Ironically I did a post yesterday about my red waterless amaryllis…
Before last year I had never heard of a waterless amaryllis.
The collage below shows the growth from day 1 to day 20… left to right starting at top row. The last picture is my red amaryllis with the white one my daughter had at her office which she brought home over the Christmas holidays. The white ones are taller. This has been so rewarding watching this flower bloom with just a bit of sunlight and no other care at all. Unfortunately as of today, January 11 it is pretty much finished blooming and won’t bloom again. But for the time it was here it brought a lot of enjoyment and beauty. I’ll definitely do this again next year.
My calendar I created for 2021. Here’s to a fresh new year and all the possibilities it holds.
The sisters first Christmas, 54years ago.
Patty and Debbie became sisters on Nov 6, 1966 but they did not meet until Dec 21, 1966.
Patty was almost 2 1/2 when Debbie was born. Deb, who was due the end of December arrived 7 weeks early and didn’t come home from the hospital until Dec 21, the first day of winter, 1966.
As you can see from the picture Patty was delighted and happy to be a big sister. Debbie, I’m sure was happy to finally be home.
Patty was a terrific big sister right from the beginning. She helped me take care of Debbie and when I would give Deb her bottle Patty and her new dolly would join us. Her doll was almost the same size as Deb, Debbie had been only 3 lbs when she was born and had to be 5 lbs before she could come home… so yes, she and the doll were almost the same size.
Since it was so close to Christmas when Deb came home I wanted her to be a surprise to her grandparents when they arrived on Christmas morning. Patty was under instructions from Santa Claus not to tell anyone that her new sister was home, and since the request was coming from the big guy himself she didn’t utter a word to anyone.
However… my mother called one evening and just at that moment Debbie, who was in the same room with me, began to cry. Oh oh. My mother asked if that was a baby and I said no. She said she didn’t believe me. She asked again… ‘is that baby home from the hospital?’ I said yes but that I had wanted to keep her a surprise until Christmas. My mother kept her composure but I could hear the crack in her voice when she said how happy she was, but that we shouldn’t tell my father… let him be surprised on Christmas morning.
So Christmas morning arrived, along with a 24 hour stomach bug which hit me pretty hard. I managed to get out of bed long enough to greet my parents at the door. Patty was all bubbly and happy to see her grandparents and they were showering her with plenty of attention.
Then my dad glanced at the tree. He looked closer. I could see his eyes moisten when he realized that the baby in the baby carrier under the tree was NOT a doll but his new granddaughter Debbie. My dad wasn’t one to let his emotions out or show on his face… but he did that morning.
It was definitely a very merry, happy and blessed Christmas that year.
Christmas morning 6 years later in 1972, my favorite Christmas picture of Patty and Debbie…
Merry Christmas everyone and especially to my girls ❤ ❤
To my recollection there is only one time in my life that I spent Christmas on the Vineyard. I was probably around 5 or 6 and my mother and I went to MV to be with my godparents.
Edward and Gertrude Norris (Nana and Pop) were my godparents. They lived part of the year in their house in Oak Bluffs which is where I spent my childhood summers. The other part of the year they lived in Newark, NJ downstairs in the same house we lived in. They were the most important people in my life besides my parents. They never had children of their own and they thought of us as their family. I’m not sure of the actual connection to them except that Nana was my grandmother Albra Mae’s best friend when my grandmother moved to the Vineyard. When my mother graduated from high school on MV in 1926 she moved to Newark, NJ to live with them and to find work.
One Christmas when Nana and Pop were elderly, having health problems and living year round on the Vineyard and missing us my mother decided she and I should go and spend Christmas with them. I was too young to realize this might be the last Christmas for one or both of them, all I knew was that I was going to wake up Christmas morning ON THE VINEYARD. How great would that be. The only glitch was that my dad couldn’t get off work to come with us but he insisted we go. Talk about being torn.
I seem to remember there was a dusting of snow on Christmas morning… even if there wasn’t I like to think there was. There were presents… one in particular I remember because I asked for it every year. A nurses kit. It was a white square box with a red cross on the side. Inside were band-aids, gauze bandages, a wooden thermometer and a stethoscope, a name tag… and the most important article.. a nurses cap. I spent the most of the morning bandaging people up whether they wanted to be or not.
All of a sudden I heard a faint knock on the front door !! I ran to open it and let out a shriek… it was my dad standing there with a big smile and a shirt box. A shirt box !! Yes indeed that’s all he had with him. No suitcase. No duffle bag. Just a shirt box with a couple of clean shirts and other essentials in it… he obviously liked to travel light.
It turned out to be one of the most wonderful Christmases of my childhood.
A few years ago I found this letter that my Pop had written to me for my 6th birthday. After Nana died he pretty much lived alone except for the two summer months we spent with him. I loved to listen to his stories of working on the steamships in Massachusetts and later being a bank guard in NJ. Pop couldn’t walk without the aid of a cane and even then couldn’t walk far, certainly no further than the front or back yard. Almost everyday we’d have our lunch together under a tree in the backyard and then in the evening we’d listen to the radio together. He liked programs like ‘The Shadow’ which scared the bejeebers out of me and made it hard for me to walk down the dark and seemingly endlessly long hall to my upstairs bedroom.
The hardest part of my summers was saying good-bye to him… I wouldn’t cry in front of him but the tears spilled out of my eyes the moment we left the house. I still find it sad and emotional to leave the Vineyard and I’m sure those moments from long ago have a bearing on it.
I am blessed to have the memories of that one Christmas on Martha’s Vineyard and of Nana and Pop, two people who were such an important part of my life.
For many of the years my dad was a police officer in Newark, NJ he worked in the Emergency Squad division. During the long hours between calls the guys would keep themselves busy in various ways like cooking. Near the Christmas holidays they always came up with a special project, like candle making for instance.
In 1956 they made Santas. I still have ours. Santa stands about 3 and 1/2 feet tall and is made from press board. After the outline was drawn the guys cut out the Santas and my dad set to work drawing the features, clothing and bag of toys. At that point our Santa came home and my mother and I painted him. I’m not sure how many coats of paint we used but Santa was spread out on our kitchen table for about a week before he was completely dry. I don’t know what kind of paint we used either but here it is 64 years later and he’s not chipped or faded. This was the only time I ever remember the three of us doing a family project together.
I love everything about this Santa, even the buttons being on the wrong side… but the thing I love the most is that he looks like my dad… a self portrait so to speak.
Below is my daughter Patty age 2 and 1/2 in 1966…… and her daughter (my granddaughter) Tiffany age 2 and 1/2 in 1991.
Here’s to Christmas memories, old and new ❤
A view of the Radio City Music Hall marquee that I snapped while walking under it.
Giving thanks for all that I have and for my loved ones and friends ❤
QI is a Chinese word for the invisible force in and around us.
My daughter Deb and I are into finding our ancestors and especially finding out stories about them we didn’t know. We spend a lot of time in cemeteries :). One of the most interesting stories we found was about my great grandfather, Joseph P Littlefield of Maine. The tragic story of his death and that of his wife Jane and their three oldest children out of eight, Margaret 18, Adison 14 and Atwood 12 prompted Deb and me to go to Maine to find their grave.
My great grandfather Joseph P Littlefield was injured in the Civil War. He was a member of Co. C, 9th Maine Regiment. He was wounded at the battle of Cold Harbor in Virginia and sent home to Maine to die. He died on Sep 3, 1864 of his massive injuries but also of typhoidal pneumonia. His wife and the 3 oldest of his 8 children died within months of him from it as well leaving my grandfather Charles G Littlefield at age 9 the oldest of the five remaining children. A tragic story and once we learned about it felt compelled to find their graves and honor them. Their small plot is off the beaten track in Rome, Maine we found it and traipsed through the brush to get to it. This was very emotional in that Joseph, Martha Jane, Margaret, Adison and Atwood have become very real to us and we feel very close to them and could definitely feel their spirits that day. We weren’t able to bring them flowers but left 5 pennies to indicate we were there and remembering them.
I definitely feel this was a QI experience.