Practicing What You Preach

This time last week, my family was here.  It was truly a time of Thanksgiving.  Madeline came home from Philadelphia for a few days.  Mom, Porter and Bob traveled from NC to sunny Florida to spend Thanksgiving with us.  Jimmy was here.  Jim took off a couple days of work.  We missed Joseph, but the older I get, the more I realize how difficult it is to have entire families together on occasions.  Work, obligations, finances and many other reasons contribute to this.  It is just a wake up call that each of the times we CAN be together needs to be cherished.  Who knows when the next time will be?

It was a bittersweet holiday....our first Thanksgiving without Martha.  Although her presence was certainly missed around the dinner table (and while playing Scattergories!), her spirit was with us.

We did our usual contests and games, but a highlight was a questionnaire of Family Fun Facts.  Madeline actually won the prize, but everyone else also did a good job with it.  I was pleased to know how many of the stories of family had been listened to.  That is the only way the young people would know the answers, as they were events that they were too young to have experienced.  Porter even knew all the names of Mom's siblings.  I thought that was impressive.  I am already composing some Family Fun Facts for next year's quiz!

Holiday time from Thanksgiving until New Year's usually finds me happy and extremely busy.  However, I have been finding myself in a plethora of moods lately.  One minute I am giddy with excitement about everything going on, and the next I am a weepy mess.  I have come to the conclusion that all of this is "normal," or so I'm told.  Regardless, the various moods do allow me to explore all the different things that these moods evoke, so it is a time of realizations.

In spite of the giddiness or the sadness, I am constantly reminded of the many reasons to be thankful and to count my blessings.   The first paragraph here spells out one of the greatest blessings of all....family.

During my reflections as I ride my emotional roller coaster, I always come back to that 'F word'....family.  I know that everyone feels as if they have the greatest family in the world, and it is the one thing that I am sure of.  Like all families, ours has had its share of ups and downs and has certainly endured much.  The strength that we find in one another is what sustains us.

Counting one's blessings doesn't have to come only at Thanksgiving time.  It should be something we are mindful of at all times.  I have had this reminder most of my life in the form of a framed picture that hangs in Mom's breakfast room.  It is a simple picture that many people have seen countless times.  It is an old man at the table, head bowed, obviously giving thanks for the loaf of bread sitting before him.  When I really look at this picture, I always feel humbled.

There are so many things we take for granted....such as a simple loaf of bread.

Mom told me that she thinks we have had this hanging in our home even on Woodside Drive.  I knew I had always remembered seeing it.  It has been etched in my mind.  I not only feel humbled when I look at it, but I also feel peaceful.  There is something very serene about the simple act of giving thanks to God for our daily bread.

I remember being with Madeline somewhere and we were talking about various and sundry things, and she mentioned this picture from her Grandma's breakfast room.  I guess the impact of it spans the generations and the miles.  Madeline, too, likes the picture and finds meaning in it.  One thing it means to her is simply the comfort that she finds in Grandma's home.

When I took the pictures of the things in Mom's house to use in this blog, I took a photo of this particular picture.  I took several, as a matter of fact, trying to get a good one.  I think subconsciously I aimed my camera to include the plaque hanging next to it since it appears in each snapshot.  It is an old decoupaged plaque that Jessie made for mom many years ago.  I think it is appropriate that it hangs next to the picture of the grateful man.

The plaque is An Old English Prayer.  Jessie used her own beautiful handwriting to immortalize this prayer.  The prayer was found among Donald's things after he passed away.  Donald was the youngest brother of Mom and Jessie. He spent his life in the military and in service to others.  I only met him a couple of times when he was in Shelby on leave and I was quite young, but I feel that he was such a unique and self-less man from the stories I heard from Mom and her siblings.  I know many of his letters and journals are somewhere in Mom's house.  I read them a long time ago, but I think next time I go up for a visit I am going to ask her to dig them out so that I can re-read them.  I would like to know more about my uncle.

The prayer is simple and seems so easy.  If only we could all live this prayer, life really could be simple and wonderful.  I think Donald did practice what he preached.  He was a wise man.

An Old English Prayer

Give us Lord, a bit of sun, a bit of work and a bit of fun.

Give us, in all struggle and sputter

Our daily bread and a bit of butter.

Give us health our keep to make,

and a bit to spare for other's sake.

Give us, too, a bit of song, and a tale and a book to help us along.

Give us, Lord, a chance to be

Our goodly best, brave, wise and free.

Our goodly best for ourselves and others,

Till all men learn to live as brothers.

Give us, Lord, our daily bread.
Amen.



The Paintings on the Wall

Some people buy artwork because they think it is beautiful.  Some people buy artwork because they find it eye-catching and unusual.  Some people buy artwork because the subject matter means something to them.  Some people buy artwork because it is the work of a famous or noted artist.  Some people buy artwork because they personally know the artist.  Some people buy artwork because it matches their decor.  There are really a lot of different reasons people choose the artwork they have displayed in their homes.

All of the above reasons are evident in the artwork hanging on the walls in Mom's family room.  I was looking around the room at each piece on the wall and I immediately thought of the story, or at least the motivation, behind the pictures hanging there.

There are portraits and family pictures in this room, but the main pieces of artwork that adorn the walls not only all match the decor, but they have a bit of interest that goes beyond that particular aesthetic.

Marc Chagall is a famous artist.  In fact, he was one of the most successful artists of the 20th century.  He created works in virtually every artistic medium including painting, book illustrations, stained glass, stage sets, ceramics, tapestries, and fine art prints.  Over the mantel, Mom has a Marc Chagall print.  I personally love it, although Mom tells me it has created a bit of "controversy" amongst some people who have visited her home!  The picture is entitled "Lovers Bouquet" and it depicts a couple of 'lovers' with an image of the Eiffel Tower in the background.  I love it because I have it in my mind that Paris is the number one place I'd like to visit on my "bucket list."  My husband promises Paris in the Springtime, and I know as soon as he can, he will live up to that promise.  I can't wait!  Marc Chagall has a painting entitled "Paris Through the Window."  It is a lovely piece and I could imagine it hanging next to Mom's print.  It is a painting of a cat sitting in a window looking out towards the Eiffel Tower.  It encompasses a lot to entice me.  My desire to go to Paris, coupled with my love of cats....not to mention the beautiful colors and my artistic eye enjoying its composition.   It would be an example of a person being drawn to a piece of artwork because it means something to them.

I think anyone could find a Marc Chagall piece to fit into their home.  His works are so varied and interesting.   I see a lot of the artistic examples in Mom's print evident in many of his innumerable works.    I think part of this is due to the fact that his lifespan was July 6, 1887 to March 28, 1985.  That is a long life and an artist could certainly create many long-lasting pieces during that time.

Mom has 2 watercolors on another wall in this room.  I love these pieces.  They represent many things to me.  I think the best thing about these watercolors is the way they were attained.  
We were attending a formal gala at Cleveland Country Club to benefit the Heart Association.   My Mom was there and Jim and I were there.  It was a wonderful event for a wonderful cause.  They had an auction to help raise money for the charity.  I never have much luck at these things, but there was a framed watercolor that I loved.  When it came to the auction block, I had Jim bid on it for me.  We were getting frustrated as someone across the crowded room was bidding against us.  Determined and stubborn, we finally won the  bid and I was a happy camper.  A little while later another watercolor came up for auction.  It was obviously by the same artist with the same theme and framing.  We bid on this for awhile but finally gave up to the person across the room who again kept out-bidding us.

The next day we went to visit Mom and were discussing the lovely event from the night before.  We shared with her our excitement over the watercolor painting we bought at the auction.  She told us she got a watercolor painting as well!  Lo and behold, we realized the person across the room who had given us such a fit during the bidding was my own mother!  We laughed about it and realized that the Heart Association just got a little extra money which it richly deserved.

Jim and I often have trouble thinking of gits for Mom .  She has all that she needs and her own generosity seems boundless.  I always try to be creative, as Mom doesn't want or need material possessions.  This was one time Jim and I decided that we would give her our watercolor since it matched hers.  It was a great idea and she was thrilled.  It made us feel good to be able to give something to Mom that she would love and appreciate.  The two paintings look fantastic hanging together in her family room.
It was definitely a win win situation!

Mom has so many wonderful things in her house.  She has another painting in this room that I love.  It rates up there as one of my favorite things in her home.  It is a painting of a Grandpop and a boy walking down a path.  It only shows the backs of them....no faces.  This painting was done by the wife of a doctor that Homer knew.  Mom said she bought this piece because she immediately said it reminder her of Daddy and his grandsons, Joseph and Jimmy.  I loved hearing her say this because I looked at it and that was exactly what I thought!  Daddy didn't wear blue jeans and flannel shirts like the grandpop in the picture, but I don't think that matters.  I think the whole point of the painting is that Grandpops and their Grandsons just have that 'special something!'  I was immediately touched knowing just how much Joe Porter was the  ultimate Grandpop....he loved those two boys more than anyone can comprehend.

Mom told me that she bought the painting for me, but would I mind if it found a home on the wall in her family room for awhile.  Of course, I was happy for it to hang there.  It not only matches the decor and looks fantastic, it adds a bit of nostalgia and memory and I love seeing it whenever I visit.  It feels a bit special knowing that some of my things are a part of this home, since it is not the house I grew up in many years ago!

The largest painting in Mom's house is by far the most interesting and the most meaningful.  It is a painting of Martha and me when we were little.  It was painted by Ginger Spangler, a local artist and friend.  Homer wanted this to be his gift for Mom for Christmas one year.  Martha took care of all the arrangements.  She talked to Ginger and told her basically what we wanted.  Ginger had done some beautiful work for Martha before, so she knew that this was going to be a fantastic gift. 

Martha went through a lot of old photos and chose one of each of us.  The painting is just of our heads as profiles.  It is a lovely piece and Ginger did a great job.  The composition and color are really fantastic.  The painting of Martha is an exact likeness.  I really love it and I remember her that way with her neat little ponytail.  Receiving this gift was a thrill for Mom and it is a beautiful conversation piece in this room. 
Ginger captured the color of the room for the background as well.  Everything about the painting speaks volumes for her amazing talent.  I like to paint, but I could never do anything as fantastic as this portrait!

Mom has artwork on these walls that is beautiful, eye-catching and meaningful.  She has a piece by a famous artist and one by an artist that she knows.  And in spite of all this, all of her artwork matches her decor.  I'd say this is pretty interesting seeing that none of it was planned this way.  Each piece was attained at a different time and from various sources.  I guess Mom just has an eye for beautiful artwork!

I'd say the paintings on the walls can say a lot about the life of the families that dwell within them.

"Lovers Bouquet":  Marc Chagall

Watercolors

Grandpop and Grandson

Martha Jo and Mary Marshall

Pearl is NOT Pitiful

I love dolls.  I think I have loved dolls from the moment I was born.  Every Christmas growing up I asked Santa for a doll.  All year I would get excited thinking about which doll I wanted to ask him for.  I remember the year I asked for the Pebbles doll.  I also wanted Bamm Bamm, but I wanted Pebbles more.  I knew not to be greedy and ask for too much.  Santa must have thought I was extra good that year because I got BOTH the dolls!  That was a thrilling Christmas.

I had a lot of dolls.   My dolls weren't the collectible kind.  They were dolls that you could PLAY with.  And I did!  I loved to play Mommy with my baby dolls.  I loved dressing up my Barbie, Ken, Skipper and Scooter dolls and acting out scenarios.  I even liked to play school with my dolls.  Of course, I was always the teacher. 

When the miniature dolls like Liddle Kiddles came out, I could not wait to get hold of all those little dolls with their tiny clothes and accessories.  We always drew names at Christmas time for our Porter family party.  Everyone got one gift from the person who drew your name.  We kept it a secret until Christmas Eve when we had our party and exchanged our gifts.  Finding out who had your name was almost as exciting as finding out what gift you would receive!  One of my memorable gifts was a Liddle Kiddle baby doll that came with a tiny pink crib, blanket and pillow.  My cousin, Patty, had drawn my name and she knew me well!  It was so cute. I spent many hours through the years playing with this tiny baby.  I am pretty sure I still have her in a zippered Liddle Kiddles case in a closet at Mom's house. 

I also loved paper dolls.  I don't think kids play with paper dolls any more.  I loved to cut out the clothes and put them on the dolls.  I remember McCall's Magazine had a paper doll (named Betsy McCall) with an outfit in it each month.  If my mom didn't get the magazine that month, her friend Edith usually did.  Once they finished reading the magazine, either Mom or Edith gave the magazine to me so that I could cut out the paper doll and her outfits.  I looked forward to seeing what theme they would choose for the paper doll each month  I think paper dolls must have led to my love of cutting and pasting....literally.....not on the computer.  I seriously love to cut and paste.  When I worked at the dance studio, I was often teased about that.  I always volunteered to do the jobs that involved cutting and pasting.  I guess it's just a little carry-over from childhood that I find comforting.

I think most girls in the 1960s had a Chatty Cathy doll.  This was a doll that talked to you with a simple pull of the cord on her back.  That was pretty amazing technology for those days!  I loved my Chatty Cathy doll.  She came in handy when I was alone and needed a "friend" to help break the silence.  By 1963, Chatty Cathy had an 18 phrase vocabulary.  I may have gotten my doll before then, because I don't remember her being quite that "chatty!"  She said things like "I love you," "Please take me with you," and "Let's Play School."  She was truly a great companion.

When I was in high school, I became slightly obsessed with Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy.  I think that I felt like I could "get away with" those dolls.  They were not considered childish.  I remember being about 13 or 14 when Mom suggested I pack up the tons of dolls that decorated my beds.  I think she thought that since I had started having boys come over (in the form of a boyfriend) perhaps it was time to put the dolls aside.  I reluctantly packed them up and let Daddy put them in the attic for storage.  So, the Raggedy dolls became a nice replacement.  I guess I never wanted to give up on having dolls!

I had the really huge Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls.  I also had the regular sized ones and the tiny little ones.  The unique feature of the Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls was the heart on their chests that said "I love you."  I thought that was the coolest thing!  I took my Raggedy Ann and Andy collection to Elon with me and they decorated my dorm room bed.  I must have packed them up and traded those in for Jim!  I haven't felt compelled to get the dolls out since.

You can just imagine how thrilled I was when one of Mom's friends gave HER a doll for her birthday one year.  The doll was a Poor Pitiful Pearl doll.  She found a home on Mom's bed.  Now both of us had dolls as decoration on our beds!  I would go into Mom's room and sit on her bed and play with her Poor Pitiful Pearl.  I loved that doll with her pudgy cheeks, tattered dress and bandanna that she wore on her head.  I thought she was precious.

My Mom's mom was named Pearl Kennedy Humphries.  I think that's the reason why Mom received the Poor Pitiful Pearl.....the doll was a namesake.  I think Poor Pitiful Pearl also reminded Mom of growing up in the country in Zoar and having lots of brothers and sisters to play with rather than fancy toys.  I'm sure they had as much fun as anyone.  Who needs a lot of toys when you could be having fun romping through the countryside with your siblings?

The name Pearl comes from an English word that represents the gemstones that are found living inside shelled mollusks.  Pearls have been associated with innocence and modesty.  I think that makes it such a fitting name for Mom's doll.
Interestingly, Pearl was among the 50 most popular names for girls born in the United States between 1880 and 1911, remained among the top 100 most popular names for girls between 1911 and 1926 and still remained among the top 500 most popular names for girls in the United States until 1960.

Poor Pitiful Pearl was manufactured in the United States from the 1950s through the 1970s.  The doll was based on a cartoon character created  by William Steig.  I never knew that Poor Pitiful Pearl had been based on a cartoon character.  She seemed very "real" to me!  And I never saw her as "pitiful."  I saw her as adorable and in need of a friend....and I was always happy to oblige!

My daughter also shared my love of playing with dolls.  Madeline loved to pretend (or 'prend' as she would say).  Dolls are great props to use during a day of pretending!  I started a doll collection for Madeline when she was born.  Those dolls are now packed away in the top of her closet, but for most of her growing up years they were on display in her room.  They were various dolls that had the label "August" which is Madeline's birth month.  She has several Madame Alexander dolls that were from different monthly series.  I love her collectible dolls.  But she also had dolls to play with.  She had baby dolls that she would stroll around in a doll stroller and hold like an infant to feed a bottle.  She had little dolls and stuffed dolls.  She had dolls that walked and talked.  She had dolls you could take with you into the bathtub.  But I think Madeline's favorite was Barbie dolls. 

By the time Madeline was born, Barbie had evolved into quite a rage.  It is hard to believe that Barbie turned 50 in 2009, and she is still all the rage.  My sister actually got a Barbie the first year she came out.  There wasn't much choice for Barbie other than Blond or Brunette.  The original Barbie wore a zebra striped swimsuit and had her hair in a ponytail.  In Madeline's case, the choices were many.  There was Surfer Barbie, Malibu Barbie, Supermodel Barbie, Ballerina Barbie, Princess Barbie, and a host of others.  Every time you turned around there was a new type of Barbie.

I suppose a love of Barbie never ends.  My mom didn't save a lot of toys or things that my sister and I had, but she did save the Barbies.  They are in their old-fashioned cases complete with accessories and clothes.  Martha got the Barbie car when it first came out.  I guess that got passed down to me.  That was also saved.  These Barbie things reside on the top shelf of a closet in one of the bedrooms in Mom's house.  Whenever we go to visit, Madeline pulls them down.  She loves the "old school" Barbies and their outfits.  Martha and I had a lot of Barbie clothes made by Mom's friend, Betsy.  She made evening gowns, dresses, pajamas and bathrobes for our Barbies.  I think those homemade clothes are some of my favorites....and Madeline's too!  Madeline would take everything out of the cases, set the dolls and all the accessories up and organize them, dress each of the dolls and then lovingly put them away.  She has done this for as long as I can remember.  I'm not sure she pulled them out on the last couple of visits, however.  I guess Madeline's finally getting too old for dolls, but hopefully Mom will hang onto those Barbies.  There just might be another generation to come along and want to play with these treasures someday.

Dolls, like people, come in all shapes, sizes and types.  They range from beautiful and elegant like Barbie, to simple and plain like Poor Pitiful Pearl.  I still stand by my view that Poor Pitiful Pearl was neither poor nor pitiful.  She was simply a representation of those who have been untouched by material things.  I'd say being one of the "chosen" ones who was loved unconditionally makes her very wealthy......and certainly NOT pitiful.

Poor Pitiful Pearl Doll

So cute and so loved

Pearl is Precious

McCall's Paper Doll

Treasures on these shelves:  Barbies and Liddle Kiddles

Liddle Kiddle



Original Blond Barbie




Chatty Cathy





(My heart belongs to)
Raggedy Ann and Andy





Daddy's Girl

If ever a girl wants or needs to feel special, she just needs to go to her Daddy.  Daddy's have a way of making their daughters feel like the most beautiful and wonderful creatures on earth!  My dad was no exception. 

Mom did a good job of making us feel special, but there's something a little different about dads doing the same thing.  I know that my daughter feels like she is the apple of her daddy's eye.  And she is.

Being a mother, I know that so often it's Mom who sets the tone with the child-rearing.  I think dads really need and WANT that guidance!  However, I think it's just a Dad's "right" to be that someone special in his daughter's life.  We moms know when to step back and let that magic happen!

I have so many memories of my dad.  I try to think about them and tell those stories as often as I can so that I never lose the memories.  My dad has been gone for almost 24 years now.  In some ways that seems inconceivable.  I can still rustle up so many images of him in my head and I can hear his voice. 
I know Jim often gets tickled and says he can just see and hear Daddy at the open trunk of the car in the golf course parking lot rummaging through his golf bag.  He would always have a lot of change in his pockets that he would take out and put in his golf bag before playing.  He had keys and a few business cards.  He was always rustling around and fiddling.  It took him a while to get himself ready for a day on the links!

Oh. And he had notes.  Notes in every one of his pockets, on his desk, on his dresser, in the car.  You name it.  He had notes scribbled here and there.  (And I wonder how I became nicknamed "The Sticky Note Aunt" by my nephew, Porter?  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I suppose).

Another thing that Daddy had in his pocket was a silver cross.  He carried it everywhere.  It was actually called The Cross In My Pocket.  It came with a little card that explained it.  It was so meaningful to him that he bought a whole case of them and gave them to a lot of people he cared about.  When I walked into Central United Methodist Church for his funeral, I had that cross clutched in my hand.  I still have that very cross, along with a few others that he had given me along the way.  The cross was engraved with the words Jesus Christ is Lord.  I know this meant so much to my dad.  And its meaning has stayed with me throughout my life.

But back to that thought of girls being the apple of their daddy's eye.  My dad usually was in my court.  When Mom thought that my waist-length hair was too long, it was Daddy who said it was beautiful and feminine and that he thought it was okay to wear it that long.  And you'd better believe at that moment, I did think I had the most beautiful hair in the world! 
(I'd rather not talk about the times Daddy thought my dress was too short or I had too much blue eye shadow on.  Those are the moments when girls need their moms!)

Daddy always called me Doodler.  I am not sure exactly where this term came from, but he always called me that.  I would receive letters in college from him that started with 'Dear Doodler'.  I even got letters from him with the same salutation long after I was married and had 2 little boys.
Daddy's pet name for Martha was Punkin.  Again, I can't say that I know how that originated.  But he called her that for many years.
We always teased Daddy about getting us confused.  He only had 2 children to keep up with so you wonder how difficult that could be!  He frequently called me Martha, and my sister was called Mary more times than you can imagine.  The best thing was when he got really confused....or was just plain lazy....he would simply say 'Punkin Doodler'.  That covered his bases and whoever was within earshot came running!

Daddy made me feel so special that I never minded filling his tea glass, fetching him the paper, or adjusting the color on the TV.  I remember when we got our first color TV what a thrill it was!  We got 3 channels and had to turn everything on manually (yes, we had to pull out a button for the TV to come on).  In order to get the color right, we had to turn 2 knobs...one for color and one for brightness.  It seemed the color TV would often be out of whack and the faces of the movie stars would be red or sometimes yellow.  Daddy would fiddle with it until he became frustrated.
Speak of making me feel "special".....Daddy always told me I had a "magic touch" when adjusting the color TV!  So much so that he'd call me out of my bedroom or the kitchen to come into the den and put my magic touch to work.  Not only was I ready, willing, and able, but I also believed that I really did have that magic touch since Daddy was always so thrilled with the results!  Only for my Daddy.

Daddy loved golf.  He loved it to a fault.  He was never really great at golf, but it didn't seem to get in the way of his passion for the game.  I think that is one of the lovely things about golf.  You don't necessarily have to be great at the game in order to play it and to love it.
When I was about 12 or 13, Daddy would go out to Riverbend on the weekend to play golf.  Knowing he wasn't the next Arnold Palmer,  he hesitated to invite anyone to play with him.  He got the yips and was very nervous having others watch him play.  But not his little girl.  He always told me I was his "good luck charm" on the golf course.  So, motivated by not only spending an afternoon with my Daddy, but also by getting a cherry coke and the opportunity to drive the golf cart when we got out on the course, I could never turn down a Saturday date to go play golf with my dad.  That, and the feeling of being Daddy's special little girl.  Daddy insisted that he always played his best rounds with me.  It didn't get much better than that.

Daddy and his brothers were good employers.  Most of the people who worked at Porter Brothers really loved working there.  I think there was a sense of fairness and appreciation that is often lacking in businesses today.
I know Daddy not only liked making his daughters feel special, but he also liked making his employees feel special.  He kept a calendar with each employee's birthday marked on it.  Once a month he would go uptown to the drug store and buy birthday cards for these employees.  I remember going with him many times.  Somehow he made me feel like I had a "gift" for picking out just the right cards!  We would go into the store with the list in hand, and start perusing the card rack and choosing just the right ones.  I remember a few occasions when the weather was great and we'd walk uptown.  I don't remember if we walked from Woodside Drive, Ridgeview Dr., or it might have been just from the Porter Brothers building which was right next to the railroad tracks at the corner of Lafayette and Sumter (I think that is the correct crossroads). Anyway, I remember that feeling of walking the streets of Shelby hand in hand with my dad.
The best part of all of this is that Daddy would take the cards home and hand write and personalize each of them.  I didn't realize at the time what a wonderful gesture that was, but it definitely made an impact on me.  For as long as I can remember, I have kept a calendar with the birthdays and anniversaries of my friends and family members.  I have a system where I write and address the cards at the beginning of each month.  I pencil in the date in the corner where the stamp will go and stack them on my desk.  I mail them as the date approaches.
I guess this is another reason I'm often told that I'm a lot like my Daddy.

Speaking of walking uptown....I remember just Daddy and me going uptown to buy a camera.  It was a Kodak Instamatic.  Remember those cameras that used the cube shaped bulbs?  The reason this particular shopping event is so memorable is that the camera was for me.  I have always loved pictures and I have loved to take pictures since I was about 12 years old.  In fact, in my old age, I might just get a really good camera and dabble in some more exotic photography!  Anyway, I babysat and saved my money until I had enough to buy this camera.  I think it was $19.95 plus tax.  It was a big purchase for me and Daddy didn't fail to make me feel special about this as well.  He loved pictures too, but I think he might have been ranked as one of the worst photographers on the planet!  He was probably glad to relinquish the job of taking the obligatory photographs on each holiday, vacation and birthday.  He praised me for having a goal and working towards that goal....and succeeding!  It was a proud moment for me, thanks to my Daddy.

Going to Sunday School and church every Sunday morning was an important part of our lives.  We never got up and asked "are we going to church today?"  We KNEW we were going!  It actually started on Saturday.  After a day of playing, chores, errands and visiting, we came in and took a bath, shampooed and rolled our hair, made sure our shoes were shined, and laid out our dress and accessories to wear the next morning.  There were no sleepovers on Saturday nights!  But Daddy made Martha and me feel like his special little girls.  He loved having his family together and "showing us off!"  People who sat in pews behind us often commented that the Porter girls surely did have pretty and shiny hair!  That Saturday night work paid off.  I think walking into church with his beautiful wife and his two girls made my Dad beam with pride!  And there's nothing wrong with that.  I know the feeling all too well.  It's nice to be proud to be a member of a family.

Another place Daddy liked to "show off" his girls was at the office.  I don't know why it was such a thrill to me to go there, but it was!  I loved sitting at Daddy's desk and looking through the drawers at the paper clips, rubber bands, pens, pencils, rubber stamps and ink pads.  I liked walking down the hallways and speaking to all the employees.  Dad's assistant, Mary Anne, was always kind to let me come "work" at her desk!  Sometimes when I look at old pictures or some of the keepsakes of my dad's, I can actually conjure up the smell that the office had.  It was distinct and unique.  I never tired of going to Porter Brothers.
I remember special visits there when we got to go into the back warehouse.  We loved buying a Nehi Grape Soda and a moon pie from the vending machine.  That had to be the best snack in the world!  I'm sure it is pretty low on the food pyramid and Mom probably wouldn't have approved of our eating that and spoiling our dinner, but once in a while I think it was okay.
And the best part of all was when we got to go into the warehouse and ride on the fork lift.  Now that was an experience almost as thrilling as a ride at the Cleveland County Fair!

One night Daddy needed to go to the office to get something after hours.  Already in our pajamas, Martha and I begged to go along with him for the ride.  Of course, he gave in....always happy to have our company.  I didn't know much about burglar alarm systems back then, but I remember Dad always going in and calling the police station to let him know he was in the building.  I can hear him now!  Well, this particular night he must have had a lot on his mind.  Whatever he needed to do at the office had him distracted.  We were walking around, sitting at desks and "playing" work (is that an oxymoron?) when suddenly there were sirens and police ascending upon the building.  It scared me to death!  Daddy spoke to them, showed some identification and cleared things up in a hurry. Apparently this night he didn't call in to let them know he was in the building.  It was a brief thrill, but one that made for a great story to be told over and over again!

Another fond memory of my dad that he enjoyed as much, if not more, as I was our days of "visiting."  Daddy loved to visit.  I loved to go along with him.  He always made me feel special and he was attentive to me, so it was not something I wanted to turn down.  He loved to visit his sister, Madeline.  I loved to go there too.  Madeline always was the same.....pleasant, sweet, soft-spoken and kind.  She was a wonderful cook and always had homemade goodies.  She would offer Daddy a piece of pie or cake and he always accepted.  Sometimes he showed how special and trustworthy he thought I was when he'd whisper in my ear, "Doodler, don't tell Mama I ate pie today!"  Looking back on that simply makes me smile from ear to ear!  Sometimes I ate Madeline's homemade treats, but sometimes I opted for the candy she ALWAYS had in a candy dish on her coffee table.  To this day I can't eat a Brach's Royals candy without thinking of Madeline.  I loved them and I loved how she always let us just help ourselves.
Daddy also enjoyed visiting his Aunt Tommie and his cousin Edwin.  He also visited good friends such as the Gregorys and the Newmans.  Yes.  Those days of visiting will forever be a part of me.  It is still something I enjoy doing when given the chance.

As I grew into an adult the wonderful memories of my dad didn't cease.  I always loved being around him and I always wanted to make him proud.  He made me feel special all the time, so I wanted to continually show him that I was indeed special.

I have enjoyed arts and crafts of many kinds for most of my life.  To me, giving someone a handmade gift is to make them feel special.  I don't make things for "just anybody."  If you receive something handmade from me, it is because I want you to feel special.  Of course, Daddy deserved something really great made from my hands.  I wanted to show him how special I thought he was.  It was a big project.

When Mom and Dad moved into the house they built on Lynhurst Lane, I decided to crochet an afghan for Daddy for Father's Day.  I knew he liked to "rest his eyes" on the sofa or in the recliner on a Sunday afternoon while a basketball, football, baseball game or golf match blared on the TV. 
I found a bit of the sofa's upholstery and I took it to the store to buy yarn for this afghan.  I matched the sofa as best as I could, but in hindsight, I would have used more peach and less pink and a lighter shade of brown.  I guess it doesn't really matter than I'm not 100% thrilled with it.  Apparently Mom and Dad were thrilled.  That afghan has been hanging on the back of that sofa for almost 31 years!  It has been used to snuggle with on many a long afternoon.  So I try to look at the afghan, not as a piece of handwork that I feel isn't perfect, but as a symbol of a special bond that I had as Daddy's Little Girl. 
He told Martha and I often that we were the "apples of his eye."  And I don't doubt that for a moment!

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The term 'apple of my eye' originated in the Bible where it is mentioned 5 times.  This is how God sees His chosen ones, and this is how we should see God and His Word. We are His prize and He is ours.

“Keep me as the apple of Your eye; Hide me under the shadow of Your wings.” ~ Psalm 17:8 NKJV

The Cross In My Pocket





Daddy's Little Girl
(in front of the old Porter Bros.)





STILL Daddy's Little Girl
(on our way down the aisle!)





And STILL Daddy's Little Girl
(now the mother of two boys!)





Afghans do match the sofa