Remembering in November

 

Today is Veterans Day. We remember to be thankful for all those who have served in the Armed Forces. It is very moving to see the photos of all those young soldiers. None of my immediate family members were in the military. My parents were a few years younger than all of my friends' parents when I was in school, so it was always very uncomfortable when everyone mentioned their dads being in the war and I had nothing to say. I did have relatives who were soldiers but we never really talked about it in our family. In many families, military memorabilia is on display. John has several items from the time that his dad was in the Navy in WWII. I remember soon after we got married, I found some antique miniature iron toys and a photo and set up a little patriotic vignette in our house. As it turns out, it wasn't his father at all but was a picture of Uncle Bud. Uncle Bud wasn't even his uncle! There were a lot of things belonging to Uncle Bud in that house, but I never knew him.

The Viet Nam war was under way when I was a teen, and I did know lots of young men who were drafted or enlisted then. I exchanged letters with a cousin regularly. I really wish I had kept them. I also had a few friends that I wrote to. I am usually a keeper of papers and things, so I am surprised at myself that I let them go.

Poppies are for remembrance and have become a symbol of veterans and especially of World War I. The most well known poem about poppies is "In Flander's Fields". Our junior high school history class had to learn that poem. I can still recite it. And I still cry. Our teacher, Mr. Cramer talked a lot about that war. The main thing I remember now is that he learned to knit stockings. And I will never forget that poem. If you ever have the opportunity, visit the World War I museum in Kansas City. It is amazing.

I've written before about my small poppy collection. It started with an old print we have of a vase of poppies. Who knows, it may have belonged to Uncle Bud. Then I happened upon a couple of plates and several postcards and a couple of poppy brooches.  I have them on a shelf and think of Flander's Field every time I look at them. And I also think of Uncle Bud.

And Another Thing!

 How did it get to be November so quickly? This is the time of year that seems to be going too fast. I'm still putting Halloween away and everything is getting that bare look because it's too early for Christmas. I never feel like getting ready for Christmas too soon, but then I always think I am running out of time if I wait until after Thanksgiving. I'm really not one to decorate for Thanksgiving. I turn all my pumpkins around so that the faces don't show. I leave up the greenery with autumn colored leaves. And I have a reversable garland that I made with Halloween pictures on one side paired with Thanksgiving on the other.

As I've probably said before: I am all about the simple life. I will usually leave the pumpkins and acorns and this banner up until Thanksgiving and then start decorating. But, on years like this when there is less time between the holidays I might start a little earlier. 

The elections are over which means the ads are over for a while too. This seemed like the worst year ever for annoying attack ads on both sides. I don't know why there isn't a law against lying. Of course, now they are all planning to be nice and work together. If only that would really happen. Since the campaigns have ended, we are back to so many ads about prescription medications. And of course the Holiday ads have begun. Right now it's refreshing (except for the meds) but I'm sure it may get a little annoying before it's over.

The weather is being typical for now. Gloomy and rainy lately even though summer lasted much longer than usual this year. We had our fireplace cleaned and inspected so now we are ready for our first fire. Our chimney sweep had a business card with a top hat on it. I love traditions. In England and several other European countries, chimney sweeps used to wear top hats and formal tailcoats. They were considered to bring good luck, protection, and prosperity to their customers. They used to appear at weddings to kiss the bride. John has never had a house with a fireplace before so I think he's been a little bit leary that it will burn the house down. I'm not sure if he believes the good luck story.

NOVEMBER: The last month of Autumn, but the beginning of a new Adventure.      Anonymous

Halloween Memories

 

 

Hello all. Since it's almost Halloween, I am going through my pictures one more time. Even though the witch looks pretty scary, the sentiment is sweet. "May the spell of the Hallowe'en witches bring you good luck and also riches." That seems harmless. Many people have different outlooks of this holiday. Some people take it very seriously, some have fun with it, and others refuse to acknowledge it at all. I work with a woman who cannot stand to hear any mention of the holiday at all because it's of the devil. She knows it is one of my favorites now, so we agree to disagree. Even someone buying jewelry for a gypsy Halloween costume upset her. We are all entitled to our opinions, but I did feel that I needed to say that I didn't feel the same way. After all, gypsy fortune teller is my favorite costume.

This photo is a few years (!!!) ago, but it was when my friend and I told fortunes with dominoes at our history museum's annual Trick or Treat event. We had such fun! I also like to collect and read Tarot cards. 

Our parochial grade school, All Saints, used to organize one of the best Halloween Haunted Houses in the city. For several years, it was one of the school's biggest fund raisers, and lots of people got involved. John's wife and her sister were the major organizers of the event and had the most clever ideas. Even our priest got into costume. Eventually we got a new priest, and he didn't like it all. He even cancelled the students' parade around the neighborhood in their Halloween costumes and their party. 

As for costumes, I was almost always a gypsy, even when I was very young. I wasn't the best at coming up with detailed costume ideas. It seems like my children were either ghost brides, gypsies, vampires, or bums. As bums, they got coffee ground beards. The vampires had lots of food coloring blood. And the ghost bride wore a costume made from old curtains, and flour on her face for that pale, wan ghostly look.

Our friends had the best Halloween parties. The same sisters that orchestrated the Haunted Houses were also the hosts at many parties. The couples costumes they came up with were truly amazing. One year it was Curious George and the Man in the Yellow Hat. Another year they were Oompa Loompas.  John and his Candy were Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy one year.  She was known for being able to come up with just about any costume that someone wanted. I'm not sure if I ever mentioned the entire attic filled with vintage clothes at our old house. That was her doing. She found a formal dress for me the year that my daughter and I went to the party as Prom Queens. She was the Present and I was the Old and Faded Past. It was fun. Other years I was of course, a gypsy. Jim and I didn't usually do couples costumes. One year I was a hippie and he was a construction worker. That was back when they used to yell at each other. It seemed kind of controversial at the time.  Another year, he was a famous prize fighter. I was, of course, a gypsy.

Well, this little trip down Memory Lane has made me remember the caramel apples, popcorn balls, and full size candy bars we used to get in our pillowcase trick or treat bags when I was a kid. Times have certainly changed over the years. 

PARTY LIKE IT'S WEDNESDAY

 Even though it may look like I have been doing much of nothing lately, that isn't really true. I have finally been working on that book I have been talking about for many years. Yes, really. And consistently. I have always wanted to have my blog formatted into a book. I have done that, into one copy with my first one, "The Victorian Gypsy". There are a lot of companies which will print one copy as a keepsake. But what I am doing now is writing an actual book. It will have some of my posts but will contain other things I've written and will be working on too. I'm actually quite excited about it.

My sister, Stephaney Oberon has been very helpful and encouraging. She is telling me about all the details that you don't know you need to know! She just published "Atlanticville: An Island Memoir". It's really a wonderful book of stories about her life on an island near Charleston, South Carolina. It can be ordered from Amazon or directly from her website at Stephaneyoberon.com. 

I actually have five desks in my house. I guess that is another furniture weakness that I possess. The one I use the most is my computer desk in our shared office. But the place where I write is on the couch, with a blanket, and all my information around me on the coffee table. I know. That doesn't make a lot of sense. I am trying to find a better place for writing but I'm really very comfy at the coffee table. I think it might be because of the blanket...and the coffee.

I do have a favor to ask. If any of you remember a post that you think deserves a place in my book, please leave a short comment to let me know what it is. It will be incredibly helpful. Thank you and I will be back to my regular Wednesday schedule soon.

OCTOBER IS MY FAVORITE MONTH

Why I love October

1.The leaves

2.The weather (most of the time)

3. No sad memories

4. Soup and bread

5.Sweaters

6. Pumpkin everything

7. Decorating

8. Halloween

9. Our Anniversary

10. Road Trips. We are on our way to Galena again today. A perfect October town

I found this on Google and might keep it. I like it.

It was our second date. We were watching tv and getting to know each better. Suddenly John turned to me and asked, "What's your morning routine?" I really wasn't prepared for that one. At the time, I was a fraternity House Mom, and my main morning routine was making sure that I was up, dressed, and visible by 8:00 a.m. That was when the magic happened. I was ready for deliveries, meetings, inspections, disasters and whatever else came my way. My most memorable morning was when I stopped the firemen from breaking our front door with an axe because of a malfunctioning alarm. I was really glad I was right there in the room when they came to call! That was really the only routine I had at the time. And coffee.

But I guess that is the first time I realized that morning routines were something people thought about. Now it has become quite a thing. Of course I googled it. And I found out that there is quite a variety of routines that are popularly followed by those with much more discipline that I have or even want.

Becoming even more intrigued, I checked with YouTube. Do you know how many videos there are of people brushing their teeth? Hundreds, at least.

There is a difference between a morning routine and a morning ritual. A routine is a set of actions and habits one does in a fixed order right after waking up. A ritual is made up of slow intentional acts. I guess it is the difference between putting a coffee pod into the Keurig, and fresh grinding the specialty coffee beans, and then adding spring water to a French press coffee pot. And then taking the time to watching it brew while meditating.

My mornings are based on whether I'm going somewhere or if I am staying home. If I'm going to be home, I am lazy, but I could probably turn coffee into a ritual. If I have to be somewhere early in the morning, my routine is pretty streamlined. I like to get ready as quickly as possible. My only hint for this is to decide what I will be wearing the night before. Actually, that is pretty good advice. 

Some of the morning routines that I read about lasted more than an hour with plenty of time for grooming, prayer, inspirational reading, and exercise. I was surprised at the people who liked to begin their routines at 5 a.m. I've never been secretive about the fact that I am truly a night owl. I am sincerely trying to change that but it isn't easy to do. I know I'm not ready to be up at 5:00, unless it's for an adventure.

I recently heard this little story. Grandma was staying with her nine-year-old grandson and trying to help him get ready for school. Finally, he looked at her and said, "Gigi, you are interfering with my morning routine!" I wonder if he is on YouTube.

Messages in the Night

Last night I woke up with a sudden profound thought and knew I should write it down because I wouldn't remember it in the daylight. I try to keep a pen and notebook on my nightstand for just such moments. I had the pen, but I needed to get up anyway and look for the notebook. I actually have three pens that light up for writing in the dark. They are kind of fun. One has a white light, one is red, and the third is blue. So here is my very important thought:

"Life is all a muddle lately." 

And I guess it must be, if it is waking me up in the middle of the night. I'm working on a couple of projects, and they are keeping me over-absorbed. And as a result, I have a bad case of bathtub in the hallway syndrome. Some of you may remember, and some might not, but many years ago, when my children were small, we were always in the middle of remodeling some part of our very old house. We decided to switch the small laundry room and very large bathroom which were next to each other. We had a cast iron clawfoot bathtub and had to move it into the hallway while waiting during several decorating delays. The wallpaper was late and then the rolls didn't match so it had to be ordered again. The plumbing took some time. The laundry room needed to be finished first. There was just one thing after another. It took forever and we were always tripping over and around the tub, which was right in the middle of the hall. The longer it lasted, the more I talked about the tub. For some reason it became part of every conversation I had. No matter who or what or where, I complained and moaned about the bathtub. And ever since, I think about it whenever I am feeling totally overwhelmed by a little situation. I was definitely in a muddle.

I really need to take some time and put away Summer and get ready for Fall. It is official, after all. I am bringing boxes of autumn decor up from the storage room and slowly getting things out. I don't think I go overboard, but I do like this season. Nothing is photo ready, that's for sure. Reminds me of the bathtub.

Is It Wednesday?

I was just sitting here thinking at my computer when John said, "Hey, where's your blog?" I can honestly say that I completely forgot that it was Wednesday. I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound good to me. I've had a lot going on lately. Two family funerals, a trip to North Carolina, a little bit of illness (all recovered now) and just generally trying to keep up with the world. My youngest sister lost her fiance after a long battle with cancer. And my cousin drowned accidently while out boating on the river. Both were 63 and should have had many years ahead of them. As usual, I still think that Life likes to trick us.

My sister Stephaney was here for a few days and had a booksigning for her just published book. It's very exciting to actually see it in print. It's called "Atlanticville-An Island Memoir" by Stephaney Oberon and is available on Amazon. It's a book of essays about her time living on Sullivan's Island in South Carolina. The cover is a replica of an old matchbook cover. My daughter Meg made pretzel cigarettes for the occasion because of the cover. The pretzels are dipped in white chocolate with red edible glitter on the ends. They were really very cute. She made them for another party once and someone thought the vintage ashtray was actually for stubbing out real cigarettes, so that is a consideration.

I don't get to see my three sisters very often, so it was great to visit with them twice in two weeks. I talked to Stephaney a few months ago and she told me she was writing a book. I have been writing a book for about twenty years and not getting very far. I've done quite a bit of writing but putting it all together cohesively has been the problem. If you have been reading my blog for any length of time, then you know I have a tendency to jump all over the place. She really gave me a boost and has been willing to help me ever since. I have become much more dedicated to actually getting mine finished, although putting it all together is more intensive than I thought it would be. I am really enjoying it now and can finally see it coming together. 

 

I've been traveling this week. I spent a few days in North Carolina visiting my three sisters. The reason for the trip was my brother-in-law's funeral, so it wasn't really a time for fun. But anytime I can see all my sisters at one time is a good time. It is also overwhelming. So today I am putting away laundry and not doing much else.

I feel very close to my sisters even though I don't get to see them often. The three of them were born within a five-year period and have always been a part of their own little world. I am several years older. I moved away and got married when Shawna (the youngest) was only three. They have always been "the girls". I've always been the older, normal sister.

 Everyone in my family has a story. There is always something happening. Now one of them is in the absolute unorganized throes of moving and is more scattered than anyone should ever have to be. One has just published a book. (Not me, but I am now working on mine more seriously than ever.) One has just lost the love of her life after a long and terrible illness.  And I am more normal than I even was before. I don't mind being normal, as long as I can also be funny, creative, and whimsical.

As sisters do, we are always giving each other advice. And not often listening to it. As the oldest, I also think I am the wisest. Not always true, of course. They have a lot more life experience then I do. And they have lived and loved in lots more places. I'm the one who has barely moved outside of my original neighborhood. They have all lived on the east coast for many years, and in many different circumstances and places.

Here is my advice. 1. If you are scattered and totally discombobulated, make a list. Concentrate on three things only. Then move on. Do not try to do everything that is in your head at the same time. 2. If there is a secret, make sure that only one person knows it, or it won't be a secret anymore. These things always come out at funerals. Or at the receptions. I still remember the time that we all found out at a funeral dinner that a long-time married aunt and uncle were first cousins.

After the funeral, the rest of the trip was very quiet. No one really wanted to do the usual shopping and visiting we usually fill our time with. We actually binge watched tv, and it was just what everyone needed. We chose a show called "Bad Sisters". It is quite a dark comedy drama, and there have only been two seasons. Two of us made it through all eighteen episodes. It is set in Ireland and involves five sisters who are unsuccessfully trying to commit a terrible crime. Anyone with sisters will identify with parts of it. Hopefully, not the murder parts.

Looking Back and Forth

 I am a maker. I am not a do-er. I'm more of a watcher, and a see-er, rather than being involved and in the middle of whatever is going on around me. I'm a thinker, a reader, and not a person who makes things happen. I've been this way all of my life. I've always needed lots of alone time. And lots of quiet time. This hasn't always been easy. I was the oldest of five children, and usually the babysitter because of a pretty big age gap. After I started a family of my own, I also had five children. For many, many years there wasn't a lot of quiet time in my life. I enjoyed the hustle and bustle when I had children and would never give it up. I think my identity as "young mother" was my favorite. But I found quiet time by seldom sleeping. That was when I began staying up late at night, when everything was peaceful and serene. It was a busy time, and I did enjoy the games, and lessons, and gymnastic meets, and parties. As a family, we didn't do as much as most of the other people we knew. My husband was self-employed and his business took most of his time. We also lived in a hundred-year-old house, and continuous renovation took the rest of it.  He had a different schedule than most of our friends.  I had a very small crafts business and kept busy making pretty things in a darling old shed.

The picture was painted by my sister as a gift during those years. We called the shed Serenity.

 We joked that none of our trips ever lasted more than 23 hours. We were homebodies and we were very content. Years later when I married John, we compared our former lives. His was very busy. He also worked very hard, but they always seemed to be going places and doing things. He was a Coach for several kid's teams and was also a drag racer at many tracks around the midwest. Camping and parties with groups of friends and boating were some of their favorite family activities. To that I say a very hearty "No thank you." I can hardly imagine anything I would like less. Our lives were very different even though we knew a lot of the same people. We wouldn't have been a good match then, but we are perfect for one another now. He's slowed down, and I'm the one who always seems to have to go somewhere. I like to join things, but I often find an excuse to miss the meetings. I would rather stay home. My favorite place to go is still the library or bookstore. We do go to restaurants a lot. The waitresses always say "Just two?" I'm sure they all think that we have no friends.

As I read this back it sounds a little pitiful. It isn't. I must not be the only one who enjoys staying at home. As they like to say in my favorite British programs, "She keeps herself to herself."

Don't Talk Dirty to Me

 

I've never thought of myself as a prudish person, but I suppose that I am a lady who resides on the proper side of life. Lately, I feel that society's language has gotten out of control. Could it be that I am the only one who is bothered by excessive profanity? It seems that everywhere I go, I hear conversations and see words that used to be saved for special occasions only.

My children commented once about the fact that I don't swear. I told them it wasn't because I didn't know how, but that I chose not to. I'm not saying that I have never used powerful language. I have saved it for when it really seemed necessary. Now, it seems to be wasted on the ordinary.

I think many of us in my advancing age group grew up at a time when we seldom heard our parents use curse words. My mother's phrase of choice was "Judas Priest". My dad could get a little more colorful, but not very often. John's grandpa liked to say "Fiddlestix". My father-in-law would say "Shoot that sherbert, Herbert." I have no idea what any of that means.  I used to like a sentence that I learned in Spanish class. It sounded very fiery, especially if said with feeling. It actually translated to "Gosh, I forgot my notebook!"

But now I hear language that never used to be tolerated being said as part of a normal sentence. When did these words start being used as adjectives and adverbs? Why can't some people talk without adding these colorful words to every sentence. Whatever happened to grammar?

I was shopping today. I walked by a group of women in their twenties or thirties. They were having a normal conversation, but everything they said was sprinkled with spice. It's become so common that there isn't any meaning to it. I was also by the pharmacy when it was closing for lunch, as some of them do now. I saw and heard a very disgruntled customer who started yelling that he was there at one minute before closing time. He was threatening the pharmacist and called her names that I am still shocked by and wouldn't ever think to say. I really wondered if he might come back with a gun. I hurried through my shopping, and when I left, there was a police car parked outside the door. Maybe that's common now. I don't know. I do know that I am a lot more comfortable when I shop online.

It isn't just the words we hear. It's also the words we see. In the bookstore, I noticed so many off-color words in titles, especially journals, planners, calendars and self-help books. I'm not sure if it is because of the shock value or if publishers think these will be more attractive to customers. But they are everywhere.

I work in an antique mall one morning a week. Recently there was a bit of a controversy because someone complained about offensive words and phrases that had been added to the middle of pretty antique plates. The vender is very popular, and I enjoy seeing her booth. But I have to say I was shocked by the plates, and that they would be on display. There's a high volume of traffic, and lots of parents bring children when they visit. The problem was fixed by putting black ribbons on the plates and tying bows. Of course, people move the ribbons to see what is hidden. So, it isn't really solved. These plates are big sellers. I really can't see having one in my house, but I don't want to criticize anyone's decorating style. Personally, I think that some things are inappropriate and that people just like to see how far they can go because it must be fun to make others uncomfortable. Yes, I guess I do sound like a prude. I'll just go make myself a nice cup of tea and ponder the state of the world.

The Tale of the Traveling Chair

 

Do you have a favorite piece of furniture? And does it move from place to place? In our family we adore this chair. Its history is just a bit muddled. I'm not sure where it came from originally. My daughter, Erin, acquired it in Kansas City when a neighbor moved away and didn't want it anymore. It is really a most comfy place to sit even though it was a little shabby originally. Eventually I moved it to my house in Des Moines. We had it reupholstered in this tapestry fabric and it immediately became even more valuable. Most people will just buy something new and be money ahead, but this chair was family. And I never buy new when I can have something old. The chair was right at home in the attic "library" of my 1918 Craftsman style cottage.

It was an ideal chair for reading and I loved that it was surrounded by books. This was the kind of house that looked small from the outside but it had lots of space. I was sure it would be our forever home. There were nooks and crannies and built in cupboards and shelves. My grandbabies called it the house of drawers and doors. We moved here after raising our family in a nineteenth century house on a country acreage. Even though our little bungalow was my favorite house ever, I chose to sell it and move on after Jim died. This was a perfect home for two, and much too sad for me when it became a house for one.

The favorite chair next landed in the second story apartment of a Tudor styled brick house. The space was much smaller, but the floor plan was almost the same as the main floor of my cottage. This house was built in 1925 and the exterior looked like it belonged in a fairy tale.

This was another place where I planned to stay, but after two years I very unexpectedly became a House Mom to thirty young men in a new fraternity building that felt like a hotel. There was no room for my own furniture in my little space, so almost everything I owned went into storage. Little by little, I visited the storage unit and brought things back. I became an expert at vertical decorating because my two little rooms had 12-foot ceilings. This was the only new place I have ever lived. I tried my best to make it feel homey.

Although I've moved two more times since my frat house years, that was the last time I owned The Chair. When John and I married in 2019, I moved into an old farmhouse where he had lived for nearly thirty years. That house was filled with items and memories that weren't mine. Although it was a nice old house, I was happy to buy another. Now we live in a one story ranch style practical house that works for us. We think it is perfect for our second story. It feels new to us after all our old houses but was built in 1986. I do miss the whimsy of older houses but the benefits are best for us now.

 My middle daughter, Meg, took it to her 1906 Queen Anne style home, complete with tower, winding stairs, and lots of space. I'm sure it was happy there. But Meg's house has an abundance of chairs. Eventually, it moved back to Erin again. And now, it's on the move again and its next home will be with Bridget, back in Des Moines. It has truly been a family chair. It's starting to get a little shabby again, and the upholstery may be beginning to fade, but this old chair still holds my heart. 

When I was much younger, I used to memorize poetry. I think if I were born a few years earlier I could have been a beatnik. Or centuries earlier, a pre-Raphaelite heroine, crying over lost love. Needless to say I was never the girl dancing on the table. After a couple of margaritas I would be reciting sad poems or falling asleep in a corner somewhere.

One of my favorite poets was Edna St Vincent Millay. I loved her poems. They were often tragic and melancholy. I remember finding a book of her "Collected Poems" when I was a young teen. It was 737 pages of poetry, and cost about $7.50. It seemed like a small fortune at the time. I loved that book and still have it.

Later I read the biography "Savage Beauty" by Nancy Milford. It was very thorough and probably told me more than I wanted to know about her life. She was born in 1892 and started writing as a young girl. She liked to be called Vincent. She went to Vassar on a full scholarship after being encouraged by someone who heard her reading her poems. She was a very bohemian and free-spirited  feminist and lived in Greenwich Village in the 1920's. She married in 1923. It was a very open marriage. They both had many public affairs but stayed together until his death in 1949. Vincent was the first woman to win the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1923. She also wrote a few short stories, although I've never read any. I do think I've read all of her poems. She died in 1950 at the age of 58 after a fall down the stairs at her home "Steepletop" in New York.

Along with many others, I recently saw The Odyssey. My reason for seeing it was probably different than most. I wanted to hear more about the story of Penelope. The movie had a bit of a different slant than this poem I loved and memorized when I was fourteen.

AN ANCIENT GESTURE

I thought, as I wiped my eyes on the corner of my apron: 

                Penelope did this too,         

    And more than once: you can't keep weaving all day

And undoing it all through the night;

Your arms get tired, and the back of your neck gets tight;

And along towards morning, when you think it will never be light,

And your husband has been gone, and you don't know where, for years, 

Suddenly you burst into tears;

There is simply nothing else to do.

And I thought, as I wiped my eyes on the corner of my apron:

This is an ancient gesture, authentic, antique,

In the very best tradition, classic Greek; 

Ulysses did this too.

But only as a gesture,-a gesture which implied

To the assembled throng that he was much too moved to speak.

He learned it from Penelope...

Penelope, who really cried. 

                                                          Edna St. Vincent Millay                      

Just a note: Ulysses is the Roman translation of the original Greek name Odysseus. Same husband