Yarrow is a wonderful plant. I believe
I had some yellow yarrow once upon a time, but what inhabits my yard now is
this wonderful almost neon pink. It does have a tendency to lay over, but I
have a grid with legs that I put in place and that seems to keep it upright. I
actually needed to add another grid but never got around to it, so I’ll
probably have some layovers unless the cosmos grows enough to hold it up.
Right now, on Saturday morning, I’m
taking a break from trying to get the dog hair out of the couch cushions. I use
a cover that’s supposed to keep the hair off the cushions, but apparently, it’s
not working very well. It’s that or I need to take the cover off and wash it
more often than I have been. I’m using my vacuum hose with a brush attachment,
but neither one seems to work very well.
That’s why I’m at the computer. I
decided I’d go online and see if anyone out there had a solution for my
problem. The dog hairs look perfectly straight, but I swear they have a little
hook at one end that refuses to give up its grip on the woven fabric. I also
wish I’d thought of that when I ordered new cushions a couple of years ago. Do
not get a couch or cushions with woven fabric if you have a dog…the dog hairs
will get into the weave and do not want to come out.
I’ve used one suggestion which is
those lint rollers, but again, there are dog hairs that have a far stronger
attraction for the weave than the sticky stuff…can you imagine that??? Another
suggestion was to use a rubber glove and move your hand over the cushion. So,
I’m off to give that a try. I do have rubber gloves since I wear them for
almost everything…just never thought I’d use them dry on my couch.
Well, it works, sorta. If I keep the
vacuum in one hand and use the other gloved hand, the hairs do come out better
than any other method I’ve found. I still believe, however, that some of
Karma’s hairs have little barbs on the end because judging by the color, they
are hers. Unfortunately, it’s hard work and I had to stop with one cushion to
go because my hands were sweaty inside the gloves and the rest of me was sweaty
too. I think this method worked really well for the woman who posted the idea
because she has Labs and their hair is longer…and I thought that black lab hair
was so bad all the years we had them.
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| Jack Edgar, 1963 |
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| Reva Edgar, 1963 |
While I was waiting for the couch
cover to finish drying, I opened the little box of photos for the period
1945-1963 and found a photo of the man who was like a grandfather to me. Jack
and his wife Reva lived next door to my family in Fremont. Reva’s sister Ruby lived with them as
well. They all took an interest in the neighborhood kids and owned a little café
that was around the corner and down the block. It was always fun to hang out on
their front porch because their interest was genuine…a kid can always tell.
One of the specialties of their café were
these cinnamon rolls Ruby made. She used potato water from all the potatoes
they cooked and when the rolls were done, they were about three inches tall and
were very caramelly. Later on when I moved into my apartment, I would go by
there every morning as I walked to my job which was just across the street from
their cafe and get a cinnamon roll. Ruby gave me the recipe, but I never had a
pan large enough and the only time I tried to make them, I ended up with about
100 smaller ones that weren’t the same at all.
When
I turned 16, I wanted to learn to drive so badly, and Jack became my first
instructor. He owned a Pontiac Bonneville which was a huge boat of a car. I
felt very small, but also very brave driving it around with Jack in the shotgun
seat. He never lost his temper or appeared nervous with me behind the wheel and
I believe that helped a lot when it came to learning.
When I graduated from high school,
their gift to me was a Samsonite suitcase because I was going to become an
airline stewardess when I turned 21. Even though that didn’t happen because I
married John when I was 20, they remained in touch over the years.
At one point, they sold the house next
door as well as their little café and purchased a duplex in Ballard just off
Eighth Avenue. Jack had had a stroke and about the only thing that was affected
was his speech. He could still talk, but this wonderful man who spoke perfect
English was reduced to spitting out swear words the majority of the time. Until
then, I’d never heard him swear at all. It was so frustrating for him and for
those of us who loved him.
After he died, I remained in touch
with Reva and Ruby and assisted them however I was able. I remember them coming
to dinner at the little house I rented when John and I were separated. Reva was
wearing a wonderful fur coat, so soft and elegant. The following Christmas she
gifted it to me. I wore it for many years when it became very cold; and did you
know the colder it becomes, the less heavy a fur coat is? It still hangs in my
closet a bit worse for wear, but I always think if Reva and Jack when I see it
there.
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| R-L, Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring |
Ruby was an artist and made paintings
using dyed egg shells. I purchased the Four Seasons from her at some point in
time and it’s hung over my fireplace for the last 45-50 years. It was amazing
what this woman could do with a piece of plywood, crushed egg shells and food
coloring. She would draw the design on the plywood and then painstakingly glue
the colored eggshells in place with tweezers and toothpicks. I also have two still
lifes I inherited when Reva passed on and wish I’d bought the one she did of
banyan trees with sun shining through the leaves.
One morning when AJ was about five, I
got a phone call from Ruby. Reva had
died in her sleep and could I come. John and I got a babysitter for AJ (my
parents I think) and went to Ballard. The mortuary hadn’t come for Reva yet and
she was laying on her side in bed as though peacefully asleep. I was sad to have
her leave us and decided I would help Ruby however I could.
One thing John and I did not know was
that Ruby had a serious drinking problem. Perhaps Jack and Reva kept her sober
most of the time, plus when we did find out, it was clear she was very good at
hiding the problem. Reva was taken away and almost immediately, Ruby began
telling John and I to pack up every single thing in that side of the duplex and
take it to Goodwill. We did our best to convince her to wait a while, but she was
very insistent about needing to rent that side of the duplex as soon as
possible. There didn’t seem to be anyone else in her life we could consult or
talk to, so we returned for several days in a row to pack up Reva’s life.
Reva had some wonderful things that
still adorn my house. Each time I found something I thought was worth money or
worth Ruby keeping, I’d seek her out and ask her about that item. Nope, was
always her response…I want it all gone. This even included Reva’s wedding ring
which I still have. Besides the furniture, the only stuff Reva kept were cleaning
supplies, toilet paper and paper towels. All the rest was boxed up and lugged to
our home.
John’s mother took the majority of Reva’s
clothing to disperse to other older women who were in need. She also took a lot
of the kitchen pots and pans and other items for the same purpose. Reva had a
lot of costume jewelry which I gave to John’s niece. I now wish I hadn’t been
so quick to give it up because I’m now sure there was much of value there, but
what did I know at the age of 30. The remainder of Reva’s household went into
one of the two or three garage sales I held in the time I’ve lived here.
It was probably the last day we were there
or shortly after when we went to check on Ruby that these two women showed up.
I now believe they were a couple, but in 1975, being gay wasn’t something you
advertised. It was from them we learned about Ruby’s drinking problem. We were
shocked and astonished and offered to return everything we’d boxed up and still
had. They told us to not worry about that and proceeded to do what they could
to stop Ruby’s drinking.
I tried to
stay in touch with Ruby and those two women, but the three of them effectively
shut me out. I would call and get no answer (no answering machines then). I’d
go by and no one would come to the door. I’d leave notes and receive no
response. Finally, I stopped and hoped Ruby would get in touch at some point.
She never did. I don’t know what happened to her or those other two women.
I
am thankful for the memories of have of Jack, Reva and Ruby. They added a lot
to both my child and young adulthood. I treasure the three eggshell mosaics Ruby
made as well as Reva’s fur coat, wedding ring and a couple of other decorations
that still remind me of all three. I did get to tell Jack I loved him, but Reva
went so unexpectedly, that didn’t happen. And, as for Ruby, I’m sorry I never
got to say goodbye.