La versión en español está después de la versión en inglés.
I’ve got so many more things to photograph and share from around the house. But I won’t bombard you with them. So, I’ll share more over time. Today’s photos are just some more from the kitchen. One in particular (the one pictured above) prompts me to tell you about two very special people, both gone now. San Geraldo’s mother’s cousin Ingrid and her husband, Kingsley.
Yes, Kingsley, with a Dickensian last name I won’t share here. And he was English and a university professor who wore sweaters with leather patches at the elbows. Right out of Central Casting. Ingrid arrived after World War II from Bergen, Norway, to Seattle, Washington, on a music scholarship (that her older brother applied for without telling her). She thought she was going to Washington, D.C., flew into Montreal and was surprised to find herself on a bus heading across the United States. At the beginning there were three nuns on the bus, as well, and since Ingrid had no idea what to eat in “America,” she followed their lead and ordered “ham and cheese on rye.” At every stop.
Not long after arriving in Seattle, she met Kingsley. She wound up teaching Norwegian at the University level in Oregon while continuing to play the violin throughout her life in the city orchestra. Although they were of our parents’ generation, we became extremely close once we moved to San Diego and they got in touch with us while on vacation there. We saw each other regularly.
Kingsley died in 2011 at the age of 87 and Ingrid died 12 years later at the age of 97. The olive dish is something they brought for us when they stayed at our hotel in Palm Springs during a quiet summer. Ingrid had forgotten her swimsuit. We were floating around in the pool one warm evening while Ingrid sat at the edge. She was excruciatingly proper (and Kingsley for that matter), but they both tended to loosen up around us. Finally, out of nowhere, Ingrid announced, “You know, a woman’s bathing costume really isn’t any different from her underwear.” SG knew immediately what she was leading to and he ordered, “Ingrid, strip down to your underwear and get in the pool.” Of course, she had to go back to her room for the disrobing, but she quickly returned with a large pool towel wrapped around her shoulders. When she stepped into the pool, we noticed that Ingrid’s bra and underwear covered more of her body than any “bathing costume” we’d ever seen.
Tengo muchas más cosas que fotografiar y compartir de la casa. Pero no los voy a abrumar. Así que, compartiré más con el tiempo. Las fotos de hoy son solo algunas más de la cocina. Una en particular (la que se ve arriba) me impulsa a contarles sobre dos personas muy especiales, ambas ya fallecidas. La prima Ingrid de la madre de San Geraldo y su marido, Kingsley.
Sí, Kingsley, con un apellido dickensiano que no voy a mencionar aquí. Y era inglés y profesor universitario que usaba suéteres con parches de cuero en los codos. Como sacado de una película. Ingrid llegó después de la Segunda Guerra Mundial desde Bergen, Noruega, a Seattle, Washington, con una beca de música (que su hermano mayor solicitó sin decirle nada». Pensaba que iba a Washington, D.C., voló a Montreal y se sorprendió al encontrarse en un autobús cruzando los Estados Unidos. Al principio también había tres monjas en el autobús, y como Ingrid no tenía ni idea de qué comer en América, siguió su ejemplo y pidió «jamón y queso en pan de centeno”. En cada parada.
Poco después de llegar a Seattle, conoció a Kingsley. Terminó enseñando noruego a nivel universitario en Oregón mientras seguía tocando el violín durante toda su vida en la orquesta de la ciudad. Aunque eran de la generación de nuestros padres, nos hicimos muy amigos cuando nos mudamos a San Diego y se pusieron en contacto con nosotros durante unas vacaciones allí. Nos veíamos con regularidad.
Kingsley murió en 2011 a la edad de 87 años e Ingrid murió 12 años después a la edad de 97. El plato de aceitunas es algo que nos trajeron cuando se quedaron en nuestro hotel en Palm Springs durante un verano tranquilo. Ingrid había olvidado su traje de baño. Estábamos flotando en la piscina una cálida tarde mientras Ingrid estaba sentada en el borde. Era extremadamente correcta (y Kingsley también), pero ambos tendían a relajarse con nosotros. Finalmente, de repente, Ingrid anunció: «¿Sabes? El traje de baño de una mujer no es muy diferente de su ropa interior». SG supo de inmediato a qué se refería y ordenó: «Ingrid, quítate la ropa hasta quedarte en ropa interior y métete en la piscina». Por supuesto, tuvo que volver a su habitación para desvestirse, pero regresó rápidamente con una gran toalla de piscina envuelta alrededor de los hombros. Cuando entró en la piscina, notamos que el sujetador y la ropa interior de Ingrid cubrían más su cuerpo que cualquier «traje de baño» que hubiéramos visto jamás.
• Los compré en una tetería de Fuengirola. Me parecieron que quedaban bien en la vitrina de nuestra cocina.
• •SG thinks his mother gave him this vase. He already had it when we met.
• Este pequeño plato perteneció a mi madre. Me parece encantador.
• Nos la hicieron en Santa Bárbara dos hermanas gemelas idénticas, Molly y Emily, a quienes conocí trabajando en un gimnasio local. En aquel entonces estudiaban en la UC Santa Bárbara y conectamos de una manera muy especial. No habíamos tenido contacto desde que nos fuimos de Santa Bárbara hace 20 años. Era hora de escribirles y enviarles esta foto.
• Un regalo de la querida Joan (post de ayer) durante su visita cuando vivíamos en New Haven, Connecticut.
That was quite bold of Ingrid! I think you and SG should be proud that you made Ingrid and Kingsley so comfortable that they could get their shoulders out of their ears and enjoy themselves in your company. What a relief that must have been for them.
The glaze and color on that green vase are fantastic. And oh, the little piggies!
Mary Moon:
We got to know Ingrid and Kingsley at such a wonderful level. We spent a few Thanksgivings with them and their extended family and were surprised by how prim and proper they were with their grown children and grandchildren.
Oh these ‘special’ objects mean so much to us. Love the back story of Ingrid and Kingsley. My cousin married a Kingsley.
Jim:
I’ve never known another Kingsley!
Me as well.
This reminds me of the last year I spent at summer camp. I was 15, maybe 16, I don’t really remember. We were in crafts activity trying to come up with a project. I suggested we make bathing suits from bras and underwear, sewing bits of fabric and other stuff to cover up their original function. Everyone was horrified at the very idea. I wasn’t very popular.
I love the eyelash on the giraffe spots bowl.
ellen abbott:
I think your idea was brilliantly funny. What a bunch of prigs. The eyelash turns the giraffe bowl into whimsey.
Oh yes….Bathurst of yore….we’re, well, just as covering as the everyday clothing you ask me. Hell…Some places I just jump in naked!
Love your mother’s green bowl!!!!!
Mistress Maddie:
Had Ingrid and Kingsley not been there, we would have jumped in naked. I love that feeling.
That’s exactly right–a lot of swimwear is much scantier than so called scanties.
More great stuff! The pigs are great. Boud
Boud:
Those pigs always make me smile. Ingrid would be shocked to see all the thongs on the beach now.
I LOVE that green glass vase. Very mod! Good for Ingrid, shrugging off convention and irrational modesty!
Steve:
The vase has become cool again.
Love the olive dish and the giraffe bowl! I enjoyed the story of Ingrid’s “foundation garments” too. And that’s what they were designed to do — produce a certain silhouette shape for a woman’s body. Bras and panties are so much flimsier now because girls and women are supposed to shape their bodies through rigorous dieting and punishing exercise instead.
Debra:
Ingrids panties were even square cut to slim the thighs. My sister didn’t have an ounce of fat, yet it infuriated my mother that she refused to wear a girdle.
I see slappers around Wood Green wearing what may as well be their underwear these days.
Love the “Japanese-style” bowl/dish of your mother’s. Jx
Jon:
I used to regularly see guys on the beach in Fuengirola in their underwear. It was usually very obvious and it really annoyed our friend Elena (just on principle).
I love the single eyelash on the Molly and Emily bowl.
Linda:
Oh, it makes me so happy to always know you keep up with me. I miss you! And, yes, that eyelash transformed the bowl.
I love the cups but I would never use them for fear of them losing their color and design!
Bob:
I would never put those cups in the dishwasher, but we did use them a lot and still use them when we have guests.
What a wonderful story!
Rade,
I have great memories of them. They were so different with their own kids.
I loved reading the story about Kingsley and Ingrid. And I am sure that every time you look at that olive dish (at least I think it is an olive dish) you think of them. I love all of your pottery, but my favorite is the bowl made by the Santa Barbara twins. The little eye lash on the bottom adds a certain je ne sais quoi!
Michael
I think that eyelash transformed it.
I agree.
Such great connections to things. Time for a bowl of cracked Spanish olives.
David
Too bad SG hates olives! But we’ve used it for other things.
Well, there’s the British comic novelist Kingsley Amis, who wrote Lucky Jim. Anyway, I find it amusing that Ingrid went inside to “change” into her underwear. That itself might make a good comic novel.
Kirk:
Well, it would have been highly improper to strip in front of SG and me!