Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

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“For retirement brings repose, and repose allows a kindly judgment of all things.”

August 7, 2010

At 8 o’clock Gracie and I were out and about as I had an errand. People were walking dogs, running or walking the bike path, pushing baby carriages, eating breakfast out or going who knows where given the number of cars on the road. I never imagined a world so busy so early on a Saturday. Usually I’m on the deck with my papers and coffee or more likely still in bed at that hour of the morning. I went to the harbor to try and catch up with the cafe owner, but he wasn’t there. I didn’t wait around. Gracie and I went for gas then to Dunkin’ Donuts. The line of cars for the drive-up window was as long as I’ve ever seen it so I decided to go inside where the line was as long as I’ve ever seen it. I finally got my coffee, and Gracie and I drove home to the deck and the newspapers.

The day is sunny and dry. The breeze is leaf stirring. It’s a perfect deck day, but my dance card is full for later. I’m wishing it wasn’t. I yearn to stay home, comfy and lazy. I have come to realize that I am less of a social animal than I once was. I don’t like going out often. I don’t like crowds. I don’t like having to be dressy. I’m not even sure I have any dressy clothes left. I hate small talk. If I haven’t seen the people in years, I see no reason to chit chat. We probably only have the human condition in common, but I don’t want to be impolite so I’ll walk around and give some hugs, smile a lot, wave across the room and answer those who ask what’s been keeping me busy since retirement. I’ll tell them the truth: very little is keeping me busy, but I am living the best of lives.

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“And, of course, the funniest food of all, kumquats.”

August 6, 2010

The day is sunny. Yesterday’s quiet has been replaced by the sounds of dogs barking, kids yelling and a lawn mower or two. We had a thunder storm early yesterday evening which rumbled and rumbled but didn’t bring much rain. Tonight is supposed to be cool and the next few days drier. I have some errands today then it’s back to the deck. My book is almost finished, only about twenty more pages to read.

My neighbors are Brazilian, and around dinner time I smell the most wonderful aromas wafting from their kitchen. I don’t know what my neighbor is cooking, but I’m going to ask her. I’m curious as to what dish smells so delicious. I wonder what she thought of the hot dogs I was cooking on the grill the other night.

My mother, when she was a teenager, used to hang around the Stoneham Spa. It was still there when I was a kid, and I remember the wooden booths and the swivel stools at the counter. Small square signs with prices for food and drinks hung on the walls. The signs had handdrawn colored pictures. One sign, on the back wall, was for a lime Rickey, and on it was a crudely drawn glass with green liquid not quite to the top. When my aunt took me to the Spa once, I ordered the Rickey. It was the first time I had ever tasted lime, and I didn’t like it. My taste buds were attuned to a kid’s drink, to Zarex or to the Kool-Aid I got at a friend’s house.

I didn’t try lime for a long time. It usually happens like that. As kids we taste something and find we don’t like it so it goes on the list of foods we don’t eat. A lot of vegetables used to be on my list. Only round beans, Brussel sprouts and beets remain. I periodically try those foods still on the list just in case my taste buds have changed, but the list has remained pretty steady over the years. The last thing I tried was olives, and I still find them really gross. They’re at the top of the list.

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“A private railroad car is not an acquired taste. One takes to it immediately.”

August 5, 2010

It’s finally raining, but the humidity is still horrific. Typing is even sweat producing. All I can imagine doing is lying languidly on a chaise lounge while eating bon bons. The paper says the weather will break in a couple of days. I hope so. This is the worst stretch of hot, humid weather I can remember.

I so love rain storms and dark rooms and the sound of the raindrops on the windows. I can hear a bird or two but no cars or people. The animals are asleep. The heat makes them drowsy and listless. Fern is stretched out across a couch pillow with her paws hanging. Gracie is in her crate. Maddie is upstairs asleep on the bed. My typing is the only sound in the house. I find the silence comforting.

Traffic was at a standstill in Hyannis. The gate was down, and the train was heading back to the station. I got to listen to the train whistle and watch the cars pass.  It was like being a little kid again when the train ran every day. I remember putting a penny on the tracks and waiting for the train wheels to flatten it. The trains carried freight, never passengers. I liked the caboose most of all. The other cars were mostly black or brown. The caboose was always red.

I have a fascination with trains and love riding them. Sleepers are the most fun and hearing the clack of the wheels on the tracks is about the best way to fall asleep. I’ve slept on trains in Africa and Europe, in first class beds and on couchettes with six to a room.

If I could go back in time, I’d take the Orient Express from Paris to Istanbul. I’d dress for dinner every night and drink fine wine. I’d mingle with royalty, a few celebrities and hope for a spy or two.  Nothing like a little intrigue to enliven a journey.

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“Be glad of life because it gives you the chance to love and to work and to play and to look up at the stars.”

August 3, 2010

The day is again beautiful, cool and sunny with a lovely breeze. I’ve made my bed, finished the papers and taken my outside shower. I’ll be inside until I finish Coffee then it’s back to the deck with my book. I spend hours each day on that deck. I read, eat lunch, dream and ponder.

I have seen wonders and traveled the world. Every working day I went to a job I loved. I realize I have been lucky in life and lately, with all that pondering, I’ve recognized my life has come nearly a full circle. I’m not talking my imminent demise, but rather a return to simpler days when life was about adventure and surprises and the joys of every day. It’s like I’m a kid again and every day is mine.

It was easy back then to take delight in the small pieces of life. Walking the beach and finding a perfect shell was cause to run back to my mother holding  my prize and yelling for her to see what I’d found. It was a forever treasure. I never rode down the hill on my bike. I flew with the wind on my face and my feet off the pedals. Books took me away, and I was absorbed for hours in adventures on rocket ships and deserted islands and with characters I still remember with a vividness that keeps them alive. I had no money, but I really didn’t need money. My mother gave me a nickel or a dime for ice cream when Johnny rang his bell, and I could go to the Saturday matinee and buy a candy bar. A hot dog was a sumptuous feast. Cold, juicy watermelon on a hot afternoon was a gift from God. I didn’t care about fashion. Comfort was more important. Sleeping outside under the stars on a warm summer night was filled with wonder. Life was breathtaking every single day.

My life is again filled with simple joys. I watch the birds and listen to their songs. Some days I never get dressed and sit around in my cozies and read. I don’t spend much money on myself and most weeks I travel only thirty or so miles in my car. My friends invite me for burgers, Tony burgers, and we play board games. We love movie nights on the deck. Gracie and I take rides, and I swivel my head from side to side so as not to miss a single thing. Gracie just hangs her head out the window. I never mind watermelon juice on my hands, and I like to spit the seeds. I’m back to thinking a hot dog cooked on the grill is sumptuous. My life is once again breathtaking every single day.

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“Mosquitoes remind us that we are not as high up on the food chain as we think”

August 2, 2010

Last night had a fall feel about it, like a September night when the chiminea is lit, and we warm ourselves by the fire. By the time the movie had started, we were bundled in sweatshirts, and I wished I’d worn socks instead of sandals, wool socks. My friends had hoods up and heads covered. A few days ago it was sweltering, and we complained. Last night it was cold, but we still complained. The evening, though, was great fun. I went all out, something I really hadn’t done much in the heat of the summer, and made muhammara and marinated olives (which I hate but my friends love) for appetizers. We had beef kabobs with yellow peppers, rice pilaf and panzanella for dinner. I bought lemon cupcakes for dessert. We wanted a light movie so we chose Pleasantville, and, despite the cold, it was still great sitting out on the deck to watch a movie. I do wonder what my neighbors think.

Today we have been blessed with another beautiful day, sunny and dry. Every night this week  will be wonderful for sleeping, in the low to mid 60’s. The summer is whizzing by us.

We had one table fan when I was a kid. I only remember it because my father tried to fix a blade while the fan was running, and he cut all his fingers. The fan was metal and made a lot of noise as it spun from side to side. It stayed in the living room while we watched TV and in my parents’ room at night. Our bedrooms were always hot, but I don’t remember ever having trouble falling asleep. We were so busy all day long we were exhausted by bedtime.

My father was a fierce hunter. I remember him waking us up when he went mosquito hunting. With rolled newspaper in hand, my father went from room to room trying to kill the mosquitoes before they got us. I guess four kids going in and out gave those bugs lots of opportunities to come inside. My father would stand on my bed and jiggle it as he swatted at the mosquitoes near the ceiling. I’d wake up to hear him announce his latest kill. Sometimes I’d hear him say too late on that one. I knew exactly what he meant.

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“I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.”

August 1, 2010

It was a wonderful night for sleeping, even Gracie felt the need to cuddle. The morning is still a bit cool, despite the sun. Mr. and Mrs. Oriole dropped by for some of the jelly I had just put into the feeder. Both were singing. I have to fill the seed feeders when I’m done here.

It’s dinner and a movie night. The menu is set but not the film. I’ll have to go through and find something the whole crowd will enjoy. I’m leaning toward M.A.S.H.

The early mornings and the late nights are my favorite times of the day. Sunday mornings are the best of all mornings. Not a soul stirs, not a car moves. The only sounds are the birds singing and the rustling of leaves as squirrels jump from branch to branch. I swivel my head from paper to yard to catch sight of the bird whose song I hear. This morning it was the oriole. I watched him jump from branch to branch, each branch closer to the jelly feeder. I didn’t move for fear of scaring him. Finally, he alighted and had breakfast. The Mrs. followed. My fountain water is low so it makes a gentle sound. The day is opening quietly and slowly.

At night, I sit outside on the deck. The darkness is broken only by the moon and the three tulip solar lights shining from flower pots. Gracie sits beside me, and I pat her as I sit there. If I stand at the deck rail, I can see fireflies, and the flower shaped lights I placed in the yard. Their bulbs are small so each casts only a singular path of light, and they barely break through the darkness. The late nights are quiet. My neighbors’ houses are all dark. I relish this time almost more than any other.

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“Someone told me it’s all happening at the zoo”

July 31, 2010

The temperature is 66° right now, and I’m delighted. I even sat in the sun on the deck to read my papers, something I’ve avoided for days. It will get warmer later, into the mid 70’s, but the nights and early mornings will stay chilly for the next couple of days.

More great whites are off Chatham. They can’t pass up those free meals just lying in the sun waiting. Swimmers were warned out of the water yesterday at South Beach as one of the sharks wasn’t all that far off shore. The great whites have become tourist attractions.”Move a bit closer to that fin, Alex, so I can get it in the picture.”

My mother used to pack lunches for us when we went on our adventures. We’d be gone all day. One summer was spent at the zoo where we got to feed the animals, including Babe the elephant. That was my favorite summer of all. We got to be friends with one of the workers who took us behind the cages where the public couldn’t go and taught us how to feed the small animals. We, my brother and I, would fill our buckets with all sorts of fruits and vegetables and walk down the lines of cages feeding each animal in turn. I remember the cages were wooden and painted green. Most of the animals in them were small ones like raccoons. Babe had her own place as she was the big attraction, and we’d go in right with her to leave dinner. People were on the other side of the gate, and I always felt a bit self-important as I went about my task, and sometimes I even patted the elephant for effect.

It was always a long day at the zoo, and we lived at the totally opposite end of town. My mother sometimes had enough money to give us bus fare one way, and we used it for the ride home. If not, we walked, though plodded is probably the better description.

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“Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try.”

July 30, 2010

A cold front arrived today, a summer cold front. I felt it as soon as I walked on the deck. The day is dry and warm, no longer so hot that even sitting still makes you sweat. According to the paper, it will be 59° tonight. That boggles my mind. I’m thinking reading on the deck with a fire in the chiminea might be a wonderful way to spend the evening. Did I mention a drink in my hand?

Eat your vegetables. Wash your hands. Wipe your feet. Take your coat off the chair and hang it in the closet. Put your schoolbag away. Change into play clothes. Brush your teeth. Do your homework. Don’t sit so close to the TV or you’ll go blind. Leave your sisters alone. Don’t slam the door. Go outside and play. Don’t stand looking with the refrigerator door open. No cookies before dinner. Get your feet off the table. Get ready for bed.

My mother said those same things every day. Most time she’d add, “How many times to I have to tell you?”  I really wanted to answer her but never did. I would have been sent to my room until my early twenties. It wasn’t because I was a slow learner or had no short term memory. It was because I just didn’t listen. Every kid figures out at an early age how to ignore parents, especially their repetitive commands. We’d move back from the TV then move right back to where we were as soon as my mother left the room. The back door always slammed. Little sisters were to be picked on. It was a universal rule. If I didn’t stand looking into the refrigerator, how would I know what I wanted? What kid ever wants to get ready for bed? Vegetables?

My mother would yell, “Are you listening to me?” I’d nod or say yes despite having no idea what in the heck she’d said. I figured the truth, no, would have been a worse answer. It would have made my mother madder, and I’d have been accused of being a smart aleck, a wise ass when I got older.

That’s when I learned shading the truth is sometimes the response.

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“From a commercial point of view, if Christmas did not exist it would be necessary to invent it.”

July 29, 2010

The humidity has returned with a vengeance. I loved the last few days when a dry breeze swept across the deck and kept me nice and cool. Today, the mere effort of walking produces sweat. This morning I had to do some of the chores I’ve been putting off the last few days so to enjoy the weather. The bed got changed, the dishwasher run and clothes are in the washer. I’m soaked from the effort. My glasses even fogged when I was walking up and down the stairs. Thundershowers are predicted for tonight and tomorrow.

The intrusion of one season into another never happened when I was a kid. The dreaded back-to-school shopping was a late August event. My mother would drag us all uptown for new school shoes and new uniforms if we had grown out of last year’s. That pretty much signaled the end of summer for us, but by then we had already become bored anyway so the idea of school, a new teacher and seeing friends again didn’t seem all that bad.

September was a settling in month. It was back to the routine of getting up early, walking to school, coming home, changing into play clothes, going outside then coming back inside to eat supper and do homework. It was the same every weekday. It was a kid’s rut.

Halloween didn’t start showing up until October, and it was usually only a week or two away before the excitement started to build. What would we be? How big a haul would we get? We laughed and chatted and planned.

Thanksgiving was no big deal for kids. It was just a big dinner when you had to dress nice. The best part was time out of school. No TV ads pushed Christmas and none of us made lists. It was just too early.

It was a week or even two weeks into December before Christmas excitement began to build. We had the Sears catalog so we started circling our favorites. Houses were lit up with lights, and uptown was decorated. A couple of weeks before Christmas we got our tree, and about a week before the big day, Santa was on TV in the afternoon. Every day was one less day to wait, and we were filled with excitement.

Now, Halloween ads starts in early September and Christmas ads come right after. They get to be routine, even a bit monotonous. I miss all that excitement and the counting down of days.

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“I am big! It’s the pictures that got small.”

July 27, 2010

Today is another gift, cool, sunny and dry. When I stepped out to the deck, I could smell the salt water. Though the ocean isn’t close, the breeze was just right and brought it my way. I sat down and said good morning to my backyard friends. The crow was especially vocal. I looked for the squirrel, but he’s not around, maybe the nest is finished. Today is a perfect deck day.

Last night’s movie was the original War of the Worlds. We ate popcorn, sno-caps and Raisinettes, all perfect movie fare. We look forward to these movie nights, our sitting outside in the cool of the evening and chatting if we want or pausing if we need a break. The projector has a coffee cup button for those necessary pauses and the cup appears on the screen. Trying to find a movie last night, I realized my collection does need expanding so my sister is already talking Christmas and movies and my stocking.

In Ghana, in my day, all the movies were shown outside. You paid in the lobby, bought some munchies and walked from there into a wide courtyard. At my favorite theater in Accra, the chairs were in no special order and could be moved, and there was a balcony. The screen was huge. Overhangs were on three sides of the courtyard so if it rained you just hauled your chair under an overhang and kept watching. The movies weren’t new, but we didn’t care. It was just fun to see a movie.

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