Sunday, June 26, 2022

Thanks to Madalyn O'Hair

In the middle of fourth grade, the teacher no longer read something from the King James bible to the class after the Pledge of Allegiance. 

Why was that?

Because of the self-proclaimed atheist, Madalyn Murray. She did not want God interfering with her son's disbelief and argued in court for the separation of church and state. She won. No longer did the teachers have to pick something out of the Old Testament to read to the kids. It was OT because there might be Jews in the class. Never mind Hindus or Buddhists

So the Bible was off limits

Being a Catholic kid, I still had two years of Catechism to go through. Even if the King James version wasn't the Catholic version, it was still what my Protestant classmates heard in their church. I felt a little Catholic guilt hearing those words, even  if they were OT.


In fifth grade, a Jewish kid came to our school, just so you know. That was the first thing we knew about him.


I find it particularly funny that Madalyn got her way and now, she seems to have lost again.

Wednesday, June 1, 2022

Hearing is the last sense to go


 When husband's great aunt lay dying in hospital, one of the nurses told us to speak to her.  She was on her way out and the staff kept calling her "Elizabeth". We corrected them by saying she went by Lee. Perhaps that was why she didn't hear them.

The nurse said, "Hearing is the last to go."

We talked to her, calling her Aunt Lee. She did sort of rouse, but she had no freakin' idea who we were as we hadn't seen her in a few years. But, we went because it was our duty and our desire to see her while she still breathed, thinking she might recognize him at least. Me, I doubted, but I was there.

I remember she didn't like garlic and she was a spectacular baker.

Now...where is this going?

Perhaps, nowhere, but the other morning, our first spring morning with the bedroom windows open, I heard a familiar, yet unfamiliar sound. 

I distinctly heard the sound of an old fashioned wooden screen door closing.

That distinctive rickety  old sound that I hadn't heard in so many years.  Not since aluminum screen doors came along.  All the people on our street converted to aluminum doors.  Our front door had a C in some metal work for our last name.

Classy for late 1957.

So, where did this sound come from? Last time I think I heard a wooden screen shut was down the shore at one of the places we stayed at.  I'm thinking Jack was a sophomore in high school. The  summer he grew so tall.  


That was a very long time ago. Yet, that sound came back to me a few days ago. 

 Is hearing the last thing to go?

Is this a portent?





Sunday, May 8, 2022

 

 For
For mom


Back in the stone age, when women did not wear slacks or jeans or sweat pants...women who worked at home wore housedresses. While I could not find a picture of the housedress I remember., cotton, light printed plaid or wild florals, this came close enough. Probably from the 30s or 40s, but you get the idea.


They were for working. You wore an apron to cover it and the dress probably was to stay clean a couple of days. Even if you sweated or slopped dirty water on it while washing the floor or using your wringer washing machine.


My one grandmother, who never once wore slacks, wore housedresses. Only around the house or in her garden.

My other grandmother was a bit more savvy and did wear slacks. She was more trendy.  More American, even if she never once read a book in her life. The other, less trendy grandma, read romances by the stack!

Now, my mother didn't wear housedresses that I remember, but she did wear skirts and blouses and a girdle. Far from trendy, she did dress up nicely for very special occasions. Her make up consisted of powder and lipstick. Perfume, sometimes.. She said it made her feel like a French whore, which she pronounced hoor.


Well, that's it for dowdy housedresses. 

Did your mother wear them?


Friday, May 6, 2022

So many things happening, not all of them good

 Let's see.

Still no word about the prostate cancer.

Still no counselors for either family members who need them.

Sometimes I think I should be the one who needs a shrink, but then, I have all of you to listen to my shit.

It is raining. We have nothing new planted in the gardens yet.  Some of the perennials have poked through and look hearty, or hardy, but there are huge gaps in the garden.

Daughter #1 and her husband are coming up to make me dinner for mother's day. Daughter #2 is in upstate NY watching CATS for the second time.

My mother in law turned 100 and is still in pretty good shape!!!

My gallbladder needs to come out. My A1c is too high at 7.9.

Yeah, I know.


This is Dick. From my early reading days. He hasn't changed one bit.

Thursday, April 14, 2022

Easter

 Spring today!


Supposed to be in the 80s. 

The house across the street  has a garden full of hyacinths. The maple trees sport red leaf buds.  Birds wake me up with their songs.


Today is actually Maundy Thursday.


What is the definition of Maundy?


Thursday, February 10, 2022

Thinking long and hard

 For days I have thought about writing here. Anything to relieve the ennui. Anything to keep my brain from working.

So, here I am without my brilliant thoughts.

They're all gone.

They went away with the wind. Or sleep. Or atrophy. Something. All the three great topics I wanted to write about. Vanished.

I think one was going to be about the end of life. Mine. Like how I realize that I am not going to last much longer...you know. Bones creaking. Getting forgetful. Aches and pains. Troubles in the world where I am not sure I want to see to the finish. Those kind of things.

I worry about dying. I worry about not waking up one morning and everything being black because I am not in my head or body any more.  I wonder if I will look at my body and wonder what was going on, or especially where I was going.

Yeah. That makes me think.

Where am I going?

I don't particularly like dirt.

Saturday, January 1, 2022

The Case of the Unsilent Schnozz

 Trouble falling asleep. Trouble staying asleep. Trouble worrying day after day, night after night.


Well, last night, I was kept awake by a whistle in my right nostril. Szzz, whistle, whistle, sznozz. In and out, whistling.

I tried blowing my nose. I tried inhaling. I tried pinching one nostril. I tried digging around to no avail.

Whistle, whistle, whistle.

Nose knows something is wrong, but nothing I can do fixes it.

If I blow too hard, I'm liable to blow out my brains. (This has happened before, don't  you know?) 

I get up. Go to bathroom. Sit for awhile, contemplating the sound coming through my head, in and out.

Dunno what happened, with me sitting there, tooting my honker. Maybe it was the sitting. Maybe it was shoving some decongestant up there. Maybe it was a supernatural being finally hearing my plea.

The whistling stopped. I went back to bed, wondering what happened and why I'd had the incessant noise for half the night. What did I do wrong?

But, I could breathe and not have to listen to that wheezeflutter booger making that godawful noise.

Happy New Year, everyone. Stay tuned. There's more idiocy to come.