And Now, We Wait

So the nursery is done. 

It should be noted that these are before photos. 

Like most things we do, there was some thought into how we got this room ready. 

How about a tour? 

A virtual tour. 

You all know how I feel about last minute company. 

We did keep the Compromising Crib theme throughout the room. 

A nice reminder at 3:37 AM that this is a partnership.

The Compromising Crib: Tearing down an old barn, then moving it 

into the house because we both had our heels dug in.

Have you read about one of the greatest lessons I've ever learned?

Anyway, back to the tour - 

Our inspiration for this little room that will hold our entire world:
Heritage.
Family.
Cattle. 

Not knowing the gender but knowing how this kid will be raised, we went with a lot of neutral tones and a vintage western theme. I found the perfect fabric at Hobby Lobby and my wonderful Aunt Susan of Susan Bell Upholstery made us curtains as a shower gift. 

Family friends gave us a beautiful crib that we really loved. Then someone called it a "double-drop-sided-death-trap" and these clueless parents-to-be got a tick nervous. I went on to order this DaVinci Jenny Lind crib for peace of mind purposes only. 

It just wouldn't be a Lindsay Bowman project if I didn't recycle something from a former life. The bookshelf came out of 851 David Ross Road. Thanks to whoever's Dad made these shelves years ago. They were passed down from sorority sister to sorority sister to sorority sister to sorority sister to sorority sister to sorority sister and left Purdue's campus with me. Sharpie names still on top, and all. Function over fashion. 

I found this little dresser at A Corner Cottage in Noblesville, IN during an annual girls' day with Purdue friends. I loved the blocks as drawer pulls, but Cody had an even better idea. 

He sanded the dresser down and took it to one of our favorite shops, The Vintage Market in Cambridge City, IN (you have to visit this store to do it justice!). There they painted it and distressed it to fit the room. 

Then he found these drawer pulls and painted them out in his shop to make them look like Angus calves. 

Many gave me the advice to buy a comfortable chair since we'll be spending a lot of hours in it. I worked with Bullerdick Furniture to get this rocker-glider-swivel chair designed and put together. I also worked with them on a no-questions-asked warranty that covers bodily fluids, Sharpie marker, nail polish and anything else I could think of before signing the paperwork. 

Let's get a close-up of that fabric before it gets 

abused by a tiny, popsicle-wielding tyrant. 

Tags will stay on as long as possible. 

Which is right about the time I'll yell, 

"This is why we can't have nice things!!"

The quilt, you ask?

Friend and co-worker Cindy surprised us with this quilt just last week. Isn't it beautiful?!

The kicker: She didn't know the neutral/vintage western theme before creating this for us. 

I can't believe how perfectly it fits into the room and even matches the curtains. 

Every perfect stitch!

We were also handed down this family quilt with some pretty special initials on it. 

To encourage less writing on the walls. 

A Shepler Family Favorite:

Harry Shepler's Palomino stud horse, 

Goldie

Every kid needs a horse, right?

Well, this is the only one our kid is getting. 

Already kid-broke.

Is Book-It still around? If so, we need a new button to start earning free pizza ASAP.

We found what we thought would be an ideal dresser/changing table at Building 125 in Cambridge City, except the color and a few of the options weren't quite right. We went on to work with the owners to order this one in the color, solid top and pulls that suited this place perfectly. The crew at 125 were wonderful to work with - another must-stop-shop if you're in this area. 

How long will 138 diapers last? 

I'll let you know.

I'm hoping a year. 

One of my favorite personal accents: Vaccum lines that haven't been touched. 

I thought them important enough to document. 

Makes us look fancy. 

And now, we wait. 

The Lost Volumes

I never met the man, 

but I've sure enjoyed watching his life unfold, 

more than ninety years after it happened. 

I went to an auction in Auburn, Indiana five years ago and found a bunch of things I didn't need, such as a lamp I never got to work, a desk bigger than the room in which I intended to use it and a set of chipped ice cream bowls. 

Don't even act like you're surprised. They were in the $5 and under pile.

Oh...and an entire box of old photos, albums and greeting cards. A jackpot for a gal like me who loves history and once dreamt of a job with Hallmark. Who am I kidding? I'm still anxiously awaiting the day that one of their Execs stumbles upon this blog. I sure hope it's the day that I have no grammatical errors. 

Anyway, as I briefly thumbed through the box of photos, I couldn't help but think that it was some sort of mistake. These weren't old torn greetings cards or scenic photos; these were documentation of an individual's life. My stomach hurt in a way that I knew it wasn't hunger pains. I let the box be (you can't appear too interested in those situations - folks always want what others do, and auctioneers who know the bidders' desires are dangerous, in themselves), stepped away and roamed through other tables of "junk" (aka treasures).

At the end of the day, I walked away with the box for $5.00. 

Shortly following that auction, I dove into the box that intrigued me so much. I spent the Friday and Saturday nights of one weekend in my dear little (first) house and sorted through photos of Richard, born in 1921.  The more I saw, the more sadness came over me. 

Birthdays. 

Richard's Birthday, 20 years apart. 

Camping trips. 
Christmas. 
Graduation. 
First loves. 
The service. 
Wedding. 
First home. 
Kids. 
Obituary. 

This man's entire history was in one box. 
Sold for $5.00 at a general auction. 

Weekly I've turn Richard's life photos into greeting cards for family and friends. I sent one just this week to dear friends who just had their second son. 

Richard was a happy man. Who adored his wife. Served his country. Loved his sister, Catherine. Traveled to California. 

But who would know that? His lost volumes were sold for $5.00. 
Photo by paper photo I've tried to imagine what he was doing or feeling in the moment, so many generations ago. I've sorted his photos, piled them and stored them. Convinced that my organization and commitment will preserve his story, I've also began thinking of my own. 



A coworker came into my office this week and tossed a Snapfish package at me. 

"We only use Snapfish for Christmas cards," Brandon said as he relayed the large photo tube to me. (Don't worry boss, I ordered poster size aerial photos of our Randolph County locations for the new meeting room. My time on Snapfish was legit). 

"I've never used them, but made an account to get this meeting room finished and wow - there is a lot on there," I told him, as I unrolled my co-op posters. 

He revealed that he can't remember the last time his family physically printed a photo. I sat back in my chair and wondered about the same. 

I remember in high school we stood in line at Wal-Mart the afternoon following a dance to print and finally see the photos taken the night before. There were no retakes. There were no deletes. There were no selfies. There was, however, a lot of wasted film. 

But do you know what? I can still look back on those photos and remember the naive fun we had. 

I told the coworker that he better start printing the memories. As a father of three daughters, we was bound to need photos for a wedding slideshow - or three. He laughed but seemed to really digest that idea. No father of daughters likes to talk about weddings, I guess. 

Our conversation made me think back to Richard, born in 1921, and all the quick glimpses of his life that I have. Thank goodness I have them. The negatives, too. 

Just as a family has lost 

volumes of one man's life, 

our high-speed generation is 

losing volumes every single day 

with technology. 

When was the last time you printed off a picture? A real photo that generations to come can hold? Something you can write on the back of, identifying who was in the photo and the year it was taken? Something physical, not digital. Trust me: jpegs  and RAW files won't be around forever. 

And, how will we document your battle 

with head lice if we don't print 

and write on the back of photos?

I have no great way to store the photos that I speak of (I could do an entire blog on the photos Cody and I sorted or tossed (burned) once we married and began living together) because I get sick of storing my own. But I think they're important. They're physical proof of the life we're living now. They're the stock show photos our grandsons will one day find and frame and the wedding photos our great granddaughters will one day put in a locket. They matter. Don't post your story, print it.

As for Richard, I hope that his lost volumes inspire you to print - if only ten per year - photos that document your family history. I'll continue to send his story across state lines and time zones in an effort to pass his unidentified legacy on. 

Can we commit to no more lost volumes?

Or, at least can we all pledge not to sell our great-grandparents love story in a glorified garage sale? 

Thanks.