Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

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“One of the most important days of my life was when I learned to ride a bicycle.”

July 5, 2010

The day is already hot. The breeze has disappeared. I sat outside under the umbrella, the coolest spot on the deck, to drink my coffee and read the papers. This morning, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I only had one cup of coffee, a sure indicator of the heat.

In the heat of summer, when we were kids, the boys never wore shorts around where I lived. Little ones did, the ones whose mothers dressed them, but older boys, those around nine or ten, wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of shorts. My brother wore dungarees every day. He did wear a short sleeve jersey, a Beaver Cleaver type of jersey, but that was his sole concession to the heat of summer. Black high tops were his sneakers of choice. Girls were different. We wore shorts and sleeveless blouses. Our sneakers were white and no higher than our ankles. They were worn with socks, usually white socks. Clam diggers were popular for a while. That’s what we called them. In the 50’s, they were called pedal pushers, and, in the 60’s, Laura Petrie brought them back as Capri pants.

It never occurred to me that the name pedal pushers was literal. They were pants wore higher than the chains of bikes so the pants legs wouldn’t get caught. I wish I knew that back then. I didn’t have a chain guard on my bike. It had disappeared or fallen off. Many times my pant leg bottom would get caught and eaten by the chain. Getting it loose was a process and it took forever. I’d have to try and figure how to get off the bike with one leg caught without the bike falling, the best place to sit down and how to untangle my pants while one leg was immovable. I usually freed myself, but my hands and pant leg were always covered in grease. I usually wiped my hands on the back of my pants and left strange looking prints.

When I was much older and riding to work became quite common, I used to see guys bicycling with their pant leg folded up and held there by a rubber band. It looked a little silly, but I never laughed. I knew exactly why they did it. They had all grown up with greasy right pants legs.

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“May the sun in his course visit no land more free, more happy, more lovely, than this our own country!”

July 4, 2010

The day is glorious, warm and sunny. It is a bit stickier than yesterday, but an ocean breeze tempers the humidity. Last night my neighborhood was filled with the sounds of fireworks, with the bangs and the sizzles. The morning is quieter.

I will celebrate July 4th with my friends at a barbecue at their house. They’ll serve hot dogs and hamburgers, deviled eggs, corn and potato salad. I’m guessing that same menu is probably being repeated all over the country today. I know I’ll smell the barbecues in my neighborhood come afternoon. As for me, I’m partial to those deviled eggs.

When I was a kid, I remember sitting on my back steps watching the fireworks burst high in the sky. They were from the next town over which had a parade in the afternoon and fireworks at night. We always went to the parade. My father’s friend had a house right on the parade route, and that’s where we spent the day, on his huge front porch. It was always filled with kids and adults jockeying for seats. The parade seemed to last for hours back then with its bands and floats and militiamen playing fifes and drums. We clapped and cheered. The front screen door slammed every few minutes as someone headed to the kitchen for food or another drink. We had popsicles in so many colors and flavors. On the driveway, on the side of the house, the grill was always on and hot dogs and hamburgers were cooked throughout most of the afternoon as the chef tried to keep ahead of the hungry crowd.

When I was around thirteen, I started marching in that parade with my drill team. When we rounded the corner, I could see the familiar white house with the huge front porch. As we marched by the house, everyone on the porch yelled my name. I tried to be so military, but I always smiled, a beaming smile.

“Thus may the 4th of July, that glorious and ever memorable day, be celebrated through America, by the sons of freedom, from age to age till time shall be no more,”  The Virginia Gazette, written after the first anniversary celebration, 1777

Happy July 4th!

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“Blessed be the Lord for the beauty of summer and spring, for the air, the water, the verdure, and the song of birds.”

July 3, 2010

I couldn’t bear to go inside so I hauled my laptop to the deck. Let me tell you why. The morning is beautiful, sunny and warm with a breeze which stirs the wind chimes. The air is filled with the aroma of basil. It grows in the deck boxes behind me, in a perfect spot to catch the breeze. The morning isn’t quiet. I hear a motor from far off, maybe a hedge clipper. The water from the deck fountain is loud, bubbling from the top. I can hear birds alighting on the feeders hanging off  the trees beside me. Chickadees never go far with their hauls, and I can hear them peck their sunflowers seeds from nearby branches. Gracie is playing with her friend Cody from down the street. He comes right to my front door when let outside and even barks to come in. They are growling and jumping on each other. Every now and then they stop when they’re tired, drink from my fountain, rest a bit then start again. The sky has a few puffy white clouds. The one I can see from here looks likes the head and raised arms of the Abominable Snow Monster from Rudolph. Butterflies go by and a few bees stop at the flowers hanging off the house. The sun is hot so I’m under the shade of the umbrella. The day is already amazing.

When I finish here, I’m taking my outside shower. So far, that’s my only plan for the day.

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“The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky.”

July 2, 2010

The morning is again perfect, bright, sunny and cool. Last night was chilly, and I fell asleep snuggled under the spread. It was delightful. I can hardly wait to get out and enjoy the day.

Standing on the deck yelling, “Hello, anybody?”  for about a half hour finally got the attention of my neighbor who was nice enough to come over and save me. Earlier, I had carried the heavy watering can outside to the deck to refill the fountain and the bird bath and to water the plants. When I was finished and wanted to go back inside the house, I found the screen door had somehow locked behind me. I’m guessing the watering can I was carrying must have hit the handle and the lock. I was stuck outside on the deck, a pleasant enough place but one bereft of a bathroom. I knew I couldn’t  scale the fence or go through the dog door  and, other than my teeth, I had no way to rip the screen to get at the handle so there I was, a pathetic sight, yelling, “Hello! Hello!” and waving my arms at cars. At least nobody waved back at me. That would have been the worst. For now on, I’m bringing the phone.

When I was around nine, I got lost at the drive-in. As was the custom back then, I was dressed in my robe and pajamas. During the movie, I needed to go to the bathroom, and my dad said he’d walk with me, but I assured him I was fine. I got to the bathroom, finished and walked right back to the car only to find it gone. My first thought was they had left me, but that was the raving of a forlorn soul dressed in pajamas and lost among the rows and rows of cars. I stood there a minute or two then started wandering up and down looking for the car. I never found it. Finally, I went to the refreshment stand and told someone I was lost. They interrupted the movie to announce on the speakers, “Would the parents of Kathleen Ryan please come to the refreshment stand.” When my father came, I felt relieved and safe. This morning, I felt silly.

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“When I go home my mother still makes me take out the garbage.”

July 1, 2010

The sky is hurt your eyes blue. The sunlight is sharp, the breeze cool. It was in the 50’s last night, and right now it’s only in the high 60’s. It is the most delightful of days. Gracie and I have a dump run scheduled for later, but that’s about it for errands. I’ll make my bed in a bit and shower tonight, but I have no other plans. My book is interesting, and the deck is the best place to while away an afternoon.

When I was in Colorado, I noticed that most people under thirty have had a phone surgically attached to one hand or the other. During the baseball games, I saw heads down and thumbs moving, including a few in my family. They noticed the game only after the action, when the crowd cheered. My niece and her friend were sitting side by side at the restaurant carrying on a private conversation, texting each other. I’m afraid evolutionary changes have already begun, and phones will, over time, become appendages: two legs, two arms and a phone. I’ve checked both my hands. Neither yet has a phone growth, but I’ll keep an eye on them just in case.

Snakes on a Plane has a sequel in the works: Maggots on a Plane. A US Air flight had to return to the Atlanta airport when maggots started dropping on passengers from the overhead compartment. The pilot announced they were returning to the gate because of a minor emergency on board. Flight attendants told everyone to sit down and be calm. Right away I remember the garbage container in my backyard. It was in the ground right near the back steps. It had a foot lever to open the heavy, iron top. I remember the top was green. My mother would send me to empty the triangular, plastic garbage holder, the one with the holes in the bottom, she kept in the corner of the sink. I hated that chore. I’d use my foot to open the garbage bucket, and there were always these gross maggots crawling around. I’d dump the garbage and close that lid as fast as lightning all the while trying not to breathe. Once a week the garbage men came. They carried a barrel slung on their backs into which they’d dump the garbage and all its passengers. The men moved from yard to yard while their truck slowly followed. I used to watch. I couldn’t imagine a worse job.

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“We’re gonna need a bigger boat!”

June 30, 2010

Today is the perfect summer day, the one I’d fashion if Mother Nature suddenly bequeathed to me her wondrous powers. It is sunny and dry and cool. I sat out on the deck with my coffee and papers, and it took me a long while to finish. I kept stopping to take in the beauty of the morning.

The coolness had made the backyard denizens more active. Chickadees flew in and out over my head to the feeders and one was close enough to touch. I wanted to offer it my finger as a perch, but the little bird grabbed a sunflower seed and took off to another branch. The beasties too were active. They were chasing each other from branch to branch, and a couple were running through the backyard. I could hear the rustle of leaves.

Great white sharks have been sighted off the Cape coast just in time for the July 4th holiday. They must have seen Jaws and figured they’d audition for a part in a sequel: Jaws 5 or 6, I forget which. I stopped counting when one great white chased the Brody family to Florida.

Reports indicate the great whites are enjoying the ocean up and down the coast. Off the South Shore, not too far from here, a baby was spotted, a 200 pound bouncing baby white. I wondered where its siblings were. It seems great whites give birth to five to 10 pups at a time.

According to the state environmental affairs office, there is nothing to fear. Given my skepticism, I needed to find out for myself so I looked them up. It seems great white sharks will eat any other creature found in the ocean. That gave me pause. I kept seeing little Alex Kintner in Jaws who was having a fine old time swimming with his raft and kicking his feet. We all know what happened to little Alex Kintner. I kept reading. I’m now happy to report that more people are killed by dogs each year than have been killed by great whites in recorded history. I feel better now, but I’m keeping my eye on the neighbors’ dogs.

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“Twilight drops her curtain down, and pins it with a star.”

June 29, 2010

Last night it rained, but it rained so gently we sat outside, my friends and I, and let the drops cool us. After the rain, we wiped off the table and chairs, sat down and ate dinner together, a summer dinner of hot dogs and fresh corn. A breeze cooled the night air. The fireflies are back.

Today is hot but drier than yesterday. Nothing is moving. Gracie sleeps in the cool sand under the deck. When she surfaces, the bottom of her muzzle is covered with sand. She shakes her head and the sand flies all over. At least she’s cool.

Duke was the boxer we had for nearly fifteen years when I was growing up. On hot summer days, he’d walk through the water to the sprinkler, stop the whirling arms with his paw and take a cold drink. He’d let go of the sprinkler then shake off the wet as he walked away. An arc of water spread around him when he shook. It shined in the sunlight.

We never went camping when I was a kid. My father knew neat stuff like making a making a lean-to in the woods, and he loved to fish, but my mother wasn’t at all the outdoor type. I can’t imagine camping ever appealed to her. My brother and his friend used to camp in the woods near a lake a few miles from our house. He’d use a tarp for a tent and blankets for a sleeping bag. My brother brought Duke for protection against the unknown, but Duke wasn’t much for camping. He’d walk back home unless my brother tied him to a tree.

I never went camping in the woods, but I used to sleep in the backyard. My friend and I would put down a tarp then bring out our pillows and a few snacks. We’d both lie on our backs looking at the stars before falling asleep. There were so many stars when I was kid. The sky was filled with light, with a blanket of stars bright enough to read by. I loved lying there looking across the sky. It was so beautiful I felt almost giddy with wonder.

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The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.

June 28, 2010

Oppressively humid is about the best description I can give for today. Even Gracie, the whirlwind, is lying in the cool darkness of this room. The two cats are stretched out as far as they can be, both near windows. I actually slept until 10, unusual for me. I think it was the air conditioning and my body’s reluctance to get up and leave the cold. Then again, it might be the traveling. It does take a toll whether I realize it or not. My coffee maker didn’t work this morning, a tragedy. I think it has gone to appliance heaven. I, uncombed and unkempt,  jumped into the car and drove to buy a cup.  No morning can start without coffee. Later this afternoon, despite the heat and humidity, I’m shopping to buy another.

Nothing was air-conditioned when I was a kid. We had fans which my father carried from room to room, and I can remember pushing and shoving my siblings so I could be the one in front of the cool air. The worst, though, was any car trip. The six of us were crammed together. The seats were upholstered, and they were hot. Even opening all the windows barely sent a breeze our way. I used to put my arm out my window and use it like a propeller to push a bit of air my way. My father would seldom stop. He was a get there right away sort of driver, but sometimes, with four kids, he was forced into a bathroom stop. I remember the backs of my shirt and shorts were always soaked from sweat when I got out of the car. I have to think we were miserable and cranky. It’s no wonder we seldom did long rides.

I love my cold room at night for sleeping and the chill of the car as I drive. Just about everything is air-conditioned now. We’re spoiled, and there’s no going back.

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“There’s nothing half so pleasant as coming home again.”

June 27, 2010

Home again, home again jiggity jig. I left my sister’s house early yesterday for the airport and walked into my own house at 7 last night. I was hot and tired but thrilled to be home. It was a great trip, though my Red Sox could have been a bit better.

It seems I’ve traded the heat of Colorado for the humidity of Massachusetts. The first thing I did after I dropped my suitcase was turn on the air conditioner in my room. The last thing I did before I went to bed was take an outside shower. By the time I was finished, my skin was totally wrinkled. It was delightful. I slept deeply and soundly.

The after trip means lots of laundry, a bit of straightening up and a ton of mail. They are my chores for today. The weather is cloudy and it’s still humid. Last night it rained for about three minutes, and I sat outside with Gracie. The rain was cooling.

My neighborhood is quiet today. The humidity dulls sounds. I hear only a single bird. Earlier, a rabbit was eating my flowers. I shooed it away, but it will be back. It always comes back. I should put up a sign, Mr. McGregor’s Garden. Maybe that will keep it away.

In between doing loads of laundry, I will lie on the lounge and eat bon bons. The weather today does not lend itself to labor, and we all know ladies do not sweat. I have my newspapers to read. I sorely missed them in Colorado. I read my sister’s paper but longed for local news. I went on the net and read a bit, but it wasn’t as joyable for me.

I am glad to be home.

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“Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.”

June 25, 2010

It stands to reason that the game I don’t attend is the game the Red Sox win  in quite dramatic fashion with three home runs by Petroia. We all watched it here, and it was a long game. The Sox led then were behind then tied then led then were behind. Sometimes we yelled and screamed and sometimes we moaned and groaned. It was a great game.

It is hot, the sun being merciless at these altitudes, and temps in the 90’s are common. I sit outside for a bit then run into the air conditioning.  At home, we seldom get temperatures as high as the 90’s, even in the worst of  summer.  Between the heat and the altitude, I find inertia the best choice. We have no plans for today, and I’m just fine with that. My book is nearly finished, and I can just laze around and read.

I leave tomorrow for hearth and home. It always surprises me how time sometimes passes so swiftly I see only a flash as the days rush by me. I often lose track and wonder what day of the week it is. Usually I try and remember the day before. It gives me a hint for today. In the summer, I have plays and concerts so I try not to get too lost. I’m surprised to hear today is Friday. What happened to the other days I wonder?

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