§ Days of Yesteryear....

Remember the cartoons of yesteryear? With the likes of Bugs Bunny, Elmer Fudd, Daffy Duck, Heckle and Jekyl, Mighty Mouse, etc. etc.? What went wrong with cartoons of today? They're all either too wishy-washy sweet, or too violent with crime, not to mention the evil computer games with so many that has the game played to the death!!   No comedy any more, what-so-ever.  Even stand up comedy has an evil side [Kathy Griffin comes to mind].  I miss Saturday Morning cartoons. Laughter is good medicine. Anyway, the purpose of my opening line is, ... yes, the cartoons of yesteryear! How many times were there airplanes in the cartoons depicted with faces such as this one. Which brings me to the photo I took while out on the beach, walking. I've been terribly influenced from Mel Blanc, Chuck Jones, and Walt Disney....I saw the Coast Guard plane, and immediately saw the smiling face!!!!


- - -


Then an old movie. Oftentimes when Bud and I witness a huge amount of vehicles leaving the same area at one time, like when a concert if over, or a ball game and the cars are vying for a space near the exit gates we think of IT'S A MAD MAD MAD MAD WORLD movie with a cast of 1000s with the likes of Spencer Tracy, Jimmy Durante, Mickey Rooney, Sid Caesar, Milton Berle, Edie Adams, Ethel Merman and more...A short synopsis of the flick is: When Jimmy Durante has an accident on a California Highway, he's dying after going over a cliff and confesses where he hid money from an unsolved robbery. The witnesses hear the confession and then, all head to where the money is hidden....near a "BIG W"!! It's hilarious. [circa 1963 - from wikipedia claims of attempts to produce a remake of It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World have circulated, but no film producers have officially confirmed a contract despite attempts] Anyway, when I see something that resembles a "W",  the hidden treasure of yesteryear comes to mind. I saw one the other day. In our own back yard...

photo of the big W from the movie set

- - -

Thinking of days gone by, I remember as a child, when we'd head along the interstate highway 80 [it wasn't interstate when I was young] to Lincoln, Nebraska from our Colorado home, where my father's sister lived. Getting closer and closer to Lincoln, in the vast farmland off the roads, we'd see an old red one room school building. My aunt taught classes there, just like Ms. Beadle on the TV series, Little House on the Prairie. The photo of the school you see is the actual school taken long long long ago. I haven't been along I-80 in decades, so I don't know if it [the school]  is still in existence. But, when I was looking for one of my photos of that mountain along the front range to sketch it, I came across the picture of the school and reminisced of yesteryear, when I was a youngster traveling to visit Aunt Mary. Oh, and unlike now-a-days, when teachers need a college degree, my aunt only had a high school education and taught grades 1-8 when most farm children stopped their education to work the family's farmland and carry on with tradition.

- - -

One more thought on the term of yesteryear and school...

This past week I received a letter in the mailbox. On the envelope, it had my high school logo on the return address. I hadn't even thought of it for so, so many years now. After getting the house chores done, I sat down and opened the letter. Holy Cow....it's my high school 50 year class reunion!! Good lord, has it been that long ago? Yep, it has. In fact 50 years ago on May 31st I was free for the summer to travel. 50 years ago, I got a gift to fly to our nation's capital and spend a little over a month there, hanging out on "D" Street, just a few blocks from the capitol. I took off work in June and returned in August....after many days living and learning of our nation's politics, government, visiting sites with the likes of Iwo Jima, climbing to the top of Washington Monument, spending 3 days at the Smithsonian Institute, privileged to witness the Senate via the underground subway to the Chambers, the Pentagon, the FBI. Not to mention a trip down the Potomac River on a riverboat excursion. Custis Lee Mansion, etc. etc.. Oh so many good times, so many good memories. Anyway, the letter had a list of activities planned in August ... nothing worth making a special trip to attend. Golf? Dancing? Heck, I can do that HERE!! Sure, I'd be able to see some classmates, but really....I'm sure it would be "You haven't changed a bit?" "You have HOW MANY grandkids?" "I've been divorced, married three times." That sorta thing. I'm just not into that kinda stuff.  The photo is a conglomerate of the letter received, my 1967 class photo album and the page cut where I am [outlined photo on the insert].

§ Down Memory Lane-2...

"We interrupt this Botanical Garden Series to bring you this special blogcast!!!"
I only have time to do short stories of the Monday Memory Meme [posted Sunday] doing them for 5 weeks at a time.  I will resume [and conclude] with the Botanical Garden Sculptures in the week ahead.  So, here goes with Monday Memories weeks 6-10....


week SIX - first family

My immediate family consists of six ... four. My husband Bud, who is a retired government worker and ex-Navy. Myself, as you know, I retired from working at a psychiatric corporation consisting of several doctors that were... psychologists/psychiatrists and medical doctors who prescribed medications for the patients.     - I retired from this field of work when Bud decided to retire early after paying off his retirement fund beforehand.   The two of us created:  A daughter, Irene, who is working on her Masters' Degree in Social Work, working as a manager of a 'safe house' for abused women and children in Missouri. Irene blessed us with two grandsons. The oldest has Down Syndrome and working full time, while the youngest is in his first year college, working on a law degree. And...our son, Erik, who is working on his PhD in Political Science and working as a college professor in Houston.

Then, the 'six' that I crossed out changing it to four...there are two furry family members, Tahoe and Winston. Tahoe is a medium haired black tabby, Winston is a white Persian. Both adopted from animal shelters. 

Tho all of us were born in the USA, we have ancestors from Europe. Ireland, Germany/France, England - I have many legal copies of births/marriages/deaths from doing a 25 year [and ongoing] work of genealogy and published a 300+ page book called "Inherited Lineage" [shown above]. The one family member who migrated from England to America, and on Bud's side of the gene pool, lived to be 108!!! His maternal grandmother. The oldest on my side of the family lived to be 98; my paternal grandfather. His family tale consists of traveling from South Dakota as a baby in the 1800s, in a covered wagon...to Nebraska [Just like Little House on the Prairie].

...some tintypes of relatives I own and cherish...even if I don't know who they are:

week SEVEN -  most influential person Other than my parents; I was close to both mom 'N' dad, I believe I could honestly say I would have to narrow it down to TWO. One: A teacher I had in high school stands out in my memory very vividly. She was Mrs. Sanderson. An English Literature teacher. She was so actively avid for us to learn, I grabbed my opportunity with gusto. Play acting, reading Shakespeare, festivals, junior/senior assemblies, field trips. It was a year all rolled into a big celebration of literature. I quickly acquired a love for William Shakespeare's work... and being able to quickly read and understand the Old English style of speech and prose has stuck with me over the years. To this day, I can quote from many readings of my past, and I am often reminded of Mrs. Sanderson and I thank her for bringing the light to me and my love for English Literature. TWO: My first grandson, Clint. Why is he influential to me? Well, first of all he was a Down's baby. Not only Down Syndrome, but he was also born with a hole in his heart....at five months had open heart surgery after he stopped breathing and Irene resuscitated him back to life...a helicopter for life escorted him to a children's medical facility in Colorado Springs. To make a long story short, the specialist told Irene and Clint's family that Clint would not live beyond 5 years of age. He is now 25!! His strongest influence on me? His unconditional love for all! Oftentimes I have silently wished we all had that extra chromosome within us...the world would be such a happier place. Loving mankind [and animals] as he does....we could use him as a role model. Seriously. In the waiting room, during the open heart surgery, I took a magazine I found on the table and wrote this as Clint was being operated on...by the way, after many weeks of rehabilitation and office visits, the pediatric heart specialist told us Clint had died on the operating table once and was miraculously saved once again. He has a special bond with His Maker!!! Anyway, I wrote this in 1987 and had it printed and copyrighted in 1989 with a baby photo of Clint infused within the poem's canvas. It's been published on my poetry blog prior to this posting. I just copied and added the entire post here to save a bit of time for myself, tho some is redundant...


CLINT'S SKY
©1989 --- 2014
[this was written in the hospital waiting room, on a magazine cover, during our grandson's open heart surgery - at 5 months of age. And the image above is my own graphic. The face in the clouds is actually Clint! Superimposed from a pencil sketch of mine of him.]

I think the sky ends in your heart
so you've captured mine.
With twilight's purples, pinks, and gold...
The knowledge now that which I cast
what tokens I hold.

As the sun, you're glowing, alive and fresh.
Stars, you sparkle and shine.
Like the moon, you're stately, powerful, bright.
Clouds, you're tender and fine.
Your dark storms' furies: Natural passion is God's will.

The mystical horizon, the inner light...our existences entwine.
I think the sky ends in your heart Clint,
And so, you've captured mine.

week EIGHT -  my mom She's not on this earth any longer, but still with me in my heart!! Her name was Edith Irene...I named my daughter after her. With a heart of gold, my mom treated everyone equally and loved with all her might!! Of Irish descent, her hair was strawberry blond before the silver strands took root in her later years. Bud was her favorite 'son'.... the two got along like mother and son from day one. She welcomed him with open arms. My mom bore five children from 1935 to 1949 when I was born...loved and cherished her husband [my dad] for over 50 years before her death. Her family was always number one to her. She was devout and had her bible at her bedside and 'religiously' read from it nightly. I miss her. And today, when I look in the mirror, I see my mother.

week NINE -  my dad My father, too, is not here with us physically any longer. He left us behind four years after my mom passed away. With my dad, he always kinda favored his two daughters. There is something special about the relationships of fathers and their daughters. I must admit, now that I'm older, he did spoil me as my brothers and sister claimed to be true so long ago. Something special I remember when I was just a child of six...each Saturday during the summer, in the early evening, the two of us would walk hand in hand from the parked car, to a nearby dairy that had a small soda fountain. It was a small town in the foothills of the Colorado Rockies, and everyone knew each other. Our Saturday night out was for a double scoop of ice cream in a cone. We'd sit together, I'd giggle, he'd watch the people and converse with some...we had a special bonding. Sometimes I'd have black walnut ice cream, other times when the dairy made it and had it available, dad would order me a watermelon sherbet cone. To this day, I have never had sherbet tasting so good. One year, I wanted a bicycle, he got me a brand new one...blue with white walled tires. I wanted a wedding doll for Christmas one year...my father made the best Santa ever...under the tree, with my name on it, was a wedding doll!! He taught me how to drive a manual transmission. We'd go on fishing trips and spend the weekend camping in a tent, until one summer he bought a trailer, from then on it was camping out in that. Cooking [yes, he was an excellent cook!] and gardening was a passion that he passed on to me through the years.

Oh, and with both my parents, they were backyard bird watchers...guess that rubbed off on me also.

week TEN - my Christmas stories  The first thing I will add...Bud bought me for a gift on our first year married, 1968...an old world Santa Claus much like the one in my header.  THAT was the beginning of my Claus Collection!!  For over four decades, I've been buying, and receiving Santa Stuff!!!  Some of  my Nicholas Numbers will be posted as an ending to this post.   I could tell you many. But with the onset of my doing five weeks in one post with short tales, I must add that when we lived on Colorado, Christmas day was always a big day when I was single and at home, and after Bud and I married and had children of our own. The day began early...getting up to cook for family that would arrive later in the morning. It was always ham and a Christmas goose to roast. With all the fixin's. We always had enough food on the table to feed an army. With my siblings married [except for my sister] we had two tables set up. There were 17-20 celebrating Christmas day together. And the day didn't end until around 10 pm when all would begin to leave and return to their homes. After Bud and I married, we'd get up around 4 a.m. and have our 'own' Christmas with our two children. We'd eat a hardy breakfast. While the kids were playing with their new gifts, Bud and I would prepare food to take to my parents' house. We'd all clean up and get dressed for the day ahead. Sometimes it was a treacherous, dangerous, drive to my folks...with icy, snow-packed roads to drive. Other times, not so much. The young kids in our family would get gifts under the tree at mom and dad's from everyone. And the adults would buy and present gifts to only ONE person. We'd draw names on Thanksgiving. It was a ritual that worked for us. Every adult in the family would have their names put on paper and placed in a hat. If we were there, physically, we draw out a name. The name on the paper would be the person for whom we bought a gift. If they weren't at the house on Thanksgiving, then...my father would draw a name for them and mail the name to the family member. My parents put a spending limit on the one gift too. We could not spend more than $100. Like I said, it was a long day. But always filled with good food, laughter, and wonderful memories. Today's times have changed our way of celebrating. My parents are gone. My sister and her husband - my youngest [older] brother and his son live in Colorado. My oldest brother and his family live in Nevada, my middle [older] brother is no longer with us. His children all live in Colorado except for his youngest daughter who lives in California. Nieces and nephews that once graced our Christmas day now all have families of their own. Our children have lives that extend beyond Bud and me...they have their own traditions and family. For the two of us, it's a quiet time for reflecting and remembering the good days of yore.  And we enjoy having this kind of holiday...it's not a sad thing, it's more of what we want for now.

...my Christmas Stories in Santa Land. Even my keyboard is festive!!
Yes, Virginia...there IS a Santa Claus.  And I, Hootin' Anni, still believe.  There is good in Jolly O' Saint Nick!!  He brings joy to boys and girls each and every year.  Some where...everywhere!!



crocheted Santa and sleigh [stiffened with sugar starch]






"Believe" carved by Bud - Carved wooden canoe with Santa and Dog
Santa Afghan crocheted by me...pattern design by me - Large Santa/Sleigh
Photo of Santa  - Polar Express Hallmark Santa
Animated Santa - Soft Sculpture Santa [1 and 2]

§ Some Poetic Justice...

A Minor Bird

by Robert Frost - American Poet

I have wished a bird would fly away,

And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door

When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.

The bird was not to blame for his key.

And of course there must be something wrong

In wanting to silence any song.

Have you ever had to interpret the meaning of a line or a short story or perhaps a poem in class or maybe participating in a book club?  I remember one time in Junior High School, the teacher had us read a story then write a paper of what it meant.  And I received a D- on my paper 'cause what I deciphered from the author's words was "WRONG".  How I wanted back then to argue my point.  But I was one who was raised to respect my elders and those in control.  How I wish I would have done so tho, only because when you read anything, it's what and HOW you understand in your own thoughts.  I wasn't wrong in other words, I was expounding MY interpreted meanings. Tho I don't hold a grudge any longer as I have outgrown my anger and disappointment in her action, I will never forget that day.  Just like with my history teacher, four years later in high school,  being adamant that history books are 'gospel'....I was more outgoing by then and debated with the teacher stating my thoughts that anything in history books could be considered 'fiction' because of the author's 'one man opinion'...and history has proved me correct in so many ways being that of a certain subject having different writers writing about the historical episode with different 'known' facts [from word of mouth or what the history is and how it was witnessed by others].

Oftentimes I've mentioned in my blog that my favorite poet is Robert Frost, and each year when the seasons change from the scorching hot summer days into the cool nights and crisp autumn mornings...the woods changing and leaves rustling and falling on the pathways, his poetic style comes to mind. Now that I've picked up the hobby of photographing birds around the C C Birding Trails around the 75 mile radius of my home town...the title of this poem could possibly have a double meaning, which is a homograph - unlike homonym i.e., tool/tule  or words with the same spelling but different pronunciations and meanings, called heteronyms - i.e., The bandage was wound around the wound. Did I confuse you? I personally think this poem, A Minor Bird, more symbolizes that no matter how small something in nature is, it will always be worth sensing, [minor, as in indistinct or unnecessary, possibly in Mr. Frost's thoughts...'man' himself]. Yet perhaps it could be, minor, to the key the bird was singing in. Or both!!

I ask of you: Which would you think best describes "minor" in this poetic thought? Or do you have a whole 'nother concept?

It's now my turn for Poetic Justice©:

Because a mind works in so many gears
A teacher could and should  willingly learn
from students and their peers....
not all of what you say and do
is forevermore veracity, the whole fact; creed...
What some consider falsehoods, some consider true.
Admiration and respect of others,
instead of stagnation and prideful greed,
results in the respect you seek thru the years...
something you strive for, strive to earn!!

Hootin' Anni
©2013

...and this is not targeted to teachers in general. I have a lot of teachers in my family, aunts, sister, son, cousins galore and many teachers I have come to respect in so many ways, through acquaintances and bloggers that have a teaching career. School memories sometimes just pop in my head and I feel the urge to 'talk'.

Since my high school years, and, back then, my found fascination in English Literature, today is the Ides of March. And a symbolic term that I will never forget the rest of my days. Our teacher, Mrs. Sanderson, was such a wonderful woman to give us all interest in the subject. And she was especially fond of teaching us the works of William Shakespeare. And I have thanked her from that day on. I was lucky enough to be in the honors English Lit class. We had so much fun, learning!! I remember she took us all to a theatrical play in the city. A private showing of Julius Caesar ON the 15th of March one Spring day. What a thrill that was. I still get a feeling of excitement thinking about the memory of that field trip. From that point on I read more and more Shakespeare!! In Shakespeare's play, Act I Scene II, a soothsayer warns Caesar ... "Beware of the Ides of March". Ides being from the Latin meaning the middle. In this particular month, March, it is always the 15th. The Ides of March was a festive day dedicated to the god Mars. Also, it was time for a military parade. In modern times, the term is now best known as the date that Julius Caesar was assassinated, in 44 BC, the story of which was famously dramatized in one of my favorite reads--William Shakespeare's play Julius Caesar.


"Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, it seems to me most strange that men should fear; seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come".

Julius Caesar ACT II Scene II

My love for Shakespeare and his works and his life extended way beyond those days in Mrs. Sanderson's class. I've learned a great deal since then, but the Ides of March will always take me back to Colorado and my high school class room. To this day I can see her face as she headed our class with her exuberance and love for the art of teaching and captivating her kids so intensely. Of all the teachers I've had through my schooling, Mrs. Sanderson I remember most! She was the most influential teacher I had and explains my love for literature. This photo of her, I scanned from my high school year book circa 1966-67


<><><>



Granny on the Web tagged me. On Friday the 13th no less! So, okay...I list seven odd things about me. First off, I'm thinking why just seven? I AM QUIRKY. That's the whole being. Just face it, I don't need to list seven...just the photo of me is sufficient. You can certainly find them, right? No? Okay. Here goes. I've done this tag [only it was six back then] before, so I thought instead I'd list seven of my favorite QUIRKY SAYINGS that I've been known to blabber out---

1] "She's/He's the sludge at the bottom of the gene pool."
2] "This is about as useless as tits on a boar hog."
3] "He's about as bright as a blackout!"
4] "Congress couldn't organize an orgy in a brothel."
5] "Hey? Remember, Rome wasn't burnt in a day!"
6] "You're about as handy with that as an ashtray on a motorcycle."
7] "The wheel in your brain is still turning, but the hamster is dead!"