Midnight Express

So, at this twilight time as everyone has dinner, listens to the news, chats wihh their families, I am closing up the House at White Picket Gardens...fresh sheets on the beds, cupboards and closets empty, boxes shipped. For tonight I take the Midnight Express (or so I call it) from Waterloo, Indiana to Washington, D.C. and there transferring to Norfolk, Virginia. The summer plans? To spend the summer with my wonderful friend, Philip on Ocracoke Island. It will definitely be a adventure, for as he says, "Toto, we aren't in Kansas anymore." I can't even begin to anticipate all the events of the summer...so let's just let it unfold. The journey is a combination of Dr. Zhivago and the Polar Express..my lunch is packed, my ride is waiting at the door...time to log out, pack up the lap top as the last item in my carry on. Adventure awaits.

Memorial Day

Welcome to Memorial Day in a small northern town....I walked down early this morning to join in the celebration (carrying my umbrella, of course). I had coffee at Rachael's on the square and watched as the crowds began to gather. Most folks had walked from town, but some had come in from the lakes or farm or the suburbs. The high school band assembled in front of the courthouse and the dignataries on the circle inself....there were boy scouts with flags, babies in prams, folks in wheel chairs...all for the same cause to honor those who have protected our freedom. It was the usual celebration, the speeches, the star spangled banner, the pledge of allegience, taps....except standing next to me was an elderly man. I don't know his name nor his story (at least the specifics) but he wept openly during the ceremony. I quietly removed my anti-war button off my tee-shirt and slipped it into my jeans pocket..it isn't important that he know about me, it is enough that I know about him. I am humble, and I am grateful.

Rainy Sunday Afternoons...

Today is rained all day...pouring and drizzling, and an ebony afternoon with winking streetlights. Rainy Sundays are dreamy times, really. I thought lots today about growing up with a noisy house of six children, and original parents!! We knew we could always curl up with a good book in the quietness of our own rooms...after the Sunday dinner was over. We would come home from church, dad would put Never on Sunday on the stereo/phonograph, and we all had chores. Dinner was always a major production when I was growing up. We had flowers and candles and conversation...and we were never allowed to take a phone call during dinner. Dad would always play the devil's advocate (he still does) and we would be so mad at him!! After all the dishes were cleaned up, we would meander up to our rooms for naps or reading or those missed phone calls. I guess I'll just meander up to my own room here at White Picket Gardens and read a chapter or two before a Sunday nap...ahhh, but first, the chores.