CHIHUAHUAS FOR CHANGE

Be sure to scroll down when you see this picture.

Magic Margot Shoebox is a collection point for all that I hold dear - and that's a lot. My recent inspiration is Don Floyd's new blog thecaptainandthomasine.

The original title of my blog "Chihuahuas for Change" popped into my head two years ago when I was looking for a place to "store" all the information I accumulated on Sarah Palin. I've since dumped that information as others have done a far better job researching and accumulating.


Life is about change and since I have darling Libby the chihuahua the title seems to still be fresh.

KINDNESS

One can pay back the loan of gold, but one dies forever in debt to those who are kind.

"Nullius in verba" Take no one's word for it.
Do your own research.

Success if going from one failure to the next with enthusiasm. Winston Churchill

tracking

Tracking

SHOEBOX


I told you this is a shoebox and we all know that we simply put stuff into a shoebox in no particular order. That's how things are going to appear here. When something whaps me over the head you will be the first to know.

Right now, I want to tell you about my favorite blog in the whole wide world - Margaret and Helen. Hope you go read their post called "I can see November" - while there note their statistics. A grandson set this site up and it's been around the world several times. Margaret and Helen have been friends for over sixty years and counting.

http://margaretandhelen.wordpress.com/

Don Floyd and I have been friends for more than thirty years and counting. We first became pen pals in the late 70's. We are cousins and share a passion for genealogy. My major project this year was helping Don get his book "The Captain and Thomasine" published. Will give you more details in later post.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

66th TRIP AROUND THE SUN

8/28/2008 4:23 PM

It has been my custom over the years to write a piece on the occasion of my birthday.  This past year I turned 66 and it was marked by an extraordinary event.  Page and the girls were with me for six weeks.  I say extraordinary because its not often that a grandparent gets to participate so fully with the grandchildren.  For a full six weeks we lived together, car pooled, played tourist, drew pictures, did loads of laundry and tried to sort out the pecking order for pushing elevator buttons in order to minimize the bellowing in the hall.

Today is the 27th day of August and I have yet to complete the housekeeping even though the girls have been gone for a month. The 27th is also its own extraordinary day for tonight marks the acceptance speech of Barack Obama for president of the United States. How well I remember this same date forty-five years ago when we lived in Washington, D.C and experienced the Martin Luther King “I have a Dream” speech.  Who could have predicted that we would be at this place in history?  I feel that my adult life has been “book-ended” by these two August 27th’s.

Our country has endured the most horrible eight years of the bush administration.  This morning I sent a Tom Friedman column to my friends and encouraged them to read it and forward to everyone.  I hope one day it will come back to me from a stranger after having passed around the world.  It seemed the least I could do.  I feel so helpless for our country.

As one gets older the thought that there are more days behind than in front is a natural experience.  It is also unsettling.  I’ve had a copy of Emily Dickinson biography around for twenty years and picked it up to read.  As everyone knows Emily was a bit obsessed by death.  She explored her feelings in great depth with bitterness and wonderment.  In the process she became one our most important poets – staring death in the face and challenging it.  Of course, she knew that she couldn’t prevail, but nonetheless she stared at it with steely eyes.  That book was a “bookend” too, and I must say one that offered very little hope for reason.  Another “bookend” emerged that brought a great deal of peace and meaning.

About three and a half years ago Steve and I were introduced to a movie script called “Misconceptions” by our friend Ron Satlof.  We invested some money in the project and served as ‘extras” for the fun of observing the process.  “Misconceptions” premiered at the Montreal film Festival last weekend and we were in attendance.  The film is sweet with a very timely message and we were pleased with the project. 

In the process of attending the Festival we had an opportunity to view other works.  I chose one called “Grief Walker” and it changed my life.  Grief Walker deals with the subject of death.  The essence is that while we can control pain in death there is still a hole that causes fear.  That hole is the failure to create a “good death”.  We think that death is what happens to everyone else and thus fail to recognize its importance to our lives.  There cannot be new life without death and we must face and embrace this daily; not in a morbid way, but in a fulfilling way.  The best analogy I can give is that the message of “The Lion King” is a sugar coated “Grief Walker”.  We are part of the circle of life.

To this end I’ve decided to embrace the idea that one day I will be gone, but to leave a message for the family that will help them through what can be a difficult time.  This is not scary to me as my genealogy has brought me face to face with mortality for years.  I like to think that all of the ancestors I have discovered are very lucky to have me give them new life and meaning.  They are not forgotten, but are part of the fabric of life. I give thanks for them, but I also want my life to carry forward for the enlightenment of the future.  My plan for this my 66th trip around the sun is to write my autobiography in words, pictures and music.

On Sunday my friend Margaret and I are going to a doll workshop in which we will create a creature that best expresses our selves.  I was lucky to find a little lace and satin ladies night cap that my grandmother game me when I was about eight years old.  From it I fashioned a doll dress.  This is going to be the garment for my doll. I am busy filling the hole that is my soul so that when the time comes there will be no fear. This is a most liberating experience and one I hope that Emily experienced through her poetry.


65TH TRIP AROUND THE SUN


65TH TRIP AROUND THE SUN

The days seem to spin around so fast that I find myself wondering where the time goes.  Its been a busy and happy year except for Mark being sent to Iraq. I was so angry to learn the news that I knew I had to do something physical so I tore into the closets.  Pulled everything out and reorganized.
In one week Page and the girls will be here for a month.  We have a busy schedule with activities for the girls.  Shannon is in stage camp at American Stage and Bridgie is doing art at the Art Center and Harbor Mice at the sailing center.

I started my year off with a surprise party at Bella Brava.  All of my friends came and the surprise of the evening was having coffee served from Martha Eugenie Devalcourt’s  sterling silver coffee pot.  Talk about surprises.  Steve bought it for me and how we found it is quite a topic for a future writing.

Steve’s 70th birthday was a giant party (not a surprise) at the St. Pete Yacht Club.  He introduced the GTX1 to everyone.  This is well-documented in pictures making a long description superfluous. The Chicago Woodrough’s came for the event and we took the children to Weeki Wakii Springs.  They loved it. Steve took a cross country drive in his GTX1 and made a second trip to Las Vegas to the SEMA show.

Late in November we left Miami on a three week cruise up the Amazon river to Manaus.  It was an experience of a life time and also is well documented with photographs.

We returned home just before Christmas and Page came with the girls for a three week visit.  Of course, we did the usual Build A Bear expedition to get a bear for Molly and new clothes for the older bears.

The end of February was the opening of the new wing of the Museum of Fine Arts.  By special request Mary and her father came for the event.  I spent the weekend teaching Mary the rudiments of sewing and bought her a small sewing machine.  The big surprise was Steve honoring me by arranging to have the grand staircase of the museum named in my honor.  This is perhaps the biggest surprise of my entire life.  It truly is one of the best gifts I can imagine.  It is now mid June of  a wonderful year.  Next year we are planning a cruise of the British Isles. And This Thanksgiving we are planning a family reunion in beautiful Death Valley.

We have managed to have some interesting family reunions.  Last summer we were all at Spirit Lake with Harold and Joan McDermott.  The previous winter we took a family cruise to the Caribbean and the girls had a wonderful time. Of course, there was the family reunion to beat all – our trip to Italy for Shannon’s baptism.
In 2005 Steve and I took a Baltic Cruise and visited St. Petersburg Russia for three days. And, who can forget the cruise down the Nile in 2002?
I think that I am starting to see why time has flown.  We been rather busy.

GEORGE BUSH INAUGURAL - January 20, 2001


Life is made up of strange twists and turns.  On December 18th I was in the hospital in St. Petersburg Florida about to undergo surgery for a Belgium accident of two days earlier.  One short month later I was on a plane to Washington DC to attend the inaugural of “Present-elect” Bush.  Truly modern medicine is wonderful for it had patched me back together in less time than it took to determine the outcome of the election of 2000!

My recovery was supported by many friends who generously contributed flowers, food, cards and physical assistance to my recovery.  Many of these same friends are Democrats, and it is to them that I dedicate this short description of the gala events that I attended in Washington.  First, let me say that Steve and I went to the inaugural from a sense of curiosity.  We sought a catharsis to remove the horrible memory of my accident as well as “closure” for the most bazaar presidential election of the twentieth century. 

We flew to Washington on Juary 18th through Winston Salem where our plane was twice delayed in take-off caused by air traffic back-up at National Airport (now named for Ronald Reagan).  When we finally landed we saw acres of tightly packed private jets huddled in the early gloom of a January evening.  Obviously, the Texans beat us to town in time for the opening ceremonies at the Lincoln Memorial scheduled for 6:00PM.  However, we were the beneficiaries of the festivities that shot a huge display of fireworks over the Potomac just as we crossed the river.  If we hadn’t known better we would have thought that the fireworks were a special welcome for us alone.  (There’s more rejoicing in heaven over the return of one lost sinner…)  could it be that the Republicans thought we had joined their fold and were celebrating? 

When Steve and I decided to attend the Inaugral we realized we would be like “whores in church”, and I realized that more than one glass of wine at any function might cause me to “blow our cover”.  Here we were the only two Democrats in town whose arrive was announced with fireworks!  Life is indeed strange.

Our hotel was located just steps from “The Hill” as the Capital building is affectionately known by insiders, and appropriately enough the hotel was named The George!  What wonderful irony was beginning to unfold?    The lobby of “The George” was clotted with good Republican ladies snuggled in their full length mink coats.  Over the beds in our room was a huge Andy Warholisque copy of two thirds of a dollar bill featuring the standard picture of George Washington upon which was superimposed a portrait of a younger George Washington.  The whole was done in lurid reds, greens, yellows and fuchsia.

First there was the sudden announcement of the Jesse Jackson “love child” and then the rains started.  At first the weeping was soft with just a tear or two running down the cheek of the windows.  By morning the whole of Washington was awash in a flood of tears that collected in cold dark puddles.  The sun stayed in bed the whole of Friday January 19th claiming  symptoms of general malaise and depression.  In order to preserve our Republican image we ordered Continental Breakfast in our room at the Republican price of $20.00 per person and dressed in our finest for the first official event which was a luncheon reception at the very prestigious Hay-Adams Hotel overlooking the White House.  The party was given by Phillip Morris in honor of congressman Roy Blount with no expense spared.  The entire rooftop of the Hotel had been enclosed with Plexiglass windows, satin tenting, huge bouquets of roses and patriotic blue paneling decorated with overlays of gold stars.  We ate their food, smoozed with the congressman and admired the view and left feeling sure that our performance as Republicans would certainly receive a nomination at Academy Award time.  The city continued to weep all afternoon and the Washington Monument hid its head in fog.

Steve made an attempt to attend the swearing in ceremony, but returned damp and cold to “the George” just in time to watch the ceremony on television.  Even the television cameras seemed to shed a few tears as they recorded the ceremony.  The day grew even more cold and dark as we left the hotel for the parade.  It took a bit of looking, pushing and shoving using Margot’s wheel chair as a battering ram, but eventually we got through the street protestors and into the warm confines of The Texas Cattleman’s Association office on Pennsylvania Avenue.  Once again we found ourselves locked in the embrace of Republicanism as we enjoyed the buffet lunch and front row parade seats offered by this lobbying group.   Everyone in the room was from Texas and spoke with the Texas twang we tried so hard to imitate in order to keep our cover.  The accent might have worked, but certainly our clothes gave us away for we were not wearing the huge silver jewelry inlaid with cabochons of turquoise that is so favored by the Texas natives.  Some wore belts that could never have allowed them to pass through a metal detector.  They alternated watching the parade out the window and watching the Clinton long goodbye on television.  They threw verbal epithets at the television and would have thrown tomatoes had there been any handy.  Steve and I were keenly aware at that moment that if they discovered that we were Democrats they could easily have turned their wrath to us.  Like Brer Rabbit “we lay low”.

Our vantage perch was directly above the protestors so that we had both views of the parade.  The weather became colder and wetter and still they carried their signs and marched back and forth. 

Inaugural evening was crowned by the balls.  The one we attended was decorated the way one would expect to find for homecoming at an affluent college.  Cavernous tents stretched from the building to the street in order to protect guests from the weather.  Inside the white tents were draped miles of “Smylax” vine to soften the edges.  The National Guard Armory building that is roughly the size of a football field was entirely carpeted in soft blue.  Drinks were a la carte after waiting in a long line.  The photographic line was longer still and seemed to be the main occupation for those who chose not to dance and in addition provided a perfect place to people watch.  Margot’s long gown hid her ankle cast but she certainly enjoyed the convenience of having a wheel chair for resting in a long line.

George and Laura arrived around 10:00 PM and danced a step or two before leaving.  We stayed until almost midnight, collected our commemorative gold embossed Champagne glasses and headed for the car.  The great torrents of tears were lessening and in fact had changed to soft sobs of snow as though the city itself sought to disappear. 

Sunday morning was a miracle.  At last the indefinite was over, the deed was done and with a sigh, Washington put on its brightest face and sought to smile its way to the future.  The sky was bright blue and every surface was covered in heavy white snow.  We must go on no matter what and we must put on the brightest possible face in order to do it.

In an act of Democratic charitableness we took our Republican friends on a whirlwind driving tour of the city.  First we visited Arlington Cemetery then down the Potomac to lunch just before Mount Vernon followed by a drive through the old city of Georgetown, past all the memorials and a final run up the Virginia side of the Potomac along the Mt Vernon Parkway to its end at the CIA complex.

Everyone knows the CIA is in Washington and everyone knows where it is, but it is so typical that the sign at the entrance reads “George Bush Center for Intelligence”  No kidding.  We tried to take a picture, but were seen by the guards who ran both drivers license and tag through their computer and told us that if we ever came back we would be arrested for trespassing.  Remember, you heard it here first, George Bush does have Intelligence and its hidden at the end of the George Washington Memorial Parkway in McLean Virginia.  Is this Washington’s best kept secret?

We returned to “The George” Hotel, slept peacefully beneath the Andy Wharolisque George Washington picture and departed from the Ronald Reagan airport eternally grateful that Clinton said he would be with us always!

June 5, 2008

While cleaning up my computer I found this piece, and since it is the historic day after Barack  Obama received enough votes to be the Democratic nominee I thought it appropriate to write the end of the story.

Surely Mother Nature could see what we only dreaded.  Indeed she wept bitterly on January 20th 2001.  Is it possible that the events of the past eight years can have been so bad?  Our suspicion of George Bush was more than confirmed.  We knew he was an idiot from the beginning, but put our hopes in his receiving guidance from Vice president Cheney.  How could we know that the Vice President would come to be called “Vice” and was truly just this side of a mad man.

The Bush presidency has been a complete disaster, more than can be told here.  I cannot recall a single thing that he did right.  Only last week his press secretary Scott Mc Clellen released a book detailing what we knew all along about the conditions in the White House.  In addition in 2004 John Dean wrote a book “Worse Than Watergate” again revealing all the awful occurrences during this president’s administration.

How can people fail to see the harm that has been done to our country?  The coming election will be between John McCain and Barack Obama.  We are hoping that Barack will give a lift to the country’s standing in the world and will be a tonic to start the healing of our nation.

We have been torn apart by people like Karl Rove who practice just this short of treason.  They get people all stirred up over gun control, a woman’s right to control her own body and gay people who want legal protection for their commitment.  All the time they ignore our economy, health care, the awful damage we have done in Iraq and our failure to resolve disputes with enemies before resorting to force.  Our environment is probably past the tipping point and our gasoline costs $4.50 a gallon.  Is it any wonder that Mother Nature wept so bitterly on January 20th 2001 and then hid herself beneath the blanket of snow?

I am now 66 years old and will probably survive just fine, but my heart aches for the tribulations that await my children and the 6.5 grandchildren.  What a dismal outlook for their futures.  Barack Obama is our only hope.  May Mother Nature smile on him.

MY BIRTHDAY JULY 16 2000


My Birthday 2000

I’m a day late with my birthday essay, but you’ll see what’s kept me busy in a moment.  First lets set the stage.  For years I’ve tried to write a reflection on my birthday.  You’ll never find all 58 of them for several reasons.  First, I could not write until I was at least five or six years old.  Second, computers didn’t come into widespread use until about ten years ago.  I know that has nothing to do with writing, but still, one is more inclined to write when one can “save, spell check and edit with ease”.

Someday when a descendant is going through my things they will find some birthday essays.  Hope someone thinks they are fun.  Now to the birthday at hand.  This is the big one – the year 2000.  When I was young my father would remind me from time to time that I would be alive for the Millennium and “how wonderful that will be”.  Well, yes I am and it was and you’ll find that described in another piece I wrote and stashed.  However, when my father would tell me the “alive and wonderful” part I would always flinch and think, “yes, but I’ll be an ancient 58 years old”. 

From the lofty vantage point of 2000 and 58 I’m here to say, “It ain’t so bad”. 

My children are grown and married to folks who love them and care for them – no longer do I worry if they will come home late from a date.  (Now I just worry if their plane will make it across the Atlantic Ocean.)  My mind thinks I’m 39 years old.

Now, let me tell you about my 58th birthday present.  Several months ago I idly turned on the TV and watched a sewing show in which a wonderful machine was demonstrated.  Not only would it sew, but also embroider as well.  I was smitten and rushed to my three closest sewing machine dealers for a demonstration coming home laden with enthusiasm and brochures.  SBW did his typical SBW thing which was to declare that considering the cost of the machine I could buy an awful lot of clothes etc. etc.

I pouted for a day or two then resolved to campaign some ore after we returned from our trip to Detroit scheduled for late June.  The moment I got back I dug out my brochures and decided it was time to start the battle from a new front, but first I had a few other life details to attend so the process was delayed until the third week in July.

Saturday July 15th we awoke with the sound of lightening and thunder that resembled the show when Baghdad was bombed in the early 90’s.  Florida a state that had not seen rain in months and was parched beyond recognition was about to get its whole rainfall deficit wiped out in one day.  It rained longer and harder on July 15th than many people could remember.

We spent the day doing such necessary tasks as cleaning computer files and catching up on unread back issues of magazines and being very grateful that we lived here all the time and were not visitors to the beach who had paid $150 for a waterside room that was about to be flooded. 

In the middle of the afternoon during a break in the rains I suggested to SBW that he dash out and rent “The Talented Mr. Ripley” for our evening entertainment.  As usual SBW said he would then refused to budge.  I said, “if you are going to go, then go NOW while its not raining”.  Still he sat.  I returned to my computer and soon the sky darkened and the wind started to blow.  I heard him pick up the car keys and I yelled, “NOT NOW – ITS TOO LATE”  to which he responded, “Its not raining” and left. 

True, it was not raining at exactly that moment, but before he could descend six floors and get to the car the heavens dumped buckets and sheets of water on South Pinellas County.  I started to pace and mumble things about “how dumb can one get” etc.  Right in the midst of the pacing and ranting there was a feeble little tap tap tap on the door.  Reluctantly I opened the door half expecting to find a neighbor there to announce that Steve had had an accident in the rain.  (Who else would be out in this kind of almost hurricane weather?)

Instead I found myself nose to nose with a woman who handed me an envelope and introduced herself as the “birthday bunny”.  It was the closest I’ll ever get to having the Publisher’s clearing House Prize Patrol on my doorstep.  Behind the birthday bunny was a man with a huge moving dolly who pushed right past and rolled into my foyer then quickly went back to retrieve two big beautifully wrapped boxes.  Mind you the wind was blowing, the rain was falling in giant amounts and here stood these apparitions with their gifts.  Both the gifts and the apparitions were dry and unruffled.  All I could say was, “Where’s Steve?” 

No one seemed to know and I couldn’t figure out how these people got in, and for a long time I thought they had the wrong place.  Gradually I realized they were delivering not only my sewing machine, but my sewing table as well.  I thanked and hugged them, closed the door and thought, “Where’s Steve”.

Forty five minutes passed as I worried that he had an accident and was on his way to the hospital.  Finally, he bustled in carrying the DVD for our movie.  He had been watching movies at Blockbuster waiting for the storm to pass and had entirely missed the wonderful surprise of his birthday gift delivery!

My new sewing machine is wonderful and soon everyone I know will have everything they own embroidered with lovely designs.  I spent the whole day of July 16th learning to thread my new machine, and even think that in my lifetime I can master the whole process – sure glad I’m only 58 years old!

Once again SBW pulled a surprise on me!  (Remind me someday to tell the story of the Mother’s Day mirror he decided to hang at 2:00AM and woke the whole building with banging.)

Its been a lovely birthday week.  Page and Mark called from the plane as they left for Belgium, we followed their flight all night on the computer, within 24 hours of their departure we started getting lovely messages via e-mail, Steve and I had a wonderful dinner at Chateau France on July 14th in honor of Bastille Day, we cleaned out all our computer files on a rainy Saturday, saw a great movie – Talented Mr. Ripley, and then to top it off I had a visit from the birthday bunny.  What fun!  I’m so glad I lived to be 58! 

Its now 8:00 AM on Monday the 17th of July.  I just have time to spell check this and send it off to Page before my sewing show comes on TV at 8:30. 

THE MILLENIUM WOODROUGH STYLE


THE END OF THE 20TH CENTURY – WOODROUGH STYLE


The Woodrough family celebrated the end of the 20th century in grand style  The party started with Thanksgiving and continued to the end of January, and was a time of looking forward as well as backward.

Thanksgiving day was spent at 503 Poinsettia Belleair Florida, the home of Margaret and Richard Fuselier.  It is a special place since it was once owned by Annette Kaplan then by her daughter Margaret Woodrough who renovated it and then sold it to the Fuseliers.  Dinner was like a family reunion since both Annette and Margot were invited along with dear friends and next door neighbors, Owen and Lyn Schlaug .  Just the week before Thanksgiving Margot and Steve traveled to Washington D.C. and while there made the rounds visiting all of the homes they owned in Northern Virginia before the move to Atlanta in 1973.  It was quite a trip and great fun to see how the homes had survived the thirty years. 

In addition Margot and Steve spent one spectacular Sunday exploring Georgetown, Margot’s father’s home.  First they attended Mass at Trinity Church where the Ogle and Vollmer family worshiped for many years.  Since it was a picture perfect fall day Margot and Steve “scuffed through the newly fallen bight leaves of Georgetown’s bumpy sidewalks and then to add the perfect touch they spent several hours in Dumbarton Oak’s gardens.  The weather was very mild for late November, the sun was brilliant and the gardens nicely uncrowned.  Since Dumbarton Oaks is one of Margot most favorite places, this was truly a special event. 

The Washington monument was still shrouded in the delightful scaffolding designed by Michael Graves, and at night it looked for all the world like a glowing Japanese lantern.

The Washington weekend was particularly special as Margot was able to spend two afternoons in the Library of Congress and while there found a publication written by Laurie J. Blakely which she copied.  Since family stories have always declared that Laurie Blakely’s works were lost in a fire at a publishing house, this was a particularly exciting find.  Naturally, she copied the entire book for her file.

After Thanksgiving a trip to Atlanta gave us time to help Steve and Elena decorate their Christmas tree then it was back to Florida for the beginning of a very busy holiday season.  On December 20th Annette, Jane, Laura , Steve and Margot took Jane Blakely to dinner to celebrate her 90th birthday.  Page and Mark arrived on Christmas Eve in time for dinner at Laura Glass’s home.  The whole family spent Christmas Day at 4801 Osprey Dr reading their letters to their grand children and exchanging gifts.  Two days after Christmas Steve and Margot had a party for the neighbors at their home, and just when that dust settled the McDermott family arrived from Iowa.

The Millennium celebration centered around St. Petersburg Florida’s “First Night” event.  Margot and Steve took their boat, “Motion Granted” to a marina within walking distance of St. Petersburg.  Mick and Joan McDermott, Matt and Mike McDermott joined Page, Mark, Steve and Margot for the evenings celebration that started with dinner at the “Ovo CafĂ©”.  The fireworks over the Vinoy Basin were spectacular and the evening was mild. 

All of the out of town guest left by January 4, and Steve took off for Missouri leaving Margot to “rest” for a week.  Then it started all over again.  Steve and Elena made their Christmas visit in January and it included a trip to Walt Disney’s Animal Kingdom where Margot and Steve purchased their wonderful water buffalo carving.  One day after Steve and Elena left Margot and Steve took off for San Juan Puerto Rica for two days before joining a cruise ship for a weeks tour of the eastern Caribbean.

The cruise was very special since Larry West (Steve’s roommate from law school) and his wife Susan were along.  The trip included Barbados, Antigua, Martinique, St. Lucia and St. Thomas.  We liked Barbados and Antigua best.  The trip home from San Juan through Atlanta was an adventure for the town was in the middle of an ice storm on the eve of the Super Bowl.  Margot and Steve might have been very lucky to have been one of the last planes in and out that night before the airport was virtually closed down for weather. 

How lovely it is to be home at Dolphin Cay that certainly resembles a cruise ship that never leaves port.  We have decided that St. Petersburg Florida is the best Caribbean Island there is, and we are certainly looking forward to a lovely boring February.  Steve and Elena are moving to Chicago and Page and Mark to Germany, but that is their problem not ours thank goodness.  Already we are planning an extended trip to Chicago in July and to Germany next summer.

LETTER TO MY FATHER - 1999

My father was a strong influence in my life.  He died in 1978.  I wrote him to bring him up to date.

Margot Woodrough
4801 Osprey Drive South #604
St. Petersburg, FL 33711
727-906-8102            727-906-8102     
Fax 727-906-8302
margo4it@tampabay.rr.com

May 4, 2011




Attention: Herman C. Vollmer

Dear Dad,

For many years you and I kept up a letter writing relationship.  I’ve saved all of them – both yours and mine, and someday one of my heirs, if I ever get any will go through them.  At the moment your lineage stops with Page and Steve, but there is still time for them to have children.

I missed writing to you in the twenty-one years since you died.  I haven’t written, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought of you.  I think of you often as you are the reason I have so many diverse interests in life.  In fact, I’m a bit like you.  I know a little about many things and can talk to anyone about almost any topic.  I do go blank when it comes to sports, but that wasn’t your big interest either was it?  Why, just last year I was standing in the Smithsonian Castle building looking at a display showing the city of Washington.  Beside me was a young black boy who seemed interested.  I engaged him in banter then told him the story about “Tunlaw” street being Walnut spelled backwards.  Page and Mark, Mark is her new husband, were there and heard the story as well so you see one never knows what will get passed along through the generations.

Lately, I’ve been telling everyone the story of how you always told me I was so lucky because I would live to see the Millennium.  I remember thinking when you said it that that was fine, but I would be so old (57) when it happened that I wouldn’t care and probably couldn’t even breath enough to celebrate.  Well, here we are at T-29 days and counting and I’m still very much alive.  I don’t feel much older than a wise thirty-five, and still zip around fairly well.  I walk two miles everyday.  I am a bit pudgier than I ever have been, but keep thinking that I’ll take care of that one day.  Steve and I are still married and both Page and Steve are grown and successful.  You are in their hearts and we continue to speak of you.  A few years ago Stevie went to Washington and visited 4740 Bradley Blvd.  Its still there, but just as you suspected it went condo.  Guess that means you got out just in time.

The big news is that Steve and I just returned from a trip to Washington and I though you would like to hear about it.  It was on this trip that I thought to write you a Millennium letter since I’m sure you would want to hear the news of Washington.  We flew into National airport.  You would be amazed at how much it looks the same.  Actually, it is just about to change dramatically as the old terminal is completely gutted with only the shell remaining.  Our flight arrived at the old north terminal.  Just a ghost of the old place is there for those who once knew it.  A stranger would think the whole place new.  Actually, most of it is – new and glitzy.  The most incredible thing is that its no longer called National Airport.  No kidding, they renamed it Ronald Regan National Airport!  Bet you wonder why they named it after an actor and a third rate one at that.  You missed the 1980’s when we actually elected RR as president for two terms.  No kidding and everyone thought he was wonderful.  He is still alive today in body, but his mind is shot.  He suffers from Alzheimer’s disease (don’t think they had invented that when you were here) so that he doesn’t know which end is up.  Some say he’s probably had the Alzheimer’s longer than we know – as he tended to drift off even while President.

I must say though that the drive from the airport looks just as it always has, and in fact, in many ways the city is unchanged.  We flew up the Potomac River on the Virginia side crossing the bridge that carried 301 south.  The approach took us up to “Little River Falls” where we turned south east and followed the river down to the airport.  We passed over Roosevelt Island (had they built the memorial to him when you were here?)  It was a lovely trip up the river as we could see the city below, but it looked so small.  I could pick out landmarks but only because I knew what to look for.  The biggest landmark, the Washington Monument, it not its usual self so was a bit blurry – more about that later.

Steve dropped me off at the Library of Congress for a bit of research while he attended his meeting.  You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to be admitted to the research room.  Red tape and bureaucracy and more of the same.  I had to sit at a computer and enter all kinds of data about myself to get a researcher’s card.  You don’t know about computers either do you – at least not the ubiquitous ones we have nowadays.  I never thought I would get a library card from the Library of Congress, and if I’d know that was what they were up to when they took my picture I would have smiled.  As it was I glowered since I was tired of being harassed.

Our first night in Washington we had dinner at “The Monocle” which is THE place to be on “the hill” as they say.  Neat place with red walls and lovely witty phrases written like a border around the cornice of the room.  (I was dying to copy some of them down, but didn’t want to look like a tourist.)  We definitely felt like “insiders” dining here.  We drove from “the hill” to Arlington to “The Virginian” for the night.  Washington is such a lovely town especially at night.  I am so glad that I grew up here and know the place.

The next day I returned to the Library of Congress then walked from the Capitol (pass the Botanical Gardens which by the way are completely gutted and in a state of renovation) to my favorite building in all the world, the East Building of the National Gallery of Art.  Whenever I am there I feel the closeness of your spirit.  What do you know of the building?  I doubt you ever visited it when it was finished, but I bet you lurked around at some part of its construction watching.  I am with you so much in the building because its interior is like a Cathedral.  There is an essential atmosphere of serenity and order in this place as I’ve not found in any other building I’ve experienced.  It is particularly dear to me since your family went there on the Sunday after your funeral.  The building had just opened and was sparkling new and fresh.  We toured an exhibit called “Splendors of Dresden” and had lunch in a wonderful little cafĂ© tucked in the back of the uppermost level.  From the restaurant we could watch the Alexander Calder mobile turn silently on its axis in the breeze.  It was a beautiful building in 1978 and remains so today.  Last February I was there with Page and introduced her to the delights of the architecture.  We took a creative picture at the glass pyramid that stands between the East and West wing.  I use this as the cover picture for my family web page.

Web Page – that’s a new term for you isn’t it?  How you would have loved and hated the concept of the WWW.  You would have loved the technology that brought the WWW to us, but would have been quick to point out how it intrudes on our freedom.  Yes, it does and I fear that one or two generations in the future there could be significant intrusion onto our liberties.  I doubt you would have wanted a computer for you were too happy just reading the Encyclopedia Britannica one by one.  I remember when you died and I went to your apartment I found that some volumes were right side up and some upside down.  I know that the upside down ones were the ones you had read.  We don’t have books any more.  I doubt its possible to buy them.  Now the encyclopedias are stored on CD-ROM which are tiny little silver disks that can hold a whole shelf on one little disk.  Annette has a computer and uses it rather well.  She is still very opinionated, bright, and interested in politics.  Steve set her up a little stock account and she loves watching her money grow.  She cannot get around too well, but she manages.  I try not to baby her – but to be there when she needs help.

Her sister, Shug will turn 100 years old next March.  The family is remarkably long lived.  Speaking of family, I’ve been dabbling with genealogy for over twenty years now.  I found a researcher who took the Vollmers back to the 1600’s.  Last year I framed the shoe making tools that the Vollmers used for their shop in Annapolis.  Best of all I visited Georgetown and spent the day soaking up its charm.  Let me tell you about a truly splendid fall day.

Since it was Sunday we decided to attend Mass at Holy Trinity.  I’ve never been there and this seemed to be a good opportunity for a visit.  We parked just north of Visitation Convent and walked several blocks to church.  The day was one of those blue-sky brilliant fall days that stick forever in ones memory lying just below the surface ready to surface at the slightest whiff of damp fall leaves.  We were not alone walking, and watching the other pedestrians made me think this must have been how you and your neighbors reached church each Sunday – on foot.  Since it was the Sunday before Thanksgiving there was a large food drive being conducted on the sidewalk in front of the church.  Inside there was hardly a seat, but we were able to sneak in right on the aisle.  What a glorious church we saw.  The coloring of grey and white is elegantly restrained and the stained glass windows truly glowed in the fall light.  On this last really superior fall day of the 20th century we felt truly excited to be in this church , a place that had been important to the Vollmer and Ogle family for close to two hundred years.  The best was yet to come though.  I remarked to Steve about the beauty of the crucifix and the man in front of us turned to say, “be sure you see the one in the restored old church – today is the dedication day”.  Well, just how lucky could we get?  I wonder what you know of the old church.  Obviously it was old when you were young for its described as the oldest church in Washington, D.C.  There it sits about twenty-five feet above the street and behind the newer church.  The old church has been exquisitely restored with a very modern flare.  The beams are exposed above, it is lit with small intense track lights and on the floor is an exquisite Turkish carpet.  What a jewel it has become!  I wish you could have been there to see it.

Afterwards we walked up to “Whiskey” Ave (as you used to call Wisconsin Avenue) and found a “hole in the wall” place for breakfast to get energy for sightseeing.  The Ginko trees were all in “full yellow” and we picked up leaves and pressed them in the church bulletin as souvenirs of our day and as a “gift” to our Thanksgiving hostess next Thursday.  What a joy it was to walk the streets of Old Georgetown as the leaves drifted to the street in breeze.  This was the perfect culmination of an almost perfect year for us.  Somehow, the earth seems more at peace than ever.  Yes, there are places that are horrible, but I think we are making slow progress.  I’m even told that our population explosion may reverse itself before it does us in.

For the Woodrough family it has been a good time.  Steve finished his big case against the FDIC in March with an unprecedented settlement.  For the balance of the year he has been employed with a follow-up lawsuit.  The stock market has been doing very well and both Page and Steve seem happily married.  Annette continues to be herself and except for not being able to walk well is in great shape.  Yes, it is the last quarter of the 20th century, and every indication is that we will make it through to the new year.  We’ll make it through if the Y2K bug doesn’t get us that is.

You don’t know about that bug do you.  How could you, since computers were not that big when you were here.  Let me keep this short by saying that computer programs were written with little thought as to what a computer would make of a date ending in 00.  About five years ago we started worrying that computers might think this was 1900 not 2000 and shut down.  Let me tell you, it turned out to be a really big problem.  Do you remember how you told me what big parties would happen at the year 2000?  Well, there will be some big ones that’s for sure, but the younger people won’t be there.  All the young workers are ‘standing by” their employers computers on New year’s Eve 1999 waiting to go into action if things start collapsing.  No kidding!  Talk about your basic “kick in the head”.  As for us, we now live in St. Petersburg Florida where it is warm.  We have a boat and plan to celebrate in the town’s “First Night” party which is an incredibly big street party.  Page and Mark are coming as are Mark’s parents.  Oh, I forgot to tell you that Mark made Major this year.

By the way, some other crazy things are happening.  Our last president of the 20th century is about to leave office after two terms.  I could write a book about him, but will keep it simple by saying that this time last year he was impeached and acquitted.  Now, catch this, his wife is about to move out of the White House to New York to a place she calls “my house” and she is running for the Senate from New York. 

I have wandered a long way from Georgetown trying to give you a flavor of the times.  We spent the whole glorious afternoon of November 21 walking the lovely old streets using the little Washington guidebook you sent me years ago.  Finally, at 2:00 we entered Dumbarton Oaks, my second favorite place in the world.  We felt as though we had the gardens to ourselves, and wandered and sniffed and stared at the glorious colored leaves. The pebble garden is there.  I remember when it was once the tennis court and I remember you taking me there as it was being built.  I almost cried to have to leave.  In fact, I found a wonderful house where I would like to live and took a picture of it.  I’m sure we couldn’t afford it, but what fun to think about it. 

I scheduled a trip to the Folger Library to see a play.  At least I thought that was what I was doing.  When we got to the Folger we discovered that fifteen years ago the old Lansburgh building was turned into The Shakespeare Theater.  What fun!  We had dinner at a restaurant right next to the theater.  In fact, our table was right inside the former display window of Lansburgh’s.  I told Steve about how Mom Mom would come downtown to shop before there were K-Marts and Wall Marts and suburban Malls.

Speaking of Malls, you wouldn’t believe the one across Lee Highway from Tyson Corner.  We dropped in as we were out touring the places we lived when we were in Washington.  First we went to Kent-Lincolnia where Stevie was born.  Its all black now.  Then we went to Colony Road.