Family Album

This week, some portraits of little-known Bentley ancestors.
Capt. Elver Aloysius Bentley, school teacher, Pine Dell Butte ND

Cadwallader Bentley, purveyor of fine whiskeys, Horsewhip MT

Emmelina ("Skunk") Bentley, goat rancher, Faddle OR

Alistair Quinoa Bentley, rustler, Corn Valley MO

Chester Walter Elder Bentley, haberdasher, Rockhard AR

Deirdre P. Bentley, antiques monger and inventor, Zumwalt MI

Dr. Randolph Bentley, alienist, Wildbreath WY

Galbraith Bentley, pharmacist and saloon-keeper, Deadhead CO 

Chattanooga Jane Bentley, hoarder, Saint Basmati WV 

Rev. Cornelius Bentley, Shaker minister and cardsharp

Zumwalt Bentley, livelihood unknown, Nutsville AL

The Woodrow Tallywhacker Bentley family, threshers, Zoom KS

Note, these are all photos I took around Washington and Oregon in the last few years. Antiqued with Help from Arcsoft PhotoStudio 5.


Sepia Airedale

Keying into this week's canine-themed Sepia Saturday, we feature my father's Airedale, Mike. Some of these photos have appeared in other posts, but since a good many of the stories we heard about the old homestead in Elm, Michigan, revolved around the exploits of Mike, it seems worthy to let him have his own entry.
Mike's baby picture, with young Nelson in a sailor suit circa 1920.
Mike looks considerably grown up, but Nelson's only aged a few years. Love the belted jacket, looks like he's off to church with sister Margaret.
One of the stories described Mike playing the part of dreaded "Moby Dick, the Sea Dog"while my dad and his sisters would clamber around in the apple tree, which was the Pequod.
Another couple of years and they added another dog. Pluto... I think Margaret's holding a little umbrella or perhaps a doll, but it looks more like a rubber chicken!
Mike is definitely a mature fellow by now. Is that a cookie on a saucer that Margaret is resting on his head?
Is it my imagination or is he wearing shoes?
Here is Mike with another addition to the family, Chingo, the black chow, and the eldest sister, Dorothy,
enjoying a little shade.

Reportedly Nelson recited poetry to Mike in quiet moments.
The whole menagerie, 15 years on...hanging out on The Marmon. 


Bare Trees

OK, first, fire up this video, and then let's begin.

Talk about small radius travel...the sun comes out on a winter weekday and I'm reduced to circling the parking lot at work, where what do I spy but... bare trees! And cubistic architecture. And reflections.



Happy St. Valentine's Day to all my faithful followers! Today's edition of Sepia Saturday concerns itself with this holiday, and so from my personal archives I dredge out these vintage cards which I have managed to hang onto for oh, over fifty years, knowing that someday I would find a use for them. Yes, these are actually leftovers from a batch I sent to my classmates around 1961, when I was in second grade, I think.

And here is the class itself! I suspect that this was one of my earliest attempts at photography, by my absence from the shot, and the tilt and altitude of the camera. I believe that the pensive girl at the center might be Wanda; at her feet is Lane, Preston (whose hair was always well Brilliantined) to his left in the stripes.

Here is another of my askew photos, of our beloved teacher, Mrs. Perry -- Gerry Perry -- Geraldine, that is. She taught me in third grade as well, before retiring. She was funny, kind, and occasionally fierce. I have never had a teacher I was more fond of.  And there is a self-portrait, myself drawing myself. Fidel Castro appears to be watching me, strangely. 

Anyway, on to the valentines... they came in a large booklet, and you carefully tore along the perforations... some, like this one, were their own envelopes.

This one is rather apt for me, isn't it?

Ooh, frilly underwear!
I love the combination of puns and stereotypes. Has anyone every really chewed on a piece of grass like that?

A bit stalker-ish...
I remember practicing telephone etiquette in class with one of these bulky things. We'd bought our house from a telephone company employee, who left Bell swag behind for my sister and me.
The "good old days" when no one worried about racism.
Or sexism.
When in doubt, go for a kitten!
Or a puppy!
Or...a pair of... sea lions. Whatever.


Songs My Father Taught Me

Well, not so much taught as burned into my skull.  He was forever launching into these hoary old ditties.

(Just in time for a musically themed Sepia Saturday!)