Listen to the Mockingbird

Over the past few days I have been pacing through the downstairs rooms of my house reading aloud from To Kill a Mockingbird. My only listeners have been my dogs. You see, I am rehearsing for my 15 minutes of fame. As part of the 50th anniversary celebration of the publication of Harper Lee's novel, a reading marathon begins at 9:00 A.M. CDT in Monroeville, Alabama in the Monroe County Courthouse. The second day will be Saturday beginning at 9:00 A.M. until the entire book is completed. Though this is just one of many such marathons throughout the country this weekend, it is the one in the hometown of Miss Nelle Harper Lee and the fictional Maycomb. My actual fifteen minutes begins at 2:30 CDT. I have tried to gauge the pages I will read. As it is not an exact science, I have decided to concentrate on chapters ten though thirteen and just hope that I am close. Yes, I have been immersed in the book and the film and numerous articles. I have always been fascinated by the beautiful and melancholy opening scene as a child's hands open a cigar box of gathered treasures accompanied by the tender and nostalgic music of Elmer Bernstein . And yes, I have always been proud of the two children from my county who gave life to Jem and Scout Finch: Phillip Alford and Mary

Badham. (Word has it that Mary may be reading, too!)

"One-shot Finch"
In Chapter Ten, Scout complains that Atticus just can't do anything. When a rabid dog is seen walking down the street, Atticus is summoned from the courthouse by Calpurnia. The two children are stunned to discover that their father is quite a marksman.

Jem's wide eyed wonder at his father... captured by Phillip Alford

Mary Badham's favorite scene with Atticus-- the name she used even for her offscreen and lifelong friendship with Gregory Peck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of the many articles, special features, and critiques and facts about the novel and the film that I have studied this week, one offers a truly fresh perspective. In the summer 2010 publication of Alabama Heritage, (click to read entire article) Auburn University historian and professor, Dr. Wayne Flint concluded his six page article "Universal Values: The Enduring Legacy of To Kill a Mockingbird" with his customary wisdom and insight that have made him famous in this neck of the woods:

"In one of those delicious ironies for which Alabama is reknowned, a novel written by a white woman from Monroeville, on the edge of the state's Black Belt has become the primary literary instrument worldwide for teaching values of racial justice and tolerance for people different from oursleves, and the necessity for moral courage in the face of community prejudice and ostracism. Inside the pages of the book, readers may discover not only a New South but perhaps even a new humanity."

Star Spangled

for William & Thomas

Coffin Flags

I keep two neatly folded flags

within a bedroom window seat
among outgrown children's clothes, cedar, and woollens

things seasonal, seasonally forgotten.

On the Glorious Fourth they unfold

along with distant pain and loss
that a younger sister shouldered inside her silence

then left with me to be remembered.

I keep two neatly folded brothers:

The Korean statistic lost above the 38th parallell,

A patriot eternally deployed

While his WWII brother waits in Elmwood.

I keep two neatly folded soldiers
whose stars stare bravely back at me

and see a wife not theirs

and see my sons, not theirs

and see their future cruelly stolen.

And in their stars I see the gentle heroes

who make Independence Day bittersweet

and free the heart from any doubt

of why we celebrate liberty and love of country.

I keep two neatly folded souls

and remember.

Click HERE for details on William & Thomas

Diana: A Celebration...Born July 1, 1961

Among the many artifacts in the the childhood gallery of Diana: A Celebration were several small figurines. I know at least one was a Beatrix Potter character, with its ear or arm broken off. I wish I had written myself a note. For some reason, it is the most haunting memory I have from my May 28th visit to this special presentation at Atlanta's Civic Center. Also quite striking, was the blue HALO vest over a plain white shirt and pale tan jeans that Diana wore when visiting Angola to bring attention to the great dangers of land mines. It was in the gallery with many of her most elegant evening gowns, suits, and matching shoes. We have all seen the images of maimed children, and of Diana comforting them. Perhaps the tiny little figure (no photographs allowed), still much loved and cherished, helped her foresee her future. It stood proudly and left a powerful impression on me, as did her girlhood ballet slippers and her oh so small school uniform.

There are thousands of tributes to the memory of Princess Diana, but on this 49th anniversary of her birthday, July 1, 1961, I thought I would send you to one prepared by the Spencer family. Here is the website of Diana: A Celebration, which closed on June 13th, with the next installation scheduled for Grand Rapids sometime in November. It is beautiful and tasteful, as was Diana. I did not go there expecting to sit in quiet wonder in the gallery with her wedding gown for thirty minutes, but I did. I did not go there expecting to read the hand edited version of Charles Spencer's eulogy and weep for her again, but I did. I did not go there expecting to see a wall of bookshelves filled with condolence books from towns all over the world which were sent to the Spencer family, but there they were! I did not go there expecting to sign a remembrance book, which her brother seemed to KNOW I would need, but I signed it:
" I miss her presence in this world, still ... and every day."

Have You Seen This Plate? OR .......................The Dog We Left Behind

This darling dog was the resident canine companion of Clock Creek Cabin where we stayed during the weekend of May 22 for cousin Rebecca's wedding. He adorned the wall of the bathroom, and we so wanted to take him home with us. The owner of Lairdland Farms and this charming, restored log cabin says he is not ready to part with the pup. Alas, I will just have to book another stay to see those beautiful, begging eyes again. Meanwhile, I am looking for this plate. There was no information on the back, other than the fact that is was designed with a notch so as to hang it on the wall. I will say that it seemed to be somewhat old.

Of course, there were many other wonderful features at the cabin.

Just out of sight is a much needed step stool to climb into this comfy bed.

Gorgeous old pine floors and period furniture made for an authentic restoration of the cabin. I enjoyed reading historic books all about the town of Pulaski in Giles County, Tennessee, where I spent many of my childhood summers. On a nearby 600 acre farm, I passed many a day cavorting with beloved cousins Larry, Gary, and Melody. We swam in ponds like the one near this cabin, rode tractors, got lost in cornfields, looked for crayfish and swam some more in Buchanan Creek, and climbed high up into the hills and pastures where we all had to take turns being Davy Crockett on a given day!

The upstairs loft featured these twins bed across from another queen sized bed, making plenty of room for our son and his family to join us.

The cabin was set near a meadow and a cold water spring.
Just plain peaceful. (Click on any photo to enlarge.)


If you look across the meadow, you can just see the top of the spring fed pond. In the early evening this was the stage for a most spectacular lightning bug display. Well, that is what we call them in the Deep South, but I also love "fireflies." One look at the glowing dancers over the tops of these grasses, and the existence of the fairy folk seems a certainty.

A place for meditation be you a mortal or a spirit...

A view from the hillside...

The side porch where we sat and watched the lightning bug ball.

Goodbye, Clock Creek. We will be back again, Mr. Blackburn.

Sepia Saturday: Who's Your Daddy?

Yes, yes, I know last Sunday was Father's Day! I was busy celebrating, plus I had house guests here to help me. Good grief, these dads are a so much trouble. No wonder they did not get a holiday until 1972! And beside that, I have so few sepia photos, I save them for Sepia Saturday posts. So, here we have my father John Daniel Patterson. This is his high school senior portrait from 1929. His first job was working for Tennessee Coal & Iron aka TCI as a miner. On the back of this photo, written in his own hand "Mr. John Patterson, Edgewater Mining Camp." I think he must have been proud of becoming a working man. He was working for college money and soon made his way to the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa. There is a better version of this portrait, but this 4" x 6" is special to me because it features his handwriting. (The mark on his left cheek is a stain on the photo.) My father had thick, auburn hair. I was his fourth and last child, and the only one with the same color hair as his. I can remember my Grandmother Patterson telling me that every time I visited her as she would pat my head and comb her fingers through my hair.

This is a postcard addressed to my mother when she was a young and single working woman in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi. There is no message, only the address "Miss Nina Cox, and Bay St. Louis, Mississippi" written in pencil and a one cent cancelled stamp. (I can't quite make out the date, but my best guess is maybe 1933 or '34.) When I would shuffle through the photo box and come across this handsome fellow and ask, "Who is this man, Mom?" A big knowing smile would appear on her face. With a sweet, little chuckle she replied, " That was almost your daddy!" I think his name was Hollis Lloyd or maybe it was Lloyd Hollis. I am not sure now, but I am certain he was not my father.

Click here for more Sepia Saturday Posts!

Let It Be, Birthday Boy!

Today is Sir Paul's birthday, born in 1942. Thank goodness for Garrison Keillor's Writer's Almanac to keep me up to date on the Fab 4! Have I ever told you, dear readers, that I had the great good fortune to see the Beatles three times? Also, I did get to see Sir Paul at Phillips Arena in Atlanta about five years ago. Hum, I will have to check that date.

Look into these eyes...Is it any wonder so many were in love with Paul? And the spell of his music is still evident all around us. Last month I attended the wedding of a cousin in Tennessee. Her father, Gary, would have been just a little older than I am. He and I were great pals during the sixties and were great Beatles fans. He died in 1998 when his baby girl, the bride, was in the fifth grade. As I sat in the church, getting teary, anticipating the traditional notes for the entrance of the bride, I was wondering if an uncle or a grandfather would be giving Rebecca away. The doors of the church opened; the sunlight of late afternoon flooded the small chapel illuminating the lone bride. Everyone stood up for her. The warm sounds of the organ poured out a familiar melody, and "Let It Be" escorted her to the alter. Thank you , Sir Paul.

Sepia Saturday: Face of a Poet

Robert Graves 1895-1985

When a memorial was placed in Westminster Abbey's Poet's Corner on November 11, 1985, poet, translator, novelist, and critic Robert Graves was the only survivor of such World War I greats a Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen. After a long and distinguished literary career, he died the following month. In her brief notes on him, Natalie Merchant introduced me to the young Robert Graves. My first experience with his writing was his book Greek Myths, and of course I, Claudius from Masterpiece Theatre. I have read his biography of T. E. Lawrence and translations of works I have taught, but I missed his children' s poetry. I must say, some of it is not exactly light hearted, but then not all of childhood is.

VAIN AND CARELESS

Lady, lovely lady,

Careless and gay!

Once when a beggar called

She gave her child away.

The beggar took the baby,

Wrapped it in a shawl,

"Bring her back," the lady said,

"Next time you call."

Hard by lived a vain man,

So vain and so proud,

He walked on stilts

To be seen by the crowd.

Up above the chimney pots,

Tall as a mast,

And all the people ran about

Shouting till he passed.

"A splendid match surely,

"Neighbours saw it plain,

"Although she is so careless,

Although he is so vain."

But the lady played bobcherry, *

Did not see or care,

As the vain man went by her

Aloft in the air.

This gentle-born couple

Lived and died apart.

Water will not mix with oil,

Nor vain with careless heart.

*A play among children, in which a cherry,

hung so as to bob against the mouth,

is to be caught with the teeth.

Graves was wounded so badly at the Battle of the Somme, he almost died. He and Sassoon were young officers in the Royal Welch Fusiliers (RWF). Wikipedia's biography is useful and informative! To hear Natalie Merchant's music set to this poem click here! From this official website, you may also select videos of several other pieces from her new CD. (See my post for June 7.)

For more Sepia Saturday posts click here.

A Milk-White Horse

Equestrienne

See, they are clearing the sawdust course,

For the girl in pink on the milk-white horse.

Her spangles twinkle; his pale flanks shine

Every hair of his tail is fine

And bright as a comet's; his mane blows free,

And she points a toe and bends a knee,

And while his hoofbeats fall like rain

Over and over and over again.

And nothing that moves on land or sea

Will seem so beautiful to me

As the girl in pink on the milk-white horse

Cantering over the sawdust course.

by Rachel Field 1894-1942

Though this may not be the one in Rachel Field's poem, this white horse is one of my favorites from the gallery of work by Heywood Hardy. The name of this painting is "Noonday - Taking a Horse to Water." I hope to take you to the wellspring of Natalie Merchant's new CD Leave Your Sleep. Listen (Equestrienne) and drink the fresh waters of her creative and inspired music set to the words of poets who were writing not merely for the children of their day, but for all who cherish and honor childhood with its mystery, magic, and melancholy.

My younger son picked right up on the hint I dropped for a Mother's Day present after I had heard Ms. Merchant discussing her latest project on NPR back in April. In fact, he had been "reviewing" the music in the days before May 9, and saying, with a huge smile and sparkle in his eyes, "I have a great present for you....I mean GREAT...Do you want it now?" I declined. Even when I did get to open it, I had little time to listen closely and pore over the poems and the commentary featured in the small book which holds the two CD's. Last week, it was vacation time. Though the sun was shining on the Gulf Coast, the gloom of the coming disaster was heavy in the atmosphere...everywhere. When I was not sleeping late or dining on seafood with best friends, or staring more deeply and more sadly at the unbelievable beauty and brightness of the beach at Seaside (as seen in my header photo), I was escaping into this music. And what a thorough escape it is! For anyone who writes poetry or music, or both, this is a must. I suggest you click on the RED link above and allow Natalie to tell you about it. Then try the PINK link for her dramatic presentation of just one of the 26 poems. (You will see other selections from the CD on YouTube as well.) Should you decide to purchase this, you really want the 2 CD version with the book (not the one with 10 or 12 selections). The photographs of the poets along with short profiles are both eloquent and scholarly. Guess which mother and son have tickets to Natalie's August concert in Atlanta?

Sepia & Memorial Day

Have you ever put off writing a post until you took care of another one that had been waiting, and you have not done that one, so you really should not do any until you can pull yourself together and just do it RIGHT? Yes I have procrastinated, and that is the truth. I have been wondering what I could say about a month long absence from The Keeping Room other than "School just takes up all my time!" I have been busy, mostly with work, but also with just having a wonderful time which I will tell more about in the coming summer days.

For now, I am ready to tell you about my Sepia girl, a day late for Sepia Saturday, but on time for tomorrow. The little girl you see above posed for the camera some time in the early 1930's. She was eight or nine years old. I believe this was taken before scarlet fever rendered her deaf. Elsie, named after her mother, was a bright and industrious student. She had two brothers, William and Thomas. Her father was an accountant for Tennessee Coal & Iron and her mother a loving homemaker. After high school, she earned a scholarship to Gallaudette University that she never used. However, marriage was foremost in her plans, and she married just as America became involved in World War II. Her older brother William, First Marine Division, died on an island in the South Pacific, in the spring of 1944, just weeks before her first child was born. Three years later, she had a daughter. Her younger brother Thomas, 11th Airborne, fought and died in the Korean War. His body was never recovered.

Before Elsie died in January of 1981, that first born son, my husband, known to my readers as the Colonel, promised her (as she no doubt had promised her mother Elsie) that he would make every effort to bring her little brother home. True to his word, he has pursued this goal through the Defense POW/Missing Personnel Office. (Click on the blue to read all about it!) He and his sister have sent in blood samples to have their DNA recorded. He has attended their regional meetings and heard some amazing stories much like one that aired on NPR (click in the red to listen) last month. Due the the location of Thomas's last battle above the 38th Parallel (the dividing line between North and South Korea) the chances of any attempt to find his remains are remote. Dealing with North Korea is a political barrier that only time can remove. This organization was born out of the efforts of families of the Vietnam POW's and MIA's. I hope that it endures. Perhaps some day Thomas will be sent home.

William was awarded the Silver Star posthumously. He is buried with his parents in Birmingham. The Colonel and I inherited his coffin flag and the one that was also given for Thomas. I composed a poem inspired by the story of Elsie, her brothers, and the two flags. I will post it on July 4th.

A Poem in Your Pocket...

School Days by Jesse Wilcox

My Shadow

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.


The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.


He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;
I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!


One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

by Robert Louis Stevens

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When I was a first grader under the kind and expert tutelage of my teacher, I so loved this poem she read to our class that I had to make myself a copy and keep it on my dresser at home. I guess that was my earliest effort at having a poem of my own, or a poem in my pocket. As all of you poets and lovers of poetry know, April is national poetry month, and today is national "Poem in your Pocket Day." (For more details, click on the title of this post.)

The poem in my pocket today is by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;

Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;

And áll trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spáre, strange;

Whatever is fickle, frecklèd (who knows how?)

With swíft, slów; sweet, sóur; adázzle, dím;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is pást change:

Práise hím.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Which poem is in your pocket today?

Happy News...

Miss Bowles

by Sir Joshua Reynolds

"But if the while I think on thee dear friend,

All losses are restored and sorrows end."

Shakespeare, Sonnet 30

Earlier this week, we received the happy news that the pathology on the section of bone removed from Gracie's mandible showed very clean margins, free of cancer. While her prognosis remains guarded, this result was more than reason to celebrate! The Colonel and I opened a bottle of claret and drank several toasts: the first to Gracie who is healing well and reached her 9th birthday on the the 18th, the second to all our other pets --Lucy, Paddy, & Deusey, the third our veterinarians, and finally to the extra wing we have probably added to the AU Vet. School!

'Tis Sweet to Know...

" 'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark

Bay deep mouth'd welcome as we draw near home;

'Tis sweet to know an eye will mark

Our coming, and look brighter when we come! "

Lord Byron

When Cameron took this sweet portrait of Gracie, he had it printed up in a sepia tone. It isn't very old, but it had to be the image for today! I know you have seen this quote more than once on my blog -- I think it is still in the sidebar somewhere--but today I guess you might say it is more about a role reversal here at Graystone. Gracie has been a patient for several days at the AU Veterinary Hospital. She had a lesion removed from her mouth last month. It was a fibrosarcoma: Not good! The CT scan showed little evidence that the cancer had spread. So, on Wednesday the surgeon removed a section of bone from her mandible with a hope of getting a clear margin. The staff of resident doctors and student interns do a really fantastic job in the ICU and call several times a day. Yesterday, the first calls reported how that she was having a lot of pain, and that she was receiving pain meds. But the last call of the day in late evening was that she seemed to be feeling much better and should be coming home tomorrow. Well, that tomorrow is here, and I will be going to collect her at 11:00 this morning. That is Nurse Lucy on the left. Nurse Paddy (our other spaniel), Head Nurse Deusey (the cat---think Nurse Ratched) and I are all ready for her. Guess who will be boohooing, if not baying, a deep mouthed welcome once she is draws near home!!

Sepia Saturday: Nap & The Little Colonel

Nap & The Little Colonel

True, Easter is the Holiest of days in the church calendar, but what would it be without all the darling toddlers wearing their adorable little clothes, balancing baskets of Easter eggs, and hugging their new stuffed toys? For today's Sepia Saturday, I offer this cherished image of my husband and his much loved Nap. My mother-in-law gave me this photo during the year that he served in Vietnam. It was taken and processed and developed by his father who was by profession a medical photographer. My best guess is that the photo was taken on Easter of 1947. The Colonel would have been three years old. He was actually born on Easter Sunday of 1944. Imagine the combination of joy and uncertainty at the birth of a first born child just two months before D-Day! Most assuredly, it was the joy that prevailed. And yes, we still have Nap. He is safely stowed away in a cedar chest, but usually appears on Easter mornings wearing a new pale blue ribbon tied in a big bow around his neck.

May Christ's love and sacrifice and the Miracle of the Resurrection

prevail in your spirit this Easter tide.

Sepia Saturday: Aunt Mary & Uncle Bill

My earliest recollection of this darling couple was during the fifties when they would pack up their three boys and drive from Lakeland, Florida back to Birmingham during summer vacation.

Bill is my father's baby brother. He was born when my dad was nearly 12. Both of them were in the Army Air Corp during World War II. This photograph was taken in November of 1943, just six weeks before Bill was shipped off to Iceland. I have just been talking with him (another great benefit of these Sepia Saturday projects) and he told me he remembered that he was crossing the North Atlantic on Christmas Day of 1943. He served as crew chief with the rank of Tech Sargent in Iceland through all of 1944, and returned home in the spring of 1945. He reminded me that he and my dad returned at just about the same time, and that he remembered several family gatherings to celebrate their homecoming.

After the war , my father and Bill both returned to their jobs with U. S. Steel. In the early fifties, Uncle Bill decided to try something different. He became a jeweler. He and Mary moved to Lakeland, opened a business, and raised three sons. Since my mom and dad had some post war babies as well (Sue and I were the same ages as Bill's boys), Bill would always make sure that our house was one of the stops on the summer trips back home. Today, Mary and Bill are retired and living in the mountains of Western North Carolina, near all three sons and their families. However, Bill is still singing in a barber Shoppe Quartet organization while Mary is doing the same in the Sweet Adelines! Aren't they a beautiful couple? This photo looks like something out of Hollywood to me.

To visit other Sepia Saturday posts and learn about the project click HERE!

Happy 1st Anniversary to The Keeping Room

After discovering a most enchanting and inspiring community of blogs and their creators during the winter of 2009, I took the leap into this warm stream of consciousness, of the hearts and minds which had so enriched my life, and created The Keeping Room. It was nearing the 20th anniversary of my younger son's diagnosis of cancer at age seven, and I wanted to do something to celebrate his survival and triumph over the ordeal. This is Cuyler at age one. The portrait is the work of Sam Oliver, a local photographer who was and still is in great demand in our area. This is just one of a series of photos that he took in October of 1982. We were outdoors on a warm, autumn afternoon and years away from the trials and sleepless nights and months and years of coping with cancer. I know we have not been alone in this experience. Also, I know we have been extremely blessed and graced with a recovery.

One of the themes of the American Cancer Society is celebrating the birthdays of cancer survivors. My school is a leader in fundraising for the Relay for Life this year. Yesterday, during each of the four lunch waves, a cancer survivor--a student or school employee--was recognized and students could donate fifty cents and have a piece of birthday cake. So today, as I reflect on my one year anniversary of a most wonderful year of blogging, I dedicate this post to each of you who are survivors or who have loved ones who are survivors. From my grateful heart to yours, I honor your birthdays and your lives. Peace be with you.

Sepia Serendipity: Just Jiggs

One of the unexpected benefits of joining in on the Sepia Saturday project has been the photos I have found along the way. While many of these have been just plain old Kodak black and white, they are nonetheless treasures for me. This is my early childhood playmate, Jiggs. When each of my three older siblings were off to school each day, I remember long hours of quiet strolling through the pasture with Jiggs walking right behind me. Sometimes he would nudge me forward with his nose and snuffle & wuhuffle his way back to the barn in high hopes that he might convince me to put some oats in his feed box, and I would always sneak him an extra scoop. I loved using the curry comb to brush his winter coat. It was during this ritual that I could always talk to Jiggs. He was a great listener. My mother hanging out laundry nearby would ask, "Who were you talking to out there?" My reply, "Just Jiggs."

My sister Sue took these photographs with her Brownie camera.
This one certainly captures the rough and tumbly and often stubborn Welsh pony who was a family pet to my mom and dad, a noble steed to Sue, and just Jiggs to me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"To be loved by a horse,
or by any animal,
should fill us with awe-
for we have not deserved it."
~~~~~~~~
Marion C. Garretty

Jake...A King of Hearts

Certainly the blog world as we know it is filled with all manner of stories and glowing tributes to Golden Retrievers. Well folks, here is one more that must be told. Jake came to my dear, dear friends Cathy & Paul just over two years ago. He needed a home. He was ten years old then. They had just lost Bailey, a beautiful Irish Setter and Golden mix, whom they had loved for nearly 16 years. In this short time, Jake has given so much comfort, so much loyalty, so much love, and so much joy to so many. He is has become a certified therapy dog visiting the hospice center weekly in addition to his daily duties as the constant companion and personal snuggler to my friends. I had the pleasure of being included on Jake's two vacations to the Gulf Coast. That first summer he was an immediate hit with each person he greeted. People who had met him once, would look for him and pet and talk to him throughout the week. They knew his name. Most memorable was his interaction with a group of children suffering from cancer who were on retreat with their families. He was invited to their talent show and we all went along. He truly held court as one by one the children and parents, would come to pet him and chat with us. Though Cathy and Paul do not have children, they are both teachers. Did I say they did not have children? They have had hundreds, but most especially they have had Jake.

Yesterday morning, Valentine's Day, Jake set off for that great Frisbee game on the beaches of Heaven. I have no doubt that Saint Francis welcomed him as The King of Hearts.

Sepia Saturday #3: Part Two

Anita

Two weeks ago, I shared the story of a a fur coat that my mother made for my sister Anita. I could remember that there were other photos and had hoped to find one of her in the coat with matching bonnet and muff. What I did find was almost as good as Anita herself was such a doll!



"Peggy"

This is the Patty Play Pal which Santa brought to our house for the Christmas of 1959. She was actually for my sister Sue. This was the year of the 36" tall toddler dolls. I received a boy - Sandy McCall - dressed as a preppy school boy! Sue and I took the two them out for photos. My mom said, "Well, Peggy (Sue had re-named her) needs a coat!" So we bundled her up and took her outside for photos! These pictures really show more of the details of the coat. As the doll wears a child's 2T, this tells me that the coat must have been about a size 3 to 4. A close look reveals that the sleeves were a bit long and covered the doll's hands. It is a bit big through the shoulders, but Peggy did't seem to mind!

A few years before she died, my sister gave me her doll. There is a story behind this, but "Peggy" was really supposed to be for me. Sue was the cowgirl and not interested dolls. As I explained in a response on the previous post, the darling coat was ruined by mildew. My mother had it stored in a freezer kept in our garage. The freezer failed. When it was discovered, the damage was already done. However, finding these photos did confirm the fact that it would have been lost less than two years before Anita's daughter was born. When Nancy arrived, it was as if I had a living doll to play with. I have always been saddened that I did not get to dress her up in the coat!

For more information on Sepia Saturday click HERE!

Sepia Saturday #3: Wrapped in Love & Fur

Among the many mementos and treasures which my father brought back from Europe in the spring of 1945 was a bundle of creamy white fur hides.

My dad said they were baby goatskins. He had last seen my sister Anita when she was 7 or 8 months old. She was three and a half when he returned. Anita and I have been visiting over lunch today, and she is my primary source for these facts. She remembers being told they were actually from the isle of Capri . Her first knowledge of the hides was seeing my mother and father spreading them out on the dining room table. The fur was very soft with a delicate wavy quality.

"Anita, we're going to make you a coat."

The best part of this story for me, is having Anita recall with pride and wonder the unique talents of our mother. She was, albeit self-taught, an accomplished seamstress. She made a pattern for the coat, bonnet, and muff. Once the pattern was laid, my father and mother used a razor blade to cut out the pieces. Though Mother had a pedal powered sewing machine, we believe she hand sewed the pieces together. Our dad helped fashion the covered buttons. The buttons fastened to an elastic loop covered in creamy satin--the same fabric which lined the coat, bonnet, and muff. Pink satin ribbons adorned the bonnet with bows and the ties making another bow under the chin. There were more bows and a strap for the muff. To complete the ensemble, Mother made a pair of cream woolen flannel lined pants with a bib waistband and straps which had gathered cuffs at the ankles fastened with pearl buttons. The pants were worn over a matching satin blouse in the classic style: Peter Pan lace edged collar and puff sleeves. There are no known pictures of Anita in the "little white coat" as we have always referred to it. She wore this until she was too big for it. My sister Sue, born December 1945, was next in line to wear this coat. She had the hair to match it! Our mother carefully maintained this coat through her first two girls, and it was in perfect condition still in the early fifties when it was just right for me. Thank goodness for the familiar old dime store photo booths!

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Anita and I have realized today that this coat, so lovingly crafted over 65 years ago by our parents, could not have been enjoyed any better than if it had been the finest ermine. In actuality, it is really just the little white Italian goat coat.

"I Say That He's Bonnie!"

The Monarch of the Glen

and

Scottish poet, Robert Burns

"We'll tak a cup of kindness" and say Happy Birthday, Rabbie!

January 25th, 1759

" Comin' Thro' the Rye"

I just had to have a song by Bobbie Burns for today. I think you will enjoy Eddi Reader. She has performed many of the Burns songs during her career. I find this performance fresh yet still true to the spirit of the lyrics.

Since I had a portrait of Burns up for New Year's Eve, I offer something even more Scottish: Sir Edwin Landseer's famous Monarch of the Glen.

And if that isn't enough to have you craving shortbread and a tartan cloak, for all my buddies who love the film, here are the lyrics of the song...

I Know Where I'm Going

I know where I'm going

And I know who's going with me

I know who I love

And my dear knows who I'll marry.

I have stockings of silk

And shoes of bright green leather

Combs to buckle my hair

And a ring for every finger.

O' feather beds are soft

And painted rooms are bonnie

But I would give them all

For my handsome winsome Johnny.

Some say that he's poor

But I say that he's bonnie

Fairest of them all

Is my handsome winsome Johnny.

Hope this was a wee bit of cheer. Bonnie day to ya!