Patriotic Day

Patriotic Day

photo

Friday was Patriotic Day, winding up a week of different themes at Cardiac Rehab. Again, the lady on the treadmill just had to be the winner for the best costumes. Her sparkling red, white, and blue top hat left glitter around, but it looked great! A trail of fairy dust, I teased.

I wore my blue shorts and blue t-shirt with a spangled Lady Liberty. Also I wore dangly star earrings and a matching necklace. Those of you who went to HHS will remember my denim stars and stripes shirt that I wore on patriotic occasions, and also when I needed to keep warm! I loaned it to one of the therapists while we took the picture. It still comes in handy. It's too hot for the Fourth of July, which is what I bought it for, but great for cold days.

It was kind of a quiet day Friday with not as many people there. I guess some were sick and some were taking a long weekend.

Two of the therapists showed their skills with hula hoops and encouraged some of us, who were not using machines, to try their hand with the hula hoops. I thought that these things were after my time! I was grown and this was something that the kids played with, way back when!

I took my sketchbooks of my experiences, since some had said they had not seen them. But only one therapist took a little time to look at some of these sketches. They were busy helping people set machines, watching monitors, taking blood pressure, checking people in and out, taking care of some folks who didn't feel so good.

As I look around at the other people, sometimes I wonder what I'm doing there. I think I am so much better off than those who have had their chests cut open for heart surgery, are on oxygen, etc. My one little stent and high blood pressure, etc. seem pretty minor. Oh, well. It gets me out of the house and gives me something to do-playing "P.E. person"!

Hopefully, it's going to keep me from having futher problems. I'm going to be so "in shape" after "pumping iron"!

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It's one thing after another. Monday, I'm having a place cut out of my back. They did a biopsy and said they took it out before. But, last week, the dr. said it is still there and the next step is to cut it out. He said they will deaden it, and there will be lots of stitches, in two layers. They aren't going to put me to sleep. I thought that surely they would!

The dr. said that your skin is like a Pine Tree!
"What?" I thought.

"You get a little spot or imperfection and it's like a knothole in a tree. Other spots then cluster around it."

I don't like moles or knotholes in my skin. I was hoping he would take them all off, but he keeps saying, "We'll leave that one alone." So places I would like to have removed are still with me. I can't see the one he is taking off next week. I can only see a bit of a purple spot on my back, sideways in the mirror.

I just know that this"place" is from one of the sunburns I got when I was younger. In particular, I remember having a horrible sunburn, with bad blisters, when I was in high school at the end of the year.

Mrs. Sullivan, the homemaking teacher, arranged for us homemaking girls to have a day at the Country Club. It was too cold to swim, but we wore our bathing suits, hoping to swim. It was sunny, though, so we took sunbaths around the pool. I got the choice spot on the diving board. I went to sleep and spent the morning " getting a tan".

When we went into the club house to eat, then go home, my skin felt stiff and prickly. I put on my jeans for the ride home, and they really rubbed my legs.

I was staying with Pappy, then. When she saw my back and legs, she got some Hinds Honey Almond lotion to rub on my back and legs. By then, I was bright red, especially on my back side.

She put that cold lotion on me and I felt like I was going to faint. I begged her to stop and I lay on the bedroom floor. That hurt even worse because the floor was covered with a wool rug!

Blisters formed all over my back side from my legs to my neck.

That night, there was a softball game in the park, that I just had to go to. Pappy wanted me to stay at home, but I persisted. She tore white sheets for bandages to cover my burns, and fastened those with big safety pins. I had to go to the ball game, wearing those under my peasant blouse and circle skirt. But I went to the game to be with my friends, and look for cute boys! I was a bit embarrassed and a whole lot miserable with all those blisters.

Eventually, it got better, and there were more times of getting blistered while trying to make my fair skin tan over the years.

Anyway, that's what I think of when I think of these "knots" on my back and skin. It just had to be that day at the Country Club, so long ago. Plus a few other days of sunbathing.

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Plan to join the 26th World Wide Sketch Crawl Saturday Feb. 27th

in Calvert, meet at Mud Creek Pottery on Main St.

in Bryan, meet at the Clara Mounce Library at 9 a.m. (downtown)

meet by the bell, or, if it's bad weather, meet by the entrance on the south

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Fathers Day First Day of Summer

Cowgirls

family photo

Cecelia, Barbara, Alfred, Flicka in yard of A.L. Keeling

Calvert High School in background

HAPPY FATHERS DAY to all you fathers out there.

Daddy liked to barbeque on holidays in his later years. Fathers Day was one of those days. I don't remember that we particularly celebrated Fathers Day in the past, other than to let Daddy barbeque, or we might have had our usual Sunday family dinner with red roast and red gravy, for all the fathers and men in the family. Of course, this was after church at Sneed Memorial Methodist Church in Calvert.

Daddy had his own way of barbequeing and wasn't about to change. The meat was kind of heavy on the lighter fluid and burned on the outside. But he was not about to let those coals burn down some before he put the meat on the grill, then added more lighter fluid when the fire burned down. We just scraped the charred part off the outside, and ate plenty of bread, corn on the cob, and Coca Cola to wash it down-or else! We didn't dare to complain about it much.

Daddy would place the little barbeque pit outside the back door, and park himself on a camp stool beside the pit. He wore his khakis, hat, and boots, and grinned a lot while he sweated in the sun, occasionally turning the meat. Mama boiled corn and sliced tomatoes in the kitchen. Sometimes she added deviled eggs and potato salad to the meal. (I didn't like those, though, so I got charred meat, corn, tomatoes, and bread and lots of sop!)

The photo above is of Daddy with the horse he bought for us, Flicka. Barbara is in his arms, and I am the one with the cap pistol in the holster. I wanted to be a cowboy and ride the range with Tim (Holt) when I grew up. It's kind of funny that I have my cap pistol, and am wearing a skirt-not a cowgirl type of skirt, either. (We couldn't wear boys jeans either. We had our own girls jeans with a side zipper, if we got to wear jeans at all.) Maybe this was after school, and I came home and strapped on my "gun", hoping to ride the horse.

I don't think we ever did get to ride Flicka. (Poor ole horse!) When Daddy bought her, she had a cut foot from trying to jump a barbed wire fence. The owner was starting to break her, but the foot healing was going to take a while. Daddy had to doctor that foot for a long time. Poor old horse even got screw worms in the wound. Daddy put some kind of thick, gooey black stuff on the wound several times a day. And then there was carrying hay to the pen and dragging a hose to put water in a wash tub for Flicka.

At one point, Daddy had to have foot surgery and was on crutches for 2 years. So Mama had to take over taking care of Flicka. During one snowey, icey spell, Mama came in the house and realized she had lost the diamonds from her rings in the hay! She was most distressed!

Finally, the horse's foot was better and she was ready for training. But, on Halloween night, some boys let Flicka out of her pen, and, as she left through the gate, the boys poured oil on her back. (They also rolled our big dog house down the street.) Daddy was still on crutches, and he was really mad. And even more so when he found Flicka, with big blisters on her back from the oil being heated by the sun. Now, we had to wait for the blisters to heal before anyone could ride Flicka.

Finally, the day arrived and Daddy put the blanket, saddle, and bridle on the horse. He was going to break the horse himself! Barbara and I stayed back, fearing that the horse would run over us or do like the wild horses in the movies.

We watched as Daddy got on and gave a little nudge with his foot. Daddy's face turned red, then white with terror. Away Flicka ran, across the lawn, down the street, and disappeared toward Main Street dowtown. We screamed for Mama and anyone to help!

Eventually, Daddy returned, leading Flicka. The horse had run all the way to town and Daddy couldn't stop her.

Daddy put Flicka in the pen and, the next day, he started looking for a new home for Flicka.

We were broken hearted that our horse was sold, and we never got to be close to her, or even ride her. There went our cowgirl dreams.

But, our neighbor, Mr. Porter, was manager of a large ranch in the Brazos Bottom, and was a real cowboy. He brought a horse in to keep in our pen. One that we could ride and care for. A very nice quarter horse, but that's another story.

I'm sure that Daddy probably grew up in a time where people were still riding horses and driving in buggies and wagons. And, of course, he always worked around cattle. He had confidence that he could do most anything and tried it-his way.

Anyway, that's one story about Daddy. I remember being really small with Daddy. Since I had the episode with the steps at Sneed Memorial Methodist Church in Calvert a couple of weeks ago, one memory is of Daddy carrying me up the steep inside steps at the church. He would sing "Rock A Bye Baby"-his way, with his deep voice. He sang the words, but when the tune was supposed to go up, he would go down. I'm sure he knew the correct way to sing those songs, but he just had to do it his way.

And Happy First Day of Summer!

As Bob French has been saying on the weather forecast, we've already been having summer for a while. Temperatures around 100 degrees and not a drop of rain. Cerulean blue skies with puffy white clouds. Grass is dead or dying and the ground is like sand. One good thing is that my "jungle" doesn't need mowing!

Stay Coool!

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I just read on the "Eagle" website that Mrs. Shook died. My sympathies and prayers go out to her and her family. She was a friendly lady, and a former coworker. I know that she will be missed by many. I am so sorry that she was so sick for so long. You can read a nice obituary for her in the Bryan College Station Eagle today.

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Calvert Trojan

8.5" x 11"

ink

I drew a lot of these as a student at Calvert High School, years ago. I thought I would try it again when I set up a group on Facebook and another on Yahoo for former students of CHS.

I noticed that the official logos drawn by other students and companies do not show a chin piece on the armor. However, I distinctly remember drawing that piece to cover the chin and connecting to another piece over the ear.

The bottom drawing is my first one done last week. I thought it came out looking too feminine, so I drew it again. This time, I tried to be more conscious of giving him stronger features and making the lines more bold. I used a Pitt pen on both drawings, but went over the lines with a Sharpie marker on the top drawing. It shows up much better that way. Maybe I will do it again and add some color.

I looked back at my two old yearbooks for 1953 and 1954 to see if I had one of my Trojan drawings in there. But, the Trojan drawing was a stock logo, in one; and, in the one where I was art editor, Jimmy M. did the drawing of the Trojan. I did a Trojan horse with the football team, and the end piece with two graduates on it.

I guess I have a male and a female Trojan in my drawings above!

These are on 8.5" x 11" paper.

If you went to Calvert High School, you might check out joining CHS_Trojans on Yahoo or Calvert High School Trojans Alumni on Facebook. Click on the buttons in my sidebar to join.

You can share your pictures, stories, and memories on those sites, as a member.

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I read an interesting blog entry today on Journeys in Art. One of my favorite movies is "Lust For Life", the story of artist Vincent Van Gogh. I have watched that over and over for years, along with "The Agony and the Ecstacy".

This blog talked about the latest research that points to Gaugin cutting off Van Gogh's ear lobe with a sword during an argument.

Check out http://journeysinart.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-really-happened-to-van-goghs-ear.html

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Greta Watkins is preparing her portraits of people in downtown Bryan to show June 5 at Art 979. This is a part of Art Step, the downtown Art Walk. The address is Art 979/Village Cafe, 210 W. 26th Street in downtown Bryan. Village Cafe features organic food from locally grown produce for breakfast and lunch.

Greta is the owner of The Frame Gallery in downtown Bryan.

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Also coming up in June is the Texas Scottish Festival in Arlington June 5-7. Click on the logo in my sidebar and that will take you to their webpage with schedules and more.

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And the Texas Reds Festival is another big event in downtown Bryan in June. See my sidebar for more events and dates.

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Save the Calvert City Hall!!!!!!!!

More Victorian Tea, Gala, Street Fair Pics

Yesterday, I promised more photos from the Victorian Tea, Gala, and Street Fair in Calvert. I still haven't got my slideshow working, so I'm posting separate images. I finally was able to put these in the order that I wanted by writing down the pictures that I wanted to select, then adding them in reverse order. There is probably a better way.

I realized that it was Pearl Harbor Day and I just had to recognize this day in our history, first. So, now, I'm doing a second post with more photos.

1. Claudia Idelisse Garcia- posing for Eve Myles. Claudia appeared to be a perfect model, sitting in a ladylike pose for so long. Her beautiful outfit made this a striking possibility for a portrait to paint. Claudia is the daughter of Lee Garcia, editor of "Tea In Texas" magazine, http://www.teaintexas.com/ . Note: The wall that was being propped up behind Claudia, has been torn down. Hopefully, the new owners are going to be able to rebuild and keep the original character of the building.

2. Savanna's Mom Takes A Break- at one of the sidewalk tables of Zamykal Kolache Shop. I was interested in the way her apron draped, and the way that she touched her hair in a little breeze. I've already posted a sketch of that, just after the event.

3. Three Beautiful Ladies- joined us for the afternoon and evening. They just happen to be our cousins, Mel, Emma, and Olivia. This was the first time that we met the girls, and one of the few times that we have visited with Mel. So much time to cover and so few hours in the day. We hope to get together again soon!

4. Franz Home-This home belongs to someone else, now, but, back when Mel's grandmother was growing up, this was her home. At that time, it was the home of Roger, Virgie, and Joyce Franz. It's always been an interesting house, with it's gingerbread style trim and upstairs windows. This is one that I never have been in, although it was once a great-uncle's home. Maybe I did go in there when I was really small and just don't remember it.

5. Parish House- This Queen Anne style home has been very popular in Calvert. The fireplace with the window, porches, gingerbread, etc. are intriguing. It is now a b&b, but, was a private home. Restoration was completed by the latest owner. Also on the grounds is a fascinating carriage house that has been restored and offers a place to stay, along with the rooms in the main house. This house had beautiful woodwork inside, as I remember it when the Carters were working on it.

6. The Neighborhood- This picture shows the street leading to Calvert High School. When we were in school, the basement floor was elementary school, the second floor was middle school, and the third floor was high school. We had fairly small classes, so it worked out well. I always wondered where people went when they finished all the floors! It's a great old building, sturdy and actually looks like a school.

When they had the Victorian Tea, Gala, and Street Fair, Barbara and I took our sketching materials for our own mini Sketch Crawl and sat on a bench outside Zamykal Kolaches, and drew until we were joined by Mel and her daughters. Then we played tourist and drove around town, to show Mel a bit of where her grandmother lived, and other relatives, and also points of interest. We spent some time going over sketches and photos, talked of family history, before going our separate ways. We all stopped in Hearne at Johnny Reb's Dixie Cafe, for supper and a few pictures.

I hope that you got to go to the Christmas Tour of Homes. You can look on the Calvert, Texas website, or click on the bandstand picture in my sidebar, to see when the next event will be.

7. Larry's Place and the Bank- Main Street, Calvert-This is where we found a shady spot to sit and sketch. The building with the porches has been remodeled and looks very different from the way it once was. At one time, the upstairs was Dr. Wade's office. There was a tin overhang instead of the porch.

Calvert is a lovely place to sketch, paint, write, etc. Come join us, sometime! Look at the upcoming events for more information about the next Sketch Crawl, and the next Plain Aire Painting Workshop with Virginia Vaughan.

Hot Night At Toot's

Hot Night at Toot's

8.5" x 11"

pencil

Public Service Announcement:

Click on the picture of the Bolivar Lighthouse in my sidebar, at the top of the page, and that will take you to the KTRK tv website.

I've been watching this station a lot since Hurricane Ike headed our way. It seemed to be about the only station with 24/7 complete coverage. And, I discovered that they have live streaming broadcasts that you can watch on the computer, even if you are not in their broadcast area. That should help those who are displaced, and those who are interested and concerned.

Under the lighthouse photo, I have listed some places where you can get Hurricane Ike news.

These are the tv stations that I have been watching. KPRC has some excellent videos, touring the area, and sometimes they, too, have live streaming broadcasts that you can watch on your computer.

KHOU has a message board and pictures, but I haven't found that they have live streaming broadcasts.

KBTX is our local station and they have been giving more coverage than the national news.

I also put a link to the Galveston County Daily News. They are publishing from Texas City, apparently. Their building in Galveston was damaged, but they are getting the paper out still.

Check out Virgina Vaughan's blog for some of her Galveston area paintings. You can find the link under Artists and Authors in my sidebar.

With so many people without power, all over this part of Texas, I decided to show a drawing that I did a few weeks ago when our air conditioner went out. It was a long few days before they could come replace it. We felt like we were going to expire before the new unit arrived!

I remember how it was before we ever had air conditioning. Even fans were rare when I was growing up.

The pencil drawing above, shows one hot night when I was spending the night across the street from my house, with my great-aunt, "Toot". That isn't her real name, of course. It's what we called her. Her husband was known as "Honey".

"My" bedroom at Toot's was the guest bedroom on the back of the house, northeast corner. Toot loved her home and her yard and worked very hard on both. She was very proud of the Magnolia trees that she planted in her yard, along with her roses, ferns, and other plants. There was a young Magnolia tree outside "my" bedroom windows on the east side. (It was my bedroom when I visited. Otherwise, it was the guest bedroom.)

Toot had redecorated this room and had a small closet added in one corner. There was a french door between the bedrooms and there was a window shade that covered the glass in the door for privacy.

The bed, dresser, and chest appeared to be around 1920s or earlier furniture. She married in 1913, so, perhaps, they had come with the house. In remodeling, Toot had someone cut off the bottoms of the legs on the bed to lower it. She thought that the tall bed was too old-fashioned. I have the dresser and bench, chest of drawers, and the headboard of the bed.

Moonlight appeared as blue and silver on the leaves of the tree, the hedge surrounding the back part of the yard, and the empty lot and street between her house and the school.

I tossed and turned in bed on hot nights, listening to the clanging of the chain as it hit the flag pole and echoed from the school, and the chatter of nightbirds, crumpled my pillow and looked out the window toward the school, hoping for a tiny breeze, or for the dawn to hurry and arrive. It seemed to be a little cooler with the morning dew. And, it would be time to get out of bed, move around, and head for school or a shady place to play.

Honey wore one piece summer underwear in the summer, long underwear in cooler weather. He got up at 4 a.m. every morning to get produce for his grocery store. And Toot would get up at that time, too, and make breakfast for them. As Toot would make the beds, she seemed a bit dismayed that Honey's pillow and sheets would be soaked with sweat each morning. She didn't say anything about my rumpled and slightly damp linens and pillow, or my soaking wet hair. Of course, she was a lady, so she didn't sweat. That wasn't considered lady like. Ladies might "glow", but that was it. No sweating allowed, no matter what happened.

The old houses were built with 12 or 14 foot ceilings and the doors had transoms over them to allow more air into the room. Windows were placed so that there was cross ventilation. It didn't help a lot when there was no breeze.

A lot of people still used kerosene lamps back then. Especially if they lived outside the city limits.

Now, we can't take it if we are without our air conditioning, our electric lights, tv and electronics, even for a short while. Many who have lost power due to Ike, are having to adapt to life in Texas without power. And many are having to adjust to life in strange places, and without a home or belongings. It may be a long time before all the power is restored. At least the temperatures have been a bit lower, with a little breeze from the north.

Good luck to everyone on the coast. This is so devastating and unbelievable. There has been so much confusion and chaos. Not quite as bad as Katrina, but still terrible for those who have to endure this tragedy.

And, still, there is little coverage from the national news stations.

Hopefully, the links will be of use to you in learning more about the storm and what is going on, no matter where you are.

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Back To School 08

Historic Events

8.5" x 11"

pencil

Today was the first day of school here. Ashton, our young student, started his year as a 5th grader. I guess he is growing up. He didn't even give "Grandma" a kiss at the door, or wake me up to say "Goodbye" at the door this year. In fact, his mother took him to Shipley's for kolaches (actually a pig in a blanket, I guess, since he likes the ones with sausage and cheese), which meant that I didn't have to cook breakfast for him. In the past, we have always sat down to talk a little, calmly, and have breakfast while he woke up, and, often, we even watched "Spongebob" together. Just to get some "gasoline for his engine", help him wake up, and not be so anxious about the day. He doesn't like to eat first thing in the morning, like me, but I thought that he needs to get off on a good start each day. It won't be long before he will be making his own food and not needing Grandma or his mother so much.

But, he has excellent teachers, a really good school, and we're looking forward to a great year. His last at that school. I told him, when he complains about "little kids", that he was once a little kid, and now he is like a senior. He is one that the younger ones look up to. And they will do some great things this year, with a camping trip at the end of the year.

The picture today is a drawing I did of the big study hall upstairs on third floor in Calvert High School. The one for the high school that also served as the library at one end. There was another study hall on the second floor for 5th through 8th grades, also with a small library at one end.

We didn't have a lot of technology in those days. Typing was learned on 1920s typewriters that you had to use a lot of force on the keys to make them print a letter. We had some movies in the auditorium, occasionally. The teachers had a mimeograph machine that used a fluid that had a smell to it like cleaning fluid from the dry cleaners. The stencils made everything turn out purple. But, with rationing, we didn't use a lot of school supplied paper. We had our own notebook paper or tablets in lower grades, and used those until they were full. We had a few printed workbooks and, in lower grades, we got the "Weekly Reader" and, for Texas History, we had a "comic book" style of book.

In the scene above, we had been marched from the lower floor to the high school study hall on third floor. Students were seated at the desks, and we crowded into assigned places. The teachers lined up at the front of the room, and a few remained at the back and by the doors to monitor and prevent any unacceptable behavior. We didn't know why we were taken there. We just marched to and from wherever the teachers took us.

The whole school was there. A wooden radio had been plugged into an overhead light socket and placed on a podium in front by the teachers. We were shushed, even though no one was making noise, and told to listen to the radio.

This happened several times as historic events occured. One particular time that I remember was when we heard General Douglas MacArthur's farewell speech. Everyone was very solumn as they listened. I didn't remember a lot of his speech, but I did remember the part about "Old soldiers never die, they just fade away."

After the speech, there was no explanation, critique, or discussion. The radio was turned off and unplugged, and we were marched back downstairs to our study hall. And I wondered why we were taken out of our rooms to hear that speech. It was years later that I realized that we were witnessing history.

I can't recall the other occasions. I think one might have been when MacArthur announced "I shall return". Possibly we also heard a broacast of the signing of the Japanese surrender, a speech by Harry Truman concerning dropping of the atomic bomb, and other events.

I do know that someone had to bring their radio from home so that we could listen to the broadcast. We didn't have such fancy equipment at school. Of course, there was the PA system for the school , and for announcing football games. We could hear that all the way to my house and through most of the town!

For the events at school, some community members who were not busy with their stores or businesses, would come to see the movies and listen to radio broadcasts. Ladies would dress up in their suits, wearing hats and gloves, and dress shoes, to come to school. Those included, especially, ladies who were active with the PTA .

The people I have shown in my drawing, have hints of actual people and some of their mannerisms. A lady dressed up in her suit, with her hat and the veil with those little fuzzy balls on it; men in their suits; one teacher who wore a built up shoe and touched her braided hair frequently; a tall thin teacher; one who often wore dresses with a sweetheart neckline; another who sometimes wore flowing dresses.

Seated at the desks, one student has pigtails flowing over the back of her seat and onto the desk of a boy behind her. If we had actually used the ink wells, she probably would have had her pigtails dunked into a bottle of ink. Our ink wells were not used, but we did have a bottle of ink inside the desk. The shapes of the bottles had changed and wouldn't fit into the ink wells any longer. One girl has braids, wrapped around on the side of her head. Another girl has a fluffy hairdo, achieved with pin curls around the head with the top of the hair left straight. Pleated plaid skirts, penny loafers, saddle shoes, sweaters, white blouses, , dimestore pearls, cirlcle skirts were all part of the style of the day. For the boys, there were slacks or jeans, cotton shirts that had to be ironed, and belts, and some even wore a dress shirt with a tie and a sweater.

Remembering those speeches in the study hall is appropriate for today, with school starting, and with so many speeches coming up during the Democratic and Republican conventions, with many more to come in between. I wonder if students in school, today, will be allowed to watch the speeches. Maybe in a government or journalism class in high school, in some schools. I always thought that my students should see things on tv that were occuring, just as we had listened to those few speeches on the radio when I was in school. That's a big part of our education.

I always wanted to watch everything on tv, read about it in newspapers and magazines. I would prefer being there to see for myself. But, this time, I don't think that I can bear to watch the Democratic convention. I may watch the opening, and I would like to see if they do actually have a roll call vote, and how Hillary does. But I just can't endure any of the speakers, and it is really sad to see what has become of the Democratic party. And the amount of money that is being thrown away is just appalling.

I'm not trying to get "political", but that's the way I see it, through my eyes.

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Have a great year, teachers, students, and parents! Administrators too!

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Check out the Frame Gallery website for some information about upcoming classes and events there and in downtown Bryan. The workshop using Yupo looks particularly interesting to me.

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Register for the 20th World Wide Sketch Crawl, scheduled for October 25. You can click on the logo in my sidebar and that will take you to their website. If you are in this area, I hope that you will join in.

Go to the Forum to find someone in your area, or you can register and put in an area of your own. You will see more information on their website about how to participate.

I'm still in hopes that we can Draw The Brazos Valley, with people working all over this area on that day. If you are interested, let me know.

More Sketching in the Park

More Photos and a Gesture Drawing from our last Saturday in

Virginia Field Park

Calvert, Texas

1. Merry go round and one gazebo Looking northeast toward the merry go round and gazebo from where I was sketching in the bandstand.

2. Gesture Drawing of Two Girls on the merry go round Two young girls, who I wrote about previously, walked, after exercising in the bandstand over to the merry go round. They very thoughtfully asked if I was through sketching the merry go round before they walked over to it. They whirled around on the wooden merry go round, not realizing that they were giving life to the scene and stirring memories when other young girls spent time in the park. I did a quick gesture drawing and also took pictures of the scene, but not with the girls. I thought that I could complete drawings or even paintings, later from what I had recorded with sketches, gestures, and the camera.

3. Shaded Walk and Street looking from my viewpoint toward what was the east entrance to the park. Across the street, on the left, is the home that will host the Victorian Tea October 4. The tea will be on the grounds. If you click on the link at the top of my page, and also under events, or even do a Google or Yahoo search, you will see pictures of previous Victorian Teas and Galas. The street leads to the high school.

4. View to the East from where I was sketching. This is part of the neighborhood where I grew up. Complete with sounds of the Mourning Doves in the park, the rattling of the chain on the flagpole and bells echoing in the halls of Calvert High School.

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Scratch our plea for rain in this area right now. We could use it for grass, etc., but the farmers don't need it now. There was a segment on KBTX tv last night, showing what rain would do to the crops like cotton, and the possibility that, when it's time to harvest crops, machinery couldn't get into the fields. So, I guess our little rain from TS Edouard helped cool us off for a couple of days, and gave us a little moisture. They got more to the south, in the Houston area, though. And it certainly made us watch the skies and the radar!

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Let me know if you see something that is of particular interest to you!

Consider joining my group, if you haven't already.

Remember to sign my Guest Book at the bottom of the page.

Please share with anyone else who might be interested.

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School's Out

Field Trip To Houston

8" x 10"

pencil

"School's out! School's out! Teacher let the mules out!"

Shouts rang out and echoed all through the three story school building, all the way down the sidewalk, and down Burnett Street, all the way to homes and downtown as soon as the final bell rang at Calvert High. Everyone waited quietly, hearts pounding with excitement, waiting to hear that ear-splitting bell ring for the last time of the year.

It was hot, as if Mother Nature knew that, when school was out, it was summer, no matter what officials who made up the calendar said.

Teachers worked quitely, sorting papers, while the students sat at their desks, still not allowed to talk.

When that bell finally did ring, there was just a moments hesitation as students wondered if the teacher would insist on dismissing them that day, as usual, or would it be okay to just break out and run.

It didn't take long for the flood of papers, kept so carefully during the year, to line the street, all the way from the front door of the school to town. (Of course, some people were proud of their work and kept it in their notebooks, and others were just plain scared to make a mess like that!)

People who lived in the houses along the street didn't look forward to this last day and the mess that they were left with in their yards.

George and the trash truck would soon come along and George would be sweeping with his wide broom, collecting the paper and throwing it into the back of the big, rounded truck. Of course, since he was also the janitor at school, he would be left to clean all that up, too. But, he always did it quietly, and with a little smile, just tolerating all those kids over the years.

With only one older man to take care of the school building, the grounds, and collect trash for the town, it's amazing to think how clean and well kept everything was.

Since he was older, and they probably couldn't get anyone else to do as much for as little pay as they gave George, I think that his afternoon naps down in the boiler room, were also tolerated.

During the time of WWII, wasting anything was not good, and paper, like everything else was used wisely, and recycled for the War Effort. There probably was not the ritual blizzrd of throwing all the year's school work to the wind after the final bell, during those years. Since I was in elementary school then, we didn't have a massive build up of papers that we had to keep all year, like we did in classes like Mrs. Brannon's English class in high school.

From the other side of the desk, the teachers would be just as anxious for that last bell as the students, but they couldn't show it. (Although I have known teachers who evacuated the building as fast as, or even ahead of, the students!) Usually, though, they had more days of work ahead of them, winding up the year and getting ready for the next.

The above drawing is from my sketchbook, and shows one trip that I took to the Houston Zoo with my oldest grandson's class a few years back. His teacher sat behind me, sideways, and talked to the teacher across the aisle from her. (Good thing that the bus didn't have to stop suddenly or she might have been in the floor, or in the front through the windshield!)

I thought that trip might make a good little story. The little boy across the aisle from me spent most of the trip, staring at me, except for the time that he fell asleep.

One thing that stands out in my mind about that trip was how miserably hot it was on the, supposedly, air conditioned buses. It was like a steam bath in there. We finally opened some windows to get a little air, but the bus driver told us not to do that. Some of us toward the back cheated and kept the window open a crack to get a little fresh air. Everyone was miserable. A lot of kids took a nap, with sweat dampening their hair. I thought I was going to pass out! The air conditioning only seemed to be putting out humidity, like one of those water cooled fans that we used to have. (Didn't work too well in our high humidity!) I think they had the temperature set, really high. The bus driver's area seemed comfortable, but the rest of the bus was not.

The picture shows how it was in the morning, on the way to the city, before it got so terribly hot.

I hope that you have some good field trip memories, and some good memories from school, especially fresh ones, if you are winding up your school year.

For this year, I remember getting up early to make breakfast for my grandson as the sun rose, then started painting after I wished him well and he rushed off to school that day.

I remember struggling to make decent French Toast, and burning cinnamon toast, and undercooking regular toast. We tried oatmeal and various things, until there was a period when he didn't want to eat anything in the morning. He was too nervous about going off to school.

There were nights of listening to him read and discussing stories with him, of sitting with him while he wrote multiplication tables and spelling words, or filled out papers, and of going over cards with famous artists and information about them as he prepared for Picture Memory at UIL. I thought that it might help if I wrote those multiplication tables with him, so I wrote them too. ( I still have to look up some of them! I'll never learn those things! My system of counting dots, which formed shapes or patterns, got me through.)

Sometimes children remember by hearing things, so I tried to be sure that he heard things, as well as being able to see them.

There were nights of working on special projects, more recently of making a poster and doing research about George Washington and looking for pictures of people in my grandson's family who looked like him. (Good thing that I have scanned all these family pictures as I work on family history or he wouldn't have had any family pictures to take to school!)

He was excited to get the recorder in music class, that they will use next year, and listen to him play the notes of the first song that they learned, "Hot Cross Buns".

There was anticipation of the 4th grade music program of Celtic music, just after St. Patrick's Day, that we looked forward to for months.

And looking at all those papers that he brought home each day, and going over them with him. Of hearing about the HOSTS person that met with him and looking at the stamps and stickers that my grandson got with him.

And hearing about their field trips to Sam Houston's home in Huntsville, and the symphony at A&M.

I've tried to sit with him, and let him talk , and reassure him, about his uncertainty about going to school each day. (I was like that too, I guess.) We've looked for good things and friends.

I saw the disappointment in him when the school had the students sell things, and he couldn't participate. And that's a sore spot with me. Having children go out and sell junky items to make money for the school is just a no-no. So unfair to kids who don't have anyone to sell to, who don't have money, and it's also dangerous. Many people just don't have the money to buy that sort of thing. The school should be providing the money for the students. If they belong to an organization that wants to do something like a bake sale at a store, that is one thing. Working as a group is okay, for some club, but putting out prizes that kids can't possibly earn is really wrong.

We don't buy those things ourselves, and don't know anyone who will. And, he is not allowed to just go around to strangers and try to sell them something. So, it is an impossible situation.

Adminstrators could do with less fancy offices and equipment, and lower pay, and that sort of thing, or they should do their jobs and go out and find the money that they need for the schools and the children.

We have ended another year when the students didn't learn to write. The teachers don't have time to teach those necessary skills because they are too busy with the TAKS test. So, I plan to be teaching calligraphy/handwriting this summer. That is the same method that we used to learn to write. And high school and college teachers wonder why kids can't write! It shouldn't be left to the parents to teach children how to write. Many of them can't do it, or don't have the time. But, it looks like that is the only way that kids are going to learn how to write, these days.

Hope that you have some wonderful plans for summer, which starts tomorrow here!

With high prices on everything, a lot of people may do what we do , this year. Stay at home and try to keep costs down! I can always find a lot to do around home. Just as long as we have plenty of paper, pencils, some glue, colors, paint, and the internet!

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Thank You!

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Reminder:

Look at my sidebar to see some upcoming events. The Texas Scottish Festival is right around the corner. And, we're thinking ahead to the 19th World Wide Sketch Crawl on Saturday June 21!

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Vision-Sunday Afternoon Band Concert

Sunday Afternoon Band Concert

7" x 10.5"

watercolors

It seems like a perfect thing to do on a Sunday afternoon. Go to a band concert in a lovely place. A park is great, as is an auditorium.

My young grandson escorted me to a concert by my favorite band at Rudder auditorium in Rudder Tower on the Texas A&M University campus last month. (Which is also one of my favorite places to go.) Both the symphonic and concert bands were going to present programs during the afternoon.

Having played flute in the Calvert High School band for a few years, I have an appreciation for good band music. The former director of the A&M band, Joe Tom Haney, was also our band director in high school. So we had some excellent training.

As I dressed to go over to campus, I was watching the news on tv and knew that Shep Smith from Fox News was broadcasting from the Flag Room in the MSC, next door to Rudder Tower. I really wanted to go watch him, too, and, hopefully, meet him.

We also heard on tv that Bill Clinton was flying in to make a speech at Reed Arena about the same time as the concert. A busy day here.

As we drove past the airport on our way to campus, Clinton's plane flew over us as it landed. We knew because of all the police cars, waiting and circling around the area.

My daughter let us off by the MSC and we went into the Flag Room to see Shep Smith. I could hear him, and I could make out some people at a table across the room. But I couldn't really see much because of the bright tv lights! I checked out the art gallery door in the Flag Room to see if they were open on Sunday. They were. I thought we could return after the concert and look around there, if Shep was already through broadcasting.

We entered the lobby of Rudder and I almost had a panic attack! I couldn't see much. Dark carpets and low lighting in places. Thank goodnes my grandson was with me and that he is able to read almost anything! There was a sign placed on a stand in the middle of the floor, showing which auditorium the band concert would be in. I couldn't see it until I was just a few feet away. It was printed on maroon cardboard with black letters!

Then there were two flights of stairs to walk up. Carpet was maroon or dark blue in the building. No lights on the actual steps, but the landings were lighted. I was leaning over trying to find each step, and, at the same time, having pain in my knees from my worn out joints! People around me were walking easily while I was complaining, "Why don't they have elevators in this nice building!"

I couldn't help but wonder why, with a big architecture department at the University, this very public building was not made more handicapped friendly. I'm not that bad off, but I'm sure that others who do have more serious handicaps, and didn't have a young person to help them, would not be able to function in the building is, as lovely as it is.

(I have since learned that, there is a number to call to let them know that you are coming, if you have special needs, and they will have someone to assist you or show you where to go to avoid all those stairs.)

And, then there was the restroom situation. We were on the second level, but all the restrooms are on the first floor. That meant that, at intermission, I had to climb the stairs again. And then, I couldn't read the signs to know which was the ladies room. Signs were placed high on the wall, too far for me to read with my poor vision. My grandson escorted me to the area, but he was a little embarassed about going to the area of the ladies room. A man was there, waiting for his daughter to come out, and he showed me which door was the ladies room. I felt really stupid that I couldn't even find the restroom, and I was in a hurry, too!

We entered the auditorium and took the first seats near the door. To go closer to the stage meant climbing down more steep stairs. I noticed a woman on the floor near the stage, in one of those little electric carts. I decided that there must be another entrance somewhere that would allow people to sit close to the stage and not have to climb all those stairs.

My escort was a little gentleman and sat through the concert. A few times, I asked him to read the program to me, and he did. (Some of that was just to discuss the instruments and the music.)

The music was excellent and that should have been enjoyable. But all I could think of is that, one of these days, I may not be able to see the band at all. It was hard to sit there and struggle to make out instruments or what the musicians were doing.

Oddly, I could see the director and his platform fairly well. I could make out the percussion section with men in bright red or orange shirts. I could see one on the left who may have been playing a xylaphone or a kettle drum, just from the way he bent over and moved his arms. Another played rhythm instruments and chimes. Another either played a kettle drum or some kind of drums. He seemed to be using his hand flat.

Other than that, all I could see was a golden halo in the back of the orchestra for the baritones or bass horns, that same golden halo on the left for the trumpets (I think!), and the same halo for the trombones and possibly some other horns on the right.

I could see some knees in front of the trumpets. One set of knees seemed to be covered by a blue and green floral patterned skirt. Next to the skirt, there seemed to be jeans and next to the jeans, there appeared to be another blue and green skirt. But what instruments they played, I have no idea.

A hand with a part of a flute was near the director, toward the center on the right. A yellowish pattern was next to the director, in the first row, on the right. I couldn't tell if this was an instrument case, or some kind of air cast a person might be wearing.

On the left, I could only see a foot wearing a sandal.

There was a light area around the director, I suppose from a spotlight. But that blended into the purple spot that I see , and darkness. Only the few things I have mentioned poked through that darkness. At least that is the way that it looked, through my eyes.

"Will I be able to just sit and relax and enjoy listening, in the future, if it comes to that? Can I enjoy anything without being able to see it correctly?" I couldn't help but wonder as the director put his energies into conducting and the young people in the band worked to give us their best efforts. "Why can't I just sit back, relax, and enjoy being here and listening!"

I thought of the park and the old band stand there and how it should have been used more over the years. It was so wonderful when the Houston Symphony played there one spring. And the big highlight, for me, was when the band from Ft. Hood came during the Sesquicentennial. What a thrill that was . It was even nice when our Trojan band would play in the bandstand.

And I dreaded having to go back down those stairs to the lobby! I felt sort of lost and that I should be showing my grandson things instead of the other way around. I could recognize things and knew generally where to go, but I feel so foolish when I can't find or read signs, or recognize which way I should go.

The concert ended and I walked sideways down the stairs. My grandson and I walked across the fountain area, through a little dust devil, back to the MSC and the Flag Room. TV lights were still on and people were sitting around in the "living room", as they often do. We sat for a few minutes, too, but the tv personalities seemed to be gone. I thought they must have rushed over to Reed Arena to do a story on Clinton being there. Or maybe it was a supper break.

We went through the art exhibit in the gallery and looked at work by, and from the collection of, actor Anthony Quinn.

I've written about that in a previous post, so I won't go over that again.

I'm sure that, now, I have lost my center vision due to wet Macular Degeneration. (The cataracts in both eyes don't help, either.)

But it was a bit odd that I could see the band director so well, and he was in the center of my vision. I guess that it has something to do with the lighting in the auditorium. When the normal lights were on, I could see the band members entering and getting ready to play. And I could see their instruments.

If you would like to read more about my experiences with Macular Degeneration, look for the older posts that are prefaced with the word "Vision". Also, I have listed some of the sites that I have found that deal with AMD in my sidebar under "Eye Sites".

I painted "Sunday Afternoon Band Concert" from a sketch I did after we got home from our visit to A&M. I used Winsor Newton watercolors on 140# Arches watercolor paper.

Please let me know if you see something that you are interested in. Most of the art work on my blog is for sale.

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Stork Update

If you are stork watching, or would like to, the nest in Przygodzic now has 4 eggs! Mama stork seems to be sitting on the nest every time I look, but they give the egg count at the bottom of the camera shot. There are now 4 little animated eggs there, so we know that the nest has 4 eggs in it.

You can check out the links under Stork Sites on my sidebar on the right.

If you click on Stork Cams, you can see a list of various places that have web cams or information on the storks.

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19th Worldwide Sketch Crawl Announced

Get Ready! Make your plans! Sharpen a pencil. Pull out your sketchbook (or buy a new one!). Dust off your watercolors, markers, crayons, pens, or whatever you like to draw with.

The date for the 19th Worldwide Sketch Crawl has been announced for Saturday June 21. I will be adding more about that on my blog, but I just wanted everyone to be able to plan for this.

You can check out the website at http://www.sketchcrawl.com/ or look on my sidebar under Art Helpers and click on that link.

I hope that we can get a lot more participation from this area this time.

You can read more about the last one in previous posts on my blog. You can also see some of the work that we created that day.

If you are interested, you can register on the Sketch Crawl website, or, if you are in this area, you can register, then post a reply under either Bryan, Texas or College Station, Texas and let us know that you are interested. (You don't have to, but it would be nice to know who all is sketching, and might be fun to get this together as a group.)

You can even post your own reply to get a group together for your area.

Remember that this is open to everyone-all ages, all levels. Beginners, professionals, students, teachers, professionals, families, groups, or individuals. People can work together or solo. The idea is just to draw that day, with people all over the world, working at one time.

I'm excited about it and looking forward to another day of drawing.

More on this later. I just wanted to pass on the announcement of the date.

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Reciting in English Class

Reciting in English Class

8.5" x 11"

pencil

We finally made it. Ninth grade. High school. Many of us were there after only 7 years. And some of us were only 12 years old. In our small school, they only had 10 grades when we started to school. So, when it was decided to add the 12th grade, if our parents approved, we could skip the 4th grade. Some of us were eager to do so and to move on, anxious to get out of school and see what life had in store for us.

Calvert had always had an excellent school and turned out many successful people. We didn't have a lot of extras, but we had most of what we needed in school. Parents, neighbors, and community members made sure that we were in school and did what we were supposed to do.

One thing that helped was that we had the same teachers over a period of years, and those teachers all worked together to make sure that we learned and moved on. We didn't have frills, we didn't have much play, and the teachers seemed to be stern. There wasn't a lot of silliness, although, sometimes, we tried. We did have time to make friendships that lasted from our first days together, all through our lives, until today.

Some of those same teachers taught our parents, in fact. And, they even knew our grandparents and the rest of our families. Actually, everyone knew everyone in our little town.

Mrs. Blasienz taught English from 5th through 8th grade. Then, in 9th grade, Mrs. Brannon took over through 12th grade. Mrs. Pietsch, taught Social Studies from 5th through 8th grade. Mrs. Miller and Miss LaGrone taught typing and bookkeeping. Mr. Hunter taught music from lower grades, then moved us into the tonette in 6th grade. Some students went on into the band, then, and Mr. Hunter was our band director, until Mr. Haney came along. Coach Miller was the coach, as was the high school principal, Mr. Rushing, who also taught math. Mrs. Sullivan was the homemaking teacher. Mr. Attaway was one of the science teachers. Maybe we didn't have such a strong background in math or science because we didn't have the same teachers over a period of time, who were also very passionate about their subjects.

Well, here we were, our "big" class of about 20 students, up on the third floor-the high school. Sitting in the big desks, chairs with side arms. We were armed with our English notebooks filled with lined paper, newly covered English books, a pencil, and a fountain pen. Some of us had our own bottle of Scrips or Shaeffers blue or black ink, but there was a fresh bottle of ink on the corner of the teacher's desk, just in case we needed it.

Refilling the pen took a little time, and, if we played our cards right, we could drag it out to take quite a while! (While the teacher glared at us!) We had to get permission to get up, then explain why we needed to get up. If it was approved, we walked to the desk, unscrewed the top from the ink bottle, and the pen top. The nib of the pen was placed into the small well of ink on the side while, at the same time, slowly opening the little lever on the side of the pen, drawing up ink into the rubber bladder of the pen. The lever was then slowly closed. A Kleenex was used to wipe excess ink from the pen before closing it. After the cap was replaced on the ink, a slow trip back to the desk was made, while carefully straightening skirts, socks, and hair and sliding into the desk. Part of the trip, too, involved looking at what others were doing, and checking out who might be watching.

Of course, we could get a little extra play out of those old pens, and we could ruin our clothes in the process, if the ink bladder broke or if the pen started leaking all over the place. We were so thrilled when they came out with pens with an ink cartridge! Sometimes, those didn't work too well either. They could leak or sometimes the hole wouldn't go through the plastic cartrige and the ink wouldn't come out. But that stopped the trips to the ink bottle. Then, we had to carry around packets of cartriges or put them in our pencil bag or pockets.

For some of us, our days at school were filled with work, friends, and trying to survive teachers and bullies. And, for me, there was also a lot of time spent daydreaming and trying to hide my drawing from the teachers!

After school, there was going home to be with friends, pets, family, going to town to the drugstore or to the stores, listening to the radio, or there might be after school or church activities. Sometimes there were extra lessons in piano or dance, or parties, or listening to records.

Some students had chores to do at home before homework was done. I didn't have that, but, it was sort of whatever I took a notion that I wanted to do.

Some of the older boys had after school or summer jobs, and some of the girls found ways to make money by baby sitting or working at places like the drugstore. There weren't a lot of places to work in our little town. Especially for kids. Those of us, whose families had stores, often were taught to help out there and spent a lot of time in the stores. In our family, we started out helping customers early, sweeping, stringing handkerchiefs, putting tags on merchanidise, and even the youngest were taught to look for shoplifters. (Those were rare, of course, but it kept kids occupied!)

In some families, it was necessary for boys to work and help out. They could buy their own clothes and school materials, that way, not to mention food, and they, then, had their own spending money.

I remember one of my classmates, who worked at a job that seemed to be hard, dirty, work for men. The auction barn was big business in town and big trucks, loaded with noisey cattle, started rolling in for the auction on Thursday night. We could hear the noise all over town as the trucks were unloaded and cattle put into the pens. Dust , or mud on a rainy day, was everywhere. On Friday, the parking area was filled with pick up trucks and men, dressed in western suits, jeans and boots, or overalls and boots, filled the interior. Workers climbed the fences of the pens, prodded the cattle along, as the auctioneer rattled off whatever he was saying. Sometimes, ladies, children, and other community members, went to the cafe at the auction barn for dinner (at noon). The auction required a lot of helpers, and several eager younger men joined the crew for Friday, and sometimes Thursday, too. By Saturday, it was all over and all the activity shifted to Main Street.

I felt sure that our classmate had a difficult time keeping up with school requirements. Tests were often on Friday and there was homework to be done for Monday. Reviews for tests were usually on Thursday. It wasn't too cool to not be ready when Mrs. Brannon, or other teachers, called on you. In fact, it might bring a comment or one of those glares that made you wonder if a trip to the office was about to happen! And that might mean an application of the "board of education" (the paddle in the principals' office), or even worse, a call to your parents. We all held our breath if anyone didn't have their work done or the correct answer on time.

This day, our classmate stood by the south wall of the English room, a wall full of big windows. The big oak tree where we once made frog houses and played "London Bridge" on the playground below, thrust its bare limbs past the windows behind him. The tip of the tall Cedar tree at the edge of the elementary school yard showed just above the window sill. A trainer (plane) from Bryan Air Force Base hummed as it made its way back to the base from its practice run to Connally in Waco.

He stood, looking small, and shy as he read softly from the paper he held. One eyebrow slightly arched. His shoulders were pulled up close to the back of his head. A stray piece of light brown hair fell across his forehead. There was a little point sticking out from the shoulders of his brown and white plaid cotton shirt. He wore a thin leather belt with a large buckle with his khaki pants. Brown boots showed from beneath his pants. Boots, a sign of the man's world that he worked in, and not the look of other young students who wore oxfords or penny loafers to school.

Mrs. Brannon sat at her desk, listening, looking down at her desk. Her black hair was neatly tucked into rolls around her head. Her only makeup was a bit of dark red lipstick. A strand of dime store pearls were around her neck. Her sheer voile dress seemed to float with its wide loose sleeves and sweetheart neckline. There were papers beneath her folded arms. Her English book was on one corner of her desk, the bottle of blue ink was on the other side. Her red grading pencil was still in the desk drawer. She had removed her squared, rimless glasses after roll was checked.

My mind wandered as I looked past my classmate and out the windows. I wanted to be out there and not stuck in this room. I hoped that Mrs. Brannon was paying attention to the reader and not to me. Maybe I wouldn't have to be ready to participate today, if I just acted like I was listening. I also hoped that she wouldn't fuss about anything today. Maybe his reading would take all period and there wouldn't be time for her to criticize him or his work-or the rest of us. And maybe the gigling boys in the front would behave so that she wouldn't have to wave the yardstick over their heads today. Maybe I could draw something, and hide my picture under my paper so she would think that I was taking notes or doing work. Or maybe I could daydream, of boyfriends I hoped I would meet someday, of my dream home, or movie stars, or what my cats and dog were doing, or ice cream and comic books at the drugstore later, what I was missing on the radio, what we would have for an after school snack, or who I would go to play with after school.

I remember teachers talking to those who missed school, insisting that being at school was most important. They didn't seem to go out of their way to be nice to anyone who didn't have all their work done. In my view, they didn't seem to have much sympathy or understanding for anything other than school and their class in particular. That seemed to make school even harder, especially for anyone who had to grow up a little faster. They probably knew more than I understood, since everyone in town seemed to know everything about everybody. And they were trying to encourage all students to get a good education.

Now, I wonder what he read that day. Was it a story? A poem? Were we working on spelling? Or sentence structure? I do know that we didn't have the fill in the blank papers or darken in a little circle that kids get in school today.

"Write everything out," we were told.

"Cutting things short shows laziness and bad manners."

Sadly, our classmate is gone. He died this past week. I'm so glad that we all got to be together at our school reunion last summer. Like most of the boys at school, I never knew him very well, but we all spent so many years together that they were each very special. The girls seemed to stick together as friends, and the boys were close.

I always thought that this enterprising young man, grew up earlier than some of us, and he certainly was able to understand and get along in the world of work before most of us had to encounter the outside world. I'm sure that his experience and willingness to work served him well through his life. He leaves a loving family, his friends, his schoolmates, and many memories. Including mine.

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Sometimes, I think it would be nice to sit in those old desks, in the old classroom, with a new package of notebook paper in a notebook, and a pen and a bottle of ink, and just write stories and draw while a classmate reads and the teacher listens. ( Of course, it would have to be without the threat of teasing, grades, being fussed at, or "the board of education"!)

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Ah, 'tis a day for the wearing of the green! And for celebrating Irish heritage. May you not be pinched today, and may all the blessings of the Irish be with you.

I remember one of our many programs at Calvert High School, on stage in the auditorium. This one was for St. Patrick's Day. As usual, most of the town turned out to see anything that went on at school, or elsewhere in town. No tv back then and I doubt that many would stay at home and miss a community gathering and experience, to hear a radio program.
My mother, and other mothers, bought packages of folded green crepe paper at Fink's Variety Store, then sewed costumes of green crepe paper on the sewing machine. That was quite a challenge, to sew on paper with an old treddle sewing machine. And that paper scratched and rattled when we wore them.
I worried about wearing paper in front of people. What if it should tear! And there I would be on stage, in just my panties! Horrors! Mama had to show me how the crepe paper would stretch, but I was still uneasy about it.
We sat in little chairs in rows on the stage.
The piano was in place on the floor at the side of the stage. I can't remember if my mother was playing that year, or if it was Miss Stella, who also taught piano lessons and played for community events. My mother taught piano and played for many community events, and there was a bit of rivalry between the two ladies. Miss Stella played at the Baptist church and my mother played at the Methodist church.
My friend, Kathryn, sang a solo, our little choral group sang, I may have also had a solo as I remember some of the words, and how scared I was.
"Sure, a little bit of heaven fell from out the sky one day, and it landed in the ocean in a spot not far away. And when the angels found it, sure it looked so peaceful there."
I think that JoNell also sang a solo.
Even at my young age, I could picture men in bowler hats and old fashioned suits, in a bar, heavily decorated in dark wood, in New York, gathering to harmonize and sing of the old country. In this case, it was of a diamond shaped island, covered with green shamrocks, and rocks and leprechauns-all surrounded by a beautiful, sparkling blue ocean. (I saw a lot of movies when I was growing up!) Angels in gossamer gowns with glitter, darted and floated above the emerald island.
Our group of dance students tapped away in our crepe paper costumes. I'm sure that there were poems recited and probably something given about Ireland.
I think we were about 5th grade, maybe younger, in 3rd grade. (Our class got to skip the 4th grade, if our parents would let us, so I know it wasn't 4th grade!)
My little sister had not yet started to school but, for some reason, she was put into the program. She was very blonde, dainty, and cute as a little doll, but she was also not going to do little girl things. And she didn't want to talk much, so everyone thought the thing to do was to get her to be involved in things, with other children. And to insist on frilly dresses, dance lessons, and dolls and such things that the rest of us girls were involved in.
So, my mother made a green crepe paper costume for her, too. And she was to be the big finale of the program. We all made it through, and it came time for my sister to get up and do her dance.
She would not get up out of her chair!
People were urging her to do her routine, but she wouldn't budge. They also tried to get me to make her perform. So, I got up from my place in the row of chairs, and tried to pull her out of her chair. She hung on as I pulled, and the chair moved across the stage. One determined little girl just would not get out of that chair.
I begged, I pleaded, I promised a treat, I threatened, but nothing worked.
We reached the edge of the stage by the footlights, with her still holding on to the chair, and her mouth firmly pressed together. And me pulling with all my strength.
The curtain came down, and, only after everyone started to leave, would my sister get out of the chair. She ran to Mama and went home.
I thought that the teachers who arranged the program, my schoolmates who were in the program, and the people in the audience were all mad at me because I couldn't get my sister to do her part. I felt that they would blame us for ruining the program. But, then, maybe I wouldn't have to get up in front of people at the next program! They would just leave us out of the next ones-I hoped.
My sister probably got more attention that day, than any of the rest of us, without having to do a thing.
After we got home, I fussed about being so embarrassed, and, my sister went about doing her routine that she was supposed to have done on the stage. And then she went on to play with her toy John Deere farm implements and to ride her trike.

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Whenever we had the various programs at school and in town, in honor of some special day or culture, I (not wanting to have to get up in front of people) would complain that I couldn't be in the program, because I was not in that group, or that I just didn't want to (which never worked!).

And, years later, when Mama was working on genealogy, she said that, on her side of the family, we were English, Scottish, and Irish. I've found a lot on the English side, and several leads to the Scottish side, but I haven't found that Irish connection, so far. Miles and related families were English, Arnett and Vann are probably the Scottish families, but the only families that I think may be Irish were Davis and possibly Day. Haven't found that far back to the old countries, yet.

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I have a special pair of ear bobs (no clips, not pierced, but they are the screw on type) that I got for high school graduation, that I have worn for all these years on St. Patrick's Day. They have 4 leaf clovers in them. I got two pair like that, which I still have, although one earring has a clover that has begun to turn brown. I guess that air got in it somehow. Keeps me from getting pinched-especially when I was in college and teaching. I got a pair that is similar, also at graduation, but this pair has a tiny mustard seeds in each piece. Those came with a printed story about the mustard seed.

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I don't have a picture of our St. Patrick's Day program. I'll have to do one. I certainly remember that program! There are many memories, many stories, many pictures that we should gather while we can. It seems that in the past couple of weeks, we have lost about 5 schoolmates and friends from long ago. I am so shocked and saddened to hear of their deaths. My thoughts and prayers, and memories, are with them all, and their families and friends.

I have drawn a couple of memories of two of them, so far.

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With our thoughts of green today, we can add the green grass that is sprouting outside. (No shamrocks, and few clovers around here.) Bluebonnets are poking their way to the surface and soon should be in full bloom across the fields. Pear trees are blooming.

And, as "spring has sprung", Spring Break has ended here. Kids went back to school today. But, at our house, we seem to have spent Spring Break passing the second round of flu around. This kind started with the stomach flu, then developed into upper respiratory type of things. So far, the oldest grandson has escaped it. Knock on wood!

I've heard that people are getting this flu several times, or it seems to move into upper respiratory problems, ear infections, and the like.

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The Brazos Valley Art League Juried Show is still on display at the P.David Romei Art Center in College Station, if you haven't seen it. Pick up day is March 28th, so you still have a little time to view the art work. You can see a couple of the winners online at the BVAL website. I have a link to them in my sidebar under organizations.

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Congratulations to Virginia Vaughan and Melanie Nistad on their book sales. You can contact them to order the newest printing. If you would like a copy of "Mechanicsville", you can contact me, and I'll put you in touch with Melanie.

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We aren't celebrating St. Patrick's Day much at home. Youngest grandson got up and put on a shirt with green stripes, in anticipation of going to the doctor. I don't think that his mother was able to get an appointment, although she called Friday and was told to bring him in today if he wasn't better by Monday. I put on a shirt that has crayons and paper clips on it, and that has green in it. But, we don't have green beer, green streams or rivers, no parade, etc. I think that some pubs or beer joints might be celebrating with their own green beer, or whatever they do. We don't even have Irish songs or harmonies going on in our house. Maybe I'll have to croak out what I can remember of "Sure a little bit of heaven", just for the occasion, while we get ready for supper tonight.