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“A journey is a person in itself, no two are alike.”

August 26, 2011

It rained most of last night, but the morning broke sunny and warm. I dried off the table, had coffee and read my papers on the deck. Both papers were filled with stories about Hurricane Irene: the predicted path, people getting ready and the hurricane’s intensity. One article listed the flights already canceled out of Logan, but all of them were flights headed into the storm, most headed toward North Carolina or south to the islands. Saturday is supposed to be rain and only rain. The wind won’t begin until Sunday when, I hope, I’m already through Frankfurt on my way to Accra. This is one of your shake your head in wonder sort of things. I booked my flight in April and would never have expected that the first hurricane in twenty years would surface just before my flight. I’m wondering about karma, but I really do expect to get out of Boston. I am heading away from the hurricane and it will only be raining. I am so glad I didn’t book the direct flight from New York.

One day, I can’t believe it is one day until I leave. My to do list has most stuff crossed off. Today I have to water the plants and fill the bird feeders. Tomorrow is change the litter, go to the dump and pack day. My bedroom has stacks of clothes ready for the suitcase, and the chair is filled with stuff for my carry-on, most of it electronic. I can barely sit still for the excitement.

Engagements are already scheduled: the party on the 29th at Ryan’s pub, the swearing-in ceremony on the 30th and a party that night to honor and celebrate the newest volunteers.

I figure to leave for Bolga on the 1st, but I still haven’t quite figured out how to get there. The bus ride is 16 hours so if I go that route, I’ll leave on the night of the 31st so I can arrive in Bolga in the morning. The buses are air-conditioned and the seats go down so I’ll be fairly comfortable. It would be like backpack travel days during my 20’s when we always traveled by night to save the cost of a hotel room. If I fly, it will be to Tamale then 4 hours by bus to Bolga. I wish I were Samantha, and I would just wiggle my nose.

My mind is filled with forty year old images and sounds and smells all waiting to be updated.

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Comments: 19 Comments

“Do good because of tomorrow”

August 25, 2011

What kind of luck do I have? Irene is heading this way though it would seem Sunday and Monday are the possible landfall days. Saturday is predicted as rainy, and I’m hoping rain will not prevent my flight from leaving. The Sox are planning a double header for either Friday or Saturday so they won’t have a game on Sunday. I’ve already brought in some of the glass hurricane lamp chimneys from the deck, kind of ironic. I have more stuff to bring inside, but I’m leaving a few bird feeders and will have my house sitter bring them inside if necessary. I’m filling my dining room with all the candles, lambs and tables.

Yesterday was gorgeous with a cool breeze. Today is a bit more humid which makes the air feel much hotter. Maybe it’s air-conditioner weather.

My before I leave list is getting smaller and smaller and today is get money and bus ticket day. I got an invitation to a party in Accra on Monday being thrown for us returned volunteers by Peace Corps and the current volunteers. It will be at Ryan’s pub! I figure that means I’m destined to be there! I’m sorry no one from my time will be in Accra. It will be great meeting new people but reconnecting with long ago friends would have been an added wonder.

Here I am sitting in my den, my usual spot for writing Coffee each morning. Out the window I can see some of the bird feeders, the candles in the trees and a bit of the deck furniture. The leaves in the big old oak tree are swaying a bit and their shadows on the deck move with the breeze. The sounds I hear are lawn mowers and clippers. In three days I will land in Accra, into a whole different world. It will be filled with the sounds of cars and people. I will stand out in any crowd and hear obruni again for the first time in forty years. I will smell car exhaust, food cooking and the trash which seems to pile up everywhere. I’ll hear conversations in Twi. I will listen intently to Ghanaian English until my ears again become accustomed to the accent. It won’t take long. When I called to make my reservation, I understood just about every word. Ghanaians laugh a lot. I’m looking forward to that.

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“Education is learning what you didn’t even know you didn’t know.”

August 23, 2011

The air is crystal clear and the sun sharp. Today is as lovely as yesterday though maybe a bit cooler. The back of my house, the last place the sun hits each day, is usually my refuge from the heat. This morning it’s chilly. Gracie just came inside for her morning nap. I’m surprised she didn’t sleep on the deck lounge. Earlier, the breeze was blowing the chimes hanging from trees in the backyard. I heard the sweetness of the smallest bells.

Yesterday I went to Staples. The place was crowded with parents holding lists, filling baskets and dragging kids from aisle to aisle. One mother asked her son if he wanted red or blue three ring binders. He told her he didn’t care. The boy had back to school blues and buying school supplies was about the last thing he wanted to be doing.

My mother bought the usual for our return to school. We always got new shoes, usually Buster Brown’s which were sturdy and lasted most of the year. If we had grown out of our uniforms, we got new blue skirts and new white blouses. My brother got new pants and white shirts. We wore ties with our uniforms, blue clip-ons that looked like cowboys might wear them to a hoedown for the girls and bow ties for the boys. We always got new ones because the old ties had been tossed at the end of the previous year. They took a beating because after school every day we’d stuffed them in our school bags for the walk home, and there they’d stay until the next morning. Pencil boxes and school bags were next on the list. I always liked shopping for those. My favorite pencil boxes had everything except duct tape: regular pencils, colored pencils, a small thin 6 inch ruler, a half circle ruler, a pencil sharpener and an eraser. My school bag had both a handle and a strap for over the shoulder. I used to try it on to see how it felt. We’d buy lined white paper with red margins and one Indian tablet. I remember I’d put all my supplies in and out of the school bag until I thought they were just right.

It didn’t matter whether we liked school or not on that first day. It was exciting to put on new clothes and shoes and walk to school. We’d discuss the teacher we were getting because we always knew. We alternated: one year a nun, the next year a real person.

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“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.”

August 22, 2011

The day is beautiful with a cool breeze and no blasted humidity. The pages of the papers waved in the breeze and needed something to hold down them as I sat on the deck to read. I noticed, when I was outside, that the spawns have stripped two feeders of their seeds so I have to pick up some more today. Yesterday I picked up the animals’ food and treats, that would for Miss Gracie and the Misses Fern and Maddie, which means one item on my before I go list is crossed off.

Being engrossed in a book lets time pass without my noticing so I bought a new book yesterday. Maybe a couple of days will go by without my counting the hours. This last week of waiting is killing me. I think I have everything that isn’t clothing all set to go and ready to be packed except for the last minute recharging of my iPad. When I tested the e-mail on it yesterday, it wouldn’t send so I had to reconfigure. It then sent just fine. I doubt I’ll have much chance to use the e-mail as wi-fi is pretty uncommon, but I wanted to be set just in case. You’ll have to check here every three days or so as I do hope to post.

The first time I was ever away from my parents for more than a night or two was when I went to college. Being eighteen and as brash as most eighteen year olds are, leaving was no big deal, but I was secretly reassured as my parents were always just a phone call and a few hours away. I don’t remember when I went home for my first weekend, but I don’t think it was all that soon. What I remember most about that weekend is when I walked into the living room the house seemed strangely different, almost as if I were the guest. Maybe that was the first sign we all have that we are starting to pull away into adulthood, into our own lives. I know as I got older I came home from college less and less, except, of course, for summers.

I figure the pulling away was natural, and we all did it maybe without even realizing why. Later, when I was really far away on my own, I did just fine. It was all that practice during college.

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“A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes”

August 20, 2011

Today is lovely and without that stifling humidity of yesterday. I stood on the deck a while earlier taking in the morning. It was quiet then, but the day has gotten louder. I can hear a couple of lawnmowers and some machinery sound I don’t recognize. Earlier this morning I had to go to Dunkin Donuts to buy coffee as I had forgotten to buy cream. The route took me over the highway, and I caught a glimpse of the stream of cars leaving the cape. I guess everyone had the same idea: lets leave early. The cars going down cape were far fewer. Maybe this will be a quiet week.

I have a list of stuff to do this week and the countdown has begun. One week from today I leave for Ghana, and I can hardly believe it. After forty years my wish will finally come true. I’m flying on Lufthansa from Boston to Frankfurt, have a 3 hour lay-over then land on Sunday at 6:50 pm, Ghanaian time. My body will go through 3 time zones, and I can’t imagine the effect as I have enough trouble with this one. Ghana is only 4 hours ahead of us, and I love landing in the early evening so I can have some supper, maybe my favorites, kelewele and jollof rice, then get to bed close to a normal bedtime. That will help me adjust, I hope.

It’s like the first time I went. I don’t know a single person who’s going though this time a few of us have commented back and forth on Facebook. Three people whom I’ve sort of met are all arriving a few days ahead of me and two of them are staying at the same guest lodge as I am (http://www.hotels.com.gh/triplecrown/index.html). I planned my trip with more time after the festivities so I can get up north. None of the others were stationed as far up country as I had been. I’m hoping a current volunteer from my area might be at the ceremony and will be interested in having fine company on the way home.

I have bought a few things I wished existed in my day. I used to travel with a roll of toilet paper, most of us did, but now I have travel toilet paper in packages small enough to fit into my carry around with me bag. I have soap sheets, small pieces of paper needing only water so I can wash my hands. Sanitary hand wash in what looks like a pen is also on the packing list. I have enough electronics for a small store: my iPod and iPad with their foreign travel converter and recharger, my small camera for discreet pictures and its battery recharger and my big camera also with its recharger. They are dual voltage so I can plug them right into the wall. I’ll bring my extra international plug. When I first went to Ghana, I had an Instamatic camera and a cassette player, and I was perfectly content. Forty years is a long time.

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” Dreaming men are haunted men.”

August 19, 2011

Today is muggy as my mother would say. The air is listless and I feel closed in a bit. As I sit here at the keyboard mulling the day, I’m keeping an eye on the deck through the window near me. My goldfinches are back. They were gone for a while, but two of them are back at the feeders. Lots of chickadees are in and out. Yesterday a red spawn of Satan and I had a stare down. He stood on the deck rail daring me so I chased him away time and time again. I even shook the branches on which he had taken refuge. I turned into a crazy lady. He finally left without getting at any of the feeders I had just filled. Crazy lady one, red spawn of Satan nothing.

Once I finish here I’m heading to the deck with the book I’m reading. It’s a typical summer book without a lot of substance but one with a mystery and one murder so far. It’s called Back of Beyond, and I’m almost finished. Summers past I used to try and read something I couldn’t get through like Crime and Punishment, but I gave up doing that as I never did finish any of them. Besides, I find murder and mayhem far more fun to read. My iPad already has about six mysteries loaded for my trip, but I figure I’ll need a few more. The flights are long.

Last night I had the weirdest dream. I know the dream came from my subconscious because I have to pick up some prescriptions at the pharmacy which has called a couple of times, and the errand has been on my mind. In my dream, I went to Pullo’s, the drugstore which used to be right next to the movie theater when I was a kid. Mr. Pullo had a mustache and always wore a short white coat with buttons across the front like Dr. Kildare used to wear in the movies. In my dream, a boy was hanging by his feet from a bar halfway up the front door. He looked a bit like Cheetah wearing overalls and hanging from a branch in a Tarzan movie, but no one inside seemed to care or even notice. The soda fountain was right where it had been in Pullo’s but the back of the pharmacy was different in my dream. There was a man sitting next to a griddle, like they have in diners, and he was smoking a cigar. Mr. Pullo and he were talking. The man was burly and dressed in a heavy coat and hat. For some reason he looked Russian to me. That’s where the dream ended.

At some point I got up to go to the bathroom, and when I fell back to sleep, the dream started again with the same boy in overalls hanging on the door. I walked into Pullo’s but that is as far as I remember of the rerun.

It’s amazing what our subconscious resurrects. I have an errand I have to do, and I’m getting nagged in my dreams. I swear I’m going today!

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“Let us celebrate the occasion with wine and sweet words.”

August 17, 2011

Hey, isn’t it Wednesday? I thought she didn’t post on Wednesday. What going on?

Well, it’s this way: my posting is a bit of self-aggrandizement as today is my birthday, and I wanted to share it with all of you, my Coffee friends.

I always think birthdays are the most important of all days. Most of us celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah, we all celebrate Thanksgiving and Halloween has been big for years. The only day that is just ours is our birthdays, and I believe they deserve fireworks, horns, lots of confetti and maybe even a small parade. Around here the parade would always have bagpipes, but even a fife or two would do.

Birthdays celebrate us.

I have lived another wonderful year and am now starting on the next. How lucky can one person get?

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“The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you’re still a rat.”

August 16, 2011

The morning was damp and cold, a left over from yesterday’s build the ark weather. The rain was so heavy it pounded the roof, windows and the deck. Gracie went out in the morning then stayed inside most of the day but had no choice but to go out again at 4:30, but she was back inside in a flash as it was still raining. The rain finally stopped in the early evening and Gracie stayed out a while to make up for lost time. Rain is predicted for today as well, but the sun did poke out once or twice a bit earlier so maybe the day will improve. I always have hope.

We’re going for a ride today on the back roads. I need to get out for a while, and Gracie is always a willing passenger. Maybe I’ll ride all the way to the French bakery, but that will depend on the traffic. There are fewer tourists on the roads as some schools are starting either this week or next. I can’t believe the summer is passing so quickly.

When I was a little kid, time had no meaning. Significant events like my birthday, Christmas and Easter, because of the bunny, were countdown events but not much else was important enough to be noted. I liked school so I didn’t count the days until summer vacation.

All school year every week day was like all the other week days. We got up, had breakfast, got washed and dressed then walked to school, learned a bit, ate lunch, had recess, learned a bit more then walked home. We got out of our school clothes into our play clothes, took advantage of whatever time we had to play, went back in, did homework, ate dinner, watched a little TV, went to bed, slept all night then woke up the next morning to do it all over again. It was sort of a kids’ rat race.

When I worked, every week day was the same. Get up, stumble to the coffee maker, have a couple of cups while reading the papers, get dressed, go to work, teach a few classes, eat lunch, teach a few more classes then go home and get out of my school clothes. If I had an errand, I did it in the afternoon on the way home from school. I’d then get home, correct papers, eat dinner, shower, watch a little TV and go to bed only to get up the next morning to do it all over again. I was part of the adult rat race.

I keep a calendar to remind me of invitations or appointments. Without it, most would slip my mind because I don’t dwell on time any more. I go to bed when I please. Sometimes Gracie wakes me up but most times I just wake up, stumble down for my coffee and spend a long time reading both papers. Nothing is hurried. I am now and forever a former member of the rat race.

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“Today a new sun rises for me; everything lives, everything is animated, everything seems to speak to me of my passion, everything invites me to cherish it”

August 15, 2011

Today is one of those days which comes around every now and then. It’s gently raining, a cool breeze is blowing, and I can hear the swish of the leaves as the branches wave back and forth. The birds are singing right beside my window. The animals are so deeply sleeping I can hear their breathing. My coffee was perfectly brewed. During my shower I noticed I had lost an earring during the night. I went looking but couldn’t find it. My guess is it fell under the bed, and I’ll need a flashlight to see it. I did find the back which I usually never find. I was a bit put out as I like the earrings, but I let it go and went looking for another pair in my bureau drawer in boxes where I hardly look. It took me the longest time to go through the boxes as many of the earring had memories attached, and I just sat and let the memories wash over me. There was a pair of golden cable cars my dad had brought back from San Francisco. In one box was a Christmas gift card signed by Santa, something my mother always did. Each Christmas she gave the three of us new earrings, and that year I had tucked away the card. The antique cameo earrings my mother also gave me one Christmas were there. I remember how pleased she was that I loved them so much. I went through everything in that drawer. It took me about forty minutes. The time was so well worth the memories.

I came downstairs. The house was dark the way I like it on rainy days when it feels as it the house is keeping me close and warm. I set the coffee brewing and went to get the papers. It was raining just a bit. When I came in, I got a cup of coffee, turned on the light in the den and read the papers. I did both crossword puzzles and the cryptogram. They seemed easy today. Playing in the background was my Joni Mitchell Pandora station, and all the songs were exactly right.

I am staying home today because I can’t think of a better place to be. Today is perfect.

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“When you give a lesson in meanness to a critter or a person, don’t be surprised if they learn their lesson”

August 14, 2011

Today is heavy with humidity. It has the look and feel of rain which won’t come, but its possibility will hang in the air all day. Nothing stirs, not a leaf, not a spawn, not a dog named Gracie. I’m already thinking nap, and I only woke up a couple of hours ago.

Yesterday I went grocery shopping. I was out of cat food, the only thing which forces me to shop. The aisles were filled with abandoned carts leaving no room on either side to pass. The cart owners were checking shelves and jars up and down the aisles. I moved a couple of carts to give me space and got such looks you’d think I was abusing children or small animals.

Sunday by its very nature is languid. On the seventh day he rested seems still to be a piece of the day. I went to church, stayed close to home and ate a big Sunday dinner. It was the same every week, and I think remnants of those Sundays are still part of my every Sunday. Seldom do I go anywhere other than breakfast. I do a wash every now and then, but that’s a leftover from my working days when I stayed home, changed the bed, did the laundry and corrected papers every Sunday afternoon. I also took a nap.

Elaine Clapper was always the target in my class. Every kid, make that mostly every boy, said she smelled. That Elaine was not especially attractive or smart or funny made her an easy target. The teasing was covert: laughing behind her back or pointing at her as she walked away. Most kids had little to do with Elaine. She was usually isolated. I think we girls were afraid of being drawn into her circle and becoming another Elaine. We all said hi, but that was the extent of our interaction. Once I invited her to my house. I don’t know why. I think I just felt sorry for her. She came. I have no recollection of how we spent the afternoon. I never invited her again. She went to the local high school, and I didn’t. I never saw or heard about Elaine Clapper again. I wish I were braver back then.

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