Every relationship begins with an introduction, whether it be proper or not. Well, my Ma raised me right, so, let me properly introduce myself. My christian name is Anne. I'm one half of Two Old Houses, and 1/8th of a rowdy bunch, called "The Madison's". I'm pleased to meet you. At this point I must sound like a cow milkin', hay bailin', coop cleanin' hillbilly. Maybe, I've misrepresented myself. I bleed 612 (Minneapolis area code). Yep, thats me, the girl down there in the picture.
I'm the 3rd born out of Six kids. That's all of us down there. No, we aren't catholic, or mormon, or adopted. I guess our existence can only be explained by the birds and the bees. I grew up riding bikes, climbing trees, and bickering and laughing with my siblings. My parents didn't allow television in our house, so creativity was a must. Big pine trees were 80 story skyscrapers, and pretzel sticks were cigarettes. This shaped us. Although, life has led us all down different paths in our adult lives, we have unexpectedly ended up in closer proximity to each other than any of us ever expected.
I live in an old house in the sometimes misunderstood neighborhood of North Minneapolis with my baby brother Johnny and that cute dog pictured down there ( Petunia). Two blocks away in another old house lives my oldest sister Lisa, our other brother David, and 3 very naughty little dachshunds. I bartend to pay the bills and dream and create in my off time. Although, I would consider dreaming a full time job, and am shocked that someone isn't paying me to do it.
There is something to be said about how we treat the space we inhabit. Love it and it will love you back. Create an inspiring space and be inspired. I intend to use this little chunk of the blogosphere to share with you the place I love getting up every morning and drinking coffee in, and closing every evening drinking vodka in. Come along as I share my home improvement woes and victory's, my DIY fails and accomplishments, and other unrelated tid bits. I hope you will be inspired or at least entertained.
Now, meet Lisa.
The idea of being in a line of human existence and sharing blood for generations is humbling and baffling to be part of the speck of humanity for a blink of time. You probably know where you came from back maybe two or three generations and then it becomes blurry... What was their story, their pain, how they laughed or what color was her eyes…the same hazel with flecks of brown and blue like your mothers?
So, I wanted to create my lineage in photos like a gallery to display with pride the heritage that makes me. One part Danish, a dash of French, a proud eighth Jewish, some jolly good English and smidge of this or that though I am not quite sure what. It is what made me travel to Auschwitz to feel the pride and sorrow of a people I came from who suffered atrocities, it is what made me want to learn French to let the awkward, musical words that were probably spoken by some of my ancestors fall off my tongue and it is what makes me smile when I remember my Danish grandmother whose own mother made a life for herself as a pioneer in a small town in Iowa not speaking a word of English and her name was Anna and she was beautiful and thrifty and misunderstood.
So, here it is – a beautiful tapestry of faces that tell a story in twinkling eyes, crooked smiles, wrinkled brows – a story of the family whom I love.
