My dahlias are finally starting to
bloom. This is one of my favorites and I have a couple of clumps of them. And there's a little red one photo bombing. So
far, just two are blooming, but there’ll be lots more as summer continues. I’ll
also add photos of the others that are just now beginning to bud.
I don’t know about you, but dahlias
fascinate me, mainly because there are so many shapes, sizes and colors. I
wouldn’t mind having a lot more than what I already have, but I’m not sure where
I’d put them unless I dug up all the lilies and I cannot do that.
Sunday was my mother’s birthday. Her
name was Ella (no middle initial) and she would have been 99 years old. I didn’t
write about her on Sunday, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t think about her
or my dad, Art. He was born on July 12th in 1923, and they would have
celebrated their 72nd anniversary on July 23rd if they’d
both been alive. Once I was old enough to earn my own money or save money, July
was a financial hardship when it came to purchasing cards and/or gifts. I guess
you could say I’ve thought of them the entire month and it would have been
wonderful to go shopping for that special card/gift for each of them.
When I think of them together, I don’t
believe I’ve ever really known another couple, older, my age or younger who
were actually a couple like my parents. They seemed to be on the same page in
just about every situation and when daddy needed support, mom provided and
vice-versa. I do so wish they could have lived on together rather than having
dad go and then mom wait for those 20 long years to pass until she could join
him.
When we lived in Idaho, daddy “brought
home the bacon,” and momma “cooked it up in the frying pan.” I cannot imagine
how daddy could have gone so far beneath the ground in that silver mine and
stay sane. I cannot imagine how my mom must have felt when that dreaded whistle
blew signaling a cave-in. Thankfully, daddy was never involved in one, but I’m
sure mom didn’t rest easy until he either called or came home.
When I thought of daddy calling, it
brought to mind the telephone we had in our house in Idaho. It was on the wall
and you talked into the front of the phone and held the receiver up to your ear.
The cord wasn’t very long, so you kinda had to stay right there…probably why
there were never many long conversations. It was also on a party line. I think,
but am not sure, there was someone located elsewhere that answered and
connected the various phone calls. Your phone had a distinctive ring and you
had to listen for it. If it rang differently, then it was for someone else on
the party line. There were rude people who listened in to other folks’
conversations. I wasn’t old enough then to be able to do that, but it sounds
like fun now…sort of like the slumber parties of my youth where we’d call
places and ask if they had “Prince Albert in a can?” and then tell them to let
him out.
Mom and dad came to Seattle to visit family
during the summer of 1953. Mom came back alone, sold the house (just the house,
the mine owned the land), packed us up and got us moved to Seattle to one of
dad’s relative’s homes. It was both exciting and terrifying, but a great
example of mom supporting dad’s choice and assuming the responsibility for
getting us there while he worked at his new job.
Once we were all in Seattle, my
parents had to find us a house. I don’t remember too much about that, only that
I began fourth grade at West Woodland Elementary School which was a partner
school to WPZoo when I worked there. I had to transfer to B.F. Day when we
moved into our new house. It was located in Fremont, consisted of three city
lots and a two-story house and cost my parents an even $5,000…can you imagine???
They’d both be amazed at what that property is worth today.
Some old woman had lived in the house
and done a lot of repairs and stuff herself. She wasn’t very good, so my dad
had to step in and fix whatever needed fixing. But she had planted a lot of
great stuff. We had grapes (tried to make wine as a kid, but didn’t work),
gooseberries (they were yummy, but these worms always appeared and ate them
faster than I could), a peach, plum, pear and cherry tree (mom cut down the
cherry tree…I always thought she was afraid I’d try to climb out my bedroom
window and down, but maybe not), and boysenberries. I’ve never thought about
it, but now I’m wondering why there wasn’t an apple tree.
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| Mom & Dad, 1959 |
While mom was back in Idaho packing us
up, or possibly before, daddy was injured at the canning factory. I don’t
recall the injury…something with his hand maybe…but he couldn’t go to work for
a spell. That meant no money coming in and there were no organizations back
then that helped families like mine when there was a need. I actually remember
daddy crying at the dinner table because he was unable to provide for us.
Again, mom provided dad with support
and found a job at Kress’ Dimestore in downtown Seattle. I have no idea how
much she made, if she made enough to pay all the bills or what, but there was
food on the table, the lights were on and we were all together. And remember,
this was a time when moms didn’t work outside the home. I didn’t much like the
fact she had a job and no longer had the time to make all those yummy cakes and
pies she’d made in Idaho.
Eventually daddy healed up and went
out looking for work. I don’t know if it wasn’t a good time to be looking for a
job, but he finally found one cleaning up the Albertson’s bakery on Magnolia.
It worked out well for him because he went from washing those huge mixing bowls
to filling them, to baking what came out and decorating some beautiful cakes…he
did our wedding cake. From that point on, we always had a “fancy” birthday cake
as opposed to homemade. And, eventually that clean-up man became a bakery
manager.
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| Dad & AJ, 1974 |
I’ve never known for sure if mom
needed, as in have to, keep working for the paycheck. I believe it was probably
the case because once Grandma moved to California, mom would talk to me about
their money problems…having to rob Paul to pay Peter was a favorite phrase for
her. I also don’t know if mom and dad had the same discussions or if it was a
case where mom didn’t want to worry dad, so she talked to me instead. Whatever
the case, I’ve worried about money my entire life; and even now, I’m oh so very
careful “just in case.” I don’t ever want to rob Peter to pay Paul.
Birthdays and holidays, and even some
regular days, were almost always pretty good. There was lots of laughter from
both mom and dad and when I look at some of the old photos, I can actually
remember the occasion and what we were doing and/or receiving. I always knew I
was loved, felt I was loved and in return, loved them both so very much. Today
I wish I had way more photos than I actually do. Today, and actually on 7/12,
7/23 and 7/26, I do so wish mom and dad had both been available. I’m sure my
hugs would have been a comfort to them, but their hugs would have meant the
absolute world to me. Still, I was blessed…am blessed.
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