Archive for the ‘Rants and Raves’ Category

Surprises and Fun All Day Long!

Saturday, March 9th, 2024

Nancy Lloyd – Photo by Andy Dolan c. 2003

Today was the day that I was to Get Things Done.  It said so on my calendar in my own handwriting.  And so I did — but not at all as expected!

At the top of my list was to call my old friend Nancy Lloyd which I did, but had to leave a message.  Then I spent three or four good productive hours writing before going to Colleen’s to meet with another friend, Patricia Moss.  She has moved and this is the first time we’ve managed to catch up with one another in many months.  We had no sooner hugged and settled in with a cup of coffee than Nancy called and I had to beg off and tell her I’d call later.

Patricia Moss, Art Historian

Great “catch-up” with Patricia — hearing about her latest art sleuthing projects and, as always, being blown away by her meticulous research in her work as an Art Detective.  (Well, that’s what I call her, though I’m sure there is a proper and more academic title for her job.)  I always feel inspired by her single-minded dedication and, as usual when we parted, I was filled with resolve for getting right back to work.

But first… I headed south to Long Beach to the Performing Arts Center to see Spud Siegel and the Snakeskinners. Sandy Bradley, one of the band members, had called me earlier in the day to ask if I was coming  (No. Gormless, as usual.  And, yes if there was still room.  And yes, again, if I didn’t mind sharing a table with her brother.)

From The Bottom: Spud, Mick, Sandy, George

I was greeted at the door with a big hug from Spud and a request to do a House Concert here in Oysterville again next Fall.  Wow!  Details to be worked out later.  The last time he played here, he was with Mary Flower; next time it will probably be with one of the other Snakeskinners.  In addition to Spud on the mandolin and Sandy on guitar, the group includes Mick Doherty on hammer dulcimer and George Penk on fiddle.  Only Spud and Mick sing.  And I meant to ask George if he always performs barefoot, but I forgot.  Most of their numbers were Irish in deference to Saint Patrick’s Day — or perhaps they bill themselves as an Irish Band but from the smattering of non-Irish music they played, I doubt it.  They are totally eclectic and multi-national.

It was a fabulous evening and, despite pouring rain, glaring headlights, and pitch black surroundings, I made it home safely.  I called Nancy immediately, but no luck.  I hope I did not miss my opportunity entirely when I had to postpone things earlier today.

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God willin’ an’ the snow don’t fall…

Thursday, March 7th, 2024

Color!

In three days, Daylight Savings Time begins.  In twelve days, Spring begins.  And I am SO ready!

Every time I’m out and about, I seem to acquire more seed packets.  The brighter the colors, the less my resistance!  I bring them home knowing full well that I am WAY early weather-wise and that I must work on cultivating patience rather than garden flowers.

More Color!

My friends remind me that it’s not the first March that has had a seemingly inordinate amount of frosty, slushy, even downright snowy weather.  But… somehow, I’ve forgotten.  March is supposed to be the time when we begin getting ready for the delights to come.  We’ve already cut and enjoyed most of the daffodils.  We’ve given the camelias and rosebuds up to the deer.  ENOUGH say I.  Bring on the sun and the warmth and the joys of Spring!

I AM SO READY!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wow, Fred Carter! Just… WOW!

Monday, February 26th, 2024

Fred Tunes His 37 Strings!

As promised, Fred arrived a bit early on Sunday.  He and Vicki unloaded and unloaded and unloaded their vehicle — three guitars, one banjo, one dobro, one mandolin  — plus his spiffy ipad that has all the words. a stool of just the right height and a mystery box (that I, for one, didn’t really notice until well into the second set.) He got right to work — tuning all 37 strings!

And the audience began arriving.  And arriving.  And arriving.  We had to get more chairs and even snagged a couple of tall stools from the kitchen.   A FULL house!  Forty counting me (but not Fred.)  I probably didn’t keep a well-updated list — I thought we had 30 coming.  I couldn’t have been more pleased!

Fred played each of his instruments and told a little about it — including the cigar box guitar — an unusual six-string one — made for him by a luthier who lives here on the Peninsula.  Except the box.  He said nothing about it until into the second set when he just picked up and began the wild beat that accompanies “They’re Coming To Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!”  It brought down the house!

And someone brought the most gorgeous roses — forgive me but I’ve forgotten who!

Apparently, Fred had had a number of requests ahead of time — mostly music from the ’60s era. And mostly love songs.  I don’t think there was a dry eye when he dedicated “Look At Us” by Vince Gill to Vicki in honor of Valentine’s Day just past — their 35th together.  He had dedicated the entire concert to those with February Birthdays (my request, as mine is the 28th and neighbor Sandra’s is the 29th.)

Only one other in the crowd — Ray Hansen from Utah — admitted to a birthday this month and I’m not sure if he requested anything special.  Sandra did, however, even though she was unable to be at the concert.  “I was born in the year of the dragon and this is the year of the dragon,” she told me.  So, as his next to last number, Fred played “Puff the Magic Dragon” and we all joined in!

The last number was for Nyel — “Don’t Let The Old Man In,” Toby Keith’s theme song for Clint Eastwood’s 2018 movie “The Mule.”  Fred came with his guitar all the way to St. Vincent’s Hospital that year after Nyel’s final surgery to play it for him and has played it at every musical gathering here since then.  Thank you, dear Fred.  My heart runneth over.

Grief Therapy? Try working on your income tax!

Monday, February 12th, 2024

February 12, 2024

Published in 1998 “Thank you for giving Lottie a home,” the letter said.

“They” say the grieving process can take two years or more.  Some say there are five stages to get through.  Some say there are seven.  And dealing with a suicide, they say, is different.  No one talks about a double suicide, perhaps as many as ten years in the planning, to be done when both parties were “at the top of their game” and “in the peak of health” with everything pre-arranged right down to leaving their home to their cat-sitter so the cats would have the security of a home they had known for years.  And the provision for friends — a letter mailed to arrive after it was all a done deal.  My letter began, “Dear Sydney, It’s time to say goodbye.” Followed by a few thank yous for shared good times and favors.  Handwritten on a page from a lined yellow note pad.  Two signatures.  Over and out.  No forewarning — not ever.

Birthday Visitors- August 2017

Depending on whose list you look at, the first stage in grieving should be “shock” or “denial.”  Sorry.  Once again, I don’t fit the mold.  My reaction was anger pure and simple.  It still is — with quite a dollop of bitterness.  All I could/can think about is what a selfish, uncaring thing to do.  And why did they tell Nyel (and me) so many times that they admired how we dealt with his years of illness and injury?  Admired us?  Or thought we were examples of what they chose not to deal with?  Certainly we weren’t “the role models” they said we were.  They were liars.  Frauds.  Not the good friends we thought they were.

On Two Legs with Michael and Petra, 2014

Still… I’m trying to cut them a little slack.  Perhaps they didn’t truly believe (though they said they did) that we are all connected — that our lives and the way we live them are intertwined on this earth — that we need one another and that faith and charity and all the rest of it can only be expressed with and to the rest of humanity.  How selfish to check out when they were in their prime, flipping off those of us who loved them.  Yes, I’m angry.  I doubt that I’ll ever move past that.

Or, actually, maybe I have already done so — if there’s a stage of grief called irony.  When the letter arrived, I had just begun to pull together all those pieces of “stuff” that I need to send my CPA.  Yes!  It’s income tax time and as I work on it I wonder if that was one of the many things they “took care of” before they checked out. Or did they just blow off that responsibility along with their friendships?  Was their grand gesture just a giant copout?  (If you are tempted to answer… don’t.)  We were good friends (or so I thought) for a quarter of a century and for almost half that time they were secretly planning their time “to say goodbye.”

Unconscionable.

Standing Room Only Tonight in Ilwaco!

Saturday, February 10th, 2024

Joel Underwood

When you’re one of the shorter ones, it’s hard to see everybody in an SRO crowd but, even so, it seemed like everyone I knew was at the Joel Underwood concert tonight in Ilwaco.  The event was a benefit for the Ilwaco crabbers whose crab pots were lost and whose livelihoods were threatened in the devastating fire at the Ilwaco Landing two weeks ago — just days before their season was to open.

The concert was held at the River City Playhouse in Ilwaco, the venue arranged for and organized by Sue and Bill Svendsen of the Performing Arts Center, Long Beach.  And although it was billed as a Joel Underwood Concert, four other musicians joined him on stage during the course of the evening. “I gave each of them a call,” said Joel, “and each of them said ‘yes’ before I finished asking!”

The communities of the Peninsula (and beyond) were well represented  — scores of people there to support the crabbers and to hear Joel’s amazing music.  We weren’t expecting bonus musicians and the enthusiasm increased (which seemed impossible) as each additional player came onstage.  Steve Frost, Daryl Beau, Barney Petrine, and Don King each played, sometimes singly and sometimes with Joel and, finally, in a grand finale, they all played together!  Wow!

Left to Right: Don King, Barney Petrine, Joel Underwood, Daryl Beau, Steve Frost

And, of course, Joel saw to it that the audience also got into the act.  We sang, a bit tentatively at first, but eventually our voices rang out and… were there a few dance steps happening here and there?  “Mr. Bojangles” and “If I Had A Boat” were probably my favorites.  Or maybe best was Joel’s rendition of “The Frozen Logger” reworked as “The Frozen Crabber” in honor of the occasion.

All in all, it was a fabulous evening!  I enjoyed every minute of it and it seems a bonus, indeed, that it was all for a good cause!  And, to my neighbor Cyndy, a special shoutout for treating me to a great evening which included an early gourmet dinner and being chauffeured in her all-electric (and a bit mystifying) car!  Who’da thunk I’d be so lucky?

Me ‘N’ My ‘Puter

Tuesday, January 23rd, 2024

A thinking laptop cartoon character with a question mark.

I spend a lot of time at my computer.  More than with any of my friends or loved ones and certainly more than with any other screen device.  It holds all my “secrets” (such as they are) and is the repository for much of my memory — both in pictures and words, long-term memory as well as short.

So, it’s probably not too weird that when it goes wonky, I feel disoriented and insecure.  Lately, programs that have always responded predictably have been giving me grief.  Occasionally, a familiar site presents itself differently and, scariest of all, I can’t always find my way around in once familiar territory.  I was beginning to feel like one of us has the beginnings of dementia — or maybe both of us.

So, it was a great relief to me when I called my Computer Guru and he took a look.  “You know,” he said, “your computer is pretty old now.  It may be time to consider getting a new one.”  It will have a wider screen and half-again as much memory!  At least, he didn’t suggest that it was my own aging brain that was the trouble — though I have no doubt that that’s part of the problem.  But if I can survive the learning curve of changing from old to new, my ‘puter troubles should disappear — or at least be manageable.

Although, as I think back to my first experiences in CPU-Land some forty  years ago, I don’t think my personal confusion has changed much with regard to cyberspace and its denizens. Dealing with my own aging mind, however,  would not be a matter of replacement as we all know. Becoming confused when dealing with my computer is scary enough.  I hope we can leave it at that for the foreseeable future!

What in the world are they thinking?

Saturday, November 25th, 2023

Mongoose

I guess it’s just my week to be cranky.  But actually, the first page article in the Observer has me far beyond cranky.    “Feds target 400K barred owls to save spotted owl.”  Jeezusly-old-blue-shitwine!  The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, no less. What is the matter with those people?  Too much testosterone?  A firm desire to support the NRA no matter what?  Have they learned NOTHING from other extermination projects gone awry?

At least the introduction of the mongoose to kill the rats in Hawaii was not done under the aegis of the government.  The mice and rats arrived inadvertently with shiploads of people and the sugar growers imported the mongoose to take care of the problem.  If you don’t know the result, Google it.  It’s a classic.

And then there was the near extinction the the bison or buffalo. According to site after site on Google, their destruction  had two important consequences: It left the vast grasslands open to the herds of cattle moving north from Texas. Now cattle ranches appeared in the north. More importantly, though, it robbed the Plains Tribes of the one resource that allowed them to move across the plains and continue their nomadic lifestyle.

Once upon a time…

Presumably, we are smarter now.  Studies are made.  Many studies.  Taxpayer dollars are spent.  Many dollars.  But, I can’t really imagine that we can choose the way we feel Mother Nature should stay in balance and then attempt to keep her that way.  No life form is static.  If the barred owl needs new habitat and it impinges on the spotted owl, perhaps we should let the the spotted owls figure out what to do about it.  Isn’t that the way nature works?  Survival of the fittest and all of that?  Perhaps they will surprise us with their ingenuity.

Meanwhile, the extermination of 400,000 barred owls just doesn’t seem prudent.  No matter how I look at it.

 

My Techno-Tipping Point Looms Ever Closer

Saturday, November 18th, 2023

I am sick of the scams.  More importantly, I’m sick of spending my time trying to determine which are scams and which are real.  They come by email, by text and on Facebook.  Yes,  and speaking of Facebook, I can no longer tell which of my “Friends” are real and which are imposters who have hacked into friends’ accounts or mine.  It is all beyond annoying and I am beginning to weigh the benefits of computer usage against the daily disruption to my peace of mind.

Furthermore, “vexing” doesn’t half express my reaction to the fact that it seems to be up to individual users of the internet to protect themselves from the scammers.  I had a quick “look around” to see what, if anything, the internet, itself, is doing on our behalf.  Here was a typical “response” to my question: “People are losing more money to scammers than ever before. Here’s how to keep yourself safe.” And then… yada, yada, yada — mostly telling me who is most likely to get scammed,  I fully expected this to be us old folks… but no.  It’s Generation Z — those born between the mid-1990s and Mid- 2010s.  (The rise in Social Media seems to be the culprit here.)

And, I might add, if you want to really make yourself crazy, Google “Internet Governance” to learn more about this situation. The article begins:  “Internet governance consists of a system of laws, rules, policies and practices that dictate how its board members manage and oversee the affairs of any internet related – regulatory body.”  Almost immediately comes this sentence: “No one person, company, organization or government runs the Internet. It is a globally distributed network comprising many voluntarily interconnected autonomous networks. It operates without a central governing body with each constituent network setting and enforcing its own policies.”

Yep.  Crazy-making information that didn’t really reassure me.  In fact — the opposite.  Lists and lists of ways I must be ever vigilant which translates in my mind to hours and hours of time when I could be using my pre-electric typewriter, hand-delivering my copy to the paper or mailing my manuscripts to a publisher.  (Risking, of course, their refusal to accept such old-fashioned submissions.)

I’m still pondering.  It’s all beyond annoying.

 

 

 

July 21, 1969 – the beginning of a “new era”

Saturday, November 11th, 2023

Today, in one of my continuing “cleaning out and tidying up” binges, I ran across a copy of The Seattle Times — the “Night Final” edition for Monday, July 21, 1969, 50 pages, Price 10¢.  U.S. Astronauts Open New Era said the headline and the caption of a rather blurry AP. wirephoto read: ALDRIN DEPLOYED SOLAR-WIND EXPERIMENT AS ARMSTRONG, RIGHT, WATCHED.

Charlie and I were at our friends the Sorensens’ house with Marta’s dad — glued to a grainy black and white TV set, as I remember.  We thought Armstrong’s “…one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” statement was cool and wondered if he thought that up himself.  And I remember feeling truly daunted that we all might be traveling into space some day.  (I am not a courageous flyer!)

And down  in the lower right corner Sen. Kennedy Charged With Leaving Scene of Accident.  Ah, yes!  Martha’s Vineyard, Teddy Kennedy, and Mary Jo Kopechne’s death.  Everything wasn’t moon landings and roses back in July 1969.  But… in the shopping news, you could buy a Toilet Seat — “replacement seats for any bathroom for $1.99” and the Help Wanted ads said that men age 19 & over “Regardless of Draft Status” were being hired at $3.80 per hour — no experience necessary.  (The jobs being offered, however, were not explained.)

Well… all-in-all I’m underwhelmed.  With both the Times and the times.  Somehow, many of us made it through but I’m not at all sure that either the small step or the giant step has gotten us very far.  Perhaps my expectations have been too high.

 

Maybe I’m finally getting the hang of it…

Sunday, October 29th, 2023

Black-eyed Susans in the Autumn Sun

A gorgeous day in Oysterville today!   Cool, clear, blue and gold and yellow and amber.  Autumn in all its glory!  Not a day for introspection and yet… here I was thinking (of all things!) about the people I’ve known over my lifetime that I could not sustain as friends.  And yet…

Somehow, it started with my thinking about my two biggest failures relationship-wise.  Husband #1 and Husband #2.  But my thoughts weren’t so much about my failings as what I gained from those marriages.  Besides Charlie and Marta, I mean.  They are gifts unto themselves.

Morgan, Quad (Charlie), Sydney – 1957

No.  I was thinking that had it not been for Morgan (Charlie’s dad), how long would it have taken me to learn that I could stand on my own two feet, provide for myself and my son, and actually figure out who I was and who I wanted to become.  A huge gift received at a painful price — but a gift, nonetheless.

Bill and Sydney LaRue 1961

And had it not been for Bill, (Marta’s Dad) would I have ever thought about teaching?  Would it have occurred to me to set aside my Stanford journalism degree and start over at San Francisco State?  And without that fabulous credential and introduction to the world of elementary education what would my next thirty-nine years have been?

As I murmulled through the day, I thought about others I had known  — girls and boys of my youth, men and women of my later years — people I couldn’t seem to connect with or appreciate.  And yet… I think I probably gained from each “failed” friendship or endeavor.  If not at the time, in retrospect.  The bigger question, of course, is did they?  A question that will probably never be answered, nor does it really need to be.  At least not by me.

It was an interesting day… in my head.