Saturday, September 27, 2014

Tasteful Wedding Photos

It was beaconing to me and I couldn’t resist it.  I hoped no one was watching me as I snatched a copy of the
September People magazine to buy to see the Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt’s marriage photos.  I had heard that the proceeds of selling their wedding album were going to charities, which was a refreshing thought in contrast to the Kardashian-West extravaganza of major excesses costing millions of dollars. (I am not even sure what the Kardashinas do.  I just think they are, if that is something).

After putting away my groceries I happily opened up the People magazine to take a gander at the wedding photos, and I have to say I was pleasantly surprised.  It looked like their children helped to plan the small private wedding, and how sweet was that?

Angelina, looking for the entire world virginal, wore a white wedding dress and veil that her children had helped to design along with the House of Versace.  Their drawing of tulips, butterflies, zebras and caterpillars were sewn into the gown and veil such sweet reminders of the children’s lives.  Son Pax made the six-layered wedding cake and decorated it with white pink and green flowers.  What a contrast to the Kardashian-West seven foot wedding cake which cost over six thousand dollars.

The kids looked pleased as punch at the ceremony and had grins that exuded pure delight.  It was totally a family affair, small, private and included every member of the family.  I wish them all well. 

Monday, September 22, 2014

Horse Sense

You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink and the silly fool just stands there snorting away dropping snot into the trough.  That damn horse is the stupidest animal on the ranch. 

Daddy gave Taffy to me on my seventh birthday, complete with a new saddle and a bright red saddle blanket.  I could tell from the first time I got on him that he didn’t have a brain in his head.  In my shiny new cowboy boots I gave Taffy a giddy up kick and he just stood there like some nougat covered statue.  Daddy whomped him good on the rear end and Taffy took off like a lightening bolt with me hanging on for dear life.  I wasn’t expecting that old nag to gallop with such power as he jumped over ditches, flying through the air, and landing with such force that I nearly bit my tonsils. Somehow I manage to hang on for the wildest ride of my life til’ he finally wore himself out and slowed to a walk.

Daddy came barreling along in his Jeep thinking he would find me in a pile of legs and bones having the shit knocked out of me.  He was so surprised to see me still a sittin’ on that steed.  I could tell he was mighty proud of me, just a whip of a seven-year-old girl, my pigtails unraveled, sweat pouring down my cheeks and breathing like a dragon after a battle.

“Why I didn’t think that old nag had it in him, “ Daddy said laughing.  “He never so much ever did more than a loopy trot before.  You’ve got yourself a one hell of a horse, sister.”

He may be one hell of a horse, but old Taffy never so much as ever broke into a gallop ever again.  He just plugs along like a saddle weary packhorse.  He is just a hay burner and pooper, and if he has it in him he just ambles up to the water trough and stands there admiring his reflection and never drinks a drop. At least never when I am lookin’ at him.

Monday, September 1, 2014

Family Thicket

I am looking for myself in my own family story and wonder where do I fit in the “thicket” of people? And there are a lots of them; artists, musicians, and lumber people who sacked the northwest of old growth trees, had a steamship company with seven ships which ferried lumber from Aberdeen and Raymond to San Francisco.  They had so much timber that they built a small railroad to carry the fallen logs out of the woods to the mills. 

It was a prosperous family business for many years, until the stock market crashes and bear markets sent the company into a financial tailspin. Soon they could not afford to repair their many older railroad trestles and had to sell their forested land to Weyerhaeuser.  Every time I drive through Willapa Bay area I think of my family of lumber barons.  I never knew them as I was the youngest of the extended family, but tales were told and when I heard them it was like they were talking about strangers.

My father, Lance, decided not to participate in the family business instead went to Chicago to study at the Art Institute and become an artist.  Don’t know what his father thought about that but I think his mother probably supported him.  The 1922 photograph I have hanging on my wall is of 26 Hart-Wood- Green family members.  Looks like there was even a babe in arm and a few ancient senior members.  My father looks tall and handsome standing in the back row.  His mother, Emma, sits in front of him with the sweetest expression on her face an expression inherited by my dear Aunt Em.  The senior lumbermen look stern but rather elegant in fashionable suits and ties.

My dad’s favorite cousin and best friend, Fred Hart, was a musician who taught composition and piano at Julliard in New York.  I met him once briefly and he was composing an opera and played a tune or two from it.  I feel like I am the ebb of the family, the last remaining bits of historical scatterings.