is Remember—the room where with patience, with charity, with quietness of heart, we remember consciously to remember the lives we have lived.”
~ Frederick Buechner, A Room Called Remember: Uncollected Pieces
My Mother, Hamburg, Germany, 1958
My Mother preferred to keep her sewing machine in the bedroom where she could lay the patterns out on the bed. In the evenings, under the glow of a table lamp, a highball at her side, she'd work at her alterations. The busiest time of the year was the beginning of a new school year. My Sister and I would typically have two or three homemade dresses for school while the rest of our wardrobe was rounded out by Sears & Roebuck. The ritual of a new school year always began by looking through my Mothers fabric closet for potential candidates. Once the fabric was selected, the cutting would begin. Poised over a very particular arrangement of pattern pieces, my Mother and I would gently pin the tissue like paper onto the fabric. As the sewing progressed, depending on my skill level, I would be given certain tasks. It was during these evening sessions with my Mother where I learned how to sew.
My Sister & I wearing dresses my Mother made us
Santa Monica, California, Summer 1972
After my parent's divorce, my Mother lost a lot of weight. I suspect this was partly due to the fact that my Father left my Mother for a woman named Jutta, and partly due to the stress of being left alone, far away from home, with two small children to raise. For reasons that are still not clear to me, the tradition of spending Christmas together as a family remained intact even after my Mother endured what had to have been the worst kind of betrayal. When my Sister and I were very little my Mother would pretend to have kaffezeit with Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. As we got older Christmas Eve was celebrated with goose for dinner, the opening up of presents, and coffee and cake afterwards. We always dressed up for these occasions. The first Christmas following my parents divorce, my mother made herself an elegantly fitted black cocktail dress. As a complimentary counterpart, she also made my Sister and I black velvet dresses with white tulle skirts to which she embroidered tiny black polka dots.
Playing with the dollhouse my Grandfather built
Los Angeles, California, Christmas, 1969
Playing with the dollhouse my Grandfather built
Los Angeles, California, Christmas, 1969
Falling asleep to the sound of my Mother's sewing machine is childhood memory that comes back to me every time I'm in a fabric store. As are the memories of the fittings, the pins poking at my side, the anticipation of seeing the finished product. But mostly the memories that make me wish I could go back in time were the quiet moments where I sat on my Mother’s bed and watched her hands expertly work at her sewing machine.
“Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.”~ Haruki Murakami
My Mother, Hamburg, Germany, 1940
Marga Lucienne Eggert Geitz passed away on July 9, 2001 while I was waiting for my connecting flight in Cleveland. I called my Sister as soon as I landed but the moment I heard her voice I knew I was too late. Only a few minutes before, my Mother had left us. During that awful flight to L.A., I sat next to two chatty thirteen year old girls. I barely heard them. My focus was transfixed on a woman on the other side of the aisle feeding her baby. As I sat watching them, blinking back the tears, I imagined my own Mother as a young woman. When life between us was simple. Before the drinking. Before life had done things to her.
My Mother and I
Winnipeg, Canada, 1961
We used her best China at the reception following the funeral. Glen Miller played in the background. My Sister and I wore matching flowered dresses that we bought at Nordstoms the day before. We sipped champagne surrounded by old family friends. There were flowers everywhere. We arranged pictures on story boards and placed them around the living room. It was a sunny beautiful day. The windows were overlooking the mountains and the garden. At one point my Sister and I caught each other's eye, and we both knew we were thinking the same thing: Mom would've really enjoyed this. A few days later, sorting through my Mother's things, we found a gift box. Inside wrapped in tissue paper were the first dresses my Mother sewed for us neatly stored away. Royal blue velvet dresses with white lace on the collar and sleeves which I recognized immediately from long ago baby pictures.
Wearing the first dress my Mother made me
Winnipeg, Canada, Christmas 1962
Back in college, I was given an opportunity by my History Professor to interview my Mother and write a paper about her life. Instead, I interviewed the grandmother of my boyfriend at the time. What followed was a beautifully poignant experience where his grandmother provided my boyfriend with an affectionate, and sometimes bittersweet snapshot of his Great-Grandmother. While his entire family treasured the gift I bestowed upon them, it remains to this day, a heart-wrenching regret of mine that I did not interview my own Mother's life while she was very much alive.
Our first trip to Germany together
Hamburg, Germany, 1970
Recently, I was invited to a barbecue by a friend of mine. Susan works as a costume designer for the film industry, has a collection of very eclectic friends, and tells some fantastic stories. She's also German, a fellow Buddhist, and the kindest person I know. As we enjoyed a mild California evening, listening to music, drinking good wine, and competing for best story of our rebellious youth, thoughts of my Mother lingered in the background. Inside the house was the work Susan had left behind while prepping for an upcoming shoot. Glancing at her dining room table, it struck me that it was filled with very much the same things that often filled my mother's work space. The only difference being that my friend was a professional costume designer and my Mother was not. I thought about that for awhile and wondered how different my Mother's life would've been had she not been born in Germany in 1937. Had my Grandparents not lost their business, their home, their livelihood during the war? What things she might've done with all her talent?
My Mother, Griffith Park, Los Angeles, 1976
As the years pass, and I begin to look at my own life, my human-ness, my failures, my successes, my vulnerabilities, my strengths, I begin to look at hers in a different light too. I may not have all the answers to the questions I would like to ask her now, but I still have pictures, and memories, and stories that I feel I need to tell.
Thank you for letting me tell them.
I hope Makena looks back at this video one day and remembers with affection that moment in time when she was so sweetly connected with her Mother.
Comments
Tip Jar
Good Morning Everyone!
Hope you all are having a great Tuesday. I look forward to hearing your stories! Thanks for indulging me in telling mine...
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Thanks for sharing your story Anja
This is the beauty of an open thread. A chance to share, memorialize and reminisce. A room full of bittersweet memories indeed.
Cheerios
Thanks QMS
For providing me an opportunity to step up and dabble a little at my writing. This OT came into being so naturally, I almost felt it was meant to be.
Btw, how was London? Did you rustle up some interesting pub experiences? Please tell me you at least went inside a pub with a weird name. Like The Jolly Taxpayer, or Bunch of Carrots, or The Hung Drawn and Quartered.
Oh, gosh, I always loved the English and their knack for language
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Heathrow was the closest I got to London town
Spent all my time in Southampton. The city has rebuilt, mostly in brick, after the German bombings.
One ancient pub we enjoyed. Called the Wellington. Tudor style , bottle bottom windows. A couple of old fixtures sitting about contemplating the world thru a pint. Dark atmosphere, solemn. Smelling it's age. Some good local brews. Dark and smelly. HA!
Invented a new favorite last night. Plums cut up with cottage cheese, salt and peppa. Yum!
Thanks for stepping up as my brain simmers down.
Cap'n Crunch
Dark and Smelly
Isn't that the name of the pub where the greatest philosophers gathered? HA!
Hey, if you're into fruit and cottage cheese, try putting an emulsion blender (hand blender) right in the container and blending your cottage cheese until it's smooth. I don't know why, but that process actually brings out the flavor and is much easier to eat with fruit. Try drizzling a little honey on that, or agave/maple syrup, and I guarantee you will be amazed at the flavor. Of cottage cheese!
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Thanks for sharing these memories
And the photos, too. Your Mother was a beautiful woman, and by the looks of those dresses on her darling daughters, very talented as well. I'm sorry, both for her and for you, that life was not more kind to her.
Being let to peek into someone else's Remembering Room is a great honor; thank you for bestowing it upon us.
Thanks Reverend Jane
My greatest fear, not having children, is that my stories and my pictures of her will die when I do. Maybe all of us feel our Mother's stories should be told, but I feel that very keenly. Wasn't sure how it be received, or if any one would find it interesting, so your very kind words were much appreciated. I have more to tell, so we'll see...
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Thank you! When I read the beginning of your OT,
citing the possibility of having nothing to say, I was prompted to post that you could simply post an interesting pic or two. Then I saw all your pics! How adorable your mom, sister and you were.
I think all of us wish we had asked our elders more questions. I used to tune out when the stories of their youth, their elders, their home, etc. began. Talk about willful ignorance! I could kick my younger self. But, regret about things that cannot be remedied is only bad for our bodies and minds.
Sometimes, I can let it go by thinking of something to excuse my youthful behavior. In your case, every high schooler finds his or her young love infinitely more interesting than his or her parents. It's simply a phase that human adolescents must experience in order to become adults. (Do we ever really totally cease being the children we once were?)
As an adult, you are a brave, intelligent, gifted woman whom I admire. So your adolescent self must have done the things that she needed to do.
Thanks for a lovely OT.
ETA: About Christmas: Your parents did you a solid.
In my youth, I had to split my Christmases between my father, with whom I lived, and my mother. Although I know now, that I clearly should not have felt guilty about leaving him alone for part of the day and her alone for part of the day, I did. I was also always terrified that I would not find a cover story for my departure. In hindsight, he probably knew where I was going anyway, but never let me off the hook. And, as she lived in another town and did not drive and neither did I, the logistics were another Christmas nightmare. For me, Christmas Day was one of the worst of the year after they split.
Good Morning HAW
Sharing Christmas with different parents might sound like fun to anyone who didn't have to experience it like you did, but in reality, I think kids just want their family together. My Mother always felt Christmas should be a happy time for me and my Sister. Possibly because her own Christmases as a child were fraught with war time privations and the stress of keeping the family clothed and fed. So, she always tried to create something special, and as a result, I cherish my memories of Christmas because of her sense of playfulness and sentiment.
Thanks for letting me off the hook about not interviewing my Mother. I know this instinctively, but regret the lost opportunity every time I'm curious about my family. I tell young people my story, and urge them to interview their grandparents while they are still alive. Not being able to ask questions years down the road, is a such a finite consequence.
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Food is cross-generational memory
https://www.hawaiimagazine.com/content/how-hawaii-style-saimin-making-co...
And language is cross-generational memory.
https://www.civilbeat.org/2013/03/18498-fo-teach-pidgin-o-not-fo-teach-p...
https://www.civilbeat.org/2013/03/18539-can-or-no-can-pidgin-speakers-in...
https://www.civilbeat.org/2017/10/pidgin-belongs-in-hawaii-schools-educa...
Too bad the situation keeps coming up where kids are encouraged to cut themselves off linguistically from their parents and grandparents in order to “get ahead” in the world of an invasive dominant culture built around money.
https://www.nytimes.com/1987/12/13/weekinreview/the-nation-in-hawaii-pid...
Good morning Lotlizard
And thank you for the links. Food is such visceral connection to our past and our childhood. Enjoyed reading about Saimin and the cultural relevance of this local noodle dish:
Now, that, truly does demonstrate its demand!
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Lingual connections to the past...
German has such an emotional pull for me. It was my primary language the first few years of my life. Then, at the age of 4 years old, I stopped talking. My Mother would hear me jabbering away in English with my friends at the playground, but when I was at home and she spoke German to me, I ignored her. So, she began speaking English. Hence, my German today has the vocabulary of a four year old. I understand much better then I speak, but only if we are talking in the present tense and conversations that revolve around domestic matters.
Pity that. It's such an interesting language.
Edit: Typo and word construction
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
German truly does have the best words.
One of my favorites, encountered in the Frankfort airport:
Gepäckwagen.
I mean, can you get any more descriptive than that?!
Thimble = “finger hat” = “Fingerhut” :-) n/t
Fingerhat
Love that!
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Gepackwagen
You really can't!
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
What a lovely and poignant story, Anja.
I have many similar memories of my youth -- my mom, too, used to sew, and excelled at it, so many of my grade-school clothes were products of her Singer. I used to love shopping for patterns with her. And I loved when she'd make me and herself matching Christmas Eve outfits.
She still has the Singer, but doesn't use it. My regret is that I never asked her to teach me how. Maybe I can find a sewing class somewhere; I tend to think I might enjoy making my own clothes these days, though am not sure I'd make the time.
You've also made me reflect (as I have often during the last several weeks) on my grandmother's passing on August 3. She was 99, and had so many stories and life experiences. Fortunately, since I never took the time, two of my cousins did interview her and recorded the results. What a gift for all of us.
G. was the only grandparent I knew, and I grew up in a house where she lived upstairs. She was my second mother -- the one who easily overlooked my shortcomings and once assured me that "you know I'll still love you even if you get a 'B.'" (My parents, and especially my mother, had high academic expectations for me and while I achieved straight-As through high school, the experience of feeling that I had to was stressful to say the least). There's a gaping hole where she once was, though I try to fill it with memories, and the gift of having been holding her hand when she passed.
As an aside, I'm now thinking of taking a course to become an end-of-life doula. Maybe that can be her legacy.
Thanks so much for this OT, and making the space for me to ramble.
Sewing can be fun
Even if it's the simplest thing. My first sewing machine was a child size singer machine I got for Christmas when I was 11 years old. I used to sew doll cloths on it. I can remember picking out the fabrics for them like it was yesterday.
You are very fortunate to have been there for your Grandmothers passing. Bittersweet indeed. Thank you for sharing your story and I'm so sorry for your loss. Having someone as a child who can support you and console you is such a marvelous fortune. I'm sure your Grandmother had some wonderful stories to tell of her own. Hope you share them sometime, I'd love to hear them.
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
I too thought of my grandma
She sewed a lot too and made most of my clothes and I always thought I was the best dressed person at school. And I also lived in my grandparent's basement apartment after my mom got divorced and I think that their love and support is why I'm who I am now. Literally saved me. I lost my aunt the same week you lost your grandmother and she too was the person who gave me unconditional love. I was closer to her than I was my mom because mom was so guarded with her feelings.
Thanks Anja for a beautiful tribute to not only your mom, but for taking us back to the ones who were important to each of us.
Was Humpty Dumpty pushed?
Sending you love.
I'm so sorry for your loss, snoop. Big hugs. In a weird way, I'm now drawing some comfort in the fact that we were experiencing a similar transition at the same time. Circle of life ... ?
Yeah circle of life
Thanks for your kind words and support. It is taking some adjusting to being so alone now that everyone I loved is gone. My inner child needs a hug.
Was Humpty Dumpty pushed?
Hugs on the way, snoopy.
Thank you dear smiley
You have no idea how much I needed your hug today. Even though I am alone in real life I know I am not alone in cyber life because I have great friends such as you and everyone here.
Was Humpty Dumpty pushed?
You're welcome Snoopy
And I'm so sorry for your loss. It's difficult to put into words the impact of losing someone you not only love, but who was instrumental in your upbringing.
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Thanks Anja
Sometime a trip down memory lane is cathartic and I have been holding back on a lot of emotions that needed to be released into the ether. Sometimes it is just what is needed.
Was Humpty Dumpty pushed?
I've been down that road myself
So I definitely empathize. In fact I'm surprised I still feel as much as I do about her death and her life, and our relationship, each time the anniversary of her passing comes around. It's like a month of sadness, love, forgiveness, and tears that come at you in waves, without warning. I found myself at work a few days ago with a lump in my throat thinking about her. While emotions become more manageable as the years pas, I can't say I'll ever be "over" it.
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Oops... ruff mornin
Oops... ruff mornin
Was Humpty Dumpty pushed?
It's never too late to have a happy Tuesday
Memory lane is a bad trip for me to take a stroll down, but I scanned a photo from the 30s of paternal grandpa camping in the forest, probably Tahoe.
happy decapitators
Family Flop House, Richardson Bay Lake Tahoe
What's old is new again, on and on.
--- bee happiness
I noticed every morning the first bees are often the most loaded with pollen, so I think they stay out overnight inside a closed up flower or something like that, then they top off at sunrise to head back to the hive. imagination window
Sound Hole - Work To Do
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92uoM9_ER_Y width:420]
terrible
I was at that show in the front row on the floor at Winterland. go johnny
weird and weirder
Where would I be without worker bees? thanks all
PEACE and THANK YOU
Camping at Lake Tahoe
And with a horse, no less! Thanks for sharing the pictures.
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Good morning Anja. I sat here reading that and my first thoughts
trailed off into a sincere but unavoidably humorous "Thanks for the Memories". That was a wonderful column and a wonderful idea and the tale and the telling. So thanks, really. When I was done reading, my mind went off on its own journey through the past, inspired by your narrative, and that was, I find, a very good start to the day, to stop and step into yesterday before continuing to lay out the final proposed order and sequence of today's planned projects and chores and, of course, start them. Nonetheless, they await, in great quantities and with a sudden, though artificial urgency that will run well into fall, I fear, so off I go. Thanks again and have a great one.
That, in its essence, is fascism--ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt --
Good Morning EL
I know a thing or two about urgencies of the day. I have a few of my own today. Thanks for stopping by, and I'm glad my OT initiated a visit to your own remembering room. It's a special kind of place.
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Microplastics found in Lake Tahoe's waters for first time
Microplastics found in Lake Tahoe's waters for the first time ever
--
Moi parents ashes are at the bottom of Lake Tahoe near the middle, way the fuck deep. I helped put them there.
happy happy
joy joy
Smoke cigs and drink booze why not, you only live once! short timers
PEACE
Micro Plastics in Lake Tahoe
Such a shame that some people are incapable of respecting the beauty of nature.
Btw, do you have any idea what year the photos of your parents were taken? Or how old they were at the time?
Yeah, cigarettes and booze. Kinda like a Mad Men episode, eh?
(P.S, I remember flying when the cabins smelled like ashcans and people smoked like chimneys. Yuck!)
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Late 40s early 50s? undated photos
thanks, my mom was completely grey haired by age 35 in 1959, when I was born. I don't recognize the furniture so that photo was probably the Cove Road house on Belvedere Island, or maybe the Church Street house in SF. not sure
This was my paternal grandparents house for fifty years, it will be known as the Casebolt House forever, or until it isn't, because San Francisco. LOL I wonder if my aunt still haunts the attic? ~shivers~ waves hi
San Francisco Landmark #51 "He Was the Man Who Made It Possible for One Cable Road to Cross Another".
No relation to us, just his property was purchased and held by my grands for almost six decades. Lived in the second floor bedroom on the left when my dad had to move back home with his parents, so not even that situation is new to me. Had my appendix out around then, after the doctor made a house call and told my parents either take me to the hospital or my appendix would explode. I'm still here so they just went broker to save my life. poor things
Here I am age 7 in the mansion stairwell Christmas Eve... Stop the wars! lol
I really like looking at the clothes and furniture from the 40s and 50s, everyone always looked so classy. Ha ha ha! Speaking of classy, I'm sorry this ain't it:
Barbara Boxer: AB5 is not the answer for all workers
They say California Super Delegate Influencer, I say flick off fascist tool. argh!
peace
That's a great picture
You seem like a little spitfire
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Beatiful story, A.G
Brought a tear to my eye. So special.
Yesterday, I showed my grandson a special old photo (c. 1975 ) of four generations of grandmothers (his grt.grt.grt. the eldest) all in one sitting. He just said "huh".
I asked him if he wanted me to send it to his phone and he said no. I tried to convince him how special it was and that he may regret it later, but being 13, it's just not something that's important to him right now.
I'll wait a couple of weeks and send it anyway. What can he do? Disown me?
Ha ha ha.
So don't feel bad about not interviewing your mom. Some kids come along on a different timetable, that's all.
I still love him.
Thanks again for a wonderful look into your life.
And thanks for taking over this Tuesday OT.
Neither Russia nor China is our enemy.
Neither Iran nor Venezuela are threatening America.
Cuba is a dead horse, stop beating it.
Hello Earthling
Thank you so much for sharing you own story along with your kind words about mine. Strange as it sounds, telling mine, even after all these years, still makes me tear up too. I guess maybe I still need space to write about it.
As far as your grandson...while he is reacting in a way that is age appropriate for him developmentally (adolescence is the time when individuating means breaking from your parents in arbitrary ways), for you it must be a little disappointing that he is not showing more interest in such a fantastic photo of so many generations of his ancestors. That said, definitely save it for him when he does become interested in his lineage. Because one day he most certainly will.
P.S. If you have the time, or are inclined to do so, I would so enjoy it if you posted the photo here. I am always interested in old photos of peoples families, and stories behind them. Dates too, if you have them, please!
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Would love to post that photo
but I'm stuck with this 2 mb limit and have never mastered the micro reconfig art. The photo is 4.8 mb.on my phone.
Neither Russia nor China is our enemy.
Neither Iran nor Venezuela are threatening America.
Cuba is a dead horse, stop beating it.
Can you email it to yourself at a lower size?
I have no idea how to resize them either but my email lets me choose a size. This might work for you and we can all see it.
My mom framed lots of her greats as well as their army or other accommodations and I enjoyed trying to find me in them. Tell your grandson some history of the people if you know it.
Hey how many have scrapbooks from when they were babies? Raises hand. Boy did I go through some phases...lol.. what was I thinking back then?
Was Humpty Dumpty pushed?
Thanks for the tip, Snoop
Will give it a try.
From left to right;
Edna- one of my moms fellow policewomen.
Doris- my mom, great gm
Another policewoman co- worker.
Ida Short- great/grt/grt gm.
Rene Riddle- great/grt gm
Linda Brunty- my ex-wife grandmother.
Nice trick Snoopydawg, using email to resize. Depending on quality of end product, I will use this alot.
Thanks.
Neither Russia nor China is our enemy.
Neither Iran nor Venezuela are threatening America.
Cuba is a dead horse, stop beating it.
Yay!!
Glad to see you got it to work. This looks like it is from the 70's or early 80's? Lol I have so many photos that look just like that except or the faces are different. And I had an aunt Edna too may her soul rest in peace.
Was Humpty Dumpty pushed?
That is a very special photo
Looks like they were enjoying a very lovely Meal. Do you know when it was taken? So glad you were able to figure out how to post it!
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Snoopydawg just showed me how to resize
Check comment below for that photo.
Aw hell, practice makes perfect.
Clockwise from nearside of table;
Two of my moms co-workers, policewomen.
My mom, my grandsons great gm
Ida Short- great/grt/grt gm
Rene Riddle- great/grt gm
Linda Brunty- my ex, grandmother
Neither Russia nor China is our enemy.
Neither Iran nor Venezuela are threatening America.
Cuba is a dead horse, stop beating it.
I just commented to your post above
I love the expression on Ida's face
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Hi ya folks!
I'm on my way to work right now. Enjoyed the conversations here today. Will stop by later on my lunch hour if needed.
Enjoy your day!
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Hi, Anja ~~
A little late but wanted to share that my mom used to sew many of my clothes. In fact, if a friend had something I liked, I would borrow it and mom would cut out a pattern using newspaper! Subsequently, I had many wonderful things. Unfortunately - none were saved. You’re fortunate.
Lovely shared story. Many thanks for the walk down memory lane.
"The “jumpers” reminded us that one day we will all face only one choice and that is how we will die, not how we will live." Chris Hedges on 9/11
Walking down memory lane...
Your Mom cut her own patterns out of newspaper? Wow. She sounds like one super talented lady. It's interesting the things we remember, eh?
Here's to all those wonderful handmade dresses we proudly wore!
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier
Remerber well the peddle-powered
singer sewing machine Grandma played making dresses from feed sacks.
Wonderful essay and thread comments. Thanks Anja and all.
Making dresses from feed sacks
Gosh what an ingenuous and thrifty generation our grandparents were a part of. I'll bet your grandmother had some good stories about that!
One of the stories my mother liked to tell was the time my grandmother made red aprons out of the Nazi flags they were supposed to hang from the top floor of their apartment. Apparently, as the story goes, my aunt cut out the swastika and gave the rest of the red fabric to my grandmother.
Talk about about making a silk purse out of a sows ear, eh?
There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier