A date that forever changed for all Americans eight years ago. Ceremonies are being held in many places to commemorate the day, the events, the victims. Even if you don’t go to one, take a moment and have your own. Say whatever type of prayer you do for the victims, that their fate was as easy as it could be. Say one for those they left, that they are able to continue their lives in as much peace as possible. Say one for all of us, that we can continue to use this to make our country, our patriotism, our selves stronger and braver. Say one that we and our children and our children’s children never know this again.
Being involved with the rescue squad and fire department, I am especially saddened by the number of those victims. Someone had the photo of the firefighters carrying Father Michael Judge out of the rubble on their blog this morning; the photo always makes me tear up. Likewise the one of the firefighters raising the flag on a beam sticking out of the pile of destroyed building. When I was down there the sight of the destroyed fire and EMS equipment was heart-wrenching.
Last night at intermission of dress rehearsal we spent a few minutes playing ‘what were you doing when’. Andrew had been working and his wife called to tell him. Lynne remembered me coming to their house to tell them ‘turn on your tv – we’ve been attacked’. I was home, heard then-President Bush’s statement on the radio station I had on, and put on the tv to see the second plane hit. I watched for a while, and when they declared no flying, I went to the cast house, I was supposed to take one of the company guys to fly home later that day – told him he wasn’t flying anywhere for a while. Then I went to Lynne and Linda’s to tell them.
Called Sara, called my sister – my sister and I went to lunch on Main Street later, and noticed that the village flag was still at the top of the pole. Happened one of the police force was in the restaurant, and I asked him why and he said something to the effect they hadn’t said to put it at half mast but they probably would. So, my sister, and I (being doers, not waiters) went and put it at half mast.
Talking to my daughter the next day I mentioned I hadn’t slept well last night and she wisely said “I don’t think anybody in America slept much last night”.
I did go to NYC about 10 days later, with the rescue squad, and it was an experience I will never forget. http://www.picturesandwordsbybarb.com/WTC.Story.pdf
As I write this, the radio station (WKLI, 100.9 FM: albanymagic.com) is playing a song that has many clips from things like the Kennedy assassinations; they’ve played ‘God Bless America’ and other patriotic songs this morning.
It’s sobering, the number of events of this nature we’ve seen happen in recent history. Let’s see what we can do to keep any more of them from happening in the future.
God Bless all those who lost their lives, those they left behind, and all those who continue to do so helping and protecting the rest of us.
NYC still has tributes to the fallen; every fire station was affected and many have plaques listing their fallen. The hotel we stay in for auditions has a plaque in the elevator lobby commemorating those from the fire station around the corner who were lost. A friend put on Facebook that he was heading for the train to go to the city for remembrance ceremonies this morning.
They remember. We should all remember. Never Forget.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
The Fair
The county fair was the past weekend. Besides marking the end of summer and meaning that school would start in two days, the fair was quite a deal when I was a kid.
When I was – oh, gosh, maybe 7 or 8, my sister and I were in the Juvenile Grange. We had made things to put into the Grange exhibit at the fair and my parents were going to take us to look at them – except it kept getting put off because of things to be done on the farm, and by the time we got there on the last night of the fair, the exhibit was taken down. My parents promised us that would never happen again. And, since during the year following we got involved with 4-H, it never did. From then until we quit farming, every year summer was all about getting ready for the fair. Mainly getting the cows we were going to show ready, although we did also practice making pies or cakes or cookies or whatever other food things we were going to enter, and also putting finishing touches on our sewing projects. But mostly it was about the cows. They had to be taught to wear halters and walk on the lead, had to be brushed, washed and clipped. Then they had to be loaded into the truck and taken over and put into the stalls and brushed some more and fed and cleaned up after and washed – and shown. They went into the appropriate age class, and we did Fitting and Showmanship, and any other classes we could qualify for. Ribbons piled up along the rail above the animal’s heads. I think the fair was three days long when we started and may have gone to four days at some point. My sister and I usually spent the whole time there, sleeping in piles of hay next to the cows (I remember one afternoon I was taking a nap, laying against my cow, when she got up and proceeded to lift her tail and crap all over me!). We’d talk to friends, compare cows and prizes, and of course take time out to go to the midway. Got in some fair food, although my mother always made sure to have lots of ‘good food’ for us. We would have those little packets of cereal that used to come with wax paper in the boxes, so you could eat right out of them. We’d wait until some ‘city people’ were coming along and take a box and go to the cow and squirt milk onto the cereal so they could see it – grossed the city kids out every time.
One year A couple of older ladies came down through the barns, got to the animal at the end of our group and started their conversation: “Oh, look at that one laying down – I think it’s going to have a baby”. “Oh, it might be” and to me: “Is that one going to have a baby?” “No, Ma’am, it’s not.” “Ooh, are you sure? It looks to me like it is.” “Yes, Ma’am, I’m pretty sure it’s not.” “Oh, I think it is. Are you really, really sure.” “Well, yes, Ma’am I am really sure that one’s not going to have a baby. That one’s the bull.”
Yeah, the fair was fun.
We couldn’t wait to get there, and at the end couldn’t wait to load up and go home. If we had food in the 4-H building, we’d go get it as soon as we could on closing day, and eat it, prize winner or not.
I get my nostalgia fix, walking through the 4-H building (and getting my baked potato with all the fixings, which they didn’t have when I was there), and going to the barns and looking at the people and their animals. And I’m very glad there are still people bringing exhibits and animals to the fair. I hope that never changes.
When I was – oh, gosh, maybe 7 or 8, my sister and I were in the Juvenile Grange. We had made things to put into the Grange exhibit at the fair and my parents were going to take us to look at them – except it kept getting put off because of things to be done on the farm, and by the time we got there on the last night of the fair, the exhibit was taken down. My parents promised us that would never happen again. And, since during the year following we got involved with 4-H, it never did. From then until we quit farming, every year summer was all about getting ready for the fair. Mainly getting the cows we were going to show ready, although we did also practice making pies or cakes or cookies or whatever other food things we were going to enter, and also putting finishing touches on our sewing projects. But mostly it was about the cows. They had to be taught to wear halters and walk on the lead, had to be brushed, washed and clipped. Then they had to be loaded into the truck and taken over and put into the stalls and brushed some more and fed and cleaned up after and washed – and shown. They went into the appropriate age class, and we did Fitting and Showmanship, and any other classes we could qualify for. Ribbons piled up along the rail above the animal’s heads. I think the fair was three days long when we started and may have gone to four days at some point. My sister and I usually spent the whole time there, sleeping in piles of hay next to the cows (I remember one afternoon I was taking a nap, laying against my cow, when she got up and proceeded to lift her tail and crap all over me!). We’d talk to friends, compare cows and prizes, and of course take time out to go to the midway. Got in some fair food, although my mother always made sure to have lots of ‘good food’ for us. We would have those little packets of cereal that used to come with wax paper in the boxes, so you could eat right out of them. We’d wait until some ‘city people’ were coming along and take a box and go to the cow and squirt milk onto the cereal so they could see it – grossed the city kids out every time.
One year A couple of older ladies came down through the barns, got to the animal at the end of our group and started their conversation: “Oh, look at that one laying down – I think it’s going to have a baby”. “Oh, it might be” and to me: “Is that one going to have a baby?” “No, Ma’am, it’s not.” “Ooh, are you sure? It looks to me like it is.” “Yes, Ma’am, I’m pretty sure it’s not.” “Oh, I think it is. Are you really, really sure.” “Well, yes, Ma’am I am really sure that one’s not going to have a baby. That one’s the bull.”
Yeah, the fair was fun.
We couldn’t wait to get there, and at the end couldn’t wait to load up and go home. If we had food in the 4-H building, we’d go get it as soon as we could on closing day, and eat it, prize winner or not.
I get my nostalgia fix, walking through the 4-H building (and getting my baked potato with all the fixings, which they didn’t have when I was there), and going to the barns and looking at the people and their animals. And I’m very glad there are still people bringing exhibits and animals to the fair. I hope that never changes.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Last day of the theatre season
Today is the last day of the theatre season – or at least the last day of what we now call the ‘regular’ season. We still have Footloose happening for the next two weekends, but most of the company will be leaving after tonight. It’s always a bittersweet time. No matter how talented the group is, and how much we like them, after being together almost 24/7 for 3 ½ months, it’s time to break. This group was very talented and a good bunch to have around, very nice, all got along well as far as I ever heard, anyway. Many of them we’d like to have back, but of course that all depends on what our shows are next summer and what they are doing. No doubt a few we’ll try for.
Nice as it will be to have evenings free again, I’ll miss the music. Won’t miss things like solving all the problems, like last night when I was so tired after a long, long day, and one of the girls ran a car out of gas so at midnight I was holding a flashlight under my arm and trying to fit the too short spout on the gas can into the gas tank and getting gas all over my sandals – all the while hoping nobody came over the hill and clipped the back of the car that was just barely off the highway.
Will miss Quinto and his outrageous actions – like fully flashing me by lifting his shirt up as I was going past him out the door to the deck – and comments like his ‘It’s a fat kid’s Christmas’, about the chocolate fountain at the opening night party. Laura, peeking into the office as she waited for her entrance in aisle 4, telling me about what’s on stage: ‘Did you know there’s a big fight happening on your stage? You should check that out!’ and ‘Did you know there’s a trolley car on your stage? You should check that out!’ Rich: ‘Is this a record for the number of straight guys you’ve had here in one season?’ The apprentices: ‘Barb, what do we do with……’ And many more.
Yeah, there’s some things I won’t miss but I won’t go into that. Well, I won’t miss having to call the ambulance every other thing, it seemed like. I have to count up how many times, but way, way more than any other year, or any couple put together. And the whole thing with leaking roofs, seems like every single building we owned had that problem, and the house the tree fell on still isn’t fixed, 5 months later! But that’s another story. And cars – every one of them had a problem this year, and right now two are out of service and both the others need work but are running – except when out of gas. And air conditioners, two went belly up, a small one in the rehearsal room and one of the big, old ones in the theatre-that wasn’t a problem because it was pretty cool all summer, but the rehearsal room one was missed both at dance rehearsals and during coffee house. Nope, won’t miss that – oh, wait, I still have to deal with all that, to get things fixed for next year. Sigh.
There will be a lot of tears tonight, as always. There already were, at the cabaret yesterday, as always. But the summer has formed friendships and given growth and helped people move along in their careers and lives. And given a lot of people a lot of pleasure. And that’s what we’re about.
Nice as it will be to have evenings free again, I’ll miss the music. Won’t miss things like solving all the problems, like last night when I was so tired after a long, long day, and one of the girls ran a car out of gas so at midnight I was holding a flashlight under my arm and trying to fit the too short spout on the gas can into the gas tank and getting gas all over my sandals – all the while hoping nobody came over the hill and clipped the back of the car that was just barely off the highway.
Will miss Quinto and his outrageous actions – like fully flashing me by lifting his shirt up as I was going past him out the door to the deck – and comments like his ‘It’s a fat kid’s Christmas’, about the chocolate fountain at the opening night party. Laura, peeking into the office as she waited for her entrance in aisle 4, telling me about what’s on stage: ‘Did you know there’s a big fight happening on your stage? You should check that out!’ and ‘Did you know there’s a trolley car on your stage? You should check that out!’ Rich: ‘Is this a record for the number of straight guys you’ve had here in one season?’ The apprentices: ‘Barb, what do we do with……’ And many more.
Yeah, there’s some things I won’t miss but I won’t go into that. Well, I won’t miss having to call the ambulance every other thing, it seemed like. I have to count up how many times, but way, way more than any other year, or any couple put together. And the whole thing with leaking roofs, seems like every single building we owned had that problem, and the house the tree fell on still isn’t fixed, 5 months later! But that’s another story. And cars – every one of them had a problem this year, and right now two are out of service and both the others need work but are running – except when out of gas. And air conditioners, two went belly up, a small one in the rehearsal room and one of the big, old ones in the theatre-that wasn’t a problem because it was pretty cool all summer, but the rehearsal room one was missed both at dance rehearsals and during coffee house. Nope, won’t miss that – oh, wait, I still have to deal with all that, to get things fixed for next year. Sigh.
There will be a lot of tears tonight, as always. There already were, at the cabaret yesterday, as always. But the summer has formed friendships and given growth and helped people move along in their careers and lives. And given a lot of people a lot of pleasure. And that’s what we’re about.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
“One Year Ago Today”
The stories of a puppy, a cat, a dog and a kitten, in New Orleans on August 29, 2005
One year ago today I was part of a family
I was loved, I was petted, I had food and drink when I wanted.
One year ago today I was happy
I loved my people – they took care of me
They would never leave me
I caught mice and I purred and I slept on the bed.
One year ago today I was chained in a yard
No shelter from the rain or sun.
Shouted at, beaten, scraps of food and stale water
My only company was my brother, who was treated the same way
One year ago today I was playful and free
Young and small, no cares,
Chasing butterflies, not yet big enough for mice.
I was taken for rides, given treats, shown off to others
One year ago today my tail wagged often.
I was pampered, brushed, fussed over,
I got saucers of milk, food from a can,
One year ago today they scratched my head when I rubbed their legs.
Teased, tormented, made to fight and bite
Never petted, never praised –
One year ago today I was nothing but a dog.
My mother still washed me.
We lived under a porch,
Sometimes the people in the house would pet me.
I liked that.
One year ago today a little girl played with me.
One year ago today the wind blew, the rain came,
And then the water was everywhere.
I heard them say leave, but they would not leave me.
One year ago today my people stayed and they died.
One year ago today my people fled
They left me some food, they left me some water
They closed me in the bathroom and said they would come back in a few days.
One year ago today I was left on my chain
They fled, they left me
Alone, no food, no water
And the waters rose around my brother and me.
One year ago today the waters rushed in
Our little house was crushed
My people fled, I tried, I could not keep up
I was left alone in the flood.
One year ago today the water rose and filled our house
The house I was used to, running through the rooms,
Sleeping on the rug
We tried to stay above it.
I swam and swam and climbed into a cupboard.
My people could not. I could see them in the water.
They could no longer see me.
One year ago today the water came.
It filled every room.
It filled the room I was locked in, but I climbed and clung to the walls.
The water went down and I waited.
My people did not come back.
My food and water were gone, rancid
My people did not come back.
One year ago today the water rushed into our yard.
I jumped to the top of a pile of trash
My brother had no where to go.
I watched him struggle, I watched him try
I watched him drown, I watched him die.
One year ago today I was suddenly alone
Racing from the water that was everywhere.
I ran, I climbed, I swam, I jumped
I found a place above it and I cried for my family
No one was there to answer me.
The water went down
I do not know how long it took.
I went to my people and licked them and nuzzled them but they did not answer me.
The water went down
I meowed, I yowled,
I was hungry, I was thirsty.
They did not come back.
The water went down.
My brother lay in the yard.
I howled for him.
The water went down.
I was back on the ground
Searching for my people, my mother,
Searching for food and drink.
Many days passed
I was hungry, I was thirsty.
I whimpered and barked
I heard voices and barked louder.
“Listen”, the voices said, “A dog!”
Many days passed.
I was getting thin and weak.
I heard voices and mewed as loud as I could
It was not very loud and the voices went away.
Many days passed.
No one came near my yard.
I saw things in the air, I heard things on the streets.
I was so tired, so hungry, so thirsty.
Many days passed.
I walked the streets, went into houses.
There was no food.
I chased bugs and moths and birds and mice.
I drank ugly water.
I lived on the streets.
I was young and small.
The door crashed in and people filled our house.
I was afraid.
“Oh, no”, one voice said. “The people stayed.”
“Come here, little guy”, another voice said.
Hands reached and touched me and I whimpered.
“It’s all right. You are safe now”, the voices said.
I heard them again!
I meowed as loudly as I could
I was so hungry and thirsty.
“Listen!” A voice said, “A cat.”
I heard noise in the house, and meowed again.
The door crashed in and a person came into the bathroom.
“Well, hello, pretty girl,” she said. “Come with us. You are safe now.”
I saw people!
I barked.
I had been trained to bark at people, to frighten them away.
These people did not go.
They talked to me.
“It’s all right, big guy,” they said. “You can trust us. We’re here to help you.”
I let them come close, let them touch me, let them cut the big chain and lead me away.
“You are safe now,” they said.
I heard voices and saw people.
The other cats ran.
“Look”, the people said, “a kitten.”
I let them pick me up.
“You are safe now”, they said.
I was in a cage in a car, then in a cage in a tent.
I got a bath and food and petting.
I cried out in my sleep.
I was put into a pen, near other dogs.
People walked me and talked to me.
I was put in a cage on a big bus and taken far away.
More people came and looked at me.
“What is this puppy’s story?” they asked.
“His people stayed with him and did not make it”, they were told.
“We will be his new people.”
I was put in a cage in a car and then a cage in a house.
People fed me and petted me and gave me treats.
More people came and put me in another cage and into a van and I rode a long ways.
Someone took my cage and said “You can come with me.”
I was put in a cage in a car and then a cage in a tent.
I got a bath. I never had one before.
I got petted. I never did before.
I was walked and talked to. I never was before.
I was put in a cage in a van and then in a cage in an airplane, and then a cage in a car again.
I was let out in a place with no chains.
There are trees and high mountains, and soon after I got here something cold and white and fluffy fell from the sky and covered the ground.
It did not rise as high as the water had. I ran through it and the people laughed and said “You are home now.”
I was put in a cage in a car and then a cage in a house.
I got food and water and I felt better.
I reached out to everyone who passed my cage to pet me
When they did I felt better.
I was put in another cage, in another car and rode for two days.
At the end of the ride, someone carried me into a house and said
“Now you are home.”
One year ago today the life that I knew changed forever.
My new life is good.
I miss my first people.
One year ago today the life that I knew changed forever.
My new life is good.
I miss my first people.
One year ago today the life that I knew changed forever.
My new life is good.
I never knew I could be more than just a dog.
One year ago today the life that I knew changed forever.
My new life is good.
I like it here.
One year ago today the life that I knew changed forever.
It brought this sweet animal to me.
BP, August 2006
In memory of them all
One year ago today I was part of a family
I was loved, I was petted, I had food and drink when I wanted.
One year ago today I was happy
I loved my people – they took care of me
They would never leave me
I caught mice and I purred and I slept on the bed.
One year ago today I was chained in a yard
No shelter from the rain or sun.
Shouted at, beaten, scraps of food and stale water
My only company was my brother, who was treated the same way
One year ago today I was playful and free
Young and small, no cares,
Chasing butterflies, not yet big enough for mice.
I was taken for rides, given treats, shown off to others
One year ago today my tail wagged often.
I was pampered, brushed, fussed over,
I got saucers of milk, food from a can,
One year ago today they scratched my head when I rubbed their legs.
Teased, tormented, made to fight and bite
Never petted, never praised –
One year ago today I was nothing but a dog.
My mother still washed me.
We lived under a porch,
Sometimes the people in the house would pet me.
I liked that.
One year ago today a little girl played with me.
One year ago today the wind blew, the rain came,
And then the water was everywhere.
I heard them say leave, but they would not leave me.
One year ago today my people stayed and they died.
One year ago today my people fled
They left me some food, they left me some water
They closed me in the bathroom and said they would come back in a few days.
One year ago today I was left on my chain
They fled, they left me
Alone, no food, no water
And the waters rose around my brother and me.
One year ago today the waters rushed in
Our little house was crushed
My people fled, I tried, I could not keep up
I was left alone in the flood.
One year ago today the water rose and filled our house
The house I was used to, running through the rooms,
Sleeping on the rug
We tried to stay above it.
I swam and swam and climbed into a cupboard.
My people could not. I could see them in the water.
They could no longer see me.
One year ago today the water came.
It filled every room.
It filled the room I was locked in, but I climbed and clung to the walls.
The water went down and I waited.
My people did not come back.
My food and water were gone, rancid
My people did not come back.
One year ago today the water rushed into our yard.
I jumped to the top of a pile of trash
My brother had no where to go.
I watched him struggle, I watched him try
I watched him drown, I watched him die.
One year ago today I was suddenly alone
Racing from the water that was everywhere.
I ran, I climbed, I swam, I jumped
I found a place above it and I cried for my family
No one was there to answer me.
The water went down
I do not know how long it took.
I went to my people and licked them and nuzzled them but they did not answer me.
The water went down
I meowed, I yowled,
I was hungry, I was thirsty.
They did not come back.
The water went down.
My brother lay in the yard.
I howled for him.
The water went down.
I was back on the ground
Searching for my people, my mother,
Searching for food and drink.
Many days passed
I was hungry, I was thirsty.
I whimpered and barked
I heard voices and barked louder.
“Listen”, the voices said, “A dog!”
Many days passed.
I was getting thin and weak.
I heard voices and mewed as loud as I could
It was not very loud and the voices went away.
Many days passed.
No one came near my yard.
I saw things in the air, I heard things on the streets.
I was so tired, so hungry, so thirsty.
Many days passed.
I walked the streets, went into houses.
There was no food.
I chased bugs and moths and birds and mice.
I drank ugly water.
I lived on the streets.
I was young and small.
The door crashed in and people filled our house.
I was afraid.
“Oh, no”, one voice said. “The people stayed.”
“Come here, little guy”, another voice said.
Hands reached and touched me and I whimpered.
“It’s all right. You are safe now”, the voices said.
I heard them again!
I meowed as loudly as I could
I was so hungry and thirsty.
“Listen!” A voice said, “A cat.”
I heard noise in the house, and meowed again.
The door crashed in and a person came into the bathroom.
“Well, hello, pretty girl,” she said. “Come with us. You are safe now.”
I saw people!
I barked.
I had been trained to bark at people, to frighten them away.
These people did not go.
They talked to me.
“It’s all right, big guy,” they said. “You can trust us. We’re here to help you.”
I let them come close, let them touch me, let them cut the big chain and lead me away.
“You are safe now,” they said.
I heard voices and saw people.
The other cats ran.
“Look”, the people said, “a kitten.”
I let them pick me up.
“You are safe now”, they said.
I was in a cage in a car, then in a cage in a tent.
I got a bath and food and petting.
I cried out in my sleep.
I was put into a pen, near other dogs.
People walked me and talked to me.
I was put in a cage on a big bus and taken far away.
More people came and looked at me.
“What is this puppy’s story?” they asked.
“His people stayed with him and did not make it”, they were told.
“We will be his new people.”
I was put in a cage in a car and then a cage in a house.
People fed me and petted me and gave me treats.
More people came and put me in another cage and into a van and I rode a long ways.
Someone took my cage and said “You can come with me.”
I was put in a cage in a car and then a cage in a tent.
I got a bath. I never had one before.
I got petted. I never did before.
I was walked and talked to. I never was before.
I was put in a cage in a van and then in a cage in an airplane, and then a cage in a car again.
I was let out in a place with no chains.
There are trees and high mountains, and soon after I got here something cold and white and fluffy fell from the sky and covered the ground.
It did not rise as high as the water had. I ran through it and the people laughed and said “You are home now.”
I was put in a cage in a car and then a cage in a house.
I got food and water and I felt better.
I reached out to everyone who passed my cage to pet me
When they did I felt better.
I was put in another cage, in another car and rode for two days.
At the end of the ride, someone carried me into a house and said
“Now you are home.”
One year ago today the life that I knew changed forever.
My new life is good.
I miss my first people.
One year ago today the life that I knew changed forever.
My new life is good.
I miss my first people.
One year ago today the life that I knew changed forever.
My new life is good.
I never knew I could be more than just a dog.
One year ago today the life that I knew changed forever.
My new life is good.
I like it here.
One year ago today the life that I knew changed forever.
It brought this sweet animal to me.
BP, August 2006
In memory of them all
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Long Distance Phone Calls
The other day I called a friend I haven’t spoken to is probably a couple of years. We email a fair amount, but haven’t actually seen each other in about 4 years and haven’t conversed in one or two years. And I said how silly that is, but it showed my generation gap, that to phone her (all the way down in New Jersey) is a long distance call. Yes, of course I have a plan that covers all my calls, and I should make more of them because the plan is geared to my spring hiring call volume that used to cost several hundred dollars a month. But to pick up the phone and call someone – nope, it’s ‘long distance’. It’s also one more thing that email has done for us, because it’s so much easier since I’m at the computer anyway, to dash off a message or forward a joke, because then the person can read and respond at their convenience.
Gee it was nice to hear her voice and visit and gossip for a while. To actually talk to her. Made me wonder why I waited so long to do it, and why I don't do it more often with more people.
I remember having a fight with my father (well, ok, I remember having several fights with my father) about a long distance call. We used to take the cows to shows, and once, I must have been about maybe 11 or 12 or so, we were not sure of the date of one. It then became my responsibility to have known the date, I’m not sure why except it was the Capital District Guernsey Show and I was the one who had the Guernsey cows in the herd (nope, not sure why that was, either). So my father told me to call another farmer who might know when it was. I looked up the number, dialed (remember dialing, not punching buttons?) and somehow got the wrong party. Who of course did not know when this show was. When I hung up, my father said ‘you wasted a call to Philmont’ – now Philmont is about two towns away and maybe the charge would have been a quarter but back then even a quarter was an amount not to waste.
So even now, 55 or so years later, I hesitate to make a long distance call. And we shouldn’t – we should hear the voices of our friends more often. So I am going to try to resolve to call people more. Let’s see what happens.
Oh, p.s., we did somehow find out when the cow show was and go to it and bring home a few ribbons. But cow shows are another story.
Gee it was nice to hear her voice and visit and gossip for a while. To actually talk to her. Made me wonder why I waited so long to do it, and why I don't do it more often with more people.
I remember having a fight with my father (well, ok, I remember having several fights with my father) about a long distance call. We used to take the cows to shows, and once, I must have been about maybe 11 or 12 or so, we were not sure of the date of one. It then became my responsibility to have known the date, I’m not sure why except it was the Capital District Guernsey Show and I was the one who had the Guernsey cows in the herd (nope, not sure why that was, either). So my father told me to call another farmer who might know when it was. I looked up the number, dialed (remember dialing, not punching buttons?) and somehow got the wrong party. Who of course did not know when this show was. When I hung up, my father said ‘you wasted a call to Philmont’ – now Philmont is about two towns away and maybe the charge would have been a quarter but back then even a quarter was an amount not to waste.
So even now, 55 or so years later, I hesitate to make a long distance call. And we shouldn’t – we should hear the voices of our friends more often. So I am going to try to resolve to call people more. Let’s see what happens.
Oh, p.s., we did somehow find out when the cow show was and go to it and bring home a few ribbons. But cow shows are another story.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Make the most of it
Started this before the previous one about the reunion:
Oh, dear, been letting this go again – not ignoring you, honest, ‘loyal readers’ (presuming I have any readers, that is), just no inspirations. But I was given one the other day in an message from an ‘e-friend’. We talk online, and the end of her last message was: "by the way the gentleman I was speaking of is the one who lives in Schenectady xxxxxxxx--he is still devestated over his wifes death!! He didn't realize how much he loved her until she wasn't there any more-- sounds like we humans doesn't it!! Guess that is why I always run my hand over Bob's back when I go past him!! WE DO NOT HAVE 20 or 30 years to be together!! SOOO I try to make the most of it!!" **
Got me to thinking, how many people do we run our hand over their back when we go by them? OK, maybe not literally for all, but how many do we let know what they mean to us by a simple little gesture or word, on a regular basis? My list is pretty short. I’ll have to do something about that. And, at the risk of sounding like one of those syrupy emails you get every now and then, you should too.
Life’s short. Run your hand over somebody’s back today.
** this friend is in her later 70’s. I met her through another e-friend several years ago, and was delighted to be able to meet her in person last summer. She had been making other friends, and several male ones, online. Going on two years ago, all of a sudden there were no emails from her, which concerned me, but then we found out that instead of going to her son’s for Thanksgiving as was told, she went to North Carolina to meet one of these men – and they ‘clicked’ and the wedding was about two months later. So I say go for it – it’s never too late to find someone with a back to run your hand over.
Oh, dear, been letting this go again – not ignoring you, honest, ‘loyal readers’ (presuming I have any readers, that is), just no inspirations. But I was given one the other day in an message from an ‘e-friend’. We talk online, and the end of her last message was: "by the way the gentleman I was speaking of is the one who lives in Schenectady xxxxxxxx--he is still devestated over his wifes death!! He didn't realize how much he loved her until she wasn't there any more-- sounds like we humans doesn't it!! Guess that is why I always run my hand over Bob's back when I go past him!! WE DO NOT HAVE 20 or 30 years to be together!! SOOO I try to make the most of it!!" **
Got me to thinking, how many people do we run our hand over their back when we go by them? OK, maybe not literally for all, but how many do we let know what they mean to us by a simple little gesture or word, on a regular basis? My list is pretty short. I’ll have to do something about that. And, at the risk of sounding like one of those syrupy emails you get every now and then, you should too.
Life’s short. Run your hand over somebody’s back today.
** this friend is in her later 70’s. I met her through another e-friend several years ago, and was delighted to be able to meet her in person last summer. She had been making other friends, and several male ones, online. Going on two years ago, all of a sudden there were no emails from her, which concerned me, but then we found out that instead of going to her son’s for Thanksgiving as was told, she went to North Carolina to meet one of these men – and they ‘clicked’ and the wedding was about two months later. So I say go for it – it’s never too late to find someone with a back to run your hand over.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
THE CLASS OF ’59
We wore bobby sox and saddle shoes and poodle skirts and pony tails. The guys wore crew cuts and t-shirts under their usually plaid shirts; the ‘tough guys had ‘d-a’ haircuts and turned their shirt collars up. We dressed up with stockings for dances and only wore jeans when we were riding our horses and doing the farm work. Few of us had our own cars, and those who did had a job to pay for it and the gas to drive it with. No drugs, and beer at parties was unheard of.
That’s just some of the memories that the Class of 1959, Ichabod Crane Central School talked about last night at our 50 year class reunion.
We joked that how could it be 50 years when none of us have changed a bit – yeah right. Most have put on some pounds, most have grey hair, a few looked just the same as in school but there were some I would not have recognized without their name tag (complete with yearbook picture).
We talked about teachers – Miss Biser (also know as Miss Bison) who, as one grad put it was a ‘perfect 36’ – 12-12-12, a not so well liked math teacher. Our class advisor and English teacher, Mrs. Van Alstyne (sure can’t remember her maiden name which she was when teaching us), was there, with her husband, Coach Van Alstyne – he helped coach our teams to many basketball championships. There was a letter from another teacher, Miss Johnson. I think she was one of the ones who determined that we did not get a senior trip because the faculty decided none of them wanted to be responsible for what our class might do in someplace like Washington, D.C.
We caught up on what people have been doing. We didn’t formally remember those who are not with us, but I am sure everyone had their private moment of silence.
Prizes were given for who came the furthest (Sally, Florida), most grandchildren (Sandy, 9), high school sweethearts married the longest (Shirley and Chuck, John and Pam (?), 49 and 48 years), who looks the most like they did then (Wally), the person with the job we would least have thought they’d have (Karen, a minister) and so on. I was a little surprised at the number of people who have winter homes in Florida, although I probably shouldn’t have been. Quite a few still live in our area, although we rarely see each other.
Lots of pictures were taken, including the now traditional one outside by a vintage car owned by one classmate (this year’s a ’35 sedan). Lots of laughing. Some ‘we have to get together more often’ and ‘you have to come visit’.
And a lot of memories, but they have to wait because I have to go to work.
A good time was had by all.
That’s just some of the memories that the Class of 1959, Ichabod Crane Central School talked about last night at our 50 year class reunion.
We joked that how could it be 50 years when none of us have changed a bit – yeah right. Most have put on some pounds, most have grey hair, a few looked just the same as in school but there were some I would not have recognized without their name tag (complete with yearbook picture).
We talked about teachers – Miss Biser (also know as Miss Bison) who, as one grad put it was a ‘perfect 36’ – 12-12-12, a not so well liked math teacher. Our class advisor and English teacher, Mrs. Van Alstyne (sure can’t remember her maiden name which she was when teaching us), was there, with her husband, Coach Van Alstyne – he helped coach our teams to many basketball championships. There was a letter from another teacher, Miss Johnson. I think she was one of the ones who determined that we did not get a senior trip because the faculty decided none of them wanted to be responsible for what our class might do in someplace like Washington, D.C.
We caught up on what people have been doing. We didn’t formally remember those who are not with us, but I am sure everyone had their private moment of silence.
Prizes were given for who came the furthest (Sally, Florida), most grandchildren (Sandy, 9), high school sweethearts married the longest (Shirley and Chuck, John and Pam (?), 49 and 48 years), who looks the most like they did then (Wally), the person with the job we would least have thought they’d have (Karen, a minister) and so on. I was a little surprised at the number of people who have winter homes in Florida, although I probably shouldn’t have been. Quite a few still live in our area, although we rarely see each other.
Lots of pictures were taken, including the now traditional one outside by a vintage car owned by one classmate (this year’s a ’35 sedan). Lots of laughing. Some ‘we have to get together more often’ and ‘you have to come visit’.
And a lot of memories, but they have to wait because I have to go to work.
A good time was had by all.
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