Mrs. Porter (Part 2)

I wanted to continue my post from yesterday when I posted photographs of Mrs. Porter and her family in 1951 and 1952.

The photos that her husband and sister took of her capture a beautiful woman in her mid-prime, approaching middle-age who is full of life and joy as she spends time with her family. Yes, it was 70 years ago when these photos were taken, yet they look as if we could step into the photograph, and talk to Mrs. Porter about her life and her family.

An American Wife and Mother

Whatever else Mrs. Porter may have been in her time on Earth, she was in fact an American wife and Mother: a quintessential “1950s Mom” of her time.

The Sands of Time Fall Quickly

It’s hard to come to grips with the fact that these photos are 70 years old and that most of the adults and children in them have already passed away from this Earth or are very elderly in a nursing home or care center.

Remembering Mrs. Porter of Brewer, Maine 1952

Mrs. Porter

I must admit, for some strange reason I find this woman and her photographs strangely compelling. I have no explanation for why that is the case. Perhaps she reminds me of someone from long ago in my past. I am not sure. But I cannot stop looking at her and the life captured in 1951-1952.

Alaura Porter, 1951-1952

I have tried to do some research on her but nothing comes up. Nothing. Zero. All that is known about her is that she had a twin sister, a husband, a family, and they lived and vacationed in Maine in the years of 1951 and 1952.

I came across this lot of photos which had over 100 pictures of her and her family in Maine during that brief time period of the early 1950s. What ever happened to her? How long did she live?

In the photos taken in 1951 and 1952 Mrs. Porter looks to be in her late 30s or mid 40s, which means she was born between 1910 and 1920 which would make her 100 or 110 years-old if she were still alive in our present year of 2021. (Sobering, isn’t it?)

What is it about Mrs. Porter?

Late For The Sky

All the words had all been spoken
And somehow the feeling still wasn’t right
And still we continued on through the night
Tracing our steps from the beginning
Until they vanished into the air
Trying to understand how our lives had led us there

Looking hard into your eyes
There was nobody I’d ever known
Such an empty surprise to feel so alone

Now, for me some words come easy
But I know that they don’t mean that much
Compared with the things that are said when lovers touch
You never knew what I loved in you
I don’t know what you loved in me
Maybe the picture of somebody you were hoping I might be

Awake again, I can’t pretend
And I know I’m alone and close to the end
Of the feeling we’ve known

How long have I been sleeping?
How long have I been drifting alone through the night?
How long have I been dreaming I could make it right?
If I closed my eyes and tried with all my might
To be the the one you need

Awake again, I can’t pretend
And I know I’m alone and close to the end
Of the feeling we’ve known

How long have I been sleeping?
How long have I been drifting alone through the night?
How long have I been running for that morning flight?
Through the whispered promises and the changing light
Of the bed where we both lie
Late for the sky

Late For The Sky, Jackson Browne, 1974

Where Have All The Years Went?

How Long Have I Been Sleeping?

Happy Days

In 1974, a new sitcom premiered on TV called “Happy Days” which was set in the year 1955.

Many critics at the time, especially those from the political Left (An aside; Are their any film/TV critics from the Right?) panned the show as “too sanitized” and an, “unrealistic” portrayal of the 1950s.

I had heard this same claptrap, Left-Wing, liberal nonsense at Ohio University in the early 1990s.

My professors spent hours “deconstructing” the 1950s and saying that shows or films like Happy Days were “Right-Wing, Christian, Patriarchal propaganda.”

They lectured us over and over again about how the 1950s were really a “terrible time” in American history, full of oppression, discrimination, patriarchal rule, dysfunctional families, and racism.

Happy Days

But I remember the 1950s, I was born in the 1950s, and far from “sanitizing” the 1950s, TV shows and films like Happy Days come much closer to the truth of the era than a Left-Wing, liberal communist university professor who is malevolently hostile to Western civilization.

In almost every category that measures quality of life and happiness, the 1950s scores high and I remember a lot of “Happy Days” back then. No it was not utopia, it was not perfect, but it was paradise compared to the “New America” with it’s worship of the false gods of diversity and inclusion.

More Summer Babies

The sun is shining this morning, but it’s cold: the temp is only 50. The afternoon high will struggle to reach 55 or 56. We may get another respite, but it is doubtful.

Winter Comes Early in Minnesota

It’s September 18 and pretty much all downhill from here. It is not uncommon or unheard of for Duluth and the North Shore to get their first snowfall by October 1. By Halloween, there’s usually snow on the ground and kids who go trick or treating are usually wearing coats and jackets. (Sigh)

Well, here are some more babies in the 1950s enjoying Summer Time bliss.

Summer Time Babies

Easter 1956

In the 60 plus years since I was born in the 1950s, the U.S. has moved steadily away from the Christian culture that I remember growing up.

With massive immigration into the U.S. from nations that reject Christ and practice idolatry, paganism, and various other false religions, Easter is not the national holiday it once was.

Of course, not to mention the deconstruction of Christian faith by the teaching of atheism and postmodernism in U.S. universities by Marxist professors. The traditional, Christian holidays have lost much of their appeal to a majority of Americans.

Easter 1956

I have a lot of fond memories of Easter. Easter egg hunts, large family dinners, all of my cousins, aunts and uncles all dressed up in their “Sunday best.” The church services which were always HUGE. (The biggest single day of church attendance in Protestant churches is always Easter Sunday.)

Lots of Babies at Our House

I remember all of my aunts and friends from our church all had babies in diapers and they all came over for Easter Sunday dinners after church was over and we had our Easter egg hunts.

When Mom Dressed Up in Her Sunday Best

One of the things I remember most on Easter Sundays was how pretty my mom looked in her “Sunday best.” My mom usually didn’t wear fancy clothes around the house. She was a mom and a housewife, cleaning house, changing poopy diapers, and cooking meals for all of us. But on Easter Sunday my mom looked so pretty when she was all dressed up and photos were being taken.

Easter 1956

Yes, I have a lot of fond memories of Easter, and it is sad that it is no longer the national holiday that it once was when 90% of all Americans identified as Christian.

When Grandma Chases You

It appears to be another world, and ancient time, another planet altogether.

The old photos show a strange, but familiar world; one that only exists in the very fringes of your memory and in old family photos from the 1950s.

1955 At Grandma’s House in California

You are a toddler in diapers and rubber pants, not quite ready for potty-training. Grandma is playing a game with you; she chases you as you toddle away from her giggling. She is giggling too, saying, “Grandma’s gonna catch you. Grandma’s gonna get you.”

The Face in The Mirror

Do you see it? Your face reflected back to you in a photo that is a mirror in time? Do you even recognize that world? A happy, safe, carefree world that you once knew?

That face in the mirror is yours; obscured and aged by 67 years of time and living in a society that resembles the last days of a degenerate, decaying Roman Empire. But that was you and the world you lived in in 1955: happy, safe, sane, and functional.

When Grandma Chases You

“Young Lady”

Yesterday, a young Communist anti-White congresswoman from New York threw a very public hissy-fit over a senator from West Virginia who referred to her as a, “young lady.”

Young Lady

The radical, reprehensible, race-baiter from New York said,

“It’s sickening and outrageous that someone in this day and age would refer to me by my age and gender.

Yes, age and gender (not to mention race) are the hot buttons of outrage in our new diverse and inclusive dis-united states of America.

Young Lady

This Communist congresswoman from the ever-enriching, multicultural area of NYC wondered aloud why elderly senators are not referred to as “the old man.” Her rant was nonsensical and laughable. “Old man” is see by anyone with half a brain as pejorative, while “young lady” has always been an address of respect and honor.

The opposite of “man” is “woman” and the opposite of “lady” is “gentleman.”

Some More Young Ladies