The Crab Chronicles

A Relic from World War I

In 1917 a young man from Georgia is far from home, getting ready to head to the battlefield in France and do his part. He stops in Paris and tries to find some small gift to send home to his mother. He wanders through shops filled with expensive perfumes and smaller items, but he doesn't have much money for luxury goods. Finally, he finds an inexpensive handkerchief in a small shop, and

he buys it, and pays to have it mailed home, to a small farm in Dooly County, and his weary widowed mother who is still raising children.

Above is that handkerchief.

I now have this modest little item and it's one of my most cherished possessions. I do not have anything else that was bought by my grandfather Algernon Thompson (who died before my birth) and I certainly don't have anything that was owned by his mother, my great grandmother Annie Lewis Thompson.

I treasure this little handkerchief.

It is falling apart. I gently lifted it out of the box and it split at every seam. However, the embroidery threads are still vivid, as you can see, and the lace is intact.

I left the photo large on purpose, so you can see the handkerchief and appreciate it.

I doubt anyone would offer me much money for it, even a museum of fabrics, but to me it is priceless.

When I touch it, I am linked to my grandfather, and linked to his mother. I am literally linked to them, through this modest piece of cloth.

I find that profoundly moving.

This is part of why I find History so fascinating.

I cannot imagine what it must have been like to live on a farm in South Georgia between 1888 and 1904. I cannot imagine a home without electricity or indoor plumbing. I cannot imagine having to quit school and go to work, so my mother and my 7 younger siblings can stay together, and keep the land. Yet, such was the life of my grandfather, Algernon Lewis Thompson. He spent many years working and sending money home to his mother, and many years as a professional soldier, delaying marriage until his mother and siblings were able to manage for themselves. 

Thompson is pictured at right, in the lower left-hand corner. My father looked a LOT like Thompson.

 

at left, Dad as a young man with me and my brother, about 1962

 

 

The lady who raised my grandfather was always referred to as "Annie Lou Lewis Thompson" but in doing some research I found that her name was actually Augustine Lougene Lewis. Her mother was Gabrielle Scarborough. So from her, I have French ancestry, undoubtedly. I know there are French ancestors on the Henderson side, too.

I loved learning French in high school. My ancestors in heaven must have been tickled.

Below, Annie Thompson, known to Dad and her grandchildren as "Little Granny."

I can touch the handkerchief her loving son sent to her more than a hundred years ago. We are connected through more than blood. I look forward to meeting her, and my grandfather, one day, in heaven.

 

Family Resemblance

I was looking at the photo below, of my beautiful mother, and I thought it would be fun to compare our photos. Then I thought it would be fun to drop in photos of Dad and his mother. All of us in these photos were young. I was 18 and a freshman in college. Mom was around 20. Dad and Cordelia were early 20's. (I love the photo of Cordelia because she was really lovely, and I got my high forehead and curly hair from her...) At their wedding, Mom was barely 23 and Dad was 26. In the photo of Bruce and Dad, Bruce was about 25. In the photo at the very bottom, where Bruce is in uniform, we were in college, or just out of college.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Left, my father Anthony Henderson Thompson at around 20 years old

 

                         Right, his mother Cordelia Henderson Thompson, about age 20

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

right - my grandfather Algernon Thompson, as a young man

 

 

left, my mother's father, Bob Hasty

Fashions of the 1970's

I lived through the 1970's -- I went from 8 to 18 that decade -- and I can tell you with absolute certainty, the fashions of that era were mostly awful. 

Men's fashions were particularly awful. [Polyester leisure suits; ridiculously patterned shirts, shirts with huge collars, fat ties..]

I was reminded of this when I posted the photo below, of my dad and Arnold Palmer.

This is what I posted on Facebook about the photo: I didn't get to post on Throwback Thursday because my scanner was not working right, but I unearthed this treasure this afternoon in the garage. It was made in the early 1970's. Dad is far right and Arnold Palmer is in the middle. Don't know the other guy. I think it's a cool photo. Obviously the bank where Dad was the VP had sponsored a golf tournament. Mom looked at the photo and said "Your father must have left the house before I could check his outfit." LOL

The other golfer, the guy wearing the cap, was a man named Mason Rudolph. Mrs. Rudolph either didn't check him before he left the house or he didn't have to undergo inspection. In my house, we always had to be inspected by Mom before we could go out in public.

Back to my original premise though -- ugly 1970'2 fashions.

Exhibit A - a family get-together in Atlanta. [if you click on the photo it enlarges it] -- all the girls look ok but the guys...

Exhibit B, me with some of my Hasty cousins, 1972 -- none of us look odd except my brother, who looks like he was auditioning for the play L'il Abner. Mom didn't inspect that outfit.. Note my cousin Linda was wearing a "scooter skirt" - shorts with a little skirt flap in front. We girls could wear those to school but we couldn't wear pants, not until I was in 6th grade, I think.

above --me and Mom, 1971

As you might have noticed, in MOST photos of me as a child, I look goofy. I just generally looked goofy. 

above, I thought I looked very stylish, in my vest and boots.. for many years I refused to wear any "dress" shoes but GOGO BOOTS! Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots Were Made for Walkin'" was my theme song...

Below, about 1974. Dad was looking VERY 1974. I had my mouth open and just looked, as always, goofy. 

Below, about 1977. Note Bruce's shirt and vest combo...

below, the penultimate shot, 1975... Note Dad's polyester pants and shirt combo, and my lime green polyester pants suit with halter top..

 

Thompson Aviary Estate

Are you a small bird looking for a comfortable place to build a nest this spring? Do you enjoy the quiet beauty of the Atlanta suburbs? Househunting is SUCH a chore! As the old saying goes, though, location is everything!

We have just the place for you! The Thompson Aviary Estate is just inside the perimeter, close to good schools and convenient to Northlake Mall, the CDC, I-85 and I-285. The statues of downtown Decatur are just a short flight away!

The Thompson Estate offers great amenities you won't find everywhere.

There is a lovely birdbath in the back of the estate, and a creek.

Free Food is not available, due to the intrusive squirrels and creek rats, but the homeowners plant gardens every year and the soil is full of nice fat worms!

This is Lola, the spoiled and adored security system for the property. She will not bother you or your family, but is diligent about barking at squirrels! She also doesn't allow cats to come in her yard.

For those who have issues with finding good nesting materials, the estate offers free yarn and dog hair, conveniently located a short flight from your home:

Now, security is always a concern. We offer Window Home high up, far away from predators. Although it is a plain home, it is right above the hydrangeas, and very close to Elva's Computer, a source of music at all hours of the day and night:

For those who prefer a more scenic location, there's the lovely Magnolia House:

This house has been beautifully decorated by Erick. Note the springy moss all around, and there are daffodils!

For those who prefer suburban living with neighbors, we offer a variety of options -- a tiny home, a groovy hippie pad, new to the estate, and an older home, which has housed several happy families over a period of almost 10 years!

For those customers who are really discerning and prefer the understated elegance of cedar:

These are high-quality homes, brand-new construction, in the highly-desirable front patio area, which offers views of lush flowers usually sometime in April - geraniums, impatiens, etc.

For the really discerning bird, who values style and elegance, we offer Michael's House, located in the patio area [shown while still under construction] under the eaves, atop a sturdy brick column. Close enough to fly over to visit neighbors in one of the Cedar Homes, yet offering privacy and a wonderful view of the azaleas at no extra cost.

For the best location, greatest price, and incredible variety of housing options, you cannot go wrong by choosing a place at the Thompson Aviary Estate. Fly on over and check us out!

 

Family Photos

I've been scanning in a lot of old photos and I thought I'd just share them here, and send a link to my relatives who might want a copy. I love love love old photos, particularly from the early 20th century.

Below, me and my brother with my grandparents, around 1965, in the backyard of our house on Herd Ave. in Augusta. Note that my brother had a "sword" in his hand.

Below, my grandmother Wilma Butler in 1923, before she married.

Below, my grandparents, Mom, and her brothers, around the late 1930's judging by Mom's size.

Below, my uncles Bobby and Don. Bobby grew to be about as big as his dad, 6'3 220. Don also grew to be around the same height but a bit thinner.

The family around the early 1940's.

Notice the World

One of the great benefits of getting older, for me, is that I notice more beauty around me, all the time. When I was young, I was always restless. Always wanting excitement and adventure, always wanting to travel and see the world.

The irony of that is that only after I matured and actually did travel to different countries, only then did I appreciate the beauty all around me right here close to home.

Below, a view of Edinburgh Scotland, from the castle there, in 1988. For the first time in my 25 years, then, I was looking around, really noticing. This exact same view had hardly changed in centuries -- the sense of history, everywhere, was profoundly moving. I must admit, though, that I wanted to take back interesting photos, to remind me of the trip, or I wouldn't have noticed much. I was like my dad, zipping along as quickly as possible from one thing to the next. When I got home and really studied the photos, only then did I really appreciate what I had seen.

I took some good photos on that trip, but it wasn't until I went to Russia in 2003, with the choir, that I really became acutely aware of things. I was in a country so unlike America that I noticed everything. The beautiful churches. The potholes in the roads. The trash everywhere. The beautiful and exotic buildings. The faces of people so different from Americans. There were huge contrasts of the lovely and the ugly everywhere.

I love the photo below, because it was made the day after I had actually taken custody of Alesia, and we were walking down the street next to the beautiful Amur river in Khabarovsk. I was so glad the ordeal of that adoption process was over, and I had a little girl who was happy to be in a family, even if her mama bought her pants that were too short..

When I came home, I realized that there was a lot of beauty here, too. I was insanely busy, though, between work and being a first-time mom to a child that didn't speak English.

A couple of years later I adopted Michael, and my life began to be more about being outside, because Michael loved to play outside.

Below, a street in Petropavlovsk Kazakhstan in March 2007 when I was there for the first adoption trip.

I have written often about the extreme contrast between Kazakhstan and Atlanta in May 2007, when I returned from my second [and final] trip. After the ordeal of getting home, I wanted to weep at the sight of Atlanta's beautiful flowers and shrubs and trees, as soon as we got off the plane and were going through town in a taxi. Michael was stunned, looking everywhere. I imagine he felt like he'd landed in Oz.

Along with the [unnaturally hot] weather, though, he had a sister, Granny, uncle, and Mom who adored him, and a big backyard to play in. I like to think living here has significantly impacted the sweet, thoughtful young man he has grown into.

Since I have lived here these past ten years I have learned to notice the world. I notice our house, the pool, the tall trees, the streets not filled with potholes. I notice that we live in a lovely place. I used to say I never wanted to live in the suburbs, and now I've totally changed my mind. I love living here.

When I started walking Lola every morning some months ago, I started to notice even more. (I wish I had a better camera than my phone, but at the moment a new camera isn't in the budget.)

No matter where one lives, there is beauty there, if you look for it. You don't have to live in an exotic place. You don't have to have mountains or a lake in your backyard. You don't have to have a cute doggie to walk. Just look around. Notice. Take photos. Don't take photos. Remember.

God is everywhere, in everything beautiful.

Notice how nice it is to walk around and breathe in quiet and clean air.

Photos Old and New

Got some old photos from several sources and a couple of new ones I wanted to share. It's a gloomy, rainy day and we just un-decorated the house, which is always a bit depressing.

Below, a shot from 2009, made by my cousin Mark Embry, who is an awesome photographer. Michael had only been here a couple of years. My smile is crooked but otherwise I like the shot.

A friend sent me some photos of my dad I had never seen, from his days with the bank in Knoxville.

Dad always liked to wear suits with vests. I like that look. Particularly good for a banker. The younger man is David Moore, who worked with Dad for years and is still a friend of our family.

I really like the image below even though you can't see Dad's face that well. He was very fond of Betty, and she was a wonderful colleague. She is still going strong even though she's up in her 80's.

My friend Joanne and her daughters came by for a visit yesterday. I wasn't feeling well so it was a short visit but it was wonderful to see them. It's lovely to be friends with someone since babyhood -- Joanne lived next door when we were small. Her daughters are now in college and my kids are in college. Amazing to think how the years have whizzed by.

Below, all of us [except Michael, who hadn't been adopted] in my mother's house in Augusta in 2005. Joanne's mother is a dear friend of my mom's.

Below, the girls and Michael in 2009.

Below, the murky shots from yesterday. Not sure if it's the fault of my phone or the lighting... Lola decided the girls were there simply to play with her..

My old friend Gary came by today and we had a great visit. He brought Michael two  UGA shirts!

The Mothers That Came Before Me

I am very lucky to be descended from some very beautiful and strong women, ladies who have faced far worse hardships and heartbreak than I've ever known. I wanted to share a little bit of their stories.

How did they endure so much? I often wonder about that. None of them went mad, or used drugs, or abandoned their families - although I'm sure at times they wanted to. They endured. They had faith. They made the best of things.

Sometimes when I get down and feel sorry for myself I think, I can get through anything.. I come from some strong women. Their legacy to me is so valuable, and so beautiful. They didn't give up. I won't either. I will figure out a way, with the Lord's help.

This lovely lady is Charlotte Wood, the mother of my great grandfather, Robert Edward Butler. I don't know much about her, but I know he came from a pretty well to do family. Yet, Charlotte looks like she's had some trials in her life. She lived through reconstruction, and in the south that was a terrible time, whether you had money or not.

Above, the Phillips sisters of Acworth, Granny Butler's family. I'm not sure who all is pictured here. There is controversy over the identity of the lady with the wild hair who is laughing. What difference does it make?! She looks joyful.

This is my grandmother Wilma Butler and her siblings, sometime around 1905. The little girl on the floor on the far right is Mamaw. There were 3 more children after these. Granny Butler was a strong lady - she had 12 children who lived to adulthood and several more who didn't.

Mom has told me many times, despite that fact that Grandaddy Butler had money, when you have that many kids, everybody in the household works. Everybody has to help in the house. Clothes had to be ironed. There were no convenience foods, either. No shortcuts. Everybody helped in the kitchen. The girls helped sew. The boys learned from their father.

Granny had a lot of kids and a husband who didn't help her at all. He actually didn't even like children.

Granny was always strong. Mom told me just the other day that when she was in high school, she was often told to accompany Granny to downtown Atlanta on the streetcar, when she wanted to shop. Nobody else in the family could keep up with her. She was 5'8 and could out-walk all the women in the family except my mother [who is about 5'4].When Mom was in high school, Granny would've been in her 70's.

Below, Granny and two of her grandsons.

Above, my dad's mother, Cordelia Henderson Thompson. She was one of 12 children. I don't know as much about her family because she died before I was born.

Cordelia was a tall lady, about 5'7, and in those days [1922] that was really tall. She was "an old maid schoolteacher" [Dad's words] when she married Algernon Thompson in 1923 at the ripe old age of 27 or thereabouts. Within 7 years she had three sons to raise and the Depression hit and suddenly nobody in the family had any money. She worked hard, helping Grandaddy in the little general store they ran. She didn't finish college. Her husband [my grandfather] was barely literate and had to quit school when his father died. He waited until he was in his 30's to marry because he was having to support his own mother and younger siblings.

Cordelia didn't marry money, and she didn't marry an educated man. Yet, she raised three sons who all finished college and two of them got master's degrees.  Then she nursed my grandfather through emphysema and had to endure being really poor the last decade or so of her life.

She kept her sense of humor, though. When Mom knew her, they often played Scrabble, and once when she couldn't do anything else, Cordelia used the word "Shit" - which was, she said, in the dictionary. It was such a shock to my mom, because Cordelia was very upright, went to church every Sunday, didn't drink or smoke, etc. She liked to win at Scrabble though. I totally get that. [I play online Scrabble and I usually have about a dozen games going at any one time.]

above, family reunion of the Hendersons, mid 1950's, Cordelia in the black dress

 

One day I plan to tell my grandchildren, even though you aren't biologically connected to these ladies, they have had a big influence on your life. Their strength and courage came down to me, and I was determined to be a mama even if I had to go to the other side of the world to do it.

When you truly feel called to do something, do it. Don't let anyone stop you.God put my children into my arms because they were meant to be there. I know this.

My little family was built from Love, Prayer, and sheer Determination. If I can pass along those qualities I will consider it a great day.

Happy Mother's Day! [and a few more photos]

Wilma Butler Hasty and Bob Hasty

Mamaw, Papa, Mother and my uncles, early 1950's

me, Bruce and Mom, around 2001

The Boy from Kazakhstan

Today is the 7th anniversary of the day I met my son Michael in an orphanage in Petropavlovsk, Kazakhstan. He has only been my son for 7 years [as of April 3rd] but it feels like he has been mine for his entire life. He is the light of my life.

above, eating at the Bliny cafe on trip one  / below, the kids in his group, the day I went to take him home, each child holding a small gift bag

The most remarkable thing to me about the past 7 years is that Michael has fit so seamlessly into our family. He is a perfectly normal boy, and yet he has qualities that are rare in 17 year old boys. He is mature and reasonable. He is a deep thinker. He sees the world with the perspective of a much older person than his biological age.

If someone had told me ten years ago that I would be adopting a limb difference 10 year old from Kazakhstan, I would've thought that was just goofy. I was barely familiar with the fact there was a country in the world named "Kazakhstan."  I had no friends raising disabled kids. Yet, God knew exactly the right boy for our family.

One final thought... I never envisioned being a single mom until the day I met my daughter. However, it's not so bad. I have great friends and family, lots of support. If I had the money, I'd adopt more kids. There are other "Michaels" out there in orphanages or in foster care. My prayer is that one day all of them will find a home.

 

Snapshots of the Past and My World Today

We've had a fairly busy day, but it was all good. Sundays are sometimes quite busy, after I've goofed off all day Saturday.

My friend Amy brought her son over for Michael to babysit, and he gave the boy a tennis lesson. Mike is going to try out for the LHS tennis team this week, if they don't get rained out. So he played tennis last night and again this morning, before the lesson.

I ran errands and went grocery shopping. Woo hoo!

A mom and 2 tiny boys and one small girl came to the door this morning selling girl scout cookies. I almost asked "Are they made from real girl scouts?" but I controlled myself. Lola jumped up on each child and tried to lick them. Repeatedly. They handled it well. I felt bad about her, though, so I bought 4 boxes of cookies.

After yesterday's storms, today we had a lovely day, not even cold enough to need a jacket.

Photos and Stuff

The tiny house movement has migrated over to England. I find tiny houses interesting, but I would never wnat to live in one. A small house, yes, a TINY one, no. Not unless it was attached to a huge screened in porch, which would not look very politically correct then would it?!

I will confess that when I've not been working or running errands I've enjoyed looking at some very cool photos. This lady Chino Otsuka seems to be a time traveller. Way cool.

These historic photos absolutely fascinate me, and seem like true time capsules.

this is a red shouldered hawk, photographed by my talented cousin Linda Hasty Harris, probably in her backyard in Acworth. Love the majesty of this bird!

this is Michael washing his car - Uncle Bruce gave him car washing products