The sun, the blue sky and a temperature in the 40’s beckon me outside to work today. Let the inside dust sit and grow. The bird feeders need filling and the backyard needs clearing. Pine branches blown down by the wind litter the backyard. 

I went to the parish grammar school for eight years, no kindergarten back then. There were so many of us we had two different classrooms for each grade, and those classes were filled, forty or more in each room. The rows of desks stretched from the front of the room to the back and only a little space separated each row. We were quiet and attentive for the most part. The nuns scared us just by their looks and their black and white habits. You could only see their hands and faces. They weren’t people in the same way my parents were. They were a different breed. 

In the sixth grade, I promised myself I would travel. I would see the world. When I was in high school, one family vacation was at Niagara Falls. We went into Canada, my first foreign country. It seem didn’t foreign, but I still counted it, number one on my list. 

My next country was Finland. My friend and I flew to London where we caught the PanAm flight to Helsinki. The flight also stopped in Oslo and Copenhagen. Most of the other passengers left at those two stops. What had been a full plane was down to about fifteen people for Helsinki. I wondered why. What was it about Helsinki? I never found out as Finland is one of my favorite countries. I stayed in a hostel which had been housing for the 1952 Olympics. I shopped at the market, the one where boats filled with goods were tied to the pier. Because the second language was Swedish, I didn’t know what the dishes I ate were called. I went by looks and smell. I took a train to Rovaniemi, the capital of Lapland. From there I took a bus to Inari, above the Arctic Circle. It was midnight sun time, 24 hours of light. Herds of tended reindeer were on the sides of the road. I had reindeer meat for dinner, not one of Santa’s I assure you. I loved Inari.

From Helsinki, I took a train to what was then Leningrad. There were only three passengers and one train server in the car. The server would come to each of us and say,”Tea?” I drank more tea on the trip than I ever drank in one place. When we got to the Russian border, our car was disconnected from the train and soldiers boarded. They checked our passports and backpacks. They didn’t find the tomato I hid.

I’m ending today’s story with the soldiers and the tomato. There is so much more I’m saving for another day.

The sun is shining, and we have a snow shower. The flakes are so tiny they look like bread crumbs. They shine and glint in the sun. It is cold, 22°. Tonight will be colder. Today is winter. Tomorrow will be spring, in the 40’s. Nala will sunbathe on the only strip of grass in the backyard. 

When I was a kid, the night sky was filled with stars. I would lie on the grass in the field below my house and watch the sky. I always thought the stars moved. Sometimes I’d see a falling star. I always made a wish on the first star I saw. In Ghana, where I lived, the stars were so bright you could sit outside and read by their light. I could see the Milky Way, and every night there were falling stars. During the dry season, I’d lie outside on a mattress in the back yard of my house. I was a kid again watching the sky. When I saw a falling star, I’d ooh and ah out loud. Now I go to the beach to watch the stars. I always sit in my driveway to watch meteor showers. I still on and ah.

My grandmother was born in 1898. She was part of the housedress, apron age. She never went outside without wearing a hat. When it rained, she’d wear those ankle high see through boots with a button for closing the top. Her shoes were tie shoes, clunky and ugly. Her dresses were flowered. She was a big woman. She stooped when she walked. She had a loud voice and an annoyingly loud laugh. Once, when she was out to dinner with my father and my aunt, she was so loud they were asked to leave. She wasn’t a kind woman. She lived in wrinkle city, as my father called it, in an apartment in elderly housing. He used to visit her just about every weekend. If I visited my parents, he’d beg me to go with him. I’d give in and go. Every time I visited I swear she told the same stories she always told. I remember telling my father if she told the Japanese restaurant story again, I’d cough, and that was the signal to leave. Well, she did tell that story, and I coughed. My father started to laugh and to hide it he pretended to cough. My grandmother whacked him on the back thinking he was choking. He laughed even harder. She whacked him harder. Finally, he was able to stop and we left, but he started laughing again in the car. It was pretty funny.

My dance card is again heavy on uke events, practice, a lesson and two concerts. We will be singing Irish songs. I have my Irish fascinator, a green sweatshirt with a harp and Ryan on the front. I also have white high tops with green flowers, shamrock socks and shamrock earrings. I’m ready.