Janie's New House

I thought you might like to see a few pics of Janie's new house.  She really likes her new place, and Allie Cat seems to be adjusting nicely.
Janie has learned that vertical blinds and a cat don't mix well.  Allie likes to run behind the blinds at night.  This makes a startling rattle sound.
Oh well.
Janie can't decide which bedroom she prefers, so she sleeps wherever the spirit sends her.  The back bedroom is quieter, but she plans to put carpet there.  The wood floors are lovely, but cold on the feet.  The front bedroom is much more feminine, but not quite as quiet.
Anyway, she is enjoying the newness, and welcomes visitors.  We have loved her being closer to us, and the fact that we pass by many times a day and can check on her easily.

A Not-So-Memorable Memorial Day Weekend

Since we celebrated a combination Mom's Day, Memorial Day, and Avery's birthday last weekend, Dad and I have been celebrating this weekend in a very low-key manner.  It was so low-key that when we conducted the annual drawing of race drivers' names, we were forced to divide the list of drivers into thirds.  There were only three participants in this year's 500 mile race pool:  Don, Phyllis, and Fred, the cat.

We never did get around to putting any money into the kitty (whoops, better rename that).  Although I did see Frank bring one of his stuffed toys into the room.  It is just as well that no money was involved since one of the cat's drivers won the race.  We did let Frank celebrate with a little melted vanilla ice cream - his absolute favorite for any celebration.  Frank and I share that passion for ice cream.  I assure him that ice cream is the only food in heaven.

I spent all day yesterday looking through our vast collection of old family photographs.  Rod and Cheryl are planning something special when we have our celebration of Grandma's life on June 23rd.  So I was sorting out pictures of Mother/Grandma.  It is always fun to relive all those family occasions recorded in the photos.  Dad and I wish we were still as thin as we were in the "olden" days.  But I'm thoroughly convinced that once you are older it is wise to just go with the grey hair.  My softer hair color is much more forgiving of the wrinkles.

My I.T. expert, son Rod, came this evening to see if he could breathe new life into my computer.  It has been doing very strange things, and being SO SLOW!  I watched as his hands flew across the keyboard.  I don't know how he got so smart - couldn't be genes.  Anyway, he worked his magic, and now I am happily and swiftly blogging, facebooking, searching, and shopping!  I may even give Netflix another try.  Thank you, Rod.

It is a Memorial Day Miracle!

Short Note To My Children

This is just a short note to my children.  Broken finger has been checked out and is properly splinted.
Actually it is one of the few parts of my body that doesn't hurt!  Love you all!

Janies's New House

Today Janie put a deposit on this new place here in Redbud.  It is at 343 Redbud Blvd. S.  It is much closer to us, and we drive by here everytime we leave or come back home.

It is a lovely place.  The sellers have redone everything, and it is in just perfect condition:  new flooring, paint, light fixtures, windows, AC, furnace.  And it is just decorated to perfection.  It looks just like Janie, and her furniture.

She will close the deal the first of the week, and will be moving slowly, so that the move won't be hard on any of us.  She has really needed something to give her a new spark.  And she is excited.  We are so happy for her.  Just wait until you see it!  It is beautiful.

The picture at the left shows one of the more memorable events that happened while we were living at the Thirteenth Street house.

Daddy was directing choir at the First Baptist Church, just one block south of where we lived. He held this job for many years during my childhood. Mother refused to become a Baptist. She had nothing against Baptists, but she had always been a life long member of First Methodist Church, and, after all, her brother was a Methodist minister!

But Mother and kids attended Sunday School and/or church at the Methodist church on Sunday mornings. Then Mother and I always went to Sunday evening services with Daddy at the Baptist church. To say the least, we were well churched every Sunday.

During one of the 13th St. years, a new assistant mininster was sent to the Baptist Church to assist Dr. Smith. His name was Phil Philbrook, and he was fresh out of seminary and a young, single man. Phil and my dad became very good friends, both admiring the other. I think Phil was happy to find a family home where he could sometimes drop in, relax, and have a cup of coffee.

At this same time, Daddy hired a new secretary at work, a very sweet lady named Anne. I think Daddy immediately had matchmaking in mind, and he introduced Phil to Anne. Needless to say, the romance blossomed from that point. The picture above shows Phil and Anne on their wedding day. The asked if they could have the ceremony at our house, and Mother and Daddy agreed. I think they wanted a small ceremony with just close friends and family.

Of course, it was such an exciting day for me. I was at just the right age to find it so romantic. In the picture everyone looks very sober. But, believe me, it was a happy occasion. Daddy is getting ready to sing. At the rented organ is Martha Sowash. She was organist at the church for years and years. That is Mother standing beside Daddy. Doesn't she look pretty? And Daddy quite handsome.

In the other picture, you see the newlyweds at the reception at the Meadowbrook Church. The brand new Meadowbrook Baptist Church had just been completed, and Phil had been sent there as their new head minister. The church started out with this all purpose building that was used for all kinds of events, then turned into the sanctuary on Sundays. In later years a large sanctuary was built, and this all purpose area is no longer there. Phil was pastor there for many, many years and built it into a large congregation serving the south part of Anderson.

Phil and Anne eventually and two children, Cindy and Phil Jr. They moved from Anderson to Michigan. The last time I heard from Phil was a lovely letter he wrote to my mother when Daddy died. I am sorry to say, that I don't know if Phil and Anne are still living.

The other picture is the starry eyed me in the dress I wore to the wedding. It was the dress that mother made for me to wear to my Junior High School graduation. It was white organdy trimmed in pink trimming, and Mother made it entirely by hand. I also remember wearing it to Bloomington when Jack graduated from IU. I had gone swimming the day before the graduation and had a terrible sunburn. I remember the agony of scratchy organdy on sunburned shoulders! But I still loved the dress, and loved that Mother had stitched it - every stitch done with love!

I think I might be ready to share some family stories from the West 13th Street years, roughly from 1947 to 1951. I have tried thinking about those years. I have even started to write down a rough draft, but, for some reason, the narration has escaped me. So, I think I shall just start typing and see what unfolds.

Let's first think about the characters of our little drama. Jack, eldest son, is at Indiana University, having served his time with the U.S. Army. He pretty much stays year round, going to school and working different jobs in Bloomington. Clyde is going to school at Butler University. He earned a basketball scholarship, but quit playing at some point. He did spend a year at home during this time to work at the A.O. Barnes venetian blind company to earn enough money to go back to school. Dan is in high school and spends most of his free time working at Woods Donut Shop. The donut shop is about three blocks away. It was fun to visit Dan there and watch the automatic donut fryer, as the little spheres circled around frying in the oil. Needless to say, we had many donut breakfasts from all the leftovers when Dan worked at night. David was finishing junior high school and spending his time with his good buddy, Garl, who lived right across the street. Garl and David were trying their best to become great inventors. I think I was in the "Don't bother me, I'm in the middle of a daydream" stage of my life.

David and Garl liked to try and build things. After all, Garl's dad taught industrial arts at the high school. One summer they hauled a lot of old lumber from the foundation pit left from the destroyed barn in the back yard. They spent days building a shed in the far northeast corner of the yard. They actually accomplished their goal - small shed with roof, one window, and an opening for a door. When it was done, they painted it a bright kelly green using some found paint. The only reason the shed was allowed to stand was that it was hidden from view by bushes, and the red outbuilding already in the yard. Since it was a "Boys Only" kind of place, I wasn't allowed to hang out in the clubhouse. But it was here that the two great inventors dreamed up their next projects.

The next decided that they needed their own communication system between our two houses. I believe that they first tried the famous string and tin-can phone system. However, it was impossible to find enough string to go clear through our large lawn, across 13th Street, and up to

Garl's upstairs bedroom window. So they hit the books to see what else might be possible. They spent some time reading up on the navy signaling system. So after dark they hung a lamp out David's window, and then one out Garl's bedroom window. They spent a lot of time trying to perfect their flickering light signaling code. However, their efforts came to an abrupt end when Daddy came home late from choir practice and saw all the flickering lights. To him it seemed like a neighborhood nuisance and a dangerous distraction for cars driving down our street. So that was the end of the great signaling system.

A lot of our best creative efforts happened during the one night a month when Mother and Daddy attended their bridge club. There were about ten couples, who for all the years of our childhood, had met one night a month to eat out, then go to one house and play bridge. When we were little, Grandma baby sat with us, but we were now deemed old enough to stay alone. Ho, ho, when will parents ever realize that a safe age is never attained! Some of our best adventures happened on bridge club time.

One Saturday night Garl, David, and I decided that we were a little bored with the supper that Mother had left us. Here we had this lovely big dining room. In our minds it seemed to require a more elegant dining experience. We dressed all up in what we thought were our fine clothes. We got out all of Mother's best china, crystal, and tableware. On the table we put the fancy lace tablecloth that Grandma had crocheted. We found a plant for the centerpiece, we set up candles in candleabra. Oh, it looked very fine. I can't remember for sure, but I think we fried bacon and had peas. Mother and Daddy came home as we were dining. They actually laughed and thought that our fine banquet was very funny. Whew! We didn't get into any trouble.

Actually, we did what our mother had taught us to do. We never had money enough for very fancy meals at our house. Now, Mother always made sure that our meals were healthy, but they were very plain. But Mother also liked to make the table look pretty. We always had a nice colorful table cover, a centerpiece, and some pretty napkins. The artist in Mother always won out over the chef. In fact, I'm still pretty much that way myself. I'm not a good cook, I don't really like to cook, but I do enjoy setting the table!

Then there was the bridge club night, when no good project seemed to come to our minds. We were bored. We still didn't own our first TV set. There was nothing good on the radio. We played canasta for a bit (we did love canasta). Then, one of us said. "Miss Keltner was here today (remember she was our landlady). I woke up and heard her outside going through all that stuff stored in the outbuilding." Miss Keltner smoked and coughed. So, whenever she came to find something that she had left stored at our house, we would hear her rifling through things and coughing.

Then Garl said, "What does she have stored in all those places?"

"We don't know. They're all locked, and we're not allowed in to look."

Dan or Dave spoke up, "I have a bunch of skeleton keys. I'll bet we could get the attic door open with one of those."

And, of course, that's all it took to initiate another bridge night adventure. We were all off upstairs. We tried key after key, until, finally one key worked! We turned on the attic light and breathlessly ascended the rickety attic stairs. I'll tell you that all I remember was an attic packed full of crates and chests, broken furniture, dust, and debris. I can't recall that anything was of great value or interest. It would have been wonderful if we had found some great treasure. The fun was simply knowing that this stuff had been in our house all the while, and we hadn't been allowed to look at it.

After a thorough investigation, Dan said that we'd better get out of there. It was about time for Mother and Daddy to get home. Dan was the one with a watch. We put everything to rights, descended back to reality, and relocked the forbidden door. Mother and Daddy came home and we were very innocently playing canasta. However, a few days later, Miss Keltner came by very incensed, wanting to know who had been in the attic. She had driven by that night and saw the light in the attic! Oh, we were in trouble. I believe that Grandma was to spend the next few bridge Saturday nights with us. But that was no punishment. She was always our favorite, such fun, and a great cook, to boot.

An Account of My Past Week in England

I intended to continue with the recording of childhood memories in a prompt and orderly fashion. However, if you will notice, it has been more than a week since my last entry. My excuse is that I have spent the last week in England.
I am sorry to say that I haven't been there physically, but I have been mentally and thoroughly immersed in World War II in England. It all started quite accidentally one evening.
I was tired of TV, so I searched Netflix for a good movie to watch instantly on my computer.
Netflix knows that I love English drama, so they recommended a movie titled "Housewife 49." I know, that title sounds dreadfully dull, but it had received very high ratings from previous viewers, so I thought, "Oh, well," and clicked on "Play."
I discovered that it was the film version of a true diary written by an English housewife during World War II. Nella Last was a quite ordinary wife and mother living in Barrow-in-Furness, Lancashire. Lancashire is an island part of England, and Barrow-in-Furness is a village where most of the men are employed in a seaside ship-building yard.
Nella has two grown sons who will eventually be drafted into military service. One spends the war time doing a desk job, and is stationed in Ireland. The other son will eventually be sent to the war front, and will be injured in battle. Nella's husband is not abusive, but is totally self-involved and anti-social. He believes that Nella should always stay home and take care of him.
This stifling environment had caused Nella to suffer a nervous breakdown in 1938. Her therapist suggested that keeping a diary might give Nella an outlet for her feelings.
At the same time, a governmental agency called "Mass Observation" has invited citizens to submit their written accounts of how the war is affecting their daily lives. In 1939, Nella begins submitting her diary entries to Mass Observation.
These writings document her day-by-day struggles with rationing, shortages, bombings, damage to their house, going without gasoline and auto transportation, destruction in their village, the death of village young in war, blackouts, all the horrors of living in a place where war is being waged.
At the same time that Nella is dealing with the hardships, she goes against her husband's wishes that she always remain at home. She becomes involved in the Womens Reserves, a wartime volunteer effort. She gives days to work at the Women's center making hospital supplies, at the Canteen serving food to soldiers, and starting a Red Cross Shop where donated goods are sold to finance parcels to be sent to English POWs. She finds that she loves this work and the chance to use her creativity. She makes many friends and appreciates the strong support provided by these friendships. Nella's personality blossoms.
The food shortages give Nella the courage to dig up her husband's prized landscaped lawn to create a war garden of vegetables. She also builds a hen house and begins keeping chickens.
Her husband doesn't like the yard, but he certainly appreciates all the food it provides. And Nella finds that she has a real ability to create delicious meals using shortened supplies.
I was so interested in this account of a time and place in history, that I immediately, that night, got on Amazon and ordered her published diary titled " Nella Last's War." After reading the book, I watched the movie again. I found the reading gave me a better understanding of the chronology of events in the movie.
After the reading and viewing, I have felt a most profound gratitude for the life I have been allowed to live. I know that I have been truly blessed to live in a place never destroyed by on -sight warfare. I know I've been blessed to never experience sending a husband, a child, or a grandchild into battle. I know that I have been blessed to have outlets for my creativity and a husband who appreciated those efforts outside the home as well as those at home.
Mass Observation has published other diaries submitted by other citizens. They have also published Nella Last's peace-time diary . I plan to check these out in the future. I think, though, that for now I'll try to stay in the good old USA for awhile.