Papa's Hats

My husband has never liked hats much. However,in summer and in winter, he does yield to the need to wear one. The sun is bright and the rays can be severely damaging to skin, especially an almost bald head. It's a sort of Austrailian 'out back' type of hat, with a brim all around, and netting in the crown area for free air flow.

In winter, the air is cold, and since he spends so much so much time outside, he has chosen a very special one to keep his head warm. I think it is his favorite. He calls it 'the rat'. He looks like a mountain man all through the cold months. It is made of a nylon, with quilted lining, and fur sections that he leaves folded upward, forming a circle around the crown. Only on the very coldest of days does he fold the fur down to cover his ears. When he does that, there are two little 'animal ears' that show at the top sides of his head. I call them squirrel ears.

My own favorite, however, is his felt Stetson. He looks so handsome in this article of clothing, and I do wish he'd wear it more often, but am happy to see it whenever he does. He owns a number of baseball caps but he doesn't choose to wear them. I don't know why. He just says he feels weird wearing those.

Our grandchildren seem to love their Papa's hats, especially Abigail. Whenever she is visiting, or we are visiting at their home, she invariably will grab whichever chapeau is in season, and she will run off with it. She will return, and remain just out of our reach, making silly faces, playing a sort of 'catch it if you can' game with Papa. I don't know why this is such fun, but it brings many giggles, so obviously it brings both of them pleasure.

Abigail has her own assortment of hats, but I'll keep the sharing of those for another day.

The Dress Up Box

When I was a little girl, sometimes I'd go with my aunt to visit her friend, Jeanne. She lived in an old house with an attic and I was allowed to go up there and play with lace curtains and fabrics that I could wrap around myself, creating imaginary gorgeous gowns and furs. I must have been a real sight, but in my mind, I was a beautiful bride in lace, or a movie star in elegant dresses, or a queen in full regalia.

It was the only place I played dress up. Remembering that fun, when my children were small, they had hats and shoes and jewelry. Basically, all they had was accessories.

Thinking back, when I became a grandmother, one Christmas I made a few costumes for Lisa and Darren. Aside from an assortment of crowns and helmets and hats, Lisa had a few easy 'girly' gowns, shoes and jewels. Darren had a cowboy vest a sheriffs badge, and a fireman's raincoat.

I thought that I'd go a step beyond and provide the children with actual outfits, not just accessories. So, I scoured thrift shops for small sized semi-formal gowns and fancy shoes that were not too high or too huge for tiny feet. I even found a real fox collar, which, when wrapped around the shoulders of a young glamour girl, made a perfect fur stole.

The girls were all set, but boys are a little harder....and there wasn't much at Grammie's house for my grandson to dress in. It didn't matter, because by that time, he wasn't as much interested in it as the girls were, and he found other ways to entertain himself. The little ladies, though, especially the two who lived with us for a number of preschool and grade school years, never ceased to enjoy the dressing up. We were the honored guests at many a wedding, fashion shows, fancy tea parties and Cinderella balls. Sometimes there were plays and we were the audience, sometimes we were the victims of a 'magic wand' placed upon us by a winged urchin. Whatever the case, it was always entertaining.

The two "Little Ladies" who lived in residence moved away...900 miles away. When we moved closer to them, we brought the costumes with us. About 6 months after we moved into our new home, two hours from them, their mother decided to move back 'home'. They still came to visit, though, each summer...and the first thing they would do when arriving at our house was to go to the Grandkids bedroom. Within minutes they would saunter down the stairs in clear plastic children's high heels or pink satin slippers with feather trim, wrapped elegantly in a light blue chiffon ruffled mini gown (which reached their ankles) or a shimmering silver 'icicle' dress. The eldest of those two is now thirteen years old, and my thinking is that she will still enjoy the costuming and imaginative play when here on her next visit. I'm sure that one item that I purchased when she was four years old, which was her favorite for all the years before this one, will no longer fit her. It is a strapless, black lace, and was made for the tiniest figure of a young woman, and was meant to fall somewhere mid thigh on a proper model wearing it. Of course, when Kimbie got it, I put darts in the top to keep the bodice up, the waist fell somewhere below her hips, and the full skirt reached the top of her foot. If it fits this year, it will fit the way it was meant to.

I remember one time when she put that dress on. She came out, with a dish towel on her head, held in place by some sort of stretchy headband. A baby blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, and her dress was the black lace one. She carried her baby doll, and told me she was Mary, the mother of baby Jesus. Oh my! Can you picture the expression on the real Mary's face upon seeing that image! I'm sure she would be amused, to say the least...that is, if she didn't burst into gales of laughter!

The dress up box is not idle while my "Little Ladies" live their lives in NY. The two Georgia girls called "Tsunami" and "Aftermath" by their Daddy are still at the right age to enjoy the costumes. I have added a number of things to the box since Kimbie and Becca played with it the last time....so when Selah and Abigail come to visit and, like their older cousins did, make a bee-line for the Grandkids' room, they have a greater assortment of choices. There is a shimmery white dress, which was made as an 'ice princess' costume for one of Kimbie's masquarade parades at school. It easily becomes a bridal gown with the newly added veil and bouquet of fake roses. There are matching green chiffon and gold lame gowns that I made for the box. There are strands of shiny beads, collected when people on the parade floats threw them to us. There are tiny purses and long lengths of purple net set with sequins to use for trains or shawls. There are dance costumes, tutus and leotards. That box is a full box of fun and pretend, just waiting to happen!

If I've ever done anything right for the kids in this family, it was providing that costume box. It's provided years and years of imaginative fun for the young ones, and I, for one, will miss it when they have all outgrown it.

Aunts: Part 3

Today let me introduce Mom's youngest sister to you. She was about eight years younger than Mom, and approximately thirteen years older than I was. I don't remember much about her before I was four or five years old, but there is a photograph of me at the age of three that showed what she'd been up to that day. She had 'dolled me up' in red lipstick, one of her striped skirts, and lots of jewelry. I'm sitting next to Gramma in the photo, on the steps of the front porch.

Aunt 'Nita (Anita) was a 'fun' aunt. She had a sturdy frame and was a bit round. Her personality can only be described as 'jolly'. She married at a young age, to Uncle Ros. They would invite their little neice (me) to spend a few days with them from time to time. There wasn't a hint of jealousy in her when I said that I was going to marry Uncle Ros when I grew up! In fact, she thought it was quite amusing, knowing full well that I'd change my mind many times before I reached the marrying age.

When I was six years old, the young couple became parents to my only girl cousin on Mom's side. We became as close as sisters, in time, but I don't remember too much about the baby when she was little. About three years later, a little boy was born to the family, and being a little older, I was able to be helpful in caring for him and playing with his sister. I loved to push the baby in his carriage when we would sometimes walk downtown. I remember changing his diaper one day, in my church clothes, feeling like a 'big girl' to have been given the job. The little stinker turned into a water fountain, and I was his target! Aunt Nita covered him and laughed and laughed until her sides hurt! At first I didn't find it funny, but Aunt Nita's sounds were coming out in 'ooooo, oooooo' as she laughed, and I soon found myself in a bout of extreme giggles.

Around the time of my wedding, Aunt 'Nita began to have some health problems. She seemed to have problems eating certain foods. She lost some weight and, since she'd been fighting the battle of the buldge for as long as I could remember, I'm sure I thought she was dieting. Now, looking back, it probably had something to do with the ailment she was dealing with.

The time came when I was expecting my first baby who was due in the middle of January. Aunt Nita crocheted a sweet little pink sweater with matching hat and booties, even though she didn't know if the baby would be a girl or a boy. I guess we know what she was hoping for! At any rate, the sweater set was given to me at my baby shower, with a card from my grandmother, who was unable to do handiwork any more. Aunt Nita's gift was another creation she'd made. It was a knitted yellow and white sweater and hat, with a matching pair of knitted pants to keep little legs warm. I still have the tiny pink set, packed safely away. Each one of my baby girls wore it, as did some of my granddaughters too. There was also a cute pair of pink knitted slippers for baby, with a pom-pom head on the toe, with pointed ears and wiggly eyes.

Aunt Nita was sick and was lying on the living room couch, day after day. She couldn't keep anything on her stomach. My Aunt Sis and Mom would take turns going to help with the kids and meals and housework. The doctors said she had colitis, an intestinal ailment. Eventually, they determined that she needed to have surgery. When they opened her up, they discovered that she was riddled inside with cancer. They closed her up, and we waited.

On the Saturday before Easter, I went over to the house and asked my cousin, who was then sixteen years old, if she'd like to walk downtown with me. We had a nice afternoon together while Uncle Ros went to the hospital to visit with his 35 year old wife. When we got home, Uncle Ros looked funny, and he struggled with what he had to say to his daughter. "Mommy died this afternoon." We all stood together, in a huddle, crying together. My ears burned, my cheeks stung as the tears fell. I stayed only long enough to compose myself so that I could drive home.
Their little family needed to be together to let this news penetrate. They didn't need me in the way.

I packed up my baby and left, saying I would see them soon, and to let me know what I could do for them. I drove home, fighting the tears, but not really able to believe what had just happened, until I placed my baby in her high chair. I was still crying and the baby looked at me with a wondering look. When I said to her, "It's ok. Mommy's just sad. Our nice Aunt Nita has gone to Heaven." That's when it became real to me.

Aunts: Part Two

The other day I told you of my beloved Aunt Sis, the first-born of my Grandparents four daughters together. Today will be about the second-born daughter, named Phyllis. To the neices and nephews, though, she was always called Aunt 'Puddy.' From what I understand, she was dubbed this pet name when her youngest sister was learning to talk and couldn't say Phyllis properly. 'Puddy' she was, ever after.

Aunt Puddy was Mom's companion and probably 'best friend' while they were growing up. No one has said so, but I believe it was because there were only a few years between them, and greater distance between the other sisters. Anyway, they were 'thick as thieves' to coin a phrase. They were involved in the same church groups and double-dated in those years. They were married the same year, and Aunt Puddy was my mother's maid of honor. When I was going to join the family, so was Aunt Puddy's first son.

The two sisters remained close as the young mothers each raised three children, with me being the only girl among them. Aunt Puddy always had hoped for a little girl, but she was the Mom of all boys. She always said that if she had a little girl she would have named her Rebecca, after her grandmother (and her great-great grandmother too, as I have since discovered, though Aunt Puddy never knew that fact.) Rebecca was the middle name given to Aunt Sis, so that might have been another reason she liked it so much. Because she didn't have the chance to use her favorite name, I gave it as a middle name to my middle daughter...and since then, my granddaughter also was given the name as her first name. I'm sure Aunt Puddy would be pleased and would love each of those who bear the moniker.

Mom and Aunt Puddy accompanied each other to the American Legion auxilary meetings. They marched in holiday parades wearing their navy blue uniforms, with a red poppy on their lapels.
They went to weekly Bible studies together, learning even more how God would have them to live their lives. I was often a part of those meetings too, and though the women were a generation or more older than I was, as a young woman, I didn't feel out of place with them.

She had always been a good aunt to me. When I wanted to learn to paint, she said she'd help me, and she tried, but though her heart was in it, she hadn't learned a whole lot in her art classes. Truthfully, she wasn't very good at painting, but I was young, and I thought she was the best! Anyway, I appreciated her efforts in trying to help me, and liked spending that special time with her.

She really liked Shirley Temple movies, and sometimes she'd invite me to go to see one at the local theater. I don't know if she want me as company, thought I'd enjoy it too, or whether she would feel odd going to see a 'little girl' movie as an adult without a child with her! Anyway, I learned that I really liked those movies too, and have a number of videos, which I've shown again and again to my granddaughters, who enjoy them as much as we did in the theater.

Another entertainer that was a favorite of Aunt Puddy's was Elvis Presley. It was quite comical to me to watch her and Aunt Sis get all 'silly' over his movies or songs. Between the two of them, they had quite a collection of his records and they saw every movie he made. I liked him, but I was more interested in other artists than I was in him. However, if I was invited to see one of Elvis' movies with my aunt...or the two of them together...I'd gladly go.

Aunt Puddy was a Sunday School teacher and she got me involved in teaching a class, too, to little tiny three year olds. I don't know how much they learned, but it was a good beginning for me in sharing God with others. Each Sunday morning she would come to pick me up and drive me to the Session House, where we'd separate and go off to teach the children, her class a few years older than mine was.

When I was engaged to be married, it was Aunt Puddy who opened her home to friends and family, giving a bridal shower in my honor. When I was expecting the arrival of our first baby, once again she gave a party, showering me with beautiful, tiny garments and gifts for the new member of the family. She was so excited to have a baby girl to cuddle and love. I didn't disappoint her...I gave her four baby girls to love ...and a son.

A few months after my second child was born, Aunt Puddy became a grandmother to her own little girl! Oh, there was never a baby like that one...but she did not forget mine. She seemed to love them almost as much as her own grandchild. She ended up with another granddaughter and a grandson, too. She didn't get to spend as much time with them as she would have liked to, because she worked full-time in the office of a building contractor and land developer.

There came a time when my aunt needed to have surgery which would require her to take some time for recuperation. She invited me to take over for her while she was unable to work. It went well, and everyone seemed happy with the arrangement, despite the circumstances. When she was well again, she took her job back, and I got back to the business of caring for my children again, with a few dollars extra in the household. Sometime later, I worked at her job again. This time she didn't go back.

She had cancer...but I was not aware of it at the time. She didn't want anyone to know, and so I have no idea how long she had it before she entered the hospital at the end. It seemed that she wasn't there long before she faded away and went to be with her Lord at the age of sixty-two.

PS: A Give Away at:

There will be a lovely giveaway at http://ajoyfulchaos.blogspot.com. Visit to find out all about it!

~Kath

Aunts: Part One

My mother was one of four daughters. Each seemed to me to be as different from each other as the next one. I loved each of them for who they were and how they treated me. I'm sure, as a child, my thinking of one of them as my favorite fluctuated from week to week. It's just the way children are. They love you, then they don't like you so much, then they love you more than ever.

Let me tell you about these ladies, as I knew them. The eldest was Mildred, known to me as Aunt Sissy. She was a little bit of a thing, never reaching five feet tall, and weighing under one hundred pounds for the majority of her life. It made for a challenge when she wanted to purchase clothing, as for many years, there weren't stylish women's things in her small size. This was my 'style conscious' Aunt. She was always impecably dressed in tailored, classic clothing so she could wear her outfits for years without them going out of style. She and her husband formed their own business in the field of property development. For years they bought land and built homes in areas where there were bay beaches. They made quite a living.

As a result of their success, they were able travel extensively, taking ocean liners to Europe, to South American countries, to Middle America, the Islands. Her favorite place seemed to be Italy, and she returned there a number of times after my Uncle died, accompanied by her sister or a friend. As a child, I looked forward to their return, as she always brought me some little gift from a foreign place. When I was sixteen years old, her gift to me was an all expense paid trip to Bermuda, on a cruise ship. What a fun time we had!

Aunt Sis and her husband had no children, so her nieces and nephews were special to her. I was the oldest of the eight of us. I was blessed because I was, as I had Aunt Sis in my life longer than the rest, which meant I probably knew her best. She was a professional seamstress for a time, and also worked in a little dress shop for awhile, so she knew what was 'classy' in the fashion world. She made many dresses for me over the years, and also passed down some of her clothing to me, when I grew to fit them. I always felt as if I was quite attractive in these things, as Aunt Sis always looked so nice in them.

There was one prom dress that had been hers. When she wore it, it was a taffeta with 3/4 length sleeves, a V neckline, and a gathered skirt that went down in a V where it met the bodice. It was an irridescent pea green color which turned gold in certain lights. When I wore it, she had transformed it into a sleeveless dress, and I liked it much more. The color drew the green from my aqua-colored eyes. I felt lovely in my dress at the school dance.

Aunt Sis had bought my first bed, after I vacated the crib for my new baby brother's use. I don't know how she found it, but it was bought from a rooming house across from the school in Amagansett. The little bed was an antique with scallops at the head and foot of each side rail, and a short headboard which had a carved design. When she bought it at the auction there, it came without a mattress. So, it was fitted with a foam mattress, and painted with a new coat of paint, and I was soon sleeping in a 'big girl bed.' I used that narrow, short bed for all the years I lived at home, and then my children used it, one by one, until they outgrew it. It was always my hope that my grandchildren would sleep in it, as well, but none of them have. It is stored in my garage as I write this.

Many thoughts wind through my mind when I think of Aunt Sis. I cannot write them all. She'd spent all of her years, after babyhood, being a healthy woman who took care of herself. Still, with all the good choices she made in her eating habits, it could not ward off the end. Her last months were plagued with suffering as she fought the cancer which stole her life at the age of seventy-seven.

I miss her and love her still. All the memories we made will live on, for as long as I do. I remember them...and her...with great joy.

A Special Woman's Birthday

It is a special day for a special woman. It is my beloved mother's 85th birthday!

She came into the world in a bedroom in their rented duplex home in Amagansett. She had two older sisters, one who was old enough to know what was happening, the other younger, and thinking that the baby's early cries were that of a cat wailing.

She tells me a story of being about three years old when the children were playing in the yard. She hopped up on the 'running board' on the passenger side of Mrs. Ryan's car. About that time, Mrs. Ryan started the car and carefully drove it to the post office about a half mile or so down the road, all the while unaware that her tiny neighbor was clinging with her little hands to hinges of the car door! All turned out well, but how grateful I am that it did! Had things gone another way, I might not be here to share this happening.

In 1938, a devastating hurricane hit the community. Mom was then in the seventh grade in the new brick school. She recalls standing in her upstairs classroom and watching out the windows as huge elm trees were toppled and uprooted, leaving gaping holes in the grass and pulling up sidewalks. The storm had caused deaths and destruction all over the coast, wiping out homes, stores and cars.

Mom had an active church life and youth group. She was a member of a group called Christian Endeavor. Her Christian salvation came during her mid teens, and she's lived that humble, quiet life ever after.

The high school years brought World War II. She saw a good many of her male school mates leave school and go into uniform to fight for their country. She was supportive of the war efforts, and became a Red Cross volunteer where she rolled bandages. She knitted sweaters, hats, socks and gloves for the soldiers.

After high school graduation, she worked for a time at Bulova Watch Factory where she got to know my father. She had gone to high school with him, and because the school was so small, she knew who he was, but didn't know him personally. They began to date, and before long, they knew they wanted to be married. Each could not have chosen a better mate for themselves. Though they certainly did not share the same opinion on everything, they were well matched.
They worked side by side for all the years they were given, she, taking care of three children and the home, and he working jobs to support his family.

Mom believed the adage, 'Idle hands are the devil's workshop.' She never had idle hands. During the hours when we were in school, she took care of the household chores, baked tasty cookies for our lunch boxes, she created quilts, sewed clothing for us all, and knitted mittens and sweaters for her family. She volunteered in many ways for many years. Many a child in an Appalachian orphanage wore clothing that she'd made and sent off to them. New babies born to mothers she'd never met were presented with layettes, sweaters and tiny afghans she'd knitted and donated to Birthright, an organization that helps unwed mothers. Somewhere a lonely serviceman in the Viet Nam War was reading her letters. A veteran somewhere sat in a wheelchair with his knees covered by a colorful laprobe created by Mom's hands. Large typed words sprung from a special typewriter while she typed books for the legally blind. Someone was rescued from the evils of alcohol because she made donations to a ministry who helped people with such problems. A child was able to go to church camp because of her help. I could go on, but you get the idea.

When Mom's youngest sister got sick in her early thirties, my mother shared the caring for her with her oldest sister, while still taking care of her own family and finding time to visit my elderly grandmother who was living in a nursing home after breaking her hip. When my youngest Aunt passed away from the cancer that ravaged her body, she left a sixteen year old girl and a twelve year old son. After a year of living with just their father, he chose to remarry and moved to a neighboring community. Because my cousin was in her last year of high school, Mom and Dad took her in to allow her to finish school with her class. Her brother went with their dad. Then, when my cousin was ready to marry, it was my Mom who helped her plan and accomplish her goal.

She saw Dad through two years of his cancer, and was devastated when he died. A few years later, another Aunt got cancer. Again, Mom was there to help her. Then, the oldest of her sisters also was stricken with cancer. Daily Mom was there to help, until my Aunt went to the hospital and slipped into her last sleep.

Today my special, caring, and loving mother lives with the challenges of being legally blind herself. She also suffers from some hearing loss, but still she is able to live independently. Oh, and independent she is! I live across the street from her, and I try to help as much as I can...or should I say 'as much as she will allow.' My brother and I share the transportation to doctor visits and grocery stores and other such trips. My brother mows her grass, my husband takes care of her landscape plants, and we often take her a prepared meal or have her come for dinner. But, for the most part, she takes care of herself.

I would have loved to gift her with something so meaningful, something that she would truly be surprised and pleased to have. But, Mom's needs are simple and her wants are nil. I would have enjoyed throwing a big party for her today, but the family is scattered hither and yon, and life doesn't always fit our plans. I know that the grandchilden and greatgrandchildren will send their greetings, but it would be so nice to have a big gathering in her honor. My brother, my husband and I will take Mom out for dinner to her choice of restaurants tonight, and we will celebrate the life of this woman who I was blessed to have as my mother.