polkadotzi

This is a photo of an old photo I saw recently. My father's secretary. We were her office help. In the summers sometimes she'd let us run the addressograph, which I think was the machine on the left. And every Friday we came to her after school and folded the church bulletins. We got fast at that job, folding 20 or so at a time, pulling them apart, and then crisping the creases.

This picture takes me right back to age five or six. Our church had a new educational building, and our Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Conway, had a brand new sandbox for her Bible stories. I wonder now where she got the little figures and all the other things she used to illustrate the stories for us. In my mind I can see her characters being moved around by her hands as we were swept away to Bible times. Of course at the end we would get a little time in the sand ourselves. As I think about how vivid this is in my memory, I realize how much of an impact we have on our children and grandchildren. They learn so much about life by the age of five. Our impact and input can be huge!

This dapper guy went off to Ch*na when my dad was young. He was my dad's uncle Albert. I also had an uncle Albert, named for this one. And while this uncle would take the long boat ride home once or twice over many years, he lived in that far away land until he died of complications from a ruptured appendix. I never knew him but have heard about him all my life. My dad was good like that; he taught us to love history and especially our family history. I have letters this uncle wrote home. Both of my parents had an uncle that died in that country during the 1930s.

  Yes this is me at nine, but I'm mainly interested in checking out the old stove  I remember at my grandmother's house!

The great General, President of the U.S. during my childhood.

My aunt wrote asking if I had my great-aunt's journal that contained a recipe for Krummer Torte. I did, but could not read it well so got the idea to photograph it. Then Aunt could enlarge it and read the exact ingredients and amount. She is planning to make it soon. Obviously she has some sweet (no pun intended) memories of eating this when she was a little girl. Or maybe it was something served throughout the family history. Now I'm thinking maybe I should make it myself sometime.

I knew my father enjoyed a good baseball game, but I never knew him to like football particularly. I was so surprised when my cousin sent me this photo her dad had taken of my parents with some of their sibblings at a Wheaton College football game. I'm guessing they went to spend time with Dad's baby sister, pictured sitting next to my mom with red mittons and a red scarf. They all look happy. I'd like to think I might be the baby on the lap down the row a bit, and I think I figured out it could be. Anyway, I can pretend it's me. There are few photos of me as a wee one, so I'll take any I can get.  :-)

The school bus driver I fell in love with. Just one of his many talents as he put himself through college.

I have always loved this photo. Look at all the hats. How stylish! Most likely the men had them too, just in their hands!

These cute little twins are sitting here for a professional photographer who came to their house for a "photo shoot."  The story goes that little one on the left would not  stop swinging her feet. So photographer finally gave up and took the photo anyway. See the blur? This past weekend was their 80th birthday, and their kids gave them a big, double celebration up north. Wish we could have been there. Happy Birthday "Aunt Twinnies!"  

My mother is standing in the foreground with her two little twin sisters, in their driveway (not sure where the next younger sister was). I remember so well this intriguing house across the street with the turret. Some old lady sisters lived there as I remember.  The ______  Sisters. I don't remember ever meeting them, but there is a dim recollection of entering their darkened parlor. This photo brings my grandparents' house to mind, and all the fun we had as children when we'd spend a week there very summer.  This photo sure makes it look like my mom is the leader, and in fact she was, being the oldest of four girls.  It makes me think of myself, as I tend to be an "in charge" kind of person, though I don't really like that about myself. I'm glad I have the ability to organize things, but there's great relief when someone else takes over.

It doesn't seem that long ago that our family plus two men climbed into this laden-down VW bug for a trip from the high hills of La Paz, Bolivia, over the Altiplano down into the Yungus Jungle. From snow to sweat, all in a day, over what is known as the world's most dangerous road . Mind you, Spouse is 6'6" tall. Not sure how he made it into the back seat, but I know he did. He loves to tell how his leg was well bruised from my clenching it as we passed over hairpin turns from heights that I could not believe. At one point we were so high in altitude, the little bug, with all its weight of barb wire fencing being carried on the top, simply quit. We got out to look under the hood and eventually to push for awhile, and that is what this photo is about.

I remember my grandfather playing the harmonica. Very dimly, as all my memories are of my grandfather. He died when I was seven. This photo of him playing with his brothers was taken long before I was born. I've seen a movie clip of this exact scene so I can see how they fooled around before they actually played, with people passing by in the background. There was no sound to this old home movie of my grandfather's but I can imagine the sound just fine.

Another mystery I have about my father is his love for horses. I've always heard about it but never actually saw him with a horse. Not sure where this photo came from, but he seems happy to be with a horse. I have seen a photo of him on a horse on a hunting expedition in Colorado when he was young, but that's the extent of it. I know my mother has told of her love of horseback riding when she was young. Just one of those things I kinda wish I had asked about when I had the chance. I'm sure there would have been stories to hear. 

The story goes that my great grandmother climbed up into the cupola of her house to ring the bell on the day World War I ended. She was more than thrilled that the war was over, at least over for the western world. She was totally thrilled that her son, my grandfather (who had boarded a ship to be deployed that very day into certain danger) was coming home. My great grandmother was a quiet, unassuming person. Not the type to draw any attention to herself. But apparently she lost a bit of her inhibitions in her excitement. What better thing to do than to let the neighborhood know her joy. According to my mother, who told the story, she rang and rang and rang it for quite some time before climbing down. My mother loved to climb up there as a child, but never knew her grandma to ever climb there. Of course my mom wasn't yet alive when this story took place, as her father, the soldier coming home, was only engaged to her mother.  It apparently was one of those stories passed down thr...

I can picture exactly what was happening in this photo. My grandmother was standing serenely somewhere, minding her own business, when her grandson, John the artist, came up and startled her with a hug and a kiss on her cheek. It might have be a chilly, rainy day. Why else would she have been wearing a "babushka," as we used to call them. I'm sure she laughed and was pleased with the kiss. My grandma was a good sport, always. Photo sent by a cousin who is finding and scanning in old photos, to the delight of us all.

Before the carefree days of the polkadotzi gang there was the real wearing of the polka dot dress shown on the header.  It really is or was an old fashioned bathing suit made by me for a sort of weird Miss America contest (actually Miss Wing Ding but that takes a lot of explaining.) As well as making and modeling the old fashioned bathing suit, we had a talent contest, and here you see yours truly in her winning talent: Prinderella and the Cince . You can see here that half of me was in shambles and ashes, and the other half in a fairy tale princess dress. It was blue. I'm wondering now why the rag dress was used. Was that a dress I wore and sacrificed for the contest? I know it was a home made dress and now that I think of it, didn't we do a lot of sewing then. It wasn't at all the dark ages, but it seems to me if I wanted a new dress I had to make it,

A favorite childhood memory that stands very strong is the White Gift Service we would have every December on a Sunday evening at our church. My dad had constructed a large white cross. We would all bring canned goods or other food stuffs wrapped in simple white tissue paper.  After singing Christmas carols, and probably a short meditation, the lights would lower and all eyes would focus on the cross. Row by row we would move to the front and lay our white gifts at the foot of the cross. The food then was taken somewhere where there was a need. I don't remember that part, but I do remember the wonder of it, from a young child's perspective. Simple, but profound.

My Uncle (great, that is) Albert and his wife Minnie on the boat that took them to China. This must have been in the 30s. They were missionaries. My uncle never came home (I lost two missionary great-uncles in China in the 30s, one on my mom's side and one on my dad's side). He had a ruptured appendix and died from infection. I wonder what those boat trips were like for missionaries in those days. I know they did not go first class. Some were on the ships for weeks or even months. Probably a lot of soul-searching got done, Bible reading, study, reflecting, writing ... Most likely well rested when they arrived to face many challenges.