Posts Tagged ‘Jeana’

Jeana’s poem about Alpine, Texas 1950

November 12th, 2016 Comments off

Eugenia Hunt wrote this poem in 1950 about her home in Alpine, Texas


My back’s to the edge of the desert,

My yard’s by the panther’s tread.

The moon’s the magic silver

On this, my ancient ocean bed.

The lizards run in the yellow sun

And fire’s in heaven when the day is done.

Eugenia Howard Hunt
August 20, 1950


Sleeping Children – A poem by Eugenia Howard Hunt – Christmas 1950

November 12th, 2016 Comments off

Sleeping Children

Sleeping eyes all

Fringed around me.

Soft arms as pliant

As clouds

And lips unclouded by thoughts

Parted in slumber,

The gentle moving

Rhythm of breathing.

Fingers, five pronged

In the grey dark,

Charcoal blown

Over fluid forms

Soft as velvet–

My babies

In the night.

December 25, 1950

A poem from Eugenia that she would have certainly written for Mr. Trump

November 12th, 2016 Comments off


Oh, perfect one,

I do not see

How thou

Can bear to be

With any one

But thee!

Eugenia Howard Hunt
January 5, 1951

My Daughters – A poem by Eugenia Howard Hunt

November 12th, 2016 Comments off
Lalu Robin and Malcolm in Alpine for Grainger and Barbara's wedding

Lalu Robin and Malcolm in Alpine for Grainger and Barbara’s wedding

My Daughters

Out of the jeweled shadows

Of my tumultuous, exquisite childhood,

And the velvet of my teens,

Came my first borns.

They are the image of my

Ephemeral yearnings,

The flesh and bone of my poetry.

the strength of my faith.

Like the willows irredescent


By a clear brook,

Clean and gleaming,

Sinuous, eternally young

And wholly expectant.

February 1, 1961

Jeana’s poem for Jennie

November 6th, 2016 Comments off
Jennie Kiesling (right) and the 1976 Yale Crew Team

Jennie Kiesling (right) and the 1976 Yale Crew Team

Jeana (Eugenia Howard Hunt) wrote this poem in 1978 to her granddaughter and namesake Eugenia Kiesling, who is currently a professor of military history at West Point.


To Jennie

Holding the Banner

When they trailed

The dry dust

Making bread to

Feed the Spirit

Knowing the shadows

Are filled with light

Braced when faced

By defeat’s scarring

Face but radiant

Each dawn for

A fresh renewal

Never bitter over

That galling flavor

Of the trailing


Believing the battle

More worthy than

The defeat

Saluting the endeavor

Morning & Evening

Are God’s gift

From the Glare of the Day

Sept. 1978 E. Hunt


Photo: ESPN article on 1976 Yale Crew Team

Eugenia Kiesling is a professor of military history at the United States Military Academy at West Point. Professor Kiesling earned her BA at Yale University, her MA at Oxford University, and her PhD at Stanford University. She wrote a curriculum while assigned to NATO forces in Kabul for the National Military Academy of Afghanistan in 2007. Professor Kiesling has many publications, including Arming against Hitler: France and The Limits of Military Planning (University Press of Kansas, 1996); and “The Oldest ‘New’ Military Historians: Herodotus, William George Forrest, and the Historiography of War,” in Herodotos and His World: Essays in Honour of W. G. Forrest (Oxford University Press, 2003).  (Source: Article on Onnassis USA )

Jeana recalls what her brother Philo said about being a POW

November 6th, 2016 Comments off
Philo and Mary early 1940s.

Philo and Mary early 1940s.

In a 1970’s journal Jeana wrote about the importance of simplicity.

After my brother Philo had returned from being a prisoner of war, mother planned a picnic. The bustling was noisy and lengthy. Suddenly Phil said, “Prison was so uncomplicated. I had forgotten all of this.” For a moment he almost looked unhappy.

Letter from Jeana to Lalu on becoming 20

November 4th, 2016 Comments off
Lalu and Roy embarking on their honeymoon.

Lalu and Roy embarking on their honeymoon.

The following is a draft of a precious letter I discovered among the many journals Jeana kept over the years.
To Lalu on becoming 20 –


Lalu, my lovely daughter,
Someday you will know I hope a mother’s heart. It is so deep and wondrous a thing as not to bear description. It is so full of love and pride and hurt and forgiveness as to encompass the universe in its constancy. And its viewpoint can only be reached by being. The years it takes to love a grown daughter are its measure.

The day you were 20, I stood on the heights and opened my palm and a spirit flew full blown into the way beyond me. I stood, an artist of life and saw my work move out into that fresh experience, twirl her skirts, and laugh that wonderful laugh which is my Lalu. I thought, “How terrible and how divine to be twenty. How awful and ecstatic and heavenly.”

Oh, my dear, growing older is very, very, nice. But have a wonderful time now. Savor, taste it, hold it, give it the best you have, don’t dare hurt it too deeply. Because its like a Venetian glass chandelier, it can only be blown by Venetians in Venice to be that beautiful. That’s what the 20’s are – live them, feel them, and know them, it can only be had by you once. Be aware of every moment of them. They are your citadel, your castle for a fine life after.

I do not agree entirely with the authorities that childhood is so great an experience, that it shapes all our destinies. I think the 20’s do. They are such “aware” years.

Don’t hurry and become frantic searching for the way. Pace it and breath deeply, and see it all. It’s full of burning desires – make them cooperate with your time. The burning flame of the arts are all around you. Hold them like a torch in front of your eyes – and give your best to the one that makes you most sincerely expressive. But remember, inspiration must have honest endeavor and application. Nothing does itself.

Last, but not least, when it’s time to have fun – angel – have the best time of your life. There is no better time to have it.

Here’s to you – and Got Bless my girl.

Love – Mother

Jeana’s Architect bill for Alpine House 1949

October 30th, 2016 Comments off
Jeana's Architect bill for Alpine House 1949

Jeana’s Architect bill for Alpine House 1949

1949 was the year Jeana was the president of the Houston Art League,  was planning the Alpine house, had a one-year-old (Sperry), and, with her sister-in-law Lennie, drove her nine-year-old son Grainger to Moye Military School in Castroville. (Moye Military Academy)


Eugenia Howard Hunt’s memory of Alpine, Texas – January, 1945

October 23rd, 2016 2 comments

All y’all.

I have a cache of Jeana’s journals. This account is from a steno book she wrote in San Francisco and Marin California in the early 1960’s. Sperry

Snowfall Alpine, TX 1946



It was in the middle of a dry, freezing winter we first came to Alpine. It was in Jan. of 1945. Robin and Grainger had been ill in Houston. Lalu was healthy excess baggage and Annie, our beloved housekeeper, came with us. Mother came along because we had been relegated to a wild, high, uncivilized spot. The fact that it was on route route of the South[ern] Pacific Railroad, highway 90 to California and had a state teacher’s college, had no bearing on the matter. Mother had never heard of Alpine. Mother [Nancy Flewellen Howard] had never seen Alpine. Those facts took it out of the civilized world. So along she came. Gasoline rationing for war times made five hundred and fifty miles too many for our gar ration books. We traveled by train. My father [Dr. Alfred Philo Howard] was chief surgeon of the Missouri Pacific. That lent further primitive attributes to this foreign spot. As the six of us alighted in the onslaught of a dust-laden Alpinian winter night. I though mother was going to turn “The Sunset Limited” around on the tracks and return us all to Houston. The wind lashed at us with an icy ferocity – and skin, mouth and eyes dried out on that moment.

Southern Paciic of the 1940s

Not a living creature was in sight. Our heavy grips, a round dozen of them, were sitting between the tracks. I can’t remember a lighted spot. I’m sure there was. Here came a car, a lovely Spanish-speaking couple alighted, and helped us to the hotel, just out of gracious kindness. But their Spanish accent terrified Mother who thinks anyone who doesn’t speak southern Texas is a suspect who is intent on immediate murder. Any foreign language spoken in her presence is a silly pretense. She feels they are shutting her out from something she definitely know. She feels the same way about scientific discussions. She will not put up with it. She makes fun of anyone who is interested in something she is not. She feels she is absolutely normal and that on one else should be otherwise.

She is adorable once you understand these facts.

[To read more of Jeana’s excellent letter click on the Read More link below:]
Read more…

Letter from Jeana to Lalu March 11, 1965

October 17th, 2015 Comments off

Click below to open up a scanned letter from Jeana to Lalu.

Jeana Letter to Lalu March 11 1965

In the letter she talks about meeting Prince Charles, Sperry coming home from Fountain Valley with his friend from Bogota, Brady’s christening, Roy’s birthday and Daddy’s blues. We lived in this house between the one at 526 W. Friar Tuck (1951-1964) and The River Oaks High Rise on Westheimer just south of Buffalo Speedway (1966-1968). From the apartment she and Dad moved to 900 W. Red Bud Trail in Austin (1968-1983?).

Hunt Home 1964-5. (After Friar Tuck) 1163 (?) Bissonnet St. Houston. 2 blocks from the Houston Museum of Art

Hunt Home 1964-5. (After Friar Tuck) 1163 (?) Bissonnet St. Houston. 2 blocks from the Houston Museum of Art

Below is the apartment. This is the north side. We were on the west near the top. A decade letter Robin and Malcolm moved into a house on Locke Lane, a block behind the Google camera tacking this photograph.

Hunt Apt River Oaks  High Rise Westheimer and Buffalo SpeedwayHouston

Hunt Apt River Oaks High Rise Westheimer and Buffalo Speedway, Houston