Teddy Bites

The little handwritten card on this page says, “Now ou’d better look out big folks, for my Teddy bites, he do. And if ou’rebaby-louisa-2 bad and try to tease me, they’ll be nuffin left of you!. July 1919.”

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Off Duty

Well, if your seeing this particular blog for the first time then your probably a bit confused with these photos. It would help you to start from the beginning of this, Louise’s blog, as it would help you better understand this incredible and very eccentric woman. She came from such heartache, more than most of us have to deal with in a life time. On this scrap page with these photos baby-louiseshe has written “Off Duty” and then also written a little poem which reads…. “Don’t let me fool you, my hair is grey and so has been for many a day. So think of me friends as you darn please, Teddy and I will still drink at our ease!”

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Happy New Year

I haven’t forgotten my posts. Between moving (after 23 years of being in the same house and same town) and family Christmas vacations, my blogging and diary business was put on hold. BUT no longer thankfully and I have more time (because of my decision to move) to devote to my blog, my facebook page, my new instagram page and my business and I’m very excited to see what the future brings. So, I will continue on with these diary entries soon but until then I thought it only fitting to quote one of my favorite New Year entry from an 1873 diary in my collection……

“January 1st, 1873 Arthur gave me this diary. I now commence at the opening of this New Year with another diary. With the uncertainty of ever covering even one page after this one with my thoughts or deeds of mine, nevertheless I begin, “seeing not a step before me as I tread the days of the year. The past is still in Gods keeping, the future his mercy shall clear. What looks dark in the distance may brighten as I draw near.”

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Near to my heart

Forgive the delay in my posts and I promise when I get settled I’ll be posting much more regularly. As many of you know I’m in the process of moving and many of my diaries have found their way into their temporary traveling homes all ready for a new adventure. I’m heading to Issaquah Washington where my son and his wife have moved. They have taken my life line; my grandbabies and I need to be near them. However I’m also up for a new adventure. The quote I’m posting here isn’t from our regular author but I did find a quote I want to share that seems to mirror my thoughts of late. It was written at the end of 1927 by a 15 year old girl about to see the New Year begin……

“To Me
1927 is nearly gone, gone! To think that this glorious year has nearly ended. What wondrous joys has it not brought? So few sorrows or ills. Have I done anything worth while? That is the important question….My trip was a glorious adventure. It was wonderful. I had often dreamed delightful dreams of travel, but those dreams were always of trips abroad to the mysterious and romantic lands of Europe and Africa and Asia. Often indeed have I dreamed of a visit to the Sahara, to the garden of Allah, there to meet with God, to walk and talk with Him, to ride the stately camels over those endless sand dunes, to venture through those queer desert towns, to hear the sound of wild, wild fierce music that reaches way down deep and makes one ache with feeling. Oh, that those dreams may come true. Often too have I dreamed of journeys to the palaces of India, to the temples of Greece and the castles of Europe. But a great surprise and quaint adventures was my journey this summer. Oh! The mountains of the Sierras, those magnificent stately peaks with pines and pines and pines……As it is, I think that this year I have begun to think more profoundly and have come to enjoy reading the more thoughtful and great books; tragedies seem more pleasing to me than happy books, they seem so much more real to me……Lately I have become very restless and have an uncontrollable desire to live, really live. I do not call this existence, this school, study, practice, sleep existence, real life! The longing comes over me most strongly at night when the mournful whistle of the train, I hear and when I look up at my star and ask him what my life shall be. Then I feel that I am of no use that I am not fulfilling my mission…..Here I sit this New Year’s Eve and ponder and wonder. Will I be able to stand despair, hunger, and poverty should that be my lot or if I should become rich would I forget that there are those who are hungry and alone?….Why write all this? God knows what is in my heart. He knows and understands. May I live as courageously and bravely. May I love as strongly. May I be brave and true and when I leave, my some dear person, weep ever so softly! May mine be a “beautiful gesture” in life! Only God and I know what is in my heart. Marthe Johnson. 12/31/27”

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3500 Hours

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Clifton Springs and her Bike

The following poem was written beside the photo of Louise on her wheel. At the end of the poem she writes, Clifton Springs Sanitarium” which is a fabulous historic hospital and spa where one would go for healing, as it looks like Louisa did.

 

Dear Friends!

I’m right in it, good friends mine. I’m riding on a wheel. I didn’t want to do it but they talked to me a deal.

And the Dr. said “twould cure me,” then I said, said I, “If it’s good for that which ails me, I guess I’d better try.”

So, one day I summoned courage and sneaked out the back door, and asked the cycle teacher had he time for one fool more?

He smiled upon me kindly and in gentle voice did say, “I’m at your service, lady, almost any day.”

So we fixed upon the morrow, that night all through my sleep, I felt myself revolving, then falling in a heap.

Great drops stood on my forehead, I was stiff and lame and sore and black and blue spots, I dare not tell you more.

Well, the morn broke fair and lovely, my lesson hour was nine; I trickled on my amour, but oh! this heart of mine!

The teacher was in waiting; the wheel looked bright and neat, and reverently I found myself upon its awful seat.

T’was no downy pillow and before my hour was done, my dream became reality, is this what they call fun?

I cried, when pushed o’er grass and street. Ye Gads! What won’t we mortals bear, the latest fad to meet.

Did I wobble, say you, every nerve was tense. I did naught but wobble, while screams devoid of sense.

Set onlookers on to laughing, and I laughed till I cried, as I realized my awkwardness, on that wheel astride!

I went through every dido to all beginners known, “Took Headers”, lost the peddle and when I went alone.

Each tree had its attraction, I tried to climb them all, then too, a little pond near by beckoned me to call.

And I might have yielded but it had a fence around, so I thought it might be better to stay on public ground.

Aye! Ground it was, and bumpy; full many a fall I had, as black and blue sports terrified, (I couldn’t’ wear a pad).

And that saddle would knock into me when I would try to mount and soon I was a varied here, somewhere and round about.

But perseverance confirmed and now the game is won and I am just beginning to understand the fun.

Eight lessons did the matter, I now go all alone, can mount, dismount, turn around, with no chatter.

No longer do they laugh at me, but praises grab my ear, no more headers do I take when trees or ponds are near.

And yet, I do not quite enthusiastic pleasure feel, but if it cures what ails me, I’ll ever praise my wheel.

Sincerely Yours, Louise L. Ransom.

Clifton Springs Sanitarium

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clifton_Springs_SanitariumLouise Bike

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