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This big hardbound notebook, 8″x12″ and an inch thick, contains my grandfather’s closely written notes from medical school in 1896. I found it in a box of old family photos that I inherited.. I also found a photo marked that year, a ‘report card’ for Histology Lab in Freshman Year, and a membership card from the YMCA, showing $3.00 as the annual dues.

I know he took a year off in 1898 to serve as a Medic in the Spanish American War, stationed in ‘Porto Rico.’ He returned to college, finished his degree, then did his residency at Brooklyn Hospital, where he met my grandmother, a Bermuda girl who was Head Operating Room Nurse there.

Years ago I donated her two nursing uniforms to the Indiana State Museum. He was from Sullivan, Indiana, and she had served as his office nurse in Terre Haute after they were married.

Ten years after their marriage, they moved to Auburndale and set up a practice. He was killed in an automobile accident there while doing his medical rounds in 1921. I also found a box containing personal items which were removed from his body; a necktie, a wallet, and a checkbook-folder.

I’ve asked the museum if they are interested in accepting all of these items as well.

but something knocked the Beware of Alligators sign askew. It’s one of the sights on my morning walk, and I always keep a lookout for them. In the Spring, I hear them grunting sometimes, and once, I’m pretty sure I saw one…. I heard a great splashing, and thought I could see something spinning in the water, the way an alligator does to drown its prey. I was as close as I wanted to be, so I’ll never know for sure. But alligators or no, it’s a lovely place to walk in the shade and relative cool of early morning! anndickinsonsargent.com. #thegirlwhotalkedtoomuch. #americangoverness

I love being able to walk daily beside this tiny cypress swamp. I’ve always loved growing up in an area that enabled me to peek into these utterly wild microcosms without having to go on safari. They’re particularly wonderful when the rising sun sends low-angled beams of light into the thickly wooded areas, glinting off the standing water around the roots of the trees. I think I’ll get out earlier next time and see if I can catch it! #thegirlwhotalkedtoomuch #americangoverness

When I was growing up in Winter Haven, Florida, the city had a Volunteer Lifesaving Corps, and my sister Linda and I served on it for four summers each. I don’t know if it’s still in existence, but it was well run, and our members guarded beaches at lakes around town.

After passing the required Red Cross courses, we went through initiation by the lifeguards at Daytona Beach. We had to jump off the end of the pier, swim a half-mile parallel to the beach, and then come in. During my swim, a great gray shape surfaced beside me and I looked over to see the curious eye of a large porpoise. He wouldn’t let me touch him, but he escorted me to the turn-in point. I felt very protected, knowing a porpoise can kill a shark.

One of my granddaughters is working as a lifeguard this summer in Atlanta, and I dug out old pictures from those days. I found this hilarious one I call Awkward Lifeguards. I’m on the left, in all my 16-year-old gawky glory, apparently trying to affect a glamorous pose. Linda, 18, is on the right, unprepared for the photo with her eyes closed.

#thegirlwhotalkedtoomuch. #americangoverness

His name is Mr. Pooh Bear, or Pooh for short. He’s an orange Bullseye Tabby, (meaning he has bullseyes on both flanks), a completely indoor cat, who enjoys catching lizards on the screened porch and bringing them in to chase.

Every day, in no uncertain terms, he explains that it’s time for me to lie down for half an hour with him curled under my arm, paws and head on my chest and purr rattling in my ears.

When i’m working at the computer, he requires me to put a quilt across my legs so he can curl up in my lap. When I watch TV in the recliner in the evening, he reminds me to put the blanket across my legs so he can stretch out to my knees and get in some serious sleeping.

Here’s what I found when I went to take his portrait for this post:

At Christmastime in 1961, I was a governess in Schloss (Castle) Neufraunhofen, living with Count Georg von Soden-Frauenhofen and his wife Countess Elisabet and their five children, affectionately nicknamed Buale (Buddy), Alfie, Susie, Hitti, and Puppe (Little Doll). The castle was in Niederbayern, or Lower Bavaria, meaning in the foothills of the Alps. This antique zither was my Christmas gift from the Countess, along with weekly lessons, for which I walked to a nearby village, rain, snow or shine.

I can no longer play it because of arthritis in my fingers, and am giving it to a grandson of mine who’s a musician. Besides extra strings and a simple wooden case, it comes with a tuning key and a copy of Volkstümliche Zitherschule (Folk-style Zither school). It’s decorated with a scene from Lohengrin…just a decal, I’m afraid.

The story of my year there can be found in my book, American Governess, which is on Amazon under the author name Ann Dickinson Sargent, and on my website, anndickinsonsargent.com.

Although Kippy had intellectual handicaps, she loved to draw and was surprisingly good at it. In my memoir of her, The Girl Who Talked Too Much, i include a birthday card she made for me. Granted, our mother found the pictures of the skeletons for her to look at. She also composed and dictated the words of the captions, but Kippy took it from there.

My grandfather interrupted his medical training to sign up as a medic in the Spanish American War, and was stationed with the infantry in Puerto Rico. He was a gifted amateur photographer and left many photos, including this one of Acting Chaplain Butters, posing proudly with his rifle. I’ve tried to find out what the white bands are that are slung across from shoulder to hip. I found an “abdominal band” listed; stuffed with herbs like rosemary and thought to be effective against fevers. Another suggestion was that it was filled with grain to be cooked in the field. It looks too regular to be a rolled ground cloth or sleeping bag.

#thegirlwhotalkedtoomuch #americangoverness #spanishamericanwar

On my daily 30-minute morning walk, I move out at a great pace, with my long legs (I’m still about 5’9”). So last year, at my half-way point beside a lovely stream with a Beware of Alligators sign, I was keeping to the right side of the sidewalk, since bicyclists sometimes pass on my left unexpectedly. Suddenly, my right foot landed halfway off the pavement, and the grass there, level with the concrete, turned out to be camouflaging a hole. My ankle twisted.

I lost my balance, and momentum drove me into a full-length face plant onto the rough sidewalk. Lifting my head, I noticed a few drops of blood hitting the walk beneath me. It was early on a Saturday, and although I could see some cars at the nearby tennis courts, there wasn’t a soul within hailing distance. No alligators either.

Did a quick mental inventory of body parts…Hands a bit achy. Arms OK. Legs, knees, even that ankle seemed fine, no pains in hips or shoulders. I realized, “All right, I’ll just get up myself.”

I really hate putting full body weight on my two replaced knees, but there was no alternative. Halfway through my manoeuvres to return to a standing position, I realized I was thankful no one could see the graceless way I achieved it. But by God, I did. Checking arms and legs again, I saw no abrasions anywhere. 

But that blood….

I put a hand to my face, and felt it. There was a cut above my left eyebrow, another on my left cheekbone, and my lip was split. My three contact points, face first. I rooted in my pocket, came up with a single tissue, blotted the cuts, and walked 15 minutes home at almost my original pace.

This morning as I walked the same route, I smiled as I passed that spot, walking right in the middle of the sidewalk. The bicyclists are just going to have to look out for themselves.

Ann Sargent

#thegirlwhotalkedtoomuch #americangoverness