|When Chuck and Adele moved I had to make some decisions about things I wanted them to take with them. It is practical to think about the distribution of the few things I have that someone might like to inherit. Some of the kids have been practical in stating preferences.
The girls haven't said anything, I guess because I don't have things girls want - like jewelry. The boys have been pretty specific. Jamie has always wanted what we call, "The Indian Painting", and I was happy to send it down to him with his mother. It's a portrait done by one of America's foremost portraitists who lived in Santa Fe, New Mexico where he did some fabulous work painting Native Americans. Ours was one of his best, done of a young Hopi dressed in his best shirt and cowboy hat. He has a beautiful face with sad eyes and graceful hands folded in his lap. It always meant a great deal to my father-in-law who purchased it from the artist. Jamie has always been very proud of his Native American blood, thanks to my grandmother, and I thought this would be a good opportunity to give it to him for his 24th birthday.
The other item I sent along was something Chuck has always loved and wanted. He's been very sensitive about asking for it, carefully avoiding any reference to it's being an inheritance, saying. "Do you suppose you might give it to me some day?"
The "it" is a pewter coffee set an exact copy of one made by Paul Revere. I had seen a picture of the set in a museum magazine when I was a kid. I knew it was widely copied but never saw one until I found one in a jewelry store in the town where I worked in Maine. The jeweler was a good friend who made sure he had a supply of Navjo and Hopi turquoise items for me. He let me put the coffee set on lay away because it was a fairly expensive one bite buy.
Chuckie had noticed it when he was he was about two years old and loved nothing better than our using it for very milky tea or hot chocolate.
Now I am trying to ensure that anybody in the family who wants them will get copies of my World War Two letters. These are all the letters written to me by family members and friends fighting overseas in several different areas. I have kept them all in an old chocolate candy box for years.
One thing I've learned is that I was a prolific letter writer. Writing at least one letter every day to one or the other of my correspondents, especially my father. I remember you were always told it was your job to keep the serviceman's morale high so you never mentioned any problems you might be having at home so no talk of no nylons or worse, not enough coal to keep the house warm.
I've been watching the TV documentary about WW two and it has evoked many memories of being a young preteen and teenager during those stressful times. At the same time, while reliving the feelings of being very young, I've had a birthday which is beginning to make me feel a wee bit old.
Time for a laugh. While going through some old notebooks I found a selection of my own typos which I used to save - they were having a serious discussion of the quality of their olives (lives), sow (show) has 16 original songs, minks (monks) were trying to save their abbey willing to share their tent (talent), magic sow (show), Maj Jongg for new and experienced layers (players), bounced around in our goats (boats), last bearbeque (barbeque) of the season, Smokey will be there coaching (cooking) making sure it isn't the best (last) ever. Not everything improves with age.