I swear I saw what looked like an elf running through the backyard. He was fast. The dogs barked. He was gone in an instant. It is 16° and cloudy. When I woke up, we had snow showers. On the ground are almost two inches of snow, just enough to cover paths, roads and driveways. The sun is taunting us. It appears for a while then disappears behind the clouds then reappears. It is light, not warmth.

When I was a kid, I attended mass every Sunday, but I wasn’t all that invested. I was just avoiding the prospect of mortal sin, represented by the black milk bottle in my catechism. Sometimes I would smuggle in a paperback to read, or when the pews were filled in the downstairs of the church, and I had to stand in the back, I would read all the pamphlets on a small bookcase against the wall. The downstairs was small compared to the main church upstairs, but it was quick and popular, no sermon.

In Ghana, I was the victim of some crimes. On my first weekend during training, I hitched to Accra. I was walking on a bridge with a couple of friends when I felt someone pulling one strap on my pocketbook. I looked and it was a guy pulling with both hands trying to take my purse. I grabbed the other strap and pulled it with all my strength. His strap broke off, and he took off. The two guys I was with just watched. When I complained about the watching, they said it didn’t appear I needed help. I felt triumphant, not scared. I wasn’t the target. My bag was. The next crime happened at the railway station. I loved the train in Ghana and usually took it upcountry. I was on my way to Kumasi. When I sat down, I noticed my bag had been picked. My money was gone. The thief was slick. Peace Corps reimbursed me.

The last theft was right out of my house. I had visitors, and the three of us slept in the yard because of the heat. When we woke up, my back door was being held open by a stone, and my friend’s pants had been taken off his mattress and thrown on the back wall. Inside the house, my desk and wardrobe had been rifled. My camera was gone as was my wallet. The camera was useless. You couldn’t buy Instamatic film. It was the end of the month, and I had very little money so stealing the wallet was a bust. What was amazing was how deeply I must have been sleeping. I had locked the house doors and put the key under my pillow. The thief took the key, and I slept through it. I found my camera outside of my yard. I never found the wallet. I thought about that key and figured someone who was close to me knew it was under my pillow. I reported the theft to the police. They had a couple of thieves in jail cells and the police officer asked me if they were my thieves. I was sleeping and never saw the “perp.”

I never felt unsafe in Ghana. I hitched rides and took rides when offered. I walked home from town even at night. The thefts were just a small part of the backstory.

Snow started a little bit ago, but it will be under an inch, more of a snow shower. The cold persists. Today will be in the 20’s and tonight down to the teens. I’ll hunker down with my book and some M&M’s. The dogs are already asleep on the couch. They had a traumatic morning. They had to go out into the cold.

When I was a kid, on a cold Saturday like today, I’d be home. I’d be planted in front of the TV with my cereal bowl in hand. Snap, Crackle and Pop would be the soundtrack. Back then, children’s programs ruled Saturday morning TV. I had some favorites. Sergeant Preston of the Yukon, Sky King, Robin Hood, Captain Midnight, The Cisco Kid, Kukla, Fran and Ollie and Howdy Doody come to mind. My favorite Howdy Doody characters were Flubadub and Dilly Dally. Captain Midnight was the first science fiction show I remember watching. Sky King with his plane was unique. Sergeant Preston shared the show with Rex, his horse, and his dog Yukon King. One summer we stayed on an island in Maine. The house had a radio. I remember sitting in the kitchen and listening to Sergeant Preston. I remember the sound of the wind and the clomp of Rex’s hooves.

My father loved Spam. He especially loved it fried. My sister too was a Spam fan, still is. Once in a while I’d eat it fried in a sandwich as a last resort for lunch. The biggest problem in opening the can was the key. It was attached to the bottom of the can. You pulled it off. The key had a slot. The can had a lip and under that was a strip of metal, a piece of which was inserted into the key slot then you turned the key. This is where it all went wrong for me. The key started fine then went awry. The strip would twist, bend and stop turning. I had to use a knife to finish the opening. I had to be careful. The top had a sharp edge. I admit I did cut myself a couple of times, not unexpectedly. I always keep band-aids on hand in a variety of sizes.