The precious Bible is inscribed in my fathers very own handwriting. Given to him by his mother when he was only six. The same age as little Whit. (He had wonderful handwriting, no?!)
The illustrations are so very sweet. I especially loved the pages he had doodled on, coloring in Jesus’ hair with pencil for example, because I could envision him sitting through a church service passing the time.
The little black book holds addresses, dates, birthdays, Christmas lists and so much more. I have spent hours pouring through it – trying to figure out who it belonged to! Daddy-O thought it was his father’s, and it very well may have been, but I think somebody else took it over. There are two distinctive handwritings and he wouldn’t have referenced himself on his own Christmas shopping list. I really, really love trying to figure these things out. I’ve even tried to find information about a person listed in the address book that would have lived VERY close to me here in Atlanta back in the 1950s! (No luck, yet.)
There are years of Christmas lists in here. I love the earbobs and pressed powder gifts. So sweet.
And the shirt, slip, hose and gloves sizes. I seriously wish I had more (ie. any) opportunities to wear outfits with gloves!!!
Daddy-O generously let me bring these two treasures home. His Bible has joined my collection of family Bibles in the living room, and the little black book sits on my desk in the office because I’m just not done with it yet :-) There’s not much I love more than treasures from the past.
Happy Monday, y’all. I’m headed to the bank because the littles ROBBED me with their PERFECT report cards. Time to pay up…
xoxo
