What a pretty morning it is. The sun is bright. The sky is a deep blue. Though clouds were predicted, there are none. It is 45°. It feels warm with no wind. Dare I say this is a preview of spring?

Since I was a kid, Saturday has been my favorite day. I used to wander on my bike. I had routes I followed. Near the golf course, I hunted for wayward golf balls. I always found a few across the street from the course. Uptown, I walked my bike on the sidewalk and checked out all the store windows. Two had smells. The bakery smelled of bread. The aroma wafted up and down the street and seemed to swirl around the sidewalk in front of the store. Once in a while I had enough money to buy a loaf, a warm loaf. I’d tear off pieces and eat it as I walked. The last store, the fish market, was down a bit from Hanks’ Bakery. It had a fishy smell, an unpleasant smell, which carried to the sidewalk. In the store window was a tank with lobsters. I used to watch the lobsters swim around. That was my last stop in the square.

Winter Saturday fun depended on the weather. If it was snowy, we’d sled all day right down our own hill. If the weather was ugly, we’d go to the matinee in the theater uptown or just hang around watching TV. I remember westerns more than any other programs. Fury, My Friend Flicka, The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin, Sky King and my favorite, The Lone Ranger, were all on Saturday. I always sat on the rug right in front of the screen. Some Saturdays I ate not only breakfast but also lunch in front of the TV. I never went blind.

None of us ever complained about supper on Saturdays. It was traditional. It was a New England thing. We had baked beans, brown bread and hot dogs. The beans and the bread came out of cans. The brown bread had the markings of the can. It looked sort of decorative. The hot dogs were boiled or sometimes fried. The hot dog rolls always opened at the top. I used mustard and piccalilli on my dogs. No one would have ever have given any thought to using ketchup. That was sacrilegious. In summer the hot dogs were grilled, and the rolls were browned on the grill. We’d have ice cream for dessert. My father back then worked for an ice cream company.

As for me now, I am not a fan of westerns with a few exceptions like Blazing Saddles. I don’t sit close to the TV, but I do eat in the den. I love hot dogs. My sisters make fun of me as it is my go-to supper. I always have hot dogs and top loading rolls on hand. I never have brown bread, decorated or not.

Last night around 11:15 the electricity died. I was reading when the room went dark. It took me totally by surprise. Henry is not afraid of the usual darkness but is afraid of sudden darkness. He sat up, started shaking then came to me for a hug. He got many hugs and scratches. I had grabbed the flashlight and started reading hoping the lights would be back quickly. Nala then went out and Henry followed. I opened the door and used the flashlight to light the stairs. In a while Nala came back inside but Henry did not. The bottom of the stairs was dark. He just stood there. I went out and shined the light on the steps, and he braved the stairs and came inside. He got a treat. I went to bed early. The electricity was back when I woke up.

Last night got cold rather quickly, and we had snow flurries. This morning is still cold, 37°. The sunlight looks faded. The sky is cloudy, a grey blue color. Light rain is predicted for later. This is an almost pretty day gone bad.

When I was a kid, my family had a hierarchy. The grandparents and their siblings were the oldest and at the top. At family parties the aunties came, my grandmother’s sisters. “Are you Chickie’s daughter? They always asked. That’s how I was known to the aunties. My parents and their siblings came next. My mother was the third of eight, my father the second of three. I had cousins galore. We were the bottom of the hierarchy. Now I am at the top. I am the oldest. That astonishes me. I can’t believe time has so quickly passed.

When I was in Ghana, Mr. Edwards was the local education chair. He spoke at my school often. I always thought him pompous. His speeches each time were filled with clichés. The one I remember from every single speech is, “Time and tide wait for no man.”