The Sound of Grief

We were well into the day when I realized John had been playing CDs for hours. He often plays music, but seldom does he keep it on all day. I hadn’t paid attention to the selections. I asked, “What is that piece? It is very dark.”

“It’s a requiem mass,” he replied.

On a hunch, I asked, “Is it for Brad?”

“Yes.”

I understood then. It was the day of Brad’s wake when John was thinking particularly of our dear friend, Brad’s grandmother. John told me a long time ago that when he was young his mother used music with him as a way of expressing emotions. If he came home upset about something, they often went to the piano or phonograph where she played something appropriate that brought peace and healing.

The mass that was so dark was by Cherubini, a contemporary of Beethoven. John showed me the stack of disks, seven in all, that he had been playing. That didn’t include the Brahms Requiem that was in my collection. The most beautiful to me was the one by Victoria, a 16^th century composer that is a favorite of both of us. As the music played, I feasted my eyes on the mountains, with mist after rain rising like prayer.

To sum up the day, our house was filled with the sound of grief. It was by turns heartrendingly sad, somber, dark, angry, accepting, beautiful, peaceful, uplifting, redeeming, ethereal, and totally restful. May you rest in the Lord’s peace, Brad.

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Jilted by the Jeep

The day the Jeep tricked us again was the day my brother asked if I had quit driving. In all my writings, I never mentioned going anywhere by myself. He was right about that. I generally tag along whenever John runs errands, because I love to wander through stores and look at the mountain scenery on the way.

We had been rescued three times, the first when we stopped by the stream above Looking Glass Falls. Rain began to fall as the temperature dropped, and it took hours for the tow truck to come. The local mechanic replaced the ignition switch. The second time the starter motor was replaced at a rest stop in Virginia. Luckily, the third time we were stranded at the Asheville airport AFTER Lise boarded her flight returning to Denmark. Being in the cab of a tow truck became a familiar event.

A few days ago we took the Jeep to the dealer for a factory recall on the ignition. At least, this time there was no cost involved. Each time before, we trusted that the problem had been solved. Thrice burned, we used the vehicle for local errands only. John called from Clyde, the next town over, where he had been for a doctor’s appointment. I drove the round trip to fetch him. We left the silly Jeep in the parking lot and returned to try starting it the next morning before the rains came. Neither of us had faith that it would start. John was armed with reading material, planning to stay there until AAA responded. He unlocked the car, got in, shook his head, and opened the door to get out. I suggested he try it at least 5 times. I had Googled the problem and read that many people tried starting theirs 15 times before giving up. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he rolled his eyes, but he dutifully got in and tried the key a second time. Up went his thumb! The Jeep finally jumped to do his bidding. Without further ado, we drove home. How lovely it was to settle in for the rest of the day, watching the rain while sitting in front of our respective computers! Thank you, Jippy Jeep.

Search for the Magi

When everyone had left after the holidays, I commented that the figures in the manger scene had been rearranged. They were in circles around the shed. John said he didn’t think so, that he thought they were where he had put them. I was sorry to hear that, because they were on a low buffet where children could play with them. We’ve had that set for 50 years, and all the young people that have been under our roof had access to them. Maybe another year someone will play with them, I thought.

As John was putting the manger scene away, he said, “Maybe you were right. Maybe someone did play with the figures. The wise men are missing.”

I went to the back bedroom where many of our toys are kept. It would be logical for the wise guys to have hitched a ride, looking for new adventures. If they were there, they hid. I should also look on the porch to see if the trio turned into hobos and got in a boxcar. Obviously, they are old. I’ll bet senility set in, and they couldn’t remember how to find their way back.

I think we need to get a post-Christmas divining star to lead us to the three wise men of the East. One friend said the wise guys needed a GPS. I had another thought, that they had entered the witness protection program. We know they were on the run from Herod. Another friend, who does not preach politics from the pulpit, said, “Well, it IS an election year….it seems the wise men always disappear then.”

010314 House at Christmas (11).JPG — WANTED: Three Wise Men

The photo shows the complete set on the mantel in New York two years ago. The figures were accessible to our grandchildren, because at the time, the youngest was six feet tall. Who knew we’d someday need a WANTED poster?

Off on the Wrong Foot

I can’t wait to see what the day brings. Will I fall? or have a falling out? Will I drop the main dish on the way to the table? Anything could happen! You see, I started off on the wrong foot. And I did it deliberately!

I put the first sock on the left foot, as always, followed by the right. As sometimes happens with a routine, I decided to change it on the spur of the moment. The right foot dangled there instead of giving way to the left, so it wasn’t all my fault. On went the shoe, tied with a flourish. I stood up with a smirk on my face and walked straight to the computer. Perhaps daring the day was not a wise thing to do, but it’s too late now. I’m not about to retrace my steps backward and remove the shoes to start over. To balance things, I did get up on the left side of the bed, which was right for me.

Would you dare yourself in such a way?

Selfie at Story Time

Logan came over to visit, looking around for things to play with. We examined the jigsaw puzzle David and I worked before he found the balloons. That didn’t last long.

“Can we play hide and go seek?” Logan asked.

I said, “If you want to hide, I’ll look for you, but I don’t want to hide.”

I saw what happened when our grandsons played the game with Logan. The big boys hid too well. Logan lost interest and began playing by himself. I had no intention of standing in a dark closet for an hour with an inquisitive 5-year-old roaming the house. What I discovered is that I could do a few things about the house while looking for him. I won’t be able to stay ahead of him for long, but we had a win/win situation that time.

When Logan looked for a mug to drink from, he spotted the small book of German stories that went with two of the smaller mugs on the rack. Gerhard gave these to us several years ago. We kept the book there, more to keep track of it than to have it handy for reading. At his request, Logan and I promptly sat down and read all ten of the short stories. My selfies are never very good, but I wanted to show the boy and the book.

Things livened up when John got home from taking David to New Jersey. Logan was thrilled to have an energetic playmate, while I hid behind the toy camera.

Read that Label!

The present episode was not nearly as dangerous as previous ones. Off the bat, I remember two incidents that could have been dangerous. Because the contents were a similar color, I almost used an astringent instead of mouthwash to rinse my mouth. Ugh! Another time, instead of toothpaste, I picked up a tube of athlete’s foot cream. That could have been a weird case of foot and mouth disease, right? With each mistake, I lectured myself to read the label. There was no need to read labels this time, because I knew there were only two items in the bag.

Here is the story. David brought his swimsuit here, hoping to swim at the rec center. For obvious seasonal reasons, we didn’t even think of it until after life began returning to normal. With his departure looming, we hurried to get this wish fulfilled. I had never been swimming in the winter, so I packed carefully, hoping to take everything I needed. In went the swimsuit, a towel, the never used Silver Sneakers card, hair brush, toy camera (real necessities here), shampoo, and conditioner. I popped the small items in a little bag for toiletries that I use for traveling. There were also two magazines in case I decided at the last moment not to go in the water.

David and I enjoyed swimming in the open section of the pool, while others did laps in their lanes. Poor John was the miserable one. He dutifully got in the pool with us, walking back and forth for exercise while we cavorted in the water. We had come in two cars, so John left when he got cold. In due time, David and I headed for the locker rooms.

I piled my dry clothing on the bench in the dressing area adjacent to the shower. The traveling shampoo and conditioner bottles were at the closest edge within easy reach. Shampoo came first, easily distinguished from the conditioner by its blue color. The conditioner was the usual white, thick liquid. I didn’t pay attention to the feel of it, being occupied with all the other new experiences of the day. As I tossed the two bottles back in the bag, my eyes lit on a third bottle already there. What? I had put only two in at home. That third bottle was the conditioner. Whatever else was there had to have been left from the last trip. What on earth had I put on my hair? Body lotion!

After drying off, I wasn’t about to get back in the shower. It was what it was. The hair was no more shiny than usual, but it did seem straighter. The body lotion did not add body, thankfully, because I have a constant battle with wild witch hair. I lived with the results of my mistake for 24 hours, and no one complained or called the police.

Anne to self, “Read those labels, even when it isn’t necessary!”

A Morning in the Mountains

Grandson Nathaniel chose a drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway as our last activity before he flew home. The brothers enjoyed the scenery and each other. As always, the mountains performed beautifully.

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After an unseasonably warm debut, winter turned down the heat. Icicles decorated the roadway. For the four of us who had spent much of our lives on Long Island, this was a rare treat.

010216 Icicles.JPG

Nathaniel posed with his prize ice weapon, brandishing it until his hand froze. With a mighty heave, he threw it over the cliff. David and I waited to hear it land below, but to our surprise, it broke into three pieces in midair. That was as good as a cartoon “POOF”.

010216 N poses with icicle.JPG

David’s weapon was a camera, and he turned it on me! He shot me in cold blood! At least, I was cold when I got back in the car.

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Nathaniel performed two tasks before we drove to the airport. He wound the grandmother clock, which is something he used to do all the time when he was with us in NY.

The other ritual was lowering the mirror. I was cleaning house before he came the first time, and I hung the mirror on an existing hanger to get it off the floor. There were many items still unhung at that point. John and I laughed at it, saying only Nathaniel could use it. Since then, we always hang it high before he comes, and he returns it to a normal height as he leaves.

010216 N lowers mirror.JPG

Musical Mayonnaise Jars

What a dream I had! I voluntarily pumped gas into a car so that strangers could get to New York. As they pulled out, I watched the driver playing music with his feet. Instead of organ pedals, he was playing mayonnaise jars, Hellmann’s mayo, to be exact. Two of the jars were open. It must have been a Bach Toccata and Fugue, the way those jars were flying about. He ended with a flourish – karate chops to his legs for the final notes. I was satisfied with the performance, even though I hadn’t heard any musical notes at all. That was as bad as all my dreams of food, where I put things in my mouth and chew without tasting a thing.

Does anyone else have sensory perceptions missing in dreams? If not, it must mean I’m losing my senses.

New Year’s Eve

Logan (5) might have been watching for us to come home from the noon church service on New Year’s Eve. He was chasing grandson David before I was out of the car. Grandson Nathaniel cheered them on, yelling to David to go on the porch. Of course, Logan followed, so David climbed on the railing and jumped off.

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It was something like running from a dog. If you don’t run, the dog won’t chase you. David’s long legs put him ahead, while Logan’s boundless energy the young boy going. The standoff came when David took refuge on the roof of the Jeep, all in good fun.

123115 David's escape from Logan.JPG

Nathaniel took a turn entertaining Logan on the porch by playing with the trains.

123115 N Logan play with trains.JPG

We have fallen into the habit of eating a late lunch, so I asked Logan if he had already eaten. He had. I didn’t think to prepare a hamburger for him, but I should have. Two of us offered to share ours when he expressed interest in the food on the table. After a bit he pushed a chair between John and Nathaniel and nibbled on cheese that John cut for him. The best was when Nathaniel shelled a few Kentucky peanuts.

123115 J Logan N at lunch.JPG

I bailed and went to take a nap. Because of the silence, I thought Logan had gone home. He hadn’t. David pulled up simple games on his iPod, and the boy was entranced for an hour. He reluctantly left when his parents called him home.

123115 Logan with David's iPod.JPG

The house was energized again when three other households joined us for a New Year’s Eve party. These were our nearest and dearest neighbors from the end of the street. We all had extras, too, grandchildren for three of us and Joyce’s sister. That’s the way to celebrate! I hope everyone else had as much fun as John and I did.

123115 NYE N D Paul Logan Anna Lily.JPG — Grandchildren — ours and those of neighbors

Bob set off some fireworks in the street as we watched from the porch. As soon as the first big one exploded, we heard the mountains echo with repeat blasts as loud as the original. The same thing happened a second time. Why didn’t the sound fade as we expected? Before Bob lit his third one, we discovered why. Someone looked to the left and saw fireworks further up the mountain that just happened to follow Bob’s. We were happy to be outside in the cold air to see both.

At midnight, a stalwart five of us watched TV to see the ball drop in Times Square. The countdown came, but there was no ball to see! Amy mentioned the number of Waterford crystals that were reported to be on the ball, so we knew it was on the agenda. Perhaps we were watching the wrong station. Did anyone see the ball drop?

Nothing Like Family

Brother Bob and Beth joined grandsons David and Nathaniel, son $, and us for a post-Christmas visit. What fun we had! We ate the leftovers from Christmas Day and were so full we had to wait until later to have dessert.

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The weather was still so warm that we spent time on the back porch. Bob adjusted the seat on the exercise bicycle he had given me, and John $ had an axe to grind. Nathaniel watched $ sharpen it as David rode the bike.

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Young Logan, the whirlwind, came to visit. I hid the candy on the counter as John opened the door. Beth and Bob were glad to meet him, having seen his picture often. We mostly sat in our comfortable chairs and watched him spin about. There was a new toy we’d gotten for the house, a yellow car powered by a balloon. In no time, Logan learned to hold his finger over the balloon before releasing the car on the floor. David and Nathaniel played hide and seek with Logan, a first for us in this house. We were batting balloons about when neighbor Bob came to fetch his son.

122815 Logan blows balloon for car.JPG

We were finally ready for dessert and flamed the Christmas pudding.

122815 N D Christmas Pudding.JPG

The next day we checked out the swollen creek and went up on the Blue Ridge Parkway for a bit. The mountains never disappoint us.