Photos around Cape Archives

April 1, 2011April 1, 2011

The Well Has Run Dry

I’ve been sort of scratching for new content the last few days. I think it’s finally time for me to admit that the well has run dry and that I’ve reached the end of topics to explore in Cape.

The photos from my Ohio years have been exerting a powerful pull lately. It’s time for me to move on to the next era of my young life.

Time to shuffle off like Grandma Gatewood

It’s important to know when it’s time to shuffle off. This, by the way, is a photo of Grandma Gatewood, an extraordinary woman. She’s walking off into the mist in the Hocking Hills of Southern Ohio.

This’ll be the last posting. I’ll keep the site up for folks who want to read the old material.

[Editor’s note: check the calendar. It’s April First.]

If things are a bit light for the next week, it’s because I’m leaving this weekend to head back to Cape to collect new stories and shoot new photos and won’t be posting updates from on the road.

March 30, 2011

Kent Library circa 1966

I’m publishing these two grossly underexposed, dust-spotted and scratched frames of Kent Library because they may be the only two shots I have of the inside of the place.

Don’t get me wrong. I love libraries. I spent hours in the Cape Library as a kid. Pat Sommers, my debate partner, worked there, so we could get in after closing time to do research.

I took an elderly next door neighbor to the West Palm Beach libraries every Saturday. We’d leave with armloads of books that we would trade off until our next run. Wife Lila even worked in a middle school library for years (except it was called a media center in modern-speak).

Kent Library never felt like home

For some reason, I never developed any kind of connection with Kent Library. It didn’t have the right feel for me.

On one of my trips to Cape last year, I strolled through the place. It’s a lot bigger and brighter than I remembered it.

I happened to pass by a room that mentioned something about special collections or something like that. I stuck my head in, introduced myself to someone, described the photos I have of the era and asked if there was a chance the University might be interested in them when I go to that final Big Darkroom.

The person I talked with took my business card and said someone would get back in touch with me. Nobody ever did.

I guess it’s no great loss. I didn’t hang around there when I was alive; whatever spirit of mine that clings to my old negs probably wouldn’t feel comfortable there after I’m gone.

March 28, 2011April 5, 2015

Main Street, 1967

Here’s a semi-mystery. The negative sleeve just had a date – March 27, 1967 – written on the front of it. The setting is Main Street, but I don’t know why the two photos were taken. There’s a huge gap in the Google News Archive for the month of March 1967, so I couldn’t even search for them there.

Cherrydale Farms confections

These women were set up in front of what looks like a hardware or sporting goods store. When I flip the photo around so I can read the printing on the signs on the table, one reads, “YOU can help us meet our GOAL. Cherrydale Farms confections ON SALE HERE!”

I’d never heard of Cherrydale Farms, but they’re still around on the web selling fundraiser supplies.

The sign on the side of the table says “…Easter Eggs.” I hope they made their goal.

Main Street looking north

If the sign on Cape Federal is correct, the photo was taken at 4:08 in the afternoon on a day that was chilly, but not cold and windy enough to really bundle up.

I don’t see much of a news peg in this photo. There’s a plywood wall on the left side of the photo. That’s about where the St. Charles Hotel would have been before it was torn down. I may have taken this to burn up film before I processed the roll.

March 25, 2011February 20, 2021

Birthdays and Scrapbooks

Based on best wishes I’ve received from friends on Facebook, a lot of folks thought it was my birthday yesterday. Because Bad Guys use social media to sniff out all kinds of personal data I will neither confirm nor deny that.

Y’all have figured that I’m a bit of a pack rat.You might have figured that out when I posted Valentine’s Day cards from elementary school.

I got it from my parents. Being the firstborn, everything associated with my young life was recorded in detail in a number of scrapbooks. By the time Number Three, Bro Mark, came along, his scrapbook just said, “See Previous.”

This wasn’t just Mother’s project, either. That’s Dad’s handwriting. When I really dive into the Baby Book, I’ll post the great diary he typed of my early years.

Make no bones about it

When I say EVERYTHING was recorded, I mean EVERYTHING

First Birthday

The house trailer that moved from town to town while Dad was building roads and bridges is behind me.

What are you doing with those balloons?

Birthday cakes are cool. This was shot in my grandparents’ yard in Advance.

OK, one balloon is fun, but what is my grandmother, Elsie Welch, doing behind my back?

Once I figured they were trying to launch me into the air, I decided a protest was in order.

Celebrating higher education

There are a bunch of me dressed in a cap and gown and holding my Trinity Lutheran School Kindergarten diploma. I think my parents were afraid that might be the only time I’d wear a cap and gown, so they wanted to make the most of it.

Actions have consequences

On what appears to have been my sixth birthday, I made the mistake of (A) wearing a funny hat and (B) chewing with my mouth open.

The next thing I know, I’m dressed with some kind of funky collar around my neck (left) and dragooned into a Trinity Lutheran School play with some equally excited kids.

I recognize, in no particular order, Jerry O’Connell, Della Heise, Cheri Huckstep, Judy Schrader and, maybe, Bonnie Strom.

Career Choices: Jockey?

Before long, it was time to think about career choices. Dad made it clear that he didn’t want us boys to follow his tracks into the construction business, so he first sized me up as a jockey. That wasn’t a good fit.

How about cowboy?

I tried the Hopalong Cassidy look for about a year, but that was too much like my jockey experience. Not for me.

How about the Air Force?

This was my favorite outfit. I still have it. We dressed Grandson Malcolm in it when he was the right size. It’s as close to military service as I ever got. (Except for that trip to National Guard camp.)

Trust me, this is NOT the last time we visit my childhood scrapbooks. I haven’t looked at them in years, but they contain a wealth of photos worth sharing.

Learn from others

Learn from others: that was the most important lesson I learned in my childhood. I found this expression equally useful against recalcitrant public officials, obstreperous editors and tight-fisted vendors.

a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing!