Japan Story
My mother and I walked everywhere. In Yokohama the shops were within walking distance, so we would go forth to buy whatever personal items we needed: new socks for Valerie, sewing needles or knitting 'wool' for my mother. Since she had servants, they purchased and transported all the household needs, groceries, and other essentials.
Usually we walked back up a steep hill through the International Cemetery. Here were buried Westerners from many countries, mostly Europeans. It had been established the century before. It was smaller in the '30s , and I do not remember the huge trees that flourish there today. It was a rather scary place, especially when my mother would hide on me! But it led up to the Bluff Road, and home.Hiding on little Valerie was an amusement indulged in by both parents. I did not like it.
My father had another trick. We would be riding in a public conveyance of some kind, train or tram, and in front of all the passengers my father would seize my hand and place it in his palm. Then he would admonish me loudly slapping his palm, but missing my hand. The passengers were amazed that I did not burst into tears. What strange people these Gaijin were, hitting their children.
Another favorite stunt of his was used to impress small children. He would bend his thumbs, place one knuckle next to the other and hiding the place where the two came together, pull what appeared to be the top half of the thumb away. I was amazed, but since there was no blood, knew it had to be some kind of trick. He had exceptionally large hands, with long, sensitive fingers. Musician's hands, not workman's. He was hopeless with a hammer or screwdriver, and when something needed fixing my mother would declare,
"We'll have to get a man in."
Which, needless to say, infuriated my father!
Monday, January 29, 2018
Saturday, January 27, 2018
Japan Story Conveyances
Japan Story
Neither of my parents every learned to drive a car. In Japan there was really no need. Taxis were inexpensive, and my father knew just enough Japanese to communicate where we wanted to go.
"CHUT a matti, kudasai."
My favorite means of transportation in Yokohama was the rickshaw. The little chaise with big wheels and a canopy was pulled by a coolie. A four foot Japanese man took the two handles, and head down, straw hat on his head, dressed in blue pajamas, pulled us through the streets of Yokohama in style. Each rickshaw was only big enough to hold one adult, but I was small, so there was a big decision to make - to go with Daddy or Mummy?
Where did we go? I remember being pulled through Chinatown, which, to this day, is a big section of Yokohama, and a tourist attraction. It was a wonderland then for a child, with yellow and red lanterns, strange sights and smells, teeming with Asian people who were dressed differently from the Japanese and sold wonderful toys.
Japan at that time was ruled by an Emperor, who was worshipped as a god. When the royal car drove by everyone was supposed to drop to their knees, with heads down. It was not permitted to gaze on a god. I did peek once, and saw the royal children in a red car drive by. Only the deity could have a red conveyance.
There were automobiles on the streets at that time, but not many. We walked to the shops, to school, to church. I do not remember bicycles in Yokohama, although my mother rode a bicycle in Karuizawa, our summer place, and I sat behind her, feet dangling.
Mostly we travelled on trains, because they were the only means of traveling any distance. We would take day trips to Mionoshita and have tea in the beautiful tea room of the hotel, looking out on an enchanting garden, as only the Japanese can make a garden. In the lobby of the hotel was a Myna bird in a cage who greeted visitors with a low voiced
"Konitichiwa."
It was a common greeting, but I wondered how a bird could learn Japanese.
Neither of my parents every learned to drive a car. In Japan there was really no need. Taxis were inexpensive, and my father knew just enough Japanese to communicate where we wanted to go.
"CHUT a matti, kudasai."
My favorite means of transportation in Yokohama was the rickshaw. The little chaise with big wheels and a canopy was pulled by a coolie. A four foot Japanese man took the two handles, and head down, straw hat on his head, dressed in blue pajamas, pulled us through the streets of Yokohama in style. Each rickshaw was only big enough to hold one adult, but I was small, so there was a big decision to make - to go with Daddy or Mummy?
Where did we go? I remember being pulled through Chinatown, which, to this day, is a big section of Yokohama, and a tourist attraction. It was a wonderland then for a child, with yellow and red lanterns, strange sights and smells, teeming with Asian people who were dressed differently from the Japanese and sold wonderful toys.
Japan at that time was ruled by an Emperor, who was worshipped as a god. When the royal car drove by everyone was supposed to drop to their knees, with heads down. It was not permitted to gaze on a god. I did peek once, and saw the royal children in a red car drive by. Only the deity could have a red conveyance.
There were automobiles on the streets at that time, but not many. We walked to the shops, to school, to church. I do not remember bicycles in Yokohama, although my mother rode a bicycle in Karuizawa, our summer place, and I sat behind her, feet dangling.
Mostly we travelled on trains, because they were the only means of traveling any distance. We would take day trips to Mionoshita and have tea in the beautiful tea room of the hotel, looking out on an enchanting garden, as only the Japanese can make a garden. In the lobby of the hotel was a Myna bird in a cage who greeted visitors with a low voiced
"Konitichiwa."
It was a common greeting, but I wondered how a bird could learn Japanese.
Friday, January 26, 2018
Japan Story Food
Japan Story
My father never ate Japanese food. I never had rice except in rice pudding. A proper English diet consisted of roast beef, roast chicken or turkey, roast lamb or lamb chops. And for dessert, plum pudding, rice pudding and mince pies. We ate in the dining room, a small room off the living room where the amah-san or her husband brought us the food they had prepared according to instructions.
When we had lamb chops my father would, on occasion, throw a chop bone under the table. Then he would say very loudly,
"Bad boy, Brownie!"
Brownie, of course, had come running up at the smell of meat and seized the chop bone. We heard a growl from under the table. Brownie was not about to be parted from his prize.
"Bad boy, Brownie" I said in my loudest voice.
"Grrrrr" from under the table.
My father knew how to have fun.
On another occasion he had a tantrum. Our cook had decided that a rack of lamb should have the white paper frills with which the French decorate their chops. He did not know that my Father disliked French cuisine as much as Japanese.
" I do not want lace panties on my food!" my father roared.
He was a voracious eater, but never gained weight. He burned up any excess calories in nervous energy. He was very upset that I did not eat as much as he thought would sustain me.
"Eat up your food!" was a constant admonishment.
My mother was more diplomatic. When the 'starving children in China' line didn't work she would coax,
"Eat up that piece of (whatever), or it will get lonely."
Not being able to think about eating another bite I would cut the food in half, then triumphantly point out that there were two pieces now and therefore they were not lonely!
My father never ate Japanese food. I never had rice except in rice pudding. A proper English diet consisted of roast beef, roast chicken or turkey, roast lamb or lamb chops. And for dessert, plum pudding, rice pudding and mince pies. We ate in the dining room, a small room off the living room where the amah-san or her husband brought us the food they had prepared according to instructions.
When we had lamb chops my father would, on occasion, throw a chop bone under the table. Then he would say very loudly,
"Bad boy, Brownie!"
Brownie, of course, had come running up at the smell of meat and seized the chop bone. We heard a growl from under the table. Brownie was not about to be parted from his prize.
"Bad boy, Brownie" I said in my loudest voice.
"Grrrrr" from under the table.
My father knew how to have fun.
On another occasion he had a tantrum. Our cook had decided that a rack of lamb should have the white paper frills with which the French decorate their chops. He did not know that my Father disliked French cuisine as much as Japanese.
" I do not want lace panties on my food!" my father roared.
He was a voracious eater, but never gained weight. He burned up any excess calories in nervous energy. He was very upset that I did not eat as much as he thought would sustain me.
"Eat up your food!" was a constant admonishment.
My mother was more diplomatic. When the 'starving children in China' line didn't work she would coax,
"Eat up that piece of (whatever), or it will get lonely."
Not being able to think about eating another bite I would cut the food in half, then triumphantly point out that there were two pieces now and therefore they were not lonely!
Thursday, January 25, 2018
Japan Story Phonograph
Japan Story
I had a very important job. When I was about five I was tasked with replacing the phonograph needles. This involved standing on a stool, carefully lifting the heavy phonograph needle holder, unscrewing the old needle's grip, and putting it in the 'old needles' place. Then selecting a sharp new needle and inserting it in the head, screwing it tight so it would not fall out. This was required for the optimal sound each time a record was played. A worn needle would make the record sound fuzzy.
The phonograph player stood about four feet high with a lid that opened up to reveal the turntable and the playing head. It was too high for me to reach without a stool. The 78 RPM records were stored on a bottom shelf. My father, who had been trained in violin, had a collection of classical music, all on 78 RPM s as that was the latest technology. I think we might even have had a speaker horn!
I had one record of my very own. It was a collection of nursery rhymes set to music. I would sit on the floor and sing along . The only one I really remember was:
"Tom, Tom, the Piper's son
Stole a pig and away he run (A bad rhyme I thought)
The pig was et
And Tom was beat
And both went roaring down the street."
Altogether a very bad poem. But what struck me most was the strange sound effect at the end. It was supposed to mimic the sound of a pig roaring, but to me it sounded exactly like someone throwing up!
I had a very important job. When I was about five I was tasked with replacing the phonograph needles. This involved standing on a stool, carefully lifting the heavy phonograph needle holder, unscrewing the old needle's grip, and putting it in the 'old needles' place. Then selecting a sharp new needle and inserting it in the head, screwing it tight so it would not fall out. This was required for the optimal sound each time a record was played. A worn needle would make the record sound fuzzy.
The phonograph player stood about four feet high with a lid that opened up to reveal the turntable and the playing head. It was too high for me to reach without a stool. The 78 RPM records were stored on a bottom shelf. My father, who had been trained in violin, had a collection of classical music, all on 78 RPM s as that was the latest technology. I think we might even have had a speaker horn!
I had one record of my very own. It was a collection of nursery rhymes set to music. I would sit on the floor and sing along . The only one I really remember was:
"Tom, Tom, the Piper's son
Stole a pig and away he run (A bad rhyme I thought)
The pig was et
And Tom was beat
And both went roaring down the street."
Altogether a very bad poem. But what struck me most was the strange sound effect at the end. It was supposed to mimic the sound of a pig roaring, but to me it sounded exactly like someone throwing up!
Friday, January 19, 2018
Japan Story Earaches
Japan Story
I was a pretty healthy kid, although I remember coming down with measles and chicken pox while in Ju Ichi Ban .
There were however, recurring ear infections which required a doctor's attention. The pediatrician was a western doctor, a woman, and I loved her office because it was decorated with hundreds of origami birds.
Having no idea how to treat an ear infection in those days before antibiotics, 'Antiphlogistine' was recommended. It was smeared on my neck, I recall. I was fascinated by the name. Years later I came across a definition of
" 'phlogiston': noun, a substance supposed by 18th century chemists to exist in all combustible bodies and to be released on combustion. "
Apparently the pharma people of the 1930's had made up an impressive sounding name for what was, essentially, a placebo.
My bedroom had to be heated also. They brought in a cylindrical device about three feet hight which cast spots of light on the ceiling. What produced the heat I have no idea. It might have been a coal burner, but more likely was electric. In either case not something one would leave unattended in a small child's room today.
Wednesday, January 17, 2018
Japan Story Poetry
My father was a poet. He inspired me to write poetry of my own, doggerel actually. Here are some samples.
"My Daddy is a darling
He plays with me each day.
He reads to me each book he sees
So isn't the house gay?
When were staying near the ocean, I forget where, there was stinging grass in the water when I went swimming. It was a late summer occurrence which we learned about the hard way. The next poem is an attempt to explain my dislike of stinging grass.
"I love to run by the water's edge
Its as nice as nice can be.
And yet I feel sure that I'm not very pleased
Because I can't bathe in the sea."
When my mother and I had fled Japan, and my father was struggling to rejoin us in Vancouver, he wrote this poem on the occasion of my 8th birthday in July.
"Won't it be lovely to meet again?
Won't it be lovely to say 'hello'?
You're growing bigger and bigger each day
Learning so much and delighting in play.
But after all the excitement about
All talking at once, no one listening no doubt,
Then Mummy will shout out
'Now Daddy you know, its terribly late
So don't be so slow.'
So out go the lights and I give you a kiss
For my precious is off to that land of sweet bliss."
Sunday, January 14, 2018
3 Month Anniversary at LCG
Yesterday marked the three month anniversary at La Costa Glen. I have no regrets. Each day brings more friends, and new activities.
Today my brother arrives in LA. He and Trevor will drive to Vegas then down here to see me! Looking forward to that. Sorry Sue can't come but her Dad needs her.
Japan Story
A few more recollections from the Ju Ichi Ban Yamato days. I attended the International school for kindergarten, which I only remember as playing on the floor a lot with brightly colored toys, and a very cute boy called Bruno, with curly hair!
I moved up to first grade where I learned the Palmer method of cursive writing. First you had to make a series of up and down marks between two ruled lines. Then circles. Then half circles and back again to make a row of continuous 'Cs'. I also learned how to write dipthongs, 'ae' together and 'oe'. In those days dipthongs were actually spelled out.
I walked hand in hand with my father to school, and my future was planned. I might become an 'Analytical Chemist' or perhaps a "Lady Barrister'. Neither of my parents had been able to achieve a university education, but they valued the concept. If there had not been a war, I would probably have been sent to England to boarding school to prepare for Oxford or Cambridge or Bristol University.
I was also urged to be 'self reliant'. At first I thought this might have something to do with lions, but I was rather shy, and did not think I could be bold and self assured like a lion.
My father was also very interested in 'fitness'. He had installed in our side garden a parallel bar on which I could swing from bar to bar. I was encouraged to practice headstands, handstands on the front lawn and up against the wall, and cartwheels. I was not terribly good at cartwheels, but could do a backbend and rise again to standing, into my college years. (Robin was very impressed.)
To be continued.....
Today my brother arrives in LA. He and Trevor will drive to Vegas then down here to see me! Looking forward to that. Sorry Sue can't come but her Dad needs her.
Japan Story
A few more recollections from the Ju Ichi Ban Yamato days. I attended the International school for kindergarten, which I only remember as playing on the floor a lot with brightly colored toys, and a very cute boy called Bruno, with curly hair!
I moved up to first grade where I learned the Palmer method of cursive writing. First you had to make a series of up and down marks between two ruled lines. Then circles. Then half circles and back again to make a row of continuous 'Cs'. I also learned how to write dipthongs, 'ae' together and 'oe'. In those days dipthongs were actually spelled out.
I walked hand in hand with my father to school, and my future was planned. I might become an 'Analytical Chemist' or perhaps a "Lady Barrister'. Neither of my parents had been able to achieve a university education, but they valued the concept. If there had not been a war, I would probably have been sent to England to boarding school to prepare for Oxford or Cambridge or Bristol University.
I was also urged to be 'self reliant'. At first I thought this might have something to do with lions, but I was rather shy, and did not think I could be bold and self assured like a lion.
My father was also very interested in 'fitness'. He had installed in our side garden a parallel bar on which I could swing from bar to bar. I was encouraged to practice headstands, handstands on the front lawn and up against the wall, and cartwheels. I was not terribly good at cartwheels, but could do a backbend and rise again to standing, into my college years. (Robin was very impressed.)
To be continued.....
Saturday, January 13, 2018
Saturday, January 13, 2018
A beautiful sunny warm day at La Costa Glen. I have had a busy week. Two computer classes, four or five exercise classes, Garden Villa party planning meeting where I signed up to give a party at my villa in October. Attended the Town Hall Meeting yesterday. Lots of flu, but so far I am OK. Lots of exercise seems to do the trick. I have been 'dining out' most nights, and tomorrow my grandson comes to help me eat the Sunday Brunch. I also attended a Travel Club presentation, Luxury Trains in Europe. Now if I can just get someone to go with me!
Wendy calls faithfully from Paris every morning (here), and Bri calls to fill me in on the latest with Maddox. He is almost 9 months old! Mack calls too on his way home from work. Jonathan will come to visit at the end of the month.
Trev got the boxes off to the Washington folks, hope they can use some of it. Bri is enjoying her classes, Spanish, Geology and Linguistic Anthropology which is an on-line class. She is aceing them all and having a good time. Daisy is getting excited about the new baby. Sometime by the end of July or early August.
There is a concert tonight. Might go to that.
Hope everyone is well and happy, Love Val
Wendy calls faithfully from Paris every morning (here), and Bri calls to fill me in on the latest with Maddox. He is almost 9 months old! Mack calls too on his way home from work. Jonathan will come to visit at the end of the month.
Trev got the boxes off to the Washington folks, hope they can use some of it. Bri is enjoying her classes, Spanish, Geology and Linguistic Anthropology which is an on-line class. She is aceing them all and having a good time. Daisy is getting excited about the new baby. Sometime by the end of July or early August.
There is a concert tonight. Might go to that.
Hope everyone is well and happy, Love Val
Thursday, January 11, 2018
Gladys Catherine Parry Wilde
My mother was born in the year 1900. Her father was Chief Librarian of the Liverpool library, and was sufficiently prominent that when he died there was a ceremony and obituary in the newspapers. I have a copy of it.
There is a formal photograph of my mother, in her late teens, with very long hair tied loosely in the back and cascading over one shoulder. Women were supposed to grow their hair long at that time, and her father would not let her cut it as long as she lived at home.
Women at that time were not supposed to have careers, but marry and be taken care of by their husbands. She wanted a career, and "Thoroughly Modern Millie-ish" took a secretarial course, whether with the blessings of her father or not I never learned. She was a formidable speller, knew Greg and Pitman shorthand, and could type a 60 words a minute. She loved to travel, and in her twenties went to work for the Cunard, White Star Lines. Perhaps through her father's influence, she was able to land the enviable position of "Lizzy Mint" on the Mauretania. She was the only female crew member, and as the Captain's personal secretary, sat at his table every evening, and met all the important people who travelled first class across the Atlantic. Charlie Chaplin was one she used to talk about.
She travelled between London and New York for about two years in this capacity. She would tell marvelous 'sea stories', one of being 'hove to' in mid-Atlantic in a terrible storm. I do not think there is a word for the present tense of 'hove to' but it means the ship must stop all forward movement and head into the teeth of the gale. Sea anchors are streamed out to hold it from taking the waves on the side, 'abeam' in sailors' jargon, and everyone takes to their berths. She would dramatically describe how her ship, on this occasion, took a 'green one' down the stack.
"Mummy, what is a green one?"
She explained that the seas were so enormous that they rose higher than the highest part of the ship, the smoke stacks, and flooded one of the engine rooms. I was enthralled.
My mother did not suffer from seasickness and used to tell how she was sometimes the only woman showing up for dinner dances when the weather was rough. She had her pick of dance partners.
She loved beautiful clothes, and with her salary, could afford them. She would shop in New York, then would appear in London, wearing clothes that were six months ahead of British fashionistas.
She had at least two offers of marriage, but she had met my father several years before and was carrying the torch for him, and was in no hurry to settle down. He reappeared in 1932 and this time she was not going to let him get away. He proposed, offered an exotic life in Japan, and she immediately said 'yes'.
Her father, somewhat alarmed, gave her as a wedding present return passage from Japan, an expensive present, and a gold soverign 'in case she should ever be in need.' She never used it and I have the coin to this day.
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
Glenaires
Yesterday poured rain most of the day!
I went to a computer class, beginning iPad. They are held twice a week, so I will learn something, hopefully.
Out in the rain again for a 1:00 meeting with the choral group, the Glenaires. They are starting a new season, with new music. So far we are doing "California Dreamin'" and "You're Sixteen". Its a four part group, women sopranos, and altos, men, tenor and bass. Should be a lot of fun.
In March a new tap dance session begins. I think I will do that too.
Today, after the morning exercise class I will go to a Travel Club presentation in the theater. The sun is coming out.
Love to you all, Val
I went to a computer class, beginning iPad. They are held twice a week, so I will learn something, hopefully.
Out in the rain again for a 1:00 meeting with the choral group, the Glenaires. They are starting a new season, with new music. So far we are doing "California Dreamin'" and "You're Sixteen". Its a four part group, women sopranos, and altos, men, tenor and bass. Should be a lot of fun.
In March a new tap dance session begins. I think I will do that too.
Today, after the morning exercise class I will go to a Travel Club presentation in the theater. The sun is coming out.
Love to you all, Val
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
Japan Story War Clouds
After being put to bed, I could hear, in the next room, my parents discussing politics. My father's BBC accent would loudly voice opinions about people who were presumably important in the world. The name Chamberlain came up frequently, and Mussolini. Then there was someone called Schikelgruber. This was in the time-frame of 1939 to 1940, and Hitler was on the march in Europe. Since all my relatives came from England, there was much interest and concern for the fate of the British people.
My father did a comic imitation of Hitler that I thought very clever. He would tousle his dark hair, produce a small dark 'mustache' from somewhere, place it under his nose and fulminate in a convincing imitation of Teutonic rage. This Hitler person was someone to be mocked rather that feared.
That summer, as I have said, we planned to visit our relatives in England, but it was not to be. By the summer of 1940 passage to Europe across the Atlantic was no longer an option. My maternal grandfather had died, shortly after my birth, but his widow was there, and his son Norman and wife Cora, with daughter Susan. My father's parents were no longer living, but he had two sisters, Bess and Belle, who had inherited the two shops my grandfather had started, which sold gentlemen's hats. They were 'spinsters', who had lost their sweethearts in WW1. My father also had a brother, Leyland, who did not seem to be very enterprising, but had one son David, who later earned a PhD from Bristol University, the first in our family to achieve a degree. I never met any of them, except David, much, much later.
We learned that my grandmother was 'bombed out of her home' several times, but managed to survive the blitz. We sent them all care packages of items scare in Britain. Meat and sugar were particularly appreciated. My grandmother lived until I was a teenager, in the 1950's, and we had an acquaintance by Air Mail over the years.
Monday, January 8, 2018
Japan Story Origami
In my little bedroom in the bungalow at 11 Ju Ichi Ban (No. 11) Yamato, (The Bluff) I was generally fast asleep and was unaware when my parents went out for an evening.
This particular evening I sensed that they were about to go out, leaving me ALONE. When I heard the door close behind them I started to cry. I was, I think, about four.
Soon Amah-san appeared. She and her husband lived in a room at the back of the house and had become my baby-sitters. Our amah did not speak much English, and I certainly did not speak Japanese, but she tried to reassure me that all was well. I continued to cry. She disappeared and after a few minutes came back with some squares of colored paper. Sitting by my bed she folded the paper into wonderful shapes, flowers, boats, birds and beasts. I fell asleep, entranced, comforted. This was my introduction to the art of paper folding.
Mack to LCG
Mack came to visit as he alway does on Sundays. We went to the all-you-can-eat brunch, then walked it off with a spin around the campus. Mack helped me put away the Christmas tree for another year. A quick stop for groceries, and he was off to see the new Star Wars movie.
Tomorrow I will do another Japan story. Stay tuned!
Tomorrow I will do another Japan story. Stay tuned!
Saturday, January 6, 2018
Japan Story The Sewing Basket
My mother's Sewing Basket
My mother, as I have mentioned, made all my dresses (with pants to match). She also loved to work in leather . She would buy a hide of beautifully finished suede and with intricate patterns first cut, then stitch a pair of elegant gloves for herself, and perhaps peccary hog for my handsome father. She used a bayonet needle. It was designed to pierce through the toughest leather, consisting of three sharp sides, like a bayonet sword. She had a silver thimble to force the thread through the double layers of leather.
We sat together in the living room of 11 The Bluff, and I was tasked with tidying here sewing basket as she sewed. Her sewing basket was a three tiered Japanese fisherman's basket, which she carefully lined with some upholstery scraps. There was an Oxo box to hold pins and needles. What is an Oxo box? It was a tin box about 2 1/2 by 4 inches with a tight fitting lid. The original use was to hold beef cubes which went by the trade name Oxo. It made a very useful pin and needle container. There were spools of thread, silk and cotton, and very strong waxed thread for leather. Her mother had worked as a seamstress before she married my grandfather, so she had passed on her considerable skills to my mother who could, beside dresses and gloves, toss off bedroom slippers, curtains, slipcovers for sofas, and just about anything else one could put a needle and thread to. She had a Singer treadle (foot operated) sewing machine that did not require electricity.
She also began, the year of my birth, a piece of crewel work embroidery with a Jacobean pattern of fanciful animals and birds entwined in foliage. It was destined to be a firescreen, a decorative piece that would cover a bare hearth in summer.
She finished it many years later just before her death in 1973, and it now hangs framed in my bedroom.
Can you guess what these are???
My mother, as I have mentioned, made all my dresses (with pants to match). She also loved to work in leather . She would buy a hide of beautifully finished suede and with intricate patterns first cut, then stitch a pair of elegant gloves for herself, and perhaps peccary hog for my handsome father. She used a bayonet needle. It was designed to pierce through the toughest leather, consisting of three sharp sides, like a bayonet sword. She had a silver thimble to force the thread through the double layers of leather.
We sat together in the living room of 11 The Bluff, and I was tasked with tidying here sewing basket as she sewed. Her sewing basket was a three tiered Japanese fisherman's basket, which she carefully lined with some upholstery scraps. There was an Oxo box to hold pins and needles. What is an Oxo box? It was a tin box about 2 1/2 by 4 inches with a tight fitting lid. The original use was to hold beef cubes which went by the trade name Oxo. It made a very useful pin and needle container. There were spools of thread, silk and cotton, and very strong waxed thread for leather. Her mother had worked as a seamstress before she married my grandfather, so she had passed on her considerable skills to my mother who could, beside dresses and gloves, toss off bedroom slippers, curtains, slipcovers for sofas, and just about anything else one could put a needle and thread to. She had a Singer treadle (foot operated) sewing machine that did not require electricity.
She also began, the year of my birth, a piece of crewel work embroidery with a Jacobean pattern of fanciful animals and birds entwined in foliage. It was destined to be a firescreen, a decorative piece that would cover a bare hearth in summer.
She finished it many years later just before her death in 1973, and it now hangs framed in my bedroom.
Can you guess what these are???
Friday, January 5, 2018
Mammoth
These were taken at Mammoth. The lower Twin Lake you see here is frozen so Trevor and Mack ventured out - cautiously.
We took the gondola to the top. Lots of skiers and reasonably good snow. They have improved the interpretive center, and we were shown slides of the previous winters in Mammoth taken from satellite observations. Very heavy last year, other years not so much.
We stopped at the McCoy Center on the way down and were surprised to see this huge beast in one of the dining rooms.
I talked to Wendy this morning. They are back from a train trip to Bordeaux where Michel's mother and aunt live. Tomorrow Alex will fly back to Boston, to almost immediately turn around and leave for Puerto Rico. He and five other MIT architectural students will join three former MIT students who live in Puerto Rico. They will go to a small town with no electricity and replace the torn off roofs of houses damaged by the hurricane. Sounds like a real adventure. We want to hear all about it, Alex.
There will be another Japan story tomorrow.
Love to you all, Val
Thursday, January 4, 2018
Japan Story Toys and Clothes
Toys and Clothes
As a privileged British child in Japan I was lavished with beautiful things, including toys. I had Liberty print (from London) dresses, with pants to match, made by my mother who was a beautiful seamstress. I had leather leggings to keep my legs warm in winter, just like Christopher Robin. Proper English children did not wear long pants, girls never, and only older boys. The leggings, (called gaiters) had buttons running up the sides, and each had to be secured with a button hook, which I learned how to do.
I had many dolls. Nora Welling dolls from England. A favorite was a traditionally dressed Japanese doll, which I named, Setseko San, after our maid's Japanese looking daughter, who was about my age. I had a golliwog, Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy dolls, an elaborate two story doll house, with tiny inhabitants. (It did not find its way to 234E.) I had a doll carriage and doll clothes with which I dressed out cat, Brownie one day, and tried to take him for a walk in the carriage. He was grossly insulted, and leaped out, clothes and all, to return two days later with no signs of the little jacket and hat I had put on him.
My father loved having a playmate, being something of a child himself, so after returning from work, and after dinner, he would produce marvelous playtime activities. One evening we turned the living room into a circus, with a tightrope stretched across the floor and cushions spread out for safety. My mother called us 'homewreckers'.
One memorable evening was when he brought home Sammy Samuels, a Charlie Chaplin puppet which he placed on his knee, Edgar Bergen style, and proceeded to do what I thought was a remarkable feat of ventriloquism.
I was read to every night a bedtime. "When We Were Very Young", "Now We Are Six" "The House at Pooh Corner" and all the other A.A. Milne classics, were my favorites. Also "Wind in the Willows. Even Materlink's "The Bluebird". When there was no book to read, my father would make up bedtime stories, usually about a little girl, about my age, called Mifanwe. He pronounced it as it is spelled. She had the most interesting adventures, and when my father would pause, his imagination flagging, I would urge "Go on Daddy,". He would temporize by saying, in a dramatic tone, "and guess what happened next?..."
As a privileged British child in Japan I was lavished with beautiful things, including toys. I had Liberty print (from London) dresses, with pants to match, made by my mother who was a beautiful seamstress. I had leather leggings to keep my legs warm in winter, just like Christopher Robin. Proper English children did not wear long pants, girls never, and only older boys. The leggings, (called gaiters) had buttons running up the sides, and each had to be secured with a button hook, which I learned how to do.
I had many dolls. Nora Welling dolls from England. A favorite was a traditionally dressed Japanese doll, which I named, Setseko San, after our maid's Japanese looking daughter, who was about my age. I had a golliwog, Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy dolls, an elaborate two story doll house, with tiny inhabitants. (It did not find its way to 234E.) I had a doll carriage and doll clothes with which I dressed out cat, Brownie one day, and tried to take him for a walk in the carriage. He was grossly insulted, and leaped out, clothes and all, to return two days later with no signs of the little jacket and hat I had put on him.
My father loved having a playmate, being something of a child himself, so after returning from work, and after dinner, he would produce marvelous playtime activities. One evening we turned the living room into a circus, with a tightrope stretched across the floor and cushions spread out for safety. My mother called us 'homewreckers'.
One memorable evening was when he brought home Sammy Samuels, a Charlie Chaplin puppet which he placed on his knee, Edgar Bergen style, and proceeded to do what I thought was a remarkable feat of ventriloquism.
I was read to every night a bedtime. "When We Were Very Young", "Now We Are Six" "The House at Pooh Corner" and all the other A.A. Milne classics, were my favorites. Also "Wind in the Willows. Even Materlink's "The Bluebird". When there was no book to read, my father would make up bedtime stories, usually about a little girl, about my age, called Mifanwe. He pronounced it as it is spelled. She had the most interesting adventures, and when my father would pause, his imagination flagging, I would urge "Go on Daddy,". He would temporize by saying, in a dramatic tone, "and guess what happened next?..."
Wednesday, January 3, 2018
Japan Story Last Christmas in Japan
The Last Christmas in Japan
We were no longer living in the bungalow at 11 The Bluff, but had moved to a six unit complex at 234 E The Bluff. I will write more about 234E later.
I was 7, and no longer entirely believed in Father Christmas, but was willing to play the game. I awoke very early on that Christmas morning and in the dim light saw a strange shaped object across the room. My stocking, hung at the foot of the bed, bulged enticingly so I attacked that first. After disgorging its contents I found, at the very bottom an orange, traditional in England because oranges were rare, and therefore appropriately bestowed on a little English girl, although oranges in Japan were not that special. I found one at the bottom of my stocking every Christmas. That, and a little bag of gold covered chocolate coins.
Shivering in the early morning air I moved to the other side of the room and found, to my delight, a SHOP! It was a counter, fitted with a miniature cash register, a tiny balance scale to weigh things, and shelves filled with tiny packages of cereal, raisins, jars of jam, and larger jars of brightly colored candies and chocolates with little paper bags to put them in for the sale. When it was proper to do so, when the sun was higher, I rushed into my parents bedroom to tell them what Father Christmas had brought. I played shopkeeper for many happy hours after that.
My father won a live turkey that year, I am not sure how. He brought it home, and our maid, Jane, would have nothing to do with it. My father disappeared for awhile and returned with a nicely trussed, headless, footless less intimidating bird. A local restaurant had taken the live one in exchange. I remember helping to singe the pinfeathers.
We ate a traditional sort of Christmas dinner, turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes etc. and of course, a plum pudding with brandy set afire, and topped with a sprig of holly. I do not ever remember eating Japanese food in Japan. I love Japanese rice now, but in Japan the only rice I was served was rice pudding, which I though repulsive.
We opened our other presents under the tree. My mother had made me a new fairy costume to rival the one I wore to the fancy ball. This one was white, with a white tutu and white ballet slippers. The wand was silver, of course. I had begged for another one, and here it was.
My godmother, Mrs. Rich, who lived in California, and whom we had visited on our trip there the summer before, sent me a bolt of beautiful violet flowered cotton, so my mother could make me a dress. We could not buy such luxuries in Japan. She also sent me a charm bracelet. The charms were California themed. Cactus, coyote, and one I could not make out. We puzzled over it, until my mother said "I know!" It was Mexican hugging his knees, under a huge sombrero, and once this was pointed out, everyone said, "Of course".
Our neighbors, a nice older couple by the name of Burnie, lived directly above us. Mr. Burnie took a liking to me, and that Christmas gave me a beautiful wooden box with a carved lid that he had burnished and lacquered by hand. I treasured it, called it my Burnie Box, and was one of the few possessions I would take from Japan on our final voyage.
We were no longer living in the bungalow at 11 The Bluff, but had moved to a six unit complex at 234 E The Bluff. I will write more about 234E later.
I was 7, and no longer entirely believed in Father Christmas, but was willing to play the game. I awoke very early on that Christmas morning and in the dim light saw a strange shaped object across the room. My stocking, hung at the foot of the bed, bulged enticingly so I attacked that first. After disgorging its contents I found, at the very bottom an orange, traditional in England because oranges were rare, and therefore appropriately bestowed on a little English girl, although oranges in Japan were not that special. I found one at the bottom of my stocking every Christmas. That, and a little bag of gold covered chocolate coins.
Shivering in the early morning air I moved to the other side of the room and found, to my delight, a SHOP! It was a counter, fitted with a miniature cash register, a tiny balance scale to weigh things, and shelves filled with tiny packages of cereal, raisins, jars of jam, and larger jars of brightly colored candies and chocolates with little paper bags to put them in for the sale. When it was proper to do so, when the sun was higher, I rushed into my parents bedroom to tell them what Father Christmas had brought. I played shopkeeper for many happy hours after that.
My father won a live turkey that year, I am not sure how. He brought it home, and our maid, Jane, would have nothing to do with it. My father disappeared for awhile and returned with a nicely trussed, headless, footless less intimidating bird. A local restaurant had taken the live one in exchange. I remember helping to singe the pinfeathers.
We ate a traditional sort of Christmas dinner, turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes etc. and of course, a plum pudding with brandy set afire, and topped with a sprig of holly. I do not ever remember eating Japanese food in Japan. I love Japanese rice now, but in Japan the only rice I was served was rice pudding, which I though repulsive.
We opened our other presents under the tree. My mother had made me a new fairy costume to rival the one I wore to the fancy ball. This one was white, with a white tutu and white ballet slippers. The wand was silver, of course. I had begged for another one, and here it was.
My godmother, Mrs. Rich, who lived in California, and whom we had visited on our trip there the summer before, sent me a bolt of beautiful violet flowered cotton, so my mother could make me a dress. We could not buy such luxuries in Japan. She also sent me a charm bracelet. The charms were California themed. Cactus, coyote, and one I could not make out. We puzzled over it, until my mother said "I know!" It was Mexican hugging his knees, under a huge sombrero, and once this was pointed out, everyone said, "Of course".
Our neighbors, a nice older couple by the name of Burnie, lived directly above us. Mr. Burnie took a liking to me, and that Christmas gave me a beautiful wooden box with a carved lid that he had burnished and lacquered by hand. I treasured it, called it my Burnie Box, and was one of the few possessions I would take from Japan on our final voyage.
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
Today was taken up with the rather long drive from Mammoth to Carlsbad. It took about eight hours, and we arrived 'home' in Carlsbad at 7:00 pm. Trevor unloaded my stuff, hopped back in the car, and drove up to Torrance, 9+ hours of driving. He says the Tesla does most of the work.
We had a good time in Mammoth. A party New Year's eve, and a gondola ride to the top with Trevor and Alex on New Year's Day. Trevor gave us a tour of the fish hatchery near the airport, then we dropped Mack off for his flight. He had to be back to work on Tuesday!
Wendy called faithfully every day, and Brianne had a chance to talk to her brother when she called. Spoke to Ian too. Good family!
The snow is there, but not in the quantities of last year. We saw lots of families in the lobby of the Westin Hotel, two or three children each. With the rates for a two bedroom pushing $1200 a night and lift tickets per adult at about $160 we thought they must have spent a fortune for the trip, but hey, I remember when the lift tickets were $19 a day! We were a family of five, and thought THAT was expensive.
Next blog will be a Japan Christmas story. Stay tuned.
We had a good time in Mammoth. A party New Year's eve, and a gondola ride to the top with Trevor and Alex on New Year's Day. Trevor gave us a tour of the fish hatchery near the airport, then we dropped Mack off for his flight. He had to be back to work on Tuesday!
Wendy called faithfully every day, and Brianne had a chance to talk to her brother when she called. Spoke to Ian too. Good family!
The snow is there, but not in the quantities of last year. We saw lots of families in the lobby of the Westin Hotel, two or three children each. With the rates for a two bedroom pushing $1200 a night and lift tickets per adult at about $160 we thought they must have spent a fortune for the trip, but hey, I remember when the lift tickets were $19 a day! We were a family of five, and thought THAT was expensive.
Next blog will be a Japan Christmas story. Stay tuned.
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