Today is rainy but warm, nearly 60°, but it looks like a November day, a dreary November day. Yesterday’s wind blew leaves at an angle, slanted sideways. Everything is now covered in the brown, dead leaves. My deck has disappeared under oak leaves. I hadn’t covered the deck table but the time has come.

I am watching a parade from Plymouth. I love parades, the colors, the floats and the bands. When I was a kid, I marched with the drill team in all sorts of parades. I have vivid memories of those parades, some great, some not so great. The worst parade was the Halloween parade. Eggs were thrown, and I remember one slid down my leg into my boot. I marched on egg shells. I could hear the crunch until the shells were pulverized. St. Patrick’s Day was another parade we dreaded. It was cold and the partakers of green brew tried to march with us. My favorite parade was July 4th. People set up their chairs in the morning along the parade route to reserve the best spots for watching. My family always went to my father’s friend’s house along the parade route. Everyone at the party watched from the porch. As we marched by, they started yelling my name over and over. I was both embarrassed and pleased. They used to make us march in the parish May procession. We were almost last. Behind us was only whoever was crowning the statue of Mary. We were told the parish supported us and marching was the least we could do.

A quiet week is coming. I have uke practice on Tuesday, the Christmas book. The big event is, of course, Thanksgiving. I’ve ordered a turkey dinner with all the fixings. I’ll watch the parade just as I did every year when I was a kid. I’ll even buy the same parade snacks, but I’ll skip the mixed nuts even though I have an old wooden bowl with the silver nutcrackers. I’ll have a few tangerines and definitely M&M’s. I’ll wear my pajamas, but I won’t sit on the floor in front of the TV. I’d never get back up.

Coffee is takin a brief hiatus today. I don’t have the time to write it, at least this morning. I have to leave shortly for my uke concert. If I get home early enough, I’ll give Coffee a go.

If you checked the dictionary for fall, you’d see a picture of today. It is a delight. The very bright sun shines through and highlights the leaves still hanging off the oak tree branches. It is nearly 60°. I had to check the dogs as they were outside for so long. Both came running when they saw me on the deck, but they stayed outside. Today is the perfect day to string the new white lights on the deck rail. I’m sure the spawns of Satan will be excited to have new wires to chew.

When I was a kid, I never made lists. My life wasn’t at all complicated. It followed the same pattern every day: wake up, eat breakfast, dress for school, head off walking to school and stay there most of the day. When I got home, I played outside as long as I could. This time of year it wasn’t very long. I always did my homework before supper. The evenings too were the same: eat dinner, watch TV, read a bit before bed then go to bed early. As my mother always reminded us, “It’s a school night.”

I make lists now. I have found that I forget things, hence the lists. They are taped on my table so I can add to them. One list is my grocery list for the big shopping I do every month. This list is for December. If I need anything in between, I stop at Ring’s, my favorite store. My dance card is also taped to the table. I have only one entry left for this week, a concert tomorrow in Mashpee. My to do list is front and center on the table. I put no date on the list. I’ll get to it when I get to it. There is no hurry. The list has only two items: water my plants and change my bed. Maybe Ill finish today but maybe not.

I remember walking home from my aunt’s house one day. She lived only a few blocks away. Sometimes I took the road, but mostly I took a short cut. It was along a metal fence without a gate so I’d have to jump the fence. The jumping spot was just up the hill from my house. I remember walking home one day along the fence and wishing I could buy a new book, but I’d ready spent my 50¢ allowance. I stopped for a bit of a rest and right at my feet I found a 50¢ piece. I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was magic. I bought a new Trixie Belden book.

I never questioned the magic.

Fall weather is upon us. The days are in the 40’s, and the nights are in the 30’s though every now and then a day in the 60’s sneaks in and reminds us what we’ll be missing. Today is cloudy, dark. Rain is a possibility. I should have known, I washed the kitchen floor.

I had nuns for most of my school years. They wore black and white habits. Around their waists, they wore large rosary beads. I always thought of those beads as an early warning system: nun closing in. On their heads were wimples, and they had veils down their backs. I used to wonder what they looked like under their habits. Every now and then I could see a hairline under the wimple across their foreheads, and when I did, it was all I could look at, sort of like a peek behind the curtain. My grammar school nuns had a change in their habits which surprised all of us when we got back to school one September. The blinders their wimples had had were gone. The nuns could now see everything and all of us. We were doomed.

I was a busy kid. My time was filled during the day when I was young and sometimes even the nights when I was older. I was a brownie then a Girl Scout. I was in the drill team starting in fifth grade. When I was older, seventh and eighth grades, I played CYO basketball and was an officer in my parish CYO. Weekends were always busy. I remember pajama parties. They were the rage for a while. We ate snacks and didn’t fall asleep until the wee hours or until the parents couldn’t take it anymore. I used to ice skate in the winter, always outside. I roller skated on sidewalks and the parking lot up the street from my house, but when I was older, I roller skated inside at the Bal-A-Roue in Medford. I fell a lot.

Life now is pretty quiet. My dance card has plenty of empty spaces. My uke events are prominent. The rest of the time I entertain myself at home watching movies, reading and even cleaning, that last one is my least favorite.

The morning is fall at its finest. The sun is shining though the leaves still hanging on the trees in the backyard. The temperature is in the high 40’s. A slight breeze comes and goes. My deck and front yard are covered in brown, mostly oak leaves. The dogs bring pieces of the leaves in on their paws. I keep a broom close at hand.

When I was a kid, I watched The Creature from the Black Lagoon. He walked upright, looked like an amphibian, had webbed hands and quite the ugly face with eyes which never moved. Many years later I found out he was a piscine and amphibian humanoid, a creature of myth and legend. He scared the boat load of scientists and crew, even killed a couple after they attacked them. There was, of course, a woman who screamed and screamed and was captured by the Creature. I never questioned the effects. He looked like a gill man. He could breathe underwater. My nephew, who is now forty, saw the movie when he was a kid. He laughed most of the way through. He thought the movie was silly. His comments cut me to the quick. He said you can see the scuba tank the creature is wearing under his fake skin. I never noticed.

Phones were once a wonder. The first telephone I remember when I was young was the phone you picked up to get to the operator who connected your call. Next we got a rotary phone with a party line. The rotary phone made a clicking noise after you entered each number. I loved that sound. I used to listen to Mrs. McGafffigan, but she knew when we on the line and used to yell at us to hang up the phone. We did get our own line. Our first phones were black. All phones were black.

I used to be amazed at all the changes and historical events my grandmother lived through. She was born in 1898. I suspect my niece and nephews think about me in the same way. When I have to indicate my year of birth by scrolling through years, it takes a while to get to 1947. I have seen the plots of the science fiction books I read as a kid become reality, but I am still amazed by the world. I hold close my sense of wonder. I still don’t notice the scuba tank.

Today is another ugly day, dark, chilly and cloudy. I have nowhere I have to be. It is a stay at home day. It is a wash the kitchen floor day.

My house is dark. The TV is on pause. Everything is quiet except for the occasional blast of heat. The dogs have finally settled down on the couch. I’m ready for another cup of coffee.

The dogs are loving his weather. On sunny days, Nala lies on the grass soaking in the warmth. Henry wanders. On the chilly days they run all over the yard. Nala comes inside panting. Henry comes inside hoping for a snack. They both take a morning nap. They have tough lives.

Yesterday I watched a video about Ghana. It was filmed at Yeji, on the shore of the Volta Lake. A ferry leaves from Yeji, crosses the lake and takes the road again on the other side, in the Northern Region on the road to Tamale. I rode that ferry many times. Sometimes I had to wait for it to come from the other side. I bought food and water while I waited. I bought plantain chips cooked over a charcoal fire. The grills were large white enamel bowls filled with burning charcoal. A metal grid was across the top. The aunties also sold dried fish which never tempted me. I think it was the eyes looking at me. The water was sold in green beer bottles. I used to hold the bottle up to the sun to see how many floaties there were. I bought the bottle with the fewest floaties.

I know how lucky I have been to see a good part of the world. Even now, so many years later, I am amazed that I actually lived in Africa. When I was a kid, the only glimpse of it I had were pictures in my geography book. Usually there were giraffes. I never saw giraffes. I remember on the way to Ghana we flew over the Sahara. Later I would ride a camel in the desert, but on the plane I was thrilled to see it. I will never forget stepping off the plane. I felt the blast of heat and saw palm trees. I was in Africa.

This is my traditional post for Veteran’s Day.

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918, World War I ended. This day became known as “Armistice Day.” In 1921, an unknown World War I American soldier was buried in Arlington National Cemetery. Similarly, unknown soldiers had been buried in England at Westminster Abbey and at France at the Arc de Triomphe. All of these memorials took place on November 11th to commemorate the end of the “war to end all wars.”

In 1926, Congress resolved to officially call November 11th Armistice Day. Then in 1938, the day was named a national holiday. Soon afterwords war broke out in Europe and World War II began.

Soon after the end of World War II, a veteran of that war named Raymond Weeks organized “National Veterans Day” with a parade and festivities to honor all veterans. He chose to hold this on Armistice Day. Thus began annual observances of a day to honor all veterans not just the end of World War I. In 1954, Congress officially passed and President Eisenhower signed a bill proclaiming November 11 as Veteran’s Day. Due to his part in the creation of this national holiday, Raymond Weeks received the Presidential Citizens Medal from President Reagan in November 1982.

In 1968, Congress changed the national commemoration of Veterans Day to the fourth Monday in October. However, the significance of November 11 was such that the changed date never really got established. In 1978, Congress returned the observance of Veterans Day to its traditional date.

National ceremonies commemorating Veterans Day occur each year at the the memorial amphitheater built around the Tomb of the Unknowns. At 11 AM on November 11, a color guard representing all military services executes “Present Arms” at the tomb. Then the presidential wreath is laid upon the tomb. Finally, the bugler plays taps.

Each Veterans Day should be a time when Americans stop and remember the brave men and women who have risked their lives for the United States of America. As Dwight Eisenhower said, “…it is well for us to pause, to acknowledge our debt to those who paid so large a share of freedom’s price. As we stand here in grateful remembrance of the veterans’ contributions we renew our conviction of individual responsibility to live in ways that support the eternal truths upon which our Nation is founded, and from which flows all its strength and all its greatness.”

The morning is cloudy, even a bit grim. It is in the mid 50’s, warmish for November, but the next few nights will be winter cold, down to the 30’s. I’ve put the blanket on my bed, a surrender, an acknowledgement to winter.

My kitchen floor is covered with muddy paw prints. Clumps of dog hair fly into the air when I walk down the hall. I ignore it all. My sloth instinct is strong.

When I was a kid, we always had turkey for both Thanksgiving and Christmas and at no other time of year. We ate turkey for days. We started with the big bird on the holiday, then, for supper, we’d have open turkey sandwiches with gravy and the rest of the fixings on the side. Sandwiches were next. The bread was always toasted, and on the turkey was usually stuffing and cranberry sauce and mayo or butter. I loved those sandwiches. Turkey salad, made with the meat my father stripped from the bone, was the next incarnation. The last of the turkey became soup made from the carcass. By then we were trukeyed out.

I had an aunt who was a nun. For most of my childhood, we saw her once a year, an obligatory visit. She lived in Connecticut. We were always dressed in our church clothes for the visit. We stopped once on the way. I remember the building was brick and close to where we were going. We went to the bathroom where my mother made sure we were all nun ready. The visit never changed from year to every year. We sat in the parlor. When she joined us, she looked formidable in her habit. Her questions seldom varied. She wanted to know how school was and what our favorite subjects were. During the visit, another nun would arrive with cookies and soft drinks. At some point we’d walk to the school to see my aunt’s classroom. That was it, the whole visit. I always thought once a year was too often.

The morning is an ugly one. It has been raining, and the damp air is chilly. I’m wearing my cold day ensemble of a sweatshirt, flannel pants and fleece socks. My heat keeps coming on to keep the cold at bay. Today feels like a winter’s day.

I have a concert today, the second this week. I organized my music book last night. Next week we start practicing Christmas music. We’ll start our Christmas concerts in a couple of weeks. I love Christmas concerts.

My father used to say he wanted to come back in his next life as a pet in any of our houses. I’m sure my dogs would agree, but they are curled up asleep on the couch, and I’d hate to disturb them.

I mostly live in my den. The TV is here, my computer too. It is just a few steps to the bathroom and down the hall from the kitchen. My table here is huge, a metal table. Anything I need, except food, is within reach. Right now my computer is on my lap and my feet are resting on the tabletop. I’m watching a movie with resurrected dinosaurs wreaking havoc on an island paradise.

When I was a kid, there were certainties. Oreos came in only one variety. Televisions were black and white. Cereal, except for oatmeal, was loaded with sugar, but we put sugar on it anyway, especially on the sugarless oatmeal which was always lumpy. Boots had shoes inside. We only took a bath on Saturdays. Sunday was the big family dinner. The rest of the week we ate supper. Vegetables mostly came in cans. My mother grocery shopped once a week. We had three sets of clothes: school clothes, play clothes and church clothes. You never mixed and mingled except for the shoes and the winter coats. Fathers worked. Mothers didn’t. We were free roamers. Santa Claus always watched, and we tempted fate by being bad.

My life now still has a regularity. Most days start and end the same way. Only the middles are different, but not very different.

The morning is rainy. I can smell the dead wet leaves on the ground. It will rain on and off all day though the sun will peek through every now and then. The sky is a light grey. I can see the oak tree branches in the back yard being tossed by the wind. The temperature is in the low 60’s where it will sit all day. Tonight, though, will be more seasonal, in the 30’s.

Fall and winter rain make for dreary days, perfect for comfy clothes and a good book. The dogs, who appreciate cozy, are asleep on the couch. Nala is resting her head on my hip. I can feel her warmth.

When I was a kid, my grammar school was old. It was a brick building across from the convent and beside the rectory. Out front there was a big statue of an angel with a child. The first floor was up a set of stairs. Outside each classroom was the cloak room. There were never enough hooks for all our coats as each classroom had large classes. My first grade had over forty kids. The desks were the sort where you didn’t lift the top. Your books were in the desk, below the stationary top. You had to bend over to find the right book. The top had a groove for my pencils and a hole for an ink bottle. It was an old desk. I remember it was dark wood. The bathrooms were downstairs in the cellar.

I don’t like bulky winter coats despite the coldest weather. I have a couple, but I don’t think I wore one all last winter. I wore a hoodie and once in a while added a vest, my interpretation of layering. I have boots but not rubber boots. One pair is ankle high leather boots from Timberland. The other pair is waterproof outside and fleece inside but also ankle height. I always hope for a light snowstorm.

I think my aversion to bulky coats was because of my childhood. My mother made sure I was dressed for the Arctic. I wore a sweater under a heavy winter coat. I wore pink longish thermal underwear which went to just above my knees. My knee socks went to just below my knees. Neither of them met in the middle. I wore boots over my shoes. I always had to wear a hat and mittens though I often ditched the hat when I was out of sight.

This week my dance card is filled with uke: tonight’s practice, a lesson and concert tomorrow and a concert on Thursday. My fingers will get a workout.