Friends Are Found In The Darndest Places

The Internet makes possible some amazing connections that would never have otherwise happened. My grandparents' generation would never, in their wildest dreams, have imagined such a thing.

I've written before about some of the surprises I got after setting up this blog. I'm going to share another Internet story with you today.

Those who know me well are aware that one of my favorite pastimes is researching my family's history. For me, nothing can match the excitement of finding the identities and activities of those forebears who lived in the 1800s, 1700s, 1600s, and on back through the mists of time. Somehow, cowboys, Indians, and trips across the ocean at a time when a lot of passengers expected to die along the way are more interesting when one's own family was involved.

Both Carl and I come from families who have been in America since the early 1600s and 1700s except for one branch of his family – Gottfried & Beate Ulbrich who arrived in New York aboard the ship Holsatia on May 15, 1873. They had departed from Hamburg, Germany, fleeing the aftermath of the Franco-Prussian War. Given that we knew the name of their village, one might think finding their ancestors and what their lives in Germany were like would be a piece of cake. Not so!

When I first began this quest, the Berlin wall was still standing. Their little village of Hammer in Militsch Kreis was originally in Prussia, then East Germany, and ended up in Poland as a result of World War II. The current Polish name is Milicsz.

Since I don't speak German or Polish, correspondence was difficult to say the least. Letters took a long time and answers took even longer. Germany said the records were in Warsaw while Poland said they were in Berlin. I was at a stalemate. Then along came the Internet.

I eventually found a web site for Milicz along with photographs of their town council. Apologizing profusely for my inability to write in Polish, I told the story of my ancestors and asked if anyone would be willing to take photographs of the area for me. Nothing happened for a long time but, just when I had given up hope, I received an e-mail from a lovely person named Christa. Christa is an American from Pennsylvania who fell in love with a handsome Polish man, married him, and has lived in Poland ever since.

Several years have passed. Meanwhile, I have received wonderful pictures and little bits of information that I would not otherwise have had. When I'm least expecting it, along will come a packet of picture postcards, for instance.

Instead of showing you pictures of buildings and parks, I decided to post pictures of Christa and her husband, Marek, as well as the house they bought. I have now known Christa through a major illness, the births of their two children, and the purchase of their home in the old German section of their city. I commiserated when her husband, Marek, fell through a ceiling and injured his shoulder during renovations. She sent me a picture of her pregnant belly. I haven't asked for her mother-in-law's pierogi recipe...yet. Although we have never met face to face, Christa and I are friends.

Now Christa has set up her own blog. It's a great peek at every day life in Poland. Her comments on communism vs. present day capitalism are an education (see Keeping Up With The Kowalskis). Her description of trying to learn the Polish language while teaching the English language is amusing. Her sense of humor shines through everything she writes.

Go to the right of this page and click on "Visit Christa in Poland" for an interesting trip.

What Happened to Lucky?

It's time to let my blog readers know what finally happened to Lucky. Some might say the story is sad but I choose to consider it a happy ending.

As Lucky came and went erratically, Carl began calling him Part-Time. When he began spending more time at our house, we began referring to him as Half-Time. We finally began joking that he had graduated to Full-Time because he had obviously decided that 5134 Bowers Brook Drive was the place to call home.

He lost the horrible hair ball/skin flap that had plagued him, his coat was beginning to look better as he began to groom himself, he accepted the bed we made for him, and he was curled up waiting for me every morning when I took my coffee to the downstairs porch where I worked toward making friends.

Since I was the bringer of food and water, he finally tolerated my touching his back briefly while he was eating. He moved closer and closer each day until he finally felt comfortable enough to take a nap under my chair while I finished the morning paper. The picture above was taken on such a morning.

We finally decided to trap Lucky in order to take him to the vet for a check-up and neutering. She called an hour later to say he died a little while after she gave him the shot that would allow her to get him out of the cage and examine him.

An autopsy revealed that Lucky was older than we thought. He had broken teeth, an enlarged spleen, a mass in his abdomen and the same heart condition that killed our Tonkinese cat, Sami. Her diagnosis was that Lucky was only a few weeks away from death when we brought him to her.

Strangely enough, I miss him more than one might think. I had gotten used to spending the first part of my day with him. I was enjoying my early mornings outdoors rather than indoors and I was looking forward to the day when, just maybe, he could move into the basement.

Some might say this is a sad ending. I choose to consider it in a different light. Since nothing could have changed Lucky's fate, I choose to think he truly was a lucky cat. He had great food, plenty of water, a comfortable bed, shelter from the rain, and someone who cared about him – things he obviously had not had for a long time. As for me, that one little stray cat brought his own kind of joy to my life.

Knowing that we have done our best to make life better for another living creature is a good feeling. I recommend it.

Painting Live

When I first began taking art lessons all those years ago in Worthington, Ohio, I never dreamed there would come a day when I would enjoy painting from a live model. In fact, I never dreamed there would come a day when I would enjoy painting outdoors rather than painting from a photograph. I now know these feelings are typical of artists who are just beginning to learn their craft.

Here I am, many years later, with a complete understanding that nothing takes the place of seeing things firsthand.

We had a live model at Southern Colours last Friday. She was a beautiful natural redhead wearing a vintage black velvet dress. Counting 20-minute breaks, we had approximately 2 1/2 hours to attempt to capture her image. That's a challenge in itself, not to mention the difficulties of finding a good view and ignoring everything around her; i.e., other artists painting, tables, chairs, posts, windows, and everything else that one sees when there is no backdrop.

What a great experience it was. We were so focused; there was almost complete silence in the room - a first for Southern Colours. When we finished, we stood all of our paintings in a row and applauded ourselves. The applause was for the very act of attempting such a thing and for what we learned by doing so. It was applause for trying to do something that most of us knew in advance we would not be able to do - capture a true likeness in such a short time.

The comment, "Every portrait is a combination of the model and the artist," was never more true. While none of the paintings look exactly like our model, all of them look somewhat like her. Since we knew she wouldn't be coming back, all of us took pictures for later reference. I looked at my pictures this morning and realized, once again, what a poor substitute they are for the real thing but they will be helpful for finishing those things I didn't get around to.

My effort is at the top of this blog, along with a picture of our model. With a little more practice and a lot more time, I might even be able to make it look more like her.

After all, Michelangelo didn't get there overnight.