This was taken shortly after we moved back into my grandparents’ home where we stayed until my dad got his degree in Bible. We moved from the prairie of SE Colorado to just outside of Philadelphia – the city that my dad called The City of Brotherly Shove. When we left this house, I was four and an only child. In this picture I was about seven and had a baby brother. It doesn’t take long for things to change!
When we first moved to Florida in 1999, two total strangers took our family into their home while we waited for our house. They gave us a place to sleep, and fed us for at least a month. The kids all slept in curious corners and places in the living room. I still marvel at their hospitality and the love that they demonstrated to us. They are still dear friends though Sally is now teaching biology in the local high school and Donn drives a school bus and we do not see them often.
Sally and Donn had no children of their own except for Max, their rescued dog, and Beeker Bird, a cockatiel. They also had three horses. Deedee, on whose back I am perched in the photo, was a Percheron. I was familiar with the Clydesdale style of large horses, but Deedee introduced me to her breed. We went on a trail ride that day, and before I got back to the barn I was wishing for a cushion upon. I had to climb a stepladder to mount her.
Sally and Donn spend their summers in the UP, and I took care of the horses. The most exciting moment of that summer was the morning I found Deedee lying on the ground; she had colicked. Anyone want to help get a Percheron up on her feet?
Since Sunday is Mother’s Day, I thought this image from the past would be appropriate. I don’t have a date for this photo, but it was around 1993 as far as I can tell (going by my glasses frame). My favorite memory of her is the night we all went skinny dipping in the neighbor’s pool. It makes me realize that my mom spent most of her life doing what she thought was expected of her instead of doing things she loved. She raised four of us kids. We never wanted for food, shelter, clothing. That takes a lot more moxie than I could have imagined as I grew up. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you.
Jinx was part of a somewhat rugged time of life when my dad packed us all up and moved us to Cheyenne, WY to pastor a church there. It was of short duration as we returned in the summer of 1969. The Charlie Chaplin moustache fascinated me.
I had my dad snap this photo of the four of us because, well it is just the done thing in my family, and I wanted this memory preserved. All of us were the oldest child in our families (Mom had some half brothers but she was her mother’s only child). We are sitting on a box that my grandfather built in which to store the trash cans between pick ups. If you look closely, you can see my grandmother’s clothes line with the prop and the clothes pins.
The building you see in the background was where the caretakers of the Jewish cemetery back there where I spent many peaceful hours riding my bicycle. With permission. And never on Sunday – that was when the families came to visit the family graves. I loved looking at the Hebrew words engraved in the headstones. The caretakers were friends with my little granny and once in a time of need they took care of me for a couple of days and I slept in their home. I’m sure Stephen King could have made something out of that overnight! It wasn’t a problem for me, though, until my school friends found out. Yes, I told them, but it had never occurred to me that it was something out of the ordinary.