January '23 Book List

Only seven books for the first month of 2023. That very one at the bottom of this first pile might have had something to do with the low number. 

City of Fortune is book #6 in Victoria Thompson's Counterfeit Lady series. These are fun little mysteries.

Our Missing Hearts is the second book I've read by Celeste Ng. I did not like it as well as her 'Little Fires Everywhere'. It was too disturbingly close to what is and has been happening in our country the past few years.

The Next Accident is #3 in Lisa Gardner's FBI Profiler series. I've read these slightly out of order but they are all very good reads. 

The Ink Black Heart by Robert Galbraith (J. K. Rowling) is the sixth in her Cormoran Strike series. I love the characters and the storyline of these books. There are 1024 pages in this book and I read every one. 😋

A World of Curiosities by Louise Penny is her eighteenth book featuring Inspector Armand Gamache. I love this series so much and now have been enjoying watching the Amazon Prime series, Three Pines, based on the books. I got smart this time and had my name put on the list to be one of the first to read this book instead of waiting for months for 'my turn'. 

Touch & Go and Crash & Burn are books #2 and #3 in the Tessa Leoni series by Lisa Gardner. Many of her characters overlap from one series to another which make them more interesting, I think. I will soon have read my way through all the books our library has by Gardner and have to find another 'new' author to follow. 

February is our 'short' month, less time to read, but I'm thinking I'll probably have a longer list of books read. Unless I check out another of those 'heavy reading' ones.

On another note: You may have noticed that I managed to post a blog spot every day in January. No, it was not a New Year's resolution. I've done it in other months from time to time. It is just a notion I take to try and post every day. Then I start thinking, "Who cares?" and quit trying. I am giving myself permission to do whatever feels right in February at the same time thinking I need to spend more time exercising and cleaning (a form of exercise?) than blogging.

So much to do, so little time. 

I hope you celebrate the month of Love, not just Valentine's Day and your sweetheart, but with some self care and connecting with friends and family. And may reading be part of that loving yourself. 💖

Escaping On The Black Dragon

Yesterday, in those wee morning hours my eldest and I seem to habituate, I received this FB message from him: "And it came to pass in her 21st year, that she constructed a bridge. Not merely to ford the small brook, but to escape the gloom that had set upon her and the paper lion.

But, alas it was a trick, set out by the witch, for she had strewn thorns along its path, and she was hobbled by them.

They had to escape on the black dragon, instead."

Every once in a while Douglas sends me one of his poems. So my first thought was that this was one of those. But I pondered its meaning for a few minutes before replying. I was getting the hint of a memory from his childhood.

"Is this about those planks I put across that ditch east of the house at the Odell place? The one where I stepped on that nail and had to have so many penicillin shots that I developed a rash and now can't have penicillin? And we took the black Plymouth to the Dr. almost every day? That 21st year? How do you even remember this? I love you sweetie."

In my 21st year, Douglas would have been three years old - about the age he was in this picture of him and my Dad, his Grandpa Louis, holding a big fish. I'm surprised he remembers much from that age.

My bridge building was going to be the first step in creating a new area for a shade garden. It never got any farther than those planks and that rusty nail. In addition to the penicillin, of course I had to have a tetanus shot.

And this is the black dragon we escaped on (in). Dougie and I had many adventures in the '57 Plymouth Belvedere. He wasn't just my little boy, he was my co-conspirator, my confidant, my co-pilot, my reason for living.

In looking through previous messages I found another poem he sent me in 2019. At that time I didn't catch a couple of the references about me.

Shipwrecked Soul

Corked empty, contained the words,

If this finds you, then you'll know...

Abandoned to share the ancient scroll.

I fell into the finality of a shipwrecked soul.

Ocean sunrise, sunset, Island beauty,

So like mine tho years apart.

Perhaps adventure or a life anew.

But, in the end the bottle he threw.

Flying home, the note still haunts,

Its plea for someone to know.

The bottled letter, its gripping spell.

But who am I to tell?

I can't rid myself of the shipwrecked soul.

Nor the bottle or his note.

On the ground the first glints of snow,

If this finds you then you'll know.

Rusted wire, twisted repair,

Much like the gate across my soul.

The barbed wire doesn't stop the wind and snow.

If this finds you then you'll know.

The lines, "Ocean sunset, sunrise, Island beauty, So like mine tho years apart" is a reference to his trips to the Virgin Islands the past few years and my one trip there in 1968. The time he tried to visit The Baths at Virgin Gordo, BVI, the sea was too rough for a safe docking. It was a magical experience for me, one I trust he will know, perhaps on his next stay on St. John.

And the "rusted wire, twisted repair....

....relate to the time when he was 17 and I was 35 and took on a job of repairing a fence for the $$$ we both needed.

We've both been through alot more since then - one of the roughest when he graduated from highschool and began his own life.

I am so grateful he is my son, but even moreso that he is my friend.

Facebook Has Given and Taken Away

When I joined Facebook in 2009 it seemed like 'the best thing since sliced bread' as the saying goes. It was great to connect with friends, relatives and even strangers with like minds. But what Facebook gave in those early years it has now taken away. Sign on now and all you get are ads, articles and links to sites that FB has 'identified' for you as per your interests, etc., etc., but very few posts from the people you care about and those you have to really hunt for in order to see. 

But once in awhile I am shown things that I do find interesting. Here are three from this morning:

A guide to deciphering dessert. One person commented that they had heard of them all except for 'grunt'. I had to agree; I didn't know that one either. But, when you read the small print you can see that it is also known as a slump. That I have heard of. There might even be a recipe for it in Mom's recipe box. And Betty, a little less well known, but it was my sister's name, so, yes, I had heard of that.

Then there was a photo from The Cathedral in The Baths National Park of Virgin Gordo, British Virgin Islands. I don't have any photos of me taken there, but I still have my memories from fifty-five years ago.  From that distance this could be a photo of me. Just imagine her in a bright yellow swim suit.

Lastly was this list of 'Aging musicians still with us in 2023'. Only ten are older than I. And topping the list is one of my very, very favorites. I have loved Willie Nelson and his music for at least fifty years. And, yes, I have seen him in a live performance.

Earlier this week Facebook 'gave' me a lengthy, reprinted article about Willie's guitar, Trigger. It was interesting - how he got the guitar, how long he's had it, why he named it Trigger, etc. At first I wasn't going to read the entire piece, but I did. I even went to YouTube and listened to some of the songs mentioned that I was not familiar with. 

I've always felt a connection with Willie and his music. Then I read this little bit embedded in the article: "By 1970 he was going through all kinds of personal changes -- reading the poems of Kahlil Gibran and the prophecies of Edgar Cayce...." Me too Willie. Me too.

In My Folder of Blog Ideas

I had another one of those middle of the night blog ideas. I even let it percolate through the old noggin for awhile making sure I would remember it this morning. Yeah, I have no clue. And nothing else struck my fancy so I went to my folder titled "Blog Ideas". Nothing there either.

But, there was a name, 'Jakub Schikaneder'. It didn't ring any bells, possibly a long lost relative in the wrong folder? Google the name and find that he was a Bohemian artist born in 1855. As soon as I looked at some of his paintings I knew why I had bookmarked him - I not only save poems and poets I like, I save artists and their paintings.

Here is what Wiki says about him: "Schikaneder is known for his soft paintings of the outdoors, often lonely in mood. His paintings often feature poor and outcast figures and combined neoromantic and naturalist impulses. Other motifs favored by Schikaneder were autumn and winter, corners and alleyways in the city of Prague and the banks of the Vltava - often in the early evening light or cloaked in mist." Well no wonder I like his paintings. These are a few of those in order of favorites....

Autumn Dawn

Evening in the Garden

Weeder

Dark Path

The Sad Way

And lastly, this one, for which I couldn't find the title.

It's the figure in the doorway, the stone pathway and the moodiness of the grays that like about it, or as I usually say: "It speaks to me."

Starch - Whether In Your Clothes Or Spine

That word I mentioned yesterday that I had been chewing on in the early hours was starch. I was remembering how it was part of every Monday morning wash day routine. But for the life of me I could not remember how Mom made it. 

But I seem to remember it involved using her blue enamel water bath canner and some kind of powder.

Faultless Starch was the oldest brand that did not require lengthly boiling. It was developed in the 1880's and probably what Mom used in the 1940's.

While researching I discovered an interesting, to me, side note that from the 1890's to the 1930's, in Texas, books were attached to the boxes of starch with a rubber band. There were thirty six titles designed as a supplement or substitute for school texts and primers. 

As for how Mom made the starch, which was supposed to save 20 minutes or more of ironing time, first, one, two or three tablespoons of dry starch, depending upon how heavy she wanted it, was stirred into cool water until it was the thickness of light cream. Step 2 says to slowly add the creamy mixture to rapidly boiling water and stir constantly until it turned from milky to clear.

What it doesn't say is how much boiling water to use. I suppose Mom knew from years of experience just how much to use depending on how many pieces of clothing she needed starched.

Niagara Instant Starch was introduced in the1950's. It did not require boiling the starch which was its main benefit.

Not only was there no boiling, the instructions on the box were more complete and easy to understand. 

Ironing starched clothes worked best if they were still slightly damp. If one didn't get them off the clothesline that way, lightly sprinkling them before ironing worked. I can remember Mom sprinkling by hand, but she also had a cork bottle top sprinkler which fit into the neck of a pop bottle that we used. 

It took a lot of starch for all our dresses, skirts, blouses and the men's good dress shirts. But what I remember most about starching was trying to get my can-cans good and stiff!

Faultless introduced instant spray starch in 1960. Niagara brand is the one I mostly used. It was such an improvement over the powdered starch and came along just in time for me - after can-cans and shortly before I became a housewife. I rarely iron anything anymore, but I do have a can of spray starch in the laundry room.

By the way, that 99-cent can pictured is off ebay for sale for 'only' $8.95. 

And that mention of spine in the title of this post? Once in awhile when it seemed something was too difficult for us, Mom would say, "Get a little starch in your back". Meaning, toughen up or use more energy, or be bold. You might also "Take the starch out of someone". Which meant make them weak or unsure; lose confidence. Just another of those old sayings from childhood which still reside in my memories.

When The Universe Gives You A Sign

I already had a subject for today's post after cogitating upon a question my eclectic brain presented at 3:04 a.m. this morning. I was still planning on that until the universe gave me a sign that it was time to work that idea which has been on the back burner for a year or more.

Not too surprisingly, the hint came from today's M-W word of the day: knackered "an adjective mostly used informally in British English to mean: very tired or exhausted". Well, most days I am pretty knackered by afternoon but that isn't what I had in mind.

I was thinking of the much older noun, knacker, which originally referred to a harness or saddle maker and then to a buyer of animals no longer able to do farm work - like a team of horses. 

For that is what I have wanted to write, a poem about how my Dad might have felt when he had to sell the team that he had worked with for so many years. He had graduated to a tractor and other machinery but still kept the horses around. I remember leading one of them, the 'hay horse' to pull the bundles of hay up into the hay mow. Out and back, out and back, until the hay was stowed safely away.

This picture was taken before the knacker came to take Rex and Dolly away. I was old enough to understand that meant they were going to slaughter. I was used to the cattle and pigs being killed for food, but not horses. It was upsetting and whether Dad planned it or not, they were taken away while we were in school so we wouldn't have to see them go. 

And I remember the name of the knacker, a neighbor who I always thought of as being more dignified and prominent than the average farmer; one who held some authority like president of the Farm Bureau or something. Not the slovenly, unkempt type I imagined a knacker to be. Once again I should query my older brother for his memories of the man.

Before the Knacker Came

He hung the harnesses on the pegs

Put hay in the mangers 

And oats in the feed boxes 

Currycombed their hides

Gave a few last pats along their sides

Turned to thoughts of all the years

Whether in sun, rain or snow 

How this faithful team kept going

And for a man who never cried

Wiped tears from his eyes.

Of Laughing Eyes and Simple Ways

Today is my Mother's birthday. She was born 104 years ago today. I was going to search for a poem for her, but as I poured my first cup of coffee, Elvis' song, Memories, came to mind. So here is a picture of Mom with her sisters and a little cousin. (Mom Ruth on the left, younger sister, Lois, middle, older sister Evelyn, right.)

Memories (Written by Mac Davis and Billy Strange)

Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind,

Memories, sweetened through the ages just like wine

Quiet thoughts come floating down, and settle softly to the ground

Like golden autumn leaves around my feet

I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories.

Of holding hands and red bouquets

And twilight trimmed in purple haze

And laughing eyes and simple ways

And quiet nights and gentle days with you

Memories, sweet memories

So many sweet memories of mom. She was a woman with laughing eyes and simple ways. 💖

When It Smells Good Enough To Eat

Usually when we say something smells good enough to eat, it really is - like the pork loin roast I slow cooked in the oven yesterday. It was so good. The aroma was tantalizing and the meat was very tender. Other times we might hear it said about food that it looks good enough to eat. That can happen when food is so artfully pleasing to the eyes, that you might wonder how it will taste.

And then there are times "when it smells good enough to eat" - but isn't. For me, that can happen when a perfume/cologne has a citrus base, orange and lemon are favorites, or, more often, sugary/vanilla overtones. When I was young my favorite scent was Blue Waltz - a very definite vanilla aroma. I remember Mom telling me that when she was my age that girls would dab actual vanilla extract behind their ears. 

Lately around here, two new products have entered our household that cause me to say, "Mmm, it/you smell good enough to eat". That is the new foot cream Bud has started using. It's ingredients are listed as epsom salt, shea butter, aloe vera and vitamin E, none of which provide me with a clue to its actual smell. The best definition I have found for it is "a woodsy scent with notes of musk and incense". Another describes it as "a pleasantly subtle buttery and green scent". However it is described, I'm about ready to taste it.

When I finally used up my last bottle of conditioner, which I liked, but was no longer available at about the only place we have to shop, I googled "best conditioner for fine hair available at Walmart". The one I decided on was OGX thick & full, biotin & collagen conditoner. But I had to take a sniff of it before I bought it because there are some fragrances I just can't stand. But it smelled good. I haven't been disappointed in its aroma or performance. The only problem I have is getting it out of the bottle but that's because of the arthritis in my hands. The aroma is described as "bergamot, jasmine and vanilla". No wonder I like it, although Bud hasn't said anything about its smell....

Cause I'm A Woman

"Cause I'm a woman...

I can bring home the bacon; fry it up in a pan and never let you forget you're a man."

Oh, how that Enjoli perfume commercial from 1979 spoke to me. I was a "working woman", single mom, living on an acreage, growing a big garden, doing my own car maintenance, raising pigs, etc., etc., etc. Maybe I couldn't have it all, but I sure to heck was going to try. 

The commercial, of course, was based on the Peggy Lee hit from 1963, "I'm A Woman'. She sang it with her signature sultry style. It was a favorite of mine along with her 'Fever' and 'Is That All There Is'. 

It's easy to understand where this post idea came from if you learned, as I did, that Hy-Vee was having a one day sale of Hormel Black Label bacon for $1.99!! I hadn't planned to go to the store until tomorrow, but to save five dollars on a pound* of bacon, it was a no brainer.

I can bring home the bacon, but no longer fry it in a skillet, my son-in-law taught me to bake it in the oven. I do a whole package, place it on paper towels, on top of paper plates, then slide them all into a zip lock bag. Into the freezer they go. When I want bacon, I take a slice or more out, put it in the microwave for twenty seconds and it's ready to eat. My own pre-cooked, ready to eat bacon for breakfast or BLT's. 

'Cause I'm a woman, W-O-M-A-N .....  (those lyrics will be stuck in my head all day).

(* Of course those packages of bacon aren't a pound anymore, only 12 ozs.) 😣

   

Making Short Shrift Of Today's Blog Post

My Merriam-Webster 'Word of the Day' gifted me with an idea for today's blog with a term I hadn't heard in a long time. One which immediately reminded me of my mother (and grandmothers) and all the little idioms they used. 

Short shrift - not to be confused with a short shift, which is a style of dress I wore as far back as in the 60's, means to give little or no consideration.

Or, as Mom meant it, to make quick work of something. Another saying she used, meaning much the same thing, was to give something a lick and a promise. Company was coming, we didn't have time to do a thorough cleaning so we would give it a quick dusting with a promise to do better next time.

Or, we might do things by halves (or half), meaning doing it half-heartedly or only partially.

Wondering what other old sayings might have similar meanings sent me on a search which lead me to pages and pages on the Americananiquarion.org website. There, after 25 pages of idioms, I came up with only one other that fits: "to take the will for the deed". Meaning give credit for good intentions.

I've never been a good housekeeper. Dusting was always my least favorite, not that I had a most favorite, chore. That reminds me of a poem Preston sent me a while back:

Dust If You Must by Rose Milligan

Dust if you must, but wouldn't it be better

To paint a picture, or write a letter,

Bake a cake or plant a seed;

Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must, but there's not much time,

With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;

Music to hear, and books to read;

Friends to cherish, and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world's out there

With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;

A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,

This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,

Old age will come and it's not kind.

And when you go (and go you must)

You, yourself, will make more dust.

Our overnight flutter of snow.

The term short shrift was first used by Shakespeare in his play Richard III. 

If you feel I've given short shrift or a lick and a promise to today's blog spot, now you know why.  😊

My Mother Told Me To Pick The Very Best One

"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, Catch a tiger by the toe, If he hollers let him go, Eeny, meeny, miny moe.

My mother told me, To pick the very best one, And you are [not] it." 

What child did not know this old rhyme of making a choice? I eventually learned that if you began the chant on the left you would end up with your end result being the one on the right, thereby being able to control the result you wanted. Or you could just add the word 'not' to the rhyme, which I had not heard of. 

As I got older, and wiser(?), I learned to weigh the pros and cons before making a choice. But I still  sometimes chose what I wanted instead of what was best for me. And that is how I'm making my picks for the winning teams in this weekend's NFL Divisional Playoff games - the teams I want to win, not necessarily the teams with the best records or the ones with the best odds of winning.

So, the first game today, the Jacksonville Jaguars vs. the Kansas City Chiefs. That's an easy choice, the Chiefs all the way. Not only are they the nearest team to where we live, and one of the most exciting to watch, their quarterback always looks like a kid having fun. Even when he gets hit, he gets up with that smile on his face. 

New York Giants vs. the Philadelphia Eagles is a little harder to choose and one where I might go with the odds or fall back to that childhood method. I like both teams because after years of losing more than winning, they both have been winning more this year. They deserve to be winners for a change. But when they're facing each other, I have to choose the Eagles for one reason only - my granddaughter Deise's significant other, Zach, is a huge Eagles fan. I want them to win for him. (But secretly will be okay with either team winning.)

Sunday's first game, the Cincinatti Bengals vs. the Buffalo Bills is a little harder. Both teams have garnered concern and support after their January 2nd game in Cincinnati was cancelled due to the life threatening injury of the Bill's player Damar Hamlin. Thankfully he survived and is recovering. I admire how the players and staff of both teams handled the situation and I'm glad they get to play one another after all. But I have been rooting for the Bills for some time now for the same reason as I have for the Giants and Eagles - they are a comeback team. I'm happy they're winning again. My choice - the Bills.

The Sunday evening game, Dallas Cowboys vs. San Francisco 49ers is easy to pick - 49ers baby. First, because I do not like the Cowboys at all. Second because the 49ers quarterback not only has Iowa ties - former Cyclones star quarterback - his is a true Cinderella story. Brock Purdy was Mr. Irrelevant of the 2022 draft season - i.e. chosen last. He went to the 49ers as the third string quarterback. Then their first and second string quarterbacks were injured and Purdy went in. He has been nothing but sensational. An easy pick for me.

Next Sunday this weekend's four winning teams will meet to determine the two conference champions which will then vie in the Super Bowl. Regardless of who wins those two spots, I already have a favorite in mind. All they have to do first is win today and then next weekend.

When I think about how well I understand, and enjoy, football now, my mind goes back to my highschool days and rooting for the mighty Red Raiders. I knew all the words and chanted along with the cheerleaders - "First and ten, do it again, first and ten, do it again". I did not have a clue what that meant... I've come a long way, baby. 

A New Quote Leads To A New Writer

"Writing is ... that oddest of anomolies: an intimate letter to a stranger." Pico Iyer

My first thought when I read this new-to-me quote this morning was that I would hold it until February 17 and then post it as part of a birthday greeting for/to my younger brother. And I may still do that as he is the real writer in the family having already published five books. All I was going to do with the quote today was use it as a lead in for the thoughts it inspires in me relating to my life.

But first I wanted to know a bit more about the person who wrote it - someone I had never heard of before. He is, I discovered, a well known author, best known as a travel writer and essayist. Neither of my libraries has any of his books but he has a website with many of his essays which I plan to delve into in the coming days.

For today, I'll just share a few more of his quotes that also speak to me:

"A person susceptible to "wanderlust" is not so much addicted to movement as committed to transformation."

"Serendipity was my tour guide, assisted by caprice." Hubby Dearest will like this one, he often attributed some of the best 'finds' on our trips to serendipity.

"In an age of speed, I began to think, nothing could be more invigorating than going slow. In an age of distraction, nothing can feel more luxurious than paying attention. And in an age of constant movement, nothing is more urgent than sitting still."

This last one is from his book The Art of Stillness: Adventures in Going Nowhere. This is probably the first book I would get. But until then, oh, I am going to enjoy reading some of those essays.

"The beauty of any first time is that it leads to a thousand others..."

A Matter of Need - Not Want

 As the child of parents who not only were sharecroppers, but grew up during the depression, there were many times I wanted something but was told I didn't 'need' it. We only got things we had to have. Therefore, some of my memories are of 'doing without', 'making do', 'use what you have' and knowing, as the Rolling Stones said: "you don't always get what you want.

My first grade year began with one or two No. 2 pencils, a box of eight crayons, probably the cheap ones, not Crayolas, and a red Big Chief writing tablet - or maybe that didn't come until second or third grade. Second grade began with whatever supplies were left from the previous year. We did not get new pencils or crayons just because it was a new grade. I honestly remember using my lead pencils until they were almost too small to hold. 

So, it may not be too surprising that some of things I 'wanted' when I was young are the things I bought for myself many years later. Like those boxes of colored pencils, the big box of 64 crayons and pencils by the dozens, not just two or three at a time. That box of 24 pencils might have been from some of stash my two youngest once had. Their dad generously took them school shopping every August. They did get new boxes of crayons, pencils, notebooks, etc. and a new backpack in which to carry them.

My thoughts this morning may have been triggered by this quote my husband posted on Facebook yesterday. I do have too much stuff. And I have been trying to rid myself of some of it. But certain things are hard for me to let go of. Like pencils, pens and notebooks. I don't 'need' them, but I 'want' them. And I can't let them go.

These are just three examples of the folders I have. The first is one of Kari's she had when she worked for InTrust Home Health in Des Moines. The middle one was given to me by an artist (and neighbor) I interviewed for an article for the Adams County Free Press. The leather one on the right obviously was once the property of one 'Harold A. Ashby'. I have no idea where I got that, probably at a garage sale. I'm sure the smudge over his name was where I once had stuck one of my business cards. There are more folders around here and inside each is a bit of what was going on in my life at the time I was using them.

All three have regular, letter size, legal pads in them - another of my coveted forms of paper. The burgundy leather one has some Mauderly family history notes written on the green paper of the legal pad. The single sheet tucked in on the left contains some of the lines from the novel I was attempting to write. 

The Terra Angelica folder has an almost pristine legal pad of white paper. Tucked into the pocket is a copy of the article I wrote for the Free Press, the title of which was Sound & Spirit. I think it was one of the best interviews, and subsequent articles, that I ever accomplished. I not only had the pleasure of hearing the interviewee playing some of his compositions, he also generously gave me copies of his CD's. 

The InTrust folder is also one I was using during my time at the local newspaper, which was the job I had when I first moved back to my hometown in 1995. Once again the legal pad is like new. The typed pages on the left are "Thoughts on Proposed Millennium Publication". It was ideas the current newspaper owner/publisher and the past paper owner/publisher were kicking around for what to do for the upcoming turn of the century. There was a list of the top stories of the 1900's and a request for people of the community to get involved sharing their own memories and thoughts of what might be included in a booklet or series of articles. By the time the millennium arrived, I had already left the Free Press. I don't remember what, if anything, was done by the paper to recognize entry into the 2000's.

Ah, but those pages laying across the folder, I do recognize. The former editor had a booklet from the Corning Academy for the year 1907. Because of my interest in history, he allowed me to photocopy it. I know I read it through at the time, but now after so many years, it is like seeing it for the first time. I can tell it is going to be incentive for some future blog posts. 

One thing I didn't find in the lists of students for the year of '07 was my grandfather George Lynam's name. Among my grandmother Bessie Lynam's photos is a picture postcard of the Corning Academy. On it she had noted, "George went here". That is something I never heard before. It's just one more thing I must remember to ask older brother Ron if he remembers ever hearing.

The Sky Has Finally Fallen

Today is National Winnie the Pooh Day for which there are many great Pooh quotes. This is just one of my favorites.

The day is celebrated on this date because it is the birthday of A. A. Milne (January 18, 1882-January 32, 1956), author of the Winnie the Pooh stories.

And much as I love Pooh Bear, his friend Eeyore is my favorite character. 

And his quote: "A little consideration, a little thought for others, makes all the difference" is my favorite quote of his.

This stuffed Eeyore was given to me by my husband several years ago. It peeks out from the pillows in the spare bedroom. 

I think Eeyore is my favorite because of his dour disposition. Or more likely because, like me, he is always thinking.

My second favorite character is Piglet - probably because I once raised piglets.

Second favorite Eeyore quote is: "The sky has finally fallen. Always knew it would."

I always thought there would be another global pandemic but I didn't think it would happen during my lifetime. And then came Covid.

And when Russia invaded Ukraine a year ago, I thought that it would lead to WWIII. So, I suppose I am perceived to be more pessimistic than an optimistic, though I believe I'm neither one nor the other. It depends on the day. Or as Eeyore might say: "It is all for naught."

                                  Happy Winnie the Pooh Day!

Toward The Summer Isle

This is the time of year when my eldest son's thoughts and desires are firmly fixed toward St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands. His wife took the above photo on one of their vacations there a few years ago. Unfortunately, he is currently recuperating from ankle surgery. 

This poem always makes me think of Doug and Shelly and their love for that area.

After the Winter by Claude McKay

Someday, when trees have shed their leaves

     And against the morning's white

The shivering birds beneath the eaves

     Have sheltered for the night,

We'll turn our faces southward, love,

     Toward the summer isle

Where bamboos spire the shafted grove

     And wide-mouthed orchids smile.

And we will seek the quiet hill

     Where towers the cotton tree,

And leaps the laughing crystal rill,

     And works the droning bee.

And we will build a cottage there

     Beside an open glade,

With black-ribbed blue-bells blowing near,

     And ferns that never fade.

Claude McKay (1890-1948) was a Jamaican-American writer and poet born Festus Claudius McKay in Sunny Ville, Jamaica. His poem, I Shall Return, is about his dream of returning to Jamaica. One I'm sure my son would also relate to.

If I had a magic wand, I would transport Doug and Shelly to St. John for him to complete his return to mobility in the sun and surf. 💝

Were You Ever Out In The Great Alone

One of the "What happened on this date?" sites I read each day had the notice that January 16 is the birthday of English-born Canadian poet Robert Service. (1874-1958) The name didn't spark any recognition for me, but I liked this stanza given from one of his poems:

Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,

And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear;

With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,

A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;

While high overhead green, yellow and red, the North Lights swept in bars? --

Then you've a hunch what the music meant ... hunger and night and the stars.

The short blurb said it was from the poem "The Shooting of Dan McGrew". Now that did sound familiar. I found and read the entire poem then tried to remember what memory bank I had left it in. Was it something my grade school teacher read to us? Or one of my highschool English teachers? No clue. I might call my older brother to see if he remembers anything about it. It does seem the kind of poem he would/could quote from and our country school teacher did often read to us.

I read more about Robert Service and a few more of his poems. Most are written in a narrative style and while he was financially successful with his writing, critics did not consider his works as serious poems. 

The poem also brought to mind the 1960 hit song, North To Alaska, by Johnny Horton.

Realizing Life While Living It

 "Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?" is a quote by Thornton Wilder in his play 'Our Town'. It was the play chosen for our Junior Class Play.

My older brother, Ronald, had been a member of Thespians while in highschool. He was in his class play, 'The Night of January Sixteenth' which may have contributed to my wanting to try out for a part in 'Our Town'.  I wanted to play Emily which was the leading female role so I learned some of her lines for my audition.

I did not get that part. In fact I didn't get any of the acting parts. I was, drum roll, a prompter. I sat offstage and whispered cues to anyone who forgot their lines. I had memorized many of the character's lines and all of Emily's.

One night the person playing Emily wasn't able to attend play practice. Mr. Lenz asked me to fill in for her. Afterwards he told me I did a very good job and that if something happened to the other girl and she wasn't able to go on, I would be her replacement. Did I wish her ill luck? I don't remember. She was there for all the performances. (Photo is my junior year class photo.)

What has brought this memory to mind is a FB post about my great-granddaughter, Lily, from her dad yesterday: "Sitting for auditions for Swan Lake this morning. As we work in filling out the application sheet I ask Bug (Lily's nickname) what part she would prefer. "What's the leading role?" I respond with "Princess Odette." "That's the one I want dad." Now she's going through the script but only cares about Odette lines." I smiled and sent: "That's our Lily Bug!" with smile and heart emojis.

I don't know yet if she got the part, or any part, but I'm betting on her. She has so many talents, she's smart, determined, logical, thoughtful, artistic and brave. She is a delight to be around.

First day of 5th grade.

Making some artwork for me the last time she was here.

A young woman after my own heart - working on her poetry.

And one of my favorite photos from when she was five going on 25 - a rock star in the making.

I hope you get the part Lily, but if you don't, I know you'll keep trying until you do get a lead role.

I just wish I could be there to watch you realize you're dreams while you are living them.

Winter Trees

 

Winter Trees by William Carlos Williams

All the complicated details

of  the attiring

and the disattiring are completed!

A liquid moon 

moves gently among

the long branches.

Thus having prepared their buds

against a sure winter

the wise trees

stand sleeping in the cold.

I do not remember when I read my first William Carlos Williams' poem nor which one it was. I would say it was when I was in my late teens or early twenties. The thing that struck me the most was not the poem but the poet's name. The first and last names the same and very English but the middle name sounding like a Spanish one? That's what made an impression.

In those days it wasn't as easy to look things up. Information was not a click away at our fingertips as it is now. If I read a poem and had any thoughts about the author, they went only so far as to think: "William Carlos Williams is a poet."

Now I know, after reading about him this morning, that he was a physician in Rutherford, N.J. His father was English and his mother was Puerto Rican of French, Spanish, Dutch and Jewish ancestry.

It's funny how I had him pegged as somewhat exotic just because of his middle name. 

The photo is of a super moon - a full moon pic I took January 2, 2018.

In The Mood

 

"Breath of Fresh (Val) Air!" was the headline of one of the first things I read online this morning. And even though I doubt I will ever see the inside of the 84-year old building again, it is still music to my ears. After years of neglect and the possibility of it being torn down, the new owner has announced a fifteen million dollar complete renovation of the famous ballroom. As the article stated: "Like many Iowans, he feels a connection here."

Naturally, I began remembering my own connections to the Val Air and while time has dimmed my memory of some of those, a few stand out, like dancing to In The Mood, one of my all time favorites of the Glen Miller Orchestra. I don't remember the name of the touring Big Band, but I enjoyed dancing to that Glen Miller favorite and all the songs they played that night.

Some of the times when I went there with friends to listen to music and dance, the tables and dance floor would be full. And other times there were few patrons there and the Val Air had all the signs of being left in the past. 

My clearest memories of are going there to see and hear the The Wolfe Tones, "an Irish rebel music band that incorporate Irish traditional music in their songs". The group's appearances were sponsored by, if I remember correctly, the Friendly Sons of Saint Patrick of Central Iowa. I know I went two different years which may be the only times they came to Des Moines.

But I've listened to this cassette tape, which I bought at the Irish Shoppe in downtown Valley Junction (West Des Moines), many times. 

I have two more Wolfe Tones cassettes which someone made for me labeled simply "Cassette 1 and Cassette 2". I say 'someone' because I don't think it is my handwriting - possibly my youngest son's? 

These tapes contain the songs which are more Irish Rebel. They really stir my Irish roots and have the power to make me mad, sad, glad and nostalgic for a homeland I never knew.

The Wolfe Tones took their name from Theobald Wolfe Tone, one of the leaders of the Irish Rebellion of 1798. Many of their songs relate to the Easter Rising of 1916 and the people who fought and died for Ireland's independence. 

According to the article "if all goes well, the Val Air should be ready to rock by spring next year".  I may never go there in person again, but, with luck, I will see photos of the renovations.

For the Love of Words

Before I could ever read or write, I developed a love of/for words. My momma read to me; to all of us. She is responsible for my love of words, reading, listening, language, maxims, idioms, definitions, any way, shape or form that words are used. But what are words? There are all kinds of definitions in the dictionary, but the most succinct, in my mind, is, "something that is said". 

I read the Merriam-Webster "Word of the Day" every day. (Today's word is luscious - one I love not only for meaning, but the way it sounds when spoken.) Most of the time I have a general idea of the meaning of the word, but sometimes it is a new one for me. I also usually read the etymology of the word. This is the etymology for the word, 'word': "Middle English from Old English; akin to Old High German wort word, Latin verbum, Greek eirein to say, speak, Hittite weriya- to call, name.

Last week my granddaughter Kathryn sent me some new photos and videos of my youngest great-grandchild, Louis, who will be two next month. In the videos he is really talking.

She told me at his age he is supposed to have eight words and he has 32. He is also talking in four to five word sentences in comparison to two word ones for his age. And he loves reading and to be read to.

I wonder what my vocab and sentence structure was at that age?

The idiom "She doesn't mince her words", is one my mother said about her mother. I knew it meant that Grandma Delphia said what was on her mind. She didn't mince her words when it came to giving her opinion about something. The dictionary definition for the word mince is 1) cut up or grind (food, especially meat) into very small pieces (hence, mincemeat) and 2) walk with short quick steps in an affectedly dainty manner. And right now, I have no idea why the word mince came to mind this morning when I was making the bed, but that is how this post began.

There are many quotes about the use of words. Many of them along the line of: "Be careful with your words, once they are said they can be only forgiven, not forgotten."  and "One kind word can change someone's entire day."

This is one of my favorite quotes about words:

And with that, I realize I should have minced  my words, so I'll end this post here. 🙇

Walk A Mile In My Shoes

 "Walk a mile in my shoes, just walk a mile in my shoes. And before you abuse, criticize and accuse, just walk a mile in my shoes." It is not surprising that this was my wake up tune as I went to sleep thinking about getting up and walking early this morning. What did surprise me was that it was an Elvis song.

It reminded me of the "Don't judge another until you have walked a mile in his moccasins" quote attributed to Native Americans. Actually both quotes came from the same poem "Judge Softly" by Mary T. Lathrop. (1838-1895) I do remember hearing it both as 'shoes' and 'moccasins' from my mother when I was young. Her reason was to teach me not to judge others if I didn't understand their circumstances.

But back to that mental plant about walking. I noticed feeling slightly dizzy while grocery shopping yesterday. Not the more acute morning dizziness I sometimes have, more like an awareness of feeling a little 'off'. It occurred to me that because I am less active now, spending most of my time in the house, it could be a problem of spatial perception. If so, what could/would I do about it? 

I decided I need to get out more, expand my awareness of things going on around me. But I don't like being outside when it is cold. I thought, "If we lived near a mall, I could walk there." Well, what is our closest thing to a mall? Walmart. Other people go to Walmart for their morning walk. So could I.

There were a few items I forgot to get yesterday, so it was a win-win - walk and shop. Undoubtedly I will still use the treadmill on bitter cold days, but I do like the idea of interchanging the two - broaden my horizons so to speak. Ha!

Now, if I can just get over the feeling of being conspicuous. 

Time Passages

Waking up with a song already playing in my head feels like a gift to me. I always wonder why this song? Why today? But regardless of the music, it often sparks a memory and that is the gift - remembering.

I grew up more attuned to the music from the 30's and 40's than current hits. That is until I discovered Rock and Roll and the radio stations that played the top forty hits. I was still listening to my favorite music from the 50's and 60's when my children became old enough to play their favorite songs. At first I thought most of the tunes were just so much noise, but after awhile I began appreciating some of their music, too. So I added tunes from the 70's and 80's to my favorites list. (I'm pretty lost after the 90's though.)

This morning's wake up song was Time Passages. I had to Google the artist because I did not remember who it was by.  It was not only sung by Al Stewart, it was sung and written by him. (And Peter White.) 

Alastair Stewart is a "Scottish singer/songwriter and folk-rock musician who rose to prominence as part of the British folk revival in the 1960's and 1970's. He developed a unique style of combining folk-rock songs with delicately woven tales of characters and events from history." (Per the internet.)

Time Passages first and last stanza lyrics:

It was late in December, the sky turned to snow
All round the day was going down slow
Night like a river beginning to flow
I felt the beat of my mind go
Drifting into time passages
Years go falling in the fading light
Time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight

Well the picture is changing
Now you're part of a crowd
They're laughing at something
And the music's loud
A girl comes towards you
You once used to know
You reach out your hand
But you're all alone, in these
Time passages
I know you're in there, you're just out of sight
Time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight

The song was released in 1978, so it would have been when my eldest was in highschool. The album cover pictured seems halfway familiar, so maybe that is one he had. The cover title is Year of the Cat which is another Al Stewart song I remember and liked.

These are the first and last stanzas of Year of the Cat:

On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time
You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre
Contemplating a crime
She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running
Like a watercolor in the rain
Don't bother asking for explanations
She'll just tell you that she came
In the year of the cat

Well morning comes and you're still with her
And the bus and the tourists are gone
And you've thrown away your choice you've lost your ticket
So you have to stay on
But the drum-beat strains of the night remain
In the rhythm of the newborn day
You know sometime you're bound to leave her
But for now you're going to stay
In the year of the cat

Just as reading my "Tonight's Song" selections in my old diaries brings back memories, so does remembering some of the favorite songs of my children and where I was with them at that time in their lives.