Parting - Seabiscuit

Did I mention the garage?  It is a story in itself but for now just a piece of it.  It was time to move things from where they were.  We had considered the garage another mystery room.  And we were right, we have split it up, taken it from there to sort it out and see just what we find.  

Many of Lexie's and my mother's things were still in trunks, tubs or boxes, wrapped however they were left when SHE acquired them.  We had limited time to load them up for elsewhere, trying to leave behind things that were obviously not worth savalging, she had saved everything.  There was a good amount of items packed in old newspapers and I would always give a curious glance to the date of publication and publisher just for curiosity and toss it away or rewrap.  This one I looked at quickly and tossed aside.  One of my sons however took a closer look and surprised the rest of us.

Seabiscuit wins a race. The Florida Times Union, Jacksonville, Florida was dated August 13, 1938.  "Seabiscuit is Victorious in Photo Finish." The race was on August 12, Del Mar Racetrack, Del Mar, California.  It was a nose victory and the press seemed pleased with the win, referring to the horse almost affectionately as "the Biscuit" several times in the column.  Interestingly the challenging horse, Ligaroti, was owned by Bing Crosby.  Mr. Crosby had even hired a college-boy rooting section dressed in his colors to cheer his "standard-bearer," yet all the yells were of no avail.  The winning pot of gold was $25,000.

Researching a bit more I found that Seabiscuit ran 89 races, won 33 and was horse of the year in 1938.  Bing Crosby, with a few friends, built the racetrack in Del Mar in 1937 and this race was set to promote it.

Bubby, lives across the street from me. He was born in that house in 1932.  Having him as a neighbor is as good as having your own private neighborhood watch.  He takes Mike, his pomeranian, on endless walks and works in his flower beds alternating blooms with the seasons.   They sit on the front porch, sometimes just them, sometimes with extended family of three generations, or is it four who share the house?

He was a professional jockey back in the day.  He once told me if anyone had ever told him he would be planting flowers and walking a prissy little dog he would have knocked them out!  He has settled into a nice lifestyle of retirement surrounded by family and neighbors who consider him family.

I asked him about horse racing as the newspaper quickly made me think of him.  He told me his family sent him off to Chicago because he was getting into too much trouble!  He raced for about fifteen years, he was too tall and of course the weight was always a struggle.  But it was an era of memories.  His first race was in 1951 (the year SHE was born) at Washington Park in Chicago.   He won that first race, Joe Graves was the horse.  I didn't win the race he told me,  I just got on the horse and he took off!

I can only wonder if SHE saw the article, SHE was more careful than I was and I am sure went through it all before stuffing it away and knows what we will find. Horses were one of her first loves but our dad could only find donkeys or mules for us to ride.  SHE would be pleased I gave the old man the article as he told me he has scrapbooks with his own yellowed, fragile newspaper reports of his life. I will ask to see these.

Keeping - Shalimar

SHE was a blue jeans and flannel shirt kind of girl.  Nothing fancy about her really.  Back in the day (oh how I love to say that), girls in Tennessee only wore dresses to school.  SHE loved winter as then it was okay to wear jeans under your skirt.  You can't really be a tomboy in a dress.  SHE never lost the tomboyness.  Bicycling, tennis and rock climbing along with anything else outdoors became adulthood pleasures. SHE would lay in the grass with the kids that lived across the street from her just to look at the sky,  amazing those parents.

That said,  I was surprised to find SHE had this girly bottle of Shalimar.  SHE quietly said it was a gift so I didn't pursue more information but certainly someone saw her feminine side. Truly, SHE had one. Rarely did SHE dress up but when SHE did it was like watching the butterflies in her backyard.  Maybe SHE knew all along SHE was a cocoon at heart but transformed once in a while to show the rest of us SHE could be a butterfly if she wanted to.  SHE said SHE didn't wear the perfume really but clearly some was missing.  I am not sure how long SHE had it before I spied it mixed in with other things on her vanity, my limited research found this particular bottle possibly dates back to 1978, who knows?  When I would visit every now and then I would ask to try some.  It has become a lasting memory as smells certainly conjure up emotional remembrances.  I will keep this Shalimar, save it for special days when I need her close.

Parting - Sea Oats

I have this nautical powder room in my house.  It sort of developed by accident.  When we bought our house this room had fishing lure wallpaper.  Yes, go head, imagine.  But of course it was low on the priority list of upgrades that "new" houses usually need.  Then on a summer trip back to Florida, we sisters spent a day in Mt. Dora and I found a vintage, humble, homemade mirror surrounded in seashells, the entire thing backed with a piece of someone's leftover wall panelling, the worst kind.  It was perfect I decided, to detract the lures.  And so inspiration was born and almost 20 years later the wallpaper remains but it is covered with anything I could find that was nautically relevant and only the most observant visitor even notices the fishing lures.  SHE has made many contributions to the collection on these walls, most of them vintage.

My first thought however when I really studied this likeness of sea oats was that it should go to my friend Fran.  They just finished building a beachfront home on the Mississippi coast to replace the one that blew away with Katrina, the view from the front porch is a sea oats covered shore. And yet I was pulled somehow to keep it.  There isn't much wall space left in the powder room really but it would fit, I loved the beach as SHE did.  When I looked at it there were many memories of long ago days SHE and I spent at Daytona and New Smyrna.  Anyone remember the ice cream man who drove the jeep with deer antlers mounted on the hood?  Her rusted beach chair, sadly, had to be departed....left on her back porch the last year or so and open to the elements it was beyond recovery.

Fran called, lets have breakfast.  It had been a good while since I had free time to spend with anyone, life speeds up, hard to slow down and as one friend reminds me - stop and smell the Live Oaks.  Hearing her voice I knew the sea oats were for her.

So we met for breakfast on Magazine Street early.  We caught up on each others lives, compared losses, worries, frustrations, joys, laughter and hugs only as women do.  We walked to our cars and I offered this gift from my sister to her.  You can always tell the truth by watching someone's face.  Fran was two hundred percent delighted.  I felt guilt for ever wanting to keep it.  We looked closer as Fran was curious as to who the artist was.  In the right hand corner it had been signed by an artist from Tampa - Fran Hancock.  For a second Fran was speechless.....I live in Hancock County she said, its a sign!

So, the sea oats painted by Fran Hancock went to Fran who lives in Hancock County.

First Keeping - Frog Crossing

There was nothing tropical about her backyard.  Entering her Florida home there was a "To the Beach" sign, one of her favorite places.  Walking through the house and peering out the sliding glass doors you could see the backyard was a piney woods, wild, unkempt and overgrown.  Her other side. Besides  the tall pines there were passion flower vines and butterfly bushes.  Once in a great while SHE would have someone come in to cut but SHE always regretted it, nothing ever suited her, something was always ruined, even though everything mysteriously grew back.  SHE loved the woods as much as SHE loved the beach, eventually she purchased a second home in the tree-covered Tennessee countryside where SHE was born.  It was as secluded and intimate as much of her life.  

The "Frog Crossing" sign, however, was placed along the walkway to the front door.  I had given it to my mom some years back as there was an over supply of toads near her own front door and my sons delighted in such boy creatures when we would visit.  Why not mark the site?  SHE appropriately transferred location to her place after our mother died, the tropical side along the front walkway under the sultry unidentified flora that grew out of control, annoyingly reaching out to us.  Those plants, some cross between an elephant ear and a fern begged us to chop them as they grew far onto the sidewalk and hit us in the knees when we walked by.

I am keeping it.  It is now in my front yard along my porch.  You can see a butterfly bush I planted near it.  Maybe I will be lucky and my front yard will become filled with the butterflies that crowded her backyard.  Frogs are welcome too, and I need to get a passion flower vine.