Archive for the ‘Musings’ category
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
July 27, 2015
I stood it as long as I could. I watched the thermostat go from 72 to 76 in a matter of an hour or so. When the house started to close in, I did it. I turned on the air conditioning.
Today defines humid. The air is thick and still. I think there was a bit of rain earlier as the deck was damp, but under the umbrella was dry so the rain was light and quickly came and went. I do have something on my list today, but I’m hedging and thinking tomorrow. The more comfortable I get, the less inclined I am to move. I do have the laundry going: a load in the washer and another in the dryer. The laundry bag sat by the cellar door for two days, and that was enough to motivate me. Usually I don’t move until I am just about out of unmentionables.
I am most decidedly spoiled. Life is so easy. If I’m hot, on goes the AC. If I’m cold, I raise the thermostat. My car, like most of ours, has AC so I run from the car to the store which also has AC. I get my groceries delivered right to my kitchen. Roseanna and Lee come and clean every two weeks. My yard, deck and lawn are tended to every Friday. After the lawn is cut and the walkway trimmed, the deck is blown free of debris, especially acorns. Some of them are half eaten so I think they are the red spawn’s revenge. He probably roars laughing when I step on one and howl.
When I was a kid, everyone pretty much complained about the heat. It was a local pastime. The old “hot enough for you?” was often asked though no one expected an answer. It was the summer rhetorical question. Jumping over the sprinkle was a common remedy against the heat. The water always felt really cold at first, soothing. Sometimes we’d walk to the town pool, but we also had to walk back which defeated the purpose of getting cool at the pool. We never stayed home, though, heat or not. That just wasn’t done in summer. Every day had to be lived to its fullest.
In Ghana, I encountered HEAT. Day after day was often over 100˚. My shower had no hot water, but I didn’t care. A cold shower was relief. It was like jumping over the sprinkler. We never really complained, but we did use the old “hot enough for you?” mostly as a joke. I didn’t even have a fan, didn’t think to buy one. Traveling was best done at night or in the early morning because being crammed into a lorry was never pleasant and sitting next to a window never really helped. But again, we didn’t complain. We accepted our lot and just did the best we could.
Now I complain and whine. I am getting older and believe both are my due.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 100˚, AC, cold shower, complaining about the heat, crammed lorry, Ghana, grocery delivery, Hot enough for you?, housecleaner, humidity, spoiled life, stepping on acorns, still and hot, thick air, yard man
Comments: 14 Comments
July 26, 2015
Today is overcast and dark and the air has a damp chill. It feels as if rain is pending. I hope so. It has been too long since the last rain fell.
Last night was perfect for movie night. It wasn’t too hot or too cold. Goldilocks would have found it just right. The crowd liked Breaking Away and they clapped when the Cutters won.
I lived in a project from the time I was five until I was sixteen. It was in my small town and back then the word project had no stigma attached. We never thought twice about calling it the project when we talked about where we lived. Even now, when my sisters and I remember growing up, we start our memories with, “In the project…” The houses were all duplexes made of wood. The front yards had lawns, bushes and flower gardens. We lived in a corner duplex so we had a huge front yard with a small hill leading to the sidewalk and the street. All the backyards had clotheslines, and each side of the duplex had two of those clotheslines. In the middle of the backyards, between the sets of duplexes and behind the clotheslines, was a grass-covered hill, perfect for little kids to sled on in winter and to slip ‘n slide on in summer. The project was loaded with kids of all ages. My best friend lived up above from where I lived, and she even lived in the same duplex where we had first lived. Everyone in the project was a neighbor. One of our favorite neighbors lived in the house next door and another favorite lived right beside us in the same duplex. Their side was a mirror image of ours. A few neighbors were not so friendly, but only a few.
When I talk about my childhood with someone, I usually have to explain the project, defend it somehow, as most people tend to think of projects as block after block of brick high-risers in the poorest part of any city. They never think of them as I do: a place filled with kids, ready playmates, with a grassy field of grasshoppers which jumped in front of you when you walked, an old tree for climbing, blueberries for picking, woods for exploring and a swamp perfect for catching pollywogs in spring and for ice skating on in winter. It was the best place in which to grow up. My sisters and I agree on that.
Categories: Musings
Tags: a swamp, blueberries, Breaking Away, chilly day, clotheslines, cloudy day, dark day, duplexes, grasshoppers, growing up, hills for sledding, lawns, the project, \exploring
Comments: 8 Comments
July 25, 2015
It would seem a bit egocentric to believe we are it in this universe. Those science fiction movies about aliens can’t all be make-believe though I admit most of the the aliens are a bit much, totally unrealistic, in the looks department, but I digress so it’s back to the news. What has happened is the plot of one of those movies is bumping into real life. At the start of the movie Battleship, the scientist notes that they have found a planet in orbit around a sun almost equidistant from its sun as we are from ours. They speculate it has conditions similar to Earth’s and could sustain life. They are sending a beacon to that planet from a communications array in Hawaii; of course, the aliens directed by the beacon find Earth and set out to conquer it. We defeat the aliens, no surprise there. Okay, here’s real life: scientists have discovered an Earth like planet orbiting its sun just a bit further away from its sun than we are from ours. It is the third planet from the sun. Sound familiar? I’m thinking no beacon.
Today is an on again off again sunny day. Earlier it was all sun then all clouds. Now the sun is making a return engagement. The day feels pleasant, no humidity. It is in the mid 70’s. Tonight will be cooler, perfect for sleeping. It is also movie night. We are going to watch Breaking Away. My friends who were apparently brought up in closets haven’t ever seen it. I’m going to buy movie candy: Junior Mints and Malted Milk Balls and they’ll be popcorn.
Everything this morning is very quiet. I don’t even hear a mower. When I was a kid, my neighborhood was never quiet. Every house had multiple children so the place overflowed with kids. The little kids stayed close to home and played in the backyard. I can still see my two sisters sitting on the back steps playing with their dolls. The rest of us were nomads traveling for the sake of traveling. We had the world to explore.
Categories: Musings
Tags: aliens, Battleship, beacon into space, conquering aleins, lovely day, no humidity, playing in the yard, playing with dolls, quiet day, science fiction movie, third planet from the sun, traveling
Comments: 8 Comments
July 23, 2015
Today is lovely with very little humidity and a cooling breeze. I slept in until nearly 10 o’clock. Last night I was tired so I went to bed early (for me) but was still awake at 3. To pass the time I watched a movie on my iPad, A Foreign Field. I kept thinking I’d finish it in the morning, but I watched it through to the end.
A flicker, a bird I haven’t seen in a long while, and a huge woodpecker were the stars this morning at the bird feeders. The usual complement of birds also dropped by, but they, especially the chickadee, looked tiny compared to the flicker. The red spawn hasn’t been by in a long while. I think it has to do with the spawn having gotten caught a few times inside the wire feeder while the full brunt of the jet spray of the nozzle was directed at it. The spawn just couldn’t escape fast enough to avoid the spray.
In Ghana, during my second year, Peace Corps relaxed its rules and allowed us to buy motorcycles. I bought a small motorcycle, a Honda 90. It was designed for modesty, with no middle bar, perfect for me as I had to wear dresses all the time. I learned the gears and the brake when I bought the moto, as it is called it in Ghana, and then rode it over 100 miles from Tamale to Bolgatanga. It was exhilarating. I loved the road and the wind on my face. The bugs were not so welcome. I learned to be exhilarated without smiling. A few inhaled bugs and a choke or two taught me that lesson. I rode along singing out loud to pass the time. I figure a few villagers told stories later about the crazy baturia (white woman) on the moto screeching as she rode.
The road home was a good one, paved all the way. It was called the road to Bolga and it went straight there so I never worried about getting lost. The ride was a long one so I stopped to stretch my legs and once I bought a warm coke at a store along the road. Kids from villages beside the road followed a bit and waved. I was even comfortable enough driving by then to wave back. When I got to the school gate, I honked so the gateman would let me in. He smiled a toothless grin and pointed to my bike. I smiled back and nodded.
I would love to have another motorcycle, but I dare not given how often I bang my leg or fall up or down stairs. Traffic here goes far too fast and hugging the sides of the road is a recipe for disaster. I’m liable to hit a giant rock or branch or have something from the sky fall directly on my head, such is my luck.
Categories: Musings
Tags: A Foreign Field, bird feeders, flickers, Ghanaian moto, Honda 90, lovely day, motorcycle, Peace Corps, road to Bolgatanga, sleeping in, spawns of Satan, Tamale, woodpeckers
Comments: 16 Comments
July 21, 2015
Today isn’t as hot as yesterday but the humidity is still stifling. Tonight will be cooler, and the cool weather will stay around for the next few days. The sun was out earlier but now the sky is grey, a light grey which hangs around but doesn’t brings rain. The air conditioner is still on and the house is cool. I noticed my neighbors had their windows opened earlier, but they have since closed them and put the AC back on. It doesn’t take long for the heat to permeate the house.
My mother used to keep the shades down when I was a kid. All the rooms downstairs resembled caves. She said it kept the rooms cooler. I remember going inside to get a drink and waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It was worse going back outside when I had to cover my eyes because of the brightness of the sun. My mother was never one for sun. She wore sunglasses all year, on any day with sun. We used to call her the mole.
Being a kid had such freedom attached. I don’t mean I could go and do what I wanted, but social conventions didn’t kick in until I was older. We laughed at the grossest stuff and told horrid jokes. Milk up someone’s nose was fodder for endless jibes. We thought it hysterical. I remember there was a joke phase involving Helen Keller and kids with no arms or legs and the punch lines would send us into peals of laughter. We weren’t cruel. We were just kids. Being dirty meant nothing to us. I’d grab a sandwich and not even think about washing my hands unless my mother made me. We ate dinner on the fly, no sitting down and taking our time. We wanted to finish quickly so we could take advantage of the daylight.
In summer the street light rule was not in effect. We stayed outside until it got pretty dark. I remember my neighborhood with the windows all open and living room lamps shining to break the darkness. It was as if stars had come to ground. There was a certain beauty to it all.
Categories: Musings
Tags: being a kid, being dirty, being kids, cloudy, cool house, daylight, dinner on the fly, dirty hands, Helen Keller jokes, hot and humid, shades down, street light rule
Comments: 6 Comments
July 20, 2015
The rain never materialized. It will be sunny all week and today will hit 85˚. My AC has been cranking since yesterday morning, and the house is delightfully cool. I have errands today so I will appreciate it even more when I get home.
I have always believed in magic, not the rabbit in the hat magic but everyday magic like when you wish on the first star: I wish I may I wish I might have this wish come true tonight. I have never made outlandish wishes figuring the simpler the wish the more likely it might come true. At Christmas when I was young I made all sorts of wishes and most of those came true.
I have proof that magic abounds and wishes do come true. Once I was walking home from my aunt’s house. The route was through the brush beside a metal fence which joined another fence, a shorter fence. It was there I usually scaled the two fences to get to my street. I stopped to rest just before scaling. I mused while sitting and wished I had money enough for a new book. I swear I looked down and found a 50 cent piece, just enough for a new book. That had to be magic. I wasn’t on a path. I was walking in piles of dead leaves captured against the fence.
But I’ve always known, fifty cents or no fifty cents, that we live in a world filled with magic. Fireflies dot the darkness with light. The sun rises and sets in a brilliance of colors. Rainbows announce the end of the storm and the whereabouts of the pot of gold if you’re especially lucky. I sit outside in the wee hours to watch the meteor showers in August. I clap and say things like wow and amazing as those beautiful streaks of light cross the dark sky. I love shadows and how scary and tall they can look. That flowers bloom year after year can be nothing short of magic. I know science explains most things because some people need answers. As for me, I’ve known the answer all my life-it’s magic, pure and simple magic.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 85˚, a world of magic, Accra, coolness, fireflies, heat, magic, making wishes, meteors, sun
Comments: 8 Comments
July 19, 2015
This morning is oppressive. The air is perfectly still. The sun has disappeared and reappeared. The humidity is 84%. Rain is predicted for tomorrow through Tuesday. We’ll just have to survive today.
Movie night was perfect. There was a breeze keeping us cool, and we had plenty of appetizers to stave off hunger. We didn’t even eat the hot dogs, linguica and salads I had bought for dinner, but we did manage to eat the apple pie for dessert.
I can hear only birds. My neighborhood is quiet. The other day I heard the buzzing of saws most of the day. My neighbor’s huge tree from her front yard was taken down. Now the yard looks bare. You know something is missing.
Every morning I checkout my front garden. New blossoms pop open every day. Today there were tall purple like daisies standing by the fence. Some white flowers are also blooming and two huge clumps of flowers are just about ready to open. I do love watching the progress of my flowers.
Last night, around 1:30, I sent Gracie out for her last time before bed. She stood perfectly still at the top of the stairs then took off like a flash. It was her intruder run. I put on my shoes and was going to the yard to grab her, or even save her, when the rustling of leaves just below the deck told me Gracie was already on her way to the stairs. It was then I heard the hoots of an owl, the first ever here. After Gracie arrived on the deck and stood beside me, we stayed a while.
Categories: Musings
Tags: appies, apple pie, front garden, Gracie, humidity, intruder, linguica, movie night, new flowers, owl hooting, purple like daisies, rain tomorrow, still air
Comments: 6 Comments
July 18, 2015
The weather is unsatisfactory. It is cloudy and chilly with a strong breeze verging on a wind. Rain is a maybe later this afternoon. Tonight is movie night so I’m hoping for the sun to rise dramatically with a ta-da soundtrack and chase away the clouds. The breeze can stay.
I am not a huge fan of westerns. I suspect it was because I spend enormous chunks of time when I was young watching them on TV. Every Saturday I got to watch The Lone Ranger, Sky King, an odd take on a western with a plane instead of a horse, Roy Rogers with his wife Dale Evans, Annie Oakley, Fury, The Cisco Kid and Pancho, Will Bill Hickok, Rin Tin Tin of at ease, Rinny, fame, and Tales of Texas Rangers. I figure there are more, but this blog entry would go on forever.
Night too was filled with westerns. Gunsmoke was on for close to a hundred years and there were others including Sugarfoot, Cheyenne, Judge Roy Bean, the law west of the Pecos, The Texans, Have Gun Will Travel (for the longest time I thought it was half gun and wondered how he managed), Texas John Slaughter who wore that great hat, The Range Rider, Wagon Train, suave Yancy Derringer and Pahoo-Ka-Ta-Wah, Maverick, a personal favorite, and Wild Wild West, my all time favorite.
TV was where I first saw science fiction jump off the pages of my books to the screen. Captain Midnight, brought to you by Ovaltine, and his sidekick, Ichabod Mudd (with 2 D’s) fought the good fight against evil men everywhere with help from his Secret Squadron (that would be any of us, the TV audience, who mailed in an Ovaltine proof of purchase). I watched the recycled Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon serials, Commando Cody who had a jet pack and wore an odd helmet when he flew and Tom Corbett Space Cadet. That last one reminded me we used to call kids who were way out there space cadets. It was not a compliment.
TV program outcomes were never in doubt in those days. The hero would always win. In westerns he’d have a fist fight and generally keep his hat on. It didn’t matter how many times the good and bad guys hit each other as there were never bruises and never blood. The worst thing was a dusty shirt and hat.
I believed for the longest time good always triumphed over evil. Even now I’d like to think it’s true.
Categories: Musings
Tags: breezy, Captain Midnight, chilly, cloudy, Gunsmoke, Roy Rogers, Science fiction, Sugarfoot, The Lone Ranger, westerns
Comments: 14 Comments
keepthecoffeecoming.blog 