Towel and Fog

I pulled a towel out of the dryer and with just a whiff of that fresh, clean aroma I was standing in the past with three rows of sheets strung out in the yard. The towel smelled lovely, but it paled in the reminisce of that powerful summer smell of the sun-baked wind-tossed sheets of my childhood. The smell of sheets blasted white and fresh by nature's force. That has to be the truest smell of clean in the world.

Now, hanging your sheets outside on a clothes line is against the law.

I remember when dogs ran loose in a community. They belonged to the family next door, or down the road. Dogs running loose is also, now, against the law.

I remember when my child's car restraint was my elbow. Or when cars were not locked. You got out of your car, shut the door, and walked away even if you were going to be gone for hours. If a storm whipped up while you were gone some kindly person would open the car door and roll up your window to keep the interior from getting wet.

I can remember lots of things that drift into my mind's eye, that relative calm that sits in the center of my brain's hurricane, but that's looking back. Looking back at Fiftieth street, back at childhood, back at the past.

I live life forward. Jeff sent me a birthday card that encouraged me to peddle towards my dreams.

My dreams are now blessedly small: enjoy the day, watch a good movie, read anything, eat something satisfying, take a drive with a friend, or watch the fog that has been hugging my window all morning roll away.

I gaze at my three sons and settle in contentment that they can take care of themselves. They can take care of their own dreams. They are building their own past.

Past, present and future, isn't that life?


I talked to Kathy N eight hours after her gall bladder surgery and she was already bored with taking it easy. With doing nothing. I said I don't know how long I could last doing nothing, that it had never been tested.

Kathy said she talked to Larry's wife and Geni said she was "born to do nothing."

The only exercise I get is tilting my head up or down to find the correct focal of the trifocals glasses.

I watched a weird, Belgium, stop action cartoon called The Town Called Panic. It was weirdly good.

S' long.

Life isn't always a fog free day.

Babies

My thoughts have turned to babies lately. I wanted to write about babies, babies new, the world's babies, but every time I tried I got maudlin. I got maudlin thinking about Cara and her miscarriage, I got maudlin thinking about all the babies in our family, I got maudlin thinking about Connor, I got maudlin thinking about my babies both dead and alive. MAUDLIN. But I'm writing anyway.

I watched Connor, and helped Connor, spend a good portion of our play date concentrating on his little down vest. Studying exactly how it goes on, studying exactly how it comes off, how he needed to get the two sides together with the zipper. He knew the zipper was an important element but he just couldn't quite make it work. It was a wonder watching him, and helping him, work at mastering a down vest, the intensity, the concentration, the thoughtfulness, the pride and joy.

I watched my friend's granddaughter concentrate on turning the pages of a story book. Her little brow furrowed, almost sweating, she was concentrating so hard on working her little fingers and mind. It was a wonder watching her work at mastering that one page at a time bit.

This is a miracle, a miracle unfolding in our presence. An ordinary everyday miracle but a miracle none the less. How babies are born and master the world one bit at a time. One step, spoon, zipper, page, vest, kiss at a time. I think we are born to master our world.

Life as it could be lived, our miracle, our multiple miracles, "They would be beautiful except there are so many of them."

There are books to read
Kayaks to paddle
Friends to find
Nachos to eat
Balls to hit
Babies to birth
the thrill of existence, the ecstasy of breathing, of a beating heart is all part of our miracle of life.

The miracle is that we thrive, love, grow, consume, mate, aspire. The tragedy is to lose that miracle. The pure joy of living is replaced by the clay on our wheels of existence.

We go from miracle, to wonder, to mundane all in one life.

Jeff's Day

Hoppy hoppy bird-day Jeff.
I mean Hippy hippy b-day Jeff.
No, I mean happy happy birthday Jeff.

What I am really trying to say is no one deserves a better, happier, more festive birthday than you Jeff. You are older, wiser, funnier, sweeter, and more content than the average gray bear. Keep the humor in sight and enjoy the year, you premature baby you. I'm glad University Hospital didn't let you die as dad so often accused them.

Happy Birthday dude.

Quote: Don't Postpone Joy

I saw a charming film from 1966, A Man and A Woman. Charming, charming, charming. I was unreasonably happy with the ending. It was French, a little slow, and it had some long montages' but stick with it and be deliciously happy with a charming, charming, charming film.

Book Club

The general consensus for The Graveyard Book was positive. A cautionary tale for the real world and it made the fantasy world a safe place to be. It demystified the "bogeyman" making vampires and ghosts the hero's friends, and it gave children a wondrous world to visit. Much like Treasure Island or Tom Sawyer or the kid in The Black Stallion, no parents. A wildish world for a kid's imagination, besides being creative, clever, well written and fantastical.

Here is the reading list: revised for those who were at book club due to The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo has a five month waiting list at the King County Library. So get your reserves in or find a used copy, we have pushed it down the list. Thank you Kathleen for the library research.

Aug: War Dance by Sherman Alexie or any other Alexie book, readers choice

I asked Mary Angle of Repose, our original choice for August, was dense and she said, "Well, it has lots of pages and lots of words." My brain just couldn't take a dense book for Aug so we pushed it to September. Now Alexie's books are gritty, but easy to read. So there you have it.

Sep: Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner, Mary will try to read the companion book, not everyone agreed with Stegner's use of the letters.
Oct: Brooklyn by Colm Toibin
Nov: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer
Dec: Waiting for Snow in Havana by Carlos Eire
Jan 2011: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
Feb: Kabul Beauty School by Deborah Rodriguez

So, happy reading and see you in August. Two movies recommended by Kathleen for all the movie buffs: Sequins and Cyrus, so happy watching also.

P.S. Diet

P.S.

Diet: I have discovered in my quest to eat semi-healthy that it is a whole lot easier to eat healthy than it is to prepare to eat healthy. The preparation of fruits and vegetables is grueling. You need to buy, wash, drain, peel, chop, grate, mash, cook, grill, fry, bake, stir, mix, store, chill -- like I said grueling.

Where as a hot dog and chips is -- done in the amount of time it takes to open a refrigerator door.

Damn.

Blessing, Babies, Beliefs, Barbecues and Husbands

Blessings: A hot shower has to be the most underrated luxury in the world. At will, we can walk into our little private bath and there is both hot and cold running water to cleanse, cool, or refresh ourselves with. We get to select the degree of hot or cold, a skosh to the right or a skosh to the left, and seconds later we have a pulsating shower the exact temperature for our personal pleasure. A hot shower has got to be the biggest bang for the luxury buck.

The word skosh comes from Japanese sukoshi. How about that? Can you tell I had to consult Merriam-Webster to spell it?

Babies: Cara had a miscarriage. She is doing fine, but it made me think of all the little ones we have birthed in our time. Puny Nora, Amber couldn't digest milk, Chuck wouldn't sleep, Ian allergic to all but the most expensive milk, long skinny Janelle. What a crop of lovely babies we have had, and look at the next generation, Brittany, Connor, Judy, Jordan, do they get any cuter?

Beliefs: I found a quote somewhere "Beliefs divide people, doubts unite them." I worry about the measures being taken against immigrants. All the doubts about them reminds me of the strong escalating feelings towards the Jews in 1930 Germany.

Barbecues: We are cooking here in Seattle, 93 degrees, 89 degrees. You know that hot shower I mentioned earlier, well lately it has been cool cool cool as I try to cool cool cool off before I go to bed. So far it's working pretty good. The worm is supposed to turn tonight when the marine breeze returns and baths us in 63 degrees once more.

Husbands: A customer told me she was at the age where she would only wear comfortable shoes, no more cute and trendy shoes for her. "Comfortable shoes and a comfortable husband is all you need in life."

So there you have it.

Love to all. What ever you are doing may it be rewarding, prosperous, comfortable and the right temperature.

Whistler

Try the Rimrock Cafe. 9 pepper steak. It be good.

Cathy's Last Hurrah on the AT&T travel train.

Brittany and I departed Oklahoma City on June 28 at 8:25 AM on the Heartland Flyer (Amtak train) for Mineola TX, just a short 30 miles from Tyler, arriving about 5:15 PM. No train wrecks on the way. It was a delightful trip. On Tuesday, we ventured to Shreveport/Bossier City LA. Now Brittany can add one more state to list of states visited. Brittany wanted real cajun food if we went to Louisiana, she chose Crawdaddy's Kitchen from a tour book we had. It was very good, Brittany and I had gumbo, hush puppies, green tomato pickles, Cathy and Charla had fried catfish. Interesting enough the waitress was from Yukon OK. Then on to the boardwalk on the Red River among all the casinos. Lot's of rain on the return to Tyler.

Wednesday was Cathy's official last day, we had a early dinner to celebrate her 3o years of service with AT&T at her favorite cafeteria (similar to Queen Ann's in OKC) with 13 friends and family in attendance. First day of retirement July 1st.

Thursday July 1 returned to OKC.

Cathy says "thirty years at one company is a very long time".

Thoughtful Ponderings

Does anyone know how Grandma and Grandpa Gilbert met? I know Grandma and Grandpa Taylor, Lemuel and Cessa, met at a camp meeting. He had ridden his horse and spied Miss McCord and went home and got his wagon so he could squire her home. But what about Frank Nelson and Nora, how did they meet? I seem to recall somewhere way back in the recesses of my brain -- way back -- that they were farm community neighbors. Is this true? Does anyone know the story? Just wondering.

I was thinking of mother and all the Fourths we had out on Fiftieth Street, all the fireworks, food, picnics, kids, sand piles, Tonka Trucks, sunburns, company, water hoses in the ready, bees, barns and babies. How many tin cans were blown up, how nary a kid was every hurt under dad's watchful, mother-hen, expect the worse and be prepared eye. Were those the good ole'days? The good sometimes days? The Fourth days?

I remember mother telling me a growing up story once, how she and some compadres, both genders, were on an Anadarko sandstone cliff seeing who could pee the farthest, whose pee traveled down the side the longest. I don't remember if she won, but she always loved a good stiff competition. I'm sure dad wouldn't have been a part of this type of adventure. Probably busy working. How old was he when he had to start picking cotton? Seven? Twelve? Somewhere in there.

Happy Fourth. Did I say that already? Well, happy fourth again you deserve it.

Dreams are Funny Things

I had a dream that wasn't mine. I woke up and said, "This isn't my dream, it belongs to someone else."

A dream about a row of people lined up in an auditorium explaining their second chances like some game show. Nope, not my dream. Now, I've had some unusual dreams, but this one wasn't mine, I think it belongs to Will Penny. Let him know I have his dream if he comes looking for it.

I have funny dreams, my days of horrific nightmares are over, but I still have funny dreams. Once I dreamed a table of contents so I could pick the dream I wanted, the most appropriate dream for that night. That was a good dream.

I have dreamed a list of credits at the end of a dream listing the image in the dream and what it symbolized. You, know like Julia Roberts = Miss Emma, Yellow Brick Road = confusion.

When Eddie Bauer was decamping to Canada I dreamed I was an itty bitty airplane on a gigantic aircraft carrier that was slowing sinking into the sea. I didn't dream credits that night and woke up thinking, "Hum odd dream, I wonder what it means?"

Or the night I dreamed Lynn and I were at some magnificent wedding feast, and then later the same night I dreamed we were at some conference or something, and in my dream Lynn said, "I'll give you twenty bucks if you will let me go back to the first dream."

Dreams are funny things.

I have pink-eye, not a dream. Saw the doc yesterday. Claire is coming over for the Fourth, she has to work, I have the day off. Roger and family, with friends, will be in Whistler, Ian will be house sitting their abode. What is your favorite restaurant in Whistler Jerry? They are looking for a nice night out. On the weather report the temperature is supposed to climb to sixty-five today.

I haven't read a book for a month. I think it is the first time ever in my life, well since I started reading, that I went thirty days with out reading a book. Thirty days, I'm kind of stunned by this fact. I don't know, maybe these blasted trifocals can be blamed. I started The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, started it, loved it, but didn't finish it. I have a stack of books that I intend to read. I have now started Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book and am loving it. It's a children's book so I might finish it. What a clever, creative, talented, exceptional writer Mr Gaiman is I reccomend his Good Omens about the end times, or Star Dust, he is a writer of adult fairytales. Very good.

Well, going back to sleep to see about finding my dreams.

Life isn't always a good read.

A Blistering Sixty-Three

Yes, we are expecting a blistering sixty-three degrees today here in the Pacific Northwest. To quote Mike Noland, "No brag, just fact." Oh Lord it's been a mild June, thank you what ever Gods may be, but our mild weather is supposed to be coming to a screeching halt this weekend. It's supposed to get hotter and hotter and hotter until we reach 90 degrees. Jan is preparing her ice packs.

Happy FOURTH OF JULY to the whole the family, I hope yours pops bangs fizzes and whistles. I have the day off and zero plans, how sad is that?

And Cathy is retired. Jean and Brittany had a trip to Texas, anyone know how that went? Congrats Cat.

And Jeff is returned from across the pond, anyone know how that went? Never mind I saw the pictures on fb, it went great. There were smiles all around. Jeff you look just like a grandpa should.

My call center moves to downtown Seattle around the last week of August -- official. So I'm busy learning the intricacies, challenges, complications, and advantages of van pooling. The county will provide a van under certain conditions. I think it's a good idea, an adventure, and a learning curve, but I'm not sure I'm going to do it. Still pondering.

I read somewhere, now I can't remember where (it figures) that when you get to my age life is a sporting event. Old people are gymnasts; just to climb stairs, get on a bus, or tie their shoes is a sporting event. I am not a medalist.

After weeks and weeks of mediocre movies I have had a rash of excellent movies recently, and yes, I am going to tell you about each one. Pay close attention to all of them except for maybe the French one Man on the Train and the indie Smiling Fish and Goat on Fire, but all the rest put on Netflix, instant play, Starz, On Demand or what ever all the cable junkies out there have to watch movies on.

The Last Station, about Tolstoy and his shrill wife at the end of his life. He wants to give a portion of his fortune away, she is horrified. Both Christopher Plummer and Helen Mirrens were deservedly nominated for an Academy Award.

Nothing But The Truth, about a reporter who outs a CIA agent and goes to jail rather than reveal her source. Surprisingly good acting by some relative light weights. I was amazed at how much I cared about the out come. Sucked me right in to the ethical, political and emotional drama. And didn't preach, both sides of the conflict had excellent representation for their position.

Man on the Train, a soft quiet French film about two men who sort of imagine themselves living the other man's life. It was so good and so different and so interesting and such good acting. A real joy.

Pirate Radio, about when rock music was not allowed in the United Kingdom so rock radio stations were on ships out in the North Sea out of UK jurisdiction. I don't even like sixties music but this movie was so funny and irreverent and full of energy and innuendo that I couldn't believe how good it was. And in deleted scenes there is one about "saying a word" on live radio that is worth renting the DVD for alone. If you don't laugh during this one, well, something is wrong somewhere. Enough penis and condom jokes to last me for a long long time. And Bill Nighy -- perfect.

The Fall, Roger Ebert had rave reviews for this film way back when, and yet there was something about fantasy story telling between a hospitalized movie stuntman and a little girl that just didn't tick my clock, so I couldn't bring myself to rent it. I don't remember why I finally did, but oh my oh my it is fantastic. The fantasy story that grows between the man and the little girl is beyond incredible and the director didn't use green screen or CGI or other movie dircting tricks to get his shots. They are REAL. He went to something like twenty-eight countries. If you saw the film Baraka (that I recommended two years ago -- the non-verbal film) you will see some of those same locations. Hey Cathy/Brittany remember the monkey chant in Baraka, well it's in this movie also. Yes, Monkey Chant!

Smiling Fish and Goat on Fire, not really a great movie and really really dated, food workers without plastic gloves sort of dated, but for a small cheap independent film it was quite good. Two brothers one stiff one loose, an accountant and an actor, need I say more, and a slice of LA life in the late ninties. After all the bad movies I've watched lately it was just an enjoyable little film.

Jerry, the title of the Anarticia film I mentioned during your whale kayaking trip was Encounters at the End of the World by Werner Herzog who is always odd.

Now back to you.

Life is not always a good review.

Invictus, how could I forget Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon? Another excellent film