Posts Tagged ‘family’

A huge thank you to everyone for your birthday wishes. We had a wonderful girls night out and many karaoke songs were enthusiastically (if not perfectly) sung. My daughter, Emily, is an expert at event organizing, and I look forward every year to what has become a birthday tradition.

Then, on Sunday, we had another Mother’s Day/Birthday dinner here, and I received a special surprise gift from my son, Elliott, and his girlfriend, Cirilia . . . a 3-month old white kitten with strawberry blonde patches, who is about the sweetest little boy I’ve ever met. He’s incredibly affectionate, and would cuddle up and start purring the minute anyone picked him up.

Elliott and Cirilia freaked because they couldn’t locate any shelter kittens — everyone said “call back in a month.” They ended up answering a Craigslist ad, and the owners (who were Russian) claimed their kitten was a Siberian mix. E & C knew I wouldn’t care about the kitten’s breed — they just wanted a young kitten, but they really liked him, of course, because he was so friendly and adorable. As a nod to his alleged lineage, we decided to name him Sasha.

Now I am going through the slow process of introducing him to my 5-year old cat, Elvis, who is currently not very happy about this whole situation.

Tonight we are raising our glasses to toast my mother, Marjorie, on the 100th anniversary of her birth.  She was the youngest of four, and the only girl.  As a child, she always wore these gigantic bows in her hair, and I think her closest aged brother, Bill, must has added the ribbons to her shoes for this photograph.

My father was a rifleman in WWII, serving as a scout in Company B of the 395th Infantry.  He had been in a reserve unit, and was not called up until April of 1944, because he was older (33) and the father of two small children (my older sisters, Jean Ann and Sally).  He was in France, Belgium and Germany and fought in 3 major conflicts, including the Battle of the Bulge.

Lawrence Anthony Dellasega, 1911 – 1984

While he was gone, he and my mother wrote hundreds of letters to each other, and mother saved every one that she received.  This is one of my favorites which was written especially to Jean Ann and Sally in 1945.  It’s such a sweet letter, and although the mention of the dead German seems weird now, I guess it probably wasn’t at the time.

One month after this letter was sent, my dad was shot while on a scouting assignment.  The bullet actually hit a tree right next to him, which resulted in lots of shrapnel wounds to his face and the loss of most of his teeth.  My mother received a telegram (which she also kept) from the Secretary of War, stating that her husband had been “slightly wounded.”  My dad told me later that those telegrams always said “slightly wounded” or “killed in action” — nothing in between — but I’m not sure if that’s true.  He was sent to a hospital in France for treatment, and then back to the front lines.

Daddy kept all of his medals in his Purple Heart presentation box.  Whenever I was sick, he would take them out, tell me about each one, and then pin them on my pajamas.  I loved that.

Gordon and Martha, 1976

The poor villagers are being terrorized by the Elvis monster. He sleeps in their streets, pushes their houses about, and knocks over any residents who are brave enough to step outside.

I have allowed this devastation to continue, hoping the monster will be content harassing the villagers instead of attacking the Christmas tree.

For my birthday my son, Elliott, gave me a certificate for a kitten from the Humane Society. Business was brisk last Saturday when we stopped by — tons of people adopting pets, which was nice to see. There was only one very small kitten left, and we managed to fill out the paperwork quickly in order to be first in line for him.

Elvis is 9 weeks old now — he’s very affectionate and fearless (and so far, not a biter). This is his routine: run and climb around the house like a maniac for 30 minutes and then crash….maniac…..crash…..repeat. Lucy the dog (14) is tolerating him just fine (with a little extra attention for her) — Dinah the Cat (20) doesn’t like him at all, but she is Elliott’s cat and rarely leaves his room these days.

It’s been a long time since we’ve had a kitten in the house, and Elvis is certainly keeping us all entertained.

I found another photo where you can just see Bette rocking out to one of my records — probably The Beatles or The Who.

Here’s a photo of my bedroom. My sister and I went crazy with this funky stick-on-furniture — I had a stick-on headboard, picture frame — even a stick-on gumball machine. You can see that beginning in my early twenties, I had a fondness for anything vintage. Because I moved to Seattle with only my clothes, pretty much everything in my apartment (and much of my clothing) came from second-hand stores.

On top of my painted, wallpapered steamer trunk is a little Victorian house cut out of milk cartons and covered in tissue paper with inked details — another one of the projects with my sister, Sally. This was actually really tricky to make, but so cute lit up with a candle. I wish I could find that pattern now — I’d definitely make it again.

This is the outside of the building — that’s my sun room on the ground floor. God, I loved that apartment.