Thanksgiving was three days ago. I ate Thanksgiving dinner with my family and our four dear friends. Then, later, I ate more turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes with pecans, green bean casserole, the dressing I made (apples, onions, walnuts, currents, celery, two sticks of butter and bread) and gravy.
Friday, I twice ate turkey, dressing, mashed and sweet potatoes, green beans and gravy.
Saturday, I once ate all that except for the green beans.
Today, I had what I had yesterday for a meal.
Enough, already! I think the reason we seldom have the traditional Thanksgiving meal any other time is that we eat it at least 6 times!
I told Bern that I was through with all the Thanksgiving stuff. It is dead to me. Tomorrow I eat mussels.
You just can't eat that stuff that many times and stay sane....
Except for the gravy. I could eat gravy once a day forever. In fact, where I come from, gravy of all kinds qualifies as a food group. I hope it is always on the menu in some iteration in the Kingdom that is to come.
I can always eat gravy.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Don't eat the jelly from the village...
My 5 year old granddaughter Tegan was playing 'Mail Lady' a while ago, delivering mail to the adults in four different rooms of the house. I was checking email and heard her just down the hall at the room where Mimi and Tim slept.
"Auntie Mimi," Tegan said, "You've got mail."
"Thanks, Mail Lady," Mimi answered, I hope my New Yorker came.
Tegan moved a couple of steps away, then went back.
"Don't eat the jelly from the village," she warned.
"Why not?" Mimi asked, always wanting to know 'reasons'.
"They fed it to the rats," Tegan almost whispered, delivering bad news along with the mail, "and the rats died."
"What should I do?" Mimi questioned.
"Don't even buy it," Tegan said, continuing her route.
Having the granddaughters here is better than Monty Python...and just as odd sometimes. I told Cathy what Tegan had said and she shook her head, "whatever goes on in my child's head?"
It has been an enchanting few days. Our whole nuclear family here with us (I don't understand why people made fun of George W. Bush's pronunciation of 'nuclear'--it took spell-check for me to spell it!) along with a friend since college (John) and three friends of nearly 30 years (Jack, Sherry and Hanna) for Thanksgiving dinner.
Morgan made place tags to tell people where to sit and helped me set the table--really two identical tables end to end that should seat 10 but we made seat 13. Emma and Morgan made menus, listing the whole meal, along with pictures of the dishes. And we ate and ate and ate and laughed and laughed and laughed and, each in our own way, silently pondered how Thankful and Grateful we should be.
Our Puli, Bela, met Josh and Cathy's Pit bull, Laura, for the first time and they got along! Praise the soon to be center of attention Baby Jesus!!!
Unfortunately, Laura decided to eat our Maine Coon Cat, Lukie. We have a Federalist House, which means there are stairways in the front and back--Laura and Luke made two circuits before Laura cornered Lukie at the back stairs and Cathy grabbed her before true mayhem could ensue. Since then, Luke has been locked in our bedroom with food and a litter box. He has the look about him of a catatonic mental patience (get it cat-atonic? OK, not funny for him.) We visit him from time to time with turkey to coax him out from under our bed. Reentry tomorrow might take awhile. But John works at the West Haven VA with post-tramatic-stress disorder, so we can call him in if needs be.
Really, it has been so full of joy and wonder. And I couldn't possibly put my arms around how much I am full of gratitude for.
But don't eat the jelly from the village, whatever you do....
"Auntie Mimi," Tegan said, "You've got mail."
"Thanks, Mail Lady," Mimi answered, I hope my New Yorker came.
Tegan moved a couple of steps away, then went back.
"Don't eat the jelly from the village," she warned.
"Why not?" Mimi asked, always wanting to know 'reasons'.
"They fed it to the rats," Tegan almost whispered, delivering bad news along with the mail, "and the rats died."
"What should I do?" Mimi questioned.
"Don't even buy it," Tegan said, continuing her route.
Having the granddaughters here is better than Monty Python...and just as odd sometimes. I told Cathy what Tegan had said and she shook her head, "whatever goes on in my child's head?"
It has been an enchanting few days. Our whole nuclear family here with us (I don't understand why people made fun of George W. Bush's pronunciation of 'nuclear'--it took spell-check for me to spell it!) along with a friend since college (John) and three friends of nearly 30 years (Jack, Sherry and Hanna) for Thanksgiving dinner.
Morgan made place tags to tell people where to sit and helped me set the table--really two identical tables end to end that should seat 10 but we made seat 13. Emma and Morgan made menus, listing the whole meal, along with pictures of the dishes. And we ate and ate and ate and laughed and laughed and laughed and, each in our own way, silently pondered how Thankful and Grateful we should be.
Our Puli, Bela, met Josh and Cathy's Pit bull, Laura, for the first time and they got along! Praise the soon to be center of attention Baby Jesus!!!
Unfortunately, Laura decided to eat our Maine Coon Cat, Lukie. We have a Federalist House, which means there are stairways in the front and back--Laura and Luke made two circuits before Laura cornered Lukie at the back stairs and Cathy grabbed her before true mayhem could ensue. Since then, Luke has been locked in our bedroom with food and a litter box. He has the look about him of a catatonic mental patience (get it cat-atonic? OK, not funny for him.) We visit him from time to time with turkey to coax him out from under our bed. Reentry tomorrow might take awhile. But John works at the West Haven VA with post-tramatic-stress disorder, so we can call him in if needs be.
Really, it has been so full of joy and wonder. And I couldn't possibly put my arms around how much I am full of gratitude for.
But don't eat the jelly from the village, whatever you do....
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Only Tim is missing now
Thanksgiving, more than anything, I think, is about 'family'.
Only Tim is missing now. Josh and Cathy and the three girls and Laura the dog (who Bela seems to like but who tried to eat our cat, Lukie, who is now under our bed behind a closed door refusing to eat or pass food and water) left Baltimore at 6:30 am and had no snow until Connecticut and got here by 1:30 p.m. after stopping at a Japanese bakery in New Jersey that Cathy loves.
So, only Tim is missing. His train gets to Union Station in New Haven at 11 a.m. tomorrow.
He'll be here for a couple of hours before the 'guests'--really, adopted 'family' get here and we will be together and reminisce and tell stories and talk to Morgan and Emma and Tegan and eat and eat and drink and drink for hours on end.
My favorite holiday by far. Almost here. Only Tim is missing now....
HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO YOU ALL....
Only Tim is missing now. Josh and Cathy and the three girls and Laura the dog (who Bela seems to like but who tried to eat our cat, Lukie, who is now under our bed behind a closed door refusing to eat or pass food and water) left Baltimore at 6:30 am and had no snow until Connecticut and got here by 1:30 p.m. after stopping at a Japanese bakery in New Jersey that Cathy loves.
So, only Tim is missing. His train gets to Union Station in New Haven at 11 a.m. tomorrow.
He'll be here for a couple of hours before the 'guests'--really, adopted 'family' get here and we will be together and reminisce and tell stories and talk to Morgan and Emma and Tegan and eat and eat and drink and drink for hours on end.
My favorite holiday by far. Almost here. Only Tim is missing now....
HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO YOU ALL....
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Mimi is home!!!
Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday. And much of what I love is the arrival of people I love.
Mimi came tonight--she was up at her apartment in Stockbridge, working at her job as Development Officer for Jacob's Pillow, and because of the weather outlook, left early and go here about 6. Bern had told the dog, "Mimi is coming" about an hour before and he'd been laying by the front door ever since and when she came in he went (I think it's safe to say) a tad berserk, jumping and barking and fairly moaning in delight. He loves Mimi so, as well he should, as I do.
Tim's in Brooklyn and will come early Thanksgiving morning on the train rather than risk the weather tomorrow, and we'll all fight about who is going to pick him up, because we all love him so. But Mimi is his wife now--for well over a month--and she'll get dibs on driving to New Haven.
Josh and Cathy and the 3 granddaughters are leaving Baltimore at 7 in the morning. I wish they had come tonight because of tomorrow's snow, but driving after being a lawyer and prosecutor all day might be worse than some snow. With luck (which they'll need on the day before Thanksgiving on I-95!) they'll be here in the early afternoon. At which time the beserkness of our Puli will return--he loves the girls and Cathy and is respectful of Josh. They're bringing their rescue Pit Bull, Laura, who Bela, our dog has never met, so that is a mild anxiety. But we've been telling Bela that Sumi/Laura is coming and Sumi, their last Pit Bull who died this year, was Bela's fast friend. So all should be well....
Then Tim on Thanksgiving morning to complete our family. Bela will be glad to see him, but Emma, Morgan and Tegan will be over the moon! They love, love, love the man they've called "Uncle Tim" their whole lives and who, this time, by law, will be their uncle in fact.
Then, later that day, John and Jack and Sherrie and Hanna will arrive, the heart of our 'New England Family' for 30 years--more excitement for the dog and the children who call John and Jack and Sherry 'aunt' and 'uncle' as well.
God help me, I'm reverting to my amazement at my blessings again. "Our Family" will gather day after tomorrow and eat food Bern and Sherry and Jack and John and I have prepared the same way we have for years. And we will bask in each others' presence and eat and drink and fall even more in love.
I am blessed, beyond imagining. And I KNOW IT. That it seems to me, at my favorite holiday, is what matters.
How Thankful I am. More than I can say. More than even I can know....
May your Thanksgiving be as wondrous as mine. That would make you wondrously blessed as well....
Mimi came tonight--she was up at her apartment in Stockbridge, working at her job as Development Officer for Jacob's Pillow, and because of the weather outlook, left early and go here about 6. Bern had told the dog, "Mimi is coming" about an hour before and he'd been laying by the front door ever since and when she came in he went (I think it's safe to say) a tad berserk, jumping and barking and fairly moaning in delight. He loves Mimi so, as well he should, as I do.
Tim's in Brooklyn and will come early Thanksgiving morning on the train rather than risk the weather tomorrow, and we'll all fight about who is going to pick him up, because we all love him so. But Mimi is his wife now--for well over a month--and she'll get dibs on driving to New Haven.
Josh and Cathy and the 3 granddaughters are leaving Baltimore at 7 in the morning. I wish they had come tonight because of tomorrow's snow, but driving after being a lawyer and prosecutor all day might be worse than some snow. With luck (which they'll need on the day before Thanksgiving on I-95!) they'll be here in the early afternoon. At which time the beserkness of our Puli will return--he loves the girls and Cathy and is respectful of Josh. They're bringing their rescue Pit Bull, Laura, who Bela, our dog has never met, so that is a mild anxiety. But we've been telling Bela that Sumi/Laura is coming and Sumi, their last Pit Bull who died this year, was Bela's fast friend. So all should be well....
Then Tim on Thanksgiving morning to complete our family. Bela will be glad to see him, but Emma, Morgan and Tegan will be over the moon! They love, love, love the man they've called "Uncle Tim" their whole lives and who, this time, by law, will be their uncle in fact.
Then, later that day, John and Jack and Sherrie and Hanna will arrive, the heart of our 'New England Family' for 30 years--more excitement for the dog and the children who call John and Jack and Sherry 'aunt' and 'uncle' as well.
God help me, I'm reverting to my amazement at my blessings again. "Our Family" will gather day after tomorrow and eat food Bern and Sherry and Jack and John and I have prepared the same way we have for years. And we will bask in each others' presence and eat and drink and fall even more in love.
I am blessed, beyond imagining. And I KNOW IT. That it seems to me, at my favorite holiday, is what matters.
How Thankful I am. More than I can say. More than even I can know....
May your Thanksgiving be as wondrous as mine. That would make you wondrously blessed as well....
So, maybe I'm not really losing it....
A couple of times I saw this link on line to "11 early signs of dementia" and didn't click on it because I've lately stood before an open refrigerator door, not knowing why and have gone to a room to get something and forgot, when I got there, what I came for....
Finally, I went to the link and maybe I'm not really losing it. I didn't have any of the 11 early signs (among which were forgetting what common objects were for--I've often heard this: 'not being able to find your car keys is normal, not knowing what a car key is for is dementia'--'eating objects'...haven't started doing that yet, though the credit card on my desk looks tasty; 'money troubles'...well, Bern handles our money so how would I know; 'falling a lot'...well, I'm clumsy but don't fall...if 'bumping into things' was a sign, I'd be looking for a home; 'staring' is one and I don't, unless it is Jennifer Lawrence or Minny Driver; I forget what most of the rest of the 11 are, but 'forgetting' isn't one of them, unless it's forgetting what a car key is for or forgetting your credit card isn't food. Oh, I remember two others: "not getting sarcasm" and "not being embarrassed". No problem on either case for this old bird....
My father had dementia his last few years of life and though I found some humor in it, it wasn't ME that had it. So, I am always noticing if I am showing any of his signs.
I think most of us fear 'losing our minds' and memories and 'self' more than we fear dying.
And well we should, I think, at any rate.
So, just so you know, I'm good for now....
Finally, I went to the link and maybe I'm not really losing it. I didn't have any of the 11 early signs (among which were forgetting what common objects were for--I've often heard this: 'not being able to find your car keys is normal, not knowing what a car key is for is dementia'--'eating objects'...haven't started doing that yet, though the credit card on my desk looks tasty; 'money troubles'...well, Bern handles our money so how would I know; 'falling a lot'...well, I'm clumsy but don't fall...if 'bumping into things' was a sign, I'd be looking for a home; 'staring' is one and I don't, unless it is Jennifer Lawrence or Minny Driver; I forget what most of the rest of the 11 are, but 'forgetting' isn't one of them, unless it's forgetting what a car key is for or forgetting your credit card isn't food. Oh, I remember two others: "not getting sarcasm" and "not being embarrassed". No problem on either case for this old bird....
My father had dementia his last few years of life and though I found some humor in it, it wasn't ME that had it. So, I am always noticing if I am showing any of his signs.
I think most of us fear 'losing our minds' and memories and 'self' more than we fear dying.
And well we should, I think, at any rate.
So, just so you know, I'm good for now....
Monday, November 24, 2014
My Lucky Day
So, looking through my papers, as I often do, I found a poem I wrote over 8 years ago that I was going to share with you in this post. And I will, real soon. It is an ironic look--isn't everything a bit ironic--at stuff I received as email one day in September of 2006. OK, so here it is:
MY LUCKY DAY
This morning, I had oatmeal and discovered,
just by turning on my Dell computer,
that I had won three remarkable monetary prizes
while I was sleeping, dreaming about a woman I knew in college
with legs from there to here and back again.
We didn't have sex in my dream--me and long legs--
but we discussed it:
and I have discovered, as I age,
that talking about sex is about as good as sex,
especially in dreams.
Trying to remember her name, I learned I was a millionaire!
I won three lotteries I never entered:
one is British and would pay me 1.5 million pounds sterling.
That, I know, whatever the exchange rate is today,
is quite enough money.
But, besides that, I won a million euros in and Irish drawing
and three more million, America, in a lottery
held in Bermuda. Imagine that!
Just by sleeping dreaming and talking about sex
with a long limbed woman whose name I don't remember
and who is in her late 50's now
(but not in the dream)
I had become rich.
What a lucky day!
And add to that it was one of those profoundly perfect
late September mornings in New England.
Lucky me! What a lucky duck...!
I bought an apartment on the upper east side
with a view of Central Park.
Plus, as you can imagine,
knowing me,
I sent huge checks to Save the Children,
the Democratic Party my parish church.
I endowed a chair in modern poetry at my college,
gave money to most of my friends
and set up a scholarship fund for long-legged women
whose name begins with 'W' ("Wanda", I'm almost sure
that was her name...or "Wilma"....)
All that before a second cup of coffee
and before the email from a lawyer in Rhodesia
asking me to please accept four million dollars
to watch out for the inheritance of his client,
the widow of a Rhodesian politician who needed to get
her fortune in an American bank.
It was such a lucky day that I sat on the deck
with a third cup of coffee and a cigarette,
simply enjoying autumn in Connecticut.
JGB--9/30/06
That would have been the post if the verdict of the Grand Jury in the Ferguson case of Michael Brown's shooting by a policeman hadn't come in.
My poem, whimsical as I think it is, simply reveals how sheltered and removed I am from the realities of the nation I live in.
I don't know how a policeman ever would have to shoot and kill an unarmed teenager. I simply don't see how all the training the police have would lead to that. Shoot them in the leg and subdue them. Use a taser and subdue them. Use your club and subdue them. And to have to shoot an unarmed 18 year old multiple times before they were subdued, until the 8th or 9th bullet (still some disagreement on that) killed them...I just can't get my head around that.
Now, add to that that the unarmed teen was Black and the Officer was White and things spin out of orbit.
I don't live in the world where that would happen. I live in a world where I can write a poem about the nonsense that gets emailed to us all and never have to worry about being unarmed and Black and being shot multiple times by a Police Officer that must have several options to subdue me and yet killed me with the 8th or 9th bullet and was exonerated by a Grand Jury.
It makes me want to fly to Missouri and demonstrate with those who live in a world so remarkably different from mine but which is in the world I live in.
It makes me mourn that I am so shielded from the world of Ferguson, MO, that I can be whimsical and have a third cup of coffee on my 'lucky day' when God knows what will happen in Ferguson tonight and in the days to come.
The word I haven't used yet is the 'R' word.
I won't use it, but it is true. Until we deal with the 'R' word, how can any day, for any of us, be a 'lucky day'?
How???
MY LUCKY DAY
This morning, I had oatmeal and discovered,
just by turning on my Dell computer,
that I had won three remarkable monetary prizes
while I was sleeping, dreaming about a woman I knew in college
with legs from there to here and back again.
We didn't have sex in my dream--me and long legs--
but we discussed it:
and I have discovered, as I age,
that talking about sex is about as good as sex,
especially in dreams.
Trying to remember her name, I learned I was a millionaire!
I won three lotteries I never entered:
one is British and would pay me 1.5 million pounds sterling.
That, I know, whatever the exchange rate is today,
is quite enough money.
But, besides that, I won a million euros in and Irish drawing
and three more million, America, in a lottery
held in Bermuda. Imagine that!
Just by sleeping dreaming and talking about sex
with a long limbed woman whose name I don't remember
and who is in her late 50's now
(but not in the dream)
I had become rich.
What a lucky day!
And add to that it was one of those profoundly perfect
late September mornings in New England.
Lucky me! What a lucky duck...!
I bought an apartment on the upper east side
with a view of Central Park.
Plus, as you can imagine,
knowing me,
I sent huge checks to Save the Children,
the Democratic Party my parish church.
I endowed a chair in modern poetry at my college,
gave money to most of my friends
and set up a scholarship fund for long-legged women
whose name begins with 'W' ("Wanda", I'm almost sure
that was her name...or "Wilma"....)
All that before a second cup of coffee
and before the email from a lawyer in Rhodesia
asking me to please accept four million dollars
to watch out for the inheritance of his client,
the widow of a Rhodesian politician who needed to get
her fortune in an American bank.
It was such a lucky day that I sat on the deck
with a third cup of coffee and a cigarette,
simply enjoying autumn in Connecticut.
JGB--9/30/06
That would have been the post if the verdict of the Grand Jury in the Ferguson case of Michael Brown's shooting by a policeman hadn't come in.
My poem, whimsical as I think it is, simply reveals how sheltered and removed I am from the realities of the nation I live in.
I don't know how a policeman ever would have to shoot and kill an unarmed teenager. I simply don't see how all the training the police have would lead to that. Shoot them in the leg and subdue them. Use a taser and subdue them. Use your club and subdue them. And to have to shoot an unarmed 18 year old multiple times before they were subdued, until the 8th or 9th bullet (still some disagreement on that) killed them...I just can't get my head around that.
Now, add to that that the unarmed teen was Black and the Officer was White and things spin out of orbit.
I don't live in the world where that would happen. I live in a world where I can write a poem about the nonsense that gets emailed to us all and never have to worry about being unarmed and Black and being shot multiple times by a Police Officer that must have several options to subdue me and yet killed me with the 8th or 9th bullet and was exonerated by a Grand Jury.
It makes me want to fly to Missouri and demonstrate with those who live in a world so remarkably different from mine but which is in the world I live in.
It makes me mourn that I am so shielded from the world of Ferguson, MO, that I can be whimsical and have a third cup of coffee on my 'lucky day' when God knows what will happen in Ferguson tonight and in the days to come.
The word I haven't used yet is the 'R' word.
I won't use it, but it is true. Until we deal with the 'R' word, how can any day, for any of us, be a 'lucky day'?
How???
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Ah, Puerto Rico....
All the time I've lived in Connecticut--since 1980 now (the first hundred years they tell me, are the hardest!) I've seldom been able, in basketball at any rate, to rub it in about West Virginia University, my alma mater. Oh, we owned UConn in football in the years of the Big East (I miss the Big East so)--I loved playing games with other teams in places I'd actually been (Pittsburgh, Syracuse, Rutgers, Louisville, all those places) but in basketball...I never had any braggin' rights.
Well, tonight, after what happened in Puerto Rico, I can say, loud and clear, "How about them 'Eers!"
(Which is West Virginian for 'How about those Mountaineers'?)
78-68. WVU over UConn. Bobby Huggins over Kevin Ollie. Jerome Staten over Boatwright.
Oh, that felt good to write!
Well, tonight, after what happened in Puerto Rico, I can say, loud and clear, "How about them 'Eers!"
(Which is West Virginian for 'How about those Mountaineers'?)
78-68. WVU over UConn. Bobby Huggins over Kevin Ollie. Jerome Staten over Boatwright.
Oh, that felt good to write!
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