Tag: legacy writing

Legacy Writing 365:303

Earlier this year when I was plundering Lynne’s photo archives for pictures I might use for these entries, I said, “Who’s this sitting at your parents’ bar with Aunt Lil and Jess?”

She gave me The Lynne Look™ and said, “That’s you.”

I guess it’s been a while since I was that young, that slender, or had that much hair.

Or maybe I was so distracted by that box of Krispy Kreme Donuts on the washer/dryer that I couldn’t focus. For a while, we had Krispy Kreme franchises in Houston, but I guess they got into a fight with the mother ship and were shut down. I don’t eat donuts anymore anyway, but if I did, y’all could have your Shipley and your Dunkin’ donuts–I’m a Krispy Kreme snob.

Legacy Writing 365:302

When Tom and I were at the Renaissance Festival recently, I spent some time people watching in the elephant area. And I had the pleasure of getting to see this guy.

He was taking little kids for rides, and he was as good-natured as he could be. I watched several little ones look at him doubtfully while their parents talked them into riding him. Without fail, once they were on his back and he began his gentle, slow walk, their faces lit up. After their rides, as they were led away, they looked back at him, and he at them, in a way that melted my heart.

When looking through photos, I found this one of my nephew Daniel as a toddler meeting his first llama.

There’s another photo that’s really cute of him looking at a bear, but I can’t stand seeing a bear in a cage, so I’m not posting it.

I also like this one of Daniel with his grandmother from that same day. They always had a good time together.

Legacy Writing 365:301

I’m pretty sure Mother took this photo of my father and me at the wishing well at Noccalula Falls. I think I might be twelve-ish. Judging by how pale I am and the very dark circles under my eyes, my father was probably wishing his daughter wasn’t a vampire. Charlie Swan would feel your pain, Daddy.

Note to Lindsey: Nineteen days. [cackle]

Legacy Writing 365:300

One time when Lynne was over, she said about Penny, “She looks like a dog your sister would have.”

“YES!” I said, because it’s true. Mostly she reminds me of Debby’s dog Spanky. I don’t think Spanky had as much to say as Penny sometimes does, but she had the same kind of meek sweetness about her.


We would joke that Spanky’s head was too small for her body. That’s actually true of both Penny and Margot; you have to take care that they don’t slip their collars because of their head size compared to their neck size.

Here are a couple of photos of Spanky that I took one fall when I was visiting Kentucky.


Spanky and Gina


Spanky and Josh

When Penny first came to The Compound, I worried because I thought she didn’t look happy. Tim explained to me that Penny has her own way of looking happy–it’s just different from the other dogs. When I knew her better, I realized that he was right. Spanky always had a slightly worried look, too, as in this photo from my mother’s collection. Maybe a tool belt wasn’t her idea of fashion?

When my sister was a pediatric nurse, many of her patients had cystic fibrosis. One of them, W., loved Spanky so much that Spanky went to live with her. Though W. died when she was a teenager, I know that she and Spanky brought infinite amounts of joy and love to each other’s lives. That’s another way Penny is like Spanky.

Legacy Writing 365:299

Tom and I have taken many car trips together over the years. In fact, we always advise couples to try this early in a relationship. If you can withstand and endure the frustrations and discomforts of long car trips and still bear to speak to each other afterward, your relationship probably has a hope of success. And if you’re one of those couples who says, “Oh, we NEVER fight! We get along fabulously when we travel!” then you are either creative with truth, are not fully human, or never found yourself hungry and tired in There’s NOTHING FOR TWO HUNDRED MILES, Kansas, in the middle of the night.

It goes without saying that I love to shoot photos. It also goes without saying that no one wants to see anyone’s ten thousand photos of rocks at the Grand Canyon, right? The funny thing is, even I don’t want to see my trip photos. So most of them get shoved somewhere that I never look at them. Things might be different now that I have a camera I love to shoot with, can see how my photos are turning out instantly, and so could capture better photos. But most of my old trip photos are poorly lit, poorly focused, and apparently are very good at demonstrating how a car MOVES through landscape at seventy miles an hour.

And I can’t tell you how often we’ve taken a trip and seen hour after hour of the same thing, then suddenly–BOOM–everything is the most gorgeous thing we’ve ever seen…and I’m out of film.

These are from a trip we took to visit Mother and David in Salt Lake City in the spring of 1990, I believe. We took one route driving there, and a different route driving back. Pete the Miscreant Dachshund was with us in our Civic Wagon. Sorry, Snow Haters, but belles just don’t get to see this kind of untouched landscape too often.

And if you’ve never driven toward the Rockies, they look like this. For twenty years. And you never get closer in all those years. Never.

Legacy Writing 365:298

The Pappas brothers began building restaurants in Houston in 1945 with the Dot Coffee Shop downtown. Over the decades, they’ve developed more than eighty Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen, Pappasito’s Cantina, Pappas Seafood House, Pappas Bros. Steakhouse, Pappas Bar-B-Q, Yia Yia Mary’s, Pappas Burger, and Pappas Grill & Steakhouse locations in Houston, Dallas, Cincinnati, Austin, San Antonio, Beaumont, Atlanta, Chicago, Denver, Albuquerque, and Phoenix.

Pappadeaux is known for its Cajun flavors, including various blackened entrees. One night in the early 1990s as I was driving home from work, I saw this sign in front of one of their restaurants.


The only John Mellencamp fan I knew more ardent than myself was Lynne, so I fetched my camera from home, went back, and shot this photo for her. ETA: No need to thank me for the ear worm.

A love connection: It was at the remaining Dot Coffee Shop location on the Gulf Freeway southwest of Houston where Lynne met Craig, the man who would become her husband and Jess’s father.

Pappadeaux was also the location of my first (and last) taste of alligator on an occasion when Tom’s parents visited Houston and took us out to eat there.

Legacy Writing 365:297

I don’t have a single photo of our friend Geraldine, but I’m fortunate enough to have some of her work. This stunning bag is one she gave me several years ago. I went to a trunk show showcasing her knitting one time, and MAN! I’m always impressed by people who can knit and crochet, but Geraldine has taken her skills to art level. Absolutely stunning shrugs and sweaters in exotic yarns–and put together expertly.

I don’t have the patience for that kind of work. Whatever I do in the sewing realm must be done quickly or it’ll never be finished. Doll clothes do take patience, but they’re great for my short sewing attention span. Sometimes I wonder why I don’t sew things for myself that I’d actually like to wear, then I remember: You don’t LIKE to sew!

I don’t see Geraldine often enough, but we’ve shared experiences that mean our bond is strong and unbreakable. She’s a remarkable woman who’s very often inspired me. I’m lucky to know a lot of strong, intelligent, and vibrant women, and my life is richer for their friendship, compassion, humor, and gifts.

Legacy Writing 365:296

I tend to forget that I have a number of small photo albums and books that contain collections of random photos. Occasionally, I’ll take one of these off the shelf and look through it–and it’s like I’ve never seen some of the photos before.

But most of them I do remember, or at least remember the circumstances in which I shot them.

For example, I used to sometimes spontaneously jump in my car and drive to Galveston to spend an afternoon solo. I usually took my bike with me. I’d park the car and bike up and down the strip of road next to the beach, and that’s when I’d shoot photos.

Some people observe gorillas in the mist. I observe wiener dogs on the beach.

Legacy Writing 365:295

My Runway Monday final collection is due…well, any minute. However, there’s been a whole lot of life happening in the month of October, so I’m still putting my final designs together. Since no one’s going to award me $100,000 from L’Oréal Paris to start my own line, a fashion spread in Marie Claire magazine, a 2013 Lexus GS 350, a $50,000 technology suite by HP and Intel to create my own vision and run my business, and the opportunity to design and sell an exclusive collection at Lord & Taylor…I don’t feel too guilty about taking a few hours more to finish my collection.

Meanwhile, in the spirit of recognizing the past, here’s what’s on the desk in front of me while I sew:


The Sucrets tin that was with all the rest of my mother’s sewing supplies.

Open it up and you see:

  • An ancient package of needles.
  • Straight pins that I rarely use because the heads are either too big or too small.
  • An old plastic thimble she used (she had a thimble collection, but those were for show. I’m trying to remember who ended up with them. Maybe Aaron? Or else he got her little spoon collection. Beats me.).
  • A needle threader I never use because I want it left intact for sentimental reasons. I have my own newer ones that I use. I keep them in this tin, too.
  • A diaper pin that Debby thinks was probably used on Daniel’s diapers. That’s pretty old. Even older than me, using BeckyMath.

    • Legacy Writing 365:294


    Just another of many things I was going to learn/undertake to do over the years. I never did, and sometimes I wonder why the books are still on my shelves.

    Then I remember that my father had three new careers when he was older than I am now.

    Lillian Carter joined the Peace Corps at age sixty-eight.

    Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote her novels in her sixties.

    Stan Lee was forty-three when he began drawing super heroes.

    Grandma Moses began painting in her seventies.

    So…never say never!