Old Stuff, New Obsession?

How cool is this?  We were on our way to the Santa Monica Airport Outdoor Antique and Collectible Market for the first time and saw a whole line of Model A Fords heading south on the 405.  I gave them a big thumbs up out the passenger window as we passed and earned some nice “aah-oogas” in return.

And BTW, that’s fog!  It was physically very cool in Los Angeles…and me in sleeveless white eyelet lace!

Didn’t bring this home, but I thought it was an eye-catching display of both the Kewpie doll and the toy wagon.

Hydra pointed out this darling mini-vanity.  It probably originally had a mirror attached where the two vases are sitting.  Not a jewelry box, as we first thought, since the drawers are quite deep.  Beautiful wood.  But not something I wanted, ultimately, to try to make room for.

Cool chair bench made by a guy who also made neat fountains.

Metal door mat I bought to use as yard art.  It’s currently under this rosemary bush on the slope, where I can see it from the library/music room window.

Nice rug we picked up for $5.00 at a yard sale in Sherman Oaks on the way home.  Score!

Title page of a Betty Jane Wilson’s baby book.  She was born in 1924.  I adore the drawings in this book.

There are some baby photos of a happy smiling little girl.  Just adorable.  Handwriting is lovely, but a little hard to read, so I need some getting used to it.

Welcoming Western Union telegrams of congratulations to Betty Jane’s parents from their family in Chicago and elsewhere to Whittier, CA.  These gave me a little lump in the throat.

I haven’t spent a lot of time with the baby book yet, but there are a lot of early notes on the designated pages about Betty Jane, and then notes about her younger sister Gloria.  I found envelopes and clippings between the pages. Her parents’ 1922 wedding program with a little article about the officiant passing away at a later date tucked into it.  An envelope with a lock of hair in it.  An MGM newsletter from 1945 including a note about Gloria at 20, when she worked there as a receptionist!

From front to back, the notes quickly get out-of-order as details are filled in under appropriate categories at different times.  I’m looking forward to transcribing them in chronological order, because they have me quite curious.

This is one of those things that I used to tell myself was ridiculous to pick up, but I haven’t really regretted the few times I’ve done so, while I do still think about the photo album that got away.  It was in a little shop in Kernville probably 10 years ago, and the photographer clearly had an eye and was experimenting to try to improve his composition, etc.  It was pricey, but I would probably be proud to have it.

I could easily become obsessed with old baby books if they weren’t such a rare find.  (Thank goodness.)

I suppose I’m drawn to these lost bits of family history because, without kids, I expect that the things I treasure will end up scattered. Maybe they’ll provide someone a little mystery to solve in 2060.

A Gathering of Wolves

This is the closest you’re going to get to me on the lawn mower.  Really unflattering tee shirt.

Getting ready for a gathering of wolves. Wolf Lake Wolves, that is.  My brother, John, was in the last class that graduated from Wolf Lake High School in 1968. (I was in first grade that year.)  There’s an official reunion every few years, but my sister Peg has been inviting people to come by for a bonfire for the past couple of years.

Peg, Brian and I graduated from Central Noble, which was formed in 1969 with Albion-Jefferson.  I remember being puzzled about all the uproar over kids being bussed a half hour across town when my daily bus ride was more than an hour each way.

Mom bought this for a few dollars at a yard sale years ago and gussied it up.  I love it.  The other sides are all different.

Cousin Dave dropped by with the Model A Ford he restored 33 years ago and has maintained impeccably.  He came back in it later for the bonfire.

John and his friend Tim.  They both had yellow Corvairs back in the day, and Tim has one again.

They took it for a spin!

Bob, who plays excellent harmonica, is also a semi-professional marshmallow roaster.  He played the Wolf Lake High School fight song and even I knew the words.  My dad and John were both on the basketball team in their times.

Here’s what Wikipedia has to say about little Wolf Lake (population still hovers around 150) :

“Wolf Lake is an unincorporated town in Noble Township, Noble County, Indiana. Founded in 1832, Wolf Lake is the oldest town in Noble County. Each August citizens celebrate their heritage with the Onion Days Festival. ^[3] The town of Wolf Lake is located just north of Wolf Lake, an actual lake.

Wolf Lake High School made their mark on the Indiana basketball map by winning the regional title in 1942. The Wolf Lake Wolves, with an enrollment of 123 students, beat Fort Wayne Central High School, moving on to the semi-state where they lost to Muncie Burris High School. The small school from northeast Indiana is the smallest school from this part of the state to make it to the semi-state round of the state basektball tournament. The Wolves were led by a senior class of Art Keister, Paul Keister, Roger Stangland and Delbert Hartman. Beginning their high school careers in 1939-40, this class led their team to 3 Noble County championships, 50 straight regular season wins and a 70-5 record over three years.”

Yes, we are Hoosiers and basketball matters.  Many of my best experiences in high school involve basketball games.  When I go to the theater I still think of intermission as half time.

Your corn is ready.  The ears we didn’t put foil on didn’t do well at all.  Live and learn.

Talking about old times.  Dang, his stories are true! 😉

Sunset from the back yard.  The talking and singing went on until the mosquitoes ganged up on us. Lovely evening.

My grandpa, Dad and his best friend Bud in a Wolf Lake Wolves letter sweater. My dad was a basketball jock in high school.  Wolf Lake High had a bit of a mythical quality for me.  I named my pet duck Wolfie because as a mallard chick he was black and gold, the school colors.

I rode with Dad the day they tore the old schoolhouse down.   The building had been condemned way back before he graduated in 1946, and my kindergarten was held in the former coal room–none of us would have gotten out of there in case of fire–so it was time.  We took home a piece of the slate blackboard that they were giving away.  It was sad and surreal, but it’s actually a good memory of doing something meaningful with my Dad.