April 24, 2019

Sherry:
My Aunt Jo's birthday. Standing with Uncle Fred in front of their house. I still miss her after 44 years. They lived a few blocks from us while I was growing up.

 
Jo and Fred Harvey in front of their house Albuquerque, NM abt 1968

Larry:
Fred Harvey met Joan Williamson during WWII working in a plant in Los Angeles, Ca. Jo was working with Katie at a newspaper printing company.

(there was a story about Jo falling on  the sidewalk and nobody helping her up. but I don't remember any more.
Katie talked about the hats they folded out of the newspaper to keep the ink out of their hair. She forgot how to fold them and always wished she could remember.)

They were married there. After the war ended they moved to Portales where Fred rented an Irrigated farm NW of town. I remember he had a lot of trouble with the irrigation pumps. The farming was not much success.

He also worked at Price's Creamery. We used to go by the back door to see him when we were in town. (Probably when we still lived at Lingo, cause I remember going to the laundry too.~1955)  He always had "damaged" ice cream sandwiches to give us. I loved ice cream then.

About 1957 Jo and Fred gave up farming in Portales and moved to Albuquerque,NM. They got an apartment on Broadway down town. Fred got a job sorting mail at the Post Office. Katie and Bud moved to Albuquerque in 1958 and rented a duplex off N 2th ST. 

Shortly Fred bought a house way out on the east side of town in Princess Jean Park.  Within a few months Bud bought one there too, only a few blocks away.

Fred retired with disability from the Post Office, then decided he needed something to do. So he took every art class available at UNM then at the Senior Centers. 

He once wrote a short story about a Stetson hat. They liked it so much that they sent him a top of the line gray Stetson! He kept it in a box in the bedroom closet.

The last 5 years Jo was confined to a hospital bed in the living room. This was caused by a cyst growing in her spinal column. It had been there since she was in high school. Katie took part of a year off school to sit with Jo because she was not expected to live out the year. ( abt 1935) She passed away Mar 28, 1975, Wyndi's birthday, but 3 years before.

I never heard her complain about anything, but Fred teasing us. Which he did continuously. She always kept candy in a dish for the kids that came. She smoked a lot. She rolled her own filtered cigarettes with Prince Albert in the blue can. I don't remember a tobacco smell in the house like we notice these days though.

Fred's father was a hobo. He traveled around hopping trains. When he would get to a new town, he would drop Fred off at the library. He often found work or other interests and came back after a few days to get Fred and move on. The last time, when Fred was just over 6 years old, was in Searchlight, NV. He didn't come back. A family (used to know the name) there took Fred in and raised him into his teens.

Later he inherited 10 acres between downtown Las Vegas and the airport. Jo always referred to it as their nest egg. Howard Hughes offered to buy it several times, but they held out thinking they might need the money later. As Las Vegas grew toward the property, the land tax also increased. They had to sell 1 acre just to pay the tax, but by then Hughes was no longer interested.

In 1964 Uncle Jack and Aunt Blanche toured Europe. They flew in, bought 3 VWs, drove theirs around Europe for a month. And then loaded them on a ship to Galveston, TX. A squareback each for us and Fred and a bug for Jack. We flew to Galveston and drove them back to NM.

Fred would load up his VW squareback with paintings, postcards and bolo ties and drive off somewhere around NM and just setup beside the road to try to sell his art.

April 21, 2019

Cheek to Cheek (From days with Mom) by Carolyn Graham

Cheek to Cheek (From days with Mom) by Carolyn Graham
A tender kiss on heaven's mound,
A baby's cheek endears us
With hint of pink and soft like silk,
Emotion spills in surplus

Warm summer sun and cold winter wind
Blister a virgin palette
A tear rolls down and smiles caress
A face that tells about it

Strong arms, swift feet and youth ablaze
Adorn from head to toes
As time ticks by and daddy waits
For perfect lips, for blush of rose

Friends and family congregate
To join celebration
Of two becoming one in heart
With hugs and jubilation

Once again, a tear drop falls
Across the cheeks together
Melting years into a moment
Stretching tent and tether

Babe becomes a mother,
Mother into grand
As future becomes past again
Like hour glass grains of sand

Why does the elder lady smooth
Two ruby circles strong?
Does she not see that look is tired
Nor hear the ancient song…

Returning refrains of a lullaby
An infant so endearing…
Sweetheart, bride and mother dear
As through a curtain peering

Dawn awakens deep within
A woman loved and wanted,
To be with those who knew her well
With rosy cheeks undaunted

So brush it on, paint so strong
The boldness with joy laden
Some shocked, embarrassed, but may you know…
Her image never fading

April 10, 2019

A pony may not be the best choice of childhood gift

Gary, Stewart and Betty on Peanuts about 1965
In case you happened to miss it, a week ago today was Siblings Day.
I dug out a childhood photo of my brothers and me on our pony, Peanuts, in honor of the occasion, and it took me on a bumpy trip down memory lane.

My brothers and I don’t agree on everything, but we are unanimous on this: If you want to abuse your children, get them a pony.

I was too young to remember exactly how Peanuts came into our life.

I do know we were not his first family, because by the time he arrived in our world, he had already perfected his ability to make sure small and unsuspecting riders had very little time to settle into the saddle before being brushed off, knocked off, tipped off, or dumped off.

If you grew up with a tender and loving pony who was your best childhood friend, well, I am happy for you, but I cannot relate.

Peanuts was a conniving character cleverly disguised as an adorable fuzzy black and white Shetland pony.

He fooled plenty of people at first glance, but he could have you on the ground before you even had a chance to scream, “Peanuts! Noooo!”

Peanuts and I were partners in what was one of the most boneheaded moments of my childhood — although to be fair, it was entirely my fault.

We had Peanuts in the yard, all saddled up, and I’d just finished a ride (or more likely freshly fallen off of him). I decided to go into the house for a cold drink but needed to tie him up first.

Keep in mind that our yard was filled with fixed objects —fence posts, trees, porch poles, porch railings … and a tetherball pole.

If you’re too young to remember tetherball, every school playground used to have one. It was a game designed to enable big strong quick kids to knock the daylights out of their smaller slower classmates (not unlike the pony/child relationship at our house).

It features a vertical pole maybe 8 to 10 feet tall with a volleyball attached to a piece of rope and “tethered” at the top of the pole.

Somehow my young brain thought it would be a good idea to tie Peanuts to this ball before I went into the house.

Not the pole, mind you -- not the piece of pipe that was set in a chunk of concrete. No, my brilliant thinking (which may have been addled because of time spent with Peanuts) was to loop the reins around the rope from which the ball dangled.

Peanuts stood calmly as I left, giving me enough time to reach the house because I remember with startling clarity watching what happened next from inside our screen door.

As Peanuts moved, so did the ball, which was dangling at about eye level for him.

He panicked and tried to escape. The ball stayed with him.

As I watched in horror — and in what seemed like slow motion — Peanuts dug in his adorable little pony hooves and pulled that pipe all the way to one side until it broke off.

I don’t remember what happened after that, but I do know at some point an adult must have intervened and captured the pony, cut him loose from the ball and the pole, and chastised me for my stupidity.

I do know that I have never forgotten the lesson Peanuts taught me that day: Never tie your pony to a tetherball.

And if your kids or grandkids beg for a pony, well, you’ve been warned.

Betty Williamson is still leery of ponies and tetherballs.