Play it again #2: Stranger on the Porch

I am thinking that some city folks might not find this believable, but life on the edge of a pasture and woods can sometimes be very exciting.  I personally have had a couple of close encounters with bear with whom I share my blackberry patches, and one time a couple of baby bobcats took shelter on one of my porch chair cushions -- which were never quite the same after their stop over. Of course white-tailed deer pass through at least twice a day -- sometimes in large groups. We often chat in a manner of speaking. I talk; they appear to listen attentively. However -- the evening I am going to tell you about was a whole new kind of experience. 

It began during a winter storm, cold and windy... winter bleakness in general. It had been gray all day and almost totally dark out since about 4 PM.  If you live in NW PA, you know what I am talking about. Anyway -- I was enjoying dinner with my grandkids and daughter when we saw a strange creature "flying" through the yard. It was larger than a cat, thinner than a bear cub... very stringy looking. Unfortunately their dog, the Lovely Luna, was outside, and, as she has a tendency to bring all sorts of unusual things home, we were not surprised to find both her and her new mangy-looking acquaintance on my back porch. The two of them were making a tremendous amount of noise that sounded none too friendly as I am sure you can imagine. The grandkids ran into the laundry room with their dinner as -- naturally --it was way more fun to be scared in there than at the kitchen table.  My daughter managed to get her beast safely inside, but the mystery creature remained on the porch. Did I mention that it was about 12 degrees outside and this poor animal was not looking at all well?  

Now -- from previous experience with an ailing coyote, I have found that whenever a wild animal lands on your back porch, it's not a good thing. It was time to take action or ... to stay inside until Spring.

I tried to call the game warden for my township. No luck.
I called my neighbor who said to call the State Police. Helpful.
I called the State Police and they gave me a phone number for a game commission office that is about 60 miles from here. Not really what I wanted.

So we did what we should have done in the first place. My daughter called her brother-in-law who is a man we are all glad we know because in addition to being really nice, he can do anything, fix anything and is almost totally self-sufficient other than he doesn't build his own trucks from scratch - yet. He is a bit of a survivalist and therefore has appropriate weaponry. He came immediately - just had to finish feeding his chickens first.  His was an amazing entrance. The man fills a doorway. He arrived dressed in his usual camouflage and carrying a blowgun that is taller than I am at almost 5'3".  Oh how I wish I had taken a photograph so that I could have shared his appearance with you. This guy is about 6'5" tall in his stocking feet, but add large winter boots and a fur hat that resembles a full sized beaver -- and he is most impressive. With his hair almost to his waist and his significant beard, let me say he makes the Duck Dynasty bunch look wimpy.  Anyway - that stranger on my back porch took one look at him and vacated the premises.... hopefully never to be seen again. The blowgun was totally unnecessary. 

What surprises me in retrospect is that the kids were afraid of this small animal (probably a fox) and not at all affected by their uncle who resembled, on this occasion - an enlarged and scary Ewok.  I tell you what -- you would not want to run into him unexpectedly on your back porch.  No offense intended... honest.  He is my hero.    

Play it again, Sam

 

I am taking a bit of a break from writing this weekly blog because I need to catch up on some things for the next month or so. The most important of these is time with family. The "out of towners" arrive tomorrow. Fun times! That said -- for the next few weeks "blogwise", I am going to repost some of the more popular blogs since its beginning in 2014.  From Pencil Box to Keyboard has been viewed over 25,000 times now. With readers mostly from the US, but also from Canada, Europe, Scandinavia, South America, and, surprisingly to me, from Russia which, I just recently relearned, is part in Europe and part in Asia. It fun to see where in the world people are accessing my rambles. It is also fun to see which blogs, for whatever reason, have been the most read. Lucky for me, BlogSpot, which hosts my blog, keeps track of all the stats. 

That being said, here is "Play it again... #1"

                                    Purring Grandma

Recently I was chatting with a good friend of mine.  She was telling me about time spent with her Mom during the previous week..  They had spent several days together planning and working on a project. ( I was exhausted just listening to all that they had accomplished.) Anyway --  at one point her Mom, who is a young 88, sat down, put her feet up, closed her eyes and shortly thereafter began to purr softly. (That whole scenario makes me smile.)  My friend found this to be amazing and wonderful at the same time.  The thing that surprised her was not just the purring, but that her Mom actually stopped to take a bit of a nap.  Now I personally don't find the desire to take a bit of a nap at all surprising.  In fact I find it hard to believe that there are people who never nap and seem to take great pride in the fact that they don't.. I do believe them when the say they don't even feel the need, but I still find it necessary to "suspend my disbelief", if you know what I mean. Anyway -- I decided to take an informal poll.  I discovered that many people, including a random sampling at the local Walmart as well as of some of my friends, highly recommend napping on a regular basis. There are those who use strong terms like "power nap". Others just mumble as if napping needs to be a confession of some sort.   Actually there are many terms that people use in reference to napping.  It is sort of like areas of the country that have twenty-seven different words for snow. The more important the subject, the more words to describe it.  I was talking with my  three-year-old granddaughter just the other day about the importance and benefits of napping. As I was looking at her and gabbing away, she closed her eyes and tipped over on me sound asleep. I guess she doesn't need to be convinced. She is, after all, a fourth generation "napper". As I watched her sleep the sleep of a three year old, I wished that she too did a little soft purring. There is something so nice about that.  

Another brief list...

 

Sometimes I have a hard time thinking of an idea about which to write, and when that happens, I sometimes make lists of questions for which I want answers or of ideas I don’t understand.  That being said, and since we are so close to a big holiday and all I want to do is goof around, I am going to write down a list of a few things I don’t understand completely or about which I am thinking.  You know – from a Boomer’s point of view – not that Boomers all think alike, because for sure we do not.  How boring it would be if we did. Right?

So first of all, I don’t understand the word meta.  If meta refers to ”when something refers back to or is about itself, like a book about books or a meme about memes”, then why did Mark Zuckerberg rename Facebook "Meta"? Hopefully there is another meaning or.. it seems Zuckerberg is saying that everyone of Facebook is about one's own face or about him or herself alone and that isn't my experience on that platform. Some research is required.  But then also…  how does "metaverse" fit in with all of this? Further... how do Snap Chat, Twitter, Rumble, and Instagram, etc. actually work? Do I need to know this? I find it all as confusing as Bitcoin.

Along similar lines, why is a podcast called a podcast?  I get the cast part, but not the pod.  Moving on....

Who is making the most money by continuing to generate and fan the fears of global warming, and/or another global pandemic?  What kind of a person is it who is all about control of others? It must be lonely to have no friends.

Why is it that some people have no concept of safe and unsafe places in the world? Why is it that some people have no concept of stupid?

Why is it that the pronouns he and she are no longer enough and why can they not be used in gender-fluid situations? Further – what exactly does gender-fluid mean? There is a whole language in this realm -- all totally new to me and which I do not understand. 

On a related matter – why is it that no matter how hard I try, I cannot always remember what letters come after LGB? Honestly -- I don’t think about it a lot, but I know it matters to many people, and think I should be able to rattle off all the letters fluently like the "talking heads" do and better yet -- maybe even know what they mean. It is PRIDE month after all. That I do know.

Finally -- is television on the way out? 

This particular list now at an end – hopefully I will put together a better blog for next week. Or perhaps I will take a vacation.  In the meantime, Happy 4^th!  Celebrate America! It is the land of the free where diversity and tolerance count. Right? Now that is worthy of celebration. We need to hang on to those values. We need a break from intolerance, hatred and violence.   All of us.  

Again... wishing you a peaceful and happy Independence Day. Celebrate that on this day in 1776, the Declaration of Independence established for the first time in world history a new nation based on, among other things, the rule of law, specific unalienable rights, limited government, and equality. Thankful here to live in a United States of America founded on these principles. I wish you safe and happy celebration.

Is this party to whom I am speaking?

  

Sometimes I find myself thinking about all the amazing things my grandmothers observed in their lifetimes.  They went from horse and buggy to supersonic transport.  They went from outhouses to indoor plumbing, from washboards and clothes lines to automatic washers and dryers.  Impressive, right?  Oh, what would they think of today’s online shopping, take-out food and the availability of things in general? Almost forgot -- permanent press! The list could go on and on.

Then, for some unknown reason I skip over my parents’ generation to mine (they do overlap a bit after all) and realize that we, too, have made remarkable progress - lived through significant change.  Radio sort of evolved into those little round televisions able to get three staticky channels if you put enough aluminum foil on the rabbit ears and turned them the right way (my Uncle had one) … and our lives changed forever.  Technology went "feral" after that ... and we know where we are today -- caught within that blur. Also, let's not forget automobiles.... What happened to manual transmission, window vents and floor dimmer switches? Remember when we had rotary phones and dialed “0” for an Operator - a real person you could talk with? “One ringy-dingy... two ringy-dingy...." (Ernestine)  

Sometimes I feel that it is impossible to catch up with how fast the world is changing and so I don't even try and find myself using phrases like "phone photo" which makes total sense to a person who grew up with a Brownie in the family.  Kids these days would roll their eyes at that – actually I have seen some of them do that and have heard of other savvy young who have done that as well. (Love them anyway.)  “Why not just call it a photo, Nana?”  ("… because it is a phone photo; that’s why." There is a difference. Boomers understand this. Some day these kids will too when they are dealing with some "newfangled" invention.)

I guess each generation just has to deal with its own progress.  I wonder what it will be like for my grandchildren and on. I mean – what about the possibilities of Artificial Intelligence, vehicles that drive themselves or don't touch the ground... all sorts of “Meet George Jetson” things. Then there are the inventions that haven’t even been thought of yet. It's exhausting....  Each generation seems to be getting smarter and it is not just them who think so.

Actually, I am not going to give their future too much thought.  They will handle the changes.  Each generation has or has tired to ... or at least has managed to cope in some way.   Right now, I am just trying to figure out how to make a smooth transition from cable to streaming, from a skillet to an air-fryer, from a landline to a cell phone.  You know – from a pencil box to a keyboard.  Some days I do pretty well.  Other days?  Not so much. Plus – there is plenty of technology that I have decided to totally ignore.  I am okay with that … at least for now.  Come to think of it though -- I felt that way about microwave ovens, the Internet, online banking, and texting at one time and changed my mind about them, so… who knows? One thing I can say for certain -- you will not see me on a hoverboard. Call me chicken.  I will readily agree... no shame in that one. I fall well enough just using my own two feet. Did that yesterday as a matter of fact.  It was impressive -- especially the trying to get up gracefully part. Anyway -- call me old-fashioned... or maybe just plain getting old.  Either way -- both are okay with me.

 

I Will Remember

Fifty-five years ago when nearing high school graduation day, as chairman of the class gift committee, I approached the high school principal to get a suggestion as to what the class might leave to the school with our left-over funds.  You know -- maybe we could purchase a flag for the auditorium or provide a bit of landscaping outside.  Well... he looked me right in the eye and told me, in no uncertain terms, that the school was taking our left-over money and adding it to the general fund -- that the school did not want to remember our class. He went on to say that he had 21 diplomas on his desk that he was thinking of withholding." (He also took away our class outing.) It was stunning. He was usually such a kind man in red socks.  Not sure what I said in response (probably nothing), or how I reacted (other than shock), but ... the memory of his anger has stuck with me. I find the whole thing somehow amusing in retrospect, because I grew up with those people the school didn't want to remember. I was one of them, and I always have wanted to remember them. Still do. People you grow up with are special - shared memories are just one bond of many.

Looking back at the whole situation -- there was the organized "gathering" of the official signs of rival schools and a recurring "relocation" of the cannon in the city park ... both inconvenient to those adults supervising the youth of the time ... but nothing harmful or damaging really. (Well some of those school signs and perhaps a rather large concrete statue of a guardian lion somehow found their way inside the school and did scratch a counter, but that was "fixed" by a local factory owner. It seems that the owner of that company happened to have a son who may have been involved in that episode. Then again later on -- there was the lassoing of a car on Main Street that involved members of the Class of '67 on both sides of the issue -- culprit and police officer ... but I digress....  People of the Class of "67 know all about this.  It is a bond we share really. Just one of them.) 

For the most part though -- our class went on to good/important things.  Many went on in various branches of the military to protect our country. One made the ultimate sacrifice in Viet Nam. Others went to work in local factories or on nearby farms, or continued their studies for one thing or another.  Many married and had families. To be sure some had struggles. As my mom used to say, "We all have our own bag of rocks."  For the most part though - normal stuff really. Times of hardship, times of triumph. Life is like that... a variety of challenges and successes. Sadness and happiness.  Anyway -- talented in a huge variety of areas -- interesting people all. 

See the thing is -- I just spent a large part of last weekend with some of the remarkable people of the Class of '67 during the events of our 55th reunion.  As I moved throughout the gatherings, I heard many memories of our years together - some sort of scary and many that might have been/probably were a bit of a challenge to authority, but the class of '67 has a special place in my heart for sure. The weekend was a gift of laughter and of poignant moments. I am thankful to know these people and to have known them. I enjoyed spending time with them. I remember our growing up years.  I always will. Special people, special times.

Puzzle Pieces

 

Remember when we were younger and thought our parents and/or adults in general had answers to the problems of the world? Ah – the sweet innocence of youth. Well ... we Boomers are the older (closing in on oldest) generation now and most of us, I think, know just how much we don’t know. My own “children”, of a sandwich generation caught between their parents and their children, have been at the point for a while now where they realize all of this as well.  It’s hard being a grown up sometimes.  

The thing is the older I get, the more I think about things – you know -- mull over …. Maybe it is because I have the time.  Case in point… ever wonder if your kids and grandkids have any idea of who you were before they were in the picture? Or -- have you ever wondered about your parents’ and grandparents’ lives before you?  There is a sort of invisible thread that links all generations together - sometimes I even sense that I am waking hand-in-hand with my Mom or Dad. I hear their words coming out of my mouth or finding their way onto the page of something I am writing. The thing is, though, that it is difficult to slip out of time and to find a way into the past … only bits and pieces of memories come together.  Things you may have heard or that you saw in an old black and white photo -- they sort of float around -- hard to reel in. Sadly -- some information is lost forever.  All are parts of a large puzzle yet to be finished.

I can’t remember if I ever told my children what I know about our ancestors – like about one grandmother who was married five times or a great grandfather who was blown up while dynamiting a tree stump while clearing a field. Have I ever shared with them that my mother was a shoe model in NYC attending a music school at night, when she met my father who was a Marine on leave there.  She was actually engaged to someone else at the time, but ever the salesman, my father convinced her to go out with him – just once.  And that, ladies and gentlemen, … was the beginning of a life time loving partnership. I think it was just a few weeks later that she took a train to Texas where they were married.  He was a Marine stationed at Lackland Air Force base there.  I found the paperwork after he passed away that explained what he did during WWII - a Marine on an Air Force base.  He taught pilots how to fly at night using Radar. Apparently, he studied at both the University of Utah and Pennsylvania’s own Grove City College in preparation for this.  Wish I had known about this during his life time. He never talked about the Marines except to teach me the Marine Corps Hymn – To this day I sometimes find myself singing it in my head.  Good olde “From the halls of Montezuma…”.  The thing is  -- I have a million questions and no one left to ask. Lost pieces....

Every once in a while things come up in conversation that I am surprised to learn that my adult kids didn't know about me in my time before them. Think I better make a list of things to tell them and my grandkids so that they don’t just find info in a dusty file in a desk drawer …  just in case they ever wonder what I was like and what I did before they came into the picture. You know – to make sure there are no, or at least fewer, missing pieces in the puzzle. Knowing a few things about the past gives one a certain special perspective on life and that is, I think, a good thing. I wish I had more of the missing pieces or had a way of finding them. 

Upcoming 55th High School Reunion

 

(This topic may or may not have something to do with my upcoming 55^th high school reunion.)

I have been thinking lately about how one knows when they are getting old? I mean people tend to feel much younger than they really are sometimes. Are there any signs by which to measure? Now that my “age group” is nearing the top of the Class of Boomers, I have compiled, from the comments of others and from my own personal observations, a list of Senior Boomer traits to consider when pondering the aging question.

  It is:

•     becoming more and difficult to avoid making old people noises          like moaning, groaning and "slurpy" hissing sounds when moving      after a time of ... not moving.
•     longing for the comfort/security of old, seemingly simpler times.
•     struggling with the latest technology.
•     thinking that a lot of people tend to mumble.
•     talking, perhaps excessively, about health issues.
•     putting on underwear while standing has become a memory for        the most part.
•     "rolling up one's sleeves" and getting to work is sometimes              easier said than done.
•     having multiple pairs of reading glasses stashed throughout              one’s home – on a door knob or on a beaded chain hanging              around one’s neck is common and doesn't seem weird at all.
•     being concerned about increasing episodes of benign                        forgetfulness.
•     thinking that your grandma/grandpa is living in your mirror.
•     noticing that freckles have become way bigger.
•     realizing suddenly that Robert Redford is wrinkly, Tom Selleck is        promoting reverse mortgages, and Joe Namath touts Medicare          supplements.
•     using directions like “hang a right at the intersection where the        drive-in used to be.
•      missing family and friends... that being the most poignant of all.

All that being said ... and I bet you are thinking of more right this minute … (please feel free to share) ... we are all getting older and one of the best things for me about class reunions is that I tend to see people as I remember them (all the best traits) and find it absolutely lovely to reminisce and laugh together once again. And … it never fails that I have a chance to talk with a classmate and come away wishing that I had known him or her better back then in the good olde days. It is restorative.  Shared memories of times past – all the while including all those we are missing for whatever reason.  I guess, getting older is sometimes a part of the journey... nice that we can spend some time with fellow travelers. 

A huge thank you to all those classmates who are making this all possible.