Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Quietly Retreating To My Guest's Retreat

     One of my favorite times of the day is the early, very early morning.  It tends to be a peace filled time for me.
     My a.m. routine consists of putting the kettle on, letting Rico out, waiting for the whistle and then the brew.
     Once my mug is filled with hot green tea, a touch of milk, no sugar, I softly scuffle down the hall to my quiet room, my retreat.  It's where I go to write, knit, read, and lately struggle with trying my hand at drawing.
     My quiet room has gone through many transitions since we moved into our house, 10 years ago.
     At first it was the "guest room".  The accommodations included a queen size bed, a crib, because our guests usually brought or dropped off a little person, an empty chest for the guests' belongings, a TV for the guests' viewing pleasure, and a comfy chair.  One half of the double closet was filled with things to amuse the little guests.  After a quick "Hi Grandma," they would immediately make a bee line for that closet.  The amusing things would then be pulled out of the closet and carried or dragged into the sun room.  Eventually I figured out that I should just move the toys out of the guest closet and into a toy chest in the sunroom.
     Over the next seven years, at one time or another, the room would sleep one to four of my daughter's family.  The guest room was used by a cousin visiting from across the other coast, friends visiting from down the coast, Mom visiting from an hour away and Myra visiting from the city.
Joe and Anne once used the room as an overnight pit stop on the way to the airport.
Joan and Ryan needed a place to stay as the four of us went back and forth into the city to put Myra's affairs in order and Myra to rest.
     The guest room stayed the guest room until late summer of 2009 when we were told that Mom would need hospice care. That is when the room became Mom's room.  A hospital bed, an over the bed food tray and portable commode replaced the crib and queen bed.  Four comfortable chairs were moved into the room for Mom's many visitors.  The closet was filled with night gowns and robes.  The chest became storage for warm socks, bandages, morphine patches and a hospice comfort kit.
     Then one early, very early morning, as I padded down the hall to check on my guest,  I was struck by the overwhelming silence I noticed as I approached the room.  In the next hours in a flurry of activity the kind Hospice caregivers compassionately helped us turn Mom's room back into the guest room. The hospital bed and all of the paraphernalia was moved out and the queen size bed moved back in.
     Even though the room was once again a comfortable place for overnight visitors, I found it difficult to even venture into that part of the house.
     Then one early, very early morning, I impulsively and compulsively began to dismantle the guest room once again.  I single handedly took apart the queen bed. I moved the frame, queen mattress and box spring into the garage.  I took the crib down and also put that into the garage.  I emptied out the chest and the closet.   I moved a very heavy futon sofa from the den and into the old guest room.  To complete the room, I picked up an old white painted desk at the consignment shop.
     For me, the renovations changed the room from a sick room, in which my Mom died a painful death, into a sun filled retreat.  I remember the first time I sat in the new room.  Oddly enough, even though I still felt my Mom's presence in the room, it was now a peaceful and comforting presence.
     Although I call it "My Room",  Rico is always at my feet, Ross usually visits and of course guests are still welcome to sleep on the futon.

Sleepy Bella


I have created a page for Anna's Diary.  It can be found under the Tab titled Anna's Diary.
I have posted all of the entries to date there, starting with January 1, 1929.


Here are yesterday's and today's entry from Anna's diary:
Tues. May 28, 1929
Drove Elsie to her sister Flossies' for lunch.  Went to Mrs. Naps at four and then went to Cemetery to plant flowers on grave.  Took about two hours.  Rained.  Home-wet.
Wed. May 29, 1929
Very warm.  Baby to 360.  Belleville Club.  Went to N.Y. to see "Follow Thru."  Very good.  Dinner at Lorbers after show and we all took bus ride up 5th Ave. Riverside Drive.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Finding the Gem at the End


A few months after Joe was diagnosed, I started writing this blog.  I wanted to use it as a way to express my feelings about his illness. I knew that eventually it would be about my grief over his loss. My hope was that by writing openly and honestly about my feelings,  I would be able to work through my heartache, sadness and grief. My goal would be that someday I could find my way back to Joe again through the happy memories I have of him.  The times before he was struck down by the evil that is cancer.
Although it has been just shy of only six months since Joe passed away, there are times when I feel that he has been gone for such a long time.  He seems so far away.
There are other times, and these times have been happening more frequently lately, I feel he is painfully close.  That’s when my heart and mind become consumed with memories of the last months of his life.  And although these times are heart wrenching, it is then that I can vividly remember what his voice sounded like.  Through the pain I can clearly recall the feel of his hand in mine.  With the grief I am able to see his face in front of me, his eyes sometimes filled with pain, or fright, but always with hope.
Yesterday,  I went back to read my very first post on this blog.  Then, I began to read through each post and I started to notice a pattern.  Out of the 268 posts I have written to date, there are 42 in which I write about my sadness, grief, anger and depression over the loss of my son.
Even though that is a small percentage of my posts, I realized that of those 42 posts, there is only one post, the one I wrote the day after he died, in which I write about the person that was my Joe.
So, I wondered what it would be like if I included a happy memory of Joe at the end of each post.  Would that help me move towards my goal of finding a peaceful place to spend time with my son?
As I thought about doing that,  I realized the relationship that Joe and I had, started to develop into one which was more open, and loving only after he became ill and it continued to grow stronger after his son was born.
I have a memory from years ago of the moment when I shockingly realized that Joe had suddenly transitioned from a little boy into an independence seeking teenager.   Funny,  but I remember thinking to myself that I had lost him then.   You know that period of time when your children  become strangers.  Is it a gradual thing?  It certainly seemed to happen overnight.  
You can no longer come home with the right shirt or pair of jeans.   You have to buy them gift certificates or just give them money for Christmas because what you picked out, "Well come on Mom you think I would wear that?"  And what is that noise coming from behind the closed bedroom door?  Music?  Really?
The gap in our relationship grew even wider after I made a difficult life changing choice for myself and I no longer had daily contact with him.  
Four years later, after he graduated college,  I helped him get a job with the company where I worked.  Even though I could sense that our relationship was still strained, I think it began to mend through the common bond of our work. 
So, where are the precious memories?  Are they locked somewhere deep inside of my aging mind?  Are they now blocked behind the dark iron curtain of chemo and radiation treatments? Have they become blurred by clear visions of tubes, and pumps, morphine and Percocet? 
Perhaps memories are not what will help me on the path to peace.    
Perhaps it will be Domani's giggle or Anne's gifts of sharing her Joe through her beautiful writings.  Maybe it will be stories of their brother that Jen and Jimmy will tell me.  Will it be the way Bella remembers to make a birthday card signed by all of her classmates for her Uncle Joe?
Or is it just knowing how Joe touched so many lives and that he left a little piece of himself with each of them?
And that's why I write this blog.  As I wander and meander down the path of thoughts and feelings, never knowing where it will lead or how I will get there,  I always seem to find a precious gem at the end.  
And after all I do remember the essence of who Joe was.  He was and always will be my Quiet Treasure.  



I have created a page for Anna's Diary.  It can be found under the Tab titled Anna's Diary.
I have posted all of the entries to date there, starting with January 1, 1929.


Here are the catch up entries from Anna's diary:
Fri. May 24, 1929
Home all day. Rained.  At night went to Eastern Star card party given by Francis Chapter.  Celie and I got a prize.  Drove Helen home.
Sat. May 25, 1929
Met Jean and Jewel for lunch.  Jean and I went to the Elks club to a bridge given for benefit of St. John's Orphan Asylum.  I won prize which was a pari of pillow cases.
Sun. May 26, 1929
Recived communion this morning.  My Easter Duty.  Went to Grandma M's for dinner.  Later went to 360 for awhile.  Then home for supper. 
Mon. May 27, 1929
Baby Marion's birthday today.  One year old.  Bought a little seater for her and grandma gave her a doll.  Had a talk with Edythe and she feels quit bad. 



Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Overwrought With Emotion

When I was a little girl, five years old to be exact, I remember telling my mother that I was afraid to go to school for the first time.   She told me to be brave and that if I felt like I was going to cry, to take a deep breath and swallow the tears.
I took her message to heart and it became a sort of mantra for me.  If I could not keep my emotions in check, I would at least keep them private. 
My quiet reserve slowly and steadily absorbs droplets of sadness, worry and pain.  Each icy drip expands as I examine it, mull it over and store it in its own private space  They are shape shifters and take on forms, with familiar faces.  After a while they become habitual and permanent residents.
Yesterday I whispered that I am afraid.   Although my reserve is deep,  I fear it is nearing capacity.  Even though the walls have been solid, I have begun to recognize signs of weakening.
Anxiety and grief are unrelenting.  They obey no rules of bravery or any form of decorum.  They strike without notice or explanation.
Yesterday, as uncontrollable tears burned my eyes and warmed my cheeks, I struggled and gasped for each breath.  With clenched fists over my ears, I tried to block out the sound of my mother’s voice,  "Be brave. Don’t cry. Take a deep breath, swallow the tears.”
"You are overwrought with emotion,"  I vaguely remember Ross saying to me yesterday.
Such a funny old fashioned way of describing hysteria, I curiously thought to myself.



I have created a page for Anna's Diary.  It can be found under the Tab titled Anna's Diary.
I have posted all of the entries to date there, starting with January 1, 1929.

Here is today’s entry from Anna’s diary:
Thurs. May 23, 1929
Went to Cemetery to see if headstone was put on grave.  Not yet.  Brought deed of plot to Mr. Larson.  Went to Mrs. Nap for supper.  She gave it for her nephew and niece leaving for Washington.


Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Just a Look and a Listen

First Listen 

video
If you are have trouble viewing this video click here.

Then Look
After The Prom Volley Ball
Ross Watching After The Prom Volley Ball

Beach Lettuce

Ducking at Lunch

The Sign Says Dine

Our Little Garden Blooms 
Peek-a-boo Clematis

Wild Rose
Hissing Parents
They were not too happy with the camera



I have created a page for Anna's Diary.  It can be found under the Tab titled Anna's Diary.
I have posted all of the entries to date there, starting with January 1, 1929.


Here are yesterday and today's entries from Anna's Diary:
Tues. May 21, 1929
Helen to clean for a half day.  Mary phoned. Came over with Agnes. Spent afternoon here.  Mrs. Nap phoned.  Wants to see me on important matter.  Went to Belleville club.  Grandma here.

Wed. May 22, 1929
Went to see Mrs. Nap.  O.K.
Club met at Elizabeth's.  I won prize but passed it on to next highest.  Have been winning too many all at once.  Rosalie home with Baby.  Jewel & rick came over after supper.  Raining out.


[I guess Anna didn't want to record what the important matter that Mrs. Nap wanted to discuss with her.]


Sunday, May 20, 2012

Soft Leather Memories

Round 8 of NPR’s weekends All Things Considered Three-Minute Fiction contest is over.  Over 6,000 stories were submitted, including mine.  Each and every entry was read by someone.  The winning story was announced today.  It was written by Carrie Mackillop and is titled Rainy Wedding.  Congratulations to Carrie.  Her story was poignant, and particularly relatable for me.
The rules of the contest were:
1: The story had to be fiction.
2: The story had to be no more than 600 words so that it could be read in 3 minutes or less.
3: It had to begin with the following sentence :
"She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally decided to walk through the door.”

I have never entered any kind of contest.  But I gave this one a try.
Here is my entry:




Soft Leather Memories
By Lynda Grace Goldstein
    
     She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. 
     It was early in the day when Belle arrived at the dockside café, nearly two hours before.
     The morning was gray and foggy. The warm air caused a smoky mist to rise up from the cold water of the bay. 
    Walking from her car, she greeted the two women chatting outside. 
     Peg and Marge were the owners of “The Breakfast Shop.”
     Marge was short and stocky, with close-cropped hair.  Peg was tall and thin and wore her hair pulled back under a cap. They were dressed alike, in Bermuda shorts and tee’s which sported the restaurant logo; a steaming cup of coffee.  
      “Belle!”  they said in unison.
       “You hear that?”  Marge asked as she pointed to the three men in the utility boat floating in the bay. The men were barely visible and appeared ghostly in the mist.
      “Rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat,” Peg mimicked the sound.
      “Sam and his crew have been working on those pilings since 5:00 o’clock this morning,” she complained.
     Belle laughed as she passed in between the two women and entered the café.
     She and he liked to sit on the breakfast bar stools with the cracked yellow leather seats. But this morning there was no room at the bar.
     Belle placed her book on a table in the back and sat facing the door.
     She passed the time sipping her coffee and reading the entry she had recorded the last time they were together.

    The heavy maroon curtains were tightly drawn. 
    I told him it was beautiful out and asked if he would like me to open the drapes.  
     He shook his head no.
     He was in his usual spot, hunkered down in his soft brown leather recliner.  He looked small and fragile in the chair.  It made me think of Goldilocks and the three bears.  “That chair was too big!“
     I sat on the ottoman, next to him.  
    I’m sure he knew I had been crying.  He reached out for my hand.  His hand felt dry and bony.   The strength of his grip surprised me.   He looked at me and smiled.   I attempted to smile back.
     He reminded me that “they” had been wrong before.   He told me not to worry because we still had time.
     I told him that of course we had more time, what did “they” know.   
     Oh, the games we play with each other.      
     He made me promise to meet him on opening day at the little breakfast place on the island, just over the bridge.
     Opening day is April 1. That’s nearly six months away. 
     He noticed that I had my book and asked me to read one of my poems.
     When I saw that his eyes were getting heavy, I closed the book and got up to leave.
      I whispered  good-bye and told him I loved him.
     He opened his eyes long enough to mouth the words, “I love you, too."
     "See you soon.”

     There were now many more words and poems in her book bound in worn red leather. Sad words, words of grief and pain filled poems.
       She had kept her promise to be here on opening day.
      When she realized that her third cup of coffee was cold and undrinkable, she knew it was time to go.         
     By then the sun had burned off the fog and the day was clear.
     “Did you forget something?”  Peg asked.
      She went back in to get her book.   Like her memories of him, the leather felt soft and warm in her hand. 


Click here for more stories and information about NPR’s Three Minute Fiction Round 8 contest.



I have created a page for Anna's Diary.  It can be found under the Tab titled Anna's Diary.
I have posted all of the entries to date there, starting with January 1, 1929.


Here are yesterday and today’s entries from Anna’s Diary:
Sun. May 19, 1929
Peg stayed last night.  We all went to las Mass.  Dinner at Mrs. Nap.  Home for supper.  Junior in bed with Rosalie.  Jean and I to Mt. Prospect.
Mon. May 20, 1929
Home morning.  Baby at 360 and downtown shopping afternoon.  Hewel and Rick came home with me.  Rick fixed Vacuum.  Jewel cut slip from material bought at 8 Arnato [apparently some kind of store I would imagine.]

Friday, May 18, 2012

Jimmy, You Did What?

     A few weeks ago my son was in a chatty mood and decided to share a few of his young adulthood experiences with me.  Fortunately this was an old fashioned  phone conversation without Face Time or Skype.   I say fortunately because as he was describing this one particular incident,   I'm sure I would not have been able to control my facial expressions which went along with my uncontrollable sounds of incredulity.
     "No?"  "You're kidding right?"  "Oh come on now, really?" "Now where was I when this was going on?"
     His response was, "No?"  "You mean you never knew that?"  "You're kidding, right?"  "Oh, come on now, really?" "Where were you went his was going on?"
     Of course his best responses was:  "You can't tell me that you never did any of that."
     Even though my son is in his 30's now, with two children of his own, the fact that he could have done some of the things that he says he did as a 14, 15, 16 or 17 year old without my knowledge was and is quite disturbing to me.
     So, I thought back to that time and tried to recall how I could have been so...I don't know, what's the right word?  Um, neglectful?  No.  Distracted? Possibly. Naive? Maybe.  Or perhaps a combination of all three.
     I was a stay at home mom for my first two, my daughter and son.   Due to certain circumstances after my youngest, the third child, was born, I made the choice to return to outside of the home, paycheck kind of work.
     I do believe having the added pressures and responsibilities of a demanding full time job did change my parenting style.    I had to rely on grandparents, aunts, the parents of friends and sitters for help.  So in effect, my apron strings loosened considerably, particularly with Jimmy.
     Perhaps I should have been forewarned when I received a phone call from his first grade teacher telling me that she had received a note from "me" explaining why Jimmy did not have his homework completed.  She snickered as she asked me if I would normally sign a note "lynba".
     I am again reminded of the character Elizabeth from Anne Lamott's book Imperfect Birds.  The book was filled with Elizabeth's expressions of incredulity each time she discovered another one of her daughter's less than desirable escapades.
     As I read the book, I wondered if any of my children did things, things that I would have been shocked to find out about.  
     Then I had that phone conversation with my son.  And I thought, "OMG, I really was and probably still am Elizabeth."
     I know this is not a big revelation.   Kids do things that parents don't know about.  Kids do things that they will share with their parents after the kids think that the statute of limitations has expired.  So why would I be so shocked by the things that Jimmy did as a teenager?
     The following exchange might provide the explanation.
     It went something like this:
     J: "Mom, I have a question for you?"  "I want your opinion about something."
     Me:  "Sure, what is it"
     J:   "I have this old friend who wants me to visit him."
     Me:  "Oh, that's nice."
     J:   "Well, see, my friend, I haven't seen him for about ten years."
     Me:  "Oh where does he live."
     As the conversation went on from there,  it ended with him telling me that in order for him to see his friend my son would be put on a list but only after a background check on Jimmy was completed.
     And let's just say that apparently the statute of limitations  has not yet run out on my son's friend.
     By the way, kids remember all those things you think you got away with?   Keep them in mind when Bella, Ryan, Domani, Kenny and Ty ask things like: "Why can't I?"  "All of my friend's parents let their kids hang out there." Or when they say things like, "I have no idea how that got there."
 One last thing, it is true ,you know, when I was a kid,  I never, ever, did any of those things.
 Okay there was that one time,  which I can't possibly share with you because, you see just like Jimmy's friend, a parent's statute of limitations never runs out.


I have created a page for Anna's Diary.  It can be found under the Tab titled Anna's Diary.
I have posted all of the entries to date there, starting with January 1, 1929.

Here are yesterday and today’s entry from Anna’s Diary:
Friday, May 17 1929
Ordered Monument for headstone.
Rode out to Livingston to  show Mrs. Mayer Tom’s house for sale.  Jean I. and Frances came along with Junior and myself.  Lovely weather for the drive. Back early.

Sat. May 18, 1929
Met girls at one o’clock for lunch and went to Shuberts to see Mitzi in “Lovely Lady”. Muscial comedy.
Fair.  Back to 360 for baby and had visit to Grandma M.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

The Cupboards Are Bare, The Fridge is Empty, and I am Out of Cheerios

Ugh!  It's finally here.  The day I have been dreading.  The cupboards are bare, the fridge is empty, and I am out of Cheerios.
First let me explain something here.  Ross loves to go food shopping.  And for Ross it is a ritual.
Pre-shopping:  First we have to have a sit down meeting, at the kitchen table, of course.  After I have read the minutes from the previous meeting, meaning checking the pantry and fridge for stuff we are out of, we then move on to current business, meaning making the new list.  This entails him asking me "what would you like to have in the house?"  At this point my usual response is "whateva".  This drives him nuts, by the way.  See, I am not a foodie.  As long as I have my low fat cheese, no salt saltines, cheerios, strawberries and bananas, I am good to go.
Okay, so in order to move this meeting along, I start naming things, "low fat cheese, no salt saltine...you get the picture.  The list becomes the same list as it was last time and the time before that and so on and so on.  This meeting usually lasts at least 30 minutes.  Far too long for me, by the way.
Next, there is the gathering up of the cooler bags and the eclectic array of  re-usable green grocery bags (5 cents off the bill for each one used).
Then there are the good-byes.  These are tough.  When you spend 24/7 with someone, it's hard to be apart for what may be hours.
Okay, so kiss, kiss.  "See you soon." Then it's the last final call before he actually gets out the door, "Are you sure there isn't anything else we need or you want?"
 "Nope, I'm good." I yell back.
And I hear the squeaky front door finally close.
After all of the hubbub of the meeting and gathering of the bags, and kiss kiss, it seems so quiet in the house.
Ahh, but not for long.   I'd say about 30 minutes after he leaves, I can be guaranteed a phone call.
The conversation goes something like this:
"I'm in the blah blah aisle.  They have blah blah on sale. It's buy one case of a thousand and get the second case of one thousand for half off."  (of course it's an exaggeration, come on, you must have seen that my tongue has been in my cheek this whole time by now, haven't you?)
I ask him where he thinks we are going to store 2000 blah blahs.  He tells me that we will figure it out.
At this point I immediately begin to clean out the pantry and make space on the storage shelves in the laundry room.
Next stop is the German Butcher, along with another phone call home to ask if I am sure that I don't want anything else from the German Butcher.
Somewhere along the way, Ross will make a Costco run.  Yes, you guessed with another phone call to ask if I am sure I don't want anything else from Costco.
When he comes home from his favorite haunts, in addition to overflowing "green" grocery bags, he is ready to regale me with tales of his journey.
As we put the groceries away, there seems to be a back story for each item.  There is his chat with the fish monger (okay, I guess you can't call the guy behind the fish counter at Shop-rite a monger, but for the purpose of making this more colorful he will be known as the fish monger) about the pros and cons of farm raised vs wild salmon.   It is certain that there was some kind of incident in the check out line that becomes a story to be told.
There is always some kind of excitement happening at the German Butcher.  The last time Ross was there, he, Wolfie and Wolfie's cousin swapped stories about their past experiences at the Fancy Food Show.  Ross will tell me that Wolfie gave him a taste of his  Black Forrest ham.   "He makes it himself, you know."
"Oh really?"  I say.  "I think you may have told me that once (or 100 times) before."
And finally Costco.  "They have all new stuff out now at Costco."  "You should come with me next time."
Ross is incapacitated, meaning he can't drive and is still on heavy pain meds.  And since we are out of cheerios and low fat cheese, etc., I am going to be doing the food shopping today.  My style of food shopping is slightly different,   There will be no sit down meeting. I will do the kiss, kiss and "see you soon", though, but the soon will be much sooner than Ross' version of soon.
There probably will be a German butcher run and a trip to Shop-rite.  But, there will NOT be a Costco visit.  After all, I can't possibly have a Costco experience without Ross.
I’m pretty sure I won’t be cozying up to the fish monger or Wolfie and Wolfie’s cousin.  There will definitely be no eye contact with anyone in the checkout line. 
That probably means that I won’t have much to say during the unloading and putting away phase. 
Maybe I’ll take a little video for Ross.  Something for him to do while he is on the mend. 


I have created a page for Anna's Diary.  It can be found under the Tab titled Anna's Diary.
I have posted all of the entries to date there, starting with January 1, 1929.

Here is today’s entry from Anna’s diary:
Thurs. May 16, 1929
Charlotte here to wash.  Had to run down town to cash a check.  Back early.  Flo, Jean and myself went to Broad to see Violet Heming in “This thing called love.”

[Info on Violet Heming can be found here]

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Anyone Want A Green Hat? I Have Stash Aplenty

Ross is slowly coming along after his shoulder/bicep surgery.  He even managed to make his own oatmeal this morning.
I finished my The Rikke Hat yesterday.  Admittedly he was under the influence of his pain meds, but Ross did agree to model the hat so that I could take photos.

The hat is very soft and feels comfy on.  It felt a little big on me.  I turned up the brim and it fits more snuggly that way.










I started another one using Cascade 220 Heathers, color 9598 which is called Pyrite.  The stitches feel a little tighter with this yarn.  I think it will be a better fit for me.

I was going to make an afghan with this yarn, but ya know, now I’m not.   So since I have tons of this yarn in my stash,  I am going to make a scarf after I finish the hat.  
The hat is mind numbing to knit, which is just what I need somedays.   So if anyone wants a hat, let me know.   Oh, and I do have plenty of other colors. 


I have created a page for Anna's Diary.  It can be found under the Tab titled Anna's Diary.
I have posted all of the entries to date there, starting with January 1, 1929.

Here is today’s entry from Anna’s diary:
Wed. May 15, 1929
Today was official opening of the renovated M... [Anna’s last name] State Bank.  Took Junior, Elsie and Minnie down.  Served pastry, wine, cordials.  Many people came and many baskets of flowers received. 

[After doing a google search, I found a little blurb about the family.  Apparently, the bank was owned by Anna’s in-laws. I’m not sure of the founder’s relationship to Anna's husband.   The founder of the bank opened a clothing store in 1885.  He was trusted by his customers who would often deposit money with him for safe keeping.  The banking side of the business slowly grew and in 1925 he incorporated the M, State Bank.  Anna’s husband was a cashier in the bank in 1927.]