Skip to main content

Flashback Friday


Last Friday I posted about the Wombie and my trip to Quincy to search out my grandparents' houses.   Today  we see Mona and Dick out on a fishing trip.  The location is unknown but most likely somewhere near Ponemah or Monmouth, where they lived.  Ponemah no longer exists but was about 4 miles southeast of Kirkwood.  Sinclair Oil had a pumping station there and Dick was Superintendent of the plant.  This was where my mother, Marj, was born and lived until she was 14 when they moved the house to Monmouth.  Yeah, moved the whole damn thing to another city.  That had to have been subsidized by Sinclair. 



Mona is in an apron - I somehow think she spent a lot of time in one.  She used to make custards in little ceramic bowls complete with a red bandana cloth for us kids to eat on the long trip back to Seaton whenever we'd go down for a day.  Apparently she is waiting for Dick to catch something in that stream.  In the foreground is an abutment like maybe an overpass at a road.  Most likely this is a bridge and Dick is out trying to catch supper.  Wonder how he got Mona to go, and what is she holding in her right hand?  

In the first picture you can see him intent on something and she is hidden from the sun.  In the second it looks like maybe he has caught something as is taking it off the hook, and she is prepared to take it from him.  Who know?  But I am most curious as to who was taking the pictures.  They seem oblivious, or at the very least unconcerned, about possible picture-taking.  Curious pictures.  Unanswerable questions. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Summer Swim

It's Monday and the start of another work week.  Except for me.  I have the week off because the parents of my daycare charges are taking the week off, too. This is one of those wordless posts I love on Mondays so I can put my laziness in full view of loyal readers.  These pics need no words.  Why muddy the waters?   They were taken at the pool at Sinkhole Estates aka Death Valley.  The nice thing about this pool is it is heated in winter.  If one must find positives in one's situation, I suppose that is one.  But, please, no more.   

Flashback Friday

Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless.  Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001.  It was one of those things that can generate crime:  two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job.   Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things.  Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold.   But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find.   His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead.  He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds.  He will be paralyzed for life.   None of this is pleasant.  Reading the facts of the murder and attempted murder are most unpleasant