There was a lot of coverage on tv this week of the babysitter's boyfriend who put the 18 month old baby in the washer to play "hide and seek".  He didn't realize when the door shut, it locked and the water began to fill the washer.  Well, the laundromat camera caught the whole thing, the man running frantic for help, people jumping and finally someone pulling the plug to shut off the machine.  All ended well, the baby was ok, but I bet they get a new babysitter.

It made me remember a photo my father had taken of Barbara in the washing machine, the old kind with the wringer.  She was probably about three, a big smile on her face, suds on her body.  Why he posed her like that, we'll never know, or maybe it is just a figment of my imagination.  Anyway, it brought back memories of Bucky and her washing machine.  The washer was in the cellar, next to the sink so the hoses could empty.  I think it had a buzzer on it when the wash was done.  Well, not really done.  Then Bucky had to put the clothes, one at a time through the wringer to wring out the water....no spin cycle on this washer.  The problems were many.  Clothes got tangled and you had to tug to get them out, fingers could get caught, and worse of all Bucky's housedress that she was wearing would enter the wringer.

Then you would hear her screams, the only way to shut off the wringer was like above, you had to pull the plug out.  We would run down the cellar stairs, watching our mothers big chest get closer and closer to the wheels.   "Pull the plug," she would scream.  Now this is where it got even worse.  Whenever you pulled the plug , because there was so much water, you got a shock that could knock you to the floor.  But what a choice, so you would tug on the wire, hoping this time would be different.  No, the shock came, but the wringer stopped.  Bucky would pull out her dress, wipe the swear off her face, and say "Plug it back in, so I can finish this shitty wash".  Another shock, no surprise and a happy ending to the story.

When I was a teenager in High School, the gym had a sliding door that opened for basketball games, but was closed during the day so it could accommodate two gym classes at the same time, the boys on one side, the girls on the other.  Sometimes the door didn't close completely, there was a small crack for an opening.  This was enough for the boys to try to catch a glimpse of the girls in their shorts.  You could hear them all fighting to get an eye on the crack, making lewd remarks and calling out for the girls to come close.  Sometimes the girls would go to the crack and try to figure out which boy or boys were there, but most of the time we ignored them. 

The best one was John V.D., a kid I had started kindergarten with and now we were seniors.  Everyone knew it was John's eye on the crack, he had a particular voice and he had earned the title of "Class Clown" in the yearbook.  Anyway, one day John started to call, "Girls, Girls, it's your lover boy", and we all laughed.  One girl went close to the crack and yelled, "It doesn't sound like my loverboy to me, it sounds like John V.D.  I thought of that yesterday when I watched the tom turkey strut all day after a female turkey.  I could imagine him saying, "it's your lover boy" while the female turkey just picked at dandelion heads and imaginery bugs in the earth.  She would let him get close to her, he was all puffed out, tail fully extended, and then she would go off into the field, or the woods, and he would follow her.  They would both emerge in a few minutes, with nothing romantic happening. 

We had guests in the Bird's Nest yesterday and they too were following the turkeys around the yard, trying to get a good picture.  The last two weeks have been very busy, and our guests were in for a treat --wisteria climbing right to the top of the maple tree and turkeys strutting in the yard.  All at no charge.

Back Again

Somethings have changed with this blog, not my doing, but I am trying to figure it out.  It's really spring now, Mr. Ding-a-Ling the icecream truck was here yesterday.  The turkey is still strutting, even though turkey season started six days ago.  And my classes are still amusing and interesting me.  Last week in the heroes and villains of the Bible class we did Adam, Eve and the snake.  The Rabbi who taught it was wonderful, as was the Rabbi that taught the story of Moses.  Anyway, he put a whole new slant on the story.  Adam was created in the second chapter (even though man and woman were already created in the first chapter).  Now here's where it gets different.  Adam was both male and female, so it was more than a rib God took to form Eve, it was half his body.  Then the tree - God puts in right in the middle of the garden, but forbids the eating of the fruit.  The Rabbi stated, "God had the whole garden to play with, he could have stuck the tree in a secluded corner, but he puts it right in the middle"  Then when they eat the fruit, and see they are naked, they dress in fig leaves and hide in the trees.  God asks "Where are you?" but he knows they are - they don't look like trees just because they stuck some leaves here and there.  What God means is Where are you in your development?  So, the Rabbi sees the story as a test by God to see if they are ready to leave the garden, go out in the world.  And they do, and now they have children with painful childbirth and must work hard for a living.  "The real world," as the rabbi put it.  Now isn't that interesting?  It doesn't paint the woman as conniving, the snake as evil or the man as stupidly following the woman....they just  do what they have to to leave the garden and get on with life.  Interesting and different isn't it?

The rabbi before was also a great talker, the hour and half went by so quickly.  When somebody said the word "fornication" as an answer (it was wrong), he asked "Do you want to hear a joke about fornication?" Of course, everyone said yes.  So he started, using a heavy Jewish accent, Little Moises goes to his Mother and asks "What is fornication?" She says go ask your father.  So he asks his father and his father sends him to his Grandmother.  "What is fornication?" he asks, and she smiles and says "I will show you fornication" and takes him to the closet.  She pulls out a plain house dress and holds it up before him.  This is a simple dress, just for around the house, nothing fancy.  Then she pulls out a sparkly, brightly colored dress, covered with beads and sequins.  "Now, she says, "This is a dress for an occasion."  We all laughed.  I hope I figured out this new format all right. 

Laughter has always played an important role in my family's lives, both the Murphys and me and my children. Let me share three things that have made me laugh in the past 24 hours. First, an old radio show. I picked up a collection of 60 audio programs at the thrift shop last month. I think it cost a dollar. Anyway, last night we listened to Baby Snooks and Daddy and it had me laughing, almost unstoppable. The story was simple: it was Halloween and Baby Snooks wanted to go trick or treating, but her parents said no. Her father was waiting for a doctor to come to check him out for more life insurance. Baby Snooks keeps bothering him and his blood pressure is rising, so he sends her out to trick or treat. But to teach her a lesson, he puts on a mask with big teeth and scares her and her friend. The friend's father gets mad, throws him down. To get even her father says, "See that open window, I am going to throw a stone in it with a note on it". Then you hear the window break, and Baby Snooks and her father run home. What did the note on the stone say, Dadddy?", she asks. "Guess who", he answers, and then you hear their window break and he picks up the stone and takes off a note, that has one word on it - WHO. It gets even crazier after that, as the two fathers try to outdo each other, taking off doors, putting a horse in the kitchen, bobbie trapping (of course the insurance doctor gets that), until the end when Daddy is stuck in the neighbor's chimney, with a hose trying to fill his house with water. Real slapstick, but with just sound, no visual, and truly funny.

Then I read a Borges short story about a Missionary who runs into the Yahoos, a tribe that's members don't have names - to call one another they fling mud at each other. They close their eyes when they eat, no one can see anyone eating. The witch doctors can change anyone into an ant or a tortoise, and point to an anthill as proof. For entertainment they have cat fights using animals trained for that purpose. So here I am smiling at this nonsense, written and read, not heard or seen. But it is funny and if read outloud in class, we would all be laughing out loud together.

The third incident was purely visual - I looked into the back yard and saw four hen turkeys eating the corn I throw for the birds. Then HE came out of the woods, a tom turkey, who the ladies completely ignored. He got closer to the girls, and then did something I only saw once before, he puffed up his chest, fanned his tail into the typical turkey picture, his globbler got bright red and he pranced about. Still the ladies ignored him. I must have watched for 15 minutes, laughing out loud every time he blew himself up, pranching while the hens just kept eating. Finally, the girls left, back into the woods, and he followed them. But just the thought of his acting that way still makes me smile today. There's a combination for you - Baby Snooks, Jorge Boges and turkeys in the back yard.

Holy Week and the temperatures have returned to normal, no more summer weather. I knew it wouldn't last, the juncos had not left. These are the little birds, wearing black capes, that love the cold weather. They knew, even if the flowers and trees didn't know. The juncos are still here, so I would imagine there will be frost right up into May as usual.

The warm weather did get me weeding and I managed to get into poison ivy. First my right hand, so bad I had to take off my rings. Then it appeared on my legs (that's what I get for putting on shorts in March). Finally, on my arms. Not all over, but enough that I had calamine lotion in spots all over like I was splattered with white paint. Now it is almost better, just the scars of itching, itching that was worse at night.

This has been a strange Lent. I can't help but associate Holy Week with Ria's death, and it is all tied in with St. Patrick's Day, so a few days after March 17, I was in the grocery store and they were selling Hot Cross Buns, and I thought "Boy, they're gonna have some trouble getting rid of Easter bakeries after Easter" and then I realized we had a way to go before Easter came and went. But we've almost made it, tomorrow is Good Friday.

My classes started last week and I am having some fun and some trouble reading Borges. I am also taking a religious course, Villains or Heroes and Paul was our first subject. Don't get Timmy on that subject! My third class is Chekov, reading "The Three Sisters". Enough to keep me busy and finally out of Lent.

Well St. Patty's day couldn't have been better. Weather was perfect, warm enough that Ava and Regina were wearing shorts and little tops. Ian was barefoot and Paul warned him of the dog poop in the cemetery. The scavenger hunt was a success, teams of Ava and Regina, Michael and Shane, Tony and Henry, Helene and Ian. Ava and Regina were the most successful in finding all the stones, but they were on their phones with each other, running through the cemetery. "Technical help", Helene called it.

Laura came later with Sabra, having just been tatooed for the fourth year in a row, this time doing it in the city of Hudson. She now has a ship, the Widdah 1717 on the top of her right leg. This is the ship that wrecked off the shore of Wellfleet when Black Sam was coming for his sweetheart Maria. Rachael went to the same place and has an M with stars on it on her right side, under her arm. They discussed which place was more painful, and Rachael said she could not stop shaking the whole time, but was really glad to do it, especially for Maria.

We flew kites, blew bubbles, but the highlight was Solomon sitting on a wooden folding chair, music stand in front of him, playing "When the Saints Come Marching In" on his trumpet. I tell you that trumpet sound rocked the cemetery, enough to raise the dead as they say. We sang five verses and he did a great job. I wanted music and I got it. Then back to Sabra's for a cookout, the weather cooperating all the way. After I had gone to bed, I remembered that we had left the Christmas lights on the tree and trellis to light on St. Patty's Day, and I yelled down to Tim to put on the lights. They were beautiful, and I fell asleep looking at their reflection on the bedroom ceiling. A wonderful day.

It sounds like Spring in the morning, the cardinals are starting their mating calls, the red-winged blackbirds are back and we are in March. I know before the day is over, Timmy will ask his usual riddle for this day: "What's the only date that is also a command?" MARCH FOURTH.

Not a bad winter, in fact February was the warmest February on record for New York. The road in the cemetery has been open all year, the first time since Maria died. The Christmas Blankets have been taken off, and the bulbs are starting to peek out. The grave down in the corner is already decorated for St. Patrick's Day, green shamrocks, green artificial flowers. There are two new stones near Maria. One is very interesting. On the back it says, "See where we have been." And on the front, with the names, are two pictures. One is a cat looking at a book titled Egypt and on the other side of the stone is a cow in a field. Gives me a lot to think about.

So Spring is heading our way again. I was surprised to see in the Almanac that we turn the clocks ahead already next weekend. Time and tide, you can't stop either.