New York World's Fair 1964 and my trip down the East Coast

This may be a little long but it's one of my favorite memories. I've wanted to share it along with pictures for a while now and finally have the scanned pictures on my computer. So here we go. . . . . . I apologize if the spacing of my narrative is weird, I've given up trying to figure out how to format the text.


During the summer of 1964 my father took Rikki and me on a trip to the east coast. My Aunt Connie had moved from Buffalo NY to Windermear, Florida (right where Walt Disney World and Epcot Center sit now). We flew to NY on Delta Airlines, this was the most exciting thing I could ever imagine doing. (I think the plane was a DC-9.) I had to wear a dress (women just didn't wear pants when traveling). At the airport I was allowed to pick out a few books to read on the flight, I think one was a Snoopy story and one was Betty Boop. The window seat was mine (yes, I was the youngest and very spoiled, good greef, my mother died when I was a baby, what else could they do?) and the stewardess brought me a pair of gold pilot's wings to pin to my dress. Could life get any better? This was a big deal, in my head I was possibly entering celebrity status.

While in NY we attended the New York World's Fair, my memories of this part of the trip are sketchy at best, but I do remember seeing the World Globe in the center of the picture below. It was huge. Rikki remembers much more about the fair (remember, she is 10 years older.) Our father bought her a Singer sewing machine at the Singer Pavilion. This was a state of the art sewing machine at the time, and a very big deal to Rikki who could sew anything and actually made most of my clothes at the time. It must have been like having someone hand you the keys to a new Porch 911.


The site of the 1964-65 World's Fair is now Flushing Meadows Park in the Borough of Queens and is now the site of the annual US Open tennis tournament.

The next picture is of the New York skyline, taken from the ferry that goes from New York harbor to the Statue of Liberty


Still on the ferry, you can see NY in the haze at a distance.




The Statue of Liberty was amazing. We walked up the narrow metal staircase inside the statue, all 354 steps that take you to the observation windows in the crown.

On the ferry ride back to NY we were passed by a massive ship, The Queen Mary, on it's final voyage. Years later it was taken to the harbor in Long Beach, CA, where it was permanently docked and turned into a tourist attraction. What I didn't know at the time this picture was taken was that in 1972 I would attend my Senior Prom aboard the Queen Mary, in the Grand Banquet Hall.

Our trip took us to Pennsylvania to visit the real Independence Hall (not the replica that used to be outside of Knott's Berry Farm, Is it still there?) The little girl sitting at the base of the statue is me, and yes I am wearing a dress. Remember this was a long time ago, girls just did not wear pants. I'm not sure how to explain the following photo. It looks like I'm paying tribute to Hitler, I guarantee that is not the case.

At the time that I was there, they had the Liberty Bell inside Independence Hall, and you could actually touch it. In the following picture you can see my Aunt Connie. She is the woman standing just to the left of the woman in a white dress. Aunt Connie was a retired nurse and a no-nonsense kind of person, what I would today call "industrial strength". She could do anything, knew everything about anything, and we loved being with her. I think she and Rikki were kindred spirits.

If you look closely, you can see me touching the bell clacker. (Not sure the official name for that part of the anatomy of a bell.) In 1976 the Liberty Bell was moved outside Independence Hall to a Pavilion called Independence Mall.

I also experienced Niagara Falls (oh, my gosh!!!!!), of which I have pictures but have not yet scanned them into the computer. While in this area I met my Uncle Willard, one of my father's brothers. In my memory, he lived in an old mansion filled with dark polished wood , a wide never ending staircase with a banister that could have been from some old, very old movie (maybe the movie "Rebecca". If you haven't seen it, get it.) The house had a magnificent aroma of pipe smoke that made you feel like the house had a kind, comforting spirit all its own.

Along our drive down the coast to Florida, we stopped at other relatives homes. I don't remember names (I was young, Okay!) but one of my "all time favorite" memories took place during one of these stops. They lived on the top floor of an old fashion type duplex. You entered through the front door to a common area where there was a door to the home on the bottom floor and a stairway up to the home on the top. The night we stayed there a thunderstorm blew in. If you know me at all, you know that I LOVE thunder and lightening. Being the youngest of this group I'm sure the conversation was boring me to death, so I went down the stairs and opened the front door. I could sit on the bottom stair and see straight out into the front yard. Old east coast homes know what a front yard and plenty of space between neighbors, with no fences, is all about. There were massive willow trees and a thick lawn that went forever before coming to the road. I witnessed the biggest brightest lightning bolts and heard rolling thunder that rattled my bones. This lasted for what I think was maybe 20 to 30 minutes, maybe shorter, I don't know exactly. Then everything was quiet, no rain, no lightning, no rolling thunder. But I saw what I thought was a miracle, something that only happened in a fairytale. Under the willow trees there began to be little flashes of light that would zoom around, turning on and off. I was having my first and only encounter with "Fire Flies". Other than the fake ones you see on the "Pirate's of the Caribbean" ride at Disneyland. I was the only spectator to this perfectly choreographed evening of sights and sounds, but I've never ever forgotten the wonder I felt through the entire experience.

Well, there you have it for now. Another little glimpse into my memory bank of growing up. I've got lots more to share, but we will save that for another time. Remember, I love you all.

We have a budding photographer in the family!

A couple of weeks ago I received an email from Rob with some photos attached. Just getting an email from Rob and his family was awesome, then I opened the attachments. What I saw just blew me away....

Sierra was the photographer and I don't think that someone with years of experience could have done a better job. These pictures of her two brothers are fabulous!!!!!!

Sweet, Sweet Boys of Summer

The Singing Cowboy of Mantua

Way To Go, You Are Correct!!!!

Sorry, I neglected to congratulate April for being the only person to correctly identify the Great Grandma. Good Job!

AND THE ANSWER IS. . . . . .

I guess it's not as obvious to everyone else.......

The correct answer is #5 Jenness Mary Heywood

Names of everyone in the picture are as follows:
1) Evelyn Afton Heywood (AKA Grandma Bean)
2) Donna Heywood (AKA Aunt Donna)
3) Marion Heywood (AKA Aunt Marion)
4) Your guess is as good as mine (I think she is a cousin.)
5) Jenness Mary Heywood (AKA my grand children's Great Grandma)

The Gene Pool Runs Deep!

Today's post will put your obsivation skills to the test.

This picture was taken in 1924.

Can you tell which girl in the picture is Micah Kline's

Great Grandma?

Choose person 1, 2, 3 or 4 (left to right across the front), or person 5 (standing in back).

Post your vote as a comment, then check back tomorrow evening to see if you were correct.

In The Navy. . . . WWI and WWII

Picture and history lesson for the day.............


My father, Oliver Harvey Conner, was born November 1, 1900. Yes, he was almost 54 when I was born. He lived on a farm with his mother, siblings and a step-father, with whom he did not get along. I think he is the source of all the strong, stubborn, opinionated blood that runs through our veins.



At the age of 10 he ran away from home and at the young age of 14 he lyed about his age and joined the Navy. World War I (also known as the First World War, the Great War, and the War to End All Wars; abbreviated WWI) was a global war which took place primarily in Europe from 1914 to 1918. Over 40 million casualties resulted, including approximately 20 million military and civilian deaths.





This is where I wish I had written down stories while he was alive. I think he shoveled coal into the engines in the belly of the battleship. I know that during WWII he was a machinest in the navy.





Oliver was not one to stay anywhere for long, unless of course he had a family to tend to. All together he was married 9 times, many of which ended in divorce, and a few of which passed away. This man's life was not easy. His first wife died of teberculosis, leavng him with a small daughter to drag from one coast to the other, and back again.

This photograph is of my Aunt Connie (on the left), my dad's sister. The woman on the right is my sister Winnifred. I think she was a nurse in one of the armed services. She lived in Los Angeles, close to an area called Chinatown. I can remember going to visit her, going out to dinner to a Chinese restaurant call "YeHung Goois" (not sure of the spelling). The room where we ate was upstairs, so we had to climb a flight of old wooden stairs. The first thing served was Egg Drop Soup, eaten with the traditional oriental spoon. The soup was so hot that I would sip it down the handle to let it cool. This was as delicious to me at that age as the Sizzling Rice soup from Yen Ching is today.

I always got to sit by the window and watch the activities below. There were always street vendors selling puppets, and other oriental trinkets. But, my favorite were the little tiny monkey's that walked along the street with the "organ grinder". The monkeys had on brightly colored satin hats and vests, and shorts. The organ grinder had them on a leather leach, and if you stood real still with a penny in your hand, the monkey would come up to you, take the penny out of your hand at the same time tickling your palm with his little tiny fingers, then run back and place the penny in a tin cup. The entire time the organ grinder was playing his metallic, sing-song music box.

I know that a few times I actually spent the night at Winnifred's house. I took naps until I was 6 or 7, sucked my left pointer finger, and had a very special "Blankie". One of the times I stayed with Winnifred, my blankie didn't make it home with me. I've always wondered if the whole thing was planned to break me of my "security blanket".

I'll share more memories soon........ I love you all and can't wait to see you in Torrey.

Oh Give Me A Home, Where The . . . . . . .

Approx 1952-53

Address: 4308 Boyar Ave., Long Beach, CA

Telephone # GA-45445

This was the home that my family lived in when I was born. In May of 1955, when I was 9 months old, my mother Jenness died of a heart attack. They did not do an autopsy, but she had been to the doctor a few days prior with swollen ankles and other symptoms. So, I guess in retrospect, they just assumed it was a heart attack. Anyway, our family was on a Sunday afternoon drive when one minute she was alive, and the next she was dead. I can't tell you how blessed I feel to not have any memory of the entire event. I know that my siblings still deal with the emotional trauma of what they witnessed, first hand, that day.


At the time of her death Mother had 5 children between the ages 9 months to 16 years, and was the Relief Society President in her ward. Through the years I have met people that knew her. It made me feel good to have them say, "Oh, you're Jenness Conner's little baby girl? I knew and loved Jenness, she was fun, smart, compassionate, and always busy doing something for someone in the ward or her neighborhood. We missed her so much."

(I don't know if I've ever actually written down that event before, and I don't know that I ever will again.)


At this point I went to live with my Aunt Evelyn, Uncle Albert, and Cousin Nan. Over night I had a new Mother, Father, and Sister. At least they were my new family for the next two and a half years. About the time that I was 3 yrs old, my father Oliver, married a woman named LaWanda. (Pictures of Wanda to be posted in a future blog.)

So, back I went to live with my #1 family. I remember Wanda fondly, I'm sure she liked me and was extra nice to me because I was so young. I do know that the rest of my siblings did not like her much. I feel bad for Wanda, could you imagine walking into the shattered lives of 5 children and try to take the place of their mother.

I say, Good Luck, to the brave women who try.....

When I was 7 yrs old my father and Wanda got divorced. So, yep, you guessed it, I went back to live with my family #2. Interestingly enough, I don't remember these moves as being traumatic or unusual. It was just part of what I did. Didn't everyone have two complete families? It was like going to the closet and deciding what pair of shoes to wear that day.

Everyone did it, right.....

This next picture is my father, Oliver (Chuck) (back left), my mother Jenness (back right), my brother Raymond (bottom left), Grandma Davies my father's mother (bottom center), and my brother William (Bill) (bottom right).

The photo was taken right outside the back door of the house (first photo) and they are standing right in from of a bougainvillea bush that to me was the most beautiful plant, in the most incredibly dark pink color I have ever seen. It's possible this very bush is the reason I love gardens and flowers so much. Being southern California, it bloomed almost year round and covered the entire back corner of our house. Even as a little child I can remember having the sight of it just take my breath away.

I can close my eyes and still walk through that house and picture the furniture, wallpaper, fireplace, bedrooms, the fabric curtains that hung over our closet instead of closet doors in my bedroom (I shared with Rikki), the clothes dryer that we had to pop open with a dinner knife to get the warm clothes out. The bathroom floor was tile.

One evening a friend from the ward called and invited me to a sleep over. My Dad said that I could go but only after I took a bath. Off I ran, down the hall and into the bathroom where the floor was damp from someones earlier bath. Down I went, hitting my chin on the edge of the tub. Instead of a sleep over at a friends house, I went to the emergency room for stitches in my chin.



The kitchen was a world of wonder to me. When the dishes were washed, one of my brothers or sisters would line up the kitchen chairs so that I could take a clean dish, dry it with a cloth, then walk on the chairs to the proper cupboard and put it away. I felt so grown up and important. I also remember learning how to spell my name, memorize my address and telephone number, and have what I thought were wonderful chit-chats while drying the dishes and walking around the kitchen on those chairs. They put me in a magical place, I was as big as everyone else in the house, I learned wonderful things and became part of such grown up conversations when I stood up there.


Well, I've made this blog post long enough....... I've got so much more to share, the more I write, the more memories flood through my head. Sorry if I meander from memory to memory, or story to story. I hope it is more interesting than confusing or boring.


I love you all, more than all the stars in the sky...........

I'll Try Again Another Day

Okay, my first hurdle in "blogging". I uploaded a picture of the house where my family lived when I was born and a picture of some of my family. Included were a little history and memories of living in that house. I previewed the post and found that the placement of the picture screwed up the spacing of the narrative around it. So, in my attempt to make adjustments in hopes of making it readable, something has gone wrong. The program will no longer allow me to upload pictures. I'm hoping that tomorrow the issue will have corrected itself. I've saved the text of the post for future posting, including pictures.



So, for now all you get is a quick update of today's chemo experience....oh, yippy!

Today was the beginning of my 3rd round of chemo, it went a little longer than I expected, and they discovered that the chemo has destroyed the majority of my red blood cells. You see, chemo isn't very smart, not only does it destroy bad cells, it also goes after and kills the good ones also. So, tomorrow morning I go to he hospital at 8:30am to receive a blood transfusion. I'll do this for 4 hours, then go to my doctor's office (right next door to the hospital) for my regular chemo treatment. Tomorrow will be another very-very long day, so I think my pillow and I will have some deep bonding time Tuesday night. That's the update in a nut shell.....

Remember, I love you Tons and Bunches!!!!! (Torrey Here We Come!)

Why This Blog

My intention for this blog is to share old pictures that may introduce you to some of your ancestors and memories from my growing-up years. Nothing fancy, just a way to let you know who and what has contributed to the creation of "Mom, Grandma, Lisa, Albert's Wife, The Mother Person, Me".

Yep, that's me June 1955, not quite a year old.