Today we are going to Muse about one long ride. If this is your first visit, welcome to Musings. If you have been here before, welcome back. Over time we are going to talk about many things: the past, the present, perhaps the future, travel, art, society and more. Wherever my musing takes me. I hope you will come along with me.
This is the way to Tribbyarts Boutique. Click on the lion and you will go there.
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For the last five days we have been in the car driving from West Palm Beach, Florida to Middleburg, Virginia and back. That is a bit over 2100 miles, averaging 7 hours a day in the car, some days longer, some shorter. Three of the days we drove in the rain with limited visibility and heavy traffic. It was a tough drive.
We did break it up a bit. We stopped in Charleston, SC and dropped a couple of paintings off to the Ellis-Nicholson Gallery where I am represented. If you find yourself in Charleston you should visit it. It is a very nice gallery in the heart of the gallery district, 1 1/2 Broad Street.
You may ask, “Why did you take this trip?”
Well, to go get Theodore Roosevelt Bair Tribby aka Teddy and bring him home. Here he is.
Ever since Lancer died Jeanette has wanted another Norfolk Terrier. She contacted the breeder she knew and arranged the adoption of Teddy once he was three months old. She is happy now.
The first night we had him we stayed at the Middleton Inn in Washington, Virginia. The plan was to see a friend who lived nearby. Unfortunately just before we got there our friend was called away because of a family illness. We went anyway since we had already paid for the room. Actually, they gave us the little cottage you see here.
It was a very nice B and B and the breakfast was terrific. If you ever find yourself in northern Virginia seeking a place to stay, I would recommend the Middleton Inn. Our weather was not good as I mentioned, but it looked to me that the area would be very pretty once winter had passed.
So, when you are driving hour after mind numbing hour you thoughts begin to meander and you find yourself thinking about strange things.
For example, I found myself thinking about the letter “Y”. It is very strange. I know a woman named Yolanda. In her name the “Y” sounds like “yuh”. I know a fellow named Tyler. In his name the “Y” sounds like “eye”. In party, daily, early it sounds like “E”. How do we know this? A linguist can probably site us a rule, but I cannot. Yet, I know it. If I read the word “dynamic” I don’t think denamic or duhnamic. I know it has an “eye” sound. I just do not know how I know. Strange.
When you are gone you are gone
While driving I got to thinking about my grandfather, Maurice L. Tribby.
He was born in 1874 and in his twenties he worked as a travelling shoe salesman. In his early thirties he moved west to Prescott, Arizona and worked for Morris Goldwater as a shoe salesman. Eventually he started his own shoe stores in Prescott and Phoenix.
Unfortunately, during the depression his Phoenix store manager embezzled money from him. The Phoenix store closed and the Prescott location limped on and eventually failed when my grandfather was 65, 1939. He went to work for the “Men’s Store” on the square as a shoe salesman. When the war broke out the owners went into the service and they asked my grandfather to manage the store while they were away. He did so and apparently successfully because the store was in good profitable condition when the owners came home from the war.
They were so pleased that they told him he had a job as long as he wanted. He retired at age 82.
For 50 years he worked in Prescott as a shoe man, for Goldwater, for himself and for the Men’s Store. Miners and ranchers for miles around would go see “old man Tribby” when they needed shoes. He was known as the shoe man.
He was a business owner and served on the city council.
He died at age 90 and I was in town for the funeral. I needed shoes. My dad told me to go down town to the Men’s Store and get a pair and put them on his account, which I did. I told the clerk I wanted to put them on my father’s account.
“What’s the name?” he asked.
“How do you spell that?”
When you are gone, you are gone.
Thinking of my grandfather got me thinking of a trip I took with him and my grandmother when I was about 10. My father, step-mother, brother and step-sister went as well. We did a tour of national parks in the west: Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Bryce Canyon, Zion and Yellowstone.
When we stopped for the evening my step-sister, Joan, would play Jacks. I did not play because Jacks was a “girl’s” game. However, as the trip wore on I was bored and Joan taught me how to play. We had a great time and got pretty good at it.
What made me think of it was my grandfather. He attended DePauw University in the early 1890’s. He was amused watching us. He told me that Jacks was a collegiate sport when he was at DePauw. Zis Boom Bah, Bully for Ol’ DePauw.
More to come
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Books by Thomas L. Tribby Available Click on title below to preview
Original Paintings Available
- lotion in red
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