oceans of penguin's
scatter like black tea leaves: my
grandma reads future
***
nightly childhood walk
neighbors seemed happy through my
blue eyes-now I am
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
A Grand Floating Ship
it seems like we learn how to relate to one another from many seemingly invisible influences. like the spot one's home occupies in relationship to it's neighbors and how it holds up next to each other. a sort of spacial intelligence emerges, a neighborhood arranges itself. and this sense of space and place probably shows up in our lives in many small and creative ways. homes take on personalities and characters in a neighborhood play. we grew up learning about our place in the world in this primordial way.
918 has such a warmth and dignity, plenty of room yet comfortable. it stands out and graces the block with a unique look. mother turned on every light in the entire house every night, curtains wide open. one neighbor loved to walk by and commented that our house looked like a grand floating ship.
my best friend, living next door, and i once stretched a long line of twine from our bedroom windows all the way across the shared driveway to play telephone with two tin cans as an ear receiver...bridging the gap. it really worked!
i can only imagine what the view was like from across the street, like in this picture, watching five little girls grow into five beauties. what a show that must have been. imagine all those possible suitors visiting incessantly, the door opening and closing year after year. if walls could speak...
Saturday, June 10, 2006
we don't need bodies, they whisper
918
goose bumps stand straight up;
a door opens and no one
is there- but ghostie
goose bumps stand straight up;
a door opens and no one
is there- but ghostie
Mom's Mums
It seemed like Mom always had chrysanthemums in the house, usually white or yellow ones, growing in pots. She also had Christmas cactus and ... what was that plant with the spherical red-orange fruits on it? I have googled it, but no hits :(
Mom could get a bunch of flowers from the florist, greenhouse, or out of the garden, and arrange them into something that looked professional. She had skills that would have made any florist proud. Later on in life, she mostly bought flowering plants and cut flower arrangements ... I guess her illness and age were taking their toll, plus her vision was slowly failing.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Happy Birthday, Mom
This painting was done from a photo I took at Mom's 80th birthday. Today would have been Mom's 90th birthday. She lived to be 87.
Mom loved parties of all kinds, and felt terrible if there were no special event practically every day. This frantic pace was more than I would ever want in my life, but she loved it.
The only thing better than parties every day, for Mom, would have been to live in a hotel.
Lou-Lou
Our Aunt Lou-Lou lived in a nearby town that was full of German families. Her husband had a German name too, so I guess they fit in. They had a charming house that I remember as being kinda pointed and brown, with steps up from the street, and steps in the back yard from one level of the lawn to another.
She and Mom were really close. Mom loved to tell the story that one day she said to Lou-Lou, "Am I as tan as I think I am?" and Lou-Lou said, "TANNER!" at which they both roared with laughter.
Lou-Lou's husband was a football player with the early Chicago Bears. We called him Pops, and he had diabetes. He used a cane, but it was hollow and inside was a plastic tube filled with martinis! He used to tell jokes really well. One of my favorites of his was:
The Man With A Banana In His Ear
A man got on a train, and when he sat down he noticed the man opposite him had a banana in his ear. He thought it was really odd, but he felt a bit shy about saying anything. The miles went by, and his curiosity grew with every mile. Finally he could not stand it any more, so he asked, "Sir, why do you have a banana in your ear?"
The man replied, "You will have to speak up, I have a banana in my ear."
Lou-Lou moved to Boston after he died, and after some years she had a Boston accent of sorts. She said "to-mah-to" for instance. She also used her fork in a Continental fashion, left hand, tines down, not switching hands after cutting, as we had been taught. Mom was outraged that she had these mannerisms. I guess Mom thought these were affectations done for the sake of seeming more cultured or something.
Lou-Lou lost her vision but insisted on living alone until she died. She fell out of bed one night, and lay on the floor and waited till morning, rather than use her emergency button, which was around her neck. I don't really know why she did that, except she may not have realized that she was in a serious situation.
Later that day, she was lying on a gurney in the hallway of the hospital. Mom was with her, holding her hand. Lou-Lou asked what time it was. Mom said 1PM (or something), and Lou-Lou replied, "the Army-Navy game is just starting", and died.
She and Mom were really close. Mom loved to tell the story that one day she said to Lou-Lou, "Am I as tan as I think I am?" and Lou-Lou said, "TANNER!" at which they both roared with laughter.
Lou-Lou's husband was a football player with the early Chicago Bears. We called him Pops, and he had diabetes. He used a cane, but it was hollow and inside was a plastic tube filled with martinis! He used to tell jokes really well. One of my favorites of his was:
The Man With A Banana In His Ear
A man got on a train, and when he sat down he noticed the man opposite him had a banana in his ear. He thought it was really odd, but he felt a bit shy about saying anything. The miles went by, and his curiosity grew with every mile. Finally he could not stand it any more, so he asked, "Sir, why do you have a banana in your ear?"
The man replied, "You will have to speak up, I have a banana in my ear."
Lou-Lou moved to Boston after he died, and after some years she had a Boston accent of sorts. She said "to-mah-to" for instance. She also used her fork in a Continental fashion, left hand, tines down, not switching hands after cutting, as we had been taught. Mom was outraged that she had these mannerisms. I guess Mom thought these were affectations done for the sake of seeming more cultured or something.
Lou-Lou lost her vision but insisted on living alone until she died. She fell out of bed one night, and lay on the floor and waited till morning, rather than use her emergency button, which was around her neck. I don't really know why she did that, except she may not have realized that she was in a serious situation.
Later that day, she was lying on a gurney in the hallway of the hospital. Mom was with her, holding her hand. Lou-Lou asked what time it was. Mom said 1PM (or something), and Lou-Lou replied, "the Army-Navy game is just starting", and died.
The Peter Hunt Phase
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Lake Michigan
Late in the summer we would go to Lake Michigan to swim in the cold green water and play in the rollers. In this picture Robyn and I were lying at the edge of the water, letting the waves wash over us and push our bodies up, then pull them back toward the lake.
We used to do this for hours on end. I almost always got a terrible sunburn with huge blisters on my back and shoulders. There was no sense of the strength of the sun because the air was always cool and the water was so cold that no one would swim except in late summer when the sun had warmed the surface water enough to be tolerable.
We would ride back to town in the station wagon, lying in the "way back" of the car, on our backs, looking up at the trees and power lines. Our view made them appear upside down through the windows. We were on heaps of pillows and quilts.
When we finally got to bed, as I grew quiet I would realize that my blood and nervous system was still in the rhythm of the surf. The feeling would sweep up my body, then back down, over and over, as I faded into sleep.
Starlight, Star Bright
Star Light, Star Bright, First Star I See Tonight; I Wish I May, I Wish I Might, Have the Wish I Wish Tonight. I wish for .... A DOG!
If only this were the story of a really GOOD little girl ...
Gypsy was the ugliest dog anyone had ever seen. She was a stray, with a mixture of black, brown and white fur, medium length, and curly, with flop ears and a heavy long body on short legs; large head, just not what anyone would call a beautiful dog. Somehow her ancestors had mixed too many variables or something.
She appeared in the neighborhood and ended up on Larry's porch steps. I saw her there and coaxed her home, foot by foot, inch by inch, and fed her. Larry was FURIOUS. Mom and Dad were HORRIFIED. My sisters were ... well, I don't know how they felt at first.
THEN .... it turned out Gypsy was in the family way. In fact, in a BIG family way. Within a few weeks of her arrival in our house she gave birth in the back hall, to eleven puppies! Three were born dead. Dad buried them in the back yard, but Gypsy dug them up. Dad buried them deeper; Gypsy dug deeper. I do not know the final resting place, but it was somewhere away from our yard.
It was summertime, and we were scheduled to spend two weeks at Point Comfort, at our rented cottage. Gypsy got "boarded" at The Pound, where stray dogs were kept in captivity and probably murdered. When we came back from the cottage, Gypsy had been spayed, and there were only two puppies left. Mom and Dad said that the puppies had died. I bet they had! The puppies were then named Tarbaby and Cinderella. We found homes for them eventually and they left.
In the picture above I was one one side of Gypsy in the back yard and Robyn was on the other side. I was SO possessive of Gypsy, I cut Robyn off the photo.
Gypsy became a neighborhood icon. My parents did not think dogs needed to be restrained, so she roamed free. Every day she followed the mailman on his route. People whom I have never met fed Gypsy treats all day long, and when she got home to her meal of canned dog food, she really was not terribly interested.
Gypsy was frequently infested with fleas, and we bathed her in the basement in a galvanized wash tub, with flea shampoo. During the bath, fleas would leap off her in cascades. At one time, she got some horrible skin thing, possibly mange, and her skin and fur came off easily in smallish patches. Under the skin were squirmy things EEEUW.
One evening when we were sitting on the front porch, Gypsy came up the steps and someone said maybe she would look better with her ears standing up. I held her ears up and everyone laughed. Gypsy was hurt and humiliated, and left immediately. I felt terrible.
I told Gypsy everything. I would sit with her and tell her of my hopes and dreams, my fears and hurts. She never told my secrets. She was a very affectionate and easy-going dog, and would put up with a lot of silliness from us children.
When I left home, Gypsy stayed with the family. Years later, she was napping in the middle of the street, as was her habit, and a neighbor ran her over with their car. Mom used to tell the story that when the sheriff brought her body home, the men present removed their caps in reverence. Gypsy had gone.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Garages with Attics
One of the features of our (later called historic) neighborhood was that some of the garages had attics. On the northwest corner of our block was a very large house with a VERY large garage, owned by several families while I lived at 918. The garage was a "carriage house" along the lines of the one in the movie Sabrina. In that film, Audrey Hepburn portrays a young girl, daughter of the chauffeur for a wealthy family. She lives above the garage and observes the rich people from there. Sabrina even tries to kill herself in that garage. The carriage-house-style garage on our block did not, to my knowledge, have a chauffeur living above it, but it had a suite of rooms up there, and there were at LEAST four garage doors.
Sadly, one of Mom's friends, Mrs. C_____, who lived in the large house on the corner, later committed suicide in the house, the tragic death of a dear shy woman.
The other memorable garage attic was the G________'s family garage, down near Monroe Street. It was also a corner house (what IS that about?), and above the garage was a dusty attic with mysterious trunks. It had a window, so we could see all the wonderful things inside. One glimpse was enough to burn it into my brain. Trunks and old fashioned furniture and clothing! How magical these things are to a child!
The Attic and the Basement
918 had four stories, if you include the basement and the attic. At the top on the front of the house there was a gable with two small square windows (see the photo here). Behind that gable was a "servant's" room. Actually, someone did live there for a time. I was very young, but I understand that a "D.P." lived there, named Julia, and she did work for us. D.P.s were Displaced Persons, refugees from World War II. Poet could tell you more about Julia, but I know only her name and the face that one sister used to make to imitate her.
The room was floored in linoleum, as were all the bedrooms. there was an iron bedstead with one of those simple springs and a thin cotton-stuffed mattress with blue and white striped ticking. I adored that room and spent many hours playing that I was grownup and living on my own up there.
Outside the room was a dim mostly empty attic. The wood of the high roof was visible, kind of reddish brown. It was very airy up there, especially compared to present-day attics. In the center were the stairs. They were very narrow and steep, each stair covered with thin rubber with ridges for safety; but for some reason our parents stored things on the stairs, even though just at the top was a lot of room.
Facing the front of the house, there were extra dining room chairs stored to the right, in the very darkest part of the attic. That part was scary. To the left of the room there was some storage that was in use. That is where the wicker baby bassinet sat for many years.
On the back side of the attic were two very large cisterns, rusty and empty, which had been used to capture rainwater. I always thought that was an excellent idea, and wondered why they had stopped doing that, and why those giant tubs were left embedded in the floor of the attic. Our parents did not do much with things that were not in their way, so I guess they did not see the point of removing the things. They were invisible to daily life. We were warned to stay out of the cisterns, and we did. They looked fragile. Maybe we would have fallen through to the bathroom! Looking back, I think we could have fallen into one of them and not been able to get out.
The basement was built of granite stones, and in the center was an enormous oil-burning furnace with large round ducts reaching out of the top in all directions. I think it had been coal-burning at one time. There was a coal storage area and what had been a coal chute.
There was a particular smell to the basement, of earth and stone and concrete and water and mold. For a long time, Mom did laundry down there, using a wringer washer. There was a hole in the concrete that served as a drain. How depressing that must have been! It was dark, grey dank and grim down there. During the Great Remodeling a washer AND DRYER were put in up in the kitchen, where there was light and air. It was quite a change for Mom, and I am sure she was very pleased.
There were old photographs of unknown dead relatives down in the basement, which we finally took away after Mom and Dad moved to a retirement home. Neither Mom nor Dad could remember who some of them were!
Mom used to make currant jelly up in the kitchen (from currants we picked from our bushes in the back yard), but after she poured the wax on the top of the clear red jelly, she stored the little jelly glasses in the basement on shelves.
In one corner was the "rec" (recreation) room, also known as a rumpus room. It had the old benches from the breakfast nook and a corner cupboard in it. When Poet was a teenager, it became the spot for a lot of parties. We younger ones liked to race around the house, down into the basement, into the rec room, and climb out the high window onto the grass beside the lilacs, only to race around once again.
The room was floored in linoleum, as were all the bedrooms. there was an iron bedstead with one of those simple springs and a thin cotton-stuffed mattress with blue and white striped ticking. I adored that room and spent many hours playing that I was grownup and living on my own up there.
Outside the room was a dim mostly empty attic. The wood of the high roof was visible, kind of reddish brown. It was very airy up there, especially compared to present-day attics. In the center were the stairs. They were very narrow and steep, each stair covered with thin rubber with ridges for safety; but for some reason our parents stored things on the stairs, even though just at the top was a lot of room.
Facing the front of the house, there were extra dining room chairs stored to the right, in the very darkest part of the attic. That part was scary. To the left of the room there was some storage that was in use. That is where the wicker baby bassinet sat for many years.
On the back side of the attic were two very large cisterns, rusty and empty, which had been used to capture rainwater. I always thought that was an excellent idea, and wondered why they had stopped doing that, and why those giant tubs were left embedded in the floor of the attic. Our parents did not do much with things that were not in their way, so I guess they did not see the point of removing the things. They were invisible to daily life. We were warned to stay out of the cisterns, and we did. They looked fragile. Maybe we would have fallen through to the bathroom! Looking back, I think we could have fallen into one of them and not been able to get out.
The basement was built of granite stones, and in the center was an enormous oil-burning furnace with large round ducts reaching out of the top in all directions. I think it had been coal-burning at one time. There was a coal storage area and what had been a coal chute.
There was a particular smell to the basement, of earth and stone and concrete and water and mold. For a long time, Mom did laundry down there, using a wringer washer. There was a hole in the concrete that served as a drain. How depressing that must have been! It was dark, grey dank and grim down there. During the Great Remodeling a washer AND DRYER were put in up in the kitchen, where there was light and air. It was quite a change for Mom, and I am sure she was very pleased.
There were old photographs of unknown dead relatives down in the basement, which we finally took away after Mom and Dad moved to a retirement home. Neither Mom nor Dad could remember who some of them were!
Mom used to make currant jelly up in the kitchen (from currants we picked from our bushes in the back yard), but after she poured the wax on the top of the clear red jelly, she stored the little jelly glasses in the basement on shelves.
In one corner was the "rec" (recreation) room, also known as a rumpus room. It had the old benches from the breakfast nook and a corner cupboard in it. When Poet was a teenager, it became the spot for a lot of parties. We younger ones liked to race around the house, down into the basement, into the rec room, and climb out the high window onto the grass beside the lilacs, only to race around once again.
Friday, May 26, 2006
The May Procession
Every year the sisters would organize a festival for the entire month of May in honor of the Virgin Mary. There was always a May Queen ... I have no idea how she was chosen, but she and a boy (the May King??) got to head up the procession to a large outdoor statue of Mary, and we sang devotional songs all the way.
Each of us was encouraged to make a May Altar, with a statue of the Virgin and flowers, and of course to pray to her especially often. I can't recall when during the month we had the procession. The boys wore suits or sports jackets, and the girls wore white, ruffly, layered sheer dresses, and all the girls wore circlets of flowers in their hair.
My mother said I was too tall to wear frilly dresses, and she had me wear a plain white dress that had"tailored" lines. She also insisted that I did not need florist's flowers for my May headdress, so she picked lilies of the valley from our garden and wove them into a dainty wreath. They grew on the north side of the house, and I loved them, but I was mortified to wear a "homemade" wreath on my head!
Each of us was encouraged to make a May Altar, with a statue of the Virgin and flowers, and of course to pray to her especially often. I can't recall when during the month we had the procession. The boys wore suits or sports jackets, and the girls wore white, ruffly, layered sheer dresses, and all the girls wore circlets of flowers in their hair.
My mother said I was too tall to wear frilly dresses, and she had me wear a plain white dress that had"tailored" lines. She also insisted that I did not need florist's flowers for my May headdress, so she picked lilies of the valley from our garden and wove them into a dainty wreath. They grew on the north side of the house, and I loved them, but I was mortified to wear a "homemade" wreath on my head!
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
St. John's and Capelle's
From the time I was 6 years old I attended St. John the Evangelist grade school, with the exception of 7th grade (another story altogether).
St. John's was built along the lines of Spanish missions, with red clay tile roofs and ochre stone walls on the school, possibly limestone. The church itself had grey stone walls though. We were taught by Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondolet. Our sisters lived behind the school. In between the school and the church was a square house where Monsignor lived. Looking back it seems odd that they chose Spanish style architecture, since this was the "French" parish. The Irish Parish was across the river, St. Patrick's, and Sts. Peter and Paul was for some other ethnic group.
Each classroom had ceilings that may have been more than 12 feet in height. When I gazed out the tall windows I could watch the trees, the birds and the sky. The interior hallway was dim, and faced with glazed tilework. the four lower grades were on the first floor as I recall, and the four upper grades upstairs.
Boys and girls were segregated. The boys sat on one side of the classrooms and the girls on another. We girls were sent to the back of the school for recess, to a blacktop space where we could play "Red Rover Come Over", or "Dodge Ball" or jump rope.
The boys had an entire small block to play in, across the street from the school. They could play football or softball, and their play space had grass and dirt to run around on. It was four times the size of the girls' space.
Every morning, we attended 8:00 AM Mass with the sisters. We had fasted from midnight on, as was the rule in Catholicism at that time, so that we could take communion. Naturally, after Mass, we ran over to Capelle's store, which was across the street to the side of the church, to buy "Long Johns". Long Johns were rectangular raised doughnuts with white or chocolate frosting on top. They frequently had bubbles on the top of the crust, and they were delectable. Capelle's also had bearclaws, doughnuts, cinnamon rolls, and if I remember correctly, caramel rolls.
Alongside the baked goods, they offered candy. Square Pan pipes made of orange wax, wax lips, wax buck teeth, candy dots on long strips of white paper, stick candy in many flavors, licorice whips and other delights. One of my favorites was the "flapjack", which was a huge sucker with swirled colors that would look good on a tie-dyed tee shirt. It was flavored with lemon, and had a texture that was in between hard candy and chewy candy. mmmmmmmmmmmmm
Of course they had candy cigarettes, tootsie rolls, bit-o-honeys and rootbeer barrels. With this sort of breakfast, I do not know how we made it to lunch without low blood sugar and depression.
St. John's was built along the lines of Spanish missions, with red clay tile roofs and ochre stone walls on the school, possibly limestone. The church itself had grey stone walls though. We were taught by Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondolet. Our sisters lived behind the school. In between the school and the church was a square house where Monsignor lived. Looking back it seems odd that they chose Spanish style architecture, since this was the "French" parish. The Irish Parish was across the river, St. Patrick's, and Sts. Peter and Paul was for some other ethnic group.
Each classroom had ceilings that may have been more than 12 feet in height. When I gazed out the tall windows I could watch the trees, the birds and the sky. The interior hallway was dim, and faced with glazed tilework. the four lower grades were on the first floor as I recall, and the four upper grades upstairs.
Boys and girls were segregated. The boys sat on one side of the classrooms and the girls on another. We girls were sent to the back of the school for recess, to a blacktop space where we could play "Red Rover Come Over", or "Dodge Ball" or jump rope.
The boys had an entire small block to play in, across the street from the school. They could play football or softball, and their play space had grass and dirt to run around on. It was four times the size of the girls' space.
Every morning, we attended 8:00 AM Mass with the sisters. We had fasted from midnight on, as was the rule in Catholicism at that time, so that we could take communion. Naturally, after Mass, we ran over to Capelle's store, which was across the street to the side of the church, to buy "Long Johns". Long Johns were rectangular raised doughnuts with white or chocolate frosting on top. They frequently had bubbles on the top of the crust, and they were delectable. Capelle's also had bearclaws, doughnuts, cinnamon rolls, and if I remember correctly, caramel rolls.
Alongside the baked goods, they offered candy. Square Pan pipes made of orange wax, wax lips, wax buck teeth, candy dots on long strips of white paper, stick candy in many flavors, licorice whips and other delights. One of my favorites was the "flapjack", which was a huge sucker with swirled colors that would look good on a tie-dyed tee shirt. It was flavored with lemon, and had a texture that was in between hard candy and chewy candy. mmmmmmmmmmmmm
Of course they had candy cigarettes, tootsie rolls, bit-o-honeys and rootbeer barrels. With this sort of breakfast, I do not know how we made it to lunch without low blood sugar and depression.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
The Garage
Our neighborhood was composed of older houses. Ours had been built around 1900 or so, and several of the surrounding houses were of that age or maybe even a little older. There of course were no houses older than the Wisconsin, which became a state in 1848 (if I remember correctly), but compared to some of the houses, ours was considered old.
Although later Mom and Dad put in an overhead door which operated by a rope, early on our garage had enormous wooden doors on two sides. The doors slid open sideways on metal wheels that ran on tracks above the doors. I asked Dad why there were doors on both sides, and he said it was because the garage had been a stable for horses and for storing carriages. I did not really know how that would necessitate doors on both sides, but ok.
As soon as he told me that, I wanted to get a horse. We had only one car, and therefore, room for a horse! Dad was clearly horrified at the prospect, but I swore I would take care of it. I did not really take care of Gypsy, so I guess I was deceiving myself. At any rate, we never did get a horse.
Our driveway was shared with the next-door neighbors. When I was very young the driveway was composed of gravel. When it rained, there were nice puddles in the ruts. I would make islands of gravel and popsicle-stick houses on the islands. In the summer, those puddles were warm and grey.
Between the two garages was a narrow alleyway, about the width of a grownup. There was a metal pipe that stuck up from the ground at one end. If a child were not careful, he or she could be running full tilt through that alleyway and trip on that pipe, to crash on the ground. It happened to me many times. There was gravel between the garages and the space between the roofs dripped so that there was a little V shape in the gravel. It was always cool, dim and moist in that area.
Inside the garage were all sorts of rusting objects. There were glass jars of rusting nails, usually bent, which we could straighten with hammers and use for various projects. There were old flowerpots with spiderwebs on them, a tool bench that was never used in my memory, and the iron lawn furniture. Later Mom and Dad had the backyard landscaped, and they got rid of that old furniture and replaced it with some that had nylon mesh seating, which then rested in the garage during the winters also.
Although later Mom and Dad put in an overhead door which operated by a rope, early on our garage had enormous wooden doors on two sides. The doors slid open sideways on metal wheels that ran on tracks above the doors. I asked Dad why there were doors on both sides, and he said it was because the garage had been a stable for horses and for storing carriages. I did not really know how that would necessitate doors on both sides, but ok.
As soon as he told me that, I wanted to get a horse. We had only one car, and therefore, room for a horse! Dad was clearly horrified at the prospect, but I swore I would take care of it. I did not really take care of Gypsy, so I guess I was deceiving myself. At any rate, we never did get a horse.
Our driveway was shared with the next-door neighbors. When I was very young the driveway was composed of gravel. When it rained, there were nice puddles in the ruts. I would make islands of gravel and popsicle-stick houses on the islands. In the summer, those puddles were warm and grey.
Between the two garages was a narrow alleyway, about the width of a grownup. There was a metal pipe that stuck up from the ground at one end. If a child were not careful, he or she could be running full tilt through that alleyway and trip on that pipe, to crash on the ground. It happened to me many times. There was gravel between the garages and the space between the roofs dripped so that there was a little V shape in the gravel. It was always cool, dim and moist in that area.
Inside the garage were all sorts of rusting objects. There were glass jars of rusting nails, usually bent, which we could straighten with hammers and use for various projects. There were old flowerpots with spiderwebs on them, a tool bench that was never used in my memory, and the iron lawn furniture. Later Mom and Dad had the backyard landscaped, and they got rid of that old furniture and replaced it with some that had nylon mesh seating, which then rested in the garage during the winters also.
The Field
Behind Foth's house, next to our backyard, was "the field". There the grass got really tall in the summertime, and we would create tunnels through it, with the grass bending above us to form a sort of roof. We had a whole maze going through it. I enjoyed being a jungle cat there. It was a meeting place for all the children on the block. We played all sorts of imaginative games; Tarzan, cowboys and lots of hide and seek. When the grass was finally cut at the end of each summer, we were terribly disappointed. Then we would play softball there, so it was not too bad that way either. It was surrounded by backyards, and felt like our own territory.
One evening when I was about 12 or so, I was down by the railroad tracks in my pink striped blouse and bermuda shorts with my friend Carol. An older boy appeared and started to talk with us. He seemed nice. He let me ride on his shoulders for a while. It started to get dark, and I said I was going home. He said he would walk me home. On the way, I asked him what his last name was. He had told me his first name already. He said his last name was Anheuser. I knew that had to be a lie, it was the name of the brewers of Budweiser beer.
I became really alert then. We got to a point where I could cross Porlier Street and cut through the field, or go around the corner and down the sidewalk to the front of our house. I decided to cut through. He offered to walk me the rest of the way, but I said no. I ran across and into the darkness of the field. I hid under the lilac bush and watched in case he had followed me. No one came, so I went home, relieved.
One evening when I was about 12 or so, I was down by the railroad tracks in my pink striped blouse and bermuda shorts with my friend Carol. An older boy appeared and started to talk with us. He seemed nice. He let me ride on his shoulders for a while. It started to get dark, and I said I was going home. He said he would walk me home. On the way, I asked him what his last name was. He had told me his first name already. He said his last name was Anheuser. I knew that had to be a lie, it was the name of the brewers of Budweiser beer.
I became really alert then. We got to a point where I could cross Porlier Street and cut through the field, or go around the corner and down the sidewalk to the front of our house. I decided to cut through. He offered to walk me the rest of the way, but I said no. I ran across and into the darkness of the field. I hid under the lilac bush and watched in case he had followed me. No one came, so I went home, relieved.
Monday, May 15, 2006
The Magdalene Laundries
http://www.lyricsdepot.com/joni-mitchell/magdalene-laundries.html
The Magdalene Laundries
by Joni Mitchell
I was an unmarried girl
I'd just turned twenty-seven
When they sent me to the sisters
For the way men looked at me
Branded as a jezebel
I knew I was not bound for Heaven
I'd be cast in shame
Into the Magdalene laundries
Most girls come here pregnant
Some by their own fathers
Bridget got that belly
By her parish priest
We're trying to get things white as snow
All of us woe-begotten-daughters
In the steaming stains
Of the Magdalene laundries
Prostitutes and destitutes
And temptresses like me--
Fallen women--
Sentenced into dreamless drudgery ...
Why do they call this heartless place
Our Lady of Charity?
Oh charity!
These bloodless brides of Jesus
If they had just once glimpsed their groom
Then they'd know, and they'd drop the stones
Concealed behind their rosaries
They wilt the grass they walk upon
They leech the light out of a room
They'd like to drive us down the drain
At the Magdalene laundries
Peg O'Connell died today
She was a cheeky girl
A flirt
They just stuffed her in a hole!
Surely to God you'd think at least some bells should ring!
One day I'm going to die here too
And they'll plant me in the dirt
Like some lame bulb
That never blooms come any spring
Not any spring
No, not any spring
Not any spring
The Magdalene Laundries
by Joni Mitchell
I was an unmarried girl
I'd just turned twenty-seven
When they sent me to the sisters
For the way men looked at me
Branded as a jezebel
I knew I was not bound for Heaven
I'd be cast in shame
Into the Magdalene laundries
Most girls come here pregnant
Some by their own fathers
Bridget got that belly
By her parish priest
We're trying to get things white as snow
All of us woe-begotten-daughters
In the steaming stains
Of the Magdalene laundries
Prostitutes and destitutes
And temptresses like me--
Fallen women--
Sentenced into dreamless drudgery ...
Why do they call this heartless place
Our Lady of Charity?
Oh charity!
These bloodless brides of Jesus
If they had just once glimpsed their groom
Then they'd know, and they'd drop the stones
Concealed behind their rosaries
They wilt the grass they walk upon
They leech the light out of a room
They'd like to drive us down the drain
At the Magdalene laundries
Peg O'Connell died today
She was a cheeky girl
A flirt
They just stuffed her in a hole!
Surely to God you'd think at least some bells should ring!
One day I'm going to die here too
And they'll plant me in the dirt
Like some lame bulb
That never blooms come any spring
Not any spring
No, not any spring
Not any spring
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Good Shepards home for unwed mothers
when I was naughty at 918 mom & dad would threaten to send me there...
little did I know what was coming!
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Fondant!!!
Last night I bought some pastel sparkling sweets in a candy store in Nice; they reminded me of the candies that our Grandmother Gigi used to bring us. I had always wondered what they were. Now I know they were fondant. They had that same crystalline sugar sparkle on the surface; they came in assorted flavors and colors, each with its own decorative addition on the top. They were in only one shape, round with flat bottoms. The lavender ones had candied violets on top; the orange, candied peel caught in a loop of fondant. On the inside they were white. Another mystery of Kaap's Candy solved. Am I going to make them myself? Get a grip!
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Creases
Robyn unfolded the brittle photo. A crack ran right down the center of her mother's face. Robyn wondered if opening and shutting this photo had created the crack or if she had folded only once, long ago, to hide from her mother's cunning smile.
The photo was taken in the living room at Christmas time. The black wool skirt her mother wore was expensive. She was seated with her legs crossed suggestively, her right eyebrow cocked. In her left hand was nested the ever-present Winston cigarette, while in the other hand a second or third cocktail.
“Smoking is a filthy habit,” her mother would sneer stubbing out one then lighting another.
Robyn refolded along the crease and a flake of her mother’s face chipped off. Provoked by the disfigurement Robyn ripped a little along the crease. She felt a momentary exhilaration then ripped a little more. She waited a second then taped it back together and tucked it into a photo album.
The photo was taken in the living room at Christmas time. The black wool skirt her mother wore was expensive. She was seated with her legs crossed suggestively, her right eyebrow cocked. In her left hand was nested the ever-present Winston cigarette, while in the other hand a second or third cocktail.
“Smoking is a filthy habit,” her mother would sneer stubbing out one then lighting another.
Robyn refolded along the crease and a flake of her mother’s face chipped off. Provoked by the disfigurement Robyn ripped a little along the crease. She felt a momentary exhilaration then ripped a little more. She waited a second then taped it back together and tucked it into a photo album.
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