Monday, December 8, 2014

Christmas Tea


I love the Christmas season.  It's my favorite time of the year.  But I also find that I am easily depressed during the Christmas season also.  I don't enjoy Thanksgiving.  I find it too sad and depressing each year as I grow older.  There are so many memories of family and those who are no longer with us.  I try to skip right past those old photos of Mom's house with the roast turkey and the family around the table.  It's just too difficult remember my grandmother and my aunts and the rest of the family.  Once I get past Thanksgiving I jump right into the Christmas season.  I start watching Christmas movies.  I break out the Christmas CD's for my car.  And I look for something new each year to make me smile.

It's all very commercial and superficial. And I know this. But I love the trees.  The ornaments.  Even the silly Santa hats.  I try to find one thing for myself each year that will make the holidays brighter.  Two years ago I bought this silly Chevy Chase Griswald's Christmas mug.  Nothing spectacular.  Just a silly mug.  Now it's part of my Christmas tradition and makes me smile each year.  It's much better than the sadness of those old photos from Thanksgiving.  We have tacky Marilyn Monroe mugs that my daughter Danielle bought me for Christmas one year that we now break out on Christmas morning each year for our morning coffee.  There are special plates and dishes we set out for our holiday snacks and sweets.   Yes there are problems in the world and in our country.  And I know I am blessed and have so much to be thankful for that it's silly to get overly sentimental on the holidays.  But something stupid like a holiday mug with Chevy Chase on the front makes me smile.

Last year I bought a special holiday tea to have in the Chevy Chase mug.  It was called Christmas Cookie.  It was terrible!  After steeping it was a cloudy grey mess in mug.  It look like dirty aquarium water.  So the mug made me smile and the tea made me gag.  Not quite the experience I was hoping for.



This year as I prepared for the day to bring out my Chevy Chase Christmas mug I was hoping to find a better tea.  I found one called Cranberry Vanilla Wonderland.  I knew just looking at the package that this would be the one.  It had Cranberry and Vanilla and came in a beautiful Christmassy package.  It was perfect.  The herbs and probably the dye turned my mug into a beautiful red cranberry color unlike the mucky dirty aquarium water from last years selection.  It had a warm vanilla and cranberry scent to it that would be great for a candle also.  So today being a little stressed with finances for the holiday this year, trying to work Christmas spending into a tight budget, I sat down to chill and reflect.  With the cranberry vanilla tea, my holiday mug and a deep cleansing sigh I am ready to forge on and plan tomorrows holiday experience.  I am so glad I found the tea.  It could have turned out much worse.


Friday, July 4, 2014

Bucket List - Visiting Tallulah
















Talking a selfie at Tullulah Bankhead's grave side


I love the internet. I learn little bits of unimportant information almost daily that sudden become important to me.   Several years ago on one of my internet searches I learned that Tallulah Bankhead was buried in Maryland.  Suddenly this little morsel of unimportant information became a fixation for me.  I wanted to find her grave and visit it.  So with a little more research I found out that she was buried in Rock Hall, Maryland. I talked for several years about taking the drive from Baltimore across The Bay Bridge to find the grave but never made the journey.  Last year Mark and I went to see Stephanie Powers in the play Looped.  It's a very funny play about Tallulah Bankhead looping her voice for her for a scene in the movie Die Die My Darling.  While Stephanie was in Baltimore doing the play she took the cast down to Rock Hall to visit Tallulah's grave.  Once again I read this on the internet.  I thought it was a very classy thing for Stephanie to do.  I am a huge fan of Stephanie Powers.  I met her back stage years ago here in Baltimore when she was touring with the musical Applause.  Because I had made a donation to the William Holden Wildlife Fund I was allowed to meet her back stage, have a brief moment to speak with her and received a personalized photo from her.  I was thrilled.  Everyone in front of me was telling her how much they loved her in Hart To Hart.  When I got my turn I told her I was a fan from way back.  I told her how I had first seen her in Palm Springs Weekend and loved her on The Girl From U.N.C.L.E.   She smiled graciously and replied "Oh that makes you a true fan."   The fact that Stephanie visited the grave of Tallulah renewed my interest in visiting the grave also.




I think my interest in Tallulah Bankhead goes back to my childhood.  For some reason my mother used to sing with a Tallulah Bankhead voice to  entertain me.  It always made me hysterical.  Even as I got older I still loved to hear her sing like Tallulah Bankhead.  She also used to sing like Marlene Dietrich sometimes also.  I am not sure why she did this.  Most kids that age have no idea who Tallulah Bankhead is in the first place. Or Marlene Dietrich for that matter.  I can remember watching Jack Paar with my mother when I was very young.  Dad would go to bed because he had to go to work in the morning and Mom and I would stay up to watch The Tonight Show with Jack Paar.  I can remember watching Tallulah Bankhead on his show.  I didn't understand most of what she talked about but I was fascinated with her voice and mannerisms.  I was introduced to so many fascinating characters watching Jack Paar with my mother.  Bette Davis, the writer Alexander King, humorist Jack Douglas, Zsa Zsa Gabor, and Genevieve a French chanteuse.  I always loved to her Genevieve speak.  She had terrible broken English, which I am sure was all part of her act, and her accent fascinated.   To this day French is my favorite language and I am fascinated by all thinks French.  This all must go back to those childhood nights watching Jack Paar with Mom.  I have a photo above of Jack Paar and one of Genevieve.  Funny but when I look at her photo I can still her voice in my head.

So thanks Mom for the introductions to a strange world of celebrities.  And thanks Tallulah for keeping me fascinated all these years and making it to my personal bucket list.











Thursday, June 19, 2014

The Tough Ladies of Locust Point


Locust Point is one of my favorite neighborhoods in Baltimore.  It is slowly being gentrified from a rough working class area into an up and coming neighborhood with trendy bars and remodeled classic Baltimore row houses.  The old concrete silo's and warehouses are now becoming attractive condominiums.  The old form stone covered row houses are now dwarfed by these renovated towers and apartments honoring both the past and the future of this neighborhood.

I started spending time in Locust Point last year.  It's a neighborhood I had not given much thought to in many years.   I was out on one of my photo walks last spring and found myself in the heart of South Baltimore, the Locust Point neighborhood.  My father had sisters who lived in this neighborhood when I was young.  It was a rough working class area that could be dangerous at times.  We would go down to South Baltimore to visit his sisters always making sure all the car doors were locked before leaving the car and watching over our shoulders as we walked to their houses.  When we got ready to leave my Aunts would' always warn us to be careful walking back to the car.  This was the Locust Point of the 1950's.

The lady on the left is my Dad's mother Margaret Sampson.  The lady on the left is his sister Stella.  They lived in this South Baltimore neighborhood.  My Dad's sisters Agnes and Margarette also lived in South Baltimore.   My father's sister Anna Mary lived on the north east side of Baltimore not far from where I live now.  But she traveled by bus each day to Locust Point to work along with Stella and Agnes at the box factory.  They were hard working ladies.  They were not the June Cleavers or Donna Reed's from the television shows.   They were the working class "Roseanne" types of ladies who were worked hard to help support their families.  I have very faint memories of my Grandmother Margaret Sampson.  She died in 1955 when I was three years old.  I have a very brief memory of seeing her at my Aunt Kate's house but no memory of her voice or actions. I was told she loved little boys and would try to hold me on her lap although she was very ill with uterine cancer at the time.


One day last week I found the old box factory where my Aunts used to work.  It still looks like a rough place to work.  Agnes, Stella and Anna Mary all three worked here for many years.  They were all three tiny little Welsh/Irish women.  Stella and Anna Mary looked small and fragile.  Agnes looked tough.  She had tattoo's on her arms and this was in the 1950's before tattoos were acceptable.  But appearances can be deceiving.  Stella and Anna Mary looked fragile but they were as tough as Agnes.  These were not ladies you wanted to mess with.  They worked hard, they liked their beer, and they were not afraid to finish an argument or a fight.  But they were also loving and kind ladies who were proud of their families and would take care of each other.   They would embrace your and kiss you cheek one moment and then let out a profanity that would shock a sailor the next.  When I go to Locust Point today I feel like they are with me.  I can sense them around me when I walk down there taking photos with my camera. I can't go to this area and not think of them.  I didn't know them all that well growing up.  Of all of my father's Baltimore sisters I knew Stella and Anna Mary the best.  Agnes and Margarette were more distant to me.  I only met or saw Margarette a few times usually at family funerals.  She was a large woman and quite loud also and I remember finding her kind of scary as a child.  .  I saw Agnes more often than Margarette but not as often as Stella or Anna Mary.

I walked past the box factory to take my photo and I could almost imagine those three sisters, Agnes, Anna Mary, and Stella standing inside working hard, sweating, and waiting to get off work to walk down to one of the corner bars in South Baltimore for that cold beer they loved so much.  I have a favorite bar in Locust Point now also.  It's quite different from any that they would have recognized.  There are large screen TV's broadcasting the World Cup.  The beer served is craft beer both local and from around the world.  I am not sure how they would have reacted to this.  I don't know if they would have traded their traditional bottles of Natty Boh for one of my craft beers or not.   They probably would have laughed at the idea of watching soccer, not cared for the really hoppy beers, and probably punched out anyone who crossed them.

When I became an adult and we had a family funeral I was given the job to drive the Aunts back to Baltimore City afterwards.  Not one of them had a car or drove.  They lived in the city.  They didn't a car.  We had a funeral for one of my Uncle's during the winter one year.  It had started to snow during the funeral.  Afterwards I had to drive Aunt Anna Mary back her home not far from where I live now.  At the time it seemed a great distance to me though.  As we drove the snow started coming down harder.  Aunt Mary was in the front seat with me.  Her husband Walt was in the back seat.  I don't think I ever heard Walk say a word.  He was very quiet and Aunt Mary always took charge.  I could tell she was getting concerned about the snow.  I thought she was nervous about us driving in the snow.  I told her I was used to to driving in the snow so there was nothing to be concerned about.  Walt laughed out loud.  One of the few times I ever heard him speak.  He said "She's not afraid of your damned driving.  She's afraid she doesn't have any beer at home and might get snowed in!"  She looked over at me and smiled and said "Can you stop at the liquor store on the way to our house."    With the snow coming down I really wanted to just get back home to Harford County before the roads got any worse, but I agreed to stop and pick up a six pack for her.  I parked the car near the liquor store.  Walt stayed in the car while Anna Mary and I went inside the store.  I picked up a six pack for her and she looked at me like I was crazy. " Put that back she snapped at me.  We could be in for a blizzard."  We left the store with two cases of beer.  When it snows in Baltimore people rush out for toilet paper and milk.  Aunt Mary rushed out for a case of Natty Boh.

At another family funeral I was assigned to take Aunt Stella and Aunt Aggie back to South Baltimore afterwards.  They enjoyed the ride home and we talked non stop.  They both called me Little Larry for some reason.  I was never sure why but I never minded it.  They laughed and told me family stories that I had never heard before.  And these two white haired grandmothers were not afraid or ashamed to drop the "f bomb" a couple of hundred times during that forty minute drive.  When I arrived at Aunt Stella's house she told me she would love to have me come in for a few minutes if I didn't mind.  I said sure.  I was enjoying her company and wanted to talk some more.  She said she had to check the house first though and asked me to wait in the car.  She came back to the car all upset and cussing up a storm.  "That f#*king husband of mine isn't home and the friggin pit bulls  are running lose in the house.  They'll rip your leg off if you try to come in."  This was the last time I ever saw Aunt Stella.  But I will never forget that moment.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Waiting for the photo





I am still thinking about photography today.   I wrote a blog about old photos yesterday and this is a follow up to that blog.  I have mentioned any number of times how much I enjoy taking photos.  My Aunt Louise bought me my first camera when I was around nine.  I wrote about that in my very first blog here several years ago. I found the photo above of my exact camera on google.  I was surprised to find the exact one as "Imperial" is not exactly a well known brand.    I was thinking today about how photography has changed in the digital age.  There was an excitement and anticipation about taking photos pre digital.   You would have to go out and buy a roll of film.  I used to like to use Kodak 620 Verichrome Pan.   It would cost me almost a weeks allowance for the roll of film. Ansco film was a little less expensive so I used that often also.   620 Kodacolor was out of my range.   So like most people back then I shot my photos in black and white.



That little bright yellow, red and block box held a weekends worth of fun for me.  The film came wrapped in a metallic little bad to protect it.  You had to break the seal on the side of the film to open the roll and then place it in your camera.  Then you had to manually attached it to the spool inside your camera.  And finally you had to  wind the film into position until you saw the number one in the back of the little window in your camera.  It you didn't get it set right you might only get half a photo.  And who wanted to waste a photo when you only got twelve exposures to a roll of film.

It seems impossible now but a little roll of twelve exposure film would last a long time.  I remember a sixth grade field trip to Washington D.C. and I used one roll of film to document the day.  I came home with a photo of the White House, a photo of the Washington Monument and a photo taken from the top of the Washington Monument.  I had a photo of a friend taken inside the school bus.  There were no selfies, no special angles, or multiple shots of the same place.  But I did have a full days experience documented on a roll of twelve exposure film.  And the anticipation set in, waiting to see the developed photos.  I would take my roll of film down to Mrs. Waller at The Harford Stationery Store on Washington Street in my home town of Havre de Grace. She would then have it sent over to Pershing Studio a couple of blocks away for development.  It usually took four or five days to have the completed photos returned.  And Mrs. Waller looked at every photo that came into her store.  And she would let you know if she liked them or not.  There are no secrets in a small town.

A few years later when I was in junior high school Polaroid came out with something magical.  They created a Polaroid Land Camera that was affordable for everyone.  Their original camera was quite expensive and was not made for preteens.  But the Polaroid Swinger was made for my generation.  At least that's what their commercial said with swinging sixties music and young people taking photos a party.  I just had to have one.  It was the number one item at the top of my Christmas wish list.



Opening it up Christmas morning was so exciting.  I put that first roll in film in the camera and proceeded to take some of the worst photos of all time.  It was a terrible camera.  You had to pull the photo out of the side of the camera.  Then you had to wait 60 seconds, then peel open the photo.  Then you had to apply a special chemical to the photo to protect it.  And the photos really weren't worth protecting.   But I never noticed that fact.  It was just too exciting to be able to see your photo 60 seconds after taking it.  I wasted a lot of allowance money on Polaroid Swinger film.   My Aunt Louise who bought me my first camera also thought it was fantastic and bought one for herself.


Mad Magazine had a spot on satire of the Polaroid Land Camera rage.  It was the 60 second disappointment.   Of course today we can be disappointed or delighted with our photographs in a matter of a second.  It's almost instantaneous disappointed or delight.  You can delete, edit, flip, and share your photos in a moment.  Some of the excitement of waiting is gone.  And now instead of enjoying places I am are visiting or taking time to talk with people on my photo adventure I am too busy taking a couple of hundred photos a day.  I don't get to really appreciate a lot of places I visit until I get home and look at the photos on my big screen television. It's the digital age.   Time to end this blog.  I feel the need to take a selfie.


Saturday, April 26, 2014

Artists and Models

 I have never really given a lot of thought about being a good photographer.  It is just something I do for fun.  I am not a professional by any stretch of the imagination.  I have never used quality equipment.  I have never studied photography in school.  However this morning I was taking some time to look through some of my old photos I have taken over the years and have decided that perhaps I should take my photography a little more seriously.



Photography has been a hobby of mine since childhood.  I got my first camera when I was nine years old.  My sister Shelley was my model when I took photos with that first camera.  I would take her out and pose her in bizarre places and take her photo.  I never thought much about it at the time but looking back now I realize that I did use some creative imagination in those old photos.  I remember taking this photo above by  putting Shelley down inside this old house foundation in our neighborhood and telling her to reach out like she was trying to crawl out of a pit.   Looking back now almost fifty years later I am impressed with the way this photo turned out.



This is a photo I took in 1963 of Shelley.  Something in my warped little head thought this would be a fun photo.  We had a little black puppy at the time whose name was Susie and she was behind Shelly in the photo.  But I didn't take the dogs photo.  I took one with the dog behind her making it look like Shelley was tied to the dog house.  Shelley never really questioned what I was doing or why I was doing it.  She was just always the willing model.  

Of course every photo was not creative or unusual.  Some were just photos of that I snapped on the moment like this one of Shelley with her doll carriage.  But still looking at it now I am finding it a much better photo than I had realized.   It does tell a story of sorts.  

This photo was taken of Shelley at Ocean City, Maryland.  It's not set up or posed.  But looking back it today I really like the way it turned out.  It's just a little girl on the beach looking down at her feet oblivious to everything around her.   And once again it does tend to tell a story of some sort.  

I am not sure who was more responsible for these photos me or Shelley.  I took the photos but she was the willing model.  Who is to say who the creative one really was?  

I still love to take photographs.  I always joke saying give me a 16 gig photo chip and somewhere on that chip you will find a good photo.  Perhaps I should have taken it all a little more seriously over the years.  Maybe I should have been a photographer.  But then it would have stopped being fun and become work.  

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Chasing Elephants with Elsa Martinelli



I posted the photo above on my Facebook page while I was traveling in Bangkok, Thailand.  I received several comments with a quote from the song One Night In Bangkok.  Hey Larry, One night in Bangkok and the worlds your oyster.  I don't know if the world is my oyster or not.  But I do know that I love traveling and seeing the world from my own unique perspective.

Growing up travel was not a option for the average person.  Traveling to Paris was a once in a lifetime experience that people saved up for most of their lives.  The times were different.  Airline travel was a luxury for the wealthy.They wore their best clothes for the flight.  Gourmet food on real china was served to those fortunate enough to be able to afford to airfare

.  I remember watching the 1962 Walt Disney film "Bon Voyage" at the State Theater in Havre de Grace, Maryland.


Fred MacMurray took his wife Jane Wyman and their children to Paris.  The didn't use an airline of course.  That kind of tourist travel still was not frequent.  The took a large ship to Paris.  I remember Fred and Jane talking about this being a trip of a life time for them.  They had saved for years for this one time experience.  I watched the movie with great envy.  I wanted to be with Kevin Corcoran while he led his father on a wild chase through the sewers of Paris.  I wanted to dance with Michael Callan and Deborah Walley on the left bank.  I was Kevin Corcoran's age but I really wanted to hang out with his older brother Tommy Kirk as he explored the streets of Paris all alone without his parents.  But most of all I wanted to see this wonderful city they were visiting and share in all of their misadventures.

1962 was a big year for movies for me.  It is also the year that James Bond was introduced to the movie audiences.  Dr. No was released in 1962.  And as a ten year old I sat back and was once more transported to foreign destinations that were far removed from any place I thought I would ever get to visit.

Traveling became a reality for me through the movies.  James Bond took me to many exotic and fascinating locations.  I followed Peter Ustinov and Melina Mercuri to the Topkapi Palace in the movie Topkapi.


 I followed John Wayne to the plains of Africa in Hatari and watched the baby elephants chase Elsa Martinelli  through the camp ground.


Going to movies truly did make the world my oyster.  And I never had to leave my seat at the State Theater.  For $.25 I got to see the world and fantasize about traveling and having wonderful adventures.I traveled with Elvis and Gidget to Hawaii. Then I once more went with Gidget.  This time to visit Rome. The movies were my travelogue.

  I remember my mother watching Doris Day in That Touch of Mink.  Doris lived in New York City and shared an apartment with Audrey Meadows.  I remember my Mom talking about wanting to actually see New York someday.  New York is only a three hour bus ride from Maryland but in 1962 that seemed such a great distance to my mother and she never did get  to New York.

I look back now and realize how fortunate I have been to have my world opened to me not just through the movies any longer, but through personal travel.  I have taken Bond, Gidget, Elvis and even Elsa Martinelli and her elephants with me.    The memories of their adventures stay vivid with me when I visit the locations from their movies. And now I return home with my own memories and travel stories to enhance those I remember from the movies.  I wish my Mom had gotten to New York.  I think she would have been happy that I got chase the baby elephants like Elsa Martinelli.


Friday, March 7, 2014

Bangkok - Overwhelming The Senses

Elephant statues at an intersection near The Grand Palace in Bangkok



 I had never been anywhere in Asia before my trip to Thailand this past February.  I have done a lot of international travel and usually go to Europe and on a few occasions to South America.  So I had no frame of reference to prepare me for visiting Thailand.  I had guide books.  I followed an English tour guide in Thailand on Twitter before the trip.  And I kept up with the news about Thailand on the internet before the trip.  It was a tricky trip to plan.  After we purchased our airline tickets and reserved our hotels last year Bangkok erupted into a city under siege by political activists wanting to over throw the prime minister.  We read warnings about the unrest escalating, but I thought by mid February, some three months away, things would certainly calm down before our arrival.   But I kept reading more and more warnings about the danger of traveling to Thailand.  While watching and researching this I discovered @Richard Barrow on Twitter.  He is an ex patriot who lives in Thailand and works in the tourist industry.  He published daily updates about the violence and published maps telling what areas were safe and what areas to avoid each day.  The hotel we had booked turned out to be right in the middle of one of the most dangerous protest sights in the city.  So with his advice we changed our hotel to a safe area outside of the inner city.  Richard's advice each day was to not cancel your vacations.  Bangkok is a big city.  The protests are only in a small part of the city.  If you plan well and follow his advice you will never know there is any danger in the city.   I thought many times perhaps it would be best to just cancel the trip and forfeit the money we had spent for hotels and air fare.  But each day Richard reported the danger areas, told you where to avoid and where you would be safe.  His tweets convinced me to follow through with the trip.

Chatrium Riverside Hotel - Bangkok
Our original hotel was the Sky Hotel located on the Sky Train which is used to transport you all over the city of Bangkok.  This would have been an excellent hotel for people unfamiliar with the city and wanting to explore the streets of Thailand. But it was located right in the heart of the protest sights so at Richard's advice we changed hotels to one located on the Chao Phraya River. It was a beautiful choice.  They had free shuttle service on the water for places we wanted to see.  And if the violence in the city caused the roads to the airport to be closed we could have taken the river shuttle to the sky train and still gotten to the airport safely.  We were on the sixteenth floor of the hotel with a view of the river and also the skyline of Bangkok.  It was the perfect location and had there been no violence we would never have stayed here.

We walked down to the boat dock at our hotel each day and caught the shuttle boat down to the tourist boat dock for our daily adventure in Bangkok.  Then we returned each night to check in with the ex patriot on twitter to see what was happening in the areas we could not visit.  For every beautiful Buddhist temple visit we visited we read of hand grenades being tossed at police or shopping centers in the inner city areas.




The day we visited the beautiful Grand Palace we had to walk past the Department of Defense surrounded in barbed wire bringing back the reality of the danger in the city around us.  But for every barbed wire we saw there were overwhelming art and colorful Buddhist temples to fill our memories.  It was difficult at times to take it all in and also face the reality of what is going on in Thailand.  There is very little on the news here in the west about the problems in Thailand.  I was completely unprepared to deal with the beauty and also the ugliness of the situation in Bangkok.   I never had to witness the danger and the protest thanks to Richard Barrow and his updates.  But for everything beautiful  that I saw there is that memory of the updates and photos of the bombings and deaths I saw in the daily news updates.  I was far removed from the danger but I could sense the loss and sadness around me.


Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho in Bangkok

I will never get over the image of the gigantic reclining Buddha I saw at Wat Pho in old town Bangkok.  After walking through the temple and being overwhelmed by the beauty and the mystery of the images around me I had to take time to stop and let it all sink in.  At times there was too much to see and take in all in one day.  My mind could only accept so much before it all became a blur. This was not the Madonna and Child I was used to seeing in European churches.  This was something completely different and very foreign to me.  This was not the Basilica in Milan where I had to take off my hat before entering.   This was a Wat where I had to take off my shoes and wear long pants instead of shorts in reverence to the Buddhist who worship here.

Taking off my shoes before entering the Wat to see the Reclining Buddha





After returning from seeing the Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho I went to my hotel to check on the daily updates from the inner city of Bangkok.  There were three children killed by a hand grenade tossed towards a shopping center on the Sky Train.  It was all too much to take in.  I fell in love with the people in Bangkok.  I have never been treated better as a visitor anywhere.  The kindness and welcome arms of the people in Bangkok is beyond imagination.  Traveling expands our horizons.  I have always felt traveling makes me a better person.  But I have never had to share my travel experience with a people whose country was in revolution.  I was overwhelmed by the beauty and mystery of all that I did understand.  But I was also overwhelmed by the sadness I felt for these beautiful people facing an uncertain future for their country.

I returned to my safe hotel on the river front in Bangkok.  I went to dinner and spent time with other tourists who were enjoying their vacations.  There was an interesting band playing at our hotel in the restaurant on the bank of the river.  The lady singing had been a contestant on The Voice in Thailand.  I even was asked to get up and dance with her, which I did with much delight.  And I went back to my room that night with many memories of things that I had learned that day about a culture I knew nothing about previously.  I went back to my room with a camera chip filled with beautiful and fascinating photos.  I went back with a brain on overload being unable to take in and appreciate all I had seen.  And I went back to read about three children who lost their lives that day at a shopping center in the inner city.  

Bangkok will stay with me forever.  I would love to return someday and see the areas I had to avoid.  But for now I have to sit back and try to make some sense of it all and to reflect on what I learned in Bangkok.

To be continued......

Larry with a guard at the gate to Wat Pho in Bangkok



Thursday, February 6, 2014

Mom Mom - Queen of Ritz and Peanut Butter

I have been thinking about my grandmother the past few days.   She passed away in February 1976. Perhaps that's why she is on my mind this February.  She and I always had a unique connection.  So perhaps she is close right now.

Grandmothers are always special.  There is that wonderful Norman Rockwell type image of sitting around your Grandmothers table surrounded by all the wonderful food she prepared.  Visiting grandmothers brings the scent of warm cookies just taken from the oven made just for you.  Grandmom would meet you at the door with an apron on and a little touch of flour on her cheek from baking.  It's a beautiful image but it was not my grandmother.  This was my mother's vision of her grandmother.  Her grandmother made baked apple dumplings for my Mom when Mom was a child.  I was told of the wonderful chicken pot pies she would make for suppers.  My mother's grandmother made her home with their family.  She did all the cooking.  As a result my grandmother never learned to cook.  She mopped, and swept, and cleaned her house daily.  It was spotless.   But she never cooked.

My grandmother volunteered to work at our churches Daily Vacation Bible School every year.  When I was very young she taught the pre school children's class.  And for some reason I always won the award for best workbook every year.  One year we had a very small class room area in the back of the church's chapel.  We had a small card table to work on and it only had three legs.  My grandmother's assistant was a lady who was considered to old to be able to take care of a class by herself.  She was a tiny little lady with a little bit of a palsy type shake.  Her name was Miss Maggie.  Her main job was to keep her knee under the table to balance the table where the fourth leg should have been located.  Of course every day her knee would move and our crayons would roll off the table and on to the floor.  But I was still able to retrieve my crayons and win the prize for neatest workbook.

A few years later it was decided my grandmother had reached the age when she was no longer thought to be capable to take care of a class also.  Instead of making her some ones assistant the youth leaders decided they would have her be responsible for making snacks.  I guess they had the Norman Rockwell imagine of the grandmother with the flour on her cheek making cookies.  My grandmother had no plans for making cookies or cupcakes for our snacks.  Her plan was to walk to Siebert's Grocery Store , which was next to our church, buy a box of Ritz crackers and smear the crackers with peanut butter.

I was shopping yesterday at my local grocery store and for some reason I had an urge to buy Ritz crackers and peanut butter.  I haven't bought Ritz crackers in years.  I came home and made some Ritz and peanut butter snacks.  And then it hit me.  I had been thinking about Mom Mom.  Then suddenly those snacks became the best tasting treat I have made in a long time.

Maybe tomorrow I will break out some crayons and roll them off the side of the table.


Above is an old family photo.  My grandmother is the lady on the right end of the table.  I am at her side as usual.  This appears to be a birthday party.   And I am positive my grandmother did not make any of the food.