tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27565884377799908752023-11-15T23:11:54.912-08:00Vintage Jewelvintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-31992211730360529522016-04-26T13:15:00.000-07:002016-04-26T13:15:03.503-07:00It's time to goMy last day in Honolulu as, once again, it's time to go. As I walk the beach in the early morning light iI can't help but reflect on memories in these beautiful islands called Hawaii. I think of you, mom, as I pass the beach of the looming Rainbow Hilton Hotel standing on the lagoon where the<br />
thatched-roof Waikikian Hotel stood for so many years. A place where we so often gathered with local friends for the famous eggs benedict served overlooking the magnificent Pacific Ocean. I can see the new tower of the Hilton where Ron is working and our reason for our time in Honolulu. Waikiki has changed in many ways surrounded by high-rise hotels and lovely designer shops but at the same time, it hasn't changed at all. Aloha permeates everything and is a constant reminder message " don't worry about a thing, cuz every little things gonna be alright----this is my message to you." I have so loved our time here; the warm, sunny days and tropical nights. The long walks, floating in the ocean and dinners at the beach. Time to be together and soak in the spirit of the islands, to worship with believers in Christ on the sandy beach of Waikiki. I think of how often you spoke of Honolulu, mom, and the way it had captured your heart. The Hawaiiana, our place of sweet refuge is no longer a hotel and yet as I pass by we are still sitting at the pool with Larry, watching our darlings Sarah & Rachel swim. I was once a teen-ager visiting Honolulu, and now a grandmother here so many years later having been restored over and over by the beautiful aloha. Honolulu, place where the joy of sweet memories lives larger than life and only makes room for a glimpse of sorrow. In going, I will return to again find that piece of my heart. Aloha and Hana Ho, beautiful Hawaii .<br />
With a grateful heart--<br />
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vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-50718865301483241632016-04-26T12:15:00.002-07:002016-04-26T12:21:00.903-07:00Morning has brokenThe sweet sound of birds singing and cooing in the umbrella tree far below our 26th floor of the<br />
Discovery Bay begin our mornings. Another beautiful day as the darkness turns to gray and begins to fade over the mountains of Honolulu. It's 6:00am and Waikiki is just beginning to wake up, the moon hesitating to leave the beautiful tropical sky to allow for the rising sun. The beach walk is so very different in the early morning, so peaceful and almost empty with only the presence of people walking, running, barefooted beach boys and girls carrying surf and paddle boards heading for those sweet morning waves. My eyes scan the horizon, water as far as I can see, the sand freshly groomed in anticipation of happy times on the beach and in the beautiful waters of the Pacific Ocean. Hawaii, a place hard to express on paper as it sweeps over and into your very being with warmth joy, restoration and everything aloha. A place of many years of unforgettable memories of happy days and lovely nights. I am a better person for having had 6 months in this place called Honolulu with these people of Aloha. Praise with elation, praise every morning, God's recreation of the new day.<br />
With a grateful heart--<br />
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vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-7938471119577191622016-04-22T18:20:00.002-07:002016-04-26T12:23:01.634-07:00A Hawaiian ChristmasIt was Christmas in Honolulu for our family in 1976. Mom, dad, Ron and I flew from Seattle to join Bob and Steve both coming from Air Force bases for our holiday together. Arriving in the beautiful tropics of Honolulu, into the winter weather was a special time for us as we had planned for months to be together at The Reef Hotel for Christmas that year. Honolulu wasn't the metropolitan city it is today, even groceries not close by, so mom and dad always brought with us a cooler of foods we would need during our stay. This time it would include lutefisk which no Swedish Christmas would be complete without. My dad brought pickled herring, potato sausage and the Pepperkaker he always made for our Christmas holiday. So many years later, it's a beautiful morning on the Waikiki beach walk as I approach the corner of the long-standing Reef Hotel, one of the first of the early high-rises. I can see that Christmas day in my mind, as I walk closer, my dad and I on the beautiful Waikiki beach. A beautiful day, a wonderful memory. Tears are slowly filling my eyes as the joy of having had my wonderful dad and sorrow of losing him much too early, collide. So many years ago a picture that can still tug on my heart as I reflect on the joy of that Christmas, and the sorrow we didn't know was soon to come. We never would return to Honolulu together with my dad and throughout the years a hole of my understanding of joy and sorrow living together at times can't be reconciled or sometimes even accepted. But today, walking this beautiful beach, I will choose joy for the memories of my loving mom and dad that will always live with the sorrow of their loss. Absent in the body, present with the Lord, forever loving you, mom and dad. With a grateful heart but missing you everyday.<br />
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<br />vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-88365243982979892672016-04-22T18:11:00.000-07:002016-04-22T18:11:58.300-07:00Larry was a limo driver in Waikiki His name was Larry. Larry Choy. Larry owned and drove a beautiful black limo in Waikiki and it was there, at the airport, that he picked up my mother the first time for the drive into Waikiki. It was the fall of 1977 and a time of grieving for our family as we began our life journey without my much-loved father. Still stunned and feeling the emptiness of his passing, Honolulu, the City of Joy and a place of so many wonderful family memories became a place of refuge and restoration for my mom. A place our family received a special gift of friendship with Larry Choy. It was a divine appointment my mother had when she arrived in Honolulu that beautiful, tropical evening and made her way to the limo of Larry Choy. A friendship began that night that was to last many years and be a source of comfort and joy for my sweet mother that could only be a gift from God. Larry was a believer in Christ. He was a self-less man who many times brought laughter and love to our struggling days. Years would pass with many trips to Honolulu, always greeted at the airport by Larry in his limo with his arms full of flower leis to welcome and deliver us to the darling Hawaiiana Hotel in the middle of Waikiki. Our days in Honolulu would center around the Hawaiiana, the pools and so many meals on the patio always delivered by Larry in his limo. Such gifts of love and aloha. In early years, Sarah would swim for hours in those pools and later, Rachel, as a baby and toddler would add to our sweet times at the little low-rise hotel, sometimes in the pool or napping on the patio in her crib. And so, over the years, God made a way for healing times for us through Larry Choy and his gracious friendship in The City of Joy, the beautiful Honolulu. Slowly overwhelming sorrow began to turn to joy as we healed with the love and support of our fr<span id="goog_344546150"></span><span id="goog_344546151"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a>iend, Larry, and his beautiful heart of compassion. Always in our hearts, and our Honolulu memories, dear Larry---<br />
<br />vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-70290075600473799442016-04-07T13:12:00.000-07:002016-05-08T19:05:46.140-07:00A piece of my Heart<i>A beautiful day and a visit with my neighbor, Mary. Her Mother's Day was centered around the excitement and joy of the birth of their grandson Simon just last </i>week as she shared the wonderful moments of Simon's arrival. Grandjoy--<br />
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<i>The phone rang, my sweet Ellie began to sing Happy Mother's Day to me as my tears began to flow. I could hardly speak as the news had come a couple of months ago. Brian, Rachel, Ellie and Cash would be leaving Spokane for a move to Los Angeles and we would, once more, become long distance granddparents to Ellie and Cash. </i>I want so much to put on a good face, to not think about how much time might pass without seeing our beloved grandjoys but somehow I could never have imagined such distance between us. But life is a fluid adventure, ever-changing and I know I must once again embrace God"s plan for each of us in our little family. My mind will always reflect on the little faces of my Ellie and Cash as they ran to their front door for a hug as we arrived and the anticipation of a day at The Lake House as their car pulled in the driveway. It won't be long before the packing will begin and they will begin to travel to their new home far from those who love them most and I will find a empty place in my heart that longs for the site of them. At the same time, once again, joy and sorrow will live together. Our joy, Rachel, Brian, Ellie & Cash, our sorrow so many miles away. It's in God's hands----<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br />vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-44072001388559824492016-04-07T12:46:00.000-07:002016-04-26T13:18:24.619-07:00Paradise FoundMemories light the corners of my mind on cue as my flight arrives in Honolulu. It's almost like a slide-show of photos of now vintage times in these lovely islands that began 47 years ago. We were graduating from high school, Laura, Kristi and I, heading for a week in Honolulu, a graduation gift to us from our families. It was a Pan Am flight, the first for all of us, and nothing could have prepared these three teen girls from little Poulsbo for our arrival in beautiful Hawaii. Those first never-to-be-forgotten memories of the warm tropical air and the scent of fragrant flowers as we disembarked the flight and made our way to baggage claim. It was late afternoon as we took a taxi to our little hotel in the center of Waikiki. The Royal Grove was a darling pink stucco hotel with a center pool, still there today, surrounded by tropical plants and flowers of all kinds and only a couple of blocks from the beautiful, sandy Waikiki beach lined with surf boards and beach boys. Our next day began at the International Market Place choosing Hawaiian fabrics for our bikinis that would be made by a seamstress within hours. Laura's was a gold/rust color, Kristi's was bright hot pink and mine was two shades of deep and light blues. With our new bikinis and beach mats in tow, we made our way to that glorious beach for hours of sun and warm ocean water swimming. That ocean as far as the eye could see. The Willows for dinner, the stately landmark hotel Halekulani on the beach for a lovely breakfast and evenings of warm beach walks. Our seven days in Hawaii ended all too soon but was only began of my love affair with the aloha spirit of the glorious Hawaiian Islands, a place of the heart called paradise.<br />
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vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-66799487043356172172015-05-18T22:48:00.000-07:002015-05-18T22:48:11.269-07:00I thought about grandma & grandpa's orchard in Cashmere all day today. It's the day of your birth, my wonderful father. I'm sure it was a sunny, eastern Washington spring day. The trees had lost their blossoms as the buds began their journey to become fruit in my grandpa's apple orchard. I can imagine your mother, my grandma Alma so anticipating your long awaited birth. And so, a baby boy, John Robert Gerry arrives to join his waiting family, my grandpa & grandma Gerry and his big brother William. Two darling boys, Billie and Johnny growing in the orchard in the Cashmere<br />
valley in the loving arms of a beautiful little family. As I stopped to soak in the presence of the farm house, the yard full of flowers and old trees, I could see you all in that lovely home and feel the warmth of the nurturing in my life that began that day with the birth of my much loved, always missed father. As the farm house remains on that Flowery Trail hill in the Cashmere valley, so also the memories of my family, Grandpa Bill, Grandma Alma, Uncle Bill and you, my father, in the beautiful apple orchard in Cashmere---<br />
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<br />vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-75152062832655958362015-05-10T14:05:00.001-07:002016-04-26T12:26:57.435-07:00Mother's DayIt's a beautiful sunny day here at The Lake House. The snowball hedge is a white wall of lovely blossoms, the roses ready to bloom and the air filled with the fragrance of the lilacs as they fade. Our week-end would begin with a visit to the nursery, our tradition to pick out hanging baskets, flowering planters or roses for your gift. Then dinner on the patio of our beautiful gardens. It should be easier this year but somehow it isn't. I guess I just don't know how to do Mother's Day without a mother. I don't know how to get past the the hole in my heart, that place that belongs to you, my mom, that place that no one else can fill. And yes, our traditions of celebration that will never be the same. And so today, I'll let my mind flood with memories of you mom and all you mean to me. The tears will flow, joy and sorrow living together and I will celebrate, with a grateful heart, my sweet mother---<br />
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vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-25067928398277573812014-09-22T00:08:00.001-07:002014-09-22T00:08:53.955-07:00ReunionUnexpected tears surprise me as I began my drive home pondering the last few weeks and the sweet reunion today with my cousins Mina Jo and Brent. So many years have past since our times together as children, times with our beloved Grandma & Grandpa Gerry, the parents of our father's. Great Aunts<br />
Elida and Mary, Grandma's sisters took their place as a very large presence in all our lives as young children. The days were magical in the little yellow, sometimes pink and finally red house with the swing in the willow tree. There was a hammock for a nap or for wrestling with each other, a picnic table for our lovely summer meals together in Grandma & Grandpa's yard surrounded by a beautiful flower garden. I couldn't wait for my cousins to visit. Grandma would sit in her chair by the window watching for their arrival, anticipated for days, but a visit never long enough. We were family and we loved. It was June in 1968 and a day of remembrance for me as the call came that my sweet Grandmother had suffered a stroke and was unlikely to recover. As Grandma left us, our family<br />
faltered and we suffered what was to become a breach of 45 years in our relationship with my cousins.<br />
We all grew up, married and had our own children without each other, without a relationship, or understanding of what could have separated us all these years. But then----It was April 6, 2014 that I came across my cousin Brent's contact information after all these years. I couldn't wait to write, to know if we could close the awful breach of our broken relationship. The answer came quickly, yes, yes, we were family and we all wanted a new beginning. Phone conversations, emails and a beginning visit. A new foundation of relationship yet one built on the love of our grandparents so many years ago. My heart is full-----vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-33086430364092222272014-09-21T23:05:00.000-07:002014-09-21T23:07:54.673-07:00Today was the birthday of my beautiful mother--My thoughts have been with you all day, Mom. It's your second birthday in heaven, a day of joy and celebration for you and your life so well lived. I so want to be joyful, too, but the expected tears come throughout my day as I reflect on our years of celebrating your birth together. I'm happy, sad, full of joy and selfish sorrow. I want you free from all your pain and suffering and yes, in the presence of the Lord. And yet I'm so conflicted as I do life without you. Devotions from your Bible, one of the many held in your hands over the years of your faith walk and full of little notes of encouragement and even address of those whose lives you were speaking into begins my day. Some time to sort through some of your special things and remember their places in your home. I can hear your voice on my phone on a still saved voice message, your last to me before you left for heaven, always closing with an "I love you, Cathy." But it's your arms around me that I miss the most. You were my rock and my cheerleader, always loving, always accepting, always praying. I will let myself cry today as I so miss<br />
you and our life together but tomorrow will be a new day, a day I will, with a grateful heart, embrace<br />
all God has for me that began with you, my sweet Mother. Always loved, forever missed----<br />
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<br />vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-36300414890276814142014-09-21T22:27:00.001-07:002014-09-21T22:27:40.644-07:00vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-68429390468254692032014-01-28T16:51:00.000-08:002014-01-28T17:19:26.389-08:00An Unexpected Storm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It was January 7, just a year ago. I remember it well as I woke up to a blanket of fresh snow, a winter storm, so beautiful from inside my warm home. But so treacherous for travel. You and I were to be in Spokane the next day, looking forward to our time with your two new doctors and hopeful for new direction to help us deal with the ever-increasing struggles of your physical challenges. Oh God, help me know what to do. I will be alone, traveling for hours to pick you up. Can I get to you, mom? And can we safely continue on to Spokane in the midst of this winter storm? A few moments of prayer, and a quiet reminder that the Lord Himself, the Lord of the unexpected storms, would travel with us. I began the long drive on un-plowed, snow-covered road, knowing the Great Shepherd would lead us past the fields of beautiful white, that same beautiful white covering the slippery roads, through our unexpected storm . Such a long, tedious drive but sweet time together. It was so different now since your move from Hunters, the sense of unspoken loss of our time together and what that meant to the future, was always present. Our time with Dr. Richardson and Dr. Fuehs was at a heart level as we spoke of your health and mortality. There would be no help, no recovery, only preparation. Expected but unexpected, a new storm was on my horizon as we made our way home through the continuing blizzard, unable to speak without tears. Tears of love for our life together and thoughts of how we would navigate the future, at the same time knowing the preparations were taking place for your heavenly arrival. I don't know if I can face this, mom. It's too deep. We been together for 63 years, you and I. And so death is the expected, but my deep, at times overwhelming, emotion as I think of losing you is more than I expected. I'm so torn, so conflicted. I can't imagine life without you, my sweet mother. At the same time the beautiful expected hope of you in heaven with Christ Himself sustains me as my heart breaks in these last days. A new heavenly body free from all the limitations of aging, able to walk and breathe, the promise of God. In the meantime, and through all this process, you have promised to continue to lead me and I will follow, Great Shepherd of my heart. I need your help, oh God, as the expected and unexpected, joy and sorrow continue to live together under the watchful care of Him who is able to keep me from falling. Blessed be His name forever--vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-15072321557702367152013-06-25T21:22:00.000-07:002014-01-28T17:19:57.173-08:00Two Beautiful DaughtersCan the blessings of being the mother of two beautiful daughters be expressed in words? Such intimate thoughts and feelings of motherhood, my motherhood. A story of Snow White & Rose Red. Our Sarah, our Rachel. Sarah, first born, dark hair and eyes, beautiful bronze skin. Rachel, her baby sister, blond and blue eyed. In the very beginning, before your births, we were connected. You to me, me to you in body and spirit. The gifts of God to your dad and me. And in those joyous moments, a new reality of the call of God to love, cherish and parent our precious daughters is ever-present, an almost overwhelming mission. Oh, God, it will be a daily walk and calling upon you for your help to guide us and keep us as we pursue you in raising these beautiful girls of ours in the way you would have them to go. And so, our parenting journey began with your dad and I, two flawed people, who loved you both more than life itself, only desiring to lead you to life in Christ Jesus. We laughed and cried. We knew deep joy and depth of sorrow. The mountains tops and valleys. We've had regrets and needed forgiveness. But through it all, through it all, we've learned to trust in Jesus, learned to trust in God. We've learned to depend upon His word.<br />
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An imperfect mother and dad, two beautiful daughters. Not a work of ourselves but the beautiful grace and faithfulness of God.<br />
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"No greater joy has any man than to know his children are walking in the truth." lll John 1:4.<br />
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My darlings, my loves, my beautiful daughters, more than I could have ever longed for or dreamed of.<br />
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<br />vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-84969100584602303502013-04-14T11:39:00.001-07:002013-04-14T11:45:39.395-07:00Remembering ClarenceMy thoughts return to years gone by as I've connected with so many lovely pieces of my family history.<br />
The beautiful little leather Birthday Book more than 100 years old with all the special events of my family recorded in the handwriting of my Great-Aunt Mary. Black & white photos of my ever so young looking mom & dad, dad often in his Air Force uniform. A celery green cut-glass herring boat we used at Christmas, the Bible my Grandma & Grandpa Gerry received from friends at the Cashmere Baptist Church when they left Cashmere after their apple orchard burned. Photos of my beautiful Grandma Ruth. And so much more. Such Vintage Jewels that took me to an unexpected place as I began to re-discover, memories, vintage memories of family and friends so much a precious part of my life and history. Laura and her family have been in my life for 55 years. We lived in Poulsbo and our time together is a journey from childhood to present. Times of sharing joy and sorrow, the best times and the most difficult of times. Clarence was Laura's father. It was always June & Clarence. June, with her big smile and huge laugh, Clarence, a handsome Norwegian/Fin fisherman in Alaska. I remember the day the call came from Laura like it was yesterday. June was gone in a twinkling of an eye. "Absent in the body, present with the Lord." That same day Clarence began his lonely journey without his June who he had walked with for almost 63 years. But God's plan was already in place for Clarence as he peacefully passed from life unto death on that Sunday evening in March. "Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Celebrating the life of the father of my forever friend, Laura. Amen---vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-78129422721184654412013-04-09T22:39:00.002-07:002013-04-09T22:52:46.494-07:00Joy & Sorrow And so March 27 has come again this year with the familiar tug at my heart strings. I find myself days later deep in thought about living in the present with joy and sorrow, such extreme emotions. Happy-sad day, has captured me once again. It was joy that arrived in our home on March 27, 1952 with the birth of my brother John Robert Gerry Jr. He had beautiful blue eyes and a cubby round little face that no one could resist. We called him Bobby. Bobby and I, with our white blond hair and big blue eyes, dressed in matching outfits, big sister and little brother. And so for 25 years our family celebrated the birth of our Bobby on March 27th. That date--joy, love, celebration. So how could it be that our day of celebration, the date of my brother's birth, became a day of sorrow--the very day our beloved father died. It was all so unexpected. Dad---a heart attack? Death had arrived before we did---- our father was gone. "Absent in the body, present with the Lord," John Robert Gerry Sr. Sorrow, pain, depth of grief. It wasn't meant to be this way. I adored my father. I needed him. We all needed him. He was the grandfather to my baby daughter Sarah. Depth of loss not to be expressed in words. I miss my father everyday. But then the Joy. My brother Bobby for 61 years. Joy & Sorrow, Sorrow & Joy, we will forever live together with the ever-present knowledge that all things past, present and yet to come are working together for those who love God and are called according to His purpose. May it be so----<br />
<br />vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-64366439924552942382012-10-29T22:54:00.000-07:002012-10-29T22:54:12.906-07:00"In all your ways acknowledge Him"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The year was 1949. It must have been a Sunday, that October 11, when Grandma and Grandpa said good-bye to their life in Cashmere. My Vintage Jewel, a black Bible engraved and given to Mr. & Mrs. W.E. Gerry by their "Cashmere Baptist Church friends." Proverbs 3:6 "In all your ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths." Such a sweet word for my grandparents as they left the only place they'd known as a family and looked to the Lord to direct their "path." I long to know all the details of their decision to leave Cashmere. The orchard had burned , as I remember for the second time and their life at the orchard had ended. The cycle of life in the orchard, the beautiful Apple Blossoms and the harvest of their labors were to be no more. How they must have agonized at leaving with an unknown future ahead, the place of their roots together and the birthplace of their two sons. But God had a plan which included me in the life of my Grandma & Grandpa at my birth on Feb. 13, 1950. God, in His graciousness, prepared the way as our family moved to Poulsbo where Grandma & Grandpa now lived. Their little cottage was pink, overlooking Liberty Bay. Grandpa always had a big garden and there was a Weeping Willow in their front yard with swing and a handy. place for a switch if needed. It was dreamy. It was too wonderful. God had indeed directed their path and the path of their son, my father. The Willow tree is gone but the grape arbor that Grandpa planted is still there as well as the Butterfly Bush Grandma started from a cutting taken from a bush at Lake Retreat Bible Camp we went to in the summer. He has directed our paths. <span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><span></span></span> vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-31725470360523649422012-10-29T21:35:00.000-07:002012-10-29T21:35:13.447-07:00Grandpa owned an apple orchardSummer has passed and ah, the beautiful colors of fall have arrived in all their splendor. It seems that most days and all seasons, my heart reflects on another part of my family history, my Vintage Jewels. My thoughts travel to Cashmere and our fall trip to buy the most beautiful apples one could find anywhere in Washington State. But the apples were only the symbol of the reason for our travel.<br />
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My father grew up on an apple orchard in Cashmere, Washington and it's only of late that I have begun to understand his need to reach back to his life in the apple orchard, a jewel in his life as a child. Thus our trip to Cashmere. We drove the splendor of Blewett Pass from our home in Poulsbo on the westside of the state to arrive at Tiny's Fruit Stand to pick our boxes of apples and have a picnic lunch. It was always a beautiful, sunny day and the site of the orchards was intoxicating as we drove across the river and through the countyside of the valley. As the boxes of apples had been collected we could now begin our drive through what was then a sweet little eastern Washington town that hadn't changed much. We would tour the Aplet and Cotlet Factory, did we remember that grandpa had once worked there? And the soda fountain where my dad had also worked at one time.</div>
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And then the site of the Cashmere Baptist Church, the centerpiece of Cashmere. The church my dad grew up in. The church where my Grandpa built all the little table and chairs for the Sunday school<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><span></span></span> The church where grandma & grandpa and their two little boys grew in faith and friendship. Cashmere, a Vintage Jewel, the home of my father and his family. </div>
vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-15706769915610330892012-06-14T22:33:00.001-07:002012-10-29T23:14:21.809-07:00Almah Christine Nordeen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have a very special treasure, a black tin box, which belonged to my Great Aunt Mary. The box contains all sorts of wonders, a window into the past, and something so special, my Grandmother Almah's birth certificate My grandmother was born in Kansas City, Missouri on June 16, 1888. She was the second daughter born to her parents, Augusta & John Gustaf Nordeen and the first generation of her Swedish-born parents to be born in the United States. My childhood memories of my grandmother, my hand in hers, walking to the nearby cafe for a root-beer float. I'm again, a little blond girl walking through her flower garden with her naming all the flowers in her garden, Sweet William, Pinks and bright red Salvia surrounding the Catalpa tree in her front yard. And our Sunday's at the North Kitsap Baptist Church, my heart is again with my adored Grandmother Almah. I can hear her voice next to me "Sweet Hour of Prayer, Sweet Hour of Prayer, that calls me from a world of care, and bids me at my Father's throne, make all my wants & wishes known." My Vintage Jewel black box of memories . Happy Birthday to you, my dear Grandmother Almah. I loved you so------vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-49541019782522433372012-06-01T10:03:00.001-07:002012-06-01T20:51:15.028-07:00Varmland, Sweden 1853 My Great Grandmother Augustine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My Great Aunt Mary's Emerson Birthday Book has given me a small window into so much of my past and my heritage. My Great-Grandmother, the mother of my much-loved Grandmother Almah, and my Great Aunts Mary and Elida was born in Edsberg, Varmland County, Segerstad Socken, Sweden on July 23, 1853. Varmland County is just west of the middle of Sweden and oh, such beautiful country. My heart can easily travel to the place of my Great-Grandmother Augustine's birthplace in the countryside of Sweden so many years ago. Great-Aunt Mary in her beautiful handwriting also recorded the passing of her mother and my Great-Grandmother Augustine in her birthday book. Augustine Steuson Nordeen passed away in Everett, Washington on September 27, 1933. Augusta was buried on September 29th. We will have to meet another time, my dear Great-Grandmother Augustine and I. In the meantime God has been good to me in His gift of my heritage of those who have gone before me who were believers in Christ.<br />
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"Hemma, Hemma. Fa Vi Hvila." "Going Home, Abide with me."vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-31283310778142484002012-05-26T10:24:00.001-07:002013-05-27T21:35:31.228-07:00The Red Poppie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Memorial Day, a moment of reflection for us as a nation of freedom. My eyes were drawn to the card-table set up in the entry of the market where I shop and to the two very elderly gentlemen at the table, both having served in WW11. I knew immediately that this was a Vintage moment for me as the Red Poppie has always been a part of Memorial Day and that of my two daughters. It was all so fresh in my mind and heart as were the photos of my father in uniform as an Air Force pilot during the war standing next to his plane. So young and handsome with his black hair and leather flight jacket. It's no wonder my mother fell for him the way she did! I spoke for a moment with the sweet gentlemen at the table surprised to find unexpected tears in my eyes. At that moment I so wanted to greet my own father at the table with the Red Poppies but it was not to be. Ironically, my father suffered a fatal heart attack on another plane on his way to vacation many years after his Air Force service. My childhood memories include a parade through our little town on Memorial Day. The coveted reciting of "On Flanders Field" at the cemetery at First Lutheran Church. A wreath tossed in the water in remembrance at the waterfront. Vintage memories of my childhood from a still grateful heart. I salute you my father, Lt. John Robert Gerry on this a day of remembrance.<br />
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vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-89218866536072948422012-05-24T22:10:00.000-07:002014-07-16T21:55:26.035-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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J. Robert Gerry. Handwritten in my Emerson Birthday Book by my Great Aunt Mary is the date of my father's birth, May 17 1921. I know the birth of my Dad was a joyous occasion for Great Aunt Mary and her sister my Great Aunt Elida. They both had remained unmarried and this was the birth of the second son to their sister, my Grandma Alma and my Grandpa Bill. My dad was a darling from his early years which anyone who knew him in later years would well understand. He was a wonderful husband, father and friend. And so handsome! His love and commitment to his parents, Aunt Mary and Aunt Elida was a foundational part of my childhood and connected us in a deep way as a family. Grandpa Bill, Grandma Alma, Great Aunt Mary and Great Aunt Elida impacted my life in ways untold only meeting the Lord after long and fulfilling lives that we were all apart of. Reflecting on their influences on my life with a grateful heart----------vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756588437779990875.post-85940431846154545792012-05-22T18:41:00.001-07:002012-05-22T18:41:41.350-07:00In my past--<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lately I've been spending much of my time sorting through family treasures<span style="background-color: #ffd966;"></span></span> that have been stored over the years in a number of different place at my home in the country. Oh, the most wonderful things I've found that I'd forgotten I even had. Today I uncovered the EMERSON BIRTHDAY BOOK, a sweet little leather-bound book given to my Great Aunt Mary in 1906. It's a record of all the birthdays of so many of those important in Great Aunt Mary's life, and much to my surprise even included my own birthday, Feb 13, 1950 so many years after she had received the little book. I recognize her handwriting and can still recall a picture of her in her home sitting at her writing desk. Maybe recording another special ones birthday or preparing that card to drop in the mail to them.<br />
<br />vintagegirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03458985328078861972noreply@blogger.com1