{ musings }

Valentines & Rememberies

(i've deleted the photos because something BIG is in the works!)

Kinda nice that these pretty books keep showing up on my doorstep once a week, nudging me back into my creative vibe.  This one was special...it was my buddy T's journal.  Knew I had to bust out some good moves in this beauty...she deserves my VERY finest!  My favorite part?  On top of some scrumptious 100 year old ledger paper, I collaged on a tissue thin layer from some pretty napkins my wonderful Grandma must have tucked into my suitcase before I left CA after Christmas.   (More photos here.)

These napkins were/are special...oh yes!  They are a part of me...a magical moment from my childhood, and finding them tucked into my suitcase made me misty with rememberies!  My grandparents lived about a half-hour away from us, growing up, we'd see them every weekend.  About once a month my brother or I would get to spend the night at their house...o lucky stars when it was MY turn!!!   This meant sleeping in the "princess  bed" (a beautiful, rich, mahogany four-poster with a feather-bed that had belonged to her mother, and now belongs to me when I'm ready to "import it" from CA), using the special flower-shaped soaps she always put out just for me, and of course, all my favorite things to eat.  My fondest memories are our tea parties.  I'd dress up in one of her pegnior sets (all safety-pinned and tied up with ribbons in the back) and once I was sufficiently floaty-swirly-twirly in my chiffon and lace, she'd serve "tea" for the two of us:  apple juice and sugar cookies on her gorgeous, gold rimmed, hand-painted porcelain (painted by her mother!).  Y'see, even at 4 or 5 years old, Grandma trusted me with the good china...that's just how Grandmas are! If it was really a special day (it always was at her house!) she'd open up a delicate box of the most beautiful sugar-cubes I'd ever laid eyes on, all decorated on top with sugar flowers.  She'd let me pick one...just one...and I'd suck on that thing until the roof of my mouth was raw. 

So here you go, T....a special napkin, with pretty flowers and chubby birdies...bringing you some of my childhood joy in your beautiful Valentine Journal!  That's how friends share Valentines Day!  xoxo

It's In My Blood

People (mostly my non-scrappy friends) often ask me "Where do you get these ideas?!"  To which I usually answer "It just comes to me."  Most of you, my creative friends, KNOW exactly what this means without another word, but here is an attempt to explain where the ideas come from.

They're in my blood.  Yup.  In the gene pool.  In my DNA.  I was destined to do this...this crafty, collecting, scrapbooking thing.  And so, I think, is my eldest daughter, Alexis.  It comes from both sides of my family, really, but surprisingly more pronounced from my paternal lineage.

Upon the death of my Dad's mother (my beloved Grandma Wilma) two years ago, I learned a LOT about her that I really had no idea about before.  You learn a lot about someone when you dismantle their life, one box at a time.  Grandma Wilma, as we all knew, was a pack-rat.  In her last years, she was collecting jumbo sized ANYTHINGS she could buy at Costco or Sam's Club, but it goes much deeper than that.  As my parents and my Aunt & Uncle disassembled Grandma's home in Las Vegas and as the cousins discussed who got what jewelry or what furniture, all I really wanted to keep was the mementos.  The boxes and boxes of ephemera that tells the story of her life.  And boy, are there a lot of boxes.  Two years later and I still haven't even skimmed the surface - each time I open a box it is like a treasure hunt and I end up getting totally side-tracked...drawn into her world of the 30's -60's when she was FABULOUS and truly, a woman ahead of her times!

This humble stack of scrapbooks is one of the most charming parts of her legacy to me.  These were compiled by Grandma when she was in her teens, and are chock-full of clippings from magazines and newspapers featuring mostly the big movie stars of her day!  I can imagine her as a teenager, laying on her bedroom floor carefully cutting out pictures of Greta Garbo or Myrna Loy and imagining herself as a glamorous star!  Most of the pages are yellowed to a dark yellow ochre and the clippings are taped on with plain old Scotch Tape or glued down with Elmer's...but they retain their faded glory so well!  And...the fact that there are hand-written notes (in her early, teenage cursive) and doodles in all the margins makes these ablums even more precious to me!

There are also a couple of boxes full of of delicate kid gloves in every shade and style, silken scarves - many hand-painted, fabulous hats and custom tailored couture gowns she had made for her on her many trips to Asia and Europe.  There are boxes of receipts, legal documents, titles, notebooks and souvenirs from trips abroad.  There are newspaper clippings and event programs for many of the star-studded charity events she coordinated in Las Vegas and Hollywood.  There are awards and recognitions for her work with B'nai B'rith.  There are gobs and gobs of snapshots of family and friends - and even a handful of drawings and cards I made and sent to her as a child (I am the eldest grandchild).   

These boxes of goodies tell the story of a woman who grew up in the fabulous early years of Los Angeles, where women wore hats, gloves and stockings to leave the house, and when you could walk the six blocks from your home to the campus of USC without fear of a drive-by or worse.  They tell the story of a beautiful young woman who fell in love with and married a simple man - a butcher - my grandfather, and not much later left him (and their two, young children - my Dad and Aunt) in pursuit of a more glamorous life...the life she was destined to live.  They tell the story of how, shortly thereafter, she met and married an older, Jewish jeweler - who moved her to Las Vegas in the late 1940's where they (and their Rat-Pack and Jewish mafia pals) became the owners of one of the first hotel in Las Vegas (The Fremont).  They tell the story of a woman who converted to a new faith for her second husband, who donated her whole life to charitable endeavors and who traveled the world with flair and passion.  They tell the story of a woman ahead of her times - who ALWAYS did it her way, no matter the opinions of others or consequences. 

Every time I open those boxes, I breathe in a lot of Grandma Wilma and realize that the air that fills my lungs and the blood that pumps through MY body is very much the same that was hers.

Aren't I lucky to have this legacy?!