Pleasant Mills excursion ?
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Things have been in a bit of a whirlwind the last 18 Months Ben. Lots of off Forum life stuff. I am remiss in stopping by to see the work and joy of so many good friends here in action. Near to soon at least I can be spending woods time again but right now the insect denizens of the land are not welcoming to me.
Heck even my Quad is laid up so trail riding is not an option. My girl is in College, I've been learnin' my 15 year old manual shift driving lately with good results... and, that little boy who coined the phrase that is my quote... is going on 12. I lost my dad in a sad illness and at the end it did not go well, but I was there.
So, I'm around... and like Jason said so long ago is still true.
There are and always will be Birds, and sticks, and trees.
g
I am sorry for the loss of your father George.
I live here by many retirement communities, and would love to hear the stories of those 80+ seniors, but I'm always afraid to ask a question for fear that they'll go off on a tangent about this or that. It happens a lot to me, they'll treat me as a sounding board for all their gripes that nobody in their own family will listen to.
While waiting in the doctor's office last week, a very old woman named Winifred came in for her appointment. She sat down across from me. I had a strong urge to ask her many things; Where did you live, what did you do for a living, what was your town like, where is the rest of your family, what music did you listen too, what were your personal hopes that went unfulfilled, how do you like your first name, how do you feel about the future...etc, etc. But alas, I did not open my mouth. I was afraid she might be a raving lunatic, either that or just stare at me in indignation. That would make time waiting for the doctor pretty unbearable. But, in other circumstance I would have spoken to her.
I am old now too, but I really don't feel old (yet).
I love listening to my Granny's old stories about being raised in a WV holler.I even went and found the chimney remains of her childhood home still all alone way up in the top of a holler.The farm field is all big trees now and nothing remains but the chimney pile and the row of rocks that propped up the old smoke house to make it level.She was too old to make it up there with me but she drew me a map before I went.She's 89 now and not doing very well.I"m the only one that cares for her stories.She lives with Mom and Mom doesn't care about the past.I have learned that life in the hills in the 20's and 30's wasn't Leave it to beaver.She tells some pretty ornery stories once you get her goin
I know this is taking this thread further afield, but I just hadda comment.
(1) Bob - no way are you old!
(2) The sorry part of it is, when a competent oldster is gone, so is all the history they know gone with them. That's why genealogists tell newcomers the first things to do are find all the family photos and papers and while doing it, record sessions with the family patriarchs before they're gone.
(3) "Old" does affect one physically - slower, weaker, senses dulled, but worst is if it affects one's mind and outlook.
(4) Never, NEVER, ask an oldster about their health and stay away from that subject, there's not time enough in the universe.....
(1) Bob - no way are you old!
(2) The sorry part of it is, when a competent oldster is gone, so is all the history they know gone with them. That's why genealogists tell newcomers the first things to do are find all the family photos and papers and while doing it, record sessions with the family patriarchs before they're gone.
(3) "Old" does affect one physically - slower, weaker, senses dulled, but worst is if it affects one's mind and outlook.
(4) Never, NEVER, ask an oldster about their health and stay away from that subject, there's not time enough in the universe.....
I do remember JohhnyB you seemed to be a little bit older then me so I"ll take your word for it I have arthritis in my left foot and ankle and am gettin ready for false teeth shortly.I asked Granny if it gets any better.She said "Lord no Honey,it only gits worse".
I have arthritis in my left foot and ankle and am gettin ready for false teeth shortly.I asked Granny if it gets any better.She said "Lord no Honey,it only gits worse".Pax . There indeed was a collie his name was pax I have many more photos of the courtyard area with me and my mom and pax Also several of the inside of the mill. They're in my scrapbook I will snap some photos when I'm back at my apartment and upload I still remember what it smelled like in there. Like plants and burning leaves. It was amazing. We also have a beautiful sketch of the whole mill I'll take a photo of tomorrow. The second picture was Paul , my mom, and I about 23 years ago.
QUOTE="LARGO, post: 122262, member: 186"]As luck would have it Val, here I am, a shadow of the past come to call on old friends.
Hello Guy it was like your voice beckoned from afar.
So Bob beware.
Paul used to let folks (Amatuer artist memory being selective, show work there)
The connection is this little old fellow who used to come in where I worked at the time to buy cheap trinkets at the electrical counter to fashion makeshift lights for portraits. no one had patience for him but me. took a couple hours every time for a few bucks of sockets clips and wire. I just liked the old dude,for some reason and it paid off.
I possess a bit of a gift for running into old timers with good stories willing to share stuff no one else ever heard. I like old folks, like old books, they are loaded with history but if you read any of my threads you will note their days are numbered once they've talked with me. It's my gift to find them and my curse to loose them again. based on what you wrote, poor Paul got caught in my legacy. Sorry, not trying to be ghoulish.He knew my Uncle Bear well just up the road and another friend old George Ireland just about next door.
So one day, and the post is here with pics early on in my presence to NJPB, I chose to canoe up the Mill race to eyeball it, banked the canoe, walked up to the road, door was open. Safe to say many had never seen or not in years the mill Playhouse proper.
I walked in, Lo! Behold! Paul!
We talked for a few hours about the place. he was a fun little dude. he gave me a little walk of the place. I seem to recall a dog (Collie?) I could be off on that one though. we walked the same wall line that Doug above did with us in 2010.
It was a fine time, a gentleman guide, and I walked back down the bank and to the canoe intoxicated with wonder. the paddle back was wonderful as I reeled with excitement from having seen a place no one had been in for years. Oh I saw Paul again a time or two getting his electrical trinkets and we talked and talked but eventually I just stopped seeing him come around.
So Val, he was as kind and willing to share a tale as any old timer I ever met in the Barrens that didn't chase me off. (That is rare)
I am better for having met him and even for that short time he freely gave a glimpse of the past that slips away from us every day.
g[/QUOTE]
Hello Guy it was like your voice beckoned from afar.
So Bob beware.
Paul used to let folks (Amatuer artist memory being selective, show work there)
The connection is this little old fellow who used to come in where I worked at the time to buy cheap trinkets at the electrical counter to fashion makeshift lights for portraits. no one had patience for him but me. took a couple hours every time for a few bucks of sockets clips and wire. I just liked the old dude,for some reason and it paid off.
I possess a bit of a gift for running into old timers with good stories willing to share stuff no one else ever heard. I like old folks, like old books, they are loaded with history but if you read any of my threads you will note their days are numbered once they've talked with me. It's my gift to find them and my curse to loose them again. based on what you wrote, poor Paul got caught in my legacy. Sorry, not trying to be ghoulish.He knew my Uncle Bear well just up the road and another friend old George Ireland just about next door.
So one day, and the post is here with pics early on in my presence to NJPB, I chose to canoe up the Mill race to eyeball it, banked the canoe, walked up to the road, door was open. Safe to say many had never seen or not in years the mill Playhouse proper.
I walked in, Lo! Behold! Paul!
We talked for a few hours about the place. he was a fun little dude. he gave me a little walk of the place. I seem to recall a dog (Collie?) I could be off on that one though. we walked the same wall line that Doug above did with us in 2010.
It was a fine time, a gentleman guide, and I walked back down the bank and to the canoe intoxicated with wonder. the paddle back was wonderful as I reeled with excitement from having seen a place no one had been in for years. Oh I saw Paul again a time or two getting his electrical trinkets and we talked and talked but eventually I just stopped seeing him come around.
So Val, he was as kind and willing to share a tale as any old timer I ever met in the Barrens that didn't chase me off. (That is rare)
I am better for having met him and even for that short time he freely gave a glimpse of the past that slips away from us every day.
g[/QUOTE]