Sepia Saturday: Sisters in Headbands

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

This week’s Sepia Saturday prompt celebrates the 90^th birthday of Queen Elizabeth II by featuring a picture of her and her sister Margaret in their younger days when they performed in a pantomime production of Aladdin at Windsor Castle.

My grandaunts Helen (Killeen Parker) and Mae (Killeen Holland) were not performing in any sort of dramatic production when these photos were taken, yet Helen thought they appeared rather exotic in those headbands.

Masked Dancers
While Helen and Mae were posed much like dancers, they were not wearing masks.

Helen and Mae about 1920

Oriental Lady
Does Helen look like an “Oriental” lady to you?

Helen about 1920

They look more like the Karate Kid, if you ask me.

Please visit our blogarific production known as Sepia Saturday where you will be treated like royalty.

© 2016, Wendy Mathias.  All rights reserved.

A to Z April Challenge: R is for Record

Genealogists and family historians get a lot of satisfaction from chasing their ancestors’ stories. Finding a diary, a message on a postcard, or a photo with a name attached is like the sun coming out after a storm. One day we will be somebody’s ancestor. We need to leave our descendants a little bit of sunshine too. So here is my story told alphabetically, not chronologically: Growing Up in Cradock.

is for record.

Believe it or not, I actually made a record. You won’t find it on a Billboard chart or reviewed in a magazine. There is no YouTube of me performing. Heck, I’m not even the star performer. I was one of 176 10-12 year olds who formed the chorus of Cradock Junior High School in 1963 and 1964.

The choral director was Mr. Richard Harrison. Besides teaching music to students who signed up for chorus, he attracted a large number of non-singers like me for a before-school program that combined performance and music appreciation.  We were known as The Early Birds. 

Our class was blessed with a number of exceptionally beautiful voices, several angelic sopranos and budding tenors.  We performed Christmas pageants and other programs throughout the year. During the Easter season, we performed the “Stabat Mater” by Pergolesi. It is a 12-part hymn to Mary describing her suffering at the crucifixion. Our performance was recorded by WRVC-FM, a local radio station, and broadcast as a public service. It met with such interest from the public that Mr. Harrison felt compelled to preserve it forever on vinyl. At the time, our record was the only known recording of the “Stabat Mater” in English.

Album cover

Back of the album cover
The 12 movements are presented along with the featured soloist

All the performers are named
Look at me -- First Soprano

I THINK that's moi in the red circle.

While I enjoyed my time as an Early Bird and the opportunity to sing with people who really knew how to sing, I did not pursue choral singing when I moved on to high school.

Rush right over to the A to Z April Challenge for some roaring good reads, romances, rhymes, and reviews.

© 2016, Wendy Mathias. All rights reserved.

A to Z April Challenge: Q is for Quackenbush

Genealogists and family historians get a lot of satisfaction from chasing their ancestors’ stories. Finding a diary, a message on a postcard, or a photo with a name attached is like the sun coming out after a storm. One day we will be somebody’s ancestor. We need to leave our descendants a little bit of sunshine too. So here is my story told alphabetically, not chronologically: Growing Up in Cradock.

is for Quackenbush Place.

When I was in high school, there was not a whole lot to do. My best friends Pat and Lynn and I did not have cars and we did not have jobs. In those moments of boredom after school and in the summer, our favorite activity was walking. Cradock was a large community with unlimited options for routes to take and streets to explore. It was quite walkable from any of our three homes which were just blocks from each other, but no one would want to try to walk ALL of Cradock in a single day.

So there were many evenings when we walked and we talked, what about, I don’t know. What do any teens talk about? Probably music, our other friends, an upcoming history project, and just stupid stuff. At one time or another, we probably walked every street in Cradock, including Quackenbush.

from Google Maps - Quackenbush extends between Gillis and Allen 

I know for a fact, though, Quackenbush was not a street we hit often because it was just a single short block and not appealing for whatever reason. Maybe the houses were too small or too plain for the imagination, or maybe the street just went nowhere more interesting. The name of the street was its only draw. Quackenbush. What a funny name. Why Quackenbush?

Not until I had to provide a letter Q for the A to Z April Challenge did I try to answer that question. Almost all streets in Cradock are named for naval officers and heroes. Stephen P. Quackenbush entered the Navy as a midshipman in 1840 and retired in 1885 as Rear Admiral. He served up and down the eastern seaboard throughout his career, most notably during the Civil War on the side of the North. Therefore, I find it amusing and ironic that this Southern city would honor a “Yankee” (gasp!) by naming a street for him. But apparently “Quackenbush” was the best the city fathers could come up with to fit the scheme of naming streets alphabetically.  Phelps. Quackenbush. Reid. Sampson. Wuddayaknow – the City had an A-Z Challenge too!

The funniest Quackenbush story though involves one of my father’s friends who grew up on Quackenbush: the Duckwall family. It’s a wonder they just didn’t move!

Don’t quit now.  Are you in a quandary?  If you’re quick, you’ll enjoy some quirky and quotable quips at the A to Z April Challenge.

© 2016, Wendy Mathias. All rights reserved.

A to Z April Challenge: P is for Piano Lessons

Genealogists and family historians get a lot of satisfaction from chasing their ancestors’ stories. Finding a diary, a message on a postcard, or a photo with a name attached is like the sun coming out after a storm. One day we will be somebody’s ancestor. We need to leave our descendants a little bit of sunshine too. So here is my story told alphabetically, not chronologically: Growing Up in Cradock.

is for piano lessons.

We are nothing like the Osmond Family by any means, but music has always been viewed as an important component of child-rearing in my family. Even during the Depression my mother was given lessons in piano and tap, so it went without saying that her children would get piano lessons too. There was a number of music teachers offering lessons in their homes in Cradock. On recommendations from her teacher friends, Momma arranged for me to take lessons with Mrs. Anne Shuler. Her home was about a 15-minute walk from my house.

Schaum theory books

Mrs. Shuler had a beautiful baby grand piano in her living room where she gave lessons. Upon arrival, I would sit on the sofa and wait as another student finished. Mrs. Shuler valued music theory and made sure every student got a good dose of it. If my wait was going to be long, she instructed me to move ahead in my Schaum book. I had a love-hate relationship with the series of music theory books. On the one hand, I liked the challenge of answering the questions, especially when they felt puzzle-like; on the other hand, I was discouraged by the pressure to remember what I supposedly had learned.

My book of scales written by Mrs. Shuler

While I recognized the importance of practicing scales, they were not my favorite thing. Mrs. Shuler wrote out the major and minor scales, and cadence chords in a special music notebook. She even gave me the finger numbering.

Mrs. Shuler also valued technique. If my hands were not in the right position while playing, she would slide her hand under mine to lift them up. She also expected a graceful lifting of the hands and placing them in the lap as the last note evaporated.

Wendy in December 1964
Obviously I was just sitting at the piano. There is NO music
AND my hand position shows I was not playing. 

Every week Mrs. Shuler wrote my assignment in a notebook: which scales to practice, how many music theory pages to complete, and what music to practice including whether sections were to be memorized. If I had a good lesson, I got a gold star. Gold stars were important to me, but they did not come easily. Of course, Mrs. Shuler might have been more generous had I actually practiced like I was supposed to. Students had to EARN those stars.

It’s not like Mrs. Shuler was the Piano Nazi impossible to please. No, she was “in tune” with her students (har har) and always tried to select music they would enjoy. When I was going through that moody teenage stage, I discovered the dark tunes of Frederic Chopin. Mrs. Shuler made sure I got to play some of it as well as other classical music by composers like Felix Mendelssohn. There were many sonatas and sonatinas in my musical past.

I really enjoyed when Mrs. Shuler and I played duets. Somehow it made me feel like a better musician than I really was.

Wendy and Mary Jollette
Were we playing "Heart and Soul" or "Chopsticks"?

What sent me over the edge though was the yearly recital. Mrs. Shuler always planned a lovely evening in her home with students playing for the parents a special piece they had been working on. Even when I was prepared, I hated it. Nothing made me as nervous as performing for an audience, not an oral book report, not a presentation of a project, not delivering a speech for the student body, not even reciting a poem from memory for English class. Part of the problem was that I was years behind some of my friends because I started lessons later than they did. While they were playing complex “important” pieces by well-known composers, I was playing what I considered “baby music.” It was embarrassing. Of course, it was partly my own fault for not being a more dedicated student who could have progressed more quickly had I practiced. When I turned 16, I put my foot down and refused to play in any more recitals.

I just wanted to be able to play music. I didn’t really want to KNOW anything. Poor Mrs. Shuler. Probably every music teacher has had their fair share of difficult students, and I was certainly one of them. I just hope I wasn’t the worst because she was the best.

John and Anne Shuler
photo courtesy of their daughter Jan

For more pontificating and other pieces in print, pop over to the A to Z April Challenge.

© 2016, Wendy Mathias. All rights reserved. 

A to Z April Challenge: O is for Ointment

Genealogists and family historians get a lot of satisfaction from chasing their ancestors’ stories. Finding a diary, a message on a postcard, or a photo with a name attached is like the sun coming out after a storm. One day we will be somebody’s ancestor. We need to leave our descendants a little bit of sunshine too. So here is my story told alphabetically, not chronologically: Growing Up in Cradock.

is for Ointment.

It seems that when I was growing up in Cradock in the 1960s, there was always someone with a broken arm or leg, or at least a sprain. Not me. I managed to escape serious injury (except for that nose incident), but I could get a cold like nobody’s business.

When I was congested, unable to breathe, and coughing until it hurt, Momma whipped out the Vicks VapoRub and one of my dad’s undershirts.

image from eBay

Yes, my dad’s undershirt. I could feel the healing begin the minute Momma opened the jar. The menthol and eucalyptus opened the sinuses, and the initial cold of the suave as Momma rubbed it onto my chest turned to heat with the help of Daddy’s soft undershirt. Because it is an oil-based ointment, VapoRub was never intended to be used under or inside the nose or mouth, but I know of people whose mothers made them swallow the ointment when they had a sore throat.

image from Pinterest

VapoRub was regarded as the miracle cure for most ailments, but my dad would have disagreed. His medicine of choice was Mercurochrome. It was used for minor wounds, scratches, burns, and many types of sores. It stained the skin red, and the stain did not wash out for weeks. As a tennis player, racquet ball player, and mower of the lawn, my dad endured any number of wounds, scratches, and sores. As a result, my parents’ bathroom often displayed splashes of Daddy’s wonder-cure. Sometimes we didn’t know if it was blood or the Mercurochrome.

image from Flickr 

Mercurochrome is no longer sold in the United States, partly due to the mercury content and partly because the pharmaceutical industry doesn’t want to pay for further testing on a product that doesn’t produce much revenue to begin with. But VapoRub is still going strong with its reputation as the best cure for most ailments.

I tend to think the warmth of a dad’s soft undershirt is what makes it all better.

Mary Jollette and Daddy either Father's Day or his birthday
and look - he's all decked out in his undershirt!
(or maybe it was a tennis shirt - I can't tell)

You are under no obligation, but it would be obtuse for me to obstruct your odyssey to the A to Z April Challenge.

© 2016, Wendy Mathias. All rights reserved. 

A to Z April Challenge: N is for Newton's Kindergarten

Genealogists and family historians get a lot of satisfaction from chasing their ancestors’ stories. Finding a diary, a message on a postcard, or a photo with a name attached is like the sun coming out after a storm. One day we will be somebody’s ancestor. We need to leave our descendants a little bit of sunshine too. So here is my story told alphabetically, not chronologically: Growing Up in Cradock.

is for Newton’s Nursery and Kindergarten.

Kindergarten was not provided by the public schools when I was growing up in the Cradock community of Norfolk County (later Portsmouth), Virginia. Parents who saw the value of early preparation had to pay for it. For my family, the service was provided at Newton’s Nursery and Kindergarten.

Newton’s was owned by Elizabeth J. Newton, the librarian at James Hurst Elementary School. Her building was located on Harris Road, close to her own home. There were two classrooms, the nursery for the toddlers and the kindergarten class for those heading to first grade the next year. In the middle of the building were the office, kitchen, and bathroom which had child-size toilets and trough sinks. A woman prepared snacks and lunch, but I don’t remember her name. My teacher was addressed in that typical Southern way: “Miss Sue.” She was actually MRS. Sue Montzingo.

snipped from Google Maps
Today Newton's is a regular house. Aside from new siding,
the exterior looks the same. The nursery was to the left;
the kindergarten was to the right.
The fenced playground was likely a second lot.

The fenced side yard was huge, providing plenty of playground equipment and room to run. On rainy days there was even enough room to run inside. It must have been on such a day that my friend Melissa and I decided to hold hands and run in circles, a bit of fun that resulted in a bloody mess when she let go and sent me flying face-first onto the linoleum floor.

Newton’s Nursery and Kindergarten was invited to participate in a special event featuring all the children. The Woman’s Club of Cradock put on a Tom Thumb Wedding as one of its major fund raisers. An American fad from the 1920s-1970s, a Tom Thumb wedding was a pageant in which the minister, bride and groom, their parents, bridesmaids, flower girls, ring bearer and groomsmen were portrayed by children all in elaborate costumes. The idea was based on an actual wedding between two famous little people, Tom Thumb (real name Charles Stratton) and Lavinia Warren, who were stars in P. T. Barnum’s circus. The event attracted a lot of attention back in 1863. Recreating the wedding must have seemed like a good idea to various schools, churches, and social organizations seeking to make money from ticket sales. What parent and grandparent wouldn't pay to see their darling in such a spectacle?

On the day that we paraded before the club members who decided who would be the bride and who would be an attendant, I wore this pretty little dress:

Wendy 1955

Not surprisingly, my friend Alice was chosen to be the bride. She was (and is!) tall and beautiful, even at age 5. I was one of many bridesmaids. Our gowns were layers upon layers of tulle forming a full skirt as wide as it was long; some of us wore blue and some wore yellow. The younger girls from the nursery were flower girls decked out in pink tulle. I suppose the boys wore little tuxedos, but I can’t see them in my mind’s eye. The groom did, for sure.

The “wedding” was held in the Cradock High School auditorium. I can remember lining up and walking down the aisle to the stage, and I can see Alice and Eddie (the groom) in the center, but there the memory stops.

Other than that, my only other clear memories of kindergarten are positioning some mats on the floor for naptime and playing rhythm instruments while marching around the room. I loved the triangle, tolerated the sticks, and hated the sand blocks and castanets.

Many of the children in my kindergarten graduation also graduated with me from high school.

Newton Kindergarten Graduation 1956
I am on the back row, third from the right. 

Lest I neglect the niceties, all neophytes, newcomers and novices are welcome to navigate the numerous news, narratives, novels and notes at the A to Z April Challenge.

© 2016, Wendy Mathias. All rights reserved. 

A to Z April Challenge: M is for Money

Genealogists and family historians get a lot of satisfaction from chasing their ancestors’ stories. Finding a diary, a message on a postcard, or a photo with a name attached is like the sun coming out after a storm. One day we will be somebody’s ancestor. We need to leave our descendants a little bit of sunshine too. So here is my story told alphabetically, not chronologically: Growing Up in Cradock.

is for money.

I do not recall getting an allowance regularly. When I asked for an allowance, I’d sometimes be given one, but after a while it would stop. I’m not sure why. Maybe my parents forgot. Maybe I forgot. Admittedly, if I wanted money, I needed only to ask and I would receive, so a true allowance was never very important. Even when I was in high school and my friends were getting real paychecks from summer employment, I was not expected to go to work.

Sometimes though I felt obligated to be deserving of money, even as a little kid. That’s when I would create a menu of chores I was willing to perform and how much money I expected for doing so. The chores included dusting, vacuuming, making beds, sweeping the walk, and doing dishes. Of course, there were varied rates for dusting only the living room, for example, as opposed to every room in the house. My number one customer was my maternal grandmother, Lucille Rucker Davis. I think she found my little business amusing. She was one who would have gladly handed me some spare dimes and quarters for the asking, but she would hire me every time.

Wendy and Mary Jollette August 1959
in our grandparents' living room.
There was plenty of dusting to do!

Grandma - my satisfied customer

Once in a while, maybe out of boredom, my Frailey Place friends and I would set up a Kool-Aid stand. One day our only customer was a man working on the light poles. We split our profits, but we knew it was tougher to make a buck on a Kool-Aid stand than we were led to believe by stories of great success as reported in our kid magazines.

My favorite money was the silver dollars and $2-bills that my paternal grandparents Fred and Julia Slade gave me on birthdays and Christmas. I spent the $2-bills but still have the silver coins.

Morgan silver dollars

Peace silver dollars

Avoid malady and malaise but be malleable to being mesmerized by the maelstrom of magniloquent and mellifluous myths and metaphors offered by the mavens of the blogisphere at the A to Z April Challenge.

© 2016, Wendy Mathias. All rights reserved.