|
---|
Friday, August 10, 2007
My father always thought he looked a little like the movie star Gary Cooper. Putting this post together I can see a resemblance...
"Coop" was the strong, silent type.
And my dad certainly had his quiet moments.
Plus my dad owned The Princess Movie theater in a small town in Iowa during the Depression, so he had plenty of chances to keep an eye on Coop.
My father was 6'2" tall with green eyes, red hair and freckles. Here he is, looking ever the proud groom when he married my mother, a city slicker from the East.
His mother died when he was just 16, so he ran away from home (Iowa).He joined the Royal Canadian air force and flew crates over France.He never got to go to college but he loved to recite Walt Whitman and other poets from memory.
Like me, he had a varied work life. He won ice skating contests, rolled logs, sold ladies shoes until a jilted date walked in the front door and he ran out the back.
He was a terrific dancer and he won my Mom's heart on the dance floor. I was supposed to be a boy, "Charles". So I went with my dad on fishing jaunts, to baseball games and the hardware store. I loved learning to put a worm on the hook and eating ballpark hotdogs. I still love snooping around hardware stores and pastry shops.
My parents used to fight over my future - what would I do when I grew up.
My mother wanted me to go to art school, actually fashion design school in fact. My dad nixed that. I could only go if I became an art teacher. I was not consulted...
If they only knew how I've run the gamut
An old generational photo - me, my dog Pumpkin, my father and my two petites nieces, Anabel and Louisa. Recently I found an old letter my dad wrote me a few years before he died...
Dear Carol,
Just a note to say all is well including Pumpkin(my poodle), who is enjoying the cool sea breezes. Your itinerary sounds very exciting (I was in North Africa researching a book on souks) and I am sure that you will have a grand time along with your work.
I am so proud of you to have accomplished all of this on your own. I realize how hard it is to break in, in New York, as competition is so keen. You're well on the way and things will come much easier, now that you know how to do things as well as being a full fledged authoress. (ref:Street Markets book)
As you look back you will appreciate the hard work and seemingly unrewarding efforts, but now everything is beginning to fall in place.
Best of luck, drop a card or a little note when you have time
Love
Dad
It does sounds like a letter Gary Cooper would write...
"Coop" was the strong, silent type.
And my dad certainly had his quiet moments.
Plus my dad owned The Princess Movie theater in a small town in Iowa during the Depression, so he had plenty of chances to keep an eye on Coop.
My father was 6'2" tall with green eyes, red hair and freckles. Here he is, looking ever the proud groom when he married my mother, a city slicker from the East.
His mother died when he was just 16, so he ran away from home (Iowa).He joined the Royal Canadian air force and flew crates over France.He never got to go to college but he loved to recite Walt Whitman and other poets from memory.
Like me, he had a varied work life. He won ice skating contests, rolled logs, sold ladies shoes until a jilted date walked in the front door and he ran out the back.
He was a terrific dancer and he won my Mom's heart on the dance floor. I was supposed to be a boy, "Charles". So I went with my dad on fishing jaunts, to baseball games and the hardware store. I loved learning to put a worm on the hook and eating ballpark hotdogs. I still love snooping around hardware stores and pastry shops.
My parents used to fight over my future - what would I do when I grew up.
My mother wanted me to go to art school, actually fashion design school in fact. My dad nixed that. I could only go if I became an art teacher. I was not consulted...
If they only knew how I've run the gamut
An old generational photo - me, my dog Pumpkin, my father and my two petites nieces, Anabel and Louisa. Recently I found an old letter my dad wrote me a few years before he died...
Dear Carol,
Just a note to say all is well including Pumpkin(my poodle), who is enjoying the cool sea breezes. Your itinerary sounds very exciting (I was in North Africa researching a book on souks) and I am sure that you will have a grand time along with your work.
I am so proud of you to have accomplished all of this on your own. I realize how hard it is to break in, in New York, as competition is so keen. You're well on the way and things will come much easier, now that you know how to do things as well as being a full fledged authoress. (ref:Street Markets book)
As you look back you will appreciate the hard work and seemingly unrewarding efforts, but now everything is beginning to fall in place.
Best of luck, drop a card or a little note when you have time
Love
Dad
It does sounds like a letter Gary Cooper would write...
Labels: art school, my careers, my father, my mother, Street Markets
0 Comments:
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)