Posted tagged ‘summer ritual’

“Cursive writing does not mean what I think it does.”

May 29, 2014

The house was cold this morning at 63˚. I wanted to stay cozy and warm under the comforter, but Gracie got up and didn’t come back so I knew she wanted out. I groused, put on my sweatshirt and my slippers, the ones with the holes in the toes, and came downstairs. Gracie went out and I forgave her after my first sip of coffee.

When I was a kid, our back screen door was wooden. It was dark green around the outside edges. My mother constantly yelled at us not to slam the door on our way out. We never did. It just closed that way on its own. She didn’t buy it. “You could hold it and close it,” was her answer,  a typical parent’s answer because no self-respecting kid was ever going to stop, hold the door and gently close it. We certainly never did and the door kept slamming and she kept yelling. I thought of it as a summer ritual.

I always checked the coin holder on every public telephone. Sometimes I’d find a dime, a wealth of money. I also used to pick up glass bottles and turn them in for pennies. Even pennies had value back then. I never hunted for the bottles, but if I saw one, I’d carry it to the store. The shopman would open the huge cash register, the one with the round metal keys and the ching sound, and get my pennies. I liked it when my pocket jingled. It made me feel wealthy.

The first phone I remember had finger holes for the dialing with numbers and letters. You turned the dial all the way until your finger stopped then you let go and the dial returned to the beginning and then you entered the second letter or another number. The dial made a great clicking sound on its return trip. Our phone number started with ST 6, and that was the start of every phone number in town. We had a party line and had to listen to the rings to figure out if the call was ours or Mrs. McGaffigan’s.

My local school district made the paper when it said that cursive writing would remain a part of the curriculum. It seems many schools no longer teach it. When I was a kid, I swear every classroom in America had the alphabet, those cards from A to Z, posted one after the other over the chalk board. Each card held one capital and one small letter in cursive. I always liked Z, both capital and small. X was another favorite which may yet become the most used letter in the alphabet. Sign your X next to the dotted line.

“Squirrel, I am a threat to you! We are enemies! Please get off my bench! Oh, god! Oh, god! Don’t touch me—oh, god!”

June 10, 2013

The morning has been a busy one already. I woke so early I was able to read both papers, do another load of laundry, make my bed and go out for breakfast. When I got home, I found, to my dismay, my tranquility had disappeared and been replaced by the sounds of workmen next door who are taking down the old shingles. Hammering on the new will be next. The house certainly did need a face life. Nothing has been done to it since it was built. The house is a summer rental, and upkeep is not a priority. I would love to see the inside as I’m thinking retro 70’s.

A summer ritual will be performed today. I’m replacing the storm door in the back with the screen door. The day is already hot and hazy and a little cross air would cool the house. That door faces the south, and, in the summer, that’s the direction from which all my breezes come.

I already feel accomplished today and don’t think I’ll do much else. I have a new book to read, and it’s been a while since I just sat  and read all day. I’m thinking lounging on the couch might work perfectly.

A long while back I bought Converse high top sneakers in a variety of colors. I know I have pink and purple pairs. It might just be time to start wearing them again. I have reached that age when wearing whatever I want will cause no stir. People will look, see that I am older and just accept what I’m wearing as the vagaries of older age. I think it’s a perk. Most times I don’t go anywhere which requires a certain dress. Putting on a blouse or a shirt is dressing up for me. I spent too many years in dresses, panty hose and fancy but sensible shoes. Now I want comfort, just comfort.

I have so many t-shirts. Some are souvenirs my friends brought back or I bought on one of my adventures. Some are TV shows like M.A.S.H. and Hill Street Blues. A few are music groups, and I even have a Pete Seeger. Some others are ads and were free t-shirts. I have two favorites. One says, “Let’s eat grandma! Let’s eat, grandma. Punctuation saves lives.” The other has to do with the spawns. It says, “I have reason to believe the squirrels are mocking me.” Truer words were never written!