If you read last month’s blog, you can guess which one is me in the picture above? This was one of the treasures I have discovered in my recent winter purge. I am smashed in the middle with my flirty bangs. But why my dismal expression?

As I am purging, I am filling together pieces of my life. I think I know why I was miserable in this photo with my sister and my father styling his infamous crew cut.

But back to that later.

The wonderful attribute about hoarders is they keep every note, every snip of artwork and every family photo from the past. Such a collection was one of the family treasures my parents left my sisters and I to organize and share. A daunting task. But every ounce they saved was a golden gift. (Well, most of it.)

Even though it is the month of Cupid’s kisses, February can be dismal; a hallway that is sometimes dark and cold connecting January to Spring. Perhaps a reason why we should focus on hearts and the magic of love. One like my parents.

Their love stretched a lifetime most of which I was a part of. However, before my siblings and I were even a thought in their hearts, they were simply
Joan & Joe. They dated twenty-four months until my father was sent across the globe on a ship. The Korean War. A dark part of their story. The hallway between dating and forever. But in that aching time, my parents managed to leave us a treasure that told the story of their deep love.

 Love letters were saved in stacks and in shoeboxes tied with ribbons. The precious articles that now fit in one half of the old refrigerator where I store my journals and important memories. These pictures and letters are my future project. I have unearthed my parent’s love story. My father, (obviously the romantic of the two) the artist, the dreamer, and the writer.

I remember my father would occasionally slip one of the letters in a fresh envelope and address it to my mother. Then he would ask me to take it to the mailbox for Valentine’s Day. He was an old romantic.  Although, my mother would say, “Oh, Joe you are ridiculous saving this stuff,” she was the one who retained the stacks of letters.
(Look for this non-fiction book in the future.)

Then there are the relics; the Voice–O–Graph.

I never knew such an age-old technology existed. Today when we can instantly share our images on Facetime and Zoom, a foggy voice spinning around on a 45 player seems archaic. The voice-o-graph was called the ideal greeting card. I am so excited to embark on their love letters. A part of their lives when I was not even a thought in their journey together.

These letter and records give me chills! The realization of their love, which stretched across the world, was tested by distance and war.
Decades later, I was truly smashed in the middle. Their legacy was raising three sisters: the love child, the princess, and me-the middle. Of course, I was the cream of the Oreo cookie.

So back to my first picture above. My distressed expression. I am sure that was the day I was informed my dream of a pony would be placed on hold.

My parents announced I was receiving an even better present.
A baby sister or brother. (No telling at that time.) Little did I know,
she was indeed a precious gift; my baby sister and one of my best friends. (As they both are.)

P.S. I did get my pony in due time.
Never too late!

So back to that hairdressing novel with butterflies, beauticians and of course an enduring LOVE!
Join me on a renewed writing journey and enjoy my latest series. Happy February and remember I will be signing at the Horse Expo in Harrisburg. Drop by and say HI!

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