Random Thoughts

I just finished a book I thought I would share.  Being an avid reader, I go through tons of books, a lot of which are just "ok".  This one really got my attention from page one and had me reading when I should have been doing other things.

How would you feel, if every morning when you woke up, you didn't know where you were, or who that man was in the bed beside you?  When you dared to sneak out of that bed to go into the bathroom and look in the mirror only to see you have aged decades from your last memory.  How would you feel if you spent the day learning this man was your husband, Ben, and that every morning for years, he has told you these same facts of your lost life,  over and over again, because every night when you go to sleep, you forget? Then one morning you find you have written inside the cover of your journal, "Don't trust Ben".

2.  Did any of you have these Junior Classic books in your home when you were growing up?  They were either bought with or came with Collier's Encyclopedias. 

This is the main look of them.  I found this with some Google hunting.  They were numbered 1 - 10.  My number 10 was an orange book of poetry.  The red one was Fairy Tales.  Those two must have been my favorites because I do remember the numbers and colors of those two.  The others were of History, Adventure, and after that I go blank.  I do know I used them a lot for school projects.  My set was stored in a finished basement that flooded back in the 80's so I had to toss them.  I do know my great plans of saving them for my children to use didn't go that way.  They weren't that interested.  I think it just shows how much more was available to them than was for us.

3.  The other day of thought of a couple of jobs that have long disappeared and were ones that touched my life as a teen.  The first is the gas station attendant.  Remember that guy?  The one that came out and pumped the gas for you and cleaned your window at the same time.  It was great fun being a teenage girl, going to get gas at a station that employed that certain guy you thought was pretty cute.  I'm sure I got $2 worth of gas often.  I would think that it would have been a pretty good job for the guys too.  They got to see all those teenage girls that were driving in.

The other job was a telephone operator. Growing up in a suburb of Flint, Michigan, we teens would drive around other "burbs" on Sundays, "cruising"... just hoping we would meet someone far more interesting than the girls or guys  from home.   I had a girlfriend that had met a cute guy in one of those towns on  a Sunday cruise.  She later went home and dialed "0" for the operator and asked for the phone number and address of his last name in the small town she had been cruising.  That was in the mid 1960s when they would give you that information.  The voice of the Operator asked "Dianne, are you chasing boys again?"   She was shocked when she heard that familiar voice.  It was her telephone operator sister who was at work in Flint.  What are the chances of that? 

4.  I got a new MP3 player for Christmas.  I've been going through music to put on it.  I sometimes listen to it at night when I'm in bed and can't sleep so all the music I've been choosing has been slow songs and old songs, mostly.  I used it once on a plane.  I'm not a good flyer so I found it helped my flying jitters.  I've had a great time listening to old music in my hunt though, so that is worth it right there.

Do any of you have a random thought to share? 

I'm Back

We are back home again and our hearts are full of good memories of hugs, laughter, quiet conversations and rip roaring belly laughs.   The visit with our daughters and grandsons in Michigan seemed to go by at lightening speed.

I took a craft project to the boys to work on with me.  I told them the good thing about art is there is  there is no "wrong" way to do it.  It's all good.  These are cheap wooden frames from Micheal's that they decorated to put in pictures of their latest trip to Cancun and their sports photos from the things they do.  I just enjoyed watching them create their own style.

Terry and Brett in their Michigan attire.  # 16 is the quarterback Denard Robinson's number. I don't know which guy was the happiest that Daughter #1 got that jersey for Brett.   (And, let me say, Michigan won their bowl game.  It was not a pretty win but it was a win.)

My other daughters got Tanner the Michael Jackson Wii game that teaches Michael's dance moves and really rocks yours body.  Tanner could really get into it but the adults doing it was priceless.

All I can say now is "Thank God for Kids".  For being able to spend time with my own adult daughters and for the being able to share Christmas with my boys.  (I have always called them "My" boys.  My daughter was so kind  to give birth to them for me!  And, Tanner on my Birthday too.. Nice of her, right?)  This was Brett's first year in knowing Mom and Dad are Santa.  Tanner is wondering but still wants to believe.  They are 9 and 10 right now.  This was a very special Christmas.

So I came back refreshed and with some new ideas to blog about.  Boy, do I have some catching up to do on what all of you have been doing while I was gone.  So now I'll go visit "all y"all" as we say down here.

Dark Shadows

When I was flipping stations the other day, (back's very much better now) I watched a few minutes of a ghost hunting thing taking place at Seaview Terrance in Newport, R.I.  I stopped to watch because they gave a brief history of the "house"...sure.... and that it was used as the Background shot of one of my favorite television shows of the late 60's and early 70s.   Dark Shadows.......

                                                                     Google photo

The actual home, Seaview Terrace, began in Dupont Circle, in Washington D.C. in 1907 by Liquor millionaire, Edson Bradley.  In the 1920s, he had it taken apart, stone by stone and moved to Newport Rhode Island.  Can you imagine?   The move began in 1923 and took 5 years to complete.  54 rooms on three floors, moved.

Mrs Bradley, a music lover is supposed to still haunt the home and continues to play her piano in the music room.  If she loved that house enough to move it, I guess she loves it enough not to leave it either.

It became a school from 1951 -61 after being bought from the City of Newport (when the family lost it over back taxes) for $8000.   40,000 square feet.  $8,000.... I think that even  in 1950 dollars that has still got to be the steal of the decade.  As with the great plantations of the south, it's not the price of the building, it's the upkeep that is so expensive.

 In the later 60s it was called Burnham by the Sea, and was a school for girls.   Can you imagine?  That was during the time Dark Shadows was huge. It would be like going to school at Hogwarts today.

They do have a website.  http://www.seaviewterrace.org/index.html

It doesn't say anything about it being open so it may be a private home again.  I did see other sites where people have gone there, so Maybe now it's closed to the public.  It is just fun seeing a little piece of our past really exists.

I'm wondering if they will use it for the new movie too.  They almost have to for us oldsters that know what the house looked like.

Johnny Depp.....Barnabus Collins
Helea Bonham Carter.... Dr. Julia Hoffman
Elizabeth Collins Stoddard...Michelle Pfeiffer 

 

You can still see some of the out takes of scenes and bloopers on Youtube.  Of course it looks pretty cheesy now, but back then, I was hooked.

With the Twilight series so big, I think this one will draw some interest just based on the vampire thing.  For me though, I'm remembering that teen that rushed home to see what was going to happen next in Collinsport.

Mom, This Is For You

                                                                          Nancy at  14

Monday marked 5 years that Mom has been gone.  I don't like to say it's an anniversary because that sounds like something to celebrate and that's not what I feel.  I  celebrate her Birthday and try not to give much credence to the day she left us.  I only made a brief mention on Facebook of it being a long day.  My sister responded, "I hear ya".  That's all that was needed.  This year, though, I'm stuck.  So, I'm giving this post to Mom today.  I think she's been sitting on shoulder nagging me to do something positive.  So, here Mom, are some of your favorite things.


1.  Anything pink, but rosebushes are best.

2.   Two Favorite Movies were:

                                                                            and

3.  She liked Elvis Gospel music, Il Divo, Barbra Streisand, Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton.

4.  Books and books and more books: Nora Roberts, Taylor Caldwell, and Danielle Steel

5.  And of course, she loved us.  All of her children, her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren.  No, we weren't at the bottom of her list, but if I had started with each of us at the top, there would have been no more room. 


So these are a few of Mom's favorites I know she would have shared with you.  She would have shared much more and told you all of my stories and those of my sister and brother as well.  To say she never met a stranger is very apt.  Who knows what she would have said in a blog or on Facebook, but I do know she would have had followers for sure.

Mashed Potato Time

I was flipping through Youtube, going from one thing to another and stumbled across this.

I was chuckling to myself because this is the dance I would do in the kitchen when I was cooking dinner with my daughters when they were teenagers. Yes, they laughed at me.  If you watch the blond, she got moves I would have stolen, I'm sure.  The only dance contest I ever won was doing this dance with, probably the only guy that would dare.

I did catch an episode of "The Talk" when Leah Remini was complaining about her mother doing this dance at an Ozzy Osbourne concert they had all recently attended.  I say ....good for her!

I was looking for American Bandstand   and did find The Beach Boys.

My babysitter watched American Bandstand  in the 1950's when my mother was going to "Beauty School" and he (which was unusual I think) watched us 3 kids.  Maybe that is where I became interested in music.  I certainly became interested in the dances then.

The Beach Boys were huge in the mid 1960s.  They sang of summer, surfing, hot cars, and girls.

I lived in the cold north and had dark hair.  I wanted to live in California and have blond hair.  I wanted to be a surfer girl.  Didn't we all?
                                           

The Fads Come and Go

Every once in a while I have a fleeting memory of a long gone item.  I have to write them down 'cause goodness knows, I will not remember them an hour from then. Basically, I think both of these things just prove I am older than dirt.  At any rate, this is the list this week. 


1.  Pointy bras and binding girdles:

  Look at that bra.  You could put an eye with those things.  I wore those girdles all through middle and high school too.  Then, thank goodness for pantyhose.

2.  Melmac

I still have that green bowl in the lower left of thepicture, but it is a forest green and I remember these mugs for years, at my parents house,  after I moved out.
 3.Aprons

I don't remember my mother wearing an apron.  I do remember my grandmother wearing them all the time.  I'm sure she made hers too.  They make sense.  I have ruined many shirts because I spray a bleach  cleaner on my counter tops when I wipe them down. 

4.  These clips!

These things were made by the devil himself.  I have been bitten in the most inconvenient circumstances when you cannot reach around an fix the dang thing.   It looks so innocent, but it wasn't.  It was evil!

5.  Ovaltine

Evidently this is still being made.  I didn't know that, but I did see some new packaging when I was looking for this one.  My father would go on a "no coffee" kick and switch to this. Both of my parents dran instant coffee so this had to better than that .

6.   These pots made the best coffee.   


I'm sure my daughters will have their own list of oldies, if they don't already.

Who Was On Your Wall?

I was clearing photos out of my phone today and came across this one.

  One of my good friends from Michigan had wanted to take me to see Paul McCartney at Comerica Park, home of the Detroit Tigers,  for my Birthday in July.  North Carolina to Michigan is a long way to go for a concert but she knew Paul was my favorite Beatle.  I had to say "No thanks"  so she texted me this photo.  I didn't delete it.  I have to keep Paul and her good intentions.

The Beatles phenomenon hit the United States in 1963.  I was 13, the perfect age for my first and only, musical crush.    I had Beatles all over one complete wall, floor to ceiling,  in the bedroom I shared with my sister.

These are the haircuts that gave my father and many others, fits.  Long haired rebels that they were.  That was the beginning.  Their early music was as innocent as the times.  "I Want To Hold Your Hand", "I Saw Her Standing There", and "This Boy" fit well with the early to mid 1960's music about surfing, cars and boy/girl relationships. 

                                                My favorite Beatle was Paul, the cute Beatle.
I had all the albums.  I knew all the stories and rumors.  I never believed Paul was dead.   I didn't think the photo on the cover of the Abbey Road album was a clue because Paul was barefoot.

They were only together for about 7 years.    That's not very long to have left such an impression on the music of a generation.  Of course, three of the four Beatles (yes, I know Ringo tried and is still trying, but we know who made the real money here.) continued to write and record on their own.

And, yes, I still know all the words to all the songs. 

So who was on your wall growing up?   Whose music got you singing?

Shut the Front Door!

Slap Your Mama  ....What does that mean anyway?  I gather it means "Good job!", "awesome", etc, all out great.  Better than great even.

There have been all kinds of slang and catch phrases through the years.  We Boomers have gone through decades of our own.  :There are generational phrases and words and there are regional ones.

There are ones that we hold onto and others that are no longer pertinent in our lives.  Mostly we don't want to appear dated or more likely, ridiculous.  "far out, groovy and right on" come to mind.

My husband grew up in northern Michigan just south of the Mackinac Bridge that connects the lower and upper peninsulas of Michigan.  He went to college in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan which also has a bridge that connects it to Sault Ste. Marie, Canada.   Living that close to Canada, as long as I've known him he has used Canada's # 1 slang export. "Ay?"  pronouced "A".  Down here, at the Marine base, the guys kid him about it.  It's regional, ay?

The words and phrases that amuse me most are the ones that I say still, that came from my Mother.  Just last night Terry and I were changing our sheets on the bed.  They are t-shirt sheets that have stretched out and are no longer square , so I told him they were "Whoppiejawed".  He calmly said, "That's your mother ."  Of course it is.  So is Cattywampus.. What the heck?  Also "Stoop".  If your porch is not big enough to qualify as a porch, it is a stoop. Right?  Terry had never heard that before he met my mother ( and me apparently). The one that drives him nuts is "stuffy".  I cannot breathe  if the room or car is stuffy.  I think he's heard that a few times over the last 30 years.  How do northerners communicate without these colorful terms? 

Mom with my younger daughters when they were little, about 20 years ago.  They are 26 and 28 now.  They had many saturday night sleepovers in Grammy's big bed. 

I know, when we were children, my mother would say "See ya later alligator" to us and wait for the "after while crocodile."  She had my daughters saying it when they were little too.  So, forget the whole "Kibash".  No way.  I say "Heebie Jeebies" but I'm not sure if I got that from my mother.
.

I've also said " Run around like a chicken with its head cut off",     Unfortunately, I saw that at about 5 years old, at one of my grandmother's and that's a sight that sticks with you. Lordy......

 My father may have his favorites too, but because he worked nights and I was in school or working during the day, I rarely spent any time with him.  In later years, after he retired, he was and is pretty much a loner so I didn't have the hours and hours of time with him like I did my mother.  Her slang greatly influenced mine.  

She had others that I didn't adopt.  For instance: " Piddlin, Fit to be Tied, and Walking in Tall Cotton." 

 I'm sure my daughters could have their own list.  Some of these have to stuck with them too.

Do you hear your parents slang or phrases coming out of your own mouth too?  I'd love to hear what they are.   I can't be the only one brainwashed out here.

What's in Your Mail?

The mailboxes for our condo community are all in one area, about 4 units from me.   I  either pick up the mail on my way to or from somewhere when I'm in the car.  Once in a while I'll walk down to get it.  It's just not that entertaining anymore. At least 80% is junk mail.  I pay about half of our bills on line.  Some I have to mail.  So, other than Terry's Sport's Illustrated and my Entertainment Weekly, we don't get much mail. 

I remember a time when that wasn't true.  I remember a time when mail was the highlight of the day. As a girl,  I remember my mother watching for the mailman, eager to see if she got a letter that day and who sent updates from across the state or across the country.  I remember moving to South Carolina from Michigan, away from family and friends when Daughter #1 was a freshman in college there and the younger girls were 7 and 9 years old.  Somehow we got hooked on stickers and had them for all occasions and for no reason at all.  I wrote and the girls wrote long rambling letters of "missing you"  to Daughter #1 and to their Grammy, in envelopes covered with stickers. 

As the years went on new technology took over our lives and letters were mailed less and less.  My mother, although, on line and hooked up, still wrote letters to her friends from the past.  While Daughter # 3 was working  in the Tetons, Grammy still mailed stickered letters.   When my Mom passed away, we found a letter, half written, to her,  on the bed.  What a touching keepsake for my daughter.


Now I live far from my girls but I don't write letters to them.  We talk, we text and we email.  In thinking about this post I realized the last letters I have written have been to soldiers I don't know.  I have mentioned before, that I have, for years, sent care packages through http://www.anysoldier.com/ and I mailed out another one about 2 weeks ago.   I write letters to stick inside the boxes just to say Thank You for all they do.  Then I ramble, like my mother taught me, about things around me.

Last night while I was reading my book, I read about a modern day teacher that was given a hatbox full of diaries and letters from two women that became friends in the 1920s and stayed in contact over the decades.  This was just a story line but somewhere there are real hat boxes and cigar boxes full of letters saved from family or romances long gone.  There are books of love letters and letters to home,  written by soldiers in all the wars.   While texts and Facebook have their place and I am glad for their existence, I am sorry to see letter writing go.

Do you remember, on what occasion you last wrote or received a letter?  If I weren't doing soldier boxes, I wouldn't know.  I am sure the last letter I received was from a solider too, but back in the beginning of the boxes,  about 5 or 6 years ago.  I still send postcards to my grandsons ,when we go anywhere, so that they will gave mail.  Occasionally I'll send something to them in their own envelope so they can still feel the excitement of "What's in it".    Think I better go do that right now.

Hot Summertime Daydreams

I live in one of the 24 states that are under heat warnings.  I feel sorry for myself but since half the country is feeling the same heat, I have a lot of company in the whine department.  Even after all these years, I still associate extreme heat with visiting my grandparents, every summer in July, in south east Missouri.  Coming from Michigan a 90 degree day is a rarity and if the thermometer does hit the 90's, we knew it would not last.  Not so in Missouri.

My memories start from the late 1950s at the earliest. No one had air conditioning.  They had open windows and fans.  I remember spending the entire vacation, at both grandparents homes, in my unders, with no shirt.  This is my grandfather (my Dad's father) that we called Papaw.  All of our northern friends had Grandmas and Grandpas.  We had Mamaw and Papaw.  I was always self conscious about that.  Now, living in North Carolina, I'll hear a little one in the grocery store, or where ever, ask for "Meemaw" .  It warms my heart.  I was surprised when I saw this picture that he was not in the blue denim overalls, with the straps at the top.  That's how I most remember him.

This is the grandfather that went frog gigging and caught the catfish my mother so loved.  I can still see my tiny little grandmother standing at the stove with a couple of black cast iron skillets full of hot grease popping and sizzling around  those frog legs and hush puppies.  She never sat down at the table to eat with us.  She cooked and nibbled,  with a cigarette in one hand and sweet tea in the other.   It would be murderously hot in her tiny kitchen, but the food and love that came out of it was wonderful.

This picture of me with my Mamaw was about 1952.  She was a tiny woman, never reaching 5 feet or 100 pounds. I remember standing next to her in the front seat of the car as she drove us around and her throwing her arm out to catch me when she would come to a stop.  My parents moved back to Missouri from Michigan,  for a couple of years.  My sister was born there.  Then they returned to Michigan for the work.  Being a Nana away from her grands now, I can see how that must have broken her heart.

 These are the grandparents that owned honky tonks and truck stops. I could go to the cooler and get my own Nugrape or Chocolate Soldier ( which is kind of like Yoohoo). This is the lady that swore her grandmother was a full blooded Cherokee and that Elvis and his band would come in to her" Dew Drop Inn" or "The Palmer House"  (I don't remember which one)   for burgers after playing county fairs.  Is it true?  Elvis did perform in that area of the country.  I'm sure she remembered it as it might have been and then it became true to her.  But, heck, it makes a great story.

She taught me how to "prime the pump" of the well in the front yard.  Yes, they had indoor plumbing but I think that pump was a leftover from the days when they didn't.  That pump provided great summertime fun. I remember us kids pumping buckets full of water and throwing them on each other.

Nothing felt as wonderful as pulling back the thin chenille bedspread and laying down on cool fresh sheets, with the fan blowing across you.  Tired from playing in the sun and full of love and joy at just being there.

So on these stifling days, I can take a little trip, in my mind, to visit Mamaw and Papaw again.  That's one good thing about being my age.  I don't mind owning these daydreams.

My Identity Crisis

I have been trying to find the "perfect" pictures to add to a header for this baby boomer blog.  Also, I want to have something that will display with my comments as well.  It's not an easy thing deciding what  do I want to represent.   We boomers are so many things.  We've covered a lot of decades and I've got the hairstyles to prove it.

From my young adult years, ages 17 - 26,  this is what I'm finding.  This is what happens when you invest 9 years in a bad High School  relationship that turned into a bad first marriage and your dear, sweet Mother, (I can't say hated, she was too nice) but, really, really disliked that said person.

I have to laugh.   She had no control over my situation, but she sure could wield a pair of scissors with the best of them.  I know she got great satisfaction out of  snipping out that bit of rubbish.  So among the albums, I come across a piece of a picture here and there.... little snippets of myself.

I'm still looking and deciding what feels right.  In the  meantime, thought I would share a piece of myself, thanks to Mom.  We laughed about it when she was still here.  She would appreciate knowing I still get a kick out of this. 

How 1950s are those curtains? I think there are pictures of them in 2 other houses!  This was early 1970 too. Those curtains stayed there until my sister bought her new ones.

Fire Burns My Home Town

This is my Home Town as I saw it last.  This photo is older, but the look is about the same.  There is only one business street in town.  For at least 35 of the years that I lived there, we were a one stop light town.
 
This is the street the parades march down, where the Homecoming Court waves and the Shriner's drive their little cars.


                                  


I got a phone call from Daughter # 2 last night about 10:30pm,  saying Daughter # 3 was on Face Book, along with her 400 closest friends, and people were chatting about our Home Town being on fire.  Soon the pictures started appearing.

This is the little town with only 500 high school students.  This is where you go to the one grocery store and the check out ladies know your name.  Where I lived for 40 some years. 

From reports, the fire started in this upstairs apartment over a new Mexican restaurant.

It then moved to both sides and got the local bar and the florist shop.

                                             And continued to burn on into the night. 

I am  continually amazed at communications. Here I am 1000 miles from there, able to see what is happening in real time.  So three businesses are gone and I'm not sure how much damage went beyond that.  The walls are all connected so I'm sure there is much damage by smoke and heat to others.  3 businesses are half the block. 

What a heartbreaking sight for a small town already hurting from today's economy.  I will update as I hear more.  My sister is gong out there to day to check on our father.  I asked her to send me pictures.

Update : This is from the alley in back.  I'm anxious and frightened, to see it from the street view.

Right now I'm thinking Johnny "Cougar" Mellencamp.... Small Town .. is fitting.

Car Travel in the 1960s

I had a memory jolt the other day about car travel with my parents in the late 1950s into the 1960s.

I'm driving here in 1957.  I have a lot of pictures of myself with my sister but none with the pesky little brother with us.. Believe me, he was there.

My grandparents all lived in the boot heel of Missouri so in July, when General Motors stopped the lines for "change over" to the next model, we would all pile in the car to head south for a visit.  I remember, in my younger years, 8,9 or 10, I would trade comic books with neighbors so I would have reading material.  Archie and Veronica, Superman, Nancy, or Donald Duck.  

My father built a wooden platform that fit over the hump in the back floorboard so someone (usually me) could sleep on it, with another child on the seat, ( my sister) and little brother in the back window.  Can you believe that?  That just screams trouble waiting to happen.  As we got older,  Dad would arrange the suitcases in the floorboard to act as a support so he could put a crib mattress in the back seat and we could lay down on it for the whole trip.  My brother could still fit in the back window, I guess.  I am horrified that we made a 700 mile, one way drive, that way.  Year after year. 

Mom and Dad always left Michigan in the afternoon so us kids would sleep though the night and they could drive straight through without bathroom trip interruptions.  I have to think it was also in part because there was no air conditioning and we were headed south with the windows down and the hot wind whipping in all around.  There were also no expressways.  The route was through towns and around big cities.  I remember drifting in and out of sleep to the radio playing Marty Robbin's El Paso and later Johnny Cash's  Ring of Fire.   I could hear the semis zooming by and the soft conversation between my parents of which road to take next or "did we just miss out turn?"

By morning we were dragging into Kennett, Mo road weary but over joyed to see our grandparents for that once a year visit.  Once there, it was time for  cat fish and hush puppies, chicken and dumplings, blackberry cobbler and home made bread.   (I can't eat catfish today..... I know it tastes good.  They just look creepy.)  But, the little girl in me remembers all of it with fondness.

The Final Story of a Beautiful Lady

In the last post we were getting ready to go up the staircase of that beautiful old home on Walloon Lake, Michigan.  There was pristine dust on the stairs. No one has been there in years.  I was so excited.  My head was a whirl with ideas of how to bring her back to life.  There were no other sounds but our footsteps as we climbed.

The window at the top of the stairs visible from the front entry. You can just see the newel post where you make the turn to go up to second floor.

On our way up.  The first bedroom was at the top of the stairs.  On that side of the hall, there were 3 total.  On the other side, there was one bedroom and a 4th that had been turned into a bathroom.

                                The pink room with the brass bed and an ornate carved mirror.

Dressing table and a marble topped table.

A secretary over flowing with books.   The first piece of furniture I ever bought was a secretary similar to this one.  I was 20 years old, in 1970, and it was $75.00.  I put in in layaway and it took me a few months to pay for it. 

The Blue bedroom holds a beautiful  sleigh bed and ice cream chairs.

In the far right hand corner you can barely see a sink.  All the bedrooms had these tucked away in corners. This is where I ran out of film.  All the room were packed with antiques, old wicker for the porch, junk and boxes.

  One year turned into another and every time we went up to Walloon Lake to visit, I was anxious to see "my" old house.  From the first time I saw her, in 1981,  I loved her.  I believe it was about 1988 or 89 that I took these pictures.  In the mid to late 1990s, Terry's dad, Grandpa, told us that Mr Hass had died.  I wondered what would happen to her now.  A couple of more years go by.  Then, one day when Terry was talking Michigan "Go Blue" sports with his Dad, Grandpa says, " Oh, tell Kathy that they held an auction at the Hass house.  Everything in it was pulled out and sat all over the yard."      What!!!!  Are you kidding me.  This happened and I wasn't told about it!!   I  had just wanted a piece of it. 

More years go by. No "For Sale" signs go up. 

One day, after the turn of the century, Terry gets another call from Grandpa.  "Tell Kathy her house burned.  It's all gone.  They cleared the lot."

Gone.......Just gone......

The Story of a Lady Part II

I felt like a child being let into Santa's workshop when Mr. Hass turned the key and opened the front door of  the old house on Walloon Lake.

I can't tell you how many times I had stood at that window with my hands cupped to the side of my head, nose pressed against the glass, trying to see inside.  Directly across from the door, as we entered was this.

You can begin to see the "stuff" that was in there.  I remember reaching out and touching that banister like it was a mirage.  That staircase is such a beauty.

This fireplace was in, what I call parlor # 1, to the left of the stairway.  Mr. Hass told me he remembered, as a boy,  his mother buying the tapestry over the mantle from a traveling vendor.  If the house was built in 1907, I guess that may be in 19 teens to 1920 ish.

On the left side of the stairs,, was  parlor # 1, the kitchen, which had been gutted, and this dining room. 
I was in awe.  I wanted to go through boxes and touch things.   I was mesmerized by the ceiling.

I don't know what the salmon colored squares are.  I couldn't get that close.  There was so much stuff between me and them, but that woodwork was beautiful.  All I could think was it needs to be oiled and polished and loved.

To the right of the staircase was parlor # 2.

There was so much junk stored among the treasures that I doubt the family even knew what was there.

Next time we will go up that wonderful staircase and see what lies between the front stairs....

and the back stairs.