Posted tagged ‘uninviting’

“We are all living history, and it’s hard to say now what will be important in the future. One thing’s certain, though: if we throw it away, it’s gone.”

January 21, 2017

Today is damp and dark, uninviting. I want to do nothing. I doubt I’ll get dressed. Thus far this morning I have brushed my teeth, made coffee and read two newspapers. I am back to binging on Star Trek Voyager. I am also streaming the Women’s March. I didn’t watch the inauguration.

When I was in the eighth grade, John Kennedy was elected president. That campaign was the first time I ever had any interest in politics. A small Kennedy for President store front opened right next to Santoro’s Sub Shop. Posters were in the window. I remember going inside and getting buttons and pins. I wore them on my coat for the whole campaign. Afterwards, I put them on the bulletin board in my room. They stayed there. When I bought this house, my mother brought the board down to me. It had been in stasis since I’d left for Ghana. I was thrilled to find so many pieces of my childhood still pinned to that board. My favorite find, though, was a Kennedy for President pin with his picture on it and a larger pin which said If I were twenty-one I would vote for Kennedy. They are now on display in a frame with other buttons from other campaigns. My McGovern-Eagleton pin is there as is my Returned Peace Corps for McGovern-Shriver. Every button in that display is a historical record of my politics from 1960 to 1984 and Gary Hart.

I still have a bulletin board. It is cork, not the pink material board which hung for so long in my room. It is filled with both old and new ephemera. A chocolate Golden Tree wrapper from Ghana hangs there. There is a picture of my mother and all of us together in Colorado and one of me with my Ghanaian students from my first visit back. There is a home-made valentine I gave to my mother when I was young. She found it and brought it to me. There is a Mard-Gras mask hanging from a corner of the board. From the other top corner all the ID’s I’ve had for a variety of events are hanging. This bulletin board is also a historical record, more recent but no less interesting.

Today is a day for mac and cheese.

“To sit alone in the lamplight with a book spread out before you, and hold intimate converse with men of unseen generations — such is a pleasure beyond compare.”

September 11, 2015

The rain fell and kept falling. It rained all day and most of the night. The morning is dark and has that damp chill which sometimes follows rain. The day is uninviting. Everything is still wet. The breeze is enough to blow the branches on the oak trees, and once in a while I can hear the swishing sound leaves make. Other than that the day is quiet.

In school, on days like today, the room was especially quiet. It was as if the darkness had spread a pall on all of us. I remember the sounds of papers being passed up and down rows. I remember heads bent over worksheets and the sounds of our pencils scratching across the papers and up and down. The nun used to sit at her desk sometimes working, sometimes just staring, maybe even daydreaming. None of us even whispered. We didn’t want to disturb the day.

When I got home from school, I had to change out of my school clothes. Most times I’d wear my play clothes, but on days like today I’d put on my pajamas and lie in bed and read. That last one was my favorite. I would grab my latest book, my Nancy or my Trixie Belden, and get comfy under the covers. The lamp on my headboard was the only light and it shined directly on the page. It was wonderfully cozy.

There is still a lamp on my headboard, but it took me a while to find one. When I was a kid, the lamps were plastic and pink. Mine used to melt when I read under the covers. The one I have now is white and the plastic is covered by fabric. It has a Victorian look about it.

I keep a stack of books by my bed because I still love getting cozy under the covers. Most times I read myself to sleep.