Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

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“A good book is the best of friends, the same today and forever.”

January 7, 2012

My sister and brother-in-law are coming down today. I’ve held their Christmas presents and Christmas goodies for ransom until they visit. Every Christmas my sisters have certain expectations from me. Moe and Rod, in Colorado, expect English toffee. Sheila, who’s due here any time now, expects her fudge and date-nut bread. She won’t be disappointed. Once I knew Sheila was coming, I made both of them. She’ll open her presents first then we’re going to lunch.

Last night was warmer than I expected. When Gracie went out before we went to bed, I decided to follow her and check out the night. She went into the yard, and I stood on the deck looking at the lights strung across the driveway gate. They’re coming down after Little Christmas. I’m going to miss all of them, but I’ll miss the star most of all. It lit up the night. I’m thinking maybe I just ought to keep it lit, let it keep away the deep darkness of winter nights. It will have to be moved a bit so I can open the gate but that doesn’t seem like a big deal.

Whoever chose December to celebrate Christmas chose well. Joyousness and celebrations and music and color and families gathering together brighten even the darkest days and nights. Fireworks, I think there should be fireworks.

I finished my book today. It was the newest James Patterson, at least I think it was. He seems to write a new book every month. This one was an Alex Cross novel.

Books go quickly for me. If I like one, I take every opportunity to read it. Whatever break I have, out comes my book. When I’m watching a TV program, the commercial is another opportunity to read. Often I get so involved in the book I lose the program I’m watching. A day spent reading a good book is a day well spent.

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“Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments, embark upon a sentimental journey, and enjoy every idle hour.”

January 6, 2012

A dusting of snow was on the lawn this morning. It was the second dusting of the winter, and both are the only snow we’ve seen. The day is getting warmer, already up 5° since I first checked, and the warmth has made the dusting a memory. Today will be in the 40’s. During previous winters, a day in the 40’s was considered almost balmy but not this winter. 40 during the day seems to be the norm. The nights, however, are still cold, even freezing, and they remind us that this is really winter.

On our way to school on some windy winter mornings, we’d walk backwards when we had to go around the field at the foot of our hill. The wind whipped across that field with such ferocity I used to wonder if my nose would freeze and break off my face. Our coats were blown by the wind and our legs got so cold they turned red. We’d hurry as fast as backwards would let us to get pass that field because beyond the field was a street filled with houses on both sides which protected us from the wind. The cold, though, was something else. No matter how much my mother bundled us we were freezing by the time we got to school. We’d wear sweaters under our winter coats, and my mother shoved hats on our heads, mittens on our hands and scarfs around our necks. I even remember wearing some pink underwear my mother bought me which were like mini-leggings and went down as far as the tops of my knees. They were God-awful ugly but kept me a bit warmer. I prayed no one would ever see them.

Now, I am never outside long enough to get really cold. The other day I brought the bird feeders into the house as it was too chilly to stand outside and fill them. I’m cold only for a few minutes until my car gets toasty warm. I run to the store and run back to the car. I look outside the window here in my den, and I swear I can see the cold. I decide there is no reason whatsoever to go out, and I sit here and read in the warmth of my house. Like bears, I believe hibernating is the best winter survival tool.

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“The less routine the more life.”

January 3, 2012

It’s cold. 32° cold. I have my Christmas tree to take down today so I won’t be going anywhere. I’m always sad when the tree goes. I miss the aroma of pine and the beauty of the lights. My living room reverts to drab and ordinary.

The tree disappeared magically when I was a kid. It was there when I went to school, but when I got home, it was gone. I guess it was like the Elves and the Shoemaker.

At first I struggled for something to write. That happens sometimes. I thought a while and all of a sudden I was inspired.

Elementary school was my first introduction to the routines of life. Every day, Monday through Friday, was the same. I even ate the same breakfast: cocoa and toast and oatmeal if my mother made me eat it on the really cold days. I wore the same outfit, my uniform: a blue skirt, a white blouse and a blue tie. I had a pair of school shoes, and I wore them every day then changed them when I got home. I carried my lunch in a lunchbox. The lunch varied from day-to-day, but I could always count on a sandwich and a dessert. Back then I didn’t realize I was part of a dress rehearsal.

High school was also a routine. Up early, eat on the quick and hurry to catch the bus to the town where I attended school. The bus came at 7:05. I wore a uniform: a plaid skirt, a white blouse, a gray vest and blazer, nylons and black loafers. I carried a school bag, one of those green ones which had to be pulled to close and could be carried over the shoulder on your back. It was required, and it was ugly.

In college, I could wear what I wanted as long as part of it was a skirt. That changed sophomore year when it was so cold we were allowed to wear pants, and once they had opened that door, it couldn’t be shut. I had a schedule of classes, and my friends and I met every morning for coffee, and we had a contest each day as to who could finish the crossword puzzle the fastest. It was a routine of sorts but far different than those of my childhood. College was the freest of times.

Once I got home from Ghana and started teaching, I was back to a set routine: getting up early, having a cup of coffee, going to school, teaching five classes, coming home, changing out of school clothes, preparing classes, correcting papers and then having what was left of the day as mine. There was never much left.

People cautioned me about my early retirement. I didn’t get what they meant at first. I hadn’t stop to think that my life had been a series of routines, and here I was starting a life without one.

When I run into people now, they always ask what I’ve been doing as if doing is so important. I always figure they ask because they’re still in the routine stage of life when doing is most of all there is.

I guess I do have a bit of a routine. I drink my coffee, read my papers and then write. That’s it. That’s all I have left of routine.

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“An optimist is someone who gets treed by a lion but enjoys the scenery.”

January 2, 2012

Winter is in the wings. The weatherman says single digits by tomorrow night. As soon as I finish here, I’m going to fill my feeders so the birds won’t go hungry. The bird man on NPR this morning said the birds would be at the feeders even more when it gets cold. I’m also going to hunt for the heater for the bird bath as that same bird man said birds need water this time of year even more than food.

Yesterday I was far busier than usual: the list of those accomplishments is long so today I have declared a day of rest as my back is a bit sore, and I’m tired. Today I’ll hunker down and watch the Tournaments of Roses parade and maybe read a bit later, but I suspect by late afternoon I’ll be a bit antsy and will probably haul up some bins to put more of Christmas away.

The new year has me thinking about my life. I don’t think I’d change much about it.

On summer mornings, I stand outside with the papers in my hand and listen to the birds, smell the flowers in the front garden and let the breeze touch me.

The star filled night sky awes me. At the ocean, the sky almost runs out of room for any more stars. I like to lie down in the cool sand and look at those stars in all their wonder and glory. I still wish on the first star I see.

A few snowflakes, then a few more and I run to the back door and turn on the light so I can watch the snow fall. I see the individuality of the flakes highlighted in the light. Sometimes I stick out my tongue and catch the snow.

I love to take a ride with no destination in mind. Out of curiosity, I take streets I’ve never been down before and sometimes I’m surprised by what I find: an old house, a field of flowers, a graveyard hidden by weeds and even a few horses, heads bent munching the grass. Sometimes I take all rights and other times I take all lefts.

I am still hopeful about the world, and I believe the best of people. I don’t think I could live my life any other way.

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“With luck, it might even snow for us.”

December 27, 2011

Okay, I finally figured it out. The sun has gone on vacation somewhere warm and left us with gray skies and temperatures in the high 40’s, which really aren’t so bad, but it would nice to see the sun again.

Today I have a couple of errands to do so no lolling around for me. Yesterday I watched a few movies, took a short nap and was totally unproductive.

After Santa’s visit, Christmas vacation was always my least favorite when I was a kid. There was nothing to do unless there was snow or a new bike needing breaking in. It was just too cold to play around outside so mostly we played our new games inside, and I read my Christmas books. If there was snow, we were out all day and only came in when we were totally soaked and our lips had turned blue.

Our street was the best one around for sledding. It was a long hill. In those days, no salt was added to the roads so the hill always had a layer of snow. The first few sledders helped pack down that snow, and soon enough, the hill was perfect for a mouth dropping ride. Our sleds were the wooden ones, and the runners used to get a bit rusty over the summer so the first few runs down the hill had brown blade marks as the rust wore off in the wet snow. At the bottom of the hill was a street so we used try to stop before we’d cross the the street, but if the sledders at the bottom signaled no cars we’d let our sleds zoom across the street to the field. Then it was walk back up the hill holding the icy rope and dragging our sleds behind us. At the top of the hill, we’d hold the sleds on each side, quickly drop them to the ground then jump on them, stomachs down and feet in the air, to ride down the hill. Our feet were the brakes. We’d drag them to slow the sleds down.

Once we’d had our fill of sledding, we’d stick our sleds upright in the pile of snow left beside the front steps from my dad’s shoveling, and we walk around to the back to get into the house through the cellar. Our wet clothes went on the line. I remember my legs were red from the cold and my fingers were always stiff, but that never mattered. It was all about those slides down a really fast hill.

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“When we lose Fenway, we lose the sense that somebody sat here and watched Ted Williams hit.”

December 26, 2011

The sun popped out, took a look at the day and went right back behind the clouds. The wind is blowing but the day feels warm at 40°. All of the animals are sleeping, and I think them wise. The day after Christmas is always a bit of a letdown. The anticipation is gone, and the wonderful Christmas music disappears off the radio. The tree gets lit every night, but its job is pretty much done. Today is, for me, a day to sit and look at my presents again and do little or nothing. I’m not even going to get dressed. Brushing my teeth is about the only planned activity.

My friends gave me a brick for Christmas but not just any brick. It’s a replica of the brick with my name on it which will become a forever part of Fenway Park when the bricks are laid in the concourse near gates B & C. This new brick walkway is part of the celebration commemorating the 100th anniversary of  Fenway Park. I can’t even describe how excited I was when I opened my present. It’s about the best present ever, at least since I got my bike.

I have loved the Red Sox since I was a little kid. In those days the bleacher seats cost under a dollar, and day of game seats were always available, even for the best seats, the boxes right beside the field. When I was in college, the guy I was dating would have his mother pack a box (sorry!) lunch and we’d head to the park. He always bought seats near the dugout. A game at Fenway is like a game nowhere else as so many seats are close to the action. It’s almost as if you were on the field. Last year was a bust for my Sox, but, as always, we fans know the next year will be a better one. That has always been our mantra.

The sun is back, and the sky has patches of blue. It will be a lovely day after all.

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“Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind. To cherish peace and goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas.”

December 25, 2011

The morning was so still when I went to get the papers I couldn’t hear a car or a voice. I heard only the frost crunching beneath my feet and I could see my breath. I stopped in the cold to savor the silence.

I met my friend for breakfast this morning. Our usual Sunday spot was open today, the only place around that was. Lots of people were there; all of the booths were filled and a few people were waiting for one to open. When I got home, I opened the presents from my family and friends. My sister made the most amazing lamb shade with scenes of Cape Cod from old postcards. I thought it was an antique some old lady had made. My sister and I laughed as I had the old lady part right. My other sister gave me some old ornaments. We call them uglies when my mother started to collect them. Now we all have a few of the uglies. The one I loved the most from my sister was labeled a 6 Piece Dwarf Band.

Today I will go to my friends’ house for dinner. We’ll exchange gifts and maybe play a game or two. Last night they were here, and we finished our gingerbread houses. We were so creatively intent on our projects that we didn’t talk. That made us laugh when we realized.

I wish all of you the Merriest Christmas and thanks for dropping by Coffee every day.

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“Even as an adult I find it difficult to sleep on Christmas Eve. Yuletide excitement is a potent caffeine, no matter your age.”

December 22, 2011

55° on December 22nd just doesn’t seem right. When I went to get the papers, I stood a while outside and took in the morning. We have sun and blue skies for the first time in days, but it all seems wrong. Where’s the snow? I should be seeing my breath and be clad in wool from head to toe. I’m sure it sounds like complaining, and I really don’t want winter as I’m loving this temperature, but it’s Christmas time. It’s sleigh bells ringing and Frosty dancing. It’s even the first day of winter. Mother Nature is behind her time.

Every kid counted down to the big day, Christmas Eve. The lucky ones, like us, had advent calendars which let us know how many days were left without having to ask. I swear that’s why my mother started giving them to us. We just counted the unopened windows and knew how long. Later, when we were older, we did the math. I have to admit that still being in school until the 23rd helped. We were forced to be busy so the days went more quickly. Christmas Eve is the longest day of the year, not the summer solstice. Just ask any kid.

I don’t remember the specifics of most Christmas Eve days except night was a long time in coming. I bet we drove my mother crazy. It was never a day for us to play outside or wander. It was a close to home day. The TV was always on in case there was a Christmas show, just what we needed to heighten the excitement. We wondered what Santa would bring. Would he follow our list or be creative?

We always got a new game or two for Christmas. As long as I can remember, we were a family of game players. Learning to play cards started with war then we worked our way up to more complex games as we got older. My parents, figuring they had built-in partners, taught my brother and me whist. We also played all sorts of board games either sitting on the living room rug or at the kitchen table. Santa always left the games front and center under the tree leaning upright against other toys. They were often the first things we saw. I don’t remember asking for games on my list. They were Santa’s choice, but we never complained.

I still try to give a game at Christmas. It’s one of those traditions meant to be carried on year to year. The one change is we just can’t manage sitting on the rug to play. It’s too hard to get up.

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“I will love the light for it shows me the way. Yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars.”

December 21, 2011

Yes, I know it’s Wednesday, and this is my day off, but I decided to write just a bit this being the winter solstice and all.

It is warm today at 51°. We’re expecting rain so the sun is gone yet again. It’s actually been a while since it last appeared. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was on vacation in a sunnier clime.

The longest night of the year needs fireworks. The sky should be ablaze with color. Bon fires need to be lit. We ought to be outside around the fire singing carols and celebrating and having a glass or two of something warm.

Tonight I’m going to a friend’s house for dinner, and I will wear bright clothes to dispel the darkness on this the longest night.

“I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.

‘We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,’
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.”
–   Oliver Herford, I Heard a Bird Sing

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“Heap on more wood! the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.”

December 19, 2011

Last night dropped to the teens, as low as 14°, but, luckily, I was home warm and cozy wearing slippers and wool socks to complement my usual nighttime winter ensemble. Today feels warm at 39°. If the wind would disappear, it would feel even warmer. It’s strong enough to sway the big feeder and take the birds for a ride. I’d get car sick if I went back and forth that many times.

I never did get to the grocery store with my list but, instead, I went to a smaller store to pick up cat food and paper towels; however, I can procrastinate no longer and will leave for the Stop and Shop as soon as I finish here. I need to do my Christmas baking.

December 23rd was usually when we got out of school for vacation. We went to school the same as usual that morning, but it was never really a usual school day. We were far too excited to learn anything so the nun, knowing she was facing a losing battle, would vary the activities. In the morning we’d color Christmas scenes and make Christmas cards for our parents. In the afternoon we’d have a party.

My Christmas cards were seldom works of art. Most had a tree on the front because trees were easy to draw and decorate. I used a yellow crayon to make garlands because the white crayon was never any good to use. You couldn’t see it. You could feel it but not see it. I made dots of color for the lights but never ventured into ornaments. They would have looked like blobs. My inside messages tended to be on a slant and sometimes I ran out of space and had to loop my words. My mother made a big deal oohing and ahhing when I gave her my card. It was as if I had given her a real masterpiece. I always felt proud.

Christmas Day is a Sunday this year. When I was a kid, I loved it being on a Sunday. It was like cheating a little as it counted twice. It was both a Sunday mass and a Christmas day mass. We often went to the very first mass of the day walking to church in the cold darkness so we could hurry home to play with our new toys. I remember thinking we were the only people in the world awake that early. All the houses were  dark, but, on the way home, the sky was light and the people were awake. We could see tree lights shining when we looked at the windows as we quickly passed by them. We were in a hurry to get home.

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