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“No day is so bad it can’t be fixed with a nap.”
October 11, 2011Today is quite the contrast from the weekend. The temperature is down 20° and the sun is intermittent. I’m even wearing a sweatshirt though I’m still clinging to sandals. Shutting in my feet seems the last resort before admitting summer is really gone.
Last night was perfect for sleeping, far cooler than it’s been. I kept the window opened and could feel the night as it chilled. I’m looking forward to snuggling under covers on cool nights.
This morning I had a library board meeting. Only one other member is younger than I so the rest make me feel young. Two of the members are 90. Only one of them was here today; the other forgot.
I have no ambition whatsoever today. I won’t even make my bed as I feel a nap coming on a bit later and there’s no sense messing a made bed. Yesterday I did a little shopping so the animals and I have some food to tide us over, and I don’t have to cook for any of us. For them, it’s just open the cans and also fill the dry food dishes. For me, the chicken is already baked, the salad made, and I bought cheese, hummos and pita bread. Life is good when the larder is filled.
I think a cloudy day makes me lazy. Nothing is inviting when the world looks dark even in the daylight. Rain never stops me nor does snow. I love to watch them both. I got a couple of books when I went to the library so I can see myself prone on the couch reading with the light on beside me giving me a cozy feeling, a drowsy feeling. No question I’ll easily succumb to a nap.
“The desire to reach for the sky runs deep in our human psyche.”
October 8, 2011The weather is absolutely gorgeous. I haven’t seen Gracie all morning. She’s been on the deck and roaming the back yard. The cats are in the sun. I’m the only one holed up in a dark room in the back of the house. Soon enough I’ll remedy that!
An article in the Boston Globe this morning mentioned that the Pan Am World Wing International congress is in Boston this year. It’s a reunion of women who flew as PanAm flight attendants. The article mentioned that the women think the new show PanAm gets everything right except the pilots who weren’t young but rather mostly in their 40’s and 50’s, veterans of WWII. They said girdle and weight checks were done regularly so they could fit into the tight skirts which were part of the uniform.
I flew PanAm several times including back from Africa. That was the flight which had a buffet under the stars, tables set up in the back of the plane with meats, cheeses, salads, breads and rolls. At one point the pilot asked people to sit down and take turns at the table as the tail of the plane was dragging from the weight.
I always thought of PanAm as a modern magic carpet which could take you anywhere. I flew on it when few people flew to Europe or any exotic destinations. I remember going to the back of the plane, putting up the seat arms and lying down to sleep across a row of empty seats. Back then it was the only US airline which flew to Africa. The flight started in East Africa then made its way to West Africa with stops in Lagos, Accra, Monrovia and Dakar. We could get off at each stop and stretch our legs. I remember walking around on the tarmac in both Monrovia and Dakar.
I know I’ve mentioned before that if I could go back in time I’d ride the PanAm Clipper. I’d go to Singapore and have a drink or two at Raffles Hotel. I’d fly all over the PanAm world; of course, I’d also be rich enough to do that. It is, after all, my dream!
“Souvenirs are perishable; fortunately, memories are not”
October 6, 2011The house was really chilly this morning. I was nestled under the covers, and Fern and Gracie were right beside me sharing their warmth. When I came downstairs, I decided to turn on the heat for just a while to warm up the house. The heat didn’t go on. I cursed. Nothing riles me more than stuff not working, stuff I have to call an expert to come and fix. I wish my family was more diverse. I think every family should have an electrician, a plumber and a generalist who can fix most anything else. It should be a rule. I know this will cost me big just for the guy to walk through the front door. I suppose finding out before it got really cold was a lucky break, but then people break arms and legs so that word has its downside.
Summer is making a return engagement this weekend. Each day will be in the 70’s. I’m thinking it’s a farewell present.
My house is filled with stuff which has meaning only for me. The living room is mostly Ghana. A green basket I brought back home with me forty years ago sits under a table. Gold weights are on another table. Next to them is the top of a linguist staff and an old oware board leans against the same table. Finger bells are on the hearth. You put a round piece on each thumb and a bell on one finger of each hand to play it. I bought it in the market. I have paintings from Ghana. A couple were done by the art teacher at my school, Yao Blisah (though I don’t guarantee the spelling of his name).
In here are bags made from Bolga leather, a distinctive red and black leather still used. You can see boys working with the leather in some of my recent pictures. On the wall I have an old Bolga hat made of straw with a tie of that red and black leather. It’s a funky looking hat with straw straight up all over the woven part. I have an adrinka cloth my school gave me when I left. It is my prize Ghanaian possession.
Lately I’ve been thinking about putting together an album of pictures of all of these mementos. I’ll write stories about why each piece of Ghana is dear to me. I figure maybe they’ll become dear to someone else too.
“I’m easily distracted by other things in the world around me”.
October 3, 2011We have another day which can’t quite make up its mind. For a while it’s sunny then the clouds take over then comes the sun for another turn. Right now we have sun. Today is remove the screen from the back storm door day, always a painful chore. It means I have thrown in the towel and recognized that cold nights are here and won’t be going away. I do the back door first because it’s always open so Gracie can come and go as she pleases through her dog door. During the day it’s not too chilly, but at night, I can feel the cold air making its way down the hall to me. It’s time.
After a trip, I have a sense of wanderlust which takes a while to disappear; well, actually it never disappears: it just gets bearable. Sometimes, of late, I find myself on-line looking for cheap flights anywhere. I don’t ever remember getting there. It’s as if something took hold of me, a possession of sorts needing an exorcism.
My neighbor is mowing his lawn. He’s wearing a sweatshirt, jeans and a baseball cap. I think he’s a barometer of sorts.
I remember staring out the classroom windows even though it was frowned upon as an indicator of a lack of attention. There was never much to see out those windows, but they represented a sort of freedom I no longer had. On the lower floor, I could see the street in front of the school. I’d watch for cars to drive by. If I had a room in the back, I’d only see the empty playground and ached to be there. On the top floor, it was the sky I’d see, and I’d watch the clouds drifting and swirling and sometimes forming animals as they moved. When it rained, I’d see the drops hitting the windows, and I’d follow one as it slid down and disappeared.
When it rained, the class seemed quiet, subdued, and the room was always a bit dark even with the lights on. Sometimes the rain and pencils writing on paper were the only sounds. A rainy day was my favorite school day.
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