Posted tagged ‘peanuts’

“You have to accept the fact that sometimes you are the pigeon, and sometimes you are the statue.”

May 2, 2015

Cold again but sunny-the weather is in a rut.

The red spawn can fly. Yesterday I noticed he was at a different feeder and was sitting and dining al fresco on the backside so he couldn’t see me. I could see only his tail hanging below the feeder. I went slowly across the deck making no noise so he couldn’t hear me. When I got to the feeder, I was so close I could have touched him. His eyes got huge when he saw me and realized he was stuck. I was by the rail, his usual escape route. I stamped my foot to scare him, and he jumped off the feeder and sort of flew to the ground, two stories below. He landed on all fours then ran to the back part of the yard. Sadly, yesterday’s experience will have no affect on that spawn. He’ll be back. I just know he will.

When I was a little kid, feeding the squirrels on Boston Common was exciting. My dad would buy a couple of bags of peanuts and give us each some. I’d shell a few then I’d toss them. A stampede always ensued. Several of the grey squirrels would scurry over, stand in front of me, some on hind legs, and wait for a handout. I thought it was kind of neat to have wildlife so close to me, almost eating out of my hand. I swear the squirrels living on the Common had to waddle from place to place because they were so well fed.

I remember London and Trafalgar Square and the pigeons. My dad and I went touring a bit by ourselves one afternoon. I don’t remember where my mother was. We bought some seed, and the birds attacked. I swear they were Hitchcock extras, hungry and out of work. They jumped on our hands, shoulders and even our heads. I threw the seeds. My dad held on to his, and he was soon covered in pigeons. They were flying around him, and I took pictures. He was laughing in every picture. When he was finally out of seed, we sat on a bench for a bit and concocted a plan. We’d get my mother there, act innocent and have her hold some seeds in her outstretched hands. We did, and the pigeons attacked. I took pictures, great pictures of flapping wings circling around my mother. She was screaming as the birds settled on her head and shoulders. We yelled for her to save herself and throw the seeds. My mother was really upset. This was her first attack by birds. My dad and I acted innocent and solicitous, but I suspected she knew.

I took slides back then and we always had a slide night a month or two later. The pigeons pictures were hysterical, even my mother had to laugh.

“Baseball, it is said, is only a game. True. And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona.”

July 20, 2013

Unless they are all part of a vast conspiracy, the weather people are in agreement that today is it for this heat wave. Starting tomorrow, we can leave our caves and go outside to see the world. We can stop thinking we are all extras in an end of the world movie.

I remember the old days when you could buy the best seats in Fenway Park on game day. As kids, we took a bus and then the subway to Fenway to sit in the cheap bleacher seats for a Saturday afternoon game. In those days, there were a lot of afternoon games. My first night game was when I was 13 or 14. I’ll never forget how beautiful Fenway Park looked under the lights. The grass didn’t even look real. When I was in college, I went to many early season games, before college ended for the year and I had to go back home to the cape. Most of the games I saw were in May. My friend, who always got free tickets from his father, used to bring a picnic lunch his mother had packed for us. There were sandwiches, sweet and sour cucumbers, sliced carrots and always cookies for dessert. We had great seats every game: close to the field and to the Red Sox dugout. The park back then was never full or even half full. The Red Sox were not a big draw. They seldom ranked high in the standings, fourth was a good year, but I didn’t care. I loved baseball, and the Red Sox were my team.

It is really true that hot dogs taste better at ball parks. “Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks,”  is still true for peanuts in the shell. I love the odd shapes of those shells, and how if you’re lucky you might just find one with three peanuts. The key, though, is cracking them without losing a peanut. As for other ball park food, I’m also partial to sausages with fried peppers and onions in a roll. As for drinking, I’m not a beer drinker which is probably sacrilege at the park, but a diet Coke works just fine for me.

Most years I take in a game or two. This year I haven’t been to one yet. I feel deprived. I’m thinking sometime in September when the weather is perfect for baseball. Go Red Sox! Hang in there. I’m coming!!

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