Forrest Gump-ing along

July is quickly exhausting itself and I am left with two small stones that have been hiding in my pocket. Namely sublime and ridiculous.

This is my Aunt Yolande on the left at her wedding reception in Idaho. That was mid-century and just last Thursday she passed away. She was in her 90's and was the last remaining member of her family of 5 brothers and one sister. Imagine how I looked up to someone so elegant who had been in New York City learning to model at the Barbizon, who always wore pretty clothes and sat with her left hand in her lap whenever she was eating. The only magazines she had in her house that I remember were Vogue and Harper's Bazaar. She was my Godmother, who studied opera and raised three adopted children, never missed Mass and continued to be the matriarch of the family after her parents died. As in every life, there was plenty of good and a lot of close calls, prejudices, feuding and exclusion. I remember it all. The last time I saw her she told me she was afraid to die, mainly because she thought it must be so painful. I'm hoping not.

Now for that little scratchy pebble called Ridiculous. . .I stopped to take this photo last week because I've seen a lot of things growing out of this topiary dog, but never a squirrel masseuse.  Maybe he's just asking for directions. 
Maybe its the heat and I just thought I saw this. This is one for Camera Critters.

'stupid is as stupid does'

Hooray for new beginnings!

I just love new beginnings with a clean slate, fresh Big Chief tablet, sharp Crayons and a new typewriter ribbon. Therefore, I present my addition to ABC Wednesday's letter du jour:

A--a photo of my ancestors. The year is 1957 at the upper level of Ross Park in Pocatello, Idaho. I'm sitting between my dear Aunt Carmela** on the left and my godmother, Aunt Yolanda on my right. There's my cousin David [who I'm sure wears contacts now] with my Grandmother Filomena and Grandpa Vito. Looks like it was a birthday picnic. When you're seven and you have braids with ribbons, I'm guessing everyday is a picnic!

Visit Mrs Nesbitt for an easy 'A' as we begin Round 8, and possibly more trips down Memory Lane.

**The feel of your smooth, small arms around my neck and the
Kiss stuck to my check from the peach you just swallowed.
My head sprouting curly wires where a mane once flowed
And in the mirror it is Aunt Carmela, patron saint of garlic,
Whose face–and hair—I see.

[see the rest of my poem in the Poems tab above]

Love in the Library with Andy Carnegie

1909 view of the Carnegie Library, Pocatello, Idaho

The Carnegie Library In the early 1900s, steel industrialist Andrew Carnegie began a program to encourage education by financing community libraries across the United States. Carnegie was an immigrant from Scotland who had little education but who realized the importance of education, especially for the stream of immigrants who lacked sufficient education to compete in the American job market. His public program furnished libraries for thousands of communities across the country.

My first experience with a library was when I was learning to read and my dad and I climbed the many stairs of this imposing building on the corner of West Center and East Garfield. This Carnegie Library, built around 1907 from a 1906 grant, was one of ten in our state and cost $12,000 to build at that time. In the late 1950's it was vacated for a larger, more modern building on the east side of town. The newer building was only three blocks from St. Anthony School where I attended elementary and once a week I was one of the few bookish types who could walk there and back alone, loaded with books. Thus began my life long love affair with books and libraries. Returning to Idaho on occasion I've re-visited the new, even larger library that was built in 1994 on the original site, attached to the original Carnegie Library. It still smells the same to me.

[photos & facts from Idaho Museum of Natural History]

Many years later I am still a user and browser and haunter of libraries in every city I've lived in or visited. There's the massive urban library I'd visit in Chicago and the tiny Village Library in Jacobus, Pennsylvania where I read for story time. Once smitten, I'm always able to sniff out a library wherever I go. So I tip my hat to Andrew Carnegie!

Today's letter for ABC Wednesday is 'L' --for me it spells l-i-b-r-a-r-y.

word-less Wednesday

Y

You can go home again!

ABC Wednesday zips ahead to the letter 'P' this week. And I am choosing my hometown of Pocatello, Idaho to highlight that letter. It is a small town in southeastern Idaho that came into being to serve an advancing railroad in the 1880's. Sitting on a prehistoric Lake Bonneville the area's rich volcanic soil is famous for growing potatoes. My grandfather came there from Italy in the 1890's opening several grocery stores--Vito Cuoio & Sons--to serve the railroad trade. It sits on the Oregon Trail and is near Fort Hall, an early fur trading station and later the Shoshone Bannock Indian Reservation. It is a conservative religious community that is somewhat diluted by being home to Idaho State University, a school Dave and I both attended.
Pocatello is surrounded by mountains with alluvial fan formations on several 'benches'--a fisherman or geologist's dream. Most people are employed by the railroads. It has doubled in size from when I was young--to about 50,000. Elevation there is a whopping 4400 feet above sea level.

early Pocatello view

historic downtown todayhome of Idaho State University
Visit more P letter posts at ABC Wednesday.