Remembering this day - September 11, 2001

I would be remiss if I didn't acknowlege what this day means to me. I heard someone on a news show today say that people are forgetting where they were when the planes crashed into the Twin Towers. Not possible unless they were in a coma. The day had started off like any other school. Rush, rush to get our youngest son fed and out the door for his short walk to the high school. I had Fox News on, but was too busy to catch the news flash. The phone rang and my dear friend, Mary Kay, asked me if I had seen what had happened. "Get to the TV", she instructed me. As I rushed to see what was happening I saw the second plane hit the tower. I absolutely could not believe what I was seeing. When we experience an historic event, we remember who we were with, what we were doing and where we were. This surpassed President Kennedy's assassination, nightmares that the Viet Cong were at my bedroom window and even remembering back on loved ones who had gone on to their reward. I thought, War of the Worlds! That's it. This was a play on the radio event that scared everyone within range of the radio towers. But it was not. My friend and I connected in horror, shock, grief and even fear. Where were these terrorists planning to attack next? Americans just don't prepare for events such as this. This changed our lives. The innocence was over. A new America was emerging. We are a little wiser, a lot less trusting, a bit sadder. But we've trudged along and demanded to the powers that be, that this shall never happen again.

I am sad to think of the people who lost their lives. Among them was certainly someone who had the answer as to how to solve world hunger. Someone else knew how to stop child abuse. Another person knew how to prevent and cure cancer. We lost the very people who could have made life better for the whole world. I am sad for their families and their friends. Their hearts will never stop aching.

We will keep going. We have learned to stand tall, pay closer attention to the world issues and governments and prayed like never before for peace.

God Bless America.

"Gumpy"

Domenic Victor DePasquale was my grandfather. He was born in 1901 not long after the Galveston Hurricane in 1900. The story is... his parents had moved from Brazos County, Texas to Dickinson, Texas and opened a business. When the Galveston Hurricane hit, my great-grandmother, who was very pregnant with my grandfather, was trying to walk through the storm from their business to their home. She was carrying an oil lamp with her. The wind and rain were so powerful that debris was blowing and even hit her in the face, the force knocking her to the ground. The lamp posted here on this blog is the lamp she carried, the dent from her fall. Needless to say she was battered and bruised and fortunate that her pregnancy was still in tact. There could have been a change in history.

D.V. DePasquale graduated from Texas A&M College and then went to Cornell University where he earned his Master's Degree. He returned to Texas, married (you may have read about "Jean" earlier) and eventually became the County Engineer for Galveston County, Texas. He was determined to extend the Sea Wall in Galveston as it had successfully protected the area from other storms. D.V. was a key force in accomplishing this deed and his name is displayed on seven plaques near the Galveston beach. His memories of stories told of the Great Storm of 1900 in which 6,000 people lost their lives, must have had an impact on him. He lived to see his dream realized and today if

you walk on the beach of Galveston and see a plaque like the one below, you will see my grandfather's name.

Today is the anniversary of Hurricane Ike. When this hurricane hit I recall hearing reference to the Galveston Sea Wall and how it had held and although there was damage, there would have been more if not for the sea wall. 

D.V. DePasquale also served on the school board in Dickinson, Texas. He proposed to build a school for the African-American children and pushed to get it done. My mother recalled what a frightening time that was as the Klu-Klux Klan burned a cross on their front lawn. The school was built though.

After all this I have to share with you that we had a funny name for my grandfather. It was Gumpy. I know. It
has a disrespectful ring to it. But Gumpy said he didn't mind as long as we didn't call him "Grumpy". I have wonderful memories of this man and so proud that he made such a difference in many lives... and helped to shape mine.

Eula Lee White

Since this is White Wednesday, I figured that I would feature my great-grandmother, Eula Lee White. She is the reason why my middle name is "Lee". I never met her, but my father loved her dearly. When she gave birth to my grandmother she was very premature so Dr. Matlock just wrapped her up, put her in a little box and kept her next the oven. My grandmother grew into a beautiful woman. A few years after my great-grandfather passed away, Eula Lee married Dr. Matlock, who was a widower. My grandmother was always full of medical advice and I think it was due to Dr. Matlock. Eula Lee was quite the "beauty and health" consultant, advising to scrub callouses with corn meal, never pluck your eye brows too thin because someday they will not grow back, and a cup of warm water in the morning is good for the digestive system. Wish I had known her.

Milk glass for bananas

This is one of my favorite milk glass pieces. It is for bananas, I think. At least when I have bananas this is where I put them, just as my mother did some thirty years ago.

My White Milk Glass Collection

Here is part of my milk glass collection. A friend has posted some of her beautiful pieces and I find that she loves it as much as I do. So was this so collectable in our mothers' day as McKenzie-Childs is now? I do believe Avon got into the act and frankly I now realize I need to do a little research about these beautiful dishes, containers, platters and such.

Fishing with my father

My Godchild wrote on her blog today about her husband taking their little girl fishing with a "real" fishing pole. It reminded me of my father taking my sister and me fishing with him. There were no cute fishing poles for children in those days so my father would cut a stalk of cane, add a long piece of kite string to it, tie a huge safety pin to it and ... now if you have a delicate system you might not want to read this part... hook a horned toad to it. (Actually we called them "horny toads".) My father had figured out that if he kept us busy then he could fish in peace... for awhile. We never caught anything but we were amazed at how quickly the horned toad went to horned toad heaven. I was probably five and my sister was four. Glad our two brother came along later so my father had some fishing buddies.