Wednesday, November 6, 2013

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Shall we compare our hearts to a garden —
with beautiful blooms, straggling weeds,
swooping birds and sunshine, rain —
and most importantly, seeds.

Terri Guillemets

It is a  little late in the season, I know, but I have talked so much about my magical garden that when I came upon a few pictures, I tried something new.  Before I ended up misplacing them again, I took a picture of the picture, and it worked.
 My tomato plants can be seen in rear.    In the middle I had planted my cabbage, kale,  and eggplants.  Beyond that and not pictured was my herb garden--mint, basil, oregano, and parsley.
My cucumber plants, a wee bit of the kale, and a partial view  of my herb garden. Aside from the cucumbers, morning glories also cover the fence. They were so beautiful at dawn when they were decked out with all their glory.
That's me admiring my watermelon plant.  One evening at dusk I sat outdoors eating a slice of watermelon to cool off and  dropped a few pits Before we knew it, they had taken off.  It was such a magical place.  (This was me in 1994) How dark my hair was!
Summer was about to close, and the plants were growing yellow and thin. This is one of my eggplants. I had many that grew much larger.  If only I could find those pictures.
This is that famous sunflower I've mentioned so often.  Note that the window it reaches up to is the second floor of my house.
My mother-in-law planted this bush the first summer after our move.  She said it is a 'spirit plant' which will keep evil spirits from our property. I don't know the name of the plant, but it sure took off and grew like wildfire.  One of my pepper plants sits nearby.  

This garden was a part of our first apartment, a three-room basement apartment, and to get to our little haven, one had to go down a long flight of stairs.  It wasn't much, but I loved it.  I was devastated when the landlord came and told us he had sold the house, and hoped against hope, that the new owners would ask us to stay, but they had plans for the apartment, and we had to go.  I cried when I said good-bye to my magical place, but I have so many fond and beautiful memories...

My precious little Twinkie was born there.  She was Miss Minga's daughter.  She chose not to come with us when we moved so she ran away.  We tried going back for her several times, but it just wasn't meant to be.  Twinkie had often disappeared for days and would return well fed and groomed so I know someone else in the neighborhood must have loved her as much as I did. I comfort myself with that thought.

We were living  there during the blizzard of '96.  I remember rising in the morning and opening the back door for my kitties to go relieve themselves.  The wind had blown all the snow against our door, and it was over my head.  Needless to say, neither kitty was going to try it.  Thankfully I had some litter in the house to use for ice, so I poured some in an aluminum baking pan, and that was their potty for a week.

My mother-in-law, bless her soul, used to take dried beans and toss them about the garden.  As soon as hubby and I saw their shoots start to bud, we pulled them up.  She never could understand why everything but her beans grew, but we were afraid they would take over and strangle off all our other plants.  Today when I think about it I feel a little guilty and wish I had given her her own little plot of land, but there really was no room.  In the far back of the yard was the strawberry patch and the apple tree. And just in front of that we had planted the  different kinds of lettuces, the watermelon, and the honeydew. 

There were cookouts, good neighbors, laughter, and love.  We celebrated our first Christmas together in that apartment. That was the year that my sister-in-law became foster parent to a young boy with AIDS, and we made that holiday so special for him.   But mostly I remember my quiet evenings in my magical garden when it seemed as if I had been whisked off into another place and time. Quiet times, surrounded my quietude and darkness. Lightning bugs flashing, or were they fairies?  The only sound was the crickets.  The racoons knew enough to stay away.  They knew that was a magical place and should not be disturbed.

It is hard to believe that so much time has passed since we left that place, and, in all honesty, I'd move right back in if given the opportunity. I know that will never happen, and even if it did, it would never be the same. I have changed; my body has changed.  I could no longer tend to that yard as I once did. My body won't allow it.  That was  a part of my life that is over now. It was a stage of my life, a time of joy, and  I will forever have my memories. 

It is good to be alone in a garden at dawn or dark so that all its shy presences may haunt you and possess you in a reverie of suspended thought. 

James Douglas



Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Tuesday Ramble

If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all."

(Thumper, Bambi, The Walt Disney Company, 1942) 


Here we are in the first week of November already, and I spent some time over the weekend planning my Thanksgiving menu. My goodness. Anyone have any suggestions on how to slow time down? I just can't seem to keep up anymore. Speaking of time, I came across an interesting concept of it in 'The Door to Halloween', which, by the way was a fantastic fantasy read.  

'Time is speeding back up', Marion growled as he looked back at the army moving together a the top of the hill below and looking about in confusion.

'Time will hurry itself, now.  The difference must be paid.  For the eternities of youthful mornings are paid with the flight of the aged evening,' the mummy said mournfully.  

Interesting way of looking at it, right? 

Yesterday several of my (ex) co-workers texted me to inform me that things are not well at the job, and all are looking for other employment. My replacement was hired in September, and he has resigned already.  In fact, it seems to have gotten so bad that they now have to work on Saturdays and holidays to get their paperwork caught up, and there is talk of closing the program altogether.  Why is it that I am not surprised? When one person is allowed to skate along and not pull their weight, the brunt of the work falls on everyone else, and eventually it catches up. And what really has them angry is that they are being asked to cover her groups and see her clients while she 'supposedly' does her paperwork which, by the way,  is over three years behind.  I feel bad for them, yes, but that part of my life is over, and I would appreciate a 'We miss you.  How are you doing?' much more than the office gossip.
 
Each one of them could not wait to contact me to deliver the news, and I am sure I picked up on a tinge of disappointment when each discovered that they weren't the first to deliver the news. Since my retirement  in July,  only one person has called to see how I am doing, and now that there is bad news to spread, they are falling over each other for the opportunity to tell of it.  Nothing has changed. And now that they all know I have received the news, I have to wonder how long it will be before someone contacts me again.  Not until the next big gossip surfaces I suppose.

Makes me shake my head and wonder. Why do some people find it so easy to complain and criticize and so much harder to  find something nice to say about someone?  If it wasn't so sad it would be funny. Is it so easy to forget the lessons their parents taught them?  Or did they never teach them at all?

In closing, I thought I would share this little story of Thumper, the little white rabbit from Bambi. It is a lesson for all.

Thumper, he was a cute little rabbit, asked the mama deer what she was going to call her baby. She smiled and looked down at her son and then at Thumper. "I am going to call him Bambi," she said. 

Thumper stood there for a moment, thumping his foot. "That's a funny name", he said at last. 

Thumper's mommy scolded him, very gently."Thumper", she said, "What did your father tell you this morning?" 

Thumper hung his head down, just a bit and replied, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all!" 

And you know, that is really what we should all remember. We should always remember to say nice things about each other.

Monday, November 4, 2013

Monday This and That

"November's sky is chill and drear,
November's leaf is red and sear."

Sir Walter Scott
Welcome Monday. When I was working I always looked at Monday as both an ending and a beginning. It was a time to close out the previous week and start on another.  It is very cool outdoors this morning, a big difference from a few days ago.  Actually, thus far this Autumn has been as been as unpredictable as our summer was.  One day it is hot, the next it is cold.  One day feels like Spring, the next like Winter is about to arrive.  

Can you believe it is November already? The name 'November' is believed to be derived from the  word ’novem' which  is the Latin word for the number 'nine' In fact, at one time November was the ninth month--that is, until the Romans added two months to the beginning of the year. It is the first month of Samhain, the end of summer and the coming of the darkness in the Pagan Calendar. The full moon of November is the 'Hunter’s Moon' or 'Beaver Moon'. t is also called the 'Frosty Moon'. The Lakota Indians call it 'the Moon of the Falling Leaves', and to the  Celts it was 'the Dark Moon'. 

In the astrological calendar, November begins with  the month of the house of Scorpio and ends in the house of Sagittarius. The birthstone for this month is the Topaz or Citrine; the flower is the Chrysanthemum.
On Saturday when I took my  weekly trip to the fruit stand,  it was a nice day so I decided to go a bit further and took a walk over to the park and sat on a bench for awhile. It was the first time I had actually taken notice of the name of the park, and I thought this was a rather unusual name for a park that is in a mixed,  but primarily Asian, neighborhood so I came home and did a little research.  Brooklyn is, and always has been, a borough with distinct ethnic, but ever changing neighborhoods.  I once had a cookbook which was divided into all the different neighborhoods.  Each chapter told several tales about Old Brooklyn and offered recipes from the various ethnic groups.  Oh, I loved that book.  Loaned it out many years ago and never got it back (Sigh) and never found it again. 

So, as I was saying, Brooklyn is forever changing.  When my ancestors settled here, they settled in a neighborhood composed of German immigrants.  That neighborhood is now Jewish.  Bensonhurst, traditionally Italian and once known as Brooklyn's 'Little Italy', is still primarily Italian, but the population has begun changing as Asian, Latino, and Russian immigrants are moving in. In fact, when hubby and I first began looking for a place 21 years ago, we had wanted to live in Bensonhurst, but as soon as they got a look at hubby, suddenly there was nothing available. We knew that this was  because he was Dominican. Today they would welcome us with open arms.  Times have certainly changed.  

As it turns out, the area that my park is located in was once primarily Irish, and Norwegian. I had my answer.  It is only natural that a park in this formerly Scandinavian neighborhood be named after one of the most famous explorer of them all.  In fact, I can't wait to go back and do some some exploring myself.  I've always contented myself with sitting on the first free bench I find, but, after researching the park and its history, I understand that the park features a number of Norse motifs, including a 'troll', so  I am anxious to see the rest of it. 
The November sky as I waited for the bus to take me to church on Sunday.  I never did make it.  The only bus that came by was so packed that people were standing in the doorway.  The next bus never came.  Guess it must have had something to do with the marathon. 
My building.  Look at the difference in the trees in a couple of weeks. Before we know it, the trees will be bare.  And finally...
This very special photo of hubby and I was taken on June 6, 1996.  We were on a river cruise and got someone to snap this photo of us as we passed the World Trade Center. I told hubby we look like Lucy and Desi.  Don't know what kind of hair style I had then, but I sure could pass for Lucy's twin.

"The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on." 

  Emily Dickinson

Friday, November 1, 2013

Friday Roundup

Hard to believe the big day is over. Seems it came and went like the speed of light. The party was nice, but not over soon enough. I knew I had to go shopping before going home and wanted to get there as soon as possible lest some children come to the house. I've always been working during the times the children went 'trick or treating' so I didn't know what to expect. I needn't have rushed, though. My bell didn't ring. Halloween is just not the same. Here are a few pictures I took at the party.
I had had someone take a picture of me, but alas,  I ended up deleting by mistake with the photos I was deleting.  I
My dinner didn't go over so well with hubby. It's funny how set in their ways he and his family are, and I suppose this goes for a lot of other Latino families as well.  Most of us are more than willing to try different ethnic foods, but they find it so hard to adjust to something new. Throughout the years I have managed to get him used to American food, on occasion Chinese or Italian, but my Hungarian Goulash with buttered noodles was too much for him, so I won't be making it anytime soon.

Afterwards I finished up the fun little Halloween book I had purchased, 'The Door to Halloween' by T. L. Barrett and Elizabeth Jenike. I'd been looking for a freebee Halloween tale for my Kindle, and this turned out to be a fantastic choice.  From the book description....

'How many of us have wished to find a door to some magical world beyond our own? And what trick-or-treater hasn’t desired that the delights of All Hallows Eve could last all the year round? In a fantasy adventure that will haunt the reader’s imagination, Harrison Brown follows his twin brother Max through just such a door and into just such a world. There they will find friendship and fellowship with werewolves and witches, talking dolls, hobos and goat-women. They will also embark on an adventurous quest to liberate the land of Halloween from the grasp of Reverend Bones and his army of Horned Ones. Turn around three times, take three steps forward and enter…The Door to Halloween.

You will marvel at this moving testament to the bonds of love that can break the barrier between worlds and restore joy to even the most burdened of hearts. In the magical tradition of Oz and Narnia, this fantasy tale celebrates the magic of the holiday and the child-like wonder which only waits to be awoken in each of us.'

I absolutely loved it.  Couldn't put it down once I started.  Later, I I lit my candles and spent some quiet time visiting with my ancestors.  I'm not going to the center today so I stayed up extra late.

As far as the weekend goes, aside from the All Soul's service I have nothing else planned.  I was telling hubby that it is so nice to have weekends free.  I think back to those bi-weekly Saturdays that I slaved in the kitchen cooking for two weeks and wonder how I ever did it for so long, but I didn't have choices back then. Basically I was the soul provider for the household so, as difficult on me as it was, I had to go to work. I am free to make choices today.


“Of the blessings set before you make your choice, and be content. No man can taste the fruits of autumn while he is delighting his scent with the flowers of the spring: no man can, at the same time, fill his cup from the source and from the mouth of the Nile.” 
Samuel Johnson
May you all have a magical weekend.  See you on Monday.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Blessed Samhain


Today's the party and I am so excited.  66 years old and never been to a Halloween party.  This is also the day that the veils to the Otherworld are lifted, and we remember and honor our ancestors.  And for many of us, we also remember the Halloween of our our youth and bygone times when all the world was magical...once upon a time.

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time rare flowers grew
 On every shrub and bush we used to see;
The skies above our heads were always blue,
The woods held secrets deep for you and me;
 The hillsides had their caves where tales were told
 Of swart-cheeked pirates from a far-off clime,
When cutlases were fierce and rovers bold -
Don't you remember? - Once upon a time.

Once upon a time from sun to sun
The hours were full of joy - there was no care,
And webs of gaudy dreams in air were spun
 Of deeds heroic and of fortunes fair;
The jangling schoolhouse bell was all the woe
Our spirits knew, and in its tuneless chime.
Was all the sorrow of the long ago-
 Don't you remember? - Once upon a time.

Once upon a time the witches rode
 In sinister and ominous parade
Upon their sticks at night, and queer lights glowed
With eerie noises by the goblins made;
And many things mysterious there were .
For boyish cheeks to pale at through the grime
 That held them brown; and shadows queer would stir-
Don't you remember? - Once upon a time.

Once upon a time our faith was vast
 To compass all the things on sea and land
That boys have trembled o'er for ages past,
Nor ever could explain or understand,
And in that faith found happiness too deep
 For all the gifted tongues of prose or rime,
And joys ineffable we could not keep -
 Don't you remember? - Once upon a time.


James W. Foley 1905

May you all have a Blessed Samhain.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Yippee!!! It's Almost Here

Witch and ghost make merry on this last of dear October’s days.  

Author Unknown
Tomorrow is the big day, the day we have all been anxiously awaiting for awhile now as well as the first  Halloween party I have ever attended. I was listening to the news this morning and the newscasters were talking old memories. Brought up some fond thoughts for me.  Tonight is mischief night, and I remember ringing doorbells and running off. That was a big thing for us.  The 'bad kids' soaped up cars. We just contented ourselves with annoying our neighbors.

My day will be somewhat different than originally planned, but even the best laid plans must leave room for change.  I will be attending the holiday party at the Center, of course, but I'll not be cooking that elaborate meal of dishes from around the world that I had originally planned.   Indeed, how did I think I was ever going to get it all done--attend a party most of the day, then come home and do all this cooking?  I'm not that spring chicken who can do it all anymore.  Instead what we will have is an old family favorite.  I grew up on Hungarian Goulash, and I totally love it.  I've all the ingredients handy, and it doesn't take much to throw it together.  I think grandma will be pleased. She is the one who taught me how to make it.

On Friday evening I am planning  to attend an All Souls service at the Church.  What a great way to honor my ancestors!  This is also a 'first' for me.  I have no idea what to expect.  I do hope they have some music.  They didn't for the healing ceremony, and I do understand.  That was a more solemn event.  But this, All Souls, I look at as a celebration of their lives and not a time to mourn. Needless to say, I still plan on having my own little celebration of their lives on the eve of the 31st.  
This will be it for my Halloween costume. I didn't go all out and buy a complete costume.   With some black pants and a black striped shirt, I will be fine. 
 When witches go riding,
and black cats are seen,
the moon laughs and whispers,
‘tis near Halloween.

Wishing you all a great day.

Author Unknown

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

My Brooklyn

 “Brooklyn was a dream. All the things that happened there just couldn't happen. It was all dream stuff. Or was it all real and true and was it that she, Francie, was the dreamer?” 

Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

Did you know that Brooklyn  is the most populated of New York City's five boroughs? Indeed it is, and I love it here. You will often hear me say I wish I were living in the country, and that is the truth, but we cannot always have what we want, so, since I have to live in the city,  I am so glad it is Brooklyn.  When asked, I often say that I have the best of both worlds at my fingertips.  I am minutes away from the maddening rush of the city with its myriad of restaurants and Broadway plays, but I can also enjoy the charm of a tree-lined Brooklyn Street.

My German ancestors settled here when they first arrived in America in the early 1800's. Back then, Brooklyn was its own independent city; in fact, it wasn't until 1898 that it became a part of New York City. The first of my ancestors, John Hoffman, b. 1823 in Saxony, Germany, was a shoemaker.  His wife, Catherine, was born in Hesse.  His son John, b. 1843 in Brooklyn, was a carpenter.  His wife, Mary, was born in Ohio. Their son, John, b. 1869 in Brooklyn, was a fireman.  His brother was a police officer. They lived and died here, and sometimes, when I walk these streets of Brooklyn, I feel that this part of the family has come full circle.

So, moving on, graffiti has always been a problem in the city.  It's not as bad now as it once was, and some graffiti artists are so talented that stores actually hire them to showcase their work as in the following which appears on the outer walls of a Rite Aid not far from my home... 
This  is one of those old brownstones Brooklyn is famous for. My ancestors most likely lived in a building just like this.  Notice the alarm on top, the red and white sign offering instructions in case of a fire,  and the water  spigot?  They are all part of the building.
This is the new sports arena in downtown Brooklyn.  It sure is giving Madison Square Garden a run for its money.
The world famous cyclone, the father of all roller coasters.  It may not be the oldest or the tallest of all the coasters, but it sure is the most famous. It's a rickety old thing, and in my heyday I sure would have enjoyed a ride, but today I am content to just stand and watch.
Along with the Cyclone, the Wonder Wheel is a centerpiece at Coney Island.  Despite Sandy, it continues to stand as a testament to old Coney Island.  The cars actually swing, so you know I have never been on it, but I can imagine that my ancestors must have when they were out for a Saturday of fun.
And finally, what I believe my be the most famous bridge in the world, the Brooklyn Bridge, the oldest suspension bridge in the United States. Completed in 1883, it spans the East River and  connects Brooklyn with Manhattan.  This bridge figures prominently in one of my favorite films...Kate and Leopold.  Look closely and you will see another fire sign.

So, there you have my little tour and history lesson about Brooklyn.  It truly is a very special place. 

 
To Brooklyn Bridge by Hart Crane 
(one of the most beautiful poems you will ever read.)
How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest
The seagull’s wings shall dip and pivot him,
Shedding white rings of tumult, building high
Over the chained bay waters Liberty— 


Then, with inviolate curve, forsake our eyes
As apparitional as sails that cross
Some page of figures to be filed away;
–Till elevators drop us from our day . . .

I think of cinemas, panoramic sleights
With multitudes bent toward some flashing scene
Never disclosed, but hastened to again,
Foretold to other eyes on the same screen;

And Thee, across the harbor, silver-paced
As though the sun took step of thee, yet left
Some motion ever unspent in thy stride,–
Implicitly thy freedom staying thee!

Out of some subway scuttle, cell or loft
A bedlamite speeds to thy parapets,
Tilting there momently, shrill shirt ballooning,
A jest falls from the speechless caravan.

Down Wall, from girder into street noon leaks,
A rip-tooth of the sky’s acetylene;
All afternoon the cloud-flown derricks turn . . .
Thy cables breathe the North Atlantic still.

And obscure as that heaven of the Jews,
Thy guerdon . . . Accolade thou dost bestow
Of anonymity time cannot raise:
Vibrant reprieve and pardon thou dost show.

O harp and altar, of the fury fused,
(How could mere toil align thy choiring strings!)
Terrific threshold of the prophet’s pledge,
Prayer of pariah, and the lover’s cry,–

Again the traffic lights that skim thy swift
Unfractioned idiom, immaculate sigh of stars,
Beading thy path–condense eternity:
And we have seen night lifted in thine arms.

Under thy shadow by the piers I waited;
Only in darkness is thy shadow clear.
The City’s fiery parcels all undone,
Already snow submerges an iron year . . .

O Sleepless as the river under thee,
Vaulting the sea, the prairies’ dreaming sod,
Unto us lowliest sometime sweep, descend
And of the curveship lend a myth to God.