Posted tagged ‘Discovery’

“It’s the unknown that draws people.”

February 14, 2015

When I first woke up, it was 7 o’clock, and I could see sun and blue sky outside my window. I smiled, turned over and went back to sleep. The second time I awakened it was 8:30. The sun was gone as was the blue. Today is now like all the other days: grey and cold and uninviting. The snow will start tonight and come in waves. The biggest wave is due tomorrow.

Now where would I be if I could be somewhere else? Much as I love Ghana, the 100˚+ degrees is just our weather turned inside out. Back to Morocco is a possibility. It is winter there but a sweater is enough. I remember the colors in the spice market, the aromas of meat cooking and glasses of mint tea. Colorful rugs hung from balconies. Cranes nested. Okay, Morocco is definitely on the list, but then again perhaps it should be where I haven’t been. I love exploring new places and being by myself never matters. All of the sights and sounds become fodder for my journal, my hand written journal. The markets are for losing myself, for following unfamiliar paths. They are the places for discovery. That restaurant in Marrakech in a garden at the back of the furniture store is one of favorite finds, but I had help. A small boy led me there.

Asia comes to mind. I want off the beaten path, maybe Laos, Nepal or Myanmar if it gets its act together.

My family worries when I travel alone, but they don’t share that with me. They know I’d pooh-pooh the notion. My brother-in-law was the designated rescuer when I was in Morocco. He would fly there and accompany me and my injuries home. They were thinking broken leg. I didn’t even get a scratch.

I don’t ever mind getting lost as there are discoveries to unearth and I know I’ll always find my way.

“You must pursue this investigation of Watergate even if it leads to the president. I’m innocent. You’ve got to believe I’m innocent. If you don’t, take my job.”

April 25, 2013

Yesterday was a stay home and do stuff day. All the chores I’ve been putting off got done. When I had finished, I wanted the feat extolled, but alas and alack, I celebrated alone.

Last night I went upstairs at ten, read until 11:30 and slept until 9. It was the sleep of the dead, a check with a mirror to see if she’s alive sort of sleep. Fern and Gracie were my companions, and they slept right in with me. They’re even back to sleep now. Only Maddie and I are awake.

The morning is cloudy. The paper said 61˚ and sunny to partly sunny for today’s weather. I’m not optimistic. Yesterday it was cloudy the whole day. I went outside and filled the feeders, including the suet feeders. Luckily it was fairly warm though damp from all the rain. Today the birds are enjoying a good breakfast. I watched while the coffee was dripping. The male goldfinches are beautiful. They hang onto the new suet feeders, and I have the best view from the kitchen window. A flicker dropped by, and my usuals are in and out. I noticed the deck needs a good cleaning. The birds are not circumspect as to where they leave their droppings. The rail is dappled.

Last week, I watched “All the President’s Men Revisited,” and I was riveted. I remember the summer when the Watergate hearings held my attention every day. I was wan and pale from staying inside watching TV. I read an article the other day which said that the memory of Watergate is fading. “For measuring distance, we in 2013 are now farther away from the events portrayed in “All the President’s Men” than the film “Bonnie and Clyde” was from the real Bonnie and Clyde.” That floored me. I remember everything. My favorite memory is when the committee first heard of the tapes. It was a wow moment for them and for me. I remember John Dean’s wife sitting behind him every day as he testified and helped unravel a presidency. The Saturday Night Massacre made Richardson and Ruckelshaus heroes to me.

I remember the Woodward book and the movie which is still one of my all time favorites. The scene at the Library Of Congress still awes me. Woodward and Bernstein are at a table going files that list all the books the White House had requested. The camera starts to rise until the men are just specks. I also love the noise of the typewriters and the phones in the Washington Post newsroom. The movie is a whodunit, and though I already knew the answer, I watched wide-eyed.

“All the President’s Men Revisited” was on Discovery and was one of the quickest two hours of television that I can remember. Toward the end of the program Ben Stein, who is shown in footage as a young staffer at Nixon’s farewell to his staff, said, “It’s really sad. I don’t think any president has been more persecuted than Nixon. I think he was a saint.” Then he broke down and cried. My first reaction was to think how ridiculous to cry over Nixon and call him a saint. We all know what he did. Later I was thinking about Stein and decided I was wrong to ridicule. Those are his memories, and he has every right to cry.