Archive for February 2013
“Come, gentle Spring! Ethereal Mildness! Come.”
February 25, 2013Today I woke up nearer afternoon than morning. It had been a late night. I watched the Oscars at my friends’ house then came home, checked e-mail and watched a little TV. Before I realized it, the time had slipped away and it was after 3.
Yesterday it poured all day, but last night, as I was going home, the rain had turned to heavy snow and it was slushy and slippery, but right now the day is lovely with blue skies, lots of sun and a bit of warmth. I have feeders to fill, dog food to buy and laundry to do. That’s my agenda for the day. I hope I can manage.
I can see the white flowers of the drooping snowdrops in my garden. They don’t mind snow or cold. They are spring’s first miracle. Other green shoots are just appearing through the soil, but in one part of the front garden, the dafs have grown high. Perhaps yellow buds will be next.
Winter is beginning to weight me down. I am tired of cold and snow. I don’t remember ever before being so anxious for spring. Usually I just hibernate with good books, and I’m fine with that and patient with the weather. Maybe all the rain we’ve had, those days without heat or the heavy snowstorms have pushed me to ache for spring. I want one day when the deck is the perfect spot to be.
I don’t like vacations centered on the beach, even when I’m sick of winter. I want to see things, to eat new food and to hear a language not my own. I like old places, even ancient places. The fun of a new city is wandering and getting lost and finding wonders on the way. Sometimes I take all rights or all lefts. I like to sit in the sun at a table at a sidewalk cafe and drink coffee and watch the world go by. When I shop, I look for the unusual. I take a lot of pictures. I am partial to doors and windows. I always think of the generations of people who looked through those same windows and I wonder what they saw. I walk so much I am exhausted and always fall asleep early.
Today I’ll have no adventures, but I do have some sun and some warmth. I guess that will have to do.
It’s Too Late: Cleedi Staples and Eddie Floyd
February 24, 2013“Cleotha ‘Cleedi’ Staples, a founding member of the pioneering folk-gospel group, The Staple Singers, has died at the age of 78. She had gracefully battled Alzheimer’s disease for the last decade and passed away peacefully at her Chicago home on the morning of February 21, 2013.
Although Pops and Mavis usually handled vocal leads on Staple Singers songs, Cleotha was featured with Eddie Floyd (of “Knock on Wood” fame) on “It’s Too Late” from the 1969 Stax Records duets LP Boy Meets Girl. Her velvety soprano was powerful and dynamic on the bluesy ballad about a lost love. ” (from The Black Gospel Blog)
Crazy Woman: Magic Slim
February 24, 2013When Magic Slim thundered at the microphone — his voice rough and ragged, his guitar riffs tough and punchy — listeners heard classic Chicago blues as it was conceived in the 1950s. Not nostalgic or dated but simply unconcerned with latter-day musical fashion or commercial considerations.
That approach, which Mr. Slim clung to throughout his career, made him a symbol of Chicago blues around the world and an upholder of its noblest traditions. Mr. Slim — who was born Morris Holt in Torrance, Miss., on Aug. 7, 1937 — died Thursday, Feb. 21, in a hospital in Philadelphia at age 75.
Crazy Woman: Magic Slim
February 24, 2013When Magic Slim thundered at the microphone — his voice rough and ragged, his guitar riffs tough and punchy — listeners heard classic Chicago blues as it was conceived in the 1950s. Not nostalgic or dated but simply unconcerned with latter-day musical fashion or commercial considerations.
That approach, which Mr. Slim clung to throughout his career, made him a symbol of Chicago blues around the world and an upholder of its noblest traditions. Mr. Slim — who was born Morris Holt in Torrance, Miss., on Aug. 7, 1937 — died Thursday, Feb. 21, in a hospital in Philadelphia at age 75.
Along Comes Mary: The Association
February 24, 2013When Tandyn Almer was 23, he wrote a catchy pop song that topped out at No. 7 on the Billboard charts. In 1966, the bouncy, enigmatic song became the first hit for the Association, one of the most popular bands of the era. Mr. Almer was praised as a musical mastermind who brought a fresh sophistication to the sun-dappled pop-rock of the time.
He was interviewed on national television by Leonard Bernstein, the conductor of the New York Philharmonic, and recorded an album of his own music. He became a close friend of Brian Wilson, the troubled creative force of the Beach Boys, with whom he collaborated on a couple of tunes in the 1970s.
And then he disappeared.
For the past few years, Mr. Almer had occupied an unkempt basement apartment in McLean, where he died Jan. 8. He had a combination of atrial fibrillation, congestive heart failure and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, according to his sister-in-law, Randi Minetor. He was 70. Several acquaintances were surprised that he had lived that long.
“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”
February 24, 2013I heard the most welcome of sounds when I woke up this morning, the sound of rain on the roof. I didn’t hear people shoveling or a plow working its way down the street. I heard heavy rain, and I was glad. The day may be dismal and dark, but the rain is a bright spot, sort of oxymoronic I know, but that’s the way it feels.
I am going to Hyannis today. It is really not very far, but I sometimes think of the journey as a trek of sorts. I’m attending a luncheon with the Cape Cod Returned Peace Corps group. We get together every now and then. The last time was in October for the dedication of a stone we’d purchased with a plaque on it celebrating fifty years of Peace Corps and honoring all who served. This luncheon is to recognize Peace Corps week. It starts early so I should be home early which is perfect as I have promised Gracie we will go the dump even if it’s still raining.
When I was younger, not young, but younger, never did I imagine I would pamper myself so much. My groceries were just delivered by Peapod, and they’re already put away. I didn’t have to go up and down aisles silently cursing the aisle hogs or make three or four trips from the car to bring the groceries into the house. When snow fell the last two weekends, I waited for Skip who plowed out my car, the driveway, the mail box and the place in front where I usually park. He shoveled two walks. My front lawn is covered in small, broken pine branches felled by the winds. The back yard has several larger branches on the ground, also victims of the wind. I know in a few months my landscaper and his crew will come and spring clean both yards. Roseana and Lee will be here this week to clean the house. They come every two weeks. I do cleaning in the off-week but usually as little as possible. I have had cleaning people for years, even before I lived here. They date back to when I had a roommate and we shared a house. We both worked, and that was our excuse for housecleaners. She got married and sold her house so I bought my own house. For a long while I cleaned it myself due to finances, not a work ethic, but as soon I could afford it, I hired housecleaners again. When I stopped working, I still kept the housecleaners. Age and a bad back finished off my shoveling career. When I redid the yard, I used a landscaper and decided he was the best choice to keep the grass green and free of weeds. I am, for the most part, a woman of leisure though I am still stuck making and changing the bed and doing laundry. I guess we all need a bit of suffering to keep us humble.
keepthecoffeecoming.blog 