Keep the Coffee Comimg

The house is dark: no sun is streaming through the windows. The prediction is for rain, even thundershowers, so the sky is filled with clouds. The branches and leaves of the backyard oak trees blow back and forth in the wind. The air is wet, humid. Early this morning, around three, when I let Henry out, I stuck my head out the door to check the weather. The air was so thick with humidity I could see it hanging there almost like fog, and I swear my hair got wet just from that quick look.

I will go nowhere today even though I have a small shopping list and bags of trash to go to the dump. I’m going to take an early nap then watch the Sox play the Yankees at 4. The last two games between them have been amazing. The Sox won the first with a score of 15-7. I was on my feet clapping and cheering. Last night Rick Porcello pitched a complete game one-hitter. That one Yankee hit happened in the first inning when everything else happened. Porcello hit Brett Gardner at the start of the game with the count 0-2, obviously not intentional with that count. New York’s Luis Severino answered with a high-and-inside fastball when Mookie Betts led off the bottom half. The ump warned both benches. Cora, the Sox manager, took umbrage and ran toward the ump who  gestured to him not to get any closer. Cora kept running, was ejected and watched the rest of the game on TV.  Porcello faced 28 hitters and threw only 86 pitches to win. That game was a masterpiece.

When I was a kid, I loved the Celtics and the Red Sox. Seats were cheap in those days so I’d go to the Garden to see the Celts in the winter and Fenway to see the Sox in the summer. I could take a bus then the subway to get to both places. I sat in the bleachers at the Sox games. My best view was of the outfielders and the bullpen. At the Garden, my seats were somewhere in the middle, and I could see all the action. Back then, the Celts were always champions while the Sox were closer to the bottom of the standings. I didn’t care. I was just thrilled to be there in the middle of all the excitement and to see my sports heroes in real life.

I have some Cracker Jacks and some corn to pop. I’ll wear a Red Sox shirt and cheer for the home team. Go Sox!

I tried to emerge from my cocoon this morning by opening doors and windows to the world, but it took the humidity only a few minutes to start making the house uncomfortable. I gave in and turned on the air conditioner. Mother Nature is vacillating. We have sun for a few minutes then clouds then sun again. I have no preference. I’m inside the house.

I have an iron. It was a house warming present forty one years ago. It looks like new. Before I could afford a dryer, I used it a lot to iron blouses, but it has been gathering dust for years. Now I need it. The clothes I just bought arrived wrinkled. I thought about washing and drying them hoping to get the wrinkles out, but I decided it was laziness and beyond the pale so my iron and I will get reacquainted today.

When I was a kid, every summer day was filled with possibilities. I saw my town as a giant place. I could go to the square and check out Woolworth’s or walk inside the post office because it always felt cool no matter the outside temperature. I’d stand at the Chinaman’s side window and watched him iron clothes with a big flat machine. Just up the street was the barber where my father went. I always looked inside that window too. If I had a dime, I’d stop at Middlesex Drug Store for a vanilla Coke. It was made at the soda fountain with Coke syrup, fizzy water and real vanilla. The drugstore counter had a dark granite top though I didn’t know what it was called back then. I just knew it was cool to the touch. Sometimes I headed home from there. My route took me passed the fire station. The firemen always sat outside on warm days. Next was the town hall. If I was hot or tired, I’d sit on one of the benches under the trees for a stretch. I’d keep going and walk through my empty school yard. From there I’d take the familiar walk home I took every day from school.

I  can close my eyes and still see it as it was. I never thought the square was small. I loved all those stores. I loved the smell of baking bread from Hank’s Bakery and the less than pleasant smells coming from the fish market. Popcorn aroma filled the square when the candy factory was making it. The firemen always said hello. My town was just right for a kid looking for possibilities.

Yesterday morning was lovely. I sat on the deck and read my papers and had my coffee. I could hear the acorns from the oak trees hitting the deck. I could hear the birds. It was a wonderful morning.

Today is suck your breath away humid. If I just looked out the window and stayed inside, I’d think what a beautiful day with sun, a blue sky and every now and then breeze. I’d be wrong. It will be in the mid 80’s with humidity almost as high.

This morning I got my papers, yesterday’s mail, put some boxes in the trunk for the dump and cleaned my little library. I rearranged the books and added a couple of new books. I never see anybody but there are books added by other than me.

As I age, I notice changes. I, of course, have more grey hair than brown. I wrinkle. I feel hot and cold more than I did. In the summer, I love the AC running. In winter I like the heat and wear a sweatshirt around the house. My feet get cold so I wear socks. Oddly, I don’t wear my winter coat outside. I wear a hoodie. I have hats, mittens, gloves and scarfs. I sometimes wear the knit cap just because I like it, not because I’m cold. I like naps but that has always been true. I am lazy about meals. I used to make a good dinner, but now I grab whatever is convenient. Lots of times it is just cheese and crackers. Sometimes I have cereal. Lately I’ve thrown in blueberries, but I prefer bananas. My word retrieval skills are dimming. I can’t think of the word I need at the time so I substitute non-descript words. My favorite non-descript word is thing. I drop it into conversations all the time now. I like staying home. I like lazy days. I used to do everything. I cleaned my house, took care of the lawn and shoveled in winter. I grocery shopped and hauled in the bags, usually in a couple of trips. Now I don’t. My house gets cleaned every two weeks, but I do some cleaning in between Mostly I swiffer Henry’s hair as it is in clumps on my floors. I have a landscaper who does all all my yard work. Peapod delivers my groceries to the kitchen. Skip, my factotum, does everything else including plowing and shoveling and opening and closing the deck. I talk out loud and pretend I’m talking to the animals. I get distracted. I’d be on the way to the kitchen but I stop when I notice clumps of fur to clean, a picture to straighten and a chair to align so by the time I get to the kitchen I forget why I’m there.

Life is an adventure at my age.

The morning was cool when I woke up. There is still a breeze and it’s cloudy, but I can feel the humidity, and I’m guessing the sun will be back. I figure by afternoon we’ll be behind closed doors and windows again. Today is a stay at home day. I have a couple of new books from the library so I can while away the afternoon reading. I can think of no better pleasure.

Alexa is playing Bob Dylan. I keep stopping to sing along.

Last night I noticed stuffing on the floor and figured Henry was pulling apart another of his toys though I thought I had taken all the stuffing out of them. Well, I had. Henry was pulling out the stuffing from a hole he had made in the couch cushion. The hole is a good size. I turned the cushion over and saw a tiny hole but thought nothing of it until I saw the stuffing. Henry was at it again. I switched cushions with him and will have to remember to cover the hole when I go out. He might get bored and look for something to do.

When I was kid, our boxer had two major incidents. The first was when my father left him in the car while we visited my aunt, the nun. When we got back, we saw Duke had chewed the upholstery over the car windows and strings of it hung down. Later my father cut the strings, but the car stayed like that until we got a new one. The second incident was at a red light in Reading Square. Duke went out the window. My father immediately pulled over and gave chase. A passer-by saw the dog and my father and grabbed the dog. If he hadn’t, the chase would have lasted until my father could run no more. Duke was not penitent.

When I was a kid, my movie theater had one screen and no air-conditioning. Candy bars were a nickel. I never bought popcorn or a drink. I just had that one nickel to spend, and I chose wisely, candy which lasted a while. A penny had value back then. A half-dollar was a fortune. My birthday cards sometimes had a dollar in them. I felt rich beyond compare.

Today I had a late start given I didn’t wake up until after ten because of my still being up and about at two thirty this morning. Even Henry wanted to go to bed so he waited impatiently by pacing until I was ready. It didn’t matter I was so late waking up as I had my usual leisurely morning. The paper held my attention for the longest time. On the sports page, the column by Peter Abraham had me aghast and horrified, not by what he wrote but by the heading “Greiving Cora found solace fleeting in shutout victory.” What happened to spellcheck and even worse what about I before e except after c (there are exceptions, of course, as the English language is filled with exceptions)? The former English teacher came out in me and I circled the word in red.

Last night we had our movie night. My friends decided it was the worst movie any of us had ever seen, even I agreed which is a surprise as I watch bad scifi movies just because. The movie was Beast of Yucca Flats. It starts with a nude woman coming out of the shower who is then strangled by someone with a large hand. This scene had nothing to do with the action which followed. A Russian defector is being chased by the KBG. I gave up counting the number of shots hitting no one including during a car chase. The scientist, played by Tor Johnson, flees into the desert. In the heat he begins to take off his clothes. He then gets too close to the detonation of an A-bomb and is turned into a murderous beast. People get strangled, kids get lost, the sheriff shoots 8 or 9 or even more times at the wrong man, the father looking for his kids. The monster chases the kids. The law chases the monster. The father hunts for his kids. The mother stands all night by the side of the road, purse in hand, waiting for her husband. The monster is found and shot. End of story. Here is the best part: this movie has no soundtrack. The producer couldn’t afford it. The narrator tells most of the story, and when characters talk, you never see their mouths because the sound and the narration were added in post-production, after the movie was finished. We laughed all the way through. I think it is the only way to watch this movie. What saved us was the movie is only 54 minutes long. I’m going to leave you with some favorite quotes:

“Vacation time. People travel East. West. North. Or South.”

“Nothing bothers some people. Not even flying saucers.” ( there are no flying saucers)

“Touch a button. Things happen. A scientist becomes a beast. ”

“Boys from the city. Not yet caught by the whirlwind of Progress. Feed soda pop to the thirsty pigs.”

My favorite: “A hundred and ten in the shade. And no shade.”

Today is perfection. The humidity is nearly gone, the sun is shining and there is a breeze coming through the backdoor. All the windows are open to the fresh morning air. It is quiet. I hear only birds. I am delighted.

When I go back to my old town, I take a ride around some of the familiar places of my childhood. I remembered who lived in what house and wondered about my childhood friends. Somewhere along we grew away and apart from each other. What I have are some wonderful memories of a small town, games of ball, walking and biking all over  and playing in each other’s backyards. The town is so much larger now but some parts look exactly the same to me. I drove down the street where the rag man used to live and keep his wares. I remember a sagging porch filled with stacks of newspapers. A trash company is there now which sort of gives some symmetry to the site. I went down the street where I used to cut throught the woods to home. The woods are gone now. I drove up the hill to where we used to live. That hill was the best fun riding down on your bike. Going up meant furious pedaling getting harder and harder until about the midway point when I would walk my bike the rest of the way. When I finally made it up the whole hill, I raised my arms in triumph. All the streets and all the houses around look exactly the same. The brick house around the corner was a favorite of mine because of the bricks. The house across the street is huge and white, just as I remember. I forgot to check to see if there is still a grape arbor.

This town represents so much to me. It’s where I grew up and where I learned about friendship and taking risks. It’s where I slept in the backyard and pretended I was camping, where I first went to school and found the joy of reading, where the library was one of the coolest spots on a summer’s day, where I’d watch the lobsters in the fish market’s tank and go to matinees at the movies. That old town of mine will always have a piece of home attached.

The sun was shining when I woke up. Since then the clouds have taken over and the day is dark. I turned off the AC to get some air, but the house has gotten hot quickly. Even poor Henry is panting. The forecast is maybe rain today and tomorrow. Tonight we hope to do movie night so I want the rain to hold off until tomorrow, but I do want rain.

Around 2:30 Henry started barking. He kept it up for a while so he did hear something. I turned on my bedroom light and started to get up to investigate, but he stopped so I went back to sleep. I figure his fierce barking is a wonderful deterrent to anyone contemplating thievery.

The tempo of life and marching to a different drummer make living sound musical. Kicked the bucket and bought the farm give death an agricultural bent. In between the living and the dying are euphemisms gone crazy. My friend occasionally drops sugar honey ice tea into the conversation. These are not drink choices, and the first letter of each word will give you a better idea of her mood. My thought here is if you’re agitated enough, drop the drink options. A spot of profanity is good for the soul. I noticed that people don’t go to the bathroom any more. This is not a medical crisis. It’s just that they now go to the powder room, the restroom or the head even though women no longer use powder, nobody rests in a restroom, and unless you’re in the military, there is no head, so to speak. I won’t even describe my reactions to the use of little girls’ or boys’ room. Why does the use of the bathroom need a euphemism or two or more? We all have to go so we should just tell it like it is: I’m going to the bathroom. Nope, not difficult at all.

Now we all need to keep in mind the following just in case. You don’t throw up when on a plane: you have motion discomfort. I am not going to the dump today but rather to the sanitary landfill; however, the last word I would ever use in reference to trash is sanitary. Janitors, trashmen and bartenders no longer exist. They have been reborn as custodians, sanitary engineers and mixologists.

I end with the best one of all. In Dr. Seuss’ Halloween TV special is Grinch Night when young Euchariah Who finds himself in need of “the euphamism” and must venture out of doors. What does the poor boy need? He needs the Whoville outhouse, the necessary, the privy, the little house! How wonderful!

I’m behind closed doors still. The sun was hanging around earlier but has now been replaced by clouds. I noticed a feeder was down and went to the deck. The red spawn of Satan had broken the top and was dining. I jet sprayed it and the creature jumped from branch to branch to get away but came back later. The feeder is inside with me while I try to figure how to keep the spawn from the seed. I wish the feeder could be electrified.

Serendipity is about the best word I know. Pure luck in discovering something you were not looking for has magic attached. An unseen hand has guided us to that one spot, that one place in time. I’m not talking spectacular discoveries here, just places or things that make us happy or give us joy. I’ve been lost on the road, decided to keep going and found the most interesting places to stop, places by-passed by my usual route. In cities I’m visiting, I just walk and am never disappointed. Did you ever hunt for something only to find something else, something you thought you’d lost forever? I found a box of old pictures, sat, went through each one of them and was lost in the memories of long ago friends. I was so intent on my treasures I forgot what in the heck I wanted in the first place.

Life’s choices are sometimes just filled with serendipity. I was in a quandary trying to decide what to do with myself after college. I chose Peace Corps for a sea of reasons, but, during those two years, I found out something I didn’t expect: I love to teach. I had found my passion. If I hadn’t chosen Peace Corps, I would have gone to law school and would have missed countless years of joy.

Once I found the perfect gift for a friend when I took refuge from the rain in the closest store. She loved the gift, and I found it because I wanted to stay dry.

I think that it is serendipity which opens our hearts to the joy of the unexpected and reminds us that though we may not always find what we seek, we might just find something better. 

The rain finally arrived. Henry wanted out at 5 so I obliged. Just as I got back into bed the heavens opened and heavy rain pelted the window. It was one sound, a roar, not the sounds of individual drops. I fell asleep.

When I woke up, the rain had stopped but it left the day dark and damp. Drops are falling from the trees when the wind blows. I am dreading my trip to Hyannis today. The roads will be filled with car loads of tourists trying to find something to do. They’ll gawk and ride slowly so as not to miss a single shop. They’ll watch a movie, buy souvenirs and stop to eat. I will leave early.

When I was a kid, I remember my father giving us each a few dollars to shop when we were on vacation. I once bought Scottie dog magnets, one black and one white. I liked the way they repelled each other. Another time I bought a book. I never did buy a souvenir. Free shells found along the beach were just fine. They even came with their own sand.

I don’t shop for clothes much. When I went back to Ghana the first time, I bought new shirts and pants out of necessity, but those clothes have become so threadbare I threw away two pairs of pants and two around the house pants, all split across the legs at creases. I tried taping the creases, but that didn’t work. The tape bunched in the wash and stuck to my legs on the next wearing. I realized I had no choice but to buy new clothes so this week I went shopping, on-line of course. Polo shirts were on sale. I bought colors: pink, red, lime and light blue. I bought two pairs of pants: black and khaki. I now own more summer clothes than I have in years, and best of all, I didn’t have to leave the house to shop.

I feel betrayed. Necco was sold with the understanding candy would still be made, but the first buyer sold it right away, and the new buyer closed Necco. I’m already suffering from a Clark Bar withdrawal. I have Necco Wafers and some Skybars but they won’t last long. I can’t find Clark Bars anywhere. People have been hoarding them. I’m in despair.

I am still living in the dark of my house, all windows and doors closed. The AC is blasting, and I am thankful for it. The day looks lovely outside the window with a light blue sky, plenty of sun and a breeze sometimes morphing into a wind strong enough to blow the large boughs of the tallest pine trees, but it is still a humid day with thick, stifling air.

When I was a little kid, I had all sorts of hopes and dreams. For a while, I imagined myself a princess living in a palace with turrets and secret passageways. I’d travel the countryside in a carriage drawn by magnificent horses. In my mind’s eye, I always looked a bit like a dark haired Cinderella. I once thought I had been snatched by Gypsies and my real, very rich parents were searching and searching for me. They’d drive through town, see me playing, recognize me immediately, stop the car then run and grab me, crying all the while as they gave me hugs. Though I couldn’t dance and sing like Shirley Temple, I could act. I had a perfect pout and could turn it on and off at will. I could cry real tears when needed. An actress is what I hoped to be. I would be the first female priest, and I used to practice  by serving mass to my little sisters. They ate the communion wafer, a small part of a saltine, and I had them go with God, all in Latin, of course. These were the dreams of a young girl.

When I got older, I dreamed of so many different things. I dreamed of traveling the world, of seeing all those far away places. I dreamed of going to college. No one in my family had ever gone to college. For a while I was a writer, an F. Scott Fitzgerald sort. Later I was Emily Dickinson pouring out my adolescent angst in poetry. I wanted to be a folk singer and play in cellar coffee houses filled with smoke. I wanted the crowd to snap their fingers in appreciation when I was done. These were the dreams of an adolescent trying to find her place in the world.

I went to college. I picked English to study because hiding in the back of my head were Emily and F. Scott. They hadn’t ever left. I chose teaching because I thought it a noble profession. I chose the Peace Corps because it just seemed the right thing to do. When I graduated from college, I left home, went to Africa and took my first steps into adulthood. These were my dreams coming true.

I loved teaching. I had chosen well. I traveled more of the world. Once I stood with a foot in each hemisphere. I watched reindeer at the Arctic Circle. I traveled through the Panama Canal and into the Andes. My dreams had become real, had become memories, but there is so much more ahead of me. I still hope and I still dream.