Books, book stores, reading, memberships and customers....

One small shelf of my personal home library which comprises
two walls and two more 6 shelf book cases.
These are but a few of the book I have read.  

I have been a  subscribing member of Barnes and Noble(B&N) ever since we moved here, 8 years now which means I pay an annual fee and in turn receive discounts either online or in the store.  As I consider this I ponder, "why must I pay to spend money?" This is not a unique question and one that Jerry might asking mockingly.   Well, I do enjoy books, reading and bookstores of all sorts. Sadly to me mostly long gone are those wonderful small owner bookstores where one could go and chat and even have a book special ordered, best of all discuss what's new in the publishing world.  Now a days so few people read that most of those eclectic one owner stores were forced out of business.  Think about it, when was the last time you discussed in casual conversation, not at a book club meeting, "what are you reading?"  More likely it's what are you listening to on your download, or what TV shows do you watch, or what movie did you see.  But books, a difficult conversation starter in the general public.   

Yet the reading books links have begun to proliferate on Facebook.  On our snowbird trip this winter I found and "joined" Books A Million (BAM) which has a dominant presence in the South and which is cheaper than B& N.   I immediately preferred BAM because I made a friend my first trip to the first store in Memphis, TN,  Julia, an employee,  mature  woman who loves to read, who went to work there part time to support her  book habit,  and who readily discussed books with me. In fact she recommended several which I  purchased and have read and reviewed on my Book Blog.  http://patsbooksreadandreviewed.blogspot.com/   I visited other BAM stores and had the same kind of experience, readers work there, the employees are people who know about books and are interested in customers. Maybe it's just the south, but I think it is the culture of the corporation.    

This month I decide whether or not to renew my B& N and likely I will not.  In my  8 years visiting the local  B&N I have never met any employee with whom I could discuss a book,  in fact the employees at the local B&N are off in another world and more concerned about talking amongst themselves. Whenever I deign to ask one to look up an author of a book for me they grudgingly  go to the terminal and more often than not say there is no such book or that they cannot find it or that it is not published or am I sure of the title?    I know darn well there is such a book, because I have read the review in either a newspaper or online  through the B& N notices and may have jotted the title  down but not the author.  So I leave disgusted, not purchasing a book.  BTW  the B&N employees appear of the younger age group and although they look like teenagers to me maybe they are in their 20's or 30's. Regardless they have no customer service training.  Maybe they are  just not interested in customers "of a certain age" or  customers period.  Rarely have I stumbled upon a mature B&N employee who can assist me.    This week I have determined that B&N  must have as their policy, "be clueless toward customers" and there is the final nail in their coffin with me.  After all I can purchase books online through BAM and Amazon, physical copy or download to my tablet,  and of course there is always a book sale to support, and well Sam's Club, Wal Mart when I venture there and even the Woodmen's Supermarket sells books at a discount, with no membership fee.     

My dissatisfaction with B& N has been escalating.  First I changed my email address of record with B&N online in January by accessing my account; this did not make any impression on B& N they continue to use the former email address to send notifications.  I sent follow up customer contact emails to them through my account on their website, no reply.  I gave up and ignored it until this week when I decided to try again using their  website, my account and the online "chat feature."  My mistake, for expecting results after I typed my issue in the  customer box...whoever works on the customer chat line is either inept, unwilling, untrained, or the system does not work. It was frustration.  I sat at my computer screen for a long time while the chat line  said, "I can help you.", "Thank you for your patience,"   "What is your membership number?"  "I will help you.", etc.  Finally I  wrote that I did not intend to spend all day with them and logged off..   I cannot understand why I did not call it quits right then but no, I took one more trip back to the deep well of frustration on another day.  I sent another email to their customer service describing my frustration that they refuse to change my email and describing my frustration with their lack of responsiveness.   I received an automated response that I would hear from them within 24 hours. Hah, I thought.  At last.  But no, the Hah is on me....

I received an email from B&N asking me to call them to discuss this and giving me their hours when I can call their customer service line.  At which I suppose I can waste more time, chatting on the phone at my inconvenience and continue this aggravating process.  But know what, no more for me.  I am done.  I refuse to do business with a company  that obviously does not value me as a "customer."    I figure I am paying them and since they are not responsive I can spend my money elsewhere. Oh what a concept they have not discovered, they need me, I do not need them.   Besides the local store at Christmas time all but moves the book inventory out and sells toys and gadgets of all sorts.  I don't buy toys.  I would buy books, but there are other places to shop and so good bye B& N.  Torture your next customer.    

Stretch and what thrives in the hot

Stretch sideways

Meet Stretch, our resident pine squirrel, a furry creature who does not seem to be wilting as  are the rest of us in this heat, so unlike south eastern MN summers.  Stretch is so named because he is apt to be spotted stretched over any of the best pickings down at the bird feeders, he has his preferences peanuts to be sure, but also the apple cores and stale bread offerings coated in peanut butter that I toss along to the winged circus creatures.  Stretch can spot an apple tid bit from out of nowhere and immediately flies to the ground from above in the tree tops or below, pounces upon it, stretches out and guards it while chewing on a piece that he snatched amidst his pounce.  He is a remarkable acrobat, a flying squirrel.   Today I was checking  out back camera in pocket seeing what's thriving in  the heat when Stretch appeared; he makes a strange sharp noise to announce his presence; notice his sideways cling, still as can be and there he remained until I left. I have been trying to photo him for a few weeks, his activities can be annoying and yet simultaneously comical.  I suspect that the other squirrels  mostly greys and some black do not share our amusement of him.  In fact when they see him coming they flee; Stretch is the backyard bully and runs off other squirrels twice his size as well as a rabbit and some birds.  He is content to allow the doves to graze with him.  But  mostly when Stretch appears the feathers fly from the birdfeeders. He is small but mighty, from his nose to the end tip of his tail, maybe 10 or 11 inches.  Every year we have one or two of these creatures around,  thankfully not more of them because they do run the roost.  When we first moved here in 2005 we had a pair that confiscated a small birdhouse near the clothes line as their home, such chattering when I was hanging clothes.  Fortunately I spotted them and did not go near their house, where they stayed for a month or two, an unwary hand and I am sure I'd have encountered teeth and a squirrel bite can be dangerous.  Wikipedia says:  Pine squirrels are squirrels of the genus Tamiasciurus. This genus includes three species, the American Red Squirrel T. hudsonicus, the Douglas Squirrel T. douglasii and Mearns's Squirrel T. mearnsi. All are native to North America: pine squirrels can be found in the northern and western United States, most of Canada, Alaska, and northwestern Mexico.

Amaryllis enjoys the heat

But back to the heat, how unnatural for south eastern MN, yet the old timers assure me it was just as hot in the late 30's at times, but back then "we had no air conditioning and we just got used to it."  Used to it, indeed; I know that was the case in western PA  growing up as a child, sleeping on the second floor of a 2 story house with no air conditioning, no fan.  Who ever heard of cooling; go to the basement to cool off but we kids did not seem the least bit bothered.   I can say we were used to it.  For now, I have started my  morning walks earlier and earlier, today 7:00AM and that was even warm as after my hour I had worked up a drench sweat.   There are quite a few of us morning walkers usually about but today I saw only two other women.  I think everyone is either getting out even earlier or giving up the walking in the heat.  But I am engaged on my own health improvement project following my annual medical check up which had warnings, bit of weight gain which I do not need and some upcreep in fasting blood glucose and cholesterol numbers, nothing I have had before but I have not been 68 years old before either.  My Mayo doc advised I take this as a warning and indeed I am.  As he said, "you have really good health, do not let this get away from you."  I take the warning seriously and will be back with normal and below normal reading when he checks me again in December. 

So the week of heat is here which makes us even more so looking forward to our Alaskan journey all of August.  Ahh,,cool and cold, that's for me. But for now, some plants seem to thrive, here are just a few happy bloomers like these tiger lilies and the Russian sage along the side of the house where the sun beats hot in the afternoon:

 

Back in May when it was wet and windy, I knew summer would come so I visited the local nursery and spotted a new combination of pale yellows in a lemon lime coleus and vanilla marigolds for the back flower box.  I am pleased with the serene calm appearance they present in this weather. 

 

Blogger is not cooperating with my posting photos so I am out of here for now....isn't Vanilla lovely?

The catch up, not Heinz

At the Erie Canal museum, Syracuse, NY
The last remaining lock load building of all the great canals
in the country that were engineering marvels of their day..

Have not fallen off the face of the earth, but have been east and now  home for a month  preparing for next departure to Alaska and playing at catch up with yard work, domestic activities, local community,  friends,  financials, and my blog.    Peculiar testament to how things change, advance, or become more complicated is  that my actions now five years down the highway of life  from when I first started of this blog are not matching the original intent. Not synced as the term is between my phone and tablet.   I created this blog with the intention of it faithfully being the place where I would record our travels at the time we were traveling, so friends and family could track us.  Silly thoughts I had back then because today with life's twisty turns, there is little to no family and those who are do not read this blog. And blogger is undergoing traaaansformations too that require adjustments with some of my software.  Friends track our escapades on Facebook, which is easier to access from my smart phone or tablet as we travel.  Heck it's easier to post a quick line or photo to Facebook while we are at home too.  While Facebook cannot replace blogging, although some FB users treat it as their blog and post on and more, FB has earned its place as the easiest way to stay in touch.  One of those techie changes.  

We had a great trip and a different rally experience at the Syracuse Good Sam RV Rally,  then explored previously unvisited parts of very rural north eastern PA  before swinging back down to home town.  But not once did I post onto this blog the entire time we were gone, you already know that..  We arrived home June 28 and am just now getting my blog on.  Our round trip in motor home with tow car was 2459 miles over 7 states, just about 43 hours driving time in the

Muddy pond and wet hillside 

motor home,  consuming 311.1 gallons of diesel at $1216.45.  There is still over 3/4 of a tank of diesel left  awaiting the next trip.  We did something we usually avoid which was driving toll roads which invested $129.40 in Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, New York and Pennsylvania. It was faster moving over all and since this was a destination trip not so much for sight seeing along the way we took the pay route. We also drive a big rig that does not scoot easily down back country lanes and with changing weather conditions and rains, we  did not want to risk getting off the  main interstates and encountering roads  flooding or bridges washing out  as was happening in the east and midwest this June.  

Storm clouds ahead view  from the
windshield

I am not opposed to toll roads, because I like the idea that users pay for the privilege and non users do not.  But it  really does not work that way, everyone pays and still the infrastructure maintenance is questionable..  The states collect the tolls and who knows where that money goes because parts of Interstate 80 through Ohio are some of the worst roads in the country.  And then there is my home state of Pennsylvania, where it must be a continuous governmental employment program, roadwork always,  that Pennsylvania turnpike is ever in transition. .  

I have enough digital photos to fill another album and that is another activity for when?  I have complicated my life with these  digital photos, which  while certainly preferable to the old days when  we had to wait for development of photos, I now have flash drives full of pics.  Here again my intentions are to edit, organize  them into albums, and perhaps publish a book or two on Shutterfly,  but my  reality does not catch up to my intentions. Please pass the  Heinz, maybe a good squirt of red here and there would do it.

While many things happened that will provide good stories later continuing the Facebook teasers, I share a couple photos now and am back to what was my  task at hand on the computer, bringing our Quicken up to date with financial postings.   It"s too easy to click and stray the keyboard when sitting in front of the computer and well my lack of  discipline or my wandering attention span take quick advantage of the flick of the mouse.  

Mt Laurel in bloom  Stillwater, PA
This is the Pennsylvania state flower which  I had not seen let alone
smell the bloom for probably 50 years. 

Our coach aka rig not quite set up but
 we just got in ahead of the storms
for that day in Indiana 

.

I was not kidding about the storms and rains this
trip,  here are some dark clouds moving right
in as we stopped for the night in Decatur Indiana.
Midwest downpour is about to begin. 

Sepia Saturday 180 Life must be lived with fun

In this week's prompt, Alan  mentioned life and what about it?  I saw this quote recently,  "There are two great days in your life, the day you are born and the day you figure out why." The why is always the mystery isn't it?    I love our Sepia posts with glimpses of life and times here and there and what it meant and as in this prompt, what happened behind the scenes.  Today I went to my late Uncle Carl's albums, where I can always find something to share.  I laughed out loud at these photos, you will see why and maybe you will too.  I have written  a lot here about Uncle Carl, Mom's brother,  who took many photos and enjoyed himself  and life especially when he was out with the guys hunting, fishing, or just hanging out playing cards. 

It's 1982, turkey hunting season, sometime in the fall and it is time for the guys to arrive at their camp in Avonmore, Pennsylvania "outpost 39" as painted on Uncle Carl's sign in front of the place.  Avonmore is a borough in Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania, United States. The population was 820 at the 2000 census. Area: 1.6 sq miles (4.144 km) near the Kiskiminetas River.

 We have been watching TV reruns on the A&E cable channel of "Duck Dynasty" which is hysterically funny and is all the rage.  It is true to life  about a Louisiana family of sons, father, uncle, and their Duck Call business.  Uncle Sy is my favorite character in the series.   Well, Uncle Carl and his friends were far ahead of the Duck men.   They had their own comedy episodes.



What is this all about?  Turkey hunting?  Will the turkey fall down in hysterical laughter when this man appears?  I have shared here before, these men were out for fun...
On the back Carl wrote, "Cliff Andrea" I  do not know him. But this is funny!  Deer antlers with curls and an automobile insignia atop.. Fishing pole?

Sure enough, here they go on the turkey hunt. Notice the outhouse in the back...
and the serious hunter.  On the back Carl wrote Rich Debick & Cliff.  
 Is that a turkey call in Cliff's mouth?

At least one foul  was claimed evidenced above  by two more of the guys who look grizzly, camouflage and all. Some of the turkeys are huge and this one looks pretty big to me.  At least they are not wearing antlers on their head. 

I often buy  comical cards to send to folks on birthdays, etc.  I think I can use some of Uncle's photos to make my own...I need the right sentiments printed along with the photo.  

This  has been my Sepia Saturday post.  For more laughs and  so much more interesting information, check out the link to the host site where so many others have so much to share.
http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2013/06/sepia-saturday-180-8-june-2013.html

The foot of the stairs

The expression "foot of the stairs"  has been familiar to me, it seems all my life.  I grew up in a two story house in PA and later on in my adult life, the first house we built in Fair Oaks, CA was two story.  I have always thought it an odd saying and for years have had the idea that I should find a piece of sculpture or piece of artwork, resembling the foot of the stairs, a logo.   I have searched galleries and artifact places looking for something suitable and  have not found just what I wanted.  Now that we  again live in a home with stairs, upstairs and downstairs,  I  resumed my search, but to no avail. 

Until last week  at a local thrift store a bright gold metal ladies boot attracted me, best of all it was  marked to half off and only $5.  It became a place holder for the foot of our stairs where it has taken its place.  It was made in Taiwan (at least not China) and is rather heavy, I thought someone perhaps had repainted it but it does look like that's the way it was.  I may  fill it later with some silk plant or who knows what to emerge from the top.  I also seems the style for the era when the washer next to it was used.... So while I continue my  search for an actual "foot" type object, the golden shoe will do.  Jerry, who has learned over  46+years with me  to never try to anticipate what treasure  might attract me, thought this was not all that bad and having been along on  searches for a proper foot of the stairs,  asked if the search would now be over?  Well, "no"  it's not really a foot but will serve until the foot shows up.  So the golden shoe  joins the other decor at the foot of the stairs,  my grandmother's old  metal washer used when laundry was done by hand, perched atop is the  fabric angel made by my friend Sandy years ago and this spring a new whimsical turtle along with floral vine added their presence. 

I had decided at Christmas time to display the old washer relic there and  adjust its decor throughout  the year,  for St Patty's time it was a shileleigh of sorts. Its roles are certainly  steps up in luxuroious retirement when considering its uses in it's early life,  pre our modern washeing machines.  I used to think the old wringer washers one of  which my aunt Jinx kept and used for certain items all her life were antiquated but when I think of how hard it must have been to boil the water on a wood or coal stove, pour it into  wash basins or troughs and attack it with the likes of this metal wooden handled relic, to scrub clothing, well, we do have it much easier...  Lots of toil back then, hard physical work.  On the other hand my ancestors  did not spend time thinking of the foolish things that I do, "foot of the stairs..."

Wonder where that expression started and still today can find little information.  A Google search shows it dates to northern England, and is used to express surprise, " I'll go to the foot of our stairs" .. a form of exclamation. Similar ones would be "Stone the crows!" (a bit old-fashioned, no doubt) or "Christopher Columbus!" (ditto), or the more common "Jesus Christ!"    I never heard of  "stone the crows either"  but I have been guilty of  the JC and now I'm thinking it might mean, "well I'll be damned."   

Array at the foot of
our stairs



Another  Google  writer shared:  "This saying originated in the North of England but  did travel to others parts of the UK during the 20th century, notably the Birmingham area where it was commonplace, but not much further, and is little known in other parts of the English-speaking world. It is now less used than previously, although it is still staple fare for any writer wishing to write a part for a stage northerner. There are also less well-known alternatives with the same meaning - 'the back of our house' and 'the bottom of our garden'. All the variants were too low-status and colloquial to have been written down and I can find no printed examples of it until the late 20th century. The expression is certainly older than that and I have a clear recollection of my parents using it in the West Midlands in the 1950s and I would guess that it is older still. Beyond that there's little more to tell. Exactly when the phrase was coined, by whom, and what it refers to, I don't know"

Well the phrase certainly made its way across the Atlantic and  as far west as western PA where I grew up and simply heard it as a common expression of location like, erhaps some of my Brit blogger pals can expound..". . it is mostly Northern English, and more particularly related to Yorkshire. Apparently, it is still in use. It is frequently featured in sitcoms etc when there is a typical Yorkshire character, in order to add a bit of local 'colour'. No one seems to know where the expression comes from. Why: "Go to the foot of (the stairs)"? Why would it come into it at all, when expressing surprise? Or is this one of those deliberately absurd phrases used in a tongue-in-cheek way? "Our" seems to imply the person is talking about his or her family-home."   So you know now more about the foot of the stairs than you ever expected....oh and yes, I have also been searching for that perfect item to resemble the "head of the stairs...."  a Google search for the origin  of that expression finds nothing but instruction on stair building, beyond my interest level.  Somewhere ot there is a sculptor who has the perfect head and foot resemblance for me.  I will keep searching.....• “She had run up in her bedgown to his door to call him as usual; then had gone back to dress and call the others; and in ten minutes was walking to the head of the stairs with the candle in her hand.”....Tess of the d'Urbervilles

Sepia Saturday Carts and more wagon train travelers of the past

This prompt raised my memory of  travelers we met in California, in December 1983, wagoneers,  of the oddest, adventurous, aspiring to live in the 1800's.  It was a family of four, man, woman and   two children.  Fortunately I had some photos of them, fading now and not of the sepia era but on theme as you will see. 

It was right after Christmas in 1983, when we lived in Newcastle, CA but this  took place in  the then rural area of  Penryn, a village established by Welsh  quarry miners in the 1800's.  We were at the home of friends for cocktails and were to meet others for dinner but this couple announced that they had a meal to take to a traveling family before we all went for dinner, the delivery would be on our way.  It was and remains the oddest traveling group we have ever known of then or since.  Today we recall little about  the particulars and unfortunately at that time I was not journaling  faithfully nor blogging, else I  would have more information to share today.  When we arrived at this rail road property  less than a mile from our friends'  ranch, with the platters of hot food she delivered,  my mouth fell open at the sight.  The weather is cold in Northern California in December and January, damp and foggy, bone chilling at times. 

Home base on railroad property of the 4.  The big sacks in front are
bush , tree, shrub branches trimmings brought by local farmers
for the animals.  Notice they were neat about their litter in a pile to the
left.  And someone had  given them two plain Christmas trees.

This family was from Arkansas and were journeying on their last leg through northern California with nothing more than wagons, mules and burro.  They were some sort of early survivalists perhaps or what?  John, the man was intent on making this journey to the central valley of CA where his family lived and employment  awaited but that was not his primary vision. He wanted to do this adventure while he was still young enough, was fascinated by the western tales of wagon trains and the like and wanted to be able to say he did this, the old time way.   One could say he lived his dream or nightmare.  They had been on the road over a year when we met them, an extremely long slow journey. This is before easily available cell phones, Internet and Facebook.   

Apparently John had some connections with the rail road lines and was able to stay on rail property so they rather followed the lines when they could.  They stayed in this spot for a couple weeks and accepted  charity of food and animal feed but would not accept cash.  They allowed us to take photos after we returned with food and blankets.  By that time they had become acquainted with many locals who all came out to see this sight and help them out.  

Another  local man brought them supplies while we were there
and the woman was moving them with the burro

It was 1983  how could this be?  Notice the bicycle off to the side which
they had for trips into a nearby store.  It was the most modern vehicle
in their homestead.  On the left you can see the rail line down the hill below them. 

They had a type of double expandable cart system which the man
had designed and built himself.  Some one had given them the two
geese they kept in  a cage.  More of their menagerie

This is the woman, mother of the two children.  The boy was about four
years old and the girl about six.   

The burro

One of their mules....

 We  wondered before what ever became of them,  there were no news stories about them, respectful of their  request for privacy perhaps.  So we assume all went well and John was satisfied with  his dream.  Jerry recalls that John was very  handy,  mechanical and able to fix most everything.  Well he would have to be to  do all this.  This is my Sepia post for this week, the oddest arrangement. 

Click on the link to  see what others have to share in this week of carts and beasties.   http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2013/05/sepia-saturday-179-1-june-2013.html

Sepia Saturday 178 Memorial Day back to 1943, my father

2013 Some things of my father, insignia, leather pilot cap

An open theme this week allows me to travel from today to 1943 with a  Memorial Day tribute to my father and all the brave souls who gave their all for our country and freedom.  The color photo to the left has mementos from my father, US Army Air Corps Lt. Lewis S Ball.  You know the story, I never knew him born  months after he and his entire combat flight crew disappeared into the Atlantic Ocean, June 20, 1944, WWII, The  aviator cap is in perfect condition and most likely could  have been a spare which seems to counter to the sparse gear the US Army distributed back then.  This cap was amongst many  documents and items I found it in an old  suitcase in 2004 after Mom died.   I have wondered as with so many  unanswerable thoughts, where did he get it and how did it stay in perfect shape?  There are letters on the top, "USN"  which I think are for US Navy, curious, my father was US Army Air Corp.  Did they get aviator caps for whatever service branch, did it matter?  

This photo of my father at the propeller is 1943 with him wearing this or another identical cap at Dorr Field, Arcadia Florida during his early flight training in P-38's and PT's. 

1943 July Lt L S Ball  Dorr Field

Lou  liked flying and especially  those small planes and aspired to be a fighter pilot in the Army Air Corps, but Uncle Sam needed ever so many more B-24 pilots and although Lou was not a large man in height he was strong and eager and assigned to fly the B-24 Liberator.   The following post card was one of the few things Mom shared with me although she would always call it, "that damned plane."  I don't know what he thought but I have some of his own notes and drawings from training, he was a dedicated student.   It has been said that the B-24's  were flat faced, rectangular and had  the look only a "myopic mother" could love.   The cockpit  was cramped requiring pilot and co pilot to live cheek to jowl during missions.  One WWII pilot wrote, that the first time he entered the cockpit of his B-24 "it was like sitting on the front porch and flying the house."  The Liberator was one of the heaviest planes in the world, the D model  weighed 71,200 pounds loaded.  Flying it was like "wrestling a bear" which left the pilots tired, and sore.  B-24 pilots were known to have huge muscles on their left arms which they used to man the yoke while their right hand worked other controls.  
 



This is the cover of my father's  August 1943 "Dorr Way", a booklet for the pilot trainees, they were the class 44-a.   I am  mindful of the task these  men faced  and grateful that I have these historic items.  It is a wonder that in the times of WWII the U S Army Air Corp would take the time to photograph and document their times at these different training sites.  It was a time when they would move quickly through and advance to the next training or wash out and be assigned to another task, not able to make it as a pilot.  Many hundreds of thousands of men went through the training but most did not achieve pilot status. The wash out rate was  at it lowest 30 percent but in  later years 45%; but the men who were not pilots would be given other flight status  jobs, bombardier, gunner, radioman, all with an appreciation of the difficulties they faced.    

 

 Louis Zamperini discusses the huge fatality rate of B-24 crew in his marvelous  book ,  "Unbroken" authored by Laura Hillenbrand,  the dangers that abounded even before they flew off to war theater.  The men called the B-24  "The Flying Coffin"   "Stories of its dangers circulated among the would be airmen all over the country.  Pilot and navigator error, mechanical failure, fuel leakages, sinkability, inability to ditch, and bad luck were killing trainees at stunning rate.. 52,615Army Air Corps stateside aircraft accidents over WWII killing 14, 903 personnel...In August 1943  590 airmen would die stateside, 19 per day." 

 

My father's squadron, # 6 at Dorr that Class of 44-a.  There were 6 similar
squadrons according to this book.  He is seated to the far right on the ground.

I cropped and enlarged the photo to the right of my father from the Squadron photo.  There again is that aviator cap, and goggles.  He looks happy and excited.  Look at his sparkling smile and his eyes.   He had less than one year of life left ahead when this photo was taken.  Maybe he did not yet know that the Liberator awaited. He was a positive young man.   Lou would  confide  in  his young brother, Henry, on his final leave home  that he was not so sure he had done the right thing in taking the pilot's training.  I doubt if he had much choice, he was in the Army and they made the rules.  It was not today's Army by a long shot and how could he have declined pilot training for which he scored very high in aptitude and  preliminary  screenings.   The aviators gathered in the photo below are waiting solo assignments.   


1944 June, short  newspaper clipping about
disappearance of my father
 and ..Combat crew 193







Last photo Dorr Field book 1943, an almost
spooky quality to the men now ready to meet their destiny, whether  to the next phase of training  as in Lou's case or...,.

This is  my Sepia Saturday contribution.  Click here to the Sepia host site where members of the international community respond to the prompt.  This week many consider the  eyes  in the   photo.   
 http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2013/05/sepia-saturday-178-25-may-2013.html

 









Rain outside so inside, the dreaded Room



Deserted back thistle finch feeder



It's a rainy day which means a break from the outside chores and adjournment indoors.  As Bea mentioned over at the Frog and Penguinn, seems irrelevant to say much these days with the OK tragedy.  We sent checks to Red Cross and Salvation Army immediately and many prayers.  Our friends there are safe thankfully, but  so much devastation...Despite the normally actively used black thistle seed finch feeder out back today, one odd lone gold finch decided he wanted into the top of the mini Alberta spruce out front.  Was he off course?  Was he trying to stay dry?  Who knows.  So seldom do they venture out front away from the back seed feeder that he caught my eye.  But all I could  capture was this glimpse.  I know it is a he because the males are the more brilliant gold.  Meantime the back feeder is deserted as they all avoid the showers.  



View out front window. A gold finch hides atop the mini
Alberta spruce and the tulips are about done
blooming,  grass is growing



I have tried to dedicate  two hours a day to clearing the mess of paper in our downstairs back bedroom,  results of my attempts to consolidate  and winnow photos, ours and all the inherited ones I brought from PA.  So far I do not reach my goal of two hours a day, because I allow distraction to occupy and divert my attention.  I see  something about the photos that sends me to the computer to look up genealogy and then to determine whether or not I have scanned that photo and if so it can be tossed or set into a very small stack which will go into an album. Once at the computer it is easy to check Facebook or a multitude of things and then soon it's time to return upstairs and start dinner.  I have justified the mess in that room because no one is here to use it, it is downstairs and out of the sight of any guests and if I keep all this stuff out and about I am more likely to deal with it.  But lately I cannot stand it any longer and so I made the two hour a day vow.  Today with the late April showers is a good day for inside work and I am avoiding the Room. 



The Room:  Dresser and boxes and vintage suitcases which store
 photos and documents.  Assorted stacks on top the dresser



The Room:  Across from dresser the daybed houses albums and more
photos and ephemera.  Old  48 star nylon flag atop one pillow

A friend said she has seen far worse and  so what, who cares, well that only encourages me.  Yes, I could quickly put the  photos into those vintage suitcases and boxes and  be clear if I needed to, but just as surely as I do that I will want something for some reason and will have to retrieve by releasing the stuff from its container.  That's why I decided a year ago to leave things be.  No, I have not been merely dawdling but gave two good hours to vacuuming upstairs,  and downstairs and the stairs themselves and rearranging some of the sunroom furniture, one of the  few if not only portable rooms in this house.   But this does not "redd up"  the mess in The Room.  Redd up is a western PA term, but friends from Indiana say it too,  while others look at me as though I have uttered a foreign language when I say I'm going to "redd up now."  Jerry is used to these idioms, and of course when in PA, no problem, but here?  No they do not understand. 

Here's a corner of  the  rearranged sunroom,, a favorite place in good weather and a walk in ice box in winter.  No sun today but good sitting, reading, pondering place or for storm watching.  Activity happened there because I  acquired a new ladybug doormat and allowing the distraction I shuffled furniture.  But now I  return back to The Room,  wish me concentration and progress, then again as my neighbor said, "why get it all done at once, we are retired...save something for a rainy day.."   oooops, that's today.  

New lady bug door mat for sunroom door onto back deck



Woe is I,me and time a wasting.

I have been tinkering again, here with some keystrokes,  trying to master Google +  with all it seems to want to offer me from phone, tablet and PC.  As I  become  bored with routine  and rote,  I accepted the + challenge to migrate both blogs  to Google +.  This led me to  tinker with my profile and  tag line there.  When I looked back Google said it could not save it.  I looked again, it was saved. Another look and it's the previous edition, now you see it, now you don't.   It's not that I need something to do, I am merely tinkering to determine which is the better venue for me to use on our impending August Alaskan adventure.   But the more I dabble,  the more circular my thoughts become and by now I have gone  back to , "whatever..."  Alice has once more slipped down the rabbit hole and is no longer in Kansas, which by the weather  news of today is a good thing because Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas have had whirls of ill wind blown their way.  If this makes no sense to you, never mind, you likely don't know me that well or have no appreciation for  how I can follow and toy with distraction beyond all hope of focus.  And how on earth did I become a follower of my own blog?  Well Google + , explain that to me and why can I not delete myself as one of my followers?  Sheesh!    Meantime I am adjourning back outside to the bench with a nice tall cold beverage....plenty of ice and enough of this computer business.