6.27.2016

CONTINUOUS TREATS

My calendar is opened to June but, quite literally as well as emotionally, it has already been a long, hot summer. Our temperature topped out at 120 degrees day before yesterday and, no matter how dry the air, 120 degrees is intolerable within a very short period of time.  In addition, the vagaries of the current political campaign, as well as the horrors produced by misguided fanatics with instant access to guns, continue to dominate our news.  I ignore the newspapers and turn off the television, but there is still no place to run nor hide.

This morning, in an effort to find a little positivity in my day, I began searching the internet for something--anything--that might bring relief to this dark state of affairs.  As is my wont, I began a search of quotes under the general heading of "joy,"  but quickly realized that joy was too boisterous for the subject at hand.  I moved down a notch to "happiness." "Happiness" seemed more appropriate and offered the possibility of success.  And this effort, in a nutshell, is how Iris Murdoch came into my life. I had always heard of Murdoch, but was surprised to realize I'd never read any of her writings.

Among the list of quotes on "goodreads.com" was this: "One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats...and if some of these can be inexpensive and quickly procured, so much the better."  This gem was credited to one of Murdoch's later novels, "The Sea, The Sea."

I must admit that I'm a fan of continuous small treats.  For example, I am, at this exact moment while the outside temp is pegged at 109 degrees, happily sipping an exceptionally good cup of hot chocolate, topped with a perfect, sticky marshmallow which is slowly contributing just the right amount of sugary sweetness to this tasty concoction.  For thirty minutes now it has been a continuous small treat.

Whereas, continuous treats, for some, may begin and end with food, I decided to extend the concept to my next favorite thing--reading.  I do love to read but, for some reason I still don't understand, plopping down to read makes me feel guilty. I'm constantly fighting the thought that I should be up and doing something productive. Productive, I say!  For example...dusting the shelves (even the highest ones); vacuuming the floor; organizing the desk drawers; cleaning the produce drawers of the refrigerator.  Ugh.  So...whenever I schedule and complete one of these little productivity spurts, I find a soft seat, put my feet up and read for that exact same length of time. I don't know if that's really a continuous treat, or simply a way to salve my conscience but, quirky as it may be, I'm sticking with it.

Speaking of treats, not continuous this time, I got a nice little e-mail from Amazon yesterday telling me they had credited my account for $28.64 as a settlement in the lawsuit against Apple, dating back to Apple's entry into the e-book business when prices jumped up overnight.  I love Apple, but I'm still ticked with them about their part in destroying the $9.99 best-sellers.  The $28.64 helps.

So, please join me in the quest for inexpensive continuous treats.  I have a feeling they exist everywhere, we're just not looking hard enough.  I know I missed one a few hours ago--a rare cool early morning on our patio.  I won't be so careless again.
    

6.20.2016

NOT DONE YET...

This morning's question of the day was:  Which, of all the places you've been, would you visit again? For most of my lifetime I would have answered without much thought, "All of them." But, since I'm now of a "certain age," I believe that I should project a degree of decorum, so I'm working on measured and thoughtful answers. Hmm, favorite places...

For starters, I must include Colorado in a "Favorites" list.  Now, that would be Colorado straight north and south of  Denver and then west.  I'm pretty picky about Colorado, because its eastern half looks very much like the area of southwest Kansas where I was born, raised and lived nearly forever...and that scenery is just one step up from desert. I think I love the Colorado mountains because when I was very young, our family began spending a week in Evergreen every summer.  We stayed at Davidson's Lodge which consisted of five or six cabins facing onto Bear Creek.  It was heaven, and I knew I belonged there but, sadly, at the end of our cool, green week we loaded our un-air-conditioned car for the long drive home. The road from Denver up into Evergreen was always much more exciting than the exact same road leading out of Evergreen down onto the flatland.

I would take a Mediterranean cruise again...in a heartbeat.  I might even visit every place we stopped the first time.  I would spend extra days in Venice and take a full day tour of Ephesus instead of just half a day.  I'd want to go back to the little village near Ephesus, high on the hill, where St. John took Mary, Jesus' mother, to live after the crucifixion.  Raised as a good Catholic Girl means you never get enough of Mary. Legend or Fact...the stories are charming.  Oh--Pompeii.  Definitely another tour of Pompeii.  And, just one more glass of chilled white wine on the sweet, sandy beach of Mykonos.  I'd spend more time in the Pantheon and not skip the Coliseum.  And, this time I'd visit the catacombs. What were we thinking when we missed them the first time?

I still haven't walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, nor spent nearly enough time in Central Park.  I'd walk the Highline again, but detour over to the Whitney.  And, then, back to Times Square where I'd twirl like Mary Tyler Moore in Minneapolis, throw my hat in the air and dissolve into the lights and colors and honking horns of New York City.

The United Kingdom?  Every square inch.  I'd put on my hiking shoes and never take them off.

Vermont.  Ah...Vermont.  I grew up pretending I lived in Vermont...and that's hard to pull off in western Kansas. I don't know how, when or why the essence of Vermont captured me, but it did.  It took nearly sixty years before I finally visited Vermont, when we rented a tiny cottage among the trees above Lake Champlain. Our little love nest, as it had been advertised, should have been condemned long before our arrival. But, redemption was at hand every evening when we sat on the rickety front porch and watched the sun, in all its glory, dip behind the Adirondacks across the lake in New York.  One sees the edges of heaven from that porch.

Are there more?  Probably. But these are the special ones.  The magical ones that deserve including when we look ahead and begin to construct our Five- and Ten-Year Plans. I recently read that we all need Five and Ten Year Plans. Actually, the author suggested adding a Twenty-Year Plan, even at our age. So, planning was the subject matter of this post when I began, but it quickly took off on its own. If that was a "Wink from the Universe," I'll take it.  I'd love to have more travel in our lives.
   

6.13.2016

HAPPY ENDINGS

My Sweet Baboo and I have been Netflix-ing recently--sometimes watching two episodes back to back.  I draw the line at three.  We're not binge-ing, but it's close enough for my taste.  The object of this near-obsession is a series called "Longmire."  Walt Longmire, tall, rugged, blondish, is the sheriff of an isolated county tucked somewhere in rural Wyoming.  Which, frankly, means it could be anywhere. To locate it more specifically, it's next door to a fictional Cheyenne Indian Reservation or, "The Rez" as it's referred to by everyone, including the residents of The Rez.  Personally, I think that's a little disrespectful, but then again I grew up with Democrats.

I watched "Longmire" primarily because my Baboo is a fan of western movies, television series and books.  You could add leather vests, cowboy boots and cattle to that list.  Each of those things played a role sometime in the first two or three episodes, and he was hooked.  I was more taken with Walt Longmire himself.  He exhibited an extremely high degree of integrity, kindness and practicality which, for me are all good things.  Walt did something exceptionally thoughtful at least once during each episode, thus satisfying my need for high-mindedness during this current political season.

Unfortunately, despite the rural-ness of the area, there were an inordinate number of felonies committed during each episode.  Murders were commonplace, kidnappings frequent, fraud, corruption, robbery...everyday happenings.  I most enjoyed, though, the glimpse of Cheyenne life at the Reservation...the old ways in such conflict with the new.  Eye-opening, instructive and depressing...all in the same episode.

After five seasons, we think Longmire ended last night, but we're not sure.  One does not find neat ribbons tying up loose ends in Longmire's world. Maybe a little rustic bow here or there, but much is left to fester and question. And, I don't like that.  I want neat endings.  I want "An Affair to Remember" (Cary Grant version) endings.  And not just with movies and television series.  What about life?  There are a lot of messy endings in life.  I've had a couple of those myself, but eventually you dust yourself off and, against your better judgement, go out and try again.

I hope Longmire has had time to dust himself off by now.  He was such a nice, ethical guy and I miss him. I'd like to know for sure that he's walking happily into that great big Wyoming sunset.    

6.06.2016

THE LOVE LETTERS

Somewhere in a cute little chest of drawers, right around the corner from where I'm writing, is a stack of old letters held together by a rubber band.  Once, they were wrapped with a pink ribbon, but that ribbon, a victim of the years, is long gone.  The letters were written in the early '30s...from my father to my mother, and my mother to my father.  For a time during their courtship, they lived 90 miles from each other...a long distance in a 1920's era automobile.  There was no train service and, I would guess, no buses were available.

The letters--I'd always known they existed--came home with me in 2004, after I cleared out my Mother's room at the retirement facility she lived in for so many years.  They were some of the few treasures I moved from Kansas to Arizona after her death.  I put them in a box under the guest room bed, then nearly forgot about them.  Some years later, when my sister visited, I sent them home with her to read.  And she did.  "Marg," she wrote, "you need to read these letters.  They're wonderful, and I have such a different impression of Daddy now."  (Daddy was quiet, reserved, even tempered, and very hard of hearing.  Communication was never easy.)  I assured Mary that I would indeed sit down immediately and read them.  That was 2008.

Today, in 2016, I will be putting that cute little chest of drawers into storage as part of a paint-up, fix-up project we will soon begin.  I must clear out those four drawers and find additional storage for the few items I will save.  I will save the letters.  The "love letters" as I think of them.  Contrary to my assurances to my sister, I never touched them.  I've looked at them since, all bundled together with that ratty rubber band. The least I could do is find a nice ribbon.

I would like to read them.  When I was younger, they fascinated me, but I never touched them.  They weren't mine, they were private and they were personal.  I really didn't think with that much maturity, but something about those letters was different.  Sacred, even.

I've been doing a little writing lately, creating stories from a few memories of years gone by and, at the same time, whining because I don't feel like I ever really knew my mother.  My Authentic Mother, as it were.   For that matter, my Authentic Dad also...but he was an easier read.  The letters might help that venture...but at 71, I still hesitate.  What to do?  I open the drawer, I pick up the letters, I put them back and, gently, close the drawer.  I'm not sure what holds me back, but something does.  At the same time, I believe I may regret not reading them. Regret not taking time to get to know them a little better...from the other end of life.  Read? Or Not Read?  I don't know--but I'm willing to listen to opinions and/or advice...