Month: March 2021

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19 …

 First, the weather report …

Wednesday … early morning snow with no accumulation.

Thursday … the same but with late afternoon and evening overcast.

Friday … sun, need boots with grippers for only a very short stretch on the way to the chicken house.

Saturday … sunshine and pie for breakfast and no need for boots with grippers.

Sunday … saw this on the web and had to share …

There are thousands of wildflower species in the United States alone. Many of the ones we see have come from somewhere else not unlike most of us who now call this land home.  They are intrepid immigrants seeking a hospitable home to set down roots. Like all of life, they grow, flower, and disappear into memory.   One underrated quality of wildflowers is their persistence.   They are, like the season of spring, a sign of rebirth, of the resilience of nature. They are precarious, easily plucked, and yet in their aggregate they provide a sense of seasonal stability.

Monday … to town for chicken feed and lunch with friends.

Tuesday … Mark’s birthday, sun, nip in the air but welcome heat from the solarium

Today (so far) … bright sun

~~~ 

Tyler’s birthday dinner last wednesday was at a local Mexican restaurant of his choice, Casa Ramos.  Just the family and a couple of his friends.  He had requested that, rather than gifts, donations be made to the local humane society where he works.  He set a goal of $200 and raised over $300.  As he said … every little bit helps.

~~~

The Senior Luncheons sponsored by Weed Local Resources groups, cancelled last year by COVID, is gearing up to resume. 

In addition, the HiLo (which I have mentioned multiple times) has opened for indoor eating again, but with restrictions, … of course.  To celebrate the return of fewer restrictions, my lunch buddies (Mary and Darlene) and I did lunch on our own last monday.

The HiLo does splendid omelets and Mary swears by the steak with biscuits and gravy.

~~~

Johnson & Johnson vaccine seems to be far and away the choice of many.  The local Rite Aid doesn’t require (or even allow) appointments which means you have to walk in and ask if they have vaccine and what kind they have.  So, whenever I go to town I check.  This week they had vaccines but no Johnson and Johnson.

I’ll keep checking.  When it is my time, they’ll say “yes”.

~~~

 Last week I started a new series of mysteries, this time by the mother and son team who call themselves Charles Todd.  This first in the series is titled Trial by Will … ambiguous title.  However, the really interesting thing is that the last few mysteries I’ve read (each by different authors, each suggested by different book reviews, and each published at widely spaced times by different publishers) have dealt with shell shock during and following the Great War, WW  I.

Just as a pandemic destruction of the then current society seems to have been a nearly universal collection of thoughts about civilization in books by various authors, all written and published twenty or thirty years ago, the thoughts in my current reading seem to be centered post 1916.  That means they deal with how “shell shock” (i.e. PTSD) was handled and one fact that we never learned in history lessons came to light.  During that war there were field executions for things like cowardice, desertion, refusal to follow orders to advance out of the trenches into predictable shooting galleries without adequate cover, complaints about beatings from senior officers, etc.  Who knows how many since they were held often without trials, (due to being seen as essential and ordered performed by unit mates or subordinates of the condemned as a means of control by “example” in order to prevent mutiny) and were often, if not mostly, noted on death certificates as simply “Died in service”.  Somehow most of the pertinent records were lost, probably in the trenches, or at least that would appear to be the official position.

I have no idea what has led me to these books, but the message is coming through very clearly … at least to me.

Humans would seem to be made with an inborn need to destroy themselves and all around them.

I wonder what the next theme to show up on my haphazard reading list will be?  

~~~  

On a lighter note, since I still have trouble taking care of my toenails and haven’t seen a professional since before the winter holidays, I have an appointment for a treat … a pedicure and even a manicure since I’ll already be there.

~~~

To end the week, here is a definition for some thought …

ambedo … a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory detail – raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees in a wind, cream in your coffee — soaking in the experience of being alive; an act done for no discernable reason, purely for its own sake

… or as was said by Bob Marley … some people get wet, some people feel the rain.

This week may you have one or two (or even more) ambedo moments.

So ‘til next week …

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19 …

A full year since we went into lockdown. Nearly 550 thousand dead in the US. And the week started with March still trying to be the lion … 

Monday was the most interesting.  When I woke for a loo run at 0530 it was just snowing a bit (light corn snow).  By 0645, when the house began to come alive (no school that day), it was snowing pretty good.  0715 … rain.

This morning it is chilly with only isolated patches of snow left and I will be meeting friends in town for breakfast so this will be short.

~~~

Reading has been offering me a bit of a conundrum.  Last week I brought home a book by Neil Gaiman for Paul called Pirate Stew (on the advice of the librarian).  It is written in Gaiman’s version of poetry … meaning I couldn’t identify the style as anything other than Gaiman.

Of course, I had to read the book first and discovered it is a kid’s story but done with a Gaiman touch.

Since it was late and a school night, every one went their separate ways and as I settled into bed to read before dropping off to sleep I found my mind trying to rearrange the words in a new book, a comfort food book (like eating mac and cheese) set in 1933 Lambeth in London, into the undefined poetry I just had been reading.  Talk about being confused …

I put down the book and finally got to sleep.  The next time I picked up the new book the words had put themselves back into the proper prose style.

However, it happened again a couple of evenings later.  I was re-reading The Last Unicorn by Peter Beagle and when I settled into bed I found I was thinking in Beagle’s style of writing fantasy.

Maybe I’ll try to find a copy of Chaucer in Olde English to read and see what happens.

~~~

Listening to Paul practice (?) on the electronic drums he got for Christmas reminded me of a couple of maxims I’ve heard regarding practicing …

From one of Lily Tomlin’s monologues … How do you get to Carnegie Hall?  Practice. Practice. Practice.

I can’t remember the source of the other … To become an expert don’t practice until you’ve got it right, practice until you can’t get it wrong. 

With Paul and drums, he will either continue to practice because he wants to be a drummer or he’ll practice until he’s allowed to stop.  I’m not taking odds.  Mark has such good timing and loves music so much …

~~~

Today is grandson Tyler’s 24th birthday.  A nostalgic day for me.  I remember so clearly the summers when he was here and still small and cuddly enough to come downstairs in the morning to curl up on my lap.

I love him and am grateful for him and the moments of joy he has given me. 

I am wishing a Blessed day and coming year for him. 

~~~

Spent part of yesterday trying to trace the children in a genealogical photo taken at the turn of the last century.  I had tried before and had no success.  I did hear a story about “Uncle John’s” children and tried tracing that lead without luck.  

This time I reached out to a Dibelka in Omaha but no one there recognized the children as resembling anyone in that branch of the family.

However, the cousin who had told me about “Uncle John” in the past contacted me again and said she had stories.  Turns out that Uncle John married into the Kaspar line which joined the Dibelka line with George’s paternal grandmother.  Confusing enough?  But gold to a genealogist.  So I have lots of days of research ahead.  No time to get bored.

~~~  

Saw this on Facebook last thursday …

“Sometimes a moment comes that transports you back decades into the world of your past. … every so often I can’t help but think of what was, and what then ensued.”

… Dan Rather

So ‘til next week …

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19 …

As part of my upcoming move (without a date set yet) there are several things that keep popping up in my thoughts.  One consistent one concerns what I will miss. 

This last blast of winter (at least we’re ready for it to be the last) has taken me in several different directions.  It has been similar to, but not really the same as, when we first came to live on this land. 

In those winters, we had SNOW … waist high with drifts deep enough in which to lose children.  There were winters when we couldn’t see out the north windows since the snow reached the eaves.  

This late season has been almost as if the past is saying “Remember …”.  May be a way of telling me goodbye.  And that set me to thinking “Yes, I will miss you.  But what I remember and am already missing no longer exists, except in flashes.” 

Somethings I won’t miss … going out to the chickens thorough snow topping my boots is one of them.  But I was so much younger then and had George to help with path making.   

Being shut in by weather now means there isn’t much to tell you.  You’ve heard my impressions of the beauty of the snow and that hasn’t changed.  Being surrounded by forest is still a blessing to be savored as long as I have it.  And believe it or not, when the air smells of snow it is soothing.

~~~

Current reading is a combination of fantasy (although it is predictive fantasy) in the area of lakes Huron and Michigan, and my go-to comfort reading (a time warp mystery ) takes me to England in 1933.

The fantasy is an interesting read.  The author uses a real mixed bag of characters and pays no attention to chronology so the people get mixed around and the timeline is haphazard.  A challenging read, but an interesting one.

Titles?  Station Eleven and Elegy for Eddie.

I wonder at and am surprised by the broad spectrum of writers who envisioned this pandemic.  The time, setting, and result varies, but the basics are there … and the publish dates range over the last sixty years from Heinlein, Bradbury, and Asimov to Butler and some fairly new authors, i.e. since the turn of the century.

~~~

Today I will make a trip to Yreka.  

I have been having an annoying something in my right eye for about a week.  It feels like a grain of sand, is at the spot next to that little tab in the corner of my eye nearest my nose, and doesn’t change position. 

I’ve tried rinsing it and using allergy eyedrops.  So far nothing has worked.  The annoyance is not consistent.  It comes and goes without discernible cause or a time schedule.  Want to bet that when I see the eye doctor this morning it will stay quiet?

While in Yreka I will also pay the second installment of the property taxes and maybe do a bit of shopping.  I’m running short of printer ink.

~~~

As usual, the time change had me discombobulated.  I had changed my wind-up clock and the little one at my bedside, but had depended on the computer and the telephone to do their thing.  They didn’t.  So for all day sunday I was double checking to see just what time it was. 

I found that the computer had been set on manual rather than automatic and got that corrected.  Then found that my phone (landline not smart) doesn’t have an automatic setting, at least not one I can find, but I learned how to do the reset.  Everything seems to finally be in sync.

Oh well …

~~~

Time to get ready to leave, so to end this week …   

Thinking about Jacob wrestling with the angel … all his life, Jacob was focused on not being Esau. His identity was wrapped up in wanting to be Esau.  However, he had to leave and endure his own unique problems.  Maybe the struggle with the angel was emblematic of his struggle to establish his own identity.  

Like Dr Seuss says “… there is nobody youer than you”.  We have all been created with gifts and limitations and do our best to navigate our lives.  We need to be grateful for the gifts and even the struggles we encounter along the way.  Every day comes and then is gone forever. Make it count! 

— Author unknown

‘til next week …

Winter made a return last weekend, hung around until today, and may not be done yet. Reminds me of a song from a Broadway production many years ago … March came in like a lion, a kickin’ up the waters in the bay.  Then April sighed and stepped aside, and along came pretty little May.

Four inches of soft snow last saturday morning.  Then a fair melt sunday.  Then a dusting of fresh snow early monday morning, followed by sun, followed by sun with snow, followed by heavier snow, then more snow on tuesday.  Woke up this morning to a foot of new, fresh, powder snow.

Oh well … 

~~~

Have I told you that I recently found out that the site George and I called home for over forty years was called Pigeon Pass (but of course not in English) by the indigenous tribe (the Shasta) which had used it as a summer hunting and gathering camp?  I knew there was a spot down the road where hunters went in season for doves but had not equated doves with pigeons.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot … the past that is.

I recently learned of the lateness of a couple more of my memories (“late” is a steal from Alexander McCall Smith’s Mma Ramostwe series where when you die you become “Late”).   

A nextdoor neighbor from my Pomona days, when John (my first) was young and before Michael (my second) was born, has died … age and Parkinsons’s.  Her son was two years younger than John.  She had been a ballerina before she married.  That intrigued me.  She was a couple of years younger than I and was the one with whom I laughed when the current saying was “Don’t trust anyone over 30”.  

And another friend, with whom I graduated High School almost seventy-four years ago, has been rescued from the “looney bin” (his designation) and is bedridden, remembering less each day, living in his daughter’s home now.

And another classmate “late”.  

And to top it off, last evening the family (the equivalent of four generations … 9 to 90) watched “A Hard Day’s Night”.  Everyone was laughing.  The Beatles were so young, so talented, and so full of themselves.  Next family movie  suggestion?  “Help”.

Right now I fear I may be dropping into “I remember …” mode often what with deaths and old movies.

Do please forgive me.  Chalk it up to age, a gift which comes complete with caveats … 

~~~
When the weather creates stay-where-you-are situations, I read.

Am nearly finished with the third book in the Tudor trilogy of alternative history.  The relationships between families of power in those times were so convoluted that I think a wall mounted clue board with lines showing connections like some detectives on the telly use (and is a feature in other mystery books as well) would  be helpful.  However, on second thought, I might have trouble finding a wall big enough for the Tudors and the Stuarts and the Seymours and the …

Still, maybe sometime in the future I’ll re-read the series and see if I can set up a clue board.  Maybe organize a book club reading so several of us could get lost in time. That should provide me with a good sized to-do list and keep me out of trouble.

~~~

I’ve begun thinking about where I want to travel once I am resettled.  First trip will probably be back to the Chicago area.  That’s where George grew up and there is still family there.  Could maybe do some family research, some museum hopping (back to the Art Museum for Colleen Moore’s doll house and the Monets)), food tasting, and …

And maybe a trip down the Mississippi to Mardi Gras once this COVID thing passes enough to allow travel.  And although I’m not big on crowds, a cruise up to Alaska might be an idea.  And I’ve been looking forward to seeing Israel (with friends who live there) with maybe a trip to the Czech Republic and Germany for more family research on the way home.

Selecting travel partners and planning is almost as much fun as going.

~~~

Little things become exciting when the weather is like this.  Trouble is they aren’t things which would seem exciting to others so there isn’t much about which to write.

Found a recipe for peanut butter cup brownies.  I may give that a try in the next week.   And cinnamon muffins …

~~~

To end this week, here’s a gift for all of us …   

Today, I will love and encourage myself. I will tell myself that what I’m doing is good enough, and I’ll let myself enjoy that feeling because I know the survivor gets to tell the story.

So … ‘til next week …

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19 …

Well, I once again have wheels.  Mark and I will be sharing the hybrid and there are logistics to be ironed out.  Paul would have to be out the door about 0545 on school days if he were to be riding the bus to school.  The bus leaves our stop at 0600 for the elementary school where classes begin at 0830, so someone will be taking him to school every morning.  He will join Kamille after school and come home with her.

Currently the plan for vehicle sharing is that I will have the car on mondays and fridays … mondays because of the library availability and fridays for shopping and visits with friends.

~~~
Last thursday, friday, and saturday Family Search (the LDS genealogy site) and RootsTech (a branch of RootsMagic which is a maker of software for genealogy), who used to do yearly conferences, this year did an online conference.  Lots of interesting classes available free which will continue to be available for the entire coming year.  That gives me plenty of time to watch all I want, sometimes more than once.

So far I’ve done several classes and earmarked some of them for repeat attendance.  As a result, I have settled on my project for next year … I will concentrate on finding Cuthbert!  I am learning about research sites of which I had no clue.  Maybe one of them will be the key to unlocking this elusive ancestor.  One class that really caught my eye and ear was on using location centered search.  Maybe that will do it.  That will call for research in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Virginia … at least as starting points … and dates from 1750 to 1840.  It looks as if this will be a year-around (or maybe longer) project.  But just maybe I’ll find that Revolutionary War Patriot.

~~~

Finally went to town.  Road had been acceptable for a couple of days, but I had been involved with the genealogy conference.  Paul and I went out for chicken sandwiches , fries, and lemonade at the local Burger King before we did some shopping.

Most people we met were masked and one store sent someone back out to mask.  But in one store, the clerk was upset about being masked and was outspoken about refusing the vaccine.  This pandemic has revealed some seemingly political opinions, in folks I’ve dealt with over the years, of which I had been unaware.  Interesting …

~~~

Also on monday, I had an upsetting occurrence at the local Grocery Outlet.  It is owned and run by a man I’ve known since he was a boy at school with my sons and have always felt good with him, even to the point of (before COVID) hugs in the store.

But last monday about 1300, I encountered a young woman (whom I would not classify as a Lady), who was the cashier for the line in which I was waiting to check-out, and as a consequence I left the store feeling belittled and shamed.

I had a rather full cart and the man behind me had one item, so I made room on the conveyor belt and let him go in front of me as I started to unload my cart.  The cashier looked at us and pointedly reached to put one of those dividers in the open space between his one item and those I was unloading.  I subliminally shrugged and continued unloading.  Then, before she began ringing up my order, she began rearranging my items … grocery, cereal, produce, etc.  Another shrug.  Oh well … who knows what her day had been like.

Years ago, when the store first opened, George and I had been given an “Honorary Savings Card” as a result of his service in WW II.  It is worth three dollars off a $35 minimum purchase.  I always make sure my total is over $45 before I present the card to the cashier.  When I looked up at the register I saw it was over $50 and so placed the card in sight on that little desk beside the card reader.

The cashier instantly stopped what she had been doing, looked at me and the remaining items to be checked, pulled out the cooking wine and a gallon of milk, set them aside, and said in a clear voice something to the effect (I don’t recall exact words) that she can’t give a discount on wine or milk and that in any case I can’t use an EBT card for liquor.  An EBT card came with my MediCal registration and is good for $16 a month.  Her voice carried to the extent that others in line, and the cashier at the next checkout station, turned to look.

I was surprised and noted I had never had a problem with the savings card before at which she picked up the card, shoved it toward me pointing at it and informing me clearly that it says right on the card “Excludes liquor and dairy”.  I told her I wasn’t trying to argue or do something out of line, just noting the difference in experiences and that maybe the machines had been reprogrammed to no longer do that task automatically or maybe Rodney (the owner) possibly had new rules.

That wasn’t the end of our interaction, but I have no reason to delineate further.  

She continued with the checkout, ringing up the wine and milk separately so we went through the card routine twice.  And, as I was pushing my cart toward the door (my purchase totaled a bit over $100), she called after me in a voice which carried to all those in the checkout lines “Have a good day”.  She gave a short laugh, which was joined by the adjacent cashier, and followed that with “I hope you’re having a good afternoon.  My name is Jody”.

Here it is, two days later and I can still feel the discomfort.  I had never before had that kind of interaction with any store employee.   I can’t think of any reason she would single me out for that kind of treatment… because of the EBT card or possibly my white hair, since she intimated I didn’t understand liquor restrictions and couldn’t read the card? 

My first reaction was to call Rodney but decided not.  Now, two days later, I am considering writing to him.  If she felt free to treat me that way, would she hesitate to treat others the same? 

End of hurt-feelings-rant.

~~~

Just finished a short delve into a book titled A Witch’s Brew which is an anthology of Gothic tales written by women including Christie, Shelly, Wolfe, Sartor, and many others.  There is one tale titled The Yellow Wallpaper which had been a favorite of George’s.  The one by Virginia Wolfe was especially chilling.

 Current read is the third in Dorothy Sayers’ series featuring Lord Peter Wimsey.  Jolly good fun.

And I finally watched the 7th season of Endeavour.  I wonder if anyone has searched for Colin Dexter, the author of the Morse novels, and made a list of appearances since he is said to be somewhere in every episode a la Hitchcock.  Maybe, after my relocation, I will rewatch Endeavour, Morse, and Lewis in order and knowing where to watch for Mr. Dexter would be entertaining.

~~~

Weather has been off and on … but without snow.  Temperatures ranged from high 20s to high 40s with significant melt.  There are now more bare patches than icy snow spots.  Today is chilly but clear.  Spring approaches.

~~~

Here’s today’s thought for all of us …

I resonate deeply with the truth I learned from Elie Wiesel: “Indifference is not neutral.  The opposite of love is not hate- it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.”

In fact indifference is the same as inaction.  

To do nothing is to do something.

So … ‘til next week …