Scattered Seed

We headed off to Ithaca this afternoon to see a movie, Letters from Iwo Jima, just one of many movies we can’t find here. It was cold and icy walking the streets, but a nostalgic setting for us. Many winter Saturdays in the 60’s, Dad and I would be dropped off in Ithaca for a date at the movies – I remember Love Story, James Bond, The Graduate – Dad remembers more. There were four theaters then, only the State remains now, and it doesn’t do movies anymore.
Being in Ithaca with the family was always a day’s outing – Home Dairy for lunch, the stationary store, below street level, where I chose the paper I would write love letters on, the jewelry store where I bought Dad’s wedding ring, the shoe store on the corner where they would actually measure your foot and help you try on shoes, the bookstore where I bought Lois Wise poetry, the department store where I bought a blue checked winter coat on layaway while I was in high school. Around the corner is the clerk’s office where we applied for our marriage license.

The Commons were not there. It was just a street with traffic, and the excitement of a city, and especially pretty in the snow. When we were young, not yet married, I always imagined us living there,  shopping there, walking the streets together there – and so whenever we return for a day, I feel we are back home.

We left Saturday morning at daybreak. The weather was non-threatening, till east of Binghamton. There the snow flew and obscured our visibility for awhile. By the time we reached Hancock, the sun was out, and I was watching the crows fly up from the fields as we passed by. One crow caught my eye, flying up from a rock by the highway, and as I looked again, there sat a bald eagle, looking about. If Dad hadn’t confirmed the sighting, I would have thought I was seeing things. It seemed a good omen for our trip.

We stopped for some breakfast, took the Thruway south to Palisades Parkway, then arrived at the GW just before noon. Across the bridge, down the west side of Manhattan, and across on 14th St. to Broadway. Garrett spoke with Morgan to give her our location, and she met us at the parking garage about a block from her building.

Dad had spotted the Mud Trucks on the street, sorry that we had passed the one on 14th St, but Morgan pointed out one that was parked at Astor Place, so we walked there for coffee, some bagged to take home, some fresh-poured to drink. Garrett pointed out the flag in the square, whipping in the wind. A little daschund in a sweater shivered on the sidewalk and I felt sorry that his master was getting hot coffee, and he was quite chilled.
The show was to start at 2 p.m. Morgan was soon busy getting things ready – Dad and Garrett and I waited outside the performance room, enjoying the conversations around us as people came in to say they were ” here to see Morgan’s show”. We saw some familiar faces, and learned faces that were just names before. It was nice just to be a part of Morgan’s world, watch her move through it, assure myself that she was in her element and not lost among strangers.

The show pulled me in from the beginning -The music, the movement, the subtleties…. I found myself very focused on Morgan – half of the on-stage relationship. It seemed she was drawing from the many moods she had seen me in. I enjoyed watching Albert as he related to Morgan, till he sat upon her, and then I took offense. We listened to the feedback from the audience, their perceptions, but it seemed that Morgan just had me in her audience, and said “see, this is how I remembered you”….
We went for dinner after the show, along St. Mark’s Place, to a small place serving crepes, mine filled with albacore, tomato, and Jarlsberg cheese – yum. Our walk back was bitter cold, and windy. The woman walking in front of me was carrying two loaves of bread, one under each arm, and the wind took them, and they landed on the sidewalk in front of us. I was glad to get indoors again.

We had a short time back in Morgan’s office to warm up, visit, and think about coming down again for a show she’ll be doing in April (it will be warmer then). Dad was anxious to get back on the road, never enjoying the departure from the city. The drive back up the island is always long, and harrowing, and each time we go through the drill about which lane to choose to get on the bridge.

Dad drove us out, and up the Parkway and back on the Thruway. Garrett took over when we were well onto Rte. 17, and Dad seemed to enjoy the break. It had been a long day, but I felt invigorated by the sights and sounds of the city, and glad that we could see what Morgan had created.

NYC- MUD Truck

Grandma Dick was born on this day in 1901, she died in February 1985, at the age of 84 of Parkinson’s disease. She married at the age of 17, lived her entire life in Interlaken, had four children, with a span of 15 years between her third and fourth child.

I remember Grandma best in the kitchen – the wonderful smells, the cookie jar filled, Sunday dinners on the Currier and Ives dishes, blackcap pie when we were at the cottage with berries that had been picked in the patches along the back road. We were always invited to the lake for a picnic or a sleepover at the cottage. I can see her sitting in the metal chairs with her friends visiting after a meal, looking out over the lake from up on the bank. I can see her sitting in her chair in the livingroom of the house on Railroad Ave, sometimes working on an afghan. She would holler out “Joe! Joe!” when she needed something and Grandpa wasn’t paying attention. She had a weekly bridge game, and a weekly hair appointment uptown. I remember she used Camay soap in the upstairs bathroom. Her house had a comfort to it, always warm, always tidy, but under the stairs, she kept a special place for the grandchildren. A chalkboard on the wall, small toys and Lincoln Logs, a map puzzle of the United States (where I learned my U.S. geography and memorized the capitols). She had a coffee table just the right height for kneeling against and setting up little figures.

Grandma worked in the kitchen when I attended elementary school. I would see her behind the tray line, working at the big pots and pans, putting together our meal. Grandpa would drop her off to work, and pick her up later – she never drove a car.
Grandma would come to my concerts, my awards assemblies, my installations in Rainbow Girls (she was in Eastern Star). She was a member of the DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) and her research provides the lineage for future generations to follow. She and Grandpa took me on my first flight in 1967 to California to visit my cousins. She was always very supportive. She saw me through the mumps when Dad remarried and was off on his honeymoon.

She worked in the village library, and I would take her place when she and Grandpa would go off on vacation. She gave me 50 cents for each day, to stamp the books with a due date, or return them to their place on the shelves. (This gave me time in the library, which was not well-used, to explore the books at my leisure – and some of my most treasured readings came from those hours – especially ‘A Wrinkle in Time’ and ‘The Golden Name Day.’)

I owe much to Grandma by her presence in my life, the influence she had in her quiet way, and the times she would speak harshly to me, though they were few. She was especially unhappy with me one summer day at the cottage when I dropped a favorite dish, and I felt badly that I had disappointed her. On my wedding day, she came upstairs to my bedroom to see if I needed anything, to wish me well in my married life.
Grandma would be 106 today. I miss her at holidays, bright summer days, rainy summer days, and ordinary days as I stand at the kitchen sink and reflect back on all the memories she gave me.

Jan, Grandma Dick, George – 1974

With thoughts of our recent doctor visits, and lab reports noted, it became evident that we had to do something to improve the numbers. During the week we had discussed gym membership, and had inquired about the cost and hours. I thought it was the way to go, for Dad at least (my 40 hours a week on foot seem exhausting enough) – but he had other ideas. On a trip to pick up a model he wanted, he stopped at Dick’s and called me with his idea. He’d found an exercise bike that he thought he would use, and after consideration, decided this was what we should have (and it was on sale). One of the considerations was where to put it…..and so, the cleaning out of Morgan’s room – he set right to it, and I joined in later, basically reorganizing her 18 years worth of treasures so that they were off to one side, and our exercise bike had its home. The assembly took most of the afternoon, then we both had our time on the bike – Dad went further, longer, and burned more calories than I did, but I’ll get better………

This week has been quite out of the ordinary as I observed and puttered around the back yard. The yard is a mossy green, the maple by the deck has small buds, as does the magnolia that was given to us in the fall by our departing neighbors. The birds have consumed much less seed than other years at this time, probably due to natural sources still available in these temperatures (it was 64 degrees today, and two other days this week in the high 50’s) I assumed that all would work itself out in the weeks to come, till this morning when I spotted 3 Eastern bluebirds in the backyard, investigating the nest box we had put up last spring. It was exciting to see them, but I hope they know not to start their family yet, with cold weather still to come. Last year my first bluebird did not arrive until March.

My backyard bird sightings for today were 5 mourning dove, 2 downy woodpecker, 3 blue jay, 4 black-capped chickadee, 30 Canada geese, 2 European starling, 21 house finch, 5 house sparrow, 3 Eastern bluebird, and 1 American crow.

For Christmas 2006 we purchased a live uncut tree, planning to bring it home, leave it outdoors till a few days before Christmas, bring it in to decorate, then return it to the outdoors soon after the holiday for planting.

The little white spruce waited in the front yard till Garrett got home for the holiday, as we had found the root ball quite heavy and felt his assistance was needed in carrying it up the stairs. He arrived home on a day following several of heavy rain, and now the root ball was even that much heavier, and the decision was made that it couldn’t be lifted safely up the stairs. Being Dec. 23rd, we opted for the artificial tree of many years past, and left the little spruce in the front yard.

On New Year’s Eve, the weather being mild, and the ground manageable, Dad and Garrett dug the hole and set my tree, joining the willows and maples in the backyard. Hopefully it will offer shelter to the feeder birds which have recently been at the mercy of a sharp-shinned hawk. His attack on a mourning dove led me to the decision to acquire this, my first conifer.