The Perils of Penelope Pitstop

The Ruined Cottage (Fredericksburg)

The rain-soaked books on the front porch and scattered children's toys throughout the house reminded me of William Wordsworth's poem "The Ruined Cottage" written in 1797. Excerpt below:

... her house
Bespake a sleepy hand of negligence;
The floor was neither dry nor neat, the hearth
Was comfortless, and her small lot of books,
Which, in the cottage-window, heretofore
Had been piled up against the corner panes
In seemly order, now, with straggling leaves
Lay scattered here and there, open or shut,
As they had chanced to fall. Her infant Babe
Had from his Mother caught the trick of grief,
And sighed among its playthings.

Jaime Jorge Jose

They called him George. He was from Barcelona and was a Catholic.

Bernice, a nice Jewish girl, married my grandfather when she was a young woman and her family disowned her for the next ten years. They didn't reconcile until my father was born in 1937.

That's my dad standing next to the tank in the pic on the wall and also my dad in the pics on the desk. Kids have a way of making things right.

Bernice

My Eastern European grandmother whose family came to America at the turn of the last century.

Bernice grew up in New York City and always wore beautiful well-made clothes. If you click on the pic large you can see the framed fashion prints behind her.

When Bernice was a child, her mother took her to watch the suffragettes march for the vote. She was told to remember those women because they would change her life. They definitely made a difference in mine.

Zexy (Lorton)

Silly (Lorton)

Sullen (Lorton)

camping in lorton, virginia.