Not a physical hole but an emptiness and an emotional hole. All my life of 71 years I have had the love and guidance of my grandparents and my parents. First I lost my grandparents whom I adored and then ten years ago my dear Father. I loved and cared for my Mother though her sadness over loosing my Father and then though the dementia which was gradually stealing her away from us. Fortunately she only had a form of dementia that took some memories, but left the essences of Mother still there. She remained loving, giving and her sweet self until the end. I could not ask about things in the past but her love for the family remained.
There are no words ....to describe the loss of a parent. I was
taught by their actions what a parent is. I can only hope and pray that
I have done as good a job of being a parent as my mother and father
were to me. I am very fortunate for my memories go way back.
Mother was an exceptional woman. I was not an easy
child. As a four year old child I contracted polio. My beautiful
mother sat by my side along and as often as possible. She never let me
feel sorry for myself.
When it was time for me to start kindergarten, I had been
operated on and was in a body cast from my waist down. She found a
school program and ordered lessons so I would have a fun
experience learning. Again in third grade I was once more in a body cast and Mother kept me up with my class and entertained me and my little brother.
Through out my life there have been times
where she dropped everything to come to my side to help me with small
children when I broke my knee and was in bed with my leg in a cast. She
came to Williamsburg to take care of my youngest son, Lewis, and help
run our shop when I had back surgery in Minnesota. She unselfishly gave
up so much of her time in caring for both my family and me.
As
for being a grandmother, there was no one better. Just as she had once
invented a world filled with fairies for me as a child, she brought the
magic of elves into Chris and Scott's life. She showed them a tree
where they could leave notes for their special elf. Going to the
grandparents home was always special.
Saturday, October 3, 2015
Friday, September 18, 2015
My Mother
The unthinkable has happened, my lovely loving mother died. I do not
think that one is ever prepared for the loss of one's parent. I lost my
father a little over ten years ago, and I still want to seek out his
guidance. I remember as a young married he would call me with
advice. At the time I did not realize that he was trying to set me on
the right path in my life. His advice was always welcomed. It has
helped me through many a hard time. I miss him still. But mother, I
somehow felt that she would always be here for me as she always had
been. Even with some dementia her essence was there, her unselfish
loving and gentle kindness.
Mother suffered from some
sort of dementia, but that did not take away who she was. The day she died my
daughter in law, Melissa, and I went to the assisted living where she
had her room in order to let them know. Everyone who helped mother came to
us to tell us how much they thought of her. She was truly loved by both
the staff and the other residents. Everyone who knew her, came to love
her. She was the very best mother and grandmother freely giving of her
love.
After my father died my son, Lewis, moved in to live
with mother in her home in Irvington. It was not until she fell one
day, while we were at work, and broke her knee cap that I felt it
necessary for her to come and live with me. It was not long after that
when Lewis decided to come and be with us in order to help me out. We
knew mother was doing better when she picked up her walker and carried
it with her to the bathroom. Soon after her fall we were able to take a
trip to the Brimfield Antique show in July of that year. Fortunately
the weather was not real hot and she was able to walk a lot of the fields. We
even visited Ellen and Jim Parrish in Vermont. From then on Mother
would accompany us to work first at the antique mall and then to our
business selling 20th-century designer furniture. She would engage with
the people, who came into our shop. It was not until a year and a half
ago that she stopped being able to do so. Many of our customers became friends and
missed seeing her. Many asked about her every time they would come
into our shop.
Even with mother in assisted living, I have felt the responsibility of her care. Now I am like a mother with an empty nest.
Saturday, August 1, 2015
Graydon Ave, Norfolk Virginia...Times Past
I found this manuscript written by my mother, Beverly Porter Lewis. It is about her life as a child on the 900 block of Graydon Avenue, Norfolk Va in the late 1920's and 1930's. Some of this tale reminds me of my life as a child growing up on and visiting that same block of Graydon Ave. We lived at 931 Graydon Ave. with my maternal grandparents until I was eight.
The nine hundred block of Graydon Avenue was my world for quite sometime. There were sedate homes lining the sides of the street with sidewalks and large oak and sycamore trees, marching like soldiers on either side of the street. These homes were not small, as it was a neighborhood of people who had the means to take care of them. My father was a banker. A doctor and his family lived next door. There were also three lawyers and two of the fathers were in the cotton business. These were cotton brokers who bought and sold cotton and had offices in large warehouses, that lined the water front in a section near by called "Atlantic City" and it was in this area that my grandfather Jones had a lumberyard called the Atlantic Sawmill. This was sold to the Turnbull family. Years later Grandfather Jones and William Dougherty opened a building and loan company that they called "The Atlantic and Permanent Building and Loan Company."
On our block there were, at one time, thirty two children. They believed in large families and most had nursemaids and house keepers to help care for the children and the houses. I had only one older brother, George, but my best friend Peggy Tyler was the youngest of six. We never lacked for playmates and we did not have to leave the block to find amusement.
Groceries were delivered to our house in a truck and the ice man drove a wagon pulled by a horse. His horse wore a straw hat with holes cut for his ears to come through. He would prance as if he was proud of his stylish hat. In the summer when the ice man came the little children would beg chips of ice and try to get him to give them a little ride on the back of the wagon. The ice man would pick up blocks of ice for our ice box with large tongs and carry the ice blocks from the wagon into the house and to our ice box. as we had no refrigerators then all our perishable food was kept in our ice box.
In the summer for a couple of hours after lunch the children would be kept inside the babies and small children would usually take naps and the older ones were allowed to read or play games. The summers were very hot and without air conditioning we depended on fans or a breeze to try to keep cool. I remember hearing pedlars crying out their wares as I lay on my bed up stairs. The items changed with the seasons. You would hear "strawberries, nice fresh strawberries," or "mel-mel-melons, nice and sweet," or even "crabs, alive and kicking." The high point of the day however, would be the arrival of the ice cream man, or the bakery man pushing their carts. Having as many children as we did on our block they never missed coming to our neighborhood. I can still remember the taste of those goodies, the luscious ice cream, all sweet and drippy, the ice cups, the pop cycles, yummy eclairs, doughnut, and pecan buns all sticky and sweet.
We would roller skate on the sidewalks and even in the street, play baseball in the vacant lots. In the afternoon and after dinner, we would play kick the can, cops and robbers, blind man's bluff, and Mother May I. When the nine o'clock cannon when off at near by Fort Norfolk, we all had to come inside and go to bed, of course the older children could stay up later and listen to the radio or read.
What fun we all had. In the winter we would play games inside. Sometimes we would make fudge or pull taffy. Often we would tell ghost stories, and eat bowls of pop corn. Most of the house had large attics with trunks full of old clothes, uniforms, curtains and gorgeous hats, some with ostrich plumes. All these were treasures to play dress up or for costumes for our numerous plays.
All the families had pets from fish and white rats to cats , dogs and even ducks. The Tyler family seem to out do everyone else with almost a zoo. They had a racoon, a pet possum. flying squirrels, rabbits and chickens. The neighbors complained bitterly about the chickens as the rooster managed to wake up the whole neighborhood a the break of day.
I remember the day that my friend, Peggy's cat had her first litter of kittens. What an exciting day. Every time we would run to report the birth of a kitten, we would return and there would be yet another kitten. This was my first experience with the facts of life.
The family doctor was Dr. Wilson, he was our friend, an elderly gentleman who would come to see us when we were sick. He would stay long enough sitting by our bed to tell us a story or a joke before he would leave. The day that he came to give typhoid shots, the mothers would line us up and he would go down the line giving us all our shot. The bravest one was always first and I am afraid that I was always as close to the end of the line as possible.
Dr. Masters ran the corner drug store. When we were old enough, we were allowed to go with the older children to spend our ten cent allowance. This sounds so little now, but then ten cents to a child was a fortune. There was a display case full of penny candy, licorice sticks, chocolate babies,and little pans full of a sugary pie. This pie was not that good, but the little girls loved the pans and spoon that came with for their dolls. There were also bottles of candy "pills", jaw breakers, salt water taffy, jelly beans, gum drops not to forget the stick candy and bubble gum.
When we were older we would receive twenty five cents for allowance. Fifteen cents would buy a ticket the the local movie theater, "The Plaza," and the other ten cents would be spent on popcorn. After lunch on Saturdays the whole neighborhood would go to the movies. We would see an exciting cowboy movie or an "our Gang" comedy, or maybe a Laurel and Hardy. There would always be one chapter of a very exciting story, which would end with the heroin being tied to the train track with a train approaching, or she would be chased by a lion, the only way to find out what happened would to come back the next week to see the nexr chapter.
All these children grew up very close to one another. the older ones always looked out after one another. My brother was eight years older than I. He took this to extreme to my way of thinking. If he thought that I was doing something that he thought was wrong he would pick me up and throw me over his shoulder and carry me home to my parents.
The Tyler children had some old maid aunts and a uncle who live around the corner on Westover Avenue. Their home was a large antibellum with white columns. This was the Serpell house. The aunts were very good to Peggy and to me. I think this was where my first appreciation for art began. They loved to travel and were collectors. There were cases against the wall in Mr. Goldsborough's room, filled with figures of ivory and jade. There were bearskin rugs on the floor and easy chairs. Peggy and I would sneak in when no one else was around and stand with our noses pressed against the glass doors and we would talk about all the wonderous objects inside the show cases. The aunts collected buttons and snuff boxes. On a rainy afternoon maybe one of the aunts could be persuaded to open the cabinets and let us hold an object, while they would tell us about the people who had owned it. I remember how impressed I was to be allowed to hold Napoleon's uniform button.
On one such day on a visit to the house, Peggy was feeling very generous and told us that we could each take one item home. There were five little girls Peggy, Frances, and I were the youngest and Betty and Gillie lee were older. Neeedless to say we had a very exciting afternoon trying to decide what we liked best. I left with Napoloens buttom held tight in my small fist.
At Supper that night, I could not eat a thing. I knew that Peggy had made a mistake and that she should not have given her aunts things away. My tummy seemed to be performing flip flops. After dinner I took my Daddy's hand and led him to our back steps. I got him to sit down there in the dark back hall, where I finally got up the courage to tell what we had done. That was one of the hardest things that I had ever done. I was so glad that I had confided in my Dad because he called the Serpell house to tell the aunts. The aunts had already discovered the missing pieces and had reported this to Peggy's parents. Needless to say we were not allowed to go to the Serpell house for awhile. My Mother had always told me about the little devil and the little angel that each child had. The devil to push you into trouble and the angel to help you be good. This was the first time that my devil had won, and I did not like the feel of that at all.
At Christmas time Peggy and I would help the aunts make the evergreen roping for their stairs and also help with decorating the rest of the house. When we were in our teens we were asked to help at their annual Christmas party. We felt so grown up in our party dresses. One year Peggy indulged too much in the spiked punch to such an extend that she went home and went to bed. When dinner time came her mother tried to arouse her, and she did not wake up until the next morning. We both received a good lecture and were told to stick with the fruit punch there after or else...
The nine hundred block of Graydon Avenue was my world for quite sometime. There were sedate homes lining the sides of the street with sidewalks and large oak and sycamore trees, marching like soldiers on either side of the street. These homes were not small, as it was a neighborhood of people who had the means to take care of them. My father was a banker. A doctor and his family lived next door. There were also three lawyers and two of the fathers were in the cotton business. These were cotton brokers who bought and sold cotton and had offices in large warehouses, that lined the water front in a section near by called "Atlantic City" and it was in this area that my grandfather Jones had a lumberyard called the Atlantic Sawmill. This was sold to the Turnbull family. Years later Grandfather Jones and William Dougherty opened a building and loan company that they called "The Atlantic and Permanent Building and Loan Company."
On our block there were, at one time, thirty two children. They believed in large families and most had nursemaids and house keepers to help care for the children and the houses. I had only one older brother, George, but my best friend Peggy Tyler was the youngest of six. We never lacked for playmates and we did not have to leave the block to find amusement.
Groceries were delivered to our house in a truck and the ice man drove a wagon pulled by a horse. His horse wore a straw hat with holes cut for his ears to come through. He would prance as if he was proud of his stylish hat. In the summer when the ice man came the little children would beg chips of ice and try to get him to give them a little ride on the back of the wagon. The ice man would pick up blocks of ice for our ice box with large tongs and carry the ice blocks from the wagon into the house and to our ice box. as we had no refrigerators then all our perishable food was kept in our ice box.
In the summer for a couple of hours after lunch the children would be kept inside the babies and small children would usually take naps and the older ones were allowed to read or play games. The summers were very hot and without air conditioning we depended on fans or a breeze to try to keep cool. I remember hearing pedlars crying out their wares as I lay on my bed up stairs. The items changed with the seasons. You would hear "strawberries, nice fresh strawberries," or "mel-mel-melons, nice and sweet," or even "crabs, alive and kicking." The high point of the day however, would be the arrival of the ice cream man, or the bakery man pushing their carts. Having as many children as we did on our block they never missed coming to our neighborhood. I can still remember the taste of those goodies, the luscious ice cream, all sweet and drippy, the ice cups, the pop cycles, yummy eclairs, doughnut, and pecan buns all sticky and sweet.
We would roller skate on the sidewalks and even in the street, play baseball in the vacant lots. In the afternoon and after dinner, we would play kick the can, cops and robbers, blind man's bluff, and Mother May I. When the nine o'clock cannon when off at near by Fort Norfolk, we all had to come inside and go to bed, of course the older children could stay up later and listen to the radio or read.
What fun we all had. In the winter we would play games inside. Sometimes we would make fudge or pull taffy. Often we would tell ghost stories, and eat bowls of pop corn. Most of the house had large attics with trunks full of old clothes, uniforms, curtains and gorgeous hats, some with ostrich plumes. All these were treasures to play dress up or for costumes for our numerous plays.
All the families had pets from fish and white rats to cats , dogs and even ducks. The Tyler family seem to out do everyone else with almost a zoo. They had a racoon, a pet possum. flying squirrels, rabbits and chickens. The neighbors complained bitterly about the chickens as the rooster managed to wake up the whole neighborhood a the break of day.
I remember the day that my friend, Peggy's cat had her first litter of kittens. What an exciting day. Every time we would run to report the birth of a kitten, we would return and there would be yet another kitten. This was my first experience with the facts of life.
The family doctor was Dr. Wilson, he was our friend, an elderly gentleman who would come to see us when we were sick. He would stay long enough sitting by our bed to tell us a story or a joke before he would leave. The day that he came to give typhoid shots, the mothers would line us up and he would go down the line giving us all our shot. The bravest one was always first and I am afraid that I was always as close to the end of the line as possible.
Dr. Masters ran the corner drug store. When we were old enough, we were allowed to go with the older children to spend our ten cent allowance. This sounds so little now, but then ten cents to a child was a fortune. There was a display case full of penny candy, licorice sticks, chocolate babies,and little pans full of a sugary pie. This pie was not that good, but the little girls loved the pans and spoon that came with for their dolls. There were also bottles of candy "pills", jaw breakers, salt water taffy, jelly beans, gum drops not to forget the stick candy and bubble gum.
When we were older we would receive twenty five cents for allowance. Fifteen cents would buy a ticket the the local movie theater, "The Plaza," and the other ten cents would be spent on popcorn. After lunch on Saturdays the whole neighborhood would go to the movies. We would see an exciting cowboy movie or an "our Gang" comedy, or maybe a Laurel and Hardy. There would always be one chapter of a very exciting story, which would end with the heroin being tied to the train track with a train approaching, or she would be chased by a lion, the only way to find out what happened would to come back the next week to see the nexr chapter.
All these children grew up very close to one another. the older ones always looked out after one another. My brother was eight years older than I. He took this to extreme to my way of thinking. If he thought that I was doing something that he thought was wrong he would pick me up and throw me over his shoulder and carry me home to my parents.
The Tyler children had some old maid aunts and a uncle who live around the corner on Westover Avenue. Their home was a large antibellum with white columns. This was the Serpell house. The aunts were very good to Peggy and to me. I think this was where my first appreciation for art began. They loved to travel and were collectors. There were cases against the wall in Mr. Goldsborough's room, filled with figures of ivory and jade. There were bearskin rugs on the floor and easy chairs. Peggy and I would sneak in when no one else was around and stand with our noses pressed against the glass doors and we would talk about all the wonderous objects inside the show cases. The aunts collected buttons and snuff boxes. On a rainy afternoon maybe one of the aunts could be persuaded to open the cabinets and let us hold an object, while they would tell us about the people who had owned it. I remember how impressed I was to be allowed to hold Napoleon's uniform button.
On one such day on a visit to the house, Peggy was feeling very generous and told us that we could each take one item home. There were five little girls Peggy, Frances, and I were the youngest and Betty and Gillie lee were older. Neeedless to say we had a very exciting afternoon trying to decide what we liked best. I left with Napoloens buttom held tight in my small fist.
At Supper that night, I could not eat a thing. I knew that Peggy had made a mistake and that she should not have given her aunts things away. My tummy seemed to be performing flip flops. After dinner I took my Daddy's hand and led him to our back steps. I got him to sit down there in the dark back hall, where I finally got up the courage to tell what we had done. That was one of the hardest things that I had ever done. I was so glad that I had confided in my Dad because he called the Serpell house to tell the aunts. The aunts had already discovered the missing pieces and had reported this to Peggy's parents. Needless to say we were not allowed to go to the Serpell house for awhile. My Mother had always told me about the little devil and the little angel that each child had. The devil to push you into trouble and the angel to help you be good. This was the first time that my devil had won, and I did not like the feel of that at all.
At Christmas time Peggy and I would help the aunts make the evergreen roping for their stairs and also help with decorating the rest of the house. When we were in our teens we were asked to help at their annual Christmas party. We felt so grown up in our party dresses. One year Peggy indulged too much in the spiked punch to such an extend that she went home and went to bed. When dinner time came her mother tried to arouse her, and she did not wake up until the next morning. We both received a good lecture and were told to stick with the fruit punch there after or else...
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
The wonders of life with a Power Chair
I had polio as a child at age four, way back in 1948. I have been able to have a nice life walking with a brace on my left leg and forearm crutches. I graduated from college walking all over the campus sometimes barely making it to classes on time, but I did it. I met my husband who was a first year professor there and we were married and had three sons.
I am now divorced. When I hit my mid fifties I found that balancing going up and down stairs became increasingly difficult. I found this odd. I was aware of Post Polio, and had started to use my manual chair as a way of trying to save my abilities. I became more and more afraid to go places alone as I seem to fall more often. I worried a lot. I broke a bone in my wrist and still tried to walk with the pain. Finally a friend and a doctor convinced me to find a post polio doctor.
When I was diagnosed with post polio my new doctor told me that I was not to walk any more than absolutely necessary. She said that I needed to use a power chair, and the manual chair would not do as my arms were also effected by polio. I had a scooter that I had used occasionally when needed and I started using that until I could get an electric wheelchair. I felt like the scooter made me look less handicapped. I hesitated to use a power chair. Using the scooter in the house was difficult as it was large and took up a lot of room.
Once I was able to get a power chair, I found that the whole world opened up to me once more. In fact there were things that I could do from the chair that I could not do with my crutches. I had always had to have either my husband or one of my boys help me do grocery shopping. I could push a cart but getting the bags in and out of the car and into the house was impossible. For the first time with a scooter or with a power chair I was free to shop on my own. Yes, sometimes I needed to ask for help reaching things being vertically challenged sitting, but I have quickly learned that people in general are more than glad to give a helping hand. I have also found out that helping someone else makes people feel good.
I have been using my power chair for about fifteen years now. I go to work in a business that my youngest son and I own. I manage the business end doing the books and answering the emails. I paint and sell my paintings. I even have taken care of my grandson when he was a baby from my scooter, and power chair. I found it much easier to care for a baby from my chair than it was walking with crutches. Lots of things have become easier I can carry things and move items around in the house. For the first time I can actually carry a plate of food to the table.
My world opened up rather than closed down with the use of a power chair. There are some downsides, but as a whole having the use and maneuverability of the chair is liberating.
I am now divorced. When I hit my mid fifties I found that balancing going up and down stairs became increasingly difficult. I found this odd. I was aware of Post Polio, and had started to use my manual chair as a way of trying to save my abilities. I became more and more afraid to go places alone as I seem to fall more often. I worried a lot. I broke a bone in my wrist and still tried to walk with the pain. Finally a friend and a doctor convinced me to find a post polio doctor.
When I was diagnosed with post polio my new doctor told me that I was not to walk any more than absolutely necessary. She said that I needed to use a power chair, and the manual chair would not do as my arms were also effected by polio. I had a scooter that I had used occasionally when needed and I started using that until I could get an electric wheelchair. I felt like the scooter made me look less handicapped. I hesitated to use a power chair. Using the scooter in the house was difficult as it was large and took up a lot of room.
Once I was able to get a power chair, I found that the whole world opened up to me once more. In fact there were things that I could do from the chair that I could not do with my crutches. I had always had to have either my husband or one of my boys help me do grocery shopping. I could push a cart but getting the bags in and out of the car and into the house was impossible. For the first time with a scooter or with a power chair I was free to shop on my own. Yes, sometimes I needed to ask for help reaching things being vertically challenged sitting, but I have quickly learned that people in general are more than glad to give a helping hand. I have also found out that helping someone else makes people feel good.
I have been using my power chair for about fifteen years now. I go to work in a business that my youngest son and I own. I manage the business end doing the books and answering the emails. I paint and sell my paintings. I even have taken care of my grandson when he was a baby from my scooter, and power chair. I found it much easier to care for a baby from my chair than it was walking with crutches. Lots of things have become easier I can carry things and move items around in the house. For the first time I can actually carry a plate of food to the table.
My world opened up rather than closed down with the use of a power chair. There are some downsides, but as a whole having the use and maneuverability of the chair is liberating.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Artist Statement
I never really thought about doing an artist statement until my son, Lewis' girl friend asked me if I had an artist statement. I have painted and will continue to paint the things that I love. But this started me thinking about what I would write as an artist statement for my work.
It is more than obvious that I can not go there. I searched the web for photos of Icebergs that inspired me.Why do I paint? What drives me to paint the things that I paint. Why somethings fascinate me and other things, places, objects do nothing for my artistic sensibilities. I have given this much thought.
The natural world always fascinates me. I have always been drawn to nature, even as a young child. The way that light plays against objects and nature, and clouds casting shadows across mountains tops never fail to capture my interest. I seek a way to paint nature in order to show the wonder that I feel. I loved taking walks in the fields, in the forest, through mountain trails, along streams and a walk along the shore. I no longer can walk as I have to use a power wheel chair to get where i want to go. I enjoy nature none the less for being a little more remote from nature than I would like.
I remember my grandfather quoting the Bible "The heavens declare the glory of the Lord and the firmament shows His handy work." This made an impression and I began to see the majesty of the world around me. I do not want to paint just pretty little paintings, but paintings that were more than pictures. I wanted to have my feelings projected as well or provoke feelings for the viewer.
I have been a keen observer of nature. Sometimes I have sat in the car and watched the changes of the landscape and the ever moving clouds as we drive. I have had time to both observe and to draw depth from these observations. I paint nature as I see and feel it, trying to paint more than just a hill or a mountain, but that mountain or hill as the clouds cast their shadow over it and the sun plays upon their surfaces. I want to give the viewer something of the way I feel about nature as I paint it.
Not being able to get to as many places that I would like to paint I have to sometimes rely on photos that I have taken or ones taken by someone else. In these I still interpret what I see drawing from my observations of nature, and how I personally feel about the subject I paint.
I recently have been alarmed by Global Warming and the effects that it is having on our world particularly on our Polar Caps. Our Northern and Southern Poles are fast melting and great chunks of ice are falling away. So I have endeavored to paint some Icebergs before they are no longer there.
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| Fantastic Iceberg Photo |
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