In my continuing search to bring something unusual to the Antique Roadshow ( should we be chosen ) I submit this possibility.
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It’s a small obscure political booklet that I can’t find anywhere online.
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Privately published in 1938 by a group of ridiculously wealthy Republicans ( one of whom my mother dated in later years ) it’s a scathing satire of FDR and his New Deal policies.
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I’ve often thought of donating it to the FDR museum at Hyde Park…
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But maybe a trip to the Roadshow should come first.
Another treasure made its way up from the basement the other day and while I won’t bore you with the ridiculous amount of minutia my mother recorded during my first year of life in this baby book (Aunt Charlotte gifted us a silver spoon, woot!)….. I would like to point out that at age five?
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I was apparently as round as I was tall.
🤣
I have to admit while the information itself didn’t mean much, holding a book filled with my late mother’s handwriting did make me choke up a little.
Do mothers even do this anymore… or is there just an app? Because I gotta say, fifty years from now when a grown up child finds that? No tears will be shed.
Since my husband has been wasting time and money working in the basement, it was inevitable he’d discover some treasure. And for the first time in a long time… I’m not being sarcastic when I say that.
To my delight, he came upstairs the other day with these.
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A box full of old photo albums given to me by my late father’s sister years ago when she was moving. She gave us all kinds of unwanted things that were basement bound but these must have gotten mixed in with the rest, and sadly I’d forgotten all about them.
The photos are old, taken in England between 1910 and 1920… and just for fun I thought I’d share a few.
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My father as a boy. A well dressed dapper little lad, no?
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My grandfather and my aunt. Another dapper gentleman.
Unfortunately I never met him, as he died when my dad was 10 years old.
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My grandmother and another aunt.
I was 2 when my grandmother passed and have no memory of her. It may have been the era, but I don’t possess a single photo of her smiling either.
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My grandfather with two unidentified children. Apparently one of them was a daisy.
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My father loved the sea, as is evidenced by him taking the tiller at an early age.
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This is his older brother, who clearly was only trusted with toy boats.
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My grandmother and uncle. Oh, that hat!
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My grandfather, left, with an unidentified man in Cuba. Pops was a world traveler.
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My grandfather and father. Did no one ever smile for pictures back then?
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My father, building his own mini Stonehenge in Cornwall.
When it comes to collecting crap stuff, my husband is the epitome of the phrase ‘the thrill is in the hunt’.
He’ll tirelessly scour flea markets and antique stores for that just right piece of crap treasure….. but once he owns it? It will languish in the closet or be left in a deserted corner to gather cobwebs.
And now?
His cat is displaying the same traits.
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Yes, that’s a half dead mouse.
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And just like his father….
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After he hunts it down, Lord Dudley Mountcatten could care less what becomes of it.
River's world..... 