THURSDAY POTPOURRI: MY LIFE TOLD IN ASSORTED PHOTOS…

Good morning on a May Thursday morning!  This week, I spent some time changing up my rooms.  I get that restless feeling now and then.  Above, I’ve returned the wicker loveseat to its former place in front of the living room bookshelves.

And in the bedroom, I placed the bench that previously lived in front of the bookshelf to the foot of my bed..and I switched some chairs around, too.

So…the energy I acquired from these changes took me back to the distant past…to a folder in my Dropbox.  One that has images from the 1970s forward.  Here’s one that hasn’t seen the light of day in a while.  Left, moi, with Hub # 2, in 1977.  Getting ready to drive the VW bus back to Central California…from Auburn, CA.

 

A few years later, I was doing my solo act again, and meeting up with members of my family of origin in a local park:  Circa 1982.  Little Heather in the forefront, her back to the camera, is not showing off her very short hairdo (she hated it!); niece Amy, to the left;  I am on the far right; and my “kid brother” with his infant son Brian, in the center.  Behind me, on the far right, one of my nieces:  Beth, I think.

Moving along.  My four offspring at the Family Sculpture, CSUF – 1991. (No, it doesn’t belong to us; we have simply claimed it as our own).

Traditions live on in this family.  In 2007, Fiona and Dominic take up their positions on the Family Sculpture.

Back-tracking a bit:  Here’s Noah in 2004, when we were still living in the foothills.

A few years later, in LA:  the A-Tots, asleep in the minivan.

On the pier in Santa Monica (2007):  A-Tots and their dad, my son Brett…

In 2007:  Fiona is celebrating Halloween:

***

So…the past lives on in our memories and in our photos.  What do your photos tell you about your life so far?

***

SATURDAY POTPOURRI: DOES THE PAST INFORM THE PRESENT?

handcarved scary people

The hand-carved old man and woman (above) were familiar pieces in my childhood kitchen, and after my mother passed away, I “inherited” them.  My siblings were only too happy to let me have them.  They referred to them as “scary people.”

When I started this blog in July 2009, I wrote a piece about their history, and now they sit atop my stove.

Another gift from my past was a painting my mother created of the farmhouse where she grew up.  My grandmother still lived there for many years, all through my childhood, so it came to represent a part of my life, too. The painting now rests in my bedroom, and when my gaze falls upon it, I think about how The Past Informs the Present.

 

 

3140

One Sunday, while I was trying to create a blog header and a post, my granddaughter Fiona, twelve at the time, leaned over my shoulder and watched.  She used to do that when I was writing my novel Chasing Stardust, too.  As if she were awestruck…

After I had settled upon a blog header that day, I wrote this Sunday Morning Potpourri post.

***

I have enjoyed traipsing down memory lane tonight….and recalling not only childhood moments, but my early blogging years.

What do you like to remember?  Do you have favorite childhood memories?  Early blogging memories?

***

 

 

TUESDAY POTPOURRI: INTROS/TEASERS — “SOMEWHERE OFF THE COAST OF MAINE” — MAY 14

y8ekqo13031746531

KITTIES & BOOKS - meme

Welcome to another Tuesday celebrating bookish events, from Tuesday/First Chapter/Intros, hosted by Bibliophile by the Sea; and Teaser Tuesdays hosted by Should Be Reading.

Today’s feature is Somewhere Off the Coast of Maine, by Ann Hood, which I have downloaded for Sparky.

41pVG9GlEoL

Intro:  To Sparrow, her father was a man standing in front of a Day-Glo green VW van in a picture dated June 1969.  The picture had been taken the year before Sparrow was born.  In it, her father’s hair was bushy and blond and he had a big droopy mustache.  Sparrow liked the way he was looking up, with his head tilted back and his mouth open in a wide smile.

Sparrow’s mother, Suzanne, never talked about Sparrow’s father.  Suzanne was a serious businesswoman.  She dressed in pleated skirts and Oxford shirts with little bow ties.  She would tell Sparrow to forget about the past and look ahead.  “Don’t worry,” she would say, “about things that happened a long time ago.”  Sparrow’s obsession with her father began to grow when her mother started to date Ron.

***

Teaser:  For the past year or so, Sparrow’s mother called her Susan.  She said that the name Sparrow was too dated, too silly. (4%)

***

Amazon Description: “Brilliant….[The Vietnam era] is vividly captured by Ann Hood.”—New York Times Book Review

In 1969, as Peter, Paul and Mary croon on the radio and poster paints are splashing the latest antiwar slogans, three friends find love. Suzanne, a poet, lives in a Maine beach house awaiting the birth of a child she will call Sparrow. Claudia, who weds a farmer during college, plans to raise three strong sons. Elizabeth and her husband marry, organize protests, and try to rear two children with their hippy values. By 1985, things have changed: Suzanne, now with an MBA, calls Sparrow “Susan.” Claudia spirals backward into her sixties world—and into madness. And Elizabeth, fatally ill, watches despairingly as her children yearn for a split-level house and a gleaming station wagon. Reading group guide included.

***

I love revisiting this era through books and movies.  What do you think?  Would you keep reading?

06b3fc1cd4520397806c49bf95950dd2