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Lite up the season
Thanksgiving dinner prep work is underway at the Rooster’s house. Today it is the filling for the bird, and does it smell good. We passed te baton several years ago, Kathryn had us all, about thirty, last year. Sarah has the honor this year. No taking the ferry on Turkey Day to cross the Wicomico, guessing the operator has the day off, what could be a 15 minute trip will now take 35. Bummer!
Saturday of this week will be the annual Wicomico Yacht Club Boat parade. For the past month in conjunction with the Marine Corps “Toys for Tots” program, toys have been collected and will be distributed up river in the Port of Salisbury.
We will break out some festive things to decorate the house this weekend and they shall remain up until 6 January, the Epiphany (/əˈpɪfəni/ ə-PIF-ə-nee), also known as “Theophany” in Eastern Christian tradition,[1] is a Christian feast day commemorating the visit of the Magi, the baptism of Jesus, and the wedding at Cana.[2]
The wife is a “Facebook” reader, never does she post. On occasion she may ask the Rooster to send a congratulatory note or condolences for us both, that’s about the extent of her correspondence. She has a Quilting friend up in Alaska and that friend recently had a Facebook post tht went something like this:
I don’t mean to be a Grinch, however —to those who who choose Christmas lights, decorations in your yards and the like, please avoid using lights of flashing red and blue together. Every time I come around the corner, I think it’s the POLICE and I have a panic attack. I have to brake hard, throw out my wine, fasten my seat belt, turn the radio down and stash the gun under the seat. All of this while trying to drive at the posted speed limit. It’s just too much drama, even for Christmas. Thank you for your cooperation and understanding.
Sometime we just need to laugh!
I hope all enjoyed their Thanksgiving feast.
Don’t forget to check on the elderly!
ZZZZZZZZ
Do you dream, I certainly do. But, for the life of me I seldom can remember them. Oh I’ll remember a highlight or two every now and then but never the whole thing. Just recently I was Bass fishing ith grandson Tommy, I know where we were, I remember drinking Apple Cider, did I catch something, can’t remember.
Now, the little woman cuddled up next to me, she’s different, people, places, colors, what a memory. Then on wake-up I get the full report. Hold on a minute says I, I gotta Pee. Some things just can’t wait, but this age when you gotta go, you gotta go.
Upon return after the wake-up call, it’s time to listen. The fact that she’s reading each day bout the LDS Church, the (Golden Tablets) caves and Joseph Smith has obviously stimulated her recant ability. Here below is my recollection of the event.
The Dream ZZZZZZZ
Opening her eyes she looked to her palm. What is this envelope? OMG, it’s a medication pouch from the prison. She hadn’t seen one of these since she retired as a nurse working in a prison, and that was years ago. What is happening she thought, Is this a dream, a step back in time, what pray God was going on?
She started to lift the envelope’s flap, but a voice stopped her. “ No need to look, there’s money in there.” She was told that she was to take the envelope to Zion church. But Zion church where, she thought to herself. In the area of Maryland where she lives there is a Zion church.There is even a Zion Church Rd. Was this where the voice wanted me to go? She closed her eyes and tried to think.
It was not long when she found herself in front of a church door. How she wound up there, she had no idea. As she reached for the door’s handle, it magically opened. Standing in front of her was a priest in a majestic robe of pink.”Is this Zion church,” she asked? Looking back over her shoulder she could tell she was a in Hartford, CT. Off to her right was the campus of the University of Connecticut. How could that be, the University is 25 miles away in Storrs. How did I ever get to Connecticut?
The priest was of no help she recalled, trying her best to remember what transpired. However, upon entering the church she was met by granddaughter Samantha, Samantha’s husband Zed, and their four children. They were so happy learning that Grannie was reading and learning about the Nephites. Of late, to better understand their religious followings, she had been reading “The Book of Mormon.”
As she looked around she realized she was awake and was sitting up in bed. Money in a pill envelope? Why Zion church? A priest in pink vestments? Why was UConn in Hartford and why was she there? What did all that mean? And, what is a Nephrite? And, what about those tablets in a cave?
Perhaps tonight, I can pickup where I left off and get some answers she thought. Time to put her sneakers on and take her two mile walk, A daily ritual for this old gal who turned eighty recently. Read on old lady, she says to herself.
Don’t forget about the elderly, we need all the help we can get. As an end note, can’t we just all get along, be KIND to one-another!!!!! Ephesians 4:32. Be kind and loving to each other, and forgive each other just as God forgave you in Christ.
Chuck IT!
As I’ve mentioned previously, Jack Limpert’s Blog, “About Editing and Writing” is a blog I follow and read religiously. After reading the below I said to me self, “Yep, that be me.”
Back in Junior High, I was told by my mother and stepfather, you must take a Language. French, Latin, and Spanish were the options, I chose Spanish. I was no ball of fire academically back in those days. Actually, it lasted for a few years. It’s only for my desire to play football that I made it through high school and a diploma prior to beginning my formal education in Parris Island, SC.
While in High School I once again was told I had to take a Language and it would be Latin. You got it, didn’t pass that course. A bit of a rebel I was back then. After several tries at ninth (9) grade I was a tenth grader (10) and once again took Spanish. I think the teacher liked football players, and somehow I passed.
After the Marine Corps, I spent a few years as a professional Firefighter. I would find myself at one point, a member of the Special Services/Community Relations arm of the Dept. Sent me they did to a Spanish Speaking class. I got a certificate of completion and actually learned a lot of relevant stuff, ie: Consígueme una escalera, quite useful when one does not want to jump.
I would also, during my career as a State Trooper learn a bit of street Spanish here and there. By the time of my retirement I had been using Spanish for nie on to thirty plus years.
Today, my greatest use of the language is when I tell the young lads who mow our lawn –
“Cómprense unas cervezas después del trabajo.” I’m done with Spanish classes, lets have a cold one.
Why You Should Swap Your Bucket List For a Chuck-It List
September 4, 2023
From a Washington Post column by Valerie Tiberius headlined “Why you should swap your bucket list for a chuck-it list”:
On my father’s 75th birthday, he announced some news: He no longer intended to learn Spanish. He told me that, for most of his life, he imagined he would one day speak the language fluently, but this year, at this new age and vantage point, he was giving up that goal.
He seemed a little melancholy about it but mostly relieved that he no longer had this piñata of shame hanging over his head.
Best of all, he adopted a mental heuristic for this goal-no-longer that I believe has liberating potential for everyone: Learning Spanish, he told me, was now an item on his “chuck-it list.”
Bucket lists can be a fun, inspirational tool — they encourage us to chase new experiences, such as learning chess or going on an African safari. But let’s face it: They can also be oppressive, irritating reminders that you can’t afford that $3,000 flight to Johannesburg.
As a philosopher of well-being, I can tell you that philosophers tend to divide into three camps on the subject: hedonists, who think well-being is all about good feelings; objectivists, who believe we live well when we achieve things with value transcending the individual; and desire satisfactionists, who think well-being means fulfilling your own goals.
I am in the third camp. I like that this approach respects individual differences and explains why there are so many different good lives. But it also has a serious flaw: Focusing on pursuing our goals often leaves us running on a treadmill of desire and frustration.
The solution to this problem lies in choosing which goals to pursue. The mere pursuit of a goal won’t promote your well-being — you have to be selective. This is where the chuck-it list comes into play.
Are you the kind of person who is going to be on your deathbed regretting that you missed your chance to ride in a hot-air balloon, like Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz”? Then do it! But when I really thought about that long-held fantasy, I let it go pretty easily, along with parasailing and completing a “century” (a 100-mile bike ride). I felt liberated when I moved these activities to my chuck-it list. It freed me to think about what I actually want to do — which is, turns out, shorter bike rides and flying only in the safety of a commercial airplane.
Of course, building the chuck-it list can be difficult. In his book “Four Thousand Weeks,” Oliver Burkeman reminds us of the old time-management trick of thinking of your goals as rocks that you have to fit into the glass jar of your life. The advice is to put in the big rocks (important goals) first because otherwise you’ll fill your jar with little, unimportant pebbles and won’t be able to fit in the big ones later.
Burkeman dislikes this advice: He points out that the metaphor presupposes that we can squeeze in all the big rocks if we start with them, which might not be true. I agree. Sometimes, it’s a big rock that we have to move to the chuck-it list.
Discarding goals that we really care about is difficult; failing to complete them can elicit sadness or regret. For my father, the relief of letting go of speaking fluent Spanish came tinged with sadness because he saw learning a foreign language as valuable. When you move things to your chuck-it list because you can’t physically do them anymore (e.g., a marathon), there’s also likely to be a layer of disappointment about aging and the reminder of mortality.
The same can be said about goals on a bucket list made impossible by financial constraints or time limitations: They force us to come to terms with circumstances beyond our control.
So what should we do about these negative feelings?
My neighbor, a retired pianist and choir director, told me she took learning certain difficult musical compositions off her bucket list. She described the resulting feeling as “sweet loss” — sweet because she can still listen to those beloved pieces, loss because she’s not going to be the one playing them.
Accepting this wisdom requires a shift in perspective. Bucket lists tie the value of our dreams to our value as individuals. Once we cut that tie, we can still appreciate the value of our abandoned goals by finding pleasure in the achievements of others.
Shifting away from a self-centered perspective can help giving up goals feel a bit less bitter. And really, what is the alternative? Keep everything on your bucket list and try to stuff all the rocks into the jar? This inevitably leads to disappointment and frustration. It might also lead to missing out on enjoying what wasn’t on your bucket list — things brought to you by serendipity that you couldn’t plan for, or things you’ve been taking for granted.
This is why I believe your chuck-it list is just as important as your bucket list. As you age, you grow into a different person with new priorities; your goals should evolve, too. Give yourself permission to remove those items you’ll probably never get to. And most important: Don’t feel bad about it.
Valerie Tiberius is a professor of philosophy at the University of Minnesota and the author of “What Do You Want Out of Life? A Philosophical Guide to Figuring Out What Matters.”
Return to Maryland
We stayed in Connecticut for four days. My enjoyable highlight is the fact that daughter-in-law Beth always has a grape bowl on the table. Grapes are probably my largest sugar downfall. Granddaughter Jill helps me to keep them from spoiling.
Does eating grapes raise your blood glucose?
These glucose molecules get absorbed quickly and can raise blood sugar levels very quickly. On the other hand, Grapes do not cause blood glucose levels to go up when taken in moderation. The glycemic index of grapes is toward the lower end, which means moderate consumption does not affect blood glucose levels. (Thanks Yahoo)
Thursday evening would be Rebecca’s HS graduation. I elected to stay back and watch the IT feed of the graduation. Luna and I enjoyed the production.
After the graduation, the large extended family returned to Matt & Beth’s home for a celebratory event. Great finger food and beverages prevailed. The star of the evening (Rebecca) would be off to the BUBBLE. Recent years have seen the senior class locked into this facility for all kinds of activities. A safe environment to enjoy an entire night of contests and activities.
We had one more full day with the Connecticut family before our Acela ride to Maryland and Amtrak’s station at BWI. On Saturday of that week, Matt would play UBER and take us to New Haven to catch the train. Once again a nice wheelchair, thanks to my private Red Cap. I tried tipping him, but he refused.
Once again we were seated in car #5, only two seats together this time. The seats are very similar in comfort and spaciousness to First Class airline seating.
The ride to Baltimore was uneventful and on time. The train journey time between New Haven and BWI Rail Station is around 4h 13m and covers a distance of around 269 miles.
Once again Elevators eliminated stairs and we were quickly at the shuttle P/U area. Our plan was to Shuttle to Rental Car Shuttle at the airport and drive home. This method would be cheaper than a trip on Bay-Runner shuttle to Salisbury. This method turned out to be effortless and we were in our KIA in no time.
The Kia was quite responsive in the get-up-and-go area. The side mirrors were horrible for my use. Having an SUV at home I was not comfortable with the close-to-the-road seats. But, all in all, it served its purpose. We would return this vehicle to SBY the next day.
We would choose “The Fishermans Inn” on Kent Island for a dinner stop. I would have Fish & Chips and Mary Agnes would dine with a Sea Food Platter. Shrimp, Crab Cake & Scallops were featured. For dessert, we shared a large scoop of Vanilla Ice cream, made on campus and fantastic.
Our ride the rest of the way home was uneventful. The greatest obstacle, other than beach traffic is sharing the road with the Deer. They never seem to cross at the signs erected by the State Highway Dept.
So, we had a great trip, we highly recommend Amtrak and Acela, should you be traveling the DC – Boston corridor. Thanks for stopping by and glancing at my Rooster Scratchings. Have a safe summer and don’t forget to check on the elderly. One benefit of old age is that your secrets are always safe with your friends … because they can’t remember them!
Woof Woof
I’m going to share something from “The Paris Review,” it’s one of my yearly expenses and I’m reading of the works of many people past and present. What is the “Paris Review” you ask.
- The Paris Review, American literary quarterly founded in 1953 by Peter Matthiessen, Harold L. Humes, and George Plimpton, with Plimpton also serving as the first editor. It is an English-language review modeled on the independent literary magazines (also known as “ little magazines ”) published in Paris in the 1920s.
After reading this poem in the most recent review, I could not but look at my own pets down through the years, especially dogs.
My dogs started with a Mutt named Lady, I can not remember when she crossed the Rainbow Bridge. However I do know the loss of a pet can be an emotionally devastating experience. I do know Lady was my pal early in life back in the 40’s. Somewhere around the age of 9 or 10 we adopted Scarlet & Amber, Dalmations from the same litter. They were inseparable and lasted at most, and I’m guessing, a month? They had to be returned as they were not good house pets I was told.
Next was Co Co, full name CoCO Mimi Celest by Hecht. I turned that girl into a hunting a dog, ten yards out, back and forth, Quail, Grouse, Pheasant or whatever, kick it to the air she would. She loved the hedgerows of Burlington County, NJ back in the late 50’s and early 60’s. Most of those hedge rows and birds no longer exist. The only downfall of this girl was, she hated getting her feet wet. Whenever we came to a stream, I’d cross, lay the Shotgun down and return for CoCo’s ride across the water.
In 1969 or 70 I brought home from work a medium sized scruffy wire haired dog named Ping. The name, she used to lay beneath the Ping Pong table at the firehouse I worked at. An old LaFrance (1947) 100 ft aerial ladder truck co. in Hartford, CT is what I rode. Back in the day I like to say.
The Mrs. wasn’t too keen on this pathetic looking creature and I remember her saying, “If he so much as nips once, any of the children, out he goes. The kids, a new born, one, 1 yo and another age 3. Never a nip, had that wonderful pet for a good ten years. Called her Ping the Wonder Dog back in the day.
A Yellow Lab with the name of Saucy would also join us those years in Connecticut. Once the fruit of the vine appeared, we continuously found Cucumbers on our lawn from neighbors gardens, the Lords bounty.
After my retirement from the CT State Police we moved to the Eastern Shore of Maryland, a sort of compromise between Maine, the Mrs. choice, and Florida, my choice. We wound up getting a Black Lab – Mix, and what we suspect was the father, a Collie named Chief. That Mutts name was Troop.
We would have a Marsh and a Duke along the way. Next to last we had a Maggi, a Standard Poodle and presently, another Standard Poodle, Benjamin.
Many of the atributes mentioned in the poem I am about to share existed in one or all of our past canines.
Without further ado, I share with you.
| Erica Jong Jubilate Canis (With apologies to Christopher Smart) For I will consider my dog Poochkin (& his long-lost brothers, Chekarf & Dogstoyevsky). For he is the reincarnation of a great canine poet. For he barks in meter, & when I leave him alone his yelps at the door are epic. For he is white, furry, & resembles a bathmat. For he sleeps at my feet as I write & therefore is my greatest critic. For he follows me into the bathroom & faithfully pees on paper. For he is almost housebroken. For he eats the dog food I give him but also loves Jarlsberg swiss cheese. For he disdains nothing that smells— whether feet or roses. For to him, all smells are created equal by God— both turds and perfumes. For he loves toilet bowls no less than soup bowls. For by watching, I have understood democracy. For by watching him, I have understood democracy. For he turns his belly toward God & raises his paws & penis in supplication. For he hangs his pink tongue out of his mouth like a festival banner for God. For though he is male, he has pink nipples on his belly like the female. For though he is canine, he is more humane than most humans. For when he dreams he mutters in his sleep like any poet. For when he wakes he yawns & stretches & stands on his hind legs to greet me. For, after he shits, he romps and frolics with supreme abandon. For after he eats, he is more contented than any human. For in every room he will find the coolest corner, & having found it, he has the sense to stay there. From issue no. 71 (Fall 1977) |
| Don’t forget to check on the elderly. theRooster |
Reading at a young age.
My favorite children’s stories?
Hans Brinker and his silver skates was one of the first books I ever remember having. It was a historical novel by Mary Mapes Dodge. Now I consider myself old, in 2023 I shall turn 80 years old. This book, it’s really old, it was written in 1865. I had a bedside table in my room in the apartment my mother and I lived in. This apartment was the 2’nd floor of my great grandmother and great grandfather, Lena and William Peachmann. We lived there until until 1950. That book was always on the shelf of the bedside table.
So, I was reading at age seven. And yes, I’m still reading today. Several eye surgeries of late have put a bit of a crimp in this enjoyable endeavor.
Two memories of my great grandfather, who I called Grandpop, by the way, were playing checkers and him wittling. I especially remember him whittling a canoe and shavings always on the floor around his chair. And my goodness, I loved playing checkers anytime. Great grandmother Lena was my surrogate mother during those first seven years. She kept me well fed. She was grandmom, and spoiled me with love.
One other book, “Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson” was always next to the bed. Treasure Island is one book I’ve read more than once. “For sheer storytelling delight and pure adventure, Treasure Island has never been surpassed. From the moment young Jim Hawkins first encounters the sinister Blind Pew at the Admiral Benbow Inn until the climactic battle for treasure on a tropic isle, the novel creates scenes and characters that have fired the imaginations of generations of readers”. Thanks to HTTPS://WWW.GOODREADS.COM/BOOK/SHOW/295.TREASURE_ISLAND for this bit of information.
Here’s a book review on Hans Brinker from – HTTPS://WWW.PLUGGEDIN.COM/BOOK-REVIEWS/HANS-BRINKER-OR-SILVER-SKATES/.
Hans Brinker, age 15, and his sister, Gretel, age 12, live in Holland in the mid-1800s. Ten years before this tale unfolds, their father, Raff, suffered an injury that left him senseless and incapacitated. The children and their mother have lived in poverty ever since. They know Raff buried a large sum of money prior to his fall, but he’s unable to tell them where it’s hidden. Raff also left a fine watch with Dame Brinker just before his accident, making her promise to keep it safe. She knows nothing of its mysterious origins and has often considered selling it to feed the family.Hollanders get around in the winter by skating on the frozen canals. Hans and Gretel can’t afford real skates, so they strap blocks of wood to their feet. Though many wealthier children look down on the Brinkers, a few, including Hilda van Gleck, Peter van Holp and Annie Bouman, show great kindness and generosity. Hilda and Peter buy Hans’ homemade necklaces so he and Gretel can afford real skates without feeling they’ve taken charity. These children provide other necessities for the Brinkers as well.The children of the city are overcome with excitement when they learn of an upcoming skating contest. The fastest girl and the fastest boy will each win a pair of silver skates.As Hans goes to town to purchase his skates, he spies the renowned surgeon Dr. Boekman on the street. Hans offers his skate money to the man, if the doctor will examine Raff. Touched by Hans’ story, the doctor refuses the money and promises to come see Raff when he returns from a trip.Shortly thereafter, Raff’s health deteriorates. Hans and Peter go in search of the doctor, but without success. When Dr. Boekman finally returns, he performs a risky surgery to relieve pressure on Raff’s brain. Raff experiences healing that is miraculous. Though his memory is foggy, he is essentially the same person he was before his accident. He helps the family find the lost money, and the Brinkers are finally able to support themselves in a reasonable manner.Raff also begins to remember the story behind the watch he’d left with Dame Brinker. It was given to him by a man named Thomas Higgs who was fleeing the country. Thomas believed he’d inadvertently poisoned someone. He asked Raff to contact his father and give him the watch. Thomas told Raff to have his father contact him if it was ever safe for him to return to Holland. On one of Dr. Boekman’s visits, the Brinkers discover Thomas Higgs is the doctor’s son. Dr. Boekman explains that he had prevented the poisoned man’s death, so Thomas was not in any legal trouble. He’s thrilled to learn his son may still be alive, and Hans promises to help the doctor find Thomas. Through another coincidence, they trace Thomas to England. He returns home immediately.Hans and Gretel, along with all of the children of the town, join the race for the silver skates. Gretel wins in the girls’ category. Hans is one of the finalists in the boys’ category. When Peter’s skate strap breaks right before the final run, Hans graciously gives his strap to his friend. Peter wins the race.Dr. Boekman later returns to the Brinkers’ house to introduce his son. Thomas will be starting a business in town and offers Raff a job as his right-hand man. When Dr. Boekman learns of Hans’ interest in surgery, he invites the boy to become his apprentice.In a sub-plot, Peter leads a group of boys on a multi-day skating adventure to various Holland cities. The boys (including an English boy named Ben) see numerous historical sites and share stories about famous Dutchmen over the years. The narrator uses this trip to show readers a detailed geography and history of Holland. One legend made famous by this novel is the tale of the Dutch boy who sticks his finger in a dike to save his town from flooding. Peter and the boys say this tale represents the spirit of Holland. Any leak, be it in government, public safety or honor, is quickly filled by a million fingers. The boys lose their money, sail on an ice boat and catch a thief before visiting Peter’s sister’s mansion and returning home for the big race.
My take away from this was that the children of the Neherlands drank beer and wine in place of contaminated water. I thought that was neat.
My First Trip
My parents separated early in my life, I was two to three years old at the time. Japan, Germany and Italy came between those two young marrieds. My mother would have a small apartment over my maternal great-grandparents home in New Jersey not far from Philadelphia. My maternal grandparents would live but a block away. I was loved, dotted upon and for accounts and purposes, spoiled. My grandparents would always cart me along with them on any trip or outing.
I’m not sure which was my first trip, in the summer summer or winter,. I will write on both, these were trips with my maternal Grandmother and Grandfather. That would be Harry and Emma Wittman from Audubon, NJ. A trip to New York City prior to November 5th 1951 comes to mind. So, perhaps eight years old. I know prior to that date as the NJ turnpike was not open to Exit 10 from the Delaware Memorial Bridge as yet. We got on our bus in Camden, NJ and traveled old route 130 and crossed into NYC via the Lincoln Tunnel onto W. 36th st. I remember as a youngster, I would often hold my breath in a Tunnel.
We would stay in the Victoria Hotel, 160 Central Park South. It is now a Landmark, Marriott house. We would make this trip several times, always staying in the Victoria. It was quite nice back in the day and continues to remain so.
This particular trip was during cold weather and obviously close to Christmas. I know this as we went to Radio City Music Hall and saw their Christmas production. I shall forever remember the Rockettes.
We also saw some ice skating, it was so long ago I remember not where. Here is a little history on Ice Skating in NYC, should you be interested.
I remember walking about the city, going into Gimbels department store and being awestruck on the toy floor. I remember the elevator and the operator, announcing the floors. Being an effective elevator operator required many skills. Manual elevators were often controlled by a large lever. The elevator operator had to regulate the elevator’s speed, which typically required a good sense of timing to consistently stop the elevator level with each floor. In addition to their training in operation and safety, department stores later combined the role of operator with greeter and tour guide, announcing product departments, floor by floor, and occasionally mentioning special offers. I would always get a special gift on one of these trips. I remember also getting jostled a bit as the operator lined up the lift so as one would not trip exiting.
On the same trip, 6 months prior or 6 months later, warmer weather, anyway, we would have a boat trip. That trip would either be the Circle line around Manhattan or a trip from the Battery out to the Statue of Liberty. I got to do both back in the day.
The Circle Line Trip was a cruise all the way around Manhattan Island on a guided boat tour that takes in every angle of New York City’s iconic waterfront. Traveling by boat means unobstructed views of the Manhattan skyline, the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Statue of Liberty—ideal for snapping memorable photographs. With live narration throughout the cruise, learn about the Big Apple while passing all five of New York’s boroughs.
The trip out to the statute of Liberty was special also. Visits to the Statue of Liberty National Monument and Ellis Island are musts in the Big Apple. On this guided tour, you get boarding on the ferry from Manhattan to visit the two important historical sites. Visit the grounds of Liberty Island and go inside the Statue of Liberty Museum. Then hop the ferry to Ellis Island and learn about the millions of people who arrived here between 1892 and 1954 in hope of living the American dream.
The highlight of my first trip was the ability to spit out of the window and to watch it travel down however many floors we were up. I also remember hanging out the window to see if I hit anyone down below. My leaning out the window and my grandmother going bezerk is still implanted in my head today. Three steps up a ladder with my vertigo is a high climb today.
We would take several trips to NYC prior to age 13, the age my grandfather died. Those trips were always special. Oh to be able to recall such details. Now, to what do I attribute that gift?
I Can See Clearly Now
So, January 30 was my last post here on WordPress. I surely am not getting my $$$$ worth. Had some vision issues for a bit, which have been corrected with surgery two weeks ago. Well, mostly corrected, I still have a way to go, but much improved. Enough said on that subject.
To most of you whom I follow, I have tried to acknowledge your posts, for the most part anyway. If I’ve missed you, please forgive me.
This world of ours has flipped a bit upside down of late. Let us not blame the Russian people, there is enough hate out there already.
This past weekend I got to marry my nephew to his new bride.
Come June I’ll get to perform another wedding. This time it will be in Rhode Island and my brother Richard will marry the love of his life, Tina. Joseph and Ashton were married in Lewes, DE. I’ve also done ceremonies in Maryland and Connecticut. Things like this keep an old man out of trouble. So far all have been relatives, I can’t even make a buck on these events, You just can’t charge family.
For those who remember Aunt Barb, well she treated the wedding party to a grand meal of one’s choice at Baywood Golf Course. The Mrs. and I have eaten there on numerous occasions and have never been disappointed. Thanks, Aunt Barb! If you’re ever near the Delaware Beaches, it’s a great dining experience.
I leave you for this day, and feel good a blog is out. To all of you who know of the Rooster, Hello Again!
Suggestions of what to read (from my daughter.)
My daughter Kathryn shares with me often a reading list of worthy books. Her most recent list consisted of seven books to read. Here are two I thought worthy of a share. Shares were permitted in the article and here are all seven should you care to be interested.
I shall also share with you another Blog site. This Blogger does a great job of book revues. We,my wife, daughter, and the Rooster, constantly cackle back and forth as to who these Bloggers I refer to are. Are they friends or acquaintances? Sometimes I even say my Blogging Buddy. So now, just what constitutes a Friend, Acquaintance or Buddy in the Blogging World? Should you have any thoughts in this area please feel free to comment.
Here goes the two I selected from Kathryn’s list of seven but first, here are two Santa brought me this year. They were:
1: “The Secret World of Weather”
My Two of Seven Pics from Kathryn were:
1: “Deep Country” is Neil Ansell’s account of five years spent alone in a hillside cottage in Wales.
‘I lived alone in this cottage for five years, summer and winter, with no transport, no phone. This is the story of those five years, where I lived and how I lived. It is the story of what it means to live in a place so remote that you may not see another soul for weeks on end. And it is the story of the hidden places that I came to call my own, and the wild creatures that became my society.’
Neil Ansell immerses himself in the rugged British landscape, exploring nature’s unspoilt wilderness and man’s relationship with it. Deep Country is a celebration of rural life and the perfect read for fans of Robert Macfarlane’s Landmarks, Helen Macdonald’s H is for Hawk orJames Rebanks’ A Shepherd’s Life.
‘A beautiful, translucent portrayal of mid-Wales’ Jay Griffiths
‘Touching. Through Ansell’s charming and thoroughly detailed stories of run-ins with red kites, curlews, sparrowhawks, jays and ravens, we see him lose himself . . . in the rhythms and rituals of life in the British wilderness’ Financial Times
‘Remarkable, fascinating’ Time Out
‘A gem of a book, an extraordinary tale. Ansell’s rich prose will transport you to a real life Narnian world that CS Lewis would have envied. Find your deepest, most-comfortable armchair and get away from it all’ Countryfile
Neil Ansell spent five years living on a remote hillside in Wales, and wrote his first book, Deep Country, about the experience. Since that time, he has become an award-winning television journalist with the BBC. He has travelled in over fifty countries and has written for the Guardian, the New Statesman and the Big Issue.
2: “This, Becoming Free” by Michael Gungor
Ben Palmer, Associate Editor, News Division
I absolutely love memoirs, and this is one of the best memoirs I’ve ever read. Michael Gungor was a worship leader at a large church and a Grammy-nominated Christian musician who eventually left his faith entirely and embarked on a journey to really figure out what he believed. In the process, Gungor learned to let go of the stories that were defining who he was, working his way through various belief systems, including atheism and mysticism.
While Gungor’s story on its own is fascinating, what makes this such a great memoir is how different it is from other memoirs. Personally, I would’ve been happy with just his story of losing almost everything he knew to find who he is. But on top of that, Gungor adds in poems, artwork, musings on spirituality and philosophy, a little bit of everything, all in what amounts to a fairly quick read.
If you enjoy spirituality or dabble in the world of mysticism or philosophy or just like to talk about whatever is going on here in this world where a whole bunch of embodied awareness are floating around on a rock spinning in infinity, “This: Becoming Free” is a book you’ll love.
Thank you https://www.advisory.com/Daily-Briefing. for allowing an amateur like myself to share this in the Blogging World
The First Blog
I find it hard to believe I started blogging way back in 2008, February 2008 actually. I used Blogspot by Google back then. I’ll still copy and paste on that venue from time to time. For today however, I shall share with you my first blog. A few things are different however, like I was up at 0400 this morning with the Mrs having coffee. She is gone, having walked to the eldest daughter’s home a mile away. The Mrs usually has 10,000 steps in prior to 0800. The daughters, now that’s a busy house, at the moment. husband Jeff (where in the world is Jeff ?) he’s still working from home for the government. Youngest daughter Abby and husband Antwan are living in the Frog, (Finished room over the garage). Their cat, Friday and dog Phoebe are there also. Oh, on Friday the young’ns are expecting their first child. Kathryn & Jeff have Libby, 14 YO Yellow Lab and their cat Bolt. That’s what the cat does when he she sees a stranger, BOLTS. On this morning daughter Kathryn will be out the door early for a Salvation Army breakfast.
So here you go folks, should anyone be interested, my first BLOG.
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 2008
Blog, kind of sounds like a cold, or a zit or some kind of an affliction. My first day with a blog, now what do I do with it?
Well to start off I’ll let the world know how I start my day on the Internet.
My start up page is http//refdesk.com
Having spent twenty years in Connecticut I next go to http://www.courant.com/ to check on the local news and how the UCONN Huskies are doing in any given season. I’m a forty year Huskie fan. http://www.uconnhuskies.com/
Next up, but sometimes #1 is the weather. While in the Marine Corps, way back when, I was in Weather as an occupation with Rawinsonde as a sub specialty. http://usmilitary.about.com/library/milinfo/marineenjobs/bl68.htm
I use a verity of weather related sites www.nws.noaa.gov/ #1, my other favorites are www.accuweather.com and www.weatherunderground.com
During the Hurricane season I live by the National Hurricane Center. www.nhc.noaa.gov/
I have friends and family in CT, FL, CA, and affections to Key West, FL, Pagosa Springs, CO, Flagstaff, AZ and Ireland and Germany. So, I usually check on the weather in those places.
Next it’s off to the Washington Post and Washington Times to get two diametric views on the news. www.washingtonpost.com
www.washingtontimes.com
After the two DC papers I go to Google News, which I have preference settings in and glance over that. Next is onto my mail servers.
From then on I usually have a Memo Pad with notes on things to look up and it’s off I go. This all starts shortly after I get up, usually around 0500. Once downstairs it’s a hot cup of tea to start the day.
Here, I’ve given the world the start of my day for the start of a BLOG. I shall end this bantering with saying Cead Mile Failte
TheRooster Semper Fi
Don’t forget to check on the elderly.
As The Rooster Crows 