Vintage Photo Monday - Happy (late) Mother's Day

My mom, Susan, circa 1982

Dear Mom,

Thank you.

Thank you for your patience. Thank you for not laughing at me (too much) when I insisted on buying hideous clothes or getting awful hair cuts. Thank you for attending the many dance recitals, speech competitions and school plays with nary a complaint. Most of all, thank you for being my mom, in good times and bad. It's only because of you that I'm able to be the mom that I am to Vivian.

Thank you.

Love,
Sara

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Vintage Photo Friday—Grandpa

I have been MIA here at the blog for the last couple of weeks, but I wanted to get back on the horse today with a Vintage Photo Friday post.

At Disneyland, circa 1980. That's me sitting on my Grandpa Reeve's shoulder, and my mom with the floppy hat. My overriding memory of him was of his great laugh—a little high and nasally, but joyous. My Grandpa's name was Bliss, which I never thought was odd until I was a teenager and realized it was a word and not exactly a common name. Vivian's middle name is Bliss, in his honor.

I'm not sure where the name Bliss came from. My grandfather's siblings had very normal names like Ruth and Laura. My great-grandfather was a very religious preacher, so maybe there was a heavenly connotation?

In the last few years of his life, he moved in with my dad. Because my grandpa was in the Navy fighting in the Pacific when my dad was born, he didn't see my dad until he was a year old. I always got the feeling that with six younger brothers, my dad never got the attention from his parents that he probably wanted as a kid. But the last couple of years that my dad had with my grandpa seemed to almost make up for that early lack.

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Vintage Photo Friday—Water Baby

Sara & Dad, circa 1976. Hanging out with Dad in the pool.

With Vivian's curly hair, people always say that she looks like Richard. No one can ever see me in her.

Vivian at the beach, 2008

But I can see me in her.

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Viv & Robert

One of the coolest things about having kids is watching them develop relationships with the people around them.

This photo was taken on Sunday, after Vivian finished looking for Easter eggs in her granny's back yard. She's sitting on the swing with her uncle Robert.

As is completely obvious in this photo, she has him wrapped around her little finger, and thoroughly enjoys it. He doesn't seem to mind, either.

Vintage Photo (Object) Friday—The Mission Book

The majority of my photos are buried in my garage, so this week, I'm doing another Vintage Object post for Vintage Photo Friday. As today is Good Friday, I thought that it was a good time to highlight my great-great-great-grandmother's Catholic Mission Book (published in 1878).

Let me first say that I am not religious at all, but this book has been passed down to the oldest child (more or less) since it belonged to Hannah Cook, who was born in Ireland in 1849.

There is something almost overwhelming about seeing your name as part of this unbroken line. And it's even more powerful seeing my daughter's name as part of that line.


I don't think the book has actively been used as anything other than a family memento since my grandmother Patricia was a girl. The book has several colorful cards with a religious theme.

I think this card was given to my great-grandmother, Jeanette Hutley (sp?) Fahlbusch. (Dad, does that sound right to you?) While the religious nature of the book doesn't hold much significance for me, the fact that this book was passed down from mother to son, father to daughter, and from my dad to me, and from me to my daughter, makes it a treasure.

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Vintage Photo Friday—Olan Mills

The Manfredi kids, 1984. From left, Robert, JoAnn, Linda & Richard.

I guess 25 years makes a photo vintage, right? I love this photo because it is such a time capsule of suburban life in the early eighties. The glasses so big they look like they might sprout wings and fly away. The Olan Mills bayou plantation background, complete with random wagon wheel prop. JoAnn's Little House on the Prairie-style dress. Linda's girl mullet. Richard's velour polo. Bob's yellow & pink stripes.

I can't make too much fun of this photo because they are my in-laws (and husband, but he was adorably cute, even in the eighties). Plus, there are plenty of bad hair cuts and questionable outfit choices in my past, especially from the eighties. But that's something for another Vintage Photo Friday.

So for now, I can laugh. And hope that, in 25 years, I'm not looking at our current family portraits and wondering, "what was I thinking?"

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Vintage Photo (Object) Friday—The Notebook

I wasn't able to locate the box of photos I wanted to scan for today, so I'm posting a photo of a vintage object, rather than a vintage photo.

In October, my grandmother passed away. In January, my mom and aunt went up to my grandmother's house to go through all her possessions to decide what to sell at an estate sale, what to hang on to and what to distribute to the grandkids.

I was lucky enough to receive several items, such as my grandmother's collection of hats and gloves, one of my great-grandmother's fancy dresses, and one of my grandmother's framed needlepoint pictures.

As the only knitter in my family (both of my sisters crochet, but neither of them knit), I was given my grandmother's knitting basket. And inside the basket, along with some vintage knitting magazines and an unfinished pair of socks, was this notebook.

It's filled with knitting patterns and notes, all in my grandmother's handwriting.

I don't remember my grandmother knitting when I was a child. When I was young, she was more focused on needlepoint, with some sewing thrown in. But I do have one fisherman's style sweater that she knitted.

This notebook feels so personal to me. I alone, out of all my family can decipher the symbols and shorthand of knitting (well, Jenny could probably understand it, but she doesn't do it). It just feels like this notebook is a special talisman from my grandma meant just for me.

In a practical sense, this little notepad isn't worth anything. But emotionally, it's priceless to me.

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Vintage Photo Friday—The Juliet Cap

The year was 1971, and my mother was 19 years old. She was getting married to my dad, 27, whom she had been dating for about 6 months or so. When I was little, this just seemed normal. But then I got to be 19, and I realized that this seemed a bit crazy. I didn't know what I wanted to major in, much less who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

While my mom's dress is not exactly my style, I do love its simplicity. No over-the-top beading or pouffy lace. Just a simple empire waist dress, with a high neck and delicate lace daisies. This was the era of Taming of the Shrew, Camelot, Romeo & Juliet, and Anne of the Thousand Days, don't forget. My mom's veil is attached to a beaded Juliet cap, and falls to her feet.

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Vintage Photo Friday-Robert & Richard

This photo is from 1976, when my husband Richard was only a few months old. He's sitting on the lap of his older brother, Robert. Richard was the baby of the family, the fourth kid. He was a bit of a surprise baby, born nine years after his brother. Of course, Robert was a surprise baby, too. He was born 6 years after their sister, JoAnn. Jo and her older sister, Linda, were only a year apart.

So the generations in Richard's family are a bit s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d. Richard turned 33 last month, and yet we just went to Linda's 50th birthday party last weekend. JoAnn has a granddaughter, Kaitlyn, who is a year and a half older than Vivian. So Kaitlyn is my great-niece, even though she is older than my own daughter. And Richard's mom has a great-grandaughter that is older than her granddaughter.

But isn't this photo adorable? (even if it is a bit grainy—I took a photo of the photo with my cell phone this morning as I was rushing out the door) A side note to further date this photo to the 70s, apparently to calm baby Richard when he was cranky, his mom and sisters had to dance with him and sing "That's the Way (I Like It)" by KC and the Sunshine Band.

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Ruth Wright Johnston

My grandmother was never an easy person to love. She had an extremely critical eye, especially for members of her family. She was never comfortable giving compliments to her family. She would talk about how great my aunt was, but only to my mom, never directly to my aunt. She seemed to go out of her way to be difficult, as if she was testing the limits or boundaries of your love. She would say horrible, offensive things on purpose, it seemed, as if she wanted to prove to herself that we didn't really love her.

In the last five years or so, she seemed to mellow. She started to appreciate the people around her, and even learned how to apologize. She wasn't perfect, and she could always be counted on to tell you how fat you looked, but I always assumed that said more about her own issues with weight than it did about my body. My grandmother was:

• a child of divorce (my great-grandmother ran away from her husband in 1929, and even changed her and my grandma's last name so he couldn't find them)
• a swim suit model (she had a front cover of Harper's Bazaar and a back cover of Vogue in the 1940s)
• a mother of three
• a divorced woman in the 1950s
• a working woman
• a mother whose child died (my uncle committed suicide in 1975)
• a widow (her second husband, my Grandpa Paul, died when I was in high school)
• a proud, strong, ornery woman

Goodbye, Grandma.

Ruth Wright Johnston
4/29/25 - 10/15/08

Me, Grandma and my mom, with Vivian

Summer Fun at Mother's Beach

On Friday, I decided to take advantage of our recent heat wave and the fact that I didn't have to work (I had a fabulous 3 weekdays between end of old job and beginning of new one) by taking Vivian to the beach.

I am ashamed to say that, despite living in California all of my life, I very rarely go to the beach. Many years, the only beach trip was when we went to Lake Tahoe. But not this year. I have resolved that I will not spend the summer bitching that it's too hot, and gawd I wish we had a pool. If the water cannot come to me, then I will go to the water!

Having very little experience with LA's beaches, my first stop was the Heal the Bay Beach Report Card. The news is always full of the latest unhealthy report, so I wanted to make sure everything was safe before I put Vivian in the water. And I knew that didn't want to drive very far, because if Vivian wasn't happy, I didn't want to be stuck in traffic for hours trying to get home.

After much web surfing, I decided to try out Mother's Beach in Marina del Rey. The only cost was $6 parking, but you park so close -- no long schleps with baby and gear -- that it was worth it. The beach is protected by the marina, so there are absolutely no waves to worry about. Vivian loved it. I sat her down on the wet sand and she just started crawling out into the water as fast as she could.




We got to the beach at about 11:30 a.m., and stayed until 2:30, which ended up being just about perfect -- she napped in the car both ways, so she was in a good mood for most of the time. The beach also has picnic tables, and even barbeques, so next time, I'll plan to bring a bit more food. Vivian and I made friends with some other parents and kids, and just had a great time hanging out together. It was a great day.

Just keep truckin'

On Saturday, the Reeve-Manfredi clan hit the road, driving from LA to Tucson, AZ, where my mom, stepdad & sister have relocated this year. We three piled into the car at 7:30 a.m., and after getting an infusion of caffeine at Starbucks (thanks for the gift card, Dad!), we got on the road. Directions: get on the 10 East, and drive. If something gets in your way, turn.

8.5 hours later...

We rolled into Tucson (107 degrees!) that afternoon to see family, and we promptly hopped in the pool. Because that's how I roll (at least when it's 107 degrees). Vivian didn't hate the pool, but she wasn't sold on it, either. But look how cute that swimsuit is! I had to get her in it, while she still fits in it. Vivian got to spend quality time with the family over the weekend, with Aunt Jenny... and Grandma... And Great-Grandma... I haven't seen my grandma in years, so it was great to be able to introduce her to Vivian.

Rich & I also got our first night out, sans baby. We, along with Jenny, went out to karaoke while Grandma Susan & Grandpa Bob watched Vivian. It was hard being away from her, but we had a good time anyway. Rich and I sang the Johnny Cash/June Carter Cash duet, "Jackson," and the minute we got up from the table, Jenny was descended on by guys hitting on her. The girl's still got it!

The drive home on Monday wasn't quite as easy as the drive there. We left at 2:30 p.m. and got home at almost 2 a.m. Now, we stopped in Phoenix to see Rich's friend McClane, which was fun, sharing stories of parenthood (his wife just had twins, bringing their total number of kids to 4). And then we got stuck behind a bad accident on the freeway, which stopped us for an hour. And Vivian was not happy with the delay. Let's just say that baby was fussy. For hours. It was hard to keep her happy, having to be in the carseat for so long, when she really wanted to stretch and be held. But I think we'll be doing this trip fairly often, since the family is fairly convinced that they like Vivian and would like to see her regularly. So, viva el 10!

Vivian thinks road trips are fun!