Dorothea Lange

Last night I watched an American Masters documentary on PBS.  It was about Dorothea.  I have always been awed by her photography.  The documentary explained how she worked; gave details of her life; and showed many of her photos.

I was in heaven.  More than once I gasped at one of her photos.  Her ideas and her writings were inspiration to my mind.  I felt lifted somehow.  What I wouldn't have given to meet her.  

One of the reasons her photos come home for me is the characters she portrayed.  I have seen many of my own family in the faces of those people.  I know the stories of their lives during the depression.  How they had to keep moving to find a place they could farm.  Finally they gave up and went on to other pursuits.  I've actually seen the shacks of the poor blacks and their children standing their like little waifs.  My male ancestors were farmers.  They were more comfortable in overalls and brogans than anything else.  Although they did have a nice pair of pants and a starched shirt for Sunday.  Or Saturday nights for the juke joints.  I cannot explain why I had a kinship to those photographs but I did.  And I felt a kinship to her.  Such a free spirit.  In my heart I am that free spirit if I've had less than enough courage to be the kind that Dorothea was.  

Below are some of the photos that I found interesting; beginning with her most famous one:

Dorothea as a young woman--I love her enigmatic smile

During WW II she documented thee internment of the Japanese

She documented the arrival of the Mexicans to do farm labor

Dorothea documented the terrible food lines and skid row of the depression

Her best work in my eyes was the documentation of the dust bowl farmers walking or driving heavily loaded vehicles west to find work.

Dorothea towards the end of her life

She also came to the south to document the plight of the Negroes as sharecroppers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some of her quotes:

“Photography takes an instant out of time, altering life by holding it still.”

 

“The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera.”  

“A documentary photograph is not a factual photograph.”

 

 “Seeing is more than a physiological phenomenon… We see not only with our eyes but with all that we are and all that our culture is. The artist is a professional see-er.”

 

Every image he sees, every photograph he takes, becomes in a sense a self-portrait. The portrait is made more meaningful by intimacy - an intimacy shared not only by the photographer with his subject but by the audience.

One should really use the camera as though tomorrow you’d be stricken blind. To live a visual life is an enormous undertaking, practically unattainable. I have only touched it, just touched it.

...Art is a by-product of an act of total attention.

You can Google her photos.  You will get a sense of a time forgotten but best remembered.

 

ONE BOWL

She walked to the living room and carefully lifted the lid off the green antique bowl.  Inside was a potpourri of sandalwood, patchouli, and other exotic aromas.  As she opened the blinds on each window the smell began to permeate the room as it did each morning.  She stood and looked at the bowl for a few minutes remembering when she received it and from whom.  She was 92 now and it had been a very long time ago.

Going back to 1941 and the day Hank walked into the 5 and 10 cent store where she worked.  He had been in several times, never buying, but watching her out of the corner of his eyes.  Finally one indian summer afternoon he got up the courage to talk to her.  She responded gracefully.  She had wondered how long it would take him.  He asked her if she'd like to go for a coke after work.  She said yes that would be nice.

Later that afternoon they walked to the drug store and sitting on stools at the fountain enjoyed a coke; getting to know one another.  In the weeks that followed they often had a coke and sometimes a sandwich at the fountain.  They met in front of the movie theater and watched the current popular movies like "The Maltese Falcon" or "Shadow of the Thin Man".  Hank would walk her to the bus stop and say good night.  Eventually he got on the bus and rode with her to her home.  A brief good night kiss on the cheek was all there was in the beginning.  

She invited Hank to supper and to meet her parents. The night came and he appeared with a gift.  Afraid that her parents would not approve, he gave it to her mother.  Laughing her mother handed it over to her letting Hank know she knew it was for her daughter and did not mind.  She opened the gift and lifted out the lovely bowl and it's matching lid.  She was awed by the beauty and couldn't thank him enough.

As time passed, they saw a lot of each other.  And during the Thanksgiving holidays, Hank took her to meet his family.  He had borrowed a friend's old Ford coupe and they drove for miles.  Hank had never told her that his family were farmers and lived miles out of town.  She was struck by the beautiful fields of corn lining the road and he told her those were his family's fields.  The house was a typical farmhouse; well kept and obviously loved.  Hank's parents were warm and welcoming.  They were very glad to meet the girl Hank talked about every time he came to visit.

Life seemed to be going so well.  Sunday, December 7th, she and Hank were going to church together.  But her Dad called them back in and told them to sit down and listen to the radio.  Everyone was in a state of shock.  Later in church, the congregation prayed for the hundreds of military men who had died or were fighting to stay alive.  Dinner that Sunday was somber.  Hank left her early to see how his parents were.

The next afternoon Hank ran into the store.  He grabbed her hands and breathlessly told her he had enlisted.  He would be going to boot camp within weeks.  She was proud but devastated.  There life together would be put on hold.  Hank left as she and her family and his family waved goodbye and cried.  He wrote as often as he good and she wrote every day.  Sometimes she didn't even have an address to send his letters.  Eventually he shipped out to the Pacific where he fought on Guadacanal and Iwo Jima.  

One evening, after Hank had been gone about 6 months, his parents came to her house.  Hank's mother was in tears and she knew immediately that Hank was gone.  They held each other and cried.  Later she went to her room and picked up the bowl.  She cried as she held his beautiful gift and her tears fell into the bowl. 

Eventually she met a man who was not Hank but close enough that she fell in love.  They married and had children.  The bowl always had a place of honor in any house they occupied. 

That was what she remembered as she stood there.  The bowl was still as beautiful as ever.

Turned 70 two days ago.  I have a hard time wrapping my mouth around s.e.v.e.n.t.y.!

Seems only yesterday I was 40.  The past year has been more like 10 or 15 instead of one with the cancer, my Mom dying, and now my daughter gone.  The one good thing is that the cancer is in remission.  My Mom was 92 and beginning to show signs of dementia.  Steadily getting worse every day before a stroke took her.  My daughter had struggled with terrible back trouble and fibromyalgia all leading to an addiction to pain medication.  That finally caught up with her causing a pulmonary embolism.  She would have been 50 in a few weeks.

Before I got sick I felt like I was 50 at least.  I did so much--painting, cooking, gardening, photography, and hiking.  That became impossible for almost 18 months.  Now I'm getting some of my old energy back and will get more as the chemo leaves my body.  I'm already painting and doing some cooking.  I have started planning what to put in the greenhouse that has been waiting for me.  And the raised beds that will be the beginning of my vegetable garden.  I'm excited just planning.  And I walk every day.

Every day I see renewed vibes in me.  My zest for life runs through my body.  I refused to give up when they laid the big "c" word on me.  I refuse to give up now that my heart is broken.

One thing you can say about age is that you are far wiser than you once were.  Pain, sickness, and heartbreak are easier to deal with because you have learned so many ways to deal with life.  And heartbreak can be assuaged with lovely memories.

Life gives you a chance to grow and learn.  I didn't always do that.  But now I know that all those little irritations (and a few big ones) during my life gave me knowledge to cope with the really big ones later.

We had taught our daughter and her children to never leave without a hug and saying "I love you".  Thank goodness they always did.  Now I can see my daughter giving me a kiss, a hug, and telling me she loved me.  How I wish I could have solved her problems and made her life easier.  She made her own choices.

And this afternoon as I sat reading a Mitch Albom book, I distinctly heard her call "Mom" like she had a million times.  I held my breath hoping there would be more.  And when I realized there wasn't, I cried.

Dear Suzy:

I miss you so much.  I have your face in my mind at all times always with your beautiful smile.

Today is a beautiful spring day.  The kind you and I love.  The fringe trees are popping out and look like green cotton candy.  The azaleas are almost finished blooming.  Everything is in varying shades of green.  The wrens built a nest in that tall cabinet your Dad uses for motorcycle stuff.  He left the door open.  They built on the top shelf.  She has 3 eggs which they now sit on almost round the clock.  So cute.

The birdsong is fabulous this time of the year as you well know.  The chipping sparrows, painted buntings and the cat birds are still here but I imagine they will be leaving soon.  The lone ruby throat hummingbird that stayed all winter has been joined by a couple more.  So more feeders went out.  A pair or purple finches have been checking out the feeders.  Your Dad has to fill them up every other day.  That will lessen as the winter birds leave.  And the goldfinches have arrived on their migration.  There are less this year.

Your Dad and I had a wonderful lunch with Logan, Tuesday, and Brixon.  Brixon actually played with me and gave me a kiss when I left.  We will make sure he knows all about his Grannie in heaven just as Maria promised with any children Bryan and Jen had.  There house is really nice and Logan has fixed it up even nicer.  Tuesday and your Dad and I bought him a grill for his birthday.  He was so proud of that.

You would be so proud of Bryan.  He has handled all of this with the most courage.  You would be proud of both of them.  And that Jason was here with the donuts the morning after we knew you were gone.  He was here off and on and made our day easier.

Lee and Lynn came and spent a morning with us.  We had a group hug and cried.  They have not changed one bit.  And they helped us cope that second day.  Lee cooked a bunch of food and brought over.  Then the next day David Bryant came.  He spent the afternoon with us.  He looked good.  And your Aunt Linda came over.  She brought me two beautiful orchid blooms.  You would love them.

You know how much your Dad and I love you.  We know you are now out of pain and are with our Lord.  You probably already know Judy is being taken care of and will be fine. 

I'll write you a letter every so often.  Catch you up on things.  All my love Mom.

Recently hubby and I went to one of my favorite places-Princess Place Preserve.  It's a park maintained by Flagler County. It was purchased by Henry Cutting and his wife Angela in 1886.  Cutting built a large lodge on the site named Cherokee Grove.  After Henry died, Angela married Boris Scherbatoff, an exiled Russian Prince.  Then it became known as Princess Place.  It was also the site of the first in-ground swimming pool.  The pool still supplied water from an artesian well.

my photo

To this day, the lodge is beautiful.  The lodge has a wide porch on all four sides.  On the front overlooking where the Matanzas River and Pellicer Creek come together are rocking chairs just begging for you to sit, relax, and sometimes watch an eagle or a porpoise.  At present, construction crews are making over the old bath houses and the barn.  Both of them were in need of a lot of care.

my photo

The road into the park winds through pine and hardwood forests.  A large bridge covers a small creek through a large expanse of marsh land.  It's a favorite place for fisherman to cast their rods.  I was lucky enough to see otters play there.  Dirt roads meander through the park.  It is not uncommon to see deer walking across your path or eating in some of the open areas.  And birds of every kind fill the trees and water.  During our last picnic there we were entertained by a brown pelican, a wood stork, a kingfisher, and a Harris hawk.  First time I had seen a Harris hawk. 

my photo

Some of the trees are covered in the resurrection fern with wild orchids in among them.  These tiny, native orchids called Greenfly orchids have a green bloom.  They are hard to see but worth the effort of looking for them.

borrowed from internet

There are several primative camp sites.  On the weekend and during the summer they are always full.  Also the preserve has equestrian camp sites and numerous riding trails.  Add to that the hiking trails for the walking enthusiasts.  There is one hiking trail that is paved with cement for handicapped use.  It goes through forests and along the marsh.  It's great for people in wheelchairs or electric scooters.  Hubby pushed me around in my wheelchair when I was too ill to walk.  It was wonderful to be out.

my picture

I think I've included all the features of the preserve.  The one thing I haven't talked about is the sense of peace I get every time I go there.  Once you are in the woods on one of the roads, it's like being in another time and place.  I feel it.  A sense of relaxation and a spiritual uplifting come to me.  Now I know that might be hard for everyone to understand.  Nevertheless, it's there.  I come home renewed and ready to tackle the world again.  Those of you who really know me will understand.

Teddy Bears.  Did you have one growing up?  I honestly do not remember having one.  Hubby does.  As I was growing up, there were always cats that slept with me.  Guess I might not have needed one.

Someone gave my Mom an older teddy.  One of his ears is slightly loose and the string making his nose has come undone and is hanging a bit.  Still he sat on the hearth at her house from the time my Dad died 13 years ago until she died last year.  I brought it home and he now resides in an antique rocking chair in the living room.  When I look at him, I think of my Mom.  I don't really think she ever cared about it one way or another.  But I fell in love with him the first time I saw him.

Here is my Patches cat enjoying a cat nap (slightly disturbed by the camera and I) with Teddy:

The pillow is a Christmas gift from my cousin in Oregon.  It says "love you to the moon and back".  A phrase I sometimes use to end an email.  We are more like siblings than cousins.

I remember as a child hearing a song "Teddy Bear's picnic" on the radio. It opened a children's program if my memory is right. Can't remember if it was just on Saturday or what; but I think of that song a lot.  It is one of oldest memories I have.  I found a recording by Anne Murray on YouTube. Here is a link http:
//youtu.be/uxFIGWm9M6w.  Perhaps you remember it.

There's a really cute rhyme about a teddy bear also.

Grin and Bear It

(for two year old)
When I was just a wee little bear,
My owner dragged me everywhere,
Filled me up with cold mud pie,
Bit my nose and lost my tie,
Left me outside in the rain,
Spilled her juice and left this stain.
But I didn’t whine or scold,
Cuz she was only two years old!
And what’s a faithful bear to do
When his little girl is only two?
~ Author Unknown ~

I've always wanted a vintage steiff bear but have never had money to buy one.  One like this cutie is cuddling:
 

 

Follow up to previous blog.

Daughter is doing okay.  She did take too many medicines but she also had pneumonia and was running such a high fever she was delirious.  She may have taken too many pain pills without realizing it.  She does have a problem but this time it was not done on purpose.  Thank God for getting her through this.  She will be in hospital for a few more days while she recuperates from all of it.

Today I'm writing a personal post.  And I hope you'll forgive me.

50 years ago this April I gave birth to a 9lb 14oz baby girl.  She was beautiful.  I was lucky enough to be a stay at home Mom until she started school.  We did everything together.

I went to work so hubby could get finish his degree at UofF and get a better job than electrician's apprentice.  So her grandmother who lived next door took care of her.  When she was seven, I had to make the decision to let her become a latch key kid.  Her grandmother had told her there was no Santa Claus and she was devastated.  School was only two blocks away and there were neighbors who watched out for her. 

During those years she was given chores.  She could clean, wash clothes, and cook supper with the best of them.  We managed to keep our heads above water and hubby finally finished and went to work teaching school.  It took a couple of more years to get in a better financial situation.  By that time she was a teenager, I liked my job, and decided to keep working.

I thought I had done a pretty good job; the best I knew how.  I certainly had no guidance from my own mother.  I had loved her unconditionally, as I still do, and felt she was going to do good things.

That girl now a woman of 50, mother of three, is laying in ICU in a hospital in Alabama.  She overdosed on prescription drugs.  She is in stable condition.  I have not been able to talk to her since she has had a breathing tube and has been asleep since it happened.  One of my grandsons who lives there has born the brunt of the worry and taking care of his younger sister while holding down a job.  He's one of the best kids around.  But it is hard for him.

That's my story today.  I feel better writing about it.  I am hurt but not beating myself up over it.  This was her choice.  She has problems and I am praying this will wake her up and she will get help.  Thanks for reading.  I'm sorry it is such a sad post.

My mother-in-law once told me that since she was old, she could say anything she wanted.  My mother thought the same way.  Unfortunately, I have a very good friend who also thinks the same way.

I don't think any of the above waited for old age however.  They always said what they thought their whole lives.

They never considered how what they said hurt other people (or didn't care).  I know I was on the receiving end of a lot of cruel words.  It didn't make me a better person; but it sure made me realize I didn't want to be like them.

I'm for standing up for yourself and saying what needs to be said in certain circumstances.  I also believe you should take a deep breath before.  It helps to take the time to think if what you are about to say will be hurtful or useful.  Sometimes in the interest of helping someone what we need to say may be cruel.  But there are ways to do that to make it less hurting.  I haven't always been good at that.

Old age doesn't give us the right to hurt.  Old age doesn't really give us the right to do anything except cherish every day.  Older people have years of experience to give to other people.  It should be done in a way that will gain the respect of the other person.

Truth in this quote.  I went a lot of years being old before my actual age was considered old.  I felt I was old, overweight, a drudge so to speak.  So I forgot how to be childish.

Now that I am actually "old" in age (70), I no longer feel old.  I shocked myself when I realized that in March I would turn 70 and in April my daughter would turn 50.  Not possible.

While the chemo and illness has made my body feel and look older, I don't feel "old" spiritually.  I still do crazy things.  Like painting which is really just a higher form of coloring I did as a child.  Getting tickled over cartoons and Disney movies (especially the old ones).  Daydreaming of things I will never see or experience.  Daydreams are important to a child and should be continued and cherished your entire life. I still love to walk in the rain or splash in puddles.  I've gone back and reread all the children's books I loved--like "Alice in Wonderland" and "The Wizard of Oz".  Even read all the Harry Potter books.  Don't forget to laugh a lot.  Giggle even.

Try not to be an OLD stick-in-the-mud adult all the time.  There's
time for that.

"The word listen contains the same letters as the word silent."
Alfred Brendel-classical pianist

Are you  good listener?  I think I am.  Maybe because as I was growing up, I was taught to be quiet while adults talked.  My Mom always had to have the last word and lots in between.  I know I did not talk while adults were talking or I might get a pat on my heini.  Usually you knew to keep quiet unless you were asked a question.  I was a shy child and an even shyer adult until somewhere around 40, when I began to come out of my shell.  I know a lot of people who have known me the last 10 or 20 years probably would never believe that.  If he hadn't lived it, I don't think hubby would have either.

I've known people who never listen to what you are saying.  They are busy thinking what they want to say next.  So they never respond to what you have said and miss the point of most conversations.  I know I did this for awhile.  A quote about this made me stop and think.  I became a much better listener; being silent when the other person was speaking; concentrating on their words and their facial movements. 

In my older years, I have also learned to think before I speak.  That saves a lot of misunderstood conversations and hurt for the listener.  When I am talking to someone, I want their attention.  I want them to look at my face, make eye contact, and show they are there and not a million miles away.  That is where I am now.  I listen with my whole being; think about it; and make a comment if necessary.  Those are hard lessons to learn but worth it.  Nothing like a wonderful conversation with give and take.  Some of life's lessons are best learned that way.

I've been looking at some of the quotes I have stashed around the computer waiting to be used for something.  I was hoping it would jog my mind into writing a post.

Unfortunately, there were too many choices.  So I'll just go eeny, meeney, moe and pick one.

I've written before about smiles and smiling.  Let's consider this quote by Mother Teresa:
"Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to the person, a beautiful thing."

I love smiling at people.  For me it is an act of love.  I give a little bit of myself, as a gift, to people.  It pays off sometime with a smile in return.  And sometimes it seems to make the other person more sad or mad or something negative.

I can't say I have not been one of those people, frowning and glowering at people as I walked past.  I used to think I had all kinds of problems and that people didn't like me.  I suffered from such a lack of confidence for the first 35 to 40 years of my life.  I drank too much to give myself that feeling of being more likeable.  I realized eventually that it didn't.  In fact, it made me a lot less likeable.  That's when I began to wake-up and get with the smile program.  

I feel sorry for people who don't smile.  It takes such little effort and it makes you feel so good.  They might see it takes away some of the sadness or madness that they are feeling.  I always rejoice inwardly when someone smiles back.  I've seen people coming towards me who at the last minute smile.  I know I've struck a nerve and I hope it gives them a better day.

One of the nurses at the cancer center calls me sunshine.  I asked her why.  She said because you are always smiling no matter what.

So smile.  Give it your best and make someone call you sunshine.

Recently we drove to Miramar Beach to attend our youngest grandson's wedding.  Long drive for us old folks.  And I admit I was nervous about meeting the bride's family.  The bride, Jennifer, is an absolute sweetheart.  She and Bryan just belong together.  Her family was warm and welcoming.  The wedding was great.  They made sure we had a place to park in front of the house and a place I could sit and enjoy the wedding.

However, I didn't really intend to write about the wedding.  I kept thinking about the drive.  All on the interstate.  On the way up, I was nervous and did not notice very much.  On the way back, I began to notice the countryside.

From the time we got on Interstate 10 until we hit Tallahassee, the countryside was brown.  The pines and oaks were still in green coats.  But the summer grasses and wildflowers were a sea of brown.  With lots of leafless trees.

In Tallahassee the DOT had sown winter rye on all the embankments and medians.  It was a lovely lime green and tall enough to actually wave in the breeze.  Then it turned to a lighter shade of green.  As we traveled further east, I began to see more green trees.  The grasses were still brown of course.  The Florida Maples looked like they were covered with a light pink halo.

Further along the highway those maples begin to show more color.  There are a lot of tree farms along that area with pine trees in just about every size.  Some only a few feet tall to others that were many feet tall.

When we turned onto Interstate 75, things were greener still.  Leafless trees had that greenish tinge that shows up before the leaves.  And the maples were now a scarlet red with some a berry red and the blossoms were more pronounced.  They were lovely.  Grasses and summer wildflowers still brown.  They made a nice backdrop for the green (sown) grass and the green of the pines and oaks.



I wondered to myself how many travelers really saw the colors and textures.  I hope some of them did.