Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Airplanes
In scanning in all these photos and slides, I am seeing a lot of themes. People. Gatherings. Activities. Holidays. Pets. Places.
Here are six random photos of or taken from airplanes in the 40’s/50’s…
1. Whoopsy!, 2. Consolidated, 3. View from above, 4. Sunset, 5. Gassing up, 6. Small whaling village (?)
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Music tames the savage beast
In scanning in all these photos, I am seeing a lot of themes. People. Gatherings. Activities. Holidays. Pets. Places.
Here are six random photos of Uncle Joe making music (and a bonus photo after the cut)--
1. Playing guitar, 2. Playing guitar, 3. Really a banjo, 4. Playing guitar, 5. Playing guitar, 6. Really a harmonica
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Christmas in July
In scanning in all these photos, I am seeing a lot of themes. People. Gatherings. Activities. Holidays. Pets. Places.
Here are six random Christmas photos…
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
My childhood; let me show you it
I’m sure that this post will have a 50/50 result… either your eyes will glaze over, or you will be amused to no end.
1. Clearly the knit gene runs deep, 2. Just got bit by the bird, 3. Something sure is funny, 4. Breakfast, 5. My god. I fit in a basket?!, 6. That thrilling free feeling of feeling free wheeling, 7. Not so happy, 8. Too cute for shoes, 9. Me, fun, and the bus, 10. Hello, flower, 11. Me and Boots, 12. You can’t bother me, I’m in a fort, 13. Can we be friends?, 14. Hot car, cute kid, 15. This is my happy face., 16. We were going on a hike, 17. Let your geek flag fly!, 18. The little fisherwoman, 19. 1979? 1980?, 20. Hello, sullen teen years
Summer days driftin’ away
What are your summers like?
This is a typical summer day from my childhood, somewhere between 1978 and 1982. Most times, all those chairs were full. There was always a house full of people; good food, good conversation-- and you know that wasn’t just orange juice in G-ma’s glass.
These days my summers are filled with days spent trying to stay indoors in the air conditioning as much as possible, getting up to walk the dog before it gets too hot, and not nearly as many people hanging out at my house eating good food and having good conversations. I think that needs to be remedied… of course, that also might mean buying a new house. One with a pool.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Grandmother Badass, part two
Long-time readers will remember this photo (originally blogged here)
Here’s another one, brought to you by my day spent scanning in old photos…
The years may have changed her figure, but not her attitude.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Some of it’s magic; some of it’s tragic
There’s so much I want to say about today, but I just can’t seem to get started. So instead I’ll just post a video that I meant to post a year ago.
If you’re new around here, you may want to grab a cuppa and read this, this, this, and this first.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
My daddy tells me I’m Queen of the Beaver Mags!
Now that I finally have time to sit down and right this up, it’s probably not as funny as it is in my head.
Sorry to Matt who’s been waiting for this story for like… two years?
This is one of those family legends…
In June of 1975 my dad had a story published in Gallery Magazine.
Monday, February 04, 2008
A toast
In going out with some girlfriends for drinkies Saturday, we toasted to our friend Sophia, who lost her father earlier this week.
It was about half an hour later when another friend showed up that we found out Jenn had also lost her father last week.
Beth and I call it “the club”.
I want to tell my new sister-members so much. So much that I don’t know where to start, because I feel that if I sit down to start writing it will be three hours and many pages later that I finish.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Twelve short lines about twelve long months
In January, it was cold, I did some knitting and spinning, and I got a new iPod. Clearly I need to remember this year that January is boring and that would be a good time for a large knitting project and/or taking care of myself.
In February, I did some more knitting and spinning, and Tim finished renovating the second bathroom.
In March, there was bad as we began to say goodbye to Bill and there was good as Tim finished the renovations of my office.
In April, we said goodbye to Bill.
In May, the state tried to immolate itself, Kelly and Robbie moved to North Carolina, and we took a vacation.
In June, Tim’s parents came to visit.
In July, Sharon and Ginger and I announced we were going to open a yarn shop.
In August, our friend Kelly lost her father, and we went up for the funeral.
In September, I worked my last day at the Engineering Firm where I’d been for seven years.
In October, we went to Disney again, my friends surprised me with an amazing gift, and
then there was that little trip to the New York Sheep and Wool Festival… oh yeah—and we opened a yarn store! Dang, October was busy!
In November, we went to South Bend to be with Tim’s family for Thanksgiving.
In December, I was busy as shit; but at least I got some cool shoes.
There were some real highs and lows this year. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” to quote. I’m looking forward to 2008.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Was my head really that teensy?
Mim had mentioned in the comments the other day, about a lime green baby hat that her daughter had as a wee one. That reminded me about these lovelies that I’d found in my endless unpacking and reorginazation of Things What Have Been In Storage Forever:
Can you believe my head was ever that small?!
Thus spoke Lorena on 06/22/07 at 07:19 AM in Crafts, Yarn, Baby things, Personal, Souvenirs
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Sunday, June 17, 2007
Just under the wire for Father’s Day
I’ve been sad all day, thinking about how I’ve lost my father, and how I’ve lost Bill… so I give to you, for father’s day, a picture of Bill and I dancing during my wedding to Tim, at what would traditionally be called the “dollar dance” during which we raised almost $150 to donate to Hospice in my father’s name. And the lyrics to the song to which we danced.
Daddy, I was thinking about you, and Bill, tonight… and this song came on the radio. Just when I was thinking “what would I name a son, if I had one?"… and this song - no lie - came on the radio as Tim and I were driving home from Aunt Gay and Uncle Joe’s house.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Transcend this
Here’s a Bill story that I couldn’t tell at his memorial service.
When I was in the 11th grade, I went to P.K. Yonge Laboratory School. (I think they’ve since replaced “Laboratory” with “Developmental Research”; makes the kids feel less like lab rats.) My English teacher was a horrid troll. She was pushy, and perfectionistic, and bitchy, and I couldn’t stand her. She was the best teacher I think I ever had.
One of my assignments one time was to write a report on the religious philosophy of Ralph Waldo Emerson. The theme was to be what religion he was, why he chose that religion, and a little bit about the religion. My first stop? The PK library. Where I found absolutely nothing. Every book on Emerson was checked out. To this day I uphold that she had checked the books out herself, because every time I went to her to tell her I was having trouble doing research (this was way before the Internets, yo) she would swear up and down that those books were in the library and not checked out. I kept going back, the books kept not being there. At that time I was riding to and from school with someone else’s parents, and unable to stop at either the public or University libraries. We lived outside of town and the Stepmonster was unwilling to drive into town on the weekends just to take me to the library. So time was running out, and I had to write a few pages on something.
Enter, Bill. Savior of all questioning souls.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
And though I cried I was so proud to love a man so rare
He died about a month ago
While winter filled the air
And though I cried I was so proud
To love a man so rare.
He’s somewhere on the ocean now,
That’s where he ought to be
With one hand on the starboard rail
He’s waving back at me.
- Jimmy Buffett, The Captain and the Kid
Bill’s memorial service was Sunday (I have some photos but not tons; other people were taking some also and with any luck some of theirs will filter my way and I’ll be happy to share).
We got to Aunt Gay and Uncle Joe’s around noon, but Mike and Sharon and Barbara had beat us there by about an hour and there wasn’t much setting up to do. So I put my goodies in the oven (cheese & artichoke dip, and a cheese/pineapple/cracker concoction that sounds disgusting, looks like dog barf, and tastes like the best thing you’ve ever had the luck to put in your mouth) and had some wine with Uncle Joe.
As more people got there, we gathered in the living room. There was live music. There was singing. There were stories-- oh, the stories! Bill had touched, had influenced, had guided, had saved so many people, so many lives. He was the type of person who would just give. And give. And give. Without asking, without expectation; it was just in his nature to give of himself whatever he could. And so many people said so. Me? I just cried. I cried, and cried, and cried. I sat in the back corner and I knit and I listened to all the love and I cried. I couldn’t tell any stories. I wanted to-- oh my god I have SO many stories of Bill. But if I had opened my mouth a number of things could have happened. I might have started sobbing and been unable to stop. I might have frozen and been unable to speak. Or I might have started talking and been unable to stop. How could I tell a story just of Bill? Almost every story I have of Bill is also a story of my father, is a story of myself. I would have to have talked about my whole life! My lord, we would have run out of time!
And while I was crying for the loss of Bill, I was also crying because there was so much love in the room. I hope that he knew it. I hope that he knew how many people he had touched. How many people loved him so very much. How many people are who they are, or got where they are, or got out of something that was killing them, in part because of Bill’s gentle patience and willingness to give. He was, as the song says, a man so rare.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
When I was very young
Doris, Bill, and little me; Bayport, around 1974(ish). Sorry the photo has been pretty much beaten all to hell… it’s been on many a photo wall throughout the last thirtysomething years.
We’re heading out to Bill and Doris’s house in about an hour. I think Aunt Gay and Uncle Joe are already there. Bill is still with us, but only just.
Today is Doris’s birthday.
I’m running a little low on words.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Grandmother Badass
I thought I had posted this picture previously, but I can’t find that I actually ever did. So… let me introduce to you my Grandmother Lorena, from whom I got one half of my name (and a good portion of my feistiness).
This was taken in Alaska sometime around the late 1940’s. Do you not totally want to sit down and toss back some bourbon and play some poker with this woman?
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Riding in cars
I haven’t posted any slides in a couple of weeks. Anybody like old cars?
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
You think
You think to yourself, this sucks. And it does.
You think to yourself, this isn’t fair. And it isn’t.
You think to yourself that this man next to you is getting, as Neil wrote, what everyone gets. A lifetime. How much longer is it going to be? And what is the quality going to be like?
You look at his bracelet and see that his birth date is 12/10/43. And you think to yourself, hmm, I always thought it was the 11th. No wonder he always gave you an odd look when you wished him a happy birthday.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Song of the Day
This Woman’s Work by Kate Bush
Pray God you can cope.
I stand outside this woman’s work,
This woman’s world.
Ooh, it’s hard on the man,
Now his part is over.
Now starts the craft of the father.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
