Seeing You
In September

9/28/06:
Yesterday I met a lovely elderly woman who talked about how much she liked where she was living. But, she explained, this enjoyment was tempered because she missed a close friend who had recently moved out to be closer to adult children. The woman said she missed this friend dearly, like many others who had left as she lived there, although many had only left when they died. She said she felt lucky to still be alive and enjoyed thinking about old acquaintances but, despite being able to see their faces in her mind's eye, she had trouble coming up with their names. She shrugged, such was life.

I told her that I understood this well, that more often than I liked to admit I too had trouble coming up with people's names when called upon, even though I knew their names. She chuckled and we both admitted we often resorted to covering this deficit by using another word or name. Then she smiled at me and said "Welcome to phase one!" Yes, indeed, a lot more to look forward to.

So, this little story is prelude to comments my brother Don (forever known to me as Donnie) emailed to me regarding my 9/8/06 entry. He had checked with my dad and they thought Grandpa Jardot died later than '63 or '64, more like '66, since Grandpa was born in 1897 and died at about 69 years old. He went on to make comments about my aging memory... Yes, indeed, I am once again off.

I always place everything from my childhood in relation to my fifth grade year because JFK died 11/63, during that school year. I think it was my Great Grandpa Watkins that died that school year, and my Grandpa Jardot followed a couple of years later. I lost my last grandfather, Grandpa Ellison before the Detroit Tigers won the World Series in 1968. [Grandpa] Everett Ellison was one of all-time biggest Tiger fans... Childhood lessons about life, death, and loss, circling back, once again, to life.

The picture up at the right is a scanned anniversary card given to my Grandma Jardot by Grandpa, perhaps in the '40s. My Uncle Paul has guarded these treasures for the family for decades- thank you Uncle Paul.

There is always something to do. There are hungry people to feed, naked people to clothe, sick people to comfort and make well. And while I don't expect you to save the world I do think it's not asking too much for you to love those with whom you sleep, share the happiness of those whom you call friend, engage those among you who are visionary and remove from your life those who offer you depression, despair and disrespect.- Nikki Giovanni

9/25/06:
Last month I ran into a lovely lady in her later 80s. She kept busy going on walks, watering plants, filling her bird feeeders, and paying attention to the world. We chatted for a while, then she showed me her autoharp and played me a few chords. It was a nice interlude, and it held a surprise. Something she said caught me and made me ask her how long she had been playing the autoharp- Oh, a while, maybe ten years she replied! She set a wonderfully high bar for me strive for in my later years, when I too will be trying to keep busy and engaged. She and her husband had done a fair amount of traveling and had on display some nice photos, which I commented upon. The lovely woman pulled a small photo down from a high shelf as I started to leave. The picture was of a very interesting rock formation she said she had run across at Petrified Forest National Park. I made some "oh, that is nice" kind of comment, thinking I should not further comment on how the petrified wood looked vaginal. But I needn't have hesitated, since she went on to say it herself, chuckling a little into her hand It looks like a part of a woman doesn't it? Umm, yes, indeed, very interesting I replied with a smile as I left. I liked her a lot.

Later I tried in vain to find a similar picture on the internet. I did get a similarly curious one, coincidentally also composed of wood, in an email from someone- it is above, on the right.

The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape...- Pablo Picasso (1881 - 1973)

9/23/06:
I neglected to mention (can you believe it?) that our lone fig tree, which I wrote about last December, gave us fruit this year. At the end of the summer we enjoyed at least a dozen fresh figs. I had never tasted fresh figs until three years ago- a very interesting, lovely mild flavor. You don't often see fresh figs at the market because they are so very fragile. Fig trees fruit twice a year and ours has its next batch started. We are not expecting this new fruit to ripen before winter sets in, but time will reveal our figgy adventures.

On the 10th I had written about my zucchini cooking forays, and now add a picture from last month of me with prize zucchini catches. I'm not sure if we save any money with our gardening, but we certainly enjoy the fresh fruits and vegetables resulting from our labors, and the peacefulness imparted by the soil...

And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye.- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

9/22/06:
The September 15th entry down below sent my cousin Diane down memory lane when she clicked on the bagged frog picture. It linked to a poster I had copied from a site that included bathroom signs from around the world.

It seems Diane had encountered similarly worded signs before- they were new to me. She wrote: "I had to chuckle when I was on your website and saw the "toilet" sign that you had underneath the bag of spinach with the frog in it. When I worked at Peckham in Lansing for about 1 ½ yrs, it was almost a daily occurrence to go in the woman's restroom and see shoe prints on the toilet seat. There is a very diverse population that are employed there (they sew military-related garments) and many of the women there are from countries that squat to use the toilet- regardless of it is a hole in the ground or a toilet with a seat! There were signs posted in every stall in the various applicable languages, but they did not seem to do any good. At first it really grossed me out, but got used to it- just wiped down the seats with soap/water before using. It was either that or pee my pants!"

I wrote back to Diane that I would definitely pee my pants if I had to get a towel wet and wash the toilet seat before using. What luck to have such an intersting world full of interesting people.

What the world needs is more geniuses with humility, there are so few of us left.- Oscar Levant

9/17/06:
There are times when I repeat myself (I think it is a genetic trait) and this, indeed, may be one of those times- c'est la vie! Your indulgence is, as always, appreciated.

We have two apple trees, a red and a yellow delicious, up by our front door. I like the yellow one and I am in luck- it is loaded! The apples are not quite ready to pick, but when they are there will be pies and the frozen starts of apple pies galore. I'll probably let you know about that when the time comes, or I will forget- the future awaits our discovery.

And now, a fall favorite:


After Apple Picking

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.

And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.

- Robert Frost (1874 - 1963), this poem written 1914

9/16/06:
We headed up to Bellingham today to see the movie "The Illusionist". I had seen a preview of it at one point a couple of months ago and thought to myself "hmm, Jay would like that one", then a day or two later Jay said he would like to see a movie he had seen something about...

We both enjoyed the show and highly recommend it to all. The movie is based on a short story by Stephen Millhauser, set in 1900 Vienna. The storyline relies upon our love for the idea of magic, adding in the suspense of mystery and a Victorian love story.

We went to a nearby restaurant we like, Maharaja Cuisine of India, but it had changed owners and had a new name. Yikes! Despite the surprising change, we ventured on and found we enjoyed the Indian Cuisine's food- stop by, off Meridian, and check it out.

We headed home via beautiful, scenic Chuckanut Drive. We enjoyed the pleasure of a very nice day, once again. Hope you had a nice Saturday too.

Nothing exists except atoms and empty space; everything else is opinion.- Democritus of Abdera (460BC-370BC)

9/15/06:
I got an email just the other day, full of informative pictures and stuff. I copied one picture I found interesting, for future reference. Who would've thought that, lo and behold, I would have use for its lessons so quickly? The picture of which I speak contains the answer to the mystery of the day- how did the e coli get into the bagged greens?

Closely check out the contents of the bag to the left.

So, a lesson learned- check bagged greens closely for frogs and you will be safe. Also, wash your hands after toileting. Click on the frog in the greens picture for another instructional picture to help you along in your toileting technique. Who says there isn't always more to learn? Ciao...

I am not one of those who in expressing opinions confine themselves to facts.- Mark Twain

9/10/06:
I think this year, perhaps for the first time in human history, we planted the right amount of zucchini. I have given away a couple of small zucchini, and we have used the rest. We have had it stir fried, in casseroles, and in my world-famous zucchini bread. We have enough shredded zucchini in the freezer for 22 loaves.

Today I made zucchini patties for our lunch/dinner. I shredded 2 cups each of zucchini and potatoes (also from Jay's gardening) and mixed in a teaspoon of salt, then set it aside in a colander to drain. In a bowl I mixed a large egg, two tablespoons flour, chopped onion, and some ground pepper, then mixed in the shredded zucchini/potato. I dropped globs of the mixture from a serving spoon to fry in a little soy oil, flattened the patties and cooked about 5 minutes on each side, until browned. I served them with cottage cheese (1%) and sweet golden cherry tomatoes. The patties were yummy, a lot like hashbrowns. This recipe made the perfect amount for the two of us- five patties each as the main dish.

Kira asked me in October 2001 when "all of this" would be over. I told her then that I did not know, and still I do not know. Looking back, life has always held political turmoil and seemingly incessant threats to life and liberty, to varying degrees. Life is full of those terrors, and private terrors as well. Life is also full of the joys of the mundane, the ordinary activities that color in and give shape to our lives. So I make zucchini dishes, and hope the leaders of our world too will stop once in a while to make something with their hands and think about what it is to be alive, what it is we are here for.

Let your conscience be your guide.- Jiminy Cricket

9/8/06:
My sister Linda responded to my September 3rd entry. Indeed, there was no running water in Grandma Jardot's house when we were little. Yes that is what I had thought, but then I questioned the clarity of my memories... The picture of Grandma to the left links to a larger version.

Linda says "I remember drinking out of a bucket with a scoop in the kitchen & using the 'slop' bucket. I don't think they ever got an indoor toilet. The only running water that I remember them having was into the kitchen sink & into a tub that was in the back room. I don't think they ever had heated water." Yes, the luxury installed in Grandma's kitchen was one cold water tap. She worked hard, and did a lot of cooking- from scratch, of course. For her cooking from scratch included chopping off the chicken's head.

Old memories are interesting. Grandma's old two story house was heated by wood stoves in the kitchen, dining room and living room. I learned about burns from the kitchen wood stove and still have a small, faded scar on the side of my left hand that is so faded it may only be visible to my eyes. It is surprising how faded those things become over the course of fifty years. I still remember my Grandpa loading a big chunk of coal into the bottom of the living and dining room stoves. When you sat there and propped your feet up to get good and warm, the soles of your shoes would end up so hot you couldn't stand it and had to remove them- until they cooled enough to be able to put them back up. The dining room had a heavy wood table with lots of leaves that got put in many, many times as us and our aunts, uncles and cousins congregated for Sunday dinner. The dining room also served as a warming stop for hatching eggs and new chicks, and a warm spot to bottle feed an early baby lamb.

There are lots of memories from that small old farm: the wonderful toys and games that were old even then, the chickens laying eggs all about the yard, pumping water outside by the back door, using the smelly outhouse, the two button light switch at the bottom of the stairs, homemade bread and unpasteurized milk, rubbing alcohol being put on bee stings from bees my Uncle Paul stirred up in the old car we were playing in, and the way your pant bottoms could rip if you slid one too many times down the rough cement banister of the side porch. I remember my Uncle Paul's high school graduation ceremony at the Eaton Rapids Campgrounds, and going over to Aunt Barbara's house afterwards. Those are old memories, because the farm disappeared after my Grandpa died in 1963, or maybe it was 1964, when I was in 5th grade. The small pictures of my Grandpa and Grandma Jardot to the left both link to the same larger family picture I cropped them out of, which looks like it was taken in the 1930s. Life is what happens while you're busy...

As you walk, you cut open and create that riverbed into which the stream of your descendants shall enter and flow.- Nikos Kazantzakis

9/4/06:
Do you remember a year or two ago when I put a series of informational pieces on my pages about natural gas? It included a cutting-edge recording of fish farts, remember?

If I remember correctly, that series was started by Will Clegg, and now Will has done it again. The cultured-looking French poster to the left links to a historical reference of interest that Will sent me. He is always on the lookout for stimulating information. Thanks Will!

The secret of a good sermon is to have a good beginning and a good ending, then having the two as close together as possible.- George Burns

9/3/06:
It was my folks' wedding anniversary yesterday. For some reason I was thinking it was on the 4th- don't know why I got confused, it's not as if it was before my time or anything.

I sent my parents some trinkets and a note. My mom said she liked them: a Skagit Valley Tulip towel, a dishcloth knitted by my co-worker Barbara, and some copies of a few of the pictures my Uncle Paul let me borrow and bring home last April. One was a picture of my Grandma Thelma Jardot in the kitchen on the farm in the late '50s or early '60s. She had a big wood stove there, and an electric one too. My Uncle Fred's first wife twisted his ear and made him put a sink with running water in the kitchen for Grandma. All of these years later I can't recall now if there was no running water before or if there was only a cold water tap? My sister and brother will chime in on this. I think I used to know, now it is late and I can't recall. Anyhow, I sent a copy of that picture because I knew my dad liked it. Jay later got a better printing of it- we will get together copies of all those interesting pieces and make CDs for everyone, at least by Christmas. Life is busy, whether I am actually busy or not, it seems. Do you know what I mean?

The picture of my folks up above, to the left, was taken by Linda at Subway in the Charlotte, Michigan, Walmart when we visited in April (it links to a great site with old radio shows that my folks grew up listening to). Don and Charlotte (known as Chuckie or Chuck) have been married since 1950, 56 years now. A pretty long time. They enjoy their routines, and their non-routines. They like to piddle about the house and spend time togther. They like to be together. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad.

In our life there is a single color, as on an artist's palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.- Marc Chagall

9/3/06:

9/1/06:
Our home has no laundry facilities. We are working on plans to add onto our tiny home to make it a small home that includes a larger living room and a washer and dryer. In the meantime, as most people know, we go to the laudromat weekly. It gives us an activity to regularly do together, then afterward we go out to eat.

For a long time we would go to Taco Delmar and split an order of nachos, but then we had to change laudromats because the one we were going to closed. Now we go to Quiznos (especially if we have a coupon) or our favorite local Mexican restaurant up the road, Mexico Cafe. I like to get their chile rellenos, eat the chile and take the rice and beans that come with it home to add to a salad the next day.

We went to Mexico Cafe Thursday evening, and it was pretty quiet there, not super busy. As we were eating chips and salsa while awaiting our feast I did notice the waitress asking the group to my right more than once if they were ready for their chips. It was one of those deals where something only partially reigisters- you know what I mean? Eventually a lady came in and joined the party, the waitress asked if they were ready for chips and they said yes. Next thing I knew the lady who had come in last was screaming and saying something about how she had thought the voice sounded familiar. Turned out the chips were brought out by a surprise guest who sat the chips down on the table and said nonchalantly "here's your chips", and when the lady looked up it was her daughter who lives in Hawaii- you get the drift. The lady kept asking different people at the table if they too had been in on the surprise- which, of course, they had. I toyed with the idea of going by the table and telling her that I too had known...

Jay especially enjoyed vicariously watching this family's fun at pulling off their very special surprise. It gave us something interesting to watch and listen to as we waited for our repast. You never know what surprises your routines will bring. Hola!

The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.- Emily Dickinson

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