2/3/15

Betty POOLSIDE


I have to admit that I do wonder how Betty would react to photos of her being posted online. I'm guessing she wouldn't have liked it. I know very little about her, but I did hear one of her neighbors talking about her at the estate sale. I sometimes think I should drive back to the neighborhood and talk to the neighbors in order to try and put together a more complete story of who Betty Schnabel was.


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BETTY with Mary Shiro


Betty joined her father for the trip to Spring Lake, Vermont in August of 1956. She would have been around thirty-one when this shot was taken. She looks like a teenager.


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2/2/15

CHARLES SHIRO with son?


Another couple slides from Spring Lake, Vermont in August of 1956. Yesterday I featured Mary and Charles Shiro. Today we have Charles with a child. His son? Probably, but there's nothing written on either of the slides below to indicate who these kids are.




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2/1/15

Mary and Charles Shiro at SPRING LAKE, VERMONT


In August of 1956 Betty Schanbel and her father, Donald G. Schnabel, visited Spring Lake in Vermont. So far I haven't found anything about a place called Spring Lake. I'm guessing it was some sort of a resort and may not exist anymore.

This couple, friends of Betty and Donald, are Mary and Charles Shiro. That's all I know about them.




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1/30/15

GONE FISHIN': Goin' home


I have no idea if this was shot at the beginning or the end of the fishing excursion, but I like to think the fella is tallying up who caught what, the sizes, and information about the ones that got away.


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1/29/15

GONE FISHIN': Somebody had to do the work







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Have you ever witnessed gulls flying along the stern of a ship? I remember them on the trips to and from Hawaii. They were hoping something worthy would be tossed overboard. In the picture above we can pretty much be assured it was the fish entrails they were waiting for.

There used to be a seafood restaurant I went to that had a dock running alongside it. Fishermen would pull in and unload their catch which would be sold at the seafood market attached to the restaurant. The gulls would show up immediately, as would several seals. So you'd be sitting there eating your meal, an interesting boat would show up and you'd start discussing the name of the boat with your dinner companions, and then all hell would break loose. Buckets of offal would be dumped off the back of the boat into the bay. Oh my but it was a disgusting sight. It was disgusting, but authentic. Sadly the restaurant was torn down and replaced by one only the tourists could love. The dock is gone, as are the fishing boats. The boats now stay on the other side of the bay where the tourists rarely eat. It's all very clean and not the least bit offensive, which is the problem with the place. Now even the food is bland. Tourists come hoping to find a bit of the romance from a famous Hitchcock film, not knowing this is at least the third restaurant to stand in the location with the same name. I never saw the original, but I seriously miss the old one I do remember. And I wish the tourists would just go home.
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1/28/15

GONE FISHIN': Sit here and smile


Apparently this was the sweet spot aboard the boat for taking photos. "Sit down and smile" might be what Donald Schnabel said to each of his buddies.






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What did they say to Donald when it was his turn?


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I have to tell you that the color in each of the fishing slides has been ugly, very saturated with magenta. I did some quick fixes to make them a bit more acceptable. But you can go ahead and imagine everyone a really nice shade of pink.
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1/23/15

A WEE CART in Scotland


I generally don't post images that are related to my family; I'm a private person. However, the prompt from Sepia Saturday this week was just too easy.

I give you my paternal grandfather in Scotland. I do not know the wee lassie sitting next to him. Perhaps she's family, but I'll never know. I like to imagine it's me sitting there bundled up for a nice ride through the countryside.


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My grandfather lived a hard life. When he was a teenager he contracted pneumonia and lost the use of one lung. Because of this he did not serve in World War I and my father has always wondered if he was treated badly by others because otherwise he looked to be a very healthy young man. He worked in a steelworks in Scotland before emigrating to California in 1921, first passing through Ellis Island. My grandmother, who had yet to marry, followed in 1922. They lived for the rest of their lives in Northern California. They had one son who is still alive today, my father. A second son died within hours of his birth. The third son, my uncle, died last year.

Of the four grandchildren, I am the only one who knew him. He died before any of my cousins were born. I have few memories of him, but I have rich stories my father has told me.
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