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“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.”

August 17, 2013

Today is the big day, my big day, my birthday. The story is my dad was the only one in the waiting room, it being the wee hours. The nurse came in and asked if he was Mr. Ryan. His answer, “Who in the hell do you think I am? I’m the only one here.” He saw my mother and me moments after my birth. Neither one of us was at our best. My dad hurried to my grandparents’ house, in the same town as the hospital, to announce the glorious event but was met with groans instead of balloons and fireworks. It also happened to be my aunt’s wedding day, my mother’s older sister’s, and my dad’s periodic visits to get coffee and give updates had prevented her from getting the necessary beauty sleep. I was told the the wedding eve went off without any further disruptions from my dad, but as to how my aunt looked, I haven’t any idea. My mother and father were busy elsewhere.

Every year, my friend leaves a mum on my front walk, and it’s the first thing I see when I open the door. A birthday which begins with flowers can’t help but be special. Birgit did the wonderful new Coffee heading. She added Birthdays, a new mug picture, balloons and Miss Gracie.

The day is beautiful. It is as if Mother Nature is adding her birthday wishes by dressing today in its finery. The birds are at the feeders, and the goldfinches are back for the first time in a while. I watched them flying in and out when my made my morning visit to the deck. Gracie and I stood there for a while both of us reluctant to go inside, but I could smell the coffee and it drew me to the kitchen. Gracie stayed outside.

Google has birthday cakes, cupcakes and candles today.

I’m not quite sure how to spend my day. I’ll do something special. I always do.

Categories: Musings

Comments: 37 Comments

“The desire to reach for the sky runs deep in our human psyche.”

August 16, 2013

My feet are cold. I was outside reading the papers, and it felt chilly. The table is in the shade and the sun is still working its way around the house so the backyard has a bit of the night chill about it. While I was outside, I filled the seed and the suet feeders. Later, I’ll have to clean and refill the bird bath. Chickadees use it all the time to drink from while robins love a good bath.

Around six last night, my friend and I were on the deck enjoying a drink with some cheese and crackers. I noticed movement at a house across the street on the corner and kept trying to be attentive to my friend but also trying to keep an eye on the happening across the street. I thought I saw heads and spindly legs. I did. I was watching wild turkeys make their way down the street. I told my friend to turn around and take a look. She said she was wondering what had drawn my attention. Two of the turkeys were enormous, as big as I’ve ever seen. All of them, the toms and their hens, took their time wandering on another neighbor’s lawn and a few hens stopped to eat something. They then casually crossed the street to the yard next to mine. Gracie watched their progress from the deck. She didn’t bark but seemed as intrigued as we were. It has been a while since I’ve seen the turkeys on my street. It was fun to have them back.

My first plane flight was when I was a freshman in college. My parents gave me a ticket from Hyannis to Boston as an Easter gift. I was thrilled. The route was beautiful: over the water and the shore. The plane was old and perfect for my first flight. I had always wished I could have ridden in a PanAm Clipper during its heyday, and this plane reminded me a little of that. It was a prop and you had to walk uphill to your seats. The pilots were behind a curtain which didn’t shut all the way, and you could watch them at the controls. It was like going back in time.

That plane ride is my favorite of all, but I have a few others on the list. The flight from Argentina to Uruguay, a quick jump cross the water, had a raffle for a woman’s handbag. I didn’t win. A Ghana Airways flight from Tamale to Accra circled so many times I think the pilot was lost. It is the only plane on which I have ever felt air sick. It was all that circling. The flight to Cusco was the most dramatic. We were close enough to the mountains that we could see the shadow of the plane. On my first ever flight to Ghana, in 1969, I remember when we flew over the Sahara. It was like my geography book had come to life. I saw the rolling brown sand with what looked liked ridges, and it was a thrill I’ve never forgotten.

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“The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”

August 15, 2013

Last night was chilly, close the window chilly. It will be the same tonight then tomorrow through Sunday will get warmer each day. I don’t why summer expects all these return engagements. I’m already geared up for fall, and Labor Day, the unofficial end of summer, is close. It is as early as it can be.

I thought I had an empty dance card tomorrow, but I don’t. That means I have had something to do every day this week. My car is racking up the miles. I have already ridden over 70 miles through today. To me that’s a cross-country trip and tomorrow they’ll be more to come as I have to go to Hyannis. Yup, all the way to Hyannis, the big city in these parts.

I haven’t heard from Grace so I don’t know the progress of her quest to get a visa. She has all the papers she needs to prove her roots are in Ghana. She just has to present them. Grace had them the last time but was so overwhelmed by the quick 10 minute interview she didn’t think to use them. This time she swears she’ll be more assertive. I did call her last week, but she was in the Bolga market with Rose Atiah, another student of mine. In the background I could hear all the voices and the bustle of market day, and it was so loud the conversation was difficult. I said hello to Rose and she asked if I were well. Madam is what Rose still calls me. That’s what all the students called me. Rose is a grandmother; Grace is 61, but I will always be madam.

When I was in high school and forced to move to the cape, I was devastated. I had lived almost my whole life in one town, had the same friends forever and was involved in all sorts of activities. I hated the cape and came home from school every day, threw my books on the bed in my room and stayed there. I remember that first day of school when I stood outside alone by the side door while everyone chatted and talked about the summer. I wore new school clothes, not a uniform for the first time. My homeroom and my classes were easy to find but no one talked to me. I ate alone in the cafeteria. Every weekend I took the bus back to my home, my old town, and stayed with friends. My life had ended, or at least that’s what I thought. It took time, but I found a way to get involved. I joined after school groups. My favorite was the Latin Club but I have no memories of what we did. I was taking Latin IV so the club seemed to fit. Every time I see the yearbook picture of that club, I laugh. We looked like geeks. Giving the drama of my life at the time, I joined the drama club. I made friends, and found a place to sit in the cafeteria with my new friends.

While I was in Ghana and my brother was in the army, my father was transferred back to Boston. My parents bought a house in my old town, but it was never my home. When my brother and I came back to the United States, we both went home to Cape Cod. My mother said she wouldn’t take it personally that no matter where she lived, we wanted to live somewhere else, but our choice had nothing to do with her or the rest of my family. It had to do with our need for the comfort of familiar places and people as that’s what the Cape was for us, a refuge and our home.

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“We are living in a ‘one morning’ world; we get up one morning and many things have changed! Tomorrow morning, there will be another ‘one morning!”

August 13, 2013

Mornings are my favorite part of the day. While the coffee is brewing, I go out on the deck just to look and listen, a sort of greet the day ritual. Mornings, I’ve decided, have their own smells. My favorite is when I can smell the ocean in the dampness of the air. On warm mornings the scents of flowers fills the air. I usually hear Gracie walking on the leaves in the backyard and the songs of a few birds. Most times I don’t ever hear people, only a car or two going up the street. Chickadees dine early and they are the only birds at the feeder. I’m seldom out there all that long, but it is a ritual I have come to love. When I get back inside, the house is filled with the aroma of coffee. I grab my papers and start the rest of my morning.

When I travel, I love to be up early to go out and see the mornings unfold. I think that gives me a greater sense of where I am. One early morning at Gettysburg, I was there when they opened the gates and was the only car on the road. The morning fog shrouded the battlefield. It wasn’t eerie but rather seemed solemn, quiet, as if even the fog recognized this was a holy place, a place where men died because they believed in something bigger than themselves. In the cities, I walk the streets and see stores opening and goods being delivered. I can smell bread and coffee and even exhaust all mixed together but not unpleasant. I see the delivery trucks and people on their way to work. In Santa Fe, I got a cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun then sat on a bench and watched the Indians set up their goods in front of the Governor’s Palace. The rest of the plaza was just about empty. In Marrakech my mornings started just a bit later. I sat on the roof of my riad eating breakfast by myself. The Atlas Mountains were in front of me and I was surrounded by the roofs of other houses. Women were hanging laundry and a few were cooking using a tagine over charcoal. I watched them every morning. In Ghana the mornings bustle. People are up early. Roosters announce the day. I could always smell wood fires and hear voices from the compounds by my house. I loved those mornings.

This is a busy week for me. My dance card is filled every day but Friday.

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“The momentum of the mind can be vexingly, involuntarily capricious.”

August 12, 2013

The weather and I have much in common today as neither one of us is at all content. The day is cloudy then sunny then cloudy again. It is as if Mother Nature is trying to figure out what best fits her mood. I too don’t quite know what to do. I have this antsy feeling of needing to do something, but I don’t know what. It isn’t the travel bug: I know those symptoms all too well. Driving home from breakfast I checked out houses and yards as if I hadn’t seen them before and looking, I think, for something out of the ordinary, something new to satisfy my strange mood. I noticed many different sorts of fences. My least favorite was the white vinyl picket. That doesn’t seem to belong here and is one I would discount as a good neighbor. One house had a Williamsburg bird house attached on the front. I hadn’t noticed that before even though I’ve driven by that house countless times. The Yarmouth Garden ladies were working on the side road medians planting and rearranging flowers. Theirs are always the prettiest medians. I’m not a fan of seashell pieces as a border between the yard and the road. They become choked with weeds and their essence is lost. I noticed some house fronts are bare: a door and two windows: no ornamentation, no shutters and nothing to catch the eye. They are the plain Janes who never draw attention to themselves. I wonder about the people who live in those houses. I think of them as unimaginative, their closets filled with interchangeable clothes of bland colors. They buy yellow cheese in individual cellophane wrappers. Their bread is always white.

Even the river was quiet this morning. No one was fishing, and I didn’t see a single boat. The water was calm; no white caps broke the monotony. I waited in a line of cars to turn at four corners, each with its own stop sign. Every driver was polite. No one rushed through taking someone else’s turn.

I came home to a quiet street and a quiet house. All three pets are sleeping and Gracie isn’t even snoring. I will be hard-pressed to find anything to satisfy my mood today as I’m not even sure what it is. I am not a fan of days like today.

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“Candy is childhood, the best and bright moments you wish could have lasted forever.”

August 11, 2013

Ray Bradbury’s “All Summer in a Day” must have been inspired by a day like today. Delightful seems archaic but that’s all I can think of to describe it. The coolness of the morning is here in this dark room while the sun shines through the front door giving Fern a perfect place to nap. Her fur is even hot to the touch. The day gave me a burst of energy, and I have already changed the sheets on my bed, a chore I generally don’t like, put my new bedspread on it, swept the kitchen floor and taken a shower. That’s usually a whole day’s worth of expended energy.

Tonight is movie night. I was going to show West Side Story but I can’t find it. Later I’ll have to pick a few movies and let my friends decide. We’re having hot dogs and salad for dinner, nothing fancy. Cheese, dips and crackers and a game of Phase 10 will be first, and they’ll be movie snacks for later. I lean toward popcorn and Nonpareils.

I can’t believe that summer is almost over. Last year at this time I was getting excited about going back to Ghana. This year the big excitement was new pillows, a new spread for my bed and new bedroom curtains. I am nearly giddy.

My friends are going to Ghana, and I wish them the same feelings of being home that I felt. Last summer I was sitting on the main street of Bolga and having a Coke and watching the world walk. It was just so familiar. I remember we used to walk up a small flight of stairs to sit at the end store where there were a couple of outside tables. We’d have cold Cokes before heading home. Cold Coke was a rarity and a reward for a dusty shopping trip through the market. Bill asked if I was jealous of him and Peg and their trip: extremely was my answer.

Meanwhile, the pennies for my next trip mount up in the tin with the stars. I put in any change I get and a few dollar bills when I can.  Next week I’ll have to start redeeming my Coke cans. I have bags of them and figure I’ve got over $50.00 worth. That’ll go into the tin too. Austerity is never bad when the reason is good.

I used to love finding a couple of empty bottles when I was a kid. They meant a dime and that meant ten cents worth of penny candy, a whole bagful. The glass cabinet at the white store had wood all around the outside edges of it but inside of that cabinet was every kid’s dream. There were rows of boxes and each box had a different penny candy. The choices were almost overwhelming. I liked stuff which lasted a while, chewy stuff like Mary Jane’s and Squirrels (little did I know the relationship squirrels and I would have in the future). I like the wax bottles because you could chew the wax for a while. Fire balls were just about my favorites of them all. I always challenged myself to keep it in my mouth the whole time. Only the sissies couldn’t stand the heat. I was never among them!!

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“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair”

August 10, 2013

Yesterday’s rain had a tropical feel about it. It was preceded by the wind, came down in torrents then disappeared. Later, in the evening, the rain came again but only intermittent wiper rain. Today has no humidity. The breeze even feels cool. Gracie isn’t panting.

I never buy lottery tickets, but I always plan what I’d do with the money. My family, my sisters and my niece and nephews, would each be given a good chunk, in the 6 figure range. I’d travel, but that’s an easy one. I’d plan an amazing trip to exotic places and invite people to come along for the journey. I wouldn’t be offended if they refused, given the off-beat places I want to go, places like Bora Bora, Laos, Cambodia, Nepal, India, Botswana for a safari and a trip along the Okavango, Madagascar and a few more of the Pacific Islands. I’d go to Ghana, but no one seems interested in going with me except my sister Moe. The trip wouldn’t have to be all at once. We could do it in geographic chunks with stops at home to catch up with ourselves. I know this all dreaming, but I love to dream.

I saw a coyote in my car lights last night as it was walking on my street. It was a small one, maybe young. He crossed another street and went into a backyard. I lost track then.

Bare feet give me a different perspective on the world. I walk across the grass to get the papers and my feet get wet from the morning watering. On the deck, I sometimes step on those small acorns, and my foot jumps into the air hurting just a little. During the afternoon, the deck wood is hot from the sun, and I hurry to get under the shade of the umbrella. In the backyard, I walk on dirt and sand. They each feel different to my feet. In the house, the floors are cool in the morning but never feel warm in the afternoon. At night, my feet sometimes get cold even though it’s summer. When I put on my sandals, Gracie knows I’m going somewhere. When I was a kid and my mother put on lipstick, I knew she was going somewhere. It’s the unusual, shoes for me and lipstick for my mother, both dead giveaways.

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“The entire world revolves around this wretched Alien.”

August 9, 2013

Today is like being shut in a closet with no air. The sky is cloudy, and the humidity is high, way too high. The breeze is blowing, the sort of breeze which comes before a storm. It sprinkled a bit earlier but that doesn’t count. Only real rain counts, heavy drops of rain.

I went to breakfast this morning with my retired friends. We go out once a month. I went spicy with linguica, Monterey Ray Jack cheese and salsa: all served on one side of a Portuguese roll.

The painting continues. This time it is the upstairs bathroom and the color is green. I can’t describe the exact sort of green as I forget the  name because I didn’t really pay attention. I was only making sure it matched one of the cloths in my Ghanaian shower curtain. It will take forever to dry in this humidity.

I am generally verbose, but today I seem to have nothing more worth mentioning. I have a blank dance card. I suppose I can drag myself to buy flowers to fill a few of the empty spots in the front garden, but I don’t have the energy, and beside, I don’t want to get wet if it rains again. I might just have to be content staying home and watching the programs I recorded.

Yesterday was alien invasion day on the Syfy channel, and all of them were bent on Earth domination and the destruction of the human race. That got me thinking about friendly aliens, there being so few. E.T. came to mind easily. I also remember Starman with Jeff Bridges. One of my favorite little conversations in that movie occurred while he was driving and just after he had driven through a red light. “Okay? Are you crazy? You almost got us killed! You said you watched me, you said you knew the rules!” His answer: “I watched you very carefully. Red light stop, green light go, yellow light go very fast.” My favorite alien name is Paul. Klaatu got nicer as the movie progressed even though he’d been shot. Superman is an alien but I don’t really count him. After all, he did grow up here.

Yesterday one of the movies was Independence Day-Saster. It did steal from a similarly named movie, but it had its own little quirks. I liked the name of that movie, another made up SyFy channel name. Last night’s movie, a new one, had an ordinary name, and I was disappointed. Invasion Roswell, the name of the movie, seemed to sum up the entire plot. I watched it anyway. The Sox were losing so I switched channels. I think the movie ended up being the better choice.

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“The school looks very good. The uniforms are a good thing. It will be easy for my wife. She won’t have to fight about clothes.”

August 8, 2013

Unlike the past few days, the weather this morning is humid and cloudy with intermittent rain, a soft rain you barely notice, but the paper does say a chance of thunder showers throughout the day and has predicted them for tonight and tomorrow, but right now the sun is working its way from behind the clouds seems to be struggling, maybe even losing the battle for today’s weather. The breeze is a bit stronger, always a bad sign on a cloudy, damp day.

Yesterday I earned a blue ribbon. I did my laundry, finally, all two loads, watered the inside and outside plants, paid all my bills, did four errands, filled the bird feeders and took all the stuff off the walls in the bathroom which is right now being painted and then around 6:30 met my friend for dinner. Today I have one stop, to buy more flowers for the front garden and some bird seed, then I’m going Peapod on-line grocery shopping. I think I have been the ant, not the grasshopper, for the last two days and deserve a few days of rest which I will gladly take.

We never needed back to school clothes except for a new pair of shoes and one outfit, for the first day, as after that we wore uniforms. My mother was glad for those uniforms as they saved her so much money. Outfitting four kids was expensive. We didn’t care about wearing them because that’s all we knew and all our friends wore them too. Even in high school I had a uniform; all Catholic high school students wore one sort of uniform or another.

My students in Ghana had three different uniforms. Most bought the cloth and had the dresses made. The classroom uniforms were lilac and all the students wore same style and color, regardless of which level they were. I remember watching students iron the uniforms using a charcoal iron. The uniforms were always stiff with starch and wrinkled easily. The students also had their afternoon chore dresses, and there were four different patterns, each one designating the graduation year of the student. The dresses were simple: one piece. Their Sunday bests, wore for church service and into town, were traditional, generally three pieces, and were also four different patterns. You could identify whether the student was T1, T2, T3 or T4 just by the pattern. The patterns followed the students from one year to the next so they only had to buy whatever they had grown out of or worn out. The incoming T1’s would have their own patterns.

I thought of my students when I saw Harry Potter and his friends go into town for the day, for the one day they were allowed off grounds. For my students it was Sunday. They could have visitors come or the older students could go into town to do some shopping, and usually a photographer or two came to the school and took pictures of students into their spiffiest clothes. I have a few of those pictures which were given to me as gifts so I wouldn’t forget my students. They did the same thing at the ceremony last summer. They had a photographer come and take pictures of the event and individual pictures of me with one of them, and they ordered copies. This time it was so they wouldn’t forget me.

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“The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning.”

August 6, 2013

Last night my feet were cold, and I closed the window in the den facing north. It was a wonderful evening for sleeping and both Fern and Gracie slept right beside me for warmth. Today will be another delight and tonight might just mean socks. The temperature all week will be in the mid to high 70’s during the day and the high 50’s to low 60’s at night. I figure that’s about as perfect as August can get.

My factotum is back today. Skip is right now replacing the two steps out my back door. Later, he’ll replace the long board on the deck that has a weak spot then he’ll paint the downstairs bathroom. This is the perfect week to work in the coolness of these days.

When I was young, I loved August because it is my birthday month. I knew I’d get presents and always a card from my grandparents with a five dollar bill inside. That was a treasure of great value in those days. Her whole life my grandmother never missed sending a card, but later, when I was older, the card had two one dollar bills instead of a five then a few years after that no dollars, just the card. I guessed she figured birthdays should only be celebrated by the young. I, of course, am of the opinion that birthdays should always be celebrated. The big holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas are celebrated by most people, but that day, that birthday, is so special you never have to share (I know-one of you might mention twins but I’m disregarding that for now ). About this time in August I’d start the countdown to my birthday. It always seemed so far away. Time seemed to take forever to pass back then.

Time now runs swiftly. Once I was told the reason for that, and it made perfect sense. When you were four, that year was only one-fourth of your life, but each subsequent year you got older and the fraction got smaller. This last year was one-sixty fifth of my life, and that took only the blink of an eye to pass.

Yesterday my grand-nephew, Ryder, started school, second grade. Where has the summer gone because I didn’t notice it’s been leaving.

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