10/24/16

CREEPY or Not Creepy?


I'll let you decide. I know when I bought it I thought it odd, but then I showed it to a friend and she found it very creepy. These days with what's going on in this country with a particular candidate I can say red flags did momentarily fly.

Click on image to see it larger.

I also have to say that his socks and shoes made me think of Gene Kelly so I could easily imagine the two of them breaking into dance.
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10/23/16

YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN. Or Maybe You Can.


I've been away for over a month, though most of the time was spent at home. Some of the time was spent helping my dad find pieces of memories. I will explain after submitting the following photo for Sepia Saturday with the theme title "From Here to There."

I'm going to do a small deconstruction of the photo in order to allow you to focus on the different activities taking place. It appears to perhaps be a plaza in front of a hotel.

A couple of fellas playing a game. The only reason I say this is because the fella in the foreground has something in his right hand that looks like the end of a stick or mallet.


Two woman parading; traveling from here to there on a nice sunny day. Perhaps it's a stroll around the plaza and then back to the hotel.


And the "hotel" porch appears to be a very busy place; a young girl on horseback stopping by. These days should we be sitting on the porch of some establishment and a horse walked up and stuck its nose into the middle of a conversation people would be flummoxed. 


And a carriage of some sort parked next to the square. 


So to keep with the theme we have walking, horseback riding, and riding in a carriage. It's an unusual photo in that it is of an active scene instead of people posed staring at the photographer. Now this is not saying that the four people in the plaza weren't in some way staged by the photographer, but it is unusual to find a shot of everyday life just going along.

Click on image to see it larger.

Perhaps for someone somewhere this photo would bring back memories of a place from their youth. Nothing is written on the back to indicate a location, nor is there any information about the photographer.

Which brings me to the past weeks of my life.

My dad and I went on a short trip here in Northern California in search of some of his youth. We know the ranch he grew up on has been subdivided many times over, but the house he lived in is still there as is the barn one of my great-grandfather's built. We made a trip to the ranch a few years ago with my cousin and his wife so they could experience a bit of the family history.

On this trip we headed to a beautiful valley where my dad used to spend time in the summer on his uncle's ranch. Much of the valley is part of the Yuki tribe's reservation. I remember visiting the valley in the mid-60s. At that time we drove right to the house my great aunt and uncle had lived in. My recollection is there were a lot of hornets flying around so we got back in the car and drove away. This time we could not find any traces of the ranch. So much has been built, including many new roads crisscrossing the valley. We drove around for awhile until dad finally said he simply couldn't find anything familiar. Understand that when he was there for summers it was in the 1930s. But as we drove down a road lined with poplar trees he suddenly said, "This reminds me of the road where Jock and I came to collect some colts." He remembers riding horseback across the valley with his cousin Jock to another ranch to retrieve some young colts to take back to his uncle's place. So though you can't go home again, you just might retain enough memories to bring back moments that let you experience home.

Also on this trip we visited the small town where he was born and lived the first few years of his life. The house he lived in is for sale. I checked the realtor's website and found photos of the interior. None of it looked the same to dad except for the large cast iron bathtub. But outside looks still very similar to how it has always looked, including many fences and porches my grandfather built.

If you live in the U.S. you might be acquainted with the publisher Arcadia Publishing. They do small local history books that feature vintage black and white photos from local people and historical societies. I purchased two for dad on the trip; one for the town where he was born and one for where he went to high school in the town near the ranch. It was very surprising to find him in his band uniform on the spine of the one book. It's a photo I had never seen. With luck I'll be able to get a copy for him.

Once home I ordered another Arcadia book about the valley where my grandparent's ranch was located. Inside is a photo of my grandparent's wedding on the ranch. Unfortunately they put the wrong names in the caption, but it made my dad smile to see his folks—along with many other relatives—as part of the history of the valley.

So we had a good trip to real locations and through time. But then upon our return home my dad was informed he is in kidney failure. Our world has been turned upside down. The future is uncertain and I'm stressing out over what I can do for him. Cooking has become very complicated. I now enter a grocery store and think it's just a bastion built to serve poison. As a nutritionist reminded me, "Only shop along the outer walls where the fresh products are sold. Avoid the aisles." So I walk around and feel overwhelmed about how truly pathetic our food system is in this country. I am lucky that I live in an area with a lot of agriculture so I can easily get access to fresh farm products. I struggle to make good tasting meals without using any salt. Some recipes are easy to change, but others are simply not to be made again. There will be no splurging once a month for a Papa Murphy's pizza. Those days are gone.

I've withdrawn from most contacts for several weeks as I try to adjust to the changes that are happening. I haven't returned phone calls or emails and I apologize. I simply have to find my rhythm. In some ways I cannot go home again because life as I'd been living it has changed. I am in the same location that I've been in for decades, but it's different now and I don't think beyond each day.

As the saying goes, you can't go home again to what was, but you can hold close the memories of the places and the people who once filled your life. If you're lucky they will stay with you forever. We are forever changing and creating memories. And when time gets too hard we can take a moment and remember what home used to be.

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And finally I discover that the list of other vintage photography sites that took me years to compile is gone. I didn't delete it. It's just gone. It's been there on the left for years. I no longer have links to all the interesting places I liked to visit. I don't know how it happened or why. I can never get back that list. Just another complication thrown at me that I'm too tired to deal with. Maybe a missed a memo from Google would explain it. Who knows. It's gone. It's just a memory.
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9/9/16

MONKEYING Around


Remember when the world could be viewed upside down without your equilibrium going nuts? The floor became the ceiling and the ceiling became the floor. Outside suddenly clouds were under your feet and you could pretend to tap dance on the sky. These days I'd have to say if someone found me in the position these kids are in they'd need to call 911 to get me off of there. I get a little nauseous even thinking about it.

I missed last week's Sepia Saturday, but wanted to get in on the fun this week. I like to imagine the young girl in the Sepia prompt looking out the window and seeing these little monkeys. I've been on a monkey kick this week with photos of a little sweetie named Squeak (here and here). I think Squeak could easily hang upside down like these kids...by his tail or hers.

Click on image to see it larger.

I know hanging upside down is supposed to have some sort of physical benefit, but I figure swimming each morning in unheated water for an hour is enough torture. Fortunately the water feels less and less cold as the hour passes. I think hanging upside would be a nonstarter. Once the blood has rushed to my head and I start to blackout I'd find the benefit slim to nonexistent.

I do miss those warm summer days when the world was a big adventure. Each morning there was something new to explore. Just lying on the lawn watching clouds pass by and imagining the world spinning beneath me. Then the realization that I'm also spinning. I have to force myself to do those things now; they are no longer second nature. I miss those little adventures. I miss the wonder when spinning out of control was part of a normal day.



I do have one more snapshot of Squeak the monkey which will be up in a day or two if I'm lucky. Getting ready for an end of summer BBQ, medical appointments for my father, a rug cleaner with his tricks of the trade, a fella coming to fix the well...have me probably just as dizzy and confused as if I'd been hanging upside down for an hour or two. I need to remember to go outside and watch the clouds for awhile.
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9/7/16

SQUEAK Chained


I always have a problem when I see an animal chained. Yes, I know, in some cases it's far safer for them than to be allowed to roam loose, but it feels so horribly wrong. Little Squeak should have never been a pet and chained in a garden. I feel sorry for Squeak when I see this.


But now the song "Unchained Melody" keeps running through my head. Did Squeak have a boyfriend or girlfriend? Poor Squeak. This post is not going in the direction I thought it would.



Cheers Squeak. Let's hear it for unchained monkey.
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9/6/16

Say Hello to SQUEAK


I'll let you guess which one is named Squeak.

This photo is dated Feb. 22, 1930. It was taken by Comdr. E. L. Patch, U. S. N. and is stamped Norfolk Navy Yard, Porsmouth, VA.

Click on image to see it larger.

More Squeak to come.
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9/5/16

The "END" of Summer


The unofficial end to summer. The leaves are already turning and dropping. Fall is coming early. I somehow seemed to have missed summer. I know it's technically still here for a few weeks, but I cannot get over the mindset of old schooldays when Labor Day meant back to school day was imminent. Back in school meant summer was over. 

Is this woman looking towards her past or her future? And are those sunglasses as part of the scarf design? It looks like sunglasses on the side of her head. Maybe she's coming and going.

Click on image to see it larger.

I am ready to move into fall, though there were still books to read that were only meant for summer. But as of last Friday I am finally through with the details left to deal with from the accident I was in last November. Each day now I realize I feel a little bit less stressed. Perhaps that is why I missed summer. Too much on my mind all the time to spend any time enjoying myself.

I'll put "enjoy myself" on my list for fall.
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8/27/16

Presenting LAURA MAE WHITE and HAROLD BATEMAN ROBERTS


Harold Bateman Roberts and Laura Mae White were married on June 21, 1939.

Harold was born, I believe, Dec. 19, 1906. Laura graduated from Woodrow Wilson High School in Long Beach, California in 1936. This would make Harold around 33 and Laura around 20 when they married.

I never knew these people.

Click on any image to see it larger.



The wedding photographer was Witzel-Los Angeles. I don't know if this Witzel, a Hollywood photographer, was the same photographer, but I'm guessing it might have been someone from his studio.





This calendar page is from their scrapbook.


Before being married, Harold had spent many years traveling on various adventures in the U.S. Coast Guard. Specifically, he'd been to Alaska on the USS Northland multiple times.


All of this was purchased several years ago at an estate sale at the Roberts' home. I do not know which of them had most recently passed. In fact I do not know if they were even still together.

At the sale I purchased many photographs, a photo album that contained photos of Harold and various friends before his marriage, and a scrapbook named "Harold & Lolly." I'm still disgusted with myself for not buying his Alaskan adventure album. It was several hundred dollars and they did try to convince me to buy it. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I will always be sorry I didn't. There was an entire office filled with his memorabilia, including a lot of old movies he'd shot in Alaska. I was told there was someone coming from Hollywood to purchase the movies.

Below are a few more newspaper clippings from their scrapbook. And you can click on the labels (Roberts) or do a search of this blog (top left corner of blog) to find more photos of both Harold and Lolly that I have posted over the years.



There were also many photos of a little girl that I purchased, but I have no idea if she was theirs. There are a lot of wedding cards and anniversary cards in the scrapbook, but no birth announcements except for one small one that might have been for Laura.

Below are two handmade cards that are also in the scrapbook. No idea who made them.



If anyone ever finds anything about Laura Mae White Roberts or Harold Bateman Roberts I'd love to hear about it.

For now, they'll always be a mystery in which I know just enough to make me even more curious.

This is my last August submission for this month's them on Sepia Saturday.
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