London to Dover and My Deceased Grandfather

So, my "ghostly," encounters have been a hit on the blog so here is a short and sweet one.
My Mom's father died when I was around five. I vaguely remember him. I now feel I remember him more by pictures as time passes. He had black, thick hair and was tan. He was part Native American. My Mom did not know about her Native heritage until a couple years before his death. He just told her one day.
Anyways I took a trip to London. I was on a tour of the country side.  We were going to the White Cliffs of Dover and later a castle. My Grandfather fought in the war and lost his hearing during the Battle of the Bulge. I can proudly say he helped liberate the Jews and all else Hitler hated.

The bus we were on had really high seats. You could not see the people in front or back of you.
I am sitting in my seat with a smile because I am just so delighted to be in England. I'm on a dream trip. I am kind of in my own happy world when I hear, " young lady where are you from?" It is a deep voice that brings you to attention. I pop up and peer over my seat and I tell him I'm from Pittsburgh with a big smile. He smiles at me. I then retreat down into my seat like some wack a mole trying to hide. I say nothing else to him and yet again I uncharacteristically do not say anything else. Although for a very fleeting second I think the man looks familiar.

I was seriously chased back into the bus when we got off at the castle by a black swan. Swans and I have a long hateful relationship. This was a small bus tour. I never saw the man again after my wack a mole encounter.

So upon my return from Europe I received a box of family pictures to store. In the box were pictures of my Grandfather when he was young and vibrant. It also included his platoon at the front of the Arc De Triomphe. When I saw my young Grandfather I immediately realized the familiar face on the bus was him. I sat quietly for a moment staring at the pictures. I was a little shocked but, soon was washed over in happiness. I got to meet him as an adult.  It was quick and memorable. I walked in front of the Arc De Triomphe. I was where he walked. I went to the White Cliffs of Dover. A military stronghold. Perhaps he is always watching over me and just wanted to make sure I was safe in Europe.

A Ghost Comes To Visit

I have to share some odd situations I have been in because it just seems like people love to talk about strange happenings. I am not one of those people who dismiss a spirit is always gone instantly from earth so these interactions made me think and some gave comfort.

In the beginning of this blog I talk about my deceased Grandfather. We were very close and he was a positive light in my life. Prior to his death I would go to the hospital and sit with him and sometimes read the newspaper out loud. I was not with him when he died. I came home very somber from my Grandfather's home. I lived alone. I was thinking about him and very sad with a heavy heart. I walked down the hallway and dining room and into the kitchen. I left a newspaper on the counter for the next day. I turned the kitchen light on. On the floor was each section of the newspaper neatly opened up and lined up down my long kitchen floor. I smiled and cried at the same time. I am weeping now as I write this because he came to comfort me one last time. Coincidentally I already had a flight booked to Maine right after his funeral. I was looking out my plane window and we were in puffy clouds. I looked down and closed my eyes. It made me think of heaven. I said Pap let me know you are alright. I looked back out the window and high in the sky between those puffy clouds was a rainbow. When it is my time I hope to ride a rainbow to meet my Pap again.

I owned a formal girls shop in a very small town. I call these towns "one horse towns." It was on a corner by the one street light. I always had the window dressed to perfection with the wooden top mannequins in puffy dresses and a theme. Perhaps because the name was "American Lass," led to my next encounter. It was unusually busy for a Tuesday morning. I finished up with a customer and the door bell jingles again. I look up and I instantly think something is not adding up with the man standing in front of me. He is in full military uniform. He is in that old khaki green. This is not the uniform you see today. I say hello and ask how I may help him. He tells me his name which I instantly forget but, this is not uncommon for me. He asks where I am from and proceeds to tell me I should know his family as they are from the Hempfield High School area. I tell him I don't but, he clearly does not see I am much younger than him. He starts talking about this grocery store that has not been open since possibly 1980 called Gee Bee's as if it is still open. This is 2013. At that point I am honestly nervous because I am alone and wondering if this man just walked out of a mental institution. I just stand there doing the ok, nodding head thing. He finally says his car is broke down in the lot below and if I knew someone could help or could I give him money. There is no lot down the block. I told him sorry I could not help. When he goes to leave I now see his one pant leg cuffed. He lost a leg in the war. Unbelievably a person walks in after him whom I don't know so I can't say like hey did you see that man in the 1960's military uniform...Because when I looked it up I found it appeared to be an Army Officer uniform from the Vietnam War era. My landlord suffered injuries during the Vietnam War and had an office in my building. Out of respect I would not bring this to his attention but, maybe that is how this ghost ended up at my door too. You know I knew by the end it was not real but, what haunts me is it is out of my character not to help someone. I said I could not help but, I have a huge heart for Vietnam Vets because I feel many were not appreciated and were victimized again by poor physical and mental healthcare when they came home and still to this day.

I got a couple more but, you will have to wait!!

Hit by a Train and Survived

Growing up I was told this amazing story more than once. My Great Grandmother was born in 1900. She had several siblings. Her mother out lived not one but three husbands and would later die of a family genetic issue, gall bladder disease. My Great Grandmother definitely came from a family who lived through many unusual happenings. A stark contrast from the very religious family she would marry into through my Great Grandfather.
I'm not kidding when I say a very captivating television show could be made about these intertwined lives. The many stories I have been told are quite colorful and some almost unbelievable.
This leads me to the story of my Great Aunt Lizzy. My Great Grandmother and her siblings at this time lived in a beautiful two story home across from a park in downtown. Their Stepfather owned an ice cream factory in town. The basement of the home had an ice cream shop. My Aunt Lizzy worked the shop.
My Aunt Lizzy went to town with her girlfriend. I am guessing this was around the year 1915. They were still in high school. It was late in the afternoon when they started to walk back home. It was a short walk and shorter if you cut across the railroad tracks. This was not uncommon back then. Trains in those days were dirty and spewed black smoke from their coal fired engines. This area was coal country too. Coal was mined and coke ovens dotted the country side. Pittsburgh steel mills were an hour train ride away. The sides of the tracks were heavily built up with loose coal and dirt. So the girls shoes had to get dirty and would be a lumpy walk. I guess they were walking along the tracks, something unheard of now. A train was approaching like they often did in those days. My Aunt Lizzy was talking to her friend and suddenly her friend yanked her and pulled them both in front of the train bearing down full speed on the tracks! In a flash they were both hit. The engineer had no chance to stop. Her friend apparently was immediately found and was obviously dead. However Aunt Lizzy was no where to be found! Soon men in town created a search team. They worked the area all around the tracks. They could not find her. Dusk was falling. The search party was told to go home until daylight. One of the men was walking down the rail on the way home. He still was looking around. He started to scream for help. An arm was  sticking out of a coal heap. By the grace of God my Aunt Lizzy was flung away from the train and the force buried her in the coal and left unconscious and for dead. They got her out and transported to the hospital. I was told she always kept her arm wrapped and it could not be used. She went on to live her life. The accident was left to family history and not talked about. My Great Grandmother and Great Aunt Lizzy had a younger sister who did not fair so well after another strange accident. Their Mother heard the child's screams in the sitting room. She got too close to the fire and her nightgown became engulfed in flames. My Great, Great Grandmother threw her down on the Persian rug and rolled her up to extinguish the flames. This sibling was very traumatized and I was told never the same. She lived at home until she passed away. Ironically my Great Grandmother went on to meet a young man who would become a successful employee on the railroad retiring as a conductor.

Solitude in the Country

Driving out of the bright lights, noise, never ending pavement and strip malls and into the country always starts out with a sigh of relief. Once I hit the mountainous terrain I start to smile. My body's senses immediately open up in a wash of freedom.

The tall trees lining the bendy road with their explosive shades of green this time of year makes me smile. My eyes dart to open expansive corn fields rigidly rowed against golden baled fields. The contrast is striking and makes my mind wander off into a Van Gogh painting. In the background my thoughts are lulled into relaxation with the sounds of classical and the occasional soft voice of the announcer explaining a movement or composer. I slow when passing lazy cows flicking their tails by a split rail fence. I am like a wide eyed tourist absorbing their life in the country. I hold a smile as I pass and around the bend is the familiar lake glittering from the cloudless, sunny sky. I look for boats and the water level and continue on. As I get closer to camp an Amish buggy is being pulled by a horse making a steady, slow trot in the heat. The man tips his hat and I wave. Oh, do I love the simple pleasures of the country!
I pull into the dusty, clay road off the paved mountain road and head up the hill to my camping spot. My travel trailer sits amongst trees waiting for me to extend the awning and open the windows. The fire pit is ready with wood. I can't wait to light it and set the grate with tin foil on it. The smoky wood makes the best hamburgers, steaks and hot dogs.
When I finally take a seat on my lounge chair I kick up my legs with a book in hand, a drink in the cup holder and lay back and close my eyes. I listen to the birds chirping, the squirrels zipping by and the chippies rustling the leaves in front of me. The cool air under the canopy of trees feels fresh and I am so glad to be turning the world off in the country.

Should I Use my Antiques and Collectibles?

First, do you know the original purpose for the vessel or furniture? I ask this because I think of a lady who showed me her "old soup tureen," she just loves! She knew I collected English Ironstone. She couldn't wait to show me her garage sale jackpot!
I had to delicately tell her the ribbed bowl with lid was a chamber pot! Again, do you know? What is a chamber pot? It was used for going to the bathroom. Generally slid under the bed if wealthier and emptied by a chamber maid. A chamber maid took care of your bedroom area. I thought this lady was going to faint after my reveal!

I have a family member who inherited a bureau desk from the 1700's. It's luster was carefully restored by a professional who understood true antique restoration. It is still being used for its original purpose and that is office papers and correspondents. This desk is easily worth over 20,000. Adults live in the house. Perhaps if there were children it would go in a spare bedroom until they got older.
Since I grew up in the business most things were always around me like an exotic menagerie. However very expensive glassware was kept in glass cases. My Grandfather really didn't care if I touched the other things. At one time he had a collection of iron toys and banks. They were so unique, you wanted to touch them. One of my favorites was a dentist you cocked back and it pulled out the patient's tooth in a chair! These banks range in price from $100-$1,000. There are many reproductions. In the 90's a perfume company gave away thousands of an Uncle Sam they reproduced.
I think antiques are meant to enjoy. If you have upholstered furniture you love with original fabric then maybe it's meant for a sitting room that is rarely used. Silk can be very delicate. I would seek a professional restoration company for advice. Sometimes covering fabric is tricky too because it needs to breath.
I would not fret over using collectibles like Pyrex, Smith, Westmoreland, Fiesta and Hull. My glass freezer containers are some of my favorite storage containers I take to parties. These are mass produced and hold value because people do like to use them. Still the best! I have a ceramic Hull mixing bowl I use weekly. If it's mass produced I would use it for sure.
What about Grandma's China? Is it hiding in a curio cabinet? I take my own China out for special occasions. If you don't use it, who will? If you're not fancy just treat yourself to a romantic candlelight dinner once in awhile.
Furthermore, unless it is truly an antique (around 1850 or before) or the materials extremely valuable, an important part of a genre's history then have fun and use it! Have you watched the, Then and Now episodes lately from Antiques Roadshow? Collecting is fast becoming a thing of the past for techy generations. So many prices have dipped to half from only 10-15 years ago.

Should I Fix or Refinish an Old Piece or Antique?

I was recently at a community garage sale and was peppered with questions about some "old" pieces. I put old into quotations because many times people think Grandma's old rocker or trinkets are antiques or collectibles. Most items you come across are mass produced and not worth much. Also the collecting market has declined from 15-20 years ago because thirty somethings and younger have little interest. We are living in a throw away, dollar store society. I grew up with the notion of buy the best and buy it once. Things have changed a lot. 

One of the items I was asked to look at was a basic dark wooden rocker with upholstered seat from around 1920-1940. This guy thought it was a gold mine cause it belonged to his Grandmother. Twenty years ago he may have gotten $100 because the market was hot on wood furniture.
Dealers would clean up the wood and reupholster the seat or tac it back up. Housewives wanted wood furniture, boxes, tools and more for country decor. Country and later called Prim decor was hot for about 10-15 years.
This chair had no carving, paint details, ball feet, scrolling or sharp mission style. The upholstery was not the original and the original tacs were long gone. It was just a mass produced chair for regular folk. With the market down and upholstery work expensive, he would be lucky to get $25. A person who does this work themselves could wax it up, fix the seat and be lucky to get $75-$100. I actually just spoke to a dealer today who quit fixing furniture. He said he is not getting his time and money back. 
Now you noticed I said regular folk. Folkarts still carry value. Folk art refers to utilitarian items. Generally these items were handmade out of necessity and used by middle and lower class citizens in the early 1900's or before. I have seen farm implements and wooden household items likely from around the 50's still have value because of their worn nature and beauty. Hand embroidery work telling a family history still holds value for prim and textile collectors too. Folkarts should not be "cleaned up." You are literally cleaning away history. Make thoughtful decisions. Should you just dust it with a rag? Should you use a mild soap and lightly clean? If things start to get sticky then you are in trouble because that sticky is the finish coming off! There is no turning back on that one. Replacing pieces is tricky too. I have a slaw board someone thought they restored. They ruined it. They took the original screws out and cleaned it so good it shows no wear. Now it is just another decor piece. If the piece is important to you or you want to resell then do research. Maybe even get a professional to work on it. Make sure they understand your goals and they understand furniture history. This is an old article but, still has great information. http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/roadshow/tips/woodfinish.html
Folkart is about American history for collectors. It's someones hands who toiled away with a masher, broom, rake, wooden box, mallet, hog scraper, shoe box, tools and more. It is about Americans taking scrap wood or scrap from the foundry and making it into useful items. It was people able to take something from nothing and making it work. Really, isn't that the American dream?

Mother Nature is so Beautiful

In the middle of the night our apple tree creaked and groaned and with a thunderous crack it finally split in half. We heard the noise and wondered what could it be?
I opened the back door in the morning to let the pups out and looked out into the yard. I thought something does not seem right back there and then I realized, tree down! Now someone, and I am thinking my husband's Aunt Eve was watching over us from above. Because my husband loves to water ski and it is his relaxation time. Well, the tree literally came down between the boat and truck. It did not touch either one!
We got to enjoy that gnarly apple tree for 10 years. It fed the deer and in the beginning made some apple pies. It was here when we bought the house but, it made it's finale in the most glorious and perfect way. It bowed out before we had to cut it's rotting trunk down.
In one final gesture she has given us firewood, loose apple's for the deer and a beautiful picture of her woody inside. If I can salvage some of this piece, it might be varnished

for a piece of furniture or a wall hanging.