Yard Work

Suburban Chicago, June 1967. Dad did not enjoy yard work.

Cash!

Suburban Chicago, July 1963. Finding an envelope is much better than opening a box from Madigan's.

General Manners: Feign Delight

Suburban Chicago, July 1962. There's a box from Madigan's, so it looks like someone brought a gift of clothing to my birthday party.

Disappointment

Suburban Chicago, January 1962. The snow doesn't stay white.

We're still counting.

Suburban Chicago, July 1965. That's a sad little cake, but happily it's not coconut!

(Jewel shoppers will recognize those tumblers and plastic dishes.)

Chat

Suburban Chicago, January 1966. My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, visits a neighbor.

Party Favors

Suburban Chicago, April 1961. My babysitter does a head count of the guests; she then helps my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, prepare the party treats. I move from the kitchen into the living room to play with the toy piano and my friend's Slyvester-the-Cat doll.

Tatjana quickly adopted the American custom of birthday parties (in Lithuania, people celebrate name days, not birthdays). This clip also offers a glimpse of our dependable refrigerator, and it captures Tatjana tearing off sheets of waxed paper. She always relied on waxed paper. Waxed paper! Who uses that now? It was never really functional.

Oh: that vase with the carnations. It's still in use. 

A Small Dinner Party

Suburban Chicago, February 1965. We're hosting both sets of neighbors. My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, seems especially happy.

We clear the walkways.

Suburban Chicago, December 1961. Mom and Dad take turns shoveling the walkways while my Toronto Cousin pulls my sled.

I earlier posted some still photos from that day here.

Moving Fast

Suburban Chicago, September 1959. I understand why my Parents installed a backyard fence.

Patio Visitor

Suburban Chicago, September 1961. The neighbors' cat tolerates a quick pickup.

Most children enjoy a birthday party.

Suburban Chicago, April 1961. Here's another photo from the same party. Happy Birthday!

The work moves outside when the weather warms up.

Toronto, Ontario, June 1959. Kadis, the husband of my Dad's twin Jonė, chats with a neighbor.

Thanks to my Toronto Cousin for making this photo available to us.

Let's check out the yard.

Suburban Chicago, June 1959. There's no fence in the backyard yet, but I won't run off if Dad carries me.

A Visit from Mikey

Suburban Chicago, April 1961. Mikey—the Poodle that belonged to our neighbors—is in our yard.

Neighborly

Missoula, Montana, July 1987. Two of my friends' Yorkies guard the fence.

Off to Rounds

Suburban Chicago, May 1960. Mom drives to work in "The Swan." She's turning to the southeast, so it's likely she's going to one of three hospitals for rounds.

The Cat's Tail

One Lithuanian proverb I often hear is, "Kas pakels katinui uodegą, jei ne jis pats." It means, "Who'll lift the cat's tail if not the cat himself." The proverb expresses the Lithuanian contempt for boastfulness.* My family, for example, enforced the idea that vanity is shameful. When someone told me that I was a "pretty little girl," Mom discouraged me from saying, "Thank you" because that response signaled agreement with the observation. Instead, she taught me to provide a deflective answer, like, "You must need glasses."

We most often use the "cat's tail" expression when one of us gives ourselves a compliment. For example, if Mom remarks on her exquisite knitting, she'll add the expression—as a coda—to acknowledge that she shouldn't admire her own work.

Suburban Chicago, Summer 1963. Some people substitute a dog for the proverb's cat, but at our house, it's always a cat. The feline in this photo is our neighbors' Siamese.

*There's also a cultural mistrust of self-confidence; that quality is almost indistinguishable from arrogance.

Another November Birthday

There are many November birthdays in our family. Today is the birthday of my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana.

Suburban Chicago, 1965. Tatjana is satisfied. She's standing in the side yard, between our home and the neighbor's house.

Something has my attention.

Suburban Chicago, April 1961. We're in the Rec Room, celebrating a birthday. This snapshot gives a better view of those paint-by-numbers canvases.