Memories for Sale

photos family birthdaysIn the Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron advises artists to “take your inner artist on a date once a week.”  Go to a museum, or a movie, or the beach, to feed your soul.  Go alone.

I don’t do that.  Not exactly that.  No schedule, no plan.  But I do enjoy the moment when it happens.  Seize the day.  Or the hour.  Or the 15 minutes in a hot, old mill where antiques are sold.

photo shopping SGThat’s where you see me in this photo.  Shuffling though family memories.  Not my family, but a family for sale.  Well, their memories are for sale.

Sad, you say.  Yes. It is sad that a bunch – I estimate 500 or more in the bin I picked though (I looked at every one, bought dozens) family photos were sold in bulk to a stranger. The names and places may be gone, but the stories are still there.

I don’t know the name of the family, the location of the photos, or even the time frame for certain.  But because they look so much like old photos in my family, I can guess 1950s and 1960s.  I know they lived in a house with a backyard, that they built a water feature there at some point, they had a spot where they always took photos on birthdays.  As the children aged, the bushes at the corner of the house grew and matured.  The birthday boy or girl was almost always situated in the same spot with that corner of the house in the background.  photo birthday boyUsually it was the child alone with the cake, sometimes sitting on the ground, many times with the cake on a stool from inside the house.  Later there was a picnic table added, and the cake sat there.

And, then the birthdays moved inside.  My photographer husband notes that they got a camera with a flash.  I didn’t think of that, but I’m sure he’s right.

I know this family dressed up for Easter, for Scout meetings, and what I hope was “tacky day” at school.  They hunted Easter eggs in an area with pine trees and broomsedge.  They visited older relatives, went to the beach a few times, to the mountains, and had family members in the armed forces.  They fed ducks and went to a petting zoo. There were graduations, engagements, and a big anniversary celebration in later years.  They bought new cars now and then, kids got wheels, too – wagons, tricycles, and then bicycles.

The core family consisted of a Mom, Dad, son, daughter.  There were extended family members; brothers and sisters of the parents, their spouses, grandparents, close friends.

Mom baked cakes and kept an immaculate house.  Dad worked hard and enjoyed playing with the children after work.  They paid their bills on time, added a few improvements to the half-acre they called home as extra money allowed, and were good neighbors.  You may think my imagination has run away with me here, and you could be right.  But I think I know these people.

At least I know a family I imagine like this and that makes my day better.  If I can create art from these photos that conveys part of that good feeling, that’s good for even more people.

So, is it still sad for the photos to be sold?

Is this what Julia Cameron wants to come out of my date with my inner artist each week?

I’ve already been working on more photos on fabric since Flag Bearer was done.  Several are in various stages of completion; you’ll be seeing some soon.

And I’m pretty sure you expect a fabric story based on these children and their birthday cakes.  Yep, I’m doing that!

Backroads

country storeHow long has it been since you saw a young lad execute a backflip from a wooden platform into the river below?

My answer to that question is “a few hours.”

On a day trip to Warm Springs, we took a route we’d not followed before.  All routes there are backroads, but most are some we’ve traveled many times.  A new path holds wonder.  With a favorite remark my driver likes to make, “this time and one more will make twice I’ve been on this road,” we were off on a new adventure.

Taking grandsons on a historic field trip, we saw numerous churches and cemeteries, a small community populated with an old store, schoolhouse, and church, all white buildings wearing red roofs.  We found two small towns filled with antique shops, a delightful restaurant with homemade bread, hamburgers topped with pimento cheese, and met a Corgi named Macon.

At the Little White House museum, I learned more about barkcloth than I ever realized I didn’t know.  Someone gave FDR a gift of beautiful yardage of tapa, and the story led me to new details about one of my favorite fabrics.  Who knew I would learn fabric history on this adventure?

It was on the way home that we saw him.  As we crossed a bridge over the Flint River, we saw the jump.  We were too high to see how cleanly he made his entrance into the water.

It doesn’t matter.  He had all afternoon to perfect his form.

We had had our moment.  A glimpse, memories triggered, stories to share.  Time travel.

People Watching

SatterfieldsEating lunch at a local restaurant, I couldn’t help but imagine the story behind the man sitting behind my husband.

This man was alone.  He was neatly dressed with not a hair out of place.  His wardrobe was casual blue collar – a sports shirt advertising motorcycles tucked into neatly pressed blue jeans.  His hands were clean, but probably not professionally manicured.

He was tearing up a garden salad while intently listening to his phone.  The restaurant was a bit noisy so seeing the phone held with the speaker right in his ear was not surprising, but he never talked, just listened.  A podcast, perhaps?  Audio entertainment for dining alone? No, maybe voicemails.  Someone working outdoors couldn’t hear his phone and might use lunchtime to catch up on missed contacts.

Had he been wearing galluses over a white shirt and pleated trousers, I would have thought he was waiting for a jury’s verdict.  Or getting dirt on a witness from his private eye in the field.

I was impressed with his power lunch.  Then the waitress brought the rest of it.  One-half of a roasted chicken, three vegetables and bread.  With his trim physique, he doesn’t eat like that every meal unless he is doing some physical labor somewhere.  But not a sign of sweat anywhere.

Hmmm…  “the man in the gabardine suit is a spy.  His bowtie is really a camera.”

 

Serendipity

 

suset Mt Dora

We recently visited Mt. Dora, Fl. (elevation 176 feet).  It was spring break but there were no crazy balcony jumpers there.  Mt. Dora is a nice little old Florida town with a modern art museum, art galleries, shops, and a lake with a lighthouse.

On the evening before we left home for our trip, we had dinner with friends.  En route to their house, we stopped at Publix for a bottle of wine and dessert.  Jim said, “something chocolate” when asked for a recommendation for the menu.  I found their Decadent Chocolate Cake and bought my first one ever.  It was decadent indeed.

In Mt. Dora, our innkeeper was Melanie.  Over coffee, she revealed that Publix bakes fresh bread for the B & B’s gourmet breakfast every day. Our menu included strawberry and ricotta stuffed french toast, served behind a tropical soup of strawberries, blueberries, yogurt, and banana, topped with diced Fuji apple.  Yes, if you suspect that this was amazingly delicious, you are right.

MelanieMelanie knows that Publix uses only the best ingredients because the company was one of her customers when she worked as a salesperson for some of the world’s finest chocolate.

In fact, Publix’s Decadent Chocolate Cake?  She developed that recipe.

Jobs well done, Melanie; at breakfast in Mt. Dora…and on the cake recipe.  I just love unexpected connections.

Alexis

Dear Manager:

Congratulations!  You did a good day’s work when you hired Alexis.change at zaxbys

I don’t know Alexis personally, but I know she is a fine young lady.  She took our order at lunchtime today when things were quite busy.  After we paid and secured a table, poured our drinks, and were waiting for our order, she came to find me to tell me that she charged me too much.  I had ordered a Zax snack and she had charged me for a Big Zax snack.  She needed to refund my money.

She was so polite as she asked me to step over to the cash register.  She calmly explained to the people next in line that she needed to help a previous customer.  When she asked another cashier for clarification about the process, they were both calm and collected.  When her supervisor, or whoever had the code to make such a correction came over, all employees were still unruffled.

So, I, a customer who never would have known there was an error, was spellbound as this 16-year-old lady realized she had made a mistake and went about correcting it with poise. Your books now balance with your inventory, your business’s bank balance is $1.50 lower than it would have been, but we are all richer.

There is hope for the future; for the future of our country, of your business, and for Alexis.  Certainly for Alexis.