Inside a Paper mill, Downingtown, Pa
Source: Scaryham15 (reddit)
My Hometown! Grandpop worked here!
Inside a Paper mill, Downingtown, Pa
Source: Scaryham15 (reddit)
My Hometown! Grandpop worked here!
Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat.
Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.
To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot has appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs.
Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one UGLY cat!!”
All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave.
Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.
One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly’s sad life was almost at an end.
Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought.
Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear - Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.
At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.
Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for.
Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be Ugly.
I will forever reblog this
I’m gonna cry. That was so beautiful
Oh my god I started tearing up.
omg, you don’t even know how much a cry right now, i’m not kidding. that’s the most beautiful thing i ever read, thank you
This makes me cry every single time.
i hate those people who threw rock and Ugly and that dog should go to hell.
I have tears in my eyes right now, you’re a great person. Props to you.
oh but that last line though. “I will always try to be Ugly.” chills.
yep. cried. going to go adopt the ugliest cat i can now.
Abandoned Fisher Body plant in Detroit
to think i own a car who’se body rolled along that assembly line. amazing.
On December 16, 1960, two airliners collided above New York City, raining debris, cargo, and bodies down on the boroughs on Brooklyn and Staten Island
Original post here.
never knew this……
New York. New York Central’s 20th Century Limited, May 12, 1938.
in my opinion probably one of the most beautiful class of engines every built.
Nurses at Roosevelt Hospital, New York City, 1937, photo by Alfred Eisenstaedt
very cool shot. love it
Remembering Marlon Brando on his birthday (3 April 1924 - 1 July 2004)
and who said vintage photos couldn’t be sexy :)
1940s Chevy Dealer in Pierce, Nebraska re-opens to Auction off 500 Time Capsule Cars…
The Story of Ray P. Lambrecht and Lambrecht Chevrolet Company by Jeannie Lambrecht Stillwell
Urban legends speak of a former Midwest Chevy dealer with a collection of hundreds of vehicles hidden away in a rural setting. Rumors abound regarding this man and the mystery of that collection. The man behind that legend is my father, Ray P. Lambrecht. Dad owned and operated Lambrecht Chevrolet Company from 1946 until 1996, selling new Chevrolets to multiple generations of families all over the Midwest and beyond. This is his story.
Dad was born in 1918 during the Great Depression in rural Pierce County, Nebraska, a small farming community. He displayed a strong interest in cars and trucks from a very early age. As a boy, he created a lifelike replica of a delivery truck from scraps of wood and metal after spotting one on a street. The reproduction featured intricate detailing down to a hand-carved steering wheel and a complete exhaust system underneath.
Dad first drove a car at the age of 9. He climbed into the family’s 1927 tan Chevrolet two-door coupe and drove his mother 7 miles into the nearest town for groceries. Driver’s licenses costing $1 weren’t required by law until 1941. Dad made the journey driving 20-25 mph over dirt roads, barely tall enough to peek over the steering wheel. The sight was shocking enough to prompt the local banker to rush out of his office in amazement saying, “Look at that little guy driving!!!”
In 1942 during World War II, Dad was drafted into the army and served as a Sergeant for four years in the Aleutian Islands of Alaska where fierce fighting with the Japanese had just occurred. His planned marriage to my Mother had to be put on hold, but she followed him to California to be closer. When Dad was honorably discharged from the U.S. Army in 1946, he and Mom returned home to Nebraska and were married.
Dad’s opportunity to begin his career as a Chevrolet Dealer presented itself upon returning home. Prior to the war, General Motors had been distributing franchises throughout small towns in the Midwest, and one of them had been given to Dad’s uncle Ernest. Ernest had been operating out of a small garage, and he needed both Dad’s financing and also his ability to construct a dealership building in order to really start growing the business.
Life was extremely difficult during this period of time, and wartime rationing made it almost impossible to obtain even the most basic building materials. Dad was one of very few individuals allowed to purchase those materials because of his army veteran status. Even with that privilege, supplies were so scarce that Dad was forced to drive hundreds of miles from town to town to obtain needed materials such as cement block and roofing beams. Fortunately, Dad was a gifted carpenter and architect. He obtained the necessary materials, designed the building, and then built the dealership that still stands today.
Dad operated the dealership in partnership with his uncle for only two years. After a serious illness forced Ernest to retire, Dad bought out his share of the business and became the sole owner of the franchise.
Lambrecht Chevrolet Company was owned and operated by my parents, Ray and Mildred Lambrecht with only one employee, a mechanic. They operated the dealership for 50 years until they retired in 1996 at ages 78 and 75. My parents worked six days a week for 50 years, never taking one single day of vacation or one sick day. They worked hard and operated their business with honesty, integrity, and kindness, frequently lending a helping hand to others who were in need.
Dad managed the dealership and handled all sales. Mom was second-in-command, and supported Dad in every aspect of the business. She served as notary public for the dealership, handled all accounting, and made almost daily runs for parts.
That first year, the dealership was allotted 16 cars for the entire year. They were black or gray with cloth interiors and no heat. At that time, cars sold for around $600 to $800. They also received 6 pickups that year. They came with no box. Dad got the local lumber yard to supply wooden boxes for the pickups.
Some of Dad’s first customers were his army buddies who learned that Dad now owned a Chevy dealership. These friends purchased new vehicles, and then returned to their homes scattered all over the country. They were so pleased with the experience of buying cars from Dad, they and their families became life-long repeat customers. They also began spreading the news far and wide about the good deals at Lambrecht Chevrolet Company. Before long, Dad was one of the top sellers in the entire country, receiving many awards for sales from GM.
Dad’s real success stemmed from a basic philosophy very different from most auto dealers. He didn’t deal or negotiate. He gave his best price the first time. When a potential customer arrived, Dad would pick up a pencil, make a few calculations, and then give him a number. That was it. People would argue with him, try to bicker on price, and threaten to walk out. Dad would always say, “If you can find a better price on this vehicle, then you should go get it”. Invariably they would be back. After doing all of the legwork and the homework comparing prices from surrounding dealers, the conclusion was always the same. Dad had given them the best price right from the beginning.
I remember a man ringing our doorbell on a Sunday morning. He was a very nervous fellow standing there with his little notebook full of numbers. He very insistently told my Dad, “I’ll buy that truck, but I won’t pay a penny over this amount”. Dad said “Fine”, knowing that the fellow had gotten himself so confused after making all of the rounds that he was offering more than Dad had priced in the first place. The fellow was happy, Dad sold the truck, and all was well.
Dad sold cars all over the country. He was known far and wide as the Chevy dealer to see for the best price and the most courteous treatment. In 1959, Dad created the motto for his dealership while talking with the District Manager – “It Will Pay to See Ray”. It was the slogan that embodied his entire philosophy, and it stuck.
Dad believed in the Golden Rule, and he treated his customers accordingly. He was especially kind to the children who accompanied their fathers to the dealership to look at cars and trucks. Dad would let the kids sit inside new cars or look under the hoods while he explained how things worked to them. The kids were delighted. In many cases they also became life-long customers when they became adults, remembering the special treatment Dad had given them at an early age.
Dad was so well known that he even sold vehicles to residents of other countries. I remember a man from Switzerland who ordered a new white 1969 Corvette from Dad and then had it shipped overseas. He called before flying out, and asked if Pierce, Nebraska was anywhere near Los Angeles. Dad told him to fly to a place called Omaha, and we picked him up from there. He was delighted with his new Corvette, and more than pleased with the price.
My Dad just loved to sell new cars and trucks, and he sold lots of them. Also, he felt very strongly about the issue of safety for families with young children. He would strive to put those families in new cars that were safe and reliable rather than selling them a used car. That was the genesis of my Dad’s car collection. He sold lots and lots of new cars and lots and lots of pickups. The trade-ins were parked on our farm outside of town. Their numbers gradually grew into a massive collection. New cars that were left unsold were also stored. There is a lot of history in that collection. Dad can look at any of those vehicles today and tell you the story behind it. He remembers each used car and the former owner, like the 1928 Durant owned by Mom’s uncle Louie.
I remember the 1953 white Corvette convertible we had when I was four years old and my little brother, Mark, was two. Mark spent his free time tooling around in a little Corvette replica pedal car that looked like the original. I, however, was more interested in getting inside the real thing. What I remember most is my frustration in not being able to open the doors. The 1953 Corvette had no outside door handle and I was pretty short. I remember jumping up to grab the top of the door and then struggling to reach inside to pull the door handle open. Sometimes I succeeded, and sometimes I didn’t. But it was a real joy sitting inside that beautiful Corvette. My love of new Chevrolets was in my DNA and starting to show. When attending gatherings of friends and family, Dad would often turn to me and loudly ask the question, “What is the finest car made?” I would shout, “Chevrolet!!!!”, and it would bring down the house. I didn’t really know what was so funny, but I was happy to play my part.
When I turned 16 and got my driver’s license, it was a very exciting day. My first car was a 1963 Chevy Corvair. It was black, with a red interior, 4-on-the-floor manual transmission, and an oversized shiny chrome gear-shift knob. It was a used car that someone had modified adding “dumps” to the exhaust system. What a wonderful loud purring sound the engine made as I drove that little car all over town, smiling all the way. The rear engine really helped with traction in the snow. And if I did get stuck, a couple of friends could just pick up the rear end, spin me around, and I would be on my way. I loved that car, and it sits in the dealership to this very day.
The Rest of the story here.
This is absolutely amazing. Its like seeing a dealership from the 1950’s Can you imagine finding this?
Teenage Girl Waiting for Train, Chicago, Illinois, 1960
wish people had the class they used to. Try getting this photo today
Sailor gets a tattoo, 1920s
amazing to me that they were able to get that sort of detail in a tattoo back then
HEY LOOK A GIVEAWAY
So yeah, I’ve seen a lot of people who don’t have 3DSes that really want one after E3, so here’s another chance to get one!
If you win, you’ll get a brand new 3DS in whatever color you want, plus a copy of Animal Crossing: New Leaf~ (or whatever game you’d like if you’re not a fan)
- Reblog as many times as you’d like
- Likes count!
- And you don’t have to follow unless you want to
- No giveaway blogs please
- Shipping will be covered, you don’t have to worry about that
- Ends June 25th!
Get in loser, we’re getting health insurance.
Why was six afraid of seven?
Because seven was a registered six offender.