I have only just a minute

One month of 2019 is essentially in the books!

How can that be? I could go into a full tilt panic to realize Christmas is just 11 months away!! It's fascinating to me to look back over the years and see how my concept of time has changed. I guess the lens is especially clear with the advent of retirement - and the savoring of every sweet unscheduled moment. 33 years of happy service, but oh the stark contrast of open calendars now! So to me it should naturally follow that I can slow time down appreciably.

Wrong.

It's not that I feel busy, but despite the fact of little external structure, daily self-imposed routines shepherd the moments along just as surely as a work schedule. True, they can be hijacked at a moment's notice because you are your own supervisor, but I think one would have to be in a world without people or purpose of any sort to truly rein in the moments.

The days are like incidents way, way back in my memory when we attempted to cross a brook or stream. We jumped to the first stone, wobbled and looked for the next safe landing, and the next and the next until we reached the other side. We rarely retreated, but were drawn on by the precarious position of being midstream.

And before you can say "bob's your uncle" the day is done!

I dare not mourn one single moment passing too quickly as long as I have a happy heart, healthy body and comforts of the hearth.

 Bring on life however fleeting! - and frigid at the moment!

Little grains of sand

When I taught Literature to Grades 8-11 in a small fishing village in Newfoundland many years ago, it would have been hard for me to envision where those intent faces staring back at me might end up in the years to come! When we arrived at our village in the mid-60's the rest of the world was just beginning to encroach through the magic of electricity - and thus TV, of course. Before that most of their entertainment was home-grown: now the world came calling. 

I had the usual curve of bright students at the top, normal achievers, and under-achievers. One girl in Grade 9 had a particular sparkle in her eyes. She had us to dinner at her house in a nearby village and I believe we had lobster, pulled from her father's trap that morning. I sensed in that family a curiosity about the world.

Several months ago - now fifty plus years later - I discovered that girl is now the author of at least eight books, president of some worldwide motivational organization, and according to Facebook a world traveler!! I am flabbergasted! When we connected through FB she quipped that were it not for encouragement from people like me she still would be gutting fish in NFLD!

Well God bless the fish-gutters and the world travelers both - we need each of them! But it just illustrates the point that teachers never, ever know what type of soil may receive those randomly flung seeds of knowledge! And how far those who sat and listened might travel beyond their guides!

Poison ivy and bare feet

I am struck each time I get together with any of my sibs and we start reminiscing, how much it seems like we are talking about some imaginary family! It just feels so removed from the person I am now. And how delightful the story! In viewing anything from a distance you fail to see the warts and imagine only smooth, seamless surfaces. Of course there was many a skinned knee along the way! 

But reading an account of my father - whom I adore in long-range, short-range, any range you pick - of how he picked up my brother and lifted him over a stone threshold because there was poison ivy growing there and my brother was bare-footed, brought such a rush of new love for him through my veins. 

There is generalized love and then there is the straight to the heart love of a father who lifts one above the poison ivy of life.

no problem

Oh the blessed relief of a doctor's pronouncement that a skin discoloration you had agonized about for weeks, was just fine! A plague on that age-old conundrum of worrying without verification. Do we really think things are going to "go away" on their own? Well, in truth, some things do, but I have to constantly preach to myself, if that little ailment is just hanging around, bite the bullet and get it tended to - be it teeth, skin, aches, pains, palpitations! I can talk myself out of them all! But finally there comes a day! 

And in light of the times that unexpected real horrors pop up out of nowhere, give thanks for the strawmen that we created who are destroyed with a kindly smile.

ammendment

My friend
once
drew 
harsh,
red,
sand lines 
about
abortion,
homosexuality,
transgender issues.
divorce,
etc.

Until 
death
came
knocking,
on her family door.

Now
her aching heart
is
ajar.

Black
and
white
merged gray,
because 
Life is
too winged
for
never.

the light of mine

The good lord knows I love candles!

Candles automatically mellow my mind. I love the flicker of drafts, I love the smoke, I love the waxy puddles, but most of all I love the sense of light. A flick of a match and you have created light! What was previously ambient light from electrical fixtures or sunlight is now an intensified flame of warmth - physical and spiritual.

We have always burned lots of candles in our homes wherever we are, and not just at holidays, but the day by days. Candles bring that inexpressible softening to a dinner table, bedroom, bathroom, easy chair table. Dancing life in the midst of systems.

In this present world where the systems seem so muddled and despair so imminent, I will light my candle. I won't change the world, but my heart will sing a small song. 

And who knows, more people might join in the chorus!

blow the man down!

This is a day for the "fisherman's horn" to blow! 

I think I've written before about the transom on the front door of my childhood home that had some crack in it - or at least a space for the wind to elbow in on a really blustery day and set off a racket! In some ways it reminded me of an eerie foghorn at sea. It certainly got our attention as kids! I can't remember the first time it blew of course, but I do know that no matter how old I got in that house and heard the blow, my imagination soared! In my current house I hung a windchime outside my bedroom window ages ago and while it is getting a tinkling workout these days, it is but a weak emulation of the transom of old.

 Wind is a magical thing! As I age - though I love it still - to me wind is the most feared of all the elements. True, snow/rain/sleet/fog can cause as lot of havoc depended on your location at the time. But if you are home, safe and sound, and all those elements fall upon you, it's not a crisis. Whereas, the constant roar of the wind these past two days is truly ominous, inside and out. 

Man proposes - but the powerful, prowl of wind disposes.

a toast to Mary Oliver

With much sadness I read of her passing and will now hoard and treasure even more the words that fell from her bountiful mind.

Just one small sample which I adore -

"Whoever you are, no matter
how lonely,
the world offers itself to your 
imagination, 
calls to  you like the wild geese,
harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing 
your place
in the family of things."

Rest in peace, dear heart.

Bonus across and down

My crossword contained a term "troy ounce" this morning and once again I was scrambling for a definition! I discovered that it was a pharmaceutical measure- who knew! My thoughts turned to how each profession has its unique vocabulary and when reared within those walls, the terms are bread and butter - to an outsider, complete bafflement.

But for that matter - my morning crossword took me to Senegal, Eritrea, Cozumel, Oneonta as well. And I relearned info about Lenya Lotte, Alan Alda, and Ajax! You can well ask, will I retain it all and probably the answer is no! But for the moment my sleep-sated mind was flushed with new words, places, ideas, and images.

What a fabulous way to begin the day!

the queen's undies

I was watching the PBS special on Queen Victoria as the curators attempted to recreate her wedding dress by studying royal underwear of the time and following the lines. To me, that was a snapshot of how the monarchy is a thing of the past!

Just to think of someone trying to recreate anything from today's underwear is such a giant leap beyond reality as to be incomprehensible! In Victoria's day, the undergarments followed the lines of the outerwear precisely. Just so, the form of the government followed step by step to the lowest levels of the kingdom. Such order, such precision! Mind you, at the bottom of the hierarchy, they were lucky to have a job - or underwear!!

To me, the pomp and circumstance of Great Britain while lovely to behold and fascinating to break down to the most minute detail, in reality has very little relevance to today's world. Witness the chaos of Teresa May's world!

On the other hand, I'm not dismissing grandeur! Right now, I would love to lift my eyes to anything about our current tawdry government to anything grand.

different times, different strokes

How did we survive childhood without any of today's protection?

We didn't bathe daily (in a tub). We didn't floss our teeth. We didn't use sunblock. We didn't wear sunglasses. We didn't take vitamins. We didn't take pills on a daily basis of any kind, except for my mother's eternal fix for everything was, "take an aspirin"! We didn't use seatbelts. We didn't wear helmets when biking, knee pads or protective gear of any kind in contact sports. We skated in skirts!

We ate fatty things non-stop, rich desserts, sugary pickled salads and relishes, and fried foods and gravy won the day! We snacked on chips, pretzels and crackers with abandon. Meat and potatoes were our mainstay diet. Everything was laced with liberal infusions of salt and sugar.

But on the balance sheet we had fresh air, fresh vegetables, good water, doctor/dentist appointments as needed. We had endless hours of play with family and community. We awoke safe and happy and content.

And yes, of course we had our share of childhood illnesses - mumps, measles, chicken pox - I had whooping cough at five months! Plus throw in colds and flus aplenty. But basically we were healthy and very few broken bones among the 5 of us children my entire childhood.

Yet, we couldn't begin to replicate that life-style now! I would be horrified at every turn!

How did I arrive at this place -literally and culturally?!

Snow!

Finally a snowstorm that wasn't embroidered with work anxiety! This is the first time since retirement and it was a lovely change of pace. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! And it did! Last night looking out on the falling snow shining through the porch lights I marveled again at the magic of snowfall. 

What is it about snow that is so joyful to me? I have had horrible driving experiences in snow and ice that make me shudder to remember... but that's not what springs to mind. I recall the sledding, the snow angels, the forts, the snowball battles, the mittens, the cold-reddened cheeks, the drift scaling - the outgoing fun. 

But more than that I remember the drawing-in-and together aspect of the snow. As a child it meant gathering for jigsaw puzzles and games and special taste treats. The softening cloud of white outside meant cuddling inside after the play, and relaxing in the safety and comfort of home.

Snow slows the world. 

The welcome mat is out!

weather wave

Last night about the time the President was on the air, and I was deep into a TCM offering in complete avoidance of our current unbearable politics, Nature offered a declaration of its own. Above the seclusion of my headphones I heard a roar. First I thought, plane, and as it continued I realized it was wind and rushed down to the front door to watch. In the darkness, my street bent to the wind and then the pound of rain, making all other thoughts halt! The fury of it for a few minutes stopped my breath. I saw two neighbors, late dog-walking, scrambling for home, completely soaked. I watched until it eased.

Back to my chair, and the escape of theater I realized again how utterly defenseless we are against natural forces. We think we have such control until we catch a glimpse of how fragile our grip really is. 

We can prepare for and clean up after, but the storms will come and go despite our best efforts. I guess it makes sense to relax and ride the wave. Once I was on a raft, fairly far out in the ocean and caught a big wave just right and sailed all the way to the beach and to the foot of the lifeguard's stand!

Best possible Life outcome!

the mail

Growing up, we got our physical mail delivered, six days a week, in a gray metal box with a red flag, that was staked into the ground across a busy two-lane highway. It was always high adventure to brave the traffic and slip over to find whatever daily treasures may come our way, mind you as a child the treasures were few and far between! 

I do remember at some point in my "writing career", let's say age 10, I began sending entries to "Life in These United States" - a section in Reader's Digest that featured humorous true happenings that readers sent in and got paid $50 for each entry printed. From that vantage in life I thought I had a lot to offer RD!! So I would faithfully write up the hilarious incidents - and I do mean "write" so imagine the tip-off to the editors! And after I would send them, the wait for the mail began - because obviously I had already spent the fifty bucks! Sadly, I waited in vain.

But, in addition to bills and advertisements,  the gray mailbox provided lifelines to parents lonely for their college children, love letters for adolescent teens, birthday greetings all up and down the age spectrum as well as invitations to weddings, parties, Stanley products demonstrations, graduations - the whole of life funneled through that narrow metal box.

Such a small, once-a-day passage compared to the avalanche of communication that now spews out in our palms wherever we are, every second of our 24/7 existence!

birthday parties

I guess I'm always astonished over the hoopla about birthdays these days - particularly children's'. The competition to have the bigger and better theme parties leaves me cold.

When we were growing up, I think we got a small gift - usually a clothing item and possibly a card or two in the mail. But I never remember a birthday party of any kind. What I do remember is a cake and candles at the supper table. After the song, the cake was cut and the candles divvied out to the individual slice and relit. The battle was on to see who could keep their candle lit the longest - yes, a complete invitation to dessert chaos!

But that's the highlight memory of childhood birthdays - no big fuss, monetary or otherwise, of any kind. 

I have to wonder if after the present day avalanche of princess, pirate, Star-Wars, magician, cowboy, etc., parties and all the gifts, food, decorations, what is achieved? 

Perhaps the simple beauty of a happy place at the family table was the most amazing birthday  celebration a child could be given after all.

I tie up the memory with a big red bow.

Em Oi Restaurant

Vietnamese cuisine - um, um!

When we learned of a new restaurant opening up near us, last night seemed as good a night as any to give it a test run.

Simply delicious.

I had a sizzling platter of catfish, sautéed scallions, vermicelli noodles, peanuts, lime, hot peppers and mint plus of course the every present nuoc mam. My mouth is watering just writing the words!

I guess every time I leave an ethnic restaurant I wonder why so much of our eating is so bland, heavy, excessive and unimaginative!

Vive la difference!

off the shelf

Speaking of resolutions - who the heck was? - I had decided a while before the new year began, that I would begin using my "good china" rather than just having it sit, prettily on show, in a lighted case. Good china sounds way more grandiose than it is, but I do have some nice things that I rarely use. I have begun with teacups. Each morning's coffee or tea now resides beautifully in some cup of history. This morning I drank from an ornate rose cup that I can't even guess how old it is because I got it from the bounty of my sister-in-law's possessions after her death. I loved her; I love drinking from the cup she once used. To me, using these items that are passed down from generations before is drinking from the family well - pure, sweet, cooling draughts of history.

Resolutions always have the scent of white paste to me! I remember like it was yesterday, standing in front of the newly unlocked cupboard in the back of the schoolroom, oiled floors wafting their own particular scent, and Mrs. Miller handing out fresh tablets, like God on the first day of Creation! What lofty ambitions I had - how beautifully I would write, how neatly I would cipher (is that even a word anymore in this context?) I must inject I just looked up the word cipher and the second definition is" cipher: do arithmetic (archaic)"!!! Wow, does that make my day!

But back to the fresh, pure tablets. Be they tablets, journals, notebooks - fresh pages conjure up possibility to me. What profound thing might I record for future generations? Now, as opposed to the mere five years old I was when I got my first tablet, I understand that all the "profound" things I wrote over the years, at some point will get dumped when the first big downsizing begins!

But never mind, there is still the blossoming value of process. Any muscle unused gets flabby: the mind is no exception. If you don't believe it, try sitting down and writing a letter to someone. My hand physically cramps, the spelling of words - well, that's downright frightening! This spell check thing is subterfuge!! When I was writing Christmas cards, I had to ponder over words that should have flowed like the Conestoga! My grade school teachers' tongues would be clicking.

Yes, I know it's all part of the aging process, but it's also part of the process of beginning life in a two roomed schoolhouse and closing out my time in Windows 10! Still, the little pig-tailed girl in me stands in awe at being handed a new year, a new tablet of possibilities. I give thanks.