Daddy

My husband's cousin's baby

Wordless Wednesday

Bootleggers - Airing the Dirty Family Laundry

Apparently in the 1920's sometime, Dr. F. B. and Bedford were involved in killing a "revenuer". My nephew, John III, told me about it and I went and asked Dad. He said Bedford actually killed the man, but F. B. ended up moving to Cuba for about three years until the heat was off and they were able to pay off the Feds. F. B. would come home now and then and he and grandma Elsie would go "sleep in the woods" overnight, then he'd leave again.

Later, of course, F. B. and Arno visited Uncle Bill when he was stationed at Guantanamo in Cuba. So, I had asked my Dad how many times was F. B. in Cuba and Dad said, "Maybe once or twice", then I told him what my nephew said and he told us the story. Mama was furious "John, we've been married 50 years and you never told me this before!". He said "Well, it just never came up!".

F. B. and Bedford ran a very profitable bootlegging operation. Daddy and Uncle Charles used to watch where Bedford hid his stash in quart jars in an old hollowed out stump. They'd wait until he left and go pour some into a jar and add water back to the original jar. When they'd stolen enough to fill a quart jar, they'd sell it themselves. They were about 9-10 years old, so that would be about 1924-1925.

What's good about being "older"

This is not a young face I see staring back at me in the mirror. Sometimes, I don't recognize myself. The skin sags, the lines are there, the tone is not resilient.

Yet, I will not spends thousands, or even hundreds, of dollars on preservatives or potions or creams or facelifts. I will spend enough to put on a decent base of sunscreen-moisturizer once each day when I think about it.

I will not, except on rare occasion, wear makeup anymore. I never liked it and always felt I was clownish. I tried the whole Mary Kay bit, have had my facials, had my makeovers and bought a couple hundred dollars worth now and then of cosmetics that were "hand picked" by a consultant in a white coat.

My skin could use a facial. So what? Grab the loofah and gentle soap and give myself a light dermabrasion.

See, I know all the words. Have read hundreds of hours of "self improvement" magazines, blogs, books. Could probably write one if I cared to.

But, here's the good part about growing "older". I don't have to do this anymore. I can just let my face be what my face is: me. Unadorned, but not unloved. Simple and plain, like it's always been.

I've been around men who wanted me to wear a lot of makeup and a specific type. Perhaps, I think now, they wanted me to be someone else. So, now my man could care less if I ever wore anything other than me on my face.

Ah, another pleasure of growing older. Having a man, finally, who just IS, too!

My dream about a suffragette

I woke up this morning thinking "Cady Stanton". She was a great suffragette and much, much more. It has been over 20 years since I first heard her name.

Whatever made me dream "Cady Stanton"?

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