Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

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“I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.”

February 19, 2011

Spring has returned to wherever it goes during winter. The wind is wild and cold. Outside my widow the world looks most uninviting. Earlier, I went to my local Border’s as their closing sale began today. I hate losing it.

Paper will soon be obsolete. Bookstores are closing. When was the last time any of us wrote a letter on real paper? How about a diary? I remember writing in my diary. I wrote longingly about the boy who was my latest crush and I wrote sad descriptions of my latest teen angst, the sort that made my world fall apart. The key was always carefully hidden to keep the diary from prying eyes. When I traveled, I kept a journal, still do. Every night I write of the sights and the sounds and draw easily from my memories of the day. I have some aerogrames I wrote to my parents from Africa. They are filled with descriptions of my life in Ghana, and when I read them, I am pulled back to those days through my own words. There is something so personal about holding those letters as I read them.

The computer has made it so easy to write and to publish, sort of. I know this blog has become my diary, and I share with all of you. I write almost every day about all sorts of things, but the most personal parts of my life aren’t here. I hold them close to my heart. They are the feelings that filled my diary, the one with the key.

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“I like boring things.”

February 18, 2011

It’s another spring-like day. The temperature will reach 50° or even higher. Having two days in a row of such warm weather almost makes me giddy, but I know it’s still winter and it could snow next week. I’m guessing these last two days were just Mother Nature’s way of saying hang in a little longer spring is on its way.

I’m stuck in my house for a bit. The front steps are being made higher and the concrete has just been laid. I’m having the work done because the top step is nearly a foot lower than the front doorstep, and that’s a long way for older knees to span. Watching the work is a bit of an attraction so Gracie and I wander to the front door periodically to see how much progress is being made. It’s not exactly an exciting day.

I have lived in small towns in Massachusetts my whole life. No one exciting ever came to my town when I was little, but I did meet one of my TV heroes. It was on July 4th when I met Big Brother Bob Emery. We, what seemed like a million kids and I, were in a bandstand crowded around him. I was right behind him at first, and I remember a bug was on his neck. The bug was green. Bob Emery was the host of The Big Brother show on one of our local channels. Kids were small fry to him. His opening song was The Grass is Always Greener in the Other Fellow’s Yard and he accompanied himself on a ukulele. I never understood that song when I was little. He lost me around the line, “Little rows we have to hoe.” My strongest memory is running to the kitchen every day to get my glass of milk because in the middle of the show we raised our milk glasses and toasted President Eisenhower while Hail to the Chief played. The President’s picture was on Big Brother’s wall. I don’t remember the end song and I don’t remember anything about the program itself but I can still sing The Grass Is Always Greener in the Other Fellow’s Yard, and now I understand.

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“When gardeners garden, it is not just plants that grow, but the gardeners themselves.”

February 17, 2011

The weather is amazing today. Even though the sun is in and out, it is still in the high 40’s and will even reach the 50’s, almost spring weather. I have a few errands after this, and I can’t wait to open the windows to smell the fresh air.

Yesterday I saw my surgeon who figured out why my right leg still hurts. It seems that whatever he put between the screws has moved and is lying on a nerve and that is causing all the pain. The only solution is to fix it through surgery. He also figured he’d add screws to the corresponding bone on the other side. They then should reinforce each other. I knew he didn’t use Gorilla Glue.

My garden shoots are even higher. I keep a daily watch. None of the garden centers are open yet, but that will come soon enough. This year I’m adding a small vegetable garden in the back yard. I’ll start some in the house and then transplant them. No zucchini! It is like a monster from outer space which can replicate itself to take over the planet.

I don’t remember squash when I was a kid. I think my mother decided not to try it on us as she had enough trouble getting us to eat carrots. She used to mix them with the mashed potatoes. We never asked. We just thought mashed potatoes were multicolored. I always like peas so they were served even though my brother hated them. I don’t remember any other vegetables served when we were young. I guess my mother picked her battles.

I’m always proud when stuff grows in my garden because I’m not a gardener. I buy flowers by color, and every year the perennials come right back all on their own without any help from me. My herb garden flourishes, and I love snipping what I need to make a dish using herbs from my own garden. I have high hopes for the vegetable garden. I’m way past mixing my carrots and potatoes.

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“From coast to coast the railroads roam, yet every inch of rail stays home.”

February 15, 2011

The wind is fierce on this very cold day. I had to go to the dentist this morning, and his office is by a field. The wind came whipping across, and I was freezing as I walked from the car. Today is a day to be home, warm and cozy.

A wind advisory is in effect with winds ranging from 30 to 50 MPH. It’s 24° but, according to the weather channel, it feels like 10°. From my window I can see even the tallest pine trunks swaying to the wind. The backyard will be filled with their dead branches. Pine trees, even the largest, are not hearty. Tomorrow will be in the 40’s, a virtual heat wave will be upon us.

I’m amazed when I think back to my childhood and remember walking to school in every sort of weather. Nothing fazed us. We’d open our arms to the wind and hope to fly. When it snowed, we’d stick out our tongues to catch the flakes and throw snowballs at each other all the way home. Rain was the least popular weather. We would take advantage of any large puddles, but mostly, we just got wet.

I really like traveling by train. My favorite trip was from Quito to Guayaquil, a route no longer available. The train left Quito and my first view was of the volcanoes which lined both sides of the rail. From there we started mountain climbing through to the summit at Urbina. Then the train went down the mountain and continued into the tropical zone where we could see bananas growing on farms on each side of the rail. It was the very first time I had seen bananas in the wild, so to speak. The most exciting part of the ride was the switchback when the train zig zagged up the mountain then switched and rode backwards to the lower line. Okay, that was a bit scary. I admit it. The train ended at Duran where we had to take a boat across to Guayaquil.

I know there are spectacular train rides here and in Canada, but I just haven’t gotten around to taking one. I’ve put it on my to do list, but I’ve always said I want to do my overseas travel when I’m young and save the US for when I’m old, and I’m not there yet.

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“A heart that loves is always young.”

February 14, 2011

It is a sunny but windy Valentine’s Day with the weather already in the 40’s. It sounds like a good day to take a ride. This winter Gracie and I have only made short forays to do errands because of the cold so a warm day is an invitation to go about and explore. She’s outside now burying a new bone.

I remember being eight or nine on Valentine’s Day, a day so special I’d be jumping out of bed eager to get to school. I’d bolt down my breakfast and start off for school carefully carry my treasured valentine box all the way. We made our boxes in school during art a day or two before Valentine’s Day. My box started its life as a shoe box, but all the decorations have made it a work of art. Paper frills are around the edges. Red crepe decorates the sides and red construction paper is on the top around the mail slot. Last night was spent at the kitchen table writing out my valentines and picking and choosing the lucky recipients. The valentines aren’t fancy but they are fun and colorful. I wrote my name so big it didn’t fit on the first few valentines, but I did much better with the rest. On the front of the envelope I wrote my friends’ names. I didn’t want to forget anyone. In my school bag my mother put the cookies, my contribution to the party.

Lessons on Valentine’s day lasted an entire week, or at least it seemed that way. All of us were excited and barely able to stay in our seats. After lunch was one lesson then time to put the books away. It was party time. The nun had us bring out our boxes and we had to go one row at a time to put valentines in our friends’ boxes. I remember sitting there hoping someone would drop an envelope in my box. I was never disappointed. After all of the rows had finished, it was time for cookies and candy and opening our valentines. Lots of munching and lots of giggling finished out the day.

We’d walk home talking about day. When I got home and out of my school clothes, it was time to look over my valentines again and again.

Happy Valentine’s Day

May your valentine boxes overflow!

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“I read Shakespeare and the Bible, and I can shoot dice. That’s what I call a liberal education.”

February 13, 2011

The shoots in the front garden are even higher now. Every time I come home I give them a quick look. They are my reminders that springtime is getting closer, and as the morning is only 32°, those reminders bring hope and thoughts of warmer days and gardens filled with flowers.

I went out for breakfast as I always do on Sundays. The place was unusually crowded, but we found a booth and chatted our way through eggs and bacon. While we were there, a former student came up to say hello. I didn’t recognize him until he said his name then it all flashed back. He was a kid in my office all the time, mostly for disrupting classes. I remember he once offered a  suggestion during one of our discussions after he’d been tossed from class. He figured if I let him cut class, he wouldn’t be in class to disrupt it. As logical as his argument was, I had to explain that class cuts were also problems requiring consequences. He was caught either way: coming or going. We got to know each other that year, and I came to like him. One on one he was personable and funny. In class he was a horror.

It’s been a long while since I’ve seen him. He is now a man in his mid 20’s who told me he is taking classes at the local community college. I told him how proud I was for him. He beamed.

I never saw a class disrupted when I was in school. In elementary school whispering or note passing were the worst offenses, and most times the nun just called the name of the offending whisperer and the whispering stopped. She’d take the note being passed or asked that it be read aloud. That was the worst. We never had detention as a consequence, but we had sentences. Writing “I will not whisper” a 100 times might be the punishment for multiple infractions. I never got that far. I knew better. I was also really good at not getting caught.

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“Old age is the most unexpected of all the things that happen to a man.”

February 12, 2011

The sun was here earlier but now it’s gone.  Somehow its presence made the morning seem warmer even though it is still the winter sun. Only a gray sky with a small of patch of blue is left. Tomorrow is supposed to be in the 40’s. It will seem like summer.

Saturday, when I was a kid, was always the best day because Sunday, another day off from school, was next and Saturday morning TV was spectacular. When I got older, into my teens, Saturday was sleep-in day and still the best day of the week. When I became an adult living on my own, Saturday was chore and errand day. Its only saving grace was I could still sleep-in. It was about then Friday started edging Saturday as the favorite day because it meant no work for two whole days. I have no favorite days now, but I still harbor a tinge of dislike for Mondays, leftover from so many years of working.

The other day I had to do a quick errand, a one stop errand. It only took me about 15-20 minutes. When I got home, I realized I had left my slippers on. Granted, a quick look would say clogs but the edging most decidedly said slippers. I was shocked beyond belief. For that one errand, I had crossed a line. I had jumped to old age where stripes and plaids matched and slippers were the preferred footwear. Would aprons with bibs be next? How about tied shoes with clunky heels? I was struck to the quick by the implications of one errand and slippers. I vowed never to let it happen again.

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“Games lubricate the body and the mind.”

February 11, 2011

The day is pretty, at least from the window. It’s warmer than last night but still in the low, very low, 30’s. A brisk breeze makes it feel even colder. I’m late today because I was up too late last night and slept in, way in, this morning. We went to our usual Thursday night trivia, and I swear the questions played to the our strengths. My team won, first time all season. We were third going into the final question and decided to risk the 25 points, the highest amount you can risk. As soon as I saw the question, I wrote down the answer. I knew it in a heartbeat. The answer is one of those weird pieces of information my brain deposits in some memory drawer just in case. Which state was admitted to the Union as a direct result of the Civil War?

We used to play Go to the Head of the Class when I was a kid. I’m thinking that’s when my brain started to save all those pieces of information that are seldom needed but stay around just in case. The board was filled with rows of desks, each row was a grade and you moved from the first to the eighth. I still have our game. The box is in rough shape, but all the pieces are there, and the board is perfect. The pieces already have names like Sis, Cowboy Joe, Butch and Susie. I’ll have to pull it out so my friends and I can play it some night. I’m guessing the game was a Christmas present because there was always a new game under the tree. I still give my friends and family a game for Christmas. It is just one of those traditions I love to honor, and it keeps our childhood alive.

I am almost caught up with Christmas, finally. I have two boxes ready for my sister and her family in Colorado, and tonight my friends and I will exchange gifts, eat Chinese food and play a few games. I might even put on Christmas music. I know I’m bringing up the small aluminum tree my sister gave me. I love it for its ugliness. Nothing says Christmas more than a silver aluminum tree!

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“To learn to read is to light a fire; every syllable that is spelled out is a spark.”

February 10, 2011

It’s cold, mighty cold. I let the dog out, made coffee then stood looking out the window as I waited for one or the other to finish. The sun is wan, barely giving any light. The breeze is slight but even slight adds to the cold. I don’t see any squirrels. I figure they are comfy in their nests. There are no birds as I need to fill the feeders again. I’ll bundle up, wear my ear muffs and my mittens then brave the cold, all for the birds. When I finally got the newspapers, the cold almost took my breath away.

I have a list of places and errands. Gracie and I need to go to the dump, one of her favorite places, but on a day like today, the dump has an arctic wind blowing across all its emptiness. I’m rethinking that chore.

The weather has me in a reading mode. Staying inside wrapped in a quilt and reading a book is about the coziest way I know to spend a winter’s day. I finished Tick Tock and The Inner Circle this week. Both were quick reads, deep thought not required. My mother always said that buying books for me was a waste as I finished them too quickly. I couldn’t help it was always my answer. Once I get hooked on a book, I read and do little else. If I have a necessary chore, I’m on it and it’s finished in a heartbeat so I can back to my book. I hate it when I’m close to the end of a book I’ve really liked.

When I was a kid, I used construction paper for all sorts of projects. Around this time, I’d be behind a closed door in my room with paper, scissors and crayons so I could make my parents their valentines. It never really took all that long to cut, fold, paste and compose, but my parents always acted as if I had given them a valuable piece of art. One year, a long while back, I made valentines for my mother and sister. I cross-stitched a heart and a Happy Valentine’s Day then used red construction paper to make my card. I cut a space then glued the cross-stitch so the message was in the space. Inside the card was just love and my name. The card didn’t really take long to make, but my mother was thrilled with a home-made card. I was proud in the same way I had been as a kid. I still keep construction paper in the house.

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“And for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters of that country know them to be sharp and violent, and subject to cruel and fierce storms . . .”

February 8, 2011

Slush covers the streets and sidewalks. It’s a dreary, cold day, but I have a smile. Yup, the shoots of the daffodils are up in my garden and so are shoots from the bulbs I planted last year. I don’t what bulb went where or how many were left after the squirrels dined, but bulbs are definitely appearing all over my garden. That smile stayed while reading the paper. The Red Sox equipment trucks left Boston today for Florida. Spring training is getting close. Did you notice that adjective? I said spring.

We New Englanders chose to live here and take pride in being hearty folk, especially during the winter. We chuckle a bit when folks living in the warmer states complain about the cold when the weather is in the 50’s, balmy for us this time of year. Well, I admit it. I have a winter complaint, but it isn’t about the cold. I am getting sick and tired of snow, sleet, rain and slush. Every step I take outside is done gingerly as ice is everywhere. My feet are constantly wet. Why don’t I wear boots? I have no answer to that except to say I haven’t worn boots in years. I don’t even know anyone who does except little kids. My plow guy wears sneakers when he shovels my walk. Right now it’s raining and later that rain will turn to ice when the temperature drops tonight. Tomorrow it will all melt, but tomorrow night it will freeze again. I feel like a hamster on a wheel.

I have some must do errands today so Gracie and I will be off as soon as I finish here. I’ll wear a sweatshirt, as it is 37°, well above freezing, and I’ll wear shoes and skirt whatever puddles I can (I bet you thought for a moment there I was going to wear a skirt ).

It’s not going to rain or snow for the next three days, but the high will only be 32°, the low 15°. It is, after all, winter in New England.

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