Sepia Saturday - Feb 16th = Wet or Tall?

This is the prompt for this weeks Sepia Saturday post.
Lots to chose from here.

Something tall, something wet, playing, water sports, hanging out (thanks Alan), the list could go on.

I was hoping to find something similar but could not combine something watery and something tall.
So I had to make a choice.

  I thought about going with something tall. . .
. . . like this monkey bridge our Boy Scout troop built in the early 60's.
(and a tall signal tower in the background).

But this just wasn't enough.

While these are fun, I just couldn't come up with enough of a story.
















So I went with the 'wet' theme, The Sea Side.

One of the pleasures my mom speaks of the most from childhood is the once a year trip to the 'Sea Side'.
She never said, vacation or beach, or even where. It was just going to the 'Sea Side'.

It usually meant a bus ride with her dads company holiday.

And she loved to 'paddle' in the water.
Not a strong swimmer by any means, 'paddling' probably meant going in up to about her knees.

In this picture is mom and three sisters and an unknown boy.
Mom is kneeling on the left.
Probably early 1930's.

 Here is my mom and brother 'paddling' on some 'Sea Side' trip.

Here my dad, never a big man, but strong, is lifting one of my moms sisters on his shoulders. My mom, on the left, and my cousin, on the right, seem to be the only ones really enjoying this experiment.

Here is a very early photo of mom and dad at the 'Sea Side'. It is either right before they were married or soon after.
Just after the war.











As children, my brother and I never had holidays to the 'Sea Side'. When we got a little older we did go to Florida. While Florida has all the same components it could never be called 'going to the Sea Side'. It is after all Florida.

Another interesting thing about the Sepia Saturday prompt is the dock on which the kids are gathered.


While we never had anything so elaborate here in Missouri (at least where we went), we did have something just as memorable.

 We had floating wooden docks and in the lake slimy wooden swimming pools.

These two photos show my brother and cousin diving or jumping off of one of these docks.

Like moms trips once a week with her mom and dad, for many years our ritual was one week a year at the Lake of the Ozarks, staying at the same place each year.

While mom staying in the wooden pool with the slimy bottom in the lake the whole time, my brother and I soon found we had more fun using the diving board into the lake.
Avoiding completely the slimy pool bottom.

A little closer to home we had a place called 'Suntan Beach'.
This was Missouri River water that was held in a shallow slough.

They had a picnic area, beach and a playground.

 Here is mom and the sister we followed to America getting some rays.

Early 1960's

When all else failed we always had the little inflatable.

We do not appear to be dressed to actually get wet.

While we never had a swim dock quite like the one in the prompt, I do remember we were very happy with what we had.

Although I would be 15 before I got to 'paddle at the sea side'.

I know there is a name for the condition. . . . .

  My parents never threw anything away. Since my dad passed away, now that can only be said about my mom.
  
  In this day of disposable everything, I am rather proud of that fact. Even if it does mean that the responsibility of going through that stuff now falls mostly on me.
  
  We check on mom by phone everyday, and usually make a visit a couple of times a week.
During each visit we collect recycling, and if we can, go through some of her stuff to make sorting at a later date easier.
  
Part of that has to do with getting rid of, and part has to do with finding and labeling family “heirlooms” while mom can still identify them.

  But back to the never throwing away of things.

  I am sure most of it has to do with the times in which she grew up; late 1920’s England. Also the fact the she had a rather large family; 2 brothers and 4 sisters.

  While her dad always worked, as a blacksmith, they were never well off. Although a happy family, making do was just that, making do.

  Then throw in a World War, when everything was in short supply, and , well you get the picture.

  My parents held on to anything that could in some way be repurposed again. Used bits of string and twine would be rerolled for a later use.

Moms old nylons would be cut into narrow strips and reused to tie up the tomato plants.

My dad would spend hours taking apart old things and sort the screws, nuts and bolts for reuse.
  
  Recycling was not in vogue when they grew up, it was called reuse and repurpose.
Bits of garden hose would find a new use.

  Jars and cans were cleaned and used to store the above mentioned hardware, along with many other uses.

  They did not grow up in a time when you had to have the latest before the current model wore out. You maintained, repaired, reused, repurposed many times over before you replaced.

  Shortly after my dad died in 2010 we decided mom needed a new refrigerator. She didn’t decide, we did. She would have kept on using the one she had and probably would have had it buried with her. But its seals were gone. Many shelves were cracked or missing. And much that was there was held together by tape. The freezer was small and formed ice quicker than the South Pole. If you were lucky you could make two ice trays fit and about six tv dinners.

  When we had a newer one delivered (yes we bought a used one. It’s in the blood) we asked the man if he could tell us how old the old Frigidair was.
He said it was 1957. 1957!

  That means it was probably the first refrigerator they bought after coming to America in 1956. They probably bought it used in 1962 when they bought their first house, where mom still lives.

  That means, since it was still working, it had worked, before being hauled away, for about fifty-four years. (Now I wished I had kept it!)

  Just think how many iPhones you will go through in fifty-four years.

  Well, this past week I was doing some cleaning around moms house and had a reason to use a few ‘rags’. That can mean that at one time these pieces of cloth could have been anything; old towels, socks, sheets, shirts, underwear (well maybe not underwear) or just about anything that could somewhat clean a surface.

  Today while sorting and folding said rags one very old one still had a printed impression on it. Barely discernible, but I could still make it out. At one time its purpose had been that of one of those dish towels that you hung on your wall with a calendar printed on it. I guess after its assigned year was up you were suppose to use it as a dish towel. ( I never have figured that one out.)

  Like I was saying, while folding one up today to put back with the other rags I noticed the imprint and its purpose. While most of the printing and images were faded the date was still clear.

It was 1962.
  
  I was only seven in 1962.
  John F Kennedy was President (and we didn’t have to worry about Trump for many years to come).

We had not yet landed on the moon.

And most of the parents of my daughters friends were not born yet ( boy does that make me feel old).

Dad was still installing airplane seat belts in ours cars, because the cars they had back then still did not come with them installed.

  I am not sure if there is an award out there for reusing and repurposing things for the longest out, but if there is, my mom would surely be in the running.

  And we have only just broken the surface of what 'heirlooms' may yet be discovered. ( I am saving all the old Tupperware for a museum.)


 We're probably going to use some of the old things we find to test kids on their use, you know, like asking a young kid how to use an old rotary phone or play music with a cassette tape.

  I know I have inherited this gene, and I am proud of it, while my wife, not so much.
But, someday, mark my word, when something I got for 10 cents becomes worth 3 dollars, she will be happy I held on to it.

  If you doubt my moms ability to hold on to things, I have included a photo of the towel.