Saturday, July 31, 2010

CANBERRA 07/31/00

it's not often that the natural course of reposting Mom's e-mails offers up one on the very date it was written ~ today's one of those serendipitous times; interesting sitting here in the computer studio, realizing that this was written exactly 10 years ago, albeit somewhat later in the day (Mom was quite the night owl) -elm-

Date: Mon, 31 Jul 2000 23:58:38 EDT
Subject: Canberra

As I was writing about Williamsburg, my thoughts kept turning to the capital of Australia, Canberra. (Whenever he saw my notes, John would joke that I was misspelling cranbury. That John, he is a cheeky one.)

Kerry and Mike took myself and the kids to Canberra to visit Barry & Christine Ridgeway (Gretchen, I believe she is a relative of Ruth's) and to show off their capital.

It is impossible to describe Canberra, which did not even exist at the beginning of the century. I was surprised to find out that it was designed by an American. It has a beautiful location. Unlike Sydney, Canberra is surrounded on all sides by land, land and more land. It somehow feels like it was carved out of nature. Magical. Like Sydney, it has a unique energy and, like Sydney, Canberra is unlike any other place on earth.

The architecture ranges from very, very modern Government House to the Williamsburg-inspired US Embassy. It is fitting to have Williamsburg's Georgian style as an embassy, since late colonial Wiliamsburg and early colonial Australia were contemporaries.

Mike had picked up three loaves of sourdough bread back in Sydney – one for the ambassador, one for his secretary, and one for us to nibble on the way. We had the honor of meeting the ambassador and his wife. I do not remember his name, but her first name was Elkin - very unusual. This was during Jimmy Carter's presidency and as I recall the ambassador was a southerner and you know how those southerners can make you feel pretty special.

We had a wonderful time. At night, Mike and Kerry would go off for a quiet dinner on their own while I kept an eye on Scott and Karen. After they got home, it was my turn to go out to dinner. By that time, I was ready for a little piece and quiet and did not feel the bit ill used by eating by myself. The silence was golden.

Silence brings to mind the Hall of Memory - the war memorial - which is what I remember best of all. To stand in that graced place that honored those who fell in Australia's wars - there was a feeling of awe unlike anything I had felt before or since.. I felt close to the other world and the tears came. Everyone there was silent.

Love to you all from a suddenly hushed KRL. With special thoughts and love to Carolyn, who loves Canberra - Grandma L.

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of Grandma L's birth

Friday, July 30, 2010


Date: Mon, 24 Jul 2000 20:52:51 EDT
Subject: Spanning the centuries

I finally got my facts straight. The space launch that we saw was Apollo 15, which took off in summer 1971.

Less than 20 minutes after lift off, the Cape was drenched with a heavy rain. I could understand why Mim & Elsa were pacing before launch. It moved in really fast.

There was not much talking as we waited in the car to get into the long stream of traffic. There was so much to think about and too few words to express it.

I do not have many memories of the drive home, aside from looking forward to a wonderful treat - Mim would swing home via Williamsburg so I could get a glimpse of the marvelous restoration.

I was so excited. I pictured us walking the Duke of Gloucester Street, checking out places from favorite parts of Elswyth Thane's beloved "Williamsburg" book series - Dawn's Early Light, Yankee Stranger and Ever After are my three favorites. I practically know them by heart.

I could not believe that I would be on the Duke of Gloucester Street, stroll past the King's Arms, gaze at the Palace and Bruton Parish Church, take in sights that I had seen hundreds of times in my mind's eye.

I intended to make the most of the few hours we could spare.

Mim made my day by driving right up to the Williamsburg Inn, which was every bit as elegant and world class as the pictures.

Elsa dashed in to check on if we could get a cup of tea. When she came back, she and Mim were flashing each other big cheeky grins. Actually, they had been very excited about this short stop over in Williamsburg ever since the thought first came up, back on our first night's stop over in Weldon, NC.

For some reason, we didn’t get our cup of tea. Instead, after Elsa returned to the van, we drove off again (only guests at the Inn can part there, unless they are dining). Mim guided the van past the Inn's portico and back out onto the street.

I practically had conniption fits when Mim, bold as brass, turned off the road into a small parking area, stopping the van smack dab behind one of the colonial houses, even though a sign CLEARLY warned, For Guests Only.

Clucking with worry, I firmly pointed out, "The sign says this parking is for guests only. We will get in trouble."

Mim looked over at me with a very satisfied smile and said, "Only if we weren't guests. We're staying here overnight."

Well, I just could not believe. I do not mean that lightly - I really could not believe it.

I could not believe it when the girls took the luggage out of the car, I could not believe it when they took out a key (that was what Elsa was really getting at the Inn), could not believe it when they set our bags and baggage inside the Orlando Jones law office. It was a dream come true.

The girls had dreamt up the whole thing on the first lap down, after I had gone and on about how much I had always wanted to see Colonial Williamsburg. They had called from our motel in Weldon, NC and managed to get reservations for a small residence - a law practice - with two beds, one upstairs for Mim and Brooke, one downstairs for myself and Elsa. They had made dinner reservations at Christiana Campbell's and breakfast reservations at the Inn.

It was a magical time, especially when it turned out that the back yard of the law office bordered that of the music master's house, so we had a concert that night practically right on our own back doorstop. I can see and hear it still.

One of my happiest memories was being able to walk into a colonial home and call it our own, for however short a time. It really did feel like Tibby Dawes or Julian Day might go past us at any moment, that we would spot St. John Sprague with the beautiful Regina on his arm.

We were pampered the next day at breakfast. What wonderful service in what a beautiful setting. Breakfast at the Williamsburg Inn still ranks as an all-time favorite experience. I hope to enjoy it again at least once before being reunited with Pete.

Special does not begin to describe that stay. I was very lucky to have the sort of daughters who recognized a dream when they heard it, then did their best to make that dream a reality. I blessed them then, I bless them now for the loving thoughtfulness and generous natures they revealed to their stunned and happy Mom.

Am about to don my night cap and wend my way up the wooden hill.

Love to you all - Grammie Kay

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of Grammie Kay's birth

Thursday, July 29, 2010

LAUNCH DAY 07/23/00

Date: Sun, 23 Jul 2000 14:19:40 EDT
Subject: Launch Day

"That," she replied, "is the rocket."

When Mim said those four words, I felt a sensation that I still cannot describe - I was dwarfed by the reality of what that bright gathering of light that was getting stronger and stronger was.

I cannot remember much other than tracking that light get stronger as we pulled off I-95 and headed across the Beeline Highway toward Cape Canaveral (the town is still named that, as it has been for over 200 years; only the government installation is called Cape Kennedy).

I do - will always - remember the thrill that ran through me when I could actually see the rocket, standing at the gantry in a crossfire of spotlights.

Miraculously, Mim managed to get a parking space - the last one - along the shoulder of the main road that parallels Cape Kennedy. Wonder of wonders, we were parked directly across from the Titusville Holiday Inn - bathrooms!

We woke Brooke up so that she could see the awesome sight of the rocket against the pitch black night sky. I remember her rising up from behind our van's back seat - Mim described it as like a sea monster rising out of the ocean - taking a look, then heading right back to the mattress.

It was around 4:30 a.m. at this point. The joint was jumping! People drove up and down the road, looking enviously at our prime location.

I realized how hungry I was and was looking forward to the Holiday Inn restaurant opening up for breakfast. It was Mim who noticed that the Holiday Inn sign said,"Buffet served from 4:00 a.m."

Well, Mim did not want to make Brooke get up, so she stayed with her while Elsa and I hot footed it across the road to FOOD. And BATHROOMS!

What an experience - eating a hearty breakfast from a table with a perfect view of the Apollo rocket. Elsa described it as surreal and it was. We got some goodies to take back to Mim and Brooke and headed back to the car.

It seemed like forever before the sun came up. The four of us headed over to the Holiday Inn parking lot to watch the launch of the totally unobstructed rocket.

I watched some grey clouds gathering to the north (we were southeast of the launch site) but they seemed pretty far off. I could not understand why Mim and Elsa started pacing at the very sight of them.

"Mom," Mim explained. "In Florida, storms can roll in at a moment's notice, scrubbing the launch." Hence, her comment earlier on the trip about it being very possible that we could have come all this way only to go without seeing a launch.

By the time the launch was ready for the final countdown, a bank of grey clouds formed a backdrop to the rocket - far off to the north but definitely there.

Everyone turned up their portable radios when it got to T minus one minute and counting. We all joined in when it got to 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1. A chorus of radio announcers said, "We have ignition and lift off."

Even now, 25 years later, I get chills. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of that great rush of flame coming out from the rocket engines.

 It reminded me of Bill Buckley's reply to a reporter who asked him to describe the launch of Apollo 11, "With silence."

 Words cannot convey the scene or the feelings I felt as that slender rocket lifted up out of the flame and,
propelled by the thrust of its mighty engines, rose into the sky, the deep grey emphasizing the glory of the
flame and the whiteness of the rocket that was moving in what I can only describe as an elegant path upward.

All I could think of were the men who were sitting at the top of that rocket and of their vulnerability. It was embarrassing to realize that I was crying. I did not want to embarrass the girls, so I started to blubber an apology.

Mim gently put her hand on my arm. "Mom, look around you."

 All around, I saw awestruck, tear-stained faces.  n our hearts, we spoke one wish to those brave men - "Godspeed and a safe return."

Love to all of you from this earthbound Gramster

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of the earthbound Gramster's birth

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

APOLLO 07/22/00

Date: Sat, 22 Jul 2000 22:05:57 EDT
Subject: Mindwalkers - Apollo

Talking about the fun we had in 1976 with Ian Cole got me thinking about another summer, seven years earlier, when the three Lockhart ladies had a remarkable summer adventure with his mother, Brooke.

By the time Elsa had graduated, she and Mim, who was around 26 by then, had been to two Apollo space launches. Elsa would ultimately see four and Mim five.

Their first was the lift-off of the ill-fated Apollo 13 (actually, it was Apollo 12, the one before - deev 08/26/12) - famous for "Houston, we have a problem." Mim has a snapshot of Elsa standing on the roof of the van, scanning the horizon with binoculars - her right foot in full cast. She broke it just before they were scheduled to go down. I cannot figure how she was able to scale up the van to the roof with that heavy cast on, but they say she did it with ease. Oh, the wonders of being young.

By the time this third trip - I cannot remember which one - came around, they started trying to lure me down with them. I was complimented they wanted their old Mom to come down and share all the excitement they had experienced, but I was sure that Pete would not want me to leave him for over a week.

Ha! Pete thought it was a wonderful idea.

The next obstacle - money. It was not that I could not picture asking Pete to finance such a spree, but for some reason it meant everything to me that I foot the bill myself, however crazy that sounded, since I did not work other than do Pete's billings and that was as forever life partner, not paid employee.

What to do?

Out of the blue, my brother Bob sent me a check in the mail, repayment of money he'd borrowed literally decades before and which I had long since written off. So, I had the time and the money, on my terms.

With me going along, Mim felt comfortable asking Lach and Jean if Brooke, who was in elementary school, could come too. They gave their okay, so one hot summer day found the van packed, the four of us buckling up our seat belts and Pete waving farewell. We were off to Cape Canaveral!

Our first night, we stopped at Weldon, NC. I will never forget going to the local Holiday Inn restaurant and ordering a bourbon and water, only to find out it was a "dry" county - no liquor. I practically got down on the floor and kicked and screamed, I was so disappointed. It would be the only low point in the trip.

I remember Brooke getting ready to go to bed that night and turning to the three of us with this interesting look on her face. "I just realized," she said slowly, "that this is the first time I have ever gone anywhere that I did not arrive there on the same day." Quick on her feet, as ever, Mim immediately topped that - "And you don't even know that what you're going to see is even going to happen!!"

The next day - or it may have been the 3rd day, I am not sure - saw us in Daytona, driving down the beach and making a special visit at Brooke's request to the Speedway. Oh, it was HOT at the Speedway, but a promise is a promise.

We went to bed early that night, planning on getting up around 2:30 a.m. to head down to the Cape. I remember that Mim or Elsa rang up the desk for a wake up call, only to be told the desk closed down at midnight, but they could lend us a wind up alarm clock. We took it, but all three of us spent the rest of the night checking and double checking to see if it was working, we were so anxious about getting off when we wanted.

Brooke, thank goodness, was totally sacked out.

The alarm did ultimately go off and we dragged our weary selves out of bed and half-woke up Brooke, enough for her to get out to the van then drop off to sleep on the mattress we had in the back. The three of us were too excitied to sleep.

I remember driving down I-95 in the black of night. After a while, off in the distance, there was a very faint suggestion of light, which grew stronger and stronger with each mile.

"What IS that light?" I asked Mim.

"That," she replied, "is the rocket."

On that, am off to bed and memories of hot and happy days!

Love - Space Age Mom

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of Space Age Mom's birth

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

PLAIN TALK 07/17/00

this posting refers back to an article Mom wrote - The Velveteen Grammie; it was the first post on this blog (see may 14), but actually written about 6 months after Mom started writing under her own e-mail address (rather than guesting on mine)

Date: Mon, 17 Jul 2000 22:39:07 EDT
Subject: plain talk

Some of the responses I have received about The Velveteen Grammie had me feeling uneasy. At any moment, I expected to read "oh how wise and oh how learned." I wanted to remind everyone that wisdom comes at a cost, but how to start off. Then the perfect answer fell - plop! - into my lap.

A young friend wrote to tell me, "I like it when you talk about your life and your reminiscences and your thoughts and feelings. I got the impression from some of your earlier postings that you were trying to say something "meaningful" from research. I thing the best research you have is your own experience. We can read what all the so-called experts have to say about aging in their books. I like to hear what Grammie Kay has to say about aging from her own experience."

Something to respond to. Good.

It is pleasant to write to all of you about lovely memories and musings on life. Looking backwards to the past was what I did best. Mim wrote a beautiful poem that was published in Theta Alpha Journal titled, Mother's War Stories; interesting, I have not shared many of those particular stories here.

Where I had a rough time was being what my psychologist calls "in the moment." If you were to hear about my experience aging from strictly my perspective, you would hear a great... silence. Because, after Pete died, I saw my only role as one of unquestioning support. Knowing my own mind was not an issue until the past few years. It was for Elsa - since 1976! - but not for me.

If you were to come over to see the summer tree and sit on the couch next to the big chair in the living room, you would be seated right next to the hutch cabinet, which we use as a bookcase. The entire bottom shelf is filled with books on personal development, family dynamics and even several on death.

There is another shelf elsewhere filled with audio tapes. Those books and tapes are what gave me my back bone. (After Pete's death, I was one of those people who had a wishbone where their backbone ought to be.)

Being an Ancient is not all sweetness & light, not all memories of Mrs. Lear by the river bank or rose petals on the coffee table. The young friend who wrote to me seems to be well defined by nature and at ease sharing her thoughts. It is what this Gramster appreciates about her most - she makes me think. It would be hard for someone who is that way to understand being just the opposite. That was me over the past 26 years.

I thank the Lord for all the wonderful mentors who have entered my life over the past three years + ~ counselors of many types, including NC ministers, friends, psychologists, audiotapes and books. I would still be my old self if it had not been for those clear, sweet voices that helped lead me to live in the moment, to see that what is, is (as Kevyn Malloy says) without rebuke to myself or to others.

Recognizing and expressing my own voice came at an apparent great cost - what once seemed dearest to me of all. My family, or at least the appearance of it.

Over the past three years, for one reason or another, all but one of my four living children have told me in no uncertain terms how unhappy they are with the person I have become and each one has basically dropped out of my life. It continues to the next generation, since I do not hear anything for months and months from my grandchildren. Do not break out the handkerchiefs, just heed a word of caution - if you do not allow people to know you as a person, not just a parent, when they are young and let them know you need their support, it is nutty to expect them to do an about face and start seeing you as more when they are middle aged.

Because of those wonderful "voices" in my life, instead of seeing the loss of the appearance of a family as tragedy, I can accept and recognize my children as the individuals they are. At the moment, they are individuals who are not comfortable around their Mom.

There is not much I can do to change it, except to go back to the way I was, - no, I do not think so. If I want them to accept and respect me as an individual, then I have to do the same. So, instead of losing the appearance of a family, I gain the reality of incredible individuals who will always touch my life whether they are in it actively or not. I love them -as them - more than ever, because they are real.

A word of caution about “experts” - strike a balance. Do not automatically accept OR reject what they have to say. Some of them gave this oldie but goodie a whole new perspective - many new perspectives. Memories and musings are nice and pleasant, but living in the glorious moment, with whatever help is at hand, is pure joy.

Am long past my bedtime. Nite nite and God bless - the Ancient One

Monday, July 26, 2010

HAPPY DAY 06/06/00

Date: Tue, 6 Jun 2000 21:54:53 EDT
Subject: happy day

I woke up knowing today was going to be special - soft shell for supper! As it turned out, the day was blessed with more than gastronomic pleasures.

Listening to my classic radio station, my soul lifted up listening to excerpts from "Tannhauser." I know that Wagner was a thoroughly self-involved person and, unlike Bach who gave all credit for his talent to God, Wagner was his own biggest fan. I have heard people take Wagner to task because he arrogantly believed he was the greatest composer of all time.

Listening to Tannhauser, it is hard to argue against his opinion. Parts of Tannhauser transport my soul to unworldly heights.

The mail brought a special treat - Mim sent me a copy of Marcia Synnestvedt Boyeson's audio tape, "The Everlasting Hills" which was inspired by Marcia's Uncle Cedric King's book of the same title.

I expected the tape to be outstanding. I have enjoyed Marcia's clear soprano since she was a young girl. However, nothing prepared me for my response to this most unusual tape. It combines brief passages from Cedric's book, original songs based on the text and some truly golden oldies - "My Wild Irish Rose," "Red River Valley" (a Lockhart favorite from way back), "I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen" (which I have loved since I was a youngster) and "Always."

What a surprise to be swept with emotion hearing, "I'll remember you - always. With a love that's true - always. Not for just an hour. Not for just a day. Not for just a year. But always."

All of a sudden, I was back in high school. Eastern High School, an all-girls school in Baltimore, which I attended for my freshmen and sophomore years. At recess, the girls would dance with each other. Our favorite song to dance to was "Always."

How swiftly I was transported back. Some of the girls had long hair, some had it to their shoulders and the ultra-fashionable had it 'bobbed' style that was just becoming the rage. Dresses were straight up & down. The flatter a girl's chest, the more fashionable she was considered. It was standard practice for young ladies and women to wear binders to make them look as flat as possible. Alas, I had a hopelessly unfashionable physique. Even as a young woman, I was - as one of my children would describe me decades later - relatively "big, soft and comfortable."

Funny, how a song can trigger memories. Listening to Marcia sing, I am reminded of her performance in the ANC production of HMS Pinafore. She played Josephine, Kim Woodard was Captain Corcoran and Pete Boericke was Sir Joseph Porter, KCB. I cannot remember for the life of me who played Rafe Rackstraw - strange. If I close my eyes, I can see Marcia with her beautiful dark hair tumbling down against a dainty white gown singing her heart out.

Marcia is an inspiration. She was blessed with a beautiful voice, but did not do much with it aside from sign lullabies to her babies and sing for the enjoyment of her friends. I am sure that a lot of people told her she could sing professionally, but it was not a dream she pursued. Then, she was diagnosed with brain cancer and, from what I understand, all of a sudden life looked very different. And then they found more tumors. It is my understanding that that was when she took her talent seriously. The rest of us have been blessed that she shares her gift beyond her intimate circle.

Imagine what would happen if we all lived our lives as if every moment counts and that we count within every moment? I know that sounds pretty high-falutin', but I know how much my life changed in February when I realized the quality of my life could change for the worse. It was as if an inner eye was opened and I could see how wonderful life was. It was as if an inner voice woke up and started telling me that it was important to be as active as possible and to cut myself a break and belief that I hold marvelous powers for good within me.

The soft shell were marvelous. Since she had never cooked soft shell crab before and because she is a very practical person, Elsa went to our favorite Chestnut Hill restaurant for lunch and pumped the chef/owner for how he prepared the ones we've enjoyed there so many times. The ones she served up were absolutely succulent and perfectly cooked and delicious, accompanied by lightly-steamed asapargus - my favorite vegetable - and a special rice concoction. Oh, it was heavenly.

What a lovely day. Truth be told, what was dearest to my heart was the contact with Mim. Our lives have gone off in different directions, as often happens, and it always makes me happy when our lives intersect. Now, everytime I listen to "The
Everlasting Hills" I will think of Marcia and Eastern High School, soft shell crab and my love for Mim.

To my dear circle of friends, know that "I'll remember you - always" ~ Grammie K

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of Grammie K's birth

Sunday, July 25, 2010


Date: Sat, 3 Jun 2000 19:05:13 EDT
Subject: Feeling my age

Old age crept up on me today.

John is off today and tomorrow to Pennsy Days at the Pennsylvania Railroad Museum in Strasburg (his paintings are part of an art show), leaving just us womenfolk at home.

Elsa invited me to go to Rollers for a delectable lunch of soft shell crab - and I turned her down. Don't have the energy to would take to be in Chestnut Hill, which always gets my juices flowing with lots and lots of happy memories and places to go and things to see.

Am still saying it to myself - I turned down soft shell crab.

Soft shell crab is practically my favorite shell fish, nudged out of 1st place by the Oysters Kilpatrick at the American Club in Sydney. And I was not up to the drive. Old age stinks. Instead, we headed to Newtown and lunch at Pat's Colonial Kitchen.

Pat's is a wonderful nook of a restaurant. We walked in and back to the upper level, which is do'ed up like a veranda. Judy brought over our coffee order without having to ask - my decaf came in a "MOM" mug. "Lisa's Salad?" But of course ~ my favorite.

It is not soft shells, but Lisa Salad is a glory all its own. I can order it in the middle of winter and one bite and my mouth thinks it is summer. Elsa would bring it to me when I was at St. Mary’s Hospital recuperating from my "episode" and it did as much for my recovery as any medicine or therapy. The salad is refreshing, a bed of beautiful fresh lettuce generously topped with raisins, sun flower seeds, bits of pickle, strips of turkey, with a wonderful slightly French but tangier dressing. A large salad, I ate almost every bit of it.

Not soft shells, but just right for today.

Have you ever sunk your teeth into a beautifully sautéed (fie on all who deep fat fry)soft shell crab? One bite, and I think I've died and gone to heaven. Lightly floured, delicately sautéed = culinary bliss.

At least there is no rush to get my annual soft shell dining under my belt - are in season until September (every month without an "r" is soft shell season on the East Coast). They are pricey because they have to be caught between the time the crab sheds its old shell and before it starts growing a new one. Hence the name.

I have an honor roll of places I have dined delectably on soft shells:
* the Crab Claw in St. Michael's, Maryland;
* the Robert Morris Inn in Oxford, MD;
* Monique's, an Alsatian restaurant in New Hope, PA;
* Louisa's, Cape May, NJ ~ the best I ever sampled;
* Under the Blue Moon in Chestnut Hill was our traditional haunt for many years, until the owners had the audacity to retire (many devotees went into mourning);
* now we go to Roller's, also in Chestnut Hill, for my annual gastronomical pilgrimage.

Wherever I am, if sautéed soft shell crab is on the menu, I am doing just fine.

Nite-nite and God bless - Kay

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of Kay's birth

Saturday, July 24, 2010


Date: Thu, 29 Jun 2000 22:40:42 EDT
Subject: Laughing stars

Today is Antoine de Saint-Exupery's 100th birthday. He died many years short of it, last seen in 1944 flying a Free French reconnaissance plane over the Mediterranean, a German fighter plane in hot pursuit. No one really knows for sure what happened, his body was never found, which seems a poetic fate for the author of "The Little Prince."

Lots and lots of people know Saint-Exupery's most famous quote, the gift of wisdom the fox gave the Little Prince when they parted - One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye.

I would like to share a less famous piece, near the end of the book, the Little Prince speaking to the Aviator. People have stars, but they aren't the same. For travelers, stars are guides. For other people, they are nothing but tiny lights. And for still others, for scholars, they're a problem. For my businessman, they were gold. But all these stars are silent stars. You, though, you'll have stars like nobody else."

"What do you mean?"

"When you look up at the sky, since I will be living on one of them, since I'll be laughing on one of them, for you it will be as if all the stars are laughing. You'll have stars that can laugh!"

And he laughed again.

"And when you're consoled (everyone eventually is consoled), you'll be glad that you've known me. You'll always be my friend. You'll feel like laughing with me. And you'll open your window sometimes just for the fun of it... And your friends will be amazed to see you laughing up at the sky..."

* * * * * *

I love that passage for itself and because it makes me think of my father. In his final illness, he would look at us (I was 19 and Betty was 17), smile that gentle smile that hovered under his beard, and say, "Soon I will be hanging out the stars."

Because of my father, the stars laugh for me, even to this day. When I am hanging out the stars with Pete, I hope they will laugh for you.

Good night, my friends. Am off to bed - Katharine Reynolds Lockhart

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of KRL's birth

Friday, July 23, 2010

FAMILY 03-01-00

Subj: Family (be warned ~ a self-indulgent posting!)
Date: 3/1/00 7:46:37 PM Eastern Daylight Time

I guess it is not surprising that my family, my children, are in my thoughts almost constantly these days. I remember Pete holding the newborn Peter and saying, "I feel like I have the whole world in my arms." Mike's 2/11 birth, which kept me in the hospital over Valentine's Day and Pete bringing both of us red tulips on 2/14. Mim, our first girl. Ian's birth. Elsa's. It seems such a short time ago.

We are a family of very different and very definite individuals. As John, an only child himself, puts it, the four surviving children seem to come from four separate gene pools. I could boot myself at times for trying – without success - to look like an "ideal" (i.e. like-minded) family. I felt threatened by "divisiveness" instead of celebrating our family's diversity.

I finally, as they say, "get it." As I waited for my tests yesterday and again today, I tried to think of what one special gift from each of my children stands out in my mind:
* Peter showed us the importance of honesty and straight-shooting ways;
* Mike's travels opened the world to our family;
* Mim's adventures - heading out to California for workshop classes at Pasadena Playhouse, her summer in the '60s doing theater workshop at Greenwich Village's famous Circle in the Square, her trips to Hawaii and Ireland, her stints at rural Berry College in Georgia and at the University of Houston, getting her undergraduate degree commuting from BA to night school at NYU - added dash & sophistication;
* Ian taught how unpredictable life can be;
* Elsa played the family Pied Piper, leading us (especially me) astray to NYC, Williamsburg, Chicago, Washington D.C., San Francisco, DisneyWorld and many points in between.

What quality stands out in my mind about each of my children?
* Peter's personal image and love of being a devoted father, which is first and foremost in his heart
* Mike's ease with his fellow humans
* Kerry's compassion for and capacity to help the women she counsels, giving them hope in darkness
* Mim's ability to give 100% of herself to whatever cause or people she holds dear
* Ian's love of nature and all of God's creatures
* Elsa's unshakeable belief in the possible, no matter what the odds
* John's sense of fair play

Once I stopped trying to redesign who my children are and instead learned to respect them, I was free to see lucky I am to have complex children who do not pull their punches. Because each of them is a strong, outspoken individual, I can see myself as an individual who is part of an incredible family.

I have a big day tomorrow, so am heading to bed early. Be back with you tomorrow night.

Nite-nite and God bless ~ Nan (aka Kay Lockhart)

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of Nan's birth

Thursday, July 22, 2010

WHO IS ME? 07/15/00

Subj: Journaling IV - Who is ME?
Date: 7/15/00 11:28:10 PM Eastern Daylight Time

Writing about my Old Age Ain't For Sissies posting, KAB wrote “This is a good one for your article. It sounds more like you than some of your earlier Journaling postings. Keep on sharing!”

Kris raises a good point about sounding - or not sounding - like "me." Most of what I have shared over the past week, the Journaling postings she refers to, have come from doing a lot of listening - to all sorts of audio tapes, or having Elsa read aloud to me, since my eyes have not been up to par for over a year. It is hard for even me to know when it is Kay Lockhart having an original thought and when it is Louise Hay or Christiane Northrup or Marianne Williamson or Depak Chopra or Stephen Covey or Barbara Sher or John Bradshaw or Mary Pipher or Antoine de Sainte-Exupery or Nathaniel Branden or Scott Peck or SARK or Alan Cohen or Ram Dass or Carolyn Foster or A.A. Milne and so on and so forth.

ME is changing so fast, it is hard to keep up at times. It feels like more bubbles up to the surface than ever before - well, since I fell in love, married and became a mom for the first time. We are even trying to put together my very own web site, which seems ... well, I do not know what it seems, but it does. Talk about "the times today are a'changing" - who'd 'a thunk that I would set foot anywhere near a meeting of people considering the role of women within the General Church, but there I was Monday evening, feeling right at home, sitting front and center, and enjoying it immensely.

Sorry if I spouted off a bit in this posting. Seems that KAB hit a nerve. Some family members discount what they seem to consider my blusterings, attributing them to Elsa, as if I were a mindless nincompoop who could not have a serious thought of my own. Kris' posting hit a nerve, but it has gotten my curiosity up and running. Which parts did not sound like me? Were they things said or style? Please let me know more and that goes for all of you. One big request – be specific. Generalities leave me hanging about what seemed off key.

Nite-nite and God bless - am off to have my face washed and onto bed!

Love - KRL

Wednesday, July 21, 2010


Subj: Journaling III - Old age ain't for sissies
Date: 7/14/00 11:58:28 PM Eastern Daylight Time

Actually, if you manage to get to 90 relatively sound of heart, mind and body (or any combination of those three), you have accomplished something pretty unusual.

To be honest, as I have inched closer and closer to my centennial, being old has gotten somewhat easier - actually, a lot easier. In my late 80s I began to see the humor and humanity in things much more than before.

Looking back, the toughest years were when my energies were beginning to flag and my body started slowing down. My proprium - my sense of self - felt threatened as it became clear that Katharine Reynolds Lockhart was far more than just the sum of her physical parts. Moving out of that hanging-on state to one of accepting that the fixtures and fittings were coming apart was like moving out of darkness and confusion toward lightness and the light. The concept of physical being, of time and relationships, became liberated. I was beginning to get the hang of these basic changes, when I was hit by a small stroke late last September.

That small stroke speeded up the process, liberating a different “me.” My mind felt strong, my spirit felt strong. As my body started to head south, it no longer had the energy to put up a fight about being temporary or even fake being permanent. My feet drag somewhat and I move a lot more slowly than I did, but most days my spirit soars, making itself felt more and more.

Nature has forced me into more meditative states and a slower, sssllooowwwerrrr tempo. Instead of being bored to tears sitting in the big chair in the living room or in my soothing rocking chair, it is surprisingly rewarding.

The problem is that young kids - looking through the eyes of a still preening self - feel sad and think, "How dull her life must be." Too many Ancient and near-Ancient Ones come to think those young'uns are right.

A friend asked me to write about old age and make all the younger folks envious of us Ancients. Growing old, even some of the sadder aspects of it, is part of the Lord's grand scheme. Let go of time-bound prejudices and fears of growing older. Marianne Williamson says that to get to the light, a person has to work through the darkness. In middle age, life can seem dark.

Work through it toward the light. Or perhaps consider a play - the closer and closer the actors come to the curtain going up, the more experienced they get, the more polished their performance and the better able they are to improvise when needed. It is the same with life. Think of us Ancients as master thespians, waiting for the curtain to be rung up.

It is past even this night owl's bed time.

Nite-nite and God bless - A Kid at Heart

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of The Kid's birthday

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

PARADOX 07/13/00

Subj: a most unusual paradox
Date: 7/13/00 9:58:11 PM Eastern Daylight Time

Setting my limits is setting me free.

A young friend wrote that to me yesterday, describing her experience. I had been trying and trying to come up with similar wording, and there it was, just wanting to be used.

That is a paradox of my life - before I can be freed of limitations, before boundaries can be dissolved, they must first be defined. It took me a very long time to understand differentiation, but now it is one of my favorite words. I cannot be set free from boundaries I do not acknowledge. Sounds tricky, that.

I was the master of the fuzzy boundary. I could express myself with well-turned ambiguity, allowing three or more people to interpret one statement three or more ways.

By setting my limits, by seeing boundaries between myself and others, those limits and boundaries become free to fall away.

I do not really understand this, but it what I have experienced.

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of Mom's birth

Monday, July 19, 2010


Subj: A Red Letter Day
Date: 7/12/00 10:55:36 PM Eastern Daylight Time

My big news is that for the first time I turned on the CD player, turned on the CD selection, and managed to play a CD.

This might not sound like much to you, but it is a genuinely big deal to me. Electrical equipment intimidates me.

Elsa called up from B&N/Willow Grove to tell me that she and John would be stopping off for about an hour on the way home (John had used her car to go to the Franklin Mint and drove her to and from work). Not hearing any music in the background, she asked if I had the radio on. I explained that it was turned to a talk station and I could not figure out how to find the classical music station. Knowing how lonely it can be, she suggested I play one of the CDs already loaded up.


That meant turning it on and everything by myself. Elsa stayed on the phone and I walked over to the CD player and she talked me through turning it on and everything.

I did not get it right the first few times, but I did not get discouraged and stayed "on task," as Elsa says, and, by Jove, I did it! It might not sound like much, but it meant a lot to me.

It is way past my bedtime - am up and away.

Love - Cybergabster

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of the Cybergabster's birth

Sunday, July 18, 2010


Subj: Journaling II
Date: 7/12/00 7:21:00 AM Eastern Daylight Time

Do we have a concept of aging as leaving one static, when really the growth keeps right on going, maybe right out of the ceilings of our cramped opinion?

As I write this I say to myself, "Thank you, Lord, for letting me live long enough to enjoy the wonders of the magic of e-mail."

Both of these snippets from replies to my last e-mail boosted my confidence.

Just as little children often think of their 30-year old parents as really old, not-so-young people can tend to think of their parents as sort of shutting down as we age, gong into some sort of hibernation This old biddy believes that the Lord intended us to fully live - whatever our physical or mental condition - right up to the moment we traipse across the threshold of our spiritual home.

One of our greatest challenges as spiritual beings having a natural experience is the natural tendency to think in earthly ways. There is a lot about aging that is hard to grasp.

Why do people have to go through the heartache of having our bodies break down?

Why do people, including my mother, have to go through memory loss and disconnection with the present?

Why do people have to experience changing roles and shifting sense of identity?

I do not have many thoughts on the first two, although I do believe that both are related to helping us human beings shift away from thinking from our body to thinking from our spirit, but the last has become dear to my heart.

As I wrote yesterday, my own children are all old enough to be grandparents. That thought stopped me in my tracks. It also made me realize how liberated I am - there is not much that I can offer to "parent" them at this point. Yet, parenting was a defining role for me, along with being a wife.

When Pete preceded me to the Other World over 25 years ago, parenting was the only familiar role I had left and I clung to it. My health allowed me to make seven trips to Australia between ages 65 and 85, all of them lasting at least several months. I loved those trips and the opportunity to be Mum and Nan to my children and grandchildren. When Kerry got home from work, there would be a hot cuppa waiting for her. I could be a sounding board for my son, Mike. It was wonderful to do things with and for Scott and Karen. I was in my element.

Back in the USA, our home was always safe haven for my children and we often had prolonged visits from Peter and Mim, which made my mother's heart glad. Even after I moved in with John and Elsa soon after their marriage, it did my heart good to have my other children stop by for overnights, longer stays and visits. It helped me know that I was being truly useful because I was doing for others.

The big challenge was sparing the time and energy to think and act for myself.

The past few years have seen tremendous strides in this department. It might have been more difficult to see the "up" side of my September 1999 stroke and severely arthritic right shoulder if I had not already started the journey toward more personal awareness.

My body tells me every day that it is only temporary. It is breaking down. That is in the order of things, however rotten it is to experience. I take two strong pain pills a day and I have wonderful doctors. I live in a supportive household with two "youngsters" who love me, and lots of stuffed animals for comforting hugs. I have a daughter who brow beats and badgers me to think for myself.

I, too, offer up thanks for the blessings of e-mail, which allows my thoughts to go with miraculous speed even though my body is relatively confined to the big chair in the living room.

This time last year, I enjoyed taking a walk around the block; now, I content myself with a stroll around the kitchen island.

I can not get up out of bed unaided because of my shoulder, which means many calls throughout the night to John and Elsa to help me get up to visit "Lamb" (my commode, so named because at one point it followed me wherever I went).

Until my "episode", Elsa could call from work after a rough day and ask me to make dinner - no more.

I took pride in cleaning up after supper - now John does. But I can still shell hard-boiled eggs and clean mushrooms!

Changing roles and changing identities can be rough on everyone. It can upset children, on many levels, to find that good old Mom is not what she used to be.

I consider my relationship with my children one of my greatest achievements, although I might not have thought so a few years back. Each one of them has an independent life and life view. If they want to seek my company or stay in contact, that makes me happy. If they are, for any reason, uncomfortable around me, then it is better that they be true to that feeling than hang around out of a sentimental sense of duty. I am proud that my children are strong enough to think and act for themselves and that they see me as a person rather than just their mother.

I thank the Lord that I am still mentally and physically strong enough to think about these matters. I thank all of my friends for letting this old biddy ramble on with my thoughts on life's evolutions.

You bless my life - Kay

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of Kay's birth

Saturday, July 17, 2010


Subj: Journaling
Date: 7/11/00 7:45:39 AM Eastern Daylight Time

I have been thinking a lot about what I could write about aging and the blessings that have come with my experience of it.

What to write about? What to leave out? Most of it will be about what to leave out, because there is so much to share.

Yesterday, it hit me that all of my children, even my baby, are old enough to be grandparents; if I stretch it just a little bit, my oldest could be a great-grandparent. Somehow, that realization helped me focus on what I have found an interesting aspect of getting considerably older – evolving roles.

A lot of people are unsure how they feel about the changes that take place with genuine old age, especially the change in the roles they have played in life. At ninety, I am not physically capable of managing the role I played as a parent. I cannot wash a floor or do the grocery shopping or even dust my own room. Instead of being a custodial parent, I am the one needing the care.

Dependency has not turned out to be as bad as I thought it would be. There is a wonderful passage from the book Still Here, by Ram Dass, that captures my experience over the past year, talking about what happens when there is true surrender and service between people, how the boundaries between the helper and the helpee – those in power and those now powerless – start to dissolve. That has been my experience with my daughter and son-in-law and with, it seems, most of the other people in my life - the boundaries have begun to dissolve.

Old roles have fallen away. There are things that I loved to do that are just a memory.

That could be a source of depression or I could shift my perspective. Think of it as going to a favorite restaurant and ordering favorite dishes, only to discover they are not available. There are two choices - get in a funk over what is not available or grab the opportunity to check over the menu for something new. My personal menu of possibilities seems like one of the over-sized diner menus.

There are many things that my physical condition keep me from doing, but there are a lot of new experiences just waiting to be given a whirl. On the physical level, life stinks. On almost every other level - emotional, mental, spiritual - the world is my oyster and every month has an R!

Love to you all - The Ancient One

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy (aka Deev), in honor of the 05/14 centenary of The Ancient One's birth

Friday, July 16, 2010

"COME" 07/10/00

Subj: “Come”
Date: Mon, 10 Jul 2000 23:18:19 EDT

In spite of the heat and the humidity - either one an excellent reason for this Ancient One to stay in Squirrel Haven's cool comfort - I did not doubt that I would go to tonight's Caritas meeting, a gathering of people interested in including women in the General Church ministry.

Elsa called up from work around 5:30 to see if I was still interested in going, and I said how I thought so. Since she was working late, she asked John to pick up supper to help us get out the door in time.

It was a surprise to start with worship in Gerry and Emily Jane's beautiful chapel. It was restful and calming - and then Nancy and Michelle came forward to lead worship.

When I set eyes on Nancy in her white robe, I felt a physical shock hit my body. Then I pulled back and said, "Whoa, old girl. You are ‘Old Guard’ and used to things happening a certain way. Let go and allow the service to take you where it will."

In short order, a sense of peace settled over me. It was different, but I was at ease with the difference. I especially loved what they talked about.

Maybe the best reason I can give for why I never doubted I would make it, for however long or short a time, was that I heard the voice say "Come" and I did and I am happy.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

BLISS 06/05/00

Subj: Bliss
Date: 6/5/00 10:32:49 PM Eastern Daylight Time

Getting a shower yesterday, instead of a does-the-deed but far-from-satisfying sponge bath, is sure to be one of the high points of my year.

Then, today, friends who had been down to the Chesapeake set me back on my heels by bringing by some soft shell crabs - had a lovely visit today and am looking forward to culinary bliss tomorrow night.

Finally, a women's online discussion group I participate in is talking about beloved books, which makes me feel closer to them as a group and individuals than ever before. I think that discovering what type of books people treasure can offer a peek into their inner being. Such blessings make me a very happy woman.

Nite-nite & God bless - Momma Mu

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in honor of the 05/14 centenary of Momma Mu's birth

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


Subj: aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh
Date: 6/4/00 6:03:57 PM Eastern Daylight Time

Just a few moments ago, for the first time since my stroke in September, I had an honest-to-goodness shower.

It was beyond words to feel the almost-forgotten brisk splash of warm water all over my parched body, the pleasure of lathering up a wash cloth.

I cannot describe how it felt as Elsa rubbed me down with a lovely thick towel, then helped ease me into a new, extra lush terry cloth robe.

Oh my goodness, I feel restored. Bliss, pure & simple bliss.

Sorry for two postings in one day, but I just had to share this with someone and you are so close at hand.

Let me say it one more time - I HAD A SHOWER!

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in honor of the 05/14 centenary of Mom's birth

Tuesday, July 13, 2010


Subject: Delights & Surprises
Date: Thu, 6 Apr 2000 21:12:43 EDT

It was delightful to get my hair done today. Having bedraggled hair can make me feel so low and being well-coiffed peps up my spirits.

Wonderful surprise this afternoon. Brenda brought Charlie & Maggie over for a visit - I knew they were coming and I knew they were bringing something for the spring tree, but never in a million years would I have guessed what it was. Bunnies, bunnies and more bunnies. Seven of them, all together – one large, several medium sized, and a few small.

Brenda and the children, I know not how, managed to find places for each and every one of them on the tree without displacing a single bunny already there. If the tree looked terrific before, it looks spectacular now. And they brought a Colobus monkey for me, which they had found during their spring break trip to Washington, D.C. to visit the Smithsonian museums.

We had a delightful visit, filled with love, creativity, lot of gabbing, dances with stuffies, high spirits and Chips Ahoy® cookies. It was a special treat to show off the snapshots of Kimberly and Scott's wedding that Margaret Heldon had made into a special presentation book for me. There was so much happiness in the living room this afternoon that it spilled into every nook & cranny in the house. I bet you can feel my smile, as I dictate this note.

Oh, another photo arrived today. Pam sent a photo of Mim, Whitney, myself and Elsa that she took at Whitney's shower two weeks ago. So many wonderful photos have arrived within the past week. I feel rich.

I also feel tired. Am up the wooden hill and so to bed.

Love to all - Cyber Grammie

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLD LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of Cyber Grammie's birthday

Monday, July 12, 2010


Subject: ritual washing
Date: Mon, 3 Apr 2000 23:06:40 EDT

I am just about ready for bed. If I peek around the corner of the computer studio, I can see the Spring Tree* all lit up and lovely in the living room. The sound of the Glencairn Horns drifts up from the living room and will be the last thing I hear before heading to the land of Winken, Blinken and Nod.

It is a serene moment.

Elsa just washed my face. You might be surprised as what a lovely ritual face washing can be. Every moment of it makes me feel like being at a super posh spa.

(Oh, the horns just played the crescendo from “Calm On the List'ning Ear of Night” and I am all goose bumps.)

First, the warm, soapy lathering up. It makes my face feel quite pampered and fussed over.

Next, comes the first warm rinse.

Then, my favorite, the hot cloth draped from forehead to chin. Ahhhh, that feels so good.

Then, the second hot application, this time focusing on my forehead. I do not know why my forehead likes so much attention, but there it is.

Finally, the cold application, which makes my face sit up and take notice.

The very last is having Oil of Olay applied to my face. Connie Rosenquist introduced me to Oil of Olay - not much hope of it doing a lot of good for this ancient face, but it feels so wonderful as it is soothed onto my face.

I never paid much attention to the sensual aspects (and I do not mean that in a sexy way) of washing my face when I did it myself. It was just one more thing to check off on my nightly routine. But now - ah, now it is a moment of luxury.

Blissfully yours - Ma Lockhart

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in honor of the 05/14 centenary of Ma Lockhart's birth

*the Spring Tree was an artificial Christmas tree that we'd left up because, as Mom said, "It cast a lovely light." (One blessing of having an artificial tree - our 1999 Christmas tree was the first that wasn't fresh cut.) It was covered with hearts in February & decked out in spring flowers from March-May. The tree was set in the far corner of the living room, directly in Mom's line of sight for her bed.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

AS A MAN THINKETH... 04/01/00

Subject: As a man thinketh...
Date: Sat, 1 Apr 2000 12:55:35 EST

...can be very different from how a woman thinketh. Consider my son Peter.

Peter called up today to make a generous offer to the Lockhart womenfolk: he would happily treat us to a complete wedding outfit - shoes and stockings to coat and hat, if we wished - for his daughter, Whitney's, BIG DAY.


Just one problem. The wedding is two weeks from today.

Ladies, how many of you would be two weeks away from an important wedding and not already know what you are wearing and what you are wearing with what you are wearing. (Men, can you follow?)

If we were to take Peter up on his generous offer, it would mean having to do some intensive shopping over the next 12 days.

Men can go into whatever is their equivalent of Brooks Brothers or whatever and pick out a top quality suit, shoes, socks, briefs, T-shirts, ties. This woman approaches putting together an outfit differently.

> Due to a mastectomy and general physical decrepitude, my foundation garments are ordered from a specialty store in Jenkintown.

> My orthopedic shoes have to be special ordered from Faherty's and take closer to 2 months than 2 weeks to arrive.

> If I was planning on wearing a dress other than what already hangs in my closet, it would probably be made to order (see above for reasons), which means finding the pattern, fabric and a seamstress with enough time to get it done in less than 2 weeks.

As it is, the outfits I will wear to the rehearsal dinner, the wedding and the post-wedding day brunch already wait patiently in my closet for me to pack them up for our short jaunt to the Great Valley (Fraser, PA) Sheraton. I like them and they suit me. As for Elsa, she's had her outfit pressed and ready to go since December, with her jewelry in a velvet pouch pinned to the dress.

Yes, I will wear my somewhat battered clodhoppers, as well as socks instead of stockings.

Yes, I may look more like Mammy Yokum than Hope Montgomery Scott, since health has left my dentures all catty-whompus so they do not fit any more and there is no time to get new ones.

But with a bride as radiant as Whitney, a groom as happy as Chad, and a dad as proud of Peter, who is going to notice anyway?

What touches me deeply is Peter's thoughtfulness about my wardrobe and his undiminished belief in the wonders his Mom can pull off. They leave me with a smiling face and heart.

On a different note ~ I hope today is as beautiful wherever you are as this Pennsylvania spring day is here. Elsa is taking me to lunch at our beloved Pat's Colonial Kitchen, my first full-scale social outing (not counting a couple March trips to B&N) in months. The trees along Newtown's State Street should be in full flower. I am all a-twitter in anticipation.

Love to all - The Grandmother of the Bride

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in honor of the 05/14 centenary of the Grandmother of the Bride's birth

Saturday, July 10, 2010


Subject: Happy National Doctor's Day!
Date: Thu, 30 Mar 2000 20:40:42 EST

It really is. I started off my morning by sending an online card to the two most remarkable doctors I know - Candy & Dave Zeigler. I spent the rest of the day thinking about the many doctors who have made my life worth living.

Especially on my mind was Dr. Michael J. Bennett, the doctor who changed my life more than any other. I first saw Mike Bennett as a young married woman. A friend recommended him when I was suffering from terrible menstrual cramps. He diagnosed a crooked cervix, which was both the source of my pain and hampering my ability to get pregnant. Together, we set it right with a combination of medication and exercise. I remember one that always gave Pete a hoot - kneeling on our bed, I would put my face on the mattress and hitch up my bottom high as I could. Hardly a sexy sight, I am sure.

Mike was a sensitive, caring but strict obstetrician. He delivered both Peter and Mike, who is named for him. Mike Bennett's caring and care touched my life and still does.

Mike seemed to me blessed with every grace, except length of days.

In his late 30s, he ignored his own symptoms until they could not be ignored any longer.

He had cancer.

Ordered to bed rest, he had a hard time resisting being with his children. When his beloved little girl, Meryl, beseeched him to play with her, he could not say no, even though she had a cold.

Mike knew the risks he took, but in his same position I would rather have a happy hour playing with my little girl than an extra month or so of dying. He caught her cold, which turned into pneumonia and at 41, he was gone. But not gone, if you know what I mean.

Happy Doctor's Day, Mike!

Love to all - Mom

reposted with sweet memories of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of Mom's birth

Friday, July 9, 2010


Subject: golden girl, "Grey Lady"
Date: Fri, 24 Mar 2000 21:29:05 EST

A good portion of this circle of friends did not know Emilie. She was, as I said, a truly "golden girl" - not because she had wealth, because all it did was add just an bit more flair to already rich and enriching life; not because of the accolades, because to her being of service was honor in itself.

How many of you know that Emilie was a "Grey Lady" at Abington Hospital, one of those marvelous volunteers who did so much to make patients' lives brighter?

We Lockharts have our very own "grey lady," who (if legend is to be believed, and it is always more fun to believe than not) was trained by Emilie herself. That is BENITA, a wonderful grey hippopotamus hand puppet. Mim gave her to me over twenty years ago and ever since my mastectomy back in 1980, she has accompanied me on every hospital stay. Recently, she came with me for my extensive pre-admin testing. Whenever someone would ask about her, I'd explain, "She's a 'grey lady' and is here to give me comfort." The nurses took it all in stride.

Full circle brings it back to Emilie and the good she did for all those years. I suppose that if Elsa had been able to attend Emilie's memorial yesterday, Benita would have insisted on going too. Like Emilie, she looks soft and pretty, but don't be fooled!

Am heading up the wooden hill. Love to all - KRL

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in honor of the 05/14 centenary of KRL's birthday

Thursday, July 8, 2010


after a brief period of posting that wre relevant late June/early July, we return to the original, utterly-out-of-order repostings of Kay Lockhart's (Mom) "ancient" (10 years old) e-mail postings to her circle of online friends/kindred spirits

Subject: EKA
Date: Thu, 23 Mar 2000 21:17:24 EST

Emilie's license plate - EKA.

Emilie Kessel Asplundh.

I have been drifting through a lifetime of memories, spending this - the day of her memorial service - in smiles of remembrance.

Of being an elementary school student, back in the late teens or early '20s. I was a fifth grader coming down the Pike from Sorrel Horse. Back then, the elementary school, high school and college were all on the campus that is just the high school now. Lorna Johnstone (to be Hicks), Emilie's dearest friend and a high school dorm student, would walk to the Pike to meet Emilie, who would walk to school from Sleepy Hollow, where her family lived in a farm house across the Pike and down the road. Every day, they would meet up at the Pike and walk to school together. I loved seeing those two high school girls together, they were both so lovely and they played off of each other so well, Lorna with her fair hair and Emilie with her dark. They seemed to my starry 5th grader's eyes the ultimate in beauty and grace. Watching the two of them walk together to Benade Hall seemed to me like watching two angels, walking together, rapt in friendship.

I always felt that when she and Carl Asplundh married, Emilie was the bigger "catch." She was the perfect foil for Carl - a woman who never seemed to dominate, but whose powerful presence was strongly felt. A gracious hostess for a man building, with his brothers, a remarkably successful company, a loving mother, and a good friend to so many.

In my mind's eye, I see her at a party they had after a trip to Hawaii. Emily demonstrated to us the hula, which she had learned. And in back of her towered Carl, burlesquing her every movement and bringing the house down with laughter. That moment still epitomizes in my mind the remarkable partnership and love those two shared.

I cannot image the blow Carl's death must have been to Emilie. It was so sudden. As I recall, he died in his sleep. I can still remember when the minister announced his death at Sunday services the next morning, the shocked gasp from people who had just seen him at a party the night before. It just did not seem possible. Much like I feel about Emilie's passing, even though it was far from unexpected or premature.

Am tired and must toddle, taking with me more memories of Emilie to share another time. Most people felt that Emilie was blessed by life, and in so many ways she was, but what made her a truly "golden girl" were the blessings she gave in life.

Love to you all - Kay

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in honor of the centenary of Kay's 05/14 birth

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

in someone else's write

On 06/17/10, I posted a 03/21/00 Mindwalker1910 entry called In My Own Write (yeah, stolen from Lennon); this was the entry Mom posted the next day (March 22, 2000):

Subj: in someone else's write
Date: 3/22/00 9:40:14 PM Eastern Daylight Time

What to post into cyberspace tonight?

I am going to cheat and quote something from a book of daily readings, just a short piece that has been buzzing about in my brain. It is about willed ignorance. It comes from a book of daily readings that helps keep me on my toes:

"Naiveté is charming and touching in the young. But there is nothing charming about adults who refuse to see the writing on the wall. This kind of blankness is call "willed ignorance" because it's done on purpose, deliberately. With enough practice, willed ignorance can be indistinguishable from stupidity.

"On the surface, this condition seems absurd. Who would will themselves to be ignorant? But there are many reasons for this sad tactic. If we don't see what's going on, don't know what's happening, we won't have to deal with it. So we choose not to know. But the price of willed ignorance is always loss."

And to quote Helen Keller ~ "Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. The fearful are caught as often as the bold." Be bold!

Love to all - Grandma L'

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, to honor the 05/14 centenary of Grandma L's birth

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

UN BELL' GIORNO 07/09/00

Subj: Un bell' giorno
Date: 7/9/00 6:52:30 PM Eastern Daylight Time

Esther Yardumian-Smythe and I have talked for ages & ages about getting together for lunch. On Friday, it happened! She swung by Squirrel Haven around 1:00 p.m. and we were off & running. She took me to a new restaurant - the Allways Cafe in Bethayres. It is located where Wagner's Bakery once stood.

It was, as I expected, a wonderful afternoon. Esther & I had a lively conversation - never a dull moment. Esther is always a tonic for my spirits and this was no exception. In age, she is a tad younger than Elsa; in spirit, we’re irrepressible contemporaries, sharing a love of life and of her mother, or as Esther calls her – the Mate.

In addition to updating me on the past year - she teaches at the Academy and is the high school girls' dorm "Mom," jobs that would keep the average person hopping - she filled me in on her plans to spend a month in Florence with her husband. They will have a nice apartment, with flowers and trees all around. She will be studying the art treasures.

If I ever go to Italy, the place where I would want to spend the most time is Florence, for its culture and art, so it was wonderful to lap up news of their upcoming adventures. I especially like the fact that her husband will be there too. It is fun to imagine how Pete and I would fare over there for month. I like to think we would do quite well.

In addition to our gab fest, which covered many bases, it was fun to see all sorts of friends and acquaintances who had also stopped by to "put on the old nosebag." There was Bob Bieswenger, Emily Jane Lemole, members of the Garth Cooper clan (who own the café), Bryon Odhner, and others I cannot recall.

I had a good lesson in the power of the Internet when Emily Jane came up and gave me a hug & a kiss, which surprised me until she said how much she had loved reading what I had written about her Mom after Emilie's death and wondered if we had a print out of it that she could have.

That is one of the greatest things about this electronic medium and about sharing things that can be passed along without hesitation. There is no knowing where they are going or who will see them.

When Esther brought me home, we hung around the living room for a while and talked some more. Lunch was a wonderful treat, but talking in the living room was my favorite part. Among other things, we looked at life from the point of view of teenagers and the point of view of adults. It was a rare afternoon. It was hard to say our good byes.

Prologue - when Elsa came in the door that night, she asked how my day was. I reminded her, as she was coming around the big chair, that I had gone out with Esther. As she tells it, she expected to see me looking happy, but with a touch of the translucent grey I get to my face when I am tired. She was bowled over - according to her, I looked simply radiant and very strong. I said it earlier and will say it again - Esther is a tonic! My thanks to her for "un bell' giorno" and may she have a magical month in Florence. And schedule some time for another lunch before school begins!

Love to all! May your summer (or winter) be filled with wonder - Cybergram

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in celebration of the 05/14 centenary of the Cybergram's birthday

Monday, July 5, 2010


Subj: sage-covered hills of Wyoming
Date: 7/6/00 7:07:53 AM Eastern Daylight Time

It is very early here at Squirrel Haven - 6:30 a.m. I just woke up to a deliciously cool morning. Very different from the oppressive heat and humidly we sweltered through on the 4th. It puts me in mind of something that I talked about with Carol and Deno the other night - a train trip out to California I took in 1931 with Lynn Asplundh and her children Babby (Carolyn), Bee (Joan), Elsa and Sonny (Ian).

We picked up the train at North Philadelphia, which was a hustling bustling, major train station back then. Everyone was so excited! This was before everyone took to the skies, when train travel was THE way to go.

Lynn had a drawing room for herself and the two little kids - Elsa & Sonny - while Babby & Bee shared a berth over mine out in the sleeper. The drawing room, large enough to sleep four, served as headquarters on the trip, but I preferred sitting out in the regular car. It seemed much more exciting.

It was a hot trip getting hotter. This was before air conditioning. A traveler had two choices - keep the windows shut and swelter or open the window and get gritty with soot. I chose the soot!

It felt like our train stopped at every whistle stop and chicken coop on the way. When I woke up the first morning, it seemed we must be on the far side of Ohio, we had been traveling so long. We had just pulled into Pittsburgh - I could not believe it!

Lynn arranged to have breakfast in her fairly spacious drawing room. Well, the kids considered this a gyp - they did not want to eat by themselves in the drawing room, they wanted the excitement of the dining car. That was the last meal we took in the drawing car, all others were experienced in the dining car. What a dining car it was. This was back in the days that railroads had topnotch chefs, good china and crystal, and superb service. I was glad the kids had kicked up a fuss - I preferred the dining car, too.

The closer we got to Chicago, the hotter it got. All of us - especially the little kids - were wilting from the heat. It was a blistering 98o when we pulled into the Windy City. Not fun. The only thing that made it bearable was knowing that California - and the Sierra Nevada - was down the track.

On our 3rd night, I went to bed, once again wishing I could climb right out of my skin, it was so hot. I slept with my feet on a small shelf at the end of the bed to allow the air to circulate under my legs. A strange thing happened in the early hours of that morning - I found myself reaching for the blanket at the end of the bed. I was still more asleep than awake, but I became aware of something unexpected. Cooler air. I opened the curtain next to me and gazed out upon the beautiful sage-covered hills of Wyoming.

This morning, feeling the cooler air over my body, more asleep than awake, I half expected to open the curtains next to my bed and see those sage-covered hills once more.

Keep cool! Love - TechnoGram

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in honor of the 05/14 centenary of the Technogram's birthday

Sunday, July 4, 2010


absolutely NO idea why mom had two postings on july 4, 2000 ~ but she did! and this one is so NOT connected to independence day. or is it? elm 07/04/10

Subj: new wine in old bottles
Date: Tue, 4 Jul 2000 17:40:36 EDT

I have been thinking about new wine in old bottles. I am comfortable with the forms of my faith’s worship and love them, because they are what I grew up with, but more and more it makes sense to me that a new revelation naturally needs completely new expressions of ministry.

What would a truly distinct “New Church” education system or a truly distinct ministry look like?

Whatever it is, my guess is that most people would feel put off by it - too unsettling. *KRL*

HAPPY 4th OF JULY 07/04/00

Subj: Happy 4th of July!
Date: 7/4/00 6:02:34 PM Eastern Daylight Time

I am going to keep this short. It is hot and muggy and I am just not up to much.

We had a WONDERFUL time last night. It was fun watching how well John & Deno hit it off and a special treat to visit with Deno and Carol. The early evening had an interesting ebb and flow - Deno would be in the kitchen, giving me a chance to gab with Carol, then Carol would be out in the kitchen, giving me a chance to talk with Deno.

I enjoyed listening to Elsa and Justine and Justine's house guest, Lindsay Reuter, having a high old time out in the kitchen, laughing and singing show tunes, of all things. I am still smiling remembering hearing Justine, Lindsay and Elsa singing When You Walk Through a Storm* and all three dissolving into laughter at the end because none of them could hit the high notes.

The three of us agree - it was one of the best parties we have ever had.

Enough writing. Time for - O Joy! – a shower!

Happy 4th - Kay

* soloists, joined by a choir, sang this at the close of Mom's 10/16/01 memorial celebration; she'd requested the song and soloists (Richard & Nora) over two years before the actual event; I am forever glad we had fun planning the celebration long before it was a necessity elm 07/04/10

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in honor of the 05/14 centenary of Kay's birth

Saturday, July 3, 2010

CHANGE and RENEWAL... 07/03/00

Subject: change and renewal in all around I see
Date: Mon, 3 Jul 2000 18:24:32 EDT

At one time, not that long ago, I would already be busy getting ready to get our 4th of July picnic together. They were pretty legendary in their day. All the standbys - potato salad, deviled (or, as Reynolds called them, doubled) eggs, lots of fried chicken, pickles, several varieties of olives - topped off with my Double Fudge Cake.

I remember when Whitney was just a toddler and the three of them - Peter & Pam and Whitney - came for the Bryn Athyn 4th, which was a standard thing for Peter and his children. Pam laid out a delicious picnic - various marvelous cheeses, French bread and an excellent wine. Elegant and delectable, but not very substantial. Sure enough, in no time, the two blankets were merged. We nibbled their cheeses and they loaded up from our basket. It was loverly.

The best I can do these days is to remember such grand times. Picnic going is no longer on my schedule. But instead of moaning & groaning over what was and now is not, this year we took a different approach. We are having our picnic - complete with burgers, hot dogs, potato salad and doubled eggs – tonight and we even borrowed a family: Carol & Deno Brannon and their daughter Justine (who is dear to Elsa's heart). As it turns out, Justine has a friend staying with them, so we will be a merry group of seven. A lucky number, indeed.

That is what I like so much about my life at the moment. It is not the same at it was, but it is not less, just different. Keeps me on my toes!

Love to one & all. Time to get ready for our guests!

Good bye and God bless - Gram

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, to honor the 05/14 centenary of Gram's birth

Friday, July 2, 2010


Subject: Private Party, Public Celebrations
Date: Sat, 1 Jul 2000 16:56:25 EDT

It is a toasty 90F today, but the humidity is low, so I felt up to going out to lunch with Elsa.

The plan was to get to Newtown by 1:30 p.m. - 15 minutes before a favorite restaurant's last seating - but a surprise last minute detour by yours truly to the bathroom saw us leaving 10 minutes late. As we neared Pat's and the car clock edged closer and closer to 1:45, Elsa prepared me for the potential worst. If Pat's was not seating, we could go to the Blue Fountain Diner. I like the Blue Fountain, but it is no Pat's. We pulled into the parking lot at Pat's at 1:43 p.m. - Elsa jumped out of the car and tore to the front door to check it out. We were in!

We were in, but our dear Judy, a favorite waitress, told Elsa she got a demerit for being so late. Who cared! We were there and waiting happily for our heaping portions of Lisa's Salad .

Our favorite couple was there with one daughter's 2-year old son and another daughter and her husband and their 3-month old daughter, all of us sitting in what I call the "veranda room," because that is what it feels like to me. When another couple popped their heads in the front door, Ginny, another beloved waitress, summed up the feeling of merriment we all felt, telling them, "Sorry, we're closed. This is a private party."

To top it off, Elsa drove home via Tanner's (which is actually not on the way home at all) for some vegetables, but really to get me a huge scoop of pineapple ice cream. Oh, it was good! Some day, I will tell you about memories of Joyce Cooper and Tanner's ice cream, but not today.

We have been talking a lot about past 4th of July celebrations. Elsa has been pumping me for memories from “before her time.” It is hard, without one of the older kids around to help trigger memories. One of these days, maybe all of us - Peter in Hatboro, Mim in Point Pleasant Beach, Mike and Kerry in Australia, and the two of us here at Squirrel Haven - will have regular "real time" hoe downs on the Internet, sharing memories and happy, happy times from way back when. Until that happens, my memories connected to them seem few and far between.

I do recall:
* Walking Mike in a decorated baby buggy with Peter accompanying us on a decorated bike. I think we walked up South Avenue or Alnwick Road to the Benade Hall "triangle" because I seem to recall going past some older ladies watching from their porches. Is that possible??
* 5-year old Peter being knocked down in a race by a bigger kid, my sense of helplessness as he felt humiliated that he had not finished the race. There is still pain in my heart, that I did not, could not protect him from such sadness. When you are 5-years old, the moment is everything, good or bad.
* Water sports at the pond, especially the greased watermelon event. How does anyone hold on? It seems to me that it would take two people, working together.
* Fireworks at the cathedral. The only other place that comes close to the cathedral hill for perfect location for fireworks was Independence Hall mall on 7/4/1976. Every other place is a distant 3rd. To sit on that high hill and have the fireworks set off in the valley below made them seem so close when they burst over us. It has been decades and decades since they set off 4th of July fireworks at the foot of the cathedral hill, but I can still see their glory as if it were last year.

I wish I could remember what the celebrations were like during the war years or what it was like the first year after victory. I wish I could remember more of what Pete and I did with the older kids for the parades. Seems sad that my only memories at the moment of those early family times are of fireworks, the pond, one parade and a heart-broken little boy.

Oh my goodness - this note started out so cheery! Whatever happened?? Oh, the perils of stream-of-consciousness writing ~ you takes what you gets.

I promise to be more "chursie" tomorrow!

Love to all - Ma Lockhart

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, in honor of the 05-14 centenary of her birth

Thursday, July 1, 2010


Subject: Fireflies & Peach Ice Cream
Date: Fri, 30 Jun 2000 21:32:47 EDT

I wonder why it is some people call them fireflies and others call them lightning bugs? Is it regional, like soda and pop or sack and bag?

In any case, the three of us ate out on the back porch tonight and I was impressed with how many fireflies were putting in an appearance. We got into a discussion about how the increased numbers are due to rehearsals for their big 4th of July extravaganza, put on for the viewing pleasure of the local wildlife. It was fun thinking about this magnificent "light" show, put on in some mystical woodland glen. It makes quite an interesting picture to spin in the mind. What a sight!

Looking downstairs from my perch just outside the computer studio, as Faithful Scribe transcribes this, I have a bird's eye view of the summer tree in the living room. In the current setting, the little white lights look like fireflies. I never thought of that before. One of these days, I must tell you about our summer beauty!

We've been talking about the 4th of July when I was young, back in Baltimore. What I mostly remember are the sounds - the effervescent fizzy sound of a sparkler, the loud BOOM! of the small but powerful yellow fireworks my brother Al liked so much, the noises drifting to our house from throughout the neighborhood of fire crackers going off and lots of laughter and sounds of merriment.

Aside from the firecrackers, I don't have a lot of memories of those days in Baltimore. I wonder why that is? I do remember, for the first time in I cannot tell you how long, that we had a small barn out at the end of our property and we would eat our supper in its cool comfort, much nicer that the hot house. Have you ever been in Baltimore in the summer? Hot and humid, very hot and humid. Sticky.

One thing could always be counted on to cool us down - home-made ice cream. Oh, that was heavenly. Back then, we made it in a big wooden tub. My father would pour in the fresh cream and let us kids take a whack at churning it. He would set a smaller tub into a larger tub, with ice and salt packed between the two. Papa would let us take a hand, moving the handle around in a circular motion, around and around, which moved the paddle, which was in the cream and worked its magic.

We kids would take turns churning it around, until it got too thick for us, then Papa would take over and finish off the job. When it was too hard to move another inch, he would slowly, ever so slowly, lift the paddle out.

Oh, that was the very best moment of all, when we got to lick the paddle. What happiness.

Then Papa would put the metal lid on top of the small tub and we would pack in more ice and rock salt around and over it and cover the whole thing with burlap.

July 4th would probably be too early for it, but my favorite ice cream was peach. The peaches came off of that same Bella Georgia peach tree that I managed to rescue when just a little mite. We'd peel the beautifully ripe peaches and cut them up and add them to the cream. That ranks, for me, as angel's food! When peaches were in season, the Reynolds household had ice cream every Sunday. I think I will go downstairs and see if there is any ice cream in the freezer!

Thinking of you all as we head into the 4th of July home stretch, and of so many loved ones in loftier realms who I am sure are enjoying some peach ice cream at this very minute.

Love - Grammie Kay

reposted in sweet memory of its author, KATHARINE REYNOLDS LOCKHART, by her scribe/daughter, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev in honor of the 05/14 centenary of her birth