What a pretty day it is with a bright sun and a clear blue sky. The temperature will stay in the mid-40’s. The breeze is slight. Only the leaves at the ends of the branches are moving.

When I was a kid, my grandparents were quite different from one family to the other. My father’s parents weren’t warm people. His mother, my grandmother, wore flowered dresses and black shoes with clunky heels. She’d wear the clear bonnets and clear shoe covers, the ones with a button, when it rained. She wasn’t a good cook. She always wore an apron with a bib which had a front pocket and tied in the back. I remember going there on Thanksgiving evenings for supper. The dining room was right by the kitchen. She had dark furniture, but a wall with windows and a glass door gave the room light. She always wheeled a basket to the First National when she grocery shopped. My grandfather was short and stout. I remember him always wearing a suit and a fedora when he left the house. He had an imposing presence despite his height. They lived in the same town as we did.

My mother’s parents lived in the city. They always seemed to have an open house on Sundays which was filled with family. My mother was one of eight so it was a big family. My grandmother also wore an apron, but what I remember most are her slippers. She’d roll down her hosiery to the tops of her ankles and walk on the backs of those slippers. She’d shuffle a little when she walked. The kitchen was where the women were. It was on the bottom floor. It wasn’t very big. My grandmother made pasta, and it sat in a pan on the stove, a self-service meal. I loved that you grated your own cheese. She had a great backyard. I loved the city, the bakery down the street, the corner store and the house which sold Italian ice out the window. I loved wandering around near the house. I used to walk up a few streets to where my grandparents had originally lived. I remember that house well. Beyond that, a few more streets up, was a small park. I’d sometimes sit on a bench and read. I enjoyed going to East Boston.

My week is busy, uke busy as usual. I have practice, a lesson and two concerts. We are still doing bluegrass, but Christmas is coming. We’re practicing those songs tonight. I do love Christmas music.

This morning was a mirror under the nose morning. I slept until noon. The last couple of days I have been really tired so, as my mother used to say, “You must have needed it.” The dogs too must have as they stayed with me in bed. They are napping now. Jack, the cat, is also napping now. They lead tough lives.

When I was a kid, I never slept late. On school mornings I had no choice. My mother had us up, breakfasted and dressed with plenty of time left for walking to school. We never walked fast. We chatted and we dawdled. I loved that walk. The sidewalk had towering trees beside it the whole way. In every season the trees decorated the walk. In fall the leaf colors were mostly yellow with just a few reds. In late fall, leaves would cover the walk, and we’d plow through the piles and kick them into the air. In winter the bare branches were shadowed on the walk and looked like arms and legs. In the spring the trees were filled with green leaves which towered over the sidewalk. The houses were close to the sidewalk. They were old houses with big front windows. When I visited my hometown a long while back, I took that route. I was sad to see many of the houses were gone, replaced by an apartment building and houses which all looked alike. I know things change over time. I just don’t have to like it.

I remember learning to tie a bow. My mother taught me. She used a giant bow to make it easier for me. She also taught me to ride my bike. It was on the street in front of my house. I still remember the joy of riding by myself for the first time. I learned to tell time when I was in the second grade. My aunt helped. I didn’t know it was part of her plan. She gave me a Cinderella watch for my first communion and wanted to make sure I could read the time. I still have an analog watch. I choose not to go digital.

When I was young, the world felt safe. I could be by myself on my bike anywhere. I could walk alone all over town. The only advice my mother gave me was not to talk to strangers. I was always in the present. Kids usually are. The furthest away I ever looked was Christmas. That took a lot of planning.