The sun hasn’t yet appeared, but it is supposed to later. Right now it is damp and in the mid 60’s. We have a breeze.

I remember the first time I stayed up until the TV station ended its day. I watched a jet flying through the clouds while a poem about slipping the bonds of Earth played in the background. I was thrilled about being up so late. My mother called it the wee hours of the morning. I thought she said whee.

I remember my last rides on the roller coaster at Paragon Park Nantasket, on the old wooden coaster called the Giant Coaster. I’ll never forget the sounds as it clanked up that first huge hill. My friends and I heard it had been sold and would be dismantled so we knew we needed to ride it for my last, and for my friend, her first, time. I didn’t tell her about the hill going down. She screamed at the top of the hill even before we started going down. She screamed the whole ride and kept banging into me. I held on as tightly as I could to the front bar to keep myself from banging against my side of the car. I loved that ride even with her screaming. To give her credit, she rode a couple of times more with much less screaming.

I remember riding on Edaville Railroad. My roller coaster friend and I went one summer. Mostly the riders were kids with their parents. They knelt on the seats and looked out the windows. I did the same thing on the subway trains. We also went to the train museum. Our last stop was for ice cream.

My dogs keep disappearing. I’m never sure if they are out or upstairs napping on my bed. I hate to call them and interrupt their napping if they are upstairs. Sometimes I stand on the deck hoping to see them in the yard. Nala is the one who might be out as Henry is a bit of a sloth. I have been finding chewed sticks on the hall and the living room floors. I have no doubt how they got into the house.

The rain started during the night and was so loud it woke me up. The morning is dreary, and it is still raining, and it will continue raining all day. The dampness is chilling.

My dance card is empty today. I do want to clean the bookcase here in the den. It has been so long since I last cleaned it I could write my autobiography in the dust. Yesterday I cleaned the desk, especially the top shelf where I keep my collection of small wind-ups. They were covered in dust. I took a nap afterwards.

I have two concerts this week, tomorrow and Saturday. We are playing The Beatles. I always think of them as my music.

When I was a kid, lemonade stands were common. Kids set them up on the grass beside busy streets. They’d sit behind a small table with a pitcher and glasses on it. A hand written sign gave the price. Often Kool-Aid or Zarex was offered instead of lemonade. It was an easy way to make a little money.

My mother once had a D-Day party. She had maps of Normandy and the landing beaches on the walls. The Longest Day played on the TV. The dining room table was set in the corner and laden with food. My mother and father were consummate hosts, and people loved this party. It was just so unique. I didn’t know anyone else who ever had a D-Day party. There were aunts and uncles galore. The kitchen was, as always, the center of activity. The bar was on the counter. The kitchen table was ringed with people. The air was filled with smoke. People sang the songs popular during the war. I can still see my father standing by the sink adding his deep voice to the music. I knew all the songs. I loved that party.