Sepia Saturday Week 50 The Tady Twins (Click here

I can still hear the excitement in the voices when they talked about the Tady Twins, the Tady Boys as I was a  youngster.  They were twin boys born to my mom's (and aunt  and Uncle's) cousin, Helen Janosky, who married Jack Tady.  Last week you met again, Stella Janosky, who was Helen's sister.  So far I have not found a  single photo of Helen in all the  old photos of relatives, but she may be one of those whom I cannot identify.  It must have been fun for my Mom, also a Helen, to have a  close cousin with the same name.

But back to the twins, I wonder now,  knowing what I do about our  ancestry, why  these twins were such a wonder.  There is  plenty of history of twins in the Ostrowski (Ostroski, Ostrowsky, etc.) lineage.  But nevertheless, the Tady Twins were revered, by their grandparents  Mary and Tommy and the rest of the clan.   And unlike those from years past, both boys survived and thrived.  No wonder that  Mom shuddered thinking of what could have been when I would lament in my teen years, "I wish I were twins!"  My cry was because I could not be in two  places at one time and there was always something more where I wanted to be than where I was at the moment. Mom shuddered because she knew it could have happened, she could have had twin me's!

 Here they are, darling little guys, a Sepia  photo retrieved from PA, Mom's writing at the bottom.Look at the arms linked and one more serious than the other.

I know they were a couple years older than me and their names were Fred and Frank; one is still alive today I have learned, but I don't know where. Fred is dead, and I do not know which was whom.  But what a couple of cuties!  Their parents first child, their older brother, Tom has also passed on and his wife has not wanted me to post anything about them or him relaying this message through a new found cousin,  not even communicating to me directly  but since I do not know her and these  are  from my family and my memories, I am sharing.

The way I know they are older than me besides my research that shows they were born in 1942  is look at this next photo.  Yours truly is the youngest, wailing  perhaps and  subdued by Mom in  1945, among  several of my boy cousins. Check out those short pants and  shoes and socks.  The Tady twins are  to the right of  myself, one either very concerned  or asking Mom to do something with the noise.  Again I do not know which is Fred and which is Frank. The boys to the left  are the Mroz cousins from Wisconsin who were visiting all of us in PA.  Rollie is the  youngest, the farthest to the left also looking at me with great concern and his brother Jerry is  bearing up; he is older and likely wishing he did not have to be among the beasties~ I gave copies of this photo to both the Mroz cousins a few years back; Rollie who passed away last year got a big kick out of it and reminded me that I had tormented them all my life.   I keep this photo framed  and on my family display shelf; it is one of my favorites.  You heard some of my escapades when I arrived in WI with my grandma to visit the Mroz's my Great Aunt Francie, grandma's sister on a March Sepia post  http://patonlinenewtime.blogspot.com/2010/03/sepia-saturday-great-aunt-francie.html

  I only have one more Tady photo and I am sure that  Jack, their father and Helen's husband has passed on, but I found this one from 1956 taken at my Grand Aunt Mary's during a family gathering...there were so many people there that the lawn chairs had to be brought inside the house to seat everyone.  Darn, wish I had a  Helen Janosky Tady photo here also  (I learned through research that  she passed away in this last year in a care facility in PA.  I leave this Sepia Post with Jack Tady, father of the boys!  Notice the look on his face, wonder who he was watching, maybe it was one of us kids!

As always, click on the title or here to get to the Sepia Saturday post site where you can browse through and visit others in the international community.   We celebrate  our 50th week this week!  What a journey!
http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2010/11/sepia-saturday-week-50.html

Magpie 41 Grandpap's Pick Axe http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2010/11/mag-41.html

I cannot explain why this came into my head and to the keyboard with this week's Magpie Prompt, but we all can look at the same object and see different things in our imaginations; maybe you cannot see this in the picture but I did and do....so here is my vignette for Magpie. 

In a far corner of the basement, deep into what was once the coal cellar, barely visible from the dim light that reflected in through the block glass window, I found Grandpap's miner's  pick axe, hobbled by spider webs, speckled with rust on the barren head and long forgotten.  Behind it on the wall  an old tin mirror  reflected the worn handle and  the somewhat  splintered metal of the axe head, aong with another odd  piece of iron pipe .  How many whacks had this axe taken at walls  freeing how many  pounds or  lumps of coal buried deep in the earth?  How many miles had Grandpap trudged axe over his shoulder, metal lunch pail in the other hand, dirty boots laced tightly on his feet to another  day down the dirt or muddy road in the mining camp from the shack that was their home, on toward the mine, the hole in the ground.  

He told me tales when I was  growing up about their life in the mines unless Grandma overheard and chastened him. "Pap, don't you talk about that with her!" I loved the stories, they were our secret.   I remember the pride still in his face when he told me that he'd  bought his own axe, purchased with scrip at the company store, the only store in  the coal town; let those other miners  use the poor tools the company furnished, not my Grandpap!  He wanted his very own axe, a solid one, one that would do a good days work, one that he knew was safe and  well cared for, not a cheap one where the  head could fly off and  take vengeance on the unsuspecting miner's skull.  No, my Grandpap knew about tools and  caring for them and valued ownership. 

He'd talk of how the coal dust covered the miners so that he emerged from working, his face like a "czardnja" the Polish word for  black person, black surrounding those bright blue  eyes.  As he got older, nary a grey or silver hair lightened  his full head of coal black hair and he would laugh that the coal dust had so stayed in his  blood that it darkened  his blonde hair black transforming him  from a blonde boy to a  czardnja ( black) head.  Strangely this reflects in me  today as I age and my hair gets darker, stumping my hair dresser; most  people get grey with age not darker.  I who have never been in a mine or around coal dust wonder about genes, could the coal dust  have stayed in the blood stream of descendants?

He told me tales of being on strike and of fighting off the scabs who'd try to break the picket lines, boasting how he a loyal union member would bust them a good one if they got near his part of the line.   He  told me how happy he was when he got the job in the factory, never more to have to go down the mine shaft, pick axe no more to strike the dark walls; but he'd kept the axe.  Strange to find the axe here, a dim reflection in  the  tin mirror. Grandpap's been gone since 1961. 

Grandpap was never one to squander or waste anything, there would always be another   use for it someday so here it was.  I have just the spot at home in my rose garden for this, new  art decor, I'll  hang a bird feeder from the splintered long handle; Grandpap's  axe will see the light of day and recover from all that time spent in the dark.  A tool, still useful today, that someday for something else.  Grandpap would smile; he'd be  proud.  


As always click on the title to get to the Magpie host blog where you can browse thorugh ever so many more Magpie contributors..... or click here..
http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2010/11/mag-41.html

Three reads

I have got to get his blog reorganized.  When I began to list my reads for tracking and sharing, I never thought I'd get so many, but I am pleased that I am cured (seems) of repurchasing the same books.  However I am  getting so many things on the side bars that it  is time to take some serious  redesign effort....sigh, another project pending.

Last night  I finished a James Patterson,  Alex Cross Thriller, "Cross Country."  I do love these Alex Cross novels and find them easy fast reading.  This one is published 2008 and I picked it up at a book sale for  50c paperback.  Devoured it in a couple nights.  In Cross Country Alex, the detective who gets into more  scrapes than James Bond  journeys to Africa, Nigeria to track a killer.  What he sees there changes everything for him.  Not to give away the story line, but it is up to date  leaving one wondering who are the good guys in the war on terror and just what is suppressed by the news today and what it not.  Highly recommend this  one along with any of Patterson's Alex Cross books. 

Just a few evenings ago after several weeks and a trip to PA where I had little to no time to read, I finished a very interesting historical novel, "Jackson" by Max Byrd. based on the life of Andrew Jackson, Old Hickory, courageous hero of the War of  1812 and  a President of our country.  I really enjoy historical novels and all history and this was not at all disappointing. Told over 421 pages, through the  voice of David Chase who has returned to the US from France and  is commissioned to write the biography of Andrew Jackson during the campaign for the presidency against John Quincy Adams.   It was published in 1997.  Byrd, the author was previously unfamiliar to me, but I would read his other works.  I found it interesting that he lives in Davis, CA.  His historical research is  intriguing and  yet he weaves interesting fictional characters throughout.  As I read I  thought that it could be written about politics today; all they lacked then was the speed of today's media.  The dirty  tricks, slanders, and viciousness of politics was out fully against Jackson.  This book gave me a perspective that I did not recall from studies.  Page 230 describes how times are changing in the country for this presidential election, "  That's how you win now in America, you  court the voters."  The reference to the wilderness struck me, "you can  ride for days in Pennsylvania and Kentucky and never hear English.  We cal it the melting pot."  And describing the deterioration of Mt. Vernon on page 231, he writes, "Through the trees Mt. Vernon had looked imposing, monumental.  Close up, however, the white facade was peeling in fist sized chunks, as if Time had strolled idly by swinging a hammer."

The writing is descriptive and excellent in parts.  The description of Washington, DC recalls the primitive roots of our country, unlike the bustle and  lavishness of today.   On page 56,  it is described with a .."town center, ....occasional rows of buildings, five or six at a time, then long open spaces like missing teeth"  and he goes on to  have a character say, "If America did not exist, a novelist would have to invent her."

 From the legendary creation of "OK", attributed to the illiterate Jackson  who it is said edited papers, with his  very limited reading abilities with the notation, "Oll Korrect" meaning all correct to the stories about his wife, Rachel,  who has a scandalous background, to the  Indian massacres to the battle of New Orleans and a successful presidential bid, this  novel about Jackson held my interest.  Max Byrd makes history alive and I recommend this one to anyone who enjoys history and has a basis for reference for it or recalling it.  Perhaps  anyone  unfamiliar  with  US history might not enjoy it as I did.  It is another of my book sale finds for $1.

And last only to document, though I cannot imagine ever repurchasing this one, the worst book I have read since I do not know when, "Forgiving Ararat" by Gita Nazareth.  We read this over the summer at  my women's book club at the Lutheran church.  We all struggled and protested while spending a couple months on it.  We were sold a bill of goods as it was touted as the Christian must read of the summer, presumptuously billed as the #1 Best Seller in Heaven.   I believe the author must have touted it as such.  It is a tale of the afterlife experienced by Brek Cutler, an attorney and young  mother who is murdered.  What she experiences in Shemaya,  is similar to the place Catholics recognize a purgatory but yet it was worse.  She is to work as an attorney,  a presenter in this  afterlife, where peoples sins are replayed constantly, presented as the book explains.  If that does not sound like hell I don't know what would; can you imagine being touted forever more in the herafter by all you have done  wrong while on earth?  I would have tossed  this book aside if not for our book club commitment and in fact, some did not persevere to the end.  There are some tricky parts  where presenters names are Biblical spelled backwards, such as Luas for Saul, and  Legna for Angel, but it is beyond weird.   We welcomed guidance from the pastor at our last meeting  that  the gist was to  substitue love for justice.  Some puzzing themes of the book are often contrary to Christian teachings, i.e., God punishes children for the sins of the parents and birth is the earliest injustice to humanity.  A truly miserable read over 404 pages.  Even the author's name is a pseudonym; there is no information about him or her.  Don't waste your $$ on this one.

MAGPIE returns Broken necklace, broken promise (click here to Magpie blog)

This week I will try my spin to the Magpie prompt; fall has arrived  heavily here in MN and this photo made me think of a couple things because it reminds me of.......well read along to learn what fell into my head and  then to the keyboard.  Magpie offers a weekly prompt that bloggers use in their poem, story, vignette.....

We were done clearing out her home before turning it over to the estate sale professionals, I had chosen carefully among  the overflow of treasures limiting my compulsion to continue accumulating, because there is only so much I can continue to squeeze into our own home. I took one last quick  browse, despite Jerry's impatient plea,  "Come on now, how much stuff can you take!  Enough already, leave something for the sale."

I opened the carved oriental  box again but now  the bangle and beads popped out, contrasted against the black taffeta fabric.  I'd  passed over the silver pearls and burnished brass talisman before, forsaking it for my grandmother's wrist watch instead.  All trinkets  that Aunt Czoche had held onto over the many years.  But now at the last minute there it was, the bronze talisman with the demon dancing among the loose pearls.

Suddenly the childhood rhyme echoed back from years long  gone  through my mind,  pushing forward, to the front, like the  pearls in front of me now, the words  I'd made up while  helping Grandma scoop up the pearls that scattered across the carpet, when the string to her necklace  broke so very long ago.  Spontaneous poems were  frequent with us often with some help from Grandma and I saw us again picking up each loose  pearl  and placing them into Grandma's hanky, for safe keeping, someday to be restrung, that someday never came. She  couldn't afford to do that and I remember so distinctly telling her, "someday I'll get them restrung for you, Grandma..."  Long time ago, had not thought of if and yet now, the rhyme taunted me till I spoke it out loud:

"Pearls of silver,
Pearls of grey,
Dance with the demon
But only today.

Gems for the lady
Brass for the man
Dance of the demon
Watch while you can.

Pearls so silver
Pearls so grey
Dance of the demon
Chase him away..

Pearls all scattered
Pick them up now
Demons might dance
But we'll show you how!

One, two, three.......

Resurrection of the rhyme, one of the many we made up while we slapped jump ropes against the sidewalks, childhood refrains. We girls  challenged each other on who'd make  up the jump rope jingles  the fastest.  The broken strand of pearls were fresh in my mind that day so I shouted out the demon dance jump. Hadn't I been ahead of the curve even then, if only I'd put it to music, my jingle similar to "Devil went down to Georgia" by the  Charlie Daniels band the ring tone on my Blackberry today.

What else lurks behind the memory wall of my  mind to be retrieved by the sight of a long ago  familiar object?  Why think of it now, except that there were the pearls, still waiting to be restrung more than 60 years later.  I picked up the pearls and folded them into a handkerchief, stuffed them into my jacket pocket,  to be restrung someday very soon, along with the brass demon medallion.  I'd promised my grandmother I'd do that.  These could not be sold, they brought back memories and the reminder of the promise. Doesn't it all?


This is but one of the Magpie posts.  To see how others use the prompt click here and browse the Magpie site, which  has grown so much since my last  visit..... http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2010/11/mag-40.html#comment-form

Sepia Saturday,week 49 Stella Janosky (Click here to go to other posts of Sepia 49)

I had so  many choices for my return to  Sepia Saturday that it was difficult to choose until something happened that  fellow genealogists will appreciate and that brought me to feature Stella Janosky (1910--1987). I had a contact from a previously unknown cousin, on the Janosky side so began to try to update some of that information.   Stella was  a  daughter of my Grand/Great Aunt Mary and Uncle Tom Janosky, a very close cousin to Mom and Aunt Virginia (Jinx), Jinx' best friend too for a long time.  Aunt Mary was an Ostroski (Ostrowski) my grandma Rose's sister,  I introduced her on Sepia Week  18; that sure seems a long time ago now, but it was only April    http://patonlinenewtime.blogspot.com/2010/04/sepia-saturday-week-18-ostrowski.html

Stella  was the first daughter and third child born to Mary and Tommy Janosky.   She never married, the only one of her eight  brothers and sisters to remain single, she lived at home with Mom and Dad all her life.   Here is Stella  with her suster Josephine who married a Mentecky.  I am guessing that this photo dated about 1930 when Stella was 20 and Josephine was 18.  It is the hairstyles that make me think that and the dresses.  Mom's handwriting is on the photo but I found this at my Uncle Carl's home this trip.  Don't know how  he got it, but being Mom's brother and also a cousin to the  Janosky girls it's explainable.  I wonder if my Uncle Carl was not going to sketch these cousins as he was an artist and I found a portfolio of  his sketches done after Worlkd War II.  There were none of these girls, but many others.    I love this photo and the  gold leaf scroll work bordering it.  Wish Mom had not written across it, but at least this identifies who they are.  We saw some of Stella with the cousins back on the July  4th photos http://patonlinenewtime.blogspot.com/2010/07/fourth-of-july-sepia-saturday-week-30.html

 Stella and my aunt Jinx were very close and traveled around together.  They did have their spats off and on though, kind of the way sisters do.  Stella was especially fond of my grandma, too.  I remember seeing Stella in church and she would always  flutter a handkerchief towards us during mass to acknowledge that she saw us.  This next photo is about 1941  of Stella and my Aunt Virginia.  They both worked at Pittsburgh Plate Glass Company and this  5" x 7" photo is sealed in a 1 inch thick hunk of gorgeous cut beveled  glass.  I have never seen anything else like glass encased photo  among the family collection and I wonder if they got a discount at the glass factory to do this?  Kind of unusual, don't  you think. 

Stella and Virginia traveled to Milwaukie to visit their aunt Francie Mroz and family together and somewhere there are many of those photos, to be scanned.  These two cousins were the single ones for a long time until Virginia married John in  the  late 50's.  That put an end to their days together, I know. 

Last but not least, here is myself, approximately January--March  1945,   a balmy day  by the  dresses without coats although I am bundled up.  Stella is  holding me, with Mom standing alongside her.    They said she always volunteered to watch me, but  my Grandma never needed the help. 

.  

The last photo is just of Stella and me. I look a bit worried about something.  I lost track of Stella as I grew up seeing less and less of her, and of course by my teen years  I was not   much for family visits other than those that were mandatory.  I had other things to do as a teenager.   By the time Stella died I was in California and I do not recall  any of the details about her death.   I wonder  now about her life, was she satisfied to  be the maiden aunt to so many?   Was she ahead of her time?  

As always click on the title to this post above or here to link to the others who are sharing this week 49 on the Sepia Saturday link.  http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2010/11/sepia-saturday-week-49.html

PA Finds continue

I was contacted by another previously unknown cousin from the Janosky clan, who is also in PA and who found me through web browsing and the post I shared about the 4th of July on Sepia Saturday 30 posted here on July 2. http://patonlinenewtime.blogspot.com/2010/07/fourth-of-july-sepia-saturday-week-30.html My new found cousin, Karen is retired and lives in PA and was interested in the information I had about our great grandfather, Frank Ostrowski, etc.  She knew next to naught about her father's side of the family because he and  they were estranged from his clan.

 Darn, we had just returned home from PA, but maybe next time we can connect in person. I was excited to have a contact to help me with some of the Janosky lineage and then, Karen sadly relayed with some embarrassment,  that some of the relatives she did contact  "do not want anything posted or shared on Ancestry," etc. Since they have provided nothing to me, ever and don't even know me,  I don't quite fathom  what they think will happen.  I suspect this means they want to remain private and keep hiding themselves without contact from the likes of me. Well I am a resourceful researcher and can find things without them and I am not going to cease researching because unknown folks get their dithers in a tither! :) Karen and I agreed "well and oh ...and that's how weird the family can be." Her own father, who  is my Mom, aunt, uncle's cousin and a son of Grand Aunt Mary (my Grandma Rose's sister) and Uncle Tom Janosky  had limited to no interaction with his own family after marrying though he lived near by. Reportedly Great Aunt Mary did not like his wife.  How often have I heard that tale in life?  What strange people to allow such rifts to tear them apart from their families, such losses in their lives. I am beginning to think this is a latent  curse of the Pollocks; these people are all part of the Ostrowski aka Ostroski clan.

  Is there something genetic here, or is it just as I suspect people who are uninformed ignore or fear what they do not know and have little curiosity to reach beyond themselves and expand their worlds.  The  relative who protested married in and so is not part of the genetic heritage.  I think it is just strangeness.  Whatever. 

But back to the reclusive relatives, I guess people who don't understand the Internet are frightened of it.  They hear all these tales of identity theft, etc and so it goes.  I do not have the kind of personal information that would cause hardships to these folks and though I was shrugging, I decided that I will not stop sharing on Sepia whatever I want to. The photos I have of family  and my  recollections and tales will go up despite their protests, they are my photos and my memories and history  and I will publish them as I wish.

This does make me wonder though about family falling outs.  I have a cousin, Sharon,  who found me when we lived in CA,  also on the Ostrowski side living in PA  from whom I have heard not a word for almost two years now.  Without reason she quit communicating though as far as I know she lives in Natrona Heights today still and her husband is on Facebook. we used to visit when we went to PA, dine with them, etc.  Last year no Christmas card, nothing.  I have tried to call Sharon and no answer on her phone and she does not return calls nor respond to email. I cannot imagine what would have set her  off in a snit and I do hope nothing is wrong, but after making calls and sending cards and letters to no avail and no response, I get the hint!  Who knows what turns peoples' heads.  I find this strange behavior.

This trip to PA at Uncle's home I found some wonderful old books on his shelves and brought a few back home to MN.  I know nothing about any of these books but could not resist them, printed in 1915, 1916, 1942  and 1943, with wonderful photos in the fronts, gorgeous  inside covers with sketches and engraved covers which are heavily worn.  They had them for a long time of that I am certain.

 I have added to my library "Just David"  by Eleanor H. Porter, 1916 published by Houghton Mifflin Co and offering a $25  prize to readers.   Look at the gorgeous scene that was printed in  green on the inside of the book which is partially obscured by this prize offering.   




Then there is "Michael O'Halloran" by Gene Stratton-Porter and illustrations by Frances Rogers,  Printed by Doubleday, Page & CO in 1915.  The lovely color print inside has the caption "Just by the merest chance, could your name be Mickey?    There is a name written  inside, "W.C.Brust, October 11, 1915, Arnold, PA,"  who must have owned the book originally.  And  again notice the lovely green etchings along the opening pages.  Oh these books must have been treasures in their day.  I hope the pages hold together while I read them.    

The "Prodigal Women" by Elizabeth Nowell Perkins was printed in 1942 and sports a cover  with a note that it is a Book Club Edition.  And finally "Hungry Hill" by Daphne du Maurier another Book Club edition printed in 1943.  At least I am familiar  with this author, but the cover is a gorgeous print of intriguing characters.  I have many books on my shelf awaiting reading, so these  four join that collection, but I am looking forward to the  pleasure  of delving into these old books.  The Kindles and Nooks cannot provide the pleasure of a solid book in the hands.   But then I think you have to really be a reader as I have been all my life to appreciate these!

Blog Gremlins

I have just written a  very long post catching up on   my life over the past week and it has disappeared!!!!!!!!

GRRRRR for the Bloggy  gremlins.  I can't believe I lost the whole thing.  No time to recreate it now! 

It had all the news about why I have not had time to post....SHOOTS!!!

Carl defends Patty

We depart AM for home.  I kind of wish I lived here so I could pop in and out on  Uncle, but he has improved 3000% in one week back at assisted living.  Observed his therapy session  today and talked with the physical Therapist who rates him a 4 on a scale of 1--5 for strength, it's the stamina that needs work.  So he will be back at it soon, using only walker, we hope.  What gene's what determination.  Of course daily I have been reminding him that he is Teofil's son and Teofil overcame strokes and walked until the day he died, to the marvel of all doctors.  Granpap never quit so he cannot either!  It's working!

 Meantime I had gut wrenching today; having survived these episodes  frequently in career days I forgot the misery involved, details which you do not need  to know, suffice it to be that my nerves have caught up with my innards and Canada Dry got me by until about 1:00PM when I felt nearly normal.  I guess all the stress and  strain have caught up. Imodium to the rescue and life goes on. 

Today at the assisted living center with Uncle I pushed his chair into  his place at the dining room table when an old lady who sits in a chair and wears dark glasses, yelled at me for hitting her chair.  I told her we did not touch her nor her chair and fortunately a nurse checking on uncle, was there to verify.  But this woman is nasty and continued, "No you hurt my hip! I'm a nurse I know what I'm talking about."  But I came back with, "Ummmm I'm a doctor!" and she said no more.  Until this evening when we were bidding Uncle farewell until next trip and the old lady saw us coming and started up again.   Well, Uncle Carl heard her this time and said, "What did she say, Patty?  Did she say something about you?"  I said, "Oh no she's just talking to herself."    She must see beneath those dark surround glasses and said, "She hit my chair and my hip hurt all day!"  Well, my Uncle is not going to be quiet now because this is   his niece and he raised his hackles!  Oh No!  Out  it came, first several Polish words/ followed by a distinct cold lecture from him to her,  "Listen to me you old bat!  We were not near you and if you ever say Patty touched you again I'll give you something to worry about.  Now you just go on about your business and we will  forget his, but don't you ever say any thing to my niece again, don't you even look at us,  you miserable old bat!"  Followed by more Polish words.  Nearby his friend, laughed and said, "That old witch is always crabbing at someone."  And Carl is now on point, 'Well she better stay away from Patty!"  OMG he is as protective of me as he ever was, am I 5 years old again?

Really the old lady is pitiful, I suppose wheels herself around and  only comes out to eat, is not out there socializing.  God help her if she raises Carl's ire.  I told him to forget it and he was not having it!   He said, "No that old stata baba better keep quiet.!"  I see my Grandpap's face on Uncle Carl and this could be trouble!

We depart AM and I wonder if I will be awake at 5:00AM as I have been?  I usually sleep until 7-7:30 even  8 at home, but all this trip 6 has been my latest.  And it is dark here in PA early, but  I am up, brewing good coffee and on the computer.   I suppose tomorrow I'll want to sleep in!  Well I can snooze along the journey. 

We are loaded to go but once again no room for the easel, artist supplies and painting  equipment I covet, but 2 of the 4 old dining chairs from my grandparents are in the  HHR. These two have been refinished and recovered in 1984, so noted on their bottoms.  Jerry  considering stopping  in Detroit to see a diesel RV at General RV, but that would mean staying there Sunday and waiting for them to open on Monday.  I would just as soon proceed home and forego looking at an RV upgrade.  We will see what happens.  I will put this back into the hands of the Big Guy above who handles all.

  It has been a fun fall visit to PA and though I did not get to see everyone I wanted to, and did not get to go  to the places I always want to see, I am thankful we were here for Carl.  There is something about coming to the end of the family,down to the last of the tribe, and perhaps because it is only  me from here on after him, but it is humbling, and frightening.  I laugh with him and think, "here we are Buddy, you and me!"  Buddy, that's what I called him until I was about 9 years old.  Finally my mother announced that I was able to speak and  I should call him "Uncle Carl."  When I was small I guess the sounds didn't work right and so Carl said I could call him "Buddy"  which worked for me and so  the name stuck.  My mother was upset with that though, just as my  calling Aunt Jinx,. "Tzotzoche" or  however the Polish word for aunt is spelled.  Well it was not the first of disagreements between me and  my mother!  I look at the photos of me I found at Carl's this trip, pipe curls and all, the idolized child.  I will share those here when I get home and scan them, I was a most fortunate little girl to be so surrounded by relatives who loved me so deeply, an awareness   that still shelters me today, "My  People" who are always watching out for me,, it has sustained me through the years and still does, through the trials of   life.