Archive for the 'History' Category

Beatiful Art

Where ever she lived my Grandmother always the same picture on her wall. It was of a little girl leaning on a chair. On the seat of the chair were a couple of cherries.

Grandma showed me that no matter where I stood in the room the little girl was looking at me.

I always wondered who the artist was. I had a fair grasp on art history but no clue who did this painting.

Finally a google search, (painting girl chair cherries) lead me to the name of the artist, William Bouguereau and eventually to Art Renewal, where I learned why my art classes had never mentioned this brilliant and once celebrated artist.

He had a huge body of work, including “The Seashell,” which serves as my banner. I had to crop it to make it fit, but below is the entire picture.

I think it is so beautiful, the people look so lifelike, not stiff and posed but really living.


The name of my grandmother’s picture was “Yvonne.” It turned out that 60 years ago Grandma had given a copy of it to her sister. When they held my great aunt’s estate sale a few months back my mother purchased it for me. One of my clients matted and a gave her a new frame, in exchange for my fixing his printer, and now she is watching me while I type. 🙂 Everything is acid free now so maybe she will be around for another 60 years.



Here is Yvonne. (please ignore the icky wall, someday it will get fixed, but not today.)


Miracles Happen all the Time

Miracles happen all the time, but we only recognize the big ones. The little ones we usually dismiss as coincidences.

During WWII, in a little Wisconsin town a two boys contracted to dig a ditch for a new water main.

It was a hot day, and they had been digging all morning lengthening six foot deep ditch, when the local druggist walk over and peered into the trench.

“You boys have been working pretty hard,” he told them, “why don’t you take a little break and I will treat you each to a milk shake.”

He did not have to ask twice, two sweaty tired boys scrambled out and followed the druggist across the street to the soda fountain and the promised milk shakes.

They had just crossed the threshold of the drugstore when there was a loud “WHUMP!” that shook the ground. Stunned the three of them looked back at the to see that the ditch had collapsed.

If the druggist had not heeded his instincts and invited them to take a break, the two boys would have been be buried in a grave they had dug themselves.

I am thankful to my Heavenly Father for protecting the boys from peril that day and to the druggist for not hesitating in following the promptings he was given.

You see, one of those boys would become my father, and had things gone differently, the world would be short by at least the 16 souls that are descended from him.

Happy Fathers Day Dad and thank you for being you.