family photos

A Bowl of Cherries

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: A few different things conspired to prompt a rather wonderful childhood memory recently. The first was our friend Bruce bringing over a bag of Ranier cherries – the ones that are sort of orange fading to a bright red, rather than the dark maroon of the more common ones. Despite the story I am going to tell, I somehow came to gobbling cherries late in life, but have eaten them with an abandon to make up for lost time. I generally buy the dark red ones, but cast no shade on the Ranier variety.

The next things was this little device shown at top – a cherry pitter. I also use it for pitting olives. I was in New Jersey a few weeks back and realized that I only had my decades old one, acquired in cooking school tucked happily away in our New York apartment.

Not much to look at yet it is perfectly adequate for these two tasks and if you are trying to cook with either cherries or olives it is a much needed and appreciated tool. To be without it means any chance of a perfectly sliced cherries or olives for decorative effect will likely not happen. I promptly ordered the contemporary equivalent from Amazon. I searched cherry olive pitter and there is was. The beauty of the internet age. I sent it to NJ and it was waiting for me when I got here on Wednesday; it is a decidedly zippier, upgraded version. A happy summer of cherry and olive pitting awaits.

Meanwhile, the memory in question was one of an annual cherry picking at my grandmother’s house. She had an enormous Ranier cherry tree in the backyard. In retrospect as an adult I don’t think I realized that cherry trees got that big. It required a proper ladder to get to the top.

Was actually a bit hard to find a photo online of a large-ish one. My grandmother’s was much larger than this! It makes me remember it being in bloom though.

Anyway, the kids, spouses of kids and grandkids were all assembled and we picked cherries all day. There were sea green plastic buckets I can still see in my mind and we filled them with those orangey red cherries. My grandmother would then take them and cook them down and can them. They would supply pie filling and get spread on toast for the rest of the year and long winter ahead. (Mom’s mom who I have written about before here with a historic photo of that yard – sadly the tree was in the other direction and would have been tiny!)

These are exactly as I remember them.

Oddly, I don’t remember eating them off the tree. Now, I was at the time probably the youngest family member of the team, probably about five or six at the time I am describing before my brother was born. Perhaps my mother, always a worrier, didn’t want me eating pit filled cherries. I can see her fretting about that. Anyway, I didn’t and somehow didn’t really get into the swing of eating cherries until I was more or less an adult. If I were able to visit that tree today I’d be popping half in my mouth as I went, eating my body weight in cherries off the tree.

On one of those days I remember it ending in, if not a barbeque at least a picnic. (My Italian grandmother wasn’t really much into barbeque – she liked to cook her food on her stove and in her oven and make the table grown with delicacies which were not of the grilled burger variety.) I wandered around and found my way to a small tree. Much to my horror, as I touched the tree I was immediately covered with ants! I screamed the way only a small child shocked by ants can scream. It took a minute for mom to figure out what was wrong with me, get them off and set me right. (Tree must not have been well to be full of ants, but I don’t remember much about it.)

Dusk on the deck with the fairy lights on. Deck (and lights) had to be completely redone last fall – boards were all rotted! This is my first evening of return on investment! Well worth it.

Perhaps that memory came back to me because as I write this I am sitting on my deck in New Jersey, in the evening of July 4. Next to me on the fence I share with my neighbor, I discovered a huge and evidently industrious ant colony. I can see those hard working fellows even by the dim light of my fairy lights out here. Do ants ever stop and rest? These don’t appear to as I spotted them early this morning and they are still at it.

On of the solar lights I have around which I love!

A gentle boom, boom of distant fireworks is going off, but not enough to bother either me or the five New Jersey cats who have had their dinner and are largely sleeping. Fireflies have come out and look like miniature versions of the fairy lights. (People ask me if we still have fireflies and I am glad to assure them we do – have they really disappeared from places?) The mosquitoes, whose enthusiasm for my flesh has been somewhat tempered by some spray will chase me in soon. But my first evening on the deck this year and I guess summer has begun.

The back gate! Newly installed light here also last fall – so we have a bit of light coming and going at night. It is motion activated.

Black Cat Couture

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Many of us have a period in the past and it is certainly no secret that my affinity is for the 1920’s and early ’30’s. Let’s face it, this was a very Felix-y time. However, it was a time a very black cat time in general – reaching a bit earlier to the ‘teens.

I have previously opined with some lust over items like the Halloween decor of the earliest part of the 20th century. (Some posts boasting extremely jolly Dennison’s Halloween decorating books from the teens can be found here.) The dress being sported in the back row of this photo does make me yearn for a time when lucky black cats decorated both items and clothing. Interesting that this is not at all a costume, not festive Halloween wear, just an otherwise white summer dress.

My own version of black cat clothing from a post last fall. Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

Obviously this photo came to my attention due to the fashion statement of the woman with the large black scaredy cat on her dress. Pictorama applauds her attire and I am so glad it is memorialized here. The seller on eBay states that this is the 1920’s and also that it was from Newark, New Jersey. That these are fellow Jersey Girls makes me like it even more.

It is a small photo, not a postcard. It is a petit 3″x 4.5″ and the rounded edges is a slightly unusual printing style. On the back it is stamped 516 LxL Newark, NJ and something that didn’t come out. Sadly no identifiers or date.

Not clothing, but an arresting cat pillow image here from a post last September. Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

Nine women are gathered in this grouping. It’s hard to say from hairstyles and clothing if the seller is right about the date or if this might creep into the early 30’s. The back row of younger women all wear white while the front row, seated on benches in front the women look a bit older and are wearing floral prints and a bit more dressed up.

My friend with the black cat dress has had the good sense to stand apart a bit so we get pretty much the full effect, while the three woman at the end are sort of grouped naturally together. In the front two women sit with their heads together – makes you wonder about the relationships represented here.

Took this photo of a friend’s daughter’s shoes last summer. Were beloved hand me downs from another friend. Who wouldn’t love these?

This appears to be a nice backyard on a spring or summer day – too hot for using the fire pit and wood right in front of the scene and a large garage with double doors (just like my NJ grandmother had) behind them. To my knowledge, Newark and the immediately surrounding area were more residential at this time than the very urban way we think of it now. The amateur photographer has the top row of women butting up against the outside of the frame, but this way we do see a bit more of the yard. I’ve improved it a tiny bit, but it is also overexposed.

Part of me wonders how the black cat dress was received – it certainly is the most sporty bit of attire here. Were the back row of women following some general mandate to wear white and did this qualify? Perhaps ironic that it has saved this photo from complete obscurity and earned it a perch here at Pictorama.

Spare Felix?

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Portland, Oregon! Although the seller of today’s find was in California, this photo obviously appears to hail from Portland originally. Rogue homemade Felix seems to have proliferated in Portland back in the day and I would love to know why that city seems to have had a special relationship with him.

It’s been quite a while since I have purchased a Pacific Northwest Felix, but I had a spate of them early in my collecting career which gave me the idea that they had a specific yen for him. Parade floats and costumes – there’s was homegrown Felix fun in that part of the country and I am sorry to have missed it. (These location specific Felixes form a sub-genre of my collection. Posts for these pics can be found here, here, here, here and here!)

One of a clutch of photos of the same batch from an early post. Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

This natty fellow and his slightly off-model Felix-y wheel cover fits well in the group. While Felix looks slightly more like his identical cousin than himself, it is a pretty good likeness. the gentleman posing is so clearly pleased to show this off I’d say. Bow tie, vest and jacket, he’s dressed and posing for the photo.

An early Portland parade post. Pams-Pictorama.com collection.

It’s a small photo. Only a little more than 3″ x 2″. Like the other photos I have mentioned above, there isn’t a lot of information in the image. There is a nice cottage in view behind him, trees and telephone poles. There’s no back license plate which might have supplied a year, and nothing is written on the back. However, Oregon (and our assumed place of origin) is supplied over Felix.

Another Portland parade post (although a not Felix), pic from 1909. Pams-Pictorama.com collection.

I do not own a car and don’t really drive, although I assume with the house in Jersey this is something I will need to fix over time. Oh to be able to do it in style like this however.

Elliott

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: I guess I have on occasion posted about father’s day. (Most notably in an unusual post before he died which can be found here.) Generally I tend to find it painful and assume others may as well. However, I just came across this photo of my dad the other day while looking for something else and I decided I would share it today.

November of 2017 seems like worlds ago for me, for all of us I guess in many ways since we managed to have two pandemic years we didn’t see coming in the midst of it. I had started my new job at Jazz at Lincoln Center earlier that year after almost 30 years at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I had already been to Shanghai with the orchestra and was trying to adjust to a very different pace of work. (Posts about leaving the Met and that wild trip to Shanghai can be found here and here.)

Shanghai toy cafe.

Meanwhile, my parents had recently moved into this house, the house I inherited and will visit later today. That alone has changed so much. First my mother directed much of the planting in the yard which went from somewhat neglected to a sanctuary, but even in the year since she passed I have transformed it further with more plantings, a vegetable and herb garden and made the deck an oasis.

The NJ garden in clean up mode a month of so back. Strawberries and cherry tomatoes are evidently already producing. More on that later today.

The years she and my father spent in this house were years of caregiving and the house was set up around that. The bedroom I have taken was my father’s. (I used to sleep in a sunny room on the second floor which in some ways I preferred, but mom wanted me to take the main bedroom at a later time and ultimately it made sense so I could be closer to her at night.)

Recent photo of the front of the house in NJ.

Pictorama readers have seen, most notably, the garden transform. However, I have made many changes inside, redoing the floors, adding furniture, rugs, lamps and, of course since it is me we’re talking about, interesting stuff I have collected – already.

An older Milty on a very recent visit.

Still, this view out the window remains largely unchanged. It is a sunny, favorite window. I still have that chair, but it was moved a bit during mom’s last illness and has remained there. (That chair is Beauregard the cat’s favorite spot and if you sit in the chair with him he will pat your head.) For several years it gave first dad and then mom the best view of the small but cheerful yard to enjoy daily.

I remember the day I took this photo very well. It is the only picture I took that day. Dad had returned from a stint in the hospital and Kim and I were visiting and I snatched it discreetly. He had a rare very good day that day, arguably the last really, and I pretty much knew it was a real moment of grace in an inevitable decline. I remember him being very lucid and remembering all sorts of things in conversation with some prompting by me and mom; his memory turned to Swiss cheese at the end – bits he would recall perfectly and then complete holes. He was very candid about it.

Dad is taking a rest and enjoying the sun here. His extremely devoted cat Red on his lap. (I have written about Red here – a real prince among cats that one!) Our other cat, Milty (still around today at about 20 years of age and one of the New Jersey five) is observing from a favorite spot on the window sill – much beloved. Mom filled it with plants over time and although I keep fewer there than she did, there are still a bunch. I’ve changed the blinds as the existing ones (like so many things – think roof, deck!) broke shortly after mom died.

Red on my bed, a photo taken about a year after the one of dad.

Also on that window sill are some reproduction Remington bronze sculptures which were among dad’s favorite possessions. He always loved bronze sculptures and liked to have these around him. (There was at least one other, enormous one, at one time.) I recently found myself in someone’s office who also had some of these, including a large reproduction made for a restaurant, and immediately felt at home. All the walkers, bottles and other paraphernalia of illness is there too.

I have written posts about my father and his interesting and fulfilling life as a cameraman for ABC news, and about his youth and riding a motorcycle across the country (those can be found here and here), but today, just a small tribute to that moment in 2017, coughed up by my phone and as a gentle nod to the Father’s Day holiday today.

Uncle Zack

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: As I start writing this post I am in New Jersey on Saturday evening with Beauregard, the huge all black cat, who is the master of this NJ Butler house. It is the end of several sunny days of stay here and I will head home tomorrow – potentially completing this on the train if I cannot before.

This photo postcard came to me via eBay and is an odd choice for me. This little girl with her chicken on a leash charmed me. Small children with pet chickens seems to be popular on the internet these days so poultry pets remain popular. Working for a veterinary hospital with an active Exotics service, we see a fair number of chickens. (Presumably chickens that are for eating go to a different sort of vet than us although obviously we’d care for one in need if presented!)

The little girl is nicely dressed in trousers and boots with a somewhat sporty coat with a design of the buttons across her shoulder and chest. She looks quite happy as does the (large) chicken on a string leash. There’s one or two other chickens, behind a fence in the distance who look on and the soil looks dusty. The nearest vegetation we can see are trees way off in the distance and the sun is casting long shadows. Given her attire, it was chilly.

This card was never sent and looks like it was quite beloved, handled. It is undated, but on the back in a child’s neatest script it says uncle zack.

Many years ago I remember my mother had a video of a woman she knew slightly about her and her pet chicken. I don’t remember the chicken’s name, but it lived in the house, primarily in a sort of all season room at the front of the house. A cared for pet chicken might live to be ten or twelve years old according to the internet, I actually thought it was older. The chicken in the video went everywhere with this woman – today it might have been considered a comfort animal.

Recently in a talk given to staff to celebrate diversity, one of the vet’s pointed out that some clients feel that people belittle their choice of an usual animal and express surprise that they would pay so much for the care of a fish, tiny turtle or perhaps chicken or duck. (I also heard about surgery on a goldfish recently which fascinated me! The surgeon was evidently personally quite fond of goldfish and frustrated by a common cause of death in them he was able to improve but not resolve the fish-y issue.) However, as animal lovers our heart knows no such boundaries and be it pigeon or porcupine we are committed to them and find great happiness with critters in all species, shapes and sizes.

Mom and Snoopy

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Today’s post is of a family photo, something I haven’t done in a long time, and it is one of my mom. The one year anniversary of her passing is tomorrow.

I wrote frequently about the surprisingly interesting time caring for her at the end of her life, here and here, and at her death I wrote a brief tribute to her here. However, a friend suggested that I find a photo of her to frame for my office as a way of recognizing the anniversary so I dug through some mountains of pictures in New Jersey last weekend and emerged triumphant.

Many years ago my mother’s mom put together a photo album for mom and her brother John for Christmas. I don’t remember seeing my uncle’s, but mom’s, although slim, is made up of wonderful early childhood photos of her that I had never seen. Mom’s father died young of a heart attack. He was much beloved to me during the short time I knew him (Poppy!), but I was only about four or five when he died. There aren’t a huge number of photos of him at all so it is extra nice to find these.

However, in addition to those photos which are mostly Betty and John as small kids with their various pets, mom had tucked a number of other early photos in and today’s photo is from that batch. This would have been taken around 1969, mom was still wearing her hair a bit long – she cut it short a year or so later, Snoopy just out of kittenhood.

Without knowing for sure I am fairly certain that this was taken at our house in Englewood, New Jersey, It was a tiny, cozy two bedroom cottage on Jones Road and across from what seemed to a tiny tot me to be an enormous park. (Actually, a google search shows a very substantial park on Jones Road, so perhaps my childhood estimate was more accurate than I think!)

Mom is holding the very first pussy cat in a long line of pets, Snoopy. I think I named him, for the comic strip and because he had black spots – he was a cow spotted kitty. In retrospect it is hard to believe that my older sister would have allowed me to name him (she was bossy!), but nonetheless that is my memory.

Snoopy was just a great cat. You’ve heard tales of my dressing him up in doll clothes and pushing him in my doll stroller – also playing circus dog with him and the German Shephard, Duchess. He was a lovely, easy going boy cat. He and the dog were buddies and unlike the dog, he rarely got into trouble (there was the time he walked across wet red paint on the porch and then through the kitchen, but that would be the exception that made the rule) and was loved by all equally. I believe his origin was as a barn cat – friends of my parents had a farm in South Jersey and supplied us with rather excellent cats for many years.

It’s funny that seeing him so many years later (his life was sadly cut short by an Akita several years later) his spots and markings are surprisingly immediately familiar. Black over one eye. I can remember petting him when I look at this.

My guess is that dad was trying out a new camera as this has a hallmark of being a rather posed photo. Dad wasn’t typically at his best with still photos. If anything I am better with those and lesser with moving images and he the opposite. He had an extraordinary eye for shooting movies, but somehow it didn’t quite apply to still images. This photo for me is an exception however. It captures mom and Snoopy perfectly and even reminds me of the wonderful garden at that house where these trees likely were. (When we moved to the shore, probably later that year, it was many years before we lived in a place with a garden and our first home was sandy, often salty soil right on the river, which flooded frequently. Mom struggled mightily to at least have a vegetable garden and some scrubby trees. Readers know I now glory in keeping up the garden my mom created at the house I inherited.)

One thing of note for me is that mom appears to be wearing both a watch (although on her right arm and she was right handed) and a wedding band. Mom never wore either later in life. I think she went through a series of wristwatches when she was younger and gave up – her active life and hands constantly in things probably did both that and the ring in. I know that the early version of her wedding band wasn’t gold (turned her finger green!) and she stopped wearing it. Years later my father gave her a gold band which I now have, but to my memory she just almost never wore jewelry. (Early arthritis in her fingers exacerbated this. I fight it in my own hands, especially with the fingers I broke a few years ago running.)

She is wearing a camel colored sweater coat, a very mom color. If it was a few years later jeans would be on the bottom half of her, but this early it was probably a skirt or some other trousers. She has a white (cotton I bet) top under the sweater. Mom was very allergic to wool and gave it up early in life. She wore a lot of polar fleece later on.

There is a little tear on the left of the photo where the color emulsion has peeled. I need to keep this in a not especially light or hot place I think. The color is faded.

Clearly I take after my father’s side of the family in this regard as I consider the purchase and wearing of jewelry to be one of life’s great pleasures! (I have written about some of my favorite finds here and here.) My paternal grandmother loved jewelry (Gertie! There’s a whole post for her here.) and my dad inherited that love and bought us three women in his life jewelry frequently. As a result, I have all of mom’s (virtually unworn) and my sister’s which tended toward a more contemporary design than the vintage pieces I am drawn to.

While it is mostly accepted that I resemble my mom more than my dad, I’ve not been sure about that as I age and look somewhat more like Gertie. Having said that, the resemblance between me and mom is strong in this picture, the differences in our coloring being less evident. (Mom was extremely freckled, fair and green eyed – I am fair but less freckled and brown eyed. Her hair had red tints that mine never had.)

Finding this photo was a gift and I am grateful! To have mom and Snoopy together to consider in this picture is a treat I had not anticipated and I cannot think of a better way to honor her life and the sad anniversary of her passing. Thank you mom.

Cats in Hats

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Good morning! Sunny April day here and today’s picture post presents these three self-possessed looking miscreants curled up in a variety of battered chapeaux. Although this was evidently used as a Valentine greeting (written in admirable script at the bottom), I am thinking of it as a nod to the season and time to break out my straw hat.

The two tabbies, who are remarkably identical, are curled up in the first two hats while my sort of tuxie friend is vacating his black one. The disintegrating straw hat is the most interesting, not sure what is perched on the side – a tossed out cigarette? A bit of paper? What I call a claw paw grips the brim. Comfy kitty in the first hat fits nicely, tail curled around himself, the very tip pointing out. The odd fellow (or gal) out appears to be a tux or tuxie mix of some kind, hard to tell as his entire back half is in this black hat. The bad guy hat!

All three kitties have had their attention drawn off camera in the same direction. To that extent at least they are posed.

Someone has scratched into the negative, The Latest Thing in Hats in Wilawana. PA. According to my (albeit limited) map reading on Google, Wilawana appears to be a small town near the Chemung river and on the border of New York state.

In penned script on the back it reads, With love, From Mrs. ME Knighte and For Beulock Cosaiy [?] Wills NY Hamilton Co. However, there is no stamp so it was hand delivered or ultimately put in an envelope.

Dad in his white hat, more or less dead center of this photo.

My father was a devoted wearer of hats. I have written about Dad’s career as a news cameraman for many decades. (One of those posts can be read here.) At more than 6’5″ and with a ubiquitous fisherman’s hat on his head he was easy to pick out in a crowd and we would look for him on long shots of events on other news stations. Although a cotton fisherman’s cap (usually a fairly crisp, newer one) was most frequently worn to work, the older ones and a series of baseball style caps were employed outside at home. My father kept his hat on a great, small bronze statue of a running horse which I (sadly) no longer have, on a table outside our kitchen with his keys in it. I’m not sure I ever saw my father outside without a hat and prescription sunglasses.

The style of hat most frequently worn by my father.

The rest of the family did not sport hats. I cannot remember my mother wearing one, even on the coldest of winter days. (Mom would head outside with her short hair wet and the ends would freeze. She was hat resistant.) My sister Loren skied and therefore must have worn the occasional winter hat, although I can’t remember it and must feel she eschewed them in general. Edward (who may be reading this) was not especially inclined toward them either. (Ed, have you become a hat wearer?)

The much beloved Buck Jone Rangers hat.

I had an early inclination to hats, but in practice did not really figure them out until well into adulthood. There is my much sweated in cotton baseball cap for running (from the Gap, no logo) which reminds me of Dad’s, keeps the sun and sweat out of my eyes and also helps keep my hair up. Winter running requires a warmer (but washable) hat however – sometimes a hood too – something over my ears. The NJ variant is bright yellow green so I don’t get shot in the woods or runover in the low morning light.

I am very devoted to hat wearing in the cold in general and have a series of wool hats, always one stuffed in my purse in the transitional seasons, just in case. I lean toward a loose black wool one these days. As a kid I delighted in stocking caps and went through a stage of rather electric long ski hats that were popular for a bit. I was employing a wool cowboy style one in winter (sun protection, but good in light precipitation) until it was accidentally taken from a party. It was returned to the hostess, but I have yet to retrieve it from her. That one came from a hat store in Red Bank, NJ near where I like to have brunch if I first come into town on the weekend, the Dublin House.

This time of the year I break out one of a few straw hats. I like a small brim fedora style straw hat, although it has been pointed out to me that if keeping the sun off my face is my motive (which it is in large part) that a wider brim would serve better, but I don’t seem to be able to commit to those hats the way I can to a smaller one. For one thing my head size is small and it has helped to learn that a large hat is awkward on me. I like being able to smush it into my bag if needed. Like Dad I have adopted prescription sunglasses.

These days the favored hat is an aging straw one purchased in the airport on the way back from a business trip. I was in an airport in Arizona I think, on a leg back from California, San Diego I want to say which makes it a number of years ago now. I was killing time and vaguely in the market for a new summer hat. As these things go, I had no idea that I would still be wearing it daily for 2.5 seasons a year for so many years to come. It has only become every so slightly disreputable.

Recently purchased and subsequently installed hat and coat rack in NJ.

It’s elderly cousin is a blue straw version which was purchased in San Francisco on a donor visit years ago when I worked at the Met Museum. I had gone to visit an elderly (and remarkably fashionable) woman out there, Mona Picket, who was appalled that I was wandering around California in spring time without a hat so we went to a department store and bought me this one. Mona has subsequently passed on and I do think fondly of her when I wear that hat. It is very nicely made (and terribly expensive) and will probably outlast me if I continue to care for it.

Last summer Kim and I were on our way to meet people for dinner on the lower Eastside and I stopped us in our tracks to go into a store and buy a rather electric blue one. It was actually a yellow cousin which caught my eye but they did not have that color in my size. This blue one got a lot of action last summer and is my “good” work hat now.

Kim is an inveterate hat wearer in the tradition of my Dad. I’ve seen him through numerous baseball caps since we met, all of which somehow crossed his path and acquired somewhat (although not entirely) indiscriminately. To my memory, in some order or other, the following baseball hats have been employed: a blue Tar Heels one, a favorite was one acquired at a reading he did in Seattle for Fantagraphics, and the sort of stone favorite was a Buck Jones Rangers hat – the remains of which sit on a shelf over my head even as I write.

Seasonally a series of straw cowboy hats followed and there was one purchased at a K-Mart on a trip to Butte, Montana; a business trip for Kim. (Read about that trip which featured a whorehouse museum here!) For a cheap hat it lasted a good long while.

Kim keeps a bright Kelly green leprechaun-ish bowler around for wearing on someday other than St. Pat’s. Early in our relationship I stretched my wallet and purchased him a very good Stetson as a gift. It languished for several decades before it evolved into use and has now been his daily hat for a number of years. It is getting a good worn-in look and gets frequent compliments.

Kim was willing to pose for this out-the-door pic earlier.

I just installed a coat and hat rack in NJ. However, much in the style of my father, our hats are piled near the front door, some decorating an unused lamp. I do try to resist the temptation to put hats on the cats, but sometimes the Devil wins on that one.

Miltie, senior feline of NJ, in a hat from a post earlier this year.

Felix in the Nursery

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: I pulled this photo off of a small pile on my desk this morning. Purchased several months back, it has awaited its turn up at bat. It is neither professional, nor significantly profound, but delightful in its own way.

It is a 2″x 4″ photo with nothing written and no identifying information on the back, although it appears to have been printed by a skilled hand. The Felix is the only thing really to date the image and I would assume that it was during the zenith of his popularity, most likely the 1920’s, but perhaps as late as the early 1930’s is my guess.

Baby is playing with a baby doll which is always a touch of irony for me – and this doll looks remarkably like the kid. The Felix surveying all around him is a very classic chalkware or composition model. Oddly, I don’t actually own this particular very popular item – in part perhaps because they are fragile and I have a general aversion to large, easily broken items. Still, in considering him here and online this morning, I will say I should wait for a nice example and grab it. He would look splendid surveying the living room or bedroom in New Jersey. Let’s see if I achieve that goal in coming months.

These Felix-es are touted as carnival prizes, but I have never really accepted that as their origin. There are slightly cheaper, more slightly off-model versions which I assume fit this bill, but these always seemed a bit nicer than that. Evidently some have mobile arms and this fellow looks like he might be a candidate for being such a high class item.

The kid, as far as the viewer can tell, wears only shoes (nice sheepskin trimmed ones, perhaps all the better to start to walk in?) and we’ll assume a diaper. He or she is sitting in such a very nice sunny spot it gives me a cat-like yen to locate it and curl up in it – and nap. The curtains are helping the composition of this photo considerably, creating a pattern through out and catching the sun up in front. The shadows play nicely across the baby and around him. These are massive windows (I vaguely assume that the child is on the floor so they go all the way up!), and the sun streams in at the front and is in deep shade in the back of the room.

As I write it is in fact a sunny Sunday morning here in Manhattan, a relief after a week of pouring and sometimes teeming rain, so perhaps I am sun sensitive and craving as I write. I doggedly remind myself of April showers bringing May flowers, but we are soggy here and revel in the relief. Next weekend I will go to Jersey and check out the garden there and try to turn my mind to spring and summer. Time to put the lettuces in I think, or soon anyway. Growing things and time out in the yard will be the best harbingers of the season and the remedy for the blues, not to mention a visit with the New Jersey kitties.

Mourning

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: This unusual photo was a birthday gift from a good friend (thank you @eileentravell) which she gave me recently. It a large, half plate, tintype. Aside from a bent corner, some chewed up edges and that odd ding on her dress near the chair, it is in fairly good shape.

As I started spending time with the image it confused me a bit admittedly. She is in what I have to assume is mourning, her all black attire, down to her black fur muff. Her clothing best dates this to my mind is probably the 1890’s. There is some relief in the white lace ruffle and the middle to light gray of her hat, something light colored like a handkerchief peeping out of her pocket.

Hair mourning brooch given to me by a friend. Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

She looks grave and pale as she leans on the prop chair, covered in this cloth with a patterned edge. The background prop is a bit sad and cheesy as well, a view out a faux window, hangs a bit askew and folds below it. The carpet defines the space that she is atop, but that too ends at the front edge of the picture.

Detail. Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

Most interesting to me is that her cheeks have ever so slightly and delicately been pinkened by a gentle hand, which is not at all always the case in the toning of such photos. Yet, looking at her I wonder why they bothered as she is deeply in her own world of grief.

In fact, I find it interesting that such a photo was even made. Why would you want to record this period of grief in this young woman’s life? (If you look closely, she is young despite these trappings which bring a sort of middle age to mind.) I don’t know if that sort of recording of mourning was part of the intricate ways of observing the various rituals or not.

Pams-Pictorama.com Collection. This mourning locket tells a whole story in the March of ’22 post highlighted below.

I never realized until recently that beyond black and gray there were lighter shades of mourning and that people would progress to lavender and even light blue. I found this out recently when someone was selling a light blue enamel piece of mourning jewelry online. While it certainly predates her, Queen Victoria really kicked off the dictates of the all black mourning of the time and rigid rules of society bound the clothing jewelry and behavior of the bereaved. At least a year of wearing black and that included jewelry which was largely made of jet or black glass which was less temperamental and therefore less expensive. Much is said about the clothing, jewelry and rituals in the late 19th to early 20th century novels I have been reading.

An example in blue enamel pulled off the internet. Ring dated 1794.

Rings and brooches adorned with bits of hair, images and later even photographs record the attachment to the lost beloved.

After the first year a progression to gray, mauve and purple were acceptable over time and that included jewelry of amethyst and garnet stones. Pearls were allusions to the tears of the wearer which I had never heard before, but many mourning pieces are decorated with them. (I recently heard that some Asian cultures view pearls that way as well.) I have written about some mourning pieces in my own collection, most given to me but others I purchased. These wearable memorials fascinate me. Those posts can be found here, here and here. (Oddly each of these posts have appeared in late March in different years – a spring thing?)

The idea of lavender and even light blue (enamel rings and lockets) in the latter stages of mourning, probably two years or more out, interests me – the point of emerging, yet still recognizing your loss and the process. I have seen lavender clothing as well from that state, but not sure I ever saw blue associated with it. For me the light blue, that final stage perhaps, is a sign of sending you back into the world of spring and blue skies again.

Cathouse

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: A dollhouse setting and a kitten in doll’s clothes – what’s not to like? I was speeding along my feed in Instagram when I stopped in my tracks for this one (sold by @baileighfaucz) and had to buy it. She has a beautifully curated stream of photos, virtually all for sale and I am often tempted. It is only fiscal responsibility that binds me, until I find one like this I just have to have.

There is something about the scale of the furniture in this picture which appeals to me. The kitten is too big for the space but only by a little, like a fluffy oversized giant kitty in his or her space, unable to sit in the tiny chair or at the little table. The wallpaper (wall covering?) is closer to kitty’s scale, just a little too big for the furniture. Somehow the little landscape is precisely above the cat’s head, right in the middle of the picture.

Beau last week, very reluctantly wearing a party hat.

There are many textures between the fabric wall covering, the blanket or towel on the floor, a little lacy tablecloth, and the cat’s dress. There is that little landscape which we can read as a painting or even think about it as a window to the outside. I like to think the thing next to it is a calendar, but I think it is another picture. The wrapped white box (is that a tiny mirror atop it?) reads as a refrigerator to me although it could be a clothing cupboard too.

Kit is right in the middle of this evenly divided picture. It is well lit, but a bit heavier from stage right or our left, casting shadows on the carpet for the chair, cat and other objects. (It is also quite overexposed drifts all the way to a white out in the lower right corner.) This kitten is a solid citizen, fluffy and gray. He or she looks barely patient with this process.

Miltie sporting Winsome’s hat.

Kim has gently suggested that it isn’t nice to dress our kitties up and take pictures of them, so I mostly contain myself on the subject. Winsome and I have made a few attempts at cats in hats in New Jersey recently. There is part of me that would love to be setting them up in dioramas and taking their photos. Perhaps it was my profession in a past life – or maybe I was the cat!

Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

The Pictorama collection does not tend to a lot of this genre of postcard (I think of them as the equivalent of the Dogville Comedies for cats, for those of you who are in the know about those) – kittens dressed up and posed in various scenes. The rather superb one of kittens in a faux balloon above was the only that I could think of off the top of my head. (That early post can be found here.)

There were several others from the same set, but while tempting none of them were quite as engaging for me and no others were purchased. While professionally made, there is a charmingly homemade quality to this one (for the record, there’s no identifying photo studio, nothing written on the back and it was never sent) and I think the photographer just happened to hit it right on the nose.