I love this group photo of my great-grandfather Clyde L. Stroup (third from right on the second row) and his fellow Cleveland and Nottingham Equipment Works Supervisors Club members. It was taken a few days after Joan's 12th birthday (the one where she received the piano I mentioned earlier this week).
We have plans to hang this photo in our powder room along with several other vintage group photos of various family members and their coworkers and friends. It should be cool!
We recently inherited Joan's piano. If there is such a thing as a family heirloom, this piano would be near the top of our list. Joan received the piano from her dad for her 12th birthday on September 10, 1945. It was her most prized possession. When the family relocated from Ohio to Southern California in 1960, the piano moved into my great-grandmother's living room because it wouldn't fit in Joan's apartment. Here's a photo of my mom playing the piano before her junior prom in 1973:
After my great-grandmother passed away the following year and Joan moved into her new house in the nearby suburb of Cerritos, the piano moved into a corner of her living room. You can see it in the background along with the chandelier that now hangs in our foyer:
For the thirty years she lived in the house, the piano occupied that space. When my sister and I were kids, we loved playing the piano. It was one of our favorite pastimes as children. After we sold Joan's house in October 2011, the piano moved across the country to my mom's house in Oxford, where it stayed until this spring when my mom decided to downsize. It now lives in our living room:
We still have some work to do in this room, but we are excited to have Joan's piano in our home. Jonathan is already practicing his piano-playing skills. Porter sings along!
Walt Whitman, 1819 - 1892
Why, who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water, Or stand under trees in the woods, Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love, Or sit at table at dinner with the rest, Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car, Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon, Or animals feeding in the fields, Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright, Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring; These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place. To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, Every cubic inch of space is a miracle, Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same, Every foot of the interior swarms with the same. To me the sea is a continual miracle, The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves— the ships with men in them, What stranger miracles are there?
It's easy to overlook miracles when we're caught up in the every day chaos of life. Our pastor shared this poem by Walt Whitman in church on Sunday, and it resonated with me. Whitman was right -- Miracles happen every single moment of every single day. How awesome is that?
On a personal note, Porter (our black lab) and I are both having surgery this week. If you don't mind saying a prayer for each of us (and for Jonathan, our caregiver), I would be very grateful. It's going to be a long week, and we could use all the positive energy we can get!
Psalm 71
1 In you, Lord, I have taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame.
2 In your righteousness, rescue me and deliver me;
turn your ear to me and save me.
3 Be my rock of refuge,
to which I can always go;
give the command to save me,
for you are my rock and my fortress.
4 Deliver me, my God, from the hand of the wicked,
from the grasp of those who are evil and cruel.
5 For you have been my hope, Sovereign Lord,
my confidence since my youth.
6 From birth I have relied on you;
you brought me forth from my mother’s womb.
I will ever praise you.
7 I have become a sign to many;
you are my strong refuge.
8 My mouth is filled with your praise,
declaring your splendor all day long.
9 Do not cast me away when I am old;
do not forsake me when my strength is gone.
10 For my enemies speak against me;
those who wait to kill me conspire together.
11 They say, “God has forsaken him;
pursue him and seize him,
for no one will rescue him.”
12 Do not be far from me, my God;
come quickly, God, to help me.
13 May my accusers perish in shame;
may those who want to harm me
be covered with scorn and disgrace.
14 As for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise you more and more.
15 My mouth will tell of your righteous deeds,
of your saving acts all day long—
though I know not how to relate them all.
16 I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, Sovereign Lord;
I will proclaim your righteous deeds, yours alone.
17 Since my youth, God, you have taught me,
and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.
18 Even when I am old and gray,
do not forsake me, my God,
till I declare your power to the next generation,
your mighty acts to all who are to come.
19 Your righteousness, God, reaches to the heavens,
you who have done great things.
Who is like you, God?
20 Though you have made me see troubles,
many and bitter,
you will restore my life again;
from the depths of the earth
you will again bring me up.
21 You will increase my honor
and comfort me once more.
Photographs are of my mother Julie, my grandmother Joan and my great-grandmother Elsie in the early 1960s. Taken in Anchorage, Alaska and Los Angeles, California.