For the month of July Jude at Travel Words is looking for a bench with ‘Unusual Details’ This month she wants to see photos of a bench which is different to the norm. It may be the shape, style, length, height, color, material or even location.
I spotted this bench on the grounds of a Revolutionary War period House we were visiting one Sunday. Made from fallen trees, its supports are thick and sturdy. There were a few placed around the many acres of land the house sits on
I am always amazed to see flowers blooming amidst the bushes and reeds around the pond I visit everyday. Queen Anne’s Lace, Tiger Lilies, wild Petunias. Standing out in contrast to all the green that surrounds them. A marvel of nature.
I started looking through my photos for statues, knowing I had many in my collection as I find them a subject I like to photograph. As I scrolled through I kept coming upon photos of my husband posing with many of them. I decided to use the photos with him in them, even though from an “artistic” standpoint they may not focus on the beauty of the statue, I found they had their own character. No pun intended. 😀
President James Garfield
Ralph Cramden -Jackie Gleason
Statue of the New York Times Square kiss that celebrated the end of World War II
Benny Hill at Madame Tussaud’s London
I saw that cartoon this morning and had to laugh. The times have changed, selfie is now a recognized word in the dictionary, and we are all able to document every place and moment of our lives using our phone cameras. Before this we had photo booths, first invented and patented in 1925, called the “Photomaton”. The original selfies.
Here are me and my father in the late 1950’s, my husband as a child also in the late 1950’s, and me, my husband and our daughter in the early 1990’s. The fun was making faces so the 4 frames would all be different. Fun then, fun now.
My husband attends a lot of business networking events and came home a few weeks ago and showed me this photo.
I couldn’t stop laughing as all I could think was, “so this is what is really going on at those meetings.” It seems one of the people attending the meeting has a photo booth business and brought a booth along. A good time was had by all.
I am an early riser. I am off from school all summer and people have asked if I am sleeping late which makes me laugh. 6:30 would be late for me, as my usual time to rise is between 5 and 6. I love the quiet of the early morning, the sound of the birds, the first light of day. I will often take a walk to my favorite pond to listen to the sounds of nature there, and feel the intensity of the sun on my back as it rises full. It centers me for the day, helps set the tone before the rush and responsibilities kick in.
Yesterday I spent the day with my friend who is dying. On my way home I stopped at a Starbucks, and for the first time in my life I ordered (as per the suggestion of the girl behind the counter when I asked what I could get with whipped cream) a large, decaf iced toffee hazelnut latte with whipped cream. I then drove to my favorite pond, and drank the whole latte while sitting on a bench watching the sunset, and thinking about the day. I needed to fill the hole in my heart with something sweet and creamy and tasty, to ingest something that filled my senses with good, to wash away the bitterness of the day.
Last Thursday my friend was told by her Doctor, “there is nothing more that we can do.” She had been in remission for three years, her recurrence happening just 6 months ago. Her descent into this new reality quicker than any of us, me, her friends, her family, could believe. I am fortunate to never have lost a friend up until now, but am finding I am still in a state of disbelief. It is impossible for me to think that this person whom I have known for ten years, who I see on a regular basis, play Mah Jongg with every week, share in her joys with, who is calm of nature, who lets things roll of her back and doesn’t sweat the small stuff, who is sensitive and kind, who is my friend, will no longer be here. Her laughter silenced, her singing during our Mah Jongg games, her easy laugh no longer heard.
We sat together yesterday, me and three other friends, leaving her room after she fell asleep, to talk and remember happier times together. The trips abroad, grandchildren being born, her love of hiking. The conversation turned to gravesites and headstones, as if we were talking about some abstract concept, not our friend’s impending death. All part of the process I suppose, of acceptance of something none of us want to have to accept. Of something thrust upon us, being forced on us to have to face. Unwilling to have to accept, but left with no other choice.
For the month of June, Jude is looking for a bench with ‘Art Effects’ She wants to see photos with some post-processing – it can be subtle or bold as long as it includes a bench or even part of a bench
This bench was along the path at a crafts fair, sitting in front of where the vendors had their booths. Which effect do you prefer?
The mirrors on this escalator create a split image as you descend- you can see the 2nd floor above and below the first floor I am heading to. The mirror creates the line in the photo dividing it. As the escalator descended I got closer to the mirror and then actually went under it as I reached the first floor.
Here she comes….
Here are Cee’s questions this week:
What did you or did you not like about the first apartment you ever rented?
I loved that it was mine! Every time I would lock the door behind me I remember the feeling of disbelief that I was actually living in my own apartment. It was a 1 bedroom with a galley kitchen on the first floor in a complex of garden apartments. I loved it and set about immediately to making it “home” My only complaint were the heavy feet on the floor above my bedroom, and the washing machine and dryer were in the basement.
Living/Dining Room
The alcove
What kind of art is your favorite? Why?
I would have to say Impressionist.
How many siblings do you have? What’s your birth order?
I am the oldest, my brother was next, He died a few months ago, I wrote about it here, then 2 sisters. One 4 years younger, the other 10 years younger.
Complete this sentence: I’m dreaming of a white …. (and no you can’t use Christmas as your answer)
Lace top for summer
Grateful everyday.
I really had to think about this, as I don’t remember having any specific toy that I would consider my “favorite.” I remember collecting Troll Dolls and making different outfits for them out of pieces of felt. McCall’s actually made patterns for them.
I remember when I got my first “real” bicycle. It was a Vista, 
a beautiful blue color. This was not like the bicycle my brother used to deliver newspapers, with thick tires and no speeds and ordinary handle bars. It had the handle bars that were curved under, and it came with different gear settings, it was a 10 speed bike. I remember that feeling of freedom when after supper in the summer I would get on my bike and take off. I usually rode to a nearby park that was too far to walk to, but by bike it was a breeze! Being out on my own, away from the house and my parents and siblings was such a “grown up” feeling for me. I think I was 11 at the time. I loved riding and exploring new places all on my own.
Do I see a connection between these things I remember from growing up and now? I still enjoy doing handwork just as I liked to make Troll clothes, I like to knit and needlepoint and do crafty hands on things. When I first got my license to drive I would explore new places by car with my BFF, similar to my being out on my bicycle, I wrote about it here. Beyond that, I wouldn’t say so.
During month of June, Jude wants to see photos with some post-processing – she says we should use our imagination, it can be subtle or bold as long as it includes a bench or even part of a bench!
I used two different processing effects, using a spotlight effect to shed some light on the person
Here is the original
Are we who we are because of genetics? environment? a combination of both? As I have grown older I have to come to realize I am my father’s daughter most certainly. So much of who I am, the things that make me tick, are so because of him. I was always closer with my father than my mother. He was always the more “emotive” parent- free with his hugs, easy to laugh, a good listener who really heard what you had to say. He was willing to engage in discussion at times when my mother just saw everything as black or white, gray never existed in her world. I was an emotional child- easy to cry, sensitive- my mother didn’t know what to do with it- thankfully my father was always there.
One of my earliest memories (I was 5) is of us going bird watching together. He was an avid bird watcher and part of a club. We would leave the house before daybreak, and meet his birding group. I remember spotting a Snowy Owl once- a major sighting! My love of nature and birds stems from those early morning trips.
He loved music and loved to sing. He had hoped to become a professional singer in his early 20’s, but real life came along and he needed to be able to make a living. His love for music was infused throughout our home-he always sang to us and for us, he played the banjo- old folk songs with verses we could all join in on.
My father recorded a few songs in a studio when he was thinking he could turn his singing into a career. The recordings were on 78 rpm records. Shortly before he died I was able to have the recordings converted to CD. I remembered hearing the recordings as a child, but had literally not heard them in 45 years. At the sound of the first note of him singing, what a rush of emotion- music or a song can always take you back to another place and time- but to hear his voice! What a gift to be able to hear that beautiful voice again.
My father was a complicated man-loving on one side, the other side a short fuse with a temper. He grew up poor with an alcoholic father and no education past high school, but succeeded in rising above it and away from it, following the lead of people willing to help him, observing people, paying attention to how they got to where they got to, and reaching those heights himself because of it. Did he have a darker side, yes, but I am happy to remember what was so wonderful about him, and understand where the darkness came from and why it was a part of him and accept it. Giving, but don’t cross him or his vindictive nature would come out. He could cut people off and out of his life. He and I became estranged for almost 14 years through my 30’s & 40’s. His doing, not mine. A new wife, a different life, his ego all contributing factors. I was glad I was old enough to understand the whys, and glad that while I was growing up he had always been there for me. I needed him less as an adult. We reconciled 4 years before he died when I found out he was sick. I thanked him before he died for playing such an instrumental part in my becoming who I was as an adult. The many good qualities I have that I knew came from his teaching.
What I learned from my father:
A love of music, how to sing using my voice properly.
A love for birds and nature.
A love for clothes. He was a sharp dresser and had an appreciation for good clothes and style, and was always fastidious about grooming.
Try foods before saying I didn’t like them. If I tried it and didn’t like the taste, fine, but don’t turn your nose up to something just because you don’t like the look of it.
A love for mayonnaise! He made the BEST fried egg sandwiches on white bread slathered with mayo. I can remember coming home as a teenager, late on a Saturday night to find him in the kitchen, and he’d say he was just going to make a sandwich, did I want one too. Oh yeah.
I learned table manners from him- sometimes the hard way. The napkin needed to be on my lap when I sat down to eat dinner. Chew with your mouth closed. Use your knife to push food onto your fork, if you dared use a finger you were banished from the table, whether you were finished or not.
We watched Star Trek, F Troop, McHale’s Navy and Jonathan Winters together. I loved when he would laugh uncontrollably at some skit Jonathan Winters was doing, laughing until he cried.
His favorite poem was Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken.
He read it to me many times, and always reminded me of the importance the following lines held for him.
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
I am thankful to have had a father that understood me, helped me to grow as a person, and who lives within in me. I feel my ability to be a good listener, to search for deeper meaning in things, comes from him. I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to tell him those things before he died. I made the following photo montages with his recordings playing in the background, if you’d like to take a listen.
Some photos of Roy G Biv accompanied by me on the piano as Over the Rainbow is one of the songs I am learning to play right now.
Daily Prompt: Describe the last time you were moved to tears by something beautiful.
I will share with you a moment that occurred last week with one of my first grade students, that moved me to tears.
There is a student in my class who has had great difficulty in learning to read and spell. He was finally tested mid way through the year, and next year will be attending a school that will help him navigate through these difficulties and give him the tools to work with to learn to read. This year his reading teacher has worked tirelessly, often on her own time, with him to help him. He has progressed, but it is a constant struggle. Our class has a “Publishing Party” at the end of the year. Each student writes his own story and it is bound in a hardcover book. The students sit in groups of four with their guest behind them, each child taking a turn to read his story while all listen. The writing process for these stories takes weeks- characters need to be chosen, named, they need a setting, a problem, and a solution. For some this is a fairly easy task, for others it takes more time. For my student who has such trouble reading and spelling, he became overwhelmed by the mere thought of having to do this. He is a very bright child and has great ideas, however, getting them onto the paper was going to be the first challenge, and then having him read the story. His reading teacher worked with him, and I filled in when she couldn’t be there. The day I worked with him he had already written his problem, which was that one friend in the story did not want to play a game with the other friend. We talked about the idea that finally the one friend decided he would play and they ended up having a great time and became BFF’s. Now to the task of putting that onto paper. I knew he would never be able to read the word finally, so I wrote out At last and asked him to read the words to me. He read them without hesitation. He finished writing the last page, we bound the book and were ready for the party!
Last week everyone came to hear these stories, and I sat with this student along with his mother and his reading teacher. He read flawlessly, loud and clear, turning the book around to show the pictures he had drawn on each page, unlike the other students who had forgotten in their nervousness to do so. Then in an expressive and strong voice he read the words AT LAST!! as he finished up the story. The reading teacher and I looked at each other wiping the tears that were beginning to seep from our eyes. He did it. He didn’t just get through it, he really did it, loud, with feeling and expression, with poise as he turned those pages. How far he had come. It was a touching and beautiful moment.
Jennifer Nichole Wells Challenge
What’s a garden without a scarecrow- or two?
A Day In The Life 
You must be logged in to post a comment.