Sentimental Sunday...Grandma's Black Purse

Grandma Nell's Black Purse

This is the black purse. It hung on the door knob of the back bedroom at Grandma Nell's (Ellen Johnstone Borgreen) little yellow house for years and years. Truth be told the purse wasn't always the same purse. She would change them out, but they were always black. What was inside this purse? Stuff, junk, treasures. The stuff changed as often as the purse changed, but it was always full of something fun and interesting to a little kid. Maybe an old pocket calendar, a doll from the dollar store, an old empty lipstick tube, a deck of cards (not all of them, of course), some plastic plates for a tea party, a note pad and pencil.... It didn't really matter what was inside, it was new to the kids. I didn't actually play with the black purse as a child. I don't think Grandma had the flash of inspiration until my cousins came along. But my kids all played with it, and when Grandma passed in 2000, the purse came to live at my house. It received a thorough cleaning out and inspection for safety then was tucked away for the future.

 The little dumpling on this scrapbook page is my granddaughter, Dani, playing with her great-great grandma's black purse.  Last year I brought the purse out of the closet to share with her for the first time. She was enthralled with all the stuff inside. Such a simple thing full of random "junk" to keep a little kid busy for a  while. Like Grandma Nell, I'll change the contents out frequently, but the purse shall remain the same for as long as it holds up. Then it will live the rest of its days in my treasure chest of family memorabilia.

Season's Greeting From Our House to Your House

Christmas Greeting from the Edward Marxer Family
circa late 1940's

I found this lovely vintage holiday greeting in the box of photos and memorabilia that I received when Grandma Marie Marxer passed away in 2000.

There is no handwriting on the greeting, in fact I think this was the prototype to their holiday card. The car in the front leads me to believe that this was sent out sometime in the late 1940's. I have photos of the family all gathered around a similar car from that time period.

The house was built by Great Grandpa, Joseph Marxer, on land that he homesteaded in the 1890's.
He received his land patent in 1898. Grandpa, Edward Marxer, was born in this house. My dad, Gary Marxer and his brothers were raised there and I spent many happy times visiting, the old homestead as a child. I can still hear the SWACK of the wooden screen door slamming as someone ran in or out. I can hear the wind rustling through the grass and trees. I can see, in my mind's eye, the cloud of dust from the road as someone drove by and everyone stopping to gawk to see who it was. That gawking habit dies hard. My dad  is still a gawker and his brother Neal, who lives right next door to me, gawks every time I leave my driveway. It makes me smile to see the old days and the old ways still carrying on.

Merry Christmas and Blessings in the New Year!

Christmas, The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

My Childhood memories of Santa are vivid. I would get so excited for Christmas that I would just shake and I still remember the physical ache of anticipation. I don't think I ever stopped believing. I never felt tricked or deceived by the stories. The thought of a benevolent old soul toiling all year to bring gifts the all the good boys and girls of the world just makes my heart glad. The sight of a Santa and child makes me misty eyed. Part of that may be hormones, but part of it has always been that way. 

Yes Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus

Eight-year-old Virginia O'Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of New York's Sun, and the quick response was printed as an unsigned editorial Sept. 21, 1897. The work of veteran newsman Francis Pharcellus Church has since become history's most reprinted newspaper editorial, appearing in part or whole in dozens of languages in books, movies, and other editorials, and on posters and stamps.
"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old. "Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. "Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.' "Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?"VIRGINIA O'HANLON."115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.