Memorial Day

We went to Baltimore Saturday morning and came back Tuesday. I meant to write something last night but was too worn out from driving and three days with little girls!

While we were there we went to Fort McKinley, where the Star Spangled Banner was written by Francis Scott Keys after one of the battles of the War of 1812. I'm not a big fan of visiting historic places, but Fort McKinley was really great. A video about the battle in the visitor's center was great and ended with everyone singing the SSB. And the Fort is pristine and well restored. The girls' favorite spot was a barracks because there was an old fashioned broom there. They took turns sweeping, over and over. Anytime there was a lull they'd run back there to sweep! (If only they got that focused about picking up toys and clothes....)

It was there that I witnessed an example of what I call: It's A Wonder Our Children Don't Kill Us the First Chance They Get.

A man wanted to take his toddler's picture. The little boy, for whatever reason (probably just because he was sick of having his picture taken!) wanted no part of it and kept walking away until he came to a wall--his father pleading for him to turn around all the way. The boy put his head down on the wall, hoping that would put an end to the whole picture taking thing. Then his father said, "Look, candy!" The boy turned around for candy and got his picture taken instead. Immediately, he burst into tears....

We went to a sea food restaurant with Cathy's parents and had a crab fest. There was wrapping paper on the tables and the waitress just dumped the crabs out. We used to eat crabs a lot when the kids were little and we'd go to North Carolina for three weeks every summer. I caught most of them--a nasty bit of work involving a piece of twine, a rotten chicken back, a sinker and a net. Crabbing was guaranteed to give you sunburn, fly bites and ankles bitten by shrimp. But I loved it.

But it's been years since I'd eaten crabs and, though it's sort of like riding a bike, the process comes back to you, my hands were a lot younger back then. Tearing the crabs apart started giving me cramps in my hands after a while. Tegan and Morgan ate as much as anyone would pick for them but Emma wanted no part of it! Between us, we ate 18 medium and a dozen large crabs. Messy business but oh, so good....

On the way back, we started listening to 880 AM to see how the traffic was. When we got on the Jersey Turnpike we were told there was at least a 2 hour delay on the GW Bridge. By the time we got there it was more like 10 minutes and I thanked the Baby Jesus that I didn't go through the Holland Tunnel like I thought about doing. All my travel in New York is by subway so I wasn't even sure where the Holland Tunnel came out but thought I could find the West Side Highway.

I went to pick  up the Puli at the Kennel and he was much better in the car than usual. For one think I had on the classical music station and I think that suited him better than NPR talk...the half a baggie of treats I fed him bit by bit when  he didn't bark may have contributed as well!

Going away

We're taking the dog in the morning to Holiday Hills in Wallingford and then driving to Baltimore until Tuesday.

I'll take my lap top and try to post something--but three grand-daughters take up a lot of time! Joyfully.

See you then or on Tuesday.....

Be well and stay well, my friends.....

Connecticut Spring

One of the joys of Connecticut is that we really have four distinct seasons. And when Spring come it comes with a vengeance!

Where only a few weeks ago, there was dirt, plants now thrive. The hostas and ferns are back in our side yard; the 6 rhododendron plants are about to burst into bloom: in our back yard alone, there much be "50 Shades of Green" which are a lot more life-giving and inspiring than the gray shades.

Tulips and daffodils came early, before the host of flowers and fauna that are now exploding all around us.

It is rained most of the day, on and off, (I wish we could outsource some of our rain to California) which is making more things wake up.

Spring and the growth of things is something that makes me hopeful that life really does triumph over death in the end. I ponder that every year. Late may is a tad late for the final and irrevocable arrival of Spring, but I'll take it with joy and gratitude....

Vanity, Vanity, all is Vanity...

I went into the package store where I buy wine to buy wine and a guy was there who I sometimes see late at night or on weekends. He obviously has another job and this is just a part-time guy.

I was the priest at his marriage--that I know--but I can't for the life of me remember his name. He still has a wedding ring on but I don't ask about his marriage. He's very friendly, though, so things must be OK...I only pray....

He has a goatee and I mentioned there were so gray hairs in there. He laughed. And then, for no reason I currently understand, told him something only a few people know.

My beard, which I've had since I was 25 except for two small interludes, started turning white when I was 35. So I colored it until I turned 40. At that point my hair was still dark brown and I thought--"I'm 40, I shouldn't be vain any more" and stopped coloring it.

It came in all white, as it still is 37 years later--not that I expected it to go brown or red or anything again.

And what was interesting is that people who knew me then knew something was different but not what. For months people said to me things like "are you OK?" and "how are you feeling?" and "anything up with you?"

Then my hair started turning white, so it didn't matter any more.

(The only two times I've cut my beard since I was 25 was once when we were going to Oak Island, North Carolina for vacation. Josh was maybe 6 and Mimi maybe 3. We stopped at a motel on the way and I cut my beard so I had a goatee that night. The day we arrived, I cut the rest off and my children were horrified and wouldn't have anything to do with me for several days.

The only other time was when I was on Block Island for two weeks by myself. And when I looked in the mirror I looked like John Goodman and immediately willed my beard to grow back super fast....)

Bern is Home!

She came at 3:11 to Union Station in New Haven. For some reason it seemed like all the people on the train must have gotten off. I went outside to look for her and she wasn't there. I wanted to call Tony and make sure she made the train, but of course I didn't have my cell phone. (For the most part, my cell phone lives in whatever jacket I wore last....But this time it was charging in the kitchen....)

No one had come up from the tracks for several minutes, then there she was on the escalator, moving toward me, smiling. I suddenly felt whole again....

We talked all the way home from the train about lots of things: The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt, which I've read and she's reading, what she did in Providence, how much of Uncle Frankie's house they got packed up, how neither of us has slept well while she was away, the kids, how Tony's doing, the closing of Everybody's, a Cheshire super market that sold out to Big Y, lots of stuff.

When we got home she spent about 10 minutes greeting the Puli, who really gets confused when one of us is away, then made coffee and appreciated the flowers I'd gotten for her homecoming  and took a shower. I did a conference call about the last workshop I helped lead and then went to the store to get a chicken for dinner and then read in one room while she read in another. We agreed there was nothing on TV and made dinner and went to my computer after I cleaned up.

We've exchanged a hundred words or so since we've been home and then we sunk into our 'being alone together' normal routine.

But there's no one I'd rather 'be alone together' with.

Everything's all right now. Bern's home. We'll sleep well tonight.

The on Saturday the dog goes the the Kennel and we go to Baltimore to see Josh and Cathy and the girls.

Everything's back to normal and normal is what I like....

Bern's still away...

I didn't sleep well last night and I'm sure it's that Bern isn't in the bed with me.

I woke up at 5 and then 6 and then got up at 7 (I thought it was 7:30 because, for reasons I don't understand, Bern keeps her clock over 20 minutes fast). Since she's not here, I took the dog for his first walk (which I always do) down Cornwall to the alley to the Congregation Church parking lot. Then, I took him, after his breakfast, to the Canal (which Bern does every day but Monday--which is the day she does the bills.) And I never walk him as far as she does on the Canal--they go about .7/mile (1.4 miles round trip) and I only go half-a-mile or so and back.

So I yawned all through Eucharist and the conversation of our Clericus group from 9:30-11. But I had three mugs of coffee and was alright after that, except for going to the bathroom quite often.

Anthony sent me a picture of Bern he took on his smart phone while they were eating lunch in Providence at an outdoor place. I wish I knew how to send it to you. She's so beautiful.

I do miss her madly.

Bern's away

Bern went to Providence yesterday to be with her cousin Anthony who is trying to clean out the house where he and his father lived--Bern's Uncle Frank who died a month or more ago.

The dog is a pain. He listens to Bern but not to me. I'm yelling at him a lot to no avail. Usually I just go and make him do what I want.

I woke up this morning and Bela was on his side, his head on Bern's pillows, looking, for all the world, like a 55 pound version of her!

It's odd, Bern and I can be in our house all day and rarely exchange words besides "I'm going out" or "be back soon" or "do you need anything while I'm out?" Yet her absence makes an enormous difference.

Oh, often we talk for long times, but mostly we're just so comfortable being with each other that few words matter. "What can I make you for dinner?" is something we both say.

And, when she's gone, I miss her madly. Nothing is quite right, know what I mean? An emptiness that is palpable and a little painful.

She'll be back Wednesday. I'll have flowers and dinner all planned. Things will be better when Bern comes home....