Saturday, January 31, 2015

BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF RIO...


I’ve got a collection of photo albums in my upstairs closet.
          They’re all shapes and sizes: There’s a small black one that’s full of old photos of my grandfather; my mother’s album from her youth and college days; a red one with flip pages that my grandmother kept; one my father had when he was at Brown—lots of photos of him being a “sport,” skiing, playing tennis in his white shirt and flannels.

And I’ve got a much bigger one that was given to my parents when they were married in 1942. It’s got some great photos of my pregnant mother, their cocker spaniel, and, finally, my brother John, who was born in Miami during WWII.

My father was stationed there; he flew transport planes for the US Navy. There are lots of photos of him standing beside his plane in his flight suit—leather helmet, for crying out loud, leather jacket and funny dark goggles, baggy pants and all manner and kind of flotation devices.
          His favorite route was a flight from Miami to Rio de Janeiro—he’d stay there for three days, then fly back to Miami. (He once flew off to Rio with the car keys in his pocket, leaving my extremely pregnant mother sitting in the car in her nightgown and a trench coat at the naval air station in Miami...she had to waddle from the car to the entrance gate and beg a ride home from a very amused guard!)

So here’s Rio de Janiero in 1942...
          These photos are two my father took of Rio from the window of his airplane and pasted carefully in his photo album. In the top photograph, you’re looking down at Sugarloaf Mountain as well as a couple of others – there’s one called Two Brothers, but I can’t remember which one it is; there’s Copacobana Beach and Botafogo Cove; Ipanema Beach (of “tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking...”).

          
And there’s downtown Rio, huge and sprawling out around every piece of land in between the mountains; between the mountains and the sea.
          My father loved to fly, and he loved everything about Rio de Janiero—the food, the beaches, the music, the graceful samba.
          He died in 1998, and, for all I know, he’s back there, flying still...


18 comments:

  1. There is no mistaking Rio in that first picture, It's a place I've always wanted to visit.

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    1. Me, too, Bob! Maybe we can get a Sepia Saturday trip organized!

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  2. I can understand why your father like flying there. Those views are spectacular.

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    1. Somebody suggested I Google it, to see what the views are now -- very, very similar!

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  3. The story of your father flying off to Rio with the car keys leaving your mother stranded brought a smile. Two years ago my husband went off to Colorado on his annual elk hunting trip with the keys to my car & the house in his pocket. Fortunately I had an extra set of car keys as well as an extra key to the house, else my daughter and I would have been stranded for two weeks!

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    1. I just laugh whenever I think of my poor mother lurching her 8-month-pregnant body up to the guardhouse wearing her nightgown and a trench coat...

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  4. Fascinating photographs and touching memories of your parents.

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    1. Thanks, Sue...I have warm memories of looking at those photos with my father. That's the magic, I think, of saving them, having them to look at...brings him to life again!

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  5. I enjoyed those photos of Rio more than I normally do as I can feel the freal person behind the camera, not just a postcard or fold-out folder. Great.

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  6. Spectacular shots, and great that they were taken by your father. I can't see the Christ statue though, that must be on another mountain. Would be amazing to visit Rio one day.

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  7. I think it's just a trick of the light, Jo -- Christ the Redeemer was finished in the 1930s, so should be in there, and I remember my father talking about it. If it's in this picture, it must be lost in the angle of the shot and the light...maybe somebody out in Sepialand can help us out on this!

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  8. Looking down upon one of your dad's favorite places was a real gift of sharing memories -- made even sweeter by your stories of the time and place.

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    1. We used to tease him, Joan -- suggest that he simply move there! His Portuguese was dreadful, but he was a great dancer -- taught us to samba when we were little!

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  9. Funny story about your mother and the keys. I was locked out of my own house once in my nightgown..no spare key in the yard. That changed - I had spare keys and spare spare keys made etc. Great shot of Rio.

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    1. I've always wanted to publish a book of anecdotes, Helen, from people who've been locked out! It might be really funny. (I, too, have a set hidden outside after being locked out!)

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  10. I also loved Rio when I flew there in the 60s, and have always wanted to go back. Your dad's pictures do make this post special, as well as your story about your mom and the car keys. Thanks!

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    1. We you in Rio just to visit? Or did you live there? Glad you loved it, too -- you and my father wouldn've gotten along like "a house afire," as we say up here!

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