dea's piano

Each of my daughters was exposed to music.

Each took piano or flute or cello lessons at one point or other. Then two of them stopped, other skills that were more to their liking.

Our two middle girls used to play for church often, one on the organ, the other the piano. One day in church, one of my dear friends leaned over and whispered: “The girls sound real good today. Must have cost you a fortune.”

We were too poor to have a fortune, but the lessons continued some way.

Today I am sitting with my MacBook on my knees in this tiny house in the Bay Area, and my wonderful daughter Dea is playing the piano, not just for me, but for her.

She has a piano here that belongs to a friend who didn’t have room for it. Dea was glad to “store” it. Her friends are unimpressed that she plays the piano quite well. Her family are equally unimpressed -- except for her father.

When she got the piano she called her sister who had their music and had it all sent down. Now as I hear her play, I remember pieces from when she was living at home, years ago.

Dea’s skills are not on the level of public performance (she devoted her life to other skills), and other than her adoring old dad, almost no one else really enjoys hearing her play.

But that is not the point. She plays the piano each day just for the joy of it. She does music because she loves it.

I wish we all could do what we do, not because it has insurance, or because it will provide retirement income, but just because of the joy of it all, because we love it.

Most of my life was spent at work that I was fairly skilled at, but I rarely found that real joy that would have made my work my real passion.

Play away, my child, I love to listen.

fall color

giving thanks

Thanksgiving was yesterday, I know.

It was a busy day with out a lot of time for reflection, and besides, I wanted to write about it after it was over.

Of course, we ate to excess, though I have overeaten with more vigor at other times. We went for a nice walk. My two grandsons that live here, were wonderful. I went out to my tear in the late morning, and took a much longer nap than I ever do, but it was one of those days.

The neighborhood was fairly quiet, except for the guy a couple houses down who was using a gas powered concrete saw, or at least that is what I guessed it to be. Sounded like a chain saw, but unless he was sawing huge logs, it just took too long.

Then we sat down to eat.

Since it was Thanksgiving day, we made the round telling of our thanks this special day.

We were thankful, pretty much, for the standard stuff of life: Family, spouses, friends. Grand kids were mentioned, as well they should.

I didn’t say anything about our boarder Alz, it did not seem the right place. But, in the back of my mind I had to thank the old goat. We had another good thanksgiving.

Miriam took part in the conversation, even if she repeated herself. She cleaned up afterward (you cannot under state the value of someone who cleans up without complaint or even being asked. In fact, if you tell her to stop and sit down she will ignore your request).

Son in law and Miriam walked together, on our walk. Curtis is supremely patient and kind (he is a high school teacher, after all), and they enjoyed each other’s company.

Alz, you old goat, thanks for giving us another good day, and if there is a place for a wish, could we have a few more? Please? With sugar and spice?

miriam's new coat and why it is still in Alaska

souvenir

shopping

Yesterday was grocery shopping day.

My system is to go to a store I like and buy what I need. Daughter Deanna is much more sophisticated!

We went to the Mexican produce store first. The aisles are narrow and the shelves filled with all sorts of very Mexican food but lots and lots of good produce.

The next store was Trader Joe’s. They seem to have every kind of ethnic, organic, healthy food around. Very yuppie. Good service, good “stuff”.

Then we went to a regular big box grocery store for the rest.

Shopping with Dea is easy. I don’t have to make any decisions, I just follow like a wide eyed kid. I get to watch and listen to the people. The bay area is a big melting pot and you can hear all sorts of languages and accents in a grocery store (or Home Depot).

I noticed a well dressed young woman that I guessed was from India. She concentrated as she made her choices. And in a grocery store, you see the same people again and again as you wonder the aisles, so our paths crossed several times.

Near the end of our shopping, I stood by the cart while Dea went looking for some frozen vegetables. The lady was there too and they began to visit, I could see that.

It seems this was the first Thanksgiving dinner she had prepared, and she asked, in perfect english, how to prepare frozen green beans. She spoke in perfect english, by the way.

At the check out, we met again and I visited with her a bit.

But imagine going into a new country and adapting to a holiday that belonged to the new tradition. We take frozen vegetables pretty much for granted, but what if you hadn’t seen them before.

I admired her spunk. There were eleven on her guest list. I have no doubt that she will prepare a great meal. They will be well fed.

Good for her.

we made it

We made it to San Francisco without any problems.

Miriam and I, Leo the size challenged greyhound, and our part of Thanksgiving dinner, all in our now ancient little car. Little Blue also pulled TinyOne, our teardrop trailer.

Little Blue has taken us where we asked for 15 years now. It’s been a faithful friend.

The grandsons are still at school, and son-in-law is a high school teacher, so he is not home yet either, so we have a few minutes of reflection time.

Last night we slept near Winnemucca Nevada. It was about 20 this morning, nice and cold, but super comfortable in the teardrop. Then we drove over Donner Pass at 6000 feet plus, and down to sea level. That is a lot of changes.

We parked the trailer at a truck stop last night. That is a noisy place to be. Lots of tuckers leave their truck running all night and you get 40 or 50 of them going, and it can be noisy.

It was good sleeping. Miriam slept the whole night without waking up at all.

When we camp, our Italian Greyhound always sleeps in the tow rig, either my pickup or the little blue car. It was cold last night, so he slept with us in the tear.

He was one happy dog.

bri

Jim again

I went to see Jim again this morning.

His son came over to take more of Jim’s tools to other locations. They gave me a pile of things, and offered more, but my space is limited too.

When he was inside I told his wife that he surely didn’t look good today. No, she answered and he is talking about ending his life. If we were in Oregon that might be arranged in a dignified legal way, but this is Idaho.

As I left, he called me aside. He thanked me for my love and friendship, and he did it with all of the sincerity of a man who is very uncertain about the length of his time here. I hugged his bony frame and repeated that I loved him.

God, don’t let him continue to suffer. It is too much for any of us.

I am leaving tomorrow for a ten or eleven day trip. Will Jim survive until I return?

bruneau dunes, idaho

travel again

This is travel week again.

You might think we don’t stay at home at all. My own father, who was killed at 28 and my step father who died of old age when he was just 71, both were truckers. It is possible that a bit of that rubbed off on me.

Our 3rd daughter lives in the Bay Area. We have spent several Thanksgivings with her and her family and this year we are doing it again.

We will drive, leaving here on Monday, but it is a 10 hour drive, one I would make before lunch a few years ago, but one I’d just as soon do on two days now.

We will take the teardrop trailer, the one I showed earlier. This is not really a camping trip, but we need to take the trailer so we can have our own bedroom. Dea’s house is somewhere between quite small and tiny, and there really isn’t comfortable room for more bodies.

So we take the tear, park it in her drive way, and it is pretty well hidden from view. Last year one of her neighbors commented to another neighbor that she guessed that Dea’s parents didn’t come, since she did not see their trailer.

The Bay Area will be mild temps, with highs in the 50’s and 60’s. But we go through Nevada, and the area where I want to stop will be cold. When we came through there last time, it was 6 degrees cold.

We went to bed in our clothes. Every part of that bed was cold, but we got it warmed up and we were fine. The tear is insulated and is wonderfully comfortable, once you get it warmed up. This time I’ll fire up the camp stove for a bit, heat some water for an old fashioned Hot Water Bottle.

That will be luxury. We will sleep well.

my friend don

I want you to meet a few of my friends.

If you have followed this blog at all, you know that I am an original character, a one off piece of work. Not evil, just a wee bit unusual.

So let me tell you a bit about my friend Don.

I’ve known Don for maybe 30 years. He is a good guy, who might drive you nuts on a bad day. Once I was visiting with his wife and I said that I have wanted to choke Don more than a few times since I met him.

“Get in line,” she replied. And we both laughed.

Don has not had good health for a long time. His ticker is suffering and he is showing the signs of a bit of bad genetics. He is in his mid 70’s, which also takes a toll.

When I meet Don, usually it is at church, I’ll shake his hand and ask: “Don, how are you?” And, do you know what, he will always give me the exact same answer: “Still room for improvement.”

“Don, I knew that, I want to know how you are!”

He is one of those lucky people that look pretty good even when he isn’t, and it is hard to really know how things are with him, so if I really want to know I ask his wife. Her name (honest injun here) is Donna. She will tell me all the details, even if he is standing right there.

Love them both. And yes, I suppose that goes for the rest of us: “Still room for improvement.”

It’s a good answer, actually.