April 2024 Reading List

Six books read in April. My favorites were Weyward and The Oceans and the Stars. The one that most affected my independent nature was The Women's March. 

Mrs. Lincoln's Sisters by Jennifer Chiaverini is, as it says, a book about Mary Todd Lincoln and her sisters (3) and stepsisters (5). The Civil War not only divided the country, it divided the families, some siding with the North, others with the South. An interesting read with much of it focusing on Mrs. Lincoln's fragile mental health.

Weyward by Emilia Hart is her debut novel. I thoroughly enjoyed this book which stretches from 1619 to 2019 about the lives of women from one family, all of whom share a deep knowledge of the natural world.

The Oceans And The Stars by Mark Helprin is subtitled A Sea Story, A War Story, A Love Story. It is the first book I've read by this author. Unfortunately, though he has written many more, our library doesn't have any of them. I thoroughly enjoyed the writing in this book even though I am not a fan of war stories, this one, set in the same region as a current ongoing conflict, really kept my attention.

The Midnight Lock by Jeffrey Deaver is the 15th novel in his Lincoln Rhyme series.

City of Betrayal is # 7 in Victoria Thompson's 'A Counterfeit Lady' series. I didn't even pay any attention to what the book was about because I've been reading each new one in the series as it comes out. It wasn't until I began reading it that I realized this book was also about women's suffrage. In this case, set in Tennessee in 1920, when the states were voting to pass the 19th Amendment.

The Women's March by Jennifer Chiaverini is about the 1913 women's suffrage march in Washington, D.C. It was also the first large organized march for political purposes. One reason I like Chiaverini's books is because they are based on historical happenings and facts. I hadn't realized that President Woodrow Wilson was such a misogynistic racist, but this book really points that out. 

As dedicated and hard working as the women suffragists were to achieve the right to vote, the 19th Amendment to the Constitution granting them voting rights wasn't ratified until August 18, 1920. One of the things I've tried to do is impart to my daughter, granddaughters and others, how voting in every election isn't just a right, it is a duty in honor of the women who fought to give us that right.

In 1943 one of the 1913 suffragists, Alice Paul, presented a revised version of her Equal Rights Amendment that read: "Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied by the U.S. or any State on Account of sex." On March 22, 1972, the Equal Rights Amendment finally passed Congress, which imposed a seven-year deadline for ratification. A new generation of feminists, many of whom were members of the National Organization for Women (NOW) worked to win the required number of states for ratification. I was one of the disappointed women supporters when the deadline for the amendment ran one state short of ratification.

In 2020, the U.S. House of Representatives passed a resolution to remove the original time limit imposed to ratify the ERA. On April 27, 2023, the U.S. Senate fell short of the votes needed to grant equal rights for women in the Constitution - more than a century after a guarantee of gender equality was proposed in Congress. (Paul's first version was presented in 1923; revised in 1943.)

I have never understood how any woman could have been against voting rights, nor how they can still be against passing the Equal Rights Amendment, yet they are. I had hoped to live long enough to see that happen as well as experiencing our first female President of the United States. I fear for the future of our country, but mostly for the loss of rights that we have taken for granted.

Is Vintage the Same as Old?

How old does something have to be before it is vintage? Vintage actually means "of age". The word comes from the Old French word "vendange" meaning wine harvest. But a wine's vintage is not the only use. Antiques come to mind. But to be an antique, an item generally has to be 100 years old or older. Vintage is used for things less than 100 years. That makes me vintage, but not antique. 

Vintage clothing can be anything from twenty to one hundred years ago if it reflects the style and trends of an era. I still have a lot of clothes that fit that category, many of which I no longer wear, but still hang on to because of sentimental reasons.

A good example is this blouse from the mid 1980's. My daughter and I shared clothes when she was in high school. I think this is a blouse purchased for her and worn for her senior pictures.

I wore it when Bud and I were married and I've kept it ever since. If I've worn it since then I don't remember when - oh, except maybe to an open house my Mom hosted for us after we wed.

I still have a denim dress and an olive green one each with shoulder pads! Again, sentimental reasons - I always felt good when I wore them. 

For something that is not only vintage but also antique, there is my Mom's slip from when she was a girl. It was made by her mother, including all the crochet work.

Grandma Delphia was a dab hand when it came to sewing, tatting, crocheting, candlewicking, just about any fiber art.

Mom was born in 1919, so this slip would be a few years older than a century.

I also had my father's baby/christening dress, but I have already passed it on to my son, who has Dad's name as his middle name. Maybe he will pass it on to his daughter to keep for her son who share's my Dad's first name.

And look at all the decorative needlework on this baby dress of mine - also sewn by my maternal grandmother. 

Mom made most of my sister's and my clothes when we were young. It wasn't until we started high school that we wanted 'store bought' clothes to help us "fit in", though we also still wore clothes that Mom made and ones that we made ourselves.

This is the piece that started me thinking about vintage clothes.

Again, it was something made by my Grandma Delphia - my baby sweater. The collar, cuffs and bottom edge were pink as were the ribbon ties - one of which is missing.

I can't even imagine making something like this by hand. I could sew and embroider, but I never got the hang of knitting or crocheting not even tatting which I asked Grandma to teach me. 

And here I am, a few months old, wearing the sweater in 1944. (And possibly the above baby dress.)

Knowing my mother, she probably had my baby blanket - which I also still have - with her that day in case I got cold.

Am I silly to be so sentimental about these old things? Probably. But I'm still grateful to have them.

There is nothing wrong with being nostalgic.

Cheaper By The Dozen

Cheaper by the dozen was a phrase first used in the 18th Century in an advertisement for pamphlets that could be purchased 'cheaper by the dozen'. 

But the first thing that comes to my mind is that it was the title of our Junior Class Play when I was in highschool. The play was based on a book of the same name authored by Ernestine Gilbreth Carey and Frank B. Gilbreth, Jr. It was published in 1948 and recounted the authors' childhood lives of growing up in a family of twelve children. Their father was an efficiency expert in time and motion and was constantly trying to teach his children better, faster, more efficient uses of their time. As I recall, it made for a very funny play.

For the purposes of this blog post, cheaper by the dozen is simply a hook to introduce my 12th great-grandchild, Henri Oliver, born April 3. I am patiently waiting to meet him in person as the family lives out of state and they are delaying travel until he is a little older. 

In the meantime, here is a recent photo of him. He is darling and I am already in love with him.

Henri's older brother is Louis, who is now three. Louis was hoping for a baby sister and so was I just to add another girl to help balance my great-grandsons to great-granddaughters ratio which is now ten to two. Ten boys, two girls.

This is a picture of Louis holding Henri when he was a week old.

And here is one of Louis watching over Henri.

Their mother reports that Louis is still very smitten by his baby brother and can't wait until he is old enough to play with him.

I hope they are as close and loving to one another as their older cousins, Ayden and Greyson are to each other.

So, while 'Cheaper by the Dozen' was my lead for this post, in August I can title one "A Baker's Dozen" when my 13th great-grandchild is born. And that one will be a girl!  💗

Meet My Native American 7xGreat-Grandfather

Portrait of Chief Lennie Lanape Lappawinsoe painted in 1735 by Swedish painter Gustavus Hesselius who lived in Philidelphia. 

Chief Lappawinsoe (also spelled as Lapowinsa) was a signer of the infamous 1735 Walking Treaty which he and other Lanape chieftans would spend twenty years unsuccessfully trying to have voided. 

(Google Walking Purchase to read more about how the Lanape tribes lost their lands in the Lehigh Valley to William Penn's sons.)

We are related through my Grandmother Delphia Means Ridnour. I wonder what she would think of this.

Here is the lineage from me back: Ramona L. (b.1943), daughter of Ruth Ridnour (b.1919), daughter of Delphia Means (b.1896), daughter of Matilda Lippincott (b.1863), daughter of David Lippincott (b.1829), son of Thomas Lippincott (b.1800) married to Elizabeth Van Brunt (b.1806), daughter of Joseph Van Brunt (b.1758) and Mary Applegate (b.1756), daughter of Ebenezer Applegate Sr. (b.1723), son of Mary Leni Lenape (b.1695), daughter of Chief Lennie Lanape Lappawinsoe (b. circa 1600), son of Anna W. B. L. Lenni Lanape (b.1635). His father is unknown but his grandparents were Chief Big John Lenni Lanape and Delaware Indian Maiden Waikusanin. Those last two were born in the early 1600's. 

Even with the aid of a family fan chart it is easy to get lost in all those past names. At one point I saw a ?x great-grandmother from South America. I may, or may not try to go back and find her and trace the lineage back. 

Compared to when I began trying to build a family tree and was writing letters to distant cousins of my grandmother, it's a piece of cake now.

Except for the use of triple L's in our family's names, I don't see any familial similarities. 

To Die For A Cause You Believe In

Patrick Pearse was an Irish teacher, writer and poet. He was one of the leaders of the Easter Rising, also known as the Easter Rebellion which occured 108 years ago this week. (April 24-29, 1916) Pearse and fourteen others who took part in the attempt to establish Ireland's independence were arrested, court-martialed and executed in the weeks following.

This is the poem Pearse wrote the night before his execution at Kilmainham Gaol, Dublin, May 3, 1916.

The Wayfarer By Patrick Pearse

The beauty of the world hath made me sad,
This beauty that will pass;
Sometimes my heart hath shaken with great joy
To see a leaping squirrel in a tree,
Or a red lady-bird upon a stalk,
Or little rabbits in a field at evening,
Lit by a slanting sun,
Or some green hill where shadows drifted by
Some quiet hill where mountainy man hath sown
And soon would reap; near to the gate of Heaven;
Or children with bare feet upon the sands
Of some ebbed sea, or playing on the streets
Of little towns in Connacht,
Things young and happy.
And then my heart hath told me:
These will pass,
Will pass and change, will die and be no more,
Things bright and green, things young and happy;
And I have gone upon my way
Sorrowful.

And this is the courtyard at Kilmainham where the executions took place. I took this photo when I went there during my trip to Ireland in 1994. It was one of my must see destinations. ❤

Admiring A Favorite Poet on His 85th Birthday

 So This Is Nebraska By Ted Kooser

The gravel road rides with a slow gallop

over the fields, the telephone lines

streaming behind, its billow of dust

full of the sparks of redwing blackbirds.

On either side, those dear old ladies,

the loosening barns, their little windows

dulled by cataracts of hay and cobwebs

hide broken tractors under their skirts.

So this is Nebraska. A Sunday

afternoon; July. Driving along

with your hand out squeezing the air,

a meadowlark waiting on every post.

Behind a shelterbelt of cedars,

top-deep in hollyhocks, pollen and bees,

a pickup kicks its fenders off

and settles back to read the clouds.

You feel like that; you feel like letting

your tires go flat, like letting the mice

build a nest in your muffler, like being

no more than a truck in the weeds,

clucking with chickens or sticky with honey

or holding a skinny old man in your lap

while he watches the road, waiting

for someone to wave to. You feel like

waving. You feel like stopping the car

and dancing around on the road. You wave

instead and leave your hand out gliding

larklike over the wheat, over the houses.

April, A Night, A Full Moon And ...

 April's Full Pink Moon rising....

April By Mary Oliver

I wanted to speak at length about 

The happiness of my body and the

Delight of my mind for it was

April, a night, a full moon and ...

But something in myself for maybe

From somewhere other said: not too

Many words, please, in the muddy shallows the

Frogs are singing.