Last Week In Pictures

Pictures: A visit to Hansen's Orchard, Sunrise from my front porch, "Mangy Moose" painting discovered in an antique shop ... begging me to buy it ;), Mr. Nathan tending the fire with his mutt, the fabulous baby Jake, salsa..salsa..salsa ..yummy!

Are You A 'Manly" Woman?

So I'm having a conversation yesterday with my seventeen year old daughter, Ann. She is the epitome of all things girly (since birth) and is not suited for the "snakes and snails and puppy dog tails" type of existence. Having a way with word faux pases (and I having a list a mile long of the hilarious verbiage that has spewed from her mouth) she said, "Mom, have you always been a manly woman? Did you ever wear ribbons or skirts or dress up?" I, all the while flabbergasted, dropped to the floor laughing. Most days I wear comfy jeans, roll up my sleeves, mow the grass, gather firewood, put up canned goods, burn leaves, and enjoy both typical male and female type of work around the house. Her parting comment: "I don't know what dad would do without you." I love you too, sweetie.

(help me with my French .. is faux pases the plural of faux pas?)

A Walk Through Time - Part III (at last .. my feet hurt)

Final tour of duty: SS Lane Victory. U.S. Merchant Marine Navel Ship launched in 1945. Used to haul supplies to troops during WWII. This day trip included our son, Patrick. He's currently active duty U.S. Army and is a tank crewman. His vintage uniform for our outing is that of a WWII tank officer. The day began with a cruise around Catalina Island, involved espionage (a spy aboard ship) ... and was supposed to include a 'dog fight' with a bomber plane ... but it was foggy for part of the cruise ... so no plane ... but the big guns were fired. Lunch and a harbor cruise rounded out the day.

A few of these photos are from the Living Time Line at Ft. MacArthur. The military vehicle and women's military uniform 'museum' belong to Bob and Kathy. The gentleman standing in between Mr. and Mrs. Mac is R. Lee Ermey.

Well, it has been fun walking my way through history. Can't wait to find out my next assignment. Stay tuned.
Photos:


click on photos to enlarge
Edit: The charge up San Juan Hill by the three rough riders, left Mr. Mac a casualty of war :(

A Walk Through Time - Part II

As with any hobby, money can sometimes be involved. And putting together a vintage uniform (or reproduction uniform) can set a person back in the wallet. Dh and I have been fortunate to be friends with two ultimate wheelers and dealers of all things vintage. Our friends Bob and Kathy have extensive knowledge about EVERYTHING ... down to the correct buttons and patches, and they know what makes a good substitute if original is impossible or too expensive to use. Some of our uniforms are quite vintage ... moth holes included ... and some of Terry's were used for Hollywood movies. They have graciously supplied us with everything, otherwise, I don't think we could afford the selection that we have. A few of our outings, such as dinner on the Queen Mary, and a dinner/murder mystery (Murder of The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy) aboard a vintage train were not of the re-enactment category ... just fun date nights.

For the past several years we have attended a Living Time Line at Ft. MacArthur which is a weekend outing with re-enactments going back hundreds and hundreds of years up to the Korean era. There are pirates and swash-bucklers, Civil War encampments, Spanish American battles, MASH units, all set above a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

For our twenty-fourth wedding anniversary, Dh and I traveled to Mackinac Island, MI for a three day weekend at the Grand Hotel that included the Glenn Miller Band. For the formal night, we wore vintage WWII uniforms. In attendance were many WWII veterans and their spouses to hear "their" music. Seeing us in "their" uniforms brought smiles to their faces and gratitude for preserving part of "their" history. We were asked to be dance partners with several of the elderly guests so they could reminisce about their service years.

While reading a local newspaper some time back I saw there was to be an opening of a hobby shop/museum just up the road from our home. Their specialty is model airplanes and battleships from bygone wars. Dh and I attended and met a WWII rescue pilot, Bill Clutterham, who flew B17's during the war. These two hit it off and became best of friends with much in common. Come to find out they were both stationed on a small remote island called Ishima off the coast of Japan some thirty years apart. Bill was a rescue pilot for the infamous Enola Gay plane that dropped the A-bomb and was flying at the time of the bombing. This was a top secret mission and he didn't even know what was going on ... but witnessed a blast from the corner of his eye. Something never before seen and hopefully never to be seen again. If he had looked directly at it, he would have gone blind. I have a book he wrote about his Christian faith and his recollections of the war. Sadly, he passed away this past April. Terry and a few of Bill's close friends and family made a pilgrimage to Washington, D.C. a short time before his death to see the National WWII Memorial. There's one more day of time travel ... so stay tuned.

Photos: (click on pictures to enlarge)

Top Row: Left - Mrs. Mac "Somewhere In Time" at the Grand Hotel's vintage phone booth, 2004
Right - Mr Mac and Bill at the WWII Memorial in Washington, D.D., 2006
Middle Row:
Left - Mr. Mac & Bill at hobby shop opening, 2005
Right - Mr. & Mrs. Mac at the Grand Hotel, Mackinac Island, MI, 2004
Bottom Row:
Left - Mr. & Mrs. Mac aboard the murder mystery dinner train
Right - Mr. Mac at Ft. MacArthur, 2006

A Walk Through Time - Part I

Several years ago my husband asked me to go on a double date. We were to eat out at a five star restaurant called Sir Winston's aboard the Queen Mary ship with the best man from our wedding, Bob, and his (at the time girl friend) wife, Kathy. I jumped at the chance ... then he informed me we would be wearing authentic WWII uniforms. I said, "out in public in a restaurant, eh??" I reminded him we didn't have any WWII uniforms hanging in our closet so what gives? It seems Bob is a procurer of all things having to do with war reenactments ... probably all the way back to the pirates (no kidding). Putting aside my oft times shy nature ... I agreed to go. Seems there is this whole sub-culture of people that dress in period uniforms, street clothes, etc. and go out to vintage style clubs, dances, restaurants, reenactments, you name it. Who knew? After the first course of the dinner, I let my composure relax a bit and started to 'get into the mood' of the evening. Afterwards we took a stroll aboard ship and ran into a group of vintage attired people wearing street clothes from the 40's that we joined (complete strangers). They had the whole gig down to their vintage zippo lighters and cigarette cases. Even their speech was from another time. Thus began my adventure as a participant in military reenactments. Some of our best friends have been made at such events, and this week I'll share a few snapshots from several of our 'outings'. Stay tuned to see more of Mrs. Mac walking her way through history.

Photo left to right: Mr. & Mrs. Mac, Bob and Kathy

This Week In Pictures

This week in pictures finds my daughter and her family entering their new home for the first time since purchasing it three weeks ago. Uncle and nephew posing pretty.
Old blue eyes showing his toothless grin. And tonight's moon rise as viewed from my rocking chair on my front porch.

The Essence of Letters

Treasures From The Past: Like fine wine or aged cheese, time has a way of making letters of the past turn into something of value. The written word from a penned hand on a simple piece of paper can transport you back to bygone days. I have numerous jewels in the forms of such letters. Some simple notes from my grandparents upon my marriage or the birth of my children. One from my loving husband written while he was serving our country. This one in particular was written before he even knew me and speaks of his future wife and the life he'd like to pursue with her. There is talk of the China dishes he purchased while stationed off the coast of Okinawa. Dishes he would one day present to his beloved. Dishes that still occupy my kitchen cabinet some 30+ years later. A letter full of promise and about the unknown future. I cry each time I open this letter. To think he could write such loving thoughts about his unknown bride.

To see the handwriting on a letter written from my long deceased grandparents stirs warm and happy memories. I can visualize the pen in hand as the words were written. Well loved hands that cradled and cared for life. Notes from my children written in crayon proclaiming that "You're the best mommy in the whole world", and "Thank you for taking such good care of me."

The essence of letters. How are you preserving a rich heritage for your children and grandchildren. Do you hand write letters anymore? With the advent of email, the handwritten word seems to be going by the wayside. Take a moment today and write a letter. Your children and grandchildren will one day treasure re-reading it.

This is perhaps one of my favorite love letters. It was written by Sullivan Ballou while fighting during the Civil War. Enjoy.

July the 14th, 1861

Washington DC

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days - perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.

Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure - and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine 0 God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing - perfectly willing - to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.

But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows - when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children - is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country?

I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death -- and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.

I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles have often advocated before the people and "the name of honor that I love more than I fear death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me - perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar -- that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night -- amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours - always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.

As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.

Sullivan