A New, Yet Old, Friend

Photo taken by Taylor Bracher

     We here at Castle Yonder have a special love for Grouse ever since one became friends with Rocky several years ago. He preceded Rocky in death by nine months as the result of an auto accident.

     So we are all delighted that Grouse I evidently had a son who has now made himself known. (Well, my good friend, Jay, has spotted him a couple of times in the woods while on mushroom forays, but I, the Queen of Castle Yonder, had never seen him.) 

     But he allowed an audience as he posed for a picture this past Sunday.  I imagine he had been flushed up into the trees because my good neighbor, Rudy, was chain sawing a tree that the Sat. night storm had pushed over and across the road.

     Now our new, old, friend needs a name (as well as a mate!) Perhaps I'll call him Grousey II until someone comes up with something better.

     I guess we could call him "Ruffie" or "Ruffles" since his specimen is called the Ruffed Grouse. They are noted by their sometimes elaborate displays of mating behavior, "drumming" the air by beating their wings rapidly. They also strut, raise their breasts upward, and spread special feathers on the head, neck, and tail. They strut their stuff; how could any gal resist? 

     Grouse are land birds who forage on the ground for seeds and insects. They can fly but they are not fast and seldom fly more than a few hundred feet. They can burst into flight from a sitting position when they feel the need to remove themselves to another location. This is called flushing and causes the heart to beat a little faster in any human observer who might be out for a walk.

      Flushing is likely why Grousey II posed for the photo in a tree.

      

Mimi's 77th

Jessica wearing her Grandad Rocky's cap

A Big April Fool

  Seventy-seven years ago, April 1st fell on a Sunday which just happened to be Easter that year. At 9:00 that evening, I came into the world. A mid-wife and my mother's best friend, Ardella Rahrig, was with my mother at our home in a small town in NE Indiana. My two sisters, Velma, age 16 and Vi, age 13 went to Ardella's house to take care of the younger children. The mid-wife, Annie Wessell, pretty much had me delivered when the community physician, Dr. Klinger, finally arrived. He finished the job. I was cleaned up, wrapped up, and laid beside my mother in her big iron bed.


     When Vi and Velm heard they had a new little sister, they were very excited because they had been wanting a girl to play with. And play they did! They dressed me up, played with my hair, taught me nursery rhymes, and took me along with them to the ice cream shop, friends' homes, the drug store that had a soft drink counter, and more. They coaxed me into reciting poems and paraded me in front of visitors. In short, they taught me to love receiving attention and feel comfortable speaking in front of others.

     The only problem I had was I never liked the name they gave me. I was named "Irma" after a female organist my parents liked to listen to on the radio, Irma Glenn. They added "Rose" which was after my mother, Rosa. She had been called "Rosie" all her life. They wanted me to use both names, "Irma Rose" and proceeded to call me that. "Go sit down by Irma Rose," they would tell my Alaskan Spitz puppy, and she would.

     Then I went to school. I noticed that all my classmates had only one name like Carol, Carolyn, Shirley, Sally, Pat, Donna. So I told my teacher to call me "Irma" only and drop the "Rose." My parents were upset; they wanted me called both names. Now as a clinical therapist, I think I did it as a step towards independence, a way of keeping my "self" separate from my mother.  I didn't want the teachers to think that was my mother sitting in their first-grade classroom. Then someone called me "Wormy Irmie" and I realized I hated, hated, hated being called the single name"Irma" more than ever. 


     So for over 40 years I lived with a name I detested! Why couldn't l I have been called "Bunny" or "April"? "Irma" sounds as German as sauerkraut. And we, as Americans in the 1940's, were at war with Germany! Admittedly, due to my Dad having been born in Germany, he was a citizen now. So that made me a second generation German immigrant; but I felt as American as apple pie!


     In middle age, when I was expecting my first grandchild, I was leafing through a book, Choose the Right Name For Your Baby, with my daughter-in-law who was eight months pregnant. Just for the heck of it, I turned to the definition for "Irma." "Irma," I read "means strength, power, regal, Queen." Wow, I thought, and my imagination began galloping across the northern European landscape. Maybe I had had an ancestor named "Irma" who was powerful, royal, a Queen. I could picture her in my mind--a female Viking with brass breast plate, a helmet with horns over two blond braids, a sword in one hand, and a battle ax in the other! Queen Irma the Wagnerian Visigoth!!!


     Then my daughter-in-law asked me what I wanted to be called by this new little person who was coming into the world. In truth, I was to become a step-grandmother and I thought the two biological grandmothers should have first choice. They had chosen, my daughter-in-law said. I began remembering that I had wanted to change my name for a long time. Here was my chance. I would choose a name that could be used in non-grandmotherly situations, too. I had just started storytelling and wanted to develop a persona with a different name from "Irma." I remembered I had recently heard a grandchild call her grandmother "Mimi" and I knew that Puccini had found it a fine name for his Bohemian heroine. Daughter-in-law liked it, and the decision was made. 


     And that's how one of the biggest April fools made a wise decision, because "Mimi" fits me and has served me well both as a grandmother and a storyteller.

Irma Diederich performing a monolog (storytelling) in high school.

"Irma" performing a monolog (storytelling)in high school.

Carmen & Sam's Visit

 Sam Horne and Carmen Wren Beckett spent the last two days with me. They are University of Maryland students who live in Takoma Park, MD just NE of Washington. D.C.  They plan to be married in August, and I'm excited to be planning to attend their wedding, which will be a Quaker service.


I've known Carmen since she was about two years old. She was a very independent little girl and had a mind of her own. Her mother wisely home-schooled her and she proved to be a natural learner with definite likes and dislikes. She and her parents moved away to Elkton MD when she was about 6 or so. But they continued to come for visits as Carmen's mother, Leslie, who I had met as a girlfriend of my son, Alan's, and I had grown to be very close friends. Leaving me very disappointed and Alan heart-broken (for awhile) Leslie married someone else, Spencer.

Eventually, Spencer became welcome at Castle Yonder too, and either or both parents would bring Carmen to visit. One of her favorite things to do was to go to the comic book store in downtown Bristol. She was a fan of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.








Mimi and Carmen, close friends already, at the comic book store.

 On this most recent visit, Carmen said, "Why did my parents let me go out looking like that?" I thought she looked cute (and I still do). She's a young teenager here.

And then she discovered the Jonesborough Storytelling Festival and came several years in a row to attend it with me. I remember she loved Patrick Bell and Carmen Deedy. She's about 14-15 here. Before she left that year, she asked if I'd be her Grandmother.
So I now refer to her as my "foster granddaughter." 

And here Carmen is on this visit. A sight for nostalgic eyes.  

She is now 23 years old, is making wise career decisions, and still knows what she likes and dislikes.
Thankfully, she still likes me.

This weekend, we spent time knitting. Carmen is an amazing knitter. When I saw her web page, I said to myself, "I've been knitting for 50 years, and I can't knit like that!" Yesterday, she gave me a lesson in using a circular needle!

Sam is in his late 20's and will enter graduate school in the fall to get his teaching certification. He plans to teach Middle School and is passionate about history, especially the Civil War. With this generation, the computers come along on trips.

Friday, Sam and Carmen went on a hike while I made brownies. We ate out at a Japanese restaurant, then watched The Girl With The Dragon Tatoo  on BlueRay. Note Sam's scarf above knitted by Carmen. She's an expert on sox, too!

Sat. we played the board game "Ticket To Europe," knitted, and ate at home with stuffed chicken breasts, creamed corn, biscuits, wine spritzers,  all pulled from the freezer and frig since no one wanted to go to the grocery store. The best kind of meal for the cook! 

And here we are this morning, Foster GrandMimi and Granddaughter, she in her traveling clothes and me still in my bathrobe. Big hugs and kisses and looking forward to a beautiful wedding on August 20.

Rocky's 81st Birthday

Rocky's 81st birthday would have been March 4, last Saturday.

Here's a poem I wrote to remember and honor him.

Smile down on me from the moon beams,

Smile up at me from the Caribbean seas,

No matter where your spirit is

It's your smile that emergizes mine.

Smile up at me from the bloodroot, the coltsfoot, the may apple,

Smile down on me from the mist and the rainbow,

I feel your warmth and wit always

Hugging me around my shoulders

Like your old grey sweater 

On a chilly day,

Smile down on me,

Smile up at me,

Smile at me across the land,

Smile at me from wherever you are,

So I can smile.

                                                                                      Mimi Rockwell

                                                                                      March 4, 2011

Review: SOUTH OF BROAD by Pat Conroy

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       South of Broad by Pat Conroy held my attention although it wasn't that hard to put down and take a break. Full of characters, the primary one is the city of Charleston, South Carolina. It is lushly developed with Conroy's substantial vocabulary, and rarely does a place take on the character that Conroy's favorite city does. 

     The author chooses a clever way to develop his favorite character. The protagonist and narrator is a newspaperman who is writing his memoirs beginning with his life as a young teenaged newspaper boy. This gives Conroy the ability to describe the homes and characters along the newspaper route of Leo King, nicknamed "Toad."

     It also provides more than a glimpse of the boy's mind as he recounts his traumatic experience of finding his idolized older brother's body drowned, suicidally self-mutilated, in their shared bathroom. Leo cannot deal with this tragedy and is admitted to a mental institution. 

     He continues to ruminate about the six other young people, new to Charleston, that he meets during his summer before starting high school. Along with three Charleston natives who have gotten into some minor drug trouble, they all become friends. Four of these are emotionally disturbed with lives that began in tragedy. None of these characters are developed fully to my satisfaction like Leo is. Conroy focuses more on their behaviors and victimization than on character. He tells the reader a lot about what they say and how they look, but little about what's going on in their emotional lives.

     There is a tremendous amount of drama that happens over a period of 20 years, but all of it during high school, or mid-life. I wasn't even sure what the career was for one major character, Niles, who originally came from the North Carolina western mountains, until near the end when it was casually mentioned. The intense drama includes childhood sexual molestation, alcoholism, a murderous perverted father, exciting football games, a cold distant mother who is also the high school principal, a Hollywood star, a wayward wife, Hurricane Hugo, suicide, a perverted Catholic priest, and a search in San Francisco for one of the friends who is a lifelong effeminate homosexual dying of AIDS and kidnapped by a villain who is taking his welfare money. Whew!

     There is just too much of one thing throughout this novel and not enough of another.

Everything is tied up in the denouement, however, although two of the glamourous friends have had tragic endings. Everyone else ends up with the spouse they began with. Except for Leo, our narrator. But even then, there is a small hint that there is a woman for him waiting in the wings. 

     The real story here is the relationship between a man and his city. I quote from one of the last pages when Leo, now a middle-aged man takes a bike ride along his old newspaper route, "I am riding hard through the most beautiful streets in America, my native city. I know I have to cure myself with Charleston. There is nothing that the Holy City cannot right...I ride past concealed gardens flush with morning glories, ligustrum, white oleanders, and lavender azaleas galore."

     Yet, I read the entire book which is on the lengthy side. The lushness of the descriptions of Charleston was one thing I enjoyed, and the dialogue was another. I admired the structure. Overall, I couldn't help but think that Conroy was writing about himself. That would have been enough to satisfy me without adding so many tragic characters to create a literary overload in hopes of producing a best seller. You have so many fans, Mr. Conroy, that just your last name guarantees a best seller. I'm glad I read your book because now I can see Charleston with more appreciative eyes.

Happy Valentine's Day 2011

    This is my first Valentine's Day without Rocky. However, Mr. R. wasn't very sentimental about birthdays, let alone Valentine's or Mother's Day. That didn't mean I stopped nagging him, but I finally settled for gently reminding him, and then buying something for myself if he didn't come through, which was often. In our later years, he finally caught on and at least gave me a card, although sometimes they were typewritten notes from his word processor. They were always funny sweet, so I adored getting them.


     I usually gave him something like a funny card or sour ball hard candy.

    Last year was different. Valentine's Day was only one month before Rocky went into the hospital and he was having lots of down days. On Feb. 14, he felt good enough to drive the two miles to the dump where the trash man helped him empty his truck. He didn't come home immediately, but as I found out later, he had driven up to a small country florist a few miles away. He finally brought me six red roses for Valentine's Day which really touched my heart.


    So, it isn't unusual for me to think about my Valentine's gift to myself, especially in the middle of a cold winter. I jumped the gun and bought it last week. A month before, I had admired it at the 606 State Street Gallery where our group told stories. Then I couldn't get it out of my mind, and decided I could afford it for a Valentine this year. Here it is:

    The title is "Watch Out, Little Red." Look carefully and you'll see the shape of a wolf in the background. The artist is Elizabeth Scroggins of Bristol. It speaks to me because I live in the woods, I tell fairytales, and I love the color red. Also, as a widow I need to "watch out" too. After all, Little Red's Granny got swallowed up by the big, bad wolf. (Although somedays I say "Bring him on!) 


     Happy Valentine's Day to you all. And instead of moping around if you don't get a valentine, go buy or make one for yourself! Flowers, candy, costume jewelry, books of poetry are within most budgets. Be kind and love yourself!  


Mimi

An Open Letter To My Family and Friends

     My daughter-in-law, Ann, is in the real estate business, so it was only natural that she became upset when she received an e-mail saying the Obama Health Care Plan contains a section saying that people selling their homes will have to pay an additional 3.8% real estate SALES tax. One quick click onto www.snopes.com showed that this tax will only be applied to certain wealthy people who sell their homes for at least $500,000, and then there are qualifications that this is connected to investments. Very complicated but definitely not applicable to ordinary middle-class sellers and in keeping with Obama's campaign speeches.

     I noticed that she had sent this real-estate email to her children as well as her husband. These are my grandchildren and since I live 4 hours away and don't get to see them too often, I decided they need to know my simple philosophy of my relationship to my country's politics as I'm sure they're bombarded with Internet messages of all kinds. I want them to know what I have learned through my 76+ years.

     Now I've decided I will let all my friends know where I stand. I am no economist and no public policy expert let alone a politician, so this is pretty simple advice.

Dear Ann, Jessica, and Christopher, Don't believe everything you read sent by a political party. Go to a website that is objective. I use www.snopes.com and www.fact.com

This thing about a 3.8% real estate tax is covered very well on snopes.com. If you're interested, read it. 

If you are watching Fox commentaries on tv, switch once in awhile and watch MSNBC. If you're watching MSNBC, switch once in awhile and watch FOX. Then watch CNN; personally I find them the most objective of the 3 channels. 

Politics can be fascinating, but in my 77 years, the ones BEHIND the one running for a political office are often very dishonest and will do anything to WIN. The playing of the game is what is important to them because they are trying to outwit the competition, and they lose sight of consequences. When you live in a democracy, you've got to be watchful, compassionate, and educated and then keep yourselves that way as you age. (I say "compassionate" because Jesus taught us to watch out for our brother, and his teachings have made up my personal ethics.)

The reason many politicians get so far is because they are charismatic. They may have speechwriters who are literally putting words in their mouths, then they make fantastic promises, and uneducated people respond just like they would to a celebrity. The common man (some educated, some ignoramuses) casts his vote and then has to abide by whatever becomes the law.

What it comes down to is that as long as we live in a representative government, someone has to take money from us (taxes) to build roads, schools, bridges, National Parks, the mail service, the Treasury jobs, dams, reservoirs, utilities, communication systems, etc. It seems like the Preamble to the Constitution which says make laws "for the general good of the people" causes most of the arguments. Is the Health Care Plan for the general good of the people? Is an educational system for the general good of the people? Are National Parks for the general good of the people? Is the Post Office for the general good of the people? Is an agency dedicated to helping people during and after a national disaster for the general good of the people? If the national disaster is in New Orleans, is it? If it's in North Dakota, is it? Is providing money to support college education for the general good of the people? Is providing money to support music programs for the general good of the people? Research for a cure for cancer? Alzheimers? Money for Dance programs? Sports? Olympics? Theater? Paintings? Storytelling? 

The way you answer these questions places you on that continuum between Conservatism and Socialism--the right wing and the left wing, neither of them are all good or all evil.  Conservatives want a minimum of government services, with a minimum amount of federal aid. They want the states to provide more and pay for it (which means American people may get some services in Virginia and very few services in Indiana). The Socialists want government to provide a lot of services and have departments to be in charge of them so there is uniformity across the country, but it creates a huge bureaucracy. (Bureaucracy means, however, lots of jobs for data processors, computer technicians,office managers, accountants, lawyers, window washers, teachers, mining administrators, Park rangers, pollution experts, water control experts, social workers, and foresters, as examples.

A helpful thing you can do for yourself is to figure out just what you believe. Do not copy whatever someone else thinks. Each one of us fits on the continuum in a different place and we all have a right to our own beliefs. No one is all good, and no one is all evil. Figure out what your ethics are (do you ascribe to courage, honesty, loyalty, abiding by the law, citizenship, friendship, trustworthiness etc.) Who or what do you value? Family? Children? Teenagers? The Elderly? Neighbors? Music? Education? The Handicapped? Sports? Nerds? Clubs? Community Service? Who or what are you willing to care for and nurture?

Well, your email about the real estate tax set all these thoughts off in me and I felt a need to share them with you. The United States of America needs thoughtful, educated, and compassionate citizens. Then our country, no matter whether it goes left or right, will be on the right track. 

So remember, this advice and philosophy is coming from a woman who has been married three times, has given birth to three unique children, has lived 70 years with a physical handicap, grew up in a working class family, put herself through college after she had started a family, who was born during the Great Depression and lived through World War II, the Korean War, the Cold War, the Space Race, the Viet-Nam War, Desert Storm, the Iraqi War, and now the Afghan War, who got a graduate degree, became a clinical social worker in the mental health field, ran her own business, is personable, makes friends easily, loves her family of origin and her adopted family, tells good stories, and has taken care of innumerable cats and dogs throughout the years.  I think I ought to know something, even though I am left of center on the continuum. Love, Mim

     

A Tribute To CHD

     CHD are the initials for my Dad's name, Carl Henry Diederich. He was born on January 17, 1896 which would have been 115 years ago. My Dad died in 1982 at the age of almost 87.


     CHD, as he liked to sign his name, lived all his life in Garrett, Indiana--except for his first nine years. He was born in Mellonhagen, Germany in the Province of Mecklenburg. This Province is the farthest north and the farthest east of modern day Germany, right next to Poland. Its northern border is the Baltic Sea. When CHD was 9 years old in 1905 he came with his parents, three brothers and two sisters to America. Older relatives had already come and were leading financially rewarding lives working for the B&O Railroad in Indiana.


     Here is the earliest picture I have of my Dad. It is of his school in Mellonhagen dated 1902. He is in the light suit in middle of the the first row 3rd from the right and left. (I note the boy with the dog and wondered about why old world school masters are purported to be stern.)

     This next picture is of CHD on his confirmation day; he is a young teenager. Shortly after that, his father showed up at school and made him quit (age 14) to go to work in the railroad shops. This is where they repaired the railroad engines and passenger cars among other things. He worked there until in his early 20's when he took the exams to become one of the train crews. In 1917 he met my mother, Rosa. They married and started a family, two sons (one died shortly after birth) and three daughters; I am the youngest. Here's a picture of Rosa and Carl shortly before they were married in 1917.

     I loved my Dad. I thought he was as handsome as any movie star. Especially when he was in his conductor uniform or dressed up in his overcoat, Fedora on his head, and smoking a fat cigar. Favorite outings were with him and my mother going to the movies, then stopping at the ice cream shop afterwards. Or riding with them on the Tilt-A-Whirl at the DeKalb County Fair. He won a big stuffed Lassie collie for me playing Bingo at the fair. He sang "Oh Tannenbaum" every Christmas and dressed up as Santa. I remember some of the stories he told of his memories of Germany and have told them publicly. Here's my favorite picture of the two of us together; I'm somewhere between 1 and 2 and he's in his Conductor's uniform.

      
     I'm happy to say that life circumstances allowed me to be geographically close to my Dad the last two years of his life. He volunteered to move to a Seniors home and to our great surprise truly enjoyed it. He sang in their choir, befriended a young mentally challenged resident, was a substitute grandfather to a visiting lad from the local school,  produced a resident's newsletter, and flirted with the female staff. Here's a photo of him in his 80's.

     My one regret about my Dad is that I haven't been able to say "Happy Birthday" more than 87 times. Happy Birthday, Dad, wherever you are.

And That's The Week That Was Jan.2-9

     There's only one word to describe this past week and that's S N O W ! The week started out with snow; that melted, and then it snowed again the middle of the week. The skies stayed overcast but the sun came out Sunday and the icicles began to drip. When the snow slides off my roof, it startles me because it crashes to the ground with a  loud rumble. On our trips to Alaska, I learned that's called "calving" when the glaciers do break off over a cliff.


     In spite of the melting today, I've still got about 3 inches standing on my deck rails.
And they are predicting more before morning and through Monday, but I'm up late (it's actually Monday morning now) and it hasn't started snowing yet. 

     So, I have stayed indoors all week except for two ventures out. One was to the drugstore to pick up a prescription and the other one was to attend and participate in the Beaver Creek Storytellers "Old Christmas" program. I told the story of "Silent Night" and also a brief history of how Old Christmas came to be an Appalachian tradition. Details about this program can be found on the Beaver Creek Storytellers Blog at http://beavercreekstorytellers.blogspot.com


     I promised myself that I would go outside on weather-friendly days and at least walk, so on Tuesday I went out and shoveled off the family room deck. Not much snow on Tuesday to shovel but plenty of dog piles since my spoiled pets don't like to get their feet cold in the snow so they use wherever they are for a bathroom. That's usually a few feet away from the door. I have no photos of that.


     So the highlight of my week other than the Old Christmas event was making chili. I've not made it much in the past because Rocky didn't care for it. But the cold air made me hungry for it, and it tasted so good I've got only one serving left.


    I don't mind the quiet and the computer keeps me from being mentally inactive and my pets keep me from being physically inactive, but I do hope this coming week is a bit more interesting.  


     

For Auld Lang Syne 2010

The 2010 Report

     This is a picture of my sons, Eric on the left and Alan on the right, with me in front of a beautiful Christmas tree in the elegant lobby of the Ritz-Carleton Hotel in Philadelphia. It is one of the last photos I took in 2010. I took a lot in Philly, but I'm sorry to report that I accidentally deleted all but two of them; this is one.


     I have to admit that I am borrowing an idea from my Facebook Friend's blog written by Miriam Nadel reporting on her achievements and progress towards goals in 2010. Well, I didn't set any goals for 2010 so I can't report on their progress or completion, but I can report on some of the categories that Miriam included.


     The most life-changing event I experienced during 2010, of course, was the death of my husband, Rocky. It meant that I had to learn how to live alone and make many decisions about my life that I had always shared with Rocky before.
I am still undergoing that process and will discuss it more when I talk about my goals for 2011.


     I read 16 books during the year, enjoying The Help most in the fiction category. Of the non-fiction my favorite was Traveling With Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor. I also read a newspaper The New York Review Of Books which I receive every two weeks. You can see the titles of all the books in the side bar of this Blog.


     I also love movies and have watched so many Turner Classic Movies this year that I lost count. So the movies listed in the side bar are not entirely accurate, but by that count I watched 25 movies, 3 of them in theaters. The three were Inception, Reds, and For Colored Girls Who Consider Suicide When Rainbows Are Not Enough, the latter being the most powerful and therefore my favorite.


     I also took the opportunity to see some plays at the Barter Theatre, Blue-Sky Boys, Violet, and The Full Monty. 


     I cut back on storytelling activities this past year, although I did perform four times. One was a children's event at Pumpkin Palooza on Halloween, and at a Sat. night telling at the SW VA Highlands Community College, Graveyard Tales, and Tellabration, the latter three produced by the Beaver Creek Storytellers which I no longer direct. I did do some publicity for that organization, however.


     I attended some storytelling events in which I was a listener, two private parties, one on Summer Solstice eve at Pam Miller's home in Jonesborough, and one honoring Elizabeth Ellis at Linda Poland's home in Tennessee. I was happy to see and hear my old friend, Gay Ducey, at the International Storytelling Center and later in the year attended the Skating On Thin Ice program at the ISC by Kim Weitkamp, Bil Lepp, and Andy Offut Irwin.


     I took five trips during 2010. Two were to Lynchburg, VA which is only 4 hours away. The others were to Indianapolis, Indiana; Taos, New Mexico; and Philadelphia. 


     Now for my goals for 2011. My head is stirring with probabilities, especially about living arrangements for the future. Although I haven't made up my mind when and where, I know a move is coming up. So clearing up projects that are already started should get priority.

• Finish collecting all of Rocky's memorabilia and biographical information together and preserving it in some fashion.
• Finish Rocky's book on humor and find a publisher.
• Get clearance from Barter Theatre's Board of Directors and proceed to publish Rocky's book, Jenny Of The Barter.
• Clean out garden house and give items away to friends and relatives.
• Speak to a real estate agent about selling Castle Yonder; make decision.
• Continue to participate with the Beaver Creek Storytellers.
• Invite friends to lunch or dinner at least 4 times during year.
• Produce a workshop on drumming.
• Exercise by walking outside every weather-friendly day.
• Finish the crocheted blanket for Stella.
• Read 20 books.
• Attend the Virginia Gathering in March.
• Complete the truck title red tape. 
• Write my Blog at least once a week; keep the BCS blog and website up to date; 

     Well, I think that will keep me busy enough for the year.  I'll report exactly one year from now. Happy New Year, All
                                                                                      

Out With The Old 2010, In With the New 2011

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Christmas In The City

The view from my hotel window

     I had a wonderful time over the Christmas weekend in Philadelphia. However, I have only this one photo to show for it. During the snowstorm and downtime in a hotel room, I was reading my Nikon camera guide trying to learn some things I didn't know about my new camera. Unfortunately, I thought I was deleting one picture but it turned out I was deleting about 20, including the horse and carriage ride I took with my son Alan and a wonderful picture of my two sons and I standing in front of a beautiful Christmas tree in the elegant lobby of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. My heart is still crying which is better than the cussing out I gave myself at the time.

     The highlight of my weekend was two fabulous, and expensive, meals at two fine dining restaurants on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Paying for them was my Christmas gift to my sons and son-in-law. Then they turned the tables (pardon the pun) and informed me they were paying for the Christmas Eve feast. When I saw the bill the next night, I was very glad they had helped me out that way. But thinking about it, I have always spent that much and more when I've entertained family here at Castle Yonder for Christmas.

     We ate at Fish one of the top 10 restaurants in Philly and chose to have the traditional 7-course Italian dinner with the wine pairing. Selected wines were brought in small portions that complimented that course. We started out with baby Bibb lettuce salad with anchovies, then (and I won't remember these all in order, I'm sure) an oyster on the half-shell, clams with linguini, roe, shrimp, octupus (!), and salt cod. These were all served with lovely sauces in beautiful presentations. Dessert was a cake-like nut bread with whipped cream and tiny diced peaches. The restaurant setting was very intimate, and the ambience was warm with dark red walls, and low, artistic lighting. 

     Our Christmas dinner was at the Ten Arts, a restaurant inside the elegant Ritz-Carleton Hotel. Our table was surrounded by mammoth marble columns, and crystal chandeliers hung above us. It was as elegant as Fish had been intimate. We chose the 5-course dinner with the wine pairing. The courses I remember was a magnificent truffle soup with a parmesan and foie gras embellishment and the thinly sliced skirt steak. I'm sorry I can't remember all the courses but by this time there were just too many unfamiliar foods to remember. 

     It truly was two of the most elegant dinners and restaurants I've ever experienced. My sons don't eat this way except on very special occasions, but they are fine food conniseurs. My son, Alan, was trained as a pastry chef and graduated from the Philadelphia Restaurant School twenty years ago. I had the same fun I have when I go on a cruise which is pretending to be a member of the jet set. That's what happened to many of us who grew up during the Golden Age of movies. We aspired to be the Beautiful People.

I make no apologies.  

Christmas Blessings

GOD BLESS YOU MERRY LADIES AND GENT'MEN

Nostalgic Christmas Presents

     What does the recording of The Nutcracker Suite, a toy machine gun, and oversized red mittens have in common? They are all gifts I remember from my childhood that I received at Christmas time.

      I think The Nutcracker Suite was my favorite. My brother-in-law, Bud, worked on the B&O Railroad in Garrett, Indiana where I grew up. He loved to go shopping on Maxwell Street in Chicago when he had to lay over there on his trips as a fireman on the steam engine. Laying over meant he shoveled coal into the engine's furnace all the way from Garrett to Chicago; then the rules prevented him from turning right around and riding an engine back to Garrett. He would go to a boarding house, bathe, eat, and rest and then wait until his assigned engine made the trip back to Garrett. Maxwell Street was an infamous city street where great discounts and sales could be found, both inside the stores and outside on the streets. Bud loved to get a bargain.

     One year when I was about 8 he brought home an early Christmas present for me. It was a small  electric turntable in a brightly colored case that had a small record with it--The Nutcracker Suite. I had never heard music like that before, and immediately fell in love with Tchaikovsky. I'm sure I wore that record to grooves and scratches. I have no idea what happened to it or the turntable, but I still have the memory of Bud and his present whenever I hear "The Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairies," and all the other compositions.

     I grew up during the Second World War. I was 7 when it started and 11 when it ended. These were my "tomboy" years. The street on which I lived, Second Street, was full of kids my age, eleven if I count everyone from a little older than I and a little younger. Some people called us "The East End Kids." We loved to play War although all of us played American soldiers, and the Nazis and Japs we killed were all imaginary. One neighbor had a beautiful bing cherry tree with one low branch that made an ideal airplane, and we were excellent marksmen as we bounced on it up and down. Amazingly, it lasted a couple summers before it finally broke.

     Another battleground we created was in the large empty lot next to my house. My brother, who was eight years older than I, had found a discarded telephone pole, erected it in the field, and put a basketball hoop on it. However, when he joined the Navy at age 18 and left home, my Dad took the pole down. This left a large hole where the pole had been which became a perfect foxhole. We knew about these military things because many of the movies we saw had battles and war themes.

     In keeping with my Army spirit, even though I felt loyal to the Navy because of my brother, I wanted a toy machine gun that made a eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh clicking noise that would make our games more realistic. I don't think I still believed in Santa anymore, but I could still make out Santa wish lists, usually based on the Sears, Roebuck Christmas catalog. I put a toy automatic machine gun on my list, and amazingly, I got one! Fortunately, it didn't shoot bb's or I might have put my eye out!

     The third memorable Christmas present was more of a lesson than the machine gun had been. I was a young teenager and both my parents and I were shopping in The Boston Store in my little hometown. It was unusual for the three of us to be shopping together because my Dad worked for the B& O also, and his work schedule was erratic since he went to Chicago also when certain trains went. The Boston Store had a little bit of everything in the way of clothing for babies, children, juniors, women, and men. We were easing around the aisles picking up and unfolding things, feeling material, appraising and generally shopping. Then I saw the most amusing item. Bright red fuzzy, and oversized, mittens. They must have been a good 12 inches long, sticking out way past the end of my fingers when I tried them on. We all laughed when I waved them in the air. "Do you like those?" my Dad asked. "Yeah!"

     But honestly I did not like them well enough to be my major Christmas present that year! But they were, and I wore them and at first had fun when my friends saw them.  But the fun and the novelty soon wore off, and then I was stuck with bright red fuzzy oversized mittens for the rest of the winter. I learned to be careful what I enthused about on future shopping trips.

     These are lovely memories that let me know now that I was loved. Happy Christmas presents to you all!   Mimi