oops

                        for Alice Pullen Hanna, 1914-1970

People didn’t know,

but shoes hurt.

She seldom wore them.

They’re wide as Alley Oop’s,

she moaned; her blocks of feet

rubbed dry paper grooves

in the linoleum.

No caveman club for this girl.

Weapon of choice was a flyswatter,

waved above her head

like a steeplechase jockey,

but never a welt for her bug boy.

I was Foozy in her land of Moo,

rhyming morning into noon,

with a fence of Riley goblins

and a raggedy shoeless man.

willow, 2010

Alley Oop was a syndicated comic strip created in 1932 by American cartoonist V. T. Hamlin. The title character, was a caveman in a prehistoric kingdom of Moo, and his pal Foozy always talked in rhyme.  My grandma always complained about her feet being just like Alley Oop's.  

I have fond memories of her reading to me from a book of James Whitcomb Riley poems. He was known as the "Hoosier Poet" and was best known for his writings in the Hoosier dialect, including "The Raggedy Man" and "Nine Little Gobblins".

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memorial thoughts

WT has been enjoying a few war films on TCM's 72 hour Memorial Day Weekend War Movie Marathon. The movies conjured thoughts of my own ancestors who served our country in wartime. I love this picture of Donald Pullen, Carroll County, Indiana, looking very dashing in his WWI United States Marine uniform. He was the paternal uncle of my paternal grandmother. Even though my father was his namesake, my family was not close, and sadly he died in 1976, before I was able to establish a relationship with him on my own. Not many in my direct family line were military men. In fact, more of my ancestors served in the American Revolution and Civil War, than in either World Wars.

Capt. Robert "Robin" Hanna, my sixth Great-Grandfather, fought in the American Revolution. Born in Prince Edward County, Virginia, December 10, 1744, he attended William and Mary College had a close and enduring friendship with Thomas Jefferson. Capt. Hanna represented Little River District, South Carolina in the Fifth General Assembly (1783-1784). He was also a deputy for the surveyor general and surveyed a great deal of acreage on the North and South Carolina border. His lovely old tombstone, pictured above, in Sims Cemetery, Franklin County, Indiana, reads:

In Memory of Robert Hanna

was born Dec 10th 1744

And departed this life

The 24th of January 1821

He was A brave defender

Of his Country's Rights

And lived and died an honest man

This picture of my 92 year old grandfather was taken in 2006 several months before he passed away. I was able to spend a beautiful, crisp October day with him, tracking down old family gravestones in rural Indiana and stopping by his favorite orchard for some fresh apples and homemade cider. It's one of those rare jewel days, I keep tucked in a favorite spot of my mind's eye. The photo below was taken in Pete's Run Cemetery (supposedly named after an old Native American named Pete), Ervin Township, Howard County, Indiana. I wish I lived close enough to visit his grave this weekend and place a whole arm load of pink peonies, my grandmother's favorite flower. Rest in peace, dear GP. I'm thinking of you today.

Each man must for himself alone decide what is right
and what is wrong, which course is patriotic and which
isn't. You cannot shirk this and be a man. To decide
against your conviction is to be an unqualified and
excusable traitor, both to yourself and to your country,
let men label you as they may. ~Mark Twain

mockingbird

for Mary Hopkins Hanna

I first took note, when you came to me

with that song about the mocking bird,

how it sings o'er Hally's grave.

You know the bird well.

Watching your brave poppa
return to the valley that dull day,
boxed in Confederate pine.

You heard it sing again
when you climbed on the wagon
headed west, pulling the little goat behind,
and held the hand of your widowed ma;
family split amongst Hoosier kin, forsaken.

You remember the bird, at its very worst,

as you stood at the open grave of a son,

the same age your poppa was.

Saddest song you'd ever heard,

mocking curse of that damn bird.

willow, 2010

Name: Bennett H. Hopkins

Residence: Franklin County, Virginia

Occupation: Carpenter

Enlistment Date: 24 May 1862

Distinguished Service: DISTINGUISHED SERVICE

Side Served: Confederacy

State Served: Virginia

Unit Numbers: 819 819

Service Record: Enlisted as a Private 24 May 1862 at the age of 31

in Company D, 58th Infantry Regiment Virginia, 24 May 1862.

Died of disease Company D, 58th Infantry Regiment Virginia, 09 February 1864

Bennett Hopkins was my great-great-great grandfather. One day, several years ago, I spent an afternoon logging genealogical stats of his youngest daughter, Mary, my great-great grandmother. I wondered about her thoughts and emotions, having lost not only her father to an untimely death, but also her handsome son, Guy. That evening, as I cooked dinner, I found myself humming a peculiar tune over the stove. I couldn't get the odd song out of my head all week. After some searching, I found it was Listen to the Mockingbird, an American folk song popular during the Civil War. It was said to be Lincoln's favorite song. I believe it also happened to be Mary's. (click here for my post on Deep DNA)

This is a Sepia Saturday post.

is this dirt?

Nah. I much prefer calling it patina.

Pronunciation: \pə-ˈtē-nə,

Function: noun

InflectedForm: plural pa·ti·nas

Etymology: Italian, from Latin, shallow dish

Date: 1748

1 a : a usually green film formed naturally on copper and bronze by long exposure or artificially (as by acids) and often valued aesthetically for its color

b : a surface appearance of something grown beautiful especially with age or use
2 : an appearance or aura that is derived from association, habit, or established character 3 : a superficial covering or exterior

I dare say the manor certainly qualifies for each point of Merriam Webster's definition. Of course, in the time it took to snap these photos, I could have given these corners a good going over with me mops and me brushes. But for some reason, it's just not quite as much fun.

These are my favorite comfy old suede mules. They have patina, too.

willowy songs, first installment

willow pattern, William Morris

"Willow" always leaps out and grabs me, for obvious reasons. The other night, I was surprised to hear The Duke (that's John Wayne, Lorenzo, not Duke Ellington, by the way) actually sing "Willow, Tit Willow" in The Shootist. It's amazing how many songs have been written about the magical, mystical weeping willow tree. I thought it might be kinda fun to do a series of posts on willow songs. So, without further ado...

You know I adore opera, so the series must kick off with "The Willow Song" from the opera Otello, by Rossini. It's sung by Desdemona, the night before she is murdered by her jealous husband, Otello, the Moor. Mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato sings the song in this cool monochrome video montage, made from some of her opera performances. (outclick on her name for her blogspot blog)

In the 1995 film adaptation of Shakespeare's Othello, the lovely Irene Jacob sings a completely different version of the willow song, known as "The Willow Song" or "Desdemona's Song", the earliest version being found in a lute book dated 1583.

The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree

Sing all a green willow

Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee

Sing willow, willow, willow, willow.

Sing willow, willow, willow, willow.

My garland shall be;

Sing all a green willow, willow, willow, willow

Sing all a green willow my garland shall be.

The fresh streams ran by her, and murmer'd her moans

Sing willow, willow, willow

Her salt tears fell from her and soft'ned the stones.

Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve

Sing willow, willow, willow

He was born to be fair, I to die for his love,

I call'd my love false love but what said he then?

Sing willow, willow, willow

If I court more women, you'll couch with more men.

So, there you have it, my bloggy friends....more wickedly willow songs coming up next week.

sorry, i can't eat that

I love to entertain, but I don't host nearly as many dinner parties at the manor, as I used to. One tricky thing about feeding a number of people is food restrictions. It seems today they are even more common than ever before--no red meat, no carbs, gluten-free, non-dairy--the list goes on forever. A host can go nutty trying to accommodate a crowd. If I'm hosting a small dinner, I always try to find out if there's any allergies or restrictions, a few of which I happen to have myself, ahead of time, so my manor guests can completely enjoy the meal.

Even then, it can be a minefield of potential hostilities. Years ago, we entertained a guest from Egypt for several days. One evening, after being out and about all day, we ordered gourmet pizza. Did he like pizza? Oh, yes, he loved it. Fine. Upon its arrival, he began asking about the pepperoni and if it contained pork. He became almost hostile, refused to eat the pizza, even if the pepperoni was removed. I had no idea he was a practicing Muslim with religious restrictions. Why didn't he say so to begin with? Embarrassed, I quickly cooked him some chicken. Thank God for the defrost feature on the microwave.

There was also a certain manor guest, whose list of food allergies curiously changed with every visit. I began to think this individual was pulling my bluff. They would sulk and hold it against me, if I happened to serve even one dish they supposedly could not eat. Eventually, I decided to include this person's mutable set of restrictions into the "short-term elective dietary" category, like no-carb or fad diets, which I think are okay to politely ignore.

My two cents? If you are invited to dinner, make sure you tell your host any major restrictions or allergies. If you're hosting, always ask. And that's all I have to say about that. Happy eating, my friends.



image shamelessly stolen borrowed from Bon Appetit

chicken jalfrezi

One of the fun things about blogging is the great recipes. Last week Alaine posted a delicious looking chicken jalfrezi on her blog Eclectique. I just just had to give it a whirl. She was right, it was wonderful; a whole bouquet of bright flavors. It was such a big hit at the manor, it's going to be a regular dish. Thanks, Alaine!

I was unfamiliar with the term "jalfrezi", so of course I had to do a bit of poking around. Jalfrezi is a type of Indian curry in which marinated piece of meat or vegetables are fried in oil and spices to make a dry, thick sauce. It's cooked with green chilies, and can range in heat from a medium dish, to a very hot one. Typically those eating jalfrezi cool it down by combining it with cream.

From the times of the Mughals, when it was created as a way of using leftover meat, the chilies helped disguise any disagreeable taste. Okay, now that's really appetizing. The name comes indirectly from Bengali "jhal", meaning spicy food and Urdu "parhezi" meaning suitable for a diet.

6 chicken thighs marinated in:

2 inch piece ginger, peeled and finely grated - I used 2 heaped tsp minced

3-4 cloves garlic, peeled and grated - or 2 heaped tsp minced

½ tsp turmeric

1 tsp garam masala

vegetables:

2 med onions, peeled and thickly sliced or chopped

2 green peppers, de-seeded and sliced or cubed

1-2 green chillies, chopped (optional)

2 large tomatoes cut into wedges

2 tbsp oil or ghee

salt to taste

curry sauce:

2 tbsp ghee or oil

½ tsp chili powder, adjust to taste

2 tbsp tomato paste

optional: You can add a couple of tablespoons of thick, natural yogurt or heavy cream at the last. (I did.)

Mix ginger, garlic, turmeric, garam masala and salt together. Coat chicken with this mix and allow to marinate for 2-3 hours.

Heat oil or ghee in a large frying pan, wok or kadhai. Add sliced onions, green chillies, green peppers and salt, fry for 10 minutes. Add tomato wedges, stir fry until onions become translucent and green peppers and tomatoes are half cooked, approximately 10 minutes. Lift out with a slotted spoon and keep aside. Heat 2 tbsp oil or ghee in pan, add marinated, cut up chicken and stir-fry for 5 minutes on high. Add chilli powder and tomato puree and simmer on low heat, until chicken is cooked. Stir-fry until excess sauce is evaporated and chicken looks well fried. Add fried vegetables, prepared earlier and stir-fry for a few minutes, until heated through.

Stir in yogurt/cream here, if used. Adjust seasoning, turn heat off, sprinkle with coriander leaves.

Note: I could not find garam masala anywhere in my neck of the woods, but found a great substitute online:

1/2 tsp cumin

1/2 tsp paprika

1/4 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp cayenne pepper

1/4 tsp crumbled bay leaves

1/8 tsp ground cloves

Serves: 4 regular sized portions or 3 piggy sized ones.

tar-zhay + liber-tay

Floral is back! And just when I've minimalized the manor, too. Did you know that Liberty of London has teamed up with Target? Yep. You can find fabulous Liberty prints on all kinds of affordable, great quality goodies; kitchen ware, pillows, clothing, umbrellas with cute matching wellies, and even flowery retro style bikes. While I'm not really an ultra floral kind of girl, I do love the occasional lovely vintage print mixed in with my eclectic magpie mix.

Arthur Liberty opened a shop in 1875, in London's Regent Street, selling ornaments, fabric, and objets d'art from Japan and the East. Within 18 months, Arthur Liberty paid back the loan acquired from his father-in-law, and purchased the second half of 218 Regent Street. The store soon became the most fashionable place to shop in London, with it's iconic fabrics used for both clothing and furnishings. Liberty's exotic clientele included famous members of the Pre-Raphaelite movement. They are still best known for their prints and their archives hold over 43,000 designs. Oh-kay, gotta go see what's cookin' at Tar-zhay...

cardomania

This week, my dear bloggy friend Alan, over at News From Nowhere, mentioned finding a lovely carte de viste on a recent trip to an antique fair. As synchronicity would have it, I also found a lovely CDV while browsing in a local antique shop last month. This lovely young lady whispered my name, from a dusty box of vintage ephemera, atop an old filing cabinet. I paid $2, popped her in my handbag and whisked her off to the manor.

Carte de viste, or CDV, is a small victorian photo made of an albumen print, a thin paper photograph, mounted on a thicker card. They are usually 2 1/2 x 4 inches, about the size of a calling card. "Cardomania" became enormously popular beginning in about 1860 in the United States, and the photo cards were traded wildly among friends and visitors. By 1870, carte de vistes were replaced by the larger cabinet card photos, 4 1/2 x 6 1/2 inches, which remained popular until the arrival of the Brownie camera and home photography snapshots became the rage.

Something about this young woman in the photo drew me to her. She reminds me of Winona Ryder in the role of May Welland in Scorsese's film version of Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, so fresh and full of hope. I wonder if the twisted pearl choker was a gift from a special someone?

After I bring a vintage treasure home, part of the thrill is doing a bit of detective work. As you can see from the reverse of the card, the photo was taken by Urlin Photographer, 216 and 218 South High Street, Columbus, Ohio. G. C. Urlin was a prominent local photographer in the late 19th century, with a gallery located in downtown Columbus. I located a similar photo taken in 1895 by Urlin of Lulu Billheimer Wright, married to Reuchlin Wright, brother of the famous Wright brothers, as part of the Wright Brothers Collection, Wright State University. I also took a little trip to 216 S. High via Google Earth and found the original spot has now been replaced by a high rise building, which was actually no surprise.

I hate to see charming vintage photographs separated from their families, tucked away in lonely stacks in flea markets and shops. I'm often known to pick up those with which I feel a certain connection. You might remember the great framed photo of this little guy I adopted last year from the Heart of Ohio Antique Mall. He has an uncanny resemblance to my youngest son, and feels right at home at Willow Manor.

This is a Sepia Saturday post.

tokens

He slips a gift box

from his pocket.

Remember these?

Under the cotton

is a string of metal fish;

I haven’t forgotten.

I’m casting over the dock

of a chair with paperclip

and pencil pole,

fishing for tokens

from Sunday School.

Sallman’s dishy sailor

in a red T-shirt,

with a big see-through Jesus

in a broken ship, points

in the direction of everlastingness,

till his bouncers show up

and throw me out,

for a full baptism in the street.

This time there's no coin

in the fish’s mouth.

willow, 2010

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hepburn + brazzi + venice = yum

Did anyone else see Summertime, 1955, on TCM the other night? Gosh, I can't stop thinking about it. I thought I had seen all the David Lean films out there, but somehow this little gem fell through the cracks. It's about a lonely American spinster, who learns to accept imperfect love from a married art dealer, while on holiday in Venice.

This is a smaller, slower film than Lean's epics, and not quite in the same league as Brief Encounter, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The unique thing about this movie, is that it's filmed entirely on location in gorgeous 1950s Venice. The remastered Criterion Collection version is crisp, colorful and quite delicious. I'm not sure which was the most lip-smacking, the 39 year old Rossano Brazzi in a gray flannel suit or Venice. Hepburn is magnificent, at any age, and she certainly held her own, at 48, paired with the younger Brazzi.



I love the scene where Hepburn enter's Brazzi's shop and spots a wonderful vintage goblet in the window. It made me long to travel in time back to the Venice of the 50s and do some serious shopping. One interesting tidbit of trivia; there's a scene where Hepburn accidentally falls into the canal while taking a home movie of Brazzi's shop. As a result, she actually contracted an infection in her eyes that she battled the rest of her life.

Although this film is a predictable love story, it's not a sappy one. It's poignantly real and deals with the deep fear and emotion felt by Hepburn's character. The quintessential Lean photography is breathtaking. It made me want to pack my bags and head straight to Venice. In the meantime, I'm going to buy myself a DVD for my little manor library.

pink tools of torture

Last week, when I wrote the poem titled Pink, a long legacy of pink hair curlers came to mind. It all started when I was eight, and my hair had finally grown out of that horrid 50s pixie cut, my mother would twist little sections of my wet hair around her finger and clip them in place with two bobbie pins forming an "x". I'll never foget catching the first glimse of myself in the bathroom mirror, in this state of total pin-headedness, brushing my teeth, thinking I looked like some kind of space alien. Was I the only one who made dancing ladies, by threading four bobby pins onto one, then twirling it for her skirt? Okay. Don't answer that.

After the pin-head stage, I graduated to the pink spooly rollers. Speaking of aliens, they were far more fun to play with than wear, since in the closed position, they looked just like pink flying saucers. I remember how they flew in the air and hit me in the face, if I flipped my head around too much.

Next came the pink sponge curlers. Even though they were like stretching my head on the rack, they were a tad more comfortable to sleep in. But for some reason, the one on my right side would invariably fall out during the night, so I would head off to school in a lopsided state. How did those girls manage the perfect flip all the way around?

The spongies were for little girls, so in junior high school, I graduated to the bed of nails pink stubbies, which were covered in prickly spikes, and pink Dippity Doo gel. (Is there some reason why both the gel and all the curlers were pink? No wonder it's not exactly my favorite color.) Some of them had clips and some were held in place with plastic lobotomy-type picks, and were like sleeping every night in an iron maiden. What a price we girls paid for beauty. But, you know, looking back at those old photos, for all the torture, my hair really didn't look that great. I thank God every day for whoever it was who invented the blowdryer. No doubt it was a woman.

photos borrowed from Google images

got chipotle?

The gas grill has been given a good spring clean and is now officially fired up and ready to go at the manor! These smoky pork burgers topped with Muenster and creamy avocado are a tasty variation from your regular old hamburg. Give 'em a whirl. They're delicious.

Chipotle Pork Cheeseburgers

1 lb freshly ground pork, not too lean

2 tsp minced chipotle in adobo plus 1 tsp adobo sauce

2 garlic cloves, forced through a press

4 slices Muenster cheese

4 hamburger buns

mayo to taste

1 large tomatillo, husked, rinsed, sliced (couldn't find any; had to use tomato)

1/2 avocado, sliced

1/2 cup cilantro sprigs

Mix pork with the garlic, chipotle, sauce, garlic and salt to taste. Form into patties and grill. Serve with the rest of the ingredients on toasted buns.

They pair perfectly with this wonderful corn and tomato scramble. Click HERE for the recipe.

waffle house prize

I found a package of sweet hair bows in the manor mailbox. The lovely and very talented writer, Terresa, from The Chocolate Chip Waffle held a spring Waffle House Poetry Contest, and guess who was the winner? Me! She chose my poem "Daffodil Glasses" from a plethora of delightfully springy pieces. I'm very honored, indeed. Oh, and don't worry. I'm not planning on wearing these ornaments in my own hair any time soon. I do, however, have a little cutie in mind who will look adorable in them! Thanks, Terresa! Hop on over and visit her delightful blog. Tell her Willow sent you.

fifth street

for Anna Rathfon Nichols, 1882-1938

They declared their chips in Kansas.
Ace came round in a new fangled motor,
wore a fancy suit. She flew to him like a railbird.

Free hand wrangler, he scooped her up,
built his deck with brick and mortar.
He bought the pot; she bought short.

Mother and sister packed their lot,
headed north, after the fire that killed her pa.

Dealt a dead hand, he lost his Oklahoma purse.
After two stillborn births, this wild card shark
proved his bluff and upped the ante.

Go back to Indianny and console your ma.
I'll be up to collect you directly; he slipped
out the back door on a chronic rabbit hunt.

Cursed rag left her in the dark,
blind to his habit, crippled by a silent flush,
a gypsy muck of syphilis and insanity.



willow, 2010

Ace and Anna, Galena, Kansas, 1910

The story of Ace Nichols never returning to Indiana for my great-aunt Anna, has always been a sad part of my family history, but after I obtained her medical records, the story became even more tragic. Since his name happened to be Ace, I couldn't resist throwing in all the poker terminology.



This is a Sepia Saturday post.

jocko

This afternoon, when I used the name "Jocko" in a piece of poetry, I remembered seeing several lawn jockeys, or Yardells, as they're sometimes called, on our recent road trip through rural Missouri and Kansas. They're fairly rare here in Ohio, but I remember seeing them quite often as a little girl. They were just as popular, or maybe even more so, as garden gnomes.

Historically, a lawn jockey was a black man, dressed in a jockey uniform, holding out one hand, as though taking the reigns of a horse. The hand sometimes carries a lantern, or a metal ring, suitable for hitching a horse. These statues are widely considered racially insensitive and many of the remaining statues have been repainted.

However, some accounts of the figure's origin represent a hero of African American history and culture. According to the River Road African American Museum, the figure originated in commemoration of heroic dedication to duty. It is said that the lawn jockey actually has its roots in the tale of one Jocko Graves, an African-American youth who served with General George Washington at the time he crossed the Delaware River, to carry out his surprise attack on the British forces at Trenton, New Jersey. The General thought him too young to take along on such a serious attack, and left him on the Pennsylvania side to tend to the horses and keep a light on the bank for their return. Jocko, faithful to his post, sadly froze to death during the night, the lantern still in his hand. Washington was so moved by the boy's devotion, he had a statue sculpted and cast of him, holding the lantern, and had it installed at his Mount Vernon estate. He named the sculpture "The Faithful Groomsman".

Dr. Charles Blockson, curator of the Afro-American Collection at Temple University, Philadelphia, claims the figures were used in the days of the Underground Railroad to guide escaping slaves to freedom. "Green ribbons were tied to the arms of the statue to indicated safety; red ribbons meant to keep going...people who don't know the history of the jockey have feelings of humiliation and anger when they see the statue..." Blockson has installed an example of the statue at the entrance to the university's Sullivan Hall.

quantum of boredom

Being totally outnumbered by guys this weekend, I ended up watching the 2008 James Bond film, Quantum of Solace. Other than the fact that it has absolutely no plot, I didn't particularly appreciate the fact that Bond was on a cold blooded personal revenge mission. In my book, this movie doesn't even qualify to be a Bond film. Whatever happened to that suave Flemingesque Bond elegance?

Okay, that said, there were two teensy redeemable features. One, being the fabulous chunky gold fish necklace worn by Olga Kurylenko. Talk about something being worth its weight in gold, this is one magnificent piece of bling. I would wear it in a heartbeat. Second, is the marvelous Dame Judi Dench, as the imitable "M", who always presents an excellent piece of acting, regardless of the script. And I might add, she looked stunning in every scene.

If you haven't seen the movie, don't bother. I've already filled you in on the important highlights. And, since it was cold enough over the weekend to pull my woollies out of mothballs, this film gets two woolly socks down.

a true story

Curse


A psychic said it was in my thirteenth year,
when family gathered in weather most foul, one
near to me cast a curse, unnatural gaze, spurred
by envy, jinxed with hate.

Years later, I met a man, a vendor of junk.
I have just the thing for you, my dear, he winked,
steering me to a trunk with narrow drawers.

It belonged to the local optometrist.

Before me glowed a tray of staring glass, a mix
of size and hues. Entranced, I fixed on blue. Then,
paid, and tucked the orb inside my purse.

Ah, mashallah. You choose wisely. Oh, really, why?
Blue is a talisman to protect you from the evil eye.





willow, 2010



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i'm having this kind of day...

visitor on the patio May 9, 2010

It is a perfectly perfect day at Willow Manor.  What have I been doing?  A little potting of flowers, a bit of poetry writing, and some delicious piddling. My three guys are providing my favorite Mother's Day tradition of Chinese carry-out and beer later this evening on the patio. Clear skies here, in Central Ohio, cool and breezy.  My idea of wonderful.  Hope you are enjoying your Sunday, as well.

charming gardeners

Let us be grateful to people

who make us happy,

they are the charming gardeners

who make our souls blossom.

Marcel Proust

If I had a single flower for every time I think about you,

I could walk forever in my garden. ~Claudia Ghandi

My little gardeners and me, November 4, 1986

powell + loy = bling

Last night, TCM aired one of the delightful films of The Thin Man series, Shadow of the Thin Man, 1941. William Powell and Myrna Loy star as Nick and Nora Charles; Nick a dapper, hard drinking retired detective and Nora, his wealthy heiress wife. In each of the films, they team up and delightfully solve a bloody "moy-duh", mostly for fun, with the help of their darling Fox Terrier, Asta. The initial film's screenplay was based on the mystery novel The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett. It was such a smashing success, it spawned five sequels from 1934 to 1947.

I love the adorable chemistry between Powell and Loy. I can't think of another Hollywood pair who produce as much sparkle, well, except for maybe John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara. In each of the films, Loy is a joy to behold, outfitted in every scene with glamorous clothing and plenty of bling. The amazing thing is, each of these witty films were shot in just a short two week time span. Another interesting tidbit, the "Thin Man" of the title was actually the suspect in the first film. The name was thought by virtually everyone to refer to the character of Nick Charles, hence it was used in the titles of the sequels.

A boxed set of The Thin Man movies is now officially on my Christmas wish list.

Loy, doggy star Asta, and Powell

You might be familiar with these two movies influenced by The Thin Man films:

In the 1976 comedy spoof movie Murder by Death, the characters of Nick and Nora Charles became Dick and Dora Charleston, played by David Niven and Maggie Smith.

In the 2005 animated film Hoodwinked!, the character Nicky Flippers, a frog detective voiced by David Ogden Stiers, was based on Nick Charles.