Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
August 8, 2015
I don’t know what we’ve been doing right because we are blessed with another glorious day. It is cool, in the 70’s, bright with sun and breezy. The birds are singing, the chimes are tinkling and I can hear water flowing from the fountain.
While I was sitting outside and taking in the morning, I had some deep thoughts. I wondered which super power I’d want. Flying was my first thought. I could go anywhere I wanted whenever. I was thinking of lunch in Rome, dinner in Paris and a quick weekend in Accra. I wondered if I could fly and carry baggage at the same time. I did think I could wear layers so maybe I wouldn’t need much baggage after all. Night would be the best time to arrive so I wouldn’t spook anyone.
When I was a kid, I wanted all of Superman’s powers, and I wondered what superhero costume I’d wear. I liked his cape but not the rest. The cape was flamboyant, and I could envision it blowing behind me as I flew. The red is a good choice.
Sitting outside seemed to engender strange wonderings. I pondered which book I’d choose to enter as a character. Heidi came to mind because of the beauty of the Alps but then I thought of winter and decided against Heidi. Around the World in Eighty Days went on the list. It’s that travel bug thing I have. Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy went on for the same reason. I’d stay away from Hemingway except maybe The Sun Also Rises. I like On the Road but of course I would. I’d reread Walker Percy as I think maybe his books might be good jumping into places. I’ve always like Dashiell Hammett, and I’d get to wear great clothes and all those hats. I’d leave off the fox stoles, the ones with heads.
I’m going back outside when I finish here. I’m sort of curious where my mind might wander next: a science fiction movie maybe but only in black and white.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Around the World in Eighty Days, beautiful day, bird songs, chimes, Dashiell Hammett, enter a novel, flying, fountain, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, super power, Superman's power., The Sun Also Rises, Walker Percy, which character
Comments: 8 Comments
August 7, 2015
Today is truly another day in paradise. The weather is sunny, dry and in the high 70’s. The breeze, coming from the north, is cooling. It ruffles leaves and sways the smaller branches. It is nap time here. Fern, Maddie and Gracie are sleeping. The cats are each on a different couch and Gracie is snoozing in her crate. I can hear her snoring. I’m thinking an afternoon nap might be just the thing.
The Globe gave me a few chuckles this morning. A video, part of the robbery at the Gardiner Museum, has been released. From the night before the heist, it is possibly a dress rehearsal for the real event the next night. It shows Guard Richard Abath opening a door to let the man inside the museum. The next night it was Abath who opened the door to two men dressed as police officers who went inside, subdued Abath and tied him up. There are other issues connected to Abath, but my chuckle came from a man who was a student with Abath back in the day. The man, Knight, called Abath “a very nice guy, very intelligent, very well-read.” Knight recalled Abath said it was an honest mistake letting in the men posing as officers. Knight went on to say, “I hoped he was not involved in this. It would certainly cast him in a different light if in fact he was proven beyond a reasonable doubt he was guilty. That would alter, in my mind, his overall character significantly.” Do you think?
Another article described the top Argentinian officials facing charges in a 1994 bombing. “On a day of heavy rain, several of the 13 men were ushered into court…”I have no idea why we needed to know it was raining, but once we did I wanted more. Did they wear raincoats, use newspapers to cover their heads or have umbrellas? I want the full story!!
My favorite of all is the SJC (the state’s Supreme Judicial Court) has tossed out a law which made it illegal to lie in political campaign material calling it “inconsistent with the fundamental right of free speech.” The court explained, “Citizenry, not the government, should be the monitor of falseness in the political arena.” So what happens when your opponent fills the air waves with lies about you? According to Justice Cordy,”That solution is counter speech.” In other words, tell your own lies. Let the people figure it out the truth on their own. How scary is that?
Categories: Musings
Tags: a day of heavy rain, beautiful day, Boston Globe, cool breeze, counter-speech, full story, Gardiner heist, Laundry, let the people decide, napping, Richard Abath, SJC, Snoring, top Argentinian officials facing charges
Comments: 12 Comments
August 6, 2015
I think I know what heaven may be like. It’s a deck high up in the trees. Birds fly in and out of feeders filled with sunflower seeds and hanging from branches. The round glass table is in the shade. A red fountain constantly flows and sounds like a brook with water cascading over rocks. Birds stand under the flowing water as if it were a shower then shake their feathers dry. Other birds stop and take a drink. The humidity is a memory and there is a cooling breeze. Pinwheels stuck in flower pots spin and spin in the breeze, and their colors run together in whirls of red and blue. The only sounds are birds, chattering red spawns and a few planes flying overhead almost close enough to brush the tree tops as they make their way to Logan. Welcome to my deck.
The neighbors across the street seldom venture out of their house. They used to weed the front, but when they replaced the ground cover with mulch, they don’t have to weed at all so I don’t see them much anymore. They were city people so locks and closed windows keep them safe. I never see the front door opened to the screen. If I have to go over, I hear my neighbor ask who it is then I hear her unlock several door locks. Her husband has Alzheimer’s but always waves and says hello to me. Once he thought he was locked out of the house and came here for help so I think he still remembers me.
My street is on its second generation of kids. The first generation has kids of its own. Four houses still have original owners, mine included. We have all improved our houses with backyard decks, patios and, in one case, a swimming pool. We sit in those backyards and take joy from the quiet. I read or listen to music. I leave my phone inside. I sometimes hear it ring but I don’t care to answer caught up as I am with the deck, the day and the beauty around me.
Categories: Musings
Tags: backyards, birdbath, birds, breeze, deck in the trees, feathers, fountain, heaven, isolation, neighbors weeding, original owners, pinwheels, planes landing, shade, spinning wheels, whirling colors
Comments: 7 Comments
August 4, 2015
The doors and windows are open. The day isn’t cool but isn’t overwhelmingly hot either. We had a tremendous thunderstorm. It woke me up when the thunder cracked above my house which shook just a bit. I then heard the rain drops falling and beating against the window pane. They were my lullaby as I fell back to sleep. I woke to a sunny day. Everything is still wet but the sun will see to that.
When the breeze blows, I can hear drops of water falling off the leaves and hitting the ground as if in mimicry of a gentle summer rain. Earlier, the sun went away for just a bit and the thunder rolled but that was the storm’s last hurrah.
I have always loved summer rain. When I was kid, we ran in the rain and our clothes got soaking wet. We’d stop at every puddle and use our feet to whack the water. It spewed in wide circles. Along the curbside a river sometimes flowed. We’d walk through the river splashing as we went. The water ran fast to the sewer crate.
When the storm ended, we’d stay outside and let the sun dry us. It never took long. The sun always seems to make a speedy recovery after the rain.
Here in New England we have four distinct seasons, and it rains during all four of them; of course, in winter, if it’s cold enough snow falls instead of rain. I like to watch the snow fall, and I love the beauty of the untouched snow covering roads and yards.
We never went outside during a snow storm. It just didn’t have the siren call the summer rain had. It was, I think, because the snow stayed around a while, but the puddles and rivers from the summer rain disappeared quickly under the onslaught of the sun so we had to hurry.
Categories: Musings
Tags: crack of thunder, four seasons, gentle rain, opened windows and doors, rain drops, rivers of rain, rolling thunder, snow summer rain, summer rain, sun dries, thunder storm, watching snow fall, wet outside, whacking puddles
Comments: 10 Comments
August 3, 2015
I should have done something illegal so I could count all these days inside as house arrest. This morning I gave the day a chance but it failed. I opened doors and windows but the house got warm far too quickly; however, the paper’s weather prediction does offer some hope: a late-night thunderstorm and another one tomorrow. Thursday and Friday will drop to the 70’s during the day and the mid 60’s at night. I can hardly wait. Today looks lovely from the window view. The sun is bright and there is a breeze. What you can’t see is the humidity hanging in the air.
I look at the obits, not all of them, just the headlines. Fame is relative so I don’t know most of the people highlighted who were well-known on the Cape. They all seem to have lasted a long time. 80+ is the average. The only obits I notice in the Globe are those of famous people. Cilla Black died yesterday. She was 72. My first thought was how young she was, a reaction which has to do with my age and thinking of myself as still young.
My generation sees age very differently than previous generations. One of my friends will be 70 this year. When my grandparents were 70, I thought them quite old. They looked old and dressed old. I couldn’t imagine being 70. I wondered how it felt and whether or not it was scary. I believed it was limiting as my grandparents hardly did anything. They stayed home mostly, and we went to them.
My mother cracked the mold. She never dressed 70, and she traveled. Our last trip together was to Italy. I wanted to be just like her.
In my head I am still quite young though word retrieval is a problem and hints to my being older. I don’t think of limitations though I’m stuck with a bad back which curtails my walking. I dress exactly as I have all of my life though far more casually every day than when I worked. I don’t stop to think sometimes when I carry stuff. I forget I’m not 25 or even 55. I used to haul 50 pounds of cat litter into the house. Now I find 20 pounds a burden which leave my back aching. I am a bit surprised at that being so young and all.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 70's, age, casually dressed, cooler weather, dressing old, feeling young, hot, house arrest, humidity, looking old, obits, thunderstorm.
Comments: 10 Comments
August 2, 2015
I know it is late for me, so late that I almost thought of taking a mini-vacation, but here I am. Earlier I was out on the deck sitting in the shade of the umbrella. The day is another hot one. Gracie, despite lying in the shade, was panting. She wanted in so we both came inside to the AC. She is now comfy and asleep in her crate.
We’re going to the dump later. That’s the only entry on my dance card.
There is something so strongly compelling about going home. When I go back to my old home town, as I still call it after all these years, I take familiar routes, the ones I used to walk. From St. Pat’s to the project there are many changes. Some of the older houses are gone. The railroad tracks too are gone but there is a wide path where they once were. I am sometimes tempted to park my car and follow the path to see if it looks the same. There was a stream where we stopped for water. I wonder if it is still there. The playground where I spent so many summer days disappeared. Where it was is all overgrown now. My house and street look exactly the same except the bushes on the side of my old house are really tall. I don’t know if there is a limit as to how tall they will get. The tops look a bit spindly to me. I always have the urge to get out of the car and walk into the backyard just to peek to see if the in-ground garbage pail is still there, but I figure it would look a bit odd to the current occupants. I wonder what color the walls are now. In my day the living room was green. I suspect the house will look quite small inside to me now. I know the kitchen seemed small even then. Kid’s voices still fill the air on a nice day.
In Bolga, on my trip back after forty years, the first place I went was to my old school grounds to find my house. It was quite easy to find. It needed paint and the back courtyard could not be seen because the current occupants had added to the fence tops to block the view. I wondered about the four doors around the courtyard. I wondered what color they are. Coincidentally they were green when I lived there.
Home is a fluid place. It is both where you live now and all the places you’ve lived before.
Categories: Musings
Tags: asleep in her crate, Bolga, courtyard, green paint, home, hot day, late, my old house, My school, panting dog, playground, railroad tracks, St. Pat's, tall bushes, up-town
Comments: 8 Comments
August 1, 2015
I’m still being held prisoner by the heat. Even the dog makes short trips outside. Today is far less humid than it was, but it is still hot. Tonight, movie night, is supposed to be much cooler. We have a doozie tonight. Each summer we watch a movie so bad it’s funny. Last year it was The Thing with Two Heads. Tonight’s is a spoof of 50’s B movies called The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra. Two of the characters have the best names: Kro-Bar and Lattis. They are from the planet Marva and are now stranded on Earth in need of the element atmosphereum to repair their powerless spaceship. A human hybrid made from four animals is one of my favorite characters. It’s name is Animala, of course it is. Ranger Brad in his wide brim Ranger hat is another great character. I’ll not tell you any more so as not to spoil it but I’m warning you that a sense of the absurd is a necessity. If you love good movies, this isn’t the one to watch.
I loved the dinner scenes in all the family shows I watched as a kid. Every night the whole family sat around the table. The mother always took her apron off before she sat down. Mostly the family ate some sort of a roast, mashed potatoes and vegetables. Sliced bread was always on the table. The Cleavers ate in the dining room. The Andersons ate in the kitchen. I don’t remember where the Nelsons or the Stones ate. Mostly I remember Ozzie standing in the living room talking in that hesitant way of his with Harriet or the boys. The well-bred Cleaver boys always asked permission to leave the table. I thought that was funny. I couldn’t imagine needing permission to leave the table. In our house it was eat and go.
I never compared my family to TV families. I knew those families weren’t real. Seldom did siblings fight or call each other names. Nobody ever yelled. Not one kid stomped up the stairs in anger. Fathers reasoned with their children about bad behavior. No one was ever grounded. Wally asked Ward for advice, and he listened. Ward was wise. All fathers were wise.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 50's families, Animala, Cleavers, dining room table, Kro-Bar and Lattis, less humid, Nelsons, prisoner of the heat, Ranger Brad, roasts for dinner, siblings fighting, sliced bread, spoof, Stones, The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra
Comments: 8 Comments
July 31, 2015
And the heat goes on! Today is just a bit better than yesterday, and tonight is supposed to be cool. We did have some rain last night around 11:30. I don’t know how long it lasted. I know it was small rain as I was outside on the deck watching Gracie and barely got wet.
A large fly was inside the house yesterday. I hate flies. I suspect this one was logy from the cold because when it landed I was able to sneak attack and whack it with my hand. No more fly!
I wish I could describe the excitement I had when I was flying over the Sahara on my way to Ghana. It was like seeing my geography book come alive. I almost couldn’t believe it was the Sahara below the plane. It seemed more like a dream. Seeing it got me even more excited because it meant we were getting closer to Ghana. I had no idea what to expect from Ghana. The books I read had described the country, but then it was my imagination, my mind’s eye, which conjured the way I thought it might look. Exotic came to mind. A place different in every way from the familiar was the overwhelming thought. In many ways I wasn’t wrong.
The first few days were filled with eye-opening sights. The compounds, not houses but compounds, had tin roofs rusted by the rain. My whiteness was an attraction. Everywhere I went a parade followed. I met a chief, a real African chief. All the sights, sounds and smells overwhelmed me. I couldn’t process fast enough. I almost needed to pinch myself. I was really in Africa.
One of the first lessons I learned in Ghana was not to have expectations but rather to take everything as it came. I didn’t grouse about what I didn’t have. That was the key to living happily. I didn’t like the flies and I wasn’t thrilled about peeing in a hole, but they were part of life for me. I swatted the flies and aimed well at the hole. I came to love Ghanaian food and wore dresses of Ghanaian cloth. My sandals had soles made of tire rubber by the man in the market, sort of an outdoor cobbler. I rode in crowded lorries and buses and ate food sold along the roadside. I never gave any of it a second thought. I was home.
Sometimes even now I am amazed I went to Africa. I can’t remember what made me at twenty-one willing to go, to leave everyone and everything behind me. Whatever it was, I am forever thankful.
Categories: Musings
Tags: African chief, compounds, desert, expectations, flies, Ghana, heat, humidity, Sahara, sights, unfamiliar, whiteness
Comments: 2 Comments
July 30, 2015
If I could go back in time, I don’t know exactly when I’d choose. Lots of places in time were wonderful for me. When I was eleven comes to mind. The teenage years weren’t even on the horizon yet. Boys were around but had no real importance in my life. I loved school. Riding my bike all over my little world took up many a Saturday in the summer. In the winter was the matinée. I was a girl scout still and did fun overnights at the camp in town near the zoo. I remember the cots there were the old canvas ones tricky to open. We made camp fire stew for dinner. We hiked on the trails through the pine forest which smelled like Christmas. Life was easy when I was eleven.
I might give thirteen another look. We were the big wigs in school, the eighth graders. I was finally a teenager though nothing miraculous happened. Boys were barely interesting but were definitely seeping into my consciousness. The future was rearing its ugly head. I had to pick a high school. My friend and I colluded and were accepted into the same school. That was cause for jubilation. I had the best fun inthat eighth grade. The nun was crazy, not harmful crazy but old age crazy. We got away with everything. I, who seldom crossed the line, spent most of my eighth grade over the line setting a trend for the rest of my life. The line became arbitrary. Life was fun when I was thirteen.
I think I’d be twenty-one again. I’d get to vote for the first time and legally drink for a change. That was my senior year in college. During second semester, every Friday, we had a happy hour beginning at noon, a couple of hours before our last class of the day, and ending in the late afternoon at a bar owned by a friend’s family. It was always elbow to elbow with people, most of them my classmates. We were enjoying our last times together after four years of closeness. That was also the year I was whacked in the head with a sign which said in capital letters DECIDE. I had to plan my future. That was a bit scary so I hedged my bets. I applied to law school, interviewed for a teaching job and applied to Peace Corps, my first and only choice. The rest were back-ups just in case. All three came through, but I accepted Peace Corps, something I had wanted for so long. I remember the day the mailman brought my special delivery acceptance letter. It was in January. I was elated. Life was scary and life was crazy when I was twenty-one.
Categories: Musings
Tags: back in time, bikes and movies, boys, camp fire stew, canvas cots, choosing high school, DECIDE, Eighth grade, eleven, future, girl scouts, happy hour, legally vote and drink, overnights, stepping over the line, thirteen, twenty-one
Comments: 6 Comments
July 28, 2015
The weather is still ghastly. I was out on the deck to fill the bird feeders and, despite a small breeze, the air was thick and heavy with moisture. I have to water the deck plants every day or they wilt and look untended as if for a long time. Gracie rings the bells, goes out, sniffs the air then wants back inside. I have learned to stand and wait for her.
When I was a kid, I feared nothing except that guy with the hook my father told us about. Any scratch on the window pane or the screen sent me frantically looking for a hiding place before the hook man worked his way inside the house. I don’t know how old I was before I realized the hook man wasn’t real. He was the main character in a story concocted, I thought, by my father. Much later I found out it was not my father’s story but was an urban myth.
It is much easier living without when you have no idea what you’re missing. When I was in Ghana, the only electrical appliances I had were a fridge and a cassette player. I realized I didn’t need gadgets. Turn the clock ahead to now, and I live in a house filled with gadgets. Some are essential, like the stove, while others, like my iPod, give life dimension. The rest could be replaced by two hands working. My electric can opener died so I now use the old silver one you wind around the top of the can. I just have to be careful not to cut my fingers or have the top fall into the can. I do some chopping by hand, and I sweep the kitchen floor, but mostly I use machines. They have become part of my life again.
I hope to go back to Ghana next year. When I do, I’ll sleep in an air-conditioned room. I don’t think I could sleep without it in the heat. I’ll rent a car with air-conditioning. I think I’ve already paid my dues riding in cramped lorries for hours and hours at a time way back when. As for the rest, it will be as it was. I’ll shop in the market in the coolest part of the day, the morning, but it will still be hot. I’ll use a hole in the ground if I have to. I still have skills. I’ll chop and mash food. I’ll survive without all the gadgets. I still remember how.
Categories: Musings
Tags: gadgets, ghastly weather, hand work, humidity, man with the hook, watering the plants
Comments: 10 Comments
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