Fedora Man

I call these the Fedora Man Series. They are just two photos of many that I've discovered with the shadow of a mysterious Fedora Man as photographer. I have no clue whose car is featured or who the women are in the long shot (of which another car seems the focus), but I suspect the cameraman is..... this guy:

The Seamstress

Both Jeanne and I were seniors in this shot. My last fall at Lincoln High and Jeanne was in her last year at ISU. What drew me to this photo in particular is that my jacket and skirt, and Jeanne's outfit were no doubt creations of Ruthie and her magic sewing machine. Ruthie knew how to sew and she made us more really cool outfits than our bank account could've afforded without her. Honestly, the woman had a good sense of style. Jeanne and I were so well-dressed because of her penny-saving efforts.

Looking back, I remember she'd drag me over the fabric store - one of her favorite places in the world - to look at material and patterns. (Are there still patterns??) Grumbling, I'd succumb to constant measurings and fittings, knowing in the back of my mind how truly lucky I was, but still only as appreciative as the typical sullen teenager. She didn't care. It was her lifeline; her way to drift into her own place and create. While the seams were not perfectly straight on close inspection, and sometimes the hems would come undone or buttons wouldn't match, the end result always looked impressive and fashionable. Did I mention that I was glum when she called me during my favorite tv shows for fittings? And yet, I would be so excited about wearing some new outfit that I once wore a jumper to school that she hadn't quite finished, and halfway through the day the hem started to unravel and hang. I tried scotch tape and pins, only to get stabbed every time I sat down. I finally resorted to stapling it. She got a huge kick out of that.

I think Ruthie sewed up until the day that she went into the hospital that last time in Manchester. As Jeanne and I well know from trying to move her clothing to Stratford, she made herself dozens of pants in every hue, with tops to match. When Justin was small, she made him everything from feety pajamas to button down shirts, complete with collars and cuffs made of nice flannel material. She even made blue velvet pants to replace the care-worn pair that Justin's Good Girl (GiGi) wore.

Jeanne might remember the pattern box that was a permanent fixture in Ruthie's closet. Buttons, "zippahs" and thread in every color. You couldn't cross her bedroom in our old house in Des Moines without stepping on a stray pin in the carpet, and Dad's feet seemed the pin magnet. I have kept a few of the later creations that she put her label in - Justin's shirts and a few skirt and vest pairings that I can't bring myself to part with.

I miss the rumble of her sewing machine because I knew when she was busy with a project for Jeanne or me (or later, for Justin), that she was happy.

Queen of Queens

The Iowa State Daily 1969 photo of Nancy, Veisha Queen of Queens. That year Nancy also was Big Eight Conference Queen.
Wow. Every so often I'm reminded of just how incredibly beautiful - both inside and out - Nancy is. You aren't voted for these honors without making a positive impact on a huge swath of a young and fickle demographic.

I grew up idolizing Nancy. I was six when she came by to meet the family for the first time and from that moment on was the epitome of everything I wanted to be: lovely through and through, well liked and involved with everything and everyone.

One of Nancy's many attributes is that she really listens and finds something interesting about everyone and everything....and cares. I think we were all in love with Nancy when she first landed at our house with Ron. She may have thought that she was marrying Ron, but really, she married all of us.

 By the way, one sideline I do remember about this particular event when she road in the Veisha Parade is that Dad brought his movie camera to take film of Nancy's ride along the parade route and found out after shooting tons of footage that he had forgotten to load the camera...

Funny how you remember things. I was probably only 2 or 3 years old in this photo, but the memory is fairly clear on why I look distressed and whining. If I have this correct, I was told at the time that the lights had to be out to take this flash photo, but I'm not sure if someone wasn't just screwing with me. I only recall that is what I was told at the time and it freaked me out.

The room was dark when the photo was taken, and even with others sitting right next to me I was losing it. Honestly, I was such a ninny.

It seems Dick and I shared a fear of the dark, and it's amazing to me that he could have endured sleeping in the bedroom by the garage when it was SO dark down there at night....and with the creepy basement and furnace of strange sounds RIGHT THERE. In the daytime that room that Dick and Ron shared was fascinating to me, but I was absolutely prohibited from entering their inner sanctum. They had those crazy beds that were not quite bunkbeds because the room was far too small. The effect was a trundle bed, with Dick's bed halfway underneath Ron's. They had airplanes hanging from their ceiling, and a hole in the ceiling tile above Ron's pillow where he stuck his hand or his head through one night during a bad dream.

I am probably the only one who will remember this, but a true test of fortitude and defying the fear that I harbored of the dark was to join in with Ron, Jeanne and Dick (and occasionally Eddie Willett) and play hide and seek at night with the lights off in the basement. I HATED that game and HATED that it was played in the basement, but to admit fear was to surrender to some serious mocking, and I did have some dignity. Once the "all in" was called, I would bolt towards the top of the stairs towards the light.....on the tailwinds of Dicky, of course, who never failed to be the first one to the reach the light. If you could pull it off, hiding behind the coats hung on hooks in the stairwell gave you an arms reach from the light of the kitchen.

I couldn't resist this one because of the 70s hair. Just look at those wings! This was a time of hot rollers and curling irons, and Jeanne and I look like we didn't spare a single follicle from heated doom. I think this may have been my last year in college, and Jeanne was visiting from California - possibly for the holiday. And to think within the year all our lives would change with a mass pilgrimage to New England!

Dad and Gramp at Christmas

This is how I'll always remember both Gramp and Dad. Gramp always took photos with a solemn look. I don't ever recall him smiling in photos, on purpose anyway. It must have been something learned from old photographs where it took 5 minutes to freeze a pose on print. Anyway, he's showing off his new jacket with his customary photographic glee!

Dad, on the other hand is barely able to suppress his own happiness on that day. It might have been when he got his pool cue - but only AFTER we first punked him with a wrapped broomstick, and only AFTER he got his sweet and dill pickle jar labels back on the proper jars. Now that's a joke on Ron that Dick never anticipated Daddy taking part in. I still remember Dad's face - and Dick's - when he opened the jar at dinner and took a big bite of what he thought was a sweet pickle!

Other things in this photo resonate with my memories. I took note of the background props that remained the same for so many years. I used to have dreams about the front door with its octagonal window and how it never latched properly until you literally slammed it shut (a problem when I came home after curfew in those later years). My anxiety dreams of that time were of being chased by something and can't get the door latched shut to ward off whatever is trying to get inside. Ah, but the knotty pine paneling on the wall, hanging amber lamp and wrought iron stair bannisters all still remain solidly part of my memory of 6101 SW 12th.

Trip to Iowa 1993

This photo is my favorite of Justin and Daddy because it illustrates what kind of grandfather he was, and reminds me of the tender side that existed in him but he rarely showed.

Growing up, I was always afraid of Daddy. His anger was displayed often, bellowing loudly regardless of who might be present to hear it (usually a friend who'd invariably scramble to make a quick exit). I can recall so many moments when I'd still be smoking from the torched harangue long after he'd moved on to some other activity, but I never did experience the belt Ron and Dick were subjected to (and I remember quite clearly). When Dad said he was going to "tan your hide" you knew he meant it.

My earliest memories of Dad were of bedtime. I had a pair of very large bunny pajamas with feet and a hood or hat of bunny ears, and when I headed off to bed he'd insist that I submit to "wuzzies" first. I'd come to his chair (back then it was situated towards the north corner of the living room, facing the tv against the stairs) and he'd rub my face with his stubbled cheek, tickling me and send me off laughing. He'd often sing riddle songs for me to figure out, like "Mares-Eat-Oats and Does-Eat-Oats and little-lambs-eat-ivy a kid'll-eat-ivy-too would you?", which sounded like utter jibberish until you slowed it down. I think the best moment I remember is when he gave me my first troll doll and had already named him "Skeeters", which was actually the perfect name.

 With Justin, this trip to Iowa was nearly perfect. Justin was 5 and just about to enter Kindergarten. It was the year of the terrible floods in that area and this photo was taken in the camper lot that normally sat 20 feet above water level at Red Rock Lake. Notice the flood lapped onto the parking lot where Justin and Dad were seeking to fish. Dad had a truck camper with an overhang much like the one Jeanne and I had to sleep in with the old camper from years ago. Justin LOVED that camper and was really excited about taking that camping trip with PaPa and Mimi. Me, not so much :) I hate camping; always have, but knew this one was important. At night, Daddy built a campfire and we sat around toasting hot dogs and marshmallows. Daddy showed Justin his false teeth - the way he used to show them to us....by sticking the bottom row out like the monster in Alien. Fascinated, Justin had him do it over and over and over. The two really bonded on that trip. Daddy, for all his flaws, had a side of true tenderness that he showed Justin during that visit, and it made a lasting mark on me to see.

Dick and Eddie, baseball rookies

Baseball was a BIG part of Coolley life. From some time in the late spring or early summer and all throughout summer, every evening it seemed we spent going to somebody's ball game. Dad had a little league team, and Ron and Dick were each on their own teams. This meant, of course, that we were making the march to every single (or seemingly every single) one of their games.

I remember Jeanne and me spending our evenings trying to find stuff to do. The Birdland ballfield was the best because they had a whole complex of recreational activities that we could at least watch. Spending the hours shagging tennis balls for people on the courts was one thing I particularly remember. Otherwise, it was a (sorry Ron!) monumentally boring way to spend summer nights! (Except for the Frosty Malts, that is).

Ruthy used to like to tell the story about the difference between Ron and Dick when it came to playing on the Little League teams. Ron took his role on the team very seriously and was a good player. Dick on the other hand never seemed to be quite as serious. On one particular occasion when he first started to play on a team, Dick was placed at first base or near there. Ruthy watched as a ball was hit towards him and he just watched it go by without trying to catch it or chase it down. When she yelled from the bleachers "Dick! Why didn't you get the ball???", he yelled back "Why? I didn't hit it."

Varieties with Ron and Dick

I remember this skit, but not clearly. As I recall, Dick was mean school administrator? Just wish we had film of these skits and the MC acts Ron and Dick created and won for. As it is, we have very few photos of those events, unfortunately. My memory is that I was always blown away by the skits Dick created.

Years after he was gone and I was at ISU, I got involved at a very low level of a skit the ADPis were doing with the Pikes, and a man who was in charge of working with the various programs of Varieties told a group of us about the most memorable skit he saw by students. He proceeded to lay out the groundwork of one of Dick's productions - the one about college class registration - and spoke almost reverently of the effect Dick used with a strobe light when the actors threw their registration cards into the air at once. I knew that scene and was so proud to think that years later it was still on the minds of the adult administrators who had worked with tons of students before and after that.

Ron and Dick's MC routine was amazing. Dicky the Turtle and B-O-B Bob, all of it made a lasting impression on my 10 or 11 year old soul! And has stuck with me. Living with these two guys in the house was like watching that Varieties routine on a daily basis. Never a dull moment...

The Incredible Missy Bloomers

Missy spent Christmas holiday with us when I got Smokey as a present - she was his sister, and was adopted by our old neighbor, Mrs. Parish. We kept her until Mrs. Parish returned home from visiting her daughter, I believe. Missy never took to poor old Mrs. Parish, who was such a sweet old lady - she hid behind her stove, climbed her curtains and lived most of the time voluntarily outside the house. She had her kittens outside in the window well, and when Mrs. Parish tried to bring them in the house, Missy carted them one by one back outside.

One day, Missy just disappeared - sadly - and we couldn't seem to find her anywhere in the neighborhood where Mrs. Parish lived at that point (behind Army Post Rd. by Millers Super Value). Nearly a full year later I saw a black and white cat up in the tree in front of the Pearl Wolfkill's house on the corner from our house. I coaxed her down (it was easy, she came to me readily) and will swear to this day it was the same cat that we brought home for Christmas. Same markings, same floofy bloomers. We even compared old kitten photos to be sure. Mrs. Parish was either gone or in a nursing home at that point, so we took her in and she settled right away.

 To this day I wonder if Missy wasn't trying to find her way back to the home she remembered for those few days at Christmas? She was a great cat. Every night she'd come to my room as soon as I went to bed and kneed my right arm for nearly a half hour before settling. I never minded - especially when I would come home from college, since it was kind of comforting. However, she also had a habit of drooling as she purred, so my sheet over my arm would be soaking wet...

Midgie, Ellen, Foster and Gibby

Not sure who the other woman is....perhaps one of the Jenkins girls? I just like this photo. Very roaring 20s looking.

Fred and Agnes Foote

Fred's Model T

Gramp Foote's Model T. This photo was in bad shape and took a great deal of cleaning up to get to this point. I like it. You can tell he was a man of meager means but loved his buggy. Just look at the size of the steering wheel!

Gramp Foote was by all accounts a very good man. I'm told he was generous to a fault and everyone loved him. He was also an amazingly skilled and talented craftsman, having designed and built their camp at Baboosic, pictured here:

I remember Ruthie telling me that he had a friend who needed more than a cane to walk - something sturdier - and he fashioned a walker out of plumbing pipes. Back then walkers were not invented yet, so imagine that his construction, which resembled precisely what folks now use, might have inspired someone else to patent a similar idea. He could create a gizmo to fill a niche and handcraft showroom quality wood furniture.

There is no doubt in my mind that Gramp Foote's talents and popularity were passed along directly to me.

Ellen and Gibby

From the looks of it, even back then Ellen was trying to boss Gibby around. Notice how he's trying to pull away from her hold on his sleeve. It's interesting how the wood in the background is stacked like they are at a lumber or firewood lot.

Dick and Jeanne in the Hampton surf

I always loved Dick's face in this shot.

Ellen and Edna Foote

This had to be around the time of Edna's death. She looks around 13 or 14. Ellen used to talk about the day that Edna passed away. All that summer she was sick with headaches and didn't look well. Estelle, Ellen's good friend, said years later that her mother noticed Edna that summer had a jaundiced look to her skin and worried that she wasn't well.

On the day she died she was in her room she shared with Ellen and suddenly spoke of hearing beautiful music, and kept asking Ellen if she could hear it too.

From all accounts, Edna was a pretty wonderful person. She was Gibby's favorite and very athletic. I always was struck by how much I thought she looked like Ruthie.

Dad in war

What was this plane - a Mustang?

Coolley reunion - WWII

The Coolleys gather with Dad in uniform. I see harold, Forrest, the Coolley girls - and their men on the right side (Jeanne, I think you mentioned that is who those two men who look like brothers are). Gramp, Grammie. Not sure who the little girl is? Margo, perhaps....

Dad and chicks

I love this photo of a very young Mace Coolley in sun bonnet feeding chicks. He looks happy :)

On Baboosic Lake

Bunny and Gib in canoe on Baboosic. Gibby looks a bit like Dick at first glimpse, IMHO. Gib is on the left/front of boat, Bunny in middle and maybe Fossy Tinker on right....

Laddie

Bunny, Gramp & Gram Foote, Ruthie with Laddie.

Church Group - The Coolleys

I think we figured out that Ray Coolley is one of the young boys in the photo, his father and mother in the back, great grandfather Coolley may be 7th from left, back row. Jeanne has more information on this one - please weigh in!

Cal Mason in Montana

Cal Mason working on railroad in Montana?

The Camp at Baboosic Lake

Viewed from a boat on the lake, the old Foote camp that Fred built. I think this photo is c.1940s

Fred and Agnes on their wedding day. This photo was in terrible shape when I scanned it in - looks like it was a newspaper photo; certainly not very clear. I cleaned it up quite a bit. Gram Foote looks like a Gibson Girl in her dress and updo hair. They both had to be very young here - early 20s or late teens? The barn must be the site of the Foote farm.