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Showing posts with the label looking back

Happy Birthday to the Mama!

The ever loving, curious, generous, and unique Mama would've been 95 years old today. Shoot up the  fireworks! Bang on the walls! Pick some tomatoes! Dance up a storm! Sing, sing, sing! I searched through my archives for a story to share about the Mama. This one is my favorite, which was published on June 18, 2010. Originally, it was entitled Talking about Sex with the Mama . The new title says it better. Some Kind of Wonderful   Yesterday the mama asked me to explain something she was reading in an AARP flyer. It was a short article about what a woman can do about vaginal dryness so that intercourse isn't so painful. Uh. The mama is a voracious reader. She likes to learn. Both things I didn't know until the husband and I became her roommates several years ago. English is not her primary language, and I would say on a scale of 1 to 10, her English reading comprehension is about a 4, more or less. She doesn't let complicated or unfamiliar words

A Sloth Who Likes to Read

"Stop reading," ordered the Mama. "Go outside." I'd probably been lying on the bed reading for three or four hours that sunny summer weekend afternoon. I was probably 12 years old. That's what the Mama got for buying me a bed with a bookcase headboard. It was packed full with paperback books that I purchased from the monthly Scholastic book catalog during the school year. Three or four dollars bought me a lot of books back then. I shall always be grateful the Mama and the Daddy let me buy so many, and for leaving me alone to read the books over and over most of the time. Reading was my favorite thing to do in summer, followed by riding bicycles, watching movies, and eating. Except for the bicycle riding, I seem to have slipped back into my once-upon-a-time summer routine. I'm not getting much done, I admit. And, yes, my clothes are feeling snug. Again. I really do need to urge me to step outside and do something. There's still time today t

Flight

On the afternoon that the Mama died, the Husband, Long-time Friend Kathy, Molly the Cat, and I sat on the patio and ate our lunch. The Mama's apple tree and her butterfly bush gave us shade from the warm Spring sun. The sky was blue. The Mama's roses, daisies, and other flowers were in bloom. The birds serenaded us. The Mama's bedroom window faced the backyard. I like to think that she could see, smell, and hear the day as we did and that she enjoyed listening to our relaxed cadences and tones. At one point I leaned back in my chair and gazed at the sky. A crow was lazily flying back and forth. It was like a photo, the crow framed by the foliage of the Mama's trees and bushes. As I watched the bird, I felt like I could see the Mama's spirit flying up towards the crow and dancing alongside it. When I finally looked away, I saw a white butterfly fly out of the Mama's garden by the  rose bushes. That was the first white butterfly I saw that day, which, eve

Crybaby Me.

The Mama used to tell me a story about the time that the Daddy carried me on his back while they picked tomatoes one summer day. I was maybe two years old. "You cried and cried," the Mama said. "You kept saying, 'Go home, Daddy. Go home.'" The poor Daddy! And, all those other poor workers around us who were forced to listen to a tiny, fat crybaby of a girl piggy-backing on her poor Daddy's back. The poor Daddy! How did the Parents ever get me to stop crying? Did the Daddy take the Mama and me home and go back to work? Did I eventually calm down, get off the Daddy's back, and find a way to entertain myself so the Parents could work in peace? I don't know. The Mama never told me what happened. She simply laughed after telling me. Why am I telling you the story? I don't know. I find myself tearful all of a sudden lately. C is for crybaby me. Not pitiful me though. C is the letter for this week's ABC Wednesday , a weekly meme that is keep

Youth

Old age realizes the dreams of youth: look at Dean Swift; in his youth he built an asylum for the insane, in his old age he was himself an inmate. ~ Soren Kierkegaard When I was a youth, I dreamt of hiking mountains, pedaling bicycles, paddling boats, crafting words for a living, seeing wondrous sights, traveling to distant lands, hanging out with great friends, and sharing life with an honest, respectful, kindly, compassionate, intelligent, and funny gentle man. I have realized, and continue to realize, my youthful dreams. How about you? Youth has no age. ~ Pablo Picasso It's the letter Y at ABC Wednesday . Click here to read other Y posts and/or to join in at the fun weekly meme. 

A Tidbit from the Past

Today I found a note I wrote to the Mama in 1968 or 1969 from the look of the psychedelic colored stationery. On the envelope, I wrote To Mama To Brighten your day with a bit of May On the neon green paper, I wrote Mama, You're the greatest, I say you are! So sorry I have nothing to give you but this. But, then maybe soon I'll give you some thing other than a jar And both you and me can be in true bliss. HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY. . . though you still have to do some work! Love Susie or Me, the Lazy One I wonder if the jar had anything in it. It's the letter T at ABC Wednesday . Click here to check out other T posts.     

Smiling Cows in the Air

Last month, while I had Gone Reading, I came across the drawing I made in first grade that started me on my path of fear of drawing, painting, and doing anything in the fine arts. "Make the calves touch the ground," wrote First Grade Teacher. She even drew an example of a calf on the ground on my drawing. Sigh. Many moons later, I realize that First Grade Teacher was merely doing her job to make sure I knew that cows belonged on the ground and not in air. Teacher did give me an A for the assignment after all. But, it would've been nice if she had also written something like "You have a wonderful imagination, Susie." Or, "The cows look happy in the air. How would they look standing on the ground?" If only. Three or four years ago, I began to embrace art. To simply draw, paint, make collages, and whatever I feel like trying. The more I do, the less time I stay in a frozen-in-fear mode at the start of a project. Better late than never, right

A Pass to Read

Yesterday, as I was weeding out stuff I've been storing for decades, I found a hallway pass that was made out to me in my last semester of high school. The pass allowed me to go sit outside on the Senior Class benches to read my book. Yes, you read that right—a pass to read! My first period was Reading, an English elective. I loved that class. We read novels and plays of our choice in class and wrote book reports about what we read. Without that class, I doubt I would've ever read such classics as Babbitt, Our Town, Death of a Salesman, The Jungle, Winnie the Pooh, and Rabbit, Run. I don't know what it's like today, but 45 years ago when a high school senior already had her credits locked in for graduation, life was a picnic. Just as long as she didn't do something stupid, nor get caught for doing something stupid.

Recalling The Best Thing Done with Lemons

The memory of the best lemon meringue pie I ever ate Still makes me smile. Still gets me goofy with a sugar high. Still makes me feel weak at the knees. A sigh of deliciousness. That slice of the best lemon meringue pie is very long-time gone. Back in 1984. In a red building in a small shopping center in the middle of cowboy country. On The Big Island of Hawaii. A sigh of deliciousness.

Angels of All Types

Today's share is with Warm Heart Wednesday , a weekly meme hosted by the generous Jenny Matlock of Off On My Tangent. Instead of a recent happening, I'm writing about a wonderful thing that took place in the distant past, which I was reminded about last week. * * * Once upon a time when I was a young thing living in San Francisco, I commuted 36 miles across the bay to my first dream job. Twice a day, I got to drive over the seven-mile long San Mateo-Hayward Bridge. Do you know how calming it is to drive over an expansive body of water? That's another story perhaps. Today my story is about my commute home one particular late afternoon. At the time, I drove an aging red Dodge Colt that I was constantly taking into the shop for something old to fix. No doubt you know where the story is heading. After safely getting over the beautiful bridge and up the freeway to the City, the car chose to give up on the heavily traveled Sixth Street, which was then known as where a

Warm Hearts

“Society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.” ~Anonymous, Greek proverb I read that Greek proverb this morning on Facebook. It reminded me of the Daddy when he planted peach, pear, apple, persimmon, cherry and fig saplings around the backyard of his and Mama's house. "These trees are for the grandchildren," he said. I recall thinking how lucky those kids would be to climb the trees. The Mama moved before the Only and Older Brothers' kids were old enough to try them out. I like to think that other kids did. The proverb also had me thinking of the Mama and her wonder of planting the apricot and avocado seeds from the fruit that we've harvested from her trees. This year two of the second generation apricot trees bore fruit. I have no doubt that all the other apricot and avocado trees will do the same one day. It'll be one crazy fruit forest out in the backyard when the trees grow up. I love that my par

Getting Back the Meaning of Christmas

Back in 1990 (or 1991), when I was in my mid-30s, I decided to reclaim Christmas. To celebrate it. To enjoy it. Without commercialism. But, with meaning. With joy. With fun. For years, until that moment, Christmas was something I went through. Ho, ho, humbug, ho, ho. Not totally. I enjoyed singing Christmas carols and I liked the sparkle-sparkle of the Christmas lights. And, I loved giving presents. So, you see, I wasn't a complete loss into grumpiness or miserableness around Christmas-time. I simply thought the spirit of Christmas was lost beneath all the excessive Buy! Buy! Buy! I don't recall exactly when the light bulb went over my head, but it did, thank goodness. I didn't have to be depressed about Christmas being commercial. Bingo! The first thing I did was make a fireplace to hang up Christmas socks and pin Christmas cards around. See the white sock? A yellow pterodactyl sat on top of the  sock. I put the space heater in front of the fireplace, so the Fir

When I Was Very Young

I pulled out the high school yearbook of my senior year the other evening and came across this note I wrote to myself in the book.  I must've written it days or weeks after I graduated. Warning: The grammar, sentence structure, and punctuation  may make you cringe. I'll just have to write small, for the last two hours I've gone through 4 years of yearbooks and from what I've wrote in the 1st year I am still with the same problems namely weight, vocation, myself, and etc. but I think I have changed. In fact I know I have. Especially in my grades. I resolve 'TO" keep a "B" average at least next year." Right! I resolve "To MEET the hero so I can either be disappointed or happily insane." I resolve "to shock people next year." Yearbooks are wonderful. Together you have pictures of the people you like and dislike. Ah, may life go on and good luck till you die. . . . I signed it simply "I".  Let's see. I accom

Rooty Toot Toot

A warning for delicate ears: Bodily toots are being mentioned on today's post. (giggle) Yesterday, I wrote   how I forgot the topic about which I wanted to write. Well, it came to mind last night when I saw a cartoon that a friend posted on Facebook. Thanks, Thomas. So, here's what I couldn't remember yesterday. (giggle) I'm one of those people whose body systems get all relaxed when she wanders around a bookstore. The moment I enter the door, total zen. Unfortunately for those around me, I'm one of those book browsers who not only gives the occasional loud ah! when she sees an interesting book cover, but also an occasional silent toot, leaving a lingering aroma. I try not to, but, hey better out than in. Sorry for the TMI, but it's to set you up for this next paragraph. (snort) The future-Husband and my first adventure included a visit to a used bookstore in his neighborhood. I have no idea if the shop still exists. I hope it's still there. It&

Emeline

I've been seeing a lot of yellow vehicles lately—yellow sedans and sports cars, school-bus-yellow RVs and trucks, and bright-yellow vans and motorcycles. Yellow must be the new popular choice. I like that. My first car was a lemon-yellow 1971 Dodge Colt.  That was my high school graduation gift. I fell in love with it, at first sight. There were two colors available, and the Daddy liked the other one, which color I no longer remember. He was a great sport and let me have the yellow Colt. I think the Mama was disappointed that I didn't want some kind of flashy, sporty, or more feminine-looking car. The Daddy seemed to have no problem with the Colt being a boxy subcompact, as it ran perfectly and it was new. (The Daddy liked buying new vehicles.) It was also cheap. Very cheap, as I was happy with no radio, no air conditioning, no anything extra. Emeline is what I called her. We definitely had some great adventures. The first was learning how to drive her. She was a stick s

Vegas

My Alphabe Thursday theme: Places I've Been Vegas as in Las Vegas. The fertile lowlands of a city that's in southern Nevada. Yes, fertile lowlands is the English translation of the Spanish plural las vegas . Hmmm, could that be why you can find quite a lot of golf courses is Vegas? Some might say that the fertile lowlands refer to something other than terrain. But, I'm not going there. I've been to Vegas four times. The first time was in 1975 when I went cross-country with a college friend. The Strip wasn't a big deal yet and Downtown Vegas was so-so, but then I was still 20 so what was the use of being there. The second time was another quick stop as the first, late dear Husband and I were driving back from our first big camping trip together. Again, yawwwwn. We had after all spent a week down in a canyon by the Colorado River. In the late 1990s, the Husband and I spent a few days in Vegas and by then the Strip was a very big surreal deal. The p

Up in the Sky

My Alphabe Thursday theme: Places I've Been Look up in the sky. Is it a plane? Is it a bird? No. It's Su- sieee! Mac. Nine years ago, I fell through the sky with my fellow Jumping Beans Jeanette, Jennifer, and Charlie. That was our big thing to mark being in our 50s. Yes, yes, I know. I've mentioned my jump before in other posts.  But, I haven't ever described being up in the sky, free-falling, and then floating downward. It only took nine years to write about it. Jennifer, Jeanette, Su- sieee! Mac , and Charlie photo courtesy of Lisa Q. We, jumping beans, waited four hours one Sunday afternoon to board a small plane, get attached to a professional skydiver, be dropped off at a certain point in the sky, and fall, then float, within minutes to the drop zone. Interestingly, none of our significant others wanted to experience it all with us. Charlie and I opted to fall from the highest altitude—18,000 feet.  Gulp. I just came back from figuring how hi

Imitating -- Quack! Quack!

I simply stood there, mesmerized by the yellow duckies floating in a carnival booth at the county fair. I had no idea what the game was. I didn't even care since it probably meant having to pay five bucks to play it. Then I noticed a guy taking a photo of the duckies and walking away.  So, of course, I took a photo. Quack! Quack! That reminds me of when I was younger thing. A friend and I paddled a patched up rubber raft in a rubber ducky race. We were fortunate to make it to finish line without sinking.

Between Lovers Point and Cannery Row

My Alphabe Thursday theme—Places I've Been Lovers Point in Pacific Grove is about 1.25 miles to the west from Cannery Row in Monterey via the Monterey Bay Coastal Recreation Trail. It's a fun, lovely trail to take however way you choose to travel it—walking, jogging, or pedaling a two-wheeler or a four-wheel surrey bike. Lovers Point is a popular city park and beach to both locals and tourists. It's a great place to picnic, stroll, swim, or simply sit and enjoy the amazing Monterey Bay views. When you're there, don't be surprised if you happen upon a wedding ceremony. The Husband and I walked the trail between Lovers Point and Cannery Row with friends on New Year's Day 2014. We started from Lovers Point, where we had a picnic and remembered our friend Charlie who had passed away the previous year. The walk back from Cannery Row was tough. My knee protested every step back. Thank goodness for the camera, which distracted me as I clicked away. L