Holiday

 Our 22-year-old has friends visiting. It's great, I love that she feels comfortable inviting people here and her friends are generally pretty well behaved. They are in the backyard now, waiting for the 5th member of their group (not sure how they are going to fit 5 in the small car). They are listening to music, playing some kind of game, probably drinking and smoking cannabis. They're a little loud, but they're more or less appropriate. We live so close to our neighbors that I hope they're not upset. It is 3 in the afternoon, so not really anything to object to. It's 86 degrees and I'm impressed that they're not huddled in the air conditioning. It may have to do with the fact that they can't smoke in the house (300-year-old wooden house makes it pretty much imperative. I'm not a fan of candles in her bedroom either). She bought them some drinks and snacks. It's been too hot to bake, so no cookies for them. 

Food Pantry

It's Thursday. On Thursdays, I volunteer at the food pantry. People stand in line, in the heat, in the cold, in the rain. They sign in when it's their turn. Mostly they wait politely and follow the rules. They are very grateful. They thank us for what we do. We are the face of the food pantry, but really I do very little. I spend 2 hours checking the computer for their name, giving them a card that lets them "shop." Behind the scenes are the staff and the donors that gather the food, other volunteers who sort it and put it on the shelves. If there is a problem, I get a staff person to deal with it. I don't have to tell someone, "no, you can't have any food today." The staff tries to avoid that, too. 

I ask them for proof of residence, mail that has a postmark from the last 30 days. Mostly I don't really check. I recognize them from last week. One week there were two people I hadn't met. One man was pushing the other in a wheelchair (he had lost the lower half of his legs). Of course, I didn't ask. They were veterans; I assume he was hurt in service to our country. They laughed and joked with each other and us. Sometimes people bring their children; we all love watching babies and entertaining toddlers while their Moms pick out groceries: fresh produce, canned goods, prepared foods donated by "high-end" stores. 

Most people are grateful, pleasant, agreeable. They have come to terms with a life that requires them to get discarded groceries for free. Some are quiet, maybe depressed, lonely; some are a little odd, they talk too much or don't always make sense. Many do not speak English--only enough to say thank you. Only once did a man become angry with me when I said he needed to bring mail with him. "I've been coming here for years," he said. "I always show my driver's license, no one ever told me I needed to bring a piece of mail." I explain we want to make sure he is still living in town, at the same address. I get the supervisor to tell him. We're not going to turn him away, just asking him to bring a piece of mail next time. We wonder, privately, if something happened and he has had to move. Is he living in his car? He has a boy with him, about 10. If you are a man, with no place to live, you can pull it together to go to work at McDonald's or wherever you need to go, but a boy? How do you go to school and concentrate on learning, be cool with your friends, when you slept in a car with your Dad and your few possessions? How do you go to school with no breakfast, no shower? 

I try to be grateful, I am grateful, I try not to flaunt my privilege, no expensive jewelry or fancy clothes. When I'm talking to another volunteer, we try to discuss light subjects. I don't want anyone to overhear me talking about going out to eat or planning a vacation. I am very aware that I am so lucky to have a place to live, food to eat. I married someone who did not abandon me, who did not lose his job, become addicted, go to prison or die of cancer. I was able to go to college, have a good job, buy a house, save money for retirement. These are not things I did because I was smart, I did them because I was born lucky and stayed lucky, in spite of life's challenges.

What do I give up to spend a couple hours volunteering? Scrolling through my e-mails, ordering something on line, making cookies, reading a book? I get a lot more spending time with people who need me and thank me for being there, being cheerful whether I feel like it or not. Trying not to be angry at a world and a system that spits out and discards so many, at least temporarily. 

Cameron

I'm not super-sentimental about my dog. He doesn't sleep with us. He barks annoyingly at the mail carrier and other people going by. But I'm pretty upset that we let him get hurt Friday. 

We got home a little later than we usually do and took him for a walk later than usual. A neighbor was out with his dog. We let our dogs sniff at each other. Then the neighbor gave his dog a treat and offered one to Cameron. The other dog lunged and attacked him, Cameron cried and cowered and tried to get away. The owner of the other dog pulled and yelled and finally kicked his dog. We rushed Cameron home, bleeding. It was mostly one ear, but he seemed okay. He ate his supper, then promptly threw it up. 

The next morning, we were a little worried there might be infection. Our vet could not see him that day, but referred us to the vet emergency room, 40 minutes away. There were no appointments that day, but they encouraged us to bring him in and wait. So that was our big activity for Saturday, a beautiful day. 

The vet said she could sedate him and try to stitch it, but it might not take and would cost $1500. If it heals on its own, it won't be very pretty, she said. We said we were okay with that. Mostly we wanted to get the antibiotic in him as soon as possible. She gave him pain medicine and cleaned it. 

Then we went to the drug store. Come back in 20 minutes, they said. We took him home and Ray went back: no, not ready yet. Eventually we did get the Amoxicillin and gave it to him. He is having a little trouble negotiating with the cone they put on to keep him away from his wounds, but he did manage to eat and not throw it up. 

Not surprisingly, the other dog owner, our neighbor whom we like, feels awful and has offered to pay for everything. I feel terrible taking money from this young couple, but Ray is handling it. It was only $400. 

Another beautiful day here. With Tamara's help, I did manage to make and frost Molli's birthday cake, before and after our visit to the emergency vet. My baby is 36! We had a very nice dinner at her house. Her husband made scallops and shrimp with pasta in a cream sauce. It was yummy! We came home pretty early after a tiring day. 

semi-retired

I work three days a week, 6-hour days. It's good. Today is like Saturday, followed by two more Saturdays! It's rainy and cool, I don't have to be anywhere until 10. I woke up about 5:30, which sounds early, but it's very light here this time of year and the birds are noisy, even today. I feel good when I wake up and it's light out and I wasn't awake at all in the night (that I remember). I didn't have trouble falling asleep and now I feel energized, ready to do the things. No telling if it will last. I like volunteering at the food bank, everyone (almost always) is pleasant, some of the clients are super-grateful, and the people I work with are pretty nice. These days, it's unusual to get to know new people. Lisa and I work back-to-back. I check in and she checks out. We each have a computer. People wait in line, they sign in, they show me proof of residence (a piece of mail dated in the last 30 days). I don't really check too carefully, I just need to see their name so I can find them in the computer. I'm not too concerned if they are Beverly residents. I don't have to worry about the rules so much. There are staff I call for if there's any sort of question or problem. Lately there have been more people and less food, but still something for most people. Some people take lots of produce: potatoes, onions...usually Moms. Some people only take prepared food; they may not have access to a kitchen, or maybe they just don't cook. We get donations from Whole Foods and Henry's: lovely sandwiches and soups and casseroles; pot pie is a favorite. I'm only there 2 hours. Last week, it finally slowed down for the last ten minutes. I don't love rainy days; people have to wait outside until 10 and some have to walk home with their groceries. Some have carts, some have young children. 

It's a little bit jarring because of the plenty in my life, but I try not to let that consume me. I usually spend a lot of my free time researching my genealogy and writing up the lives of my ancestors from 325 years ago. But these days I look at houses that I might buy. This old house is great in many ways, for one thing, it's close to the ocean and I can catch glimpses of it from my bedroom. But I am outgrowing it--I have trouble with the stairs sometimes. It's too big for two of us. I long for a kitchen that is easy to use and clean, a little space between us and our neighbors, a place I can grow vegetables or sit outside without hearing everyone so close to me, talking or hammering. 

If you were wondering...

the day went well, I did not lose my temper or make my back worse. The rhubarb pie was excellent and well-received by the intended audience, my husband and son-in-law. I also loved it. Molli had a brownie, thawed from the freezer, warm with vanilla ice cream, so she was happy. The weather was sunny and hot. We sat in the yard and I admired the vegetables we planted. My Dad told stories about Nova Scotia. I had my suit on to go swimming, but Molli did not want to go, which was fine. It was probably crowded and hot.

Let me tell you about the pie and the lessons of growing older. The recipe I chose from the New York Times called for a crust made with lard. Years ago, I had access to some lard and it made some very good pie crusts. At the moment, I have some lard in my fridge that I got from the coop a while back. I think it keeps indefinitely. I followed the instructions and cut it up into the flour. I had my doubts. It did not seem to be behaving the way I wanted a pie crust to behave. I set it aside and started over with butter. I had a delicious flaky pie crust and convinced myself it was okay to waste that dough. You do not always have to do it the hard way, the "right" way. It's okay to give a little lard to the dog instead of using it for a special pie, rather than be angry and disappointed. 

My boss, sadly, called to say he was in the hospital with blood clots in his lungs. He sounded terrible, although he was, as usual, upbeat. They caught it in time, he said. They're just keeping him overnight for observation. I hope so. 

On a day like this

On June 2, 1917, my grandfather, Norman John Bonney, registered for the draft. I am looking at a picture of his draft card. He was 27 and he lived at 113 North St. in Medford Mass. It says he was born April 29, 1890 in Charlestown, Massachusetts. He had gray eyes and was tall and slender, with dark brown hair. He was married with a child 3 years old. That was my Uncle Paul, dead now 14 years. My mother and her sisters are dead too. But we live on, eight of their children and our descendants, because Grampa Bonney did not die in the Great War. I wonder if he was relieved? Or disappointed? He died before I was born, before my parents met, so I cannot ask my Dad, who is alive at 94, about him. Perhaps with unlimited resources and determination I could find someone (who was much younger) who knew him, perhaps only slightly. Maybe a young neighbor, the paper boy. Maybe someone who wanted to be a great bridge player, who admired him and took his classes on bridge. 

It is Memorial Day, the day to remember people who died in the war. People at my church yesterday suggested two other kinds of people to remember: people who died doing other kinds of service: firefighters, social workers, policemen; and people who fought for our country and didn't die. That would include my father-in-law, Raymond Paul Lynde, and my father, although his "fighting" was not as dangerous. I also think of the women left to care for the children and try to hold the family together without a Dad. Even after the Dad came back, he was perhaps hurt in a way that changed his family's life forever. 

On a day like this, when it was cool last night, but not too cool, I slept with the windows open and a quilt over me, cozy and comfortable. The only thing is, the birds and the light woke me before five. Early mornings, I am generally optimistic. I have a plan for today. It is reasonable and calm and relaxed. I will get things done, but take rests so my back doesn't give out. I will have fun and be pleasant. And yet, a little voice tells me, "It won't go that way. You will be in pain and you will be cross and other people won't behave perfectly." Some of the things I have read about pain, specifically back pain, suggest a sort of psychological training that basically teaches you to not be bothered by pain, to live with it. This is possibly preferable to large amounts of drugs or surgery, which is not alway effective. My mother lived with back pain, probably more than anyone knew. As I get older, I feel more and more that I want to emulate her. But, of course, I am my father's child as well. Here's to trying. 

Weather/climate and other changes

It's supposed to be 92 degrees today. At the moment, it's 60...Yesterday it was in the 50s, very foggy all day. After a long, cold winter and spring, I think most people are delighted to have some really warm weather. Last weekend was the first time I've sat out in my yard at all since last fall. I pulled some weeds, too, which I have been really wanting to do. Now that the weather is finally warm enough, my back did its thing, where it spasms and I have to stay in bed and take drugs. I appreciate that there are drugs available to me, and I am less stressed these days, knowing it will eventually get better (although I do have thoughts, what if it never does and I have to spend the rest of my life in bed?). But it sure pisses me off. Really? After all I've done for you, faithfully doing yoga once a week, walking twice a day, even losing weight...and it doesn't help??? I don't know if everyone's brain works like mine, but I am constantly asking myself, what did I do wrong? what could I have done differently? I have good chairs and the driver's seat in my car adjusts several ways, so I can make sure I'm getting good support. I make sure to get up and walk around every hour, thanks to my FitBit reminders. 

Some of the things that may have contributed: a lovely dinner with my sisters, where we were able to eat outside. However, the only table they had for us (after I had made a reservation a week ahead, specifically requesting outside seating) was a kind of picnic table with hard backless benches. I wasn't in pain then but maybe it was a factor. Also, the weed pulling. Also, driving to the airport, trying to read all the signs and communicate with the person arriving...? Who knows? Maybe believing in demons or humors would be as helpful. I am, however, super grateful to be better, although cautious about pulling weeds or doing anything that might set it off. Maybe warm weather will help...

Here's a somewhat mysterious thing. I do most of the cooking at my house. I really like cooking, especially the part where I plan and execute healthy meals that we all like and rarely waste any food. We eat almost every leftover. Since the pandemic, I order almost everything on line from Imperfect, Misfits, and Walden Meats. If there is anything missing, it's my fault...whatever I order, I have to use (or give away?). For the last few months, I have mainly been cooking gluten-free things, in the hope that it will help with my husband's rheumatoid arthritis. I dread his hands turning into lumpy claws and him not being able to walk (which he loves) or do other things with me. I'm not sure it's helping with the RA, but we are both losing weight, which is clearly a good thing. 

The mysterious part? I read a book called Fair Play, about dividing household tasks. Mind you, that is not really a problem for us. My husband does his share and more, cleaning, doing dishes, helping prepare most meals. I read it more because of my interest in women's rights and sociology. I don't agree with everything she says, or where she is coming from. It is mainly for couples with children (God forbid, you should be raising them alone!). She made a list of all the stuff she was responsible for. One of her points is, don't think that actually preparing the meal (for instance) is the same as thinking about it, planning it, and carrying it out. The psychological energy that (mostly) women put into every facet of family life takes a toll. She talks about birthday parties, sitters, thank you notes...things I mostly don't worry about any more. She talks about wardrobe and beauty, things I have never spent a lot of time or psychic energy on. But we tried it. My husband is game, among other things. We divided all our household responsibilities, on paper, discussing what is involved, from conception to execution, and which of us would take it on. In theory, we can change every day or several times a day, more likely on a weekly basis, if it doesn't seem to be working, or something changes (like my back goes out). This system does not allow for nagging, or even asking for help. And it's surprising how much we both like it (after 3 days). It is very freeing to know that I am entirely responsible for all food preparation, from planning to cooking, and that I can take credit for it. I also can leave the kitchen a mess, guilt-free. When I came downstairs this morning, the dishes from yesterday were all done. The counters are clean (so I can mess them up again if I want). It's really amazing how happy we both have been--he has commented on it too. Check back later to see if it continues to be life-changing. I was pretty skeptical. The sociology stuff is great, too. All time is equal (not related to how much you are paid for it). Duh. Don't try for a 50/50 split, just concentrate on which jobs each of you can take on. Also, let some things go (sorry, thank-you notes). Have an honest conversation about how you both feel about various tasks--if it's not important to either of you, take it off the list. It's also important to agree on what constitutes completion. It's based on a corporate model--having standards to meet. After deciding, walk away, no need to criticize or whine. Try it!