The Almanac and Astrology and other important things...

 

The first edition of the Farmer’s Almanac

In one of my stories about Pop-pop, I wrote how he relied on the Farmer’s Almanac and always had the current issue hanging by a string in the cow barn. It was almost as important as the Bible to a farm family with all kinds of information especially about the predicted weather for the year. Grandmom would “steal” it for recipes and home remedies, and my mom was interested in the astrology pages. She was an Aquarius born on February 8th, smack dab in the middle of the sign. In recent years I have taken an interest in this sign in trying to understand my mom better and how she kept secrets to her death.

Published the year before my birth.

Here are a few things I found out about the “water-bearer” which is actually one of the three air signs. I always knew Mommy was an Aquarius and could never understand why she was afraid of going into the water. She would barely get her feet wet at the beach so obviously I was misinterpreting the meaning of the sign of Aquarius. From more reading I learned that an Aquarius was often a rebel, zigging when everyone else zagged, and with a stubborn streak. Yes, I could see that being true. And instead of engaging when emotionally charged, they often withdrew and “ghosted”. I could see that, too. They are friendly but difficult to get close to, cold, aloof and somewhat detached…okay.

I have mixed feelings about astrology, but whenever I see the word horoscope, I have to read mine. I know it’s not scientifically based, and yet I am pulled to it like a magnet, always agreeing with the good parts and poo-pooing the bad just like a good Scorpio should. And yet, I can agree with so many of those traits in my mom.

I bought this year’s Almanac way back in the Fall when it first appeared on my grocery store’s shelf right by the register where they put all that important and irresistible stuff. I settled down on the porch swing with it in hand when I returned home and had put away my groceries. It was like going back in time, reading all those important weather predictions and really thinking of them as fact, true, definitely happening, just as my grandfather read them a hundred years ago. He would plan out his planting calendar by the moon’s phases and the Almanac’s predicted frosts.

Have you heard of the word “phenology”? It means the study of phenomena, specifically the life cycles of plants and animals as they correlate to weather and temperature. In other words, nature’s calendar as the Almanac likes to call it. There is a special section for this and Pop-pop studied it until the pages were ready to fall out. And he swore by its reliability! For instance, “Plant tomatoes (his specialty) when lilies of the valley are in full bloom. This flower is a native plant in Delaware and grows wild along the edges of forests. Its white bell-like flowers bloom from mid to late spring emitting the smell of that common perfume for which it is named.

In my 2026 Almanac I can see that Delaware has 199 days in its growing season this year with the last spring frost on April 13th and the first fall frost on October 30th. I know that when lilacs begin to bloom, grasshopper eggs hatch. And if I’m daring enough, I can make zesty tomato-basil ice cream. Now there’s a recipe you can’t find everywhere! Did you know that 2028 will be a leap year? Important information for young ladies of marrying age.

If I’m so inclined I can learn all about the planets of the solar system, the exact day and time of the next meteor shower, and the healing power of honey. And then I think…I can do that quicker with Google! But it’s not nearly as much fun as riffling through those real pages of the Old Farmer’s Almanac. Thanks, Pop-pop!

Sandra

 

It was the beginning of the summer of 1960. Sandra, her parents, and I were on

our way to Oak Orchard for a couple weeks of fun to start school vacation. They had a

small home there which they used for getaways, and they were nice enough to take me

along.

Sandra became my best friend after Nancy and I drifted apart. Nancy had

discovered Tommy and love blossomed with little time left over for girlfriends. Sandra

was much smarter than me, always winning at Scrabble, but I never quit trying to do

better. She was an only child, and, unbelievably, our birthdays were on the same day,

both of us Scorpios.

Sandra was so smart she skipped the twelfth grade and went instead to the

University of Delaware for her senior year. I felt like a lost puppy without her, but, as

circumstances would have it, in my senior year, I was named valedictorian and received

several small scholarships to the same university, enough for my first year. I attributed

both those honors to Sandra, not only because she was gone, but because she was

one of the reasons I tried so hard. But Sandra had “grown up” during her year at college

without me and things never were the same after that. And then I met Jim and fell in

love, and we completely lost track of each other. After Jim and I married and had our

second baby, I received a “congrats” card from her. She had seen my mom in the S & H

Green Stamp Store and heard the news. I’ve kept the card all these years, moving it

from place to place as we moved. As you can see from the photos, the card has “been

through the mill.” But I could never part with it.

Sandra and I were Facebook friends for a while, but we never saw each other in

person again. She passed away on August 18, 2023. You can read one of her obits here.

Sandra

When we arrived at Oak Orchard on that summer day of 1960, all the trees were

in full leaf. We traveled a shady, dirt road to their small getaway trailer well-hidden in the

trees, keeping it cool and secluded.

Neighbors were close but not too close. The nearest neighbors had a pair of

cocker spaniels that loved to come over and play with us. Their names were Sandy and

Blacky for obvious reasons. We enjoyed playing with them as much as they did with us,

throwing sticks for them to retrieve and racing with them around the yard.

A tiny little post office sat on the main drag through town, and it was our job to

collect or post the mail. We walked along the dusty road with cattails growing in the

ditch along the edges. Dragonflies buzzed around as the sun beat down on us.

Opposite the post office on the water side was a restaurant/hangout for teens. Sandra

and I discovered it early on and went to the Saturday night dances, but our short stay

left little time to make friends.

Oak Orchard was situated on Indian River near the ocean where brackish water

made crabbing and clamming a popular pastime for us all. We would stand in

chest-high water with a floating bucket tied to our waists by a rope. We had to wear

sneakers into the water so the crabs didn’t bite our toes! We dragged our rakes along

the bottom bringing up at least one clam with every swipe. Sometimes we would use

our clam knives to pop open the clam right there and eat it with the slimy juice slithering

down our chins, smacking our lips and splashing water to wash our faces.

Other days Sandra’s dad would take us riding down the river in his motorboat

toward Indian River Inlet, the faster the better. We let the wind and the salty spray

plaster our hair flat and soak our faces. Sometimes we would pull up to a little island in

the middle of the river and have a picnic. Sandra and I would write dumb things in the

sand like “water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.”

When it was time to go back home for the day, we would help load the boat on

the trailer and later help wash it down for the next time. It was wooden and barnacles

grew on the bottom. You had to scrape them off by hand. By day’s end we would all be

dead tired; that’s what salty air does to you. Sandra’s mom wasn’t much of a water

person so she usually stayed at home and had something prepared for supper by the

time we pulled in and cleaned up the boat.

Later, in 1962, all of us would marvel at the destruction of the Great Nor’easter of

1962 which brought four feet of flood waters to the little community destroying property

but not our memories. The Oak Orchard getaway was a thing of the past that quickly.

I remember those times like it was yesterday.

Notebooks, Dead Frogs, Student Council Elections and so much more....

 

Every afternoon around 4 pm if I’m sitting at a particular spot in my home, I can see the middle school students from Fort Clarke walking home from a long day of learning. Most if not all, have backpacks jammed with every school book in their locker causing them to lean forward as though they are climbing a steep hill. They make me think back to my school days and how very different it was.

My book carrier in junior high and high school was a vinyl zippered three-ring notebook. With a pocket on the front inside for pencils, a sharpener, a change purse, etc., subject dividers separating the lined notebook paper, and room for a couple books, I had everything I needed for the day. Extra books lay across the top, and I carried them hugged to my chest, which discouraged running. I usually decorated the outside of the vinyl with flowers, hearts and dubious initials. In study hall, I tried to complete the homework assigned in the heaviest books to make my load a little lighter.

I always rode the school bus home happy to be the last one picked up in the morning and the first one dropped off in the afternoon. Seat friends were always older or younger since no one in my class rode my bus. I can remember watching for the yellow bus in the mornings, seeing the headlights coming through the fog sometimes and hurrying across the yard to be in my spot before the bus got there. I don’t think I could make it up that tall step today if my life depended on it!

I remember that vinyl tan notebook spread open on my desk in Biology, colored pencil in hand, ready to sketch out on notebook paper a frog that we were about to dissect. The room smelled of formaldehyde and the frog was not green as I had expected but a mottled beige color. I was happy to let my partner do the cutting up as I drew Mr. Frog and all its parts. Mr. Horst, our teacher who I seem to remember being there only one year, walked around the room eyeballing what everyone was doing. He discouraged shenanigans with a frown and a very serious demeanor, and it worked.

My Biology classroom was on the second floor in a corner room of the building with lots of windows for light, and it was always on my morning schedule. After, I remember going through the double doors and down the concrete steps to study hall in the library which was directly below. In my Freshman year (9th grade), my guidance counselor, Mr. Rutledge, talked me into running for Student Council treasurer, and it was during one of these study halls that I made my first political posters. One I remember in particular. It was an anagram of the word “treasurer”, T for trustworthy, R for reliable, E for earnest and so on. I won that election but my most vivid memory is how sad my opponent, Janie Phillips, looked when the results were announced. I don’t remember celebrating at all.

Across from the library was our big auditorium, and it was there that we held all our extracurricular activities, Friday night dances, plays, holiday celebrations, cheerleading practice and, of course, morning assemblies if something special was going on. We always sang the State song, Our Delaware, at the end and I can remember being proud to be a Delawarean, the very first State to ratify the Constitution of the United States of America, “Oh our Delaware, our beloved Delaware!”

In my mind’s eye I can see my best friend, Sandra, on stage in her role as Lady Macbeth saying “Out out damn spot!” I hear Dion singing Runaround Sue as I jitterbug with another friend, Nancy, and we laugh and surreptitiously search for our current crushes on the crowded dance floor. I see Mrs. Fry, our football cheerleading coach, frowning as our jumps are not high enough, big blue H’s on our sweater fronts.

Funny how a student coming home with a backpack can trigger so many childhood memories. That tan zippered notebook may be long gone, the frog drawing discarded years ago, and the vote-for-me poster forever lost, but the girl who loved drawing, learning and cared about people hopefully remains recognizable today.

I'm Just An Old Salty

 

Salty food is my downfall. I never saw a potato chip I didn't like, especially those big ones with the burnt edges. Utz, Ruffles, Lays, Wise, you name it, I would eat it no matter the brand. Don’t give me Pringles, though. No fakes for me. I want real chips! In my younger days (and probably now if I allowed myself) I could eat an entire huge bag of chips at one sitting. And it's mostly unconscious eating, one chip after another, while I'm doing something else, reading or watching a movie. I'm on autopilot with the old hand going into and out of the bag.

I thought I had died and gone to heaven when all those different flavored potato chips came out, sour cream, vinegar, pickle, barbecue, wow. I got so used to eating the vinegar chips that if I only had plain, I would douse them with apple cider vinegar from the bottle, shake them up a bit, and then drink the little bit of salty juice remaining in the bottom of the bag. I loved them so much. But I’m not that picky. Just show me the bag.

Once, a long time ago, I went on a potato chip diet, only allowing myself to eat chips, thinking that perhaps that would turn me against them, and I would never crave potato chips again. It didn't work. I ate chips for three days, and the next one still tasted as good as the first.

So the only way I found I could stop eating chips was not to buy them. I don't buy any kind of snacky salty food because they make me want chips even more. You wouldn’t think anyone could eat saltines or oyster crackers like they were chips, but you would be mistaken. If it’s salty and crunchy, I will snack on it. When I get to the point where I can't stand it, I buy the tiniest bag (1 serving of 150 calories) I can find. That’s always the one hanging just above the check-out line at the grocery store. I devour it immediately when I get home, and that will satisfy me for a month or so. I don't think I will ever lose my craving for potato chips. Although it sounds wacky, chips are my comfort food.

At my last check-up, I complained to my doctor about gaining some weight even though I hadn’t eaten my favorite food (chips) in months. I was surprised at her response, but my potato chip brain ate it up, so to speak. She said, “Don’t worry about a little extra weight at your age. It may come in handy during a health problem when you’re not able to eat very much. And life is to be enjoyed. Eat some chips.” Imagine that? Sounds a little like good cop, bad cop.

Aside from chips, my favorite ethnic food would be pad thai, my fav meal is eggplant parmesan, my fav beverage is coffee, and my fav fruit is a toss up between blueberries, strawberries, or mangos. My fav protein is cheese anything, especially macaroni and cheese like my mom made. And bread and butter pickles on white bread would be my most unique or weird food combination. I'm not sure if any of this story made anyone hungry, but I could really use some chips right now! But please please please, do not give me any!

USPS

 

I'm a "snail mail" member in an online group and so I send cards every once in a while. Cards are the only thing I mail...except for my tag registration renewal and I'm not sure why I'm still mailing that. They do charge a fee for paying online, ridiculous. I really don't trust the mail, and recently I have let my anger get the best of me over something stupid! My mail person stops and goes so fast, slamming up the mailbox door so that several times lately it has not "caught" and drops back down to hang open. And now that we have started getting our daily rain showers, my mail (actually garbage mostly) gets wet. So, enough already! I went into the USPS site and entered a complaint. I wish I had done it days... weeks sooner because the problem was corrected immediately. This was the email I received back TWO days after I voiced my complaint.... "Thank you for taking the time to notify us of your experience. Your USPS® Service Request 88249401 has been marked as closed. I have instructed your carrier to ensure that they close the mailbox after delivery. The substitute carrier will have an alert card for your address to ensure this is the case regardless of who is delivering. I apologize for this as it is unacceptable. Please accept our sincerest apology for any trouble this may have caused you. We appreciate your business and look forward to serving you again in the future." And, yes, no more door hanging open. Who knew the post office could be so cooperative? Let's hope it continues.

Aldi

 

Who has been to Aldi? There’s a new one near me on Newberry Road. My daughter came to visit last Sunday, and we decided to check it out since neither of us had ever been to one.

First, she had to put little Murphy in his “cage” in the house since it was too hot to leave him in the car for any length of time. Who knew how long we might be? After chasing him around, he was finally secured and already moaning to get back out.

The ride was short, less than two miles, and parking was no problem. We remembered bags and a quarter…for the cart, you know. Even though we had never been there, we had done our homework. I took a list, a short one. The first thing on it was bananas, and, big surprise, there were none with the explanation of a fungus that was making them difficult to get.

For a Sunday, there were quite a few people doing their shopping and all seemed to be intent and purposeful, not talkative. Unlike my grocery store of choice, no one smiled, moved out of the way, or said “excuse me” when warranted. No music played in the background. It was pretty solemn.

So back to my list, I did find sugar at a good price (4 pounds for $2.79, for the hummingbirds), a nice-looking cantaloupe ($2.29) which was not on my list, some salad greens ($3.29), a large “cheap” jar of low calorie mayo ($2.89), brand unknown, and a toy for Murphy, also not on my list. I’m used to dawdling and looking about when I grocery shop, but my daughter, like the other shoppers, was all business, and she was soon ready to check out. With one register open and a long line, I have to say the buggies sped right through, and then, I saw why. Bagging by the buyer was done at a counter at the front of the store. Items at check-out are put back into your cart.

As they say, when in Paree, we bagged our own so the check-out time was relatively quick. I found I liked deciding what went where in the bagging department. Outside, we could either take the buggy to the car and come back with it to regain our quarter, or get our quarter back now and carry our bags. We opted to carry as there wasn’t a whole lot.

It was a different experience, not unpleasant though, and I plan to return for a better look with more time to browse. It’s so close that I can’t resist.

As promised, I returned to Aldi on a weekday and had a much better experience. I have to rave about my hummus find, an Aldi brand with pumpkin seeds. It was all I ate for lunch for three days, so good, and at $2.98 a real bargain. The go-with was a find as well, sour dough thin-sliced onion bread which I toasted and then spread with the hummus, a perfect combination. I found several absolute bargains compared to what I pay at Publix. A dozen large eggs were $1.66, a quart of almond milk for $2.49 and a container of strawberries for $1.79, unbelievable.

And the customers seemed more at ease, not rushing to shop and not rude. In fact, because I had only a few items, a young man ahead of me offered to let me go first, but I declined since I was intent on soaking up the ambience of Aldi. There was one woman with a child who talked very loudly as I was making my rounds through the store. She seemed to be explaining all her purchases to her four year old, what she was going to make, how great it was going to be. I wasn’t sure what to make of her, but I scooted down another aisle and soon lost her. And as I was having trouble reaching for my hummus, another kind lady grabbed it for me without me even asking. “I’m a little taller than you,” she said.

Another unexpected surprise was seeing my neighbor doing some shopping. We had a great chat about her very talented daughter who just turned thirteen. She is a budding artist whom I have done my best to encourage with books and supplies. They will be celebrating her birthday late, in June, with tickets to Hamilton in NYC!

So, I think Aldi (or Aldi as I discovered they pronounce it in Germany where it originated) is in my future. Returning the cart for my quarter means no extra work to me as I always return my cart at Publix. I need those steps! 

Another surprise I discovered online is that Aldi guarantees your satisfaction or they will replace and refund, no questions asked. And for those in the know, holiday items show up in the store around six weeks in advance of the particular holiday.

The savings are pretty stupendous, and I’m sure I will make lots more discoveries. I have created an Aldi account online to receive an email of their new weekly ad on Wednesdays (a day before Publix). I’m thinking I will like Aldi, at least I will give it a shot. Publix seems to keep going up on their prices every time I go to the store, and BOGO items are not the deal they seem when the single item price has doubled. Maybe a little competition is good for the soul…as well as the wallet. And doesn’t the underdog always try harder?

On My Bucket List to Visit

 

Who recognizes the name “Anne Shirley”? If you think of the little orphan girl on Prince Edward Island, you would be correct. The first time I read Anne of Green Gables, I could not put down the book until I was on the last page. And I was not a child although it is considered a children’s book. Let me tell you how Anne found me.

In the early 2000s I watched the PBS series based on the book by Lucy Maud Montgomery, and Sunday night became my special time to watch Anne without fail. If circumstances somehow did not allow it, I walked around with a chip on my shoulder for days. Since I have always believed a book is better than a movie, I had to find out for myself,  and I promptly took myself to the library. I was not disappointed, and Lucy Maud Montgomery immediately became one of my favorite authors.

And, then, in the late 2000s I joined a writing group on the internet called writing.com or WDC as we nicknamed it. There, by chance, I met a real-life living breathing person who called Prince Edward Island home. She, too, understandably was a huge fan of Anne Shirley and Lucy and never tired of talking about the beauty of the island. I was hooked and ever since I have dreamed of visiting there.

Although it is an island, there is a bridge over which you can cross to get there. It is named the Confederation Bridge and is around seven miles long, connecting New Brunswick to the town of Borden-Carlton. Otherwise, it is by water or air, including a 75 minute ferry crossing from Caribou, Nova Scotia to Wood Islands, P.E.I. I think I am partial to the ferry ride.

About a fifty-minute ride from Charlottetown, Cavendish Road leads to Green Gables, a nineteenth century farmhouse. Who can forget the orphaned Anne riding through an apple orchard for the first sight of her new home? Remember the preserves Anne and her friend made? There’s a place to visit to sample artisan preserves and even have tea.

Prince Edward Island has miles and miles of coastline, enough to satisfy a beach-lover like me, but not the kind of beach I am used to. Rocky and windy with names like Thunder Cove, and always with a coolness to the air so vivid in my imagination that I can taste the saltiness and feel the sting on my cheeks. So many lighthouses and little fishing villages to see, the artist or photographer would be drooling.

Lucy Maud Montgomery was actually left in the care of her grandparents after her mother died of tuberculosis when she was just a baby. Her father left her with them when he took off to Saskatchewan. Lucy spent the first thirty-seven years of her life at 8521 Cavendish Road with her maternal grandmother and grandfather and an aunt. Much of Anne’s life is Lucy’s life.

It would be like going back in time to visit these places, something I find intriguing, and the scenery which would be entirely foreign to me, pulls me like a magnet. And so, if I could go any place on earth, I think I would choose Anne’s place, Green Gables, on Prince Edward Island.

Flowers and More

 Early last spring I scattered some zinnia seeds in a sunny spot near my front sidewalk, and despite a two-week drought and only watering once or twice, they came up prolifically!

I read that to get seeds for next year, I need to let them “dry” on the vine, and this morning I read something even better. They are so easy to grow. I should know because I have a partially brown thumb, but the “even better” part is to let them die a natural death for food for the birdies!

All summer long I have been wined and dined by their beauty and by a variety of visiting butterflies (mostly monarchs). And now, after plucking a few for next year’s crop, I shall enjoy watching the birds have a final feast.

Seasons of Reflection

this year's zinnias

I love art shows, but I’ve never exhibited in one. Since I visit local art galleries, I sometimes receive invitations to exhibit, and I received one of these invitations the other day. Art exhibitions  always have a theme, a theme you are supposed to work into the art piece you submit. The one I received recently was titled Seasons of Reflection.

The word seasons made me think of seasons of the year, spring, summer, autumn and winter. I quickly related these to seasons of my life and thought, childhood, college, marriage, family and widowhood. Oops, that’s five seasons. At first I thought, laughingly, that maybe I should add hurricane season. We have that here in Florida, always the end of summer and the beginning of fall. I realized it actually fit my life. Children can be little hurricanes and illness almost always comes before widowhood, illness is a hurricane of sorts.

Then, I tried to think of outstanding memories of each of these seasons of my life. Although I grew up as an only child, I wouldn’t say I was lonely. I had many friends, I was always a reader, and I was interested in almost everything and everyone I encountered. If a friend tapdanced, I wanted to do that, too. If another friend played the piano, it was “Please, Mommy, can I have a piano?” And so on until I finally got over myself! But it did keep me busy. I was a good student mainly because I did not want to be embarrassed in class by not having done my homework. And my best friend was practically a genius! Competition was in my genes.

Preparing for college was a given, and when the day finally came, my expectations were enormous only to be deflated quickly. My genius friend who had skipped 12th grade was like a stranger when I finally arrived. She had moved on…my first disappointment. Classes were very different from high school. Nobody cared (especially the prof) whether I did my assignment or not. The classes were huge, and I was one tiny blip in the audience. Listen, don’t listen, turn your assignments in…or not…up to you. My motivation had disappeared and my good grades along with it. But Friday night dances were the bomb and late night trips to the student center for chocolate fudge sundaes kept me happy as a cat in a dairy barn.

I got the shock of my life when my first transcript arrived. It had a D on it in Physical Science, obviously something I needed to study. So I changed my ways and got down to business, but it took me an entire semester to realize I couldn’t skim by on my looks…just kidding. And the season of summer quickly transitioned into autumn, marriage and children.

Autumn starts out hot but eventually cools down. That’s how marriage usually goes. Everything is bright and new to begin with, lots to learn, lots of new experiences with the bright blooms of summer making everything colorful and glorious. But blooms must turn to seed to ensure the next generation, and seeds need care and attention, and the new season has a life of its own. New seeds bloom and the dried petals of the old flowers float along to a new resting place, and eventually their purpose is spent. Along comes winter.

Some plants are annuals, and that’s the way with humans. One year of seasons is all we get, and although each of us is an annual, seeds have guaranteed our longevity, millions of years already.

Four very different seasons for reflection but all tied together by unique human beings. Each season could be many different paintings.

And so, I have an idea for a painting, an empty flowerpot, a seedling, a full bloom, a spent bloom, a year’s worth of a seasons of reflection.

A Movie Review

Tonight I watched a movie on Tubi titled “Shudderbugs”. There are only two characters in the entire movie. And a cat. A young woman goes back to her childhood home after her mother dies. A mother whose last phone calls she neglected, neglected to answer and neglected to return. When we feel guilty, we always want to find someone or something else to blame. And that is what this movie is about.

It’s beautifully executed. The deceased mom was a poet and had planned a birthday party for the daughter who declined to answer her phone calls, a birthday party complete with poems and a scavenger hunt. Her voice mail messages, when the daughter finally played them, were always hopeful, hopeful the daughter would show up.

The word “shudderbugs” is a word the mom used to describe feelings she got when she knew things she had no way of knowing. And the daughter comes to learn the meaning of the word, also. Her blameful attention turns to the neighbor who found her mother’s body. She cannot find a ring she says her mom always wore, and her mom’s dog has disappeared. All this fits right into her theory of blame.I found this movie captivating, emotionally so at times, and, also, a learning experience.

 

Before and After

 The prompt I emailed to my writing pod earlier this month, “before and after” moments”, brought back memories of the deaths of loved ones, how it was before, how it was after. I’m sorry to sound morose, but this was the only thing that came to mind, probably because my Jim’s death was on July 19th, 2012. But, oddly, the first death I thought of was my mom’s.

Me and Mommy at Rehoboth Beach, DE

I’ve written about my mom before, how young she died, how she had lung cancer, how I miss her. I think of all of this when I think of her, but with the passing of time, I think of many other things as well.

Everyone who met my mom liked her, and I’m not saying that because she was my mother, but because they did. She was one of those people who exuded friendliness, a welcoming of social contact. As I think of her now, we are shopping somewhere, and I’m holding her hand which I remember as being slightly sweaty. Now, we’re crossing a street in Dover, somewhere near where my Uncle Parvin and Aunt Sandy live. And also close to the Capitol Theater where my Uncle Nick is the projectionist.

Mommy and Aunt Sandy at Rehoboth

Traffic is fairly non-existent on this street. North Street, I remember now. It’s a one-way in an easterly direction. I think that’s weird. I’ve been on it often, sometimes staying overnight with Parvin and Sandy, and sometimes to drop off film canisters with Uncle Nick and Aunt Sadie. Movie posters would be waiting for Uncle Nick to drive around and deliver to country stores in Kent County, a ride I loved in their jeep called a “woody” back then.

I remember the old movie poster for Disney’s Lady and the Tramp, and I put up such a fuss I got to see the movie in Uncle Nick’s projection room at the Capitol while it was playing, all the while stuffing my mouth with hot fries drenched in  vinegar from the snack bar.

Uncle Nick, me and Aunt Sadie at Pop-pop’s farm

But, now, I’m holding Mommy’s hand and we’re going to see Aunt Sandy. Mommy has a large envelope in her other hand, a black and white Easter photo of me, which Aunt Sandy is going to tint. And I’m spending the night.

The next day I get to watch Aunt Sandy paint, and I fall in love with art. Although I watch her hands, I see the pure joy in her face as she totally forgets I am sitting across from her. I speak, but she doesn’t hear me. I want to know that place and go there.

Sandy’s tinted photo

For a long time after Mommy died, the only picture I kept in my head was me holding her hand in ICU, and, after, of crying in the waiting area. Of driving her back and forth to Wilmington for chemo treatments. Of her saying she couldn’t swallow. Although my grief has never ended, through the years my memories of earlier times have expanded and softened those later last memories.

It’s strange looking back at these photos. When I picture my mom now, it’s these pictures, this time period, that I remember, not after she was ill. And I’m so glad.

And this preview of the 1955 movie really brought back some memories.

Lady and the Tramp (1955) Trailer #1 | Movieclips Classic Trailers

A Change for the Better

 How we find out things has drastically changed over my lifetime. Getting information today has never been easier. A few taps on the keyboard or even a few words spoken into a phone gets us instant results, not always dependable but results just the same. And for free (relatively speaking).

Social media such as YouTube, Facebook and many many other websites  teach us things we never would have imagined when I was growing up. Back then, I bought many books on different hobbies I wanted to explore, but today I look at them, and my first thought is how was I so patient to learn anything from them? I mean, really, you have to read…slowly.

And that takes me back to the old days when many people claim things were so much better. I wonder.

My sixth grade teacher was an older lady with a hairdo that went every which a way. My nickname for her was Miz Einstein, and it didn’t have everything to do with her appearance. She was very knowledgeable on lots of subjects, and I and other classmates were always asking her questions.

This is a yearbook photo when she was really “dolled up.”

Later, when my own kids were in school, I found out Mrs. Mann’s love of knowledge was not a fluke. Sometime in the early 70s on a weekday, near Rising Sun, Delaware, I was at home alone, kids in school, husband at work. The doorbell rang and when I opened it, to my astonishment there stood my “really old” six grade teacher. We recognized each other right away, and both of us started talking at the same time.

“I can’t believe it’s you. What a surprise!” And other similar exclamations. You get the picture.

Of course, I invited her in, eager to learn how she came to be at my house. She was carrying something that looked similar to an old book bag from the 50s, and she walked a little lopsided from the weight of it. We sat side by side on the sofa with the book bag deposited near her feet.

We caught up on our current lives. Yes, she still lived in Harrington, but was now retired and no longer taught school. Her husband had passed away a year before, and she was coping with all the changes that were involved, the big one being income. I immediately started putting two and two together and came up with four. My math skills were excellent.

Soon, she leaned over to open the catches on the book bag and out came the “A” volume of the World Book Encyclopedia. Well, you can imagine what happened. This was my former 6th grade teacher, and she was in need. Financing could be arranged, and in a few weeks I would be the proud owner of a complete set including a two-volume dictionary. And wait, there was more. Each year for the next ten years, I would receive, through the mail, a “yearbook” updating all previous information that may have changed.

We had a wonderful visit, and in addition, I was immensely aiding my children’s education. I was excited and anxious to receive those books. But, then Mrs. Mann was gone and reality set in. Jim was going to kill me. I had not consulted him, and we talked everything over beforehand.

That night, after supper, we settled in front of the TV to watch Gunsmoke, one of our favorite shows. I waited until the end when a commercial had come on before I broke the news of Mrs. Mann’s visit and my purchase. It turned out Jim loved the idea, and, in fact, he had lugged an old set of encyclopedias around with him to Lackland (Air Force training in Texas) and even to Dover Air Force Base where, ever the business man, he had sold them to a roommate!

And today, here they sit on a bookshelf in my living room, much used, much loved and today remembered, but sorely out of date. They take up two shelves with the yearbooks and dictionaries but another photo of that shelf would definitely be boring.

Not long ago, I actually looked up something in one and found an old sheet of 3-ring notebook paper on which my daughter had written a school assignment. I wish I had taken a photo since I gave it to her for her memories. She couldn’t believe it had survived all these years in an old set of encyclopedias.

Easter 2025

I hope everyone had a nice Easter Sunday. It was a beautiful day here in every way...perfect. The baby bluebirds have hatched in the nesting box on one of my pine trees, and Mom and Dad are feeding them furiously, so wonderful to watch. I did see a black racer in my front yard near the sidewalk so I hope they are vigilant. It's that time of year. Snakes can slither right up a pine tree.

My daughter came for an Easter visit and brought me the biggest Easter Lily I've ever seen! 

We were amazed that the blooms had no smell. Is that normal? But the white against dark green is so striking. It's basking in bright light on my back porch, looking beautiful.

I was up early (early for me), cleaning and filling the bird feeders and birdbath, sweeping the porches, and shaking rugs. Then a shower and then, getting together the ingredients for a crustless spinach quiche which is loaded with cheese (8 oz of cheddar and 6 oz of feta). But that was to be our main course so what the heck. It was Easter. I took it out of the oven just before the front doorbell rang. Perfect timing.

Erica and Murphy (a Corkie) were Easter pretty, Murphy with his silky fur and little tail going 90 miles an hour! 

He has the vitality of the Energizer bunny, always moving, hopping up on my lap, wanting an under the neck scratch, or running around and smelling everything even if it has no smell. I think that is the nature of Corkies. And if there is anything remotely related to food....well, it's in his mouth and swallowed. So, he has to be watched like a hawk. We tried to wear him out by tossing pieces of his dry food for him to retrieve (uh, eat), but that little dog cannot be worn out.

So for dinner/lunch we had the quiche, a tossed salad, and sweet potato rounds with pecans (which Erica brought), and then, we had no room for the watermelon that I had for dessert. 

Coffee sufficed instead. I cleaned up and Erica took the Murph for a walk. Then, we enjoyed the back porch some more, me in the swing. Several butterflies and dragonflies were buzzing around over the grass. It has been so dry here, I thought it a little unusual, and I wondered if some of the butterflies had escaped from the Butterfly Rain Forest at our local Museum of Natural History, which is closed for some construction. Maybe? They are mesmerizing to watch.

And too quickly, it was time for Erica to go back home. As she was putting Murphy in his crate, we saw my neighbors and their little dog, Gizmo. They came over and said "hi" and I got another Easter hug. They were having an egg hunt for the special "golden" egg. Erica had about an hour and a half drive back home and texted to say she arrived safely, and we decided both of us were ready for a nap, a perfect ending to a perfect day.

And, then, early this morning I awoke to hear the sad news of the death of Pope Francis. I turn on NPR as soon as my eyelids open, sometimes before. He must have used up all the strength he had to make it through Easter. What a lasting impression, may his legacy live on.