The Story Behind the Picture

at 3 measlesThis is a picture of me when I was three years old. Looking at the picture, you might think I was a somber child. Honestly, though, somber is a word that has never been used to describe me, especially when I was a child.

The day this picture was taken, my mother took me to the Edgewater Beach Hotel in Chicago. Does anyone remember that classic old hotel? It is long gone now, but in its day, it was a showplace. At the time, my grandmother worked as the photographer there. She actually took this picture.

You can’t tell it from the picture, but I was excited to be visiting my grandmother AND I was going to go home with her to spend a few days. It wasn’t until we arrived at her house that evening that the adults realized why I was so droopy. I had the chicken pox. My mother and I spent that night, but returned to our own home the next morning.

I love this picture. I remember my excitement, and then my disappointment when we had to return home. I also notice my mother’s hand in the picture. The ring she is wearing, I am wearing today. It was the first nice thing she ever bought for herself and she gave it to me when I graduated from eighth grade.

The picture is nice, but what makes it meaningful is the story behind it. Without the story, it’s just a picture. In a couple generations, what will people know when they look at it? If I put my name and the year on the picture, they’ll know it’s me and assume I was a somber child. They won’t know my grandmother took the picture; they won’t know I had the chicken pox. Maybe someone will remember the ring, but they won’t what a major investment it was for my young mother.

This reminds me how important it is to preserve our pictures and the stories behind them. Several years ago, my son and his wife scanned many of our family pictures. They didn’t include any of me as a child, because they didn’t know there were any. When my grandmother died, we were surprised and delighted to find lots of family pictures, all carefully labelled and organized in an album. What a treasure!

If you are not as fortunate as I have been to have your family pictures so lovingly cataloged, consider taking the time to do it now. If you don’t have the time or you want some help, there are members of the Association of Personal Historians who specialize in photo organization, and even restoration. You can click on the association link toward the top of the right column and select “Find a Personal Historian” or contact me and I can put you in touch with one of these talented people.

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The Sears Catalog

I have an aunt who is my age. Growing up, we lived in the same household and were raised as sisters. Our family moved often, so we were usually the new kids in the neighborhood. Sometimes, it was really nice to have a built-in playmate.

When we were girls, we loved to study the Sears catalog to create role-playing stories. I remember leafing through the catalog, picking out what each of us would look like. We picked out what our boyfriends looked like, and after we married, we picked children. We preserved our actual relationship in the role-playing and so each of us had different friends. We selected names for ourselves and for the other characters we created. Our stories were like a serial; each time we played, we picked up where we left off.

Sears catalogWe would devise adventures and pick out appropriate clothes to wear. We even picked out wedding dresses and bridesmaids dresses for one another! We picked out pajamas and underwear – bras, long before we actually wore them ourselves.

We never shared this game with others. I don’t remember if this was logistics, because it would have been hard to share the catalog with others, or if it was because we were afraid others would think it was dumb. It may have been because the game was a rainy day, inside game and we were never allowed to have friends in the house.

My aunt wouldn’t remember this game we played. For whatever reason, she remembers little of our childhood. Sometimes, it makes me sad to have these special memories and not be able to share them with her. It’s almost as if we didn’t actually grow up together.

 

Photo Copyright: <a href=’http://www.123rf.com/profile_sjhuls’>sjhuls / 123RF Stock Photo</a>

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Thoughts About “Stuff”

For the last several months, I’ve been hosting Show & Tell for Adults. At these events, people bring something special to show the group and then they share the story of what makes it special to them. Members of the Association of Personal Historians are hosting Show & Tell events across the country and around the world.

In the past 24 hours, I’ve gained a fresh perspective on the “stuff” in my life. Travelling to Chicago from California, our flight was diverted to Denver as a result of storms which closed O’Hare Airport. Our flight was cancelled and we were stranded in Denver. The airlines held our luggage, leaving us with the clothes on our backs and whatever we carried onto the plane.

cosmetic caseRemember the “cosmetic cases” our mothers traveled with? Today, I travel with a backpack filled with electronic gear, my laptop, tablet, Kindle, headsets, and chargers for each. Last night, I really wished I had a cosmetic case instead. I didn’t even have my purse, having tossed my wallet into my backpack for ease of travel.

Arriving at the hotel room shortly before midnight, I wandered the room, missing my “stuff.” I wanted to change into my pajamas; no pajamas. I wanted to put on slippers; no slippers. Wash my face, no face wash. None of the “stuff” that makes a hotel room my home away from home. Besides the inconvenience, I missed the comfort of having my things nearby. I felt vulnerable, less confident I could handle whatever came along.

We made it through the night. I got ready this morning using basic toiletries provided by the hotel. We have a flight scheduled this afternoon and should be home for dinner. Goodness knows when I’ll be reunited with my luggage! Fortunately, I’ll be comfortable and secure, surrounded by my “stuff” at home.

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Gratitude

I have some Facebook friends who, each day, post three reasons they are grateful. While I am actively seeking to adopt an “Attitude of Gratitude,” I haven’t chosen to publicly share my gifts each day. Today, I’m making an exception.

Just back from a warm weather vacation, I’ve struggled the last two days to venture out into the cold (or even out from under the covers!) In my plans, it was supposed to be spring when I returned from vacation. Instead, it is gray, misty, windy and in the 30’s where I live.

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And then, this morning, I heard something that made me incredibly grateful. The people on the radio were talking about kids and spring sports. I realized that I am ever so grateful that I am not attending softball games right now. In my experience, there is nothing colder. My son played football and my daughter played softball.

Most of the football season here runs through some of the best weather of the year. When it does get cold, the fans sit huddled together, shielding one another from the wind and the cold.

Softball, on the other hand, is played largely in weather like we have right now. High school softball is played in the cold, the wind and the mist. Once, my daughter actually slipped on snow running the bases. By the time the weather gets nice, the season is over.

Softball fans typically sit swaddled in blankets, in lawn chairs out in the open. Senior year, I happened upon a cushion that had a gel insert I could heat in the microwave before heading out to the game. It was awesome! Wrapped in my blanket, with my insulated boots, long underwear and warm buns, I made it through those games.

So that’s what I’m grateful for today. I’m in my warm house, writing at my desk, sipping my tea and occasionally petting the dog, leaving “spring” softball to the next shift of devoted parents.

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Show and Tell

antique toysOne very cold winter day, probably not unlike any of the many we’ve suffered through this winter, I brought my Barbie case to Show and Tell to share with my first grade class. On the way home my hands were so cold, even in my mittens, that I left my case behind on the sidewalk about halfway home. Tears were streaming down my face by the time my mother’s car pulled up alongside me and together we returned to retrieve Barbie before we headed home.

Even as an adult, I remember how precious Barbie was to me. I can’t begin to imagine how desperately cold I must have been to leave my case behind so I could put my hands in my pockets. At six years old, I must have thought it was a matter of survival! Thank goodness, my mother saved the day.

I don’t have Barbie to share anymore, but Show and Tell is back! We’re starting a grown up version later this month. We’ll gather a group of people together to share their treasures and the stories about what makes them so special. I’ll probably start by sharing the compass from my father’s ship. I imagine people will bring old photos or letters, maybe a special antique bowl or a favorite piece of jewelry. I’m sure I’ll be surprised!

Show & Tell for Adults will be open to anyone who wants to show and tell or just watch and listen. Beverages and food will be available. There will be no admission charge, but plenty of laughter and happy memories.

Be sure to Like us on our new Facebook page or join our new Meetup group. I’ll post information both places as soon as it becomes available. I hope to see you there!

UPDATE:

Show & Tell for Adults began Wednesday, March 12. It will be held the second Wednesday of each month, from 7:00 to 8:30 at Mrs. P & Me, 100 East Prospect Avenue in Mount Prospect, Illinois.

Show & Tell for Adults will have a special one time event on Wednesday, May 21 from 6:00 to 8:00 at Lynfred Winery – Wheeling, 971 North Milwaukee Avenue in Wheeling, Illinois. Wine tastings or wine by the glass will be available for purchase.

If you want to attend, but live out of the area, contact me and I’ll try to refer you to a Show and Tell event near you.

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The Peace of Silence

I recently participated in a writers’ workshop at the beautiful Ragdale Foundation. The workshop was called, “Shut Up and Write,” and focused on the practice of silence as part of a writing life.  It was sponsored by Story Studio Chicago and presented by author Anne D. LeClaire.

In her book, Listening Below the Noise, LeClaire shared her experience of incorporating days of silence into her life. For the past eighteen years, she has spent the first and third Mondays of each month in silence and she described how it has impacted her writing and her life.

At the workshop, we alternated classes, writing and sharing with blocks of silence. Silence was observed from the end of each evening workshop until after breakfast the next morning. It’s amazing how loud the crack of an eggshell at breakfast can seem in an atmosphere of silence!

Back at my desk that first day home, I was still processing my experience when the ring of the telephone startled me and broke my concentration.  As usual, I was irritated by the interruption. I seldom answer that phone anyway during the day because it’s either a sales call, a survey or some other call I don’t need.

phonesThere and then I made the decision to remove the phones from the upstairs of the house. I pulled out the one in my office and the one in the bedroom and sat back down to work. Not long after, I heard a phone ringing in the distance. Not as startling as the one on my desk, but it was still enough to break my concentration. I went out in search of the phone and found one in the spare room. Out it went.

I’m surprised by the relief I experienced with that decision. I’m no longer startled by nuisance calls when I am deep in concentration or engaged with a business call. My argument used to be that I needed to be accessible for emergency calls any time but now the people who need to reach me will call me on my cell phone first, anyway.

I did leave the kitchen phone in place because I still like the identity associated with having my home telephone. It’s my account number for the cleaners, the pizza place and any of a number of loyalty programs.

I know I’m not ready for one complete day of silence, let alone one every two weeks. But I am starting to incorporate periods of silence into my life. Getting rid of those phones was my first step!

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Blackhawks Joy

Monday evening, the Blackhawks were down 2-1. They were playing game six of the Stanley Cup Series and their play appeared lackluster. Game seven seemed inevitable; at least it would be at home.

We decided that rather than stay inside the house to watch, we would sit outside by a fire and listen to the game on the radio.  The advantage to the radio is we would be listening to the hometown call and the announcers would be on our side. We left the TV on in the house so we could step inside should anything of interest occur.

The game was almost over when my husband went in for a glass of wine. From outside I heard him holler and whoop with elation. The Blackhawks had scored! The series was headed for yet a third overtime game. But, wait…seventeen seconds after that goal, they scored again!

I have to admit, I missed this just trying to get into the house. It turns out that since we were listening to the radio over the internet, there was quite a delay. By the time I got in, they had already scored that second goal and with less than a minute to go, the win was all but certain.

We were too excited to sit down as we watched them skate to victory! The after-game festivities were a joy to see. The traditional handshake the teams shared was heartwarming. We watched each of the Blackhawks skate around with elation, the Stanley Cup raised over his head. Neighbors set off fireworks.

blackhawks.nhl.com

blackhawks.nhl.com

Caught up in the moment, we decided (at 10:30 at night) to run to our local sporting goods store to get our own Blackhawk Stanley Cup Champions gear. We called and they would be open until 1:00 am.

As we drove, the roads were filled with happy Blackhawks fans.  Horns honked and people cheered. Many cars were filled with fans sporting Blackhawks sweaters. When we pulled into the parking lot, it looked like Black Friday or the Saturday before Christmas.

The store was jam packed, but it was a jovial crowd. There were tables filled with gear and long lines to even see what they had. I picked up the first two hats I found; I figured I could put them back if I found something else. I knew the stock would go fast and I sure didn’t want to go home empty handed. Even with the crowds, people were polite and there was no pushing or grabbing. It may have been a mob, but it was a friendly one!

The line ran halfway around the store and when we got home it was 11:30. By the time we settled down enough to go to sleep, it was well after midnight. We both had early starts the next morning but we have no regrets. It was a great night for Blackhawks fans!

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Sandal Season

It’s finally sandal weather and after a winter of socks and shoes, I am so ready! I dug out my sandals and polished my toes.  A pedicure has been a prerequisite to sandals for as long as I can remember.  Apparently, though, this is not a universal truth.

Beautifully manicured toes on the black sand beach of Hawaii.

Beautifully manicured toes on the black sand beach of Hawaii.

When my children were young, a friend once asked, “Where do you find the time?”  I told her I have to because I love to wear sandals. As a girl, I wasn’t allowed to wear sandals unless my toes were polished. If I had brand new sandals and the weather turned suddenly warm before my toes were polished, I had to wear my sneakers.

“But your fingers aren’t polished and you’re not wearing gloves,” my friend pointed out.  What can I say? Mom never had a rule about that!

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Remembering Payphones

I bought a new cell phone yesterday.  The purchase was simple, but the update process was running slowly because the data network was jammed.  Tell me, how can the AT&T store have a clogged network?  Don’t they know someone who can fix that?

Anyway, after making small talk with the salesman as we waited, I suggested he could move on to someone else and I would watch my phone update alone.  He said it would actually be better to go home and complete the process on my own network which would be faster than theirs.  It sounded like a good plan to me.

Once on the road, I realized my new phone was not yet capable of making or receiving calls.  I was uneasy; I’m not used to being out of touch anymore, even for the twenty minutes it took to get home. This got me to thinking.  Young people can’t imagine life Phoneboothsbefore cell phones and even those of us who are not so young have relied on them for a decade or more.  Before that we had payphones or did without.

I’ve been married for 34 years and there were certainly no cell phones when I was dating.  Heading out for date, I always made sure to have change for a payphone to call home, should the evening go awry. Even after we had been dating a while, I did this with my now husband.  Just to keep him on his toes, there were even times when I would insist he give me his change if I didn’t have any!

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Image credit: <a href=’http://www.123rf.com/photo_16880269_blue-public-phone-in-a-row.html’>mfron / 123RF Stock Photo</a>

 

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Never Too Late

About three years after my father-in-law passed away, my mother-in-law began keeping company with a gentleman who lived nearby.  We weren’t sure about the nature of the relationship, but we noticed he was around more and more.

One evening when we were gathered together to celebrate a birthday, she took his hand and addressed the table, “We have an announcement to make.  We’ve decide we want to spend the rest of our lives together.” She added that they would marry soon, because at their ages, they wanted to have as much time together as possible.

IMG_1242A few days later, my husband and I were together and he was giving me a hard time, just being a pain.  I shook my finger at him and said, “Listen, you can be replaced.  I just found out it’s not too late.”

The next time we were together, he shared this conversation with his mother.  I was  sure her response would be that no one could replace her precious son.   Instead, she reached over, touched my arm and said, “Honey, just make sure you get one that can walk!”

I just love my mother-in-law!

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