tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66604549369672961242024-03-19T07:07:44.473-05:00Austin MemoriesSidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-33125120548503440892015-05-22T10:23:00.000-05:002015-05-22T10:25:34.417-05:00They Still Make Maple Nut Goodies<div class="MsoNormal">
Celeste and I were at CVS Pharmacy this morning making some
purchases when I spotted a candy I've been looking for and had all but given
up. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2HQpgo-EcqtXCYlryrGm36UJhxa6XwT3JHnIfpSbmRY21KoSMdY86abPo7c6WODEUxxCa4Qf5AqNA_ThnwBepdetiQFZSWfsS3-tisJLIow3E6oX52XwDdSocNrchXUgL5a73uuXcT0YJ/s1600/Maple+Nut+Goodies+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2HQpgo-EcqtXCYlryrGm36UJhxa6XwT3JHnIfpSbmRY21KoSMdY86abPo7c6WODEUxxCa4Qf5AqNA_ThnwBepdetiQFZSWfsS3-tisJLIow3E6oX52XwDdSocNrchXUgL5a73uuXcT0YJ/s320/Maple+Nut+Goodies+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Maple Nut Goodies. </b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Brach's candies are sold at HEB, the grocery store where we
shop, but they don't carry the Maple Nut Goodies I've been looking for.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, as soon as I saw the bags at CVS, I grabbed one. I
opened the bag as soon as we got home and quickly ate a handful. So, good! <o:p></o:p></div>
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I looked at the bag to see what made me want
to keep eating. Under the description "Maple Nut Goodies" was this:
"Roasted Peanuts in Crunchy Toffee with Real Maple Coating" There was
also a notation that the candy is artificially flavored so I'm not sure how <i>real</i> the maple is. However, I checked
the ingredients and found maple syrup listed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKJj_BVTfRB2j6grbfSL6ptMBkeQDSjlUrS9dHAkwnyovR17wyMHCvSO-c9rLT1vGwg1bec84SeMQxZp0j6CTh4vZMLHZhvA7zcdw7GeRAxdvJaFh_2_6420ezSNuBqK68Eo_W-pCg1zP/s1600/brachs-maple-nut-goodies-candy-129761-w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKJj_BVTfRB2j6grbfSL6ptMBkeQDSjlUrS9dHAkwnyovR17wyMHCvSO-c9rLT1vGwg1bec84SeMQxZp0j6CTh4vZMLHZhvA7zcdw7GeRAxdvJaFh_2_6420ezSNuBqK68Eo_W-pCg1zP/s200/brachs-maple-nut-goodies-candy-129761-w.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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While reading the bag, I also saw this: America's Candy
Maker Since 1904. That's a long time. I thought about how it was available when
my parents were born in 1908. <o:p></o:p></div>
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That's when it hit me what I liked about
the candy. It reminds me of my mother. It was her favorite candy. However, she
didn't often buy candy, so when she did, it was a special treat. She shared
this treat with me on a number of occasions. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, when I taste the candy, or even smell it, I think of
her and the times when just the two of us spent time together.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgU8zxnH5B6HBnEsXJURPIhaXNkPhXHn284x2rx2sQnt6NF8ZVgdl8CRkz0UVuijYRGINsktOMPrm88jViCsyDw4wpFnwfnA6KgcpdruB2ItE8Iz0c3M8MNA5DLJtJIQJK1Pinso-zQsZA/s1600/EvaLeeFrostSmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgU8zxnH5B6HBnEsXJURPIhaXNkPhXHn284x2rx2sQnt6NF8ZVgdl8CRkz0UVuijYRGINsktOMPrm88jViCsyDw4wpFnwfnA6KgcpdruB2ItE8Iz0c3M8MNA5DLJtJIQJK1Pinso-zQsZA/s320/EvaLeeFrostSmall.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eva Lee Williams Frost (1908 - 2001)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-83676604331310679792015-02-07T09:34:00.001-06:002015-02-07T09:34:51.487-06:00Living in South Austin July 1945 to July 1949<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4IjJ8Bz011q60W2Za3UJmOc1ZMYkotexLAo2lxtLvyfHu7y6ut4pa2XWXAs-xPCzVy1jW7hyphenhyphenisdn2YVEEPmRIaFb6Q6UDrPNmhU9G93zA84FSeaKGHEeZHTy49WYrNq4JLG57SGb7NVH/s1600/Sid+Selfie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4IjJ8Bz011q60W2Za3UJmOc1ZMYkotexLAo2lxtLvyfHu7y6ut4pa2XWXAs-xPCzVy1jW7hyphenhyphenisdn2YVEEPmRIaFb6Q6UDrPNmhU9G93zA84FSeaKGHEeZHTy49WYrNq4JLG57SGb7NVH/s1600/Sid+Selfie.jpg" height="320" width="206" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A selfie from the old days</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My family lived in South Austin from July 1945 to July 1949. We moved there from the Clarksville area. World War II
was almost over. Dad sold his barber shop (Avenue Barber Shop at 819 Congress Avenue) and prepared to join the fight. However, the war ended before his National Guard unit was activated.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We moved into a modern brick house on Josephine Street in </span></span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3333339691162px;">a nice neighborhood </span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 14.5pt;">south of the Colorado River.
It seemed a long way from Clarksville to me back then. However, according to Google Maps, it is only 2.3 miles from our old house to the new. Today, I regularly</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="color: #141823; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 14.5pt;"> </span><span class="textexposedshow" style="color: #141823; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 14.5pt;">walk twice
that far daily for exercise. I bought my girlfriend La Juana Jolly a necklace
and told her goodbye. I thought I'd never see her again, but we met up again at
Austin High School. However, the spark was never reignited. We had grown apart.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After moving to Josephine Street, we only ventured north of
the river to go downtown where Dad worked or to see a movie. There was one
movie theater in South Austin, but it was way over on South Congress Avenue
near Fulmore Junior High School.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The nearest grocery store to
the Josephine house was on Kinney Avenue and it was the size of a current day
two-car garage. Maybe smaller. Mother would send me to the store nearly every
day to get groceries. We had a charge account there. The grocer would give me
whatever was on the shopping list and then Dad would go in on Saturday to pay
for the week's purchases. I would often sneak in a candy bar that wasn't on the
list so I didn't mind doing the shopping.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I remember getting to know a number of kids my age in the neighborhood. The only name I remember is <a href="http://www.nwas.org/members/ajohnson.php">Alan Johnson</a>. His father, Gant Johnson, worked at the University of Texas and he got us, Alan and I, jobs selling food and drinks during Texas Longhorn football games. My mother and Alan's mother remained friends for many years, even after my family moved to Pete's Path near 38th and Jefferson. This was considered North Austin at the time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Alan and I went to Becker School, and then Fulmore. I don't remember much about Becker except being on the safety patrol and meeting Don Holden who became a lifetime friend.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I joined the band at Fulmore and <a href="http://www.pbmalpha.org/pbmhalloffamebio.php?HOF_Number=015">Verna Covington</a> taught me to read music and play the trumpet. That led to a lifetime of performance, mostly in choral music. I sang with the Austin Lyric Opera Chorus for fifteen years and still sing regularly with choruses in Georgetown, Texas as well as around the world. I also play the trumpet occasionally at church. At Fulmore, I was fortunate to spend some
weekends visiting Verna Covington's home. Her youngest son,Scott, also played trumpet and we became friends. When we got into Austin High, Scott's father, Weldon Covington, was our band director. Later, Scott and I were both in Navy ROTC at the University of Texas. I dropped out and joined the Marines and lost track of him then.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Other memories of South Austin include the day our house caught on fire, our new 1948 Pontiac, Bartlet's Pies, riding my bike to school, getting a police escort to school because we were late for a band trip, renting a room to a teacher, and much more. I plan to talk about each of these later.</span></span></div>
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Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-42944222253449482742014-02-06T11:11:00.000-06:002014-02-06T11:11:24.328-06:00New Bookmobile Novel Published in January 2014<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=sidwfroboo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B00HS2MHD6&ref=tf_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
As you might think, much of <em>The Vengeance Squad Goes to England</em> takes place in England. Well, some of it is in Scotland as well. I just liked the sound of England in the title instead of UK or United Kingdom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">However, the book begins and ends in Austin and ties in with more of my memories of the city. When I worked as a bookmobile driver for the Austin Public Library, the main library was in what is now called the Austin History Center. In my books, Liz, the director of library services has her office in the old building instead of the new one because she likes the feel of it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">This story begins with Liz learning that $100,000 has been stolen from the bookmobile fund. The thief has skipped town and is spotted in London. The vengeance squad (Liz, Tex, a wheelchair-bound librarian, and Chris, a computer nerd, are joined by Jane, a muscle-bound hospital chaplain who is also Tex's wife) heads for England to recover the stolen money. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">It is a fun mystery with a little sadness thrown in for realism. It is also a love story as Chris and Angela examine ways to make a relationship work.</span>Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-18645807606468088712013-05-02T10:45:00.000-05:002013-05-02T10:59:29.063-05:00More Austin Memories in Love Lives On<br />
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<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sidwfroboo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B00CBY3HM6&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>
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The latest
bookmobile novel, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Love Lives On</i>,
takes place in Austin, Texas, mostly. So why the photo of Bruges, Belgium on
the cover? Bruges is where Brian and Karen go for their honeymoon.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I said mostly
Austin, because Brian goes back to California a few times to visit his parents.
Mainly because the book is about Karen. Also, there are a few scenes in Sunset
Valley, which is technically not a part of Austin even though it is surrounded
by Austin. The married couple also stop in Hildesheim, Germany for a night.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">After the wedding
Karen moves into Brian's place on Mt. Bonnell Road near Dry Creek Cafe. If you
read <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Where Love Once Lived</i>, you know
this is the place where the Combine rented a cabin when they were students at
the University of Texas back in the 1970's.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are scenes
at the Austin History Center, a fictional law office on Congress Avenue,
Allandale mall and references to the Austin Public Library, Travis County Courthouse,
Wooldridge Park, MoPac, 35<sup>th</sup> Street, Sun City Texas, Georgetown, Thundercloud
Subs and Dr Pepper, a Texas favorite.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Several scenes
take place in Clarksville, where Brian's best friend Phil lives with his wife
Kay. His dad George, who played a prominent role in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Where Love Once Lived</i>, lives in an apartment out back and manages
to help Karen in Love Lives On.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-33120214553922182972013-03-04T08:48:00.000-06:002015-02-25T15:56:35.653-06:00Clarksville, Bicycling, and God<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A year or so ago, I pedaled around Sun City in
Georgetown, Texas for my health. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have gone
quite so far the day after donating two pints of blood. Also, if I had it to do
over again, I would have eaten breakfast first or at least had some orange
juice. I thought about all this while parked on the side of the road trying to
decide if I should call 911 or just throw up. After some deep breaths, staying
close to the flower garden at the woodworking shop, I managed to get past the
nausea. I had already thought of a way to hold on to the branch of a tree for
support if needed. But soon, I felt better and was back on the bike heading for
home.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Perhaps I was delirious, but as I rode the rest
of the way (mostly downhill, by the way), I had vivid memories of bike riding
as a kid. I remember sneaking off when I lived near Clarksville in Austin, so I
couldn't have been more than nine years old. My friend, Bobby Bayer, went with
me. We told our parents we were just going to see someone a few blocks away and
we ended up in deep South Austin, near the Broken Spoke area. I felt terribly
guilty for lying to my mother. But not guilty enough to keep me from repeating
the trip again and again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Those memories and reminders of the guilt I
felt, made me think about Brian, the male protagonist in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Where Love Once Lived</i>. Don't forget I said I may have been delirious
at the time all this was going through my head.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In the novel, Brian had been brought up in a
Christian family and attended church every Sunday. What's more, he loved to go
to church and continued to do so while he was away from his California home
attending the University of Texas. Then, he commits a sin and, even though he
knows better, the guilt he feels is so strong he believes he is being punished
by God. His punishment is to be in a loveless marriage.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He drops out of church for the next thirty years.
This is all leading up to my wanting to tell you this is not a biographical
story. It didn't happen to me. I was brought up in a Christian home and my life
revolved around the church. I still have friends I met at church and we still
get together frequently. I'll tell you more about the Combine as we go. I
continued to be involved in church in college and while in the marines. After
marriage and kids there were times when I wasn't involved as much as I should
have been, but that didn't last long. I may tell you about that period of my
life someday, if I'm ever delirious again.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">How about you? When did God become a major part of your life? Have you
ever dropped out? What brought you back?</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span>Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-53345903377127757102013-02-19T12:43:00.000-06:002013-02-19T12:43:02.887-06:00Christian Bookmobile Novels<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsiTReYosWp-3Otu9opVc_I4FCVQoEWEpMKqjlb_-GxC7EK22Xbs-FRtlcm6UPN92Mz0PIYbCLyRPwNqlFCtjdjXB6dHrkF0BP0MQlcTFkxVMgoOV_k_p9oT0cSAoES4IemFf5K0vlTBvr/s1600/BookmobileSmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsiTReYosWp-3Otu9opVc_I4FCVQoEWEpMKqjlb_-GxC7EK22Xbs-FRtlcm6UPN92Mz0PIYbCLyRPwNqlFCtjdjXB6dHrkF0BP0MQlcTFkxVMgoOV_k_p9oT0cSAoES4IemFf5K0vlTBvr/s320/BookmobileSmall.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Copyright 2013 Sidney W. Frost</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Many years ago, while a student at the
University of Texas, my friend Rollo Newsom helped me get a job as a bookmobile
driver at the Austin Public Library. Although I was assigned to work with
several librarians, one of my favorites, Jean Siedo, was a lot like Liz in <i>Where Love Once Lived</i>. Or, should I say
Liz is a lot like Jean? Both did more for the patrons than a librarian was
expected to do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I started writing a novel about my experiences
on the bookmobile in the style of <i>Suds in
Your Eye</i> by Mary Lasswell, but quickly learned I didn't know how.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Much later, after a number of writing classes, I
started writing <i>Where Love Once Lived</i>.
It was to be a Christian novel along the lines of Jan Karon's Mitford Series. I
saw a chance to use the bookmobile to make the locale in my book smaller, like
the fictional town of Mitford, and more manageable than Austin, Texas. As it
turned out, one third of the scenes take place on the bookmobile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In <i>The
Vengeance Squad</i>, Liz, the bookmobile librarian in <i>Where Love Once Lived</i> is now the director of library services. When
Chris and Tex's van is damaged by gunfire in El Paso, Liz offers them the use
of Brian's bookmobile for a trip to Galveston. It is wheelchair ready for Tex
and has an Internet connection for Chris.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You'll have to read the book to find out why, but
the bookmobile sits unused in a parking lot in Galveston while Chris and Tex
are in jail. Liz travels by bus to Galveston to bail them out. When they learn
the killers are in Houston, Chris tries to get Liz to fly home, but she insists
on going with them. So the bookmobile is back in action, with Liz aboard.
Luckily it's not damaged this time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In <i>Love
Lives On</i>, though, the bookmobile is nearly destroyed. I can't tell you how
without spoiling the story for you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In <i>The
Vengeance Squad Goes to England</i>, I'm not sure what I'm going to do about
the bookmobile. It would be too expensive to ship it to London to help Liz,
Chris, and Tex track down an international thief. However, I see on the
Internet that bookmobiles are more popular in England than in the states. So,
we should be able to find one to use while there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">At the end of <i>Love Lives On</i>, Karen and Brian talk about moving to Sun City in
Georgetown, Texas and taking the bookmobile with them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Let me know what you think about this use of
bookmobiles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-21554947735535519582013-02-11T06:00:00.000-06:002013-02-11T10:31:43.784-06:00Bookmobile Memories<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Recently, while rummaging through some old files, I ran across
this letter to the editor in the June 17, 1998 issue of the <i>Austin American-Statesman</i>:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The June 12 article about
bookmobiles by Mike Cox brought back some wonderful memories of when I worked
as a part-time driver in the early 1960s while attending UT. We also were
responsible for stocking books, checking out books, keeping the generator going
for light and air conditioning that sometimes worked and cleaning up.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">We went to schools,
retirement homes and several small towns and communities outside the city
limits. We set up shop at locations where branch libraries were eventually
built.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The librarian I worked with
mostly, Jean Siedo, made the job a pleasure. She knew the regulars on our route
and selected books from the main library stacks for them. She delivered books
to the rooms of some of those who were not physically able to come to the
bookmobile. She treated everyone with respect, regardless of age, race or
economic situation. She encouraged and counseled when needed. A few times I saw
her give food and money to children who had little. I'm sure that was not part
of her job description, but I respected her for everything she did.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Sometimes I wish we still
had bookmobiles.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Sid Frost</span></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I had forgotten about that letter to the editor. I wish I had
reviewed it before I started writing <i>Where
Love Once Lived</i>. If I had, I could have added more details about how my
character helped others to the point where she was surprised with a special gift
from her patrons. Also, I may have used a different name for the character. I
used Liz Siedo, and I wouldn't want anyone to think the fictional character was
really the live person Jean Siedo. Even though their actions to their patrons
were similar, I made up the rest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Have you met someone like Jean Siedo who impressed you the way she did
me?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sidwfroboo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B003ZHVE1O&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>
</span></b></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sidwfroboo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B005F6NBPU&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>
</span></b></span></div>
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</span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sidwfroboo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B008Q9NF7W&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>
</span></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-34088113199399944952013-02-09T15:54:00.001-06:002013-02-09T15:59:17.999-06:00Yankee, Go Home<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">While searching through some old files, I found this letter I
wrote to the editor of the <i>Austin
American-Statesman</i>. The tear sheet didn't show the date, but based on my
age and the reference to a May 8 news item, it had to be 1981. Here is what I
wrote:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">As a 46-year-old native of
Austin, I would like to apologize to Mr. and Mrs. James Michener for the
actions of two Austin drivers. According to the May 8 Houston Chronicle, James
Michener and his wife were told to go home (referring to their Pennsylvania car
tags) on two separate occasions while driving in Austin.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">We used to have a slogan
here, "Austin, the friendly city." I wonder what happened to it?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Sid Frost<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Reading this now, nearly 30 years later, I wonder if the reason the
Micheners were told to leave town might be because of Mrs. Michener's race. In <i>Where Love Once Lived</i> I included a
marriage between a young couple, one black and one white, and how this marriage
affects their parents. I have no first-hand information about mixed marriages,
but I've always had an interest in equality and what it would be like if race
didn't matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">How about you? Do you think we'll ever have racial equality in this
country?</span>Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-18246992549426448432013-02-04T09:10:00.001-06:002013-02-04T09:10:00.039-06:00Publishing a Neighborhood Magazine<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I'm often asked "When did you first become
interested in writing?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My earliest memory of writing is when my sister,
Barbara Cagle, decided we would publish a neighborhood magazine. We were living
on Pete's Path in Austin at the time, so I had to be about twelve years old.
She had written and produced some neighborhood plays several years before this
when we lived on Josephine Street in South Austin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But, my involvement as a writer didn't occur
until the magazine phase. By publish, keep in mind that the magazine was
handwritten and each copy was handwritten as well. So there wasn't a wide
distribution and the magazine only lasted for a summer. When school started we
were too busy to continue the publishing endeavor. But I remember getting to
write and I remember the encouragement from Barbara.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She told me I had to keep a journal of all the
movies I went to see so we could include movie reviews in the magazine. I got a
spiral notebook and on one side I pasted the ad for the movie clipped from the
newspaper. On the other side was the movie review itself. I wish I still had
that spiral notebook. It was lost in a heavy rain that flooded my basement
bedroom years later while I was away in the Marine Corps. I lost all my
precious books in that storm, but that's a story for another time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I had the writing bug from then on. Aptitude
tests showed an interest in creative writing, but my school counselors said I
should think of it as a hobby since few people made a living from writing. So,
I ended up majoring in computer science and wrote for the fun of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I took a correspondence class on writing short
stories. One was published in Navy Magazine. Much of the writing I did was for work.
When the boss learned I could put two sentences together and make sense, I was
called on to do the reports, apply for grants, and all sorts of writing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I wrote a computer book with my lawyer boss,
James Dunlap, called Automated Law Office Systems. It was published by West
Publishing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I think writers have a need to write. My sister
is still writing. She had a funny article published in the Sunday magazine of a
Houston paper and she has placed in several writing contests as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-33986221480636378572013-02-01T08:35:00.000-06:002013-02-01T08:35:06.961-06:00Dr Pepper Malts and Other Pleasant Memories<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As a teenager, one of my jobs was as a soda jerk
at Renfro’s Drugs on 35th Street. It was next door to Lou Sweet’s Grocery Store,
where I worked through high school and my first year at the University of Texas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I got the job at Renfro's because my parents
knew or was related to someone who worked for the company. This friend or
relation was an accountant, I believe, and he and his family lived on the
second floor of the company's store on South Congress across from Fulmore
Junior High School. We visited them there a few times. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I made hamburgers and sandwiches, and mixed a
variety of drinks. For fountain drinks such as Coca Cola and Dr Pepper, we
would squirt in a concentrated syrup and then add carbonated water. We also
made malts, shakes, and floats. The only flavors on the menu for malts were
chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. One day when I wasn't too busy, I created a
new malt for myself that became my all-time favorite: a Dr Pepper malt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Our malts were made with only the best ice
cream. Milk was added to give it the right consistency. For my new invention I
replaced the milk with half and half cream. There were probably tons of
calories in that drink, but no one thought about that back then. Mmm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I'd forgotten about that time in my life until
back in 2010 Celeste and I had a long weekend at a B and B in Glen Rose, Texas.
We drove from there to Dublin since I love Dr Pepper and it was only about
forty miles away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdqDSDFZTMOjy5ZsNi0N4lSseXMNjwJ4X4hs5vWjLAmNnbhwiUQXt8eiqAkDYUVlFqWHTN8gonVpHkkJO_vLQs__YyG34qBSfAX3YtupLwdHmkFi5NZJyaUC6OOF5eN9vLo1sEjHHbdclT/s1600/IMG_1955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdqDSDFZTMOjy5ZsNi0N4lSseXMNjwJ4X4hs5vWjLAmNnbhwiUQXt8eiqAkDYUVlFqWHTN8gonVpHkkJO_vLQs__YyG34qBSfAX3YtupLwdHmkFi5NZJyaUC6OOF5eN9vLo1sEjHHbdclT/s320/IMG_1955.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dublin Bottling Works Museum<br />March 27, 2010<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Back then, Dublin was where you could get Dr
Pepper made with Imperial pure cane sugar instead of the high fructose stuff normally
used in sodas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It was fun visiting the combination museum and
old time fountain. I told the man behind the fountain about the Dr Pepper malt
I had invented, and he said they make them all the time. I ordered one and the
memories poured in. I was a teenager again. I savored that drink and thought of
Austin the way it was in the fifties.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dublin Dr Pepper is not readily available any
more following an agreement with Snapple who now owns the brand and the secret
recipe, but the museum is there and they might even make you a Dr Pepper malt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For more information see: <a href="http://www.dublinbottlingworks.com/">http://www.dublinbottlingworks.com/</a>
and <a href="http://www.texasmonthly.com/preview/2012-03-01/feature5">http://www.texasmonthly.com/preview/2012-03-01/feature5</a>. </span>Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-35773880836283665542013-01-29T10:34:00.001-06:002013-01-29T10:34:58.165-06:00Texas State Capitol Memories<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipqlE_qwigwYSzRpEfNDANA0Krvb4XNcnj8A4m8ycsGDOT_MYXG9o5WXQ8y8S5zkUFp6K6-QQyIeb0RUOQ5f8MCwkKHp8ZLCFPr2l0IEEgKQD5gumDT1cYLGGYS8UEQ-f8WkS9HTz1Gy9E/s1600/TXCapitol01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipqlE_qwigwYSzRpEfNDANA0Krvb4XNcnj8A4m8ycsGDOT_MYXG9o5WXQ8y8S5zkUFp6K6-QQyIeb0RUOQ5f8MCwkKHp8ZLCFPr2l0IEEgKQD5gumDT1cYLGGYS8UEQ-f8WkS9HTz1Gy9E/s320/TXCapitol01.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Texas State Capitol<br />Austin, Texas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">A novel is fiction. It's not true. Pure imagination. Right? Well,
yes, but... I suspect every novel contains some little something from the
author's past. <i>Where Love Once Lived</i>
is no exception. While I didn't make the same mistakes Brian did, there are
events in my life I wish hadn't happened. But I trust God lead me to where I am
today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">In the following excerpt, I describe a scene at the Texas state capitol
that I had with my mother and dad and sisters when I was a child. Photos
reminded me of the event for years after it happened. My dad tricked me into
drinking the sulfur tasting water that day cementing the memory forever. I also
remember a time when I wondered if people were staring at me and a fellow
marine who happened to be black as we traveled from California to Texas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When we reached my parent's house in Austin, I
was concerned about their reaction since, as far as I knew, Bill would be the first
black person in our home. However, he was accepted graciously. My dad even
drove us the rest of the way to Houston, saying we were probably too tired to
drive further.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I tied both of these incidents into the book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">In this excerpt, Brian had asked to meet with Mr. McCullough, the
78-year-old father of Brian's best friend Phil, because Brian wanted advice on
being close to God. You'll have to read the book to find out more. I only
included enough here to describe the setting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">“You know,” Mr. McCullough said as he and Brian walked through the
capitol grounds, “a few years back, ever’one would be staring at us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Brian was six foot two, and Phil’s dad was five two or three at
the most. Mr. McCullough had just gotten off work at the Driskill and still had
on his white shirt and bowtie. Brian wore shorts and Birkenstocks. Still, Brian
knew Mr. McCullough was talking about race, not stature or clothing. Mr.
McCullough was from a time in history Brian could never fully understand, but
he’d read about how blacks suffered. It was a time of segregation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mr. McCullough looked around. “When I was jus’ a kid, nine or ten
I’d say, my parents brought me here.” He motioned toward the spot where they
sat. “My daddy told me to drink from a sulfur fountain that was here. Said it’d
be good for me and make me healthy. But there was a problem. Back then, you
see, we had separate drinking fountains. One marked ‘white’ and one marked
‘colored.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">He paused, but Brian waited for him to continue. “There was only
one sulfur fountain and it wasn’t marked one way or ‘nother, colored or white.”
He laughed. “Didn’t matter. We sneaked a sip when no one was about. Only once,
though.” He shook his head and made a face. “Terrible stuff. Smelled like
rotten eggs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">See: <a href="http://sidneywfrost.com/capitol.htm">http://sidneywfrost.com/capitol.htm</a> for photos of the area
where Brian and Mr. McCullough may have been.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I would love to hear from you. Do you have family memories about
visiting places like the state capitol? What caused the memory to stick in your
mind? Have you experienced racial segregation? Have you ever felt people were
staring at you because you did something out of the norm? Please comment below
or email me: <a href="mailto:sidfrost@suddenlink.net">sidfrost@suddenlink.net</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sidwfroboo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B003ZHVE1O&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>
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<b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sidwfroboo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B005F6NBPU&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>
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<b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sidwfroboo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B008Q9NF7W&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-11360906611525380302013-01-28T10:00:00.001-06:002013-09-20T08:55:42.906-05:00Moving to South Austin<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In <i>Where
Love Once Lived</i>, one character lives in the Clarksville area of Austin,
Texas. There are references to my own experience living next to the
neighborhood that was restricted to blacks only back when I was there. I lived
on a white street, but our backyard was adjacent to the backyard of a black
family. I don't remember anything about the parents of that family, but I remember
talking to the children. We would often meet at the wire fence and stare at
each for a while until we finally got into a normal childhood conversation. I'm
not sure how old I was, but since my family moved from there in 1946, I had to
be about nine years old.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">World War II had ended and the economy was
improving. We moved to a nice neighborhood with a modern house on Josephine Street south of the
Colorado River. South Austin seemed far away then. I bought my girlfriend Lajuana
Jolly a necklace and told her goodbye. I thought I'd never see her again, but
we met up again when we got to the one white high school in town. However, the
spark was never reignited. We had grown apart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After the move, we only ventured north of the
river to go downtown where Dad worked or to see a movie. There was one movie
theater in South Austin, but it was way over on South Congress Avenue. Checking
Google Maps today, I see that it was only 2.3 miles from where we lived at West
9 1/2 Street to the South Austin address on Josephine Street. Today, I
regularly walk further than that for exercise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The nearest grocery store to the Josephine house
was on Kinney Avenue and it was the size of a current day two-car garage.
Maybe smaller. Mother would send me to the store nearly every day to get
groceries. We had a charge account there. The grocer would give me what ever
was on the shopping list and then Dad would go in on Saturday to pay for the
week's purchases. I would often sneak in a candy bar that wasn't on the list so
I didn't mind doing the shopping.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One day, a neighborhood friend went with me and
he showed me a shortcut to the grocery store through a wooded area. Right in
the middle of the forest he stopped and pulled out a knife. I didn't know what
was going on and thought I better get out of there. But before I could move, he
grabbed a piece of dried grapevine and cut off a few inches of it, stuck it in
his mouth and lit the other end just like adults did with cigarettes. He took a
few puffs, coughed, and passed it to me. I tried it and started taking that
shortcut every time I went to the store<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Other memories from the time I lived at the Josephine house include the
day the house caught on fire, renting out my room, learning to drive. I'll
write about these adventures and others later.</span>Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-41000272689844479502013-01-26T09:26:00.000-06:002013-03-04T08:29:12.304-06:00Sitting in My Dad's Barber Chair<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My dad, Sidney Henry Frost, was my only barber
from the time I got my first haircut in 1937 up until I joined the marines and
moved to California in 1956. I have many pleasant memories of the haircuts and
the barber shop visits. Dad was different at work, as are most of us. He was
outgoing, talkative, knowledgeable, the kind of man others turned to for advice
and opinion. He knew all the latest jokes as well as news and financial
reports. He knew what was going on in town and around the world. All this with
a 7<sup>th</sup> grade education.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But, there was more to it than that. Cutting my
hair was our private time. I didn't have to compete for his attention the way I
did at home. My sisters didn't have this opportunity, but perhaps he found
another time for them. He'd talk to me about what I was doing and what was
going on in my world. He'd brag about me to the other barbers and to his
customers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Even when I didn't need a haircut, the
barbershop would be a regular stop for me. Sometimes I'd go see him to get some
money to buy the latest toy or go to the movies. There was a movie theater
across the street from Travis Barber Shop on West 7<sup>th</sup> Street where
he worked for many years that had Saturday morning serials that couldn't be
missed. There was another theater down the alley from the shop on 6<sup>th</sup>
Street across from Scarborough's. The one on 6<sup>th</sup> Street would occasionally
have cowboy movie stars there to sign autographs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">By the time I'd moved back to Austin in 1976, my
friend Jack McCowan had become a barber and opened his own place on Congress.
He was a hair stylist and I was drawn to getting the latest styles so I started
to going to him. His wife, Doris, would wash my hair and then Jack would cut my
hair with a straight razor while it was still wet. Then he'd blow dry it and
cover it with a net to shape it while he sprayed it with hair spray. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I have to admit I felt guilty not letting Dad
cut my hair any more, but I convinced myself it was for my career. I was
working for Bob Bullock when he was the State Comptroller in an important job and needed that
professional look Jack provided.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Later, I'd go back to get a haircut from Dad
when I needed an old fashioned look for a part in the opera.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dad cut hair until he was 90 years old. The Sportsman Barber Shop held a
birthday bash for him, but he was back the next day, still working. </span>Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-88330570042088040622013-01-25T06:00:00.000-06:002013-01-25T06:00:07.151-06:00State Confederate Home in Austin<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In <i>Where
Love Once Lived</i>, 78-year old George McCullough is telling about a time when
the parents of a white boy he'd been playing with told their son not to have
anything to do with George anymore because he was black.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>“After that, we started meetin’ over at the ol’
Confed’rate Soldiers’ Home.” He turned to Brian. “Did Cindy show you where it
use’ to be? Down at the end of Nine and a Half Street? We hunted birds and
squirrels with our slingshots and sneaked around trying to find an old
Confed’rate soldier. Never did.” He laughed. “That white family moved away, and
I never saw that kid again. Bobby. That was his name. I’d forgotten that. Isn’t
it funny how names can pop into your head after decades of not thinkin’ about
them?”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">George McCullough is a fictional character, but
in real life, I lived on Nine and a Half Street and sneaked into the grounds of
the old Confederate Soldier's Home with my big sister or next door neighbor. I
remember a wooded pathway from the end of our street that led to facility. It
was as if the denseness of the forest would protect those inside. As I remember
it, we were afraid to get very close to where the old soldiers might be, but I
do remember seeing a large brick building.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Online Handbook of Texas</span></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> says the
<a href="http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/ynt05">Texas Confederate Home</a> opened in 1886. The complex on twenty-six acres of land
on West Sixth Street had several buildings, including a large administration
building and living quarters, a brick hospital, and private cottages. The last
Confederate veteran died in 1934 at the age of 108, before I was born. After
that, the facility was home to Spanish American and World War I veterans and
their spouses as well as "senile" mental patients. The area was razed
in 1970 and is now used for University of Texas student housing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The old Confederate Home made quite an impression on me as a child, and
now it's gone. I think that's why I included it in the book. Do you have places
like that from your past? You may want to write something about it before it's
lost forever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
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<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sidwfroboo-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0983070814&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>
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<b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sidwfroboo-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=1451511817&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>
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<b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sidwfroboo-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0983070865&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>
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</span>Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-25088188079803144232013-01-24T06:30:00.000-06:002013-01-24T06:30:44.599-06:00The First Place I Lived in Austin<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YVPLovHIGDPyzQXJfDA306Kxevl1kJRY9n1yKC4oADcWH7df2E-dedkP3ZPQWTDtEX9XETPSYmoYhWQXSVKAf9lYyF2p6B0m_S1BumW9OdHxOD6Lr1jkNxVcYW3nPUX7di0dPpuS5kIf/s1600/SHFrost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YVPLovHIGDPyzQXJfDA306Kxevl1kJRY9n1yKC4oADcWH7df2E-dedkP3ZPQWTDtEX9XETPSYmoYhWQXSVKAf9lYyF2p6B0m_S1BumW9OdHxOD6Lr1jkNxVcYW3nPUX7di0dPpuS5kIf/s320/SHFrost.jpg" width="253" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SIDNEY HENRY FROST<br />
1908 -- 2001</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">My father, Sidney Henry Frost, is listed as a roomer living at 304 ½ West 9<sup>th</sup>
Street in Austin, Texas on the census report taken on April 11, 1930. According
to the report, he was twenty-one years old and single. He was shown to be a barber who
owned his own shop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">There were three other people at the same address. One was Mable
Lewis, a thirty-two year old single female press feeder at a print shop. The other two
were the owners of the $6,500 home, thirty year old Paul and his twenty-four year old wife
Moselle Warren. Paul, a shoe store salesman was from Kansas, with parents from
Oklahoma. All the others were from Texas with Texas parents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My mother, Eva Lee Williams, was shown on the April 21, 1930 census to be living in Lampasas,
Texas, living with her parents, two sisters, a brother and an aunt. She may have been in nursing school by then, however.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJVnfRpzbonr0BwvY_ix89NypUGO46QUbjUw8TBRXyEmV9X6rRouoj8sYGYfKGDTXazGxzQ-0nedEy91EKh-XLD_fTrV0lXurMVWa4ftEfk_7wwlBuazcZPMyJsVJgVq-4t4FiHBz6uKFb/s1600/EvaLeeFrostSmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJVnfRpzbonr0BwvY_ix89NypUGO46QUbjUw8TBRXyEmV9X6rRouoj8sYGYfKGDTXazGxzQ-0nedEy91EKh-XLD_fTrV0lXurMVWa4ftEfk_7wwlBuazcZPMyJsVJgVq-4t4FiHBz6uKFb/s320/EvaLeeFrostSmall.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">EVA LEE WILLIAMS FROST<br />
1908 -- 2001</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dad's residence was close to where my parents lived when I was born, 1409 W. 10th Street in Austin. Since I had to get a secret clearance once and had to report all places I lived I asked my parents and was told that I lived there until the next year. I have no memory of the time, of course, nor do I remember the next house, 909 West Lynn Street. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The first house I remember is located at 1004 Eason Street. I was there for the 1940 Census. The report, dated April 9, 1940, shows that I was three years old and my sister Barbara Ann was six years old. Dad was thirty-one and Mom was thirty. According to the census report, we had a boarder. It is hard to read the handwriting, but I think her name was Lurline Smith, a forty-year-old secretary for a Baptist Church. I remember her and I have many other memories about living at this place and I'll tell you about them in future articles. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">All of these places were close to each other. We moved one more time in the Clarksville area before moving to South Austin. I'll tell you about that later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660454936967296124.post-52661036627739610102013-01-23T11:33:00.000-06:002013-01-23T11:33:08.980-06:00Growing Up White Next to a Black Neighborhood<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wS-JYM1yymblscschNarLW1RGFaXjh8rfKUBH1h1Motpu-f3Nd9P9N4rLdIOf5eNbyVHTstuqpb418-Mr1FfqU_rHhPdOFZ4UuHtSbHkCX_JevCPbAtsP3o0ujEpr_tFBmlgN19iPtlo/s1600/USMC04_1958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wS-JYM1yymblscschNarLW1RGFaXjh8rfKUBH1h1Motpu-f3Nd9P9N4rLdIOf5eNbyVHTstuqpb418-Mr1FfqU_rHhPdOFZ4UuHtSbHkCX_JevCPbAtsP3o0ujEpr_tFBmlgN19iPtlo/s320/USMC04_1958.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's me in the middle</td></tr>
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The area of Austin called Clarksville is different than it was when I was born December 6, 1936. At that time, and up until the time we moved to South Austin in 1945, the former slave neighborhood was located between West 10th and Waterston Avenue with West Lynn Street on the east extending west to the railroad tracks that are now in the middle of MoPac.</div>
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It's hard for my children and grandchildren to understand that time in Austin's history when schools and neighborhoods were segregated by race. Only blacks lived in the area called Clarksville and the children didn't go to Mathews Elementary where my sister and I went.</div>
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My family lived in four different houses just outside the black neighborhood. At one house our backyard was up against a black family's backyard. That's where we lived when I was between five and nine, and I remember talking to some kids over that fence there often, or until my parents told me not to. Since most other blacks lived east of Austin, living where we did gave me an opportunity many white kids didn't have. I got to know some of my black neighbors, even though I had to keep it a secret from my parents.</div>
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I grew up in a segregated town, not really understanding why, and it wasn't until I was in college in 1954 that blacks in Austin began to be reluctantly accepted in some places. I left Austin in 1956 to join the marines. One of my friends was a black private from Houston. In California, we could go to restaurants together and the beach and just about anywhere we wanted. My friend rode back to Texas with me once and by the time we got to Austin, without discussing it, we started getting our food to go.</div>
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Perhaps due to my early experience growing up in Clarksville, I've always believed in equality of the races. I included a character in my novel, <i>Where Love Once Lived</i>, who is about my age and is black. I gave him my experiences, from the other side of the fence, however. Several scenes take place in the neighborhood, including memories of the neighborhood, Mathews School, the Confederate home, and what it was like to live in a segregated area. There is also an interracial marriage in the book.</div>
Sidney W. Frosthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07509232446495557632noreply@blogger.com0