From ‘The True Story Book’ by Andrew Lang. Illustration by L. Speed. Copyright 1893, Longmans, Green, and Co.,London. Original caption,’Grace Darling’.
i am writing this out of a deep frustration…
…at how the obvious is not noticed and the endless piles of mud are tossed..all the deep and lovely words about time and space and truth and beauty are raped by those who have put up a wall so high and so thick that no miracle or magic can be seen or heard through it……on our short journey through this life experience there is no place for these solid walls…
I used to work for a temp agency that placed me in offices around the city to fill in for receptionist and office support work. A particular job could be anywhere from one day to two years. I worked all over the city, meeting lots of people and experiencing all types of office environments.
I’m going to share with you the other side. The yellow house isn’t always fluff, one day it was iron.
Here is how it all started.
After driving over 100 miles, I turned off the freeway to a county road then onto a narrow dirt road that leads toward Nancy’s. Driving through the lonesome wooded hills and swampland, cattails grow on both sides of the road. Nature looked picture perfect on that summer day out in the middle of nowhere. One more turn goes down a crude winding driveway that leads to her large rustic house, an impressive work of construction done by her husband’s hands.
Here is where hospice was set up for her.
I love to have my family around me. There is no sweeter sound in the house than the voices and footsteps of those I love.
We live in a noisy world. Sounds are everywhere and are a normal part of our everyday lives. Sounds from people, traffic, social media, TV and music are whirling around us in a constant hum, and we just sing along.
Have you ever found yourself in a very quiet place?
My dad, Clarence, grew up in rural Minnesota. Notice the barn in the background. I have no year for this but my guess is this was taken around 1940. (Too bad the front end of the car isn’t seen.) I can just picture him driving around the bumpy dirt roads between his mother’s place and his sister’s house. This may be the car he drove on his first date with my mom. They went to a ‘young people’s gathering’ at a small country church. He always said he wished he’d kept that car.
Another country man was my father-in-law, J.D., here with his swell looking car. I wonder if it’s Sunday with that hat and tie. The chicken seems glad to be part of the picture and not the Sunday dinner.
Someone who knew my mom was getting rid of an old photo album. It had been passed down a few generations. That person didn’t recognize too many faces but thought some of the men looked like my mom’s relatives so they gave it to her. She and I looked through it and while most of the people she couldn’t recall, there were many pictures that included her thick mop-haired uncles and their wives. In this photo the man on the left is definitely a relative. Her dad came from a large family of mostly boys. We guessed the album had belonged to one of her uncles. This is the first of many pictures I want to show you from that old album. They’re different from many I’ve seen from that era. This group loved to play and pose for the camera. There’s nothing stiff or serious about them. My mom has told me stories about her high spirited, trick playing uncles so I wasn’t too surprised. This 4th of July picture is mild mannered, but in future posts you’ll see what I mean. I like to think the man on the bike had been riding around the farmyard waving the flag singing Yankee Doodle.