Thursday, March 27, 2008
By the end of the day it was still pretty sunny. Yes, it's still considered a sunny day here in the Pacific Northwest even with this many clouds in the sky. You can just see the snow on the hills across the river in Washington. I'd gone out to buy some office supplies down the street, then walked back along the river. The gray building to the right was refurbished last year and houses a real estate office and one of my favorite coffee houses, so I stopped for a decaf extra wet cappucino. That's my poison. I try not to have one every day, but I do love them. What a gorgeous day. Still a bit cold - jacket weather. I've never regretted moving here, but a day like today reminds you why it's special.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
It snowed (sometimes hard) for several hours, finally starting to stick and accumulate, then it turned slushy, and just before 5 pm it stopped.
From the office windows we could watch the changes, as the weather continued to do calm but interesting things. The light changed. It snowed, it hailed, it sprinkled, it stopped. A rainbow gleamed in a dark sky. You can see the cruise ship "Spirit of '90" docked behind the River Pilots' building. The clouds broke and the sun treated us to the scene below as the day came to an end. I went home with relaxed feet and, yeah, a bit of a pleasant buzz. Nice.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Looks refined? Looks cool? Get it on a shirt, hat, or mousepad. Depending on who you are, you may find that this pretty green text is actually one of your favorite slogans. Only your Chinese-reading friends will know for sure. Check it out on Work Redefined!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
More Spring colors, also along the trolly tracks, looking across Marine Drive to the back of several businesses, including The Bent Needle, which does embroidery on clothing, caps, etc. To the right are apartments, newly refurbished, I'm told, and downstairs a pet store (which may have recently closed, I'll have to check, because people come into our shop [aka The Animal Store] where we sell stuffed animals, plastic animals, animal gifts, etc., asking for dog food and cat collars; we've been directing them down one block, so I'd better see if they're still open).
One of the stuffed (plush toy) vultures in Tapir and Friends looks a little sad in the dim light. He seems to enjoy his perch overall, where he can keep an eye on the River Walk. The trolley tracks run just beyond, and in fact you can see the small shelter on the left, which is one of the trolley stops. For one dollar you can ride the trolley the length of the River Walk and back. What a deal. The trolley is old and tarted up, the conductors are volunteers who explain the fascinating history of Astoria and its waterfront. Some even direct people to come into our store. The River Walk itself is beyond the chain fence. The big expanse of pavement is the parking lot for the River Pilot building. Not much is happening on the river today since it's Sunday, and Easter to boot. So the lot is empty. I'll have to show the scene again on a sunny day. It's a different world.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Download PDF file [623 KB]
Transcriptions of letters, with maps and commentary
Download Napoleon B. Hudson's siblings and ancestry [13 KB]
In the 1980s I was privileged to have come into possession of over 1,000 letters and documents written by and to, or saved by, my ancestors and their relatives during the 1800s and early 1900s. The discovery of these letters is a story in itself. After spending several years organizing and filing them, I began transcribing. They were so interesting that transcription led to research, not only of the family members and their genealogy, but of their locations, associates, and the periods in which they lived. I began printing this research for the family, but being so interested in the history and being a perfectionist at heart, the project grew and grew until I had stacks and files of reference material and, by comparison, not much edited into publishable form.
OK, this is not quite fair. I had edited 14 volumes, printed them and mailed them to a few family members, libraries, and museums. I had divided the material into folders and projected 50 volumes. I had become so enamored by the material and the characters, and what could be learned from the details as much as more than from an abridgement of the story, that I was unwilling to edit for length. I felt that the collection, which had, for the most part, been preserved in so glorious a sequence, seemed to have a life of its own. As its curator, I wanted to present it whole (in installments, fine, but not truncated) so it could be studied with all of its fascinating detail. There are always decisions to make. I agonized over whether it might not be best to abridge the letters and present the story. But somehow I could not imagine losing the detail and flavor that had made the writers of these letters come alive, and bring me into their time in a way I had never experienced in all my reading of history and historical novels. I wanted to share that. But I also didn't want my obsession to keep the material under wraps for who-knows-how-many more years.
At some point in the decision process, I began to compile Napoleon's letters. They were few by comparison, and the Civil War is a subject of huge interest in the US. It feels incomplete to present his thoughts without the intervening letters from his brothers and others in his life that round out the picture. I interjected some of the history and some quotes from these other letters, and then the project languished unfinished. But I feel the time has come.
Today I am posting an incomplete document, or fledgling book. These are the transcribed letters of a man who left no descendants. He was the brother of a man who married into my family, but not into my direct ancestry. Nathaniel Carlos Hudson, brother of Napoleon Bonaparte Hudson, married Helen Rosetta Joy, whose genealogy chart can be found elsewhere in this blog, and who was the sister of George Lewis Joy, my ancestor. [Also see Dirk Hudson's tree of the Hudson genealogy here.] Realizing that it will be years, if ever, before I complete this massive work, I want to make as much of it as possible available - incomplete or not - to those interested. I do not like producing flawed work that could contain misinformation, so the decision to begin posting the material was difficult. However, even more than that, I dislike the idea of hoarding documents that others might want to read. I've proof-read the transcriptions carefully, left the original spelling and punctuation, and made clarifying comments where I felt they were needed or were of particular interest. I have also indicated text I found undecipherable and have left questions in my commentary - like "to do" notes, as I've said in the PDF file. Here is the first installment - Napoleon's complete letters. Sadly, I have no photo of him. I hope that many will find this material as interesting as I do.
By the way, I found one other Napoleon Bonaparte Hudson online. Based on the dates and location, I don't believe he was related to our Hudsons.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Sunday, March 09, 2008
I am here today at this beautiful new school to share with you about the woman for whom it was named, Dr. Bernice Jameson Todd. She was my grandmother and I am speaking on behalf of the rest of the family members who are able to be here today and those who are not. I hope that this opportunity will allow me to give you some insight into her character and who she was.
Dr. Bernice Jameson Todd was born in Corona in 1891. Her grandfather, George L. Joy, was one of the Corona’s founding settlers. She was one of six children of William Henry and Hetty Joy Jameson. The family was involved in several businesses
including the farming of citrus.
My grandmother attended Corona schools. Her parents instilled in her and all of their children a passion for education and strong desire to help others. All six children, including the four girls, went on to pursue college educations, an unusual venture in the early 1900’s.
In 1909 Dr. Todd’s father sold a lemon grove in Los Angeles. Instead of prudently investing the money in the bank, he packed the family up and embarked on a year and a half long trip around the world. During this trip Dr. Todd was deeply moved by the extreme poverty and lack of medical care she saw in China and became determined to become a doctor. This was the beginning of a lifelong quest to help those in unfortunate situations. Dr Todd applied to and was accepted at Stanford
Dr. Todd worked hard in her studies. Signs now indicate that she probably had dyslexia, a learning disability that makes reading and writing quite difficult. Medical textbooks in the early 1900’s were still published in German. This must have made studies for her so much more challenging than for most.
Dr. Todd completed her residency at Children’s Hospital in San Francisco. She took her first job at the renowned Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. She was hired as lead assistant in thoracic surgery to Dr. Will Mayo. When he hired her, Dr. Mayo commented that she was not only dedicated to the profession, but was a suitable long-term hire as she did not seem to be a likely marriage prospect for anyone!
Love’s powers are stronger than one brilliant doctor’s assumption and my grandmother eventually returned to Corona to marry Clement J. Todd. Clement Todd was a graduate of the Coast Guard Academy and the first several years of their marriage included long separations while he served on an ice-cutting ship in the Bering Sea.
Grandma had the true spirit of an adventurer and the dedicated allegiance of a devoted wife. She and my grandfather had a close and committed marriage. When my grandfather left the Coast Guard to try his lot as a mining engineer in rugged, desolate Bisbee, Arizona, Grandma went with him. When my grandfather wanted to move to New York to work on the stock exchange, my grandmother went with him. When the market crashed in 1929, my grandparents came back to Corona where they became citrus farmers.
In the early 1930’s my grandmother began to work for the Corona schools as the school doctor. She helped treat children during the tuberculosis epidemic of the 1930’s and 1940’s. She established vaccination programs as well as nutritional and hygiene programs for the less fortunate. Dr. Todd provided meals for children who were not sure to receive them at home. She had a bathtub brought into the health
office so children who did not have plumbing in their homes could bathe at school. She would bring oranges from home so that children whose diets were supplemented
with that nasty castor oil could wash it down with fresh fruit. She served in this capacity for over 25 years.
World War II was a busy time for Dr. Todd. My grandfather died suddenly two weeks before Pearl Harbor was bombed. She was left with four children to raise. She was also entrusted to care for three nieces and nephews whose parents were
missionaries in Central America. She opened her home during the war to several military doctors and their families who were stationed at the Norco Naval Hospital. She also was left with the responsibility of running the family citrus farm. In addition to all of this, she continued to serve as the school doctor.
Doctor Todd was a committed Christian and was very involved in the Corona First Baptist Church. She believed that her God required action and outreach. In later years she could be seen in her walker picking fruit from her fruit trees to send to the Corona Settlement House and Senior Center.
All through her life she retained a keen interest in medicine, education and her faith. She wisely understood that education was larger than school and valued travel and varied experiences as well as a formal education. I can remember her reading her medical alumni magazines well into her ‘90’s. She often commented that “An education is something that can never be taken away from you.” She played a mean game of scrabble. Dr.Todd died in 1993 at the age of 102.
Dr. Todd had countless impressive accomplishments during her life. She is remembered by many as a woman pioneer in medicine. More importantly, she is remembered as loving mother and grandmother and great-grandmother who embodied the idea that those who have been given much have a responsibility to give to those with less.
1. It's used (by me) (no stains or holes, looks pretty good)
2. You pay shipping (to anywhere)
Why am I doing this? It's size XL. I've lost 40 pounds this year and I've kept it off. As it turned out, the program I was on was pretty easy, and I don't see gaining the weight back. What was I thinking??? I forgot that I'd have to part with some of my favorite possessions! I don't buy a lot of clothing, and the t-shirts I do have usually mean something to me. I have about a dozen that I really love, but they have to go. I just don't have the space. Who knew that losing the weight would be the easy part? Most of these shirts have very good memories attached to them. Either Lee gave it to me, or we got it someplace where we had a good time, and/or it's just a cool shirt. I've taken lots of wonderful hikes and trips in this one. If it was only one t-shirt that was too big, I'd keep it and use it for a sleep shirt, frame it, make it part of a quilt, or just keep it and look at it. I thought, "Oh yeah, when I lose the weight, I'll just take my XL clothing to the thrift store for a good cause." I took some, but I had no idea it would be so hard to part with the last T-SHIRTS. This probably sounds horribly neurotic unless maybe you have something you feel the same way about. I don't usually have this much separation anxiety about THINGS (I don't think so, anyway). What is a t-shirt? Is it art? Identity? I'm not that philosophical a person, but I'm finding out that a t-shirt must have a whole world of symbolism I haven't bothered to think about.
About the shirt, it has American Indian rock art designs on it and it came from New Mexico. Lee got it for me on a skiing trip to Taos. It's 100% cotton. Made by Oneita. It's soft. The color in the photo is pretty true to life. It's light gray-green (is that called "heather"?) with black designs. The back is also covered with black rock art, slightly different symbols, but the same style. There are some goats and a turtle-kokopelli-looking thing, and a swirling sun. If you're interested, send me e-mail.
I have some other size XL t-shirts I'll put on the blog when I decide which one I can deal with next.
POST UPDATE: My friend Kate saw the shirt and wants it. I am thrilled. I guess I had to feel it was going to a good home. Now it is. Stay tuned for next shirt event.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
I'm also impressed by how fast he learned graphics. My brother is a very talented musician (I'm not kidding; there are three of us and you wouldn't want to hear the other two sing), and as such he could probably tell you how much money he's lost in that field of endeavor. As for the t-shirts and other products, even he probably didn't know he was a graphic artist, and I'm actually quite thrilled to see his store develop. At least now he has something useful to do with his twisted views on life :-p Hey, Gar, I love you! I'm proud of how you've navigated the learning curve. Next you can show me how to build a CP store. My ideas will be really different, though. Can we say, "probably animal-related"? Artistic, not so humorous? Maybe some neat travel pictures. Anyhoo . . . way to go!
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Another view. The Bar Pilots' building is on the left. You can see their balcony. That building has screens to keep the floating logs out. Ours will also have a screen after this summer's renovations.