Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

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“Speed, it seems to me, provides the one genuinely modern pleasure.”

October 25, 2011

Rain is coming later in the week, but for now I get to enjoy the sunshine and the coolness of a beautiful fall day. We did get out for a bit yesterday, but I ran into friends whom I haven’t seen in ages, and we chatted for a long while so I didn’t get as far as I’d hoped. Today Gracie and I will go down Cape; yesterday we went up Cape. For those of you wondering what directions I’m describing down-Cape means toward P-Town and up-Cape means toward the bridge. If anyone asked me east or west, I’d be hard pressed to answer.

When I visit Colorado, I ask how far to get somewhere, and they always answer in miles. Here when asked the same question we answer in time. How far to Boston from the cape elicits the response of about an hour and fifteen minutes, but it could be longer depending upon the traffic. In Colorado they’d tell me about 72 miles.

When I traveled in Ghana, the distance was measured in kilometers. I had no idea how far away anything really was. My mind worked only in miles so I always had to convert kilometers to miles. I learned to multiply by .6 so I’d figure out how far away I was from my destination.

Ghana, like Massachusetts, is also a time place. I had no idea the actual distance between Accra and Bolgatanga, but I know it takes 16 hours by bus. I know because that’s what the Ghanaians told me when I asked how far between Bolga and Accra. Later I looked it up and found it was 810 kilometers which didn’t make sense until I figured out it was 486 miles. It may seem like it takes forever by bus, and it does.

Once, when my parents and I were in Germany, my inner race car driver came out while I was driving on the autobahn. There I was driving at 80 MPH and getting passed. I knew this was my opportunity to be Mario Andretti without risking a ticket so I drove between 90 to 100 but I still got passed. My mother commented we seem to be going really fast and kept looking at the speedometer. I told her it was in kilometers, a bold face lie with good intentions, and explained how to convert and I mentioned that we were being passed by other cars going much faster. That seemed to calm her, and I got to be Mario for just a little while.

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“Swinging on delicate hinges the Autumn Leaf Almost off the stem”

October 24, 2011

The morning has a crispness. The grass was wet when I went to get the papers. Across the street, painters are working on my neighbors’ house trim. It’s sunny but not warm. It is, after all, fall.

The birds need feeding. I miss watching them from my window here in the den. Their latest seeds of choice have been a mixture of fruits and nuts, and I have only a small bit left. Tomorrow, at Agway’s, I’ll have to buy more and also another case of canned dog food. I might also mosey over to their garden section and buy some bulbs. Last year the spawns of Satan found many of my new ones in less than a day. My garden was pockmarked with holes. It looked a bit like the lunar surface.

A former students is coming to visit from Thursday through Tuesday. She has been in Cincinnati with her daughter so we missed each other in Bolga. Her name is Francisca Issaka, and she was one of my favorite students. She and Francisca Ateere, another favorite, often visited my house. I remember how much they laughed and how much they enjoyed life. Both of them were sixteen when I first met them. They were the students I told all about Halloween during one of their visits, and they remembered and came trick or treating. Francisca still remembers and said she wants to be at my house for Halloween. On Sunday she is cooking a Ghanaian meal for my friends and my nephews. We are not having bush meat or goat though I wouldn’t mind either. My sister was appalled that I eat goat. She talked about The Lonely Goat Herd and the Billy Goats Gruff. I didn’t think about it, but I should have reminded her about Ferdinand the Bull.

Today I have one errand then Gracie and I are going roaming. I’m taking my camera as it has been a long while since I’ve snapped pictures of the cape, and I think it is especially pretty this time of year. I never really noticed the fall changes until my first year home from Africa. I always thought the cape this time of year was a bit dull compared to the rest of the state as there are so many pine trees which just stay green. I was wrong. The marshes turn a beautiful red, and up and down Route 6A towering, long standing trees turn a different color red than the marshes, and here and there are spots of yellow. The bogs are flooded to spare them the worst of winter. Bushes are bright with color and stand in contrast to their old white houses. The cape is an amazing place in the fall.

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“My homework was not stolen by a one-armed man”

October 23, 2011

The nights are chilly, afghan chilly, animals right beside me chilly. I can barely move in bed as they are huddled beside me, and it isn’t even winter yet. The house was around 65° when I woke up this morning which meant a sweatshirt and warm slippers. The sandals have been put way back in the closet.

The day started out sunny but has since become cloudy and dark and is supposed to stay this way. It’s 56°, tolerable but sad. It means no open windows and wearing socks and shoes. I hate that it gets dark so early in the afternoon now. That mole feeling which comes with winter is getting stronger.

When we were kids, early darkness this time of year left little time to play outside after school. Besides, it was too cold for the usual games except for an occasional bike ride. The walk to and from school and recess were about the only physical activities we had until snow and ice gave us more options. I don’t remember minding having to stay inside as we had plenty of games, and I had my books to keep me company. Late in the afternoon the TV went on, and we’d sit on the carpet close to the set and watch our favorite programs on the flickering black and white screen. Only my mother calling us to dinner pulled us away.

I was the one who always did her homework right away. I’d sit at the kitchen table with my papers and do mostly English, religion, spelling or math. We almost never brought home books except for our catechism, which we had bought. I think the nuns were afraid we’d lose the other books and money was hard to come by to replace lost or damaged books. Most times we brought home worksheets with math problems, spellings lists or fill in the blanks with the right pronoun, country or whatever else was asked for. For some reason the coin sheet jumps out of my memory drawer, and I remember black and white pictures of coins. For homework we had to add or subtract them from the total number of coins. Religion homework was always memorize something. Where is God? God is everywhere was on the first page of one of my catechisms. My favorite picture was of the three milk bottles. One was white for sinless, one was half white and half black for venial sins and the last was all black for mortal sins. I wonder what they do now. You can’t see through cartons.

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“You dirty, double-crossing rat.”

October 22, 2011

This is one of those the house is colder than outside sort of morning. I put on my sweatshirt, roused Gracie, slipped my feet into warm slippers and came downstairs. The temperature is 58°, a lot cooler than the last few days. I’m glad I put in the storm door.

I’m watching 1933’s The Ghoul. It’s has all the wonderful characteristics those old horror movies always have. Two women have spent a great deal of the film screaming or swooning. The female star managed both, one after the other. I guess it was that dual combination ability which boosted her to stardom. She was, of course, carried away from danger by the tall, dark and handsome hero wearing a dark suit, complete with vest. The butler was eerie, the  house was dark and the Ghoul was Boris Karloff.

The paper today had an article about black cats and how people are reluctant to adopt them. All the other cats go first. A woman has started a black cat rescue group to change this and has managed to place several. Maddie, my great mouser, is a black cat. I never thought about superstition when I adopted her and Fern. Maddie is just my black cat.

My house is totally decorated for Halloween. Monsters sit on shelves and on the mantle. Creatures howl and scream when touched. A cemetery with stones, statues and a mausoleum is laid out on the table. A few rats and a vulture are also on that table. The rats are disgusting looking with their teeth and claws showing. I find them repulsive which is what makes them perfect for Halloween so out they come every year. A little mouse doesn’t bother me. It borders on cute, but there is nothing cute about a rat. I remember a few years ago when I was sitting in a well-known Boston bakery having coffee and pastry when a rat ran by my table. A chill went up my back, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if a pack had followed in a wave, then attacked in unison and eaten me and my pastry. Rats are like that.

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“Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll.”

October 21, 2011

Though I woke up around 8:30, I lolled in bed for another hour or so. The room was chilly as the window had been open all night, and I just didn’t want to leave the comfort of my warm bed, but Gracie, sensing my stirrings, got up and went downstairs. I knew what she wanted and sure enough her door bells started ringing. She wanted out. I ran downstairs, let her out and ran right back to bed. Much later I decided to brave the day and dragged myself downstairs, grabbed a cup of coffee and went to get the papers. I’m still wishing I were back in bed.

I went to the library yesterday afternoon as their guest speaker about my trip to Ghana. I was gone about 2 and 1/2 hours. When I got home, I noticed a gift left for me in the hall, a dead mouse, compliments, I think, of Miss Maddie as she was in the hall probably waiting for my oh’s and ah’s at the wonderful present she had given me. I thanked her with what I hope was enough exuberance then I took the mouse and disposed of its remains.

Today is breezy, maybe even windy, and chillier than it has been though the sun is shining. I suppose the weatherman would call the temperature seasonal. I have to go to the dump today, and I’m putting in the last storm door, an admission of defeat, a recognition that the cold is coming.

I haven’t walked backwards in a long time. When I was a kid, I used to walk backwards when I had to pass the field on my way to school. The cold wind would whip across that field and hit me in the face numbing my nose and cheeks and making my eyes water so I’d give the wind my back. I remember how my coat used to billow when the wind hit it and how I’d have to look every now and then to see where I was going. A feeling of relief and even warmth always came when I’d get to the next street and have the protection of the houses and the huge trees lining the walk. That was when I’d turn and face the day.

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“Faith is a passionate intuition.”

October 20, 2011

For the last two days it rained. Sometimes it poured so much I wished for a tin roof. At night, with my bedroom window open, I could hear the rain flowing off the roof and pelting the deck. My house has no gutters so I was surrounded by rain. It was a delight.

Today is summer. It’s already 71°. The sun is streaming through windows, and Fern and Gracie have a short truce so they can share the warm mat by the front door. I was out on the deck earlier just looking at the world. I always feel lucky to be alive on days like today.

Today I am the featured speaker at the South Dennis Library’s Thursday at 2 series. I am talking about my return to Ghana. I hope the people brought dinner!

One of my students is coming to visit. She has been in Cincinnati with her daughter so she wasn’t there when I was in Bolga. We called her while my students and I were at our last dinner together, and she said she had been looking for me, and now she is missing me (which is Ghanaian English for she didn’t get to see me ). How strange, she said, that I am there and she is in the US. When we spoke last week about her coming to visit and our reconnecting, Franciska said it was God’s work. She said I went to Bolga with faith knowing I would find some students, and I did. It was God’s work that Shetu went to have a beer at my hotel for the first time in one or two years, and that I would speak to them in Hausa and that she would recognize me. Franciska decided it was God’s will that we reunite, and who am I to contradict God’s will.

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“Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.”

October 18, 2011

My doctor is semi-retired and only kept some patients, and I was happy to be one of them, but not yesterday. When I got to Cambridge (where my doctor’s office actually is), the door was locked. I knocked, no answer. I waited, but she didn’t come. I rang the bell to her residence which is above her office, no answer. I called, no answer. Finally I gave up and left. Luckily the day wasn’t a total loss as my sister and I had made a date for lunch, and we tried out a Thai restaurant in her town. The food was delicious. I took the leftovers, another plus, and drove home. When I got here, I called my doctor. She answered. I said I had driven there but the office was closed. “I was in Florida,” she said. She looked in her book-nope, not there. She had forgotten to write down the appointment. Just imagine how happy I was!

I am always on time, most times I’m early as I give myself extra time when going off Cape in case of something like a flat tire (it did happen but only once) or heavy traffic (a common occurrence). Doctors are never on time. Neither are dentists. They just keep you waiting in one room or another until they get there. I laugh at the Infinity commercial which says they’ll give you a $20.00 credit if they’re not on time. Well, of  course, they’ll be on time when the arrival window is sometime between 10 and 4. How can you be late when you have all day to get here? Meanwhile, we sit and wait. Okay, I admit I am griping a bit today because of yesterday, but I figure I deserve a bit of griping, but I’m done now and feel a lot better for it.

I am not the most patient person in the world, but when I was in Ghana, I had no choice. I learned to be patient as Ghanaians live by their own clocks. Busses leave when they’re full; people arrive for dinner when they get there; clothes are finished being sewn days after being promised and internal plane flights sometimes leave early or sometimes don’t leave at all. I understood it was cultural so I accepted it and didn’t waste my time or energy on expectations. I just learned to carry a book.

When I went to Ghana, I fell right back into African time as opposed to European time, better defined as punctuality. Here, where we move through our days prompted by the hands of clocks, it is easy to be on time. It just takes a little planning. I always think of punctuality as a sign of respect.

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“A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.”

October 10, 2011

This has been the most leisurely of all mornings. I woke up late, read every bit of both papers, had three cups of coffee perfectly brewed to my taste (I’m a does the amount look right coffee grounds sort when loading) and spent some time outside in the sun. When I came back inside so did Gracie, and right now all the animals are napping in here as I write. The dog gets the couch; Fern is on the new chair while Maddie has the cushion at the back of the couch near the window. It is a remarkable day, a beautiful day, a bit of magic pulled out of her hat by Mother Nature.

My sister in Colorado had her first snow of the season last week. She had to clear off her car before she could go to work. I tried but couldn’t conjure an image of the snow and her car. My mind is still filled with sun and flowers. My garden now has its fall bloomers adding color and beauty to my little world. I love to stand there and look and marvel.

The wedding was wonderful. I knew there would be some quirky surprises because Bethany and Brian love fun and laughter. It started with the place card settings which were odd as they were oblong plastic frames, but there was an explanation. The frames were to hold a picture. Bethany and Brian had a photo booth placed in the hall next to where we had dinner. It was similar to the kind you used to find at bus or train stations where you put in a quarter and got a strip of  black and white pictures. My friends and I always crammed ourselves into a booth and made funny faces at the camera. Outside this booth were boxes holding props like sombreros and clown hats. I chose a plastic fireman’s hat and the sombrero. When I went inside the booth, I wore hat after hat until all the shots were taken. When I got outside the booth, I was handed a strip of four color shots of me which fit perfectly in the place card frame. The last shot was me making a funny face, sort of a homage to the old days. The booth man explained that Bethany and Brian would get a copy of every strip as momentos of their wedding and the strangeness of their guests. When the reception was over and the couple was leaving, we all stood outside with sparklers lighting the night giving Bethany and Brian a bit of magic to take with them. It was a wonderful evening filled with fun, laughter and good friends.

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It is strange, but I have never camped anywhere in Africa where I have not felt, as I left it, that we all have left something of ourselves behind.”

October 9, 2011

The day is simply gorgeous with the bluest of skies and a summer warmth. It has been a different sort of Sunday as I didn’t go out for breakfast, but I did sit outside to drink my coffee. I closed my eyes and let the sun warm me, and I listened to the birds greeting the day and to Gracie wandering through the backyard grasses. Every now and then a car went by, but it only disturbed my reverie for a moment. Around eleven, I dragged myself back inside to call my sister in Colorado, a call I make every Sunday, and now I’m still inside to write Coffee. It will be a quick post. The day is calling me.

Gracie is on the bad list. Last night I heard a rustling sound, the sort a package makes, and looked from here in the den down the hall to the crate on which Gracie’s food and treats are kept but saw nothing. Later I went to give Gracie one of her Happy Hips treats and the package, the newly opened package, was gone. This morning I found the empty package in the yard. That noise I had heard was Gracie stealing the package. She then sneaked outside with it. No question she knew she was doing something wrong.

I have a wedding to go to today at four. Receiving the invitation meant I needed to buy a fall dress to join my summer dress, the dress which came with me to Ghana. I told my sister my new dress is in the pink family and has a jacket with a scalloped edge. I also told her I bought new black shoes. The dress came Wednesday. It is green. The shoes are brown. Now I’m thinking I’ll look like a tree.

I never should have gone to Ghana. Now all I can think about is getting back there for another visit. When I first came home from the Peace Corps, the feeling was even more intense. It took months before I stopped longing for Ghana, but I never stopped thinking about it. I have it all figured out. I need to replenish my savings to the pre-Ghana level then I can start saving for the next trip. I’m guessing two years max before I get back there.

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“You can’t make anything idiot proof because idiots are so ingenious.”

October 7, 2011

Last night was one of those I can’t get to sleep nights. After the Tigers-Yankee thriller, I watched a few DVR’ed programs, played on my computer and still couldn’t get to sleep. Finally, about 3:00, we all crawled into bed. This morning Gracie woke me up by ringing her bells to go out around 9:30. The house was so cold I ran back upstairs and under the covers but not before I turned on the heat. Yup, I have heat.

I am an idiot. When the hall was painted last week, the painter turned off the emergency switch, and it only cost me $95.00 to turn it on again. While the service guy was here, I figured he might as well change the filter in the furnace, and when he did, he turned off some switch which caused the heat to stay off. I called the answering service and some woman questioned me about the switches. Not a tech person mind you, but an answering person. I finally got her to take the message and stop the inquisition. The service guy called and profusely apologized. He knew just what he had done and was on his way back here. I now have heat, just in time for the 70+° weather due this weekend.

My sister was born on Columbus Day, the real one, not the fake one enacted to give us all a long weekend. She loved having that day as her birthday because she was guaranteed a day off from school. I swear when she was young she thought we all had the day off in her honor.

As a kid, my favorite time of the year, besides summer and no school, was from October through the beginning of January. During those months we had Halloween, legal holidays off from school and holy days off like November 1st, All Saint’s Day, and December 8th, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception though we had to pay for those days off by attending mass. I guess it was a fair trade-off. We also had the school vacations of Thanksgiving and Christmas.

School was never painful those months. We knew a day off was never far away.

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