Muse Swings

Happy New Year - 2012

2011-12-30T00:01:00.003-05:00

1912

Happy New Year Dear Bloggyfriends!

I've chosen this century old card to ring in 2012 AD at 12:00 AM

Irene posted this card January 1, 1912 to Mrs. Lena Martin in East Providence RI. A satellite view of the address shows a large piece of property with a rambling house on Watchmoket Cove, an inlet on the Providence River.

The message reads:

"Wish you a Happy New Year. Be sure to come to the initiation Wednesday night won't you. We have ten young men coming in and not enough girls to march with them. I want you to be one of the escorts and I'll be sure to pick out a nice looking young fellow for you. Wear white if convenient. It looks so pretty in line."

This message has put Lena into a fine state. She had planned to have "one of her headaches" Wednesday. Always an excellent excuse for not attending Irene's stuffy gatherings. And now, not only must she go, but she will be required to wear the lovely white gown she was saving for Myrna Pindley's Annual Post-New Years Eve Cotillion. If any of the same people are at both events Lena shall be just mortified to be caught wearing the same frock twice. Lena feels the beginning of one of her headaches - a real one this time. But then, while searching for her medicinal powders she considers that a slight change to the gown may allow for two wearings without the gossip. Lena makes a note to call Lucile, her personal designer, first thing in the morning.

Design by Lucile c.1912

All is well in the morning! Lucile is so cunning! She suggests a striking black bodice and train be added for the Cotillion. Who will ever guess it is a twice worn dress, excepting perhaps Lady Gertrude Winterberry and her spinster daughter.

1912

But that was then...

2012

And this is now

Raise your glass high and

Have a spectacular New Year!

PFF and Sepia Saturday - BIG Step For Mankind

2011-07-22T12:07:00.001-04:00

Postmarked on the Recovery Ship Hornet CV12 on July 24, 1969

Our theme for Sepia Saturday is recognition of the amazing work of NASA's Space Program. The first manned Lunar Landing in 1969 is something I will always remember. Where I was and what I was doing: My dad had the old black and white TV on a 40 foot extension cord in the driveway. He was doing an oil change on the giant blue Mercury station wagon and didn't want to miss a minute of Apollo 11and the first moon landing. I was on my way to the mall for some serious shopping - mini skirts and such - but I stopped to see what he was doing. Together we watched the grainy sights and crackling sounds of the landing. A few days later I received the above envelope - Dad had thoughtfully sent one for each of his 7 children to be postmarked on the U.S. Navy Recovery ship Hornet!

The Hornet CV-12

The Hornet is a recommissioned and renamed WWII Essex class aircraft carrier, and the eighth Navy ship to be given the distinctive name, Hornet. She was originally named Kearsarge, but was renamed Hornet in honor of Hornet C8 which was sunk in 1942.

Hornet CV-12 played a major roll in the Pacific during WWII, earning 9 battle stars. She also served during during peacetime, the Cold War and Vietnam The Hornet then became the recovery ship for both manned and unmanned Apollo space flights. This was not her first recovery assignment. Hornet was part of the Operation Magic Carpet operation which brought hundreds of thousands of soldiers home after WWII ended.

Coming Home! Operation Magic Carpet 1945/46

Recovered Apollo Space Capsule

The Hornet is now stationed in Alameda California as the USS Hornet Museum. The exhibit includes the Apollo 11 Space Capsule

First Day of Issue - Man on the Moon

My father had this First Day of Issue stamp, and postmarks and envelope sent to me in 1969 as well.

Footsteps and our Flag on the Moon

President Nixon greets our Brave Astronauts

Armstrong, Collins and Aldrin were put in quarantine aboard the Hornet. NASA wanted to be sure they only came back with Moon rocks.

Where the Apollo Missions Left Footprints

A Pre-Apollo Space Shot for Postcard Friendship Friday

We've just this week come to the end of a great and exciting era. We'll always remember those brave men and women who traveled into the true unknown to explore and to advance our knowledge of the universe. Some came back, others did not.

For more Postcard Friendship Friday travel HERE

Sepia Saturday is a space shot away HERE

PFF And Sepia Saturday: It's in the Cards

2011-07-15T15:01:00.001-04:00

The Sepia Saturday Theme has to do with card games in vintage photos. So, for Postcard Friendship Friday, I chose this old and somewhat flirty postcard.

It was postmarked June 5, 1911 in Arthur Ontario. The message to Miss Florence reads: Received your card some time ago. Have not had a chance to answer before. Have no views of G.M. (Grand Manan) at present. Will send one next time. Come again,
Yours truly.

Turner Ingalls, Jr.

Captain, Little Wood Island Life Saving Station, Grand Manan, New Brunswick. (That's in Canada)

Grand Manan Island

Grand Manan and all of the surrounding islands are set in treacherous waters filled with rocks and currents. Storms and fog make travel quite dicey. Many light houses, fog horns, and life saving stations were - and still are -constructed on these islands to assist sailing ships, fishermen and ferry boats.

Web searches turned up quite a bit of information about Turner Ingalls!

Ruthven Deane was taking a count of Snowy Owls in 1906 and included this information in his report:

"Mr. Turner Ingalls, Jr, keeper of Southwest Arbor Light Station, Grand Manan informs me under date of Jan. 20, 1906 that 26 snowy Owls had been seen on the island, and many of these had been seen shot during December 1, 1905. During the flight of 1901-2 Mr. Turner observed only about half this number."

TURNER INGALLS was born February 18, 1843 in Grand Manan, N. B. He married Antoinette Foster Parker and they had one son, Page Ingalls who died at age 4. At the time this postcard was written, Ingalls was 68 years old, had lost his wife, Antoinette and remarried.

He became overseer of this lighthouse in 1901 when his father in law retired after 47 years service. By then, the Marconi telegraph wire was replaced with a telephone.

Southwest Light House as it appeared in about 1899.

The Ingalls/Mclaughlin family is pictured here. The family added all of the buildings to the original lighthouse tower at their own expense. Upon his retirement, Turner's Father-in-law asked for reimbursement for all of the buildings - to which the Department of Marine replied "No."

The location of this lighthouse can be seen on the map posted above. It is off the most Southwest point of the Grand Manan Island.

After Turner Ingalls retired a succession of family members continued to live and work here until it closed in 1987. Turner Ingalls died in 1914.

For more Friendship Friday Fun go HERE

For Sepia Saturday stop by HERE

Sepia Saturday: Happy Father's Day

2011-06-18T19:26:00.000-04:00

Remembering our Fathers on Father's Day

Stanislaus Grocholski

1858-1933

Great Grandfather

John Ignatius Grocholski

1887 -1978

Grandfather

Joseph Leo Grocholski

1922-1975

Father

I remember past Fathers Days and am thankful for the memories.

PFF and Sepia Saturday: Neither Rain, Nor Sleet, Nor, uhm, Cannon Fire...

2011-06-03T00:17:00.003-04:00

WWII Mail From Mom

To which of the 7,500 Pfc. Robert Smith's does this belong????

Soldiers love to get mail. That's probably what the M in morale stands for - and the Army is always on the move. Things can get dicey - especially when thousands of soldiers are out in the middle of the forest at Ardennes or some arid atoll in the South Pacific or any of hundreds of places they "visited" during wartime.

That's where the "Six-Triple Eight" comes in!

LTC. Charity Adams, Women's Army Corps led the 6888th Central Postal Directory Battalion

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"Not only was she the first black woman commissioned as an officer in the Women's Army Corps, Charity Adams also attained the highest rank possible in the Corps below the directorship -- Only one full colonel was permitted in the WAC, and that rank was held only by the Director. She was also the commanding officer of the first battalion of black service women to serve overseas during WWII.

This unit, the 6888th Central Postal Directory Battalion (or "Six Triple Eight"), did an extraordinary job of redirecting mail in the European Theater of Operations. Troops were reassigned quickly, battle casualties were relocated often, and the sheer number of U.S. personnel in the ETO was staggering -- a total of about seven million, with more than 7,500 of them, for instance, having the name of Robert Smith. But the Six Triple Eight broke all records for redirecting mail. They knew the importance of their job, in maintaining morale." (Museum of Black WWII History)

The 6888th marches in the town square at Rouen, France on the feast day of Joan D'Arc. This is the spot where Joan D'Arc was burned at the stake on May 30, 1431

These exceptional women were here to do battle of their own - move the mail.

LTC. Charity Adams reviews her unit.

Despite having the same patriotic reasons for serving our Country, African Americans were segregated, given menial jobs, discriminated against and suffered the same inequities as they did at home. You would think America would be too busy for racial bias in the thick of battle but, of course, ignorance often takes the lead. Go here HERE for more information about this fine officer.

Click HERE for a short WWII film of the 6888th

A Pretty French Postcard

Note the "free" postage for servicemen and the Army Examiner stamp in the lower left hand corner. Sgt. Henry Rabinowicz posted this card on December 21, 1944 from somewhere in France. He said:

Dear Lillian, I picked this greeting card especially for you to make double sure, my sentiments are expressed both in English and French. Goodbye for now. Affectionately. Henry. It appears from his return address, that Henry was part of the huge Replacement Pool of soldiers that were brought in late 1944 as replacements for infantry casualties. Replacement troops did not necessarily receive the same battle training of the infantry they were replacing. They lacked the cohesion that troops who trained together and fought together had. The seasoned soldiers would pretty much ignore them - their infantry may have suffered 50 to 70% casualties and here comes new guy with creases in his pants. "I don't know him, I'm not talking to him, he's just gonna die anyway." was the psychological attitude.

I found Henry's service card at ancestry.com, stamped with the word WOUNDED. I've not found anything further yet - but will add whatever additional information I can find.

Jewish Servicemen Card For Henry Rabinowicz

Laiterie Cooperative

Sgt. Charles Shenloogian of Company C, 11th Cavalry, who's WWII experiences are chronicled in his oral history interview 2002 HERE, posted this card November 9, 1944. He said: Dear Jewel, Just a few words to let you know that I am well. I picked this card up in my travels (This is the understatement of the century! His unit was fighting in France in the thick of battle and participated in the Battle of the Bulge in November, 1944 - the unit was out of gas, ammunition and supplies yet ordered by Patton to advance.) Hope everything is O.K. Don't work too hard. Seen many good shows? Would like to have been with you. Love, Charlie. His homogenized message was reviewed and passed by the Army Examiner.

More links to Postcard Friendship Friday are HERE

Links to Sepia Saturday posts are HERE

Postcard Friendship Friday and Sepia Saturday: Lest We Forget

2011-05-27T21:23:00.003-04:00

When this beautiful postcard was mailed, 100 years ago, Memorial Day was called Decoration Day, a day to pause and remember both the Union and Confederate soldiers who died in the Civil war. Today, after many other wars, we remember all of the soldiers who gave their lives for our Country. "Lest We Forget", May 30th (now the last Monday in May" was designated as the day of remembrance.

The card was mailed 8/2/1911 and is postmarked Rome, New York which is in the north central part of the state. E.W. says "I cannot do as I promised because I have got to go to my cousin's. He is very ill." The writing appears to be that of a child. What do you suppose she promised her friend Henrietta? Another of life's mysteries.

William LaKoske 1925 -1994

This is my Uncle, Bill La Koske. The picture was taken around 1943 while he was in boot camp in Ft. Hood Texas. He is 17 years old.

I know little about Uncle Bill's time in the service. We were instructed to never ask him any questions about his experiences during WWII. I've managed to put a few bits and pieces together though.

He took his basic training at Ft Hood, Texas, and was still there in October of 1943 when my parents took a train to visit him while on their honeymoon.

I enlarged the patch on his left arm, and I also remembered an ashtray he had with the same insignia.

It is the insignia of the US Army Tank Destroyer Unit.

At the time, Fort Hood was a training center for the TDU, and I found this on line:

"The mission of the Tank Destroyer Unit Training Center became that of training tank destroyer units to the point of blotting out and erasing any fear of armored forces; establishing superiority in maneuvering and gunfire.

The specialized training program for TDs provided for 19 weeks of training. 6 weeks of basic and 13 weeks technical and tactical training. The basic training was comparable to that of a replacement training center."

At some point, after the D-Day invasion, and on the heels of the Battle of the Bulge Uncle Bill and his battalion were in France and possibly fought their way as far as Belgium. His job was manning a machine gun attached to the back of a Jeep. During heavy fighting against the Germans, Uncle Bill and several other men were forced to take cover inside a barn. The Germans destroyed the barn with canon fire and a beam fell, pinning Uncle Bill at mid-section to the ground. The other men were killed. He remained there for 2 days and was near death by the time he was rescued. He recuperated in Colorado for about 18 months, was awarded the Purple Heart, and then returned home.

Mom spoke once of the day the telegram came informing his mother, Julia that Uncle Bill was injured. Other than a short telegram, families had no way of knowing anything further about the fate of their husband, brother or son.

Today, wars are fought right on television. Soldiers keep in touch on cellphones and computers. At that time, communication except by the soldier himself, was non existent. Since Uncle Bill was badly injured, it may have been weeks before they received further word about his condition. They could only wait for a letter or for another telegram informing them of his death. Luckily that 2nd telegram never came.

(A very special force of WACS went to France in the heat of battle to make sure mail moved to and from the US. The Army knew how important communication was for morale here and abroad. I'll tell you all about them next week.)

Fizsimmons Army Medical Center, Aroura, Colorado

A little more detective work: The Fitzsimmons Army Medical Center is most likely the hospital where Uncle Bill was treated and rehabilitated. It was built during WWI primarily for soldiers with TB and malaria and has always been considered an excellent hospital. It closed just within the past few years, is being updated and will reopen as a private hospital.

The only thing Uncle Bill ever mentioned was that he had to eat pureed "baby" food for months and -he never explained this one- he came to despise raisins to the point that he would shiver if he even had to look at one.

Joe and Del and Del's baby brother Bill

Uncle Bill is standing on the steps of my Grandparent's house on Holcomb St. in Detroit in this photo. He is with my parents, Joe and Del. The photo is undated, so I don't know whether he was on leave before going overseas or had just returned from Colorado. My best guess is that he was given leave after he completed his training. February/March 1944 would make sense - based on the winter coats, and the fact that Mom's coat is unbuttoned as opposed to everyone else's. Which means she's probably a few months preggers with my brother Joe.

Uncle Bill was my Godfather and a really wonderful Uncle. He had a great sense of humor and was the main instigator of fun and frolic among the children at the dinner table.

Although he was fortunate to survive the war he, like most soldiers, suffered memories of the horror of it for the rest of his life. Along with a strange fear of raisins.

While we enjoy this long Memorial Day weekend, let's take time to remember those who died in and of War.

Those incredibly brave men ... men ... they were, many of them just 17 seeing and doing things that we can only imagine. Tossed off of ships by bombs, thrown out of foreign skies, marched in weather we won't think of going out in. Giving their all for freedom for all. The brave soldiers from WWII in my family are gone now - but they came home, every one of them. They kept their promise to my Grandmother. Many never spoke of it. None could forget it. We'll never forget these brave men.

For more Postcard Friendship Friday go HERE

For more Sepia Saturday stories go HERE

Postcard Frienship Friday and Sepia Saturday: See you later, Alligator

2011-05-20T17:32:00.005-04:00

American Alligator

"Beautiful Florida Alligator in Native Wilds"

These guys have been around since the Cretaceous Period which is between 145.5 and 65.5 million years ago. Cretaceous is derived the Latin work for "chalk". There was a lot of chalk around at the time.

Alligator Fossil

This alligator did not make it much beyond the chalk age. Neither did the European varieties. Today you will find Alligators only in China and in the South Eastern United States, which includes the pond in my back yard. The word "alligator comes from the Spanish word for lizard. Quite an understatement, but that's what we call them.

Alligator planking "just for the halibut" c. 1925

This alligator is one of the first ever to be caught on film "planking" which is one of the latest stupid stunts to appear on Facebook and Youtube.

Mating, which can be rather raucous, takes place in the spring. The mom builds a nest and lays 20 to 50 goose egg sized eggs that take a little over two months to hatch. . The temperature at which alligator eggs develop determines their sex. Does too! Those eggs which are hatched in temperatures ranging from 90 to 93 degrees Fahrenheit (32 to 34 °C) become males, while those in temperatures from 82 to 86 °F (23 to 30 °C) become female. Intermediate temperature ranges have proven to yield a mix of both male and females. The hatchlings look like little replicas of mom, and stay with her for about 5 months. This a period of time you really want to leave mom and the kids alone. Mom is very protective. Kind of like an alligator with lipstick.

Alligator hunting c. 1925

For years, alligators were hunted for their hides and tail meat, and just because they were there. Although you wouldn't know it today, they eventually made it on the endangered species list. It was thought, in the late '60's that the population would never recover and that they would soon become extinct. But, recover they did, and they are no longer endangered. Florida state law "prohibits killing, harassing, or possessing alligators. Unless they become a nuisance, and then all bets are off.

These are professional trappers. Do not try this at home.

This was the case for Elvis the Alligator who made his home in our pond for several years. He apparently was menacing a neighbor and her dog, and she called the Nuisance Alligator Hotline. Yes it is true. Yes we do have a hotline for gator's in Florida.

When you call and the Fish and Wildlife Commission determines there is a problem they call one of several licensed trappers to come and lure the alligator out of the driveway, backyard pool, kitchen, doghouse, highway, or school parking lot that he has decided to inhabit.

He hissed a lot.

In this case, and we were sad to see him go, Elvis was lured from the pond and got to take a ride in a Ram truck. With a Hemi engine. But not before I touched him. He felt like a really expensive handbag. He had reached 6' and was about 8 years old. His unwanted exuberance was probably due to the fact that he had become sexually mature, and it is spring, after all.

Generally, if you leave roaming alligators alone, they will go back where they belong. They usually keep to themselves and are not a threat just because you can see it in your pond. However, when they show signs of aggressiveness it often results from folks being transplanted from pigeon feeding states who decide feeding the cute alligators is even more fun. Problem is, alligators have a brain the size of a walnut. About the same size as a person who feeds an alligator. They don't have the capacity to know where the food ends and the body begins and will start lunging at anyone who appears at the edge of their habitat.

Many folks unintentionally feed alligators by letting their dogs and cats run loose. Alligators are all about eating. They don't care if it's your prized poodle - it looks like food. Recently an alligator attacked a police car.

This has nothing to do with this week's Sepia Saturday theme, unless you take note that alligators will inhabit any "pool" of fresh water and you had better go to the "hospital" if you are bitten by one. They carry bacteria that will cause a dangerous infection if left untreated. Things might start to fall off, so go see your Dr.

For more Postcard Friendship Friday go HERE and Sepia Saturday can be found HERE!

Poetry Bus Takes the Cake!

2011-05-08T18:03:00.005-04:00

We're waiting For TFE. We're not gettin' on the bus without him. Except....we've been promised a birthday celebration. Does that mean cake? If there's cake we may board. We WILL board, in fact, if there is cake. Mildred is hoping for gluten free, and Albertus has issues with eggs. Bertrand is on a lactose free diet, and Portia is hoping for chocolate. Lemon gives Martressa the vapours. But I like cake - any kind. Mmmm cake.

Vick at Poetry Jam has graciously offered to manage the Poetry Bus Station. His is the last office on the left. Next to the water cooler. The sign on the door says POETRY JAM. Hmmm reminds me of jam cake and jelly rolls....where's that bus!

This poem may be just the ticket for this week's birthday themed poetry bus ride:

On Aging

I once thought that my mom was old

Oh yes, my father too

In retrospect I made that claim

When they were 32

I've long surpassed that golden year

I just turned 59

And look with reconditioned eyes

Upon these peers of mine

With each decade old gets older

I re-negotiate my gauge

And live well by the rule of thumb:

Age is relative to age

Cynthia A Conciatu

I've missed the last two or three bus rides! I thought by riding each week I might write many new poems. As always though, my poems come when they are good and ready. They are inspired by a few words, a scene, an event, an emotion and when that happens, the poem practically writes itself, beginning to end with few revisions. Strange but true. It's very rare that I can just sit down and write on command, or write because I want to. I've tried it and I usually end up with something I'm not the least bit happy with. It sounds forced, lacks the stuff of poetry, and I end up submitting (like today) something that I've already written - an inspiration that I managed to get on paper when it arrived. But I'll keep on trying and writing and Poetry riding.

Some exciting news: I submitted several of my poems for publication in the annual Eckerd Review. The poems were submitted anonymously and were among several hundred poems, short stories, writings and art work submitted by students, alumni, staff, and several organizations from my Alma Mater, Eckerd College, St. Petersburg Florida. Two of my poems were chosen for publication and I've been invited, along with the others to read at a reception on Wednesday, May 11! The poems are Chapters and Forget-Me-Nots.

Sepia Saturday - A Bridge of Mothers

2011-05-07T15:08:00.002-04:00

Frank and Julia Kujat c. 1927

Our Sepia Saturday Host, Alan Burnett, suggested a theme of something old - people, marriages etc. The picture I have chosen is of my maternal Great Grandparents, Julia Percha Kujat and Francis Kujat. They were probably in their late 50's or early 60's here. That was once considered old.

I know very little about them, but I knew their daughter, my grandmother, also named Julia. I knew she loved to grow flowers, sewed and crocheted beautifully, and cooked delicious meals. She raised her children with love, instilled the love of God in them, and was delighted with all of her 27 grandchildren. So, I knew my great grandparents through the traits and gifts passed down to Julia.

Julia Percha was the youngest of 6 children born to Michael and Magdalena (Hintze) Percha in German Poland in 1864. Julia came to America when she was 15. Her family settled in the Polish neighborhoods of Detroit, Michigan. She was 20 when she married Frank. They had 13 children, 3 of which died in infancy.

By the 1930 census, Julia was a widow living in a home she owned with several of her children. I've not located a record of her death. Julia always wore the Mother Hubbard style dress shown in the photo. Good for her - it looks comfortable and far less constricting and restricting than the styles of the day. She changed the color to black after Frank died.

In the picture, Julia and Frank are smiling and walking close to each other - though not touching. They both look content and both appear to smile easily.

Julia had a daughter, who had a daughter who had a daughter (me) who has a daughter. Think about this: In order for you or I to exist today we came from an unbroken line of mother's stretching back to the first human mother that existed on the face of the Earth. You are part of a bridge of mothers who survived plague, epidemics, famine, childhood illness, medical practices that were dangerous, poverty, war, storms, travel, hardship and incredibly difficult circumstances of life long enough to birth the next generation and the next and so on. You life depended on hundreds of mothers. Perhaps thousands. The time and place of the first mother, our mother Eve, is still being sought by science.

This poem, written by Dorothy Hallard is a reminder of the bridge of mothers:

The Bridge

The way I walk

I see my mother walking

My feet secure

And firm upon the ground

The way I talk

I hear my daughter talking

And hear my mother's echo

In the sound

The way she thought

I find myself now thinking

The generations linking

In a firm continuum of mind

The bridge of immortality

I'm walking

The voice before me echoing behind

Happy Mother's Day to all of the mothers echoing behind us!

Postcard Friendship Friday and Sepia Saturday - Time for Tiaras

2011-04-29T08:53:00.009-04:00

The Penny Black

The suggested theme for this Postcard Friendship Friday is "time". Time for Tiara's, I thought, might be appropriate for this day of celebrating the wedding of Prince William and his bride, Kate Middleton. We'll go from something old to something new beginning with the Penny Black stamp.

The Penny Black was the first adhesive backed postage stamp issued in the United Kingdom in 1840. A young Queen Victoria is featured on this penny postage stamp. She is wearing the King George IV Diadem. This diamond crown was made for the coronation of George IV and has been handed down in time though a succession of Kings and Queens to Elizabeth II. The diadem is among the personal jewels of the Queen as opposed the The Crown Jewels which belong to the United Kingdom. The Queen has to resort to her personal collection when she travels, as the Crown Jewels cannot leave the country.

Queen Victoria is wearing another of her diamond tiaras. the George III Tiara, in this "Gifts of the Magi" styled painting.

It was Queen Victoria who initiated the bridal tradition of wearing white with her white satin and lace gown. In lieu of a tiara she wore orange blossoms in her hair. Prior to 1840, and certainly for many years after, women wore a dress in colors and materials that they could wear for other occasions. Wearing a white dress became - not a sign of purity as we were led to believe - but as a sign of wealth! It was the wealthy who followed Victoria's lead at first. Orange blossoms, according to my 1830 etiquette book was reserved for the bride. Bridesmaids and ladies in waiting must not wear them. The custom of orange blossoms began in ancient China. They are a sign of purity and fruitfulness. The custom spread through Europe during the crusades and became popular in England during the early 1800's.

Queen Elizabeth II wore the George III Tiara - also called the Diamond Fringe -on her wedding day as "something borrowed" from her mother. It was incorrectly speculated that this tiara would be the "something borrowed" for today's bride. Instead, Kate Middleton is wearing the "halo" tiara which was made by Cartier and given to Queen Elizabeth on her 18th birthday.

Princess Diana's "something borrowed" were the diamond and pearl earrings lent by her mother. Her beautiful tiara -which she said gave her a cracking headache - is from the Spencer family jewels.

Queen Elizabeth II is featured on this 1960 postage stamp. She is wearing, 120 years later, the same tiara worn by Queen Victory on the Penny Black.

The new bride, the Duchess of Cambridge is shown wearing "something borrowed" halo tiara. Her lace and satin gown is very reminiscent of Grace Kelly's wedding gown.

Queen Victoria's Handmade Wedding Shoes

Kate's wedding shoes have been hand-made by the team at Alexander McQueen and are made of ivory duchesse satin with lace hand-embroidered by the Royal School of Needlework. Do you suppose a sixpence has been sewn into the lining for good luck?

Now that you have your shoes on, dance over HERE for more Postcard Friendship Friday, and HERE for Sepia Saturday

Sepia Saturday - A Bite of Altruism for Easter

2011-04-23T11:48:00.002-04:00

Headlines on April 19, 1908

Women's Altruism Shown By The Growing Custom Of Dining In Public On Easter Sunday

I spent quite a bit of time trying to understand what "altruism" had to do with dining out on Easter. I finally enlarged the picture so I could read the subtitle:

In Church or On The Avenue She Could Not Give So Much Delight To Others Who Might Wish To Examine Her New Spring Finery At Close Range And In Exhaustive Detail

Well, that sure explains it

The custom of Easter finery began in early Europe when ones finest clothing and special clothing for special occasions was considered a sign of respect.

Easter Parade, 5th Ave. New York, 1912

The New York Easter Parade began in the late 1800's as a spontaneous event that continues today.

My guess is the cars - with attached chauffeurs - are riding, as instructed, next to their owners. Should Mr. or Mrs. Weatherscoop, III tire, turn an ankle, or suffer from the vapours, they might repair to the automobile for a respite from the exhausting crowds.

Couple in their Easter Finery, 1914

Henry, this hobnail skirt is going to be the death of me yet!

Eloise, the sound of that velvet swishing with each and every one of your mincing little steps is setting my teeth on edge.

Mince, Henry? You've made me feel a bit peckish. I think I shall be altruistic and dine out with you this afternoon.

Easter 1952, Royal Oak Michigan

l-r Back, Janet, Mom (Delphine), Cynthia age 6

Front: Jim, Joe

See the white sugar egg with a little Easter scene inside in my Easter basket (second from the left)? I asked for that specifically and was delighted to find it on Easter morning. Along with the usual jelly beans you'll see a delicious nest with jelly bean "eggs" from Saunder's (yum!) and a card with jacks to play with. I don't see the ball though. It's probably already under the couch.

By the time this picture was taken we had already attended 8:00 Mass at St. Mary's and had waffles for breakfast.. I remember the basket and the dress (white with purple and aqua wheels on it) but I don't recall what we did for the rest of the day. Probably the sugar high has blurred the remainder of that Easter memory.

For more Sepia Saturday go HERE!

Have a Blessed Easter!

Sepia Saturday - Demimondes and Loose Women

2011-04-16T15:51:00.001-04:00

Irene Bordoni - French Singer, Broadway and Film Actress - 1885-1953

I recently acquired "The Ladies Book of Useful Information" compiled from "many sources" and published in 1896 in London Ontario.

If one wishes to enhance one's charms and maintain a rosy complexion this is THE book to have. Every possible subject is covered - everything! Hair and complexion care, how one can make a medicine to cure dyspeptic water brash, rid one's mattress of bedbugs, make a fine coffee starch for dark shirt bosoms and the art of Decalomania. Oh, and sex. It's all there.

Chapter I jumped right in on the subject most important to women who wish to find themselves a man and also maintain their youthful looks when they surpass the age when beauty often begins to fade - twenty - one. Included are helpful hints and recipes for a graceful figure, melting eyes, brilliancy of the complexion, and luxuriance of the hair.

Make-up, or rather, paints is the first item of discussion. The authors may mince meat, but they don't mince words: These paints are "characterized as a species of corporeal hypocrisy as subversive of delicacy of mind as it is of the natural complexion...a destruction of beauty..." Women of all times and nations have fallen into this deceitful habit worldwide, including "the denziens of London and Paris...and certain ladies of the demimonde...The ladies of Eastern nations commonly heighten the hue and freshness of their lips by means of cosmetics, a practice which in Western Europe is only adopted on stage, and occasionally by courtesans and (it's them again) the ladies of the demimonde."

Lucky for us, I have an old unabridged dictionary which explains that a demimonde (demi-half and monde - world) is of class of women who indiscriminately conduct themselves in such a way that their character is suspect. This might be, perhaps, a neighbor lady who is seen stepping aboard a streetcar without an escort. It could be a maiden of age who entertains a male who is unrelated, or related beyond first cousin, in her apartments. Perhaps you see your cousin Elvira dining with several other ladies in a place where there is dancing and boisterous music. Demimondes all!

But I digress.

Hair, the luxuriant crowning jewel of the lady, is discussed in great detail. It is recommended that one should wash one's hair no more than once every two or three weeks. If some lady out there in bloggy-land would be kind enough to follow this instruction, along with before and after pictures we would all appreciate your doing so. Be sure and dress your hair daily using pomatum to which a few grains of carbonate of lead have been added.

The authors have apparently accepted the idea of hair colouring and have taken pains to suggest ingredients (do not try these at home) for safe and satisfactory hair colours of various shades:

shade: ingredient

auburn to black: iron and bismuth

fine natural chestnut to auburn to black: salts of silver

reddish brown to auburn and black: lead

lead dyes are suggested for both ladies and children to impart a light reddish brown tint to hair.

Mrs. George Beltrious Megaboof died this morning at age 32. The cause of death is unknown, but suspected to be an ailment of the nerves, weak blood flow to the limbs and dyspepsia. She will be remembered for her luxurious auburn hair.

A recipe for lovely golden hued hair:

1. procure a packet of gold powder from your hairdresser

2. Have a perfume atomizer filled with a weak solution of gum of Arabic and water at the ready.

3. After hair is dressed, spritz all over with the gum and water solution.

4. sprinkle liberally with gold powder.

This may be put on thick enough to hide the color of the hair and owing to the gum, will stay on while the lady is dancing. The effect by artificial light is beautiful.

Despite their earlier thoughts about face paints, the authors were kind enough to include a recipe for liquid rouge - a harmless natural looking bloom and perfect imitation of nature:

Add to a pint of French brandy, 1/2 oz benzoin, 1 oz. red sandalwood, half an oz. Brazil wood, and the same quantity of rock alum. Cork the bottle, shake it well once a day and at the end of twelve days it should be fit for use. The cheeks are to be lightly touched with it.

Mrs. Aloyisous Billentort was last seen boarding a streetcar without an escort. She appeared to be carrying a pint of French brandy, a little bundle of sticks and a druggist's brown paper packages tied up with string.

Stay tuned - this sepia text is filled with information to share. Perhaps we will discuss the lady's lips and complexion care in our next installment. Or a delicious restorant made with mercury. Or sex. One or the other.

In the meantime, check out our Sepia Saturday posts HERE!

Poetry Bus - Has an Egret Perched on the Seat

2011-04-05T22:49:00.001-04:00

Titus is driving the Poetry Bus this week - well, more of an ark, really which is appropriate based on all of the rain that has visited Florida during the last 4 days. Probably about 12 inches total. I'm not complaining! I love a good thunderstorm.

Titus' prompt is an inventive list of feathered and furry beasts that deserve nothing less than a poem about themselves. I chose a feathered friend that isn't even on the list - but Titus allows for those of us who feel the need to change seat assignments.

The Egret

Stands
Poised at water’s edge
Watching
With steady gaze
For silver glint of fish to blaze
And briefly cut the surface
Of the pond

Unblinking
Barely breathing
He waits
With instinctive stillness

Time passes around him
But not for him

As he observes
The mirrored surface
And sees beyond his beauty

Cynthia Ann Conciatu, 1994

Marjorie Shuck Award, 1996
Florida State Poets Association

Hop on the Bus HERE!

Monday Poetry Bus Ride is on Muse Swings

2011-03-27T00:01:00.011-04:00

Our Poetry Bus Captain of the Fleet, TFE, has given ole Muse Swings the reins...er I mean wheel... for Monday March 28th. He just doesn't learn, does he.

I've thought of three - yes THREE (!) ways you may secure your bus ticket this week. Are you ready? Choose one for the road.

1) Write a poem with illustration. Write and draw to your heart's content, and bring it along. Here's what I have in mind:

(click to enlarge..or not)

2) Write a descriptive poem about an object/person/animal. Do not use the name of the object/person/animal in the title of the poem or in the poem. Let us guess based on your masterful visual description.

3) Write a poem about this picture. I think there may be lots of potential here.

So there you have it.

Straighten up that line, and let's all get on board with this!

All you have to do is come up with a poem, then leave a comment with your link information.

Our Riders of the Day:

Lola Mouse

Jeanne

The Bug

Helen

120 Socks

Izzy

Jinksy

Peter Goulding

Enchanted Oak

I've added a linky for you - pre-linky links are listed above. Enjoy your ride!

Postcard Friendship Friday and Sepia Saturday 48th Reunion

2011-03-25T15:02:00.009-04:00

9 Mile and Woodward, Ferndale Michigan 1960's

This is where it all started. Ferndale. Land of the "cruisin' Woodward" class of 1963

This is where our high school years ended. St. James High School. Okay, this is the church. Can't see the high school from here. It's off camera. To the left.

The Muse, Class of '63

Forty-eight years later the Florida contingent of displaced grads plus one Alabama grad ended up here at the Dakotah Winery in Chiefland, Florida to share fond, fonder and fondest memories over a glass of sherry, port, burgundy, ...etc. This, after a delicious lunch at the festive Fanning Springs Lighthouse Restaurant
l-r: Rita (Bennett), John (McManamon, Carol (Hinman), Dave (Carol's spouse/designated driver),Cynthia (Grocholski), Pat (Yavello), Kathy (Cherwinski)

Sound of Music Sing along: " we are 60's going on 70's..."

Look, ya'll got here by driving north, right? - you'll only get back home if you drive south. That's it. Logic at it's best. End of story.

What? Me? Oh! I'm just tryin' to stay out of this "lovebird" picture. Get a room, you two.

I'll try the last 7 again please. And gimme some more of those little crackers.

John, if you order the Osso Bucco you will get nothing on your plate. Zero. Nada. It ain't happening. This is NOT an Italian restaurant. Get the all-you-can-eat mullet, swamp cabbage, grits and hushpuppy special like everyone else. Where's your redneck? And quit asking for "pop"

The more wine we taste the better we look and the younger we feel!

48 years later we are all standing Even if we do have to hang on to the bar

Seeing double

Chardonnay - check! Port - check! Noble Red - check! Cream sherry - check! Oh heck. just box up the lot of them and don't forget my senior discount.

By 3:30 we were getting dangerously close to missing the early-bird dinner at our respective local Denny's, so off we went. (SOUTH!) into the sunset. We promise to meet up again soon. We're just not sure if we'll meet at Lee-Roy's Bull Ridin' Lessons or Slim Spatchula's Sky Diving for Seniors. It's going to be one or the other.

Stop by Beth's The Best Hearts are Crunchy for more Postcard Friendship Friday fun!

And you will find more Sepia Saturday HERE. Hosted by Alan and Kat.

Poetry Bus Seeks New Experience From Old Riders

2011-03-22T12:13:00.005-04:00

Uiscebots is driving the bus - I've brought my own seat belt and some lunch because he has asked of us the following:

Last Friday, as part of my remit as Poetry Bus Driver in residence, I suggested visiting somewhere new and writing about it.

It's all HERE

Problem is, I've been having great success in practicing my favorite pastime: being a hermit. So, I haven't been out, seen anything new, done anything outdoors beyond bagging leaves and tree leavings. During a past ride on the poetry bus I saw something old with with new eyes, however, and being an hermetocric upstart who can't (or won't) follow the simplest directions, I submit this:

Mist Opportunity on the Bayside Bridge

Today I crossed the bridge at dawn

Amidst a daydream fog that stratified the horizon

Into a declined adjective

Grey

Greyer

Greyest

And pressed flat a flock of gulls

Who, I think, would rather fly than decorate the bay

Like French knots on a silver satin sheet

The morning mist smeared the sun

Into a shimmery mass

Painting out the trappings of civilization

Just for a while

Softening the periphery

Until the sun gathered in its edges

Burned the haze away

And laid out a day blue sky

And reality

Yellow lines

Do not pass

Exit right

Cynthia Ann Conciatu

Sepia Saturday - Ezra - We Hardly Know Ye!

2011-03-19T14:32:00.005-04:00

Ezra Meeker 1830-1928

I used this photo postcard for yesterday's Postcard Friendship Friday. The subject of my post had nothing to do with the picture, but curiosity about this colorful portrait sitter got the best of me. Luckily his name, Ezra Meeker, appears on the postcard and it also turned up immediately on my search for information. Turns out Ezra was a modern day Johnnie Appleseed! In his later years he traveled along the already well established Oregon Trail sowing patriotism, remembrances of the early days on the trail and he also sought to memorialize the Oregon Trail - one of our great highways to the west.

Ezra Meeker 1921

Ezra was born in Huntsville Ohio in 1830. At age 22 he married Eliza Jane Sumner, had a son, Marian, and took off on the Oregon Trail to take advantage of land offerings in Washington. The family settled near Puget Sound and then moved inland to land where he made a good living growing hops. He platted out a townsite and named it Puyallup after the local Puyallup Indian tribes. Eventually the town grew and became incorporated,. Ezra was elected the first mayor of Puyallup.

Ezra and his ox cart on the Oregon Trail

He enjoyed a successful life and built a mansion for Eliza Jane (isn't that a lovely name!) which they enjoyed until hops aphids destroyed his crops.

"He subsequently tried a number of ventures, including dehydrating fruits and vegetables, working on packaging milk in paper containers, and four largely unsuccessful trips to the Klondike looking for gold. He also wrote a novel about his experiences on the trip west."

One of Ezra Meeker's hand made Trail markers

During Ezra's traveling years, which he began at age 76, he traveled the Oregon Trail, and made his way by oxcart all the way to Washington DC. In 1916 he drove the Trail in his 80 horsepower (60 kW) automobile with a prairie-schooner top. In 1924, at the age of 94, Meeker flew from Vancouver Washington to Dayton Ohio in an open cockpit Army plane. He met with Presidents, Coolidge and Theodore Roosevelt and eventually received the funds needed to memorialize the Oregon Trail when in 1926 the U.S. Mint issued 50 cent pieces memorializing the Trail and depicting Ezra's oz drawn wagon. The coins were issued to the Oregon Trail Memorial Association, which sold the coins to raise funds for trail markers.

The city of Puyallup still thrives with about 37,000 residents. It lies in a fertile valley in the shadow of Mt. Rainier. The town is known for their daffodils which they grow and sell worldwide!
A statue of Meeker was built in Puyallup 1926. His ox cart is housed in the Washington State History Museum in Tacoma Washington. His oxen are there too, stuffed and mounted! Ezra felt - and rightly so - that they should be properly memorialized.

More information is available at Wikipedia which is the source I used for this post and pictures.

More Sepia Saturday is available HERE!

Postcard Friendship Friday - Come to Florida - The Shoot 'em up State

2011-03-18T10:24:00.003-04:00

Forget the garden hose. If one of those little varmints rides their bike on MY sidewalk I'm ready.

March 17, Tampa Bay Times: Open Carry Bills passed in respective criminal justice committees this week. SB 234 and HB 517 would let people with concealed weapons permits openly carry holstered firearms in most locations.

The Senate bill is sponsored by Greg Evers, R-Baker. The House's version is sponsored by eight Republicans including House Speaker-in-waiting, Chris Dorworth. Dorworth is nudging it along through the House despite the fact that every Sheriff in Florida is against these bills. After all, we should have the right to bear bare arms.

The bill sponsors agreed, after lengthy arguments, to remove the part of the bill that would allow open carry on college campus'. But Church is ok. And McDonald's. And Chucky Cheese. And Disney World. And the Gasparilla Parade - imagine if you will. Picture an imbibing party guest standing next to you. You notice he's packing just as you grab the beads he was reaching for. Oops.

Greetings from the Gun Totin' State

Is my gun showing?

Supporters (which, of course, includes the NRA) say the bill is meant to protect permit holders whose guns are accidentally made visible - for example, a strong wind blows a shirt up and exposes a gun. Really? Comments on blogs include whining gun toter's who complain about the Florida heat. How can they be expected to remember their "cover sweater" when its 98 degrees out. Meanwhile, Florida Sheriffs, and I, say the "accidental exposure" argument is ludicrous.

Alright, class, one more time: 9 X 8 = what?

Coming up on a crime scene how will the police be able to sort out between friend and foe. How can they concentrate on the bad guy. And do it quickly enough to avoid becoming another officer killed in the line of duty.

Look around on Youtube. You'll find a clip of a distracted packing party guest. A young boy reaches into party guest's holster - or perhaps pocket, pulls out the guy's gun and shoots him. Takes only a second.

Picture this: you are in a 7/11 looking for Cheese Doodles. Guy walks in with gun.

Picture this: you are in that same 7/11 buying Gummy Worms. Guy walks in with gun. Another guy walks in. He was just going to pay for gas for his stolen car but sees a better opportunity. Disarms guy with gun. Gun guy never took classes on how to protect himself from being disarmed. It's not required. And there you are, kissing your Gummy Worms goodbye.

I think he took someones parking space.

The whole idea of "open carry" is just asking for trouble. It is ludicrous and unnecessary. We'll look like the wild west in the deep south. Think Bubba Redneck and his single-wide neighbors at Disney for the day. Packin'.

So you wanna pack a weapon. Fine. Apparently it's your Constitutional right. At least that's how the Second Amendment is interpreted. And you think you have to keep it on you for 24/7 protection. Fine. But keep it where I don't have to see it. I don't know anything about you, so my instinct will be to scream GUN!, dive under the nearest table and dial 911. So keep your permit handy.

Number of times in my 66 years that I've said "Golly, I sure could use a gun right about now" = zero
If I had a gun, chances of it even being in the same room with me if I needed it = zero (It would be in some other room next to my cell phone.)

Chances of my avoiding places where I might be subjected to folks packing visible weapons = 100%

Chance of a pistol packer finding a reason to use his/her weapon: high. You read about it every day in the news.

Chance of any scenario requiring the use of a weapon for protection being in favor of the "good" guy: 2%

Don't leave home without it

Today's PFF post is more of a rant - sorry- but Open Carry is just another eye-roller of an idea that someone and their best buds are trying to turn into legislation for some self serving purpose that will be unveiled only after the bill passes.

Visit Beth at The Best Hearts Are Crunchy for some unarmed Postcard Friendship Friday.

Postcard Friendship Friday - Goth History

2011-03-11T17:15:00.013-05:00

American Gothic by Grant Wood, 1930

Grant Wood painted this American icon using a home described as "carpenter Gothic" and the people he fancied would live in this house. His models are his daughter, and his dentist. The couple in the picture are meant to be a farmer and - not his wife - but his spinster daughter. The term, spinster was originally used to describe a woman who spins to make her own living and therefore does not require a man to provide for her.

This is the house shown in Wood's picture. He painted each character and the house separately. They never stood together, and neither stood in front of the house as he painted.

The person who wrote on the postcard has unintelligible handwriting and other than a reference to Christmas, something wonderful and a church, I have no idea what he/she is saying. He must be a product of a public school Education . Or - okay - perhaps he was a Catholic school student who got smacked with a ruler so many times he lost the use of his fingers and therefore was never able to achieve the lovely script of a parochial educated person

What I really intended to do here is write about This Day In History. That would be the siege of Rome that began on March 11, 357 by the Ostrogoths. ( Ostro: think Austria) A Germanic people, who like the Visigoths (Latin for visi =Teutonic and Goth = west), were a subgroup of the Goths. What happened, was the Goths took over Rome in the 5th century and had their own little country right in the middle of Italy. When their leader died the Romans told them to take a hike. So, on the way out of the city the Goths tweeted their posse and lay siege to Rome. A little over a year later, they gave up and left. No known postcards survived the siege, so I used the American Gothic picture instead. It's my blog. That's why.

Goths

These are some of the Goths who lay siege. Four of them appear to be standing, and the other two aren't laying at all, they are sitting. Sitting is more accurate , however, because the word siege comes from the Latin word sedere, which means sit as in sedentary, my favorite exercise. Which is what the Goths did. They sat around outside of Rome, disconnected the water supply, kept the Romans inside the city walls and away from food sources and waited for the Romans to die from thirst, starvation, disease, and attacks by the Goths.

This lovely Goth appears to be writing a postcard, but it was probably destroyed during the siege.

Happy Postcard Friendship Friday!

Stop by Beth's The Best Hearts Are Crunchy for more Postcard Friendship Friday!

Poetry Bus - Bender Defender

2011-03-08T15:54:00.002-05:00

I'm hopping on board - late - even later than usual. Our host is The Stammering Poet, Peter Goulding, and he has given us these prompts:

In a nutshell, I am looking for
1) An ode to pancakes in the persona of a poet of your choice
2) Something (or things) I did while drunk, or
3) A rondeau.

Prompts one and three would have caused brain stem damage or worse, so I dove for number 2 - even though I've laid off the drink of my youth. Which wasn't much to begin with. So I had to use my poetic license - the one that isn't suspended. Bottoms up:

Bender Defender

I Thought that I would be just fine

If I drove right on the middle line

Down the empty two-way country road

I was toolin’ right along at 50

And thought I was being nifty

Feeling very happy and quite bold

Then I saw the flashing blue light bar

Catching up to my ole car

Bidding me to pull aside

So I parked right at the gutter

While thinking what lie I could utter

To gain an un-ticketed ride

I saw his name tag, Pat O’Brien

He asked - little lady where you flyin?

And what’s causing you to drive so badly?

I said, to church, uhm, that’s the thing

So I can pray and I can sing

But I’ll be late now I sighed, sadly

Ah, Me dear mother Brigitte

Would think of me an eedjit

If I made you miss your Sunday Mass

Go! Take the bread, but NO more wine

And thank the Lord that you are fine

Cuz it’s Friday but I’ll let you take a pass

Cynthia Ann Conciatu

Happy Paczki Day!

2011-03-08T10:33:00.002-05:00

Today, the Tuesday before Lent, is celebrated by those of Polish heritage as Paczki day. These are wonderful dense doughnuts filled with good thick homemade preserves. The word translates to "packet" and is pronounced "punch-key". You'll find faxcimiles at your local grocery store, but they pale in comparison.

If you want the authentic taste you will have to make them yourself, adopt a Polish grandmother, or search out a Polish bakery, arrive early and stand in a long line with the Babusha's to wait your turn at the counter.

The preserves are centered in the middle of the doughnut halves before frying. The authentic Warsaw variety of these delicious treats are made with egg yolks, butter, whipping cream and a little brandy along with the usual salt, sugar, yeast, flour and water. They are hefty and about half as sweet as store-bought.

Covered with a sweet glaze

And properly served on a pretty polish pottery plate.

M-m-m-m-m-m Find some!

Postcard Friendship Friday - Forever Green

2011-02-25T13:00:00.001-05:00

Little cabins nestled among the redwoods at Siskiyou Camp in California.

The card is postmarked 1933, O'Brien Oregon, and reads:

Dear Nettie (Monday)

I am going on this A.M. All fixed up fine. Am feeling only fair. Rather high here for me. Will write when I get to the coast. Love, A. C.

Nettie lives in Medford Oregon. I'm pretty sure A.C. does as well since the card is addressed to Mrs. A.C. Walker. A prominent feature of Medford is Roxy Peak, a 30 million year old dormant volcano.

It sounds as though AC is having health issues. I was afraid he was on his way to Olalla Washington. It's not too far north of O'Brian. A retreat that claimed to cure by starvation was in Olalla during the early 1900's. Linda Burfield Hazzard cured several people to death there.

They all signed their estates and personal items over to her. Well, someone signed the documents. Also their gold teeth and anything else of value. Linda was arrested and convicted of manslaughter in 1912. She served just 2 years and then packed up and moved to New Zealand for a while. In 1920 she came back to Olalla and practiced the starvation cure for another 16 years. Greg Olsen's excellent book, Starvation Heights, tells the history of the "sanitarium" and the plight of the people who came in search of a cure.

Anyway, since AC was headed north and doesn't appear to be going directly home, I was afraid he might have thought a cure was in order for his unspecified ailments.

I chose today's postcard with a photo of coast redwoods (Sequoia Sempervirens) because I saw some in person recently. Sempervirens is latin for ever green, but the word "ever" applies to their longevity as well as their "always green" leaves.

I took this picture at Muir Woods! A magnificent, quiet, beautiful park. This is land that Teddy Roosevelt set aside for all of us to share and enjoy for as long as there are people to come and enjoy it.

I got up close and personal with this beauty. It felt like the tree was hugging me. I hugged a few myself.

It is a dark woods with patches of sunlight that manage to make their way down between the 300 to 375 foot redwoods. There are several varieties of the sequoia genus in the U.S. This variety is the one commonly called "redwood". The other varieties are called sequoia. Redwood is part of the cypress tree family. They do not have resinous sap and do not have a piny scent - or any scent at all.

The cone of the massive coast redwood is about two thirds the size of those shown above. Big trees from little seed cones grow.

Redwood Creek provides background music in the silent forest. Silence persists because there are not enough food sources to attract birds. The tannin in the trees actually repels insects. Only about 50 varieties make their home here including pileated woodpeckers, Steller's jays and northern spotted owls. I only saw one bird, a winter wren, while I was there.

The ground is damp from frequent fogs that roll through. Oyster mushrooms are happy and abundant here on fallen logs.

Jennifer brought me to Muir Woods for the day. It was a contemplative trip. Visitors seem to talk in whispers, but it's because their voices are caught up in the quiet air.

For more postcard voices, stop by and see Beth at The Best Hearts Are Crunchy!

Poetry Bus - Did I Forget Something?

2011-02-22T07:48:00.004-05:00

Our bus driver for this tour is 120 Socks. How she ends up with an even number of socks is a mystery to me. I always have orphan socks that sit alone in the drawer waiting in vain for the mate that disappeared forever, somewhere between my foot and the clothes dryer. The single sock gets to stay on only because I believe in miracles.

The prompts that 120 socks have given us are intriguing -

1. This was one of the first creative prompts I ever received and it proved to be a good one -

I knew a woman who........ or indeed I knew a man who........

(real/fictitious or somewhere in between)

2. The last time I was there...........

(again real,imagined, emotionally felt or pretty well any way you'd like to go with it)

3. The photograph below or the colour Amber.

I've chosen number two - the last time I was there...

Forget-me-nots

I was sitting in a Waffle House
Just outside Peoria
Trying to get some syrup off my elbow
With one of those inadequate tissue napkins that pop out
None at a time
From a black and silver dispenser
Invariably jammed
Between sticky salt and pepper shakers
And a crusty catsup bottle

I wish to God that Estelle
(Her name tag reads)
Would spend more time
Cleaning syrup off chipped Formica table tops
And less time washing leatherette seats
With that sour dishrag
That appears to be universally owned
By every Waffle House in the region

Probably has “Waffle House Midwest”
Stamped on one smelly corner
And makes the rounds by express truck
Arriving three minutes before I do
At any given location

At least I can depend on a good cup of coffee
And a runny egg
If I want one

Reminds me of my mother’s kitchenette table
With that yellow oilcloth cover
Always slightly damp from a sour dishrag
Frayed some around the pinking-sheared edges
Dotted with small blue flowers

Probably forget-me-nots
Must be
Because I haven’t

And those cigarette burns on the corner
Where my father used to sit
And peruse the morning paper
Over his runny eggs

Might as well call the cigarette burns
Forget-me-nots too
Because I haven’t

Cynthia Ann Conciatu

Stop by 120 Socks for more bus riding poetry HERE!

Poetry Bus - Reserved Seating

2011-02-13T13:52:00.011-05:00

Our very own TOTALFECKINEEJIT (Or TFE as we call him or Thomas Francis Edward as the nuns call him "because TOTALFECKINEEJIT isn't even a saint's name, now is it, Mister!") is driving us on Valentine's Day. It's Himself, the very one our mothers warned us about in hushed tones and a wild look of fear in her eyes. Our father's shake aside the evening paper to peer at headlights entering the drive: "Should I offer a drink or just set my '45 on the coffee table." And grandmother, always warning of mashers and libertine's, nervously fingers her cameo brooch while peering over her reading glasses: "Why, he's not even wearing a tie." And yet, we climb aboard because he promises a safe trip. And we'll believe him before we will believe our own mother.

And how do we pay for our ticket? Here's what TFE has to say about that:

" It's Valentine's Day (or it will be on Monday - stop being so technical!), but you don't have to write any love sonnets or Conversation Heart verses. Unless you want to - go for it if that's what's on your mind. I'm listing three different picture prompts below which should hopefully stir some creative juices. I'm sorry that it's on the heels of last week's picture prompt, but not sorry enough to change it."

And so, I've chosen picture number two ~~of the sorry lot~~ and written the first and only thing that came to mind.

(This picture is the property of TFE and/or his neighbor - Dr. M . I'm not sure which. Considering that one or the other may be litigious by nature, I have taken complete leave of my senses and copied, without permission, the picture here.)

Reserved Seating for Valentine's Day

It’s all been said

It’s all been done

Forty-two years of chocolates or

Flowers or

Heart shaped meatloaves

Or "I forgot's"

Find us seated on comfy sofa and

Overstuffed chair rolling

Our eyes at commercials that portend

Chocolate diamonds and open heart pendants

Are the only perfect gifts to portray unending love

When really it comes down to the

Comfy sofa

The overstuffed chair

And those who remain happy seated there

Cynthia Ann Conciatu 2/13/11

That brave few - that band of brothers who have stepped aboard the Poetry Bus may be found seated at TOTALFECKINEEJIT'S

As often happens, I read too fast and missed the part where Dana The Bug is our host today. I'll not change anything I've written - I'll just add Dana's link HERE so you can find the other poem posting passengers without too much mus, fuss or bother!

Sepia Saturday - Wyeth Not?

2011-02-12T00:01:00.004-05:00

I love this picture of the cat waiting outside the kitchen door. It's from a time when cats were utilitarian, so I think it's all about wishful thinking. She can look inside all she wants. but she'll not be invited.

I hear - and see - through the screen the woman of the house kneading bread for dinner. Rolling out dough for pies. Some of her hair has escaped from the bobby-pins and tortoise shell combs hastily applied hours ago when her day started. She's wiping a bit of pastry from her busy hands onto her apron. It's an off white apron that she made from flour sacks just like her dish towels. There's a little spot on her chin but that will have to wait. She rarely has time to look at herself. Just for that moment in the morning when she brushes her hair.

It reminds me of a Wyeth painting. There's a sense of lot going on and a lot to see by the quiet observer.

This is an Andrew Wyeth painting

There's a lot going on - a soft fresh breeze - the first of spring, a warm sun, and billowy curtains that brush your skin as you approach to see what's going on down at the far side of that tractor path.

My picture is not a Wyeth

Mine was taken from this picture.

The half with the cat looks just like a water color. The other half just looks a photo. There's really no one in the house at all. Everyone is outside posing for a last minute picture before Mary and Mark leave to go back to the city. How'd they get all the way to Coldwater anyway? They're 140 miles from home. It's war time. Did they save months and months of gasoline ration cards. Is the railway station nearby? I'm not sure, but I know they got home alright because they were there just a few years later when I was born. And they never mentioned having any problems getting home from Coldwater.

More on Coldwater - and how they got there can be found HERE

Stop by Alan's Sepia Saturday launch silo for more Sepia Saturday fun!

Postcard Friendship Friday - Shadow of a Doubt

2011-02-10T10:21:00.007-05:00

Postcard (c. 1900) of a Burmese Monastery

(Burma is now Myanmar)

Burma Road postcard and stamp. First day of issue.

Burma in the spring of 1942 was a prize coveted by two forces: The Japanese and the Allies. Within Burma's boundaries lay rich mineral and oil reserves. The country also produced major quantities of rice. If the Japanese captured the country, a vital link between China and India would be severed and the two countries would be susceptible to invasions. Unfortunately the Japanese were much better prepared for taking Burma and closing the Burma Road than the Allies were to defend it. In May, 1942, U.S. Lt. General Joseph Stilwell was driven from Burma, but he returned as the head of the Chinese division in October, 1943. An acerbic man who was often at odds with China's Generalissimo Chaing Kai-shek and his own subordinate General Claire Lee Chennault, Stilwell was nonetheless a capable leader. Allied forces thus prevailed partially opening the Burma Road in January, 1945.

Chaing Kai-shek claimed the victory. Stilwell's acerbic comment to that was:

"China has taken Burma. I'll take umbrage."

I love the phrase "take umbrage". It is one of many words and phrases that are drifting into the abandoned warehouses of the English language.

Today Stilwell might have said "Well, like, you know, that dude Chaing Kai-shek goes, 'So Burma is like, you know, mine!' So I go 'Yo! You just disrespected me and I'm like, you know, feeling all dissed about it. Bummer."

Bummer is right. I take umbrage to what passes for today's version of the English language.

Before we take umbrage too far from Burma, let me just say this: Burma-shave! The brushless shaving cream supposedly contained herbs, minerals and oils from Malaysia and Burma. Thus the name.

And now a word about the word umbrage: It comes from the Latin "umber" meaning shadow. In this case the shadow is anger.

Umbrella comes from the same Latin word for shadow

so does "umbel"

like the umbel shaped flowers of the wild carrot called Queen Anne's Lace

Penumbra, Antumbra and umbra describe shadow phases of an eclipse as well as the darkened sunspots on the sun.

And then there's the chemical umbellafirone which is used in sunscreen.

And of course, we would be remiss not to discuss the color, umber, which gets it's name from the brownish red clay in Umbria Italy. There is "raw umber", and then there is "burnt umber" which takes on a brighter reddish hue. It happens when heat is applied to raw umber. This brings other colors to mind - like sienna and burnt sienna. These come from the limonite clay in Siena, Italy. All of these are shades of brown that many of us became familiar with when we opened our first big box of Crayola Crayons.

This stadium seating style box from 1948 contained the first "burnt sienna" crayons.

As you can tell by this post, I'm not one to stay within the lines. Please don't take umbrage.

Instead, take a trip over to visit Beth at The Best Hearts Are Crunchy for more Postcard Friendship Friday Fun. This is Beth's 50th PFF post host!

Sepia Saturday - A Summer Wedding in the Autumn of Their Years

2011-02-05T00:01:00.002-05:00

"Anna Zynda Weds, 1920's. The Wedding photograph of Anna Zynda and Edmund Grocholski took place at the Bellvue Avenue home of her father, brewmaster John Zynda. The grand home is draped in patriotic bunting. The house included a chapel where mass was offered by visiting priests. (Frank Zynda)"

I posted this picture from the book Detroit's Polonia by Cecile Wendt Jensen several months ago along with a lot of who's who and how does this fit into my family tree questions. I did several searches through documents and records on Ancestry.com, looking for Edmund Grocholski, the purported groom, but with no success. It just didn't fit that Edmund Grocholski was the groom based on other information I have. I tried one more time, tracing records (yet again) for Anna Zynda and finally found the connection! The difficulty in finding answers: The groom was identified as Edmond. He is actually my paternal great uncle, Ignatz Grocholski, Edmund's father.

I hope Ignatz enjoyed this day of celebration and had a happy marriage. He certainly deserved it. This was his second marriage. His first, to Helen Goike, produced seven children. Five of their little ones died at birth or in infancy. I found each of the death certificates on http://seekingmichigan.org. Ignatz signed every one of them. Shortly after the 1920 census was taken, Helen died, leaving him with their two remaining children, Lester and Edmund. The census page that I viewed was written and signed by Edmund. He was a clerk for the government, and he was the Census Enumerator for his neighborhood.

Ignatz either had his own beer and soft drink business or worked with/for Brewmaster John Zynda. In 1927 he married John's eldest daughter, Anna. She was 43 at the time of the wedding and this was her first and only marriage.

With no further clues about the wedding, I was able to make some educated guesses about the participants in the photo:

Ignatz the groom is standing just to the left of his bride. The young boy standing next to him appears to be about 10 years old and is probably his young son, Lester.

I've circled five suspected Grocholski's seated to the right of the bride. As you look from your left to right these are my guesses: Ignatz - nephew of the groom and youngest son of Stanilaus; Stanislaus, brother of the groom and my paternal great grandfather; Rozalia Stanley's wife, my great grandmother; Frances my maternal great grandmother or perhaps a sister of Ignatz; Edmund, the eldest son of the groom.

The young man sitting in the first row may be also be a Grocholski, but I'm not even guessing who he might be. He may be a brother of the bride.

I've also circled Anna's father, John Zynda and his 2nd wife. John's first wife, and the mother of his 9 children died. He traveled to Poland and met and married his 2nd wife.

I've mailed a letter to the Zynda decendent who is the current owner of this picture. I'm hoping that someone wrote names on it. Based on my own experience of hundreds of unnamed and undated photos I'm not very optimistic, but it's worth a try.

A final word about Anna and Ignatz: I found them in the 1930 census. They were living in Detroit, and Lester - now 13 was living with them. They also listed a 2 1/2 year old daughter, Delphine. I found a passport application for the family. They were planning to travel to Poland to visit relatives of both their families.

I'm pretty sure this was a marriage of love and not of convenience, as many 2nd marriages were back then, and I hope they enjoyed many happy years together.

Stop by Alan Burnett's place for more Sepia Saturday links

Postcard Friendship Friday - Tell Us What You Really Think About Coldwater

2011-02-03T09:21:00.007-05:00

My last post talks about a family picture taken around 1942 in Coldwater, Michigan. I know my great uncle Frank lived there for a time and he enjoyed hunting and fishing. The Coldwater river runs south of the city and there are plenty of lakes and open land around the area - including Coldwater Lake so he had plenty of access to his favorite pastimes. Uncle Frank wore flannel shirts and smelled of gunpowder and fish bait - but in a good way. His skin was weathered from the wind and sun and he had a gruff voice and a hearty laugh. He was less than a traditionalist, and there were hushed conversations about his private life that I was not privy to. Otherwise I would have another paragraph of interesting tidbits right here.

I couldn't find much about the history of Coldwater or what it's like there, but I did find this 1949 postcard with a candid opinion about the little city.

It reads: This is a jerk town but we found a nice place. Will be back Sunday.

Well, there it is. Well said. Tell us what you really think.

Coldwater lies just 12 miles north of Indiana and was easily accessible by rail back in the 1940's. This station was a stopping place and had a cafe and, hopefully, restrooms inside.

Mary and Mark (wearing hats and ready to hit the road) took a trip out there to visit their Uncle Frank and his family. Continue down to my previous post, Wyeth Not, to find out more about this picture!

Stop by Beth Niquette's The Best Hearts Are Crunchy for more Postcard Friendship Friday links

Postcard Frienship Friday - Shakey History

2011-01-27T21:15:00.008-05:00

Postcard of San Francisco City Hall as it looked just prior to the 1906 earthquake

This massive building takes up a full two city blocks in the civic center area of San Francisco.

After the 1906 earthquake it looked like this

Reconstruction began 1913

The writer of this 1915 message appears to be a bit confused. He seems to think he is in Boston. Perhaps he is just telling a story of his whereabouts to Miss Irene - he figures she doesn't get off of Prince Edward Island all that much. He's banking that she'll not notice the postmark or check her geography book and see Boston is nowhere near San Francisco. Never was. Not before the earthquake and not after.

Construction was completed in time for the World's Panama Pacific exposition in 1915

1915 view (Boston is 3,100 miles due east)

More reconstruction was required after the 1986 earth quake caused further damage and twisted the dome 4 inches on it's base. It has since received a seismic upgrade that prevents the dome from acting like a pendulum in response to seismic waves.

View on of January 14, 2011 while I admired the beauty of the historic building in person.
105 years after the earthquake. Looks quite sturdy to me!

The amazing night view! The dome is bathed in cornflower blue and silvery white

Here's to bridging the past and the present

Happy Postcard Friendship Friday!

Stop by The Best Hearts Are Crunchy! for more PFF Posts!

Sepia Saturday - Happy New Year!

2011-01-01T10:55:00.004-05:00

New Year Greetings from the Overlook Hotel

Lloyd the Bartender took this shot of New Years revelers in the ballroom of the Overlook Hotel. Delbert Grady can be seen at the lower left. The colorful balloons say "redrum". Stay out of room 237.

Having no known sepia photos of New Years Eve celebrations I did then next best thing and swiped this photo from flickr.com. Problem is, it reminded me of a scene from The Shining. Perhaps my blood sugar is a bit low or I should have slept an hour longer or, to quote Scrooge, a bit of undigested oatmeal perhaps. Or it could be the thought of the 146 televised football bowl games scheduled for today and tomorrow. Probably that's it.

Whatever the case, enjoy Sepia Saturday Selebrations HERE

Have a Healthy and Happy New Year!

Postcard Friendship Friday - Happy New Year!

2010-12-31T17:37:00.008-05:00

I chose this beautiful postcard because of the lovely forget-me-not's and because it celebrates a century old New Year.

The message fits the flowers. The mysterious "L" says to Miss Effie: "Don't think I have forgotten you because I have not. Have been out of town for some time."

This is a loaded message - or perhaps unloaded. Just where has "L" been? Is he in the Merchant Marines? Foreign Legion? Waylaid by pirates? Off to jail for embezzlement? Married someone else and on his honeymoon?

And what about Miss Effie. Had she set her hat for "L" when they were introduced at Miss Eugenia Monswatt's Annual Autumn Fest Dinner Dance? Did he write his name on her dance card? Did Eugenia intentionally seat them next to each other at dinner?

Perhaps Miss Effie has already hinted to a friend or two that she has a suitor. Watched the empty mail box for the past 3 months. Been making table cloths and pillow cases for her hope chest. Obviously "L" has said something to lead Miss Effie on.

According to Mapquest, "L" is only about 15 miles southwest of Effie's abode. If the ferry is running, and he gets an early start in his new automobile he can arrive in plenty of time to take her to dinner on New Year's Day. I think he should, don't you? Miss Effie awaits. Does he have reservations?

Happy New Year Bloggyfriends!

A New Years wish from me to you:

God bless your year
Your coming in
Your going out
Your rest
Your traveling about
The rough
The smooth
The bright
The drear
God bless your year

(Anonymous)

Thank you to Beth at The Best Hearts Are Crunchy for hosting our Postcard Friendship Fridays! Looking forward to another year of fun!

Poetry Bus Stops HERE. A Rare Gift

2010-12-26T12:10:00.014-05:00

The Bus Stops HERE

Climb on board

Find a seat

And here we go!

Thank you to our own

TOTALFECKINEEJIT

for entrusting me with Monday's poetry challenge.

I'll make it as easy as possible, as most of you are in line at the (point of no) Returns Counter, being verbally abused by Misty Sue, Asst. Mgr. (Waddya mean dis ain't like the right size?)

So, while you're standing there, put your time to good use and write a poem - any style - about the worst, most useless, most disturbing, most painful, least wanted, most embarrassing, most inappropriate, or stupidest gift you ever received (or gave - if you're brave), all the while hoping that Great Aunt Mildew isn't reading your Poetry Bus blog. She'll disinherit you (again) when you complain, in verse of some sort, long or short, about the (yet another) Christmas sweater made of the yarn she's kept in the attic since 1887. Or perhaps you recall the little gee gaw that your new Mother-in-law

picked up for you while vacationing in Haus Frau, Idaho.

.It was, of course, nicely wrapped in reused (and used again and again (watch the tape, Dearie) and again paper.

You look up from the ( ?WHAT The F#%@* IS IT?) and attempt a smile (although your left eye is twitching) and see that she is waiting for a (I'm at a loss for words) (when's garbage day) response.

And say: " Uhm, ah, JustwhatI'vealwayswanted. Thankyoueverso (Benny, would you run and get Mumsie another drinkie-poo. That's a dear)"

That doesn't sound too difficult, does it? Sorry about the Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome that has suddenly surfaced.

Don't feel like the lone ranger. I haven't written mine yet. It's too painful to discuss. But I'll give my therapist a ring and have her bolster me up.

So write it all down, have a drink and I'll see you on the bus. When you're ready to board leave a note with your link and I'll post the list.

>>><<< >
And here it is. Not the "amusing rhyming whitty ditty I imagined, but a prose poem:

A Gift From Mother

Mother excelled in providing me with quality embarrassing moments. Seemed to enjoy and skillfully employ her craft like an inappropriate all occasion card. Moments that still prick at my skin like quills escaping from what could have been, should have been, a comfy down pillow. There was that birthday. I was an innocent uninformed twelve. Hard to imagine now what it was like to be twelve back then. Budding into young womanhood. In need of coverage and support. Surrounded by father and brothers all waiting expectantly for loosed ribbon and tape to allow escape of gifts from white tissue. I don’t recall now what they contained except for that last one. I wondered at it as it unfolded beneath my fingertips. Blouse or scarf or slip perhaps or… what…a bra? A bra. My first bra. Gifted. Lifted high as it unfolded in front of male eyes and the mirthful sounds of snorts and hoots and snickers. She’s no longer here. I cannot ask why she chose this public venue. Was she aiming arrows back at her mother? A kind of original sin explained and retained for another generation. Cake anyone?

Riding the bus today are these "gifted" gifted poets:

Peter Goulding

Doctor FTSE

Titus

Ann T

Dick Jones

Jinksy

Dave King

NanU

Mrs. Trellis

Domestic Oub

The Bug

Nuts4fruits

Kat

Argent

Helen

Totalfeckineejit

Lucy Westenra

Postcard Friendship Friday And Sepia Saturday - Merry Christmas!

2010-12-23T23:34:00.011-05:00

Merry Christmas Bloggy friends!

From me

and my Mister!

The story of these 62 year old pictures is right here

A Christmas Story

I've chosen my favorite postcard artist for these lovely Christmas postcards

Catherine Klien's beautiful Mistletoe with luminous berries and leathery fuzzy leaves.

A 99 year old Christmas wish

Catherine Klein's Pears with a Merry Christmas wish

Her pears look warm from the sun. If we touch them they will give slightly under the pressure of our fingers - juicy and ripe for picking.

An 85 year old Christmas wish and postmark that says British Goods Are Best.

Have a wonderful Christmas everyone!

Postcard Friendship Friday is hosted by Beth HERE

And Sepia Saturday, hosted by Alan is HERE

Poetry Bus Uncorked

2010-12-13T14:08:00.007-05:00

Helen at Poetry Matters is driving today! I chose the first of two challenges - the essence vessel.

Essence

Challenged to fill

a vessel with my very God blessed soul

crushed rosemary and rain wind

come to mind and

dew beaded garden webs

lit by a fingernail moon

raked by clouds that light around the edge

as they fly by

and a hummingbird feather

a blue one that rhymes with sapphire

a piece of quiet

a pinch of penny

royal

wishful thinking

for souls are light and airy and scented of the earth

and poems and paint and paper butterflies

so unlike the outer shell that rarely cracks

enough to free the fanciful fireflies within

oh, and smelling salts for those

who deal with the often obtuse outer me

Cynthia Conciatu 2010

Poetry Bus - Living Water

2010-11-30T10:02:00.003-05:00

Ooooh I am very late for the Poetry Bus! I was so busy painting yesterday I forgot to be at the bus stop on time for posting!

Dana at Bug's Eye View listed several prompts for this weeks poem. I chose the first:

In the first chapter of Isaiah God is having a fit. Quit giving me burnt offerings! Stop trampling my courts! Why do you even think I want that stuff? I am weary of bearing them… Wash yourselves! And then in verse 18 God says, "Come now, let us argue it out…" (NRSV) Now, you might not be a religious person, but I'm sure that even so you have wanted to argue with God (or Allah or the sun or your own super ego) in some manner. If you choose this prompt I'd like you to tell us about that argument.

Praying For Rain

My thoughts are as dry as the grass

They crackle underfoot and

Swirl about with the dust

While my eyes consider each cloud

For rain potential

The drought extends beyond the weather

And meager moisture is not enough to drink

The spirit begins to whither within me

It curls like parched leaves

And recedes with the water in the pond

Leaving an expanded beach around it

That only if I were not so thirsty

I might explore for revealed possibilities

Instead I listen for distant thunder

And test the wind for improvement

Until I finally reach out

To God

And discover yet again the

Living Water that falls like rain

Pouring hope upon the desert I

Have withdrawn to until in it’s fullness

It spills forth in streams that lead me back

To the knowledge that He will let it rain

When it is time

And all my thirst beyond my need

For Him

Is self induced

And ill advised

Cynthia Ann Conciatu

Stop by Dana's place for more Poetry Bus passenger presentations!

Postcard Friendship - You Must Remember This

2010-11-26T10:47:00.006-05:00

Today in History, November 26, 1943, the Warner Bros; film, Casablanca was released and went on not only to become the Academy Award winning movie for the year, but also one of the greatest films of all times.

Captain Renault:[to Ilsa] I was informed that you were the most beautiful woman ever to visit Casablanca. That was a *gross* understatement.

A perfect pairing of Humphrey Bogart as Rick, a cynical ex-patriot and saloon owner in Casablanca and Ingrid Bergman as the beautiful Ilsa the only woman he ever loved unexpectedly reunited and trapped in Casablanca.

Capt Renault: What in heaven's name brought you to Casablanca?
Rick: My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.
Capt. Renault: The waters? What waters? We're in the desert.
Rick: I was misinformed.

The film, although not historically accurate, was filmed during WWII, coincidentally on the heals of the American invasion of Nazi occupied North Africa. The film was all but completed when the invasion took place.

Rick: ...it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.

Rather than rewrite - which would have meant most of the film would have to be chucked into the waste-bin, it was decided to continue with the story as told and mention the American invasion along with the sounds of canon fire. The tension implied in the film, of trapped people trying to get out of Europe ahead of and in spite of the Nazi's, brought home the reality of the times to the audience.

As it was, most of the script was being written or rewritten during the filming. The ending scene was rewritten several times, and after the picture was thought to be complete, Bogart and Henreid were called back to add the "final" final scene.

Major Strasser: We have a complete dossier on you: Richard Blaine, American, age 37. Cannot return to his country. The reason is a little vague. We also know what you did in Paris, Mr. Blaine, and also we know why you left Paris.
[hands the dossier to Rick]
Major Strasser: Don't worry, we are not going to broadcast it.
Rick: [reading] Are my eyes really brown?

The perfect pairing

Rick: Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.

If you've not seen this film, please do. You'll appreciate the timeless filming in dramatic shadow and light, and ingenious orchestration of music, the wartime requirement costumes by Orry-Kelly, made of cotton and without unnecessary zippers or metal pins. The closing airport scene uses a small scale cardboard cutout of the airplane meant to take Ilsa and Rick out of Casablanca. The director, Frank Capra, wanted men "working" on the plane to make the scene more realistic. Midgets were used so the airplane would appear to be scale.

Capt Renault: Ricky, I'm going to miss you. Apparently you're the only one in Casablanca with less scruples than I.

Wartime censorship and restrictions and moral censorship affected the filming, costuming, script and location shots at every turn. Everything normally used in building a movie set was needed for the war effort. Saving nails, using materials from other sets, renting bamboo chairs for the bar scenes was a necessity. Censorship by the military meant no filming at bridges, tunnels, or most landmarks including airports. Moral censorship made script changes necessary - innuendo was used to tell many of the side stories.

Senor Farrari: Might as well be frank, monsieur. It would take a miracle to get you out of Casablanca, and the Germans have outlawed miracles.

In the original script Rick was to kill an unarmed Major Strasser. However, having the hero kill anyone in cold blood - even a Nazi - would not get past the censors. The Major was given a gun in that scene. The same scene shows one of the major "goofs" in the filming as the epaulets on Major Strasser's coat disappear and reappear between shots

Louis, I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!

My sources for this post include my multiple viewings of Warner Brother's, Casablanca, the book, Casablanca Behind the Scenes, by Harlan Lebo, www.imdb.com, and, of course, Wikipedia.

Here's looking at you, kid!

Stop by and visit our host, Beth Niquette at The Best Hearts Are Crunchy for more Postcard Friendship Friday fun!

Poetry Bus Rides in the Ice Age

2010-11-21T18:43:00.003-05:00

Our Poetry Bus driver this week, Enchanted Oak, has charged us with this assignment:

"This week I provide the prompt for the world-famous Poetry Bus, created by the world’s most famous blogger, Totalfeckineejit. For bus tickets this week, I have decided to require…

Poems that address your existence on this earth. Good, bad, or indifferent, tell us something, anything, about your life here."

I changed my ticket slightly and wrote about existence in general. I revamped a poem I wrote about 10 years ago.

I've long ago stopped wondering about my existence and instead wonder, if having had the opportunity to exist, will I be remembered when I am gone. Or rather, will I have done something in life to deserve being remembered.

Ice Age

While reflecting upon the meaning

Of our existence

As countless others have before me

I’ve determined the enlightened

Who find purpose in our being

Are just as right

As those naysayers who do not

And the stoics who walk the median

Cloaked neither in hope nor in despair

For we are but faint tracings in the snow

That drift in time and melt away

And disappear into the warmth of an endless spring

Some of us, however, leave footsteps as we pass

That are firm enough to endure

Beyond their season

Pressed solid by the weight of goodness

And fixed deep within the earth

To become the path of others

Cynthia Ann Conciatu

Stop by Enchanted Oak for more existential musings!