Friday, April 20, 2018
Poem
It's April, National Poetry Month so here goes;
I remember that Summer
I must have been eight
jammed into the back seat
of my parents Nova
with my sister and the red metal cooler
filled with root beer
and real beer
for impromptu stops
on the side of the road
We stopped once
at a roadside cafe
we hoped would have hamburgers
and a bathroom
but it was closed
and the desolate
abandoned look of the place
Still makes me wonder how long it had been closed
and if they owners just walked away from it
we stood on the wooden porch
a very long time
as if
in waiting
we could cause someone to appear.
No Air conditioning in that car
we rolled down the windows and held on
on those back roads through the desert
that my dad preferred,
the ones that rose and fell like
an endless roller coaster
ultimately,
I got sick and they had to stop
and dose me with
car-sickness medicine
which I swallowed
with the now-hot root beer
the carbonation like needles in my mouth
and my throat
It made me sleepy
they had to carry me to the motel room.
Those rooms always smelled
like stale coca-cola
and old cigarettes
the air conditioner had that peculiar
chemical taint
that seeped into the pillows
and the inevitable chenille bedspreads
that always seemed to be part of the motel landscape
in 1966
Thursday, April 19, 2018
Barbara Bush
Since she passed away this week at 92, I have been thinking about her. I never really was a BIG fan, to tell you the truth. The Bush clan left me cold and still do. I don't actively hate them and never wished them to the cornfield, as I can say I have with SOME people in politics, but yeah, not tripping over myself to meet any of them and not shedding tears. I am not turning handsprings. I am reflecting on her as a public figure.
The thought that "They sell us the President the same way they sell us our clothes and our cars" ( a line from Jackson Browne's brilliant "Lives in the Balance" which rings as true today as it did in the 80's) reminds me that they ALSO sell the First Lady as .. whatever. Barbara Bush was marketed as a kindly Grandmotherly woman who always wore pearls. I was looking to see if there were a reason, apparently not. ( side note to my friend Tom ; Barbara Billingsly apparently wore them to cover a scar on her neck. No word on Donna Reed)
But her "grandmotherly" image was somewhat tarnished when she was overheard by reporters calling Geraldine Ferraro, who was Walter Mondale's running mate in the 1984 election a "rhymes with rich" I was disappointed in her. Ferraro probably hadn't done anything but campaign. Looking back on it, I suppose she was just caught being who she was, a wise cracking woman with a sharp sense of humor, but we were supposed to see her as a cookie baking, apron bedecked Grandma- and Grandma's don't swear.
Well MINE did, but that's a subject for a future blog.
Barbara Bush advanced literacy, was an advocate for books and reading for children and adults. Her commitment to literacy for all Americans carried on after her time as First Lady. Her Foundation and the work it does is a testament to who she really was.
Odd factoid, Barbara Pierce Bush was a distant cousin many times removed, from Franklin Pierce who was apparently one of the worst president ever. His actions set the stage for the Civil War. We don't really learn much about him in US History. but thank goodness for Wikipedia. Seeing things like that makes me wonder about the nature of politics and whether certain families just gravitate toward politics; think the Kennedy's, the Bush Family ( Daddy Bush's daddy was a senator, after all). The news talked about Barbara Bush and a "life of public service". I wonder why anyone would choose such a life. It seems that half the public loves you and the other half loathe you. Maybe the money is good, if you look at the wealth of the current crop of Congressional leaders. But I digress.
Rest in Peace, Mrs. Bush. Thank you for your service. I hope you had a wonderful life.
The thought that "They sell us the President the same way they sell us our clothes and our cars" ( a line from Jackson Browne's brilliant "Lives in the Balance" which rings as true today as it did in the 80's) reminds me that they ALSO sell the First Lady as .. whatever. Barbara Bush was marketed as a kindly Grandmotherly woman who always wore pearls. I was looking to see if there were a reason, apparently not. ( side note to my friend Tom ; Barbara Billingsly apparently wore them to cover a scar on her neck. No word on Donna Reed)
But her "grandmotherly" image was somewhat tarnished when she was overheard by reporters calling Geraldine Ferraro, who was Walter Mondale's running mate in the 1984 election a "rhymes with rich" I was disappointed in her. Ferraro probably hadn't done anything but campaign. Looking back on it, I suppose she was just caught being who she was, a wise cracking woman with a sharp sense of humor, but we were supposed to see her as a cookie baking, apron bedecked Grandma- and Grandma's don't swear.
Well MINE did, but that's a subject for a future blog.
Barbara Bush advanced literacy, was an advocate for books and reading for children and adults. Her commitment to literacy for all Americans carried on after her time as First Lady. Her Foundation and the work it does is a testament to who she really was.
Odd factoid, Barbara Pierce Bush was a distant cousin many times removed, from Franklin Pierce who was apparently one of the worst president ever. His actions set the stage for the Civil War. We don't really learn much about him in US History. but thank goodness for Wikipedia. Seeing things like that makes me wonder about the nature of politics and whether certain families just gravitate toward politics; think the Kennedy's, the Bush Family ( Daddy Bush's daddy was a senator, after all). The news talked about Barbara Bush and a "life of public service". I wonder why anyone would choose such a life. It seems that half the public loves you and the other half loathe you. Maybe the money is good, if you look at the wealth of the current crop of Congressional leaders. But I digress.
Rest in Peace, Mrs. Bush. Thank you for your service. I hope you had a wonderful life.
Monday, April 16, 2018
Childhood books
Somewhere on Facebook, someone posted the following question:
What book or books make you think of your childhood
hmmm,
Now, I remember reading "Where the Wild things are" an awful lot, but I think the question is really about what we call "chapter books" so I have been thinking about that. I loved the Carolyn Haywood "Betsy" books, about a little girl who lived somewhere on the east coast who had normal east coast adventures. It was like reading letters from a friend, more than anything else. Haywood also wrote about a boy named "Eddie" but I don't remember reading them or if I did, I guess I didn't really relate to Eddie so he didn't stick with me. I remember - and I could be wrong- that when I started reading the Betsy books, my sister was a bit miffed as if Betsy were HER discovery and I couldn't read them. I was an early reader and started chapter books fairly early, so it MIGHT have been I was taking them from HER stash of books. We were ONLY allowed ( by our mother) five books every two weeks from the Library. I think it's how she kept track of how many books we had and how many had to go back. I would have checked out a LOT more, if she had let me. I remember re-reading some, while I waited for the due date and our return visit.
I remember the "Little House Books" played a big part in my childhood too. The adventures of Laura and her family as they moved across the American West were thrilling and strange. Laura would have been considered a bit of a tomboy, as I was, and sometimes my friends and I acted out the books. I remember years later someone claimed that her daughter Rose Wilder Lane actually wrote the books ( I think it was Rose herself) but if you read Rose's writing and the "Little House" books, there is a distinct "voice" in both and Rose's work is NOT the same. I loved the Little House books, but didn't really watch the tv series of the same mane. meh. As in most things, the books were better.
I remember a fairly unknown book by Sally Watson called "Highland Rebel" about a girl caught up in a feud between two clans, in the Scottish Highlands, the Campbells and the Camerons. Lauren, the main character was brave and stupid all at the same time and I loved her. I longed for other books featuring her adventures, but alas, this was a "one-off"This was probably my favorite chapter book, hands down.
So, chime in. What books remind you of YOUR childhood?
What book or books make you think of your childhood
hmmm,
Now, I remember reading "Where the Wild things are" an awful lot, but I think the question is really about what we call "chapter books" so I have been thinking about that. I loved the Carolyn Haywood "Betsy" books, about a little girl who lived somewhere on the east coast who had normal east coast adventures. It was like reading letters from a friend, more than anything else. Haywood also wrote about a boy named "Eddie" but I don't remember reading them or if I did, I guess I didn't really relate to Eddie so he didn't stick with me. I remember - and I could be wrong- that when I started reading the Betsy books, my sister was a bit miffed as if Betsy were HER discovery and I couldn't read them. I was an early reader and started chapter books fairly early, so it MIGHT have been I was taking them from HER stash of books. We were ONLY allowed ( by our mother) five books every two weeks from the Library. I think it's how she kept track of how many books we had and how many had to go back. I would have checked out a LOT more, if she had let me. I remember re-reading some, while I waited for the due date and our return visit.
I remember the "Little House Books" played a big part in my childhood too. The adventures of Laura and her family as they moved across the American West were thrilling and strange. Laura would have been considered a bit of a tomboy, as I was, and sometimes my friends and I acted out the books. I remember years later someone claimed that her daughter Rose Wilder Lane actually wrote the books ( I think it was Rose herself) but if you read Rose's writing and the "Little House" books, there is a distinct "voice" in both and Rose's work is NOT the same. I loved the Little House books, but didn't really watch the tv series of the same mane. meh. As in most things, the books were better.
I remember a fairly unknown book by Sally Watson called "Highland Rebel" about a girl caught up in a feud between two clans, in the Scottish Highlands, the Campbells and the Camerons. Lauren, the main character was brave and stupid all at the same time and I loved her. I longed for other books featuring her adventures, but alas, this was a "one-off"This was probably my favorite chapter book, hands down.
So, chime in. What books remind you of YOUR childhood?
Tuesday, April 10, 2018
National Library Week
In the midst of all the drama surrounding the current "officeholder", I am reminding myself that this is National Library Week, the irony that we celebrate Libraries and Librarians during this week, when that person has probably only stopped in a Library to use the bathroom or to see if the "hot Librarian" stereotype is true, is not lost on me.
So I think about how I am tied, forever to libraries. I was raised in a family of readers and since BUYING every book we wanted was both impractical and fiscally impossible, my mother, my sister and I would go every two weeks, like clockwork, to the Pacoima Library. I don't remember my grandmother coming with us, but my mom must have picked up books for her. MY grandmother is one of the reasons I am a reader. One of my earliest memories is her reading to me, cuddled in her large lap in her big blue chair. My grandmother was what we might call zaftig and her lap was a cozy place to a young child.
I was allowed to check out five- and only five- books. I remember that you needed to be able to write your name to be given a card and one early proud moments was writing my name on the application. I could barely reach the circulation desk and had to be lifted up to do it, but there I was,a MEMBER, with my VERY OWN CARD! My mom laminated the paper card and kept them in her purse.
Years later, I began my City career as a messenger clerk at that same branch. It was a wonderful job and I was going to go to Library School, but things happened along the way and I didn't go. I became an analyst with the City and in 1986 went back to work in Branch Library Services. My job allows me to work with librarians to keep the doors open. It has been a wonderful job and I love my people. I love libraries. The free and easy access to information is one of the hallmarks of this country; and while I am distressed with the current political climate, libraries continue to give me hope. We have changed in the last 40 years since wide-eyed eighteen year old me started shelving books. We are more in line with the times and provide vital community services along with books and periodicals. Libraries are lively places these days,we are NOT your mother's library - or MY Mother's that's for sure. I always say that one of my ears is longer than the other, because every two weeks, we would stop at the door to the library to receive the following warning. She would pull my left ear and say "If you make ANY noise in here, we are leaving and not coming back" I would nod and be as quiet as a church mouse. For the first two weeks I worked there, I whispered.
So I think about how I am tied, forever to libraries. I was raised in a family of readers and since BUYING every book we wanted was both impractical and fiscally impossible, my mother, my sister and I would go every two weeks, like clockwork, to the Pacoima Library. I don't remember my grandmother coming with us, but my mom must have picked up books for her. MY grandmother is one of the reasons I am a reader. One of my earliest memories is her reading to me, cuddled in her large lap in her big blue chair. My grandmother was what we might call zaftig and her lap was a cozy place to a young child.
I was allowed to check out five- and only five- books. I remember that you needed to be able to write your name to be given a card and one early proud moments was writing my name on the application. I could barely reach the circulation desk and had to be lifted up to do it, but there I was,a MEMBER, with my VERY OWN CARD! My mom laminated the paper card and kept them in her purse.
Years later, I began my City career as a messenger clerk at that same branch. It was a wonderful job and I was going to go to Library School, but things happened along the way and I didn't go. I became an analyst with the City and in 1986 went back to work in Branch Library Services. My job allows me to work with librarians to keep the doors open. It has been a wonderful job and I love my people. I love libraries. The free and easy access to information is one of the hallmarks of this country; and while I am distressed with the current political climate, libraries continue to give me hope. We have changed in the last 40 years since wide-eyed eighteen year old me started shelving books. We are more in line with the times and provide vital community services along with books and periodicals. Libraries are lively places these days,we are NOT your mother's library - or MY Mother's that's for sure. I always say that one of my ears is longer than the other, because every two weeks, we would stop at the door to the library to receive the following warning. She would pull my left ear and say "If you make ANY noise in here, we are leaving and not coming back" I would nod and be as quiet as a church mouse. For the first two weeks I worked there, I whispered.
Thursday, April 5, 2018
Dreams and such
"Dreams are nothing more than wishes, and a wish is just a dream you wish to come true" Harry Nilsson
God. I hope not.
The last few days, I have been plagued by nightmares, probably brought on as my sleeping body's response to pain. My chronic lung ailment has flared and I have chest pains. I know what is causing them, but still it is worrisome and I struggle to fins a position where I can sleep, but when I DO sleep, more often than not, I wake up screaming from a nightmare.
I recently had a dream, VERY REALISTIC, that two dear friends were killed in a car crash. It was three in the morning or I would have called one of them. It was so real and so terrifying. I hate dreams like that, that scare you and stick with you like some real remembered incident. I use to have these wonderful dreams that were like long intricate movies. I really miss having THOSE.
"When You wake up from a nightmare, and it's worse when you're awake" Warren Zevon
Every morning I wake up and check the news. Maybe I am hoping this whole Administration is a long drawn out nightmare and that someone SANE is running this country. Alas it's still the Dorito Despot. He has broken so many of our laws, the latest to start a RUMOR about Amazon to make the stock fall. I wonder if he has stock or is buying it at a low rate so he can make money. Isn't insider trading what got Martha Stewart tossed in the pokey? How much longer do we need to deal with this? Until the Republicans have sufficiently lined their pockets with ill-gotten gold, I suppose. Or until we vote them out. November can't come soon enough.
A note on Easter, since the Ultra Christian President failed to mention it at all. As a Christian, I think it's OBVIOUS that Easter, not Christmas, is our most important holiday. Isn't our faith based on Christ's sacrifice and His rising again? Where were the tweets from tRump? I think he ignored the whole thing. It would amuse me that a certain sector of Christians think that God Himself sent tRump to save us, if I weren't scared every day that he will plunge us into WWIII. I had a dream, in the latest of my sequences, that I was at an event where he was and decided to flip him off. I gave him both "barrels"- a two-handed "salute" as it were, and he started screaming for the Secret Service to arrest me. They just stood around laughing at him ( something I would bet some of them would love to do in real life.)
I had a lovely dinner party on Easter, with friends who made the day wonderful. I love having people in for dinner. It can be a lot of work, but in so many ways worth it to hear laughing around the table and see the smiles of my friends. I love to cook and I love to eat. I have a list of folks I have said to "we must have dinner soon" If you are one of them, check your calendar and let's get together. Life is short. Recently two people in my life passed away quite suddenly. In their honor and in their memory, let me tell you, I love you and you mean a lot to me. Let's have dinner. Maybe the laughter will chase away the nightmares and sleep will become the pleasure it once was.
God. I hope not.
The last few days, I have been plagued by nightmares, probably brought on as my sleeping body's response to pain. My chronic lung ailment has flared and I have chest pains. I know what is causing them, but still it is worrisome and I struggle to fins a position where I can sleep, but when I DO sleep, more often than not, I wake up screaming from a nightmare.
I recently had a dream, VERY REALISTIC, that two dear friends were killed in a car crash. It was three in the morning or I would have called one of them. It was so real and so terrifying. I hate dreams like that, that scare you and stick with you like some real remembered incident. I use to have these wonderful dreams that were like long intricate movies. I really miss having THOSE.
"When You wake up from a nightmare, and it's worse when you're awake" Warren Zevon
Every morning I wake up and check the news. Maybe I am hoping this whole Administration is a long drawn out nightmare and that someone SANE is running this country. Alas it's still the Dorito Despot. He has broken so many of our laws, the latest to start a RUMOR about Amazon to make the stock fall. I wonder if he has stock or is buying it at a low rate so he can make money. Isn't insider trading what got Martha Stewart tossed in the pokey? How much longer do we need to deal with this? Until the Republicans have sufficiently lined their pockets with ill-gotten gold, I suppose. Or until we vote them out. November can't come soon enough.
A note on Easter, since the Ultra Christian President failed to mention it at all. As a Christian, I think it's OBVIOUS that Easter, not Christmas, is our most important holiday. Isn't our faith based on Christ's sacrifice and His rising again? Where were the tweets from tRump? I think he ignored the whole thing. It would amuse me that a certain sector of Christians think that God Himself sent tRump to save us, if I weren't scared every day that he will plunge us into WWIII. I had a dream, in the latest of my sequences, that I was at an event where he was and decided to flip him off. I gave him both "barrels"- a two-handed "salute" as it were, and he started screaming for the Secret Service to arrest me. They just stood around laughing at him ( something I would bet some of them would love to do in real life.)
I had a lovely dinner party on Easter, with friends who made the day wonderful. I love having people in for dinner. It can be a lot of work, but in so many ways worth it to hear laughing around the table and see the smiles of my friends. I love to cook and I love to eat. I have a list of folks I have said to "we must have dinner soon" If you are one of them, check your calendar and let's get together. Life is short. Recently two people in my life passed away quite suddenly. In their honor and in their memory, let me tell you, I love you and you mean a lot to me. Let's have dinner. Maybe the laughter will chase away the nightmares and sleep will become the pleasure it once was.
Tuesday, March 13, 2018
July 23, 1949
Bob and his favorite cousin, Bill were looking for something to do on a hot summer day in Brooklyn. Bill suggested they go to the St George Hotel, both the bar and the pool were open for a small fee. "what are we going to do? Swim BA?" Bob asked His cousin assured him they could rent suits at the hotel and within a short time were drinking at the bar in itchy maroon wool bathing suits.
Hazel and her skating friend decided it was too hot to go to the rink, in the days before AC was a regular thing. The friend suggested swimming at the St George "what are we going to do? Swim BA?" ( see there's theme here?) The friend assured Hazel of the suit rental and off they went.
Bob spotted a cute girl, in an itchy maroon rented bathing suit, walking next to the pool and walked up to her, He said "You could use a swim" and pushed her in. It took him a moment to realize SHE COULD'NT SWIM and went in after her and pulled her out.
They exchanged phone numbers.
And THAT, my friends, is how my parents met.
If it had been ME he pushed in, he would have come with me and there MIGHT have been blood, but then I am as much his daughter as I am hers.
I once asked her why she didn't punch his lights out. She said "Oh I thought he was cute" Paused a beat and said "And if I HAD, YOU wouldn't be here" Good Point, Mom.
Happy 68th wedding anniversary, Bob and Hazel Myers. Can you GUESS where they spent their wedding night?
That's right.
What my father referred to as "the scene of the crime" The St George Hotel in Brooklyn.
Hazel and her skating friend decided it was too hot to go to the rink, in the days before AC was a regular thing. The friend suggested swimming at the St George "what are we going to do? Swim BA?" ( see there's theme here?) The friend assured Hazel of the suit rental and off they went.
Bob spotted a cute girl, in an itchy maroon rented bathing suit, walking next to the pool and walked up to her, He said "You could use a swim" and pushed her in. It took him a moment to realize SHE COULD'NT SWIM and went in after her and pulled her out.
They exchanged phone numbers.
And THAT, my friends, is how my parents met.
If it had been ME he pushed in, he would have come with me and there MIGHT have been blood, but then I am as much his daughter as I am hers.
I once asked her why she didn't punch his lights out. She said "Oh I thought he was cute" Paused a beat and said "And if I HAD, YOU wouldn't be here" Good Point, Mom.
Happy 68th wedding anniversary, Bob and Hazel Myers. Can you GUESS where they spent their wedding night?
That's right.
What my father referred to as "the scene of the crime" The St George Hotel in Brooklyn.
Saturday, March 10, 2018
Inheritance
I've been thinking a lot about the subject lately. a former family member is constantly berating another about doing what they demand or "you won't get your inheritance" This person is totally clueless about the fact that the person they are "threatening" has zero interest in what money may be left over. They have figured out that there probably won't be much left and whatever the money, it is not worth their soul. I have watched this former family member sell off their own dreams to dance to the tune of the parent who has the money and has forced them into an ill-fitting mold. To say that this person is unhappy, with all the trappings of success, is an understatement.
It makes me glad my great-grandfather, "Good Time Charlie" Myers, blew his portion of the family fortune, reportedly on "wine women and song' I hope he had fun with it. His son, my grandfather Robert, had even less desire for inheritance. There's a family story that his was displeasing his great-aunt, who had pots of money. She told him "I'm going to cut you out of my will" He replied "Good. I've been sitting up nights, trying to figure out what I'm going to do with those two bags of horseshit you're going to leave me."
When my mother died, this money-loving former family member DEMANDED to know ( as if it were any of their business) just WHAT my mother had left me. I gently pointed out that my FATHER was still alive. She sniffed and said that there is ALWAYS something left.
The thought rankled me then as it does now, so I have been thinking about it. Just what DID my mother leave me?
I inherited her maternal instincts. Come to my house and I will become my mother, offering you food and drink and kissing you on the cheek. I am, as most people who know me will tell you, a mother to everyone. At work, the people I work with are all my kids. I care, probably far too much, how things are going. I can't help it. It is who I am and I got that from her.
I wish I had gotten the math skills, but noooooo
She was a better housekeeper than me, but I always say my house is clean enough to be healthy and messy enough to be happy.
If I am half the woman she was, I am lucky.
Since we are talking inheritance, I am thinking about what I got from my Dad. I got his cooking gene, for sure. I got his hands, square fingers and a bit of his sense of humor. He encouraged me to be fearless in the kitchen, to start with good food and you will probably get something good. Otherwise, he would assure me with a wink "there's always pizza"
I wish I had his dancing skills, my two left feet are a disaster on the dance floor, but I have fun.
My parents left me a memory of love, loving me and my sister and loving each other. They left me the bond of family and a faith that tough times don't last but tough people do. Money comes, money goes. It's who you are through it all that counts the most.
That's my "inheritance"
It makes me glad my great-grandfather, "Good Time Charlie" Myers, blew his portion of the family fortune, reportedly on "wine women and song' I hope he had fun with it. His son, my grandfather Robert, had even less desire for inheritance. There's a family story that his was displeasing his great-aunt, who had pots of money. She told him "I'm going to cut you out of my will" He replied "Good. I've been sitting up nights, trying to figure out what I'm going to do with those two bags of horseshit you're going to leave me."
When my mother died, this money-loving former family member DEMANDED to know ( as if it were any of their business) just WHAT my mother had left me. I gently pointed out that my FATHER was still alive. She sniffed and said that there is ALWAYS something left.
The thought rankled me then as it does now, so I have been thinking about it. Just what DID my mother leave me?
I inherited her maternal instincts. Come to my house and I will become my mother, offering you food and drink and kissing you on the cheek. I am, as most people who know me will tell you, a mother to everyone. At work, the people I work with are all my kids. I care, probably far too much, how things are going. I can't help it. It is who I am and I got that from her.
I wish I had gotten the math skills, but noooooo
She was a better housekeeper than me, but I always say my house is clean enough to be healthy and messy enough to be happy.
If I am half the woman she was, I am lucky.
Since we are talking inheritance, I am thinking about what I got from my Dad. I got his cooking gene, for sure. I got his hands, square fingers and a bit of his sense of humor. He encouraged me to be fearless in the kitchen, to start with good food and you will probably get something good. Otherwise, he would assure me with a wink "there's always pizza"
I wish I had his dancing skills, my two left feet are a disaster on the dance floor, but I have fun.
My parents left me a memory of love, loving me and my sister and loving each other. They left me the bond of family and a faith that tough times don't last but tough people do. Money comes, money goes. It's who you are through it all that counts the most.
That's my "inheritance"
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