Stella's Social Club

Hope everyone is having a good weekend. This morning I decorated my wagon for Memorial Day, not that anyone will see it at the speed they drive by!



Kathy, you are in my thoughts. I know this is a hard time for you.
hugs.gif
so true

Guess what Hang...they hadn't stocked the lake yet! She just got home and had the rest of the story. She says it's the first big one they have seen this year. They are just moving around looking for food. Lucky her.
nice thats a good sign. My friend caught a 17 pounder in Lake Tahoe a few years ago and when they cut it open it had a bunch of 12-14" planters in it. can't remember

Some flowers for you today, Kathy. Hope they cheer you up. This is my climbing Minnehaha rose, a tiny pom pom sized rose with mild fragrance that grows several feet each year and must be trimmed. The group at the end of the picket fence was from a stick of it I just shoved into the ground a few years ago-in that tangle is a brown thrasher's nest right now, I just found out today.




your property is stunning
 
My Dad was drafted at 17 into the Army and when turned 18 he was sent to Europe as part of the 75th Infantry division.






He fought in the Battle of the Bulge where his platoon was referred to as the Baby Brigade because the average age of the men was 19 years old.





My Dad is wearing the top hat. He never touched a gun after the war was over.



My mother worked as a riveter at the Benecia Arsenal until the war was over and my Dad returned home.



They have been married 71 years.

 
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They were interesting. My mother was a very sad figure, long story. She died at the age of 52 from what the death certificate said was liver cancer, but I know she was a raging alcoholic from the time she was barely out of her teens. I didn't find all this out until about 2000. My father's family owned a few thousand acres in Cuba and that gov't took them all. He was fighting to reclaim them, among other things, when he was captured and endured one of those mock trials, his mother, who knew Fidel Castro personally, pleading for his life in vain.

Mary, you look very much like your father. I look more like my mother.
 
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Very interesting story Cyn. And, of course, sad.

My parents were from migrant farm worker families and actually lived behind billboards on opposite sides of a highway, although they didn't meet until many years later. Migrant work taught them to prefer canned vegetables and fruits over fresh because they could never afford canned but could eat fresh from the fields. They still keep the pantry full of canned goods and rarely make a salad.
 
Wow Sheriff. I love your photos. I love history. And to finish them off with a photo of them now. That's great. Thanks for sharing.
 

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