Running Down a Dream: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
Posted July 27, 2025 by katryCategories: Video
”The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets.”
Posted July 27, 2025 by katryCategories: Musings
Tags: biking, travel, \exploring
I feel lazy today. I haven’t yet gotten dressed. I made the coffee, read the paper, talked to my sister in Colorado, had another cup of coffee and finally got down to writing. That brings me to now.
Today is uninviting, a bleak day with a grey sky threatening rain. It is in the low 70’s, but a strong breeze makes it feel colder. My house is dark. I’ve left the lights off. It is also quiet, almost as if no one lives here. The dogs are napping, Henry upstairs and Nala beside me on the couch. My mood is somber, reflecting the day.
When I was a kid, I always went to mass. I feared mortal sin. I didn’t want my soul to look like the black milk bottle in my catechism. My church clothes, not to be confused with my school clothes or my play clothes, were always the same, a dress or skirt, good shoes and a hat. I carried my missal. It gave me something to read. Back then, the mass was in Latin with Latin responses. The priest faced the altar and had his back to us. I always felt a bit detached.
When I was out on my bike, my mother never knew where I was. Even if she had asked, I could never had told her where I’d be. I usually didn’t know myself. I had many different routes. I remember riding by the golf course and looking for and finding balls in the gutters and on the lawns of houses across the street. Two different directions led to other towns, one had the lake while the other had the trains. I could ride to the zoo. I’d put my bike in the bike stand and check out all the cages. Back then, the zoo had an elephant and a kiddy zoo where the animals were in scenes from nursery rhymes like the clock in Hickory Dickory Dock, the old lady’s shoe and Humpty Dumpty on his wall. At the end of the zoo were picnic tables. If I had brought my lunch, I’d sit there.
I’d check out Spot Pond. It is by the zoo. It was a reservoir which meant no trespassing at all. I always imagined a Huck Finn raft with me sneaking to the island with food and shelter and hiding there to camp. The water always looked so inviting. Now, you can fish for bass and bluegill and rent boats like canoes and kayaks, but you still can’t swim there.
My bike took me everywhere, even once to East Boston to visit my grandparents. My bike made my world so much bigger. I was an explorer.
“If you give bad food to your stomach, it drums for you to dance.”
Posted July 26, 2025 by katryCategories: Musings
Tags: Ghana, Hausa, Peace Corps training, plantain, Winneba
I am running out of adjectives to describe the beauty of these summer days. This morning is pulchritudinous ( straight from Roget). A few clouds share a cornflower colored sky. It is cool at 74°. I can feel a strong breeze on my back from the north facing window. It is morning nap time for the dogs, not to be confused with early afternoon, late afternoon, early evening or later evening naps. Henry is always to my left and Nala to my right. We are creatures of habit, the dogs and I.
The rest of today’s blog is a bit different. I have the very first aerogram I sent home from Ghana. I thought I’d share some of it. It is dated June 30, 1969, my first full day in Ghana. We had arrived in Accra at 11 the morning before. We went through all of the official airport stops then drank a welcoming toast given by Ghanaian officials. We rode the busses to Winneba down coast where we would be staying for two weeks. I slept much of that ride.
In Winneba they gave us 30 cedis, our spending money for those two weeks, and then gave us a welcoming lunch: deviled eggs, a bottle of Star beer, a tomato-onion mix and some meat on a stick. We were entertained by villagers playing drums and dancing highlife, a truly Ghanaian dance. We walked to the beach where the waves were tremendous. We were warned about dangerous undertows. Later in the week, one of our language instructors drowned. What was a surprise as I was reading this letter was how much I described the food. It must have made a big impression. Dinner that first night was cocoa, some kind of a stew with thick broth, beans and fish. I wrote it was pretty good which makes me laugh, so descriptive. That first day after breakfast, eggs and toast and juice, we walked through town and met the chief of Winneba.
Next I wrote about how friendly the Ghanaians were. They knew we were part of Peace Corps. In town we were met with handshakes and hellos and many stopped to talk. I’m sure you are eager to know about lunch. Here are my exact words: for lunch we had plantain and a second dish I described as looking like matted seaweed and barf. It was made from leaves, palm oil, fish and a few other ingredients I didn’t name. I said if I closed my eyes it didn’t taste as bad as it looked.
In one paragraph I described how beautiful Ghana is with all its greenery and a beach lined with palm trees. I wrote about how I heard drums from one of the houses and how amazing the sound was. Somehow, though, I missed describing dinner.
The rest of the aerogram describes that first week, the meetings, the language training, the shots, and an hour by hour schedule of my day. I’ll save that for another day, but I do want to leave you with this: “Now I look around and find it really difficult to believe I am actually in Ghana, in Africa. Everything is so different but becoming so usual. I can’t wait for more.”
She wata rana (goodbye in Hausa, the language I learned)!


