The View from Here

Pin curls and permanents...

I got my hair cut this week. A trip to the beauty shop (I know that isn’t the correct term anymore.) is a quick and painless task these days. My hair is curly and I have no need to “style” it, no desire to change its color. I seldom let it get more than two or three inches longer before having it trimmed again. My haircut this week cost me thirty minutes and $18. Good for another six months.

Later I thought about all the time and money I’ve spent on my hair over the years. Amusing now to recall that most of that time and money was spent on trying to change it- straighten the curls, loosen and soften the curls, improve the color, highlight the color, change the color. I usually kept it quite long and styled it in a pony tail or French twist or a bun on top of my head. Bobby pins were my constant and reliable aids. Does anyone even own bobby pins anymore?

I loved buying a new card of bobby pins! They were neat and orderly and shiny. They came in different colors and some were even decorated with little stones or beads. I kept them at home, in my desk at work, in the glove compartment of my car.

My mother curled her hair with bobby pins. She made little circular swirls and secured them with two bobby pins forming an X. I often did the back for her, but she could also do it herself with remarkable precision. She tried using them on my hair when I was a child, but my hair always came out of the pins looking wild and crazy. Rag ties worked best and I could sleep in them. Then we both discovered foam curlers. Much easier and more comfortable than bobby pin curls. However, foam curlers didn’t produce quite the results I imagined, so I tried brush rollers.

I hated the years of brush rollers with their cruel little pink pins holding them in place. They were ugly and I usually had to wear them all day in order for my hair to dry and curl properly. On rare occasions I actually slept with them in. I can’t even remember what special event would have prompted such self-torture. But the results were more than satisfactory, so I endured.

If there was one beauty ritual I absolutely hated, it was the home permanent. It was a tedious process and the chemicals burned both nose and eyes. I didn’t need one, but Mom relied on them for many years and I was often the one who applied them for her. I was so thankful when she started going to her cousin’s beauty shop instead.

Next on the list of torturous procedures was the home coloring kit. Again…horrible smell…tedious process. But I endured it so I could have nine different shades of blond hair in ten years. Also tried red a couple of times, and black once. I liked a couple of the blond shades more than others, but of course the home coloring process wasn’t precise and I never had exactly the same color twice.

The only way to always have the same color and style was to wear a wig. Yes, I actually wore one for about six months. During a period of depression that I won’t bother to explain now, I had my hair cut very, very short and then regretted that decision so much that I bought a long wig. It was heavy and uncomfortable and after several months I decided that my own hair was beginning to grow, so I got rid of the wig.

Since my passion is history I had to think for a time about how my ancestors would have addressed the hair rituals and challenges of their day. I turned to one of my most reliable sources for daily routines- The Welcome Baking Powder Encyclopedia of Cookery, 1890,which of course includes beauty recipes:

A Good Wash for the Hair.

One pennyworth of borax, half a pint of olive oil, one pint of boiling water.

Mode: Pour the boiling water over the borax and oil; let it cool; then put the mixture into a bottle. Shake it before using and apply it with flannel. Camphor and borax, dissolved in boiling water and left to cool, make a very good wash for the hair; as also does rosemary water mixed with a little borax. After using any of these washes, when the hair becomes thoroughly dry, a little pomatum or oil should be rubbed in to make it smooth and glossy.

Oil to Make the Hair Curl

Olive oil, one pound; oil of organum, one drachm; oil of rosemary, one and one-half drachm.  

I am SO happy that I don’t need to worry about making that last concoction. And even though I really don’t need to do much more than wash my hair, I sometimes miss bobby pins. Maybe I should buy some.

Faith or Hope

 

Romans 12:12 (NKJV)

¹² rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation, continuing steadfastly in prayer;

This chapter of Romans deals with using our bodies and gifts to serve the Lord and instructs us on how to behave as Christians. Of all the commands these three stand out to me as the foundation for everything else.  

 

I wrote last March of my struggles in the garden. The passion of my life has become more and more difficult due to changes in my body, especially my legs and back. I was hopeful last spring that I could create one more garden and that God would allow me the strength and ability to continue working outside. Then I broke my foot and had to wear a boot for three months. I can’t say that I was “devastated”- I’ve endured far worse injuries- but I was certainly discouraged. Was my accident a message from God? Was I supposed to accept my fate and abandon gardening or persevere and remain hopeful? After about six weeks of healing I ventured outside to very carefully do just a few basic chores.

This month finds me with a healed foot and a garden that is struggling more than I am. The soil is poor and most of the seeds I planted in the spring didn’t sprout. One of the plants I transplanted from my old garden died. I remarked to a friend just a few days ago that this is one of the worst properties I’ve ever attempted to transform. I was feeling the need for a little encouragement.

On Friday I got just what I needed and more. I asked Gary to go to Lowe’s with me so I could get a chrysanthemum for the front porch, a new bird feeder for the back yard, and a few bags of potting soil for one of the flower beds. In the bird feeding aisle we discovered that sunflower seeds had been marked down to less than half price, so I got two bags for winter feeding. Sadly, they didn’t have the bird feeder I needed. We went out to the garden center and I decided that I’d just look quickly at the “clearance rack” before selecting a mum.

Perennials were marked down to $1.

It may sound silly to say that I considered that price tag as an “answer to prayer” and a reason to remain hopeful about my physical condition, but that’s exactly how I felt. The plants included some of my favorites, were healthy, and marked to a price that would not break my budget. Twenty-six of them came home with me and are now waiting on the patio for their turn to be placed into the ground.

And that brings me to my role in all of this. I didn’t ask God for a miracle. I didn’t ask him to take away my pain and allow me to easily plant this garden. I asked him for the strength and ability to continue my work. I spent forty minutes in the yard yesterday and the consequences were a little more pain and difficulty than usual. I required about an hour to recover, but the point is that I did recover. And I hope to work again very soon.

It has been said that faith without hope is possible, but hope without faith is not. I agree. I have faith that I can continue to lead a useful life even when the time comes that I can no longer walk or work in my garden. I have faith that God has a plan for my life.  I have faith that He will guide me through whatever challenges lie ahead. But I hope that He will allow me to continue to face some of those challenges among my flowers.

Cotton Patch Geese

A friend and I were talking yesterday about geese because I mentioned that the fields at Hagerman Wildlife Refuge are being plowed for the annual planting of rye grass that provides food for the migrating geese. During the conversation we talked about the role of some domestic geese in guarding rural properties and I also commented that when I was a child we kept a large flock to weed our cotton fields. My friend, though quite advanced in age, had never heard of such a thing. Of course he grew up in Dallas where I suppose they wouldn’t have been very useful.

“Cotton Patch Geese” were actually quite popular in the south in the 1950s. They LOVE grass, but don’t like broadleaf plants and were used by a lot of farmers before herbicides became so popular. I’m not sure how many farmers in California used them, but I do recall that a local woman stole thirty of ours one summer and Dad quickly located and retrieved them. They must not have been all that common in our area; otherwise it would have been more difficult for Dad to prove that the thief’s flock was actually his.

My dad, who had raised poultry since he was a teen, was always scouting the local sales and farms for “different” birds, so I suppose it was natural for him to know about and use the skills of geese for cleaning weeds from our fields. I was a little intimidated by them, but thankful that they were doing the work I would have been expected to do if they weren’t so eager to do it.

I’m not sure where Dad got the geese, but I do think it must have been somewhere other than our town because I remember a very polite California Highway Patrol officer stopping us on the freeway to look inside the trailer. He admitted that he had seen a “head” pop up above the tarp covering and wanted to see what was inside…just to make sure it wasn’t anything illegal. Dad showed him the bill of sale and he bid us “good luck” with them.

Dad kept a breeding pair at the house and they wandered the yard, weeding Mom’s flowers and fertilizing the lawn as they ruled their little kingdom. They sometimes frightened visitors or bothered my brothers when they were playing marbles, but for the most part they were well-behaved. Huey and Dewey eventually had one baby that we named Louie. I think Dad realized that he wasn’t going to obtain a huge flock by breeding his own, so he gave up that project.

I don’t remember what happened to the geese, but I assume that Dad sold them to some other farmer when we moved to Oklahoma the next spring.

There are some interesting stories about the geese online if you just Google “cotton patch geese”.

Refreshed

We didn’t have any reason to go to the wildlife refuge yesterday, but we didn’t have any reason not to go. I just periodically feel the need to be near the water and watch the birds. When you’re retired you don’t need much more of an excuse!

The refuge is getting ready for the fall arrival of the geese so there are acres and acres of plowed ground. I’m sorry now that I didn’t take pictures, but I will the next time I visit because by then the little sprouts of grass will probably be showing. The rest of the acreage is overgrown with the bounty of summer and many areas are difficult for photographers, but we will gladly endure this phase of growth for the rewards of fall.

There aren’t many migratory birds right now- just the usual egrets, cormorants, and herons that reside year round. We did see some hawks, an avocet, a random duck, and some shorebirds. And what summer visit would be complete without seeing a snake? Saw two yesterday; both too fast for photos.

We visited the garden and admired the flowers that have survived the extreme heat of July. Then we took a quick tour of the gift shop where I bought some bird ornaments for our Christmas tree.

We returned home refreshed…as always.

Friendship

Maurine was our neighbor for many years. She owned the variety store in Caddo and was a friend to generations of residents. My mother worked for her for a while. I was very pleased to find this. 

The Caddo Herald

February 15, 1935

Friendship

By Maurine Craghead

There is nothing that so comforts and rebuilds one’s spirits as a peaceful friend or companion.

There are those with whom we feel happy and content, and others who irritate and disturb us. People who speak quietly and offer their opinions when asked for them are usually those who bring the most happiness to us.

Consideration for the rights of others and respecting their worth always brings about a peaceful and comfortable feeling upon our part. No matter how many demands upon our time, we are always glad to meet those who are our friends.

One of the most beautiful lines in the Sermon on the Mount is the one: “Blessed are the peacemakers.” No one desires to have a troublemaker around- but the peacemaker- he always is welcome.

It takes a great deal of self control and understanding to remain silent under many circumstances, but the result is always worth it.

One Picture

We’ve all heard that a picture tells a thousand words. Well, this morning one of my pictures certainly came close. I was considering a couple of topics for my blog post and I decided to just pick a photo from my childhood and tell the story related to it. Good plan…except for the fact that my eyes kept returning to a photo that didn’t have a story, because I couldn’t remember where I was when the picture was taken. This morning I took another look at the photo and noticed the number on the wall behind me. I compared the number to the list of places where I’ve lived, and for the first time I realized that the number in the photo was almost the same as one on my list. Could it be that the one on the list was an error? Absolutely…

Once I combined the new number and the street name from my list I was able to search Google maps for the address. That’s when the magic happened. Google not only posts maps of almost any spot on the globe, but also “street views”. The street view of my old address showed an obviously newer home. Nothing on either side triggered any memories. Then I moved the mouse and a building down the street came into view. Instant recognition!

I’ve always had a vague memory of going “trick or treating” in a large white building with halls. I couldn’t connect it to anything and it wasn’t important enough for me to ask either of my parents about it while they were alive. This morning I finally saw the building: a three-story white stucco apartment building. There are actually two of them, side by side, and connected by a covered walkway. I instantly recalled walking up the stairs and down the hall to a knock on a door. No, I still don’t remember who lived there, but there is no sense of fear attached to the memory, so either we knew someone there, or I simply wasn’t smart enough to be afraid.

I have always assumed that the purpose of the photo was to record a new outfit made by my grandmother.  Mom made many of my clothes, but seldom took photos of them. And I can’t recall that she ever held a camera, so the photo was probably taken by Dad or Gran.

I know this doesn’t solve a world problem or enlighten anyone with “words of wisdom”, but perhaps it might prompt you to give Google maps a chance to bring back some of your memories. You might search for the home of a great-grandparent or a childhood friend. Or if, like me, you spent your childhood in a variety of locations, you might search for one of the more obscure ones. Good luck!

Bird Therapy

Despite some changes in diet, exercise and medications, I am still in pain each and every day and for most of the day. However, my pain level has been reduced from “bee sting” level to “flu ache” level and that makes a tremendous difference in all of my activities. I credit that change with working in the gym and bird therapy.

Yesterday was a bit more of a challenge than some. In addition to pain I am often prone to muscle stiffness and weakness. All of those were in play yesterday as I headed out to feed the birds. As I replenished the feeders, filled the bird baths, and cleaned and refilled the hummingbird feeders it occurred to me that those little chores take me outside each and every day, whether I feel good or not. My commitment to attracting and caring for birds forces me to overcome some of my challenges in deference to the task at hand. And the rewards later are well worth the effort. Watching the birds from our patio or dining room, photographing them, and listening to their songs is a blessing I cherish.

Gardening also lures me outside, but few tasks require daily repetition and most are easy to postpone. Nothing gets me out of my chair and out the door on a daily basis except the birds.

Happy Birthday!

Years ago I kept a list of the birthdays of all my family members and friends. Each January I transferred their names to my new calendar. I sent cards and made phone calls. There were a few that I sent a gift to as well. And we celebrated some with cake and ice cream.

This morning I was reminded by FB that two of my friends are celebrating birthdays today. I sent each of them a message and wished them well. That’s usually the extent of my greetings now. My list is much shorter and there are only a handful of close relatives who still receive gifts or cards. There are times when I feel a bit guilty about the change, but it is a practical and logical one. We are so connected by social media that it is natural to use it rather than snail mail. Nice cards are expensive and few people keep them. However, there is also a benefit to FB messages that didn’t occur to me until today.

If I’m connected to someone on FB then I’m usually aware of the current status of their health and happiness. I can send them a message that is meaningful and appropriate to their current situation. While my public message is usually a simple “Happy Birthday!” or “Have a wonderful day!” my private message to them can be “I know this is a difficult day since it’s your first birthday after the death of your husband” or “I know how thrilling it is to celebrate after your recent health crisis.”

I’m also personally blessed by the almost daily birthday reminders on FB. If I’m having a stressful day or I know that one friend is facing some challenges, I am encouraged by the reminder that others are celebrating a milestone. Often being happy for them changes my own mood.

So…to those of you celebrating today...even if you didn’t get a card from me please know that I wish you a very Happy Birthday!

Too Many Thoughts Today

I am often at a loss for words to post here simply because my mind is racing in too many directions. I’m always in the middle of a research project, a writing project, a gardening project, a photography project. Lists and projects are what keep me going. Even in retirement I seem to lack the time and energy to complete everything I plan for the day. I’m often reminded of my grandmother’s wisdom: “keeping busy will keep you out of trouble”. Indeed…there is no time for trouble here.

My thoughts have been focused on gratitude this month. Dealing with a minor health problem has been a reminder that I have an excellent doctor and a wonderful support team. Learning of the much more serious problems of friends and relatives has made me thankful for my blessings and determined to take better care of this fragile body of mine.

Life is never without tragedy and certainly this month has already seen its share. More than one of my friends will go on without a loved one. I can’t even pretend to understand their pain, but I pray they find strength and hope.

The hope of us all has been on my mind for days. Those wonderful “first day of school” photos are all over social media and nothing warms a teacher’s heart like seeing former students headed to the next grade level and beyond. Many of my former little K students are now posting their “first day of college” photos. Makes me proud to have been a tiny stop on their path to adulthood. They are the hope of our future and I pray they are good stewards.

I’m not much of a worrier. I tend to leave the big stuff to God and take care of the little things I can manage. However, the national news is filled with so much violence and hatred lately that it makes me wonder if there is an increase in evil or just an emphasis on reporting it. My knowledge of history tells me it is most likely a combination of both. I can certainly search any old newspaper and find accounts of anger, racism, and violence. Yet, my heart wants to know why we have NOT learned from those mistakes and gotten so much better.  

I recently subscribed to our local newspaper. At least it is more likely to have a story that makes me smile. Of course when it does not, when it instead reports a story of hatred and harm, it is more difficult to understand and deal with because it usually involves people I know or recognize or might have even encountered at some time. A trade off that I will have to accept.

As I write this it is raining, raining, raining and I’m well aware that my friends and family members to the west would welcome some showers to help them manage the terrible fires ravaging their states. Fires now threaten to consume CA and vast areas of UT. I pray that the flames are controlled very soon. Many of the people I know are not in imminent danger, but are suffering the effects of smoke-filled skies.

This rain has renewed my interest in my little garden. It has been a failure in comparison to previous gardens, but I will give it a chance to redeem itself. Time for some potting soil and mulch and new plans.

Well, back to work. I’m researching Indian Territory churches. I’m trying to catch up on my photo postings for Find-A-Grave. I plan to go to the library today.

Perhaps I will gather my thoughts and write something more worthwhile tomorrow…

Perfectly Pleasant

Today was one of those days that could have occurred on any date on the calendar- a repeat of days already enjoyed and no doubt a predictor of days to come. We ate breakfast at home. We drove to Love’s and bought coffee. We went to Hagerman and drove through the refuge. We joined our son at the visitor’s center for a presentation about bats. We walked through the butterfly garden. We went to lunch in Sherman. We came home and napped for thirty minutes.

A perfectly pleasant and pleasantly perfect day…