Original oil painting by: Grandfather’s wife
Grandfather says his father has been departed for more than 60 years now (may God rest his soul), but Grandfather well remembers him. He was an honor student in high school and continued that way later, at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky, in the early 1930s.
In addition to his reverential studies, he took violin lessons from an instructor who came to our home. The instructor did not ring the doorbell; he shouted his name,”Bowserman!” until Mom or Dad opened the door and let him in.
Then the lesson commenced.
Oh my!
In music, the note played or sung is started with whats called an “attack” … loud, soft, etc.
Well, Dad’s sounded like the attack in a cat fight. But once the note got going, it didn’t sound too bad.
May God rest his soul.
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About the Author: RD Blakeslee is an octogenarian in West Virginia who built his net worth by only investing in that which can be enjoyed during acquisition and throughout life, as opposed to papers in a drawer, like stocks and bonds. You can read more about him here.
Photos: Courtesy of the Blakeslee Family
My father died in 1974 at the age of 54. While he didn’t attempt to play violin, he did like to -ahem- sing. With nary a drop of Italian blood and for no reason whatsoever, he would suddenly and loudly launch into “O Sole Mio.” As that was the end of the lyrics he knew, he would then offer a second line, usually “and so are you,” both to be repeated at will.
This always got the cat meowing, the dog howling, and us kids running away. My mother must have really loved him, ’cause she would just sit there.
Oh, old family memories!
Gee, I’ve been looking through old photos, cards and letters of family this morning, going back to the turn of the 19th century.
It’s heartwarming and heartwrenching, mixed together
In his youth, Dad made a wood lathe. The bed was a thick board and the tailstock was a wood block with a nailpoint protruding. It was bolted to the bed and adjusted for the length of the workpiece by loosening the bolts.
There is a picture in the family archives of a long row of pastry rolling pins Dad made. He gave one to a girl he was hoping to court and he never saw her again.
I encountered a girl like that once or twice myself, Dave. Although I offered things like flowers and candy.
You followed normal protocol. Len. Dad and I were distinctly abnormal.
Well, I would have liked one of those rolling pins. I finally broke down and bought a marble one.
And it must be the stay-at-home thing, but next week I’m gonna start sorting through boxes of old photos that my mother left us. She passed in 2014, so I guess it’s time.
I’m sure the process will engender many more memories, both both heartwarming and heartwrenching.
If you get a notable item or two before this thread goes stale, post them for us, Gee. Thanks! (Gee thanks – genuine pun, not generic for “joke”).
Not much light hearted info on the web, these days …