Nephew Jackson McCarroll Williams Arrived!

Proud Grampa Mac put together this video.  God bless you all.

My Father's "First Home" and my "First Home" - one and the same

Dad and I are spending the week together. This event of living together last occurred during the summer of 1968, just before I went to college.  A lot of time has passed since we last shared a car or refrigerator.  Need I say more? (He is now 91 years old, and let's just say I am of "a certain age.")

So now is the time to poke around his library and "catch up" on scenes from the past. Going through his written memoirs, I came across a story he had written about the house where I lived from infancy through age 7.

Here is what Dad wrote about that house in central Texas, the same one where I spent my early childhood:

The First House I Remember by Charles W. McCarroll (likely written in 1990)

The first home I remember was the McCarroll house located about a quarter-mile north and west of Mereta, Texas. This house, built in 1902, faced east about 75 feet from the county road. This wood-siding shingle-roofed structure originally had four rooms and a front gallery supported by turned-post spindle brackets. The front door had an upper glass etched in a wreath design and a matching carved wood planting on the lower panel.

The entrance door opened into a wide hall. Three rooms were to the right, including the kitchen and a room to the left.

Pa McCarroll added three rooms to the north divided from the original house by an open hall. This addition was for the parents and children. A shed room was built on the west of the original house as a room for Loraine and as a screened porch.

The hardware consisted of designer rim locks and hinges on six panel doors. The floors were tongue-and-groove pine. A hole in the corner of the room was for telephone wires when aunt Mollie was the switchboard operator for the telephone system.

The walls were covered with flowered paper pasted to tacked-on canvas. A strong wind would cause the paper to bulge. The walls were ten feet high and ceiling was wooden "beaded ceiling". The windows were operated by the weight and pulley system.

The kitchen floor was covered with bright Linoleum. The large, black wood-burning cook stove was near the west wall. A water faucet was on the north wall, which also included a flour bin. A breadboard was against the east wall. A long table covered with oilcloth was placed near the south wall of this kitchen.

Each of the legs of tables, cabinets and beds were set in metal jar caps and filled with coal oil to discourage ants. A crawling baby was sure to get into the ant traps.

The milk cooler sat on the porch north of the kitchen. This cooler was constructed of galvanized metal pans that were stacked as shelves. The top pan was filled with water and cotton clothes were dipped into the water and covered the outside of the pans. The dampened cloths acted as an evaporative cooler for the food inside.

Near the southwest side of the house was a cistern made of metal. Guttering under the eaves of the house gathered rainwater for use in the house. The well was about 30 feet west of the house. The windmill pumped the hard-tasting water into a tank and also piped it to the barn to water the livestock.

A grove of Chinaberry trees grew between the house and barn. The Barn was painted red and had a hayloft above with grain storage and a harness room on the north. A hall with double doors on each end allowed a wagon to drive through. The shingle roof was mansard and there was a hay door on the east. Sheds had been added to the north and south for stock and the fences were wide boards on cedar posts.

Toward the barn, a path led to the outhouse south of the barn area. North of the house, the land was in pasture. About halfway down the hill was a little house for the hands and at the bottom of the hill was another windmill and garden.

This house was so cool and comfortable in the summer, but I remember the cold days by the heating stove. We also had a portable ‘Perfection’ kerosene stove.

This house was the same one he returned to with a young family after WWII.  The house was re-opened, remodeled, and Dad began farming the family 600 acre plot surrounding the farm house for about ten years.

 To read his remembrances of that "new" house conjures up memories for me about that same farm house of my childhood.  (Note: 100 years have past since that house was built.)

Dad did not mention the well water that had to be boiled each season when the "well turned over".  I still am uncertain about what it meant when the "well turned over."  I just know there were tiny little red worms in the bath water a few times a year.  We kids were told not to worry about it.  (??)  Wouldn't you?

Another of my memories is when a dust storm hit West and Central Texas farms, and 1/4 inch of dust was left on the window sills and floors after the two hour gusts abated.  Dad said he used a shovel to help pick up the dust and silt inside the house.  I remember it was black as midnight in the middle of the day during that dust storm.

And I remember the big cabbage red rose wall paper in the bathroom with the porcelain claw foot tub.  Mother put that up right before I was born.

Are your memories of your first house still vivid in your mind?

Mother Has Been Gone 10 Years

Refinishing An Old Cedar Chest

Since the 1970's, I have lugged throughout the U.S. an old cedar chest.  It has been with me over perhaps twenty apartment and house relocations.

But this was no ordinary cedar chest, because it once held the baby clothes of my now 91 year old father.  So the chest has to be at least close to 100 years old.  It just cannot be relegated to Good Will after being in the family for a century.

As far as I remember, it has never been refinished.  Seize the day!  It is time for the old girl to get a facelift.

Here is how she looks before the refinish:

Naturally, I had to look up "What to Do and How to Do It for old cedar chest restoration" and came up with information from several sources, including a step-by-step approach from EHOW: 

 Secure the necessary tools and materials for refinishing a cedar chest. You will need sandpaper for removing the old finish and smoothing the cedar before refinishing. You can also select a mild stripper for removing the old finish; the cedar may be old and fragile, thus requiring a less abrasive method of finish removal. Stain will not be necessary; however, you will need to purchase water- or oil-based clear finish for the chest. Oil-based finish dries faster, and water-based cleans up easier. Choose satin, semi-gloss or glossy for the level of shine that you desire on the chest. You can also purchase wipe-on or brush-on finish. Use a cotton rag for the wipe-on finish and a fine-bristled brush for the brush-on finish.

And simple advice: "A good paint stripper, a stain color that best matches the original, and finish with 3 coats of low lustre tung oil  from All Experts.

Here is a peak of a little of what was stored in the old cedar chest, if there is a bit of closet voyeur in you:

Let the elbow grease commence.  And just maybe it is time to get rid of those baby blankets from the '70's?

Bathroom Redecoration in Bordello Red

A few weeks ago I decided that our powder room needed a facelift (the PR, referred to with those inititals hereafter, is available to anyone, but actually used a LOT by those people who do not sleep in our bedrooms).

Back to the facelift of the PR, here is the only video I could come up with regarding bathroom redecoration:

That video was relatively useless regarding redecoration.  Our PR does not have an olympic sized tub, nor is it 100 square feet in size. And it does not look out to an ocean view.  In fact, it is a wee room...no pun intended.

So I decided to make a real statement and paint the entire PR red.  Yes, RED.  In other words, I made it my "bordello bathroom".

Here are a few photographs of the PR in all its red glory, along with lots of yellow and red accent accessories, and a few paintings that mirror the colors:

If you look carefully, you can see a knitted toilet topper beneath the flower arrangement.  It is from my Ravelry collection and knitted from an orange and red wool (two strands held together).  The pattern is actually a face cloth recipe, but I modified it to make it smaller and knit it up in wool.

Now who says using a PR can't knock your socks off?

Jewelry Made from Silver Plated Flatware

In his retirement years, my dad made hundreds of jewelry items from plated flatware.  Not only jewelry, but also napkin rings, key chains and belts were some accessories he fashioned from old spoons and fork handles.  He sold these pieces at craft shows, always regaling the customers with stories of how the flatware came into being. 

In 1993, a Dallas newspaper wrote a story about dad's silver pieces and his crafting business.

Dad wrote several volumes of his memories, and one of my favorite stories was about Orange Blossom flatware and how it came to be collected. The gist of the story was that oranges in California were prolific, and these "delicacies" over a hundred years ago made their way from the west coast to the east coast by way of railroad.

Wm. Rogers Company cashed in on the deal of the popular oranges being shipped all over the country, and began plating flatware with orange blossoms on the handles of tableware.  In 1910, Orange Blossom was one of its most popular flatware patterns.

From Charles McCarroll's memoirs:

The railroads had refrigerator cars manufactured to carry ice in order to keep the fruit fresh. Huge ice plants were built in stations across the country. The railcars were moved slowly so that the blocks of ice could be dumped from overhead into the refrigerator cars. The citrus fruits were picked from the trees, wrapped in tissue paper and packed in layers into the special wooden boxes in order to extend the freshness of the fruit. The California citrus growers found that Wm Rogers & Sons were plating silver. They made a deal for them to plate a unique pattern of dinnerware called Orange Blossom with silver.

Our families had numerous pieces of Orange Blossom and did use them. The spoons and tines of the forks were well worn but the handles can be used for key rings

This is a photo of some of Dad's jewelry he made and sold for over twenty years.  These are just the pieces he gave me, among many others.

More Magazine: "One Amazing Thing" Story Contest

For "women of style and substance", More Magazine is

the leading voice of today’s sophisticated, affluent and accomplished woman, who is enjoying the richest years of her life, sharing news and advice on beauty, fashion, health, career, travel, money and relationships from her distinct perspective.

It is a health and beauty periodical geared toward women over 40 and has been a Christmas gift for several years from my friend Kathy.  I enjoy leafing through each monthly publication as soon as it hits the mailbox.

More Magazine is having a "One Amazing Thing" story contest open to everyone with a story to tell. Here is what More Magazine says about their contest:

We all have a story.  One of my favorite stories is about the birth and subsequent decisions her father and I made about her health care in the first hours of her life.

My partial submission to the "One Amazing Thing Story Contest" (screen shot only) is this: 

 That picture on the left is of my first born (of whom I write) and me, the 20 yr. old college sophomore who was unexpectedly faced with a critical decision concerning the medical fate of this child.

This is not the entire story.  And there is yet more to write almost forty years later, but that is for another place and time.

If you would like to submit an amazing story of your own, or read and vote for others' submissions, here is the link: READ and VOTE here.

 Who knows, maybe we will get a meet-up at Barnes & Noble's  in the future.

Pictures from the Past

This week, collecting old family photos from the garage and various closets, I came up with eleven storage boxes of pictures and frames.  That is just too many if you don't have a library and/or you are not an historian.  It was time to pare down.

Beginning the process, with two sacks of miscellaneous black garbage sacks already filled with photo clutter and ready to be taken for disposal, here is the start of the editing:

Some of the photos I unearthed were sweet, evoking sentimental emotions, such as this studio shot taken in about 1935 of my mother, her mother and her sister( left to right).

The back of this photograph is in my brother's handwriting and says "Lela Hugeley Motley, married to Thomas Jefferson Motley, May 30, 1883" (my great grandmother from the paternal side of the family).  This was likely Lela's Motley's wedding portrait (born Novermber 23, 1859, Died July 22, 1921).

And, of course, there were pictures of home life and my kids at various stages of their childhood. I won't bother to show scans of some of those photos.

But I have to include this bizarre photograph of the tombstone for my great grandfather's FOOT from 100 years ago.

Now why in the world would one have a memorial to a part of one's body that was amputated?  Curious, but the proof is in the photo.  You wonder what the story was behind that foot...

The good thing is that several days later, I'm down to five boxes of pictures, and ready to further prune, scan and discard even more of these photos.  Thank g-d for digital cameras and scanners.

Howling at the Moon

Ya know when you get to know somebody pretty well?  And sometimes you quit listening to EXACTLY what they are saying because you have heard it before?

My husband, author of livingthegrandlife, a (mostly) anti-politcal blog....rants.  He told me yesterday, after I kinda tuned him out during our third cup of morning coffee... "nevermind, I was just howling at the moon."

I got a kick out of that thought/statement.  How much do we all just "howl at the moon", and who really listens?

South Carolina

Yesterday, I was in Rock Hill, South Carolina.  Here is a recorded happening there, according to The Charlotte Observer:

ROCK HILL House painter Jerry Gibson armed himself with an electric drop cord Tuesday morning and took off running after the giant bird that ran 5 feet from his disbelieving eyes.

Gibson joined a fray of dozens Tuesday as word spread about an ostrich - an emu really, but a big bird is a big bird - strolling down Chestnut Street and elsewhere in the East Town neighborhood just east of downtown.

Now that had to be quite a scene, although I was in York, SC with daughter Julie and SIL Jack and FIL John.

Julie has been on home IV therapy for seven weeks. She is scheduled for another surgery May 7, 2010. Your prayers for her well being are again appreciated.

Julie and Jack

Above is a picture of SIL Jack's father, John Heniford, Sr. (92 yr.)  Those are his roses and iris from his yard.  Until this spring, he has been solely responsible for the upkeep of both his and Jack and Julie's lawns and gardens.