Keep the Coffee Comimg

A beep a bit back announced rain would begin in 23 minutes. The timing was just a little off. The rain started in fifteen minutes. I could hear the pings of the drops hitting the metal barrel on the deck. The rain was heavy, but now I can hear individual drops. The forecast is for a day of rain in the high 70’s. I just crossed washing the kitchen floor off my to-do list.

When I was a kid, a rainy Saturday was devastating. My bike stayed in the cellar and I stayed home. I’d head to my bedroom, a quiet place, with my book. I always had a book. I’d lie cozy in bed and read by the bed-lamp hanging off the headboard. Sometimes the sound of the rain lulled me to sleep.

When I was in the sixth grade, I made my first promise to myself. I would travel and see the world. I had no doubt about it. I even named it after a classmate who used to go to England to visit family, the Barrett disease.

Canada was my first foreign country. I was sixteen when we went to Niagara Falls. We stayed in a motel for the first time. We ate in restaurants or had picnics as we traveled. We took the walk under the falls. All of us were dressed in yellow slickers. We went to the wax museum. We saw the falls at night lit up with beautiful colored lights. We stayed in a huge cottage on the shore of Lake Ontario. I walked across the street and saw tiny waves lapping the shore. I remember the Eisenhower lock on the St. Lawrence River. That whole trip was amazing, and I haven’t ever forgotten it. It was the first fulfillment of my promise.

My second country was a huge leap from Canada. It was Ghana. I still remember the excitement when I was boarding the bus to leave staging in Philadelphia for the airport. I remember we flew over the cape. I took a picture, a sort of good-bye picture. I remember landing in Madrid for a new crew and refueling. I remember landing in Accra, but I don’t remember much of the bus trip to Winneba. I fell sleep. I remember my first morning in Ghana with such clarity. I stood outside my room on the second floor of the dorm and looked at the palm trees, the greenery, the roofs of houses and the hills far beyond. I was mesmerized by the unfamiliar. I had fulfilled my promise in the most spectacular place.

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Sometime during the night it rained, not much rain but I’ll take any rain. It left the morning dark and still damp. It is in the high 70’s, but later it will be around 80°. Everything is still in the thick air.

My friends Bill and Peg and I served together in Ghana. They lived quite a distance away from me. I used to visit them on my way back from Accra to Bolga. They knew when I was coming. We’d arrange those visits. All our correspondence was by letter. That amazes us.

One of my favorite meals was eaten in Jamaica. It was red snapper and plantain. Another meal on my list of favorites was at a Chinese restaurant in London. There was something about those ribs. When I’d return from a trip, my father and mother would pick me up at Logan Airport. From there we always stopped at Santarpio’s in East Boston. I used to get the combination plate. It had steak, sausage and chicken with hot peppers on the side. In Ghana, feed me kelewele and jollof rice for every meal, and I’d be happy. I had a wonderful meal in Helsinki. I don’t know what it was. I just pointed.

When I retired, I had a few plans. I would sleep in as I had had to get up at 5:15 each workday. I have managed to do that well. I would travel. I went to Morocco. That was an amazing trip and the first outside the country I took alone. I rented a car and driver and went into the mountains. I rode a caleche, a horse drawn carriage, around Marrakech. I had a cooking lesson. With guide book in hand, I walked all around Marrakech stopping at cafes for coffee and gawking. I went to Ghana three times. I haven’t traveled in a while, but I am quite content.

Nala is so bold she just took a crumpled paper towel off the table right in front of me. She even gave me a defiant look as she grabbed it before running down the hall and out the dog door.

Today I have a uke concert and tonight I have a play. Our concert music is love songs from the 60’s, my heyday. Tonight is Beautiful-The Carole King Musical. It is my last busy day until Monday.

The wind is strong. I can hear the leaves being tossed. It is 79° but feels just a bit cooler. I’ve opened the windows. Today will be an indoor chore day. Yesterday I planted the rest of the deck flowers. I still need to scrub the furniture, but I’m saving that for the weekend, gives me something to look forward to says I with tongue in cheek. Today I’ll finally hang my summer clothes and put winter away.

I found my other slipper. It appeared in the den. I don’t know where it’s been, but it looks none the worse for wear. It took me a while to remember where I had put the other slipper for safe keeping, but they are back together now. I have a pair.

When I was a kid, my house was on a hill, almost at the top. At the bottom of the hill was Pomeworth Field. It had an official little league field with dugouts in the lower section and two other fields, each with a tall backup chain fence, in the upper section. I played softball on one of them. The fields in town were staffed all summer, each with a male and female. The picnic table was under the trees behind the playground. I used to play checkers there. There was also a pit for throwing horseshoes. I did crafts at the table. I learned to play tennis on the courts below the field. I had early morning lessons. I remember the wooden racket had red painted wood around the strings and was kept with a frame around it to keep the wood true. I was at that park all day except for a lunch break when I went home. I loved those summer days.

When I was older, I stayed around the house during the day. It was at night I was busy. We had drill practice on Tuesday and Thursday nights. We practiced at the park and in the school parking lot because it had lights. Competitions were on the weekends. Our first competition every year was on a Friday night. I remember one year we had finished inspection and were moving to the ready line. Denise was beside me. She was panicked. She said she couldn’t remember the routine because we were starting on the wrong end of the field, on what was usually the finish line. I convinced her that it looked different under the lights, and we were on the right end of the field. She believed me.

My dance card for the rest of the week has a uke concert on Friday and a play on Friday night. This has been a busy week. Today is the only week day without an event. I can hear my inner sloth screaming.

The morning is still and quiet. I don’t even hear the birds. The house is dark. I like it that way. It feels cooler. The humidity is thick. The sky is clouded and hints at rain. It is another hot day at 79°.

On my dance card for the week I have uke practice tonight, a lesson tomorrow and a concert on Friday. The music this week is love songs of the 60’s. On Friday night I have a play. It’s a busy week.

The dogs are asleep on the couch. They do not love the heat, especially Nala, the boxer. Her short muzzle means she overheats more quickly and pants. When that happens, I put on the AC to keep her comfortable. Right now, though, she is deep asleep and snoring just a bit.

When I was a kid, we had watermelon seed spitting contests. I never won. It was the same with cherry pits. I just didn’t have the technique.

Every kid I knew had a bike, roller skates, ice skates and a sled. The bikes had back brakes and no gears. The roller skates needed a key. The ice skates only needed to be laced tightly. The sleds were wooden with metal runners. Most had a rope tied to the front so the sled could be hauled up the hill. I remember the rope got icy. My sled had a wooden steering bar across the top. It sort of worked. My ice skates were white. Every girl had white skates. Each skate had a single blade. Balancing was the key to skating. I fell a few times before I figured that out. My bike had a metal basket on the front. It had a long license plate down the back fender. I got the plate at the police station. Things fell out of my basket when I hit a bump. My roller skates were tightened to my shoes. A strap went across the top of my foot. Sometimes your shoes came loose from the skate bolts while the strap stayed attached. I’d have to lift my foot high into the air with the dangling skate and walk to where I could sit and put the skate back on. I loved the sound of the skates on the pavement and the tingling on the bottom of my foot.

I still have a pair of ice skates and a wooden sled, but I use them for winter decorations. I also have a bike I used to ride all the time, but I can’t remember the last time I did. I have a pair of rusty roller skates with no key. All of them are quite valuable to me. They are the holders of memories.

Today is yesterday. That may sound cryptic, but I’m talking about the weather. Today’s high will be 83°. The humidity is 80%. Yesterday I turned on my AC. The downstairs is nice and cool, but the upstairs is still hot. I’ll be camping, sort of, in the den with the dogs.

The drawback with the AC is having to keep the doors shut. The dogs and I, out of necessity, have developed a pattern. Nala taps the poochie bells, her signal for me to get up and let them out. I let both dogs out. Henry comes right back inside the house. I shut the door on Nala. When she wants in, she taps the dog door over and over, enough to drive me crazy. We do this several times. I am no longer in control

When I look out the window, I see a pretty day with lots of sun in a blue, blue sky. In the thick air only the leaves at the ends of the branches flutter, and my chimes are still.

Shark week has started. It is time to bring out Jaws for another showing. I’m thinking a movie on the deck.

When I was a kid, I loved soft summer rain. I never minded getting wet. My clothes dried quickly. If the rain was a bit stronger and made puddles, I’d walk barefoot through the gutters kicking the water in wide arcs from side to side. I smiled the whole time. It gave me joy.

I watch a lot of science fiction movies. My favorites are black and white films from the 50’s. The aliens are seldom good. They usually want our planet. Even the gigantic ants, spiders and crabs, our own creations, think of us as dinner. Invaders from Mars is still a favorite. Anyone who loves this movie immediately recognizes the fence ending at the field. I rewatched The Blob the other day. I think the future is in jeopardy. The Blob stops growing in the cold. It was dropped on Arctic ice. With global warming it will be back.

Today will be hot, 76° being the expected high. The air is thick, but there is a wind strong enough to toss the tall branches of the oak trees and to cool the house. Rain is likely tonight.

Yesterday the traffic was heavy and lined up at the lights. Even the hardware store had no parking spaces. I got what I needed there and then moved on to groceries. I skipped flowers and went home.

Last night I saw my first fireflies. I was delighted. I saw one in the front yard and three or four in the back. I picked one and followed its light as it flitted around the yard. They are my favorite summer visitors.

I could be busy today but I am choosing to be a sloth. The dust balls can get bigger and fly into the air. The winter clothes will stay in the closet one more day, and the paw prints on the kitchen floor will still mark the way. As Scarlett said, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”

I used to be strong, but I also used to be young. I remember hauling 50 pounds of cat litter upstairs. Now I drag dog food bags into the house from the car and move heavy cartons end over end to get them inside. Jars take forever to open, a couple sit unopened in the cabinet. I hate pulling those tabs off of milk and cream. The squeeze and twist off caps of aspirin bottles were made for younger fingers. I’ve used church keys and old bottle openers to hack at bottles and cans. They have become important tools in my arsenal.

I have questions. Who decided bread should be toasted in the morning? Why does Tarzan not have a beard? He didn’t ever shave. Why are the green oranges in Ghana still called oranges? Greenies? Why are some days partly sunny and other days partly cloudy? Cinderella’s shoe fell off. Was it a bad fit or a plan? When I was a kid, I used to wonder if God could make something so heavy even he could not pick it up.

The world is full of conundrums.

The rain started a bit earlier then stopped but has since started again. That will be the weather pattern for today, on and off rain. The humidity is so thick you can cut with a knife. My father used to say that. There is a breeze but it doesn’t help much. I can hear the birds. I can hear the tapping of the drops as they hit the metal barrel on my deck. The sound brings me back to Ghana and the rain on my metal roof. Those drops are the best things about the morning.

I have lists: errands, house chores and deck planting. Henry should be bald for all the hair he leaves everywhere. I need to vacuum. I need to switch my clothes to summer. The plants are gasping for water. I need bread. I need more plants. I need outside screws and c clamps for a deck project. Before I sound handy, it was my friend Bill who told me what I needed. I had never heard of c clamps.

When I was a kid, the kitchen junk drawer was a magic drawer, always overflowing, sometimes even difficult to open, but almost anything we needed was stuffed inside. A hammer? A screwdriver? Nails? Screws? Pens? Elastics? The list goes on. Some of the stuff couldn’t be identified, but it couldn’t be thrown away. We might need it, whatever it is, later. I have a junk drawer in an old table, an old wooden kitchen table in the living room, one with two drawers. It too is magical. When I bought that kitchen table at an auction, its destiny was foretold. Tools I use often are there, a couple of old frames, Christmas ornament hooks, a book about birds, nails and screws and a few mystery items I’ll never throw away.

Happy July 4th!

I have a traditional musing for today, but I figured I’d give you an update first. The morning is lovely. The yard is bathed in sunlight. The breeze is light but cooling. Yesterday I planted a few flowers and some herbs in deck pots. I have more to plant. Last night Nala came in chewing a small plastic pot. This morning I found the basil from that pot on the driveway. I potted the poor victim. I need a few more flowers for the empty clay pots. I’ll shop tomorrow. We have a uke concert in Hyannis this afternoon. We’ll be playing Songs Across America with a rousing patriotic set at the end.

I just love birthdays and today is the grandest of them all. 

On July 3rd 1776, John Adams wrote a letter to his wife Abigail. In it, he predicted the celebrations for American Independence Day, including the parties:

“It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other.”

John Adams expected July 2nd to be Independence Day as that was the day the Second Continental Congress voted for independence, but the signing ceremony for the Declaration of Independence didn’t happen until two days later so because July 4th appears on the Declaration, it became the date we celebrate Independence.

I know some people complain that the meaning of the day is lost in the barbecues and the fireworks, but they have forgotten John Adams’ hope. We are honoring the day exactly as he wished. Flags are waving everywhere. Families get together to celebrate and to break bread, albeit hot dog rolls. Fireworks illuminate the sky. Baseball is played on small town fields and in huge stadiums. Drums beat the cadence in parades. We sing rousing songs celebrating America and our freedom. We also sing heartfelt songs about what America means to us. We are many sorts of people, we Americans. We don’t all look the same, practice the same religion, eat the same foods or dress in the same way, but we all celebrate today.

“You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4th, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.” Happy Birthday, America, from all of us Americans.