Hoping frustration transforms into fantastic and that I get to read more of Mom's timeless memory walks.
~ Deev ~
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
FRUSTRATING
Hoping that between Michael David (who might have extensive copies of Mom's Mindwalker1910 postings - my online copies were lost when the cpu crashed & my floppy discs are reading "unreadable") and Bob Ripley (who might have paper copies of Mom's (his Aunt Kay) postings, I'll have a greater sampling of her online musings that the few meanderings I've already posted on this celebratory blog.
WHISKEY SOURS & SWEET MEMORIES - 4/19/01 Best of...
first reposted on THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2010
Subj: Whiskey Sours and Sweet Memories
Date: 4/19/01 10:32:03 PM Eastern Daylight Time
Tonight, I asked Elsa if she would make me a Hot Turkey Leg (Wild Turkey and mulled cider). We do not have any mulled cider, so she asked if I would like a Whiskey Sour.
My word, it has been a long time since I have sipped a sour. Elsa made it just the way I like it - all lovely and foamy, over crushed ice, in a cocktail glass with sugar-frosted rim. It tasted very good, it had a nice zip to it. It packed a small wallop - I certainly felt more relaxed after I drank it.
Sipping that drink took me back many years, to memories of when Marjorie (Grandma) Rose and Cornelia Stroh and other older ladies gathered together before Friday Supper for cocktails and nibblings.
It is hard to believe that I can only remember Cornelia and Marjorie - I know there were at least three other women. No memory - maybe they will come to me tonight as I am nodding off. I do know that Sylvia Carlton would always be part of the group if she was visiting Bryn Athyn. We always enjoyed hearing about her globe-trotting travels. We sure did.
We enjoyed each other's company so much, we would start looking forward to the next get together practically as soon as we were on our way to Friday Supper.
I always enjoyed the gatherings, whether they were at Marjorie's house, or Cornelia's apartment on Rose Lane, or our house - Oliver Smith's stained glass studio on Woodland Road. If I close my eyes, I can remember the high times we had. No one could be bored around Marjorie and Cornelia.
They kept the conversation jumping. We always started out the evening lifting our glasses while Marjorie gave the toast - "Here's to the Church - all else is bosh."
Even as it was happening, week after week, I knew it was special and appreciated being part of the fun. It was always a delight to go to either lady's home.
In the spring, summer and fall, Marjorie's house was surrounded by beautiful flowers - it felt like heaven walking down the path to the front door. Her living room always fell cozy.
For some reason, Cornelia's apartment on Rose Lane - which was built for an artist, Thorsten Sigstedt - felt like it belonged in Manhattan, there was just a wonderful air of art and sophistication to the living space. Perhaps I was partially influenced by the fact that Cornelia resembled the First Lady of American Theater, Helen Hayes, although Cornelia was forever irritated by the comparison. Art, quiet sophistication and a suggestion of theater - yes, that would bring Manhattan to mind, even in the heart of Bryn Athyn.
This might sound like a broken record (would today's youngsters understand that phrase?), but one of the hardest things about growing older and older is losing so many friends.
I consider myself lucky - and I know that I have said this before but it bears repeating - that as my circle of lifelong friends has thinned out, my circle of newer friends has increased, especially my dear online loved ones. You keep my life hopping.
Week after week, I know that being able to reach out to you (through Faithful Scribe's fingertips) is special and I love still being part of the fun. You help keep away the haunting specter of loneliness and you keep this Ancient One young.
Marjorie and Cornelia would approve.
Love - Kay
a bonus reposting - a shout-out, if you will, to Grandma Rose - by Kay's faithful scribe, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, this time to celebrate Grandma & Cornelia, Sylvia & Viola (one of the group slipping Mom's mind), and the one & only Grammie Kay
Tonight, I asked Elsa if she would make me a Hot Turkey Leg (Wild Turkey and mulled cider). We do not have any mulled cider, so she asked if I would like a Whiskey Sour.
My word, it has been a long time since I have sipped a sour. Elsa made it just the way I like it - all lovely and foamy, over crushed ice, in a cocktail glass with sugar-frosted rim. It tasted very good, it had a nice zip to it. It packed a small wallop - I certainly felt more relaxed after I drank it.
Sipping that drink took me back many years, to memories of when Marjorie (Grandma) Rose and Cornelia Stroh and other older ladies gathered together before Friday Supper for cocktails and nibblings.
It is hard to believe that I can only remember Cornelia and Marjorie - I know there were at least three other women. No memory - maybe they will come to me tonight as I am nodding off. I do know that Sylvia Carlton would always be part of the group if she was visiting Bryn Athyn. We always enjoyed hearing about her globe-trotting travels. We sure did.
We enjoyed each other's company so much, we would start looking forward to the next get together practically as soon as we were on our way to Friday Supper.
I always enjoyed the gatherings, whether they were at Marjorie's house, or Cornelia's apartment on Rose Lane, or our house - Oliver Smith's stained glass studio on Woodland Road. If I close my eyes, I can remember the high times we had. No one could be bored around Marjorie and Cornelia.
They kept the conversation jumping. We always started out the evening lifting our glasses while Marjorie gave the toast - "Here's to the Church - all else is bosh."
Even as it was happening, week after week, I knew it was special and appreciated being part of the fun. It was always a delight to go to either lady's home.
In the spring, summer and fall, Marjorie's house was surrounded by beautiful flowers - it felt like heaven walking down the path to the front door. Her living room always fell cozy.
For some reason, Cornelia's apartment on Rose Lane - which was built for an artist, Thorsten Sigstedt - felt like it belonged in Manhattan, there was just a wonderful air of art and sophistication to the living space. Perhaps I was partially influenced by the fact that Cornelia resembled the First Lady of American Theater, Helen Hayes, although Cornelia was forever irritated by the comparison. Art, quiet sophistication and a suggestion of theater - yes, that would bring Manhattan to mind, even in the heart of Bryn Athyn.
This might sound like a broken record (would today's youngsters understand that phrase?), but one of the hardest things about growing older and older is losing so many friends.
I consider myself lucky - and I know that I have said this before but it bears repeating - that as my circle of lifelong friends has thinned out, my circle of newer friends has increased, especially my dear online loved ones. You keep my life hopping.
Week after week, I know that being able to reach out to you (through Faithful Scribe's fingertips) is special and I love still being part of the fun. You help keep away the haunting specter of loneliness and you keep this Ancient One young.
Marjorie and Cornelia would approve.
Love - Kay
a bonus reposting - a shout-out, if you will, to Grandma Rose - by Kay's faithful scribe, Elsa Lockhart Murphy aka Deev, this time to celebrate Grandma & Cornelia, Sylvia & Viola (one of the group slipping Mom's mind), and the one & only Grammie Kay
Monday, January 16, 2012
It really IS a small world! 12/05/00 Best of...
Subj: it really IS a small world
Date: Tue Dec 5 20:20:30 EST 2000
originally reposted 12/05/2010
originally reposted 12/05/2010
On one of my flights home from Australia (with seven trips down and back, it is easy to get them mixed up), our plane touched down in New Zealand to let off passengers and pick up new ones. The woman who had been sitting next to me disembarked and another woman took her place for the remaining leg of the trip to Los Angeles.
I was aware that she was younger than my previous seatmate (and considerably younger than myself), but that was about all that registered. When I am flying, I don’t really notice much about the person sitting next to me. For one thing, I’m an old lady and it is not all that easy to turn my head all the way to the side to talk straight on. My tendency is to sort of talk past the person, if you know what I mean.
In any case, the young woman was busy, reading a book, so our talk was at a minimum. Truth be told, I was tempted to make a light comment to her about how much the green binding on her novel or whatever looked like it could have been a volume of theWritings, but it’s the sort of humor that requires a New Church audience to be funny.
In time, a meal was served. I finished first and my dishes were whisked away – but NO ONE was getting the last of my coffee, which was unusually good. I put up the seat tray to give my legs some more room. For some reason, I wanted to put down my coffee cup before finishing the last few drops, so I asked my seatmate if I could balance it on her seat tray. She said yes.
It’s an interesting thing that when people say “Thank you” and “My Pleasure,” we tend to look each other right in the eyes, which was what I did. I turned and, right in mid sentence, my words stopped and my jaw dropped and after a few moments of mutual stunned silence, I managed to get out, “Amy??” and she replied, “Mrs. Lockhart???” Here, Amy Grubb (now Childs), who had been in New Zealand visiting her finance, Robin, and I had been sitting right next to each other for hours without realizing it!
Thinking about that reminds me of when the Ripleys and Peddicords arrived for Elsa and John’s wedding.
Peggy and Jack, Jim and Renee and Eryn and Lauren had all arrived from Missouri and Karen had arrived from Reno. Linda, Bob and Paul had arrived from California. They all connected at our house.
Even though we’re all related through the Reynolds’ side of the family, they either hadn’t met or met a long time ago. When Bob met his cousin Karen, who is the same age, he fascinated her with how much he looked like her brother, Jim. She, in turn, seemed to fascinate him. He peppered her with all sorts of questions about her flight – had her meal been okay, did she enjoy the movie, was she comfortable. He took her by surprise with his final question, “How can you sleep on a plane? I’ve never been able to.”
Karen looked at him in stunned surprise – “How did YOU know that I slept on the plane.”
Bob’s face lit up with a cheeky grin as he answered, “Because we were sitting a few rows in back of you. There was something about you that caught my attention, but I had no idea we were cousins!” Both of them flew out of San Francisco – the Ripleys living outside of Sacramento and Karen in Reno. It’s a small world, indeed!
A happy traveler – The Gramster
Reposted with love in celebration of The Gramster's 05/14 centenary
I was aware that she was younger than my previous seatmate (and considerably younger than myself), but that was about all that registered. When I am flying, I don’t really notice much about the person sitting next to me. For one thing, I’m an old lady and it is not all that easy to turn my head all the way to the side to talk straight on. My tendency is to sort of talk past the person, if you know what I mean.
In any case, the young woman was busy, reading a book, so our talk was at a minimum. Truth be told, I was tempted to make a light comment to her about how much the green binding on her novel or whatever looked like it could have been a volume of theWritings, but it’s the sort of humor that requires a New Church audience to be funny.
In time, a meal was served. I finished first and my dishes were whisked away – but NO ONE was getting the last of my coffee, which was unusually good. I put up the seat tray to give my legs some more room. For some reason, I wanted to put down my coffee cup before finishing the last few drops, so I asked my seatmate if I could balance it on her seat tray. She said yes.
It’s an interesting thing that when people say “Thank you” and “My Pleasure,” we tend to look each other right in the eyes, which was what I did. I turned and, right in mid sentence, my words stopped and my jaw dropped and after a few moments of mutual stunned silence, I managed to get out, “Amy??” and she replied, “Mrs. Lockhart???” Here, Amy Grubb (now Childs), who had been in New Zealand visiting her finance, Robin, and I had been sitting right next to each other for hours without realizing it!
Thinking about that reminds me of when the Ripleys and Peddicords arrived for Elsa and John’s wedding.
Peggy and Jack, Jim and Renee and Eryn and Lauren had all arrived from Missouri and Karen had arrived from Reno. Linda, Bob and Paul had arrived from California. They all connected at our house.
Even though we’re all related through the Reynolds’ side of the family, they either hadn’t met or met a long time ago. When Bob met his cousin Karen, who is the same age, he fascinated her with how much he looked like her brother, Jim. She, in turn, seemed to fascinate him. He peppered her with all sorts of questions about her flight – had her meal been okay, did she enjoy the movie, was she comfortable. He took her by surprise with his final question, “How can you sleep on a plane? I’ve never been able to.”
Karen looked at him in stunned surprise – “How did YOU know that I slept on the plane.”
Bob’s face lit up with a cheeky grin as he answered, “Because we were sitting a few rows in back of you. There was something about you that caught my attention, but I had no idea we were cousins!” Both of them flew out of San Francisco – the Ripleys living outside of Sacramento and Karen in Reno. It’s a small world, indeed!
A happy traveler – The Gramster
Reposted with love in celebration of The Gramster's 05/14 centenary
Saturday, January 14, 2012
MY OWN TRUE LOVE 01/01/01 - Best of...
Subj: my Own True Love
Date: Mon Jan 1 21:20:41 EST 2001
Pete, who is never far from my thoughts, has been constantly on my mind and in my heart over the past two days. You see, we met on New Year's Eve - Pete was an extra man brought by one of my best friends and her beau.
Not a New Year's Eve goes past without long and loving thoughts about that first night and every night thereafter.
My thoughts were also on Pete because of a letter from my #2 son that I came across yesterday morning in a drawer I rarely rummage through, one stuffed with photos and notes and memorabilia like graduation programs and clippings.
Mike wrote it almost seventeen years ago, Over nine years after Pete's death. It captures so beautifully the Pete I loved I am taking the liberty of sharing parts of it with this list.
Those of you who knew Pete will recognize him.
For those of you who never knew my husband, this might give a glimpse of my OTL.
- - - - - - - - -
15/5/83 (May 5, 1983)
Dear Mother -
I just finished listening to the tape of Dad's service back in 1974... I realized by what Bishop Pendleton said that Dad was a great man. He was someone to be looked up to, because of his love for other people and not for himself. I am only sorry that I didn't take the time to get to know him better...
I think he (Mike's older brother, Peter) and I watched Dad seem to give his all and get little back. I know now how he got more than we ever realized. He was happy with life and found giving to others was worth more than fine gold. We look at success as getting material wealth, whereas Dad found his wealth in loving you, and us, and believing in the Lord. I hope I can do as much. And now his real success comes in meeting the Lord with B-Boy (Mike's younger brother, Ian), as we all must some day. I only hope that when I pass to the other world, I am remembered with as much love as the world has for my Dad. For you were lucky to have so much together and share in so many ways...
Love - Michael
- - - - - -
I felt Pete's presence so strongly as I read and reread that letter, a letter I have not seen for many, many years. It is interesting that it just happened to show up on New Year's Eve, of all days. It was a lovely bit of serendipity, don't you think?
Love and hugs to one and all, especially to Pete's friends and acquaintances and most especially to our grandchildren, Whitney and Chad, Reynolds, Scott and Kimberly, and Karen ~ Mrs. Raymond Lewis Lockhart, ADPOI
originally reposted 01/01/11
Not a New Year's Eve goes past without long and loving thoughts about that first night and every night thereafter.
My thoughts were also on Pete because of a letter from my #2 son that I came across yesterday morning in a drawer I rarely rummage through, one stuffed with photos and notes and memorabilia like graduation programs and clippings.
Mike wrote it almost seventeen years ago, Over nine years after Pete's death. It captures so beautifully the Pete I loved I am taking the liberty of sharing parts of it with this list.
Those of you who knew Pete will recognize him.
For those of you who never knew my husband, this might give a glimpse of my OTL.
- - - - - - - - -
15/5/83 (May 5, 1983)
Dear Mother -
I just finished listening to the tape of Dad's service back in 1974... I realized by what Bishop Pendleton said that Dad was a great man. He was someone to be looked up to, because of his love for other people and not for himself. I am only sorry that I didn't take the time to get to know him better...
I think he (Mike's older brother, Peter) and I watched Dad seem to give his all and get little back. I know now how he got more than we ever realized. He was happy with life and found giving to others was worth more than fine gold. We look at success as getting material wealth, whereas Dad found his wealth in loving you, and us, and believing in the Lord. I hope I can do as much. And now his real success comes in meeting the Lord with B-Boy (Mike's younger brother, Ian), as we all must some day. I only hope that when I pass to the other world, I am remembered with as much love as the world has for my Dad. For you were lucky to have so much together and share in so many ways...
Love - Michael
- - - - - -
I felt Pete's presence so strongly as I read and reread that letter, a letter I have not seen for many, many years. It is interesting that it just happened to show up on New Year's Eve, of all days. It was a lovely bit of serendipity, don't you think?
Love and hugs to one and all, especially to Pete's friends and acquaintances and most especially to our grandchildren, Whitney and Chad, Reynolds, Scott and Kimberly, and Karen ~ Mrs. Raymond Lewis Lockhart, ADPOI
Back on track - sort of
My long absence is due to my computer crashing. Took a while to save the $ to get it restored. Back in the swing of things, albeit minus all the documents that were on my hard drive. Including all my copies of Mom's postings.
Becoming a treasure hunter, looking for ways to get the docs restored. Working on it!
Meanwhile, will see what's been archived that might be of interest. Might not be new, but it sure does seem to me that anything from Mom is worth a read.
God bless to her & to all who treasure her memory!!
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