My Mother the Nonagenarian

Jo Ann C. Stribling

Native of Texas; dietitian; longstanding member of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, San Antonio; daughter of James and Edna Jo; sister of Sue; wife of Sam; mother of Jay, Jim and Dees; grandmother of Sam, Dees, Robert, Lilly and Ann.

As of this week, officially a nonagenarian. Not many of us get to be that.

Jo Ann Stribling, 90th birthdayI visited her on her 90th birthday, arriving in San Antonio two days before, after driving down from Dallas with my brother Jay, whom I’d visited for a while before that. Besides my mother and Jay, on this trip I saw my other brother Jim; all of my nephews and the wife of one and the girlfriend of another; and my aunt and first cousin.

Work continued during some of the visit, as it always does. And as I always do, I squeezed in a few other things, such as my second-ever attendance at a state fair, a ride on the Trinity Railway Express, a walkabout in Downtown Dallas, another walkabout along a lakeshore, a visit to one of the three spanking-new national monuments, created only this July, and a look-see at a cemetery, because of course I wanted to visit a cemetery.

The day I flew into Dallas, the city was experiencing its hottest October 15 on record, with a high of 95 F that afternoon. The days afterward were still warm, in the 80s mostly, which is a little higher than normal. By the time we planned to drive to San Antonio on the 22nd, heavy rain was predicted along most of the route, but the downpour was sluggish in arriving. All we saw were sprinkles here and there.

The massive rains came on the 23rd and 24th. The San Antonio area caught a regular storm coming from the northwest plus the remnants of Hurricane Patricia, which hit Mexico on the 23rd, and for a while had the strongest hurricane winds ever recorded. Wow.

At the Mansfield Cut, ca. 1958

The last time I visited Texas, I dug into more of my father’s slides for scanning. Sometime during 1958, probably, my father, mother and brothers visited my grandparents on Padre Island. My grandfather (left), a civil engineer, was working in some capacity in the creation of the Mansfield Cut, though we’re not sure what. On the right is my father. Jay and I call this the wearing funny hats shot.

GrandpaandDadMy grandfather (my mother’s father) and my mother. I suspect she borrowed the bonnet from my grandmother for the sunny day. Even in the late ’50s, it would have been considered old fashioned.

GrandpaandMamaMy mother and brothers. It’s always a little odd looking at a picture of your family at a time when you don’t exist.

MamaJimJayThe Mansfield Cut separates Padre Island from South Padre Island, and was made to provide access from the sea at that point to the Intercoastal Waterway. Jay says that mother marveled at the large numbers of shells on the beach there, since it was remote — it’s still remote — and not many people collected them. There’s a jar of shells at my mother’s home, and some of them might have been picked up during this visit.

Everyone at Yellowstone

Has it been ten years since we visited Yellowstone NP? So it has. Tempus fugit, dude.

Ann of course doesn’t remember it. But she was there. On a boardwalk over certain death by scalding. That kind of thing makes parents a little nervous.

Ann, Yellowstone, 2005Lilly claims to remember the trip, but maybe she’s just humoring me. I’ll bet things are fuzzy and conflated with other trips.

Lilly, Yellowstone 2005Originally, we’d just planned to go to the Black Hills. Yuriko persuaded me that we might as well go on to Yellowstone, because we might not have time later. She was right.

Yuriko, Yellowstone 2005The shirt I’m wearing was from another long trip. When we bought our tickets for the Trans-Siberian in Hong Kong from an outfit called Moonsky Star Ltd., whose mascot was a monkey in a cap, smoking a cigarette and holding a bottle of beer, we got a couple their shirts as a lagniappe.

Dees, Yellowstone 2005Also note the pen clipped to my shirt. Probably in case I had any postcards to write immediately.

To the Smokies and Back ’08

Our trip to the Great Smoky Mountains NP and other places in 2008 was a late June, early July event. Has it really been seven years ago? The world seems like a different place now.

At Mammoth Cave NP, there was the famed cave, but you could also rent fun vehicles to tool around in.

Lilly & Ann June 2008It’s good to show your family places you know, but which they don’t, such as the Nashville Parthenon.
Parthenon, June 2008That’s what this country needs, more public-private partnerships to re-create the wonders of Antiquity. The Hanging Gardens of Omaha. A new Lighthouse of Alexandria in Alexandria, Va. The Statue of Zeus at Olympia, Wash. A new Temple of Artemis in Tucumcari, NM. That kind of thing. (Or city walls around Dallas, as my brother Jay has suggested.)

Next, the Mingus Mill, which is part of the Great Smoky Mountains NP. I liked it just for the name. Water was flowing in the trough, and the girls liked it because they could float things in the trough.
Mingus Mill July 2015As the NPS says, “A half-mile north of the Oconaluftee Visitor Center is Mingus Mill. Built in 1886, this historic grist mill uses a water-powered turbine instead of a water wheel to power all of the machinery in the building. Located at its original site, Mingus Mill stands as a tribute to the test of time.” Yep.

In the Indian town of Cherokee, NC, you could pose for a small fee with this fellow. Chief Syd, he called himself.
Cherokee, NC July 2015It wouldn’t have been a good trip without dropping in on a dead president. Andrew Johnson, in this case. President Johnson reposes in his hometown of Greeneville, Tenn. As it happened, we saw his memorial on July 4. (I did. Family stayed in car.)
President Andrew Johnson, July 4, 2008It’s also good to happen across little-known historic sites, such as Liberty Hall in Frankfort, Ky. Little-known, at least, outside of the immediate area.
Libery Hall, July 2008“This Georgian mansion was begun in 1796 by John Brown and named for [the] Lexington, Va. academy he attended,” says the landmark sign. “His wife Margaretta and Elizabeth Love began [the] first Sunday School west of [the] Alleghenies in [the] garden. Guests have included James Monroe, Zachary Taylor, Andrew Jackson and Gen. Lafayette…” The plaque maker must have charged by the letter, what with all of the definite articles left out.

A lovely garden it was, too.

Liberty Hall garden July 2008One more thing. As I’ve said, it’s good to be open to sampling new things on the road.
Root beer, July 2008I don’t remember, but it was probably tasty. Things often taste better on the road.

Arnn Pictures, 1973

In June 1973, we had an unusually large number of relatives visit for an afternoon — 13 are in a picture I took, but I know that’s missing a few. I’m not sure how it was all arranged, only that hadn’t happened before, and it never did again. Mostly people came over in small groups.

One of the visitors was my uncle Kenneth Arnn, down from Oklahoma with my aunt Sue and cousin Ralph. I knew them better than any of the others, since we’d see them every year or every other year, and of course I still visit Sue and Ralph.

I took a picture of Ken standing near one of the kitchen doorways at my mother’s house.

KenJune1973He was impressed enough with the quality of the shot to ask for a copy sometime later. I look at it now and think, even my cheap Coolpix could take a better picture than that. But all I had then was a Kodak Instamatic 104, and I was 12, so I suppose that’s a pretty good image for all that. Also, if you took a shot from the same position now, most of the background would be the same, except for the arrangement of hats and the Magic 8 Ball.

Here’s the startling thing: in 1973, he was the same age as I am now. Chronologically, I understand. He was born in 1919. But it’s still hard to wrap my mind around that.

A few basic facts about Uncle Ken (unless I’m misremembering, which is entirely possible): he hailed from Childress, Texas; was a U.S. Army staff sergeant in the European theater in WWII — a cook in Patton’s army; did a stint as a teacher in Barrow, Alaska, in the 1950s with my aunt, whose older sister is my mother; and for most of his career he worked for the Bureau of Indian Affairs in South Dakota and later Oklahoma.

The last time I saw him was in Ardmore, Okla., in late 2001. He’d suffered a stroke by then, and so was frail, but still mentally lively, as always. We were on our way back home from Thanksgiving in Dallas, and I’m glad we stopped in (he got to meet Lilly, among other things). He died a few days before Christmas in 2002.

Here’s another picture I took during that visit in 1973: cousin Ralph, age 10, jumping off the swing set we had in the back yard at the time.

RalphJune1973Ralph’s a sales executive these days, a resident of San Antonio with a wife, grown stepdaughter and two teenaged daughters. I’ve always liked this kinetic picture of him.

Rocket Girl, Second Launch

Ann was in her school district’s Rocket Club again this year, involving the after-school construction of a rocket one day a week for a few months. The mass launch — one rocket at a time, not quite as quick as a Stalin’s organ — was on Monday afternoon during school. Afterward, Ann brought the rocket, which she called “Gemini,” home.

Ann, June 8, 2015The rocket lost a fin at some point in the flight, or when it hit the ground. The dog photobombed the picture.

Liftoff! The rockets were lined up on top of a saw horse and shot off one after the other.

Gemini Launch, June 8, 2015This was Ann’s second school-project rocket. The day was partly cloudy and warm, with some wind. Later in the afternoon it rained, but the launches were done by then.

The World’s Most Accurate Watch

During a recent conversation with Ann, something I said suggested absolute uselessness to her, and she came up with the following: “That would be about as useful as a watch that only said NOW.”

That would be useless for telling time, I agreed. But guaranteed to be the most accurate watch ever made.

During the same conversation I also introduced “useful as screen doors on a submarine” to her. Someone has to pass down the wisdom of previous generations to the rising one, after all.

London 1956

More of my father’s slides, mostly unseen for at least 50 years. In May 1956, my family went to London for a short visit. The note on this slide says, “Mama, Jay, Jim in corner of Buckingham Palace grounds c̄ bearded character” (he used a bit of medical shorthand). Jay told me that the “bearded character” said he was Father Christmas.

LondonMay56.1 Next, “Mama, Jay, Jim in square in front of Westminster Abbey.” Looks like a pleasant spring day with a little bit of a chill in the air.

LondonMay56.5At first glance, it looks like the woman in this picture — the one who’s not my mother — saw a man with a camera, and posed in an instant. But her feet are positioned in mid-step, so I think she happened to be looking straight into the camera. Anyway, the caption is: “Jay, Jim, Mama + some Englishwoman, Picadilly [sic] Street.”

LondonMay56.4This one: “Mama, Jim, Jay + little English girl, Green Park.”

LondonMay56.6Jay was four, Jim a few months older than a year, and it looks like the girl was somewhere between those ages.

Grandpa 1963

I don’t have that many images of my maternal grandfather — most of them are at my mother’s house — but there are a few kicking around here.

Grandpa 5.12.63The picture is dated “Mother’s Day 1963,” which was May 12, 1963, a Sunday. Grandpa — even at this late date, I can’t call him “James” or anything else — aged nearly 70, is sitting in his back yard in Alamo Heights with his dog Georgette. I remember Georgette better than Grandpa, since he died in 1966, when I was five; the dog lived until sometime in the late ’60s.

I remember the back yard pretty well from visits later than 1963. Behind him to the right is the detached office-laundry room-garage behind his house. The office even had a nickname: the Pout House, which seems to speak to some long-ago family joke. Even further back is a fence lined with bamboo, which I believe he planted.

As I mentioned before, he was Texas A&M Class of 1916 and member of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers during and after the Great War. He was a civil engineer by profession during the great age of 20th-century road building in Texas, and aspired to work on building the Alaska Highway, but that didn’t happen. He and Grandma (Edna, 1894-1971) currently have 13 living descendants, age 12 to age 89.

Grandpa May 1963This is in McKinney, Texas. The pic manages to capture my mother on the left, me (the small face under hers), Jim (under me), Grandpa and Grandma (holding another camera?). Grandpa’s hearing aid is clearly visible. One thing I know: by this time, he was quite hard of hearing.

It’s dated Spring 1963, at some time when Grandpa and Grandma were up for a visit from San Antonio. I feel certain they would have driven up, and I hope used the parts of I-35 that were finished at the time, which would have been spanking new. As a civil engineer, I’m sure Grandpa would have appreciated it more than most (and it wouldn’t have been the crowded mess it is in the 21st century in some places).

Jay tells me, about that picture, that Grandpa grew the beard about the time Ralph was born (our cousin, born April 1963) with the idea that it would make him look more familiar to Ralph, whose father wore whiskers. “Dr. Colvin [a psychiatrist we knew] happened to see a picture of Grandpa with the beard and asked if he had been a psychiatrist. (There is, I suppose, something Viennese about it.)”

Naptimes, 30 Years Apart

Last time I was in San Antonio, I dipped into my father’s collection of slides, mostly unexamined for at least 50 years, and pulled out a handful for scanning. The handwriting on the following slide said: “Jay Stribling sleeping, May 1956.” My brother that is, when he was four. No place is noted, but I suppose it was in Germany.

JayMay1956I looked up The Golden Geography. It’s by Elsa Jane Werner, illustrated by Cornelius De Witt, and originally published 1952. A lot of them must have been printed, since they seem easily available now online. I don’t remember it around the house in later years, which can mean only one thing. The only reason a book ever left our house is that it fell apart completely.

A casual Google search doesn’t uncover a scan of that Nancy & Sluggo comic, and it isn’t worth pursuing very far. The Eiffel Tower was a souvenir from my parents’ trip to Paris. I’m told they went without their small children, my brothers, which is what I would have done. They bought one for Jay and one for Jim, and the towers are still in my mother’s house, though not so shiny these days.

When I sent the image to Jay, he shared it with his sons. The eldest, my nephew Sam, sent us a picture of him at a similar age (in the 1980s) and in similar repose.

1936928_237230045005_6188398_nTime flies, things don’t change.