Just So You Know!

Thanks to dear friend Rachael (Sperlonga7) for noting the correct spelling from Musee Dorsey to Musee d'Orsay! She is SOOOO right!!!!! She also added the Vatican, Uffizzi, and the Doges Palace, all in Italy, and we agree that they are wonderful, too! We would love to visit the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, Russia. Has anyone been there? And we haven't been to the new Getty Museum in California. How is that?

Museums and Galleries

I don't know if 1HW's entry this morning caused any discussion or thought among any of you, but it did provoke some with the two of us over lunch, on several different topics. Needless to say, I did not agree with all of his museum selections, although some are high on my list. Sadly, I have not visited the Chicago Museum of Art or the Guggenheim, although I hope to do so soon. I absolutely love the Musee d'Orsay (thanks, Rachael!)(oh! those Monets!) and the Louvre, and I certainly have enjoyed the Rockwell Museum. And one of my favorites he totally omitted from his list: the Smithsonian Museums, in their entirety. I have spent countless hours lost in thought there!

My question to him came from his choosing the Joslyn in Omaha, not because I don't think it is spectacular, but because I regard it as a gallery, rather than a museum. So I went to the dictionery for elucidation on the subject, and learned that:

Main Entry: mu·se·um
Function: nounPronunciation: myu-'ze-&mEtymology: Latin Museum place for learned occupation, from Greek Mouseion, from neuter of Mouseios of the Muses, from Mousa: an institution devoted to the procurement, care, study, and display of objects of lasting interest or value ; also : a place where objects are exhibited

OK, now that I am clear on the fact that a gallery CAN be a museum, I agree the Joslyn should be there!

Then we needed to discuss why the British Museum, though quite spectacular, was not on the list. It is simply because of how they acquired some of their treasures! We both agree that the Greeks should have their pieces of archtecture back! The decision was that IF a piece was sold by the artist or creator to someone, who sold it to someone else, and so on down the line, that a country does not have a right to ask to have it returned. But in the case of the Greek and Egyptian ruins, no one really had a right to sell any of them, and that if they were spoils of war, confiscated, or just plain swiped, they should be returned to their rightful owners. Those gorgeous friezes should be in Greece! The Rosetta Stone should be returned to Egypt where it was found! Antiquities just should not have been "sold," or even placed on the market. We also agreed that any art of any kind stolen by the Nazis should be returned!

All right... you know what we think about it now! What do you think? And, by the way, that story about Mona Lisa.......

Golden Books

Did you ever read those old, wonderful Golden Books when you were a kid? Herb and I loved them and practically wore them out from reading them over and over. Lately, it seems to me that I've started to resemble some of the characters in them!

It has occurred to me quite often that I am in WAY over my head in attempting to complete some of these computer projects for 1HW's glass enterprise. It rather is like the Pokey Little Puppy, forever sticking his nose under a strange fence, where he had NO business being, getting his nose stung by a bee, and finding himself on his backend, trying to decide which end to rub. That is how I am feeling by this attempt to do a web site. It is taking no end of patience, and I am seriously wondering about my mental health and why I have tried to take on this project!

But, then Tootle and The Little Engine Who Could magically appear! Remember them? "I think I can, I think I can," and then triumphantly, "I knew I could!" So right now I am caught between the two, having first finished and printed off the business cards, including a picture, and then finally having completed the brochure layout and having taken it to the printer. Finally, on Friday, they called to say the brochures were ready, and I went over, barely able to look at the final project, fearing that it would be a disaster. BUT.... lo and behold! WHOOOO-HOOOOOO! We like it! Amazing! It is, indeed, a moral victory, and I have stalled off Alzheimer's for at least another week! "I knew I could, I knew I could!" Now, about that web site.....

The California Fires

For the past two days we have been both mesmorized and horrified by the the scenes in California, as the many fires continue to incinerate the San Diego and Los Angeles areas. The scenes on television have looked like war zones, which they are, although the enemy is faceless.

We had visited the area so often when Jerry and Marlene lived in Rancho Bernardo, where a branch of SAIC is located. We stayed at an RV resort in Escondido and drove the challenging NASCAR training road, I-15, down to J & M's house often, going past Lake Hodge, which we now see on the news. We exhibited at antique shows at Del Mar, right by the race track where thousands are now staying as evacuees. We went sightseeing up and down that beautiful ocean coastline between L.A. and San Diego, and we enjoyed lunch at Rancho Santa Fe. We shopped all over the whole area and started to know it pretty well, comfortable enough to navigate wherever we wanted to travel. No longer is it the same.

The Rancho Bernardo area where J & M lived was lovely, with Spanish-styled homes, surrounded by palms, oleanders, hybiscus, birds of paradise, and other florals too numerous to name. Their home backed up to a type of nature preserve/open space, a canyon with trees and brush, which always seemed dry to us. One of our concerns when they lived there was the danger of fires, as nothing would block them from the dangers. The houses are very close together, and they are not well-constructed, so a tiny spark could cause a whole neighborhood to blaze. We wonder if their pretty neighborhood is among the rubble we watch on TV. And, what of the people? We have thought so often of their friend Sharon, one of the loveliest persons ever, and wondered where she and her family are. Marlene did not know yet. And how are Marlene's nieces Becky and Megan? They last reported to their mother that the air was unbreathable, and they did not know what would happen next. And, are Becky and Austin safe in Escondido? Is that area out of the range?

Our thoughts and prayers reach out to all of those in the stricken area, wishing them safety and shelter, hoping for their return to their homes and some degree of normalcy, and for those who no longer have homes, we wish them a new life and peace. Our prayers also go out to the heroic firefighters who are battling so diligently to save the land, the homes, the people. We hope and pray it ends soon.

When I Began School...

When I was six, I began the first grade in a suburb of Columbus, Ohio, since my dad was assigned to the ROTC Unit at Ohio State, and to Lockborne AFB. We first lived in a big old kind of spooky house on the Olentangy River Road, and then we moved closer into town, near Worthington and Westerville. I was already reading by the time I began school; I had already just visited NYC with my grandparents by myself; and I had just had my tonsils taken out. Our house was a little busy, since my mom had given us a new baby sister, Martha Susan, in July. I can remember shopping in NYC for dresses to wear to school, most of them plaid cotton ones, with full skirts. Somehow, I was forever tearing the hems out of them, which was most exasperating to my usually patient mother, so I carefully examined the stitches and taught myself how to put a hem back in so I would not get into trouble about it yet again. I have often wondered if she ever noticed that! The most memorable thing about those first few months was that one boy got into big trouble over something and had his hands whacked with a ruler, which looked like it really hurt, and he cried. Another kid got spanked. So I lived in dread terror of doing something wrong while there. Fortunately, a few months into the school year, we moved closer to my grandmother's house in Columbus, which was only about a half mile away, and I could easily walk there. You know those stories about " a mile uphill..."? I actually did, in first grade, walk a mile to school and a mile back home, all by myself sometimes. My first grade teacher at Clintonville Elementary was Mrs. Lowry, and she was same teacher my mom had in first grade. That tells you about how old she was! But she was sweet and didn't go around hacking up people's hands! Just like 1HW, I do remember the Dick and Jane books with baby Sally and Spot and Muff! I really thought they were pretty boring, though, and soon I began to find other things to read. That led to a life-long love of reading! One of my favorite possessions yet today is a copy of Little Women, which I received for my eighth birthday and promptly devoured, and then I began looking for any other Alcott books I could find. Jo was quickly joined by Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, which Herb soon shared with me. Those were then outgrown, and I went on to the adult section by junior high, which drove my parents crazy. I was reading books like Gone with the Wind, and as I began to go through more and more books, my dad felt like he needed to read the same ones I did, to know what I was reading. Admittedly, I did hide Peyton Place under the mattress in high school! I most certainly did not want to discuss THAT one with him! While reading so much fiction, he also led me to biographies, non-fiction, especially history, and historical fiction. By then I was totally hooked on history. So that's how all of that began...

Give the Doggie Back!

Many of you, I am sure, have opinions about Ellen DeGeneres. Yeah, I know what some of you call her.... Ellen Degenerate, and all that. While I am not a big fan of hers, she does seem like a caring person, and her fans do adore her. Regardless of all of that, I am appalled about the actions that the pet rescue service Mutts and Moms have taken against Ellen and her hair stylist's family regarding that little dog which Ellen obtained from the pet service and then gave to the eleven and twelve-year old girls. http://television.aol.com/news/story/_a/agency-to-keep-ellen-degeneres-dog/20071016073409990001. The agency said the hair stylist's family was not "the type of family" to have the dog, that children under the age of 14 were not appropriate to own pets. How rediculous is that! The countless stories we could relate of our grands with numerous puppies and older dogs would warm the cockles of the most hardened hearts! They say that Ellen broke the contract; however, it would seem the point of the group would be that the animals would be placed in a happy home. We don't know the family, but presumedly, Ellen would not give the dog to inappropriate people.

The story does ring closer to home, however. Some years ago in Albuquerque, we had an acquaintance in the antique world who was a member of PETA. Now "Jordan" (name changed to protect the guilty) had probably close to a dozen pets in her home at any given time, and she always complained about the amount of money she was spending on dog food (duh! COULD SOMETHING BE DONE ABOUT THAT?). We had just lost our dear old cocker spaniel, so one day Jordan approached us about adopting a newly-acquired cocker spaniel that was the PERFECT pet: lovable, trained, house broken, etc. Finally, we caved and took the animal, signing the papers to provide it a decent home. Well, said perfect pet was anything but, as we very quickly discovered. One evening shortly after the pet was acquired, we were having a dinner party, and in a split-second as one guest lingered in the doorway too long while arriving, out the door ran Fido in a dash which Danika Patrick would have envied. At that point, all of our ten dinner guests began scouring the neighborhood, looking for the perfect dog. Finally, about an hour later, a helpful neighbor found Fido, and after all of the guests were rounded up, dinner began, not quite as good as originally had been planned. It turned out the perfect pet was a "runner." The next problem was significantly worse, however. The dog was NOT house broken. Our pale blue carpet began to look like a war zone with yellow and brown spots everywhere. Scrub as I might with every pet cleanup product known to man and animal, nothing would remove the spots. Finally, it became quite clear to Mrs. Tidy Bowl and Mr. Clean that said perfect pet had to go. It was Sunday when 1HW called PETA and told them they needed to take the dog back. Nope, they said, it was ours, and we just needed a cooling off period to think about it. Wrong, replied 1HW, they needed to take the dog TODAY. Nope, they replied, they could not do it. Those of you who know 1HW know that was not the appropriate answer, so off we went to the Humane Society, where we paid some $35 more to rid ourselves of that automatic pooping machine. Oh, boy! You'd have thought we were the ones who had condemned Lassie to the electric chair! The phone calls began on Monday, and we began to be threatened with all kinds of dire actions, including law suits for failure to carry out our contract, which would result in great sums for us to pay. They were really nasty! Finally, 1HW had enough, and he informed them that we would be happy to have them sue us, as we could then countersue them for fraudulant descriptions of the perfect pet and for all of the damages inflicted to our wall-to-wall carpeting. They finally backed down, but we still continued to get nasty, vendictive letters, and "Jordan" seldom spoke to us again. Oh, well!

In our opinion, such rescue groups as these are originated with good intent, but sometimes their intentions get carried away, and they end up doing far more harm than good. In the case of Ellen's Iggy, it would seem like providing a home for the pet is the primary consideration, not for the intent to be out to get Ellen. So I say, give Iggy back to the girls! What do you think?

Music to My Ears!

Have you ever heard a song or melody which kept on playing inside your head for days after you had heard it? That seems to happen to both of us, and it must happen to some of our grands, as well, since quite a few of them, especially Lydia, Sarah, Jonny, and Christian, go around humming almost constantly or singing softly, which we have found delightful. Invariably, a hymn from church will stick with us for a while, as it has from yesterday's service, and fortunately, it is one I have always loved. (It is most annoying when it is one that I don't like!) Both of us sang joyously, "When Morning Gilds the Skies," and I have been humming it ever since.

Other songs have not been quite so reverent, such as "All That Jazz," from Chicago, but they have stuck quite as readily. I guess it was when 1HW suggested it was time for a G & T, and I just had to sing out, "Start the car, I know a whoopy spot, where the gin is cold, and the piano's hot!" Neither of us could chase THAT one away for a while! The Phantom of the Opera music has the same effect on us, as do many other Broadway musicals, which we love to hear. Did you know that 1HW was in the chorus of Guys and Dolls and The Boyfriend when he was in college? He can still do a great rendition of "I've got my horse right here, his name is Paul Revere..."!

One of the special parts about the service Sunday was the music! The organist played with joyful flourishes, and the large (37 people) choir sang beautifully! I first began singing in a church choir when I was 8, and I continued singing with choruses and choirs until I was a junior in college. How I loved it! In Gulfport, Mississippi, when I was in junior high, we had a tall "living Christmas tree" where we sang Christmas carols for the community. In Albuquerque at the First Presbyterian Church, our two perennial favorites were the "Hallelujah Chorus" and "The Palms," followed closely by "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Jerusalem." In college at UNM, my sorority, Chi Omega, always took great pleasure in singing in the competition for Spirit Fest and the Hanging of the Greens Christmas carols. We even won!

I do miss those days with so much singing! Maybe one of these days, we two will take it up again! Meanwhile, if you hear someone humming....

The Nobel Peace Prize

Now, most of you know that I am but a simple girl from the country, married to a simple farm boy. However, neither of us simple folk can figure out something, so maybe you can help. While I have no great desire to see Al Gore as an American President, or maybe as anybody's president, I do have respect for his enthusiasm concerning the environment. I like green. I respect green. I try to do my part, although not as much as I should, and I appreciate the reminders of other things I could be doing. And even if I don't exactly agree with the Hollywood hoopla concerning his film, and Melissa Etheridge's gushing over him, he has done a good thing in providing more awareness. BUT...... THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE? http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/13/world/13nobel.html?ex=1207800000&en=a09d6d4a2d4bb2ed&ei=5087&excamp=GGGNnobelpeace&WT.srch=1&WT.mc_id=GN-S-E-GG-SEM-KP-1055490488-S-NA-nobel_peace Really! I know he has visions of whirled peas, their being green and all that, but what on earth does conservation have to do with world peace? Now, if he had gone to Jerusalem and organized a lasting settlement there between the Palestinians and the Israelis, yes! If he had been the one to cause the leaders of Iran, Iraq, and the US to sit down and negotiate a peace, YES! If he had even begun to solve the gang wars of New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, Detroit, and even Omaha and Albuquerque, a great big YES! If he had caused Christians, Jews, Moslems, Hindus, whites, blacks, greens, and every other color and religious belief to respect each others' beliefs and cohabitate peacefully, absolutely YES! But, right now, I just don't get it. But, then, I'm just a simple girl from the country....

Hair Cuts

Most of you who know us realize some of our grands give me a very difficult time, particularly on the subjects of shopping, my lack of coordination, my concern about my weight, and my hair. Now, as any woman can relate, these are very serious and sensitive subjects. When we were getting ready for our French barge trip, I discovered that I could find Chico Travelers clothes on eBay for a fraction of the store prices! YES! As it happens, James would arrive just at the time I was anticipating the final bids on some crucial articles of Chico clothing. His stock suggestion became, "Bid $100 for black Chico, Grammy, and you'll get it!" Kristy even gave me a magnet with a nun holding shopping bags which reads, "Mother Shoperior." I must admit that is one item I just HAD to bring in the RV. Whenever the grands saw me having no-fat cottage cheese for lunch, they would say in unison, "Just don't get on the scales, Grammy!" I have already mentioned Keilah's perfect imitation of me carrying anything liquid, stumbling, and carefully throwing it all over, somewhat reminiscent of Gerald Ford.

However, the one problem which has plagued me for years which gained comments was my hair. For years, now, I have had a problem finding the right hair stylist, mainly because most of them seem to think my hair should be very short and brushed back from my face, both of which I neither like nor want. It happened with Antonio himself in Albuquerque, with Jimmy in Kerrville, and with countless others along the way. Once here in Kerrville, it was cut SO short, it looked like I was a Marine, and 1HW brought me a cowboy hat to wear to hide under until it grew out. The grands have given me grief over the changing color, too, and asked why I just don't let my hair go gray. Now that idea is so preposterous, it does not even deserve a comment! With all of this in mind, right before we left Omaha, James asked me half-seriously and half not, "Grammy, what are you going to do about your hair while you are traveling around?" 1HW explained that I knew good stylists all over, but actually, the ones I love are quite remote from where we'll be. So with great fear and trepidation, off I went this morning to check out a new guy, recommended by Samantha, the bartender at our local. Let me just say, Justin is quite terrific! I am perfectly delighted! Never mind all of the jewelry he has in his face or the fact he is living with his companion, Patrick, and is as gay as a rainbow sticker! He is my new BFF!! So, in spite of still no Direct TV; the war party of ants which dissolved 1HW's doughnuts and has terrorized us; and more problems with the RV (fortunately covered under warranty), I am one happy camper! Isn't it amazing how a good hair cut can make your day? Now, when he does the color.....

What Are We Doing?

Probably some of you wonder what on earth we do all day when we are here in Texas, which is a logical question. Chuck has been spending most of his time (when not fighting the ant battle or talking to neighbors, all of whom are curious about what he is doing) working on stained glass. So far, he has created eight more crosses and is beginning to work on more hot air balloon pictures, since Albuquerque is the Hot Air Balloon Capital of the World. My job is the business end of things, so yesterday was spent creating and printing off three different business cards. Right now, we cannot decide upon which one to use, so any commnents would be greatly appreciated! Today, the challenge is to create a pamphlet, using Business Publisher, which the gallery in Old Town requested, and which might be good to have for the show in November. If/When that is accomplished, the next two jobs are creating a credit card account we can use for shows and a web site, which I would like to be able to put on the pamphlets. After that, the next task is to complete the files for an online application to juried shows across the country, which include two of our favorites, Omaha and Ann Arbor. I have almost finished editing pictures for that one, using Adobe Photoshop 5.0. Since most of these software programs are new to me, it takes me longer than I usually anticipate, so I am trying to acquire more patience in working with them!

Every once in a while, then we need to take a break, for our aching backs and our sanity! We have been walking every morning, and this week our folding Ab Lounger will be put into use. There is also a workout area with a exercise equipment, pool, hot tub, and sauna.
And, of course, from Wednesday through Saturday, our "local" River Rock Saloon is open, sometimes with great snacks (which we do not need buut have thoroughly enjoyed). Kerrville has an abundance of wonderful places to eat, as well, so any time we need a change of pace we can try a new one established since we were last here. We are hoping that the weather will cool off soon so we can enjoy some of the fall colors, but right now it is still warm, in the mid and high 80's. Pretty good place for a month, huh!

Randolph AFB

Yesterday on our way through San Antonio on the way to Kerrville, we passed by Randolph Air Force Base, which immediately brought back memories, for that is where my dad, Max, did his flight training in 1941 as a member of the Army Air Corps. How he arrived there and what happened afterward has always interested me, and maybe you will enjoy it, too.

Dad was an excellent athlete at Buchtel High School in Akron, Ohio, so excelling in football that he received a football scholarship to attend Heidelburg College in Ohio and was recognized as a member of the Little All-American team. That resulted in his switching to Ohio State on a football scholarship, and he played the position of noseguard, as I recall. There were scrapbook pictures I remember seeing when he had his leather football helmet on... very funny! Alas, he hurt his back playing (probably during a Michigan game, as you KNOW what brutes they are!), and decided to quit college and join the military. He had always admired Lindbergh, and so he took off in that fashion, in an airplane, learning to fly the "big" bombers of the day, the B-17's.

He and my petite mother Martha were married on June 15, 1941, right after graduation, she from OSU and he from Randolph. His first duty assignment was for Hickam Air Base, Hawaii, and they began their marriage in a small house there, overlooking Scofield Barracks and the Base, close enough so that he could easily report to the flight line. In October they were greeted with more good news: Martha was expecting their first child, due to be born in June. While he was out flying patrols over the Pacific, she learned to do the hula, played bridge, and taught Sunday School classes.

Early one Sunday morning, just after they had gotten up, had eaten breakfast, and were getting ready for Sunday School, they heard tremendously loud explosions, and they assumed it was the Navy, shooting off more explosives again. Soon after, however, they realized that the noises came not from the Navy, but from the Japanese. Mom was so upset! The Zero's were actually shooting up her sheets on the clothesline, and she immediately ran out to rescue their wedding gifts from destruction, until Dad pulled her back into the house. Now, I had always heard this story, even as a little girl, so can you imagine my shock when we first watched the movie Pearl Harbor and saw that same scene being played? WOW!

He immediately ran to the burning Scofield Barracks, was able to find one of the undestroyed planes, and took off in hot pursuit, however late. That began a pattern which would last until the following year there for them. I once found a newspaper clipping from the Columbus Dispatch newspaper, describing how the plane my dad was piloting was the first one to sink a Japanese battleship, dropping a bomb right down its smokestack. However, over the years Dad seldom talked about those war experiences, except in remembering how many friends he had lost in those battles. He marked all of them in his Randolph "yearbook" beside their pictures.

My mother was having troubles carrying me, so the doctors decided that she should not leave Oahu, and as a result, I am one of the few American babies born during that period in Honolulu. Kahmeihameiha Boys' School was changed into a hospital, and that is where I was born. While she was in labor, she thought (to her dying day) that Dad was outside in the waiting room. In actuality, during the whole day, he was on a mission, had his plane damaged during an attack, landed it, and brought another plane back to Oahu just in time to be there as I was born. She just never knew. The nurse who assisted her in labor was named Judy, and that is where I got my name (not from Judy Garland, as so many other Judy's of the period did).

The pictures I have of those days in Hawaii are priceless... ones with them practicing wearing those awful, bug-like gasmasks, the bombed out Barracks, and many of the three of us together, just like any first child. I also have the telegram which my mother sent to my grandparents, telling them they were all right, and many other letters, complete with the censors blackened or cut-out words. There is also a piece of shrapnel from the front yard! My brother has an absolutely horrible bloodied and blackened Japanese battleflag which was dropped from the planes onto our yard, which Dad kept as a reminder. And, I still have a very tiny hula skirt, one which Mom wore, as well as baby-sized kimonos. There is a wonderful web site of a diary of a 17-year old girl who was living on Hickam, telling about life before, during and after December 7, 1941, and there are pictures, including some of those gas masks! Enjoy !www.gingersdiary.com

There are many more stories about Dad, ones to save for later, such as his being kidnapped in Bangkok while in the CIA..... No wonder I love those spy novels!

Texans, Again

Now, the first time we were starting to become Texans, I had the impression of Texans as swaggering and boasting, of LBJ (not one of my favorite Presidents), Mickey Gilley's bull rding bar, and of El Paso and Amarillo type scenery. Much to my great surprise and delight, most of Texas is not that way at all! Almost all of the people we have met have had a soft deep-Southern lift that is ever-so-pleasant to hear, and they usually have been kind, concerned, and friendly. The politics range from one extreme to another, just as in most places, and after visiting the LBJ Library in Austin, I have much more respect for Lyndon Johnson, even if he is still not one of my favorites. Some of the country music hang-outs are great fun, and there is some terrific music found there! The music seems to fill the air in Austin in the 6th Street area at night (remember that area from Jenna and Barbara Bush's escapades?), where at any given time you might spot Sandra Bullock, Lance Armstong, and any number of other celebrities. As far as scenery, forget the other ideas! Texas is now, in my mind, the San Antonio Riverwalk, the massive, beautiful Blue Bonnets in spring, and the lovely Hill Country rivers, waterfalls, and trees in all seasons, not to mention the Padre Island and Gulf Coast areas around Corpus Christi and Galveston. Art shows, museums, and galleries abound, and the shopping is incredible! The Johnson Space Center is awe-inspiring, and the Book Depository exhibit in Dallas, commemorating John Kennedy's assassination, is unforgettable. And, mmmmmm, the restaurants, from brunch to the famous Texas barbeques, are fabulous. So, we are now quite comfortable saying that we are Texans, y'all! But we will also be glad to keep wanderin' and find more treasures across this beautiful country! Cin, cin, y'all!