Finish the sentence Friday - Photo with the story behind it

This is the fourth Friday of the month so that means it is time to share a photo and the story behind it and link my post to Finish the sentence Friday - Photo with the story behind it. Kristi Campbell is the host at Finding Ninee and Kenya G. Johnson is the co-host at Sporadically Yours. I'm sure you will see some interesting photos and even more fascinating stories about the photos. Every photo has a story to tell and often more than meets the eye.

The place is in the dining/family room of my grandparents' home in Hanford, California in November 1960.

The old wooden rocker, where I had once as a little girl sat on my grandmother's lap, is now occupied by me, at age 17. There was always a lace doily draped over the back of the rocker and also a soft fabric-covered cushion to help relieve the pain my grandmother suffered from her rheumatism and arthritis. The chair wasn't one of those dainty rockers, but instead it was sturdy and made to hold a larger woman's body, just right for my grandmother.

Between the wall and the rocker is the large floor model radio that was usually on when my grandmother was sitting in the chair, unless she was reading the newspaper or the Reader's Digest, or when she was saying the Rosary. On top of the radio is a clock.

The wall behind the radio has narrow vertical strips of wood attached about every foot apart. The wall contains a sliding pocket door that be used to separate the dining family room from the parlor.

The floor standing lamp is made of metal and the rod that is attached to the vertical rod to which the lamp shade is attached angles upward toward the ceiling and can be moved either to the right or to the left so the light can be directed better. The shade is one that resembles a stiff flared skirt and is beige in color.

On the off-white wall behind me is a wall phone, the kind that you must stand and talk into the speaker on the phone while holding the flared funnel shaped receiver to one's ear. A caller could just dial the operator and ask her to make the call for you. That wall also has vertical strips of wood that are nailed to the wall like the other wall, but these strips are wider. There is a horizontal strip about two and a half feet above the phone which separates the wall from the ceiling. The strip works as a shelf on which my grandmother placed special vases or other things that she didn't want handled by others. I remember loving the way the sunlight made some of the glass vases change color. This high stripping was throughout the room.

The drapes and the cotton lace curtains cover the windows. As a child I remembered not only the feel of those lace curtains, but the smell if they had become a little dusty.

Part of one of the dining table chairs with the knobbed leg and curving slats on the back of the chair is just to the left of the rocking chair. Something appears to be hanging from the table, possible a napkin.

The floor is made of wood and brings back memories of my grandmother making her way slowly around the room using her dust mop to get the dust bunnies from behind the stove and in the corners.

My hair was as long as it had ever been and was a dark brown during the school year but became much lighter during the summers when exposed a lot to the sun. Once a beautician asked me if I had bleached my hair. I hadn't. I just didn't wear a hat when I worked outside in the summers.

I'm wearing a grey soft wool flannel jumper I had sewn. I don't remember what sweater I was wearing under the jumper, but possibly a soft grey or light blue one. By this time panty hose had been invented and were available in the stores, so I suspect I was wearing those. Most girls rushed to get them, as it was so much easier to wear them than the ones that required being attached to other items of clothing. Pointed-toed shoes were in style, and from the picture there is no doubt that I am wearing flats with very pointed toes. My feet paid the price later on in my life for giving in to that type of fashion.

I am fairly certainly that this photo was taken the week of my grandfather's funeral. We had to travel from another state to be there. Someone probably asked me  to smile for the picture. I had been interrupted from reading the newspaper, or possibly checking out the funnies to see which ones the paper had that our own paper back home didn't have. 

Seeing my smile seems so contradictory to the feelings I'd had at the funeral, my first to ever attend. It was held in a Catholic church, and I hadn't been prepared for what I would see. The last time we had visited my grandfather earlier in the year, he had expressed how it would probably be the last time he'd see us and then he slipped a silver dollar into my hand and into my brother's hand. I felt sad that I couldn't remember him every hugging me, or me him, or expressing any verbal expressions of love, although I did love him.

Click for source