Jane Wynne Phillips, Timothy's wife, is a crack photographer, too, right along with him. Below is a link to her online photo gallery of pix that she took during our Phillips-Wood days together at the cabin in August.
This was her first time to visit the cabin but I think she was primed and filled full of stories and memories before they arrived. And she found the place wonderful, quaint and charming.
Jane Wynne Wong is first-generation Chinese born in Vancouver, BC. Her parents were born in China and immigrated (escaped) to Canada about 1962 and they still live in Vancouver. Jane's brother and sister and families still live there too. Jane works for the Department of Veterans' Affairs in Penticton and has about two years to retirement, not that she's counting.
Here she is slicing Timothy's birthday cake..... a Chocolate Ganache.... totally righteous and delicious and made with tofu!
You all remember how it is............. there will be a rock glued to cardboard and it's passed around the table and everybody tells what they see in the rock. (Yes, we did that, too, this time.)
But we also came up with a 1-word list of "what epitomizes the cabin to you in one word??"
How about: cowabunga, canteloupe, lake, lazy, memories, family, boys, girls, reading, firepit, towels, logs, canoe, hamburgers, pancakes, peanuts, rocks, dock, chairs, splashing, laughter, squirrels, Scrabble...... and Doug added hurachies. Here be we, from left to right: Grady, Evan, John, Benjamin, Jane Esther, Jane Wynne, Timothy, Rylee, and Austin, all enjoying Timothy's birthday burger celebration lunch.
This delightful photo was taken by Rebecca Hope Potter in July 2015.
Did you all know she was named (in part) for her paternal great-grandmother, Efa Hope Carr?
Efa Hope Carr was born in 1889 in Nashville, Illinois. She became a teacher but had to quit that position in 1917 when she married Henry Melville Potter in Nashville. The mores of the day decreed that married women could not be teachers! Both of them were teachers and both agreed to postpone their marriage a few years because their income was needed at home.
Their first child, Charles Hobart Potter, was born in 1918 and died at age 8 of appendicitis. Grandma told me how she and Mel went to the store to buy a burial suit of clothes for their boy and when the clerk innocently asked if they wanted two sets of trousers with the jacket, she dissolved into tears and had to go outside.
Francis Harold Potter was born in 1921, followed by Kenneth Melville and Kathryn Hope in 1922. I think Grandma never got over the death of her first son, and went into what today would be called a major depression that lasted for years. Because of that, and with the demands of twins, Francis got kinda lost in the shuffle, I think.
Mel died of a heart attack in 1952 in Illinois. I remember we were living in Fairfield, California at the time. Dad was out hunting and I remember that Mom had to call the State Patrol to locate him.
Grandma Hope lived on until 1980 and did as much traveling as she could. She visited Germany (to see daughter Kathryn and husband Roger). I remember her coming with us in our 15-foot camping trailer to Fall Creek and Yellowstone. She lived with us at least part of the time when we were at Mountain Home and when Dad was stationed at Fairchild and we were in Airway Heights.
She died in Spokane in 1980 and is buried next to Mel back in Nashville, Illinois.
She was a feisty old lady. I remember this well: When asked "How are you today, Grandma?" She would reply with a twinkle, "Doing in everybody I can!"
Wednesday, July 16, 2015…… the day we placed Mom and
Dad’s ashes under the oak tree at the cabin.
It was a lovely day. Puffy white clouds in the blue
sky and the wind ruffling the water of Bottle Bay into whitecaps. Dave,
Kirsten, Amanda, Rebecca, Donna, Timothy, Jane and Douglas gathered at 11:30 on
the beach by the tree for the event. As Jeff and Paula were up next door, they
were invited and did come too.
David lifted the rocks to reveal the box of Dad’s
ashes placed there in 2009. We opened that box and the similar box of Mom’s
ashes and set them side by side near the hole at the base of Mom’s oak tree.
Dave read the poem Rebecca had written about the
tree (15 years ago) and everybody was offered the opportunity to say something
if they wanted. I spoke of Mom’s fondest last wish that the family would be
reunited and that perhaps today is the beginning of that reunion. I could not
hold back the tears.
We each took turns using a big spoon to dip a scoop
of each into the hole. Amanda did a scoop for Mathew. I did an extra scoop for
Benjamin. It was hard to hold the tears.
Then as there was a cavity between the ashes and the
“topping rock” Doug and Dave scooped a bucket of gravel to fill the hole; then
the top rock was placed along with others there that Mom had collected.
We all then stepped out onto the dock and each had
the opportunity to dip a spoonful and cast it into the lake. Mom’s spread into
the wind; Dad’s was rather clumped and splatted, making an eerie ghost-like
perpendicular shape in the water.
The remaining ashes were saved to incorporate into
the next concrete mixing that needs doing.
As we finished up, David noticed that in the bush by
the boathouse door there was a Yellow Warbler.
Was that Mom come to say “good job?”
Then we all had a group lunch dragging chairs to the
round table on the beach.
Not too fancy; just about right in my opinion. I am working to take out the photo of Tika and me.....
Let me know what you think.
If you like what you're seeing, then I can add all of you as "editors" meaning that you can then contribute. And if you need it, I will post tutorials on just how to post a blog entry and even post a picture.......... wouldn't seeing some oldies be fun?