Tuesday's Child

A child of the depression, she was too young to remember the good days before the crash. While her sisters longed for the closets full of party dresses of better days, to her the depression meant moving to live full time in the beach house and having her beloved daddy home after school every day. She loved to walk downtown with him, even when it took hours for him to stop and speak to everyone in town. She walked and fished and swam in a village of 1,200 in the winters and where she knew everyone, too. She went to the only elementary school and the only high school.

Her sisters went to work right out of high school, and re-designed their clothes so that she never went without. They all saved money so that she could go to college, when all of them had longed to. Even so, she grew up a saver - measuring every purchase in terms of value for dollar. It became a lifelong habit.

She was a bobby soxer, who danced away summer nights at the beach club to the strains of the biggest of the big bands - Dorsey, Miller and the rest. She fell in love with Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett.

At 21 she married that good looking Marine from the next block and embarked on the twin adventures of marriage and motherhood. She left her beloved beach to follow her Marine to Boston and then to Ocracoke, North Carolina. Living with three other couples on the second floor of a "native" home, she cooked in the chicken coop and taught young wives from California to make "southern" fried chicken - but not from those in the coop!

She was 23 when her first child was born - a daughter she could cherish, fight with, and train to be an independent woman like her mother. A son followed, whom she taught to iron his own shirts.

In her forties she left the marriage and started a monogramming company. In a few years she was the business manager of a large medical practice - a niche that suited her perfectly and where she stayed for 25 years. In her spare time, she took drawing lessons and was soon painting in oil, watercolors and pastels. Her portraits of children became sought after around town and a favorite endeavor. She sold quite a few.

Following in the tradition of women in her family, she loved to dig her hands in the dirt and produce lovely flowers. Eventually her interest turned to orchids and she built a greenhouse to house the hundreds of specimens she grew. Even when she downsized, she found room for a few hardy cymbidiums and cattleyas to live on her balcony.

In retirement she returned to her beach and married one of the "beach boys" - no, not them. Together they shared their golden years until dementia robbed them of his memory. In her last decade she joined a writing group and flourished. Short stories and essays led to writing a family memoir and an historical novel based on a true family story. She wrote hundreds of manuscripts - not all finished.

Thursday she will join her sisters one last time - on equal footing in her own clothes, not hand-me-downs. She leaves a legacy of independence, creativity and genuine enjoyment of life for her daughter and granddaughters. She will be missed.

Monday's Child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace.

Jean, George, Pat, Helen, Margaret, Agnes, Anne, and Nell

Vernal Equinox

The moon coming up over the ocean and the sun setting on the sound. What could be more lovely? or peaceful? And not just once, but six evenings in a row. Such is vacation.

Long walks on the beach in the early morning - sand so wet that it tugs at my feet and makes my quads and abs ache. Might have something to do with my overall fitness. Such is vacation.

Many good books read sitting on the breezy porch with Mitchell. Such is vacation.

Good friends, good food, good [ok, great] wine. Such is vacation.

Lots of naps, sleeping late, time for reflection. Such is also vacation.

After six weeks on a roller coaster - at work, but mostly at home - a week at the Outer Banks of North Carolina was just what the doctor ordered. Time to decompress from the hard days of packing up Mother's apartment, visiting her in the hospital, moving her to a nursing home, making decisions that I do not want to have to make. Wow! I needed a vacation. Altho there are worse days to come, I feel refreshed and more ready to deal with them as they arrive.

What is it about the roar of the waves breaking and the rustle of leaves as the wind is passing by that carries off our cares and woes? How is it that getting a little closer to nature makes us whole again. Is it the getting closer to our inner dolphin? More likely, it's six days without access to email!

And, why did I forget my camera?

Back to Blogging - Day Three

Today's assignment is to re-post a title I liked. I found it very hard - not because I liked so many of my former titles, but because I liked so few. I think usually my title is the idea that got me writing that day, and because I often think in little throw-away lines, I just use them as titles. Occasionally, I know what I want to write, but add the title at the end.

In searching through, I liked this one because it gave a better idea of where I was headed than many do. And, I have to admit that I was intrigued by the fact that hair use #2 is for cleaning up oil spills. Apparently the booms they have been using to clean up the BP spill are filled with human hair. I read somewhere that hair dressers all over the country have been shipping hair to the Gulf. I was ahead of my time!

Hope you enjoy the re-run.

Hair - it's Way More Than Just Head Cover

It seems that hair is on my mind a lot recently. You know, the stuff that covers your head. Well, not doing that so well these days, but it's one of those things that I just kinda take for granted. For some reason, tho, I seem to keep bumping into new considerations, like these:

Hair as Mulch - I am not making this up. A few days ago I heard a piece on NPR about using hair as mulch. Seems a retired hair dresser - guess that's an old fashioned term, but I am an old fashioned kind of girl - decided that he was throwing away something valuable and found a way to make mats of hair that one can use as a fertilizing mulch. If you don't want to purchase someone else's hair as mulch for your garden, you could use your own - save it, or perhaps put it in your compose and let the nutrients go there.

To Clean up Oil Spills - About 10 years ago NASA experimented with using human hair to clean up oil spills. They were apparently interested in oil spills at sea, but I didn't know that we had to worry about oil spills from space craft... maybe it was interagency cooperation. Since we haven't heard much about this, I guess it didn't work out.

Make Clothing - A designer in Australia has actually done this in 2007. It takes a lot of hair to make this little number, but I think it's pretty - not my style, mind you, but great for the right person. Wonder how if feels. More importantly, do you use conditioner when you wash it?

Build Furniture - Apparently you can make chairs out of hair - at least one inventor in London has done it. Should I sit in my hair chair in my hair dress?

Art (and maybe Crafts) - Dartmouth displayed a huge wall hanging made of hair. I actually think it's attractive, altho I don't have a wall long enough so won't be making a bid for it. This one actually makes sense to me. I've always liked fiber art, altho the fiber normally comes from sheep and llamas. Guess is you can spin sheep hair, it's not a big step to spinning human hair. We once met a woman who collected dog hair, spun it and knitted sweaters. Dogs are like family members for most folks. You know, our ancestors kept hair from loved ones. I've seen it rolled into scroll-like designs and kept in a locket. Perhaps this is not such a new idea after all.

Hair! Flow it, show it; long as I can grow it, my hair!

Hair! (hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair)
Flow it, Show it;
Long as God can grow it, My Hair!

Hair! (hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair)
Flow it, Show it;
Long as God can grow it, My Hair!

Back 2 Blogging - Day Two

Today the assignment is to post something that I wish more people had read. Since it is a fairly long post, here's the link, and I won't try to copy it over.

It's basically a post about our obsession with our weight and size and some thoughts on accepting a healthy weight, rather than a size. I worry that we as a nation - at least the female half - are so concerned with our size. It cannot be healthy to hear 10 year olds saying they are too fat - especially when they are not. But, it's equally bad to see the 10 year olds who are already 50 pounds overweight and to recognize the struggle they will have for the rest of their lives.

Why can't we find a happy medium? Why are we still failing to teach our children and ourselves about healthy eating and healthy exercise?

On the down side, I see that nearly a year later I have not actually made any progress in my own struggle. Today I promised myself that I would not have a sugary snack all day... and I succeeded. Now I feel like a member of AA and am telling myself "one day at the time".

And perhaps that is the secret: progress is measured in one small step, or one day, at the time. I'm psyched for day two. Think I'll reward myself with a trip to Jazzercize!