Proof

Last year when my main computer needed to be replaced, the new box came with Windows 7, which I like.  One problem, the Cannon scanner software doesn't communicate with the new system.  I considered upgrading the scanner software, but have decided to move it to my other computer instead, which is still using Windows XP.

Which means it's about time to pack away the old HP scanner, which is slow, noisy, sometimes balky, and not that user friendly.  I'd have jettisoned it long ago, except that:

A.  It still works, and
B.  It has a transparency adapter so I can scan in 35mm negatives and 2" x 2" slides.

All that preamble to tell you that I've started a massive project to scan all my slides.  I'm not very far into the project; I'm up to about 1956.  I had a rather exciting "Aha moment" when I noticed something in this slide, for the first time yesterday; and I've seen it many times over the years.  This is from my first birthday.

On or near November 12, 1954, and appropriate to this blog, this was in Grandma and Poppy's kitchen.  Left to right, my Uncle Bud, me, and my sister Connie (I'm not sure why she's staring at the wallpaper).  Now Cousin Mike, see if you notice anything...interesting about this picture.  I'll give you a few moments...

Hint:  I've mentioned this here before (paragraphs 17 & 18), it's an old family story.

What we have here is photographic proof of waaaaaay back when I started out as a lefty, before my dad trained me out of that, and made me mixed-handed.  Before yesterday, I didn't realize there was any evidence.  It's neat the things I discover when I look through old stuff.

Oh, and another bit of trivia.  The windowpanes slid into the walls, and you'll notice the one on the right side is open.  I'm sure this wasn't too late in the evening, but it was already dark.  And though this was in southern Missouri, November evenings are usually cool there.  But this was 1954, an unusually hot year, or so they tell me.

While I'm in the mood, here's a few more pictures from that evening.

This one was actually taken just before the one at the top.  I don't know if Connie's trying to get my attention or Bud's.  And I don't know if Bud just sampled some of the cake, or if he was prompting me what to do next.  Well, we can see the story, even if we don't know the dialog.  This next image I cropped...seemed to improve it, I think.

I hope you enjoyed those!



  

Things my dad taught me...some of them, anyway

One of my early memories was decorating for Christmas; it could have been 1958 give or take a year. The tree was up and Dad had put on the first string of lights…when he plugged them in and they lit up, it seemed magical to me. Another string was on the floor and I noticed it had a plug on one end and an outlet on the other; so I plugged the string into itself. Dad could tell I was disappointed when nothing happened. He explained the lights had to be plugged into the wall outlet to work (and I’m sure a safety warning followed; I might have been told to let him do that).

Among other interests, dad was a “ham” radio operator, and over the years he taught me much about electronics and radio. I have good memories of learning to solder wires together and working with him putting together Heathkit radios and power supplies at his workbench in the basement.

That reminds me. Dad had a dry sense of humor; he was a quiet guy and seemed a bit serious. Once in a while though he’d throw in some totally unexpected comment and crack us up. He could be a tease at times, and he could also walk into a room without making a sound. If he ever saw me plugging a lamp or something into an outlet, he’d suddenly make a loud “ZZZT!” sound to startle me, then he’d chuckle to himself and leave the room.

And when we lived in “the old house”, there was a utility room where the washer / dryer was. Over half way up the wall was a nail that stuck out an inch or so, at an angle. I’m not sure now what they would hang on that, but one day when I was maybe five he brought me into that room and pointed to the nail.

Dad: “Do you see that nail?”
Me: “Yes.”
Dad: “Don’t touch it. It’s the only thing holding the house together, and if it ever comes out, the whole house will fall down.”

From then on until we moved, every so often I’d think of that and slowly, carefully look through the utility room doorway to see if the nail was still there. In fact, I don’t recall actually going into that room again.

Dad had some fun comments about food. Back then the only condiment I liked was catsup, but dad would use mustard, because…

“Mustard kills the germs”.

And when people started talking so much about vitamins – in the 1970’s, I think – one day for fun he said “Chocolate cake has vitamin C”. C for chocolate, I guess.

He also said once that if he knew for certain that the world would end tomorrow, he would eat an entire chocolate cake with chocolate icing.

Dad taught me to enjoy shooting off fireworks, by being careful, following the instructions, and by not doing anything stupid.

Dad taught me to shoot paper targets with a rifle, by being careful, following the instructions, and by not doing anything stupid.

Dad taught me to drive safely, by being careful, by following the rules, and by not doing anything stupid.

I’m detecting a pattern here.

(And before I get too far from the subject of driving, after I got my license and anytime I would open the door to go out, dad would give me the same advice...

"Try desperately hard not to get run over".)

Now, I was way too young at the time to have any memory of this, but I’ve been told that when I was a toddler I’d reach for everything with my left hand. Knowing that this is a “right-handed world” (and remembering the story that his dad had taken a Whole lot of abuse in school for being a lefty), he would take things from my left hand and hand them back to my right hand.

Dad partially succeeded; I’m mixed-handed. I write and use eating utensils and do many things with my right hand. There are other things I only do left-handed; dealing cards and using tape dispensers, for two examples.

Mom was the singer in our family. While dad enjoyed music, he’d beg off of singing by saying “I only know two tunes. One of them is Yankee Doodle, and the other one isn’t”. I thought for years that he’d made that up, until I found out he was quoting Ulysses S. Grant.

I’ve mentioned before that my dad was a pilot, and he had a lot of interesting stories to tell. For a lot of years he flew the Constellation for TWA. We got on the subject of bad weather one day, and he told of being in the plane at one end of a runway in Kentucky, and watching a tornado cross the other end of the runway.

Another time, he got ball lightning in his plane. It came in the cabin somehow, and rolled down (floated along?) the center aisle back the entire length of the plane. He said it was round, about the size of his fist, and glowed like a night light. He turned and watched people stare at the ball lightning as it rolled past. He said one man started to reach out towards it, then it was obvious the man changed his mind when he pulled his hand back. The ball lightning got to the end of the aisle and disappeared.

(The rest of the story…years later I picked up and read some stories in a Reader’s Digest book, which had a title something like “Mysterious Stories of the Unexplained”. One of them involved an airline flight, and though dad’s name wasn’t mentioned, the story was so much the same as dad told it, that I think it was the same event. Apparently one of the passengers was motivated to write and submit his story.)

Dad developed his interest in aviation as a boy, when he’d go to air shows that his dad and his uncle Avery were involved in (they barnstormed for a while). Dad told me that at one of these shows there was a man who had a daredevil act. I’m not certain now of the man’s last name, but I think it was Davis, or something close to that (and yes, one of the big regrets of my life was that I didn’t get and turn on my tape recorder so I could hear these stories over and over).

Anyway, “Batman Davis” wore a bat costume and a parachute, and would climb into a hot air balloon. This wasn’t like the balloons today with the propane tanks and burner on board. The balloon was filled with hot air on the ground while it was tethered; once airborne when the air cooled or was let out, it was time to come down. “Batman Davis” would take off in the balloon and go up pretty high, but not out of sight of the crowd. He then would jump out, clear the balloon, and pull the cord to parachute to a safe landing. Dad said the balloon had counterweights sewn into the top of the envelope so that each time when the “Batman” would jump, the balloon would tip over, and the hot air would spill out so the balloon would land nearby. The way dad described it, this must have been quite a show.

I’ve got to tell you I really enjoyed writing this for Father’s Day. Dad was a very smart man and taught me many practical things. Dad, I thank you for the learning, for learning to appreciate your dry humor, for all the good times, and for all the stories. I only wish I had asked to hear more of them.

The Evening Rambler for December 11, 2008

Genealogy

I've enjoyed hearing family stories and looking at old letters and photographs about as long as I can remember. In 1979 I found out that one of our local libraries has one of the best genealogy collections in the country, and there were a couple of librarians who specialized in the study. I read a couple of books, looked at a lot of forms, learned how to view the census records on microfilm, and in the early 1980's took an adult education class on the subject. Genealogy has been one of my hobbies every since, but in a kind of half-hearted, on again, off again way. I would go through a phase where I would research and write down a lot of stuff, but not record the source.

Word to the wise: Don't do it that way. Always record your source for every bit on information...right from the start. That way, you don't have to do almost everything over, like (ahem) someone I know.

About a year ago I decided to stop worrying about my family tree not being complete, and go ahead and compile everything I had up to now, and get it word processed and scanned all in one place. Then, I'll make CD's for whoever in the family would be interested. Later I could continue my research when I could, and make corrections and updates as I went along.

But I did want to organize the information in the proper format, so it would make sense and not have to be done over again. I checked out a small book on "Numbering Your Genealogy", and learned that of the many numbering systems, four are currently used most. Of those four, I already was familiar with "Ahnentafel" numbering. You start with yourself (or with whoever you make the chart for), and that person is number 1. Then your father is number 2, your mother is number 3, your father's father is number 4, and so on. The more generations back, the larger the number. This is probably the most common system, and works great for ancestry charts, which often show six or seven generations on one page.

What I wanted to learn was a system where you started with the earliest ancestor you had information for, and numbered forward from him or her. I decided to try the "NGSQ" numbering, and started on my father's side, with my great-great-great-grandfather, John C. Wingate. That project is going well, and I really appreciate word processing software for this use. I know some of my information is still scattered about, and I will be adding and editing for a while.

Stories

A list of names and dates can get boring after a while, if there are no stories or photos to go along with the data. So I've started to word process what I can remember hearing about my ancestors. All I know about John C. are names, dates and places...no stories. All I heard about his first son, Isaac E. Wingate, was that his first marriage ended in divorce, and he re-married. I do have a few stories about Isaac's first son, Jacob Wingate, my great-grandfather. Here's part of what I know.

Jake and his horses

Jacob Wingate leased a farm near Beaverdam, in Allen County, Ohio. At one time he had two horses named Tom and Jerry. The photo below, taken on that farm shows Jake with two horses.


(I don’t know if these horses were Tom and Jerry, or two other horses.)

Jacob married Emma Yoakam, and Jake and Emma’s first child was Harry Dale, or as I called him, Grandpa Wingate. Harry had an interesting and exciting life, and there’s much I could say about that, perhaps at a later time.

The musical saw

One talent Harry had was that he could play the musical saw. I was told a story once that he started with a bow made from a piece of lumber the size of a yardstick – or maybe it was a yardstick – strung with hair from the tail of one of the horses. In later years he used a real bow…


Harry playing the musical saw, at his home in Lima, Ohio. Cousin Ron looks on.
(I’m going to guess 1971 here, but I may be off a year or two either way.)

The tie-in with Poppy's front porch

Harry could play entire songs. One summer, Grandpa Wingate came to our house, and then we caravanned south to Poppy’s farm (Grandpa Wingate preferred to drive as fast as he could keep his car on the road, and had little patience for riding with people who kept to the speed limit…people like his son, Albert. Dad didn’t want to ride with Grandpa; hence the two car, 212 mile caravan.)

One day, we were sitting on Poppy’s front porch, and Grandpa got out his saw and bow. We were all an attentive audience as he played. I was just a young kid at the time, but in later years my Mom talked about Harry playing an old hymn, “In the Garden”, and said “It brought tears to your eyes”. I think Mom meant this in a good way, that Harry could really put some emotion into it. What little I remember is that while I didn’t know the song to recognize it, I thought Grandpa’s saw music was nice.

Somewhere along the years, my sister Connie came to find out that our Dad also knew the basics of how to play the saw. In the late 1970’s (maybe 1980), she gave him a bow, and he got a saw and showed us how to play it. Dad made some different notes, but I don’t think he got a whole song out of the saw like his dad did. I then gave it a try and got a note or two, but I didn’t quite have Dad’s skill. And neither of us could play as well as Grandpa Wingate.

Not to change the subject, but...

...after all, this is the Evening Rambler. We had a beautiful sunset here yesterday, so I grabbed my camera. Enjoy...



And finally, here's a clever advertisement.


This came in the mail yesterday. It's a coupon from AMF for one free game of bowling for up to 10 people.

Keeping with the subject of kids and department store Santas, James Lileks posted a fun video on his blog today. Here's the link. Enjoy!

Yes, but only on Tuesday

Mike, besides the chunks of chocolate, I figure it might have different colored sprinkles. You know, to give it a tie-dyed effect.

This reminds me of a time when I was a student at a small college, probably 1973 or '74, I don't recall which. One of my friends Ken and I walked into the local Dairy Queen. Half way to the counter I spoke up (not so loud as to get everybody's attention, but loud enough)...

"Eh, I wanna see the Queen." Totally out of the blue, and it cracked Ken up.

One of those "I guess you had to have been there" moments.