Happy Thanksgiving 3

Don't miss Margaret & Helen's "Thanksgiving Letter to the Family"

Too funny. I have to say, however, that I don't share Helen's antipathy to jello.

Happy Birthday, Lu--and congratulations, Ben! - UPDATE

UPDATE: Here's Ben with his masters thesis. Thanks to Lu, there's an update on his age when he wrote his essay on Benjamin Franklin. I guessed 7 or 8, but he was younger--a testament to his Montessori school.

[First posted on June 15, 2009] This past week--or if you want to get picky, tomorrow--is my niece Lu's birthday. It's a major demographic crossover, too! A number of years ago, she gave me a copy of this essay by her son, Ben, who was maybe 5 years old.* Ben, who is now grown, just got his masters degree in environmental engineering this spring. So here's Ben's essay about his namesake, showing all the promise in two very bright young men. To see the document in life size, just double click each page.

* [Quote from Lu: "I'm not sure - with the spelling I would say he was about five. That's how they taught them to write at the Montessori school - it was more important to get the thoughts down, sounding out the words...."]

Benjamin Franklin Was
born january17, 1705
in Boston Massachusetts.
When Ben Was Born the
american Colonies
Were Owned by England.
When he was older he
helped the colonies
become free, this was the
Start of the United States
Of america. he was
one of our countries
Founding Fathers.

Ben Had Many jobs
During his life. he was
a printer, publisher, statesman,
Diplomat & an inventor.

When Ben Was 12 he went
to Work for his his brother
as a printer. Ben wrote
Many books and papers
and he printed them
him self.

in 1751 Ben Started
a school in Philadelphia.
This school later
became the University
of pensilvanea.

Ben pubishd americas
first Magazine and [?]
in 1751, Ben
was the first
publisher of poor
richerds Almamac.
this almanac is
published eveary year
even today.
franklin was a statsemen
and diplomat he spent
a lot of time in
England and france.
FRanklin was a great
inventor here
is a list of some
of his Inventions.

Ben's Inventson's
1 franklin stove
2 lightning rod
3 Eletric Batery
4 smoke less chimney
5 byFocal glasses
6 copy Machine
7 a musical instument

Ben did Icsperaments that
proved lightning Was Electrisity
The most important
thing Ben did was to help
write the constitution
and help make our
country free.
he died april 17 1791.

Happy Birthday, Sam!

Boys do grow up...and have birthdays. Tomorrow, July 1, is the birthday of Samuel Robert Woodruff, the handsome guy on the left in both pictures. He's always been the second son, but he's taller than his brother, Joe, now. He's still the life of the party and one hell of a drummer. Whatever life offers you this year, Sammy, TAKE IT!! Meet it with your wonderful smile and spirit. Never forget that your brother loves you to pieces. And so do we all. Happy Birthday, Sam! Lots of love, Gran.....(P.S. the check is in the mail)

Ravello

After landing in Naples, I got in line for customs, where I was entertained by an enterprising 3-year-old who insisted on touching everything in sight while his mother patiently called him to come back and stand by her. He was so distracting that I was almost at the customs window before I realized I was in the wrong line--the one for EU citizens only. I looked over at the other line and saw there were lots more non-EU citizens than local folks arriving in Naples.

I was the last person through customs and into the waiting room down the hall. Cathy and Ranieri (son of the hotel owner and designated driver for airport pickups) were overjoyed to see me. It's hard on the nerves to wait for a superannuated friend while she travels mostly out of network for, at that point, 24 hours. "You have to trust" I said, amid all the sighs of relief, and we took off for the hour and a half drive to Ravello.

It was fully dark by the time we got to the hotel, and I pretty much fell into bed. I took this photo the following evening through the balcony glass in the restaurant next door. There are reflections of the room mixed in with the town lights of Minori down on the coast, but this basically is what I saw when I stepped out onto the balcony upon arrival.

It Never Rains but It Pours - Update 6-15-08

Last night I got this email from Ed, husband of my very dear old friend Martha:

Quick summary:
Tu morning, June 3, at about 5AM, Martha got up to go to the bathroom. Immediately outside the bedroom door is the stairway down to the right. The bathroom door is on the left about a yard farther. I'm quite a light sleeper so I heard her get up and fall the full flight of stairs.
She was in ER by 6. She had some bleeding between skull and brain, an A-C separation of the right shoulder, maybe some cracks in small bones in her left hand, and a handful of bruises on the right side. The A-C is the connection between the collarbone and the tip of the shoulder blade, a tendon connection.
She was released on Mo. Wed afternoon she had a stroke (looking back), couldn't hear and was very incoherent. We had just inspected a white pine we had planted behind the garage and had planned dinner.
Status as of today: Martha had a number of small strokes, probably since Mo in the back of her skull affecting the speech center. She shows no signs of seizure; but does show some signs of bloodvessel inflammation inside the brain which causes speech slur.
Tomorrow: heart scan and spinal tap.

Thankfully, Martha is one tough chica with a huge appetite for life. Get better, Martha!! Dear reader, if you are the praying kind, please keep Martha in your thoughts. Ed, too. That must have been one horrible sound--hearing your best beloved fall down a whole flight of stairs.

UPDATE Sunday, June 15....Ed says Martha's speech is a "lot better," though she still gets a bit confused at times. She's talking about all the cooking she's going to do, planning meals, etc. Fingers crossed. Keep praying.....m.e.

On the way to Naples.....part 1

This jewel of the advertiser's art was the first thing to greet me when I walked in the door of London Stansted airport after a comfortable, restful bus ride from Heathrow. Stansted is home to one of the UK's and Ireland's great small airlines, EasyJet, that was to take me to Naples. This billboard absolutely put to rest all my fears about Naples that had been fueled by stories in recent editions of BBC.com: the garbage collection crisis (ongoing since this past Christmas), the thieves on the streets and buses, the sinister presence of the Camorra.

In fact, I could feel my U.S.-bred paranoia slipping away the longer I was exposed to the Londoners with their cheerful outlook despite having to pay about ten bucks a gallon for gas. The British humor has always cracked me up. Need a drink of soda? How about a can of Pret's "Yoga Bunny Detox, Balanced with Ginseng & Echinacea, Liquid Psychiatry, No Nasties?"



Need a cheap fare? How about one of these?



And see all those folks in the yellow vests? The British employ a small army of helpers in their airports, and they were so friendly and sweet, I wanted to bring some home with me.

"You want the Central Bus Station? Just keep on going this way, and you'll be right there. Can't miss it. What time do you have to be there? Half an hour? You've plenty of time. Have a wonderful holiday."

I get choked up just thinking about them. (Have I been in D.C. too long?)

But what's better than all that? Peggy flew all the way down from Glasgow to hang out in the airport with me until late afternoon, when my flight left for Naples. (I asked her to pose like this because it's one of her very favorites.)



She has the helpful Brit spirit, too. She asked the security people if I could take a can of Yoga Bunny Detox on the plane to give to Cathy.



Alas, this is where the soda and I parted.



More to come....next stop: Ravello!!

Goin' to Naples

Well, holy Toledo! I'm flying out on June 3 to London, arriving about 7 a.m. in Heathrow. Then I have to get myself to London Stansted airport in time to meet Peggy, who is flying in from Glasgow on ezJet, arriving about 11 a.m. It's easier said than done, I'll say that. There's no direct train, and the bus....well, they warn you that the traffic is very heavy and to plan for about 3-4 hours to make the trip. Heh.

After Peggy and I convene, we can hang out in Stansted (not much to hang out in--it looks like the Dubuque, IA, airport--or, more charitably, the one in Cedar Rapids) until she goes back to Glasgow, and I board ezJet to fly over the freakin' Alps to Naples.

My plane arrives in Naples, please goddess, about 8:15 p.m. Because of the relatively late hour, Cathy (who is already IN Italy) has suggested we stay in Naples for a couple of nights while I rest up. (I'm very old, you know....) We made reservations in Naples at what seems like a decent hotel, and Bob's your uncle!

Problem is, we have subsequently found out that Naples is beset by a humongous GARBAGE problem. The trash has not been picked up in Naples since DECEMBER!!!! There are rats and roaches and that ilk swarming all around, and the place stinks to high heaven. Some angry Neapolitans have been setting fire to the mounds of trash on the streets and blaming the mafia, especially, for the situation. Seems the mafia have been "handling" the trash for years and taken the opportunity to import tons of trash from up north and deposit it in Naples. This is why the Naples landfills are overflowing. The president of Italy has ordered the Italian soldiers to guard the landfills and has assigned other places to deposit the garbage once they haul it out of the streets of Naples.

Wouldn't you know, the citizenry are complaining about putting any new landfills or incinerators for the garbage in THEIR NEIGHBORHOODS. Plus, some cardinal of the R.C. church has intoned that it's not right to put garbage right where people live, etc. (Are you wondering whose pockets the mafia are lining?) (I am.)

Anyway, the upshot of all this is that I am flying into Naples, no way around that, and Cathy is meeting me there with a driver who will take us to Ravello. Ravello is home to the famous festival (later this year) and sporadic concerts now. It is an hour and a half from the airport. I'm wondering when I'll wake up! Maybe with the first cock crow in Ravello, which happens every morning, I'm told. Chickens! Swell.

Boo!!

Our boss let us out early this afternoon so we could go home and prepare for the trick-or-treaters. Apparently the radio commentators were full of concern that there is now so much traffic leaving DC at the end of the day that people would not get home in time to be there when the little goblins came calling. Quel horror!!

Anyway, we don't get trick or treaters in this neighborhood, for some reason. On the way home, though, I did pass throngs of lovely students, some still in uniform, from the Visitation School (plus a few boyfriends) calling at the embassies on Massachusetts Avenue. Many were in costume (a willowy tiger wearing a ruffled housecoat stood out, as did Hansel, one of the boyfriends, and Gretel).

The Lazy Gardener posted George's prize-winning pumpkin from last year on her blog today, so I dug through iPhoto and found the scariest thing I have, taken last month at the peace march. They're still out there, too!! Beware!!!

The Egg Lady as a Bonny Young Lass....

After supper (or was it before breakfast? both times, it was always cold and dark!!), Peggy would disappear out the back door and return with her hands frozen but filled with eggs from her chickens. I don't know how many she had during the winter, but it was fewer than in the summer months, right? She just kept a few to lay eggs for the household. They were the very best eggs I've ever had.

I don't remember that Phoebe and Alice laid one egg in their tenure at the log house, do you, Peg? They were too busy running from Snowball by day and the owls by night.

The Egg Lady's blog is featuring (after the lovely shot of the loo with spider) her current crop of hens these days, and it reminded me of this picture.

Happy Birthday, Sally!

Sally was delivered on this day in Bismarck, ND, by a thoracic surgeon (in the absence of our family doctor, who had slipped out for supper). It was his first delivery since medical school, and there was much laughing, "way to go!"-ing, and back patting by the nurses. Nobody told little Sally, awake and sucking her fingers, that the excitement wasn't just for her. She has had a sunny outlook ever since. Happy birthday, sweetheart!

Happy Birthday, Joe!

Today is my grandson Joe's birthday, and I didn't have time this morning to find a suitably cute picture of him as a baby to post. (Too bad, eh, Joe?) The decoration above is the great seal of Oxford University.

This particular great seal will become very familiar to him this summer, as he's been accepted into a summer school program there. He'll be taking classes in science and journalism.

Joe won the Merck Science Award this spring. His mom wrote, "...to give you an idea, out of 2700 science students in NJ, Joe was one of three who tied for second place in Biology." And he's been a wonderful writer since he wrote his "Spaceman Scott" novels at about age 8.

He hasn't lost his sweet disposition, either.

Have a wonderful birthday today, Joe....your card is in the mail.

This Week....

This past week began with a welcome sight: elm seeds by the bus stop!! Here they are....aren't they cute? Bless 'em! They spell the end of the tree allergy season for me. But depending on what tree you're allergic to, it can go on a bit longer. The pollen piles up like cornmeal on the walks, and you can see that, too. The amber, stringy things belong to the oak, which is the #1 eye-itcher here.



This week's view across the street from the bus stop. The walled garden belongs to Dumbarton House, home of the first fiscal officer of the United States (they hadn't even started to call this person "Secretary of the Treasury"). The red flowers are azaleas, and the blue flowers?? Well, they're not bluebells.

Kramerbooks & Afterwords opens for breakfast at 7:30 a.m. during the week (it's open 24 hours on Fridays and Saturdays), and this week, I brought my camera along.

The waiters prepare your beverage orders in this little cubby created when they made a third level for dining at the back of the bookstore. It's a cozy spot for breakfast, especially if you love books and enjoy their company.




This week ended with Lida telling me about her plans to donate her body to science.

"When I die," she said....and she paused..."When I die, did you get that?"
"Yes, when you die...," I said.
"I'm 86, you know."
"Yes, I know...."
"I hate funerals!" she said. "I never go to them...well, I buried my father and I buried my mother and I buried my cousin, but that's it! I can't abide that stuff.
When my father died, my mother and I went to the funeral director, a fat guy with a big diamond on his pinky, and he started leading us around showing us the caskets. Finally, after about 10 minutes, my mother (oh, she was wonderful), said,
'Listen. You've never laid eyes on me before, and I've never laid eyes on you before, so stop telling me how I'm feeling about my husband! Just show me the cheapest one!'
So he led us way to the back of this big showroom, way to a far corner, where there was this plain little casket.
My mother said, 'Is that a CHILD'S casket??' and yes, it was.
Anyway, we got the cheapest adult casket, and when we left the funeral director's, she said,'That was a terrible experience. Nobody should ever have to go through that.' Then she said to me, 'When I die, I want you to bury me orthodox.'
Of course, we never went to temple or kept kosher or did any of those other things that make you crazy, but my mother said, 'Orthodox is the cheapest, and it's also the most dignified.'
So I thought that when she died, I'd have to go find an orthodox rabbi and say, 'Hello, you don't know me (you've never seen me in your temple), but....'
Wouldn't you know, before she died, I met this wonderful man, and when I was telling him about my mother's wishes, he said, 'I am an orthodox rabbi, but I don't practice. I can't do your mother's funeral, but my brother, who is also an orthodox rabbi, can.'
So when my mother died, these two wonderful men took care of the whole thing. She was wrapped in a white shroud and buried in a plain pine box. It was simple and very dignified.
But I'm not even going to have that. I'm donating my body to science. NO FUNERAL!!"

She looked pleased with herself now that she has arranged her exit from this plane. Then she went on to tell me that a friend once told her, "Lida, you must have been born with a lucky star over your head."

"It's true," she said. "The most wonderful things happen to me."



OK, but not just yet, Lida. Let's not have that last most wonderful thing you've arranged for your life just yet.

Book Review!!

The mail keeps bringing amazing things these days....yesterday it was a copy of Sally and her friend Francine's new book, The Handbook of Style: Expert Fashion and Beauty Advice. Congratulations, Sally!!! It's gone right to the pride of place on my desk: the top of the stack!!

It's full of great stuff: "How to trim your bangs," "How to tie a scarf like a French woman," "How to get and keep smooth skin," "How to bundle up without looking like a walrus"....

Following each chapter is a cute q&a sidebar, and the last question is always "What is your favorite fashion scene from a movie?"

Rest assured, most of the answers, given by the experts in their fields whom Sally and Francine interviewed, go right over my head. These experts in fashion and beauty are serious movie fans.

For example, after "How to choose an overcoat," the favorite movie fashion scene of expert Rick Weinstein of Searle (a NYC coat design firm and retailer) is "Any scene from Sleepless in Seattle, the raincoat's finest hour." Did you notice any raincoats in that movie? I was too busy being freaked out by Meg Ryan driving down the freeways and not looking out the windshield!!

Actually, I could have helped Sally and Francine out on the "How to choose an overcoat." My advice would be "Drop hints around your son-in-law...with luck, he'll give you his old coat after he gets a brand new one!" [I've gotten tons of compliments on that coat, Jay. It's still the best of the best in my closet.]

Dizzie and doily

These are the first photos taken with my new camera. Dizzie, a hand-carved box (yup, Dizzie's head lifts off to reveal a storage area for something very small--an implant? oh, groan...), arrived yesterday with the hand-written greeting card next to him. What a cool surprise from Ed & Martha out there in Granrabbits. Thanks, thanks...you guys sure know how to make an old c'row smile.



Here is another wonderful handmade gift--a pink doily from Mary, Al, & Delaney--my niece and her husband and their youngest daughter. I love it--it looks very nice on my dresser, don'tcha think? Mary does this kind of thing in her spare time--ha--when she's not knitting or home-schooling Delaney. A vocabulary note for Delaney: the word doily is an eponym, named after a successful 1792 London milliner or draper. With a name like Doyley, he must have been IRISH! Thanks, Mary!

Happy 107th Birthday, Mary!

Here's a picture of the most glamorous 107 year old in Chicago! Her birthday was yesterday, February 17. We should all look so good NOW, let alone when we reach 107!! Mary's son, Dan, outlined the following highlights of his mother's long, hard-working life [I've added maps where I could find them and also other commentary]:

Mary McGowan celebrated her 107th birthday at St. Benedict Rehabilitation and Nursing Center, Niles, IL where she is recovering from a recent injury. St. Benedict residents and staff joined Mary and her family at a birthday party February 16. Mary’s family hosted another party for her on her actual birthday, February 17, 2007.

Highlights of Mary’s 107 years

Born: February 17, 1900 at home in Dunmore, Pennsylvania

Parents: Helen (Tkach) and John Kolibaba, immigrants from Slovakia (then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire). John Kolibaba was injured in a Pennsylvania coal mine accident.

[Slovakia is relatively small, but not this small!!! Still, you can see where they came from.]

Siblings: Five sisters, all deceased (two died before Mary’s birth)

Early Life: 1900-1905 Dunmore, Pennsylvania



[The big building with the A on it is the Catholic church in Dunmore. The picture is from a large hand-drawn topical map of Dunmore in 1905.]

1905-1920 Homestead farming SW of Glen Ullin, North Dakota

[Can't get a photo of Glen Ullin....It is still just a wide spot in the road about 50 miles west of Bismarck. The next town west of Glen Ullin is Richardton, where Aunt Joyce Carew was born and raised.]

In Glen Ullin, Mary and her family survived the 1918 flu, but she had a couple other brushes with death. She was thrown from a horse one time and landed on her back. She said it was months before she could walk again. Another time, she was coming down a steep hill. It had rained recently and the hill was muddy, the famous thick North Dakota gumbo, and her horse slipped. Mary and the horse kind of fell sideways onto the side of the hill with her still sitting on the horse, but luckily she wasn't injured. The impression of her on the horse stayed in the mud even after it dried. A less-direct brush happened on the first year they moved out to that land. Some neighbors came by and asked where they were going to spend the winter because they'd never survive in the shanty house that had been built temporarily. Her father admitted he had no place to go, and they were planning to stay there. Later a group of neighbors came, plowed the soil, cut bricks, and surrounded the house with them, which allowed the family to get through that first winter. The next spring they built a real sod house. In 1916, the family built a frame house, and Mary said it was never as warm as the sod house had been. She saw Halley's Comet as a child and worked the farm with her father at planting and harvesting time since they had no boys and she was the oldest girl. In addition to learning how to build a sod house, Mary knew how to milk cows and butcher them, smoke hams, and make cottage cheese--essential survival skills in those pioneer days.

In 1928, Mary married Daniel E. McGowan, a native of Chicago. They later divorced. Mary became the sole support of their only child, Daniel J. McGowan, Chicago. Daniel J. married Susan Marie Dwyer in the early 70s. They produced three daughters--Helen, Sarah, and Jeanne--and one son, Steven, all of Chicago. Two of the girls are married, and Mary is now the proud great-grandmother of two girls, and a boy. [Mary's granddaughter Helen is the source of the stories about Mary's life in Glen Ullin, and she also has taped Mary telling stories about her life.]

Before her marriage to Mr. McGowan, Mary did housekeeping and restaurant work in North Dakota, then moved to St. Paul, Minnesota, where she studied and worked in beauty culture. From 1926 to 1971, she worked as a licensed beautician in Chicago.

A brilliant woman, Mary returned to the studies she'd had to forego to earn a living in her early days, and she was awarded her GED high school equivalency degree in 1979. Mary was a former member of the St. Clement Parish and Messiah choirs. She also served as an election judge in Chicago's 45th ward. After her retirement from full-time work, she managed and operated Cuneo Hospital Nursing Center beauty shop from 1979 to 1980.

Dan quotes his mother's recipe for a long life: “Work hard”

Happy Birthday, Dad - repost

[NOTE: I posted this two years ago, but I like it, so here it is again.] Sorry I missed your birthday, Pop. I always get it mixed up with my h.s. boyfriend's, whose birthday is tomorrow, Feb. 5.}


Yesterday was the 115th anniversary of the birth of my father, Francis Thomas Dwyer. He was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan, on February 5, 1894, and he died at Shoreham, Minnesota, on January 3, 1968, a night of bitter cold. (It was -41 degrees in Bismarck the following morning when I dropped off the girls with our neighbor Iris and took the train to Detroit Lakes for his funeral. Tom was not yet born.)

Here are some of the photos I have of Dad. There are more, but they're not organized, to put it mildly. These are the framed photos I have in the den.

First is the earliest photo I have (maybe anyone has) of Dad. He's maybe a year to 18 months. Notice his lovely blonde ringlets. Dad's hair was blondish until he was 13, when it turned black. It stayed curly, although he always combed it flat so that it wouldn't curl.

The bright-eyed girl is my Aunt Ellen, who was a year and a half older than Dad.



The next photo shows Dad with Ellen and little Edgar in the middle. Dad was the oldest boy in their family of seven children: Ellen, Francis, Edgar, Rose, Ann, and Mary. The seventh child, Theresa (Susan says "Mary"), died as an infant, and she followed Francis.



Here's a photo of Grandma and Grandpa and their lovely family of teenagers. It's the only photo I have of the whole group, and the only one I have of my grandmother. The two boys, Edgar and Francis, are in the back row. In the middle row are Ellen (soon to become Sister Mary Mark, I.H.M. (Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, Monroe, Michigan), Mary, Ann, and Rose. Grandma was teaching school in Cherokee, Iowa, when Grandpa came back from Iowa Normal School in Cedar Falls with a teaching certificate. His father had wanted him to stay home and work the farm, but he did not want to be a farmer. He ran away from home at age 15 and worked his way through college in Cedar Falls and then Valparaiso College in Valparaiso, Indiana. (Grandma and Grandpa actually met at Valparaiso where they were both students.) Arriving back home, he taught school during the day, studied for the law at night, and presumably courted Grandma at the same time. Soon he applied for admission to the University of Michigan law school, was accepted, married Grandma, the lovely Alicia Hogan, and moved to Ann Arbor. Ellen was born the day Grandpa graduated from the U of M with his law degree.

The following picture is of the St. Thomas Parish baseball team of 1912. My dad is in the middle of the back row wearing his Shaker knit sweater, and my grandfather is on the end at the right. He was now a lawyer in private practice in Ann Arbor and coach of the team. Grandpa at various times also was the city attorney for Ann Arbor and the bishop's lawyer as well. Right after Grandpa's graduation from the U of M, he taught law there, also. The two guys on either side of my dad, Leo and Everett, were his pals growing up, and I remember him talking about their baseball exploits and canoeing trips on the river. Dad played shortstop or second base, I forget which, and shortly after this, he won a baseball scholarship to the University of Michigan.



His graduation photo is next, but I'm not sure which graduation this was taken for, high school or college. I thought I remembered Mom saying this was his U of M graduation photo, but Susan said it's his high school photo. He looks older than high school in this one, and certainly older than he does in the family photo.





The U.S. Army appropriated him after he graduated from the U. of M. with a degree in English, and they stationed him for the duration of WWI in Newport News, Virginia, as a typing clerk. Mom took this photo of him on the farm in Iowa when he was home on furlough. Mom met Dad while he was still in college. Grandpa used to send Dad back to Iowa during his summer vacations to help Grandpa's two old maid sisters, Nora and Ellen, who wound up running the farm after all the boys in the family defected or proved incapable of managing the place. Mom taught school with Aunt Nora, who was eager to introduce her handsome nephew to her bright, bubbly co-worker. Dad wrote home after the introduction, "I've met the liveliest girl in town."



Fast-forward to the 50s....Grandpa is dead, and Dad bought a lake cottage on Lake Sallie with his inheritance. Here he is out back of the cottage by our 1947 green DeSoto, which he bought when I was in 8th grade. It boasted the forerunner of automatic transmission. When you started out, you'd step on the gas until you got to maybe 15-18 mph, then you'd let up on the gas, the car would shift itself--Ka-KLUNK!--and you'd be at driving speed.

Dad always wore khakis from L.L. Bean on the weekends, plus a yellow terry cloth longsleeved t-shirt like he has on in the picture. He carried his Pall Malls in the pocket in front. On his feet, he wore old wingtips that were too scuffed to wear to work. And he usually wore a cap like this.

The smoke from his Pall Malls was deadly, and when we drove to the lake every Friday night after Dad got off work, Mom and I would beg him to open the window a little wider so we could breathe. He always did, but ever afterward, I could tell Pall Mall smoke from any other cigarette's. It was tarry and raw, and it stunk upwind.

The big house behind Dad belonged to Jack and Babe Maloney, parents of my growing-up playmates at the lake, Michael and Marcia. It used to be the main house of a resort, and our cottage was one of the little rental places. It had a living room, a bedroom, and a porch on two sides...the kitchen on the side, and a big round table & chairs plus a big squeaky spring bed in front.

Here are Dad and Gene getting ready to put the dock in for the summer. Dad is pulling something out from under the front porch, where he stored the dock over the winter. Part of the dock is stacked to the right. The trees are not yet in leaf, but the snow is gone, so it must be the end of May. I took these little photos with my 8th grade graduation present camera. I wish I'd taken hundreds more.



Last photo: "Brothers of the Brush" - Fargo's Diamond Jubilee, 1950. Dad, like most other men in town, grew a beard for the Centennial celebration. He sent a copy of this photo to Aunt Mary Barnes, I think, and on the back, though the ink has almost completely faded, he wrote "Is this Pop Hogan or a duke's mixture? With love, Francis"



Love to you, Francis. You were my best pal as a kid. You took me everywhere with you: fishing, hunting, even bowling at night during the winter when the NW Bell team had league bowling--you'd park me at the bar with a glass of 7Up while you rolled up one great game after another. You were a natural athlete and a lover of the outdoors. Your temper scared me to death when I was little, but I learned that yelling back would shut you up good. I only did it once, actually, because I was so appalled to see you silenced like that. Thanks for giving me life and a share of your unique spirit....

Found Things

Found this gem in a suitcase full of old letters tonight.

It's Peggy's first (and only) postcard from Camp Dominic Savio in Riverdale, ND. She mailed it on August 18, maybe 1970 or 1971? So...she was like 8 or 9?

It says

Dear Mom
I'm Having a good time.
Tell The Family Hi. And
Tell dad The rod Broke
I Need More Money. Love Peggy

That's my girl, the writer!!

EVERYDAY HEROES!! You rock, Helen & Andrew, Jeanne & Jim, Sarah!

Here's to all my rellies out there in Chicagoland who are actually doing something for the planet and their own children!! Makes an old bat proud. What do the people look like who are making the world a better place for their children? Take a look:

Jim and Jeanne at the baptism of Gabey.


Auntie Sarah with Mia.


Helen with Mia.


Dads and babies: Andrew and Jim with Mia and Gabey.

Helen and Andrew (Sarah, too? Jeanne and Jim, too?) wrote letters on behalf of the Illinois area Sierra Club's campaign to reduce coal plant mercury pollution.

Here's the result:

BLAGOJEVICH MERCURY CLEANUP PLAN GAINS FINAL APPROVAL
Illinois Responds to Weak Bush Administration Proposal With Strongest Plan In America - Cut 90% of Coal Plant Mercury by 2009

Statement of Jack Darin, Director, Sierra Club, Illinois Chapter
December 12, 2006

With today's approval by the Illinois General Assembly's Joint Committee on Administrative Rules, Governor Blagojevich's proposal to cut 90% of the mercury pollution coming out of Illinois coal plants by 2009 will go into effect. This is a historic victory to dramatically reduce a dangerous neurotoxin that threatens the brains and nervous systems of Illinois children.

Illinois women should not have to worry that the tuna fish sandwich they have for lunch, or the fish they put on the family dinner table may cause permanent harm to their children. Most of this mercury pollution comes from coal-burning power plants that have not installed the pollution controls that can eliminate most of the threat to our children. Now they will finally clean up their act to protect our
kids.

This cleanup plan will not only protect Illinois children, it also sets an example for America to follow. States can and must do better than the Bush Administration's proposal to go slow and easy in requiring mercury pollution controls, and Illinoisans can be proud that this proposal is the strongest of any state's response.

This ruling is a major public health victory. This mercury cleanup plan will protect future generations of Illinois children from the very serious dangers posed by mercury contamination. It is a major step forward towards the day when Illinois can hopefully lift the health warnings currently posted about the dangers of eating certain fish from every lake and river in our state.

We applaud the leadership of Governor Blagojevich, Director of Policy Development Steven Frenkel, Illinois Environmental Protection Agency Director Doug Scott, and all of the IEPA staff, including Laurel Kroack, Jim Ross, Chris Romaine, and many others, for their hard work over the past year in enacting this historic pollution cleanup plan.

The Sierra Club's Illinois Clean Air Campaign, led by Verena Owen, has been working in Illinois to create awareness about the threats posed by mercury contamination, and to promote solutions such as this proposal for many years. Our volunteers and staff offered free hair testing events across Illinois, where concerned people could check their own levels and get involved in the cleanup campaign. We reached out to Illinoisans at fishing and hunting shows, health and environmental fairs, and concerts to engage people across the state in promoting this solution. We went door to door in communities uniquely impacted by mercury pollution. We worked with the Blagojevich Administration at key points along the way to develop
and support the proposal.

We are proud of our work, but the real winners today are the children of tomorrow. We look forward to the day when Illinois women don't have to worry that the food they eat or put on the dinner table may be putting their children at risk. Today's action means those days may be numbered.

Congratulations, Helen & Andrew, especially! Don't ever think that one small person won't count. Write those letters, make those phone calls, join those marches. Just do it!! It works!

Darling Lida

Lida Moser, who is 86 years old, entices me out to all sorts of arty events here. On this day, we are visiting the open house at the new Swedish Embassy on the Georgetown waterfront.



Lida is full of wonder at beauty wherever she sees it. "This is fabulous," she's saying in a room full of silver jewelry and utensils made by Swedish artisans. "This is simply marvelous."



She charms everyone she meets, especially other artists (here, with an architect at the Swedish Embassy), with her curiosity and interest in their life and work. She calls people "darling," and they eat it up. (I eat it up. Like Snoopy says, "Nobody calls me 'darling'.")

Lida spent most of her adult life as a photographer in New York City. She worked for Vogue, wrote a photography column for the New York Times, and early on worked as an assistant to Berenice Abbott. Lida is more famous elsewhere than she is here. The National Gallery of Scotland purchased all of her photos of Scottish writers and intellectuals. And the National Gallery of Quebec published her photographs of the province of Quebec. She took these in 1950 while on commission from Vogue to create an illustrated report of Canada from coast to coast.

She has great flair for dressing simply, in rich colors. She has retired from full-time photography, but she has taken up drawing. I met her at the Art Students League in New York City in 1997. She dropped in on a class in anatomical drawing one morning, and she gave me a beautiful smile when she sat down. After class, I stopped by her station to say hello. Her drawings blew me away. They are wild and wonderful. Best of all, she saves her sketches and uses them as stationery. Here is her New Year's greeting from 2005. It's written on a drawing of a dancer she did in October, 2003. I've edited out the part about her ill health then. She was very frail at the beginning of 2005 but has since bounced back.



For a great review of Lida's work by her friend and fellow artist Lenny Campello, check out BlogCritics Magazine.

A Happy Birthday

Peggy, George, and Cathy have combined to make yesterday my happiest 70th birthday ever. Peggy didn't get her warmth and her sensitivity from me, especially regarding birthdays. I forget as many as I remember, and I never held actual birthday parties for the kids involving guests outside of the family. She's blossomed on her own. Thanks, Peggy, for all the birthday treats: the "birthday girl" badge (which--typically--I refused to pin on), the little happy birthday confetti things sprinkling the plate of delicious pastries, the swell presents: the beautiful sweater, the cool perfume (from George and Henry), Thank you, Peggy, for flying over from Scotland and helping to make my 70th birthday one of the best I've ever had. Thanks to George, too, for coming along. What a treat it was to have this bright, sensitive, happy 13-year-old here. Thanks, also, George, for reminding us that fish, chickens, cows, pigs, and sheep (escargots, too) are our FRIENDS and not just something to eat.

Thanks to Cathy for the best 200 euro birthday lunch ever at A La Pomponette, and for sharing the mundane costs of this trip--the tickets from USA, the rental on this apartment for six days--without which it all would not have happened. And thanks for your wonderful friendship and love that light up my days at the salt mine and beyond.

Thanks to all for being your fabulous selves and for being in my life. What a blessing!