 |
| Sailboats Sleeping in the Sun |
 |
| Sparkling Coast |
 |
| Almost Looks Tropical |
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Picnic at the Beach
October in New England - Part 2 (The Beach)
The weather in New England last October was certainly a mixed bag, but by the end of the month, "Indian Summer" had finally decided to perform an encore of its earlier appearance that fall. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, as I was scheduled to spend some time with "M" while her daughter was out of town. Even better was that we would visiting "M"s home, which is not far from the waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
When "M" was a young girl, both of her parents were members of a nearby yacht club, and racing sailboats was an important part of their family heritage. "M" spent a great deal of time at the club, which was directly located on Long Island Sound, and often recalled very fond memories of her experiences there. The beautifully preserved black and white photograph of "M" sailing one of the racing crafts at the age of twelve, which sat prominently on display in her living room, was a testament to that. Every time we passed by the picture, "M" would point to it with great pride and say, "That's me!"
That was indeed "M"! Before taking to the bright blue skies, "M" had first mastered its' reflective sister directly below: The sea! As a young sailor, "M" had developed a love of the water that she would carry with her throughout her long and quite colorful life, which has now, not surprisingly, brought her to a new home near the spectacular Gulf of Mexico.
Often, "M" would pick up the photograph and cradle it in her hands. Then she would sit down with me, both of us at opposite ends of the seashell table, and talk about her youthful sailing adventures, embracing the picture throughout the entire conversation.
"I won this race, you know," she boasted every time. I never grew tired of hearing her stories. "That's my Mother with me in the boat!" she added, a bit of melancholy in her voice. If you looked very closely at the image, taken by a skilled boating photographer from an adjacent boat, you could see the back of "M"s Mother, distinguished by a beautiful hat that was probably all the rage at that time. And even though she was only around twelve years old, "M" was completely recognizable... her determined countenance, her bright eyes... all still the same seventy-eight years later!
After describing the race, and her other adventures on the Sound, "M" took out the trophy that she had won. The writing was hard to distinguish, a victim of tarnish and time, but the pride in "M"s voice as she clutched the prize close to her was clear and current.
"I didn't always win," she told me one afternoon. She recalled the time that she was in a very publicized race that was to be covered by the biggest newspaper in the area. The disappointment in her tone was still evident after all these years. "I came in second, and there it was in the paper for everyone to see." I could hear a sense of self-deprecation in her words, and my heart went out to her. She grew up trying to do everything the "right way" so that other's would approve of her, while at the same time struggling to preserve the part of her that marched to a different drummer.
With great empathy, I told her about how I had come in second in my graduating class in high school. Salutatorian they called it. The Valedictorian received much of the praise, including local publicity. I remember being interviewed on the radio, noted in the newspapers, and getting a small second place monetary award, but I was still in the shadow of the girl who was number one. It was probably my biggest accomplishment as a teenager, however, and I could tell by the look of genuine concern on "M" expressive face that she could relate to my story.
"I guess that's another thing we have in common," we both agreed with a smile. "Second place!"
We also agreed to embark on a picnic one warm, sunny afternoon. I packed up a lunch that included our usual fare - sandwiches, fruit, bottled water, and of course, cookies - and I told "M" that we were going down to spend the day near the beach. "Oh good!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. Some days, "M" did not have a lot of energy and preferred staying at home. Luckily, the beautiful late Autumn weather, combined with a high level of enthusiasm, led to what would be a wonderful walk down memory lane for "M".
I'm not sure if "M" knew exactly where we were going, although her daughter and I had already discussed the plan, and agreed that it would be a wonderful outing for both her body and spirit. The directions were tricky, and although I am quite adept at getting from point A to point B without a map (after all, I was able to find the Pacific Ocean by driving straight across the country on Route 80!), I needed to resort to a download from the Internet for this particular trip. The route was not very long in terms of mileage, yet there were a number of twists and turns involved, and I wanted to make sure we actually got to where we were going!
"M" always enjoys riding in the car, especially on sunny days, so she was quite content to be my passenger as I weaved my way through unknown neighborhoods en route to our final destination. I confess that I made a few wrong turns here and there, but "M" didn't notice unless I exclaimed, "Oh Shoot!" and even then, she didn't seem to mind. She was happy to look out at the colorful foliage that made Southern New England so spectacular at this time of year.
Finally, I found our picnic location... a park located on a point that was surrounded by the waters of the Long Island Sound. It was a place that "M" had been to many times throughout her life, and as we drove through the entrance she began to recognize certain aspects of our surroundings. I was almost as excited as "M", and felt as though I was rediscovering a part of my past as well, even though I'd never been to this particular area.
"Is that the ocean?" she asked as we drove into a parking lot near the beach, pointing to a rocky shore that bordered the beautiful blue water. "Yes it is," I replied, on the verge of letting the cat out of the bag about our location.
"It looks familiar," "M" added, recognition continuing to unfold in her mind. I'm not sure exactly how long it had been since she'd been to this particular spot on the Long Island Sound, but I'd venture a guess that it had been a number of years.
Her eyes were misty as the realization of where she was sunk in. The parking lot by the beach was adjacent to a series of docks overflowing with sailboats of all sizes, indicating the presence of a nearby yacht club. Seeing the sea crafts, "M" said with wonder in her voice, "I used to sail boats like that!" I smiled, inside and out. "Yes you did," I replied, growing a bit misty myself.
Thanks to her handicapped parking sticker, I was able to park close to a bench that looked out over both the marina and the waters directly south of the point. "Here's where we're going to have our picnic!" I announced, much to "M"s delight.
I helped her out of the car, and handed her the cane that she used whenever she was walking. With the cane in one hand, and her other arm entwined with mine, we very carefully made our way to the bench, where I helped "M" sit down. Although her mobility was mostly intact, "M" had a great fear of falling, which led to a great deal of trepidation when she ambulated. I assured her as I always did on our outings, "Don't worry. I won't let you fall." I noticed that her gait had gotten a but quicker as we got closer to our picnic spot.
After I was certain that "M" was comfortable and safe on the bench, I returned to the car for the cooler that contained our lunch. Seagulls were flying around all above, anticipating a handout our two, and the sound of their screeches was actually soothing to my ears. I took some deep breaths, and relished the feel of the ocean breeze on my body, and the scent of salt in the air. There was yet another similarity between "M" and I... that feeling of rejuvenation, almost a rebirth, that only comes from being near the ocean.
As we ate our lunch, "M" and I enjoyed watching a variety of water craft navigate the sound. Because the day was so unusually warm, there were many motor boats out and about, along with sailboats and cargo ships and even a few jet skiers. What an odd, yet incredibly awesome, sight, especially on a late Autumn afternoon!
We made some friends as we slowly savored our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (my creativity in meal preparation was a little off that day!), but they soon became quite petulant in their demands to share our food. It was the soothingly screeching seagulls, who had now landed close to our bench. Funny how they didn't seem quite so serene now.
Of course, "M" the animal lover wanted to give all of her lunch to the "poor starving little critters," but I (not so easily) convinced her that the persistent birds had more than enough to eat, as people picnicked at this park all the time. "I don't see that many people," "M" challenged, and indeed she was right. It was not only a weekday, but also a school day, and there really weren't very many folks and about. Luckily, the ones that were must have been animal lovers as well, and "M" was able to see at least one couple tossing pieces of bread to our new feathered friends who had far overstayed their welcome. "See?" I pointed. "The little critters have plenty to eat!"
Satisfied, "M" placed her hand over her eyes and looked at the water that lay so majestically in front of us. In that position, she actually looked like a sailor! I wondered what exactly was going through her mind at she viewed the very area where she had sailed as a small girl almost eighty years ago. As if reading my mind, "M" began to tell me the tale of how she used to race boats like that. I didn't mind. I never grew tired of her stories, even if they were told several times in one day!
After lunch, we drove around the point to a sandy area on the north side that had some accessibility to the water. After getting settled on another bench not far from the car, "M" watched with great amusement as I hopped from foot to foot in an awkward attempt to take my shoes and socks off. (I could of sworn I saw those seagulls, bellies full of bread, snickering at me from across the parking lot!) As I recall, I was too filled with too much excitement to sit down on the bench and take them off the easy way. I felt like a little girl myself, and wanted nothing more than to run across the sand and stick my toes in the bubbly water.
"I'm afraid I'm too old to do THAT anymore!" "M" joked, laughing at my antics. "I'd be more than happy to help you over to the shore if you want to go," I offered, and I truly believe that if she had wanted to, I would have found a way to carry her. "M" smiled warmly and said, "Go ahead. I'll just enjoy watching you." By this point in our relationship, I wasn't sure who was living vicariously through who anymore! Either way, what an absolute joy to be able to share such a wonderful moment in time with a dear friend.
The shore was extremely rocky, and I heard "M"s voice trailing cautiously after me as I rushed towards the beach, "Be careful!" I had every intention of being as cautious as possible. Even though I was only on the verge of fifty, I knew that my bone density was not exactly where it should be. Not enough milk, I suppose! Or exercise. My bones may not have been as vulnerable to breakage as "M"s were, but I wasn't quite willing to test this theory out by tumbling over a rock outcropping. I've also been told that my head is definitely dense, but again, not a good time to test this out...
As I waded through the shallow waves gently breaking along the shore, I felt truly invigorated. The water didn't feel nearly as cold as I thought it would for this time of the year, and I carefully fished for for seashells with my toes. There were some broken mussels scattered along the sand, mixed with the bits and pieces of other crustaceans, but I thought I'd have better luck finding one in tact within the water itself. Much to my surprise, I was right! I didn't find many, but I held the few I did retrieve proudly up in the air, waving for "M" to see. She nodded her head and waved back at me, but I seriously doubted that she could see the shells from where she sat.
When I had a handful of treasures, I hurried back to the bench to show them to "M". "Beautiful," she complimented approvingly, applauding my efforts. They weren't, really, but to us, they were as magical and mystifying as a fossil dug directly from the dirt of an ancient archeological site . I put them in the pocket of my windbreaker, never dreaming that less than two months later, I would be engaging in the exact same activity in the company of "M" along the spectacular shores of Florida's Gulf Coast.
We ended up spending much of that afternoon bouncing from one beach, and bench, to another along the New England side of the Long Island Sound that was closest to "M"s home. It was truly a wonderful afternoon, and a far cry from the blizzard we had spent together a year earlier. But despite the vast difference in Mother Nature's demeanor, I don't know if I could say which October day was more memorable. With "M" as my companion, every day is joyous!
After describing the race, and her other adventures on the Sound, "M" took out the trophy that she had won. The writing was hard to distinguish, a victim of tarnish and time, but the pride in "M"s voice as she clutched the prize close to her was clear and current.
"I didn't always win," she told me one afternoon. She recalled the time that she was in a very publicized race that was to be covered by the biggest newspaper in the area. The disappointment in her tone was still evident after all these years. "I came in second, and there it was in the paper for everyone to see." I could hear a sense of self-deprecation in her words, and my heart went out to her. She grew up trying to do everything the "right way" so that other's would approve of her, while at the same time struggling to preserve the part of her that marched to a different drummer.
With great empathy, I told her about how I had come in second in my graduating class in high school. Salutatorian they called it. The Valedictorian received much of the praise, including local publicity. I remember being interviewed on the radio, noted in the newspapers, and getting a small second place monetary award, but I was still in the shadow of the girl who was number one. It was probably my biggest accomplishment as a teenager, however, and I could tell by the look of genuine concern on "M" expressive face that she could relate to my story.
"I guess that's another thing we have in common," we both agreed with a smile. "Second place!"
We also agreed to embark on a picnic one warm, sunny afternoon. I packed up a lunch that included our usual fare - sandwiches, fruit, bottled water, and of course, cookies - and I told "M" that we were going down to spend the day near the beach. "Oh good!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. Some days, "M" did not have a lot of energy and preferred staying at home. Luckily, the beautiful late Autumn weather, combined with a high level of enthusiasm, led to what would be a wonderful walk down memory lane for "M".
I'm not sure if "M" knew exactly where we were going, although her daughter and I had already discussed the plan, and agreed that it would be a wonderful outing for both her body and spirit. The directions were tricky, and although I am quite adept at getting from point A to point B without a map (after all, I was able to find the Pacific Ocean by driving straight across the country on Route 80!), I needed to resort to a download from the Internet for this particular trip. The route was not very long in terms of mileage, yet there were a number of twists and turns involved, and I wanted to make sure we actually got to where we were going!
"M" always enjoys riding in the car, especially on sunny days, so she was quite content to be my passenger as I weaved my way through unknown neighborhoods en route to our final destination. I confess that I made a few wrong turns here and there, but "M" didn't notice unless I exclaimed, "Oh Shoot!" and even then, she didn't seem to mind. She was happy to look out at the colorful foliage that made Southern New England so spectacular at this time of year.
Finally, I found our picnic location... a park located on a point that was surrounded by the waters of the Long Island Sound. It was a place that "M" had been to many times throughout her life, and as we drove through the entrance she began to recognize certain aspects of our surroundings. I was almost as excited as "M", and felt as though I was rediscovering a part of my past as well, even though I'd never been to this particular area.
"Is that the ocean?" she asked as we drove into a parking lot near the beach, pointing to a rocky shore that bordered the beautiful blue water. "Yes it is," I replied, on the verge of letting the cat out of the bag about our location.
"It looks familiar," "M" added, recognition continuing to unfold in her mind. I'm not sure exactly how long it had been since she'd been to this particular spot on the Long Island Sound, but I'd venture a guess that it had been a number of years.
Her eyes were misty as the realization of where she was sunk in. The parking lot by the beach was adjacent to a series of docks overflowing with sailboats of all sizes, indicating the presence of a nearby yacht club. Seeing the sea crafts, "M" said with wonder in her voice, "I used to sail boats like that!" I smiled, inside and out. "Yes you did," I replied, growing a bit misty myself.
Thanks to her handicapped parking sticker, I was able to park close to a bench that looked out over both the marina and the waters directly south of the point. "Here's where we're going to have our picnic!" I announced, much to "M"s delight.
I helped her out of the car, and handed her the cane that she used whenever she was walking. With the cane in one hand, and her other arm entwined with mine, we very carefully made our way to the bench, where I helped "M" sit down. Although her mobility was mostly intact, "M" had a great fear of falling, which led to a great deal of trepidation when she ambulated. I assured her as I always did on our outings, "Don't worry. I won't let you fall." I noticed that her gait had gotten a but quicker as we got closer to our picnic spot.
After I was certain that "M" was comfortable and safe on the bench, I returned to the car for the cooler that contained our lunch. Seagulls were flying around all above, anticipating a handout our two, and the sound of their screeches was actually soothing to my ears. I took some deep breaths, and relished the feel of the ocean breeze on my body, and the scent of salt in the air. There was yet another similarity between "M" and I... that feeling of rejuvenation, almost a rebirth, that only comes from being near the ocean.
As we ate our lunch, "M" and I enjoyed watching a variety of water craft navigate the sound. Because the day was so unusually warm, there were many motor boats out and about, along with sailboats and cargo ships and even a few jet skiers. What an odd, yet incredibly awesome, sight, especially on a late Autumn afternoon!
We made some friends as we slowly savored our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (my creativity in meal preparation was a little off that day!), but they soon became quite petulant in their demands to share our food. It was the soothingly screeching seagulls, who had now landed close to our bench. Funny how they didn't seem quite so serene now.
Of course, "M" the animal lover wanted to give all of her lunch to the "poor starving little critters," but I (not so easily) convinced her that the persistent birds had more than enough to eat, as people picnicked at this park all the time. "I don't see that many people," "M" challenged, and indeed she was right. It was not only a weekday, but also a school day, and there really weren't very many folks and about. Luckily, the ones that were must have been animal lovers as well, and "M" was able to see at least one couple tossing pieces of bread to our new feathered friends who had far overstayed their welcome. "See?" I pointed. "The little critters have plenty to eat!"
Satisfied, "M" placed her hand over her eyes and looked at the water that lay so majestically in front of us. In that position, she actually looked like a sailor! I wondered what exactly was going through her mind at she viewed the very area where she had sailed as a small girl almost eighty years ago. As if reading my mind, "M" began to tell me the tale of how she used to race boats like that. I didn't mind. I never grew tired of her stories, even if they were told several times in one day!
After lunch, we drove around the point to a sandy area on the north side that had some accessibility to the water. After getting settled on another bench not far from the car, "M" watched with great amusement as I hopped from foot to foot in an awkward attempt to take my shoes and socks off. (I could of sworn I saw those seagulls, bellies full of bread, snickering at me from across the parking lot!) As I recall, I was too filled with too much excitement to sit down on the bench and take them off the easy way. I felt like a little girl myself, and wanted nothing more than to run across the sand and stick my toes in the bubbly water.
"I'm afraid I'm too old to do THAT anymore!" "M" joked, laughing at my antics. "I'd be more than happy to help you over to the shore if you want to go," I offered, and I truly believe that if she had wanted to, I would have found a way to carry her. "M" smiled warmly and said, "Go ahead. I'll just enjoy watching you." By this point in our relationship, I wasn't sure who was living vicariously through who anymore! Either way, what an absolute joy to be able to share such a wonderful moment in time with a dear friend.
The shore was extremely rocky, and I heard "M"s voice trailing cautiously after me as I rushed towards the beach, "Be careful!" I had every intention of being as cautious as possible. Even though I was only on the verge of fifty, I knew that my bone density was not exactly where it should be. Not enough milk, I suppose! Or exercise. My bones may not have been as vulnerable to breakage as "M"s were, but I wasn't quite willing to test this theory out by tumbling over a rock outcropping. I've also been told that my head is definitely dense, but again, not a good time to test this out...
As I waded through the shallow waves gently breaking along the shore, I felt truly invigorated. The water didn't feel nearly as cold as I thought it would for this time of the year, and I carefully fished for for seashells with my toes. There were some broken mussels scattered along the sand, mixed with the bits and pieces of other crustaceans, but I thought I'd have better luck finding one in tact within the water itself. Much to my surprise, I was right! I didn't find many, but I held the few I did retrieve proudly up in the air, waving for "M" to see. She nodded her head and waved back at me, but I seriously doubted that she could see the shells from where she sat.
When I had a handful of treasures, I hurried back to the bench to show them to "M". "Beautiful," she complimented approvingly, applauding my efforts. They weren't, really, but to us, they were as magical and mystifying as a fossil dug directly from the dirt of an ancient archeological site . I put them in the pocket of my windbreaker, never dreaming that less than two months later, I would be engaging in the exact same activity in the company of "M" along the spectacular shores of Florida's Gulf Coast.
We ended up spending much of that afternoon bouncing from one beach, and bench, to another along the New England side of the Long Island Sound that was closest to "M"s home. It was truly a wonderful afternoon, and a far cry from the blizzard we had spent together a year earlier. But despite the vast difference in Mother Nature's demeanor, I don't know if I could say which October day was more memorable. With "M" as my companion, every day is joyous!
Thursday, August 15, 2013
October in New England - Part 1 (Blizzard)
Talk about opposites! As anyone who lives in New England knows, Autumn weather can be a rollercoaster ride ranging from a balmy, sun-drenched "Indian Summer" day to a full-blown Nor-Easter bringing with it a record-breaking pummeling of snow and ice.
I've spent a good part of the past two Octobers with "M" in Southern New England, and have had the pleasure of enjoying both weather scenarios in "M"s company. Needless to say, both experiences were extremely memorable and fun, not only thanks to the wacky, yet wonderful world of Mother Nature, but also because I was able to share them with "M".
When I arrived at "M"s daughter's home in late October 2011 for a three-day overnight visit, it was a picture-perfect Autumn day. Actually, the weather had been quite kind up until that point, and many of the trees were still dressed in golden gowns of foliage. "M"s daughter's home was located on a beautiful piece of property that included many wooded areas, and the surroundings were truly a stunning site to behold. Serene shades of green, dotted by patches of red, orange, and yellow, made even more striking by areas of gray rock outcroppings. Absolutely beautiful!
It was the weekend before Halloween, which really didn't mean that much to "M" and I, except that the annual changing of the clocks would soon be upon us, and the days would grow darker far too soon. "M"s daughter was at a conference overseas, and our plan was to spend the magnificent Autumn weekend strolling through the fallen leaves and watching westerns on the VCR player. ("Lonesome Dove" was all set to go, including the sequel, "Return to Lonesome Dove"!)
As I think I mentioned in a previous entry (and if I didn't, please forgive my memory lapse), "M"s family typically did not have cable television hooked up. Thus, there was no access to the local news and weather, except via computer. Usually, I did not bring along my laptop for my stays with "M" because I preferred to spend the time just enjoying her companionship. In hindsight, most of the times I spent with "M" were in the absence of access to current events, which distinguished our visits as very specials moments suspended in an almost timeless bubble.
The first two days of the visit (a Thursday and Friday, I believe) were quite pleasant. The Autumn thus far had been unseasonably warm, which made it difficult to think that Winter would soon be making its presence known. If you assessed the season by the weather alone, that is. A stop in any local merchant would clearly state otherwise, as businesses were already decorated with all sorts of holiday paraphernalia. Excluding polar bears on sleds, alligators with red caps, and a giant Santa Claus and Frosty blow-up display surrounded by palm trees... that would come the following winter in Florida (See previous blog entry for photographic proof!).
"M" and I were enjoying our regular routine of late morning tea coupled with conversation about World War II Naval Pilot training, when I noticed that the sky just starting to grow gray. No big deal. "M" and I often spent several days housebound in the midst of a rainy patch of weather. Somewhere during our chat, which generally lasted a good hour and a half or two, covering subjects ranging from WWII to school day snobbery to "What fun!" the birds outside the window seemed to be having, I noticed snow flurries dancing around amid the fun birds. In fact, the birds seemed to stop having fun, and had disappeared rather ominously, along with the rest of the wildlife, which was quite plentiful in this area of the country. Even the two kitties had opted to stay inside, much to "M"s delight, as they alternated their time curling up in her warm lap.
I hadn't recalled any prediction of snow prior to my visit with "M", but then again, I wasn't really focused on the weather when preparing for these times. I prefer to stay in the moment as much as possible, and let whatever happens next be an unexpected surprise.
Well... What happened next was certainly an unexpected surprise! "M" and I had our usual lunch (a sandwich, piece of fruit, and glass of milk) at the quaint two-person table adjacent to some windows that looked out on the front lawn. Halfway through our meal, "M" pointed outside and stated "It looks like Christmas!" Even though she often didn't know what season it was, her observation was right on the money! The ground, now covered with at least an inch or two of snow, did indeed look like Christmas. Except that it was Halloween. And we hadn't even traveled over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house for Thanksgiving yet!
Admittedly, it looked beautiful outside, particularly as the snow began to accumulate on the brightly colored leaves that still clung to life on a number of tree branches. We decided to retreat to the "Movie Room" and watch a video (by now, I'm sure you can guess what type). We had nowhere to go anyway, and once we were immersed in our western, "M" and I were in a different world anyway.
Just a note about movie time. It was wonderful, especially at her daughter's home. The room served as both an office and a sitting area, and was distinguished by a large sleigh bed located right in the middle. This was where "M" would sit to watch a film, surrounded by many pillows should she need them (which she never did, because she always sat straight upright, trying to maintain "good posture" as her mother had told her to do eighty years ago), and wrapped in a comfy throw blanket. With three walls of windows, this tended to be the coldest room in the house, although it offered a spectacular view of the scenery outside.
By evening, that scenery had turned completely white! Not a patch of green to be seen! It would be getting dark soon... time to prepare for dinner, which was always a very enjoyable time with "M". I am not, and have never claimed to be, a good cook. This is just one of the many qualities "M" and I have in common. We would often laugh about our inability to prepare a decent meal for members of our families, sharing stories of the dreadful concoctions we would cook up, and concluding that some people are just not cut out for cooking. With "M" as my cheerleader, however, I was generally able to whip up a fine dinner that satisfied both of us. How nice to have a non-judgmental audience!
After dinner, "M" and I continued watching our western on the VCR. Sometimes, we would rewind and repeat the same section as before dinner, both of us already haven forgotten what had happened previously. I guess my cooking was so incredible that we could not remember anything else! I would then bring in some ice cream or cookies for dessert, and the evening winded down peacefully. Soon it was bedtime, a very nice experience for "M" and I, as I gently helped her get into her pajamas while humming a happy tune with her. "M" always went to bed happy. It's one of the many things I adore about her. I've never met anyone that happy when they woke up and when they went to sleep! To me, it represented the contentment of a day well spent, along with the anticipation of another day to be spent in exactly the same way. A wonderful way to enjoy life!
After bedtime on this particular late October evening, I went to the kitchen to clean up a bit and get the coffee pot ready for the morning. It was pitch black outside, as there were no lighted roads or other houses within sight, and part of me wanted to keep it that way. Serene and silent. The curiosity killed the cat part of me, however, wanted to see just how much snow had accumulated outside the front door. "M" was still humming in her bed, but I tried to open the door as quietly as possible so as not to disturb her. Either my muscle tone had diminished dramatically since earlier in the day (which is not surprising when you spend most of the day watching a western mini-series and eating!), or something was blocking the door. Either way, it was very difficult to push open.
The reason soon became astoundingly clear. There had to be a good four or five inches of snow out on the front stoop! I was shocked! I've lived in New England a good portion of my life, and a"bit of snow" in late October certainly wasn't unusual, but this was much more than a "bit." It was time to locate the shovel! And quickly, as the white fluff showed no signs of stopping. Luckily, the garage, just off the kitchen, had plenty of winter necessities readily available, including a variety of shovels, salt, boots, a flashlight. And the home was equipped with a generator, which would be an absolute essential in a power outage. I cleared off the front stoop, then prepared for bed myself, wondering what wonders would await me the next morning. Actually, I couldn't wonder any longer. I confess that in spite of the enjoyable absence of technological access to the "outside world" that I often enjoyed in "M"s company, I resorted to my handy-dandy cell phone's news and weather "app" to learn what the heck was going on outside! There it was! Right before my eyes, except that I needed my glasses to see the tiny little screen! Every report carried a similar tagline about a "Monster Nor-Easter Pounding the East Coast!" I'm not quite sure when the term "Nor-Easter" became all the rage, but in my mind there was only one way to describe what was going on: Blizzard!
Knowing that "M" and I would be snowed in the next day, warm and comfy watching westerns in the movie room, I went to sleep humming "Walking in a Winter Wonderland."
In the end, we ended up having about two feet of snow, give or take a couple of inches. By the next day, the snow began to taper off, but in its wake was a whopping amount of whiteness. When "M" awoke that morning, I pointed to the wintery scene outside her window. With pure wonder in her voice, eyes opened widely, all she could say was, "Wow!" No other words were really needed, as she had aptly summed up the situation.
After breakfast, I got "M" set up for movie viewing, and began the dreaded process of clearing a path to my car, which was now virtually invisible. I have to admit, the images outside were not only astounding, but absolutely gorgeous. It amazed me that Mother Nature could change her mind about the weather so dramatically... and quickly.
When all was said and done, it turned out that the geographic area that "M" and I were in was one of only thirteen percent of the town that did NOT loose power to the giant storm. We had dodged a bullet that "M" didn't even realize had headed our way. In her eyes, each day was as beautiful as the one before it... and the one that would follow. What a wonderful way to view the world! When "M"s daughter was able to make it back home after being snowed in herself following her return flight from overseas, things had pretty much returned to normal.
Well... Except for the spectacular pine tree that lay sprawled in the front lawn, a victim of Mother Nature's power. It has fallen the night before, crackling and snapping before it tumbled. "M" and I had heard the giant thump, but I just dismissed it so as not to interrupt the movie viewing.
When "M"s daughter returned home the next day, I had already cleared the two feet of snow off my car, and so I began my own journey home to get ready for a Happy, and weirdly white, Halloween.
My next stop with "M" would be in only three weeks, where I would spend Thanksgiving with the three Senior Sisters in the very warm and much welcome Florida sunshine.
Knowing that "M" and I would be snowed in the next day, warm and comfy watching westerns in the movie room, I went to sleep humming "Walking in a Winter Wonderland."
In the end, we ended up having about two feet of snow, give or take a couple of inches. By the next day, the snow began to taper off, but in its wake was a whopping amount of whiteness. When "M" awoke that morning, I pointed to the wintery scene outside her window. With pure wonder in her voice, eyes opened widely, all she could say was, "Wow!" No other words were really needed, as she had aptly summed up the situation.
After breakfast, I got "M" set up for movie viewing, and began the dreaded process of clearing a path to my car, which was now virtually invisible. I have to admit, the images outside were not only astounding, but absolutely gorgeous. It amazed me that Mother Nature could change her mind about the weather so dramatically... and quickly.
When all was said and done, it turned out that the geographic area that "M" and I were in was one of only thirteen percent of the town that did NOT loose power to the giant storm. We had dodged a bullet that "M" didn't even realize had headed our way. In her eyes, each day was as beautiful as the one before it... and the one that would follow. What a wonderful way to view the world! When "M"s daughter was able to make it back home after being snowed in herself following her return flight from overseas, things had pretty much returned to normal.
Well... Except for the spectacular pine tree that lay sprawled in the front lawn, a victim of Mother Nature's power. It has fallen the night before, crackling and snapping before it tumbled. "M" and I had heard the giant thump, but I just dismissed it so as not to interrupt the movie viewing.
When "M"s daughter returned home the next day, I had already cleared the two feet of snow off my car, and so I began my own journey home to get ready for a Happy, and weirdly white, Halloween.
My next stop with "M" would be in only three weeks, where I would spend Thanksgiving with the three Senior Sisters in the very warm and much welcome Florida sunshine.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Gulf Coast Holiday Images
 |
| Boat Parade of Lights |
.jpg) |
| A Merry Little Christmas |
.jpg) |
| Happy Holidays! |
 |
| An Unlikely Pairing |
Monday, August 12, 2013
And So This is Christmas
Santa Claus on a golf cart in Bermuda shorts! Blown up lawn decorations of Candy Canes with palm trees! A Polar Bear on a sled next to an alligator with a Christmas cap on its head!
Yes. It was Christmas in Florida. Now I've lived on the West Coast, for ten years to be exact, and celebrated a number of holidays in the Bay Area. And I'll be the first to admit, it was mighty tough getting used to snow-less surroundings during the holidays. Even harder still was adjusting my mindset to Christmas decorations set up among Eucalyptus and Redwood trees.
But Santa Claus cruising around on a golf cart? Now that was just too out-of-synch! I felt like I had landed in "The Twilight Zone."
Nevertheless, those were the sights I saw when I traveled down to the Gulf Coast to spend the past holiday season with "M". I knew that the visuals might be challenging for "M" as well, mostly because of her short-term memory loss. It was growing increasingly more challenging for her to get oriented to time and place, especially following her recent move from the upper Northeast to Florida.
Then again, the humming helped. Considerably. Since we had already established a regular routine of humming holiday carols up in The Woods in August, it was a very smooth transition to hum along with them on a local radio station that played such tunes 24-7. Most areas have such stations. They sometimes start serving up holiday fare on Thanksgiving Day with an endless feed running straight through to Christmas. Then suddenly, the day after Christmas, the warmth of the season suddenly cools as all the stations go back to their "regular programming" which, at least in this heart and soul, doesn't carry quite the same messages of peace and love.
But that didn't matter much now. The important thing was that I was going to be spending the holiday season with possibly the world's best holiday hummer, the magnificent "M"! And we sure did have a lot of practice up in the Woods throughout the previous August! Our vocal chords where tuned and ready to accompany Bing, Nat, Frankie, Judy... ALL of the holiday favorites. Over and over and over again.
Prior to our arrival in Florida, most of our holiday humming fit in perfectly with the chorus of "Deck the Halls (with Boughs of Holly)". "M" and I had fa-la-la-la-la'd many days away in a multitude of settings thus far in our friendship. I figured this would make the acknowledgement of what time of year it was fairly simple for "M", despite her relocation to a warm, sunny climate.
We didn't have to wait very long to test out my hunch. On one of our first days together in the new surroundings, I accompanied "M" for a walk to the park across the street. We found a new favorite spot right away - a solidly built and very sturdy wooden bench with metal armrests. Very easy for "M" to get in and out of without too much assistance. It was under a grove of trees, thereby shaded from the sun, which, in spite of it being December, could feel quite warm at times. "M" didn't like sitting directly in the sun, nor did I, but because of her age and penchant to chill easily, I made sure we brought along an adequate supply of warm jackets and throws for our new adventure.
Within minutes of discovering our new bench, "M" and I were treated to an unexpected parade of dog walkers. Well... it wasn't really a parade in the traditional sense of the word. But it certainly was a steady flow of people proudly displaying their canine family members to anyone who was around. "M" is an animal lover, as I've already shared. In addition to the two kitties that her daughter has, she is also regularly in the presence of her son's three dogs. As there were no animals in her new home, I knew that "M" sorely missed her furry, four-legged companions, and was thrilled to discover the park as a meeting ground for fellow pet lovers.
We started making new friends right away, and I even began writing down the names of the owners, (many of whom were also wintering in the warm south from the frigid northeast), and the pooches associated with them, as so many of the doggies were the itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny ones with the LOUDEST barks on the planet! All of them started to look alike to me! Except for the occasional large dog, that is. Those were very memorable among this sea of miniatures.
About half an hour into our first visit to the park, "M" and I were enjoying a gentle breeze in our new favorite spot. The temperature was just right. Not too hot. Not too cold. In fact, everything seemed just right. Perfect, in fact. Tropical surroundings with fabulous flowers. Colorful birds, from wild green parrots to snowy white ibises, that soared over our heads majestically. "M" loved watching the birds, recollecting about her own days in the sky.
Just perfect. Until a different flock began to gather in the playground across from our spot. A flock of very excited children accompanied by very harried-looking parents. They were all meeting by the lone covered picnic pavilion that stood in the park, protecting it from the sometimes overbearing rays of the beautiful, but bright, sunshine.
"Something's going on over there," I pointed out the gathering of families to "M". Our spot was near the playground, so it wasn't unusual to see children swinging and sliding onto the weather-treated rubber mats that covered the hot sand. "M" always enjoyed watching children play, probably because she had the heart and soul of a wide-eyed, carefree child who viewed the world with wonder rather than cynicism or scorn. It was a wonderful quality, and I tried to emulate it as often as I could.
"M" gazed over at the pavilion, and smiled at the sight. Then, without warning, what to our wondering eyes should appear but... A brightly decorated golf cart aglow with gaudy Christmas lights and blaring holiday tunes from its boom-box style speakers! Behind the wheel was a white haired and fully bearded Santa Claus wearing a tropical shirt and Bermuda shorts. "HO, HO, HO!" he yelled to the children, who all ran up to the cart with expectation. Apparently, this was an annual tradition in this particular location. On a particular Sunday prior to Christmas, Santa would arrive on his "sleigh" loaded with lots of sugar-laden candy that he tossed to the children, (probably much to the dismay of their already over-wrought parents!). Hands full of goodies, the children all listened as Santa counted out the number of days until Christmas Day, warning that they should all be extra good little boys and girls so that he could deliver their gifts instead of a stocking full of coal.
I don't know about "M", but I'll have to admit that I was astounded by the site. This is just NOT the way December unfolded in parts of the country that were desperately trying to prepare for another predicted season of relentless sleet and snow. In fact, I recall now that my jaw was hanging open in a combination of shock and awe. What the heck was going on down here? "This isn't how Christmas is done," I told myself.
As the weeks went on after that initial afternoon in the park, I learned a valuable lesson. Christmas is what you make of it, wherever it is. It's not about snow and sleigh rides. Or pot-bellied Santa Claus's in red suits. Or even a parade (yes! a real parade!) of holiday themed sailboats competing for the prize of best decorated ("M" and I very much enjoyed this particular event from the comfort of her living room!).
The spirit of the holiday season is what matters most, and as it drew closer and closer to Christmas Day, this realization became clearer and clearer, largely thanks to my happily humming companion. "M" absolutely relished all of the holiday cheer, especially the music that is associated with this time of year. We would listen for hours on end, calmly gazing out the triple-wide back sliding door at a peaceful inlet inhabited by sea-birds of all sorts.
And even though every tune, ranging from the traditional "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" to a current country-pop styled "Frosty the Snowman," was still hummed with the "fa-la-la-la-la" lyric, "M" followed those melodies to the note! She knew all of the classics, and took great joy in hearing each and every one of them, dozens of times over. And even when it came to the more modern rock-pop classics, "M" enjoyed them all equally. Happily. Peacefully. With the true spirit of the season.
On Christmas Eve, I decided to take "M" to the closest church, a few blocks away in a neighborhood known as Pass-a-Grille. The church, very Spanish-styled in appearance, was packed, but a special place with two chairs was set up by some very gracious and welcoming parishioners for my ninety-year-old companion and myself. It was a candlelight service, so neither "M" nor myself (it's amazing how quickly the need for reading glasses arises after a "certain age") could read the programs. But we could hear. And that we did. With joy and gratitude in our hearts. The choir was spectacular, as were the song arrangements, and I was moved to tears several times by the sheer magic in the room. When I glanced over at "M", who looked like a true angel in the candlelight, I could see the same experience happening to her, too. What a blessing to be able to share such an event with her!
After we returned home from the service, we said goodnight to our crooked little thrift store Christmas tree, which "M" had watched me trim with a delight that was shared by both of us the evening before. My Dollar Store decorations, including two small stockings filled with various trinkets, red bows and candy canes. The big package from "M"s daughter and family that was filled with wonderfully wrapped (not-to-be-opened-until-Christmas-Morning) gifts. And the Piper Cub that was waiting to be placed on the white shelf after "M" retired for the evening.
My heart was touched in a truly special way that night. You see, one of my favorite holiday songs of all time is "Happy Christmas/War is Over" by John Lennon and Yoko Ono. He has always been an idol of mine because of the ultimate message of peace and love that comprises his incredible body of work. A life cut far too short by another filled with hatred and rage.
"M" and I had heard the song numerous times over the previous three and a half weeks, not only the original version, but also a number of different arrangements. The simple melody and universal lyrics send the same message no matter how they are presented. Peace and love are attainable by all of mankind, regardless of appearance, age, social status, religious beliefs. It is even attainable by snobs! I'm not sure if "M" knew who John Lennon was when I told her that he had been a member of the Beatles. Since they weren't producing any music from their cradles during WW II, I doubt she realized I was speaking about anything other than a common house bug.
Nevertheless, I heard the most amazing thing after I tucked "M" into bed that night. From her room, instead of humming one of the more familiar and favored "fa-la-la-la-la" tunes from her repertoire (French ditties, show tunes, and traditional holiday fare, which currently included a very sweet version of "Silent Night" at bedtime), I heard "M" distinctly humming (YES! Actual humming!) the melody of "Happy Christmas/War is Over." Something about the song had resonated in her mind, and I could not have been more heart-warmed and grateful. Two of my favorite people, John Lennon and "M", were united on Christmas Eve. If they could find the true meaning of Christmas, then why couldn't everyone?
The spirit of peace, love and joy were so strong that night, and I will never forget the magic I felt. Even in the presence of palm trees, warm breezes, and Golf Cart Santa.
Friday, August 9, 2013
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg){kind=link}
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Humming a Happy Tune
If I had to choose my favorite memory out of all the moments I shared with "M", I think I would have to choose listening to her hum. I have never in my entire life heard anyone relish a tune as happily, and vigorously, as "M". Sunny skies or stormy weather, and even to spite a chronic creak in her well-worn neck, "M" always had a happy tune to hum.
Well... it wasn't really humming in its truest sense of the word. It was more of a combination of humming and la-di-das, sprinkled with an occasional word or two, usually in French. More often than not, it included a lot of fa-la-la-la-la-ing, which led to a festive, holiday feeling even on the hottest of summer days. It was a joyful sound, and I never grew tired of hearing it, even if it wasn't always in tune... or in season.
"M" would often ask me what I thought of her "singing." "Do you think it sounds alright?" she would query, with genuine concern in her eyes. "It sounds beautiful to me!" I would answer, and a broad smile would return to her weathered face. In a world that is often full of dark and discouraging news, the sound of "M"s happy voice was always a welcome one to my weary ears.
"My Grandmother was the only one in my family who thought I sang well," "M" would sometimes tell me after a satisfying session of humming. "Everyone else in my family said I had a terrible voice," she added, with just a hint of unresolved childhood pain creeping into her high-pitched voice. "I think it's delightful," I would reply, genuinely meaning it. "You sound so happy when you sing, and that makes it a joy for me to hear." Again, the broad smile.
Not to be redundant, but joyful truly is the best word to describe "M"s humming (aka "singing"), I knew that everything was right in the world, as well as with "M", when I could hear her joyful hum. And after spending long periods of time getting to know her for over two years, it wasn't at all surprising to me that her humming was of such a nature. Absolutely everything about this amazing woman had a joyous quality to it!
"M"s favorite place to belt out a tune was the bathroom, which, as everyone who sings in the bathroom knows, is a wonderful place for acoustics! Not only that, but it's a judgment free zone, as no one else is in there to offer a negative comment or disapproving scowl. It is a safe and secure place to sing. As loudly as possible. And with an equal amount of passion A very healthy way to emit pent-up energy and repressed emotions!
Wait a minute... now I'm describing why I sing in the bathroom! I think that for "M" it was more a matter of convenience, since that's where she spent a lot of her time. Aging is a great equalizer, especially when it comes to the frequency of bathroom visits!
Wait a minute... now I'm describing why I sing in the bathroom! I think that for "M" it was more a matter of convenience, since that's where she spent a lot of her time. Aging is a great equalizer, especially when it comes to the frequency of bathroom visits!
A curious and wonderful pattern began to emerge after "M" and I had gotten to know each other for a while. We would hum in harmony. "M" would start off a particular tune, often a holiday song, and then she would encourage me to take the next verse. "Now you," she would prod, meaning it was my turn to take over. And even though I often didn't know the tune, I would nevertheless pipe right in, as if the melody had been a part of my memory for a lifetime. After a chorus of our synchronized singing, which could go on for a number of rounds, "M" would suddenly stop and clap her hands with glee. "We sure do have a lot of fun together!" she would exclaim. And even though she still didn't know my name or even quite how she knew me, in these special moments we were as one. "We make a pretty good team," I would tell her, and she would nod in ardent agreement.
Last August, "M" and I spent a great deal of time together at her family's property in "The Woods." What made it so perfect is that we had our very own camp. While her son and his family occupied the larger building, "M" and I were across a wooded path in a smaller, more cozy dwelling. In fact, I think we were far enough away that no one else could hear our humming, even with the doors and windows open, which was probably a good thing!
She and I developed a daily routine that not only included three square meals, including a late morning and early afternoon snack, (accompanied by a cup of tea, of course), but also a particular repertoire of tunes.
She and I developed a daily routine that not only included three square meals, including a late morning and early afternoon snack, (accompanied by a cup of tea, of course), but also a particular repertoire of tunes.
In the mornings, I would often wake up first and start preparing the coffee pot and breakfast dishes. During this time, I would refrain from humming so as not to wake "M" up. Her bedroom, the only single bedroom in the building, was directly off the small kitchen. Other mornings, "M" would awaken first, and the louder she hummed, the quicker I came downstairs, as my quarters were in the large porch-like second story of the dwelling. Soft humming was an indication that "M" was fine being alone for a little while. Louder, more passionate, humming meant that I better get to her side as fast as possible before she broke the sound barrier. I didn't mind. Seeing her sweet smile and hearing the joy in her voice was always a wonderful way to start the day.
During the early part of the day, "M" liked to hum the French tunes that were sung to her by her Nurse (aka "Nanny") when she was a little girl. Perhaps there was something about this time of day that reminded her of her youth. I took Spanish in High School, and am of the generation where "Sesame Street" on TV was the Nanny, so I didn't recognize any of "M"s songs. It didn't matter, though. They were all jubilant. Not surprisingly, this would lead to another conversation about the end of World War II. At this point, our talks would take a more philosophical twist, and we spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out the meaning of life. Ultimately, we agreed that it probably was as simple as being at peace with yourself and the world around you.
Afternoons were typically filled with show tunes. "M" loved to hum songs from famous Broadway musicals, including "My Fair Lady" ("we probably could have danced all night" in our younger days), and an oldie but always a goody, "Anything Goes" (since our friendship was "such a perfect blendship"). The amount of energy required to hum show tunes, as well as the digestion of chocolate laced cookies, would then lead to a brief rest. And when I say brief, I mean BRIEF! No sooner would "M" lay down, humming quietly to herself, than she'd be back in the bathroom testing out the acoustics!
Evenings were more of a time for celebrating the warmth of the holidays, and "M" and I would wind down our peaceful, nature-filled days by "decking the halls with boughs of holly." (We were, after all, in The Woods. What better place to find holly? And fungus?) Sometimes we'd go "walking in a winter wonderland" that was filled with speeding motorboats, chirping crickets, and those darned loons! By bedtime, we would both hum a sweet version of "Silent Night" together, and I would tuck "M" into her bed, kiss her on the forehead, and thank her for another beautiful day. Then she'd smile warmly, stretch out her arms, and embrace me. I'd leave the door open a crack so that she could find her way to the bathroom during the night, and I could still hear her joyous humming even after I went upstairs to my bed. How simple and enjoyable life could be in the company of a good friend!
For weeks after I returned from The Woods, or from any location I was lucky enough to share with "M", I would find myself humming mysterious French ditties in the morning, singing like Eliza Doolittle in the afternoons, and Christmas Caroling softly to myself at night. It was very difficult returning to the "real world" after humming so many happy tunes with "M", and I couldn't wait for the next time I could hear her sweet serenade, full of pure and absolute joy.
During the early part of the day, "M" liked to hum the French tunes that were sung to her by her Nurse (aka "Nanny") when she was a little girl. Perhaps there was something about this time of day that reminded her of her youth. I took Spanish in High School, and am of the generation where "Sesame Street" on TV was the Nanny, so I didn't recognize any of "M"s songs. It didn't matter, though. They were all jubilant. Not surprisingly, this would lead to another conversation about the end of World War II. At this point, our talks would take a more philosophical twist, and we spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out the meaning of life. Ultimately, we agreed that it probably was as simple as being at peace with yourself and the world around you.
Afternoons were typically filled with show tunes. "M" loved to hum songs from famous Broadway musicals, including "My Fair Lady" ("we probably could have danced all night" in our younger days), and an oldie but always a goody, "Anything Goes" (since our friendship was "such a perfect blendship"). The amount of energy required to hum show tunes, as well as the digestion of chocolate laced cookies, would then lead to a brief rest. And when I say brief, I mean BRIEF! No sooner would "M" lay down, humming quietly to herself, than she'd be back in the bathroom testing out the acoustics!
Evenings were more of a time for celebrating the warmth of the holidays, and "M" and I would wind down our peaceful, nature-filled days by "decking the halls with boughs of holly." (We were, after all, in The Woods. What better place to find holly? And fungus?) Sometimes we'd go "walking in a winter wonderland" that was filled with speeding motorboats, chirping crickets, and those darned loons! By bedtime, we would both hum a sweet version of "Silent Night" together, and I would tuck "M" into her bed, kiss her on the forehead, and thank her for another beautiful day. Then she'd smile warmly, stretch out her arms, and embrace me. I'd leave the door open a crack so that she could find her way to the bathroom during the night, and I could still hear her joyous humming even after I went upstairs to my bed. How simple and enjoyable life could be in the company of a good friend!
For weeks after I returned from The Woods, or from any location I was lucky enough to share with "M", I would find myself humming mysterious French ditties in the morning, singing like Eliza Doolittle in the afternoons, and Christmas Caroling softly to myself at night. It was very difficult returning to the "real world" after humming so many happy tunes with "M", and I couldn't wait for the next time I could hear her sweet serenade, full of pure and absolute joy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)