tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-300797442024-02-06T18:32:24.971-08:00Many Branches, One TreeMany Branches One Tree has moved! To visit our new site and read the latest posts, go to www.manybranchesonetree.com, or copy and paste this address in your web browser.Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.comBlogger204125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-80088926366122962232018-05-28T17:02:00.010-07:002020-08-21T23:05:10.337-07:00We've Moved!<br />
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<br />Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-21899418798704484482018-02-04T22:54:00.002-08:002018-02-16T19:40:50.396-08:00That Pioneer Spirit<br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Eduard Baron </b>(1825 - 1921)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">n the first half of 1848, as </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">22-year-old Eduard Baron pressed through the crowd onto the ship that would take him from his native France to America, he must have had been overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. Whether he felt elation, anticipation, wanderlust, trepidation, or sadness at leaving loved ones behind, one thing was certain: there was no turning back.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi33NcIX31XgVMr3kMaVJJ51Id99jYLoiqnYqvFS75hs1voTWA7diCxXC4-TNCGWsyx1lBshy4brSYY6O3IApcpDm9mg52BYVefHTb8t3htNK5MYgvZmpk32L8wPitaICmOPvA2jg/s1600/35907963184_04b5387a29_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="640" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi33NcIX31XgVMr3kMaVJJ51Id99jYLoiqnYqvFS75hs1voTWA7diCxXC4-TNCGWsyx1lBshy4brSYY6O3IApcpDm9mg52BYVefHTb8t3htNK5MYgvZmpk32L8wPitaICmOPvA2jg/s400/35907963184_04b5387a29_z.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/mypubliclands/35907963184/in/photolist-WH4Grw-9UF73s-anpZY6-qCNQu1-ap8EqX-m8yG8e-rzcMA5-99PSGf-7ygTN5-bu8mei-d8YZ4G-mNHYh4-5Q6xhD-kpsddZ-dxfGzj-aBa67g-8zSfPR-knPi1-dSG7ke-knPn1-666jWM-fkZi5Z-knPvy-8WnFBB-5YLtGP-bg4dUD-f3dMr-8B92nC-c4zRuj-aLgSmg-5nyTTJ-hJMH3N-j2kjpT-nRogVL-7Q9PPZ-63Vc4x-f3gLm-jw9qgt-7WGoE5-hJMHxq-fZyyx-2ri1Li-qXus7P-oLy93-9L1YZT-qksd16-dhorza-5J5mPD-jnZuY3-77rGy" target="_blank">California National Historic Trail, Nevada</a>, by Bob Wick, 2006. Courtesy of<br />Bureau of Land Management. <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/" target="_blank">Creative Commons License</a>, in the public domain.<br />Eduard Baron and dozens of other 49ers from all over the world would have crossed<br />this expanse of land on a wagon train expedition to California, hoping to find gold.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For some time, a sense of unrest had swept the country. France had been in the throes of an economic depression, and the monarchy of Louis Philippe had restricted basic liberties such as the right to work and the right to assemble peacefully.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Barely a month after the French diplomat and political scientist <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Alexis-de-Tocqueville" target="_blank">Alexis de Tocqueville</a> warned the French Chamber of Deputies that the nation was "<a href="http://oll.libertyfund.org/titles/tocqueville-the-recollections-of-alexis-de-tocqueville-1896" target="_blank">sleeping on a volcano</a>," tensions exploded. Parisian workers marched in the streets protesting high food prices and rising poverty, and violence ensued between protestors and soldiers. The king abdicated and was replaced by a provisional government, marking the birth of what became known as the Second Republic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When the news of the <a href="http://www.sfmuseum.org/hist2/gold.html" target="_blank">discovery of gold in California</a> reached France in the midst of all this turmoil, it offered relief from uncertainty and the promise of much-needed prosperity, albeit elsewhere. In the years that followed, over 30,000 French citizens, including Eduard, would leave their country in the hope of striking it rich.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eduard was my husband's great-great grandfather. His early life is a mystery, though we know he was born on October 13, 1825. If we read between the lines of various documents such as his petition for naturalization as an American citizen, censuses and vital records, and a brief mention in his daughter's obituary, we can deduce that he possessed the idealism, ambition, and energy of youth that could make any dream possible for a young man who was determined to succeed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was more than one way to reach California from Europe. One could sail around Cape Horn to San Francisco, or sail first to New York, Boston, or New Orleans, and then join an overland expedition to San Francisco. The first option took about six months, while crossing the country by wagon took about the same amount of time or less, depending on the weather and the time of year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Most gold-seekers went around the Horn. It seemed a smoother and more leisurely route, but it was far from carefree and meant enduring months of rough weather, lack of fresh food and water, seasickness, and cramped quarters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eduard's 1852 naturalization application tells us that he chose the overland route, arriving in San Francisco on about February 7, 1849. This meant he arrived in the United States early enough in 1848 to find an expedition company that could reach California before the onset of the harsh Sierra winters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Overland travel was filled with uncertainty, hazards, and midsummer cyclones and storms on the plains and in the desert. Routes stretched as long as 2,000 miles, but companies typically covered only about 10 - 15 miles a day, making progress slow and tedious. Travelers walked a great deal of the way because their wagons were filled with cargo, food, household goods, and other supplies. Accidents and disease were commonplace; about one in ten pioneers died along the way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Once in California, he made his way to the gold fields to seek his fortune. He might have he found a gold nugget or two, but few people ever struck it rich. He figured out early on that there were other paths to success and went to San Francisco to try his luck there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">By then, San Francisco's population was teeming with settlers needing houses, stores, churches, and schools. Eduard, by trade a carpenter who learned the trade from his father in France, did not want for work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">By early 1852, he had moved to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Jose,_California" target="_blank">San Jose</a>, located in the lush, Mediterranean-like <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Clara_Valley" target="_blank">Santa Clara Valley</a>, about 50 miles south of San Francisco. There, he shared a house with another French carpenter, Jules Audrain. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was a momentous year for him. He married María de Concepción Celaya, a native of the Mexican state of Sonora and </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">applied to become an American citizen. He was sworn in 14 years later in San Jose on November 5, 1866, four days after the birth of his son, Jose Manuel.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Photo believed to be of Concepción (Celaya) Baron,<br />date and location unknown.</i><br />
<i>Courtesy of Martie Moreno.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Concepción had arrived in California the same year as Eduard but most likely came with her parents. We do not know whether her family ever returned to Sonora, but Eduard took her back there for a short time. Maybe she wanted to be near family during her pregnancy, or maybe there was uncertainty as to her safety or stability in San Jose.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The couple's first son, Eduardo, was born in 1853, in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guaymas" target="_blank">Guaymas, Sonora</a>, and they returned to California, where a second son, Adolfo, made his entrance three years later.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On August 4, 1860, a census taker visited the family in <a href="http://museumoflocalhistory.org/exhibits/exhibit-washington-township/" target="_blank">Washington Township</a>, in the area now known as Niles, California, where Eduard had become a farmer. Later that same year, he and Concepción welcomed their daughter, Adela, in San Francisco.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eduard and Concepción returned at least twice to Guaymas for the births of two more children, José Manuel and Teresa, in 1866 and 1870, respectively. Concepción's desire to be closer to her family seems to have prompted them to settle permanently in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tucson,_Arizona" target="_blank">Tucson, Arizona</a>, near her hometown of <a href="http://vivacaborca.com/region/altar/" target="_blank">Altar, Sonora</a>, just over the U.S. - Mexico border.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eduard continued working in carpentry, passing on the trade to his sons. As the years passed, he and Concepción moved in with their daughter Adela and son-in-law, Charles Hoppin Tully. Concepción died in 1915, and Adela died two years later. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The days were especially dark after Adela's death. Suddenly there were two widowers in the Tully household. Eduard's health had also begun to decline due to his advancing years and ailing heart. As much as each was a comfort to the other, he dreaded the thought of becoming a burden on Charles. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His youngest daughter, now Teresa Gómez, had invited him to live with her, her husband, and their daughter in Clifton, Arizona, a small copper mining town about 160 miles northeast of Tucson, near the New Mexico border. They lived simply on Eduardo Gómez' modest earnings as a store barker, but the thought of being surrounded by family again was all it took for Eduard to leave Tucson.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He accustomed himself to his new surroundings with the same determination and discipline he had exercised since the early days. Life with a preteen is anything but dull, and a highlight of his day would have been when his 12-year-old granddaughter, Rena, came home from school, breathless with stories of her days in class and on the playground. It is easy to imagine the spellbinding stories he told her about his adventures crossing the ocean to America and his travels across the plains and through California and Mexico. Those tales would open her innocent eyes to the romantic places beyond her dusty little town, while rekindling the light of sweet memory in his own eyes as he relived his days as a young man out to conquer the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The light in Eduard's eyes went out on July 11, 1921, just three months short of his 96th birthday. He was buried alongside his beloved Concepción at Holy Hope Cemetery in Tucson.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In daughter Adela Baron Tully's own obituary, the Arizona Daily Star noted Eduard had distinguished himself as one of the California 49ers and a "pioneer Tucsonan." He certainly embodied the pioneer spirit of a trailblazer, charting the unknown, enduring hardship, and embracing change; always moving forward and never looking back.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>**</i>**********</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2018 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-47340824870857397532017-02-20T00:30:00.000-08:002018-02-04T22:46:34.784-08:00Mystery Monday: The Distance between Two Pictures<br />
<i style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Selma (Kangas) Tully </b>(1894 - 1949)</i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Selma (Kangas) Tully, about 24<br />years old. Anaheim, California,<br />November 24, 1919.</span></i></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I</span>n this day and age, it is common to see hundreds, sometimes thousands, of photographs marking the great and small events of a person's life. In the case of Selma Tully, however, we have a single photograph that leaves us to wonder about her life before and after it was taken.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Born April 22, 1894, in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ylih%C3%A4rm%C3%A4" target="_blank">Yliharma</a>, Finland, Selma Justina Kangas lost both her parents, Juho and Susanna (Ruuspakka) Kangas, by the time she was three years old. We have no inkling as to what happened to her between that time and the time she came to America. Chances are she probably moved between relatives as she was growing up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her older brother, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2017/02/motivation-monday-look-up-look-forward_13.html" target="_blank">Matti</a>, had left Finland for America when Selma was only two. In the years since, he became a jeweler in <a href="http://www.wyomingtalesandtrails.com/coal3a.html" target="_blank">Diamondville, Wyoming</a>, married and started a family, and even ran for public office. He had paid Selma's passage and was ready to help her settle in the United States, as others had helped him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The passenger list for the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RMS_Mauretania_(1906)" target="_blank">R.M.S. <i>Mauretania</i></a> notes that Selma was a servant, hinting that even as a teenager she had to work in exchange for room and board. It describes her as not quite 5'2", with fair skin, and brown hair and eyes. When my father-in-law, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2008/12/where-flowers-is.html" target="_blank">Welner "Bing" Tully</a>, described her, it was not in a physical way but rather a personal, if not wistful recollection of his mother as a sweet and gentle woman who loved him and his sister tenderly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The <i>Mauretania </i>arrived in New York Harbor on February 26, 1910. </span>Nearly a week later, the 16-year-old stepped off a Union Pacific train in snowy, desolate, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kemmerer,_Wyoming" target="_blank">Kemmerer, Wyoming</a>, minutes from the mining town that would be her home for the next six years, unsure about what awaited her but ready to dive into her new life anyway.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> She helped her brother and sister-in-law with the children and learned to speak, read, and write English. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sometime after 1917, Matti and his wife, Anna Liisa, sold their home and took the family, including Selma, on a trip to the Pacific Northwest, before moving to their new home in</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Itasca_County,_Minnesota" style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;" target="_blank">Itasca, Minnesota</a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">, site of a large Finnish community. They might have gone there to visit relatives. <a href="http://pdxscholar.library.pdx.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=4105&context=open_access_etds" target="_blank">Many Finns had settled</a> in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portland,_Oregon" target="_blank">Portland, Oregon</a>, whose cool, lush climate and forested landscape resembled that of their Nordic homeland. Among those who lived in the Portland area were several families with the Kangas surname.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As much as she loved her brother and his family, Selma knew she could not stay with them forever. She needed to make a life of her own, and Portland, bustling and full of opportunity, seemed to be the place to do it. If the Oregon Kangases were indeed relatives, it would be plausible to imagine that she felt comfortable in deciding that now was the time. She found a job as a hotel chambermaid and kissed her family goodbye, promising to write often. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As far as we know, they did correspond after that, but the great distance kept them from seeing each other again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">During this time, Selma had a whirlwind romance with <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2017/01/thankful-thursday-legacy-of-ordinary.html" target="_blank">Arthur Tully,</a> a newspaper printer from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tucson,_Arizona" target="_blank">Tucson, Arizona</a>, and they married on January 15, 1919, in Vancouver, Washington, just across the river from Portland. She was 24; he was 22.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They left Portland for <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Bernardino,_California" target="_blank">San Bernardino, California</a>, and their daughter, Vivian, was born there later that year. A few months later, Arthur brought his family back to Tucson to live with his father, Charles Tully, for a short time. Eventually, they returned to Southern California, this time settling in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anaheim,_California" target="_blank">Anaheim</a>, where Bing was born in early 1922.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Tully family: clockwise: Selma,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arthur, Welner "Bing," and Vivian.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Anaheim, California. November 24, 1919.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The family, decked out in their best clothes, posed for a portrait on the day after Thanksgiving of that year. Here we see Selma in a plain dark dress and sweater, resting her hand on three-year-old Vivian, who clutches a doll and looks slightly bored. Arthur, dressed in a three piece suit, sits jovially in a wooden armchair, balancing his bouncy, wide-eyed 10-month old son </span>Bing on his lap.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sadly, their happiness was short-lived. With the stock market crash of 1929, the Great Depression began, plunging people's lives into uncertainty and turmoil. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The struggle to survive hit the Tully family as hard as it did many others. Something happened to Arthur, and the 1930 United States Census shows Selma and her two children living without him on Bonsallo Avenue in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Los_Angeles" target="_blank">Los Angeles</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Times were desperate. Selma did the best she could to support herself and the children; Bing recalled helping her iron flour sacks to make money. Sadly, she was fighting a losing battle, and there was no one there to help her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It is hard to imagine the unbearable pain and helplessness Selma endured during that period of her life, especially with her brother Matti living thousands of miles away. She must have been terrified by the reality that her money had run out and she had no way to care for her children. As if that were not enough, the thought of their having to suffer without her parents, as she had done all those year ago in Finland, was more than she could take.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thankfully, Vivian and Bing had what we today would call a safety net. In 1934, their maternal aunt and uncle, Amelia (Tully) and Thomas Binning, who already had a combined total of eight children, took them in and raised Vivian and Bing as their own.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What happened to Selma after that is hard to say. There is no documentation on her life until February 15, 1949, when the California Office of Vital Records notes her death of pulmonary tuberculosis in Ventura on February 15, 1949. She was 54 years old.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Selma (Kangas) Tully is buried at</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ivy </span></i><i style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lawn Memorial Park,</span></i><br />
<i style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ventura, </span></i><i style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">California. May</span></i><br />
<i style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">she rest in peace.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think she would have been happy to know that Vivian and Bing made successful lives for themselves, married and had children and grandchildren, and never forgot their humble yet loving origins. Bing treasured the family photograph all his life and hung it in a prominent place in his living room. It was a tangible reminder of a mother who had made the ultimate sacrifice for her children. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In 1971, he received a letter from his cousin John Kangas, one of Matti's sons. In it, John wrote of having traveled to Finland, "a long postponed trip that every good Finn should make, at least once." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />Bing's own chance to go to his mother's homeland came in 1991, when he made a personal pilgrimage to Helsinki and took a bus from there to Yliharma, in what was then called Vaasa province. Unable to speak Finnish, he had no luck in finding his mother's home, but it gave him some comfort to think he was walking down the same streets she had so very long ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There is another photo, but it is not of Selma herself. Rather, it is a picture of her gravestone at <a href="http://www.ivylawn.org/" target="_blank">Ivy Lawn Memorial Park,</a> in Ventura, California. Its simplicity belies a life that began and ended with tragedy, punctuated by dreams of a better future, days of playfulness and deep motherly love, and untold moments we can only hope were filled with joy.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />**</i>**********</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2017 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i></span></i></div>
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-1921288239897723152017-02-13T01:00:00.000-08:002018-01-25T21:26:05.707-08:00Motivation Monday: Look Up, Look Forward, and Lend a Hand<br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Matt Oskar Kangas </b>(1876 - 1971)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Look up and not down; look forward and not back;</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>look out and not in; and lend a hand.</i></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i> - E. E. Hale</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Matt Oskar Kangas was born to overcome obstacles.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>"That's Life for You," by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/madjag/4160856492/in/album-72157624568321490/" target="_blank">Madjag</a>.<br />Creative Commons; in the public domain</i></span>.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Matti, as he was known to all, was my father-in-law, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2008/12/where-flowers-is.html" target="_blank">Welner Tully's</a> maternal uncle. In a short memoir he wrote in his later years, Matt recalled growing up in western Finland during an era of poverty, pestilence, and famine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">By 1876, when he was born, Finland had recovered from the 1866-68 crop failure and famine that claimed some 270,000 lives, or 15% of the population. However, it seems some areas of the country were still struggling. Matt's home province of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vaasa" target="_blank">Vaasa</a> was among those wanton areas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dire conditions forced many men in the area, including Juho Kangas, Matti father, to migrate to America in hopes of making enough money to send home to their families. Most of the men eventually returned or sent for their loved ones. Some were never heard from again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With the men of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kauhava" target="_blank">Kauhava</a> gone, the wives, including Matti's mother, Susanna (Ruuspakka) Kangas, became the new heads of their households. The children of the town did their part to help their mothers, and their days became a mix of school, play, and hard work; Matti, like many boys his age, tried to fill in for his father as best he could. Juho’s absence weighed heavily on him, but watching his mother suffer without him was even harder to bear. He dreamed of helping his father in America.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Susanna Kangas did her best to look out for her family, but daily life had become a struggle for survival. Epidemics swept mercilessly through the town. Death became a daily occurrence, and it hit the Kangas family hard. Matti wrote matter-of-factly about watching helplessly as neighbors, relatives, and even his own brothers and sisters succumbed to disease almost as swiftly as it overtook them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lacking access to proper medical care and education on sanitary measures, some of the women turned to old folk remedies to save their families. One of these unorthodox ideas held that drinking one’s urine would boost the immune system and keep disease at bay. Susanna tried getting her surviving children to do this, desperate to keep them alive, but Matti recoiled in disgust.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The first time I read this in Matti’s memoir, I, too, felt revulsed. But as I re-read it, I could not help reflecting on how I would feel as a mother if I watched my own children die one by one, with little to no medical treatment available. It would be agonizing. So yes, I can only imagine that the horror, fear, and helplessness Susanna probably felt in that circumstance left her no choice but to try anything that might help, no matter how extreme the measure might have seemed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I</span>t was a happy day when Juho Kangas finally returned home, and his stories of life and opportunity in America were all Matti needed to begin planning his own trip to see it for himself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Juho died in 1895, a year before Matti's chance finally came. Barely a man at 20, he must have had mixed feelings the day he bade goodbye to his widowed mother and his sole surviving sister, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2017/02/mystery-monday-distance-between-two.html" target="_blank">Selma</a>, who was by then two years old.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was the last time he saw his mother, as Susanna died the following year. He would reunite with Selma, but not for another 14 years.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tnR6KOd-fEXUvKSH00ssy9Jwo2OxzBvEtAnKEe5Cv-6BWmVvXgC4e1jmC7QjjgNDY5mzABeIVIenY32juOKvP0bglLGi5JRE9QOjWeumTdngko8yJeEdlRuV4OkPFqM6pRavNQ/s1600/Lucania_Log_Book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tnR6KOd-fEXUvKSH00ssy9Jwo2OxzBvEtAnKEe5Cv-6BWmVvXgC4e1jmC7QjjgNDY5mzABeIVIenY32juOKvP0bglLGi5JRE9QOjWeumTdngko8yJeEdlRuV4OkPFqM6pRavNQ/s320/Lucania_Log_Book.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Handbook issued to passengers<br />traveling on the Cunard Steamship<br />R.M.S. Lucania, 1894. </i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Matti loved all things modern. He must have felt exuberant the day he boarded the <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RMS_Lucania" target="_blank">R.M.S. Lucania</a></i>, a three year old <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cunard_Line" target="_blank">Cunard</a> ship that at the time held the record for being the fastest passenger liner in the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Despite the luxury the <i>Lucania</i> afforded passengers in first and second class, its steerage class was little more than a cattle car for up to 1,000 people, Matti being one of them. He probably took it in stride, having seen much worse in his young life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He arrived at Ellis Island in New York City on July 25, 1896 and went from there to either Michigan or Minnesota to live with relatives while he got settled. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eight years later, he was working as a coal miner in <a href="http://www.wyomingtalesandtrails.com/coal3a.html" target="_blank">Diamondville, Wyoming</a>, a wild, hardscrabble community of mostly immigrant Scotsmen, Finns, Slovenians, Italians, and Austrians, among others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Diamondville was a true frontier town. Housing consisted mostly of shacks and dugouts built into the hill near the mine, aptly giving it the name "<a href="http://www.diamondvillewyo.com/history.htm" target="_blank">Shack Town</a>." With two churches, one school, a jail, a hotel, and a handful of stores, opportunities abounded for new business. Matti was among those who took advantage of this and eventually left the mining life to become a jeweler.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He turned 30 in 1906. Still an idealist who wanted to change his world, he entered politics, running for State Treasurer on the Socialist ticket. It was common for Finnish-Americans to belong to the Socialist party with its "old country" origins and friendliness toward them and the language and culture they had left behind. The party advocated for safe labor conditions and fair rights. It also helped various ethnic groups establish meeting and cultural centers where they could gather with others who came from the same places and spoke the same language. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For these reasons, Socialist advocacy resonated with the Finnish and other mine workers in places such as Diamondville, where 53 miners were killed in two horrific accidents between 1901 and 1905. It did not fare as well, however, with other Americans, who viewed Socialism as a threat. This was especially true in Wyoming, even then a heavily Republican state. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">During the election campaign, several newspapers set aside the objectivity that was the hallmark of American journalism, instead instructing readers to vote for the Republican candidate alongside the long slate of candidates for state office from the Republican, Democratic, and Socialist parties. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One of these newspapers, the Crook County Monitor of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sundance,_Wyoming" target="_blank">Sundance, Wyoming</a>, printed a sample ballot on the front page of the November 2, 1906, edition, an "X" featured prominently in the box over the Republican slate. On top of the box read the headline, "Ballot to be used in the Election next Tuesday. Vote it Republican by a Cross as Indicated." Below the graphic, a breezy wrap-up of local and state news wove in at least seven references to the achievements of Republicans and the merits of voting the party.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Front page of The Crook County Monitor, Sundance,<br />Wyoming, November 2, 1906.</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Though it should be no surprise that Matti lost the election, he seemed to be no worse for the wear, and he moved on with his life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In 1908, Matti married a fellow Finnish-American, Anna Liisa Heiska, and nine months later they had a son, Pellervo. Two other children would follow: a son, John, in 1911, and a daughter, Aune, in 1922.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He never forgot the sister he had left behind in Finland, and he paid her passage to America so she, too, could start her life anew. 16-year-old Selma Kangas arrived in New York from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ylih%C3%A4rm%C3%A4" target="_blank">Yliharma</a>, Finland, on February 26, 1910, and promptly made her way to Wyoming.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the fall of 1914, Matti threw his hat in the political ring again, this time running for the state congressional seat. It is admirable that he chose to do this a second time, given the odds against him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Two years later, an area newspaper, the Kemmerer Republican, reported that he sold his house for $300 and planned to visit the Eastern states before relocating again to either Oregon or Washington State.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There is no evidence that the Kangases reolcated to Oregon or Washington. There was a sizable Finnish community and several Kangas families living in the Pacific Northwest at the time, so it is possible the Kangases went there to visit relatives, or maybe they went just to see the sights. Either way, when they left, it was without Selma. Records show she found a job as a hotel maid in Portland, Oregon. She would go on marry a young Arizona pressman, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2017/01/thankful-thursday-legacy-of-ordinary.html" target="_blank">Arthur Tully</a>, and have two children, Welner and Vivian.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As for Matti and Liisa, they moved their young family east, first to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Itasca_County,_Minnesota" target="_blank">Itasca, Minnesota</a>, and then to <a href="http://images.library.wisc.edu/WI/EFacs/transactions/WT1977/reference/wi.wt1977.aralenen.pdf" target="_blank">Owen, Wisconsin</a>, both sites of large Finnish communities.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was a happy time. Aune was born in Owen. Pellervo, known as "Pell," and John were members of the school band, playing the saxophone and trumpet, respectively. During 1927, 18-year-old Pell went on tour in Finland with a Finnish-American band, called the Humina, or "Murmur" band, to Finland. The band played for such notable listeners as the President of Finland and Finnish composer <a href="http://www.npr.org/sections/deceptivecadence/2015/12/08/458232716/finlands-finest-the-seven-symphonies-of-jean-sibelius" target="_blank">Jean Sibelius </a>and his wife.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">1940 found the family once again on the move, this time to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arlington_County,_Virginia" target="_blank">Arlington, Virginia</a>, where Matti set up shop as a watch repairman. The Pell, John, and Aune married and had children of their own. They stayed in touch with their cousins, Vivian and Welner Tully, exchanging letters and Christmas cards over the years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Matti Kangas was 95 years old when he died of a stroke in 1971. Anna Liisa outlived him by eight years. Her death certificate notes that in late January, 1979, she was being helped from her bed in an Arlington nursing home one day when there was an accident and she suffered a broken right femur. Two weeks later, she died of cardiac arrest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Life is not without its obstacles. Matti had more than his share at an early age, but maybe that prepared him to face the challenges of looking up and making a new life, looking forward and running for public office not once but twice, looking out and raising a family, and lending a hand by bringing his sister to America and helping her adjust. His story is our story, and his dream lives on in the face of every person seeking a better life.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />**</i>**********</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2017 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i></div>
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-42675521930645976412017-01-19T00:30:00.000-08:002018-01-25T21:31:20.767-08:00Thankful Thursday: Legacy of an Ordinary Life<i style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Arthur Raymond Tully </b>(1897 - 1984)</i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A</span>rthur, we hardly knew you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzxzPHSqYXUD-8agNrpl-ihCj_criLrLtaWrefC5PYHxHf-d0QjL1ThSDZjR1VKf-OFs6wkQcsqQ7zBeo0oZoEx_edp7WsPSBexVR-kbutrC0bA3_Yq1HBswOR1R-OrfgCG_XaQ/s1600/IMG_5138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzxzPHSqYXUD-8agNrpl-ihCj_criLrLtaWrefC5PYHxHf-d0QjL1ThSDZjR1VKf-OFs6wkQcsqQ7zBeo0oZoEx_edp7WsPSBexVR-kbutrC0bA3_Yq1HBswOR1R-OrfgCG_XaQ/s320/IMG_5138.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Arthur Tully</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When your name came up in conversation, as it did from time to time, it was in disjointed bits and pieces, with little to connect them except for the few vital facts about you that most family trees contain. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Those facts tell us you were born the last day of March, 1897, the eleventh of a baker's dozen to Charles Hoppin Tully and his wife, Adela Baron, in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tucson,_Arizona" target="_blank">Tucson, Arizona</a>. They go on to say that a mere six months after registering for the World War I draft, you found yourself in Portland, Oregon, where you had a whirlwind romance with a young Finnish hotel maid, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2017/02/mystery-monday-distance-between-two.html" target="_blank">Selma Kangas</a>. You married her on January 15, 1919, before a Justice of the Peace in Vancouver, Washington, just across the state line. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And then there is the 1920 letter from your father, Charles, who had just lost his beloved wife - your mother - Adela, only two years earlier, when you were 19. Still grieving her absence, he shared his advice for a happy marriage:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<b>TUCSON, ARIZONA, </b>May 20th, 1919<br />
<br />
Arthur Tully<br />
Portland, Oregon.<br />
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My dear son:-<br />
<br />
Received your letter yesterday and glad to hear from you. Received the Sunday paper you sent and must say that it is a good proof of the size and importance of that city. <br />
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. . . Let me impress upon your mind that in order to have the true love of your wife, you must treat her right always. Be true, and lovable to her. Love is the one great factor in winning the love of a woman. Never humiliate her in the least but rather let her feel that she can rely on you completely.<br />
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. . . Give my love to your wife and if she feels like writing tell her to drop a few lines. I want her to like me. All my sons in law and daughters in law seem to look upon me as their truest and most sincere friend and I want her to feel the same way.<br />
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I wish you both unlimited happiness and best luck. <br />
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Yours lovingly,<br />
<br />
(signed) Charles H. Tully<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Between census reports, city directories, and family letters, we learn that you held a number of jobs as a rail car repairman, newspaper printer, and restaurant cook. And we know you fell on hard times in the Great Depression, a few years after the birth of your children, Vivian and Welner, in 1919 and 1922. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That is when the void appears. And you disappear first, then Selma, into two black holes of uncertainty, until her death in 1949 and your own death on May 3, 1984, in Norwalk, California, at age 87.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJjf8br2d836T7NmMMdCrJUosvJh3nnoMley-hN0UwJ4E5ghouyJmjAVjKf8-TPtu83st7wIjABkmJIp7aq_VvACUwgeQWZCrPyerBSPYlrqQeRVRyWUMyZ-xtaxljbT535Pi_A/s1600/Arthur%252C+Selma%252C+Vivian+and+Welner+Tully%252C+Anaheim%252C+CA+1922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJjf8br2d836T7NmMMdCrJUosvJh3nnoMley-hN0UwJ4E5ghouyJmjAVjKf8-TPtu83st7wIjABkmJIp7aq_VvACUwgeQWZCrPyerBSPYlrqQeRVRyWUMyZ-xtaxljbT535Pi_A/s320/Arthur%252C+Selma%252C+Vivian+and+Welner+Tully%252C+Anaheim%252C+CA+1922.jpg" width="206" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Clockwise, from left: Selma, Arthur, Welner,<br />and Vivian Tully. Anaheim, California,<br />circa 1922 - 1923.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's hard to fill in the blanks of your life, Arthur. What were your values, what did you wish for your family, who did you dream you would become, and how did you feel when your dreams met with disappointment?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm not sure we'll ever have the answers to those questions, but I can say this, Arthur: your children, Vivian and Welner, were your greatest legacy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Without you and Selma, Vivian would not have married John Moyer and had three lovely daughters. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Without you and Selma, we would not have had Welner, known to the world as "<a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2008/12/where-flowers-is.html" target="_blank">Bing</a>." I think you would be proud to know he was a loving family man - the guy everyone wished they had for a husband and father, and for a grandfather and a friend. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wish I could have met you, Arthur. You may have been an ordinary man with an ordinary share of challenges, and you more or less lived an ordinary life. But for the children who were the fruit of that life, who overcame the challenges it brought and left their own legacies of family and love and goodness, I would tell you that in the end, your life left us more for which to be grateful than to wonder about. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />**</i>**********</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2017 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i><br />
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<br />Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-80369231169143302632016-08-04T00:30:00.000-07:002018-01-25T21:28:08.296-08:00Thankful Thursday: A Stranger's Kindness<br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>John Terrence Cherry </b>(1907 - 1956)</i></span><br />
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<i>...A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.</i></blockquote>
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- Charles Dickens in <i>A Tale of Two Cities</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic_COUB6cngtmOLA3yBgJBoJrCYCi-ceB2_m39oAJax3tdtJSIQCIlnapko3ODL5-73YzdZCer7zyoeP3lUrSjYYFZXYyYbJVOlg_53Ds-NU1Bh36L7ZjmxVGgOaMKUE6nxGsEYg/s1600/DSC_0363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic_COUB6cngtmOLA3yBgJBoJrCYCi-ceB2_m39oAJax3tdtJSIQCIlnapko3ODL5-73YzdZCer7zyoeP3lUrSjYYFZXYyYbJVOlg_53Ds-NU1Bh36L7ZjmxVGgOaMKUE6nxGsEYg/s320/DSC_0363.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>John Cherry's sketch and signature on one of the pages<br />of his high school textbook of Charles Dickens' classic<br /><u>A Tale of Two Cities</u></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">T</span>he small red, white, and blue media mail bundle sat on my desk, looking slightly worn from its two thousand mile trip across the country. Though I had excitedly awaited its arrival like a kid waiting for presents on Christmas morning, I paused to savor the moment and reflected on the kindness of the stranger who had gone to the trouble of sending it.</div>
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In early May of this year, the sender (who has requested anonymity) contacted me after reading <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/08/treasure-chest-thursday-walk-home.html" target="_blank">a blog post I had written in 2013</a> about my cousin, Ohio artist John Terrence Cherry. In a brief e-mail, she made a generous offer:</div>
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Hello, Ms. Tully - While going through my grandparents' book collection recently, I came across a Charles Dickens book that had at one point belonged to John Cherry. I believe it was a high school book that had been used by my grandfather (b. 1918, Ashtabula), in Ohio. It has numerous cartoon doodles and signatures by John Cherry, so I did some internet searching and found your site. Could I mail you the book? The book itself has no value, but the drawings are interesting, so I thought you might want it.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigupWv-8SW6IVd7sc9W8kyofj9fFp2xU75sYucL3fEUiK4_L9otORsMD1dWNSFaYuN-q7-h1b90aNckTBAKrdnpUn5XwkjJ3Mokiyp3lgz3RuNpEORrbo49Xfu8W0cBhPEEgF5qg/s1600/DSC_0353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigupWv-8SW6IVd7sc9W8kyofj9fFp2xU75sYucL3fEUiK4_L9otORsMD1dWNSFaYuN-q7-h1b90aNckTBAKrdnpUn5XwkjJ3Mokiyp3lgz3RuNpEORrbo49Xfu8W0cBhPEEgF5qg/s200/DSC_0353.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Cherry's high school<br />
copy of <u>A Tale of Two Cities</u></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8cR3cME9N-L8KIfztl6Vwdp-rxJBEKAzcDK3BJy61r4-6TZY1qVjhwfWyDWABsxkqu84bnTMpa5OIMpRmAmGcVwCSDgl9ASOzpqEKBGk7NPXIgcn3jysLzBbOn7usCR5oNqsHnA/s1600/DSC_0359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8cR3cME9N-L8KIfztl6Vwdp-rxJBEKAzcDK3BJy61r4-6TZY1qVjhwfWyDWABsxkqu84bnTMpa5OIMpRmAmGcVwCSDgl9ASOzpqEKBGk7NPXIgcn3jysLzBbOn7usCR5oNqsHnA/s200/DSC_0359.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A sample of John Cherry's experiments <br />with various signatures, on the<br />first pages of his high school textbook. </i></td></tr>
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I opened the package slowly and pulled out a faded blue hardcover textbook. Inscribed with the initials "CHS" - or Conneaut High School, near John's boyhood home in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conneaut,_Ohio" target="_blank">Conneaut, Ohio</a>. it was Charles Dickens' <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Tale_of_Two_Cities" target="_blank">A Tale of Two Cities</a>. </i>It had been one of my favorites from my high school English Literature class.</div>
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But unlike the pristine high school textbooks I had used - and not dared mark up, this volume had been well-inscribed by various owners through the years, with one young man's signature and sketches on more than a few pages: John Cherry.</div>
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Flipping through the book, it seems John was not exactly enamored of Dickens during this time of his life. The occasional margin notes here and there likely belonged to other students, as the handwriting does not resemble that of the hand that penciled John's name throughout the book. Instead, the young student seems to have used his English class time as a opportunity to draw caricatures and develop a distinctive signature. </div>
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Nearly one hundred years have passed since John made these sketches, and some are more distinguishable than others. The caricature-like men throughout the book are jaunty characters, suggesting their creator probably was a keen observer, witty, and good-humored. His various signatures also point to the confidence and ambition of someone expecting to succeed in life.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLYovSbv16xI7uaWRE1hCpWWlFFHVAA2ajCxugSW_RiqPWakyEhVljxKL6uA2iJ3V7Pw75WBRTdTlC8DirUlqj-W2d7u_n7bHROByxOl8YzqEYPBruYRf9c7CvUiV74oenvfIzg/s1600/DSC_0362.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLYovSbv16xI7uaWRE1hCpWWlFFHVAA2ajCxugSW_RiqPWakyEhVljxKL6uA2iJ3V7Pw75WBRTdTlC8DirUlqj-W2d7u_n7bHROByxOl8YzqEYPBruYRf9c7CvUiV74oenvfIzg/s320/DSC_0362.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sketch of an unidentified man by John Cherry, lightly drawn<br />opposite the table of contents of <u>A Tale of Two Cities</u></i></td></tr>
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Based on stories I have heard from my mother, great-aunt, and a cousin, all of whom knew him well, John fit this description. He inherited his naturally charismatic personality from his doting and boisterous Irish Gaffney-McGinnis clan, a bold and fun-loving lot whose frequent gatherings, stories, and pranks were legendary for generations. He stayed close to his family, even living with his maternal aunts in Cleveland in his late 30s and early 40s to look out for them in their old age.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmBuH2Tu2Mm_6cP6yXnSJad3flWnR-g1Hu1pb7EvwBkYIHn4lzgkrk_1QyddrilVG3Qzw50tTFZ5k1FYYYEe70d8zQ0ZtgP8jTJnNpL3J2BxMo1ycNVvAhCPLnKK3qNuC4fJCQg/s1600/DSC_0365.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmBuH2Tu2Mm_6cP6yXnSJad3flWnR-g1Hu1pb7EvwBkYIHn4lzgkrk_1QyddrilVG3Qzw50tTFZ5k1FYYYEe70d8zQ0ZtgP8jTJnNpL3J2BxMo1ycNVvAhCPLnKK3qNuC4fJCQg/s320/DSC_0365.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Caricature and signature by John Cherry, sometime between<br />1920 - 1924, Conneaut High School, Conneaut, Ohio.</i></td></tr>
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The third of four children of James and Frances (Gaffney) Cherry, John had watched his little brother, Tommy, battle tuberculosis since infancy, eventually succumbing to the disease in 1922 at age 9. John would have been about 16 at the time.</div>
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Being a teenager is challenging enough under typical circumstances, but to deal with the emotions that surge from the sadness of and chaos of that tragic period must have been overwhelming. Maybe art gave John an escape during that rough time. While the class compared characterizations of Lucy Manette, Charles Darnay, and Sydney Carton, it is easy to imagine John sprinkling the pages of his Lit book with lighthearted sketches and his evolving autograph as he dreamed of becoming a famous artist.</div>
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My kind benefactor enclosed two other things she found on the internet while researching John Cherry. The first was a sketch he drew with another artist that is reminiscent of his early teenage sketches. The second was a newspaper article from the <i>Cleveland Scene, </i>dated March 14, 2002, about a portrait exhibition in Cleveland. The article featured a 1929 portrait of John by one of his contemporaries, Cleveland artist Elmer Novotny. You can see the portrait <a href="http://www.clevescene.com/cleveland/face-value/Content?oid=1479062" target="_blank">here</a>. The writer described John as "a young man looking distinguished and handsome, on the brink of being old enough to have an interesting face; the light falls on him as if to promise a bright future."</div>
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Sure enough, John became a commercial artist and art professor, and, according to my mother and aunt, a charmer with the ladies, though he never married. He adored the mother and aunts who had spoiled him as a child and stayed close to home, looking after them in Conneaut and Cleveland and Conneaut long after his older brother and sister moved away to start families of their own. Though he did not achieve great fame, he was locally known and respected in Conneaut and Cleveland, Ohio, for his commercial work and impressionistic landscapes and portraits. </div>
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As far as I know, two of those paintings survive, both representations from Conneaut. I have one - "<a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/08/treasure-chest-thursday-walk-home.html" target="_blank">The Walk Home</a>," a watercolor of Nickel Plate railroad workers trudging home from work on a winter's evening. My cousin, Suzanne, has the other, a 1929 watercolor of the view from the family home in Conneaut, as seen below. His 23-year-old signature in this picture is considerably different from the earlier ones.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYaDIU0VQ_VdVGw4BUeQ7llgI4e8liwEQxjTgsx-vRdfs17Uo8o-Rx4bYahkSyDcZ1tBxL-VMApWhao_L5-zmjFzjsD9GAGwSoHX38nwHp1jIA-IxdxJxPG0_6jPBqnvGFUDk6Zg/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYaDIU0VQ_VdVGw4BUeQ7llgI4e8liwEQxjTgsx-vRdfs17Uo8o-Rx4bYahkSyDcZ1tBxL-VMApWhao_L5-zmjFzjsD9GAGwSoHX38nwHp1jIA-IxdxJxPG0_6jPBqnvGFUDk6Zg/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>View from the Cherry family home on Mill Street, Conneaut, Ohio,<br />by John Terrence Cherry. Watercolor, 1929.</i></td></tr>
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Aside from the scant records that mention him such as 1930 and 1940 census reports and his death record from 1956, John Terrence Cherry remains something of a "creature of mystery" to me. But thanks to the youthful doodles in his schoolbook, another student's keeping the book in his collection all these years, and the kindness of a stranger who took the time to return the book to John's family nearly a century later, I am thankful that we know a little more about him today than we did before.</div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>**</i>**********</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2016 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-48316200754742667142016-04-17T00:30:00.000-07:002018-01-25T21:31:45.088-08:00Sentimental Sunday: Sailing New Worlds Together<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b>(1889 - 1984)</span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Phillip Columbus McCormick </b>(1892 - 1981)</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">N</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ot until the early 1980s did time finally begin to catch up with the couple who had deftly evaded its reach their whole lives.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9pVurt7XsrBBoQna4bJtrN7fyf-_QkARUqHXv6C4T5CmUypjBC841zlBAL46kCfBzzeSoPm2ACgb2iWkDdjHytx7cc6iKgcsdLaM7069_ENDRUUGtsa17S5QIngSMZ20ksq8wMA/s1600/IMG_1778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9pVurt7XsrBBoQna4bJtrN7fyf-_QkARUqHXv6C4T5CmUypjBC841zlBAL46kCfBzzeSoPm2ACgb2iWkDdjHytx7cc6iKgcsdLaM7069_ENDRUUGtsa17S5QIngSMZ20ksq8wMA/s320/IMG_1778.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Benita (McGinnis) McCormick gazes lovingly at an oil portrait by <br />artist Mary Rowley of her husband, Philip McCormick, on their 50th<br />wedding anniversary, at their San Mateo home, 1971.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">(Photo courtesy of Suzanne Wieland)</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/05/thankful-thursday-one.html" target="_blank">Great-Uncle Phillip McCormick</a> slowed down considerably after suffered a pair of strokes in 1980, as he was turning 88. Aunt Detty, three years his senior, walked a bit slower by then, but she was still sharp of mind and memory and did her best to help Phil regain his speech and his own memory. For some time, he was laid up in a hospital bed in the McCormick's study, where a physical therapist visited him regularly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aunt Detty was devoted to Uncle Phil in those final months. She would sit next to him, often bringing visitors into the room so they, too, could stimulate him with fresh faces and voices. Remembering tales of days gone by, she often stopped in mid-sentence to ask him a name or a detail, as if she could not remember it herself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When he could not recall a word or a name or a date, she would gently give him a hint or a wink, never prodding but encouraging him to surface the memory from the recesses of his mind. She was not about to give up on him. As with any long-time married couple, their life had not been without its ups and downs. Now, in the midst of their greatest challenge, they would weather the storm together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/11/wishful-wednesday-father-and-daughters.html" target="_blank">A sailor's daughter</a> and herself a life-long adventurer, she knew what it was like to navigate rough waters. Moreover, like any long-time married couple, she and Phil Some years before, she had, in fact, done an oil painting of two men in a small fishing boat, holding steady through rocky seas. Now she steered the course for both Phil and herself with unwavering determination and resolve. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNWYdodwcbQkbkx6M-VdvqY8kt33xh6shoHDOExptqmt9DHGBsAGZaC5HKwalhocJYhxAEx8Fow6Aj0crka0QMRJl6Wad6J_XOIziKbxBonQgGN-y05PtUU3sTVxBDPiUQ2xSCaQ/s1600/DSC_0852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNWYdodwcbQkbkx6M-VdvqY8kt33xh6shoHDOExptqmt9DHGBsAGZaC5HKwalhocJYhxAEx8Fow6Aj0crka0QMRJl6Wad6J_XOIziKbxBonQgGN-y05PtUU3sTVxBDPiUQ2xSCaQ/s320/DSC_0852.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>"Through the Storm," by Benita McCormick.<br />Date unknown, probably 1960s or 70s.</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After some difficult weeks, Uncle Phil slowly began learning to talk again, but it was too slow for his liking, and not longer after that he suffered a couple of setbacks. Noticing his frustration, Aunt Detty would squeeze his hand or pat him reassuringly on the shoulder, leaning over to kiss him tenderly. The adoring way he gazed back at her through his blue eyes when the words would not come spoke volumes more than anything he could have said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was hard for the family to say our final goodbyes to him. I remember my <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/03/wedding-wednesday-ole-and-jane.html" target="_blank">Aunt Jane</a>, Phil and Benita's daughter, calling on March 24, 1980, to give me the sad news that he had died. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everyone worried about Aunt Detty. When you have spent 60 years of your life with someone, losing them must be like losing a part of your body. She tried to be philosophical about it and used to talk about their being together again someday when she got to Heaven. She was 92 by then and still living on her own. She did her best to keep active, receiving visitors and reading and responding to condolences from friends and family far and wide. But the nights were the hardest, after everyone had gone home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In a letter to me in the summer of 1981, a few months after Uncle Phil's death, she wrote,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I am very slow in answering all the wonderful folks who told us they loved us with their many kindnesses and prayers. But they were a prodigious group and only now am I working my way through the pile of mail before me.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>More mail comes daily from those who have just heard about Phil. Thank you for your great comfort and love during my ordeal. </i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I feel more like myself now, though the arthritis is still very tough - no new medicine seems to reach it.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>But...I shall carry on, eh?</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <i>Aunt Detty</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Carry on she did, busying herself with her projects, old and new. One of them was selling bee pollen by mail order. She was convinced of its health benefits and saw herself as a pioneer in the nutritional supplement field, predicting (with great accuracy, it turned out) that its popularity would grow. Even after moving in with Jane and her family in San Carlos, she sent samples of bee pollen to grocery and drug stores, sports groups, even to major league sports team training camps: the San Francisco Giants in Scottsdale, Arizona, and the San Francisco Forty-Niners in Redwood City.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Unfortunately, bee pollen could do only so much to stave off the ravages of old age, and Aunt Detty grew increasingly frail. She could hardly walk anymore, and Aunt Jane, Uncle Ole, and their daughter Suzanne took turns pushing her wheelchair and helping her with her daily routine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She was a guest of honor at our wedding in the summer of 1984. As delicate as she looked by that then, her triumphant face showed her pride at witnessing the day as we walked down the aisle past her. You would have thought she had orchestrated the whole thing. She loved my husband - "I'm just mad about him, Linda. What a dreamboat!" she had written to me after meeting him a year earlier. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Five months after our wedding, Aunt Detty fell at Jane's home. The fall precipitated her decline rather quickly, though today I can't remember the particulars; maybe because it was too painful to think about at the time. When we heard the news, my husband and I had just returned home from a trip to Mexico City, and I was only too grateful to have the chance to go to the hospital to say one last goodbye. She drifted in and out of consciousness and died peacefully a few days after Thanksgiving, on November 26, 1984. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She was 95 years young.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of course, being Aunt Detty, it was only fitting that she would have the final word. And so it was that her funeral, after all the eulogies and laughter and tears, we listened to the reading of a poem she had written around the time she and her beloved Phil had celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I would like to think of it not as her farewell, but rather as a love letter to Phil and an <i>au revoir </i>to all of us<i>. </i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Voyage for Two</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I have finished all my earthly tasks</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And said my last goodbye to those I love, </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And settled my cold bones in that warm earth</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My venturous spirit then will want to rove</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And bidding me to follow she will race</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To that dark harbor where the strange ships wait</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And we shall steal abroad like ghostly mice</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And hide in shrouds until she clears the gate</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And I shall know the ecstasy I've sought</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In waves of beauty promised by fair isles</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With color far surpassing all my dreams</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Enough to meet the distance of their miles.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">All exotic places hall be mine;</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Those I have known, and those I fan would woo</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But Darling, that is when I'll know the truth.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I just won't want to seek them without you.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So we shall wait unseen, my sprite and I,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In some sweet spot, bright as a wild bird's feather</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Until you hear the call and find us there</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And you and I shall sail new worlds together.</span></i></div>
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- Benita McCormick, 1971</div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>**</i>**********</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2016 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i> </div>
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<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></i>Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-12791585568393572712016-04-15T22:03:00.000-07:002018-01-25T21:29:14.602-08:00Friday's Faces from the Past: Pictures of a Golden Day<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b>(1889 - 1984)</span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Phillip Columbus McCormick </b>(1892 - 1981)</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">O</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ne balmy Sunday afternoon in October of 1971 on the San Francisco Peninsula, some 2,149 miles and 18,262 sunrises from where they <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/05/sentimental-sunday-not-about-to-let-her.html" target="_blank">first pledged their love</a> for each other as husband and wife, Phil and Benita McCormick strode confidently into church, arms linked and faces beaming, ready to begin their second half century together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><i>Re-enacting a photograph taken as newlyweds, Phillip and </i><i>Benita</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">McCormick pose on the balcony of their San Mateo</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span></i></span><i style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">apartment</span></i></i><br />
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<i style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><i>on their 50th wedding anniversary, October 7, 1971</i><i>.</i></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Some 30 relatives and friends gathered at <a href="http://stcsiena.org/html/our_parish.html" target="_blank">Saint Catherine of Siena Catholic Church </a>in Burlingame, California, to witness the McCormicks renew their wedding vows. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><i>The McCormick Family, left to right (first row): Phillip E. </i><i>"Bud"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><i>McCormick; Jane (McCormick) and Suzanne </i><i>Olson, </i><i>their</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><i>daughter; and Benita (McGinnis) and Phillip </i><i>C. McCormick.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><i> Golden Jubilee Mass for Phil and </i><i>Benita, October 7, 1971, </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><i>Saint Catherine of Siena </i><i>Catholic Church, Burlingame, California.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Among those in attendance were Phil and Benita's daughter <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/03/sentimental-sunday-loving-and-letting-go.html" target="_blank">Jane with her husband Eldon "Ole" Olson</a> and their daughter <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2016/03/sentimental-sunday-golden-years-of-life.html" target="_blank">Suzanne</a>; their son <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/06/matrilineal-monday-two-little-bundles.html" target="_blank">Phillip</a> "Bud," who flew out from Chicago with childhood buddy and family friend Jack O'Brien; Phil's cousin Maurice McCormick, his wife, Dorothy (Sillers) McCormick and their sons, Maurice "Mickey" and Kieran; and my parents, sisters, and me. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://www.catholic-sf.org/news_select.php?id=58891" target="_blank">Kieran and Mickey McCormick</a>, both Catholic priests of the Archdiocese of San Francisco, concelebrated the Golden Jubilee Mass.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Phil and Benita (McGinnis) McCormick, flanked by cousins,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Fathers Kieran (left) and Maurice "Mickey" </span></i><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">McCormick,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">exit Saint Catherine of Siena Church.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Burlingame, California, October 7, 1971.</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">An early dinner reception followed at <a href="https://critiki.com/location/the-castaway-san-mateo-685/" target="_blank">The Castaways</a>, a Polynesian themed restaurant on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coyote_Point_Park" target="_blank">Coyote Point</a> at the edge of the San Francisco Bay. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The evening was filled with story-telling, song, good-humored jokes, plenty of Irish blarney, and "more laughter than you could shake a stick at," to quote a saying of the day. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Author's Note: All the photographs on this page courtesy of my cousin, Suzanne (Olson) Wieland. They are reprinted here with loving gratitude. LHT</span></i></span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Jane (McCormick) Olson and her cousin,<br />Father Kieran McCormick, at the reception for<br />her parents. October 7, 1971, The Castaways</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Restaurant, Coyote Point, San Mateo, California.</span></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Phil and Benita McCormick pose outside the Castaways<br />Restaurant on Coyote Point, San Mateo, California.</span></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">One of my sisters with my father, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/05/thankful-thursday-lifes-lessons-part-3.html" target="_blank">Gilbert Huesca</a>. October 7, 1971,<br />The Castaways Restaurant on Coyote Point, San Mateo, California.</span></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">My mother, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2012/03/my-wonderful-mother.html" target="_blank">Joan (Schiavon) Huesca</a> with my youngest sister and me<br />at the reception for Aunt Detty and Uncle Phil, October 7, 1971.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>**</i>**********</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2016 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i><br />
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-75541879217440648982016-04-03T00:30:00.000-07:002016-04-03T21:35:44.512-07:00Sentimental Sunday: Letters, Light, and Love<br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b style="font-style: italic;">Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b><span style="font-style: italic;">(1889 - 1984)</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick. Oil portrait<br />by artist Mary Rowley. As seen hanging on the<br />living room wall in daughter Jane McCormick<br />Olson's living room, 2011.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">W</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">hen I was a freshman in college in 1974, my <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/05/wisdom-wednesday-scrapbook-of-lifetime.html" target="_blank">Great-Aunt Detty</a> heard I was looking for a summer job and thought she could help. She wrote to me to share a lead and some encouragement.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Dearest </i><u><i>Slimmest Niece</i></u> <i>Linda</i><u>,</u></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I told Janie tonight that you're having difficulty finding a job. She wants you to know that Sears is really looking for salespeople who will work during summer and <u>take a part time</u> job during school year. The pay to start is $2.30 per hour. She says you <u>must</u> say you'll work P.T. while in college. Of course if you can't really fulfill your promise you still have had a summer job and the work experience you need. She also said the catalogue dept. (that's where she works) is very pleasant, too. Same pay to start. . . </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the same letter, she fondly remembered my first cousin, Paul Schiavon, who had recently visited her while stationed in California with the United States Navy:</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">O yes, tell Paul I wrote a very praiseworthy note about him to his Mom and Dad last night. Thought they'd like to know how much we all love him. Love to the Huescas -</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Aunt Detty and Unk Pill*</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As luck had it, I found a part time job shortly after that, though not at Sears. What I really wanted, though, was to work for the airlines, where I could practice the foreign languages I spoke and have the opportunity to see the world like my aunt and uncle had. Nearly a year later, my dream came true when American Airlines hired me as a temporary reservations agent in downtown San Francisco.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aunt Detty, now in her eighties, was ecstatic that I was working for a major airline, but she worried that my temporary status and zero seniority made me more likely to be laid off. In her </span><a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/10/amanuensis-monday-portrait-of-woman.html" style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;" target="_blank">proactive and creative</a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> way, she made up her mind to help my chances of staying on by writing a couple of glowing letters of commendation to the company on my behalf. Working for a company that valued customer service, I cannot help but think her letters might have helped save my job during that uncertain time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One morning as I arrived at work, my supervisor handed me an inter-office envelope. Inside were two letters, the first from the department chief.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Congratulations, Linda! I think you should be very proud of this letter. Mrs. Cormick (sic) wrote to express her appreciation and to commend you for the excellent service you have given her brother-in-law. </i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I also wish to add my thanks for a job obviously well done.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <i>Carolyn David</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <i>Manager, Reservations</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Behind the manager's commendation was a photocopied letter in familiar handwriting. It was impressive, though a bit over the top. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This commendation letter from my aunt to<br />American Airlines, probably helped me from<br />being laid off in 1976, when the airline had to <br />cut some of its recent hires. </span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <i>January 29, 1976</i> </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Miss Carolyn David, Res. Mgr:</span></i></div>
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dear Miss David,</i> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>It is a pleasure to be able to write you this letter about one of your employees.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><i>The other day I learned of the great comfort and consideration given a relative of mine (who speaks little English) by Miss Linda Huesca. Not only did she speak Spanish fluently, but apparently she went out of her way to make my brother-in-law feel safely headed on his way home. I believe she even met him at the airport and put him on the plane. We all appreciate this so much, as the family were not able to be with him that day, and he is elderly.</i> </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><i>Will you please thank Miss Huesca for us? She must be a great asset to your organization.</i></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><i> Sincerely,</i><i> </i><i> </i></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i> (Mrs. Phillip C.) Benita McCormick</i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>P.S. Our brother tells us that in addition to being so helpful the young lady is very attractive.</i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">t was all I could do to keep a straight face in front of my supervisor. Deep down I was grateful my aunt loved me enough to write such a nice, though a bit exaggerated, letter. When the layoffs eventually came, I was spared, and I worked for American for several years afterward. "Well, maybe you didn't need them," she said one night when the letters came up in conversation, "but they didn't hurt, did they?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">O</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">n Wednesday nights I would </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">drive up to San Mateo<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> to visit my <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2016/03/sentimental-sunday-golden-years-of-life.html" target="_blank">aunt and uncle</a>, and before I got there I would stop at a drugstore next to the apartment complex to pick up some flowers and the usual treats - a bottle of Mateus Rosé and a pink tin of peanut brittle. They were all I could afford on my part time salary, but you would have thought I was bringing champagne and caviar. Uncle Phil loved the peanut brittle, and Aunt Detty would have three wine glasses ready, and we would spend the evening talking and laughing until it was time to go home.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One winter evening as I was paying for my gifts, a powerful storm knocked out the power in the neighborhood. I had to wait for someone to let me into the apartment building because the doorbell and electronic buzzer did not work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Uncle Phil had gone to bed early, but Aunt Detty was reclining in her chair as she waited for me, her eyes bright and face aglow in the candlelit living room. She looked like a young girl ready for adventure. As we could not cook dinner that night, we ate peanut butter and celery for dinner and washed it down with my cheap red wine. As the hours passed and our stories grew more outlandish, that wine tasted better with every sip.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She loaned me one of her nightgowns, and we curled up on the couch under a warm blanket. Our candlelit shadows danced on the ceiling as the rain pounded the windows and the lightning crackled in the distance. Aunt Detty's daughter Jane called from nearby San Carlos to make sure we were all right. She sounded relieved, if not a bit wistful, when we reassured her gaily that all was well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eventually the electricity was restored. We watched out the window as the apartments in the surrounding buildings came alive with white light. Giggling like children, we turned the lamps off around us and kept the candles going. We did not want the magic to end. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">* Our nickname for Uncle Phil McCormick.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>**</i>**********</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2016 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i><br />
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<br />Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-90357276139919302202016-03-13T22:39:00.000-07:002018-01-25T21:32:17.226-08:00Sentimental Sunday: The Golden Years of Life and Love<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b>(1889 - 1984)</span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Phillip Columbus McCormick </b>(1892 - 1981)</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">W</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ith an unabashed love of life, Phil and Benita McCormick could have written the book on aging gracefully. Open to new generations and ideas, even well into their 70s and 80s, they blazed boldly forward into the changing world and never looked back.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Venice Canal, by Benita McCormick.<br />Probably painted between mid-1960s-1970s.<br />From the collection of Suzanne (Olson) Wielan</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">d.</span></i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the late 1960s, they moved into the resort-like </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Woodlake complex, at 820 Delaware Avenue in San Mateo, California. (You can see a map of the large complex </span><a href="http://www.woodlakeassociation.com/pdf/sitemap.pdf" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">.) The complex offered a wide variety of facilities and social activities for its residents of all ages. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/05/thankful-thursday-one.html" target="_blank">Uncle Phil</a> was an avid reader and continued to study conversational Spanish and do crossword puzzles. He loved spending time outdoors and thrived in the California sunshine, taking long daily walks, playing golf, and cheering on the San Francisco Giants baseball team. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aunt Detty busied herself painting and teaching art classes, writing, and taking on various entrepreneurial projects. A devout Catholic, she had helped some people convert to the faith and wrote about the experiences in a couple of articles published in <i>Catholic Digest. </i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A woman ahead of her time, in her late 80s she studied Eastern philosophy of the human body; this led her to promote the benefits of acupuncture and bee pollen. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She believed the brain could be exercised to keep it sharp and fit, much the same way one exercises the body, and she even named her brain "Corty," short for cerebral cortex.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was always a treat to visit my great aunt and uncle. My sisters and I would pile eagerly into our family's blue 1969 Chevy Brookwood station wagon for the 40 minute drive up Interstate 280 from San Jose to San Mateo. Knowing a good story or some surprise was in store, we'd race to ring the doorbell and jump up and down impatiently for the sound of the buzzer to unlock the building door. The elevator ride to the third floor was another novelty. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I can still hear my mother reminding us to walk, not run, as we dashed past our parents down the corridor and around the corner to apartment 307. Aunt Detty was always ready to greet us at the door, her eyes sparkling and arms outstretched to greet us with those loving Irish hugs and kisses. Uncle Phil would be waiting inside, his beret already on his head and a putter by his side, ready to swoop off the antsiest of us downstairs to the putting green or poolside. With a wink at my father, he'd hold his hand out to the wiggle-worms, and off they'd go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">While Aunt Detty and my mother went into the kitchen to prepare coffee and treats, there was time to scan the walls and table tops to spy what was new or rearranged since our last visit: a Spanish Talavera plate, a family memento, or one of my aunt's many oil paintings. A must-see was the </span><a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2016/03/friday-funny-writing-on-her-wall.html" style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif;" target="_blank">bathroom wall</a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">, where visitors scrawled messages and left silly jokes and sketches. There was a story behind everything, and our aunt was only too happy to recount them, occasionally embellishing a bit for her receptive audience.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Souvenir crystal pitchers from the 1893 Chicago</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> World's </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fair, engraved with the names of Benita and her younger </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">brother, Eugene McGinnis. Eugene's lost its base,</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> so it</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> appears</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">shorter. They erred with "Benetia." From the collection of </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Suzanne (Olson) Wieland.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She continued to be a prolific artist, and the walls of Apartment 307 were graced by a rotating exhibit of her latest or favorite works. There were sketches and oil paintings of the McCormicks' travels around the world - New Mexico, Italy, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/04/travel-tuesday-rebirth-in-land-of-manana.html" target="_blank">Spain</a>, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/06/travel-tuesday-vacationing-in-mexico.html" target="_blank">Mexico</a>. There were still lifes - one of a bowl of bright yellow lemons juxtaposed against a black background, another evoking a Dutch kitchen, with a covered copper pot resting on a crowded table draped with cloths, and a variety of landscapes (such as the one above of a Venetian canal) inspired by her travels.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the 1960s or 70s, Aunt Detty took up a new study of the human form. She produced a series of South Pacific style nudes, their graceful figures concealed tastefully by tropical flowers and trees as they silently gazed into the distance.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think that of all Aunt Detty's paintings, the sentimental favorite was a tender portrait of her only granddaughter, Suzanne Olson, then about three or four years old. You can see a partial version of that painting below.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Suzanne Olson, about three or four years old, sitting</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>on </i></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>the </i></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>hearth </i></span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">in front of her parents' fireplace. Oil </i><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">on</i><br />
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">canvas. </i><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Painted by </i><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Benita McCormick, circa 1965. </i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">From the collection of Suzanne (Olson) Wieland.</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;">The lovely oil on canvas won first place in numerous art exhibits across the Peninsula. Today it hangs in a place of honor in Suzanne's home, a treasured reminiscence of innocent days gone by. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;">In the picture, Suzanne, dressed in a pale blue nightgown, is leaning back slightly in front of the family hearth, hands clasped and eyes fixed contentedly on something outside our view. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Her rosy complexion and shoulder length golden hair glow in the light of the evening fire, as if to reflect the warmth and purity of her family's love that surrounded her.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">O</span>nce we settled back in the living room, a regal-looking Aunt Detty held court from an overstuffed arm chair as she surveyed her subjects. S</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">he and my mother brought long-gone <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/05/those-places-thursday-gaffney-house_7004.html" target="_blank">Gaffney and McGinnis</a> relatives and ancestors back to life with their hilarious stories, breaking out albums filled with old black-and-white family pictures and occasionally pausing to sketch out jaunty family trees on napkins and scrap paper. The "scrap trees" sometimes made their way to me, and I would stuff them into my own makeshift scrapbook when we got home.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On summer afternoons, we'd go down to the swimming pools with my parents and Uncle Phil. There were two pools at Woodlake: the "grownup pool" and the "kiddie pool," where we usually played. From there we could watch our uncle stroll to the putting green, a daily ritual of his, where he would meet with his golfing buddies in the "putters' club" and practice his strokes. At 6"4", he was easy to spot in a crowd, with his snow-white hair peeking out of his one of his many tweed caps.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then it would be back to the apartment, where you could see the big jetliners taking off from nearby San Francisco International Airport. Most were Pan American Airways or Trans World Airlines 747s bound for exotic destinations: the Holy Land, Europe, Mexico, and the Far East. My sisters and I would watch spellbound from the balcony as the jets banked toward the Pacific Ocean and steered their course toward adventure. We knew they sometimes carried our uncle and aunt off to those exotic places and could not wait for our own turn to fly away and explore the world, too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Indeed, Aunt Detty and Uncle Phil traveled the world well into old age, thanks to the airline flight benefits they received through their daughter, Jane, - first from Trans World Airlines (TWA) and then from Delta Air Lines. They visited the Holy Land in 1962 and returned to Europe and Mexico a number of times. In their mid-80s they went to Japan, beaming as </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">airport personnel whisked them off the plane in wheelchairs "in high style" Aunt Detty said, to save them from walking long distances. They basked in the adulation of the Japanese who paid them the high respect accorded to respected elders for the experience and wisdom of their years</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Closer to home, they began volunteering to visit elderly and ill patients in local nursing homes, where they would read, teach, and sometimes just keep residents company. People often were surprised to learn that these "youngsters" visiting them were, in fact, much older than they.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aunt Detty would throw her head back and laugh along with them when they learned she was in her mid-80s. Quoting Mark Twain, she would remind them, "Age is a matter of mind. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter."</span></div>
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-44369966034705231062016-03-11T07:00:00.000-08:002016-03-11T14:54:31.190-08:00Friday Funny: The Writing on Her Wall<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b style="font-style: italic;">Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b><span style="font-style: italic;">(1889 - 1984)</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Photo: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bookwormlaser/7600374992/in/photolist-czBUG9-7vkfQs-e2fQKB-7mgAv9-9RHj3y-boTRdc-9kaMWf-i7SdQF-7FZa71-bv3UGa-e5CAgW-pJzUnx-aR6UXc-6yMAhq-qrM9jb-8iuCGp-8iuCNg-as3RSS-8ixTbb-8ixTcC-chbgZQ-em8v2b-an1g6U-7K6eGQ-em8qhE-7TujKv-8ixT6u-8iuCFD-99dE3o-aR6URP-boU5Ei-em8qAq-8iuCMx-em8qr1-em2E5k-aKiLeB-aR6UPr-em3wXT-em8qtJ-8ixT91-9LPTtB-7aXhjJ-em8qf3-chbhd9-8ixTeq-4yuCEY-em8qm5-em8qvs-f2EWzP-bCxr2n" target="_blank">Alan Reeves</a>. Creative Commons; in the public domain.</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: large; text-align: justify;">L</span><span style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', serif; text-align: justify;">ike any good social media maven, Benita McCormick had a wide circle of "followers" in the mid-1970s. They visited often and posted witty messages on her wall, eager to read and "like" what others had left there before them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Most were anonymous, but some left names, initials, or tell-tale handwriting styles by which to identify them. There was no counter to show how many "friends" or "followers" Aunt Detty had, who they were or how they were related, no profiles or status updates. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You had to get that from actual conversation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If this seems incongruous, you're right. We are talking about social media in the mid-1970s, decades before high-technology geniuses invented personal computers or dreamed up the term or even the concepts of "Facebook," "Instagram," and "Twitter."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You see, to view my Aunt Detty's "wall," people had to visit her at home in San Mateo, California. The way it typically worked was that after exchanging pleasantries, most people excused themselves briefly from their gracious hostess and made a beeline for the bathroom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. The Bathroom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Aunt Detty loved art in every form and believed people should not just look at it but participate in it and have fun in the process. Taking her philosophy to heart, she covered a bathroom wall facing the toilet in bright floral wallpaper from from floor to ceiling, drawing a white picket fence over the bottom half so the flowers were visible between the slats. At the edge of the fence she hung a pencil on a string for her "guests," inviting them to not just sit there but get "inspired."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The McCormick's bathroom was a "must see" destination for her visitors. People young and old spent their time in the "throne room" reading the latest postings and the rest of the time adding their own contributions: daisies peeking over the fence, silly faces, and a variety of good-natured sayings. The postings, of course, were light-hearted, respectful, and proper, befitting their 80-something-year-old residents. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was not unusual to hear howls of laughter from men and women alike behind that door. Such a conversation piece it was! Even the most introverted visitors had something to say after visiting "the fence."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I've drawn my own elementary rendition of that fence here with some the actual postings as I remember them. I won't tell you which saying was mine.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My rendition of Benita McCormick's 1970s "social media" wall.<br />Yes, Kilroy was there, too!</i></td></tr>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2016 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i><br />
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-775212503819410402015-11-01T09:14:00.000-08:002018-01-25T21:27:39.949-08:00Sentimental Sunday: Happy 100th Birthday, Daddy<br />
<i style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Gilbert Cayetano Huesca </b>(1915 - 2009)</span></i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Everyone knew this gentle man as Gilbert Cayetano Huesca.<br />But to my sisters and me, he will always be our "Daddy."</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">O</span>f<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> the many things he did in his 93 years, my father couldn't be prouder of anything more than his family. "She looked into my eyes," he said of <a href="https://www.blogger.com/Sentimental%20Sunday:%20%20Popping%20the%20Question" target="_blank">my mother</a>. "I looked back into hers. We were very much in love. How lucky I was. How lucky I am. And here (all of you) are the results.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Today, November 1st, is my father's birthday. He would have been 100 years old.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He showed his love for us: my mother, my sisters and me, our husbands, and our children - his grandchildren - in words and actions, every day. And that's why, no matter how many years go by, his love will live on in the hearts of our family.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think we were the lucky ones. But blessed, too, so very blessed!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Happy Birthday, Daddy! I love you with all my heart. xoxo</span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2015 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i><br />
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<br />Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-22180784396775281512015-10-19T18:44:00.002-07:002018-01-25T21:32:43.724-08:00Amanuensis Monday: Portrait of a Woman<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b>(1889 - 1984)</span></i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A local Bay Area feature story from the mid-</i><br />
<i>1970s </i><i>depicts Benita (McGinnis) </i><i>McCormick </i><br />
<i>with mementos</i><i> from </i><i>her </i><i>travels.</i><br />
<i>Clipping courtesy of Suzanne Olson Wieland.</i></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;">[Note: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;"><i>Amanuensis</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;"> is an ancient word meaning one who performs the function of writing down or transcribing the words of another. Derived from the Latin root </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;"><i>manu- </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;"> , meaning manual or hand, the word also has been used as a synonym for </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;"><i>secretary</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;"> or </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;"><i>scribe.</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;">]</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new" serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A </span>few years ago, my cousin, Suzanne Olson Wieland, sent me a newspaper clipping about her maternal grandmother (and my maternal great-aunt), <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/04/sentimental-sunday-keeping-lord-company.html" target="_blank">Benita (McGinnis) McCormick.</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The paper was most likely </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman, serif';">The San Mateo Times</i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">, a publication covering peninsula news of the San Francisco Bay Area. Based on the photograph, I would </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "new" , serif;">estimate the</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> article was published in the mid-1970s. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A transcription of the story follows here. (The story contains </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">one factual error; it refers erroneously to Aunt Detty's son as "George." His name was Phillip, and he went by his nickname, "Bud."</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">PORTRAIT OF A WOMAN</span></b></blockquote>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She Grabs An Idea…</span></b></blockquote>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then Just Hangs On</span></b></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Artist and businesswoman, Benita McCormick, zips through life with vim and vigor. The secret of her zest is to grab hold of an idea in the same way one would grab hold of the tail of a donkey - then hang on.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was shortly after her <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/05/sentimental-sunday-not-about-to-let-her.html" target="_blank">marriage to Phillip McCormick</a>, a railroad executive with the Baltimore-Ohio in Chicago, that Mrs. McCormick began putting her ideas to work. Prior to that she had been too busy studying art illustration and painting at the Art Institute in Chicago and the galleries in Paris and later, working on the Chicago movie censor board.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mrs. McCormick’s method is to take a creative idea, hammer and chisel it into the commercial world and produce a going concern.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shortly after her marriage she got the idea of teaching children to paint to music after seeing the moods created by violinists during the rehearsal of love scenes in Hollywood.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She rented a studio in the Astor Hotel in Milwaukee, where she was then living, and began to teach the children painting to the tunes of the Teddy Bears’ Picnic and the Clock Shop. Her idea was so successful that the Milwaukee Art Institute copied her idea and installed an electric organ in their institute.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her painting classes brought an acquaintance with the youngsters’ mothers and out of this grew her interior decorating business which was soon thriving.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The McCormicks returned to Chicago and became involved in raising <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/06/matrilineal-monday-two-little-bundles.html" target="_blank">their twins</a>, Jane and George (sic). What then could be more natural than for a young mother busy at home to decide to redecorate her dining room?</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So Benita set to work. She stripped the dining room of its five panels of wallpapered hunting dogs and began to paint. She painted the room in oils showing the different fairytales that would entertain the children.</span></blockquote>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Article about Benita McCormick</span> </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Guests coming to the house were impressed and soon she was doing scenes for other people’s homes. One painting she did for her father, of his favorite fishing haunt, added $500 to the sale of the house.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As the children grew older and became more independent Benita turned her interest towards advertising. She got the idea of making Christmas cards that showed the different models of cars. And she soon had more orders than she could handle. The result was a studio business that ran for three years.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A business enterprise that started during World War II and was to last for 16 years began when Benita dreamed up the idea of a job survey. Her idea was to call people in their homes and tell them of the job opportunities available to them. She would then send the prospective employe her card and have them present it to the personnel office that they applied to.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was a workers market in those years; there were hundreds of jobs available that employers were desperate to fill. Benita took her idea to the most conservative firm in town and won them over with a contract.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At the end of 16 years of personnel work Benita decided to retire with her husband and “have some fun.” They made their base in San Mateo and began to travel.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They went to Europe and <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/04/sentimental-sunday-keeping-lord-company.html" target="_blank">fell in love with Spain</a> where they stayed one year. After a year in California they returned to Spain and toured the Near East and the Holy Land as well.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I’m mad about Spain,” says Mrs. McCormick, “I love the people, they’re so warm and friendly. I like Barcelona best because it has a lot of life to it.”</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was during her stay in Barcelona that Benita became interested in applying gold leaf to statues. She found a man in Barcelona who worked in gold leaf and became his student for five hours a day for eight months.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Professor Antonio’s studio was what had once been a stable and later the carriage house of a great mansion. It had walls one foot thick that were pocked with cannon balls, a false floor and cathedral-high ceiling.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Back in California, Benita applied her newly learned gold-leaf technique to making coats of arms. She first became interested in shields because she thought “it was a nice thing for people to have pride in their families.”</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Like all her ideas, this, too, has become an enterprising project with Benita making coats of arms for families and newly formed businesses.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And the McCormick’s coat of arms is “Without Fear.”</span></blockquote>
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-13321537706724097552015-06-30T17:48:00.001-07:002018-01-25T21:30:50.482-08:00Travel Tuesday: The Exotic and the Mundane in Mexico City<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b>(1889 - 1984)</span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Phillip Columbus McCormick </b>(1892 - 1981)</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Gilbert Cayetano Huesca </b>(1915 - 2009)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Joan Joyce (Schiavon) Huesca</b> (1928 - 1987)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">F</span>rom the <i>Many Branches, One Tree</i> treasure chest, this 1966 photograph celebrates the spring visit of my great-uncle-and-aunt, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/05/wisdom-wednesday-scrapbook-of-lifetime.html" target="_blank">Phil and Benita (McGinnis) McCormick</a>, to Mexico City, where our family was living at the time.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Cover of the folio containing a souvenir photograph of my<br />parents' and great aunt and uncle's dinner at the Mauna Loa<br />Restaurant, Mexico City.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Souvenir photograph of dinner at the Mauna Loa Restaurant<br />in Mexico City. Left to right: my parents, Gilbert and Joan<br />Huesca and my great aunt and great uncle, Benita and Phillip<br />McCormick. Spring 1966.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My parents, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2012/11/sentimental-sunday-meeting-family.html" target="_blank">Gilbert and Joan (Schiavon) Huesca</a>, took them to dine at the legendary Mauna Loa Restaurant at 172 Hamburgo Street, in the<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zona_Rosa,_Mexico_City" target="_blank"> Zona Rosa neighborhood </a>of the Federal District. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Polynesian-themed restaurant was considered by many to be quite exotic in its day. It later burned down, but its former customers and fans still talk about it today, and you can view photos of it on the <a href="http://critiki.com/location/?loc_id=280" target="_blank">Critiki</a> blog. Indeed, my parents and my aunt and uncle shared fond reminiscences of their beautiful evening for many years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The rest of the McCormick's visit was much more mundane. Some days after their dinner at the Mauna Loa, my parents and youngest sister travelled on personal business to Brownsville, Texas. Brave souls that they were, Aunt Detty and Uncle Phil stayed and babysat my other two sisters and me for the week. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Uncle Phil used to walk to our elementary school to pick us up at the end of the school day. Though in his 70s by now, he remained energetic and relished his daily walks through the city, nonplussed by the high altitude. One afternoon on our way home, he took us into a candy shop to look at all the treats. It was Holy Week, and the shop, like most others in the city, was sporting a colorful window display of its most festive creations and goodies in anticipation of Easter Sunday. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As only children could do with a loving uncle, we talked him into buying us half the candy store.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Well, maybe not <i>that </i>much, but it must have seemed that way to Aunt Detty when we got home, licking our sticky fingers and chasing each other around the house on a sugar high. There went her chances of getting us to eat our dinner that night! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As she regarded us with exasperation, I wonder if she recalled the words of our late grandmother and her sister, Alice (McGinnis) Schiavon. "Nana" once joked to my mother that having four little girls was like going on a wild adventure with four little monkeys.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Luckily for us, Aunt Detty couldn't stay angry for very long. Hours later that evening. with Uncle Phil nearby in his chair with his pipe and newspaper, my sisters and I sat at her knee, breathlessly listening to her recount one of her Irish fairy tales in a dramatic brogue.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Monkeys never had it so good.</span></div>
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-37997728890577361472015-04-12T00:00:00.000-07:002015-04-12T00:00:02.892-07:00Sentimental Sunday: Keeping the Lord Company in the Dark<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b>(1889 - 1984)</span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Phillip Columbus McCormick </b>(1892 - 1981)</span></i><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/05/wisdom-wednesday-scrapbook-of-lifetime.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">P</span>hil and Benita (McGinnis) McCormick's</a> love affair with Spain began in 1960, when they <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/03/sentimental-sunday-loving-and-letting-go.html" target="_blank">arrived for a couple of months</a> and ended up<a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/04/travel-tuesday-rebirth-in-land-of-manana.html" target="_blank"> living there for a year</a>, making some of the best memories of their lives. Benita - my great-aunt Detty - also created some of her <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/04/treasure-chest-thursday-well-always_9.html" target="_blank">best art</a> there. In her untitled ode to Spain below, she painted a loving picture of the country that captured her heart and sparked her imagination.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Iberian Peninsula at night, NASA, <br />International Space Station, December 4, 2011<br />Creative Commons; in the public domain</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">My husband and I used to wonder<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">About this nocturnal activity of a people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">It puzzles most visitors,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">But we think God loves it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Picture, if you will, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">El Rey de los cielos<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Gazing nightly upon our dark, revolving earth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">All is stygian<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Except for a little glimmer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Around New York.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The Americas are asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Then, gracefully, España spins slowly into view<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">And warms His heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">For there below, stepping gaily but with authority,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Heads high, spines straight, toes pointed,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Under the gleaming lights<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Of every town and city in Spain,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Pass a proud and beautiful people,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">A whole nation of night-walkers,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Laughing and talking<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">To keep the Lord company in the dark.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">- <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/10/thankful-thursday-passion-for-creating.html" target="_blank">Benita McCormick</a><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>**</i>**********</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">2015 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i><br />
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-5238344923493337112015-04-09T00:36:00.003-07:002018-01-25T21:33:13.086-08:00Treasure Chest Thursday: We'll Always Have Barcelona<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b>(1889 - 1984)</span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Phillip Columbus McCormick </b>(1892 - 1981)</span></i><br />
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Married couples often have a private word or catchphrase, born of shared experiences and rich with meaning. My great-uncle and great-aunt, Phillip and Benita (McGinnis) McCormick's catchphrase was, "We'll always have Barcelona."</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">"Las Ramblas" depicts a Sunday afternoon on the famous boulevard in Barcelona.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">My great-aunt Detty, Benita (McGinnis) McCormick, painted this as an ode to the</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">year long sojourn she and my great-uncle Phillip McCormick spent in Barcelona.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Oil on canvas, 1970.</span></i></td></tr>
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Those of us who loved them during their 50-plus years of marriage knew that of the countless places around the globe they had visited, nowhere else resonated with Aunt Detty and Uncle Phil more than that captivatingly proud, complex, and progressive land of Gaudì, Dali, and Picasso.</div>
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Barcelona was many things to Phil and Benita. It was a <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/04/travel-tuesday-rebirth-in-land-of-manana.html" target="_blank">retreat that offered them respite</a> from the <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/03/sentimental-sunday-loving-and-letting-go.html" target="_blank">pangs of separation</a> as they watched their children become adults and reclaimed their own lives. It was a haven of inspiration, offering new ideas and methods of expression to an artist and an art lover who welcomed growth and new ideas. And it was a seat of romance, where Arab and Roman influences danced gaily with the Catalan culture and rekindled their passion for life and each other.</div>
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As time passed, all it took to elicit a nod and a knowing smile was for one of them to repeat that storied phrase, summoning in an instant those memories of their glory days in Barcelona.</div>
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In 1970, some ten years after their extended stay there, Aunt Detty painted a tribute to the city that stole their hearts. Titled "<i>Las Ramblas,</i>" it is an 18" x 24" oil on canvas depiction of various groups of people, from lovers on a park bench to little girls in their First Communion veils and dresses to their parents gathering with their families on the famous <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWWgsNPj4f8" target="_blank">Barcelona boulevard</a> on a sunny Sunday morning.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"First Communion Sunday in Barcelona." Inspiration for her later oil on </span></i><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">canvas</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">painting titled, “Las Ramblas,” this was painted by my great-aunt Detty, Benita </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(McGinnis) McCormick. It is reminiscent of Degas’ style. Her writing in the</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">lower left hand corner notes the title and her name, "Benita E. McCormick.” </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Watercolor, circa 1970.</span></i></td></tr>
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Their daughter, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/03/wedding-wednesday-ole-and-jane.html" target="_blank">Jane (McCormick) Olson</a>, gave me the painting many years ago. A couple of years before she died, she gave me another, smaller painting, this one a watercolor, of the same boulevard. It seems that Aunt Detty had painted it first but was not entirely happy with the result, so she stored it away in a trunk for many years. Both paintings hang on adjacent walls in our family room.</div>
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<i>First Communion Sunday, </i>the watercolor above, focuses on a group of little girls right after their First Communion and is reminiscent of the motion and pattern of an Edgar Degas ballerina portrayal. Unlike its later version, <i>Las Ramblas, </i>its mood is brighter and more impressionistic by way of its lightly-brushed figures and pastels. The day feels warmer, hot even, with a flat light on the ground and surroundings. </div>
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By contrast, <i>Las Ramblas </i>has a more complex combination of shadows and light. The time of day seems later than the one in the watercolor. There is more subtlety in the details and gradation in the colors, with just a hint of a light blue sky beyond the sunlight-dappled canopy of trees. The activity is more varied; while the little girls first catch your eye, your find your gaze traveling diagonally toward the flower stand in the lower right hand corner, up to the center where the men in white suits stand as their wives talk, and then finally resting on the young people on the bench who seem oblivious to everything but each other. </div>
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I have always loved this painting the most of all my aunt's works. Every time I look at it, I wonder about the stories behind the people and marvel at how they seem so connected. Though I have yet to visit this charming city, still I am drawn into its busy, charismatic boulevard where untold surprises await. I can almost hear the lilt of my aunt's voice beside me as I weave my way through a sea of faces and a cacophony of sounds - life at its best. </div>
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Thanks to Aunt Detty, we too, will always have Barcelona.</div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2015 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i><br />
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-53543166081334592842015-04-08T00:30:00.000-07:002015-04-08T00:30:00.513-07:00(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: Visiting El Greco Museum<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b>(1889 - 1984)</span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Phillip Columbus McCormick </b>(1892 - 1981)</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toledo,_Spain" target="_blank">T</a></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toledo,_Spain" target="_blank">oledo</a>, about an hour's drive from Madrid in central Spain, was one of the <i>excursiones</i><i> requisitas</i>, or obligatory stops, for my great-aunt and artist <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/11/encounters-with-legend.html" target="_blank">Benita (McGinnis) McCormick</a>. She and my<a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/05/thankful-thursday-one.html" target="_blank"> great-uncle Phil</a> made a pilgrimage to the <a href="http://www.spainisculture.com/en/museos/toledo/casa-museo_de_el_greco.html" target="_blank">Museo del Greco</a> during their year-long <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/03/sentimental-sunday-loving-and-letting-go.html" target="_blank">Spanish sojourn in 1960</a>, to view the master's dramatic artwork and see a replica of his Renaissance-era home. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Benita and Phillip McCormick leaving El Greco Museum.<br />Caption reads, "Recuerdo de Toledo - Casa del Greco."<br />"Souvenir of Toledo - Home of El Greco."<br />1960, Toledo, Spain.</span><br /></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The caption on this picture postcard is disconcerting. While the museum is situated on land where <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/El_Greco" target="_blank">El Greco's</a> home may have stood, the home within is in fact a very good replica. It probably did not matter to Aunt Detty and Uncle Phil, who like many visitors to the museum, were presumably more awed by the excellent exhibit of many original paintings and sculptures of El Greco and other 17th century artists.</span></div>
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<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i>Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-55455568415579097592015-04-07T00:30:00.000-07:002015-04-07T21:03:56.109-07:00Travel Tuesday: Rebirth in the Land of Mañana<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b>(1889 - 1984)</span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Phillip Columbus McCormick </b>(1892 - 1981)</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">W</span>hen a letter begins with the words, "Sit down," a big announcement is sure to follow.</div>
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That was how my great-uncle-and-aunt, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/05/wisdom-wednesday-scrapbook-of-lifetime.html" target="_blank">Phillip and Benita (McGinnis) McCormick</a>, learned that their daughter, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/03/wedding-wednesday-ole-and-jane.html" target="_blank">Jane, had married her true love, Eldon "Ole" Olson</a>, in a private church ceremony in Carmel-by-the-Sea, California, in May of 1960.</div>
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Reading the news in their Barcelona <i>pension,</i> some 5,000 miles away from home, they were undoubtedly surprised, though maybe not entirely. True, it had been easier to see their son, Bud, marry and start a family, but letting go of their daughter was tougher to do. </div>
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They had to admit that she did what they would want her to do, which was to follow her heart and do things her own way. Besides, she <i>had</i> tried her best to cushion the news. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Did Aunt Detty gold-leaf this small statue of<br />the Virgin Mary? From her collection of Spanish<br />Madonnas, it now sits on my dressing table. </i></td></tr>
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In characteristic fashion, Uncle Phil and Aunt Detty rose to the occasion. Swallowing their pride, they sent her and Ole their congratulations and decided to extend their stay a while longer. And being the larger-than-life couple they were, even in their 70s, their idea of "a while" turned into a year.</div>
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Spain, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/03/sentimental-sunday-loving-and-letting-go.html" target="_blank">a place to retreat in a moment of uncertainty</a> as they struggled to give their daughter some room to grow, became the place of their rebirth and rediscovery.</div>
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They made the rounds of the major art museums and architectural jewels, not just in Catalonia but throughout the country and became active members of the local artists' colony. Uncle Phil, already somewhat familiar with Spanish, began taking a conversational class so he could talk to people during his long walks through town. Aunt Detty, always looking to reinvent herself artistically, signed on with a master artist to learn the art of gold leaf.</div>
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In a 1960 letter to <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2012/03/sentimental-sunday-not-just-another.html" target="_blank">my parents</a>, Aunt Detty's words spill out breathlessly, and she seems to abbreviate many of them to help her fingers keep up with her rapid-fire thoughts. Here, "g.l." stands for "gold leaf," while "E" stands for <i>España</i>, or Spain:</div>
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<i>I've had 6 days of wonderful gold-leaf application. Yesterday I g.l. a little shelf. Today I do the Virgin (plaster) that I helped repair & prepared for g.l. yesterday. There is no one I know of in our country doing this gold and silver work and after we tour the rest of E, we may return here for Sept. & Oct. do do further study with this wonderful maestro - the head of the craft in Barcelona. We work in his studio-workshop - the former stables of a castle (walled - even now, if you please) and so old that even Antonio's father, who had the place before him, doesn't know its age.</i></blockquote>
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I wonder if the small statue of the Virgin Mary, shown in the picture above, is the same plaster Virgin that Aunt Detty was gold leafing? My cousin, her granddaughter Suzanne (Olson) Wieland, gave it to me a couple of years ago, one of a collection of Madonnas Aunt Detty brought back from Spain.</div>
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Evidently, her hosts were equally fascinated by their older pupil:</div>
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<i>Each day our lesson from 4:30 pm till 8 pm is punctuated by loud rings of the bell to admit some visitor, or client, to meet the "Americana." [The maestro's] daughter, 14, brings her school friends and his sister-in-law came to check on me. . . . Evidently I pass muster, look harmless, and so get the welcome Española! I love them all.</i></blockquote>
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Aunt Detty and Uncle Phil were especially taken by the Spaniards' slower pace of life, their philosophy that there is always <i>ma</i><i>ñana - </i>another day, and that if things don't resolve themselves right away, they will work themselves out eventually. In the same letter to my parents, she marvels at this slower pace of life.</div>
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<i>Joan, this is a week to the day from the start of this note.... you also know what mañana means - Mary Harlow told me that if a Spaniard says "Mañana - mañana" that really means the next day. but life is <u>so</u> full here - I can understand how it takes months to get things done. No wonder they think we do everything by "machinas" we move <u>so</u> much faster than they.</i></blockquote>
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As with everything else they did, Phil and Benita McCormick wholeheartedly embraced the lifestyle of <i>mañana. </i>Sure enough, they gradually accepted the idea of Jane's being married and lovingly welcomed their new son-in-law, Ole Olson.</div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">2015 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i><br />
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-88268359497302594572015-03-04T23:01:00.000-08:002016-04-17T01:32:00.558-07:00Wedding Wednesday: Ole and Jane (McCormick) Olson<br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Benita Jane "Janie" (McCormick) Olson</b> </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> (1927 - 2011)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Elson "Ole" Olson </b>(1924 - 1994)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">O</span>n May 6, 1960, while 20 million television viewers watched England's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yamOeo2aPIw" target="_blank">Princess Margaret marry Anthony Armstrong-Jones</a> at Westminster Abbey, Eldon Olson and Benita Jane McCormick were being married in front of two witnesses in the quaint village of Carmel-by-the-Sea. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ole and <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/02/wisdom-wednesday-young-for-such-little.html" target="_blank">Jane</a>, as everyone knew them, had opted for a quiet wedding ceremony on the Monterey Coast, some 100 miles south of San Francisco International Airport, where they worked for Trans World Airlines. Charmed by Ole's romantic invitation to her to spend her life seeing the world together, Jane gladly said "yes" and set off to buy herself a wedding dress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Unlike Princess Margaret and her groom, who arrived at Westminster Cathedral in a royal horse-drawn carriage amid a grand entourage, Ole and Jane drove for nearly two hours down to Carmel in a little Volkswagen Beetle, accompanied by their friends, Jerry and Sue Williams. It would have been a cool and clear spring day, with temperatures ranging between 50 - 64 degrees Fahrenheit. Once there, they headed into </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">the picturesque </span><a href="http://www.churchofthewayfarer.com/index.htm" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;" target="_blank">Church of the Wayfarer</a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> at the intersection of Seventh and Lincoln Streets.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ole and Jane (McCormick) Olson on their<br />wedding day, May 6, 1960, at the Church of<br />the Wayfarer, Carmel-by-the-Sea, California.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Inside, Sue Williams would have helped Jane change into her wedding dress, which we see here. In her typical good taste, it was a stylish knee-length pale blue taffeta dress cinched at the waist with a satin belt, with a full skirt and a demure broad v-neck collar adorned with a large bow and chiffon-like three-quarter length sleeves. A small pillbox hat with a short wispy veil crowned her head. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This snapshot shows us the happy couple just outside the church after the wedding ceremony. Jane smiles obligingly, her veil blowing lightly in the Carmel breeze. Ole, his arm around his bride, looks at her and not the camera, standing tall and proud.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Unlike her extroverted mother, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/05/sentimental-sunday-not-about-to-let-her.html" target="_blank">Benita,</a> or even the British royal family, Jane was never much for fanfare. For her, getting married was all that mattered, and as long as she and Ole were together, she wanted nothing else - neither a big wedding, nor guests, nor gifts. Even the simple gold band Ole slipped over her finger acted as both engagement and wedding ring.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">A congratulatory telegram from friends of<br />Ole and Jane Olson in care of the Church<br />of the Wayfarer, notes the wedding took<br />place in the afternoon of May 6, 1960.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Initially, Jane might have been apprehensive about telling her parents, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/05/wisdom-wednesday-scrapbook-of-lifetime.html" target="_blank">Benita and Phil McCormick,</a> <i>after </i>the fact. Then again, they had <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/03/sentimental-sunday-loving-and-letting-go.html" target="_blank">recently flown to Barcelona, Spain</a>, for an indefinite stay. She saw no reason to interrupt their stay by asking them to come home for the brief ceremony. She sat down and wrote them a letter announcing the news.</span></div>
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<br />Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-16282983739862549482015-03-01T03:38:00.001-08:002015-03-06T15:02:42.247-08:00Sentimental Sunday: Loving and Letting Go<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Benita Elizabeth (McGinnis) McCormick </b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> (1889 - 1984)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Phillip Columbus McCormick </b>(1892 - 1981)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>Phillip Eugene "Bud" </b></i></span><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>McCormick </b>(1927 - 2004)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Benita Jane "Janie" (McCormick) Olson</b> </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> (1927 - 2011)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Elson "Ole" Olson </b>(1924 - 1994)</i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhCmBu-4Og0AyiCSqoQkgkXsiQSUA-gs_Kvwd4uASFhB2lDwh8MrcaxQBpZORnMiOgdTA-Eygb0N6ynpLEiusDgWVPVUdFHGIPn2-GW1vVPqf_mIu7CBTym5tlYt3oJMXlRH_8_A/s1600/IMG_4666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhCmBu-4Og0AyiCSqoQkgkXsiQSUA-gs_Kvwd4uASFhB2lDwh8MrcaxQBpZORnMiOgdTA-Eygb0N6ynpLEiusDgWVPVUdFHGIPn2-GW1vVPqf_mIu7CBTym5tlYt3oJMXlRH_8_A/s1600/IMG_4666.jpg" height="320" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Benita Jane McCormick, known as "Jane," circa 1960.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A</span>s happens eventually to parents everywhere, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/05/wisdom-wednesday-scrapbook-of-lifetime.html" target="_blank">Phil and Benita McCormick</a> must have wondered how they could have just blinked one day and looked up to find their <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/06/wordless-wednesday-its-all-relative.html" target="_blank">son and daughter </a>all grown up: living independently, working, falling in love, and starting families of their own. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Their son, Bud, married a local beauty queen named Ruth Kant sometime in the 1950s. Bud and Ruth had a daughter, but their marriage was short-lived. Some time after their divorce, Bud fell in love again, this time with a young woman named Barbara Bowman. They married, had five sons, and established a home in the Chicago suburbs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jane went away to university in New Mexico to major in English and worked during her summer vacations as a <a href="http://www.womensheritagetrail.org/women/HarveyGirls.php" target="_blank">"Harvey Girl"</a> at the Fred Harvey <a href="http://grandcanyonhistory.clas.asu.edu/sites_southrim_brightangellodge.html" target="_blank">Bright Angel Lodge</a> at <a href="http://grandcanyonhistory.clas.asu.edu/sites_southrim.html" target="_blank">Grand Canyon, Arizona</a>. After a few years, she was offered a job as a reservations agent for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trans_World_Airlines" target="_blank">Trans World Airlines (TWA)</a> in California. She worked for the airline in Fresno for a short time before transferring as a ticket agent to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Francisco_International_Airport" target="_blank">San Francisco International Airport</a>, where she met a handsome and charming Norwegian-American TWA freight agent, Eldon "Ole" Olson.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfN74ms42mgE8jPcfw42swXnNKjhmb3EVuVQkmKcTX1RD8lA50GQGfT9HfX89gi9-A4ekEQVuURUTnWcTFzlfFaKwI8N_4E6k4sb4CAnVkjn1B-H_wsKNeMQ2KNzC_VbYjNffSIg/s1600/IMG_9091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfN74ms42mgE8jPcfw42swXnNKjhmb3EVuVQkmKcTX1RD8lA50GQGfT9HfX89gi9-A4ekEQVuURUTnWcTFzlfFaKwI8N_4E6k4sb4CAnVkjn1B-H_wsKNeMQ2KNzC_VbYjNffSIg/s1600/IMG_9091.JPG" height="246" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This menu cover from Bright Angel Lodge at Grand Canyon,<br />Arizona, hung in Jane (McCormick) Olson's kitchen for many<br />years, a fond memory from her days there as a Harvey Girl</span>.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Meanwhile, by 1959, Phil, who had retired some years before, and Benita were feeling lonesome for their daughter. They sold their home in Chicago and moved to California, renting an apartment at <a href="http://www.apartmentcities.com/California/Burlingame_Apartments/the_arlington/35964/photos/" target="_blank">The Arlington</a> at 1401 Floribunda Avenue in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burlingame,_California" target="_blank">Burlingame</a>, near the airport. It was a big move for a couple entering their 70s, but they were thrilled to be closer to Jane and looked forward to seeing her often.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A TWA gate agent offers his hand to<br />Jane McCormick as she disembarks<br />a jet on one of her many travels.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">At 32 years old, she was having the time of her life, working for a major international airline during the Golden Age of air travel. It was the same way Phil had felt during early days with the railroad in the 1920s. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In 1960, most airports were new and clean, bright places that attracted not only business and leisure travelers but also the curious who came to see what all the fuss was about. And there sure was a lot of fuss. Large concourses displayed artistic tourism posters beckoning people to see new places. Passenger lounges offered travelers and would-be travelers enormous windows to gaze through at sleek and silvery jet airplanes that promised to take them in style to see their families, or maybe even to an exotic vacation abroad, much quicker than by rail or boat. Airline employees, usually clean-cut young men and women, wore crisp uniforms, enjoyed good pay and flight benefits, and received special training in customer service, charm, and etiquette. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Om08l5RONWk1X3t8KgBrRbyyAXphNQf9NaRgBkSVjUOPK47ugn_b0ahAD4A-cnrl3sLtY3-U-1m7aUMIOmhSaGM1WeP2o2DrQ-OWqBQAmgEDwW5KFam-yteTywTiwOg7PIThJg/s1600/IMG_4656.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Om08l5RONWk1X3t8KgBrRbyyAXphNQf9NaRgBkSVjUOPK47ugn_b0ahAD4A-cnrl3sLtY3-U-1m7aUMIOmhSaGM1WeP2o2DrQ-OWqBQAmgEDwW5KFam-yteTywTiwOg7PIThJg/s1600/IMG_4656.JPG" height="315" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Eldon "Ole" Olson, year unknown</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Passengers at the time were generally from the middle and upper classes. Decked out in smart outfits and wearing the latest hairstyles, they came to airports to see and be seen. Those traveling for pleasure were typically accompanied by large entourages of family and friends who saw them off and greeted them on their return as if they were the most important people in the world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No wonder, then, that Jane and Ole's courtship felt so magical, especially against this glamorous backdrop. Ole Olson was everything Jane had dreamed of: funny and bright, kind, attentive, and romantic. She could not believe the similarities between him and her father. Like Phil McCormick, Ole was fair-skinned and fair-haired and was from Minnesota. To top it off, he was a freight agent (<a href="http://statehistoricalsocietyofmissouri.org/cdm/compoundobject/collection/twa/id/4319/rec/4" target="_blank">and later supervisor of ramp services</a>) for TWA, just as Phil had been a freight agent for the railroad. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When asked years later about those days, Ole recalled that Jane was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He loved her lilting laugh, the way she looked up at him through her clear blue eyes and long dark eyelashes, and the graceful way she moved through a room. He teased her about being sentimental, but he loved her for it, all the same. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It gradually became clear to Benita and Phil that their little girl was falling in love with Ole Olson. As she began spending more time with him and less time with her parents, they reluctantly had to admit that they were no longer at the center of their daughter's life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes love is about letting go. As much as they understood that, Phil and Benita also realized they would have to find something else to fill their new-found time. So just months after arriving in California, they closed up the apartment and obtained two one-way TWA airline passes to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barcelona" target="_blank">Barcelona, Spain</a>, to begin the next phase of their lives.</span></div>
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">**</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">**********</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">2015 Linda Huesca Tully</span></div>
Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-91761341491408877292015-02-10T00:30:00.000-08:002015-02-10T00:40:36.005-08:00Talented Tuesday: Lady in Winter<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b>(1889 - 1984)</span></i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Benita (McCormick) McGinnis drew this untitled<br />chalk rendering in Chicago, possibly in 1931. </span> </i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">W</span>ith winter snow and rain storms in full force across the world this week, it seems appropriate to post this chalk drawing by my great-aunt "Detty," <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/10/thankful-thursday-passion-for-creating.html" target="_blank">Benita McCormick.</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The back of this portrait contains no information to date it, but it resembles Aunt Detty's artistic style during the early 1900s. If you look closely, you can see the outline of the thin brown wooden frame that held the portrait for decades until it fell apart in the late 1980s. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The writing in the lower right hand corner of the picture is barely visible, but there seems to be a number, possibly "'31," which could indicate that Aunt Detty drew this in 1931. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The picture is untitled, as far as I can see, but I call it the "Lady in Winter." On the back you can see that my aunt purchased the art board at a Chicago art supply store for 75 cents.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Aunt Detty's daughter, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2015/02/wisdom-wednesday-young-for-such-little.html" target="_blank">Jane (McCormick) Olson</a>, gave me this picture in the mid-1980s. I took it out at Christmastime to display on my antique dresser, across from a table lamp that also belonged to Aunt Detty and a small statue from one of her travels. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhKu5SSaPWeBrSjPj8YZ36irE4PEQyUvwizySsLJehWoMrp0dps4Ffjtma9xJgdqBHgkTwuaNVJ9V4OP1qsdQafES4RVEaFFitbsn-qVK0SxsrGLSx24dKtbzScZlMxAAIDH-TA/s1600/IMG_9105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhKu5SSaPWeBrSjPj8YZ36irE4PEQyUvwizySsLJehWoMrp0dps4Ffjtma9xJgdqBHgkTwuaNVJ9V4OP1qsdQafES4RVEaFFitbsn-qVK0SxsrGLSx24dKtbzScZlMxAAIDH-TA/s1600/IMG_9105.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">The Lady in Winter, still as beautiful as she was when Aunt Detty<br />created her nearly a century ago, today sits contentedly on my<br />antique dresser, a reminder of an elegant and gracious era. </span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This "Lady in Winter" looks quite content here, dressed fashionably in her red wide-brimmed hat as a stray lock of her gathered-up hair catches the wind. A matching thick red scarf gently drapes around her high neck, falling softly over what looks like a fur coat so typical of middle class midwestern ladies at the time. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A steady snow swirls around her as she serenely yet confidently makes her way down the street against a stormy sky, just before dusk.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Her lips slightly pulled back into a near-smile, she looks straight ahead as if anticipating a pleasant event or meeting.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> It is easy to imagine her warming up the room when she walked in, turning heads with her fine features and rosy countenance.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She is, the more I think of it, rather a lot like <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/05/wisdom-wednesday-scrapbook-of-lifetime.html" target="_blank">Aunt Detty</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Where is she going? Who is she meeting? Only she knows. What I <i>do</i> know for sure, though, is that the Lady in Winter cheers me up every morning as she sits there on my dresser, reminding me that no matter what weather lies ahead, it is one's light from within that warms the heart and cheers the soul. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>**</i>**********</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">2015 Linda Huesca Tully</span><br />
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<br />Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-16536067447683981942015-02-04T18:00:00.000-08:002015-02-05T09:00:40.595-08:00Wisdom Wednesday: Young for Such a Little While<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Benita Jane (McCormick) Olson </b></i></span><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </i><i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">(1927 - 2011)</span></i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jane McCormick, Chicago, Illinois,<br />circa 1938</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">O</span>f all their accomplishments, none brought greater joy to my great uncle and great aunt, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/05/sentimental-sunday-not-about-to-let-her.html" target="_blank">Phillip and Benita (McGinnis) McCormick</a>, than their two adopted children, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/06/matrilineal-monday-two-little-bundles.html" target="_blank">Phillip Eugene and Benita Jane</a>, known as Bud and Jane.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My mother, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2012/03/my-wonderful-mother.html" target="_blank">Joan (Schiavon) Huesca</a>, told my sisters and me many stories about her cousins, as they <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2012/05/mappy-monday-schiavons-and-mccormicks.html" target="_blank">lived only a few blocks from her</a> in Chicago, Illinois. She was quite the tomboy and played mostly with her cousin Buddy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jane preferred to stay out of the mischief that my mother and Bud always seemed to make. It would not be until many years later that Jane and my mother grew close as they discovered in each other common values and experiences as daughters, sisters, wives, and mothers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">At Jane's funeral in 2011, her daughter, Suzanne, shared this poem from her mother's leather scrapbook. Jane had penned it at the tender age of 16. The <i>Chicago Tribune</i> had published it, no doubt making Jane's own <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/10/thankful-thursday-passion-for-creating.html" target="_blank">creative mother</a>, Benita, quite proud.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wistful and wise, the poem is subtly humorous and self-effacing, so characteristic of Jane's personality. It reminds me of one of her favorite childhood authors, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A._A._Milne" target="_blank">A.A Milne</a>, who wrote the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winnie-the-Pooh_(book)" target="_blank">Winnie-the-Pooh</a> books.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>When I was very young (almost a year ago)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>And thought myself so awfully wise,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I'd sigh and smugly say,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"Aren't children brats?" and</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"What makes them act that way?"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I saw them with unseeing eyes.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>But now when little girls are lost in make-believe</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>And grimy boys make cops-and-robbers' sounds, I smile</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Glad to hear that happy noise</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>And wish that I could lose myself, or climb a roof</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>And skin my knee, as do the boys - </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>We're young for such a little while.</i></span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">- </i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Benita Jane McCormick</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Chicago, Illinois, 1944</span></div>
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(Gratefully published with permission from </div>
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Jane's daughter, Suzanne Olson Wieland.)</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>**</i>**********</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">2015 Linda Huesca Tully</span><br />
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-71892441507668467432015-01-30T08:00:00.000-08:002016-04-18T13:29:24.499-07:00Friday's Faces from the Past: The McGinnis Family Portrait<br />
<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Mary Jane (Gaffney) McGinnis </b>(1858 - 1940)</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b style="font-style: italic;">Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b><span style="font-style: italic;">(1889 - 1984)</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>Francis Eugene McGinnis </b>(1891 - 1961)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>John Charles McGinnis </b>(1894 - 1944)</i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Alice Gaffney (McGinnis) Schiavon</b> (1895 - 1963)</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">S</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ome time during the late 1930s, the now-adult McGinnis children: Benita, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2006/12/alice-gaffney-mcginnis-schiavon-born.html" target="_blank">Alice</a> (my maternal grandmother), <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2012/03/talented-tuesday-great-gene-sheebo.html" target="_blank">Gene</a>, and John, gathered at the family home at 8336 Drexel Avenue in Chicago, Illinois, with their <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2012/05/wisdom-wednesday-wise-and-loving.html" target="_blank">mother, Mary Jane</a>, for a family portrait.</span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The McGinnis family in the living room of the family</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">home at 8336 Drexel Avenue, Chicago, Illinois. </span></i><br />
<i><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Clockwise, left to right: Alice (McGinnis) Schiavon,</span></i></i></div>
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<i><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eugene, John, Benita (McGinnis) McCormick, </span></i></i></div>
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<i><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and Mary Jane (Gaffney) McGinnis. Circa 1936 - 1939.</span></i></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As far as I can tell, this was their last portrait together. Diminutive matriarch <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2012/05/funeral-card-friday-mary-jane-gaffney.html" target="_blank">Mary Jane died on July 13, 1940</a>. By early 1963, Benita, the eldest, was left, her two brothers and sister having preceded her in death and leaving her to succeed their mother as the <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/05/wisdom-wednesday-scrapbook-of-lifetime.html" target="_blank">head</a> of the now-extended family. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As with another photograph of <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/04/sentimental-sunday-sunday-dinner.html" target="_blank">the family at Sunday dinner</a> in the same home, this picture resonates with me because of its uncanny similarity to the living room in the first home my husband and I owned, in San Jose, California. Just by looking at this photo, I know the half-height bookcase was one of two that sat under small windows and framed a simple yet elegant Craftsman-style fireplace. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We did not have a similar decorative screen in our own front window, however. I suspect the photographer might have placed the one in the picture there for aesthetic purposes, to block out the street view and not distract from the subjects. I wish I'd done something like that when we took pictures in the same spot in our own family home so many years later!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>**</i>**********</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br /></i><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">2015 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i><br />
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-5719973098099459112014-11-13T02:00:00.000-08:002014-11-13T13:11:46.098-08:00Thankful Thursday: Moves and Migrations<br />
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This site has been a bit quiet over the past few months. If you've wondered why, it's because blogging has had to take a back seat for a short time while we moved to a new home.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A rose from our garden</i></td></tr>
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Growing increasingly weary of "big" city life, some months ago my husband and I sold our home and moved our family to a smaller community. We were looking for a slower pace of life and a closer connection to people and the beautiful outdoors here in Northern California. <br />
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I guess you could call our move a mini-migration of sorts. After all, we didn't go all <i>that</i> far.</div>
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As anyone who has moved from one house to another can attest, moving is a time-consuming and sometimes painful process. You agree to give up the known for the unknown; purge the excesses of your life; pack the loved and necessary; unpack and put it all away again; and give family, friends, and service providers your new address. It can be exhausting. It can be even more daunting to think about going to a new area altogether, whether it is a new town, a new state, or even a new country.<br />
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As it turned out, we moved not once, but twice<i>. </i>Our house sold in less than a week. With scarcely enough time to buy a new one, we rented a small, quaint Victorian house in a high-tech city to the north while we looked for a house in a valley to the south. We were hardly there when we found our small-town dream home, made an offer, and moved in three weeks later. It happened so fast, we could hardly believe it.</div>
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The move has been good for us. People here are friendly and welcoming. We now live on the far edge of a town some 35 miles south of our old stomping grounds. It could not be more different than what we left. There is no traffic, no smog, no hustle and bustle here. Set in the foothills, our home backs up to an open space of majestic oak trees, pristine skies, and plenty of wildlife. We inherited some gigantic koi fish who have accepted us - and our dogs - into their kingdom. Our three four-legged creatures, of course, are quite fascinated by their new fair-finned friends. (Okay, maybe the interest is in their fish food pellets, which resemble dog chow. One of our smaller dogs, Kira, has either fallen or jumped in three times already to get a closer look!)</div>
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About the only downside would be our commute to work. It takes longer than before, to be sure, but the scenery along the way is breathtaking, and the time we have to talk in the car is a true gift. </div>
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In all, it took us some 20 weeks to get here. Putting it in perspective, that's 284 cups of morning coffee for two people; over 300 boxes of "stuff" (72 of which were just for books); 14 pairs of hands to get those boxes from one place to another; four storage units; and 18 meetings with our Realtor, contractor, and lender. </div>
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We moved in a month ago and are <i>still</i> unpacking and purging, figuring out the nuances of the new house, and finding our way around town. Like any adventure, it has not been without its ups and downs, but the blessings that have come from them have been great.</div>
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This move also has been an occasion to reflect on the many trials our ancestors endured in their own moves and migrations so many years before us, as they left the familiar for places unknown in search of a better life and greater opportunities. The risks we take and sacrifices we make today pale when placed next to theirs.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMNEg3EyOOjFnLS9qF5aei7MfuipOnG_J-kkWC8qN2JsJAacctwPSSC6vGhUa4XhKXheyUIWrNm9r_GgZfx8Aa91SdnsWtRNaqv015ufXcaSPZDZy0Nf8jdCRKwS66cVZ_ifJWg/s1600/Catherine+O'Grady%2B-%2BNew%2BYork%2B1884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMNEg3EyOOjFnLS9qF5aei7MfuipOnG_J-kkWC8qN2JsJAacctwPSSC6vGhUa4XhKXheyUIWrNm9r_GgZfx8Aa91SdnsWtRNaqv015ufXcaSPZDZy0Nf8jdCRKwS66cVZ_ifJWg/s1600/Catherine+O'Grady%2B-%2BNew%2BYork%2B1884.jpg" height="200" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My great-great grandmother,<br />Catherine (O'Grady) Perrotin,<br />1884.</i></td></tr>
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Take my great-great grandmother, <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2007/02/dream-come-true-perrotin-family.html" target="_blank">Catherine (O'Grady) Perrotin</a>. When she was barely a teenager, poor and hungry, she and her older sister left their home in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waterford" target="_blank">Waterford, Ireland</a>, almost 200 years ago and sailed to New York in search of a better quality of life. Catherine had no idea where life would take her, but she trusted in God that all would go well. <br />
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And it did. She moved once or twice again after arriving in New York and ended up in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shreveport,_Louisiana" target="_blank">Shreveport, Louisiana</a>. There, she found work as a seamstress and <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2012/01/marriage-record-of-charles-jacques.html" target="_blank">married a French baker, François Perrotin.</a> </div>
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Catherine would move four more times during her lifetime. The first move was to nearby <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Orleans" target="_blank">New Orleans</a>. When the Civil War broke out, the Perrotins left the South for the peace of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niagara_Falls" target="_blank">Niagara Falls, New York</a>. A few years after that, attracted by the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mexican_Railway" target="_blank">burgeoning railroad industry</a> in Mexico, they relocated again, this time to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orizaba" target="_blank">Orizaba</a>, a small mountain town on the Mexican east coast.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoP5uZGdXkhw_InCqmH0hfmtE9uTpB19ziUo-qi5NUzJ6DjLlFoEJ2m-hy930yYWiPBCRJ0XsnA9hjm7TxefYlm32G6Xg_caMclEqxHOfWJZ6IifmA1gmLg2cvKLpgyv2FkCGtdQ/s1600/ORIZABA+VILLA.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoP5uZGdXkhw_InCqmH0hfmtE9uTpB19ziUo-qi5NUzJ6DjLlFoEJ2m-hy930yYWiPBCRJ0XsnA9hjm7TxefYlm32G6Xg_caMclEqxHOfWJZ6IifmA1gmLg2cvKLpgyv2FkCGtdQ/s1600/ORIZABA+VILLA.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Catherine Perrotin built this house in Ruardean, Gloucestershire,<br /> for her family. Wanting them to remember their origins, she<br />had it built in the same style as their home in Mexico. She named<br />the new family home "Orizaba Villa."</i></td></tr>
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Catherine and François lived in Orizaba for nearly two decades. They became integral members of the community and raised two children there before François' death from meningitis in the late 19th century. <br />
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This time, it was a widowed Catherine who moved, alone, back across the ocean to England, where her daughter and British son-in-law had gone with their children a few years earlier. To get there, she had to travel by train to the port of Veracruz, take a small boat across the Gulf of Mexico to New Orleans, travel overland to New York, and sail across the Atlantic, traveling overland again to reach her daughter's home in the south west of England.<i> </i><br />
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Despite the rough and cold waters of the Atlantic, the sea-sick yet determined Catherine arrived in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruardean" target="_blank">Ruardean, Gloucestershire</a>, in the winter of 1895. She lived a contented life with her daughter and grandchildren until her death some six years later. Her legendary spirit and resolve live on today through her descendants now scattered throughout the world.<br />
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Yes, our own little move is small compared with my great-great grandmother's many long-distance moves, but our motives have not changed. Today, as I unpack yet another box, I remember dear Catherine and my other family members - including <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/03/traveling-tuesday-california-here-we.html" target="_blank">my own parents</a> - who moved to new places in search of better lives. I thank them for crossing oceans and mountains and plains, for enduring hardships and overcoming obstacles and uncertainties, because without their sacrifices we would not be where we are today. <br />
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I will always remember them with a grateful and hopeful heart, never forgetting where I came from and all those who helped our family "get there."<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">2014 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i></div>
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30079744.post-45412860817095949362014-10-02T12:00:00.000-07:002014-10-02T13:06:16.605-07:00Thankful Thursday: A Passion for Creating<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Benita (McGinnis) McCormick </b>(1889 - 1984)</span></i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Benita (McGinnis) McCormick,<br />Milwaukee, Wisconsin</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">W</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">hen my great-aunt Detty, or Benita (McGinnis) McCormick, was born 125 years ago this week (September 30, 1889) in C<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conneaut,_Ohio" target="_blank">onneaut, Ohio</a>, I doubt her parents had any idea their daughter would be so passionate about the arts and making her mark on the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But that is exactly the way she was all her life. Considering that she lived in an era when society expected a woman to defer to husband and family and home, often putting off her own life dreams, she was unafraid to be her own person and had her own ideas about how she should develop her talents and accomplishments.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The late 1930s and 1940s saw her broaden her interests as she proved she was not only an accomplished painter and short story writer but also a published playwright and songwriter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In an earlier blog post, we read a <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/09/amanuensis-monday-they-liked-it.html" target="_blank">1937 letter</a> to Benita from The Jewel Tea Company, thanking her for the use of a short story for their commercial Christmas cards. During that same year, she wrote the lyrics and melody for a musical, "<a href="http://lcweb2.loc.gov/diglib/ihas/loc.natlib.m1508.20250/default.html" target="_blank">Gingham Apron Strings</a>." The musical is on file in the Library of Congress and features five rather jaunty songs. I have not yet been able to obtain copies of the script or the lyrics to the songs (whose titles appear below), but it is easy imagine that their theme and lyrics were as spunky and spirited as their author:</span></div>
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<i>Ha, Ha, I'm Laughing at You</i><br />
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<i>Rumble, Rumble, Rumble</i><br />
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<i>You May Part Your Hair in the Middle</i><br />
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<i>Let's Go to Town on a Waltz</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>This article, from an unidentified</i><br /><i>newspaper (possibly the </i>Chicago<br />Tribune?) <i>was written sometime<br />during World War II. The<br />original clipping still resides in<br />Benita McCormick's scrapbook.</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Benita adored her mother for her tender qualities and homemaking talents, but she was not the "<a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2012/05/talented-tuesday-domestic-goddess.html" target="_blank">domestic goddess" her mother was</a>. Nor, for that matter, did she want to be. In this regard, she was rather like her younger sister (my maternal grandmother) <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2006/12/alice-gaffney-mcginnis-schiavon-born.html" target="_blank">Alice (McGinnis) Schiavon</a>, eschewing the idea of being homemakers in favor of being artists and businesswomen. They likely inherited their streak of independence from their father, Thomas Eugene McGinnis, and <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2013/06/sibling-saturday-gaffney-sisters-of.html" target="_blank">their five maternal aunts</a>, four of whom were working women and never married. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Choosing to not stay at home was an unpopular choice for women in the years leading up to World War II. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Indeed, many people at the time believed that women should have no choice in the matter at all. Despite the passage in 1920 of the </span><a href="http://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?flash=true&doc=63" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;" target="_blank">19th Amendment</a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, which gave women the right to vote, it was still considered "unnatural" for women to pursue work or interests outside the home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thankfully for us, Benita McCormick was not one to be deterred by what others thought or said, and she followed her heart's passion, creating thoughtful and sometimes provocative works throughout her life.</span></div>
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This 1940s clipping from an unidentified newspaper in Aunt Detty's scrapbook of memories, tells of her unique contribution to the morale of soldiers in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_War_II" target="_blank">Second World War</a>:</div>
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<i>During World War I, when every one was knitting for the Red Cross, Mrs. Benita McCormick, 8032 Vernon avenue (sic), wasn't. She couldn't. She made several vain attempts and gave up the idea. For her part tho (sic), she painted and gave to the Red Cross a <a href="http://manybranchesonetree.blogspot.com/2014/04/talented-tuesday-doing-her-bit.html" target="_blank">poster</a> which they used quite extensively. </i></div>
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<i>Now, in World War II, Mrs. McCormick still can't knit. Her contribution this time is a song, "You're an American, 'n' that Means Free." It's being readied for publication now. She got the idea for the song when she saw movies at the battle of the Midway. She was much impressed with two young anti-aircraft fighters who were shown briefly, and remarked later, "We'll surely win with boys with Plymouth Rock chins like that." That provided the inspiration for her song, and it has a line, too, about the "Plymouth Rock chin." </i></div>
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<i>Mrs. McCormick is a former member of the motion picture censor board, and is now secretary of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Delphian_Society" target="_blank">Delphian society</a>.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Benita was one of those fortunate people in the world who was not only talented but figured out how to make her passions work for others and for her. In a future post, we will learn more about this side of her from yet another newspaper account about the accomplishments of this fascinating lady who was at her happiest when engaging in the world in her own unique way.</span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Copyright</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b>©</b> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">2014 Linda Huesca Tully</span></i><br />
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Linda Huesca Tullyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12677498238088821264noreply@blogger.com1