Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Timmy and I were sitting on the porch this morning, watching birds and just sitting (that's what you do when you get old].  Anyway, Timmy suddenly said, "Well, look at that little asshole."  He pointed at the car, and there, in the car, in the grill, looking out was a chipmunk. We had seen a chipmunk go under the car before, but we never saw one looking out of the car. You can't have a rodent living in your car.  My sister Kathy had a mouse that did over $3000 worth of damage.  But he did look cute, like a little captain, steering his ship.  He looked like he belonged there in the front of the red Fit. Perfect for you tube, but Timmy got the havaheart and our little captain was soon riding inside his ship.  He went for a ride and a new home and that's the first thing in this blog.

The second is the hurricane Maria that is pounding the island today.  Every time I hear the name Maria or see it written in black letters on the tv screen, I feel not a sense of happiness, but something like that.  It reminded me of a Father Brown episode.  A woman's child had died and Father Brown said the child's name and the mother responded, "I have not heard that name said in a long time" and he said it again and again, and her face lit up.  I think it's like that - I'm just glad to hear her name.
So chipmunks and hurricanes - that's the excitement today.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

What a long spell in between blogs.  I think Jer's death dried me out.  Anyway, here it is - summer almost gone.  Since I last wrote we had high school graduations for Regina and Ava, a grand daughter and great granddaughter.  A happy occasion tinged with sadness for missing participants.
Then there was Cape Cod.  I rode out with Sabra this year, we had Jer's ashes with us and I held them in the car for a while, in a beautiful cloth bag that Sabra had found.  James Taylor was on the radio and his line "I always thought that I'd see you one more time again" brought the reality of lose - you never see them again.  Oh, maybe in dreams and there are always pictures and then with the internet they pop up unexpectedly on Facebook or Instagram and give you a smile.

We took the ashes to the Gut, one of Jer's favorite places on the Cape.  And strange to say I had probably the best time of the summer.  I was hesitant about the long walk in sand (never easy to walk in) and the high dunes you have to climb to get to the beach.  Liz had Vivian's carriage and assured me that it could hold up to 155 pounds (some big kid.)  I said no, I have my pride, but when we got there and Emil offered me the opportunity, I hopped into that carriage and off we went.  It was wonderful - I felt like a queen, maybe Sheba being carried to some palace.  On the dunes, a rope was tied to the front of the carriage and Liz pulled while Emil pushed.  We got to the beach, and it was crowded.  People stared - we were a group of  about twenty carrying coolers, pirate flags, candles and the boat to hold the ashes  and be set on fire. Then there was Linny being pushed and pulled in a baby carriage.  The ride back was just as much fun with Miles now doing the honor.  People waved, gave the peace sign and Miles yelled "we're starting a new type of race on the Cape".   Funny, isn't it?  The human condition can somehow not only recover from sadness, but go right into the best time of a whole summer.