I remember exactly where I was: in Miss Wigglesworth's fourth grade classroom at the brand new, River Road campus of the Holton-Arms School. Miss Lurton came over the loudspeaker and announced that "the President has been shot." (She didn't use the word "assassinated.") We were instructed to move to our school buses and we would be taken home. I remember that George, the bus driver, was crying. Seeing this handsome, tall African-American man with tears streaming down his face was my undoing. I was scared. When I got home my Father was already there in his tiny study with the television streaming live coverage from Texas. I was so glad to curl up in a ball on the floor and be near my parents.
John F. Kennedy at the Rice Hotel, Houston TX, November 21, 1963
I guess that after I made a huge error at work and found only three people to console me, I lost a bit of motivation to be creative. Thanks to the support of a few, I have navigated forward but not without constant second guessing my performance.
So: time to change the subject.
Here is a photo attributed to Charles Belden. My father and his family took a trip to Wyoming, I believe it was in 1934, the year he graduated from St. Mark's School. The ranch would have been the Pitchfork Ranch. All of this is rather vague but for the signatures on the photographs. Note the detail in the chaps on the cowboy on the left.
This is the signature on the photos either on the front or the back:
And this is my Dad as a teenager on the dude ranch in the 30s:
At great expense, I am starting to have the photographs framed. More on that later.
Long over due for a post, I thought I would show this map of the Palisades from 1903. (After all, the title of this blog is named for my neighborhood.) The Shugrue family farm is there and Mr. Glover's property, too. I remember he had donkeys on his land across from Georgetown Hospital well into the 1970s. Apparently he was grandfathered-in to the no-farm-animals-in-DC law.
In the upper left, close to the Maryland line, there is a plot of land called "Girls Reform School." I wonder what that is all about?
Today was her last day. Sweet (girly!) girl: Gracie, AKA Princess Grace. Dainty. Elegant. Feminine. My Molly and Grace were puppies together and such great pals. She had a tough couple of days. Molly doesn't know but she saw me cry, so she knows something's up. Yup, up in doggie heaven - that is - chasing cheese balls and pork chops with the other puppies. Love to her and her grieving companion, my friend.
My neighbor recently located his very first car. Not just a replica, but the actual car. He kept track via the VIN number. An Alpha Romeo made in 1967 or 1968; I believe it's a a 1300 "Junior". He last owned it 1970. Amazing.
Such great design: both in the body of the car but in all aspects... such as the logo.
Now, as I start to get older I, too, yearn for things from my childhood and adolescent years which are currently
considered "vintage" but were contemporary when I was little (like all cotton dresses, tin lunchoxes, S & H Greenstamps...you get my drift...) These are the things that make me feel comfortable now and the things that young people look at as antiques. Egads.
Um. Is this what they call a "Mid. Life. Crisis." ? Um, yeah, I think so.