If I were given the chance to choose my weather, I’d chose a day like today. The sun is so bright I could barely see when I went to get the paper. A few leaves flutter at the ends of branches until a stronger every now and then breeze blows even the topmost leaves of the oak trees. It is a warm day. The high will be 77˚, but the humidity is gone, at least for today, so the day is lovely. I’m glad for my errands

Jack, my cat, has a gate across the door of his room so he can come and go, and it keeps the dogs out or it did until this morning. Miss Nala, the consummate thief, broke into the room three times. I adjusted the gate the first two times, but she found a way in around the side of the gate. On her third foray, I heard the rustling of paper and ran upstairs. She was caught. She couldn’t get out the way she had gotten in through the gate because it held. Miss Nala was standing inside by the gate looking guilty and for good reason. I could see paper and empty cat food cans on the floor. When I got inside the room, I saw the dry food dish was empty, but I stopped Nala from eating all the canned food. I let her out at the gate, went inside and cleaned up the trash, one of my favorite things to do before my second cup of coffee.

I know Ghana is often the subject of my musings. Some days it feels closer than other days, but it is always with me. Most returned Peace Corps volunteers will tell you that their two years were life affirming.

I was twenty-one when I arrived in Ghana. I remember my first ride through Accra from the airport. It was jaw-dropping. I could see kiosks along the sides of the roads and women selling just about everything. They were dressed in beautiful cloths. People selling foodstuffs wove in and out of traffic trying to sell their goods to cars before the light changed. I don’t remember the rest of the ride. I fell asleep.

Our first stop for a couple of weeks was Winneba. My room was on the second floor of one of the dorms. I remember standing outside my room on the balcony and seeing Winneba from up high. I could see greenery, it being the rainy season, and the rusted roofs of houses. During these two weeks we had language every day, intense lessons, shots and lectures about Ghana. I was learning Hausa. One day we all walked through town to go greet the chief. It is customary. At night, we’d go to the spot, the bar, across the street from the school. We’d play cards and drink warm Coke. I remember playing hearts. I also remember being really nervous for the next phase of training. We would live for three weeks with Ghanaian families in an area where they spoke the languages we were learning. I went to Bawku. During those three weeks, we taught in middle schools, met for lunch every day and had language lessons. I wandered Bawku. I felt comfortable, safe. On the fourth week, we made our ways to our schools. It was the first time I traveled without a guide. I had been in Ghana five weeks.

The early morning was foggy. We are socked in by clouds. The breeze is close to being a wind. The air is muggy. It is 74˚and will get a bit warmer. I have to do a couple of errands, and tonight I have uke practice. The beginning of my week is loaded with uke. We have the Monday concert, Tuesday practice and Wednesday lesson.

Last night’s concert went well. A breeze kept us comfortable. We played bluegrass and some patriotic music for a sort of crowd sing-a-long. I gave myself extra time to get to Hyannis. It was, after all, 4th of July weekend, but I was gobsmacked. The traffic seemed to have disappeared. I had to wait for only a single light cycle at the busiest road. I was early for the concert and hung around chatting with my fellow uke players who also gave themselves extra time, and who were also gobsmacked by the missing traffic.

Around 2 or 2:30 this morning giant bangs woke me up. The sound was so close I could even hear the sizzle from the lit firecrackers before they went off. The closest bang scared the heck out of Nala. She leapt from the floor to me on the bed and stayed close, ever alert. I swear the firecrackers were being throw into my yard. The bangs were that close. I think it had to be the neighbor behind me. I could hear some people laughing. Finally, after the loudest and closest bang, they stopped. Nala was still with me. Once the quiet started, she decided to lie down beside me, touching me, her security. That is the last thing I remember.

Yesterday I was watching the news. The police were asking for films and stills of yesterday’s shooting. The main speaker urged listeners to drop a dime and call. I have only heard that idiom used to mean snitching to the police. This speaker meant it literally. I wondered how many listeners understood what the speaker meant. I don’t even think there are pay phones still around.

Language has to change to remain relevant. Some changes are only for the minute (slight exaggeration here) while other changes make themselves at home and stay around. I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s. My parents grew up mostly in the 30’s. My every day language is a mishmash.

I learned copacetic because my mother used it. I have never cooked with gas but only literally. A dreamboat for me would be a yacht with staff. A guy who’s fast isn’t a runner. My father used to announce he was going to the can. The squares and party poopers have disappeared. I don’t get why made in the shade means what it does. Take a picture. Are you writing a book?

I could keep going but my heels are on fire.