Curlers

Curlers 

At ninety, there is no shame: “the bones and joints” won’t let her set her own hair anyway, so more fun at the hairdresser is in order.   My sister sent Mother’s curlers to me.  No fair - the memories!   Just curlers- as with all "the little things" -  a curlers story:

Mother’s parents had property and beauty and love but died young and suddenly, leaving eleven orphans:   Frank, Leo, Mike, Tony, Louie; Agnes, Frances, Josie, Mary, Florence, and Albina, our mother, third from the youngest.  The Great Depression ruled - children's  law went lax; the older ones went out on their own,  younger ones ‘ bunked in’ with them, one in an orphanage, and Mother, the heiress, adopted, with baby brother in tow.  When she came of age, a good attorney fought for her powers and rights, and won.  She met our Father and soon,  T\the Southport, Connecticut paper called her “The Southport Belle” in the engagement announcement!  And he "Smitty the Flight Mechanic" with pioneer Army Air Corps in Texas, California, London and Morocco - and she making ammunition with Remington Arms served proudly, doing their part - they  won over WWII as well!

Mother and Father exulted - peace, love, beauty, and prosperity!  They did every single thing with delicious skill and correctness and quality - triumph!  Later, change forced a reworking of it all to recoup losses to the success and laughter we enjoyed, but they won through and their way quite an example to us. 

Throughout our childhood, heaven was in Mother's sunny kitchen - friends and neighbors often joining in -  party plans, holiday cooking and gifts, and hundreds of Christmas cards and to be pretty enough for it all - pounds of beauty accessories, creams, potions, helpers and options spread about - getting and giving the home beauty treatments that were backup to a lady’s visits to fashion and hairdressing!  Blessed!

Caring is what's it all about.   The curlers reminded me how it was no burden, in that home full of love, to wash, condition and roll the hair and then tuck it under the cap of the table console hair dryer.  Of course, with our Dad at the table head - the latest tech was always there, including the first pink push-button kitchen range, and plug-in telephones and more.   Caring is what's it all about.  Barbers and tailors for Dad and my Brother with the guy-version of the same. Some of my Dad's work left his hands so that it took and hour to get them right, but he loved it.    
We'd earned our beauty time. The repairs and enhancements, mixed with the news, and happy girl-talk about health, love, money and more!   Beauty experiments that failed completely come to mind, too!   Periodically, we’d boil those curlers - germs did not stand a chance in that kitchen.  Maybe it's the boiling, and the way I still do the same,  that makes me think they earned the story now.  Wanting to do her hair just one more time, or his manicure, but glad I did it then.

Thank you, Mother, today, for the privilege of living in your realm, sunlight streaming into the room!  The memory is a living prayer and those curlers did their beauty job one last time: they brought the memory, the warmth, then tears, then peace and a smile!   

The Southport Belle - Ladycause & Cornelia's Gift

The Southport Belle and Fashion - Ladycause
note: This post is almost twice the length of recommended posts, so do not read it unless you read fast, since they measure proper blog length by how long it takes to read it - seven minutes optimum.

"Ladycause"  a Note on Fashion, then and now.

Threads of topic, the fiber of our being, the stuff of life - a bit of fabric and fashion find their way into our talk and writings - easily in my home State Connecticut since it's textile mills as far back as the 1600s are part of how America won its independence:  my home state wove the fabric for the nation until after the Civil War, including that of uniforms for both sides in the conflict.

And today it is about ending abuses in the fashion industry - one of the last places on earth that still works humans sub-humanly.   In America, we are pretty good, but the sweatshops still exist here; hidden in un-policed corners, the worst still happens.  Most such abuses take place outside the free countries. The Bangladesh event the most recent , click here for the updates.  

Actress/musician Minnie Driver has maintained Activist interest in ending the garment industry's Slavery and Sweatshops.  To make the "Cheap Chic" for cut-rate fashion, slavery of workers is still happening...and the related criminal activity it takes to hide it and support it. 

I hope to improve my research and post it as I succeed. Seamstresses love the fine detail, so I am not likely to let it go for long.

Mother loved it that I had the artist's hand and understanding of fabrics - she dressed well and could upholster and do up a lovely window treatment, but disliked sewing clothing of any kind - to the point of tearing a thing to shreds one day - exasperation.  She was lovely and tall and young and strong - just more of a model than a seamstress.    The fashion savvy among us was so good that I thought at first that I would be a fashion designer.   Coffee and teatime conversation among the women always included chat and photos and sketches and 'show and tell' of our latest fashion finds.

At  “Upper-midlife”, the perspective drives me to praise  for the many angels it takes to make a life, courtesy of "the mommies" .  The "stuff" of life cultivated in the child’s garden.   And I was their flower.   My training in fabric a story, so sweet in memory that it was my motive for this writing.   

DuPont Coated Fabrics plant in Fairfield employed three generations in Dad’s family , from Grampa’s day - doing his part of construction and Gram home with a large family after lady work for a bit sewing shoes, in spite of her silver spoon.    My Mother, Albina, married, gowned elegantly in the Chantilly Lace, as , home from Air Corps WWII, Father followed  at DuPont, fashioning the gold mylar for NASA's Lunar Landing Module. Then  my brother behind him, after his VietNam Red Beret service - continuing the great NASA jobs in the white collar, till the plant subsidized.

o-My part of things was easier:  I thought I might be a fashion designer at one point in my always art training, and because lady fashion was daily chatted at the ladies’ coffees and teas.  Civilized women talked all  details of culture into correctness.  Dyed=to-match, custom-made and  carefully shopped things through childhood culminated in two seamstresses and shopping in Manhattan’s garment district and a bridal gown and ensemble to remember.   An officer’s bride, soon I was doing neat things with target cloth and parachute silk and then knitting baby booties with a bit of a thing.   Bows for Christmas trees were the sensation next and their make and sell, paid for the the happiest of Christmases, with our men home from war and on to good life at home again.   Special fashion fabrics  and designs and creations for things for our home and children came next and my first aptsbiz projects were custom cascade and jabot trials.   Then the fine art took the lead,  and not much at the machine after that.   

But At nineleven, the one remaining textile processing plant in the area took my lead and in one day fashioned the 20x40 flag of weather-resistant red, white and blue that, proud and gracious,  displayed all day and was lighted elegantly for night until some years later, it became too worn and had to be taken down. My proudest project!

I hope to access study and research at the Fashion Institute of Technology, the authority on Textiles in the country. If it’s fabric ask them - they will know.

But the story here is about the charming beginnings I enjoyed as a little girl, sitting in the sunshine with "Nana" and "the mommies" and one bit of "stuff" or other between us, often singsonging:
"With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes!"   Or,  the Laughter, crooning "Suffer for Beauty", or "Haute Couture, par Doleur"   Or the rules:  Always measure; Learn, teach, celebrate the skill !
The health is beauty/the beauty, health!

And always along with our Mother was ”Nana" - a neighbor, American, but from Albania. A holy gift to me, at age three, I shone in a fushia felt Dutch Girl cap and Vest, with "coat-of -many-colors" floral embroideries, tiny buttons on the vest, and the ties for the little cap grey and gold braided with the fushia felt in narrow strips, with fushia felt fringes.

Moneyed businesspeople, of grace and dignity, Cornelia and her husband's family were the stuff of Ken Burns' America, having virtually washed up on the shores, and had done very well,  They owned and operated "The Southport Candy Kitchen" for fifty years. And through our childhood, provided countless happy visits for the neat treats. I thought Sesame Street was inspired by them with its counting song: "The 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-Penny Candy Man”. 
When I was a girl, their home was warm with three fine sons, their pride and delight...no daughters, though!...c'est dommage! The women would lament, for her and with her.  Partly because “Nana” Cornelia was specially gifted in womanly arts! Her background Manhattan-trained in dress design, some jewelry, and related crafts and some lost arts. 

We lived next door, and she and I were a custom-made pair…often,after school, in me, Cornelia enjoyed a little girl to share her skills with, and I was always eager to learn a new creative thing. 

There was no conflict between Nana and my Mother, just enrichment. Nana loved my  Mother, too, in that beautiful profound way that us modern slickheads never share today with such purity and passion...they would celebrate the joys and lament the sorrows together...a woman's lot...my Mother was more modern, and Nana the only one to show me the ancient woman's burden...an almost spooky sound, a cry of-a-sort, in her speech at such times...and her goal was to teach me with her example, since she never gave orders. Happy conspirators in the business of being female "Just be careful! How well we women do today! And how so many women sufferred and suffer still!!! Hush, and help if you can and carefully!!!!! Carefully is part of the Beauty ..."Her doctor, when she bore her children, said that her special sound ,at childbirth, was unworldly profound, and she laughed with dignity and pride, like an opera singer being complimented on her gift.

But I knew mostly hugs and industry and laughter with her. She delighted us and if the love got any richer we would not have gotten any work done at all. In happy exasperation, and mock fury, her husband would truly "crack the whip" at his daily homecoming ..... compactly built, mildly wiry and sharp voiced when needed....he was just right, in those days! We children scrambled though , from her after-school kitchen back to ours and from him, when he came home from work, calling her name, Cornelia, in his own way: " Kuh-neeeeelyaaaa!!" snapsnapsnap. Oh! big eyes!....we were being too silly and her master was home!!!!! And off we'd go! I have a normal modern mind and worked in schools and his approach sounds positively illegal by modern measure, and yet, with them and in that house, it was happy, and he seemed to correct himself as quickly as the call left his mouth...helpless love...he adored her, supported the wonderful things she brought to our town, and celebrated her. I have no idea how he did it, but he did. When she died, he stayed his own and alone, and content to be so.

But, At seven, Cornelia taught me how to make my own dress patterns, the first an Indian maiden's dress for a Harvest party, easy, taupe with cut fringes...and for many years after, till my marriage wafted me out of her life, she shared the ways of many skills. I am trying to live to be a hundred to get the chance to share them before I must join her in Heaven.
br>The works of her hands, covered like her ears, in many rings: The felt carpets, in the colors I can see in my mind's eye this moment, forty years later. The shell-art from our hunts along the beach. Bracelets, floral arrangements, decoration for the garments, and more. Bow ties she would make for all the boys and men in the neighborhood, fastening them to the Christmas Tree for " choose one and pick it right off the tree " fun!!!!! The pretty Chanel-copy trims she made by the yard to edge her custom-done lady suits, with hats and shawls to match...fur trims for both, sometimes, and lined with the silk to match the silk blousing..."totally major New York"....Easter Parade!... the concepts of style, quality, symmetry, elegance, "custom made", richness... and worth that had nothing to do with the bank, monochrome and everything to match for "the look" of self-esteem.....passion to please our good men, and play.......womanly beauty as a universal concept, there in all women, if we would just remember to never be in argument with our bodies when it was time to adorn them.

Cornelia herself was a Helena Rubenstein clone: born very large, she was proof of the power of couture a cosmetic and the "inner lights" to overcome anything nature could dish out by way of a fashion cross. Elegantly put together at all times, she was one of the most beautiful women I have ever known! An my opinion was shared by most. She would lament that my women were smaller-built and fret about making me"whizzy" as a little girl with her bigness, and so she would make rose oil soaps for me, making a ritual of shopping for just the right rose oil. Gliding me on my see-saw, she would sing: "With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes!".... Only a Chinese princess was treated more royally than I by Nana... Cornelia.

I am good, so I scrambled to do for her, any small chore that came to hand, and paid attention to the things I did that pleased her , so I could do them more.

She would talk about New York, and sometimes the sweat shops, but in that way, with deference to a little girl, to hint, to insinuate the concept, and not to upset a little girl with too much of the seamy side of it. Enough to warn against naivete. But if you knew her, you would create a file immediately in the memory, promising not to reference it till it was time.

For many years through my girlhood, we shared love and happiness through good and bad times. And when it was time for me to marry..........ahhhhh! We can have the best fun the gown !!!!!!!!! We went through dozens of the bridal publications and photos of the fashions........and sketched and planned until the design was right!

Cornelia was aging and promoted to consultant, and another sewing friend the seamstress! Next our special trip to Manhattan. All my Childhood, I would prance to meet her like a puppy when she returned from one of her fabric-buying expeditions in New York... not just three yards for a little skirt and notions in a little bag, like me. No, no.....When Cornelia went to town, there were yards and yards for dress and gown! An event in itself....and when she returned, the packages set on the sideboard ...We would have tea, make some of the "Krem", a yogurt, or the crescent sesame cookies or baklava with the nuts and honey and talk....clear the things and beauty refresh, and then bring the many packages to the big dining table, the room was always the right kind of sunny...and she would display them all for fun with me, the wonderful fabrics and colors and buttons and needles and threads....and I a happy audience if she preferred to share a show of it...(somehow when I studied with some, I remember the needles, but with Nana, the fabrics and the colors......I do not remember her catting me off, ever, not once! ) Then it was time to put the fabric away...."you are getting so good and smart, I will show you now how carefully we keep the fabric......and where......see? high and dark on the shelf with the tissue between the layers and the door closed after it. ".....mysteries and curiosities! And she would make it entertaining in her gestures and tone of voice.........I could hardly sew, and applaud at the same time, and so my eyes got big from it from her, as did my heart.

And suddenly it was years later, and I was to be included on the magical trip to town for the fabric for my weddin gown........who me? I 'm Sandra Dee....the bride!!!!"I love and am loved... I am the principessa.......but and so, I must remain demure, and let the excitement remain a great energy within...immature behavior would not please Nana today, this was serious business. Giggling might make her sorry she granted the honor. "Someday I will work at the UN from the way I like to make discrete faces!" So I dreamed en route that day.

The Garment district was not to be confused with the Designers' Ateliers ......the Hell that made the very odd kind of Heaven for milady's pleasure.

We are walking down Canal street...it is summer...the streets are hot and dirty and we pick our way through the dirty sweaty people to match.... who make unfriendly faces if we look at them...and yet, all of it is a treat, exciting and different from home. Suddenly I am like Scarlett coming to town in Postwar Atlanta, with Mammy ! .....a little boy horrifies this Fairfield girl by going to the bathroom against the outer wall of a nearby building.......I am finding it easier to be discrete by the minute......

Then the fabric shops begin to appear...the real thing...storefronts attached to the factories or distributors... ..........I don't squint........it is getting interesting exciting.......steady on!!!!!.......

We begin to be able to view the window displays.....Cornelia informs me, finally , her first words since we arrived in the neighborhood...She guessed my impression at first sight of the storefronts....."Don't let the things in the window depress you......watch and see!....." We entered the first store.....her beautiful olive-done face and shiny coif perfectly arranged.....the alert black eyes, the full mouth and the delicate nose deciding whether or not tobother to sneer ..........she had a sneer that worked!!!!!!!!......we left.............entering again at another shop, a little further along...........again ...almost a sneer it was worth to her...........and again we left.........I don't remember , but I think she went on like this with me, till she feared I'd tire before we actually began the fabric choices....and all of it the greatest fun with Nana.....whatever her motive, we entered THE shop.............someone looking like a manager swooshed out to greet her with great and formal bows.........Mrs.S____! How MAY we help you today! So wonderful to see you..... visiting royalty!!!!! She responded with a queenly acknowledgement of appreciation for his courtesy..."This is a very special visit! My Ellen May is marrying, and must have THE gown!!!! " ..few people could use the doublename with me without my objection, but Cornelia could........"A weddddding!!!!!!" the manager beamed and began to direct us at fabric displays....those in front they dismissed as garbage immediately, and moved to the more shaded shelves further back in the store........this second set of offerings won only an "almost a sneer.".......futher yet, and more.....these we looked at, and rejected outright.............." Ahhhhhhh!!!!!! ", he smiled sincerely, now rising to the occasion, !!!!!! " You are smart and you know what to do!!!!!!!!!! ", as he signalled stealthily to us to follow...not a noise now!!!!!!!!!!!! The rooms were dark and odorless and oldddddd........but he found a light that it revealed a library of a sort....I thought it was a chapter from my Nancy Drew stories, come to life...because the layers of fabric were wrapped ....no layer of fabric rubbed against another............and the bolts rowed up on shelves from the waist high counter to ceiling all around the room........."Now, we're getting somewhere...." Cornelia remarked.........."but.....ummmmm, ...." and amazingly, he disappeared behind the shelves and into still one more and darker corner, ......of course, by this time, I AM Nancy Drew, and followed him..........barely outlines of one more small room, floor to ceiling bolts of more fabric......what an adventure! I backed out to allow him to bring what he had found to the counter in the second-to-last room!................Gasp!!!!!!!! The double-sided white brocade was good enough for the bloomin' Queen of England, who we loved by the way................I went as pale as the brocade with honor and love at the find.................."I think this might be the one.".........then more of the same for the hunt for the right veiling and enough of it, and the little combs to hold the pillbox hat and the fur trim. As he measured the trim, "an early faux expensive white mink clone"....he measured the length we requested, drawing our attention to his pinched fingers at the clipping point....then slid the fingers down several inches more........."for good luck and healthy babies, this much more for you for a gift!"............Nana and I smiled gratefully, bowed 'goodbyes", and floated out in wedding gown heavenly transport .........tired but triumphant and forever enriched with an unforgettable day.

The gown was perfect... and I will tell the rest of the story, surely worth it, but must stop here...........It was war days, and at the wedding I was encouraged to get about it with a son for my new prince, since Viet Nam might widow me without an heir to his name.....a very dizzy day at such moments.... and we were off.......with hugs for all in warrush....when I returned, though, Cornelia had her own daughters in law, and I had new babies and so understood the distance of correctness between grownup women, still young and proud to be among them.....and then off we were with important postwar work and the next time I visited, Cornelia had passed away.....I was stunned, since my duties at the time gave me little social leeway....I wished I had been able to sit with her one more time, but I guess that's how it is.......and off again and back to work with my own life in another place........twenty years later,I felt blessed, at least, to be able to share a special smile of love and hug with Jimmy, her husband, now in this nineties and soon to pass as well.....I would not have attempted the things I have done, or been able to trust my heart and soul without the million dollar gift of time and love from people like Nana...Cornelia and Jimmy...such experiences create a love for life and a wish to share and an obligation to enrich the lives of others in only the nicest ways....I am not patient with negative, and with poor souls with poorer motives, sometimes and I know I am wrong to be so, because it means I am dragging in the soul......not quite making it over the top with my obligation to share a luminous thing.....so I find one of these moments like the memory of the story above and make it a vitamin........and it still works!!!!!!! Rest, try again!!!!!!!!

The Southport Belle and Technology

It was no fluke that our Mother, Albina, the Southport Belle,  was an early CyberSenior !  

During WWiI she did her part of keeping the homefires burning , making ammunition for Remington Arms in Bridgeport Connecticut.     Then she married my Sci-tech wiz Father and one or the other of them was always "up to something" innovative.      The wonderful Christmas gold foil star - entirely their invention, was  promise re: the gold foil Dad later fashioned - the foil we see on the photos of NASA's Lunar Lander July 20, 1969.  Later she helped for a bit at Bullard's in Bridgeport doing up some fine tooling to thousandths of an inch.   She enjoyed the first plug in phones in the fifties - four-prong things.   She served up plain and fancy from the first push-button Frigidaire kitchen ranges and hers was PINK.     The latest in hearing aids empowered her in her twenties and later and TTY kept us on the phone and in touch when apart.     Since email won the ultmate victory, she was Simply THERE for it - you could hear her jubilant at the world it reopened, when her ears closed!     Now it was instant fun to all of her loved ones all over the world - photos, notes, greetings and news....music and prayer...YES!   No isolation anymore.

Of course, time passes:  After thirty years of "fine online" , the Southport Belle aged out of most computing,  some years ago.

But she had no issues with SKYPE and all the rest until true old age physically prevented her.

She was THE   Cyber Senior in her own right - she felt no lack of tech support.   We followed suit - I did my first data processing in 1969 for Wright investors - though in those days no one got anywhere near the actual machine - it filled a room and one mistake could cost a fortune to fix.  Still I was formatting the copy for the programmer. Exciting, till pregnancy took me home for a bit.

 I code, and my website has been onlline since 1999.   My sister runs the computers for folk in Pennsylvania, my Brother has published online and his book is in the libraries...for him the computer is an automatic tool.       My late husband helped the computer upgrades for Wellcome in North Carolina, and he would be proud of his son - international IT whiz for Hearst and others with a production company of his own.      My  daughter nearby worked online in graphics, for ACS and for her own things enough to be able to run to Gram's to unfreeze a thing.

With all of us there to support her easily in it, Tech for our Mother won thru for her and  triumph that gave her a few extra years of life I am sure.

But realize that this every fun and insight we enjjoy is a major Leap for Mankind and that , when I was a girl , not THAT long ago, Sci-Tech interests were still controversial and some days in the 40s and 50s all scientists and brainy-types were Baron Von Frankenstein and intrinsically mad and evil.

Fortunately, that way of things passed quickly and almost entirely ended -  thanks to television, the Salk Vaccine , Heart transplants and the Moon Landing.   Okay ... maybe science had something going for it.  "From now on.." Sci-tech types  were allowed.  They could get fairly stable community liking.  We all use technology to grand effect today.

 

There was only one technical difficulty:
Astronauts often find spacecraft easy to drive, but get tickets on the road with their cars - a few did not drive over this anomaly.

So maybe this???
It was the fifties - and time to learn to drive - Mother's lessons with the automobile would  bring her "up to speed" .  As a young woman, she'd been photographed with her famous bicycle WWII pinup-style among herrown - tall and long-legged,  she could look pretty on a bicycle, while the rest of us struggled thru Southpor's hilly terrain.    So she enjoyed her bike and let driving slide.   But  married with children who needed a Mother who could drive, it was time to get the license.  
When?   The window?   Seven months expectant, Mother said she preferred to go to  "diving school" -   Dad  WWII flyboy and All American car nut said, "Nonsense - cars-R-us ... I can train you.".     OKayyyyyyy......and it went fairly well, until......    One sunny afternoon, during on-the-road practice,  Mother  was doing so well, Dad praised her, then to demo his confidence, lit up a cigar and leaned back in the passenger seat expressing confidence in body language  - for about five seconds:

 then, as always happens, Mother took the cue to make her first navigational error,  almost turning for a left turn in front of another car.  

 Dad  had to grab the wheel from Mother FAST to prevent a collision - so fast, that he put that cigar in his mouth backward!    Lucy and Rick on the road?  YouBetcha!  The story stayed....

 "Okay, maybe driving school is a better idea."  

End of DIY driving instruction

Mother graduated with flying colors and drove proudly till age 85, when little imaginary Polish men began to accompany her for moral support: "Ohhh Albina! What a fine driver you are!" , they would say.   Terrified, she went home and turned herself in for medical care.     I am quoting her. She also turned in her license and got meds to end the imaginary visits and was soon fine. Yay!  Modern health options! 

Technology saved Mother's life..... hearing aid and phone amplifier were a start.  She was thrilled that her children were not impaired but I was six when she tearfully gave in to that firsthearing  aid.  I had a Scottish nanny at the time; "Auntie May" was brought in  to be there, earn her citizenship and help us thru the "little bad moment"  while Mother adjusted - and  it was a huge success.      May Cote was cheery, kind affectionate , quick and smart and the home was a happy one , even thru Mother's challenge.     She did win her citizenship with Mother's sponsoship and a wonderful husband.   And later she  was at my wedding , in fox furs and handsome prince Armand Cote for a spouse of many years.     So far from that first meeting long ago when   I wondered to her, fearfully, what could be wrong with my Mommy.   She explained very well and suggested I might enjoy helping her, too, when needed.    Wow!  A child can help?  This is like being a  super person !    I loved it and it enhanced my development and gave me power over the sorrow of her hearing loss and what that meant to me.  To get up and HELP - yes...that was the way.

As her issues worsened I was helped by "The Miracle Worker" and its story ..." I am a little like Annie Sullivan to Helen Keller", I thought.    Mother  was not even thirty when that first hearing aid was put to work, and disability is not easy to accept when young. There were lots of tears off and on, for some time till  Mother mastered lipreading and life was fine again for all involved.   She got so good, that , years later,  when she visited me,  off in my own married life, far from home roots,   I would not tell my neighbors and friends at social events of her deafness and they did not know!     Fun to see them drop their coffee cups later when I revealed her secret.   So proud.

Technology saved the day!

She'd won her breakthrough !  Lip-reading, she won jobs that anyone would envy - some of them very high-tech as well -  and  soon we cheered over TDD - the typing phone service for the deaf and then it was the logical progression -  online with emails and cyberspace!  FUN!  

Mother was Thrilled!  Her friends were thrilled!  Her Children were thrilled!  Her Grandchildren were thrilled!

 And soon her Great-grandchildren thrilled as well!    We teased her and called her cyber-babbling cyberpunk...and she was thrilled all over again!  

Caption phone was added and flashing light for phone bells and doorbells.

She lived very much on her own and proud to be so. We stayed in very good touch and ran to help as needed.

We liked her style.  Having been challenged, she got after it , time and again and she won thru, and would cheer us on with the words about how important it is to proceed with faith and hopw and love and never give up.    She gave us that - the joy of life and the duty to pay it forward - the joy of being able to pay it forward.

 And one more triumph for  the Year of the Tiger spirit of the amazing Southport Belle.  

Many years later, When an injury impacted my own powers,  I joined her in new kinds of friendship - working and traveling and loving and living online sometimes. 
And so we have done as a mainstay since - and as our Mother fades in her last days, I am already through the worst of my grieving  because my part of it happened when she could no longer SKYPE, over two years ago.  

But "they can't take that away from me - the grand times are there and will stay.

 I hope these strong and loving stories help and share a good thing with all -  there is enough of the other.

If you liked this story, share it and may it inspire - because there is more to come.

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Imageclick for the next story: "Albina who Polkas".

southport belle ~ introduction

SOUTHPORT BELLE  ~  INTRODUCTION:

First of a series here of brief stories :   "The Southport Belle" is my Mother - Albina Pauline ( or, Appollonia ) Filanowski Backiel Smith Duffy.
 Born March 6th 1926 in the Year of the Tiger.
She was a “movie star” poet and film fan - tall, loving, passionately devoted to family, lovely and social and appreciated by adoring fans.  
I hold her high till this day, because she was grand in spite of some major tragedies - smiling through every time!

She was double-orphaned at the worst of the Great Depression - at age 6 from her mother and age 9 from her Father and both sudden deaths.    Difficult time with step parents ended and she self-educated to become the grandest in wifehood, motherhood and personhood.  Her devotion and creativity and and energies were there for us every day.   And fun in all of it - for all in her sphere.
So I feel the stories might be worth sharing - they should really not be lost now that she is leaving us.

Connecticut, we’d laugh, is “nickname heaven” - pet names abounded for fun and adorations.  Here is a  partial list: 

• "Albinka", from her parents

• "Little White Flower", from the nuns in girlhood one of the meanings of her name.

• "the little egg girl",  how she helped her large family keep food on the table, delivering eggs to the Wealthy on Southport Harbor.

• "Beans",  her youngest brother, and almost no one else, was allowed to use this one. When she was adopted, they let her bring the baby brother , "but he's YOUR responsibility"  She was fine with that...and remained so.

• "Southport Belle",   she came of age and her inhertance and the tune changed - oh yes.

• "Albina Smitski",  My Darling,  My Queen, "Smitty",    - from my Father, her Romantic twin Libra and Pisces - how did they get any work done?     I'd watch them at work and play and dream of my own handsome prince one day- it seemed  like a grand thing, grownup life!   War was done, they'd both won their medals and everyone home safe and sound - the party never ended - they kept the rules , supported the traditions and love was an sction word -  and sang and danced and were very popular - LIFE. 

• "Motherrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!",    we children, especially me...."mommy" was fine for my younger brother and sister...but, as soon as teens hit..."Mother" from me the eldest was the right thing it was decided, among the women and men on the block - doing it right meant no one would become ill or fail in our world outside the home.  

• "Grandma", -   They never failed us to their best powers and the home was pretty remarkable.   Fine weddings followed and soon fine babies to light up her life again!  And great grands -5 of them- to give her a glow before aging had its way.

• "My Angel", .....when health and money crashes later broke up my parents, they won thru again and remarried.  Mother's Harry Duffy called her his Angel day and night with good reason and she  loved him every bit as much and then some. They did well.

• "Albina who jogged the Golden Gate Bridge" at 70,    widowed this time, she made a new life and we children and grandchildren were some help as well....My son got mother in California pow-flowered hot-pants jogging that bridge - a happy day!

• "Albina Who Polkas" .  I was her signer till she mastered lipreading and hearing aids, so people thought she could not appreciate music, and especially my musical Father's song, but she loved it all and showed me how to FEEL music and , even when the tune itself was not what it was when she could hear, she shone on the dance floor FEELING sound.

• "Albina to the rescue" in two venues at 75.  Dozens of "Momgate" moments were in the past, but she worked with My sister and her husband in Saint Croix storm recoveries. And me again when my accident nearly got me  killed, widowed and the children off on their own and not knowing of my plight. She was there and we went dancing again.

• "Albina from Curves " at 79.  YES   and she made my fitness things at Silver Sneakers so easy that , when the insurance dropped it , I made the peititions and got it back. 

ROOTS:  Mother came to Connecticut as an infant, and was born in Saint Claire, Pennsylvania, to Poland-born American Citizens.    Since births were registered in the Spring if you lived in farm country , she was even unsure of her true birth date.  Because the date on the Birth Certificate was likely to be the day her Dad registered the birth, since his English was not grand.    Maybe the extra names were supposed to help.   A friend who Astrologically charted birth dates , backward, from other information, did his best, but could not pin down a reliable date.

Whatever nickname, she is surely called "most loved".   We are losing her now at 91, but till four years ago, she drove and lived independently and helped us, still, as much as we helped her.  This entry is background to make the stories about her more fun for the reader.

She  moved with her family, as an infant from Pennsylvania to Southport Connecticut.   Her Father lost his first wife in childbirth and married the second who also died in childbirth , leaving him with eleven children - Agnes, Josie, Frances, Mary, Florence, Albina - Frank, Louie, Leo, Mike, Tony.  Helen and Matt died in infancy.  The older ones struck out on their own, but that still left a big table to feed, widowered and at the worst of the Depression Days.  He did well working for a Grain and Feed company, and owned nice property  and custom-built house

He worked near home, so would he would take lunch break to  run home and cook hot lunch for his children who were then allowed the same break to take  hot lunch at home, if they could get back to class on time.   But, walking back to work afterward, in one plowed  lane,  on a snowy day three years after the death of the second wife, he was struck by a truck and died instantly.   

The other children coming back from lunch saw it and told my Mother in class.  Not easy for her - ever.   She prayed to her parents and for them, at bedtime,  all through her life.  She was nine.

Still her home ground, Southport Connecticut was lovely to grow up in  and  has, in fact, been used recently, and  one more time, as a picturesque  backdrop for the movies.   But when Mother was a girl , it was in earlier days for its later elegance.  A century before, it was simply one more harbor - the famous Southport Globe Onion was grown and shipped and the project supplied there.     The buildings on the harbor were pubs mostly till the many sailor fights  prompted town leaders to set up  a doctor's office across the street and a library and church upstairs.   Civilization in top form followed,  thanks to the generosity of the wealthy sea captains whose homes remain stunning beauties in the sun and breeze there. 

The famous Pequot Library also a gift to the community from the wealthy Marchand family, stands on the grounds of their early mansion, where the lovely large front lawn is now. The Library was constructed as a surprise behind fencing there and unveiled like a statue when complete - its rose quartz sparkling like a thing from heaven.   It is kept and well even today and restored not long ago.     
 

She was very good - serious and skilled in work - devoted and joyful in love -  Grateful for helps she enjoyed when orphaned, and able to give and take love in the community, and the world - not just at home.  My Dad met her on leave from his pioneer Army Air Corps duties and they dated in days when a "flyboy" was like an astronaut, awesome dating material. The war was over , they had skills, beauty, money and property, and enjoyed success in all things. He helped her redecorate their "Tara".  On the wooden beam in the basement, carved a sweetheart, with "Albina Smitski" carved inside...fun with the ethnic mix.    Like the song, "And there upon the tree I see, I love you till I die".   The definition got complicated between them, but they did.

She was interrupted in her schooling - but continued in adult classes and on her own and , since we were located in a nice place for it,  learned types would join our social circle and share their knowledge and wisdom and training:  she worked with success in accounting,  we all enjoyed very nice and latest beauty, fashion, decorating, marriage and child psychology training -  and more.   Mother kept her brainier library upstairs and the one for the general public  in the living-room bookcase!    Both libraries were worked hard with our endless curiosity.  I got my love of books and film trivia and music from my parents.   Dad's people were iconic and taught us all they knew as well:   History , religion, politics and the secret funstuff:  Like all the girls in our family, we could also do plumbing, blade-sharpening, steam-jennying, and upholstery.  

If a situation looked threatening, she'd rehearse what she felt she might need to say and how she'd need to say it, and followed through.  The daily mandate from her school days:  "Learn Perfect English - Be good Americans"  and she was all that!  At five- foot nine, not counting the pompadours they all wore, her height seemed to be one of her motives to cultivate her kind and charming way.  So her speech was soft and  more careful and I got to learn at her feet, winning neat moments and opportunities as a girl, just from her example. 

Her smile reflected her goodness, beauty , sense of self, the happiness and sorrows and compassion for all, without ever being oppressive about it.  She laughed and did fun things with us all and for us!        "I love Lucy" was on tv, so she'd even do a stunt!    There were most certainly days of teas but my point was , that on easy days or challenging ones, they bothered to make itA joyful home!  The stories will prove.     

But work was the backbone of it all.  We all took the cue from both our enterprising parents, and expected to be good - learn the skills and share them for good work and love.    She said  she had no confidence in her parenting having lost hers so young.  But  I like her better than many who took their aptitudes for granted.  Her motives were inspiring.

I am on the way up from grief - I caved in when she no longer could communicate or recognize me.   But I AM recovering  and feel compelled to share the stories -  good days and bad, rich or not,  in full health or coping - the love and goodness remain and gave her three children the good example - and oh, what fun we had doing it all!

First of the stories - Click here for "The Southport Belle and Technology"