DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL...

This is a photo from May 1949. It shows my sister, Natalie, just under two-and-a-half years old. She is with our Dad in the backyard of the old family home at the time on what was then known as DeKalb Street. 

In what appears to be a warm Spring day, Dad is wearing a t-shirt with his jacket hanging on the fence. Natalie is wearing a short-sleeved top and coordinated pants and shoes. Natalie is also wearing a mischievous grin on her little face...one that I had come to recognize and see often throughout the years. 

Natalie & Dad on DeKalb Street - May 1949

In my mind's eye, I imagine that the smile on this little one's face was an attempt to charm her way out of whatever mischief she was planning or had just accomplished. Of course, none of this was lost on my father. 

Dad knew his children well, and the love in his heart for his little girl simply jumps off the photograph, as the expression on his face proves. If I had to make a guess... I'd say Natalie's winning smile did the trick. Oh, what a character! Love and miss them both.

TWO-YARD PENALTY...UNNECESSARY BAGEL ROUGHNESS...

A train station coffee kiosk

This tale relates an incident that happened to me about fifteen years ago. It is not genealogy-related by definition, though one might argue that it is a page out of my personal history book.

I was working in a downtown bank in Chicago many years ago, and as many others before or since, I took a local commuter train to work every morning. Upon reaching the final stop, all passengers are instructed to pick up their personal belongings and exit the train into the station. The train station has a food court in the lower level. It also has a strategically placed coffee bar or kiosk on the upper floor, for those riders needing a jolt of caffeine to start their day. There was no escape from the intoxicating coffee aroma emanating from that kiosk as you entered the station. In the early morning hours, there is generally a crowd of people standing in line to get their daily fix of caffeine, this particular day was no exception. I took my place in line and waited my turn. Nearing the front of the counter to place my order, I could see that I was next in line for my least favorite server. There must be an invisible sign that flashes over my head that reads 'all morons follow me.' I say this because I always seem to attract the worst or rudest waitperson possible.

I stepped up to the counter and ordered my usual breakfast…a medium coffee with cream and sugar, a plain bagel, and plain cream cheese on the side. The surly server, that I'll refer to as Suzie rang up my order. I handed over my money, and Suzie poured my coffee. She added the cream and sugar, and I thought to myself…so far, so good. Suzie also handed me a bag with a bagel and cream cheese.

Unfortunately, it was not the plain bagel and plain cream cheese that I had ordered or expected. It was an onion bagel with a veggie spread. I handed the bag back to Suzie and repeated my order to her. She rolled her eyes at me, took the paper sack, and walked away. After a few minutes, good old Suzie came back with another bag. This one contained a toasted raisin bagel with melted butter. It was tossed into the bag without ceremony or any additional protective paper around it to prevent the oily mess from seeping through the bottom.

I called my "favorite" server over again and reminded her of my order for the second time. She snatched the greasy bag out of my hand and walked away. A few minutes later, Surly Suzie was back with yet another mystery bag. I was beginning to feel like I was on a game show trying to guess what was behind door number three. Not knowing what I would find this go-round, I carefully opened this bag, to find that the bagel it contained was listed on the menu board as an 'everything' bagel. There were no spreads of any kind included this time...just a single sheet of bakery tissue.

At this point, I had had about as much as I could take of this nitwit. I dropped the bag on the counter with a slight thud and called Suzie over once again. I told her that she had gotten my order wrong for the third time. She said to me in her usual gruff tone, "don't be so rough with the bagels." If I hadn't been so annoyed, I would have laughed. Instead of being apologetic for her repeated bungling of my order, Suzie grabbed the bag from me (roughly, I might add), and walked away. Before correcting her mistake, she decided to hold a sidebar conversation with one of her coworkers about the situation. Standing a mere six feet away, I could hear the entire discussion. I was quickly running out of patience and decided to interrupt the character-assault on my personality. I not so gently reminded Suzie that instead of talking about me, her time would be better spent getting my order right. If not, I would be speaking to the manager. After another minute or so, and a couple of scoffs and smirks later… Suzie was back with yet another bag. A miracle of miracles, this bag contained my original and finally correct order. The only problem now was that my coffee was cold.

I wasn't in the mood to go another round with Suzie, and have her possibly spit in my cup. I grabbed my bag, cold coffee, and what was left of my dignity and started to leave. Usually, I let stuff like this go. On this particular morning, however, this rude and incompetent person behind the counter had tap-danced on my last nerve. I stepped over to the side of the kiosk to talk to the manager about my experience. I suggested that service with a smile might be a better approach from his waitstaff than eye rolls, snarky attitudes, and blatant incompetence. From the expression on his face, I suspect that I wasn't the first person to complain about his stellar employee. He apologized and promised to address the situation.

After that day, I never saw Surly Suzie again, so perhaps the manager was a man of his word. It was never my intention to get her fired, and maybe she wasn't. I will never know. I do believe, however, that when you work with the public, you should strive to provide excellent service, and when you don't …you should be held accountable. I also believe that companies should be held responsible for the way that their employees treat their customers, that is…if they want to retain them. Service with a smile is not that difficult of a concept and should be practiced regularly.

Definitely Not Suzie!

RESOURCES:

https://www.gettyimages.com/

Rolleyes emoji - mondspeer on DevianArt

WHERE THERE'S A WILL...

I've been spending the last couple of months organizing and sorting through some of my clutter. I'm not proud of it, but I've discovered what a hoarder I've become through this process. Don't get me wrong, I'm not enough of a hoarder to be the subject of a television show or worthy of a news story. Nor is there a need to wear a hazmat suit to walk through my house... but still, a hoarder just the same.

This Is Not My House!!

One of my favorite hobbies is genealogy. Anyone that has ever dabbled in this science knows that the accumulation of documents, photographs, memorabilia, and books is part of the fun of it. Organizing and cataloging these items requires a will of iron, and can take months or weeks. If you've been researching your family tree long enough, …it can take years. If you have multiple interests, such as collecting antiques, books, or crafting…your "clutter" will be multiplied tenfold. Add on top of all that, the day-to-day junk that we accumulate, and you've got yourself quite a mess.


My catharsis began by ridding myself of paper...lots of it. Old magazines with articles that I will never read or ideas I will never try. Stacks of junk mail, statements for accounts I no longer own, recipes that I will never make...you get the point. Papers were coming out of every orifice of my home. It's been driving me crazy for quite a while.

I decided to grab the bull by the horns so to speak, and try the Marie Kondo philosophy of getting rid of those things that no longer give me joy. So far, I have filled three tall kitchen bags with the shredded remains of the joyless paper stacks, and there is enough shredding left to fill another 3-4. The problem is that instead of holding on to paper, I now copy and save links to the articles & various websites. The snowball effect of that is...I forget I have the hyperlink, and now instead of physical clutter...I have a lot of 'cyber clutter.' On the bright side... now at least it is only visible to me...on my phone, iPad, and laptop. It's like shoving everything into a room, and shutting the door when guests are on their way over. I've never done that mind you, but I've heard some people do. Somehow, I don't think that is what Marie Kondo had in mind.

I will probably never become a minimalist, but I must admit throwing stuff out, giving it away, or shredding it into a million pieces can be very therapeutic. I've been putting together a game plan on how to approach the rest of my stuff...books, craft materials, and other miscellaneous dust collectors. My problem is...I like my stuff! I don't know if any of it 'gives me joy' exactly...but it does give me comfort.


Organizing my home is long overdue. It is one of my resolutions for this year. Sadly, it is a resolution I make every year... along with going on a diet and exercising. This time I mean it! It may take me the rest of the year, however, but I'm bound and determined to get it done!! After all, where there's a will... there is a way. Right? As for going on a diet and exercise... baby steps.

RESOURCES:

http://clipart-library.com/

https://konmari.com/

READIN' & WRITIN'...

The love of reading was something that my mother instilled in me at a very young age...three-and-a half-months-old, to be exact. 

Here I am, in my usual "loungewear" during that time of my life. My trusty pencil behind my ear, and a book in my hand. Looking off into the distance for a quiet place in which to concentrate, I've no doubt that I'm on the verge of writing a spellbinding review of Peter Pan, a much-loved book. 

Other than the fact that I now have slightly longer hair, and have managed to avoid diapers so far... not much has changed over the years. I still love to read and write and spend a lot of time doing both whenever I can. 

Sepia Saturday Photo Challenge #517

LANDING THE SECOND PUNCH...

When you lob an insult, it's bound to land somewhere. Since you can't hurt feelings of an inanimate object… it's safe to assume that the lobbed insult will land on a person. One can only hope that the recipient has thick enough skin to cushion the blow, and if not, …here's hoping you can run really fast!

The story I'm about to relate may not be one that you might typically find on a genealogy blog or a history blog for that matter. It is, however, a part of my personal history, and so I'm qualifying it as a family story.

 If ignorance is bliss, then I ran into one of the happiest people on earth several months ago. Let me say that I do not dress up on the weekends to run errands. On this particular morning, I went to the hardware store to pick up a couple of those 3M removable hangers. I thought I looked particularly chic that morning, [said with a shrug]. In my standard weekend attire of jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers, and no makeup, I bumped into this woman that I had worked with a couple of years ago. She always seemed to be a pleasant individual, and so when she approached me in the store, I greeted her with a friendly smile and said, 'hello.' Her response to me was slightly less social when she said, 'hi, you know you should never leave the house without makeup' and proceeded to walk away. I was somewhat taken aback. The unsolicited comment from someone who didn't exactly look like a page out of Vogue magazine either, [and for the record, never did] was rude and insulting. 

  

I admit that my tongue has always been a little sharp, but I generally do not go out of my way to hurt a person's feelings, because I'm not too fond of it when it happens to me. It serves no purpose. That doesn't mean that I don't mutter under my breath or make snarky comments while being gossipy with a friend. After all, I'm not a saint, but I try to keep it to a minimum and, at the very least, not do it in public. So, shortly after the verbal vomit that I had just been subjected to...I found myself following behind for a few steps and plotting what I would say to my former coworker in response. 

As we were both approaching the exit, the moment arrived. In a clear, unemotional voice, I snapped back ...' well, you may be right about my appearance but, at least when I put makeup on...I know how to do it. Would you like me to help you with yours?' I left her standing there with a slightly stunned expression on her face as I continued to walk out of the store.  

I will never understand anyone that thinks it is okay to insult, belittle, or try to embarrass another human being, all in the name of "constructive criticism." When the shoe is on the other foot, however, and the "critic" becomes the target of the negative remarks, they are often astonished or incensed. I'm sure when she told her family and friends about the incident, she was the innocent victim, and I was the instigator. I will say that it was not one of my proudest moments, and I hate that she reduced me to her level of ignorance, but it did feel good to give back as good as I got for once.  

Maybe the moral of this story ended up being...never mess with a woman wearing jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers, and no makeup! I would have much preferred...treat others the way you want to be treated...with kindness and respect. Maybe next time.

  

RESOURCES:

https://www.fotosearch.com/clip-art/

TAKE A DEEP BREATH...

     Other than the obvious definition for the word air, it can also be defined as a way to express, vent, utter, voice, or broach. To make known what one thinks or feels. An impulse to reveal in words, gestures, actions, or what one creates or produces.[i]

     I was ‘up in the air’ on how to approach this week’s post. Do I take the word literally and write about oxygen? I can point out the fact that you can’t live without it. Or, sometimes, when it’s humid outside, the air is so thick, you can cut it with a knife. 

     Maybe I should write about the time I broke up with an old boyfriend over the phone because he made a promise and didn’t keep it. That was a deal-breaker for me. When he tried to call a week or so later, acting like nothing happened, I hung up the phone. I guess you could call that ‘giving someone the air.’ 

     What about a cute little story about the pair of socks that go into the dryer, and somehow only one comes out? The other one seems to disappear ‘into thin air’ or does it? I suspect there is a parallel universe out there that has a multitude of single socks, wondering what happened to their mates.

     A story on one of my ancestors, a great aviator with many adventures while soaring through the air, could be interesting. The problem is, I don’t have any aviators in my family and so no adventures to write about. Or... I could write about a hot air balloon ride, except I’ve never been on one, so I have no point of reference...  

     Who would have thought that a word representing something that comes as naturally to every healthy human being as breathing in and out, would be so challenging to write about?  I may need to sit back, take a deep breath, and let the air clear before I tackle this one.

---

[i] https://www.thefreedictionary.com/air

THAT DOGGONE DOG NEXT DOOR...

I like my condo. I'm comfortable in it, and the building and grounds are well-maintained. It's also a relatively quiet building. "Quiet," however, is a relative term. By "relative," I'm referring to my neighbor's relatives, along with the little 4-legged monster staying with her.

For a little background on this story, let me start out by saying that my neighbor is actually very sweet. She’s 90-years-old and technically lives alone. That was not always the case. Her daughter is the actual owner of her condo, and was living there when I first bought my unit. When the daughter got married about 15 years ago, her new husband moved in too. As the saying goes…

“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage.”

The baby was a screamer. He had a non-stop, ear-piercing scream that was only overshadowed by his non-stop, running back and forth across hardwood floors once he learned how to walk. Eventually the daughter, son-in-law, and by then, the five-year-old holy terror of a grandson moved out. Peace had come at long last…unfortunately, it wouldn’t last long enough.

Last year was a particularly challenging one for my neighbor, and subsequently, me. Several incidents occurred throughout the year, which would make a weaker person weep. I won’t go into too many of the details because this post would end up being longer than Tolstoy’s War and Peace. Let’s just say that sometime around the end of summer, my neighbor’s daughter decided it was time to renovate, as a result of some of these challenges. All of the flooring, cabinetry, bathroom fixtures…the whole shebang. Unfortunately, none of the work was done by professionals, and so, it was and is taking forever. The past 6-months have been like living in a warzone, and it’s not over yet. The noise level is off the charts, but to make matters worse…

Let me introduce you to Cujo. Before you ask…no, that’s not his real name, and no, he does not turn into an enormous, rabid dog monster... he just acts like one. This Cujo… is a small dog… a Yorkshire Terrier without the fancy haircut. He’s actually very cute but seems to suffer from a sort of short dog complex (if there is such a thing). He tries to exert his authority by growling and barking, as loud as his little lungs will allow... all day long!! I fully expect to hear him howling at the moon one of these nights. 

Cujo technically belongs to my neighbor’s holy terror of a grandson, who is now about 12 or 13-years-old. The dog has been staying with my neighbor for the past several months during all of the construction. It makes little to no sense to me as to why you would have a small, uncontrollable animal running around the house while you’re trying to rehab it… but I digress. My fear is Cujo is moving in permanently. 😩

Since my neighbor is up in years with limited mobility, her grandson comes over every day to walk the dog. He seems to be a good kid, but…he is a child and needs boundaries (and I need soundproofing in my ceiling). There is something that is sorely lacking in his upbringing. For example, the other day, my neighbor’s grandson was on his skateboard riding back and forth… popping wheelies… on the newly installed hardwood floors, right above my head. Skateboarding in the living room. Chasing the dog from room-to-room. Slamming the backdoor on each trip in and out of the building. Running up and down the stairs. Pounding his feet onto each wooden tread, like a double exclamation point at the end of a sentence. Just a few of the sound effects, I've enjoyed over recent months. I spoke to the grandson about the skateboarding in the house, and also asked that he try to tread a little lighter on the backstairs and go easy on the door slamming, but he is a kid, and as they say, kids will be kids. Of course, it is also said that children learn by example. Just remember...if never disciplined when these examples go awry…one day you may find them building a fire pit in the middle of your hardwood floors…it’s something to think about. As for Cujo, one or two semesters at a doggy charm school or better still…reform school, (take your pick) wouldn’t hurt him a bit.

Last Saturday afternoon, I was in the basement doing laundry. There was an unmistakable odor of gas in the air. I knocked on my neighbor’s backdoor. She didn’t answer right away, and I was concerned that she might have been overcome by the smell, so I knocked harder. This time, she opened the door. She seemed a little frazzled and slightly annoyed. I told her I smelled gas and wanted to make sure she was alright, and maybe she should check her stove. She looked at me like she thought I was crazy and had no idea why I would assume the smell was coming from her unit (hmm…maybe because it's happened before? 🤔).

Meanwhile, Cujo came flying out of nowhere…and charged the enemy line, i.e., me. He jumped up and tried to bite me. Luckily, he only tore a hole in the knee of my jeans and not my actual kneecap. I still don’t know if I was more shocked by the fact that this little mutt was able to jump that high… or that he tried to bite me. In either case, the dog had to be restrained because he was still operating in attack mode, even after I swatted him across the nose.

Once things calmed down, my neighbor took me into her kitchen so that I could see for myself that her stove was just fine. As it turned out… the gaseous odor that was permeating the hallways of the building was actually some kind of culinary delight that she was whipping up on her stovetop. Based on the smell alone… I think she should have ordered a pizza.

As for the star of this post… not much has changed. Cujo still growls and barks at every sound he hears and tries to lunge at anyone that comes within ten feet of him. On our few run-ins, and after glowering at each other suspiciously, Cujo and I have reached an understanding. I don’t like him, and well… he doesn’t like anybody.

SOURCES:

The Yorkie sketches appearing in this post are based on photographs. The sources of the photos are listed below:

https://yorkiemag.com/parti-yorkies/

https://w-dog.pw/wallpaper/yorkshire-terrier-new-york-dog-running-grass-lawn/id/262385/

BROTHER, CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?

     Emotions ran high during the Great Depression. Often, ordinary Americans didn't know where their next meal was coming from during the eleven years that marked this devastating period in our nation's history. Anyone that lived through that overwhelming time will tell you that it was one of, if not the worst times of their life.  It did, however, hone their survival skills, help to shape their views on unnecessary spending, and develop an understanding of what was truly important in life. There's nothing that comes close to a comparison with it in today's world. The United States would rebound around the start of World War II and, eventually, prosperity as we now know it would return.

     The question, however, is precisely how do you define prosperity? Most people would say that it is defined as success in business or an opulent lifestyle, the good life, or living in the lap of luxury.  That was certainly the definition before the Great Depression, and in many cases …that's still how it's defined.

      The roaring twenties, it was called, was known for its rapid growth, both economically and through the many advances made in manufacturing.  But what exactly made them 'roar'? After World War I, manufacturing's focus shifted from the needs of the military to those of the consumer. The war was over, and people were ready and willing to receive all of the innovations that we take for granted today.  Items like radios, phonographs, refrigerators, and vacuum cleaners were now all within reach.

      Henry Ford's American auto company…Ford Motor Company, flourished. Automobiles were mass-produced on moving assembly lines, which helped increase production and reduce costs. By 1927, Ford had produced the last Model T and the first Model A automobile.[1]  

Uncle Carl & friends out stylin' in their Model T - 1927

     The philosophy of the day was to "live now…pay later." Any American that had a job was now able to purchase these modern marvels on easy credit plans, and they quickly took advantage of that philosophy much to their later regret. No one knew then that the bottom would drop out by the end of the decade.[2]

      The U.S. economy, highly influenced by legislation, introduced reduced taxes on the wealthy and the businesses in America, encouraging growth and sparking an economic boom along with the rise in stock market investments. It is based upon the belief that if the government did what it could to foster private business, prosperity would ultimately include most of the rest of the population. Unfortunately, the over-production of goods eclipsed product demands. European countries imposing taxes on American exports made them too expensive to buy in Europe. [3]

      In hindsight, it's evident that this was a house of cards that wouldn't or couldn't sustain itself for long. Over-production of these items and the inability to move them off the shelves because of the excessive taxes would lead to factory closings and layoffs. People were now living above their means and couldn't pay back the money they borrowed and used to purchase many of these luxury items. 

      Bank closures left thousands of Americans without money. The death-knell came with the stock market crash of October 1929, which wiped out the paper value of common stock. By the time 1932 rolled around, just about one in every four Americans was unemployed.

      It would take many years before I fully comprehended all that ordinary Americans, the backbone of this country went through during that time. I cannot un-hear the stories of what it was like to grow up during the Depression…children, having to get a job to help support the family. Adults doing without so that their children could eat. Proud people that would never imagine having to take handouts or eat in a soup kitchen but were now thankful that they existed. If history has taught us anything, it's that placing too much stock in material things can have disastrous results.

      In keeping with that thought, I am revising the definition of prosperity. It is not in the intrinsic value of one's possessions. It is found in the pride felt by helping others and knowing that you've made a difference in their lives. It's in loving one's family and having that love reciprocated. It's in giving up the only way of life that you've ever known to make a better one for your family the way our ancestors did and knowing that it is appreciated...this is real prosperity.




NOTE:  I have attached a YouTube video below of the song “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime,” sung by Bing Crosby in 1932. It includes photos from that era. Enjoy!  


https://youtu.be/ovndTa7hQDE






Resources

---

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ford_Motor_Company
[2] http://www.american-historama.org/1913-1928-ww1-prohibition-era/roaring-twenties.htm

[3] http://www.american-historama.org/1913-1928-ww1-prohibition-era/roaring-twenties.htm