I have always loved dogs. Here I'm at my Aunt Mamie's in Troy, Alabama. My grandmother and I rode the train from Tampa to attend Mamie's daughter's wedding. I was a flower girl. The ring bearer was a red-headed little boy named Rusty. At the reception I asked the piano player to play "Home on the Range" and he did.
Kindergarten at Seaborn in Tampa. And my brief ballet career.
1959. Senior year at Plant High in Tampa. John and I were "going steady." He gave me a ride to school every day in his Model A.
I had to save out this picture of Justin to show Josie (who scored another goal in last Saturday's soccer game.)
And then there was a whole mess of materials from the quilting classes I taught back in the early 2000's. Not to mention patterns and instructions for the many group quilts I helped with.
I've heard of people's lives flashing before their eyes when they were in a perilous situation. Well, I'm not in such a situation; my life is crawling before my eyes at a slow and crowded pace. It's so much information and so many memories that I can only do a small amount at a time--like the cat ate the grindstone.
6 comments:
Will you pass the family pictures on to future generations? Josie's own kids, eventually, will enjoy that photo of Justin. These days everything is digital, and most memories will probably be lost rather than saved and passed on.
These are so precious...especially with your comments. But what the heck is Cat Eating the Grindstone all about?
It's a saying we've always used for something that can be done but only slowly and over a long period of time. I've no idea of its origin.
I have lots of scrapbooks full of pictures that I wont get rid of.
Mr. Google tells me its an old Appalachian saying--so we probably picked it up from our neighbors.
Precious time, precious pictures. Thanks for sharing.
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