Slow down, time

Time is going too fast for me. In four days it will be the Fourth of July! I can't believe it. I am only now getting over the Christmas and Easter holidays. Not that we do anything special for the Fourth. I will watch the fireworks on television and probably reminisce a little about the days gone by when we would go down to the park and watch the fireworks close at hand. I would pack a picnic snack and we would sit on blankets and hope that no one walked on our food or did anything else to disturb us. One year I took my Grandson down to the beach in our little town and we sat on the damp sand and saw a really great little display of fireworks in the sky.
One year, probably fifty years ago, I took my two kids out into the country to enjoy a few sparklers and firecrckers, because they were forbidden in town, and we had a scary adventure. My son, thinking he was walking on a hard surface, ventured out onto a mud crust and broke through, sinking down into a morass of mud up to his shoulders. i poked a plank out to him, and he managed to crawl back to solid ground on it. A passerby, stopping to help, remarked that a cow had gotten stuck there a week ago, and had to be pulled out by a tractor. I can see the poor boy to this day, covered with mud and with his sparklers and firecrackers lost under the mud.
It is funny what memories rise to the surface of my mind, triggered by events of today. I don't exactly live either in the past or the present, but the two layers of time are intertwined. Some traumatic events of the past would be better forgotten, and I always hoped that the passing of time would at least dim those memories. But they are the ones that linger most vividly in my mind.
But today will be noted down as a pleasant memory. The hummingbirds have discovered the bird feeder and are entertaining us with their ecstatic feeding routine. The mourning doves have nested in the trees below the house. The swallows are swooping around collecting insects. All is well with our world.

Here it is!

I am always amazed at how easily things get lost in my little house. It really is an amazingly efficient place, with hardwood floors and neatly arranged cupboards and cabinets. Yet, neat as we try to keep it, sometimes something will get lost and occasionally it will vanish, never to be seen again. Today we were dismayed to find that a sheet of notepaper, with some really important notes jotted down on it, had been mislaid. The usual frantic search ensued, with drawers being pulled out, papers sorted through, accusations made about who had handled the paper last, phone calls made to try to retrieve the data and a general rumpus ensuing. After about an hour of rummaging around searching, we finally gave up and had our lunch. To calm my nerves, I sat down at the computer and lo and behold, the paper was there, under the mouse mat. I must have put it there myself, for as my husband pointed our, it didn't get there by itself. I still have no memory of my action.
We are not always so lucky. My set of keys vanished once, right after I had parked my car in the driveway. Somewhere betwen the parked car and the house, my keys were lost. I couldn't get into the house because i couldn't find the keys. Luckily, my husband was home. We looked for those keys for days, both inside the car and in the shrubbery bordering the driveway. We have never found them. Another time I lost my driver's license, finally getting down to the DMV office to replace it. That was lost inside the house and to this day we wonder where it is.
But all is well. Tonight we are listening to another booktape. I watched a television program last night that so disturbed me that I probably will forgo any entertainment in that direction. It was an episode that purported to show what happened when five small infants were loaned to five teen-aged couples to demonstrate to them what it is like to have a baby. The poor little babies were removed from their parents and put into strange houses with perfect strangers, and they cried, threw up, refused to eat, and would not go to sleep. It may have taught the teenagers something, but it certainly traumatized the babies and myself. Nothing is more distressing than the frantic cries of frightened babies.
The air was clearer here today. We have hung out a feeder for the humming birds. I hope they find it tomorrow. We will enjoy watching them from the family room. Adios

Wood smoke in the air

Today has been hazy with woodsmoke all day, drifting down from the fires a hundred and more miles away. When I look over to the mountains South of my house, the air is blue with smoke and even in our canyon up from the creek I can detect the odor of the fires burning. They present a terrifying sight when seen on television. I hope there isn't a loss of life, at least. We anxiously watch out for our area, and make plans for an exit if necessary.
My husband did our food shopping today, and brought home a delicious barbecued chicken, so I didn't have to cook dinner and we had practically no dishes to put into the dishwasher. What luxury! I admit to being lazy in my old age! About half the time, my husband cooks anyway, and says he enjoys it. How lucky can a person get?
This is going to be somewhat short, because we have a good book tape going and I will listen to it for awhile. Sometimes we listen to a couple of them a day. If we don't like the book, we simply take out the tape and try another one. He gets five or six a week.
Take care. Will blog again tomorrow.

Those Were the Days

Yesterday it was my great privilege and pleasure to attend a most delightful reception in a beautiful setting, with delicious food and beverages. But the best part of all was meeting again, after many, many years, some very dear friends from the past. I could scarcely believe that these well-dressed, mature (even gray-haired) gentlemen were the long-haired, bell-bottomed young Anti-war protesters of the sixties. I drifted down memory lane and remembered the many protests they had staged at Port Chicago and Golden Gate Park. I never knew where my son was from day to day, or whether he was in jail or the hospital. One afternoon I looked up from my desk at work and beheld a uniformed policeman standing in front of me. Without even considering why he was there, I blurted out, "What did he do? Where is he?" It turned out that the officer was seeking someone else who had written a forged check. But these earnest young idealists were always on my mind. Even though our son was a student, and had a high draft number, he felt morally obliged to protest the war, as did I as well. The sixties were both exciting and troubling, with flower children all over the place, and the aroma of marijuana drifting in the air. One day a marijuana plant was found growing in the back of my house, but in truth it didn't last long. Someone going by reached in through the fence and plucked it out.
My house was a refuge for runaways and wanderers through the neighborhood and I never knew how many overnight guests I would have on any given day. One little teenager escaped from Juvenile Hall and hid out in my garage for almost a week before I caught on and turned her in. I hated to do it but it had to be done. It probably was best for her safety and I certainly did not need to be cited for hargoring a fugitive.
The young draft-aged men had many ways of dealing with the problem of the draft. One young friend of ours fled to England, where he stayed for several years, only coming back after President Carter signed the Amnesty bill. Another went to Canada and two of them enlisted in the Army, one serving in Viet Nam and the other serving in Germany. Our son had a very high draft number and continued attending college so he was relatively secure but a neighbor's boy went underground until he was caught by the FBI at which time he enlisted. He was killed in a training accident about six months later.
I have always said that I didn't want to look back, but I could not help reminiscing about those long-gone days and as they were both exciting and troubling, I have many conflicting thoughts. My husband, still in the Air Force until 1969, was quite literally horrified that his son and wife would protest the decisions of their government. "Traitors," he cried. "Communists. Love your country or leave it." Luckily, he was stationed thousands of miles away, so there was little he could do. When he came home on furlough, we caught the full force of his wrath.
Yesterday is history and tomorrow is a mystery. So live for today. I will put away my memories and look to the future. I hope for a long time.

Good news

Today my husband went to have an exam that required him to be anaesthetized during the procedure, which took about an hour. My daughter took him there and brought him back. He returned in a dazed condition, but relieved that no cancerous growth had been found. After a nap and a bowl of tapioca pudding, he soon was himself again. The pictures they sent back of his throat and esophagous were gruesome indeed, but all is fine. That was a relief to us both, and reinforced us in our determination to live here in our house as long as we can. We have a little cat that has lived for 24 years and is still going strong, and we hope to do the same. In cat years, 24 human years equates to 140 cat years. She is a little lame but otherwise fine.
We are watching TV scenes of the fires raging around Oakland and Watsonville, and hoping we won't have any around here. Between the floods and fires, this is a bad year for many people.
If it weren't for the mosquitos outside, this would be a wonderful evening to spend outside on the deck. It is about 80 degrees with a slight breeze coming up from the creek. The barn swallows are still swooping around outside, although all of the other birds are quiet.
If we were back in Wisconsin on a night like this, we would be seeing fireflies blinking their lights on and off in the darkness. We used to take glass jars and try to catch them inside. Whoever caught the most was the winner. Sometimes we would chase them on into the cow pasture, with disastrous results, considering the cow pads we would step into. My mother always made us wash our feet under the pump, since we were invariably barefooted in the summer and she didn't want us tracking up her floors. It seems horribly unsanitary now, but we gave it not a thought in those days. Maybe a little dirt was good for us.
Adios. Keep in touch.

An exciting event

Yesterday was a somewhat exciting day, at least for our somnolent little community. In the early afternoon, we began to hear firetrucks going by down on the road across the creek, sirens screaming. Then we saw tanker planes going back and forth across the sky. Fire! But where? We knew it was to the west of our house, but we could see no smoke. After awhile, the commotion died down and we settled back down in our lawn chairs in the shade. No further news came, but the paper noted this morning that six acres of dense timber had burned about three miles from our house. There had been a disastrous fire in the same area about 25 years ago, destroying houses and burning large areas of timber. Thank goodness this one was contained as soon as it was.
We dread fire more than we dread earthquakes here where we live. To escape the area we would have to drive or run down a narrow road to the intersection of a larger, but not much larger, road, and if an accident or breakdown occurred, we would all be trapped. Trying to hide out in the creek probably wouldn't help because the fire could easily leap over from one side to the other. A fire came through here early in the century and there are still huge black tree stumps here and there, with tree rings around them where the trees have grown up again. We have two tree rings on the hill below our house. We had a hammock hanging in one of the tree rings and I spent many a happy afternoon with my grandson there, telling stories and playing games. When I walk down the path to the meditation walk, I am flooded with happy memories.
The question has come up regarding how long we can continue to live here in our little house. We hope to make it for at least five more years, longer if we can. One by one, we have seen our neighbors succumb to advanced age or disability, some going to care facilities and some going to live with relatives. Being stubborn and resilient, we are resisting every suggestion that we yield our independence to a more secure living arrangement. So far, we are hanging in there!

An irritating event

I must admit that I did a really stupid thing today, all in good faith, but stupid nevertheless. I paid $29.00 for membership in a search vehicle that purported to search and find various segments of information that were legally available from public records. Or so it said. I put the membership on my credit card account, the website acknowledged my membership, accepted my password, and I joyfully began my search. I first clicked on to death records, entering in the name of a family member who had passed away a little over a year ago. I filled in all of the information requested except the phone number, which of course a deceased person would not have. The answer came back that there was no record found for that person. I tried birth records for a baby who was born recently and who already had a social security number. No record. In deaperation, I typed in my own name, with a request for background information, including my phone number, and lo and behold, back came the exact information I had given the search site. I then tried a neighbor's name, without the phone number. No record. I repeated the request including the phone number, and up it came, the exact information I had typed in. It is a scam, I am pretty sure. The data needed is apparently the phone number. I am going to contest the charge, but have no doubt I will have to pay it. I should have known. At least I didn't give my social security number!
Otherwise, today has gone very pleasantly, with nice warm breezes coming up from the creek and the birds once again flying here and there in our redwood trees down the hill. Except for my irritation with the search website, I have had a very nice day. I have been lazy about writing for the last few days, but will try to get back on track soon.

An uneven contest

Last night I chanced upon a rerun of a 1991 Championship fight between Evander Holyfield and George Foreman. It was a remarkable performance, in which Foreman was attempting to regain the heavyweight title. It would have been an uneven match at best. Holyfield, at 28, was lithe, quick, every muscle tense and defined. Foreman, at 48, was massive, slow, and plodding. Throughout the 15 round match, Holyfield danced around Foreman, landing blows to the head and body, some pretty substantial. Foreman, plodding forward in an attempt to get in the solid blow that would end the fight, seemed unaffected by the blows raining on him without stop. After every round, both fighters retired to their corners, coming back out to resume their efforts seemingly unscathed.
I was intrigued by the reaction of the crowd, which obviously wanted blood. They screamed, stood up, urged both fighters on vigorously. I had missed the fight when it happened, probably because I was working. I had covered wrestling matches when I worked at the Gazette in Texarkana, but wrestling matches, though appearing to be violence at its worst, were staged and seldom did a wrestler suffer injury. Sometimes the audience, in their excitement, would throw things at the wrestlers or pummel each other, one night even picking up the metal chairs and hurling them onto the canvas. The reporters went in pairs to cover the stories, in case one or the other became incapacitated. I enjoyed these assignments immensely. We even had Gorgeous George contending against the local wrestlers at one point, a most successful event, sold out to capacity.
Of course Holyfield won the match on a unanimous decision by the judges. I doubt if George Foreman landed more than a dozen punches, and at no time did Holyfield appear even shaken. Foreman seemed content with the decision and plodded off as calmly as he had come in. The arena was filled to capacity. It brought back many memories.

Our travels

We were stationed in Germany for two years in the sixties and traveled extensively while we were there. Paris, Belgium, the Netherlands, Denmark, England, Italy, we were centrally located and went off for weekends frequently. We purchased a "square-back" Volkswagen and often slept in the back if we couldn't find suitable housing when night came on. The engine was in the back, and when we had laid the seats back and made up the bed, the engine would warm up the mattress and blankets and we would be as snug and warm as one could wish. We traveled down through the black forest on one jaunt, and ate blackberries and sausage and buns and had a ball. We were lucky enough to be able to see the Passion Play at Oberamergo (I think that is how it is spelled) which only happens at intervals. I purchased a cuckoo clock there which I had for many years thereafter.
Our favorite country, with no exceptions, was Denmark. We traveled to Copenhagen in the summer, and got a room at the Sailor's Hotel on Nyhaven Canal, which it turned out was in the red light district. It was clean and quiet and the bed was comfortable, so we settled in. We were a little surprised to see all of the activity down on the street, which went on all night. The next day we realized where we were lodged, but we were quite happy to stay there for several days. I have always declared that Copenhagen was my husband's favorite city due to the fact that the ladies sunbathed topless in the parks. I loved the open-faced sandwiches and cheeses.
I went to Rome with a church group and was quite impressed with all of the beauty and grandeur that was there. I took a tour of the Catacombs and remember to this day going down and down and down into total darkness. But that is another story to be told another day.

On spirits and hauntings

When we first came to California, we lived in a house that was said to be haunted. There had been a murder at the back of the house where a stagecoach used to make its run, and the driver had been shot. In the house next door, the wife had been killed by her husband, said to be accidental. The bedroom in the back of the house was supposed to be the place where the spirits made their appearance, and my husband swore he could see them (sometimes one, sometimes two) in the early morning hours. I never saw them, but one night we put our overnight guest in there, and in the middle of the night she got up again and took the bus back to her house. She said she could feel the evil of the spirits and was forced to leave.
Is there any truth to these tales? The house is over 100 years old, and is built on an old Indian shell mound. We found bones under the house when we were putting in a foundation, and Indian artifacts.
There are haunted houses all over the place in England. Everything there has a history. Even the stones of the streets could tell a tale if they could talk. We went down to the Thames at midnight one time, down to where Jack the Ripper had roamed, committing his murders. It was spooky but being young and adventurous, we found it to be something of a thrill, but not terrifying. We had a great time "doing" London and I still remember going down to Fleet Street and hearing the roar of the presses printing out the morning newspapers. We stayed over a week and had a wonderful time.
Another place where there is said to be a haunted house is at Rose Hill in Jamaica. We tried to get to stay overnight there, to experience whatever there was to encounter there, but the docents wouldn't let us do it. The mistress of Rose Hill is said to have murdered several husbands in their beds there. She is buried in the front of the house, which is a beautiful, beautiful place. I managed to eat my lunch sitting on her gravestone, but that is about as close to her ghost as I got.
More about our travels in future blogs. We led quite a life!

What happened, Big Brown?

Today was a disappointing day, as I had looked forward to seeing history made with a triple crown winner, and Big Brown simply did not run the race everyone was expecting. My husband and I sat glued to the TV screen, in happy expectation of an exciting race, and what we saw was almost unbelievable. I hope there is an explanation for his poor performance. The winner simply ran off and left all of the other horses trailing behind. They don't plan to run Big Brown again. I guess he will be retired to the farm.
Otherwise, today was a nice, quiet day here. The swallows swooped around all day, and the robins were busy flying from tree to tree. We didn't have many birds last year, but this year they are all over the place. The butterflies are in abundance as well.
Last year we put up a bird feeder in the apple tree, and the birds would come every afternoon and flutter around and eat for about a half hour and then, on some signal, they would all fly away. Then one day I looked out and saw a large river rat perched on the branch, its long tail swinging back and forth, and its shiny black eyes staring at me. My husband went out and tried scaring it away, but it wouldn't budge. He finally got a stick and poked it off the branch and it ran off. Needless to say, we took down the bird feeder. There is a stream down at the foot of the hill and I suppose the rat came up from there.
What to do for tomorrow? We will probably go for a walk down the street, which we haven't done for a while. I have had a problem with my hip (the one I broke) most of today, but I think a walk will help. Take care.

Happy days are here

I haven't figured out how to leave my thanks for comments yet. The last comment I left came out "Anonymous", when I had really meant to sign myself as Grandmadottie. I do love to get comments, so thanks to all of you.
We had a very pleasant day here today, with an appraiser coming to tell us how much our house is worth. We are doing estate planning and are expecting the value of the house to have gone down, but he walked from room to room, remarking on the pleasant layout of the house and the beauty of the hardwood floors and so on, so maybe it will turn out to be of more value than we had planned on. We don't plan to sell anyway, but intend to live here until the end, if the fates smile on us.
I am sitting here eating chocolate pudding, and pondering on how variable my moods are these days. Today was a very happy day. I am looking forward to watching Big Brown run his big race tomorrow, and will rise early (for me) to hear Hillary Clinton speak on television. We had thought that we might sink into boredom in our declining years, but here we are, still going strong.
We have had good luck with our roses this year, and big yellow butterflies flutter around over them, and the fuschias have outdone themselves. I guess my spirits are high because the weather is so perfect now, and we can sit in our lawn chairs and watch the swallows swoop around.
I am sleeping better than I had been, and I finally figured out that I need to give myself permission to sleep. It was part of my upbringing to believe that I should stay up late to study, and get up early to do chores, and I always felt guilty about sleeping, even on weekends. Now I tell myself, "It's okay. Sleep all you want to. Sleep is good for you. Do yourself a favor." i think it actually helps. Last night I didn't even dream.

A lovely day

Well, here we are. Witnessing history in the making. I am glad that Obama will be the nominee. Change will be a welcome relief from what we have had for the last eight years. Will anyone vote for McCain? He seems to be losing it, with his compulsive grin that comes and goes with each sentence. Brave soldier that he was, it seems that he has given enough for his country and has earned a rest.
i had a lovely day today, going to lunch with several friends and exchanging news of family and friends from the past. Since i don't drive anymore, it was nice to get out once again. My husband had a doctor's appointment, so he couldn't go, but I brought home news to share with him. His CAT scan revealed crushed vertebrae in his spine and osteoporosis in his bones. This seems hard to believe, since he has always drank large quantities of milk, which contains calcium, but it is true. He will sometimes get up in the middle of the night and drink a glass of milk in the kitchen. I seldom drink milk but my bones are fine. Maybe it is something in the genes.
This will be a short blog. We are listening to a book tape and I must pay attention to the story, Take care.