My massive computer and software upgrades have still not been completed. And if I had known in advance that the tech would need to make several visits over a week’s period, I would have left the country for some exotic locale and have them call me when it’s been completed and with no lingering kinks. But, I’m afraid that these kinks followed by cocktails will be a part of my life for the next couple of months.
Since my applications have not been installed (e.g. photoshop with all my camera plugins and other graphic programs), I can’t share my new photos of spring beginning to peep through in my garden. I refuse to use iPhoto to doctor new photos. Only Photoshop will do for me. The above image, used with a blast email sent to my clients informing them of my upcoming vacation way back in 2002, has been resurrected out of my old files. So in the meantime, let’s all maintain loose posture.
(above left to right) Godfrey and Mary Ann Collins as Pappy and Mammy Yokum, Ed and Joy Bell as Li’l Abner and Daisy Mae
My folks actually had fun before we came along. This photo must have been taken some time in 1953. My parents, Li’l Abner and Daisy Mae, were in their courtin’ phase. Evidently my father wasn’t a follower of this comic strip. If he had done his research, he would have known that his role was to evade marriage with Daisy Mae at all costs. Well, at least not look that interested. But Mrs. Collins, on the other hand, is perfect for her part as Mammy Yokum:
Born Pansy Hunks, Mammy was the scrawny, highly principled “sassiety” leader and bare knuckle “champeen” of the town of Dogpatch. She married the inconsequential Pappy Yokum in 1902; they produced two strapping sons twice their own size. Mammy dominated the Yokum clan through the force of her personality, and dominated everyone else with her fearsome right uppercut (sometimes known as her “Goodnight, Irene” punch), which helped her uphold law, order and decency. She was consistently the toughest character throughout Li’l Abner. A superhuman dynamo, Mammy did all the household chores—and provided her charges with no fewer than eight meals a day of “po’k chops” and “tarnips” (as well as local Dogpatch delicacies—like “candied catfish eyeballs” and “trashbean soup”). Her authority was unquestioned, and her characteristic phrase, “Ah has spoken!” signaled the end of all further discussion. Her most famous phrase, however, was “Good is better than evil becuz it’s nicer.”
I understand that another photo exists with the quartet costumed as the chain gang. I need to see this to believe it. My customarily glamorous mother dressed in stripes? She never wore stripes.
Expressions from the past. This is another item from the family home which I have decided is worth keeping. It’s a tiny book of laid finish papers in several pastel colors. Interspersed among romantic etching prints with protective tissue covers are handwritten prose poems to Lizzie Payne from loved ones. My family genealogy book tells me that Lizzie was my great great grandmother on my father’s mother’s side. Since the earliest poem is dated July 12th, 1858, I’m guessing that this little memento was given to her on the eve of her wedding.
A Quiet Root May Know How to Holler. Amy Revier’s digitally manipulated photographs, sculpture, and woven textiles reflecting Iceland’s recent economic, political, and geological upheavals can be seen at The Reading Room. The opening reception is Friday, February 11 from 7pm until 9pm, and on the last day of the show, February 27 at 4pm, Philip Van Keuren will give a reading of collected texts that relate to the work. The Reading Room is located at 3715 Parry Avenue in Dallas.