I’m going to feature a special guest artist this week. She’s six years old and loves to draw. Let’s call her “Lovey.” Lovey has been making drawings for me as soon as she could scribble on paper. As she got older, her work often featured hearts (lots of hearts!). When she was learning letters, she’d spell out the word “Grandma” as “Gramu.” I love those kinds of early spellings, don’t you?
On our recent visit, Lovey created a masterpiece, a drawing of the two of us. She apologized for using black for my hair, saying she didn’t have a gray pen, which made me laugh. I like the way we are wearing matching outfits and how slim I look standing next to her. It’s all in the artist’s interpretation, right?
She also created a bookmark for me which you can be sure I will treasure. She caught a good likeness of our cat, Luna!
Do I sound like a proud Grandma? Of course! But I think she shows early promise. Keep an eye out for her in the art world in years to come! In an effort to protect her privacy, I asked my AI servant to make a facsimile of her instead. So here it is, the AI version of Lovey, the Artist!
I’ll probably ask my AI servant to delete this in the morning.
(We are back from our wanderings. As is customary, I thought I’d keep up with posts while we were gallivanting about, and as is also customary, I did not.)
As I said in a recent post, I have a vast repository of letters written by various members of my mother’s family going all the way back to the early 1900’s. My mom (bless her amazing heart) typed them all up so that they are easy to read. She assembled them in books and titled them accordingly. The one I’m looking at now is titled “Another World. 1900 – 1919. The Age of Innocence.” I thought you, my loyal readers, might enjoy a few snippets of letters from my great-grandmother Nettie to her daughter, my Grandma Lois when she was away at her first year of college. She tended to write in long run-on sentences which adds to the charm. I mean, if the apostle Paul can do it, why can’t we?
George and Nettie on their wedding dayin May 1888
September 26, 1910.
My Dear Lois,
Well I have just returned from Aunt Alices she is still sick in bed and has suffered terribly this last week. Annie [one of Lois’s sisters] was down and staid with her one day and I went one day and then Rosie brought Myrtie to stay with her and she has been there since Thursday after noon she went home for one night and came back to-day. I think Aunt Alice looked better to-day and she told me to thank you for the card you sent her and tell you that she would write to you as soon as she is able.
…Aunt Amelia’s folks are looking for a horse again as Willie thinks of being Married in about two weeks and Alma and Will want Ada [Lois’s little sister] for their flower girl. I have not told Ada yet for I thought it would only set her to asking questions but I think that means that I shall have to make Adas white dress that I got the Embroidery for I got quite a pretty Pattern for it yesterday. Ada has just run in and says tell Lois I haven’t time to write to her to-day but I will write some other time.
…Papa says tell Lois I will write to her during the week. He is getting along fine with the Lloyd job – guess he will nearly finish this week.
Good night. With love from Mama
How do you like that casual mention of Will and Alma thinking of being married in two weeks, and Nettie not panicking about having to make a dress for it (and embroider it!) in that amount of time? How lovely for Lois to get these letters with updates from home and promises of letters to come.
The photo below was taken in 1910, the same year as the correspondence. I’ve done some labeling and hope you can read it. It’s the only photo I have with Lois and Nettie in it.
In another letter, Nettie tells Lois how bad she feels that she was unable to contribute a baked good for a box of food that went to Lois from family and friends. She tells Lois,
…that is all I know about your box. but could not send anything I had to bake for I have not had wood to bake anything with for when we were out of wood we could not get any at the yard so I had to nearly scratch the earth for what I have had to get my meals with. So I thought I would let you know Who to thank as it was not your Mother much as she would like to have been one of them, My Dear girl. But she sends a whole lot of love as you may be sure she always will for I have missed my Lois so to-day.
Imagine having to scrabble for wood in order to do your cooking. I am not nearly thankful enough for the appliances that make my life easier.
Sadly, Nettie died just four years later at the age of 46, a couple years before Lois got married. Her obituary states “She bore all her suffering without a word of complaint and expressed herself ready to go and meet her Savior when the death angel called.” That is what we call a good death.
I am looking forward to meeting Nettie in glory.
I’ll probably scrabble for wood to burn this post in the morning.
When my mom died a few years ago, we ended up with some of her things, including her old walker and cane. I’m not even sure why we kept them, but I suspect inertia had something to do with it. They got deposited in the garage and very quickly disappeared from mind and sight…until my knee replacement surgery began looming on the horizon.
Mom had both her knees replaced when she was in her 80’s. By that time, my dad was living in a memory care unit in a health care center just a few blocks from home. After the first knee replacement surgery, Mom ended up going to that same place for rehab, but on a different floor. She hated her rehab experience there, although I can’t now remember why. When she had her second knee surgery, I offered to come up and stay with her for a few days so she didn’t have to go somewhere else. In those days, the surgery wasn’t outpatient, like it is now, so she would have had a few days recovering in the hospital first.
I picked her up from the hospital and drove her to the house where I’d grown up. They must have given me information about her medications and activity requirements, but in general, we can assume that I was almost entirely ignorant about what recovery from knee replacement surgery was really like. I didn’t stay long – probably three nights, since I felt a need to get back to my own family. I was nervous about her being able to go up and down the stairs without falling, but she assured me she was okay. I knew that a couple of my siblings would be able to check in on her regularly, so off I went.
Now that I’ve been through this same surgery, I wish I could tell her how brave she was to go through it all by herself, especially at that age. I wish I had stayed with her longer, too. The first couple of weeks after my own surgery, I leaned heavily on my husband for help with the medication schedule, meal making, errand running, ice machine management (which included coming down at 2:00 a.m. every night for one and a half weeks to refill the ice machine with frozen water bottles), and comforting companionship. He was always sitting right there in the room with me if I needed anything. My dad would absolutely have done the same for Mom if he’d been able.
I would love to have been able to compare stories with my mom after I had my surgery, to find out how the physical therapy and rehab went with her, to learn more about what she thought about her new knees, and whether or not she wished she’d had the surgery done earlier. However, it was oddly comforting to have the use of her walker and cane. I think perhaps she would have been glad to know that even though she couldn’t be here to encourage me along the way, she helped me nonetheless by leaving behind those sturdy tools of support that I couldn’t have imagined needing. Underneath it all lies the unfathomable providence of God.
“O, the depths of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God. How unsearchable are His judgments and unfathomable His ways.” Romans 11:33
I’ll probably put this in the blog garage in the morning, out of mind and sight.
I’ve been watching a show called “Portrait Artist of the Year,” in which 12 artists compete during each episode to win and go on to the next level. They get four hours to paint the subject (various people of note). It’s fascinating to watch how differently these artists tackle their paintings. There are three judges and two other people whose only purpose seems to be to chat up these poor artists who are working so hard to get done on time. I’ve quite enjoyed it. It takes place in the UK, which means you also get to listen to a wide variety of charming accents in the mix.
But as I’ve said before, doing a portrait of any kind is difficult. Watching so many extremely talented people start with a blank canvas and end up with recognizable people on it after four hours is a marvel, even with all the variety in styles.
On that note, here’s a sketch I attempted of my brother.
If I were really brave, I’d show you the photo that’s based on. But I’m not. Also, I can’t imagine spending four hours (or more) on a single painting, so you can tell I’m not very disciplined.
I reverted back to animals after that. Specifically some owls.
When they do a show based on bad sketches done in very little time, I might have a shot.
My brother achieved 70 years recently, so naturally a poem had to be written in honor of this grand event.
That’s him on the left and me on the right when we were young and splashy
Seventy years hath David B. “I don’t feel very old,” said he. “Speak for yourself,” opined one knee, While his back groaned, saying “Golly gee!”
David objected, “I feel quite spry.” His neck interjected, “That’s a lie!” His bones just creaked with a little sigh, And his brain took a break, saying “no reply.”
But David persisted, “I’m fit as a fiddle!” His ears said, “What? Did he said ‘riddle?’” “No rich food,” said his tummy in the middle, (“But chocolate’s okay, if it’s just a little.”)
“I guess I’m getting on in years,” Old David said, now switching gears. “But full speed ahead! No time for tears.” And the crowd around him gave three cheers.
So three cheers for David B! (In three years, that will be me!)
Did you know that this post is getting on in years? Time to delete!
Aside from minor differences, one animal is pretty much like another of its kind. If you paint one robin, you’ve painted them all. There’s not a lot that distinguishes them from each other, although I’ll grant that treasured pets might have a spark of uniqueness that would give their owners an ability to pick theirs out among others with the same features if they were looking at photos. Maybe. This is why I like painting animals.
Humans have faces that are each completely unique (yes even twins – and I should know!). Each person has been specially crafted by their Maker and they bear His stamp. Unlike beavers or golden retrievers or chickadees, there is no “one-description-fits-all” for human beings. We have, each of us, broken the mold, so to speak. What you recognize in the people you know and love is almost intangible, but it is unmistakable. It is much harder to capture that essence in a painting.
My dear friend Martha sent me a painting for my birthday a couple months ago. Tears came to my eyes when I opened the envelope and took it out. It’s our little granddaughter – it’s HER! (Martha and I share a grandchild, having had the good providence of my son marrying her daughter.) I was just blown away by this beautiful, skillful and extravagant gift.
Of course, Martha is not responsible for the ugly black blot on the bottom. There’s a name underneath it and you don’t get to know it. Not on this blog, anyway.
Thank you again and again, Martha!
Will I delete this? Probably? Maybe? It’s a mystery and you don’t get to know it.
It started with a surprise apple pie with three candles in it. The traditional birthday song was sung, the candles were blown out and a gift was given.
I’ll be getting two letters a month for a year, the so-called “Flower Letters.” I’d seen this advertised on Instagram before. It’s an intriguing idea, somewhat on the order of a subscription to a story that you receive in installments. My family chose a storyline for me that takes place in England during the Jane Austen era, which will include elements of romance and mystery, all within the context of what was happening in history at that time.
The first letter has already arrived, coming in an attractive tin which will hold all of the letters.
The portrait in the photo above represents the young man who wrote the letter, a fellow named Phineas. There will also be 12 attractive postcards that I can use to send to others. I’m looking forward to seeing the story unfold.
What a unique and delightful gift!
I’ll probably put this in a blog post tin in the morning.
Sometimes I start a blog post without much of a plan. Those of you who read this regularly are not surprised. I like the challenge of starting with nothing and hoping that something emerges. So here’s what I’ve got today: two photos that have been lurking in my smallified photos file for a few months.
The “little fisherman” is my dad, with his dad behind him. It’s a lovely photo, isn’t it? Toddler Dad looks adorable with his hat and his pudgy little face. Instead of a life jacket, he appears to have some sort of safety cord attached to his clothing, doesn’t he? What I’m really struck by though is the strength and focus of the man behind him. That’s the look of a father who knows how to keep his son safe out there in the boat. We should all remember this, that we have a Father who knows how to keep us afloat and safe.
And that little cutie is me, another little fisherman (fishergirl?) out in the boat. You can’t see him, but I am no doubt under the protection of my father, no longer a toddler, but now the one who kept me safe in the boat. Times have changed (I’m at least wearing a life jacket!), but the job of a father has not.
I’ll probably fish or cut bait on this in the morning.
I love everything about that photo, but particularly the man in the middle, the one whom I’ve been married to and following for 40 years and 1 day now. We’re headed into the autumn foliage of our lives together and the view is still grand.
God is good all the time, and all the time God is good.
My last post was a month ago. We have been hither and yon and living lives of such abounding activity that the blog was abandoned. Some of you have probably been relieved not to get the regular emails with my posts attached. If that describes you, I have no rancor toward you whatsoever. And if you decide that it was such a relief that you might as well unsubscribe, I will cheer you on. However, for those of you who actually missed my little musings, bless you. It is for you that I write.
Now as to the abounding activities, here’s a sampling of them:
We got reacquainted with 5-month old “Darling,” and met brand-new granddaughter, “Sweetheart.” Sweetheart was still fresh from the womb, only 3 days old when we met her.
Later in the week we had a family reunion, which included the other two grands, “Lovey” and “Dovey.” Being grandparents is such a joy. And we’ve got another little dear coming in October!
We went to our favorite used book store. Twice. And bought books both times. We currently own 2,131 books, but that number not only doesn’t discourage us from accumulating more, it’s almost an incentive to keep going.
Bowling! Our bowling crew included the 5-year-old and 3-year-old, who used the bowling ball ramps to send their balls toward the pins. Their dad was chagrined to find that they scored better than him for both games.
Swimming! Well…swimming is a bit of a misnomer. Let’s just say that we were in swimming suits and were, in fact, in the water at the local water park.
Farmer’s Market! (I feel like I’ve gone a bit to the dark side with all of these exclamation points). I’m more of a window shopper at the FM usually, but this time I bought tiny doughnuts to share with our crowd, as well as a tiny book for putting tiny drawings into.
Add to that many meals eaten together, two birthdays celebrated, a family photo taken, a few movie nights, visits to thrift stores, conversations with old friends, church services (and the baptism of Sweetheart) and you’ll see why we slid under our sheets tired but happy every night.
O taste and see that the Lord is good!
I’ll probably reboot the reboot of this rebooted blog in the morning.
Lynniebeemuseoday 