Sepia Saturday: Jump

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

Did anyone else notice that this week’s Sepia Saturday prompt was used before? Sure was. It was the weekend of June 11, 2016. Since I barely met the challenge four years ago, I had decided to give this week a pass. Then I read Susan Donaldson’s post which inspired me to take a stab at the repeat-prompt.

Jumping rope came to mind. These 2 photos of my parents jumping rope amuse me.

My dad Fred

My dad jumped rope like Mohammad Ali. There was very little space between his feet and the floor, just enough for the rope to slip through.

My mother Mary Eleanor

 Momma was simply being funny trying to appear glamorous while jumping rope.

Judging by the furnishings in this house, in particular the trunk for a coffee table and the absence of our platform rocker, and the fact that these are instant photos from a Polaroid camera, the photos are from the late 1970s.

An increased interest in physical fitness and better health was in its infancy following years of Americans becoming sedentary in front of the television set. Jumping rope was catching on. My parents, husband and I all purchased jump ropes to join the fitness craze.

Don’t ask me how long that lasted.

Hop, skip, or jump over to Sepia Saturday for more fun photos.

Wendy

© 2020, Wendy Mathias. All rights reserved.

52 Ancestors - UNEXPECTED: The Caricature

I never expected to be contacted about family treasure hidden away in an attic for 70 years, but that is what happened. In the early days of Covid-19, before the stay-at-home order, I received an email from someone identified as “Green.” An email with the subject “Secret attic” contained only these photos, no words:

How did someone get a copy of my mother’s college application and my grandfather’s receipt for purchases from J. P. Hockman, a businessman in Shenandoah, Virginia? And where was this “secret attic”?

A flurry of emails let me know that Ms. Green is the current owner of my grandparents’ home they built in Portsmouth back in 1950. During the installation of new insulation in the attic, she spied a little door at the far end of the attic over the front bedroom. Inside she found boxes and boxes of STUFF. My family's STUFF.

I have already written about some of the finds

• Wish You Were Here
• Granddaddy Bought a Car
• Lot 8 Section T
• Art I
• Davis Radios and Service
• Fred’s Chicago Adventure
• In His Own Write 

But probably my favorite find is this caricature.

When my sister and I opened the 10" x 13" manila envelope and saw this picture, we knew immediately it was of our mother. That big smile. Those dimples. Those prominent eyes. Even that hairstyle. Usually her hair was parted on the side, but in a few photos her hair was parted in the middle.

Mary Eleanor Davis and unknown admirer 1947

Mary Eleanor Davis

The writing on the drawing provides as many answers as it provokes questions. At the bottom is Momma’s nickname “Duny” in the same brush and style as what appears to be the artist’s signature. Unfortunately, I cannot make out the letters. None of my guesses have succeeded in producing a successful search for more information.

The caricature is dated 11 July 1947, so that would have been the summer between my mother’s freshman and sophomore year at Shenandoah College and Conservatory. She was 18.

In the upper left corner written in pen is “Cavalier Beach Club Virginia Beach,” making me think maybe the drawing was done there. The Cavalier hosted dances throughout the summer featuring big bands like Jimmy Dorsey, Tommy Dorsey, Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, Xavier Cugat, Guy Lombardo, Bing Crosby, and Frank Sinatra. Maybe the artist was there as well.

Then there is the puzzling message: Congratulations, Boyd R*. What was she being congratulated for? And who was Boyd? More importantly, what was his last name? Rockway? Rockman? Rackway? Rackman? Apparently, none of these. The closest potential match is “Boyd Richman” or “Boyd Rickman” but that second letter is definitely not an “i.”

Thinking perhaps I had misread the first name, I tried “Bryl” but no luck with that either.

I give up. For now, I am content to enjoy this playful rendering of my mother’s best features.  

Amy Johnson Crow continues to challenge genealogy bloggers and non-bloggers alike to think about our ancestors and share a story or photo about them. The challenge is “52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks.”

Wendy

© 2020, Wendy Mathias. All rights reserved.

A to Z April Challenge: Q is for Quilt

When my sister and I cleaned out our parents’ home, we had to make many decisions about what to do with all the stuff. Which things are truly “valuable” and which have only sentiment in their favor? Should we sell it, keep it, or throw it away? To help ensure a future for our family’s heirlooms, I plan to leave a booklet for my daughters telling the stories of what they will inherit one day. (Not TOO soon, I hope!) With this challenge I begin my book of Heirlooms.

is for Quilt. Well, of course. You weren't expecting anything else, I'm sure. The creativity and artistry among members of my family are evident in the quilts they sewed.

Dresden Plate

My great aunt Velma Davis Woodring made several quilts, which are now mine.  The Dresden Plate pattern was very popular in the 1920s and 1930s. The elaborate center suggests this is a variation on the typical Dresden Plate which had just a simple circle. Judging by all the floral prints in this lovingly worn quilt, this one was probably made in the 1930s.

This quilt is really worn. So many parts of the "plate" are gone.

I like to look at all the prints and imagine they were once dresses Velma and her sister Violetta might have worn as children.

Hexagon - Variation on Grandmother's Flower Garden

The hexagon pattern is thought by quilt historians to be one of the oldest pieced patterns. This hexagon quilt in violet and yellow with coordinating floral print is Velma’s masterpiece, if you ask me. She was the quintessential purple girl long before the color was fashionable. The pattern is very precise forming diamond-shaped groupings. I KNOW this pattern has a name, but I can’t find it. It is probably some variation on Grandmother’s Flower Garden. 

The purple fabric has not held up as well as the floral and yellow.

Greek Square

My mother-in-law Helen Virginia Kohne Mathias made a quilt for each of her 7 children. Upon her death, we each took one. Apparently she made many more because somehow we ended up with 2. This is my favorite. I love the bright green and orange fabric arranged in the Greek Square pattern. She machine stitched the top but knotted instead of quilted. 

Squares and triangles

This gold patchwork of squares and triangles amuses me because the fabric is so unlike Helen. It looks like an animal print in a way, but certainly a smaller scale and more subtle than something obvious like leopard or giraffe. I’m not sure what it is. Like the previous one, the top is machine stitched and the quilt is knotted. 

My mother appliquéd and quilted this sampler quilt around 1977. It was her first one. She set two challenges for herself:  make no 2 squares alike and use only 2 shades of pink. She used a pattern from a magazine but then had to design more center motifs herself. The beauty of this quilt is the balance of the two colors. 

Wendy

© 2018, Wendy Mathias. All rights reserved.

Sepia Saturday: Sign of Summer

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

My mother never drilled a dive bomber like the woman in this week’s Sepia Saturday photo challenge. However, she was known to wrap up her hair similarly from time to time, especially at the beach to control that thick hair of hers.

 

My mother on the left
at Virginia Beach probably about 1948

And she owned a drill. Yes, a drill, as well as a belt sander, jig saw, and a host of smaller tools like screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches, chisels, saws, and hammers.

These tools were HERS, not my dad’s. Daddy was NOT “Mr. Fixit”; Momma was. She could even repair the fill valve in the back of the toilet. But most often Momma used her tools for refinishing furniture, one of her many creative outlets.

Our neighbor once said, “It wasn’t officially summer until the garage door was open, old furniture was in the driveway, and Mary E. was in her white work shorts.” Those shorts were so covered in paint and wood stain that they probably could have stood on their own. They were legend. Too bad we have no picture.

In the 1970s and 80s, antiques were very popular but very expensive. On weekends Momma, my sister, and I scoured many a thrift store and antique shop in search of a bargain. Trunks and wash stands were high on our list, and we found quite a few treasures.

Uncle Leo loved the trunk my mother refinished for him in 1974
(Note the new leather handles and metal caps)

Over the course of several years just about everyone in the family received a trunk which Momma had refinished and lined with fabric. Sometimes she had to replace runners or wheels; often she had to patch bad spots with wood filler. She even had to craft new covers for the leather straps which she had cut at a local horse tack shop. Where else could you get strips of leather back then?

Momma gave Barry and me a trunk the first Christmas we were married. In the trunk she placed a complete 7-piece Victorian wash set, another antique store find. Can you identify the pieces? The pitcher was for water; the bowl or basin was for washing face and hands; the smaller pitcher was for hot water; the small bowl with lid held a cake of soap; a shaving mug; a toothbrush holder; and a chamber pot.

The background of the fabric looks red
but it is blue

Wash stands were a favorite item to grab and redo. Momma gave new life to an array of stands from the primitive to the more refined, although none with marble tops as those were too expensive.

This simple wash stand works as a tv stand in our den.

This fancier wash stand is in the dining room
holding serving pieces and junk.

This one is in a guest room.
It has certainly paid for itself!

The one that is currently in one of our guest rooms was in pieces when she found it. The top was separated from the rest and the doors were stacked inside. The towel rack was in pieces as well, and the rod for holding a towel was missing. The cost - $4. Since this project required quite a bit of gluing, Momma went to Sears to buy some clamps. The clerk was surprised that a woman was clamping anything. He obviously had not met my mother!

Whatever we bought was always “a deal,” but our smartest purchase was a china press. In the 1970s and 80s, china presses were highly desirable with a price tag to match, so we never hoped to find one we could afford. The stars aligned that day when Momma and my sister walked into a thrift shop in search of a small bookcase. With her eagle eye Momma spied something that looked like a china press. It was black with coal dust, so she could not tell what the wood was, or even what condition it was in. But it had claw feet, a good sign. The owner of the shop had no idea what he had, so he phoned a friend who was in the antiques business. Since he could not see it to determine its value, the friend suggested he sell it for at least $100. SOLD!

When I inherited my mother's china press,
I moved my dishes and crystal into that one.
Now my $100 bargain holds my girls'
doll collections.

Momma was prepared to pay $250 without even knowing what she had. It turned out to be a steal!

We had feared it was some kind of cheap veneer with cardboard shelves, but it is beautiful oak, and the oak shelves are both substantial and in perfect condition, no warping or cracks. The curved glass is original.

Oh, how clearly I remember those summer days as Momma’s assistant, both of us in rubber gloves with putty knives, a wire brush, and paint remover scraping through layers of paint to find that beautiful oak or poplar. My clearest memory, though, is that flicks of paint and chemicals STING, my friend.

Please visit Sepia Saturday for more riveting stories and photos.

Wendy

© 2017, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.

Sepia Saturday: Push! Push!

Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.

This week’s Sepia Saturday prompt features boys engaged in the game of Pushball. The game never registered on my ancestors’ radar, so through a James Joycean stream of consciousness sort of way, I pushed the limits of my imagination to arrive at this:

Mary Eleanor Davis (Slade) about 1947
Love the fringe on those pants!

I never saw my mother push a lawn mower, but this photo from her early college days at Shenandoah College and Conservatory in Dayton, Virginia shows she COULD maintain the yard if she had to.

But she never had to. For better or for worse, that was my dad’s domain.

Fred Slade cutting the grass at 134 Gillis Road June 1969

Dressed in his favorite tennis shorts and his dress shoes and socks, Daddy made quite the fashion statement out on the lawn. Nevertheless, he was faithful and focused on getting the job done. When it came to “curb-appeal,” nothing got in his way.

Not even the electric cord.

An electric mower was always much easier to start and convenient to maintain. You would think. However, Daddy was notorious for mowing right over the cord. It seems that every week he created drama with what should have been an ordinary task.

In fact, he was hard on every mower he ever owned. Once when he was without a mower, he borrowed one and managed to decapitate the thing when he mowed under the deck.

When Momma became sick in her later years, Daddy took up pushing the vacuum cleaner. There were some similarities in the task as he continued to vacuum over the cord and bump the furniture.  Eventually the muscle memory of vacuuming carried over to mowing. Cutting the grass took twice as long as Daddy “vacuumed” the grass, pushing the mower forward and pulling it back repeatedly in the same spot rather than mowing in a straight line before making a u-turn to come back the full length.

It was both funny and frustrating to watch, yet there was no stopping him, not until he killed his last lawn mower. That is when we made him hang up his lawn-vacuuming shoes and turn the job over to a professional.

Please push your way over to Sepia Saturday for more stories and old photos.

© 2016, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.

Wordless Wednesday: Ming1Dee

Wordless Wednesday is a daily prompt at Geneabloggers that asks family historians to create a post in which the main focus is a photograph or image.

 

Mary Eleanor Davis Slade
Jan 6, 1929 - Oct 3, 2005

Today would be my mother’s 87^th birthday. “Ming1Dee” was her user name on her AOL account which she used for email and instant message, probably most often with her grandchildren. “Ming” was her official grandmother name; “Dee” became a second name when grandchild #3 came along. “Dee” was his mispronunciation of “Ming,” but it stuck.

 

© 2016, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.

Mary Eleanor Davis Slade - A Beauty for All Ages

Today would have been my mother Mary Eleanor Davis Slade’s 83^rd birthday.  The genealogical facts of her life are not extraordinary:

 

·         Born January 6, 1929 to Orvin Owen and Lucille Mary Rucker Davis of Shenandoah, Virginia

·         Cheerleader and graduate of Cradock High School in Portsmouth, Virginia

·         Attended Shenandoah College & Conservatory in Dayton, Virginia

·         Graduated from Madison College in Harrisonburg, Virginia

·         Married Fred Robert Slade, Jr. of Portsmouth, Virginia

·         Taught elementary, junior high, and high school, most of her career in Portsmouth, Virginia

·         Raised 2 amazingly beautiful and gifted daughters  {snicker snicker}

·         Died from ovarian cancer October 3, 2005 in Chesapeake, Virginia

But Momma was indeed extraordinary:

·         She was handy with tools.  Thank goodness, because Daddy certainly wasn’t.  She could patch a wall, change washers in a sink, paint, wallpaper, install chair rail, and even fix that flapper thing in the back of the toilet.

·         She refinished furniture and old trunks.  Just about everyone in the family has received a refurbished trunk and/or washstand. 

·         She knitted, crocheted, quilted, smocked, and sewed.  She made practically all of our clothes growing up, at least 4 wedding gowns, draperies, slipcovers, and doll clothes for Shirley Temple, Barbie, Midge, and American Girl.   The Ninja Turtle, Power Rangers, and She-Ra Princess of Power halloween costumes that she created were legendary.  They were used, reused, borrowed by other kids, and worn almost daily for pretend play. 

·         She was honest to a fault.  She wouldn’t even use those free address labels without sending a donation to whatever organization had sent them.

Momma was a bit vain, but in a good way.  She always wore makeup, and she loved clothes.  She had four closets jam-packed but never had anything to wear.  The more sequins, beads, fancy stitching and glitz, the better.  The doctors and nurses always noticed how she coordinated her shoes and jewelry to match her outfit even in the roughest days of chemo treatment.  Once when she was especially weak and tired, I suggested she put on some loose-fitting, “unbeautiful” outfit and she said, “No – that’s how those other patients dress – like they’ve given up.”  The nurses knew Momma was a fighter because she cared enough to get up and get dressed. 

Here are some of my favorite pictures of my beautiful mother (click on photos to enlarge them):

Momma (2nd from left) and her
high school buddies were friends for life.

We threatened to walk out if the City didn't
give teachers a raise.  I'm marching too, but
Momma carried the sign. 

Momma enjoyed her reunions, both
high school and college.  Of course,
that gave yet another excuse to
buy a new outfit.

Advent Calendar - Christmas Tree Memories

Geneabloggers is once again hosting the Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories encouraging family historians to write about their holiday traditions.

Ahh – Christmas tree memories.  How much time do you have?  

Just hearing the words “Christmas tree” conjures up the distinct look of my mother’s tree.  I say “my mother’s tree” because no one I ever knew decorated a tree the way she did.  Everyone who came to visit seemed to study the tree before commenting on how different it was.  What made the tree unique was the amount of tinsel, or icicles as we called them.

1952 - Me at the piano - very talented at a young age.

For many years my sister and I were not allowed to put icicles on the tree because Momma had a special technique that required patience and precision.  Momma would take a large handful of tinsel and spread the thin silvery strips of foil along her left arm, as if her arm were a branch.  Then she’d carefully transfer the tinsel to the branches, a handful at a time.   

Late 1960s -- Notice how neatly Momma
hung the tinsel.  Each branch was full.

The result was a beautiful icy tree.  You could barely see the ornaments, but that was part of the allure –- catching some sparkling striped ball or a Santa peeking through the forest of icicles. 

Most of my memories are of a beautiful tree, but then there was this year:

1972 - Branches rubbed the ceiling.

Daddy bought a tree that was too tall.  Instead of cutting off the bottom, he cut off the top.  Who does that?  Momma was furious.  We always said the tree looked like it was shrugging its shoulders as if it had given up.

Another strong memory of Christmas trees past is shopping for a tree.  The Band Parents at my high school sold trees as a major fund-raiser.  We made every effort to support them, but we were not content to pick one and go home.  No, we had to drive to every lot known to man to compare trees.  Part of the excitement?  Maybe.  However, MOST years the day my dad finally decided to take us tree shopping would be the coldest, rainiest, most miserable day on record.  No one felt like getting out of the car to inspect a tree or check for gaps in the branches or judge whether it would fit in our living room.  Now over 40 years later when it is cold and miserable out, my sister and I will say, “This is the perfect day to buy a Christmas tree.”