“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment, until it becomes a memory.”
Posted June 8, 2023 by katryCategories: Musings
The sun comes and goes. Partly cloudy is a misnomer. It is warm, mid 60s. Everything is quiet, calm. We have definitely left winter behind. My sweatshirts have been retired, at least during the daytime. Long sleeves are in.
Today I have a concert at the Farmer’s Market in Harwich. I love going there. We sit in the shade of trees and play. The market is small but one table always has a line. The woman sells the best scones. I’ll be in that line!
When I was a kid, we had donuts on Sunday mornings. My father was an usher at an early mass so he’d go to Dunkin’ Donuts after mass. He only ate plain donuts so his selections were limited. He’d pick the more common donuts like jelly and powered. He went heavy on the jelly. He never bought my favorite, butternut. It was probably too exotic for him. Instead, I’d eat a lemon or a glazed if he had bought them. My father always ate his plain donut with butter slathered on the top.
My mother never learned to swim. I remember she once went to the Y for lessons but didn’t finish. I only remember her dipping her feet in the water. My father was a great swimmer. He used to body surf in the waves. He taught us to swim, my brother and me.
One of my favorite family vacations was when we went to Islesboro, Maine. I remember the ferry ride to the island, and the house my father rented. It was down a dirt road and was steps from the water. The house was isolated. We had a dock and a row boat to use. My mother used to pack a lunch, and my father would row us to a small beach within sight of the dock. We, my brother and I, would jump off the boat when we got close to the beach. The water was freezing. Duke, our dog, was with us. On one trip to the beach, our dog Duke was out and saw us in the boat. He followed along the shore. My father was afraid Duke would jump into the cold water and not be able to swim so he went back and got Duke. I remember we shopped in the small town. We were each given a little money. I chose those white and black Scottie dog magnets. I thought they were neat when they repelled each other. The best thing on that vacation was the sort of scavenger hunt all around the yard and road. My parents had planted clues. We’d read them then figure out the next step. I remember Hershey Bars were the prizes. They were in a fallen tree trunk. The worse thing on that vacation was I got a bee sting. I still remember I was in a field. I also still remember how much it hurt.
“Never miss a party…good for the nerves–like celery.”
Posted June 6, 2023 by katryCategories: Uncategorized
The morning is warmer than I expected. It is in the high 60’s. Rain is predicted for this afternoon. The sun was out a short while ago, but the clouds have returned. The dogs have been in and out most of the morning. I was watching a YouTube video earlier. It showed a mare and her foal in the pasture for the first time. The mare was eating grass, and the foal was running circles around her mother. Nala noticed and watched TV until the video was finished then she curled up and took a short nap.
Today is D-Day. My mother once had a D-Day party. In the living room was a large map showing all the landing beaches. The movie D-Day was playing on TV. There were WWII decorations in the living room and the dining room. The house was crowded, mostly in the kitchen. That happened every time my mother hosted a party. The bar was on the counter, the back door was open and the room was filled with smoke. The dining room table groaned under the weight of the dishes. Most of the guests were relatives though one of my mother’s school friends always attended. She used to sit at the same place around the kitchen table every time she visited. I can picture her with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Singing was always a part of every party. At this one they sang songs popular during the war years. Even I knew the words.
When my muse is on hiatus, I like to fall back on some stories about Ghana and my travels in West Africa. Even writing that line, travels in West Africa, still amazes me. Anyway, what prompted today’s stories was something I read in the Cape Times about Burkina Faso, Upper Volta in my day. The country, once wonderfully peaceful, has had two coups in the last year. The government, Al-Quaida and the Islamic State control different areas. 2 Million people have been internally displaced. I mourn for the country I visited often.
Ougadougou, the capital, was where I’d often go for the weekend. I could sleep in a wonderfully air-conditioned hotel room for little money, eat at restaurants and shop the market. For breakfast I’d have a baguette and a Yukka soda, sold by small boys on bicycles with giant baskets. The Yukka was green or red. The taste was the same. I alternated. On one trip, over New Year’s, all Peace Corps volunteers visiting the city were invited to the ambassador’s house for New Year’s Eve. It was the most spectacular party I’d ever attended. I saw foods I hadn’t see in nearly two years. There was champagne served by stewards wearing white jackets and white gloves. The tables were filled and so was my plate. Most of the ladies wore long dresses and the men wore tuxedos. I was totally underdressed, but I didn’t care and neither did the ambassador. I stayed until midnight and sing Auld Lang Syne with gusto.
My dance card is heavy with uke: practice, a lesson and concerts at the farmer’s market and Chatham Airport. It’s a big week.
