Thekatebook Blog

Oh my, I remember these dolls…the feathers would trail around behind you as you tried to hold onto them walking down a midway on a day that was always 98 degrees in the shade. By the time you got back to the car parked way far away in the north forty parking lot her necklace of beads had broken and her little feather were sopping wet from being held in a little girls hand. She became such a sorry sight by the end of the Fair. And that Yellow/ Gold plastic molded hair…what a prize! But I always felt she was beautiful when I was little the vibrant colors the soft feathers, the glass bead necklace…oooh la la…

That first fish…

Those scary rides…

Facinated by a sideshow….

Dodge’em at Euclid Beach Park…

My all time favorite the Rotor…zzzzzzzzzzzzz I just love the feeling of weightlessness when that floor dropped away it was like flying. O.K., maybe more like a bug squashed up againt a windshield but I loved it anyway. Then as the ride slowed down you got heavier and heavier and the floor rumbled back up to your feet and once again you had to haul your body around again. I would get off and race back up the steps on the other side to go on it again and again until I was too loopy to get up the steps. Maybe that’s what happened to me, no drugs no drinking but too many whirls on the Rotor. That would explain a lot. But was it ever FUN!

The Flying Turns…

The Thriller…

The American Derby

Photographs courtesy of Google Life Archive and www.clevelandmemory.org Cleveland State University Michael Schwartz Library.

As a rule, most of the truly fabulous Men in my life have had huge wide duck feet that they move upon so softly you would think they were 100% tracker. They are. My Husband, my Son, my Dad and even my beloved nephew, Patrick. All extra wide treads with the ability to walk and live comfortably in a pretty silent world. Most of them Constant Readers with a real appreciation for quiet. What bought about this line of thinking ,  was a midnight search for my beloved. There have been times that I have left our bedroom and looked into the odd corners of our tiny little apartment and been unable to locate that silent man. Only to find him silently sleeping Quilts pulled up over his head ( I keep that bedroom damn near sub-zero). So between his just trying to find and maintain a warm spot in that bed and my barn sized fan blowing away on my side of the bed it’s possible he’s simply choosing the survival mode of the Eskimos, hunkering down and wrapped up tight against my endless relief from Hot flashes. The man’s a saint. And a very quiet one.

And He’s built so life can’t knock him over.

But what put me to thinking about this was tonight, when I woke for my umpteenth run to the bathroom he was not in the bed next to me. I’ve learned to look more closely now to make sure. But this time he was just like our Kate, sitting at the computer keyboard playing away at his solitaire game, happy and quiet as a lamb. So I came out to join him and realized looking at this quiet man just how all the greats in my life have had this same stoic dead-pan humor and silent way about them. 

I think of all those cartoon characters Men with huge shoulders and teeny tiny feet that walk with a pounce and a bounce in their little toes….bip, bip, bip you can almost hear the background music from the “Pink Panther”… doot-ta-doot…daa-dut-dut-dut, daa-daaaaaa….

All my favorite men have walked and slept softly. Not a sound among them and these are some sizeable guys ( my Pat and my Dad, my Son) to name a couple they all are pretty stealthy movers. And it turns out terrific shock absorbers when life throws you a curve, give me the guys with good solid wide feet who walks softly, say little and most of the time what they do say makes you laugh out loud. 

 These are men worth their weight in gold, these stoic souls with their dry humor and eternal strength. Built to last. So the next time you notice a little baby with good sturdy duck feet, kiss them and count your lucky stars. 

I do.

Years ago my Dad gave my little nephew (Pat I think it was) a sock filled with pennies and nickels and assorted loose change. He just loved to see the little ones eyes light up with delight. Mind you this is the same guy who said to each and every kid “Go ahead down into the basement and play at the tool bench, make something… it’s O.K.”.  The only rule being no power tools unless an adult supervised. For years there was an Armory down there, I swear, my own boyo who wasn’t allowed to have any G.I. Joe’s or toy guns immediately went to the basement and produced swords and home-made nunchucks and other assorted armaments at a rate that sent my sister Marg’s head spinning. She at one point figured he was capable of arming the entire neighborhood. Ah, grasshopper.    

That Dad of mine could leap tall buildings, stop speeding bullets and even more importantly keep seven year old twins occupied and feeling wanted and loved and appreciated at all times. Kids swarmed him on the holidays and yet he never seemed to busy to hear all their stories or set them to a task by showing them how. All while orchestrating the platters of food and getting the guests drinks and telling stories the whole time. But it was the memories of those socks that stopped me tonight. Stopped me in my tracks. I came across some notes I have of talking to our Kate and she talked about how Dad would give the boys socks filled with change and they would feel like “King of the Mountain” with them. So they would be dragging this Men’s long black or brown nylon sock along throughout the party or visit (thereby weighing them down) and then when they got tired and started picking at each other he would set them to a building task in the basement at the workbench. So as Kate would say they could leave completely armed and ready for the 50 mile trip home. Cudgel, sword and all. That Dad, always thinking! As Kate would say, four boys , fifty miles you do the math! It’s no wonder that their Dad Frankie didn’t miss attendance at the Eagles Club or the V.F.W. for that matter !    

Our Dad and Johnny, companions in the Art of having a good time.    

Dad with Mike and John and Bill. Traveling to all of the Great Lakes one summer.    

What an example in the art of living, loving and just being there this guy set. And you can see it in Mike’s and Billy’s brood also, they’re great kids whose Dads learned from the best,  Frank and Grandpa.      

Thanks for stopping by and have a great one.

P.S. Go figure how much Uncle Leo looks like Timmy Cosgrove at that same age! Its in those same gestures with the arms and those dreamy irish eyes…

This is an Easter Portrait of the Rauckhorst Family of Geneva, circa the Wonder Years,  about 1962 (?). This is my Mother’s sister Anna and her beloved Ed’s tribe of amazing individuals. The Rauckhorst Family, they’re like the opposite of the Grinch Family …they have hearts 6 X bigger than their bodies.They are Titans my cousins Pat, Tommy, Jim, Eddie Joe, Nancy, Dan, Mary, Judy and Sue .

These souls can pack more laughter and love into one statement with a raised eyebrow than either Charlie Chaplin or Robin Williams ever could. And I love them dearly.One of the things that I remember best about those trips to Geneva was how they teased each other and the ensuing laughter , as the wit escalated but not meanness .  My Uncle Ed was a newspaperman and I can still see him sitting at the end of the dining room table, with a huge newspaper  held up in front of him, reading away and smoking his cigar with that hat tilted back. My Aunt Anna organized and motivated the kids and the kids just making me laugh so by teasing each other and commenting on the world as it seemed to them. What can you expect from a bunch of brainy, happy kids with a Mom whose deadpan wit and comments made that wonderful Ed Rauckhorst fall in love with her and a Dad whose very presence taught them the art of Editing life as you go so you can see the best of it. And they just do, and I just love them because when I think of them I think of laughter and comfort and family. They make it a practice to make the world a much better place by choice, and I bless them for it. Always.

I was roaming among the family pictures last night and took to pulling them up in the edit mode and looking closer at my ancestors and was fascinated with both the mysteries I found and the faces that were uncovered by pulling in close to those old photographs. All thanks to my beloved cousin Sue Rauckhorst Tucker thoughtfulness in organizing and recording all these Photographs for the family. She truly is an amazing soul, and here’s the proof. If any of you guys in the family have any explanations for some of these I’d love to hear the stories behind them.  

Here goes…  

Franklin  Kasson Knapp, our miner 49′er who took a chance and went to the California Gold Rush (twice!) and was able to come back with enough money to buy 4 parcels of land he could stitch together and start a farm on the site of the old Bartholomew place in Ashtabula County just south of Geneva in Harpersfield Township. He was married to Roxanna Lloyd and was the father on my Great Grandmother Ella Mae Knapp Brown.   He was born September 3, 1829 and died May 10, 1888. Here’s a picture of his grave at Mt. Pleasant cemetery in Geneva Ohio    http://www.ashtabulagen.org/gravestones/MtPleasantCemetery/MPCB-762.JPG.    

Here’s my Maternal Great Grandparents..Will McCombs Brown and Franklin Knapp’s youngest daughter my Great Grandmother Ella May Knapp Brown . This was their wedding Photograph. I’m always startled as to how dark her hair and eyes were compared to her new husbands. My mother was raised by these two when they were old, after her parents split up when she was 3 years old and she always said he had the coldest eyes she’d ever seen on a man, icy blue. He was a pharmacist and Farmer in Geneva and Harpersfield Township. Ella was the tiny thing that ran that world, the farm they lived on had been inherited from her Father and she ran it. Here both gravestones at Mt. Pleasant,  http://www.ashtabulagen.org/gravestones/MtPleasantCemetery/MPCB-2169.JPG and http://www.ashtabulagen.org/gravestones/MtPleasantCemetery/MPCB-2170.JPG. Their son Edward Congdon Brown was my Maternal Grandfather, and a kinder man never lived according to my Dad.  

http://www.ashtabulagen.org/gravestones/MtPleasantCemetery/MPCB-2168.JPG  

I never realized until now just how much my Granddad Ed Brown looked like my nephew Ryan. My Grandad had passed away just before I was born. But my Mother adored her father so it’s no surprise then that Mommy had such a soft spot for Ry.He looked just like her Dad.  

Life on the Farm . My poor Grandma Nell. I see her clutching my Granddad and Ed and I can’t help but think she’s on her last nerve with living with her in-laws. G.B. doesn’t look to thrilled either.  

Now I don’t know anything about this face surgery operation, I thought it was my Granddad that had the surgery at the Cleveland Clinic for his sinuses, not Nell (Winifred Dougherty Brown) aka Nell Karnes. All I know is she went from a pretty happy soul to this. Here’s a darling picture of Ed Brown and Nell (Winifred) Dougherty before they married.  

But those real life adventures got them. And she ended up leaving the hell that was living with her In-Laws Ella and Will on the farm. But that little 85 pound woman left a huge hole in the lives of each of her 4 children when she opted out. My mother was the youngest at 3 and was kept on the farm with those two old people and raised like an only unwanted child and told her Mother didn’t love her. Her brothers were sent to live with their Maternal Grandmother Myrtle DuBois Dougherty who had a boarding house on Van Epps Ave in Geneva and lived with her Mother also Urena Ticknor Babcock.  

But I’m getting bushed and I just wanted to show you guys how different these pictures look if you take the time to edit them you’ll see things you never noticed before. Like this, I always knew my sister Therese looked just like my Mom, but these pic’s really show it.  

It’s just amazing. You guys have a great day and thanks for stopping by.  

Photographs courtesy of Sue Rauckhorst Tucker  (the best organizer in the world!)