My new office

 

After 3 weeks of one finger typing on my I-pad I decided I really needed my computer and a desk at Phil's. I was looking on-line and at local stores and then everything shut down. So I looked around our house and noticed a drop leaf table in Bob's office was only holding books, and my great-grandmother's dining room chair recaned by my mother was just a place holder at another desk, so I set them up and brought over my computer. Open for business.

The table's story isn't too interesting--I bought it at Target in 2002 so Bob would have a table in his office while talking to clients about their architectural needs. The chair, however, if I can believe family lore, travelled from Pennsylvania to northern Illinois after my great grandparents married in 1855. Grandfather David had left home in 1848 to search for gold in California with a friend. The friend died, and somehow David ended up in northern Illinois, worked in Rockford, saved his money, then bought farmland between Ashton and Franklin Grove for $1/acre. There were other settlers in that area who were also members of the Dunkers (Brethren), German Anabaptists, so it's possible he knew people who could help him. So needing a wife, he went back to Adams Co., PA, and married Susan. She probably brought along a number of family things. Many years later, probably the 1920s, it was fashionable to paint old furniture dark, so my grandfather slathered almost every piece of furniture in the house with a reddish, black varnish to "modernize" them. The chairs fell on hard times, and were probably either in the barn or attic when my mom rescued them, refinished and caned them in the 1970s. I have three of them, and a fourth I think is with cousin Dianne from her mother, my mother's sister. If there are more than four, I don't know where the rest of them are.
And now you know why I can't say all that with an I-pad.

Garth's Auctions--mid century modern

Early in our married life (1960s) I admired our friends who had Eames style furniture, but I think they are uncomfortable, and there must have been a million knock-offs in all sorts of weird colors.

I'm beginning to see why my Mom wasn't too excited about Grandma's furniture from the 1920s or 1930s. You hate to see your era become an "antique."

Garth's Auctions, Inc. - Auctioneers & Appraisers : Full Details for Lot 216

So I looked up a few Paul McCobb pieces of furniture (mostly designed late 50s) for the budget conscious that we bought around 1963. The prices are astounding, so I guess they are antiques now, too. But also, they are comfortable.

Blue, blue, my trash is blue

When we bought our summer cottage in 1988, it was an opportunity to redo a house with a color scheme (and someone else's furniture), so I chose blue, pink (mauve), and cream--certainly not a cutesy look I would have at home. The house is pink (mauve) and the outside trim matches the inside trim. I chose a coordinated wall paper border for each room with stylized sea birds, light houses, ducks, and flowers. It was fun. But that was 20 years ago, and a few things are showing some wear. The kitchen wastebasket, for instance. It's narrow enough to stand between the 20" electric stove and doorway, and tall enough to hold 2-3 days of trash, but last summer someone stuffed it a bit full and a small crack appeared, then another and another and another. I've reinforced the inside with large bands of sealing tape, but still the cracks appear. It has also gradually faded to gray from the afternoon sun, which is not part of the color scheme.

Blue plastic household items were all the rage in the 1980s and 1990s (I have coordinated laundry basket, dish drainer, dish pan, cooking tools, bowls, lamps, etc.), but they are scarce as hen's teeth today. Yesterday I prowled the Port Clinton Wal-Mart and Bassett's. Bassett's came close and I almost bought a white one for the size. They had the blue lids but were out of whatever container matched them.



I think I need to find an old timey hardware store or general store where the stock is infrequently updated, or kept forever until it sells.

I've seen some creative uses for old plastic, however, especially bags. I don't know what these artists will do when the environmentalists get all the women barefoot and pregnant again shopping with canvas bags and growing the family's food in our backyard gardens, eating by candlelight. Here's a very clever 1950s style dress done by a Kent State student, Cathy Kasdan of Cleveland, OH, for her thesis. Isn't it wonderful?

The artist writes, "The dress is all hand knit from grocery bags that were the result of actual trips to the grocery store. As soon as I told people I could use their old bags for a project they brought them in by the bag full, I received thousands! The plastic grocery bag came about in the 1950's along with futuristic optimisim about America, so I made a "typical" 1950's ensemble complete with pillbox hat and purse, not pictured. I am going to have my pieces in an art show on recycled art at the School of Art Gallery in downtown Kent along with a group of other people beginning April 19th." Seen at Craftzine.com

I could be wrong, but I really doubt that my trash container, dish drainer and laundry basket will ever be sought after for a museum of plastic. But you just never know. I have a blue-green glass electric wire insulator displayed on the book shelf that we dug up in the yard.

A special valentine for you

I don't think I could say it any better than Emerald Eyes has--a list of favorite love songs, mature thoughts about love, and memories of grandparents. Go for it.

And then from me, a scan of one of my mother's valentines, from Billy Smith, a school mate at Pine View School, I assume. This is probably from the early 1920s and was embossed paper with cut edges, "Whitney Made Worcester, Mass." The inside message with a line drawing of a little boy swinging on a fence reads:

I love you little
Valentine,
But I am very shy,
And if you think
you could be kind,
Please smile as you
pass by.

Pineview School, Lee County, Illinois, Mother is 2nd from the left, front row
The little girl third from the right in the back row is Arlene Beachley David, one of my mother's closest friends. I just looked her up and saw on the Manchester College website that she died January 2, 2006. She married later in life and never had children (I attended her wedding), but I talked to her on the phone maybe in 2003, and she was living with her deceased husband's niece.

3860

My daughter's garage sale

Tomorrow I'm going to help with my daughter's garage sale. But I can't put anything in it because she says she already has too much stuff. Not only was she the world's best daughter-in-law when her mother-in-law was in her final illness, but she is helping to finalize the estate which will help with the nursing home bills. Her MIL was a "collector," if you know what I mean. She loved many things. Beautiful things. Things never taken out of the box or wrap. So yesterday my daughter called about some chests (yes, plural) of silverware and wanted to know how she should price them. "Are they silverplate or sterling?" I asked. She didn't know, but I told her how to find the name of the companies and patterns. She's of a generation that doesn't want to polish silver and owns very nice stainless, but no silver. When she told me the names, I told her not to price them until I had a chance to check the internet china and silver sites. Then I called her back. "Do not put them in the sale. Don't let anyone know you even have these in the house. We'll find a dealer."

Thursday Thirteen--My Book House

The carpenters and painters have left, and we've got most of the dust corraled (always, always turn off your furnace fan if you are remodeling or painting, or you spread the dust throughout the house). This morning I was putting back the bookshelves and knick-knacks, and dusted off "My Book House," which just happens to have 13 volumes. Oh, you only have 12 volumes? Then you're missing "In your hands, a practical guide for parents," which links special projects and crafts and advice for using the 12 volume set.

My mother got a set of My Book House as a bonus buy when she bought a set of Book of Knowledge encyclopedias probably in the early 1940s. At least, I don't remember a time we didn't have both sets. Ours was probably the 1937 edition. Sometime in the mid-1970s, I walked into a little antique store in Lakeside, OH, and saw a set for $25, a 1953 printing. It was a lot of money for something my children had probably already outgrown, but one of my siblings (with the first grandchild) had been given the family set. Our very most favorite story to cuddle on the couch with was, 'Wee wee mannie and the big big coo," because we loved to hear Mom do the accent.

1. In the nursery
2. Story time
3. Up one pair of stairs
4. Through the gates
5. Over the hills
6. Through fairy halls
7. The magic garden
8. Flying sails
9. The treasure chest
10. From the tower window
11. In shining armor
12. Halls of fame
13. [unnumbered] In your hands; a practical guide for parents, rev. ed., 8th printing, 1951.

The covers/binding of my set are like the above photo [taken from the internet, but that is from the 60s], and the set I grew up with was dark blue. The illustrations seem unchanged. Fabulous. A child can look for hours at one painting or drawing. The early sets from the 20s had only 6 volumes. Google Olive Beaupre Miller, the editor, for her very interesting story. Her papers are at Smith College. She lived in Illinois and some years back I read a very nice biography of her in an Illinois magazine, but I can't seem to lay my hands on it.

Monday Memories--The Stereopticon

There are so many memories in this photo I almost don't know where to begin. The room is the north living room of what had been my grandmother's house, but which was the house of my daughter's grandmother in 1973, my mother. It is my recollection that my great-grandfather purchased this property when another farmer lost it to debt, maybe in one of the late 19th century panics. He and his son Ira farmed a lot of land in the Franklin Grove-Ashton area of Lee County, Illinois. Ira died from an infected cut finger in 1908 at the Ashton farm. Around that time my grandparents who were living in Wichita, KS, lost their little baby, Oliver, at birth. Grandfather David offered them this farm if they would come back and help--he being about 80. At least that's what I have in my head. Around the same time he made significant gifts to the Brethren Church in Wichita where my grandparents worshiped.

It was an unspectacular, 8 room, boxy farm house. Grandma had it remodeled adding a huge gracious dining room, a second staircase to a lovely bedroom with a canopied balcony, a big airy kitchen with "modern" features like a built in corn cob storage for the blue and black cookstove, manual dishwasher, table with flour bins, a walk-in pantry/storage room, an upstairs servant's bedroom, plus two bathrooms, a dumbwaiter, a generator and a sink at the back door for washing up before entering the house.

By the late 1960s the house had fallen on very hard times and was almost unliveable, and when my grandparents died, my mother went to work to transform it to the house it actually had never been, and it became a family and religious retreat center. One item you can see through the windows are the grape arbors my mother rebuilt and coaxed grapes into growing again. Thus my little family traveled from Ohio and took a week's vacation there for about 10 years.

My daughter is five years old in this July 1973 photo and totally engrossed in the stereopticon my mother and her siblings had used, and which my siblings and cousins had enjoyed on the slow Sunday afternoons we had visited in the 1940s and 1950s. She's lying on the couch that my Grandma bought in the 1950s to update the look--the arms were so wide you didn't even need TV trays (there also was no TV)--with her head on the pillows her grandma made.

The little girl in the photo would still jump into my arms and sit on my hip with her long brown legs almost touching the ground. She has a band-aid on her foot from running barefoot all day, and her golden brown hair had not yet seen a scissors. She's wearing a little green and yellow nightgown I remember well, so I think it was twilight--my kids didn't run around in the morning in night clothes. From the looks of the dirt on her feet, we had probably skipped bathtime, and I'm guessing that under all that thick curly hair was a sweaty, sweet smelling, damp neck--the windows behind her are open to bring in a little air.

Ah, the Monday memories. As I was finishing this, my daughter rushed in the door to use the computer. "Oh mom, do you have a band-aid?"

Happy Valentine's Day

This is a valentine my mother received when she was in Pine View school in Lee County, Illinois, from a schoolmate named Belva. From what mother said, they did not make a big deal about Christmas, but obviously from her collection of valentines (which included some belonging to her older brother) that she saved over 80 years, this was a time of great fun for the children. The inside message:
Here's a little valentine
For you, little friend of
mine,
You were first to win my
heart,
And will always hold the
larger part

The card is made of embossed paper with a cut-out edge by Whitney Made of Worcester, Mass.

I commented on the value of paper collectibles here, and show two others from her collection.

I selected this one today because of the snow scene, and because it is contemporary realism for the era. Most of her valentines depict 19th and 18th century scenes with a lot of lace, or are sort of cartoonish.

Enjoy the day!

3288 How Kool is this?

Trinkets and Trash is a website that keeps track of all the artifacts of the tobacco industry with an archive of tobacco products and tobacco industry marketing materials. Items are indexed by brand, media, and type/category (point of sale, free gift, gender, ethnicity, signage, etc.). Database includes a photo of the item. I came across it when I was reading an article in Tobacco Control which mentioned that Kool offers small business grants for creativity. Apparently, a simple addiction isn't enough. Death has no measure with these guys.

Zippo lighter/tape measure Marlboro

The Lakeside Antique Sale

is usually held the first day (Saturday) of the final week. There won't be any programming after tonight, and even the coffee shop will be closed Monday-Wednesday next week. Sigh. Here's some more photos of the antique sale, which began as a flea market 45 years ago.

This isn't for sale, but is across the street from the sale, and I think it is pretty.

Here I am looking in a mirror.

The Greatest Generation--sailors finishing their training in 1942 at the Great Lakes Naval Center in Chicago. How many didn't come home?

These young entrepreneurs set up shop across the street selling their homemade wares.

1418 Photo album at an antique sale

Yesterday's antique sale at Lakeside was well attended and appeared to have about the maximum number of dealers the place could hold. Many are set up outside, and during showers, they just spread plastic over everything. I didn't pay much attention to antique sales until the early 1970s, then I noticed things I remembered from Grandma's house in Franklin Grove, IL. Then in the 80s, I began to notice things I remembered in my parents' home, and now I'm seeing items that I received as wedding gifts.

At this sale held the last week-end of August I usually can pick up a few pieces of my silverplate, and keep an eye open for my mother's, just as a memento. Occasionally, I see old photographs from the 19th century and pause to wonder if the little children grew up or if the young couple made it. But yesterday I saw a dealer of the mid-20th century with several photo albums. I leafed through one that looked just like the one I started when I was a little girl. It was dated 1950 and most of the black and white photos were of stock car races in Michigan--proud drivers standing beside their cars. Parts of it were the picnics and swim parties that the young people had who followed these racers. Just small and perfectly placed black and white brownie Kodak snaps--beautiful 20-something girls in swim suits and guys posing like "Charles Atlas." The dealer said the albums had come from a Toledo estate sale.

At dinner I told my husband about the album--mystified that families let these little treasures go. Although I still remember rescuing the box of photographs from his grandmother's apartment after she died. No one else seemed to see the family connection but me--and she wasn't even my grandmother. We talked a bit about digital images, wondering if family memories will be lost long before the 55-years- after-estate sale. Many people don't go to the trouble to print them, and just view them on the computer or TV screen, sort of an update of watching slides of the family get-togethers. You do it once, put them away, and rarely pull them out again. We have boxes of his parents' slides--the color is fading, and we have no idea who or what is on them, and when enough time has passed I'm sure we will dispose of them--acres of trips and scores of parties with friends, viewable only if we find a projector that will take them. Will the next generation of computers even be able to bring up today's digital photos? Or will you always have the wrong port or USB cord?

But there they were at the antique show. Black and white photos snapped by an amateur, dropped off for developing at the corner drug store, and then carefully pasted with little corners into an album 55 years ago, just as clear and crisp as they were when those young people were out having a good time at the stock car races.