Category Archives: family

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1932 Letter

My cousins sent me a packet of letters. Some are from my mother to her mother, but this one is from… well, see if you can guess.

Dear Mother and Father,

We got in the car and Grandfather and me sat in front and Grandmother sat in back. Grandmother said, “Do you want your window closed?” and I said, “No.” Then, in a few minutes after that I said, “I am getting kind of chilly.” Then in a few minutes after that I tumbled over the back of the seat into the back seat. Then I shot my pistol out the window and tried shutting it again but it wouldn’t go. Then I waited awhile and then I shot off my pistol again and it worked. Then I shot off my pistol again in a few minutes after that but somehow it didn’t work. And then after awhile it started raining.

Then we got home. After a little while Eva May came over. Then after awhile Jimmie came. Jimmie brought over his gun with him. He had a long gun.

After supper I took my sparklers over to Jimmy’s and Eva May’s house. They invited me over before supper and then I started lighting my sparklers. I lit one after another and in a few minutes I said, “I’ll go over and get my pistol,” so I did.Then I went back for awhile and then I came home and stayed and we had the rest of my sparklers in the house. And then we all went to bed pretty early.

This is postmarked July 6, 1932 Decorah, Iowa. It cost .03 cents in stamps to mail. It was sent to Mrs. Temple Burling, 3434 Arden Ave, Hollywood, Illinois. The handwriting is quite beautiful. The letter is signed “Bobby” in quite different handwriting. The letter was sent from “Bobby” — Robbins Burling, age 6, as the narrator, with one of his grandparents transcribing to his mother (my grandmother) Mrs. Temple Burling (Katherine White Burling). I think it is a charming letter and so like a kid, with the repeats: “and then in awhile”. I am going to send it to “Bobby’s” grandson, who now has a child of his own. Here is the rest:

In the morning I got up and got dressed. Before I got up I was real quiet because I thought they were asleep because they were so quiet and they thought I was asleep because I was so quiet. Then finally they came past the door and when I knew – it they were awake – and they knew it – I was awake. And then I got up and got dressed.

Then after breakfast Grandmother and me went out and weeded. In a few minutes I said, “I’ll get the hay off the lawn for you.” so I did. I told her if she thought it was worth a penny and Grandma said, “Yes.” And then I said, “Do you think it’s worth any more than a penny?” and Grandma said “Yes.” In a few minutes we came in and she gave me a cent.

I left the penny in my hand and Jimmie came over and called me and we decided that we would make giant fingers and then as we were making giant fingers we decided we would make funny masks but we didn’t. We decided to make Chinamen’s hats but we didn’t.

Jimmie wore his hat in a funny pointed way and I wore mine with a round hole in the middle and kind of crooked too. And we went out to scare the girls and at first we didn’t scare girls but we scared Jimmie’s mother and we didn’t scare the girls after all. He went out to scare a man and he told me he’d be back and I got an idea while he was gone but he didn’t appear.

And then we went out and did some errands – got some peanut butter and then went to the library to see if they had any Dr. Doolittle books and they did. At first they asked if we’d read Dr. Doolittle at the Circus and I said, “I have.” and they put that back and looked some more and found another and asked me about that and it was called Dr. Doolittle and the Movie. Then at night Grandma read me some. We read part of it while I was in bed and then I started talking to Sixen and fell asleep finally and work up next morning. Then we had breakfast and I raked some more and I got another penny.

Bobby

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: letter.

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Difficult?

With Cee’s Flower of the Day on hiatus, I am casting around. Here, a weekly prompt: divorce.

My ex and I did a year of couples counseling and then another year of hammering out the details. I felt like a terrible failure and did simultaneous solo counseling to figure out why I was failing. It took me two years to make the decision and I was anxious the entire time. And then once I decided, the anxiety evaporated like morning mist.

One thing that I realized is that we each had a blind spot. I love working and am a hard worker and even to the point of working until I get sick. My ex did not want to work, partly because his father seemed to hate it so much. My ex was dedicated to doing something fun every day and that was a revelation to me: were we allowed to have fun? So it was all lots of fun for a decade. He was in charge of play: bicycling, swing dance, going to music, golf (golf did not take with me), tennis. I was in charge of work and practical things. This started to fall apart with kids, because I wanted to have fun with the kids and he said, “Kids aren’t fun.” As I moved into defining fun, he refused to move into work.

At some point during the prolonged divorce process, I realized that some of it was not about me at all. He knew at some level that he had to go work, because his son was reaching his teens. My ex looked at me one day and said, “I’m going to have to thank you for this, aren’t I?” “Damn straight,” I replied. I wished he could deal with the work thing in the marriage, but he couldn’t. He went off and went to nursing school and has an RN. I talked to him yesterday on the phone. He said, “I decided when I was young that I was going to do tons outdoors until I got old and then I would work. And look how it’s working out!” A little hard on me, I think. Meanwhile the kids got bored with the whole thing so they were reassured that it was not about them.

Anyhow, I think it was the right thing to do though difficult. During one argument my ex said, “I have avoided doing anything hard.” I was annoyed and said, “What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done?” “Marry YOU.” That made me laugh: a perfect snappy comeback and probably true.

This is The Yes Yes Boys, doing Make it Easy. I bought the CD when they played live at the Upstage here. I love this song. It’s not on You tube, but you can download the music for free here: https://hobemianrecords.com/product/why-say-no/.

“If you still can’t make it easy, get you a job and go to work
Don’t be hanging round here and there, miss your meals, wear a raggedy shirt
Cause when you’re missing your meals and you’re missing your bed
That’ll give you the pneumonia that will kill you dead
If you can’t make it easy, get you a job and go to work“

Highly recommended and very funny!

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Home Hurrah!

New Year’s Eve was a travel day for me, flying from Dulles to SeaTac. This time my checked bag came along and did not divert to party in Chicago, as it did on the trip out. I had a wonderful two weeks in Arlington, Virginia and Rockville, MD with old friends and my son and daughter-in-law and daughter. Very kind friends picked me up at SeaTac and drove me the two hours home. I slept for three hours on the plane and another hour in the car. The pair of socks on yesterday’s Ragtag is for one of the two people who picked me up.

The plane was about 40 minutes early and the airport was impressively empty. There was some traffic on I5, but it was not crazy. There was quite a bit of fog all the way home.

Yesterday morning we went to the climbing gym for the second time in the two weeks. I had not climbed in maybe three years? And I have never done a lot.

The rest of my family climbs like squirrels and spiders. I currently climb more like a panicked sloth, but I did a 5, a 5.6 and a 5.7 the first day. Yesterday I planned to take it easy, but I roped up for one and it was the wrong one, so I tried a 5.8. My family was clambering up 5.11s. Whew. It was really fun and loads of fun to watch them. And hurrah that I can climb some after Long Covid and two years with unhappy muscles!

Peace and joy to you and yours.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: Hurrah!

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Delectable orchid

Orchids are not quite succulents, but this one looks soooo delicious that I am using it for the prompt. Yesterday we went to the United States Botanic Garden in Washington, DC. It is gorgeous indoors and outdoors and has both miniature Washington, DC buildings made from plant material and giant bugs made out of plant material. They are beautifully done. I think they should save all of them for Halloween and then they can have the giant weevil attacking the Capitol and a giant mosquito climbing the Washington Monument. It would be just fabulous.

And you can see the Capitol from the gardens. What a beautiful day! Very Merry Christmas and Winter break and Solstice and everything else to everyone.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: succulent.

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Cauldron

2 Ways to Manage the Emotional Cauldron of Anger
Freud’s Theory of the Unconscious Mind

So, the iceberg graphic is wrong, wrong, wrong. Am I right? Icebergs are about 90% below the surface, which is NOT what the picture shows. Regarding the first article, preset timeouts? I think when two people are losing it, that may go by the wayside. My strategy is, “I have to use the bathroom.” It might take a while if I am really upset and want to rip the sink off the wall. But, it lets me cool down, cool off and not say terrible things. Let them stay inside my head until I am calmer and realize how stupid and nasty I wanted to be.

But let’s think about cauldrons, yes? A stew of emotions? Our culture still has little respect for emotions. Just think if we were all nice on the surface all the time and never showed any other emotion. Bunch of AI robots, I think.

Cauldron

It’s not so surprising to look up the emotional cauldron
and have it be about anger. Anger in couples, but the cauldron itself
brings up witches and therefore women. Women in black
women with cauldrons, women boiling angry.

I vacillate between thinking that black men are treated the worst and then, no,
women are treated the worst. Assumptions, useless, toys, pretty, be nice,
true that women don’t get shot as much, but our country found a black man acceptable
in the white house, but not a woman, black or white.

Anger is not nice, I am told. But anger is appropriate at injustice, when people
are discriminated against, treated badly, pushed from homes, jailed, hung and shot.
Much of our country reveres guns to protect homes, a man’s home is his castle,
and what is left for women? Not the workplace, the public, the home.

How dare they take the cauldron as a symbol of anger stewing?
The truth is that men fear women’s anger and rightly. They fear the people
who are enslaved, discriminated against, shot and dismissed, rising up.
Rising angry, anger not in a cauldron, but hot as lava and righteous.

A sermon about fear and abuse and the minister says, this is where anger can be understood
and is right. Anger at the abuse and at the fear, letting people break free.
Energizing a person to leave abuse, to leave an intolerable situation
and no reconciliation without the abuser taking responsibility.

What the cauldron really holds is greed, the people who think they deserve
more than others, more money, more women, more adulation, more more more.
Greed, gossip, lust, and all the other sins. Anger at mistreatment is not wrong
though it may not be safe to show it. Let it be conscious even if not expressed

and fight on.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: emotional cauldron.

The photograph is my mother, Helen Burling Ottaway, in 1945. She was seven. I have photographs of my daughter and me with the same expression. Not anger, thought. I cannot credit the photograph because I don’t know who took it.

And to lighten the mood, both sexes are profiled.

Not all anger is right, though, and it’s often because of different interpretations, different frames of reference or misunderstanding.

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Wild light

Christmas 2018, my son, daughter-in-law, daughter and I drove to Roanoke, Virginia to see my two aunts and one uncle. We went to the science museum. Among other things, there were mushrooms that light up under black light.

I am not sure any of these are neon lighting. But they are wild light!

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: neon.

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Story morph

I’ve been seeing some embroidered stories. They are based on a true story, but the details are wrong or exaggerated.

One is an old friend of my sister. He notices a chair in his garage and contacts me. Now, my sister died in 2012. He says the chair is from Grandmother Tessie and that my sister told him “It’s the only thing I have left from my grandmother.” He wants the chair to go to my sister’s daughter and he may be willing to have it recovered for her.

He sends me photographs. Touches your heart, doesn’t it?

Except that Tessie was not our grandmother. She was my maternal grandfather’s mother, so my great grandmother. I have never seen the chair before and it would have to be late 1800s or bought late in her life. It does not look that old, though it looks chewed. Also, we all got boxes of stuff from my maternal grandmother Katherine, to the point where we all agreed it was ok to get rid of some of it. We offered it to each other first. Seven cousins and I got two pitchers. I asked my mother, “Why two pitchers?”

“After your uncles and I picked what we wanted, we lined up seven boxes. Then we went pitcher, pitcher, pitcher, pitcher. There were enough to send everyone two.”

Oh. My grandmother was a serious packrat. I got a silver plate pitcher and sugar bowl that look like they are from the 1930s, art deco. I had never seen them before they came in the box. So they are not attached to my memories of my grandparents at all, but I like them very much.

I send the chair message on and I don’t know if my niece will want the chair. Nor do I know if it was great grandmother Tessie’s chair. I had an enormous box of tablecloths and pulled thread doilies and so forth after my parents died. I would bet money that there was something from Tessie Temple in there. I offered it to both my children and my niece. They each took one tablecloth and napkins. I kept a few and got rid of the rest.

The other day I noticed that one cloth that I kept is signed Margaret White. She was my maternal grandmother’s oldest sister. I have Margaret’s small leather sewing kit as well, made in Germany and stamped with her name. I’ve had that since my teens and used it until the leather corners are wearing down. My mother said that my grandmother found her sister Margaret difficult, but I don’t know if that is true either.

At one point I emailed with a family member found on Ancestry.com. This is my paternal grandmother’s father’s half-sister’s descendant. She said the family rumor was that they were related to John Philip Sousa. I said, “My great grandfather, Fredrik Bayers, played saxophone in John Philip Sousa’s band.” She said, “Oh, that must be where that story came from.”

Are these stories benign or not? With social media and the ongoing trials of various people from both the government and investment schemes, the stories seem less benign to me. If my niece wants the chair, I think that is very kind of my sister’s friend to make the effort to get it to her, but the story was rather garbled. It makes me want to be careful with the stories I tell.

Peace.

The photograph is from 1965 or 1966, of my grandmother Katherine White Burling, me, and my sister, Christine Robbins Ottaway. I would guess that my grandfather took it.