The morning is lovely. It is already 61°. The sun is bright, the sky mostly blue. The dogs stay outside longer, even Henry. I think I might join them later.

Sometimes I think about the friends I had when I was a kid. One friend from my neighborhood and I walked to school together every day for most of grammar school. She lived up the hill in the house where we used to live. I remember she told me her aunt had died because she choked on a chicken bone. That has stayed with me. We went to separate high schools after grammar school. She went to the local high school while I went to a Catholic high school a couple of towns away. We didn’t see each other much after that. 

When I was in the fifth or sixth grade, I joined the drill team, the junior drill team. We had practice Saturday mornings in the armory. We learned all the steps, all the drills. Maria and I became friends, a friendship which continues today. She reminds me all the time of when we were fooling around, and I spun her, and she hit the floor. She got yelled at. I stood innocently. To yank her chain, even now I say it was her fault. It drives her crazy. She always says I got away with everything which also drives her crazy. 

When I was in Ghana, I lost track of most of my college friends. We wrote for a while, but then we didn’t. I was living a different life. Ghana had become my norm. I had good, good friends in Ghana. We met in Philadelphia during what Peace Corps calls staging. We trained together. After training they were posted down south almost a whole country away from me because my friend was pregnant. I visited them and we traveled together, the two of them, their baby and I. Now, we marvel at how well we stayed in touch. It was during the days before phones so we wrote each other. The mail took five days. They moved to my school our second year, all planned through the mail. We had the best time together. We still do.

I am lucky to have good friends, some of whom have been with me as far back as I can remember. Others are newer friends. After my accident, my uke friends fed me, checked on me and drove me where I needed to go. They still keep watch.

During the early morning, it rained. The sky is still gray, and the air is damp. It will be warm, maybe even 60°, but light rain is predicted. 

My insurance company has assessed my car. They are giving me enough money for a good used car. I am going to rent a car this week as it is covered by my insurance. I am happy and relieved.

I was in Ghana for the first Earth Day. It passed me by, but I was living in a country where nothing went to waste. When my sandals fell apart, when the sole detached, I took them to the market for new soles. The man who fixed them attached pieces of a tire to the bottom of the sandals. They lasted the rest of my time there. Beer bottles held groundnut oil or palm nut oil and were sold in the market. You could always get a refill. The compounds were central with round, clay houses made with traditional materials, made with clay, sand and water. The roofs were thatched with grass or straw. I remember a roundabout with tires in a circle. Chicken heads and feet made for a great broth. Rice was sold in cones made from newspapers, made from my New York Times. Cans had multiple uses. The Ghanaians made much from little.

When I was growing up, my life felt idyllic. Everything was amazing. We had the swamp, the field and a copse of trees. We had wild blueberry bushes. Not far away was a pond where we fished. The junk man with his horse and wagon periodically rode by my house calling for newspapers and cans and just everyday junk.. The knife sharpener man rode his bike around looking for business. The garbage can was set in the ground. I remember opening the top by stepping on the pedal so I could watch the maggots. We had only had one car as did most families. It was enough. We never gave thought to the future.