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Mary Kira, Ohio City, OH (2025)

01/17/2025

In 1889, a Shetland crofter would have lived a life deeply intertwined with the rugged, windswept landscape of the Shetland Islands, situated off the northern coast of Scotland. The croft—a small, self-sufficient farm—was typically modest, consisting of a few acres of land, a small dwelling, and perhaps a few outbuildings for storing tools or housing animals. Crofters were often engaged in farming, raising livestock like sheep and cattle, and growing hardy crops such as potatoes and oats. The environment, harsh and unpredictable, shaped their way of life, with crofters relying on the skills passed down through generations to thrive in a place where the weather could change rapidly and the seasons were short but intense.

The crofter’s daily routine in 1889 would have been dictated by the demands of the land and livestock. Much of the work was done by hand, from tending to the sheep and cows to digging the earth for planting. Shetland sheep, known for their fine wool, were a key part of the croft, providing the raw materials for weaving the famous Shetland wool garments. The crofter would have worked long hours, often in the company of family members, performing tasks such as shearing, milking, and repairing fences or thatched roofs. In the evening, after a long day’s work, the crofter would likely gather with family around a peat fire, where stories, music, and practical wisdom were shared.

The life of a Shetland crofter in 1889 was marked by a combination of resilience and resourcefulness, shaped by the isolation and beauty of the islands. Though many crofters lived in relative poverty, they had a deep connection to the land and a strong sense of community. Neighbors would often come together to help one another during times of harvest or difficult weather, as the challenges of rural life required cooperation and mutual support. The crofter’s relationship with the land was one of respect and necessity—understanding its rhythms and adapting to its demands was key to survival. This tight-knit, hardworking existence would lay the foundation for Shetland’s unique cultural heritage, one that continued to evolve over time, marked by traditions of seafaring, knitting, and storytelling.

01/17/2025

In 1937, a mother in rural Louisiana embarked on the challenging yet rewarding task of homeschooling her children, embodying the spirit of self-reliance and resilience that was prevalent in many parts of the country during the Great Depression. With limited access to formal schooling in the more remote areas, many families turned to home education as the most viable option. The classroom was likely set up in a modest, one-room cabin or farmhouse, where the mother, using whatever resources she could gather, became the teacher for her children. Chalkboards, makeshift desks, and perhaps a few worn-out textbooks were the primary tools of education.

Each day, the mother would oversee the lessons, guiding her children through reading, writing, arithmetic, and perhaps even lessons in the basics of farming, sewing, or local history, skills that would be crucial to their daily lives. She would likely use a combination of formal textbooks, folk wisdom, and practical experience to teach her children, understanding that education wasn't just about the academic subjects but also about preparing them for life in their rural community. The pace was often dictated by the seasons—during planting or harvest times, lessons may have been shorter or more flexible, while quieter times of the year allowed for more in-depth study. Despite the limited materials and challenges of home education, the mother instilled in her children a love of learning that was both practical and enduring.

While this homeschooling experience may have been physically demanding, it also fostered a deep sense of connection between mother and child. It was an intimate form of education, with the mother deeply involved in every aspect of her children’s intellectual growth and moral development. Her dedication and the children’s hard work built a unique bond that transcended the lessons themselves. Though the formal schooling system might not have been accessible, these children learned important life lessons not only from their mother’s teachings but from the daily rhythm of their rural life in Louisiana—a life rooted in hard work, family values, and a deep connection to the land.

01/16/2025

Christmas dinner in 1936 was a modest yet heartwarming affair, marked by a spirit of togetherness despite the hardships of the Great Depression. The meal, which consisted of simple staples like potatoes, cabbage, and pie, reflected the economic constraints of the time. Many families had to make do with what they could grow in their gardens or afford at the market, where prices were still high due to ongoing economic strain. Yet, even in such lean times, the importance of family and tradition prevailed. The table was carefully set, perhaps with mismatched but cherished china and cloth napkins, as loved ones gathered to share what little they had.

The potatoes, likely prepared in a variety of ways—boiled, mashed, or perhaps roasted—formed the heart of the meal, offering a comforting and filling base. The cabbage, whether boiled or braised with a touch of butter or vinegar, added a humble yet satisfying touch to the plate. It was a vegetable that could be easily grown and stored, making it a reliable choice for those looking to stretch their meals. Though simple, these foods were seasoned with love and care, bringing warmth and sustenance to the gathering. For many, the aroma of this Christmas dinner would evoke memories of both hard work and cherished moments spent together as a family.

Dessert, a pie, brought a sweet note to the meal, whether it was apple, pumpkin, or perhaps a less conventional variety made with seasonal fruits or berries. Pies were a beloved treat, often baked by hand and served as a symbol of homemade comfort during a time when store-bought goods were a rare luxury. The pie’s crust, golden and flaky, was the crowning touch to a meal that, while modest in its offerings, provided a sense of abundance through the shared experience of gathering around the table. As the evening drew to a close, the family would reflect not just on the meal but on the bonds that held them together, finding joy in their collective resilience and the love they had for one another.

01/16/2025

In the early 1940s, a group of young boys gathers in a neighborhood in Washington, D.C., their energy and camaraderie vividly captured in this snapshot of wartime America. Dressed in worn trousers, button-down shirts, and sturdy boots, their outfits reflect the era’s practical sensibilities, shaped by the constraints of World War II. Some of the boys wear caps tilted jauntily on their heads, while others hold sticks, marbles, or makeshift toys fashioned from scraps. Their faces are animated with a mix of laughter and concentration as they engage in games or simply enjoy a rare moment of carefree play amidst the somber backdrop of a nation at war.

The neighborhood around them is likely modest, with rows of brick houses or wooden porches lining the street, and a few bicycles propped up against fences. Behind the boys, laundry flutters on clotheslines strung across backyards, and the distant sound of a passing streetcar adds to the urban symphony. The boys’ gathering might revolve around a spirited game of stickball or hopscotch chalked onto the pavement, with some standing on the sidelines, cheering or debating the rules. These games, played with whatever they could find, reflect the resourcefulness of the time, as many families tightened their belts to contribute to the war effort. Despite the simplicity of their surroundings, the boys exude a palpable sense of joy and friendship.

Beneath their lighthearted play, however, the war looms in subtle ways. Some of the boys may have older brothers or fathers serving overseas, and it’s not uncommon for them to collect scrap metal or paper for wartime drives. The posters in the local shop windows and the ration books on their families’ kitchen tables serve as constant reminders of the larger world beyond their block. Yet, in moments like these, they carve out a space for innocence and connection. These boys are not just playing—they are building bonds and memories that will carry them through a time of uncertainty and change, embodying the resilience of a generation growing up in the shadow of history.

01/16/2025

Detroit Street, located three blocks south of Wisconsin Avenue in Milwaukee's historic Third Ward, was a vibrant hub of commerce and community activity during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The street buzzed with life, lined with family-run shops, bakeries, butchers, and dry goods stores that catered to the diverse immigrant population that called the Third Ward home. Many of the shopkeepers lived above their businesses, creating a tightly-knit community where customers often knew the proprietors by name. The cobblestone streets were filled with the sound of horse-drawn wagons delivering goods and the chatter of neighbors exchanging news as they went about their daily errands.

The Third Ward's proximity to Milwaukee’s bustling port meant that Detroit Street was also an important artery for trade and commerce. Dockworkers and laborers often frequented the area, stopping at corner taverns or diners for a quick meal before heading back to the docks. Specialty shops, many owned by Irish and Italian immigrants, sold imported goods that reminded residents of their homelands, adding a distinctly multicultural flavor to the neighborhood. On weekends, the street transformed into a lively market, with vendors setting up stalls to sell fresh produce, handmade goods, and other essentials. The sense of community pride was palpable, and Detroit Street became a microcosm of Milwaukee’s immigrant experience.

However, the area wasn’t without its challenges. The Third Ward faced devastating fires, including the infamous 1892 blaze that destroyed much of the neighborhood. Despite this, the residents of Detroit Street rebuilt with determination, constructing new brick buildings that still stand today as part of the historic district. Over time, the street evolved, and while its role as a bustling community hub diminished, its legacy remains deeply rooted in Milwaukee’s history. Today, the Third Ward is celebrated as a cultural and artistic center, but the spirit of places like Detroit Street—where neighbors supported one another and built lives from the ground up—still echoes in its streets and preserved architecture.

01/16/2025

In 1917, as the United States entered World War I, the U.S. Navy undertook an extraordinary project to boost public morale and encourage war bond sales by constructing a full-size replica of a battleship in the heart of Union Square, New York City. Dubbed the "Landship Recruit," this remarkable structure was built from wood but replicated the look and feel of a steel battleship, complete with turrets, lifeboats, a bridge, and even working signal lights. The "ship" stretched over 200 feet long, rising several stories high, and was painted in naval gray to resemble the formidable vessels patrolling the seas. Positioned in one of the city’s busiest public spaces, it became an instant attraction, drawing curious crowds eager to explore its decks and learn more about the Navy's role in the war effort.

The Landship Recruit wasn’t just a static display; it was a functional recruitment and training center. Inside its mock-up cabins, naval officers and enlisted men worked to sign up young men for military service, provide information about naval operations, and train recruits on basic skills such as signaling and navigation. The ship also hosted patriotic events, including concerts, parades, and speeches by military leaders and public figures, further fostering a sense of unity and purpose among New Yorkers. Visitors, including families, could climb aboard and interact with the exhibits, offering a firsthand glimpse into life aboard a battleship and the broader wartime mission.

For three years, the Landship Recruit stood as a powerful symbol of American ingenuity and determination, serving both practical and inspirational purposes. By the time it was dismantled in 1920, following the end of the war and the subsequent decline in its utility, it had left an indelible mark on the city. The "landship" not only helped enlist thousands of men into the Navy but also became a cherished memory for the residents of New York, a tangible reminder of the home front's contributions to the war effort. Its innovative blend of education, recruitment, and public engagement was a unique chapter in the city’s history and a creative response to the challenges of a world at war.

01/16/2025

In 1930, Eugène Atget captured the Jardin du Luxembourg in a hauntingly serene photograph, showcasing the timeless elegance of one of Paris’s most beloved public gardens. Known for his meticulous documentation of the city, Atget’s lens transforms the garden into a tranquil, almost ethereal space. The pathways are lined with perfectly manicured trees and classical statues, their weathered surfaces catching the soft morning light. Empty wrought-iron chairs are scattered around the gravel walkways and near the edge of the iconic octagonal basin, suggesting the recent presence of visitors who have momentarily left the stage. The stillness of the scene evokes a quiet poetry, a snapshot of a Paris at rest between the turbulence of two world wars.

Atget’s photograph captures the intricate details that make the Jardin du Luxembourg a masterpiece of design and culture. The interplay of light and shadow dances across the lush foliage and the reflective surface of the pond, where toy sailboats often glided under the watchful eyes of children and their parents. Marble statues of mythological figures stand sentinel along the paths, their stoic expressions a reminder of the garden’s historical roots in 17th-century France. In the background, the stately façade of the Luxembourg Palace adds an architectural grandeur, grounding the natural beauty in a sense of permanence and legacy. Atget’s framing draws the eye to both the vastness of the garden and the intimacy of its corners, where lovers, poets, and dreamers might have lingered unseen.

This photograph, taken near the end of Atget’s life, reflects his enduring dedication to preserving the soul of Paris through his art. While many of his contemporaries focused on the bustling modernity of the city, Atget found his muse in its quiet, enduring spaces. The Jardin du Luxembourg, with its blend of natural beauty, artistic refinement, and historical gravitas, was a fitting subject for his lens. His work immortalizes the garden as more than just a physical space—it becomes a symbol of tranquility, resilience, and the timeless charm of Parisian life.

01/16/2025

In 1877, Fred Kletti founded Kletti Garage in a small but bustling town, originally establishing it as a blacksmithing shop and livery stable. At the time, horses were the primary means of transportation, and the shop became essential for the community, providing shoeing services, wagon repairs, and equipment forging. Fred’s reputation as a skilled blacksmith and fair businessman quickly grew, making his shop a cornerstone of the town’s daily life. Farmers, travelers, and tradespeople alike relied on Kletti’s expertise to keep their equipment and horses in top condition. The livery stable also served as a hub for travelers needing a place to board their horses, making it a vital part of the region's transportation network.

By 1904, Fred’s sons, Fred Jr. and Ed, had taken over the business, bringing with them a fresh perspective and an eye for innovation. Recognizing the rapid technological advancements of the era, the Kletti brothers began transitioning the shop from traditional blacksmithing to servicing the growing demand for automobile repairs and maintenance. The emergence of the automobile was transforming transportation, and the Klettis were among the first in their town to embrace this shift. They expanded their father’s shop, installing equipment to work on early automobiles while still maintaining some services for horse-drawn carriages to accommodate the transitional period. Their foresight and adaptability allowed Kletti Garage to thrive in a changing world, earning them the loyalty of both longtime and new customers.

Under Fred Jr. and Ed’s leadership, Kletti Garage became a symbol of progress and resilience. By blending traditional craftsmanship with modern mechanics, the Klettis ensured the business remained relevant and indispensable to the community. The garage was not just a place of work but also a gathering spot where townsfolk exchanged news and marveled at the latest advancements in transportation. What started as a humble blacksmithing shop and livery stable had grown into a thriving garage, emblematic of the family’s dedication and ability to adapt to the times. The Kletti name became synonymous with trust, innovation, and service, leaving a legacy that would endure for generations.

01/16/2025

The group portrait, taken at a wedding in Norway around 1900, captures a joyful yet formal moment in time. Set against the backdrop of a picturesque Norwegian fjord or a rural churchyard, the setting is quintessentially Nordic, with rugged mountains or lush greenery framing the scene. The bride and groom stand at the center of the group, the focal point of the composition. The bride wears a traditional white dress with delicate lace detailing, paired with a fine veil that cascades over her shoulders. The groom, dressed in a dark, tailored suit with a high collar, looks proud and composed. Both are adorned with floral corsages, symbols of the fresh start they are embarking on together.

Surrounding the couple are their family and friends, each dressed in their finest attire. Many women wear elaborate folk costumes, or *bunads*, featuring intricately embroidered bodices, vibrant skirts, and silver jewelry, reflecting the regional traditions of Norway. The men, in sharp suits or traditional jackets with decorative buttons, stand tall and stoic. Several older women, possibly mothers and grandmothers, wear black lace shawls and caps, signifying their respect for the solemnity of the occasion. Children are included in the portrait, their faces a mix of curiosity and shyness, dressed in miniature versions of formal wear or traditional clothing. The expressions range from serious to faint smiles, hinting at the formality of the occasion combined with the underlying happiness.

The photograph itself is a testament to the customs and traditions of Norwegian society at the turn of the century. Weddings were community affairs, bringing together extended families and neighbors, who celebrated with music, dancing, and feasting that could last for days. The group portrait serves as a cherished keepsake, commemorating not just the union of the bride and groom, but also the cultural heritage and bonds of the community. Every detail, from the clothing to the stoic poses, tells a story of a bygone era when such gatherings were both deeply personal and profoundly communal.

01/16/2025

On May 25th, 1934, **The Thin Man** premiered in New York, marking the beginning of one of Hollywood's most iconic and enduring film series. Directed by W.S. Van D**e and based on Dashiell Hammett’s 1931 novel, the film introduced audiences to the charming and witty detective duo, Nick and Nora Charles, played by William Powell and Myrna Loy. The film was a fresh take on the detective genre, combining elements of traditional noir with a lighter, more comedic touch. Its success was immediate, drawing attention not only for its clever plot but for the dynamic and entertaining chemistry between Powell and Loy, which would go on to become the hallmark of the series.

**The Thin Man** set itself apart from other detective films of the era by introducing an air of sophistication and humor. Nick Charles, a retired private detective, is dragged back into solving a case when a wealthy inventor disappears under suspicious circumstances. The film features a blend of mystery, suspense, and witty banter, with Nora, Nick’s vivacious wife, playing an active role in helping solve the case. Their relationship, filled with playful banter and mutual respect, was a stark contrast to the typical grim and isolated protagonists in other noir films of the time. The film’s sparkling dialogue and the couple’s charming rapport helped redefine the genre, making the movie accessible and enjoyable to a broader audience.

The success of **The Thin Man** led to a series of six sequels, with Nick and Nora Charles becoming one of the most beloved and enduring couples in film history. The franchise remains an important part of cinematic legacy, inspiring numerous imitations and adaptations over the decades. The film’s appeal lay not only in its engaging mystery and entertaining characters but in its seamless blend of humor, romance, and crime-solving. Today, **The Thin Man** is remembered as a classic of 1930s cinema, one that marked a defining moment in the evolution of the detective genre and established William Powell and Myrna Loy as one of Hollywood's most cherished on-screen couples.

01/16/2025

In 1937, the Presley family was living in Tupelo, Mississippi, in a modest two-room shotgun house that Vernon Presley, Elvis's father, had built with help from family members. Times were tough for the Presleys, as the Great Depression had left many families in the rural South struggling to make ends meet. Vernon and his wife, Gladys, worked hard to provide for their young son, Elvis, who was just two years old at the time. Despite their financial hardships, the Presleys maintained a close-knit and loving household, with Gladys particularly doting on Elvis, who was the couple's only surviving child after the loss of his twin brother, Jesse Garon, at birth.

Gladys was a devoted and protective mother who formed an exceptionally close bond with Elvis, one that would remain strong throughout their lives. She often sang gospel songs around the house, and it is likely that Elvis's love for music was nurtured during these early years. Vernon, though not as musically inclined, worked various odd jobs to support the family, including farming and truck driving. The Presleys were members of the Assembly of God church, where Elvis was exposed to gospel music that would later influence his unique style. Life in Tupelo was simple and unassuming, with Elvis enjoying a rural upbringing filled with childhood games and the warmth of family.

In 1937, the Presleys’ life in Tupelo was still marked by poverty, but their resilience and strong familial bond carried them through the challenges of the era. The shotgun house, though small, symbolized the love and determination of the Presley family. It was here that the foundations of Elvis's character and eventual musical legacy were laid. Despite the struggles, the family’s deep faith and close connection to the community provided stability and hope for better days ahead. Little did they know that the young boy in their tiny home would one day become an icon who would change the landscape of music forever.

01/16/2025

"Not something seen every day," the scene could have been described, as a donkey trotted down the street alongside its owner, both blending into the rhythm of daily life in a way that was uniquely charming. It’s a moment that brings a smile, evoking the simplicity of a time when people and animals were closely integrated into the fabric of life. The idea of "Take Your Donkey to Work Day" might sound whimsical and amusing, but in certain places, it wasn’t out of the ordinary at all. Donkeys, well-known for their strength, reliability, and gentle nature, were commonly used in rural and even some urban settings for transporting goods or helping with daily chores.

The sight of a donkey making its way through the streets likely added an element of surprise to the monotonous pace of modern-day routines. Whether it was carrying heavy loads, delivering milk, or helping a farmer with other errands, the donkey was often a quiet, unassuming part of everyday life. In an era when cars and trucks had not yet fully overtaken rural and suburban communities, donkeys were not only a vital resource but also a source of amusement. Seeing one in the workplace or traveling through town with its owner might have raised a few eyebrows, especially for city dwellers accustomed to the more usual modes of transportation.

The humor in “Take Your Donkey to Work Day” lies in the contrast between modern expectations of commuting and the simplicity of a donkey’s steady, unhurried pace. It’s easy to imagine the light-hearted nature of the moment: perhaps coworkers sharing a laugh, snapping photos, or exchanging stories of their own quirky commuting habits. Such moments remind us that, in the midst of daily routines, there is always room for the unexpected. The presence of a donkey not only added a touch of the past to the modern-day hustle but also invited people to pause, laugh, and reflect on how far we've come—while also appreciating the simplicity of a time when animals were far more integrated into our work lives.

01/16/2025

Elsa Payne, standing proudly with a collection of her handmade baskets on the Quileute Reservation in LaPush, Washington, in 1929, presents a remarkable portrait of cultural tradition and artistry. Surrounded by the natural beauty of the Pacific Northwest, Elsa’s baskets are a testament to the Quileute people’s deep connection to their environment. Made from cedar bark, spruce roots, and other natural materials, each basket showcases intricate patterns and techniques passed down through generations. Her skillful hands have woven not only functional items but also expressions of cultural identity, reflecting stories, traditions, and a respect for the land that sustains her work.

The baskets themselves vary in size and shape, some meant for practical purposes like gathering berries or storing food, while others are adorned with elaborate designs and meant for ceremonial or trade purposes. Elsa, likely wearing a traditional shawl or dress that complements her work, would have been a revered figure within her community, her craft contributing to the preservation of Quileute heritage during a time of great change. By 1929, Native American communities like the Quileute were navigating the pressures of assimilation policies and the loss of land and autonomy, making Elsa’s commitment to her traditional craft an act of quiet resistance and resilience.

In the background, the rugged coastline of LaPush and the dense, towering forests of the Olympic Peninsula frame the scene, underscoring the source of the materials and inspiration for Elsa’s work. The sound of waves crashing on the shore and the scent of salt in the air would be ever-present, tying her baskets to the rhythms of the natural world. Elsa’s work and presence not only represent the enduring strength of the Quileute people but also serve as a reminder of the importance of preserving cultural traditions. Her baskets, whether used in daily life or treasured as heirlooms, carry with them the stories and spirit of her community, ensuring that future generations remain connected to their roots.

01/16/2025

In 1923, Germany was grappling with one of the most extreme cases of hyperinflation in modern history. The economy was in freefall following the devastation of World War I and the harsh terms of the Treaty of Versailles. The value of the German mark plummeted so rapidly that it became virtually worthless. By late 1923, children in Germany could be seen playing with banknotes as if they were toys—large piles of paper money that no longer had any real value. For these children, what was once considered currency had lost its power and meaning, leaving only stacks of paper that were discarded or repurposed for play.

During this period, the prices of everyday goods skyrocketed to absurd levels. A loaf of bread, which had cost just a few marks earlier in the year, now cost over 200 billion marks by the autumn of 1923. This astronomical rise in prices was a result of the government printing vast amounts of money to pay for war reparations and domestic debts. As the value of the currency diminished, so did the ability of ordinary people to purchase basic necessities. An egg, once a simple and affordable item, now cost 32 marks, making it unaffordable for many families. The value of money became so unstable that wages were often paid multiple times a day, as people rushed to spend their earnings before they lost any more value.

For the children, the scene of playing with banknotes in such a chaotic economic environment was both a reflection of their innocence and a grim symbol of the absurdity of their reality. To them, the bills were simply pieces of paper, as meaningless as the games they played with them. But for their parents and families, the hyperinflation meant profound hardship and instability. In this time of financial collapse, many families resorted to bartering goods, such as food, for what little they could acquire. The hyperinflationary crisis marked a pivotal moment in Germany's history, eventually leading to social unrest, economic reform, and the eventual stabilization of the currency under the Dawes Plan in 1924.

01/16/2025

In West Duluth, standing in front of the Jeffery family house at 4007 West Sixth Street, two women pose for a photograph that captures a moment of everyday life in a working-class neighborhood. The house, a modest yet well-kept structure, reflects the architectural style common to early 20th-century homes in this part of Minnesota. With its simple clapboard siding, gabled roof, and a small front porch, the home exudes a sense of pride and resilience. Neatly trimmed shrubs and perhaps a few flowers in the yard suggest the family’s care for their property, even amidst the challenges of living in an industrial town shaped by railroads, mining, and the Great Lakes shipping industry.

The two women, likely family members or close friends, stand with a casual confidence that reflects their connection to the house and each other. They are dressed in modest but presentable attire, perhaps wearing day dresses typical of the 1930s or 1940s, with their hair neatly styled. One might hold a purse or wear an apron, suggesting they had just stepped out from household duties or were preparing to head to a nearby market. Their expressions, whether serious or softened by faint smiles, hint at the challenges and triumphs of daily life in West Duluth, where hard work and tight-knit communities defined the rhythm of life.

Behind them, the surrounding neighborhood tells its own story. Rows of similar houses line the street, their uniformity interrupted by small variations in color or decoration. Smoke from a distant factory stack might be visible, a reminder of the industry that drove much of Duluth’s economy. The women’s presence in front of the Jeffery family house not only highlights their personal lives but also serves as a window into the history of working-class families in Duluth during this period—a story of perseverance, modest prosperity, and the deep ties to home and community that were the bedrock of their lives.

Mary Kira

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