Grandma came up to my parents' house to share Christmas with us yesterday. She brought the ham and a pumpkin pie, to accompany my mother's green beans, applesauce, mashed potatoes and crescent rolls. We prayed and ate, and then retired to the living room to sit in front of the fire with our coffee and give Grandma her gifts.
Grandma told me a story yesterday about her grandmother Mary Worden, who also made Kuchen, like my husband's grandmother. Mary Rodgers and her brothers and sisters were orphaned as children and separated, sent to live with and work for different families. Mary was sent to a family in Indiana. Eventually she ended up working as a cook in Randolph, NY. She grew up and married, and never knew what became of her brothers and sisters.
When Grandma was preschool age, her family lived in Orchard Park, NY. Her father worked for a man paving sidewalks and driveways. This man's name was Will Rodgers. Noticing that the spelling of Rodgers was the same, Grandma's father asked Will Rodgers if he had any sisters. The two men compared backgrounds and discovered the connection.
Grandma's father was able to bring Will Rodgers to Belmont, NY, where Mary (now Mary Worden) was living, and the long-lost brother and sister were reunited again. Eventually, through Will, Mary discovered the rest of her brothers and sisters were all living in western New York and she got reaquainted with each of them, including Fanny, who sold canaries - birds known for their singing - two for ten dollars, out of a room in her house. It was during the Depression and no one was opening shops.
Grandma also told us of the time when women had recently secured the right to vote, and Grandma's entire family piled in the car so that her father could drive her mother to the town hall in Orchard Park to cast her vote. Grandma remembers her father giving instructions to her mother the entire ride there, on how the process will work, how the machines are used, and exactly who she should vote for.
The third story that Grandma shared with us was after I asked her what her earliest Christmas memory was. It is a sad memory. She doesn't remember much about Christmas at home, but she remembers being in school, and her teacher gave her a poem to recite for the class, titled "A Christmas Dolly." The teacher encouraged Grandma to bring in her favorite doll as a prop for when she gave the recitation. Grandma didn't have a doll. So the teacher had another girl bring hers, and Grandma held onto that doll while reciting the Christmas poem for her class. She remembers holding on so tightly to that doll, she didn't want to ever let go of it.
I asked Grandma later while opening presents about quilting. I think that quilting is something I would like to learn to do from her, like caning chairs. I haven't really had the chance to take up caning chairs since I moved 40 minutes away and haven't been having regular visits with her. Also, the materials required to cane chairs are less easily come by. It's not the season for garage and estate sales, where I could easily find old chairs that need seats. However, in the meantime, while I still have hopes of learning to cane chairs from Grandma, I could take up a winter activity - quilting - and learn that from her. So I asked Grandma how she would recommend learning quilting, by machine or by hand? "Oh, as far as I'm concerned," she said, "quilting is done by hand." She has always quilted by hand. She recounted the story of how she learned to quilt. She was in grade school, in a combined fourth-fifth-and-sixth grade class, and one day they were separated by gender and all the boys were told they would learn to build desks, and all the girls were told they would learn to sew a quilt. She went home and practiced, and her aunt saw her quilting without a thimble. Her aunt insisted that she use a thimble, and though at first she felt it was impossible, now she says she can never quilt without one. Grandma has, upstairs in her late-1800s house, a wooden quilting hoop that she has used to make many of her quilts by hand. She said that so many people use machines nowadays, and the results might be more perfect and uniform, but the best quilts have imperfections and are the work of someone's hands. I believe her. I want to learn how to quilt - by hand.
I had picked out a very special Christmas gift for Grandma this year to be from Ryan and me - a hand carved sculpture of Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus, made from solid olive wood, from Bethlehem. Like I've said in previous chapters, I'm not sure where Grandma stands spiritually, and I care deeply about her relationship with the Lord. I picked out this piece because I know she didn't already have a creche, and I know she loves hand crafted works of art. I'm hoping it will cause her to think just a little bit more about the story of Christ's birth. I included a small card with it telling her how much I love her and love spending time with her, and I told her that I was writing a story for her about what Christmas means to me. This story that I will write for her will hopefully communicate God's love and the gospel message in a clear way so that she will at least know where I stand. I've been burdened by never sharing my beliefs with her. How do you witness to your own grandmother, who has lived so much longer than you, who has experienced so much more than you, who is so much wiser than you? I don't hope to "convert" her myself, I know it's God who changes people's hearts and turns them towards Him. But I do feel a responsibility to share the message of Jesus with her.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Tea and Fruitcake
It has been about a month since we have visited my grandma. Today on the way home from church, I called to set up a visit with her. I have to call now; she was getting confused and making Sunday dinners for us even when we told her we'd just be coming over for tea in the afternoons. A young voice - my mother's - answered Grandma's phone with "Tanner's", and I was momentarily thrown off by the contrast to the smoker's voice I'd been expecting. She put Grandma on the phone.
"Hi Grandma! How are you?"
"I'm good, how are you?"
"Good! We were wondering if we could set up a tea time with you today."
"A tee time? What was that?"
"We were wondering if we could come visit you today."
We worked out the details and hung up; it was after I hung up that I realized how the phrase "tea time" might have sounded like we were inviting Grandma out for a round of 18 holes on this sunny but cold November afternoon. After a lunch at Ryan's house, of chicken pot pie casserole, pickle relish, leftover cranberry bread from Thanksgiving, and apple sauce, with oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for dessert, and some reading/watching football/snoozing on the couches, we headed back into town to Grandma's house.
I didn't notice the charcoal shutters hung on the windows, but I did notice her new back door. It was white with a double-paned glass window, and looked solid and new and much warmer than the old door. We went in, and she was down in the Keeping Room, watching the football game. She had three teacups and a plate of sliced fruitcake set out on the dining room table for us. We shed our coats, gloves and scarves and sat down to tea with her.
She pointed out the basalm Christmas wreath on her front door. It's made with real branches. Every Christmas her oldest son David and his wife Sandy send her a wreath from the L.L. Bean catalog.
Conversation with Grandma these days is a lot lighter and less reminiscent of the old days now. Ryan is with me, and we're only having tea: two factors that don't lead me into the tell-me-of-the-old-days questioning. But she poured our black tea into the teacups and we took the slices of fruitcake, which was studded with pecans and red and green candied cherries. We chatted about work and our apartment and other things. She has taken to volunteering at the nursing home my grandfather was at, because she had met so many people and made so many friends while he was kept there. Unfortunately, her first assignment as a volunteer worker was in the gift shop, which she doesn't like at all. "I don't want to be up there selling chocolate bars; I want to work with people," she says. Tomorrow she has an interview for a different position at the nursing home, hopefully one that will get her away from the candy bars and into the paths of people.
We talked about caning chairs; her front porch is crammed with chairs of all shapes and sizes, waiting to be restored. She had just finished a beautiful chair downstairs in the Keeping Room, with a delicate cane called carriage cane, so delicate you had to put varnish on the seat when it was finished to give it extra strength. She diluted the varnish with "mineral spirits" - a testament to the amazing things she has lying around her old house. She showed the chair to us, showed us where she took it apart and repaired the broken bits with glue, refinished the wood, and the underside of the caning. The chair is beautiful.
We didn't stay long this time, and as we were standing by the back door getting ready to leave, she pointed out the new door to us and the cool feature it has: blinds that are inside the double-paned windows, which are controlled by a slider to the right and can be lowered and lifted and opened and closed, all within the glass panes. She always has a knack for things that are quite practical and useful, but not without also being aesthetically pleasing, beautiful.
She wanted to know if I was going to "do any baking this year". I'm tickled by that question- by the idea of planning for a year's baking or even a season's baking. To me it seems quaint. She wanted to give me an extra bag of chocolate chips she had got on sale recently and wouldn't be able to use this winter. She couldn't find them, though.
We said our goodbyes and headed out the nice shiny new back door, crunched the gravel under our feet on our way to the car, and drove off. She waved to us from the window, as usual.
"Hi Grandma! How are you?"
"I'm good, how are you?"
"Good! We were wondering if we could set up a tea time with you today."
"A tee time? What was that?"
"We were wondering if we could come visit you today."
We worked out the details and hung up; it was after I hung up that I realized how the phrase "tea time" might have sounded like we were inviting Grandma out for a round of 18 holes on this sunny but cold November afternoon. After a lunch at Ryan's house, of chicken pot pie casserole, pickle relish, leftover cranberry bread from Thanksgiving, and apple sauce, with oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for dessert, and some reading/watching football/snoozing on the couches, we headed back into town to Grandma's house.
I didn't notice the charcoal shutters hung on the windows, but I did notice her new back door. It was white with a double-paned glass window, and looked solid and new and much warmer than the old door. We went in, and she was down in the Keeping Room, watching the football game. She had three teacups and a plate of sliced fruitcake set out on the dining room table for us. We shed our coats, gloves and scarves and sat down to tea with her.
She pointed out the basalm Christmas wreath on her front door. It's made with real branches. Every Christmas her oldest son David and his wife Sandy send her a wreath from the L.L. Bean catalog.
Conversation with Grandma these days is a lot lighter and less reminiscent of the old days now. Ryan is with me, and we're only having tea: two factors that don't lead me into the tell-me-of-the-old-days questioning. But she poured our black tea into the teacups and we took the slices of fruitcake, which was studded with pecans and red and green candied cherries. We chatted about work and our apartment and other things. She has taken to volunteering at the nursing home my grandfather was at, because she had met so many people and made so many friends while he was kept there. Unfortunately, her first assignment as a volunteer worker was in the gift shop, which she doesn't like at all. "I don't want to be up there selling chocolate bars; I want to work with people," she says. Tomorrow she has an interview for a different position at the nursing home, hopefully one that will get her away from the candy bars and into the paths of people.
We talked about caning chairs; her front porch is crammed with chairs of all shapes and sizes, waiting to be restored. She had just finished a beautiful chair downstairs in the Keeping Room, with a delicate cane called carriage cane, so delicate you had to put varnish on the seat when it was finished to give it extra strength. She diluted the varnish with "mineral spirits" - a testament to the amazing things she has lying around her old house. She showed the chair to us, showed us where she took it apart and repaired the broken bits with glue, refinished the wood, and the underside of the caning. The chair is beautiful.
We didn't stay long this time, and as we were standing by the back door getting ready to leave, she pointed out the new door to us and the cool feature it has: blinds that are inside the double-paned windows, which are controlled by a slider to the right and can be lowered and lifted and opened and closed, all within the glass panes. She always has a knack for things that are quite practical and useful, but not without also being aesthetically pleasing, beautiful.
She wanted to know if I was going to "do any baking this year". I'm tickled by that question- by the idea of planning for a year's baking or even a season's baking. To me it seems quaint. She wanted to give me an extra bag of chocolate chips she had got on sale recently and wouldn't be able to use this winter. She couldn't find them, though.
We said our goodbyes and headed out the nice shiny new back door, crunched the gravel under our feet on our way to the car, and drove off. She waved to us from the window, as usual.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Update for the ten people who are reading this blog
Well hello, readers. I assume that some people have stumbled across this little blog because the last time I checked, I had about 54 profile views and today I have had 101. What a surprise! Still a humble little number, but it pleased me to see that.
Here's the update: after getting married and moving 40 minutes away, my dinners with my grandmother changed into Sunday afternoon tea sessions after church, usually with my husband in attendance as well. A lot has happened in the last several months. My grandfather has passed away, and I've avoided writing about that because it's one of those things where you don't even know how or where to start. But bear with me: I intend to keep up with these "dinners with Grandma" entries, even though they are more "Sunday afternoon tea" entries now, and I hope you will enjoy reading them. She is an amazing person, my grandmother.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Here's the update: after getting married and moving 40 minutes away, my dinners with my grandmother changed into Sunday afternoon tea sessions after church, usually with my husband in attendance as well. A lot has happened in the last several months. My grandfather has passed away, and I've avoided writing about that because it's one of those things where you don't even know how or where to start. But bear with me: I intend to keep up with these "dinners with Grandma" entries, even though they are more "Sunday afternoon tea" entries now, and I hope you will enjoy reading them. She is an amazing person, my grandmother.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Grandma's England Journal - Fifteenth and Final Day
4/14/92: D-Day (Departure Day) Doug was up ready to leave for Upwood and Christie got up to see us off and really touched me that she didn't want to see us leave. I hadn't realized our visit had meant that much to this little girl but it surely did to me. I'm glad to have had those sharing times with them.
Arriving at Huntingdon Station, we purchased our tickets L14.9 and Lynne helped Phyl with her large heavy suitcase albeit it was on rollers. Last hugs for Lynne and she was gone. We got our luggage on and tried to maneuver the cases back by our seat but a young man following said they would be all right by the sliding door.
Phyl and I began discussing the problem soon to be facing us in the underground station with stairs up and down to reach our train for Gatwick. We wondered if there were any redcaps thought neither of us remembered seeing any. Our Good Samaritan told us it would be better to get off at Finsbury Park instead of King's Cross, he said "just follow me", then he proceeded to pick up Phyl's bag, another young man said "let me help" and carried my suitcase thru the station up the stairs and to the automatic barriers. We called our thanks as they hurried about their business. Down some stairs, with frequent stops, then up an escalator, finally the tube for Victoria Station where we would board the BritRail to Gatwick. We were the only ones in our car until our first stop a young man got on. He asked if we were visiting in the city. Phyl told him we'd been visiting and were on our way to Gatwick and home. He asked what part of the States we were from when Phyl said she was living in Florida. he said his parents had retired there. Phyl recognized the place as near her, he took out a card and put their phone number on it for her. He told us he retired from USAF and now was employed by London Transit as a Safety Inspector. In service he was in Health and Safety stationed at Upwood. At Victoria Station he helped Phyl with her bag and we were soon aboard Britrail headed for Gatwick.
Arriving we went thru Customs (long lines) then on into the concourse with shops and a restaurant. Had a nice breakfast buffet and coffee. Boarded the plane, and watched that little patch of green that is England dissolve in mist and fog as we climbed into the clouds and headed West - well, I guess Northwest!
It was late afternoon when we reached Charlotte, N.C. Phyl's plane was soon leaving and I had less than an hour to wait. Landed in Buffalo to be greeted by 'Lanie and Mir. Picked up my luggage, talking non-stop and soon we were toodling down old Route 16. We decided to stop at Nicolo's for coffee and surprise Lisa. Very fitting as she waved goodbye to me from the driveway there as Kevin was driving me in to Buffalo Airport, two weeks before. I left her a tip in English coins.
It was good to get home. Dad had done very well on his own. No dirty dishes- nothing to indicate I'd been away two whole weeks on the trip of a lifetime.
Arriving at Huntingdon Station, we purchased our tickets L14.9 and Lynne helped Phyl with her large heavy suitcase albeit it was on rollers. Last hugs for Lynne and she was gone. We got our luggage on and tried to maneuver the cases back by our seat but a young man following said they would be all right by the sliding door.
Phyl and I began discussing the problem soon to be facing us in the underground station with stairs up and down to reach our train for Gatwick. We wondered if there were any redcaps thought neither of us remembered seeing any. Our Good Samaritan told us it would be better to get off at Finsbury Park instead of King's Cross, he said "just follow me", then he proceeded to pick up Phyl's bag, another young man said "let me help" and carried my suitcase thru the station up the stairs and to the automatic barriers. We called our thanks as they hurried about their business. Down some stairs, with frequent stops, then up an escalator, finally the tube for Victoria Station where we would board the BritRail to Gatwick. We were the only ones in our car until our first stop a young man got on. He asked if we were visiting in the city. Phyl told him we'd been visiting and were on our way to Gatwick and home. He asked what part of the States we were from when Phyl said she was living in Florida. he said his parents had retired there. Phyl recognized the place as near her, he took out a card and put their phone number on it for her. He told us he retired from USAF and now was employed by London Transit as a Safety Inspector. In service he was in Health and Safety stationed at Upwood. At Victoria Station he helped Phyl with her bag and we were soon aboard Britrail headed for Gatwick.
Arriving we went thru Customs (long lines) then on into the concourse with shops and a restaurant. Had a nice breakfast buffet and coffee. Boarded the plane, and watched that little patch of green that is England dissolve in mist and fog as we climbed into the clouds and headed West - well, I guess Northwest!
It was late afternoon when we reached Charlotte, N.C. Phyl's plane was soon leaving and I had less than an hour to wait. Landed in Buffalo to be greeted by 'Lanie and Mir. Picked up my luggage, talking non-stop and soon we were toodling down old Route 16. We decided to stop at Nicolo's for coffee and surprise Lisa. Very fitting as she waved goodbye to me from the driveway there as Kevin was driving me in to Buffalo Airport, two weeks before. I left her a tip in English coins.
It was good to get home. Dad had done very well on his own. No dirty dishes- nothing to indicate I'd been away two whole weeks on the trip of a lifetime.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Fourteen
4/13/92:
Packing Day. Got a large box packed with excess clothes, and souvenirs I had accumulated. Went to the base, mailed the package home, got 2 sets of my pictures. Lynne and the girls treated for lunch at Burger King at the base. Phyl and Lynne went shopping and I took the girls to Baskin-Robbins where we bought cones and ordered an ice cream cake for Doug and Lynne's birthdays that we'd be just missing. As we left the base with our purchases, Phyl and I had to turn in our base passes, that makes departure seem imminent. After dinner Lynne drove to west Ramsey where a small estate auction was to be held that evening. She saw an oriental lacquered jewelry box she liked. I found a small oil canvas that I thought very interesting. After dinner, Phyl opted to read, Doug was sorting his three sets of photos and the girls playing. Lynne and I went to the "Fens Auction".
I took a snapshot from the back of the hall of this unique experience. The auctioneer was more like a judge, no lingo, just repeated the bid until it wasn't topped, said "sold, Name?". Besides the small painting, I also bit on and got a small pair of Chinese vases, and Lynne got her jewelry box, dark red lacquer with brass corners and ivory inlay on top, very pretty. Since we had successfully bid and got the things we wanted, we paid our bill and left. Home earlier than Doug expected. Talked, had birthday cake, made our goodbyes to the girls as we're to leave about 6a.m. Packed the last things, showered and to bed about 10 p.m.
Packing Day. Got a large box packed with excess clothes, and souvenirs I had accumulated. Went to the base, mailed the package home, got 2 sets of my pictures. Lynne and the girls treated for lunch at Burger King at the base. Phyl and Lynne went shopping and I took the girls to Baskin-Robbins where we bought cones and ordered an ice cream cake for Doug and Lynne's birthdays that we'd be just missing. As we left the base with our purchases, Phyl and I had to turn in our base passes, that makes departure seem imminent. After dinner Lynne drove to west Ramsey where a small estate auction was to be held that evening. She saw an oriental lacquered jewelry box she liked. I found a small oil canvas that I thought very interesting. After dinner, Phyl opted to read, Doug was sorting his three sets of photos and the girls playing. Lynne and I went to the "Fens Auction".
I took a snapshot from the back of the hall of this unique experience. The auctioneer was more like a judge, no lingo, just repeated the bid until it wasn't topped, said "sold, Name?". Besides the small painting, I also bit on and got a small pair of Chinese vases, and Lynne got her jewelry box, dark red lacquer with brass corners and ivory inlay on top, very pretty. Since we had successfully bid and got the things we wanted, we paid our bill and left. Home earlier than Doug expected. Talked, had birthday cake, made our goodbyes to the girls as we're to leave about 6a.m. Packed the last things, showered and to bed about 10 p.m.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Thirteen
4/12/92:
I was up early, had a shower, cup of coffee and watched a starling building a nest in the eaves of the other building of Blossoms across the garden. Christie came in to wake up with me as Joanne and Phyl were still sleeping. We watched the bird, talked of what we had seen and what we would see today. She and Joanne were intrigued by the walkway over Bootham Row and looked forward to another trip 'up and over'. At 7:30 we were all ready for the "full English breakfast". Across the courtyard to a double door basement entrance we entered a very homey, friendly atmosphere where a fair number of other guests were already enjoying their breakfast. It consisted of eggs, bacon (like Canadian bacon), toast, O.J., home fries, sausage (tasted like a hot dog) and coffee in pots. Oh yes, and grilled tomato. Most of the museums, etc., did not open until 10 a.m. so we decided to do a bus tour and get out of the bone-chilling wind that followed the misty rain of earlier. Partway on the tour the guide pointed out Clifton Tower, and we left the tour to investigate. The only access was stone steps leading steeply up about thirty or more feet. Phyl and I decided we'd watch the rest negotiate the steps and wait by the Castle Museum. The kids decided to go back to walk the wall so Phyl and I waited for a bus. Now I must remember, we purchased tickets on the Blue Line. As we waited a Green bus pulled up, when I showed the driver our ticket, he said "Hop in, it's too cold to be standing waiting" and we gratefully did. On we went taking in the River Foss, Holy Trinity Church, All Saints Church, at High Petergate, Minerva, Goddess of Wisdom sits high up on the wall. At Bootham Bar we thanked our driver and went to meet the kids at Bootham Bistro for lunch. Had a prawns and lettuce sandwich and coffee. The shrimp was fresh and very tasty. Back on the bus we saw the remains of Roman wall, the moat - now growing green with grass and dotted with clusters of daffodils. There was the crenelated wall area we had walked along yesterday afternoon, the portcullis, the cholera cemetery outside the walls. Met Doug, Lynne and the girls and planned the rest of our time. Lynne, Phyl and I went to Shambles, narrowest and oldest street in York, lined with tiny shops. Made a few purchases for memory's sake.
Then Doug, Lynne, Phyl and the girls went to do the tour of the Minster, after the tour of Ely I didn't want to make comparisons. I liked Ely best, so I went to Bootham Bar to tour the art museum. I enjoyed the quiet, the walk thru centuries of art, English, Low Country, French and Italian. I found only one Constable but it was a very good pastoral. His home was near Lavenham and the scenes he chose could almost be today. Finished, I walked out into the sunshine and in a few minutes Phyl and Lynne crossed over to join me. Doug and the girls had gone for one more tour atop the wall.
Back at Blossoms we climbed into the van and by turning the side view mirror flat and with Lynne in front directing, he got thru the wall entry without a scratch. The girls stretched out and slept. Arrived back in Ramsey about 7p.m. Great, memorable weekend.
I was up early, had a shower, cup of coffee and watched a starling building a nest in the eaves of the other building of Blossoms across the garden. Christie came in to wake up with me as Joanne and Phyl were still sleeping. We watched the bird, talked of what we had seen and what we would see today. She and Joanne were intrigued by the walkway over Bootham Row and looked forward to another trip 'up and over'. At 7:30 we were all ready for the "full English breakfast". Across the courtyard to a double door basement entrance we entered a very homey, friendly atmosphere where a fair number of other guests were already enjoying their breakfast. It consisted of eggs, bacon (like Canadian bacon), toast, O.J., home fries, sausage (tasted like a hot dog) and coffee in pots. Oh yes, and grilled tomato. Most of the museums, etc., did not open until 10 a.m. so we decided to do a bus tour and get out of the bone-chilling wind that followed the misty rain of earlier. Partway on the tour the guide pointed out Clifton Tower, and we left the tour to investigate. The only access was stone steps leading steeply up about thirty or more feet. Phyl and I decided we'd watch the rest negotiate the steps and wait by the Castle Museum. The kids decided to go back to walk the wall so Phyl and I waited for a bus. Now I must remember, we purchased tickets on the Blue Line. As we waited a Green bus pulled up, when I showed the driver our ticket, he said "Hop in, it's too cold to be standing waiting" and we gratefully did. On we went taking in the River Foss, Holy Trinity Church, All Saints Church, at High Petergate, Minerva, Goddess of Wisdom sits high up on the wall. At Bootham Bar we thanked our driver and went to meet the kids at Bootham Bistro for lunch. Had a prawns and lettuce sandwich and coffee. The shrimp was fresh and very tasty. Back on the bus we saw the remains of Roman wall, the moat - now growing green with grass and dotted with clusters of daffodils. There was the crenelated wall area we had walked along yesterday afternoon, the portcullis, the cholera cemetery outside the walls. Met Doug, Lynne and the girls and planned the rest of our time. Lynne, Phyl and I went to Shambles, narrowest and oldest street in York, lined with tiny shops. Made a few purchases for memory's sake.
Then Doug, Lynne, Phyl and the girls went to do the tour of the Minster, after the tour of Ely I didn't want to make comparisons. I liked Ely best, so I went to Bootham Bar to tour the art museum. I enjoyed the quiet, the walk thru centuries of art, English, Low Country, French and Italian. I found only one Constable but it was a very good pastoral. His home was near Lavenham and the scenes he chose could almost be today. Finished, I walked out into the sunshine and in a few minutes Phyl and Lynne crossed over to join me. Doug and the girls had gone for one more tour atop the wall.
Back at Blossoms we climbed into the van and by turning the side view mirror flat and with Lynne in front directing, he got thru the wall entry without a scratch. The girls stretched out and slept. Arrived back in Ramsey about 7p.m. Great, memorable weekend.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Twelve
4/11/92:
During breakfast we discussed the driving distance (about 90 miles) and time and decided that we had better plan on two days with an overnight stay. Lynne called York and arranged a B&B at Blossoms L18 per adult with full English breakfast, we all agreed that sounded good. Lynne, Phyl and I went to the Auction and participated. I got an old oval back side chair (minus cane seat) Doug & Lynne will bring it home and I'll refinish and seat it for them. I also got a small unframed oil painting. We were back at the house, had lunch, packed overnight bags, snacks and drinks and started for York. Sunny day and warm!
Arrived at Blossoms in York about 5 p.m., took bags to our rooms, Doug and Lynne had one large room, Phyl and the girls another and I took the little room looking out on the garden three stories below. Refreshed we started our tour up and over Bootham Row (4 lanes) on elevated foot bridge we traversed Bootham Row to Petergate, inside we climbed stone steps to reach the walk along the old wall that was the city's defense line in ages past. The Views were outstanding. York Minster dominates the whole area and is complemented with many other edifices of like age and charm, if not size. We walked down and back around to the entrance area of the Minster perfectly kept green lawns and acres of daffodils everywhere we looked. The tower and Wall were closing so we went to Bootham Bistro, the restaurant recommended by the lady at Blossoms.
The Bistro is evidently a favorite of the neighborhood, as we heard a lot greeted by name. The largest tables were for 4 persons and only two of them were free. Doug Lynne and girls took one and Phyllis and I the other. Our waitress shortly asked if two ladies could join us we said we'd be glad to have them. The mother, Scottish, she said had come down from Newcastle for the weekend with her daughter (about 20 years old). We had a most enjoyable time visiting; my only anxious moments when Phyl, in her less than quiet voice, wanted to discuss the Irish problems, the elections and I wondered "who's listening".
My fish & chips (served on a plate) with peas as a vegetable was very good. Peach melba for dessert and coffee came to L7, very reasonable. Phyl had the Yorkshire pudding, a lamb stew in a pastry as large as the dinner plate. After paying our bills, we walked back to our room to relax for the evening. All of a sudden, Phyl discovered her purse missing - a thorough search of all three rooms failed to turn it up and she was nearly in a panic, she wanted Lynne to walk back with her to the Bistro, but Lynne said she and Doug could go faster. In a bit they returned, missing purse in hand. When they walked into the restaurant our waitress (at least 70 years old) said she knew they'd be back and reached under the counter for Phyl's purse. She said our table companions saw it as they were getting up to leave, they couldn't remember where we were staying but knew we had said we were in the neighborhood. Very thoughtful, kind people.
Christie and Joanne were watching one of their programs on TV, so Phyl came in my room and we had a cup of coffee (maker and packets supplied in the rooms). Watched The Masters until about 11p.m. All settled down for a good nights' sleep to be up early for sightseeing tomorrow.
During breakfast we discussed the driving distance (about 90 miles) and time and decided that we had better plan on two days with an overnight stay. Lynne called York and arranged a B&B at Blossoms L18 per adult with full English breakfast, we all agreed that sounded good. Lynne, Phyl and I went to the Auction and participated. I got an old oval back side chair (minus cane seat) Doug & Lynne will bring it home and I'll refinish and seat it for them. I also got a small unframed oil painting. We were back at the house, had lunch, packed overnight bags, snacks and drinks and started for York. Sunny day and warm!
Arrived at Blossoms in York about 5 p.m., took bags to our rooms, Doug and Lynne had one large room, Phyl and the girls another and I took the little room looking out on the garden three stories below. Refreshed we started our tour up and over Bootham Row (4 lanes) on elevated foot bridge we traversed Bootham Row to Petergate, inside we climbed stone steps to reach the walk along the old wall that was the city's defense line in ages past. The Views were outstanding. York Minster dominates the whole area and is complemented with many other edifices of like age and charm, if not size. We walked down and back around to the entrance area of the Minster perfectly kept green lawns and acres of daffodils everywhere we looked. The tower and Wall were closing so we went to Bootham Bistro, the restaurant recommended by the lady at Blossoms.
The Bistro is evidently a favorite of the neighborhood, as we heard a lot greeted by name. The largest tables were for 4 persons and only two of them were free. Doug Lynne and girls took one and Phyllis and I the other. Our waitress shortly asked if two ladies could join us we said we'd be glad to have them. The mother, Scottish, she said had come down from Newcastle for the weekend with her daughter (about 20 years old). We had a most enjoyable time visiting; my only anxious moments when Phyl, in her less than quiet voice, wanted to discuss the Irish problems, the elections and I wondered "who's listening".
My fish & chips (served on a plate) with peas as a vegetable was very good. Peach melba for dessert and coffee came to L7, very reasonable. Phyl had the Yorkshire pudding, a lamb stew in a pastry as large as the dinner plate. After paying our bills, we walked back to our room to relax for the evening. All of a sudden, Phyl discovered her purse missing - a thorough search of all three rooms failed to turn it up and she was nearly in a panic, she wanted Lynne to walk back with her to the Bistro, but Lynne said she and Doug could go faster. In a bit they returned, missing purse in hand. When they walked into the restaurant our waitress (at least 70 years old) said she knew they'd be back and reached under the counter for Phyl's purse. She said our table companions saw it as they were getting up to leave, they couldn't remember where we were staying but knew we had said we were in the neighborhood. Very thoughtful, kind people.
Christie and Joanne were watching one of their programs on TV, so Phyl came in my room and we had a cup of coffee (maker and packets supplied in the rooms). Watched The Masters until about 11p.m. All settled down for a good nights' sleep to be up early for sightseeing tomorrow.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Eleven
4/10/92:
Got up about 7:15 a.m. Found Eily's note saying that Major and Conservatives had won a majority of 17 seats. She said that she stayed up until 4 a.m.!! She asked us to wake her after we had had our breakfast.
As we were clearing breakfast away, the telephone rang and on the fourth ring, Phyllis answered it. It was Eily's daughter (a doctor in Portsmouth, Cornwall). When we felt we really had to leave to make the train connection, Phyl woke Eily and gave her her daughter's message that she had to attend a meeting in London that day and would see her about 5 p.m. We thanked her for her hospitality, she unlocked her double-bolted door, wished us a good trip and we headed out about 10:00.
Up the street a bit, we found a flower shop and bought an azalea to be delivered to Eily's apartment in the later afternoon. Caught #12 bus for the ride up the hill to Notting Hill Station. We switched to the Circle tube that took us to King's Cross, walked to our train only a few minutes before it left the station at 12:10 on the dot.
Arriving in Huntingdon Station we decided to have lunch while we would wait for Lynne. Phyl tried twice to call Lynne, no answer but before we had half finished, Christie popped in the door. They had been shopping on Base, planning to meet the train but there had been a 'suspicious package' left near the BX. Everyone had to stay put until it had been cleared so they had been delayed.
The girls started Spring Break today so after unloading and because it was such a beautiful day that we tackled the border flower bed, ridding it of weeds, bullthistles, and dead bamboo grasses.
Doug did steaks on the grill that Lynne complimented with baked potato, hot rolls and corn on the cob. Very tender steak, altogether a fine dinner.
After clearing away, we all went to the 'preview' of the monthly auction here in Ramsey. We'll go about 10 a.m. tomorrow and see what we can acquire. Met Doug and Lynne's friend Dean, who also likes antiques. He came back to the house with us for a glass of wine with us and some good conversation.
Catching up my journal. Next a shampoo, shower 11:30 time for lights out.
Got up about 7:15 a.m. Found Eily's note saying that Major and Conservatives had won a majority of 17 seats. She said that she stayed up until 4 a.m.!! She asked us to wake her after we had had our breakfast.
As we were clearing breakfast away, the telephone rang and on the fourth ring, Phyllis answered it. It was Eily's daughter (a doctor in Portsmouth, Cornwall). When we felt we really had to leave to make the train connection, Phyl woke Eily and gave her her daughter's message that she had to attend a meeting in London that day and would see her about 5 p.m. We thanked her for her hospitality, she unlocked her double-bolted door, wished us a good trip and we headed out about 10:00.
Up the street a bit, we found a flower shop and bought an azalea to be delivered to Eily's apartment in the later afternoon. Caught #12 bus for the ride up the hill to Notting Hill Station. We switched to the Circle tube that took us to King's Cross, walked to our train only a few minutes before it left the station at 12:10 on the dot.
Arriving in Huntingdon Station we decided to have lunch while we would wait for Lynne. Phyl tried twice to call Lynne, no answer but before we had half finished, Christie popped in the door. They had been shopping on Base, planning to meet the train but there had been a 'suspicious package' left near the BX. Everyone had to stay put until it had been cleared so they had been delayed.
The girls started Spring Break today so after unloading and because it was such a beautiful day that we tackled the border flower bed, ridding it of weeds, bullthistles, and dead bamboo grasses.
Doug did steaks on the grill that Lynne complimented with baked potato, hot rolls and corn on the cob. Very tender steak, altogether a fine dinner.
After clearing away, we all went to the 'preview' of the monthly auction here in Ramsey. We'll go about 10 a.m. tomorrow and see what we can acquire. Met Doug and Lynne's friend Dean, who also likes antiques. He came back to the house with us for a glass of wine with us and some good conversation.
Catching up my journal. Next a shampoo, shower 11:30 time for lights out.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Ten
4/9/92:
Up about 7 a.m. Eily had left us a note, "Hurrah, Major's won 17 seats." Had coffee, a delicious bread, marmalade and a banana. We took the Green Line of the Tube to Kew Gardens. Walked through the eastern quarter. The Queen's conservatory of palms, past a pool, flower beds, shrubs and specimen trees similar to an arboretum. Toured the tropical conservatory with a desert room, a water garden with lilies and other water plants, an orchid room and then outside because our glasses were steamed up, couldn't read the plants' names and with our jackets, we were sweltering in there. Outside, tho it was full sun, the wind had a chill nip in it. We went throught Queen Charlotte's Palace. Great collection of paintings. The rooms were fully furnished with cards giving particulars of furnishings, pictures and memorabilia of the Royal Family.
Foot weary, we headed out of the gardens and stopped for lunch at an outdoor cafe, we had passed in the village of Kew Gardens. Had quiche/broccoli and cheese and mushrooms with a side salad of zucchini, mushrooms, onion and celery. Phyl had the quiche with tossed salad and tea. The tray was loaded so the proprietor carried the tray out to our table for me. We sat in the sun and watched people as we enjoyed our meal. Phyl took a picture of me at my first outdoor cafe. We left there for the tube and went to Kensington Gardens, the palace residence of Chas. & Diana. People were walking their dogs, children running about, a game of soccer being played, people on benches reading, lying napping on the lawn and down to the edge of a small lake. We walked a good half mile from there along the Serpentine to the Peter Pan statue. By then we were both in need of 'facilities." Unfortunately for us the only ones we had seen had been near the Queen's sunken rose garden, the sign said "OUT OF ORDER".
We were far from our point of entry, reached the Prince Albert Museum, "Closed for Repairs". Reaching a main thoroughfare, we were thoroughly confused as to go left or right. No street signs. Then I spotted a sign across the highway, "Bar & Cafe". We descended to a nice airy restaurant with RESTROOMS: it was called the Serpentine. After blessed relief, Phyl asked the bartender if he could make a manhattan, he said "What's in it?". She told him if he didn't know, she guessed we'd have a gin & tonic. Made with ICE, refreshing. We rested our feet for about 20 minutes and then started out again. We walked and WALKED! Kensington Gardens on one side and on the side we were walking, a small sign by track that was obviously for horse back, said HYDE PARK. A cross street, but no street sign. Meeting a couple passing in the direction we had come, we inquired what street we were on - they couldn't help, they said they were tourists too, from Sweden. Next we met an elderly gentleman and I asked him which way to the tube. He said it was about 1/2 mile straight ahead then turn right at the intersection and the sign for the tube would be visible, IT WAS. Hyde Park Station where we took the tube to Notting Hill, then the bus to Holland Park Gardens. We arrived about 7 p.m. Had a glass of sherry, recounted our adventures and misadventures. She had a dinner of pea soup (made with kidney beans) too spicy and SALTY, I passed. Phyl bravely ate two small bowls; chicken cacciatore, okra, and potato. She really cooks very well, the chicken was delicious but she sure likes her spices and salt.
Good talk. Eily has traveled extensively and is full of anectodes and stories of people and places. This was Election Day for England and the possibility that the Labour Party candidate could possibly defeat the Conservative Party and Mr. Major was almost unthinkable to her. We were leaving the next morning to return to Doug's so she told us to be sure to wake her before we left as she planned to stay up for the returns, 1 a.m. or later. We would have to wake her in any case for her to unlock for us to leave. Got to bed by 11 p.m. Tired but what an interesting day. Every time we puzzled over our map, or which tube, bus or direction, people offered help or were very polite as they gave directions. London is a very interesting place but the countryside and slower pace of Ramsey will be welcome.
Up about 7 a.m. Eily had left us a note, "Hurrah, Major's won 17 seats." Had coffee, a delicious bread, marmalade and a banana. We took the Green Line of the Tube to Kew Gardens. Walked through the eastern quarter. The Queen's conservatory of palms, past a pool, flower beds, shrubs and specimen trees similar to an arboretum. Toured the tropical conservatory with a desert room, a water garden with lilies and other water plants, an orchid room and then outside because our glasses were steamed up, couldn't read the plants' names and with our jackets, we were sweltering in there. Outside, tho it was full sun, the wind had a chill nip in it. We went throught Queen Charlotte's Palace. Great collection of paintings. The rooms were fully furnished with cards giving particulars of furnishings, pictures and memorabilia of the Royal Family.
Foot weary, we headed out of the gardens and stopped for lunch at an outdoor cafe, we had passed in the village of Kew Gardens. Had quiche/broccoli and cheese and mushrooms with a side salad of zucchini, mushrooms, onion and celery. Phyl had the quiche with tossed salad and tea. The tray was loaded so the proprietor carried the tray out to our table for me. We sat in the sun and watched people as we enjoyed our meal. Phyl took a picture of me at my first outdoor cafe. We left there for the tube and went to Kensington Gardens, the palace residence of Chas. & Diana. People were walking their dogs, children running about, a game of soccer being played, people on benches reading, lying napping on the lawn and down to the edge of a small lake. We walked a good half mile from there along the Serpentine to the Peter Pan statue. By then we were both in need of 'facilities." Unfortunately for us the only ones we had seen had been near the Queen's sunken rose garden, the sign said "OUT OF ORDER".
We were far from our point of entry, reached the Prince Albert Museum, "Closed for Repairs". Reaching a main thoroughfare, we were thoroughly confused as to go left or right. No street signs. Then I spotted a sign across the highway, "Bar & Cafe". We descended to a nice airy restaurant with RESTROOMS: it was called the Serpentine. After blessed relief, Phyl asked the bartender if he could make a manhattan, he said "What's in it?". She told him if he didn't know, she guessed we'd have a gin & tonic. Made with ICE, refreshing. We rested our feet for about 20 minutes and then started out again. We walked and WALKED! Kensington Gardens on one side and on the side we were walking, a small sign by track that was obviously for horse back, said HYDE PARK. A cross street, but no street sign. Meeting a couple passing in the direction we had come, we inquired what street we were on - they couldn't help, they said they were tourists too, from Sweden. Next we met an elderly gentleman and I asked him which way to the tube. He said it was about 1/2 mile straight ahead then turn right at the intersection and the sign for the tube would be visible, IT WAS. Hyde Park Station where we took the tube to Notting Hill, then the bus to Holland Park Gardens. We arrived about 7 p.m. Had a glass of sherry, recounted our adventures and misadventures. She had a dinner of pea soup (made with kidney beans) too spicy and SALTY, I passed. Phyl bravely ate two small bowls; chicken cacciatore, okra, and potato. She really cooks very well, the chicken was delicious but she sure likes her spices and salt.
Good talk. Eily has traveled extensively and is full of anectodes and stories of people and places. This was Election Day for England and the possibility that the Labour Party candidate could possibly defeat the Conservative Party and Mr. Major was almost unthinkable to her. We were leaving the next morning to return to Doug's so she told us to be sure to wake her before we left as she planned to stay up for the returns, 1 a.m. or later. We would have to wake her in any case for her to unlock for us to leave. Got to bed by 11 p.m. Tired but what an interesting day. Every time we puzzled over our map, or which tube, bus or direction, people offered help or were very polite as they gave directions. London is a very interesting place but the countryside and slower pace of Ramsey will be welcome.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Nine
4/8/92:
Bright, sunny and mild morning. Lynne and the girls took Phyllis and I to the Brit Rail station at Huntingdon where we boarded at 7:05 for London. Train traveled very fast, tunnels under major highway systems were hard on the ears. Saw lots of the countryside, farms, fields of green grass or perhaps wheat. Meadow after meadow of grazing sheep with their new lambs with little black faces. At King's Cross Station we purchased tickets for one day unlimited tube (or underground) and bus fare. Took the Circle Line to Notting Hill Station, then we walked several blocks downhill, past stately old residences converted to apartments, very quiet area after the bustle of the stations.
We asked a flower vendor for assistance to Holland Park Gardens. We were standing on Holland Park. We started off again and just before reaching the corner, Phyllis' friend, Eily was coming to meet us. She is a sprightly 87 years old. She had a light lunch prepared. We asked her out to dinner after we came back from sightseeing but she said no, that she liked her own cooking better and besides it was better for you. Our luggage stowed in a large bedroom with twin beds, bookcases, a fireplace and dressing table, we left.
I should describe her apartment. In one of these large homes, you enter by pushing the bell for the number of the apartment and the occupant could talk to you and also release the lock so that you could enter the foyer. Up broad (8'-10') thickly carpeted stairs in soft beige to the third floor to #8. There were two apartments to each floor. Her door was double-locked, led down a narrow hallway with closed doors on one side and occasional windows on the other. Just beyond the room Phyl and I shared, was a short hall that led to first-floor toilet (window always open) second old fashioned bath tub and wash bowl and loads of towels. I think she lived mostly in her little kitchen, old fashioned set of open shelves, very old flowered blue platters at least 18" long decorated a mantle. Her stove, sink and cookware were in a small pantry. Her walls everywhere were covered with paintings, prints and photos - of many subjects and places. Lots from India, Africa and British West Indies. Her living room was large with a fireplace, a sofa, chairs, tables and even a TV. I would call the furnishing well-worn and past their prime.
We left Eily, took a bus at the corner 94, to the top of Notting Hill. There we took the Green Line to Westminster Bridge, where we got the Thames River tour boat. That was great seeing London stretched out on both sides, other river traffic and finally London Bridge in the near distance. We docked just west of the Tower of London. We went on a tour with a Beefeater guide, took pictures of several sites, the ravens, the remnants of the old Roman wall that they are trying to preserve. I took a picture of Phyllis with one of the Beefeater guides then she was going to take my picture; another guide came up so she took one of me with two Beefeaters. They were very courteous and well-informed, willing to answer questions from our tour people and of course, pose for pictures.
We decided that after all the walking that day, we would take bus tour of London. Took the tube back to Victoria station where Tours started. We took front seats of the double decker as up on top there was a wraparound windshield. It protected us from the chill wind but let us have a fine view in all directions. The tour guides remarks came to us from speakers. It was great seeing Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, 10 Downing St., the Sherlock Holmes pub on Baker St., Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus, Fleet St., riding over London Bridge, the view of the Thames - so many sights. Hope my pictures turn out.
We took the tube back to Notting Hill. Arrived back at Eily's at 6 p.m. There we had sherry, pita bread broken and dipped into cod roe topped with black olives. Thoroughly enjoyed the food and relaxed conversations as we recounted our day.
Dinner was about 9:30! Roast rack of lamb with mint jelly, cauliflower and carrots, delicious. Finished about 11 p.m. I retired very sleepy.
Bright, sunny and mild morning. Lynne and the girls took Phyllis and I to the Brit Rail station at Huntingdon where we boarded at 7:05 for London. Train traveled very fast, tunnels under major highway systems were hard on the ears. Saw lots of the countryside, farms, fields of green grass or perhaps wheat. Meadow after meadow of grazing sheep with their new lambs with little black faces. At King's Cross Station we purchased tickets for one day unlimited tube (or underground) and bus fare. Took the Circle Line to Notting Hill Station, then we walked several blocks downhill, past stately old residences converted to apartments, very quiet area after the bustle of the stations.
We asked a flower vendor for assistance to Holland Park Gardens. We were standing on Holland Park. We started off again and just before reaching the corner, Phyllis' friend, Eily was coming to meet us. She is a sprightly 87 years old. She had a light lunch prepared. We asked her out to dinner after we came back from sightseeing but she said no, that she liked her own cooking better and besides it was better for you. Our luggage stowed in a large bedroom with twin beds, bookcases, a fireplace and dressing table, we left.
I should describe her apartment. In one of these large homes, you enter by pushing the bell for the number of the apartment and the occupant could talk to you and also release the lock so that you could enter the foyer. Up broad (8'-10') thickly carpeted stairs in soft beige to the third floor to #8. There were two apartments to each floor. Her door was double-locked, led down a narrow hallway with closed doors on one side and occasional windows on the other. Just beyond the room Phyl and I shared, was a short hall that led to first-floor toilet (window always open) second old fashioned bath tub and wash bowl and loads of towels. I think she lived mostly in her little kitchen, old fashioned set of open shelves, very old flowered blue platters at least 18" long decorated a mantle. Her stove, sink and cookware were in a small pantry. Her walls everywhere were covered with paintings, prints and photos - of many subjects and places. Lots from India, Africa and British West Indies. Her living room was large with a fireplace, a sofa, chairs, tables and even a TV. I would call the furnishing well-worn and past their prime.
We left Eily, took a bus at the corner 94, to the top of Notting Hill. There we took the Green Line to Westminster Bridge, where we got the Thames River tour boat. That was great seeing London stretched out on both sides, other river traffic and finally London Bridge in the near distance. We docked just west of the Tower of London. We went on a tour with a Beefeater guide, took pictures of several sites, the ravens, the remnants of the old Roman wall that they are trying to preserve. I took a picture of Phyllis with one of the Beefeater guides then she was going to take my picture; another guide came up so she took one of me with two Beefeaters. They were very courteous and well-informed, willing to answer questions from our tour people and of course, pose for pictures.
We decided that after all the walking that day, we would take bus tour of London. Took the tube back to Victoria station where Tours started. We took front seats of the double decker as up on top there was a wraparound windshield. It protected us from the chill wind but let us have a fine view in all directions. The tour guides remarks came to us from speakers. It was great seeing Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, 10 Downing St., the Sherlock Holmes pub on Baker St., Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus, Fleet St., riding over London Bridge, the view of the Thames - so many sights. Hope my pictures turn out.
We took the tube back to Notting Hill. Arrived back at Eily's at 6 p.m. There we had sherry, pita bread broken and dipped into cod roe topped with black olives. Thoroughly enjoyed the food and relaxed conversations as we recounted our day.
Dinner was about 9:30! Roast rack of lamb with mint jelly, cauliflower and carrots, delicious. Finished about 11 p.m. I retired very sleepy.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Eight
4/7/92:
Today Lynne had to teach. Phyllis and I did dishes, then sat down and planned what to see and how to see it in London. Did a couple of loads of wash and then set out for a walk to Ramsey village about 15 minute walk from the house. Very small town nice homes and beautiful flowers and shrubs. A walk around the two streets that constitute the business section didn't disclose a single tea room. Nearing the first street again we met a gray-haired couple with their packages coming toward us. We inquired as to a tea room or restaurant for lunch. They directed us to the White Angel Pub. Parking lot and entrance behind Bartlett's Bank. From the chalk board menu we ordered grilled ham & cheese, tea and coffee. I saw ice cream listed and told the barmaid that I'd like the ice cream too. The sandwiches were fine but the ice cream was stupendous! A footed cut-glass dish the size of a cereal bowl with six scoops ice cream. Couldn't quite finish it. Total bill L3.50 for the two of us. Phyl left the tip.
Shopped in a card shop. Got the nearest I could come to the cards 'Lan and Mir wanted. Found a British version of Golf magazine for Don.
Walked back home, finished trimming the one lavendar mound while Phyl had a nap. Finished drying the last load of wash and packing overnight bag for London tomorrow.
Today Lynne had to teach. Phyllis and I did dishes, then sat down and planned what to see and how to see it in London. Did a couple of loads of wash and then set out for a walk to Ramsey village about 15 minute walk from the house. Very small town nice homes and beautiful flowers and shrubs. A walk around the two streets that constitute the business section didn't disclose a single tea room. Nearing the first street again we met a gray-haired couple with their packages coming toward us. We inquired as to a tea room or restaurant for lunch. They directed us to the White Angel Pub. Parking lot and entrance behind Bartlett's Bank. From the chalk board menu we ordered grilled ham & cheese, tea and coffee. I saw ice cream listed and told the barmaid that I'd like the ice cream too. The sandwiches were fine but the ice cream was stupendous! A footed cut-glass dish the size of a cereal bowl with six scoops ice cream. Couldn't quite finish it. Total bill L3.50 for the two of us. Phyl left the tip.
Shopped in a card shop. Got the nearest I could come to the cards 'Lan and Mir wanted. Found a British version of Golf magazine for Don.
Walked back home, finished trimming the one lavendar mound while Phyl had a nap. Finished drying the last load of wash and packing overnight bag for London tomorrow.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Seven
4/6/92:
Lynne took a 'sick' day to tour Cambridge with us but the sun refused to shine. Parked in a car park (ramp to us), walked to a main thoroughfare. Very old, interesting round Norman church on the corner. Lynne had been in it but it was closed this time.
Trudged thru Christ Church College, Queen's College and St. James College, where Phyllis' father had been a professor before going into foreign service. Chilled and in need for 'facilities', we went into large department store that covered half a block. Had lunch at the restaurant in this store. I had beef tomato and cheese bake over pasta bows, green salad, coffee and toffee bar.
Took a tour bus around Cambridge to the American Memorial and Cemetery, very impressive. Back near our car park, disembarked, toured St. James Chapel with stark adjoining "Ladies' Chapel". Down the street to the Cam (no punters in the rain) found we were one bridge up from the Bridge of Sighs so got a fair shot of it. Headed home.
On the way up to Ramsey with Doug when we arrived, I saw signs for a town called Pidley. I told him my Grandmother Hadley and my dad both often remarked that something "wasn't worth Pidley". As we again passed a sign for it at a roundabout, Lynne said she'd take me up there and I could get a better picture. She did, I did and also of the pub and few cottages that constitutes the hamlet. It is near Ramsey so we entered the town from the NE, saw the old church and the abbey ruins. The weather was the least cooperative since we had arrived but sights and sounds never to be forgotten - nor the pair of pheasants beside the hedgerow on our return trip.
Lynne took a 'sick' day to tour Cambridge with us but the sun refused to shine. Parked in a car park (ramp to us), walked to a main thoroughfare. Very old, interesting round Norman church on the corner. Lynne had been in it but it was closed this time.
Trudged thru Christ Church College, Queen's College and St. James College, where Phyllis' father had been a professor before going into foreign service. Chilled and in need for 'facilities', we went into large department store that covered half a block. Had lunch at the restaurant in this store. I had beef tomato and cheese bake over pasta bows, green salad, coffee and toffee bar.
Took a tour bus around Cambridge to the American Memorial and Cemetery, very impressive. Back near our car park, disembarked, toured St. James Chapel with stark adjoining "Ladies' Chapel". Down the street to the Cam (no punters in the rain) found we were one bridge up from the Bridge of Sighs so got a fair shot of it. Headed home.
On the way up to Ramsey with Doug when we arrived, I saw signs for a town called Pidley. I told him my Grandmother Hadley and my dad both often remarked that something "wasn't worth Pidley". As we again passed a sign for it at a roundabout, Lynne said she'd take me up there and I could get a better picture. She did, I did and also of the pub and few cottages that constitutes the hamlet. It is near Ramsey so we entered the town from the NE, saw the old church and the abbey ruins. The weather was the least cooperative since we had arrived but sights and sounds never to be forgotten - nor the pair of pheasants beside the hedgerow on our return trip.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Six
4/5/92:
Gordy is 43 today. Thinking of you, Gord. Up about 6:30 a.m. Coffee on patio. A nip in the air but clear. After a big breakfast, Doug mowed the lawn and edged it. I trimmed on one of the huge mounds of lavendar. We prepared for a day at the Bazaar at Alconbury RAF base. It filled two hangars: antiques, collectibles and crafts. Got lots of neat things. Lots of opportunities to learn the British coin. Doug bought a large oil painting from the artist. A village scene from Herefordshire, very old England, excellent detail. The girls spent a lot of time in inflated castle with a slide and inflated room full of nerf balls to bounce around in. Lynne's big purchase was a handmade Nottingham lace tablecloth 96"x72". Beautiful. Phyl bought a jogging suit. (After we got home discovered it didn't fit properly.)
Leaving the bazaar we went to a regular monthly antiques sale at King's Abbey. Got a 3-leg oak stool. Ben Setter stamped on the bottom and noted on the price tag, so must be recognized by the Brits. I got a silver cigarette case for myself. Came home for a brief bit to unload.
Then, (while Lynne & Phyl went to exchange the jogging suit) Doug and the girls and I drove to Upwood to the area behind their school and the clinic where the glider club were enjoying the bright dry day. At the far end of the field two heavy-duty trucks with winches on the back were parked. A tractor hooked onto the two hooked cables and drove with them to the near end of the field, where 3 gliders and a mobile control tower were located. They hook one of the cables to a glider, the cable pulled taut by the drum winch on a truck. It shifted into high and the glider was lifted into the air. When they reached a max, the glider pilot released the cable that dropped back to the ground with its own little parachute! NEAT! Took some pictures. Back at Doug's Lynne had an excellent pot roast dinner with a very good wine, good talk and another busy and interesting day is ending. Maybe Cambridge tomorrow.
Gordy is 43 today. Thinking of you, Gord. Up about 6:30 a.m. Coffee on patio. A nip in the air but clear. After a big breakfast, Doug mowed the lawn and edged it. I trimmed on one of the huge mounds of lavendar. We prepared for a day at the Bazaar at Alconbury RAF base. It filled two hangars: antiques, collectibles and crafts. Got lots of neat things. Lots of opportunities to learn the British coin. Doug bought a large oil painting from the artist. A village scene from Herefordshire, very old England, excellent detail. The girls spent a lot of time in inflated castle with a slide and inflated room full of nerf balls to bounce around in. Lynne's big purchase was a handmade Nottingham lace tablecloth 96"x72". Beautiful. Phyl bought a jogging suit. (After we got home discovered it didn't fit properly.)
Leaving the bazaar we went to a regular monthly antiques sale at King's Abbey. Got a 3-leg oak stool. Ben Setter stamped on the bottom and noted on the price tag, so must be recognized by the Brits. I got a silver cigarette case for myself. Came home for a brief bit to unload.
Then, (while Lynne & Phyl went to exchange the jogging suit) Doug and the girls and I drove to Upwood to the area behind their school and the clinic where the glider club were enjoying the bright dry day. At the far end of the field two heavy-duty trucks with winches on the back were parked. A tractor hooked onto the two hooked cables and drove with them to the near end of the field, where 3 gliders and a mobile control tower were located. They hook one of the cables to a glider, the cable pulled taut by the drum winch on a truck. It shifted into high and the glider was lifted into the air. When they reached a max, the glider pilot released the cable that dropped back to the ground with its own little parachute! NEAT! Took some pictures. Back at Doug's Lynne had an excellent pot roast dinner with a very good wine, good talk and another busy and interesting day is ending. Maybe Cambridge tomorrow.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Five
4/4/92:
Saturday - up early and on the road with sandwiches, drinks and coffee by 8:30 a.m. Drove SW to Warwick Castle in the northern reaches of the Cotswolds. Mile after mile of hedged grazing fields with sheep and new lambs. Doug parked the van and we proceeded to step back in time thru an arch into the perimeter grounds. Enormous rhododendrons, a formal rose garden and two black and white magpies were at the gate plus two very English gentlemen, one to sell the tickets and one to take back half. The exterior with its towers, high crenelated wall is impressive in size alone. Descending narrow stone steps worn deeply and requiring careful steps to reach the dungeon under Caesar's Tower. Built in the 14th century.
The body hanging apparatus (like Robin Hood's father died in - in the movie) wall rings and chains, hole and surface scratching in the wall attest to unbelievable misery and unspeakable brutality on the part of the ones authorizing the imprisonment here.
The interior of the castle had been redecorated lately in the 1800's. With Victorian furnishings, window dressing and floor coverings. In a so called Blue Room, the guide said the ceiling was carved oak that in the late 1800's had been painted gray, highlighted with gold! What a shame.
The grand hall with armor displayed on all four walls and a large stuffed black bear by the hearth was very impressive. The bear is the sign on the Warwick shield. We viewed it from a balcony walk along two sides.
In many of the rooms there were wax models depicting people who frequented Warwick as well as family.
We stopped for lunch in a restaurant on a lower level of the castle. I had a BLT with coffee and a bit of salad with fresh watercress on the side. L 3.50p. Purchased post cards, booklet and souvenirs.
After lunch we toured the formal gardens inside the Castle walls, next to beautiful conservatory. Peacocks wandered among the tourists and screeched their bloody heads off. The topiary on the perimeter of the gardens were clipped in the shape of peacocks. Garden benches dotted along the paths and gave out on a view of the river.
Since we wanted to see a small Cotswold town, we drove 20 miles further south to Stowe-on-the-Wold. Remnants of old buildings and the square remain, but it was definitely a tourist trap. After so much authenticity I think we were all a bit let down by it. But, the ride back to Ramsey included thatched cottages, rollings and a pretty day with the last of the sunlight painting a blush on the western sky.
Unloaded, relaxed, watched "Robin Hood" (the mood goes on). We talked to Mir. All seems well at home --except it was starting to snow again. Dad managing very well and had Mir and 'Lan bearing gifts of donuts for coffee with him this morning. Mir will let Dad and all know I'm fine, busy and enjoying every moment. Bought map of old Suffolk in art shop in Stowe, post cards and some chocolates.
Everyone in bed and probably sleeping as I will be shortly now that this is down.
Tomorrow leisurely a.m. plans - Going to Alconbury AFB where they are having a bazaar. Will be interesting, I'm sure.
Saturday - up early and on the road with sandwiches, drinks and coffee by 8:30 a.m. Drove SW to Warwick Castle in the northern reaches of the Cotswolds. Mile after mile of hedged grazing fields with sheep and new lambs. Doug parked the van and we proceeded to step back in time thru an arch into the perimeter grounds. Enormous rhododendrons, a formal rose garden and two black and white magpies were at the gate plus two very English gentlemen, one to sell the tickets and one to take back half. The exterior with its towers, high crenelated wall is impressive in size alone. Descending narrow stone steps worn deeply and requiring careful steps to reach the dungeon under Caesar's Tower. Built in the 14th century.
The body hanging apparatus (like Robin Hood's father died in - in the movie) wall rings and chains, hole and surface scratching in the wall attest to unbelievable misery and unspeakable brutality on the part of the ones authorizing the imprisonment here.
The interior of the castle had been redecorated lately in the 1800's. With Victorian furnishings, window dressing and floor coverings. In a so called Blue Room, the guide said the ceiling was carved oak that in the late 1800's had been painted gray, highlighted with gold! What a shame.
The grand hall with armor displayed on all four walls and a large stuffed black bear by the hearth was very impressive. The bear is the sign on the Warwick shield. We viewed it from a balcony walk along two sides.
In many of the rooms there were wax models depicting people who frequented Warwick as well as family.
We stopped for lunch in a restaurant on a lower level of the castle. I had a BLT with coffee and a bit of salad with fresh watercress on the side. L 3.50p. Purchased post cards, booklet and souvenirs.
After lunch we toured the formal gardens inside the Castle walls, next to beautiful conservatory. Peacocks wandered among the tourists and screeched their bloody heads off. The topiary on the perimeter of the gardens were clipped in the shape of peacocks. Garden benches dotted along the paths and gave out on a view of the river.
Since we wanted to see a small Cotswold town, we drove 20 miles further south to Stowe-on-the-Wold. Remnants of old buildings and the square remain, but it was definitely a tourist trap. After so much authenticity I think we were all a bit let down by it. But, the ride back to Ramsey included thatched cottages, rollings and a pretty day with the last of the sunlight painting a blush on the western sky.
Unloaded, relaxed, watched "Robin Hood" (the mood goes on). We talked to Mir. All seems well at home --except it was starting to snow again. Dad managing very well and had Mir and 'Lan bearing gifts of donuts for coffee with him this morning. Mir will let Dad and all know I'm fine, busy and enjoying every moment. Bought map of old Suffolk in art shop in Stowe, post cards and some chocolates.
Everyone in bed and probably sleeping as I will be shortly now that this is down.
Tomorrow leisurely a.m. plans - Going to Alconbury AFB where they are having a bazaar. Will be interesting, I'm sure.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Four
4/3/92:
Cloudy and threatening rain so we decided to try to see Cambridge and maybe Lavenham.
Started out about 9:30. En route we decided to try Lavenham. Drove around the by-pass for Cambridge, thru rural land with many sheep grazing. It is lambing time and almost as many little black faced creatures as full size. Lynne drove into the town and parked just around the corner of the Swan Hotel -- on Water Street! Unknowingly we were on the street of the famous weavers cottages. Built in 14th and 15th century they have remained unmodernized, intact, tho they now contain small shops. All are half-timbered.
We walked up High street to get better shot of the "Crooked House", to have tea/coffee and find some facilities. We found a quaint little tea room (also a B&B). Excellent sandwiches, soup and I had to try a scone. Unexpectedly it was like sweet short biscuit as for shortcake.
From the host, who served us, we got lots of bits of information - like so many buildings were pink because they used blood added to milk paint for color. The plaster walls were -originally, at least- made of a mix of straw and cow manure! He advised us up the street to an alley that led to the marketplace. The marketplace was a square with shops on three sides and the Weavers Guild Hall on the fourth, with Lady St. leading back to Water St. In the marketplace, a one-time tailor's shop had film, postcards and souvenirs. The little old lady explained the low counter as "just long enough for the measure of material to make a man's suit." It had been in her family for 200 years, she having recently inherited it from her brother. Also she told me, a greenhouse with tropical plants, mostly from Africa. She said her brother wouldn't let her touch or help in the green house, "just look and now I do it all!" She smiled with satisfaction, I'm sure. The Pink tearoom Reed & Sam wanted me to try wasn't reachable that day because part of the street was torn up and workers and equipment all over. Getting ready for the tourist season to come. Lavenham was to me the epitome of the England that was.
We drove on to Hadleigh with a two mile detour to see Kersey, only thing we saw there was the old church high on the hill with homes around the base. More modern homes than we had seen in Lavenham, so we drove on. Good thing Lynne was driving the Volvo, the road was barely wide enough for two vehicles to ease by each other. In Hadleigh went to the P.O. for directions to Town Clerk. We arrived at that building just as the assistant t.c. was locking up. When she heard I was interested in genealogy of the Hadley's that came from Reydon Parish, she unlocked the door and with the tree of us trailing her to the second floor, we reached her office. She told me of the Antiquarian for Suffolk County and looked up his address. Walked thru cemetery of very imposing church down to the post office for cards and I got a china bird. That was something that was very different, they have little souvenir and card shops in forepart of their post offices. I bought the blue and white china bird.
Phyl wanted to go into a hardware store, turned out she wanted to get warm. I bought small flower clippers. Lynne and her mother wanted to get fruit at the farmers market, then we headed home by way of Bury St. Edmunds. Got there about 4 p.m. Doug and girls arrived and we went for pizza at Antonio's on base. Very good.
Early bedtime. Expect to start 6:30 a.m. for Warwick Castle and maybe Cotswolds. And unforgettable day.
Cloudy and threatening rain so we decided to try to see Cambridge and maybe Lavenham.
Started out about 9:30. En route we decided to try Lavenham. Drove around the by-pass for Cambridge, thru rural land with many sheep grazing. It is lambing time and almost as many little black faced creatures as full size. Lynne drove into the town and parked just around the corner of the Swan Hotel -- on Water Street! Unknowingly we were on the street of the famous weavers cottages. Built in 14th and 15th century they have remained unmodernized, intact, tho they now contain small shops. All are half-timbered.
We walked up High street to get better shot of the "Crooked House", to have tea/coffee and find some facilities. We found a quaint little tea room (also a B&B). Excellent sandwiches, soup and I had to try a scone. Unexpectedly it was like sweet short biscuit as for shortcake.
From the host, who served us, we got lots of bits of information - like so many buildings were pink because they used blood added to milk paint for color. The plaster walls were -originally, at least- made of a mix of straw and cow manure! He advised us up the street to an alley that led to the marketplace. The marketplace was a square with shops on three sides and the Weavers Guild Hall on the fourth, with Lady St. leading back to Water St. In the marketplace, a one-time tailor's shop had film, postcards and souvenirs. The little old lady explained the low counter as "just long enough for the measure of material to make a man's suit." It had been in her family for 200 years, she having recently inherited it from her brother. Also she told me, a greenhouse with tropical plants, mostly from Africa. She said her brother wouldn't let her touch or help in the green house, "just look and now I do it all!" She smiled with satisfaction, I'm sure. The Pink tearoom Reed & Sam wanted me to try wasn't reachable that day because part of the street was torn up and workers and equipment all over. Getting ready for the tourist season to come. Lavenham was to me the epitome of the England that was.
We drove on to Hadleigh with a two mile detour to see Kersey, only thing we saw there was the old church high on the hill with homes around the base. More modern homes than we had seen in Lavenham, so we drove on. Good thing Lynne was driving the Volvo, the road was barely wide enough for two vehicles to ease by each other. In Hadleigh went to the P.O. for directions to Town Clerk. We arrived at that building just as the assistant t.c. was locking up. When she heard I was interested in genealogy of the Hadley's that came from Reydon Parish, she unlocked the door and with the tree of us trailing her to the second floor, we reached her office. She told me of the Antiquarian for Suffolk County and looked up his address. Walked thru cemetery of very imposing church down to the post office for cards and I got a china bird. That was something that was very different, they have little souvenir and card shops in forepart of their post offices. I bought the blue and white china bird.
Phyl wanted to go into a hardware store, turned out she wanted to get warm. I bought small flower clippers. Lynne and her mother wanted to get fruit at the farmers market, then we headed home by way of Bury St. Edmunds. Got there about 4 p.m. Doug and girls arrived and we went for pizza at Antonio's on base. Very good.
Early bedtime. Expect to start 6:30 a.m. for Warwick Castle and maybe Cotswolds. And unforgettable day.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Three
4/2/92:
Up about 7 a.m. Bright but no sun as yet. The girls were having their breakfast so I made coffee and talked with them.
After the girls went to school, we prepared to make a trip to Ely and Ely Cathedral. First went to the base. Phyl and I had to have a visitor's pass issued for the day there near the gate on displaying our passports. Then on to another building where Doug was greeted with "What's up, Doc?" by one of the men on duty. After Phyl and I filled out some forms and again submitting our passports, we were issued a paper pass good for two weeks. Now we can go on base with the kids anytime by showing our paper passes at the gate. While we were getting the passes, Lynne exchanged my dollars into pounds. ($1.77/pd.) Mailed postcards home.
Doug parked the van in the bus parking lot (more room). We walked a little by-way and Lynne, Phyl and Doug stopped in a public rest room. I was looking at an almost continuous flower garden fronting several doorways right up to a low stone wall along the walk. As I was looking at the last section and trying to decide if the blooming bushes were a white starlatta magnolia a lady came to the open doorway and said good morning. I told her I had taken a picture of her garden and asked about the magnolia. She said "Yes, it is, won't you come and see my backyard garden" - I started toward a little path at the side but she said no, come in thru my house. Thru tiny rooms she led me into a courtyard with more magnolias, imapients, loads of primroses and a tubbed deep pink camelia. We discussed climates, flowers and gardening until I said I had left my family outside and had to leave. I told her my name and she told me she was Mrs. Grey. I thanked her for sharing her garden.
Outside, they were waiting for me, we waved goodbye to Mrs. Grey. Doug said he came out of the restroom just in time to see me disappearing into a house. They thought it very nice that she had been such a friendly lady.
On to the Cathedral. It's overpowering. You feel its age all around you as you enter thru a small door set into the huge front entry doors. The colors, number and variety of stained glass, the painted fresco-type vaulted ceiling, a crown like upper area (reminds me of widow's walk) was all stained glass figures, perhaps the twelve disciples.
I sat in the choir area of the front altar. Linen-fold carved oak walls with opposing sections of the choir having carved oak depictions of the Old Testament on one side and the New Testament opposite. Doug took my pictures there. Unable to locate Prost or find anyone or any literature to help, sorry Sam. Had lunch in snack shop adjoining gift shop, Phyllis' treat.
Left the cathedral and walked to High Street, rather like a street in Jamestown, downhill to the Ouse River and uphill all the way going back. Visited an antique shop Lynne knew about, three floors full of all kinds of interesting stuff. Hurried back to the van to pick up Christie and Joanne from school in Upwood, where the clinic where Doug works is also located.
Bought a carved crane and a teacup. Home about 3:30. Great day.
Up about 7 a.m. Bright but no sun as yet. The girls were having their breakfast so I made coffee and talked with them.
After the girls went to school, we prepared to make a trip to Ely and Ely Cathedral. First went to the base. Phyl and I had to have a visitor's pass issued for the day there near the gate on displaying our passports. Then on to another building where Doug was greeted with "What's up, Doc?" by one of the men on duty. After Phyl and I filled out some forms and again submitting our passports, we were issued a paper pass good for two weeks. Now we can go on base with the kids anytime by showing our paper passes at the gate. While we were getting the passes, Lynne exchanged my dollars into pounds. ($1.77/pd.) Mailed postcards home.
Doug parked the van in the bus parking lot (more room). We walked a little by-way and Lynne, Phyl and Doug stopped in a public rest room. I was looking at an almost continuous flower garden fronting several doorways right up to a low stone wall along the walk. As I was looking at the last section and trying to decide if the blooming bushes were a white starlatta magnolia a lady came to the open doorway and said good morning. I told her I had taken a picture of her garden and asked about the magnolia. She said "Yes, it is, won't you come and see my backyard garden" - I started toward a little path at the side but she said no, come in thru my house. Thru tiny rooms she led me into a courtyard with more magnolias, imapients, loads of primroses and a tubbed deep pink camelia. We discussed climates, flowers and gardening until I said I had left my family outside and had to leave. I told her my name and she told me she was Mrs. Grey. I thanked her for sharing her garden.
Outside, they were waiting for me, we waved goodbye to Mrs. Grey. Doug said he came out of the restroom just in time to see me disappearing into a house. They thought it very nice that she had been such a friendly lady.
On to the Cathedral. It's overpowering. You feel its age all around you as you enter thru a small door set into the huge front entry doors. The colors, number and variety of stained glass, the painted fresco-type vaulted ceiling, a crown like upper area (reminds me of widow's walk) was all stained glass figures, perhaps the twelve disciples.
I sat in the choir area of the front altar. Linen-fold carved oak walls with opposing sections of the choir having carved oak depictions of the Old Testament on one side and the New Testament opposite. Doug took my pictures there. Unable to locate Prost or find anyone or any literature to help, sorry Sam. Had lunch in snack shop adjoining gift shop, Phyllis' treat.
Left the cathedral and walked to High Street, rather like a street in Jamestown, downhill to the Ouse River and uphill all the way going back. Visited an antique shop Lynne knew about, three floors full of all kinds of interesting stuff. Hurried back to the van to pick up Christie and Joanne from school in Upwood, where the clinic where Doug works is also located.
Bought a carved crane and a teacup. Home about 3:30. Great day.
Grandma's England Journal - Day Two
4/1/92:
Pre-sun light and thru the break in the clouds took a picture of the coast of Britain. Arrived at Gatwick at 8:05 a.m. Sun breaking thru the fog. Took about 3/4 hour to reach the Immigration desk (very long, slow line) then another 20 minutes in Customs line then retrieving our baggage and Doug there smiling waiting to take our suitcases for us.
Saw the fringes of London from the beltway, out thru rural countryside and up to Ramsey.
Got to Doug's house about 12:15 had lunch looked at their enclosed backyard. A brick wall on west side, wooden privacy wall to the north and east. They have daffodils, primroses and tulips in bloom; two large clumps of lavendar, dwarf apple, pear and a plum tree. Cedars about 8' high inside the East wall. Ivy and shrubs with oriental poppies, shasta daisies, money plant and unidentified ground covers. On one corner of the patio is their hot tub (out of order, as they wait for an electrical part ordered from the states.)
Doug asked if we wanted to rest or start our sightseeing. Without a qualm we set out to see St. Ives (Cromwell's birthplace) as short distance from Ramsey. Outstanding feature is a stone arched bridge over the Ouse River. Midway over the bridge is a stone chapel about 20' square built out over the river. We got the 4" long key from the cheese shop located down an alley with small boutique like shops. Very spartan interior with history on a plaque. Down winding narrow stairway was the cell where during the Cromwell reign of terror a Benedictine monk was in residence. A small balcony edged with iron railing at one time gave access to river exit. Doug took Phyl and my cameras, crossed the bridge and along the east bank to get our pictures as we stood on the balcony.
We wandered up into the town so that Phyl could go to a bank and change her travelers checks since Doug or Lynne couldn't exchange them on base. Fortunately I was carrying my money in my 'money bags' and no problem for them to make the exchange into pounds at their bank on base. While we waited in the village street for Phyl, we looked at the statue to Cromwell and purchased some postcards at a small shop there. Back in the van, Doug took us a short way further to Hemingford Abbey. Many thatched cottages, took pictures of a pink one, a white one, the Inn with its leaning chimney and Doug took one of me in the door of a roadside telephone booth. It is one of the old red iron type now being replaced to fade into history. Lynne and the girls were home from school when we got back. Greeting all round, had dinner, looked at pictures, mine and theirs. Bed early after a most welcome shower.
Pre-sun light and thru the break in the clouds took a picture of the coast of Britain. Arrived at Gatwick at 8:05 a.m. Sun breaking thru the fog. Took about 3/4 hour to reach the Immigration desk (very long, slow line) then another 20 minutes in Customs line then retrieving our baggage and Doug there smiling waiting to take our suitcases for us.
Saw the fringes of London from the beltway, out thru rural countryside and up to Ramsey.
Got to Doug's house about 12:15 had lunch looked at their enclosed backyard. A brick wall on west side, wooden privacy wall to the north and east. They have daffodils, primroses and tulips in bloom; two large clumps of lavendar, dwarf apple, pear and a plum tree. Cedars about 8' high inside the East wall. Ivy and shrubs with oriental poppies, shasta daisies, money plant and unidentified ground covers. On one corner of the patio is their hot tub (out of order, as they wait for an electrical part ordered from the states.)
Doug asked if we wanted to rest or start our sightseeing. Without a qualm we set out to see St. Ives (Cromwell's birthplace) as short distance from Ramsey. Outstanding feature is a stone arched bridge over the Ouse River. Midway over the bridge is a stone chapel about 20' square built out over the river. We got the 4" long key from the cheese shop located down an alley with small boutique like shops. Very spartan interior with history on a plaque. Down winding narrow stairway was the cell where during the Cromwell reign of terror a Benedictine monk was in residence. A small balcony edged with iron railing at one time gave access to river exit. Doug took Phyl and my cameras, crossed the bridge and along the east bank to get our pictures as we stood on the balcony.
We wandered up into the town so that Phyl could go to a bank and change her travelers checks since Doug or Lynne couldn't exchange them on base. Fortunately I was carrying my money in my 'money bags' and no problem for them to make the exchange into pounds at their bank on base. While we waited in the village street for Phyl, we looked at the statue to Cromwell and purchased some postcards at a small shop there. Back in the van, Doug took us a short way further to Hemingford Abbey. Many thatched cottages, took pictures of a pink one, a white one, the Inn with its leaning chimney and Doug took one of me in the door of a roadside telephone booth. It is one of the old red iron type now being replaced to fade into history. Lynne and the girls were home from school when we got back. Greeting all round, had dinner, looked at pictures, mine and theirs. Bed early after a most welcome shower.
Grandma's England Journal - Day One
Home Thoughts, from Abroad Robert Browning
Oh, to be in England
now that April's there
and whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware
that the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England - now!
MY TRIP TO ENGLAND 3/31-4/14/92
3/31/92 Prelude:
A bright sunny morning. Mild and perfect for travel. Kevin arrived at 8:30 a.m. as I was finishing breakfast dishes. We left after Dad's photo taking. Mir pulled up and waved as we drove out. At Nicola's, Lisa was just waiting to pull out onto Rt 16 and waved goodbye. (Had checked with the airline re: daylight saving time for my arrival back in Buffalo. Schedule o.k. with an hour to wait I went to the snack bar for coffee and a cigarette. Sitting opposite me another lady was doing the same. We discussed the weather and it turned out shed had been visiting family in Franklinville. I told her I was from Franklinville too. She asked if I knew George and Luella Weaver and said she was their middle daughter, Nancy. I told her I had seen her mother at Sandy's beauty shop just before we went south in February. She remembered the kids and going to ball games when Dad was playing. We talked the hour away before her flight to El Paso and mine to Charlotte, N.C. I gave my camera to a man at a nearby table and he took our picture, so that I can give one to Luella.
My seat #8A was on the right side just forward of the engine with a fine view as we crossed N.Y. State to Newark, N.J., a brief stop discharging but mostly receiving passengers. We landed at Gate 4A and after a rest room stop I proceeded to Gate 7D (clear the other end of the airport!) for the flight to England. Phyllis' plane not in so waited there for her to catch up. Met two couples, mother and daughter and their spouses from Jamestown N.Y. originally now living near Asheville, N.C. Father is retired A.F. just back from a reunion in Australia, now en route to England. The daughter and her husband lived just west of Charlotte. Phyl arrived, checked in and we shortly embarked as the setting sun turned the airport bldg's to molten gold and we lifted off and headed north east. They served (a choice) fillet of beef in wine sauce, baked potato, broccoli/cheese sauce, roll, apple dumpling with vanilla sauce. Before dinner we had complimentary drinks. L and J. Walker & mineral water; Phyl had a gin & tonic, both of us asked for manhattans but they didn't have that. Settled down to sleep about 9 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. Slept in and out, quite warm. Very little leg room. In the morning will see England!
P.S. Charlotte airport has a conveyer sidewalk from Concourse B to D, big help with heavy tote.
Oh, to be in England
now that April's there
and whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware
that the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England - now!
MY TRIP TO ENGLAND 3/31-4/14/92
3/31/92 Prelude:
A bright sunny morning. Mild and perfect for travel. Kevin arrived at 8:30 a.m. as I was finishing breakfast dishes. We left after Dad's photo taking. Mir pulled up and waved as we drove out. At Nicola's, Lisa was just waiting to pull out onto Rt 16 and waved goodbye. (Had checked with the airline re: daylight saving time for my arrival back in Buffalo. Schedule o.k. with an hour to wait I went to the snack bar for coffee and a cigarette. Sitting opposite me another lady was doing the same. We discussed the weather and it turned out shed had been visiting family in Franklinville. I told her I was from Franklinville too. She asked if I knew George and Luella Weaver and said she was their middle daughter, Nancy. I told her I had seen her mother at Sandy's beauty shop just before we went south in February. She remembered the kids and going to ball games when Dad was playing. We talked the hour away before her flight to El Paso and mine to Charlotte, N.C. I gave my camera to a man at a nearby table and he took our picture, so that I can give one to Luella.
My seat #8A was on the right side just forward of the engine with a fine view as we crossed N.Y. State to Newark, N.J., a brief stop discharging but mostly receiving passengers. We landed at Gate 4A and after a rest room stop I proceeded to Gate 7D (clear the other end of the airport!) for the flight to England. Phyllis' plane not in so waited there for her to catch up. Met two couples, mother and daughter and their spouses from Jamestown N.Y. originally now living near Asheville, N.C. Father is retired A.F. just back from a reunion in Australia, now en route to England. The daughter and her husband lived just west of Charlotte. Phyl arrived, checked in and we shortly embarked as the setting sun turned the airport bldg's to molten gold and we lifted off and headed north east. They served (a choice) fillet of beef in wine sauce, baked potato, broccoli/cheese sauce, roll, apple dumpling with vanilla sauce. Before dinner we had complimentary drinks. L and J. Walker & mineral water; Phyl had a gin & tonic, both of us asked for manhattans but they didn't have that. Settled down to sleep about 9 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. Slept in and out, quite warm. Very little leg room. In the morning will see England!
P.S. Charlotte airport has a conveyer sidewalk from Concourse B to D, big help with heavy tote.
Gin and Tonic and Diet Pepsi, Each With Lime
This week, you had asked me to come earlier, at 4p.m. so that we could get the cuttings from your garden for my container garden on the back deck of my new apartment. Our apartment is a second story two-bedroom, with cathedral ceilings and sliding glass doors that lead onto the back deck, a small 4' x 8' wooden loft above the grass, with iron railings. I want to turn our deck into a bit of a garden oasis. People living in cities are able to have beautiful deck and rooftop gardens, and I've looked online for ideas. I'm perhaps more excited about creating this little garden on the back deck than I am about arranging furniture, hanging window treatments and fabrics (we can't paint the walls, but as my friend Mary the Graphic Designer pointed out, we can hang fabrics on the walls).
I assumed I would need to buy plants at local nurseries, but then last week while sitting on the porch with you, you pointed out the beautiful orange Oriental poppies lining your stone wall under the tall pine trees on the northeast side of your garden. You were given only one Oriental poppy as a gift nearly thirty years ago, and you planted it along the base of your stone wall, next to your potting shed. The poppy spread itself over the years until it stretched along the entire length of the stone wall, dozens of poppies nodding their papery orange heads in the breezes.
I was impressed with these poppies, these russet beauties that have been in your garden for longer than I've been alive. Impressed and humbled. You don't usually think of flowers as being old, and of course they aren't the same flowers, but generations upon generations of poppies gracing the low stone wall. I also learned last week of the "oldest" flower in your garden: a beautiful blue iris that you planted some sixty years ago. A present from your Aunt Mae, the aunt who taught in Japan and who had the house in Hamburg with the beautiful rose gardens.
You mentioned that you have divided the iris bulbs in previous years and have given some to relatives. It was then that I had the idea to ask you for cuttings from your garden to begin my container garden on the deck. I would much rather have plants that originated in your garden and were passed down to me, the way recipes are often handed down through the generations. My family doesn't pass down secrets of the best marinara sauce or how the science of the perfect pastry crust. We pass down papery orange poppies and bulbs containing the genesis of beautiful blue irises; autumn sedum and ivy in gold Asian pots. You were happy to help me get my garden started with the help of a few plants from your garden. We planned to meet earlier the following week, so we could get the plants before dinner.
When I arrived at your house at four o'clock this time, it took me a minute to realize that you weren't there. It didn't register at first that your car wasn't in the driveway; it wasn't until I jiggled your locked back door that I realized I was alone. I moved my car out of your driveway and parked along the street under the shade of a tree, so you'd be able to pull back in. I went to your back patio, and set down the flowers I'd brought you on your little porch table. Your patio smelled of old house or stale cigarette ash, depending on the direction of the June breezes. I settled into one of your rocking patio chairs, and just sat there quietly for a few minutes. I have never, in all my life, until that moment, been alone at your house. You were always there; Grandpa was always there; family members were usually there. It was very quiet and peaceful, being there by myself, sitting on your back porch overlooking the garden. I pulled out my journal and began to write, while listening to the birds play around your feeders and splash in your stone birdbath.
I had written about two pages when my aunt Lanie and her granddaughter Brooke came around the side of the house. They were going to go walking in Riverside Creek after a long day of running errands. They didn't seem too surprised to see me there alone; my aunt said you'd probably be along shortly. Sure enough, you came around the corner only a minute after them. You greeted us all, noticed your flowers on the table, and said goodbye to Lanie and Brooke as they walked off in the direction of the creek.
We headed immediately for your potting shed and you got a paring knife. Over in your herb garden, you dug up some Autumn Sedum and primroses. I fetched some small plastic pots from the shed, and we put the cuttings in them, then took the pots back to the shed where you filled them with potting soil and put the three pots on a tray for me to take home. I carried the tray to the back porch and set it on the bench, and we sat down. There are more plants that you want to give to me, but I said that those would be good for the first week. You want to give me aloe and impatiens, and a few other plants as well.
I could tell as you sat down in the chair closest to mine that you were tired and hadn't thought about dinner yet. "Tell you what," I said. "How about instead of making dinner tonight, we have some cool drinks on the porch instead?" "I'm going to have a gin and tonic," you replied immediately. You have always liked your Manhattans, so I suppose gin and tonic is your summertime drink of choice. Or it could have been that you had limes in the refrigerator that day. We went inside, and you fixed your drink and brought out the lime, and sliced a sliver off with a paring knife. I used the knife to cut through the green flesh and add a sliver of lime to my Diet Pepsi on ice. Drinks in hand, we wandered back down and out to the porch, where you lit a cigarette.
We sat, sipped our drinks, talked, and listened to the neighbors, as they mowed their lawns. We watched the sunlight change as the sun lowered in the sky, making different parts of the white picket fence in your herb garden glow in honey-colored light. You mentioned that you like to sit out here summer mornings and watch the sun light up each house down the street; you can watch it illuminate one house and backyard, then the next, all the way down. I tried to taste the lime in my Diet Pepsi; I either should have cut a bigger slice or should have squeezed the juice out of it. I think I would prefer Lime and Coke. Either way, I think adding a slice of lime to a drink is a great idea. It just makes the drink so much more summery.
You are growing a moonflower in a pot by your trellis, and it will be blooming soon, you said. Your next door neighbor used to grow a batch of moonflowers in her garden and you would enjoy watching them open up in the summer evenings. Your Oriental poppies were already finished by this week, and you planned to cut the stalks down, like you do every year. You pointed out which apple tree in your yard was good for applesauce, and which one was good for pies, and which one produced strawberry apples. You talked about the vegetable garden you used to have, with thirteen rows of corn, carrots, potatoes, squash, and all sorts of vegetables, surrounded by a white picket fence. You pointed out the oak tree that Grandpa cut the lower limbs off of, because my dad and the kids loved to climb it and my dad got a huge sliver in his calf once from climbing that tree. Once Grandpa cut the limbs off the oak tree, the kids took to climbing the pine trees that line the northeastern side of your yard, which were small when you first moved into the house. Now the tower up above everything, dwarfing the houses and casting shade across your backyard.
I enjoyed just sitting on the back porch with you, and sipped my Diet Pepsi with lime slowly so it would last longer. Sometimes we sat in comfortable silence, in between our conversations. While sitting there with you, talking, and not talking, I got the strongest feeling: This is one of the best things I am doing with my life right now. This, dinners (or in tonight's case, drinks) with you once a week, is one of the best things I could possibly be doing with my time, with my life. I am sure of it.
After about an hour and a half, I got up to leave. You were planning to mow your lawn once the sun sank lower and it cooled down a bit. I thanked you for the cuttings, kissed you on the cheek, and drove off.
I assumed I would need to buy plants at local nurseries, but then last week while sitting on the porch with you, you pointed out the beautiful orange Oriental poppies lining your stone wall under the tall pine trees on the northeast side of your garden. You were given only one Oriental poppy as a gift nearly thirty years ago, and you planted it along the base of your stone wall, next to your potting shed. The poppy spread itself over the years until it stretched along the entire length of the stone wall, dozens of poppies nodding their papery orange heads in the breezes.
I was impressed with these poppies, these russet beauties that have been in your garden for longer than I've been alive. Impressed and humbled. You don't usually think of flowers as being old, and of course they aren't the same flowers, but generations upon generations of poppies gracing the low stone wall. I also learned last week of the "oldest" flower in your garden: a beautiful blue iris that you planted some sixty years ago. A present from your Aunt Mae, the aunt who taught in Japan and who had the house in Hamburg with the beautiful rose gardens.
You mentioned that you have divided the iris bulbs in previous years and have given some to relatives. It was then that I had the idea to ask you for cuttings from your garden to begin my container garden on the deck. I would much rather have plants that originated in your garden and were passed down to me, the way recipes are often handed down through the generations. My family doesn't pass down secrets of the best marinara sauce or how the science of the perfect pastry crust. We pass down papery orange poppies and bulbs containing the genesis of beautiful blue irises; autumn sedum and ivy in gold Asian pots. You were happy to help me get my garden started with the help of a few plants from your garden. We planned to meet earlier the following week, so we could get the plants before dinner.
When I arrived at your house at four o'clock this time, it took me a minute to realize that you weren't there. It didn't register at first that your car wasn't in the driveway; it wasn't until I jiggled your locked back door that I realized I was alone. I moved my car out of your driveway and parked along the street under the shade of a tree, so you'd be able to pull back in. I went to your back patio, and set down the flowers I'd brought you on your little porch table. Your patio smelled of old house or stale cigarette ash, depending on the direction of the June breezes. I settled into one of your rocking patio chairs, and just sat there quietly for a few minutes. I have never, in all my life, until that moment, been alone at your house. You were always there; Grandpa was always there; family members were usually there. It was very quiet and peaceful, being there by myself, sitting on your back porch overlooking the garden. I pulled out my journal and began to write, while listening to the birds play around your feeders and splash in your stone birdbath.
I had written about two pages when my aunt Lanie and her granddaughter Brooke came around the side of the house. They were going to go walking in Riverside Creek after a long day of running errands. They didn't seem too surprised to see me there alone; my aunt said you'd probably be along shortly. Sure enough, you came around the corner only a minute after them. You greeted us all, noticed your flowers on the table, and said goodbye to Lanie and Brooke as they walked off in the direction of the creek.
We headed immediately for your potting shed and you got a paring knife. Over in your herb garden, you dug up some Autumn Sedum and primroses. I fetched some small plastic pots from the shed, and we put the cuttings in them, then took the pots back to the shed where you filled them with potting soil and put the three pots on a tray for me to take home. I carried the tray to the back porch and set it on the bench, and we sat down. There are more plants that you want to give to me, but I said that those would be good for the first week. You want to give me aloe and impatiens, and a few other plants as well.
I could tell as you sat down in the chair closest to mine that you were tired and hadn't thought about dinner yet. "Tell you what," I said. "How about instead of making dinner tonight, we have some cool drinks on the porch instead?" "I'm going to have a gin and tonic," you replied immediately. You have always liked your Manhattans, so I suppose gin and tonic is your summertime drink of choice. Or it could have been that you had limes in the refrigerator that day. We went inside, and you fixed your drink and brought out the lime, and sliced a sliver off with a paring knife. I used the knife to cut through the green flesh and add a sliver of lime to my Diet Pepsi on ice. Drinks in hand, we wandered back down and out to the porch, where you lit a cigarette.
We sat, sipped our drinks, talked, and listened to the neighbors, as they mowed their lawns. We watched the sunlight change as the sun lowered in the sky, making different parts of the white picket fence in your herb garden glow in honey-colored light. You mentioned that you like to sit out here summer mornings and watch the sun light up each house down the street; you can watch it illuminate one house and backyard, then the next, all the way down. I tried to taste the lime in my Diet Pepsi; I either should have cut a bigger slice or should have squeezed the juice out of it. I think I would prefer Lime and Coke. Either way, I think adding a slice of lime to a drink is a great idea. It just makes the drink so much more summery.
You are growing a moonflower in a pot by your trellis, and it will be blooming soon, you said. Your next door neighbor used to grow a batch of moonflowers in her garden and you would enjoy watching them open up in the summer evenings. Your Oriental poppies were already finished by this week, and you planned to cut the stalks down, like you do every year. You pointed out which apple tree in your yard was good for applesauce, and which one was good for pies, and which one produced strawberry apples. You talked about the vegetable garden you used to have, with thirteen rows of corn, carrots, potatoes, squash, and all sorts of vegetables, surrounded by a white picket fence. You pointed out the oak tree that Grandpa cut the lower limbs off of, because my dad and the kids loved to climb it and my dad got a huge sliver in his calf once from climbing that tree. Once Grandpa cut the limbs off the oak tree, the kids took to climbing the pine trees that line the northeastern side of your yard, which were small when you first moved into the house. Now the tower up above everything, dwarfing the houses and casting shade across your backyard.
I enjoyed just sitting on the back porch with you, and sipped my Diet Pepsi with lime slowly so it would last longer. Sometimes we sat in comfortable silence, in between our conversations. While sitting there with you, talking, and not talking, I got the strongest feeling: This is one of the best things I am doing with my life right now. This, dinners (or in tonight's case, drinks) with you once a week, is one of the best things I could possibly be doing with my time, with my life. I am sure of it.
After about an hour and a half, I got up to leave. You were planning to mow your lawn once the sun sank lower and it cooled down a bit. I thanked you for the cuttings, kissed you on the cheek, and drove off.
Happy Easter (Macaroni and Cheese, and Cherry Pie)
Dear Grandma,
You were dyeing Easter eggs when I arrived this time. Making them for Grandpa's Easter basket, which you will take to him at the nursing home. He loves candy, and will be getting Peeps and some chocolate, and of course, the eggs that you dyed for decoration. You didn't have any artificial food dyes on hand, so you were dyeing the eggs the way your mother used to do it - using onion skins in boiling water. The onion skins, when boiled, will gently stain the eggs to varying shades of brown, depending on how long you leave the eggs in. She would also use beet juice, you said. When I was home the next morning, I tried this natural method of dyeing eggs, and threw in a teabag for fun. The eggs swirled around in the tea-and-onion-skin water for about twenty minutes, and when I was finished, I had three beautiful, soft brown eggs to put in a little basket. For some reason, I find I like these dyed eggs so much more than the artificially-colored ones.
The menu this time was macaroni and cheese, peas, salt-rising bread and cherry pie for dessert. You gave me the night off from preparing dessert. "Don't worry about bringing anything," you said. You had been making pie crusts to make a lemon meringue pie for Easter, using your son's pie crust recipe - my towering, gruff-looking uncle who looks a bit like Santa Claus in the off-season, and who you'd never know loves to cook and bake - and you had extra pie dough left over, so you made a cherry pie for us. We drank tea out of the blue cups and saucers, and we didn't read our tea leaves this time, although I noticed you had a new tea leaf-reading book sitting underneath your old one on the dining room table.
Your house was filled with fresh flowers - roses, daisies, verbinium in little pots. The roses were multicolored and smelled divine. Your house gets this way every Easter, due to your many grown-up children sending you bouquets for the holiday. My own parents have a pot of yellow daisies sitting on the dining room table, which they will be giving you this Sunday. It reminded me of when I was in Great Britain a couple years ago, and we visited Anne Hathaway's cottage on a sunny spring day in March. What a charming cottage that was with its hearth fireplace, stone floors and leaded windows. But one of the things that struck me the most was the heady scent of fresh bouquets on the thick wooden table in the kitchen and throughout the house - hyacinth and daffodills, and many other spring blossoms arranged in vases, giving splashes of color to each room in the cottage. There's something timeless about a vase of flowers on a table. People have been bringing flowers indoors for ages - I imagine Anne Hathaway, pregnant with Shakespeare's child, moving slowly through the gardens around the cottage to collect a bouquet and bring it inside to cheer up the room. She probably enjoyed flowers on her table, and now you have flowers on yours. Some day, when I have a little home and garden, I want to have a garden just for cutting, and have fresh flowers on my table each day, like Anne may have done.
We talked some about the birds in your garden - spring was well on its way, until a wintry blast came in and delivered more snow and icy weather. Robins have been hopping about in confusion, their rusty breasts in contrast to the white ground; goldfinches have been getting their summer color back, but not in sync with the countryside getting her green back. Birdfeeders are very popular right now. We watched goldfinches and purple finches, juncos and sparrows hopping and swooping between feeders in your backyard. At home there is a pair of cardinals that I have been watching for the past two months or so. The male is stunningly gorgeous in his bright red feathers against the winter backdrop, and the female more subtly pleasing in her golden ones. He is always in pursuit of her and she is always retreating, leading him on, literally from tree to tree. He always pursues. I think that with that kind of persistence, he will win her in the end.
You mentioned getting a quote for the house from a contractor who would redo the exterior in vinyl siding. The house has never been sided; it's always been painted and the paint is peeling off in many places. You would like to put siding on in a nice grayish, greenish, white, you said. You are also thinking about replacing the windows, which are original to the house and don't fit well now that the house has aged and settled. Come this November, you will have lived in this house for sixty years. Sixty years. I asked if you were the longest-time resident of Cherry Street. No, you said, Mrs. Hicks down on the corner of Washburn was living there when you moved in in 1947. She still lives in that butter-yellow house on the corner, across the street from her grandson, the one who owns Gates Creek Cafe.
You were making plans for Easter dinner. You were "collecting the orphans" you said, finding out who didn't have plans already and inviting them to your house for ham and lemon meringue pie. My family will be coming. Again I find it intriguing, the way you have a desire for some things spiritual like reading tea leaves, praying before meals, and celebrating Christian holidays like Easter, but I'm not sure where you stand with God. You ask me to pray each time now before we have dinner. I don't know if you are planning to attend church on Easter Sunday, but I know that you are taking pains to prepare a meal for the family in celebration of it. I have prayed for you several times, and I'm hoping to be open to conversations about spiritual things, even though I'm not the greatest evangelist. I truly want you to know the Lord and to belong to Him, but I don't know how to tell you that you need Jesus. I hope that death is not so much like the popular-and-terrifying evangelical play Heaven's Gates and Hell's Flames, where you realize you are dead and the decision about your eternal destiny has already been made, but I hope that death is more like C.S. Lewis' book The Great Divorce, where mercy continues and you still have a chance to choose Jesus after death, and grow into one of the Solid People.
You were dyeing Easter eggs when I arrived this time. Making them for Grandpa's Easter basket, which you will take to him at the nursing home. He loves candy, and will be getting Peeps and some chocolate, and of course, the eggs that you dyed for decoration. You didn't have any artificial food dyes on hand, so you were dyeing the eggs the way your mother used to do it - using onion skins in boiling water. The onion skins, when boiled, will gently stain the eggs to varying shades of brown, depending on how long you leave the eggs in. She would also use beet juice, you said. When I was home the next morning, I tried this natural method of dyeing eggs, and threw in a teabag for fun. The eggs swirled around in the tea-and-onion-skin water for about twenty minutes, and when I was finished, I had three beautiful, soft brown eggs to put in a little basket. For some reason, I find I like these dyed eggs so much more than the artificially-colored ones.
The menu this time was macaroni and cheese, peas, salt-rising bread and cherry pie for dessert. You gave me the night off from preparing dessert. "Don't worry about bringing anything," you said. You had been making pie crusts to make a lemon meringue pie for Easter, using your son's pie crust recipe - my towering, gruff-looking uncle who looks a bit like Santa Claus in the off-season, and who you'd never know loves to cook and bake - and you had extra pie dough left over, so you made a cherry pie for us. We drank tea out of the blue cups and saucers, and we didn't read our tea leaves this time, although I noticed you had a new tea leaf-reading book sitting underneath your old one on the dining room table.
Your house was filled with fresh flowers - roses, daisies, verbinium in little pots. The roses were multicolored and smelled divine. Your house gets this way every Easter, due to your many grown-up children sending you bouquets for the holiday. My own parents have a pot of yellow daisies sitting on the dining room table, which they will be giving you this Sunday. It reminded me of when I was in Great Britain a couple years ago, and we visited Anne Hathaway's cottage on a sunny spring day in March. What a charming cottage that was with its hearth fireplace, stone floors and leaded windows. But one of the things that struck me the most was the heady scent of fresh bouquets on the thick wooden table in the kitchen and throughout the house - hyacinth and daffodills, and many other spring blossoms arranged in vases, giving splashes of color to each room in the cottage. There's something timeless about a vase of flowers on a table. People have been bringing flowers indoors for ages - I imagine Anne Hathaway, pregnant with Shakespeare's child, moving slowly through the gardens around the cottage to collect a bouquet and bring it inside to cheer up the room. She probably enjoyed flowers on her table, and now you have flowers on yours. Some day, when I have a little home and garden, I want to have a garden just for cutting, and have fresh flowers on my table each day, like Anne may have done.
We talked some about the birds in your garden - spring was well on its way, until a wintry blast came in and delivered more snow and icy weather. Robins have been hopping about in confusion, their rusty breasts in contrast to the white ground; goldfinches have been getting their summer color back, but not in sync with the countryside getting her green back. Birdfeeders are very popular right now. We watched goldfinches and purple finches, juncos and sparrows hopping and swooping between feeders in your backyard. At home there is a pair of cardinals that I have been watching for the past two months or so. The male is stunningly gorgeous in his bright red feathers against the winter backdrop, and the female more subtly pleasing in her golden ones. He is always in pursuit of her and she is always retreating, leading him on, literally from tree to tree. He always pursues. I think that with that kind of persistence, he will win her in the end.
You mentioned getting a quote for the house from a contractor who would redo the exterior in vinyl siding. The house has never been sided; it's always been painted and the paint is peeling off in many places. You would like to put siding on in a nice grayish, greenish, white, you said. You are also thinking about replacing the windows, which are original to the house and don't fit well now that the house has aged and settled. Come this November, you will have lived in this house for sixty years. Sixty years. I asked if you were the longest-time resident of Cherry Street. No, you said, Mrs. Hicks down on the corner of Washburn was living there when you moved in in 1947. She still lives in that butter-yellow house on the corner, across the street from her grandson, the one who owns Gates Creek Cafe.
You were making plans for Easter dinner. You were "collecting the orphans" you said, finding out who didn't have plans already and inviting them to your house for ham and lemon meringue pie. My family will be coming. Again I find it intriguing, the way you have a desire for some things spiritual like reading tea leaves, praying before meals, and celebrating Christian holidays like Easter, but I'm not sure where you stand with God. You ask me to pray each time now before we have dinner. I don't know if you are planning to attend church on Easter Sunday, but I know that you are taking pains to prepare a meal for the family in celebration of it. I have prayed for you several times, and I'm hoping to be open to conversations about spiritual things, even though I'm not the greatest evangelist. I truly want you to know the Lord and to belong to Him, but I don't know how to tell you that you need Jesus. I hope that death is not so much like the popular-and-terrifying evangelical play Heaven's Gates and Hell's Flames, where you realize you are dead and the decision about your eternal destiny has already been made, but I hope that death is more like C.S. Lewis' book The Great Divorce, where mercy continues and you still have a chance to choose Jesus after death, and grow into one of the Solid People.
Steak and Macaroni and Cheese (March 2007)
It's been a few dinners since I've written to you. The first one was on a Thursday night. We had steak, winter squash, potatoes and salad. For dessert we had thumbprint cookies and tea. I had neglected to tell you that I was cutting out red meat from my diet (I've been thinking of becoming a vegetarian). When I saw the steaks sitting in the foam tray, ready to be slapped onto your little Hamilton Beach grill, I figured it was now or never, and so I told you, not wanting to hurt your feelings at all. You were okay with it. There were always foods that Grandpa couldn't or wouldn't eat, such as cucumbers in a salad. And your oldest daughter who eats with you a few nights a week is on a Weight Watchers diet. So you are used to accomodating the preferences of others. Now you have a granddaughter who won't eat red meat.
I had worked that day, and rushed to make a dessert when I got home. Flipping through my Betty Crocker recipe book, I found one for jam thumbprint cookies and decided to make those. Now usually cooking and baking is a relaxing pastime for me. I enjoy creating delicious meals and desserts for people to eat. My mother says that this love of cooking and ability in the kitchen came directly from you. She doesn't like to cook and rarely will try a new recipe. She avoids the kitchen if she can; her favorite dinner is a bowl of popcorn and a Diet Pepsi.
It was partly through books, partly through movies and television, and partly though people that I discovered that there were those who loved food and loved to cook; the secret that those who eat well, live well, and that cooking can become ingrained in a family's traditions and celebrations. Two books that come to mind are Like Water for Chocolate and Under the Tuscan Sun. Two women, one in Mexico and one in Italy, pour their passions into their cooking and it yields magnificent results. I remember staying at a friend's house in college and her making fun of me for even mentioning the word "recipe". In her family, you learned to cook through oral tradition, one generation passing down their secrets to the next. And then there was the Food Channel on t.v. It dawned on me that cooking didn't have to be a chore, one more thing you needed to do after a long day of work. Cooking is play; cooking is a way to unwind and relax and feed your creativity.
As I learned to cook, I branched out and began creating. Farfalle pasta with sun-dried tomatoes and artichoke hearts; Big John's Texas Chicken Pie; New York Cheesecake; Chicken Tortilla Soup. I began to enjoy food more. I asked for a bread machine for my 25th birthday and began making my own pizzas from scratch. My family teased me, calling me "Martha Stewart" and a tension grew between my mother and I for a while as it turned out that I felt quite differently about cooking than she did.
As I cooked, I discovered something about my mother that I had never noticed when she was cooking: that she was almost as picky as a child. She will scrape the red and green bell peppers off her pizza, push the onions to the far side of her plate. She doesn't like peas, which I always knew, but since having dinners with you, Grandma, I realized there's a whole gardenful of vegetables that she doesn't cook or eat. Beets, winter squash, brussel sprouts, asparagus and spinach, to name a few. I love her very much, just as she is. But there is a part of me that wishes I had grown up in a family where getting to help the women in the kitchen was a treat as a girl, and where cooking skills and a love of good food had been passed down from generation to generation.
As I was making these thumbprint cookies, I was not enjoying myself. I kept spilling things, banging into things and knocking about clumsily. I didn't have any shortening and so I doubled the margarine, which was a mistake. The cookies took extra long to bake, and didn't look too impressive when they came out of the oven. I made indents in them and spooned raspberry jam into them, loaded them into a Tupperware container while they were still warm and dashed out of the house, leaving a sink full of dirty dishes.
The next week, you had prepared macaroni and cheese. And wouldn't you know it, the oral tradition began. Always remember that this is a good way to use up all of the old, hard cheeses in your refrigerator, you said. Any old cheeses will do. You were right; it was delicious. We also had banana bread, beets, homemade applesauce, and country apple tart and tea for dessert. I was making up for the thumbprint cookies of the previous week by bringing the country apple tart.
The applesauce, you told me, comes from apples that grow on a tree in your backyard. It was a volunteer tree, and produces little, white-skinned apples that you discovered make a good applesauce. Not too tart and not too sweet, just spicy enough.
You had gone to the shed in the backyard this week to get some of your caning supplies and take inventory, and you discovered little pine cones in the bottom of your basket. A squirrel's winter stash! He probably thought he had found the best hiding place ever.
You surprised me by talking of selling your house. You had decided that if you were to have only a year or two of life left, you wouldn't want to spend it uprooting and moving into a strange place. So you will keep the house on Cherry Street and finish out your time there. I think that is a good idea. You said that you would like to sell the house to a family member, but all of your children have homes of their own and wouldn't want it.
"I'll buy it!" I said laughingly. "Ryan and I might need a place to live after we get married."
You took me seriously. "Well, we'll see - I'll remember that," you said. "But hopefully you're not hoping for this to happen soon."
"Oh goodness, no," I said to you. "I want you around for a long time. I think that's why I would buy your house; I want to keep you and my memories of you."
"Maybe you will; I don't know what will happen," you said, meaning life after death, ghosts, and spirits haunting houses.
I told you that if I bought it I would want to make it the way you've always wanted it, and playfully "took orders" from you. Put siding on the exterior - a pretty, Colonial mustard-yellow color that you saw on a house once. Hang charcoal-gray shutters on the windows. Put oak floors throughout the kitchen and dining room, and use the long wooden planks from the attic as flooring for the Keeping Room. Put French doors leading out to the back patio, and a large triangular window on the south wall to let the sunlight spill in. Take the light fixture hanging in the Keeping Room, which was a gift from your friend Charlotte, and hang it on the front porch. Put tile ceiling in the downstairs bedroom and dining room.
I would want to do all of that, plus replanting your gardens out back, remodeling the kitchen and putting in a skylight, and maybe building a small barn-like garage at the end of the driveway. Your house would be truly lovely if all these changes took place. But I hope that it will be many years before anyone else begins making your house their home.
You had a hobbyhorse in your tea leaves. You didn't reach for the book; you knew that hobbyhorse wasn't an entry in there; you've gotten one before. You thanked me for having dinner with you. I don't like eating alone, you said. I am glad to be providing you with company for dinner, one night a week.
I had worked that day, and rushed to make a dessert when I got home. Flipping through my Betty Crocker recipe book, I found one for jam thumbprint cookies and decided to make those. Now usually cooking and baking is a relaxing pastime for me. I enjoy creating delicious meals and desserts for people to eat. My mother says that this love of cooking and ability in the kitchen came directly from you. She doesn't like to cook and rarely will try a new recipe. She avoids the kitchen if she can; her favorite dinner is a bowl of popcorn and a Diet Pepsi.
It was partly through books, partly through movies and television, and partly though people that I discovered that there were those who loved food and loved to cook; the secret that those who eat well, live well, and that cooking can become ingrained in a family's traditions and celebrations. Two books that come to mind are Like Water for Chocolate and Under the Tuscan Sun. Two women, one in Mexico and one in Italy, pour their passions into their cooking and it yields magnificent results. I remember staying at a friend's house in college and her making fun of me for even mentioning the word "recipe". In her family, you learned to cook through oral tradition, one generation passing down their secrets to the next. And then there was the Food Channel on t.v. It dawned on me that cooking didn't have to be a chore, one more thing you needed to do after a long day of work. Cooking is play; cooking is a way to unwind and relax and feed your creativity.
As I learned to cook, I branched out and began creating. Farfalle pasta with sun-dried tomatoes and artichoke hearts; Big John's Texas Chicken Pie; New York Cheesecake; Chicken Tortilla Soup. I began to enjoy food more. I asked for a bread machine for my 25th birthday and began making my own pizzas from scratch. My family teased me, calling me "Martha Stewart" and a tension grew between my mother and I for a while as it turned out that I felt quite differently about cooking than she did.
As I cooked, I discovered something about my mother that I had never noticed when she was cooking: that she was almost as picky as a child. She will scrape the red and green bell peppers off her pizza, push the onions to the far side of her plate. She doesn't like peas, which I always knew, but since having dinners with you, Grandma, I realized there's a whole gardenful of vegetables that she doesn't cook or eat. Beets, winter squash, brussel sprouts, asparagus and spinach, to name a few. I love her very much, just as she is. But there is a part of me that wishes I had grown up in a family where getting to help the women in the kitchen was a treat as a girl, and where cooking skills and a love of good food had been passed down from generation to generation.
As I was making these thumbprint cookies, I was not enjoying myself. I kept spilling things, banging into things and knocking about clumsily. I didn't have any shortening and so I doubled the margarine, which was a mistake. The cookies took extra long to bake, and didn't look too impressive when they came out of the oven. I made indents in them and spooned raspberry jam into them, loaded them into a Tupperware container while they were still warm and dashed out of the house, leaving a sink full of dirty dishes.
The next week, you had prepared macaroni and cheese. And wouldn't you know it, the oral tradition began. Always remember that this is a good way to use up all of the old, hard cheeses in your refrigerator, you said. Any old cheeses will do. You were right; it was delicious. We also had banana bread, beets, homemade applesauce, and country apple tart and tea for dessert. I was making up for the thumbprint cookies of the previous week by bringing the country apple tart.
The applesauce, you told me, comes from apples that grow on a tree in your backyard. It was a volunteer tree, and produces little, white-skinned apples that you discovered make a good applesauce. Not too tart and not too sweet, just spicy enough.
You had gone to the shed in the backyard this week to get some of your caning supplies and take inventory, and you discovered little pine cones in the bottom of your basket. A squirrel's winter stash! He probably thought he had found the best hiding place ever.
You surprised me by talking of selling your house. You had decided that if you were to have only a year or two of life left, you wouldn't want to spend it uprooting and moving into a strange place. So you will keep the house on Cherry Street and finish out your time there. I think that is a good idea. You said that you would like to sell the house to a family member, but all of your children have homes of their own and wouldn't want it.
"I'll buy it!" I said laughingly. "Ryan and I might need a place to live after we get married."
You took me seriously. "Well, we'll see - I'll remember that," you said. "But hopefully you're not hoping for this to happen soon."
"Oh goodness, no," I said to you. "I want you around for a long time. I think that's why I would buy your house; I want to keep you and my memories of you."
"Maybe you will; I don't know what will happen," you said, meaning life after death, ghosts, and spirits haunting houses.
I told you that if I bought it I would want to make it the way you've always wanted it, and playfully "took orders" from you. Put siding on the exterior - a pretty, Colonial mustard-yellow color that you saw on a house once. Hang charcoal-gray shutters on the windows. Put oak floors throughout the kitchen and dining room, and use the long wooden planks from the attic as flooring for the Keeping Room. Put French doors leading out to the back patio, and a large triangular window on the south wall to let the sunlight spill in. Take the light fixture hanging in the Keeping Room, which was a gift from your friend Charlotte, and hang it on the front porch. Put tile ceiling in the downstairs bedroom and dining room.
I would want to do all of that, plus replanting your gardens out back, remodeling the kitchen and putting in a skylight, and maybe building a small barn-like garage at the end of the driveway. Your house would be truly lovely if all these changes took place. But I hope that it will be many years before anyone else begins making your house their home.
You had a hobbyhorse in your tea leaves. You didn't reach for the book; you knew that hobbyhorse wasn't an entry in there; you've gotten one before. You thanked me for having dinner with you. I don't like eating alone, you said. I am glad to be providing you with company for dinner, one night a week.
Stuffed Pork Chops (February 2007)
Dear Grandma,
Last night I didn't have time to make the homestyle white bread I'd promised. Instead, I made an apple oven pancake, a fluffy treat with brown sugar and cinnamon, to go with our tea as dessert. I put the pancake on my mother's strawberry-painted plate and covered it with tin foil, and drove down the hill to your house while the plate was still warm.
I parked behind your car in the driveway and as I was going up the side steps, glanced out over the snow-covered backyard stretching out in winter darkness. I long for spring to come. I pictured the backyard and what it would look like if I lived in your house and continued gardening back there. In my mind, it brimmed with life and color.
You always greet me with a cheerful hello when I come in, before I see you. You were down the wide plank stairs in the Keeping Room, reading one of your library books. I put my things away, took off my shoes and told you of what I'd made for dessert. I think from now on I'll be coming through the door with dessert in hand, for my contribution to our meals together.
Tonight you announced we were having stuffed pork chops. Well, one stuffed pork chop, split in two and shared between us. I smiled to myself, because for some reason we've been having pork in some form every time we have dined together. One of the many blessings of these dinners is an education in the many ways pork can be prepared! You pulled the chop out of the oven and carefully divided it with a knife. I helped by microwaving the green beans and divvying the stemmed broccoli between us, and taking the teapot down. You cut up two slices of salt-rising bread and carried them down in a little basket.
The television was on; I had already danced through my ritual of placing the teapot on the table and turning the volume down. We sat down to eat under a new table lamp that seemed too large and bright for your small table under the window. I always feel a bit awkward at the start of our meal because I'm unused to beginning to eat without saying a blessing. I hesitated the first night to offer to say grace, and I don't want to offend you or turn you off in any way, so I err on the side of being so inoffensive that my faith doesn't show, which isn't good.
We dug in, I poured tea for us into our usual teacups of red dragon and blue flower, and everything was delicious. You ate fast; you said you must have been hungry from scrubbing your kitchen floor, which activity also leaves you temporarily lame. You snapped off the t.v., to my surprise and secret delight, when the CBS Evening News began. You said you don't like her - her being Katie Couric - because she seems down all the time. Probably a side-effect of a newer evening news anchor who wishes to show that she can be taken seriously to do her job well. No matter; I was glad you turned it off.
Dinner conversation was easy. You mentioned you'd finished the book, The Hounds and the Fury, and had enjoyed it very much. The author, you said, hunts foxes and so she isn't writing about things she doesn't know about. Duly noted. You asked about my first assignment for an art class I'm taking. I told you of this period of waiting my fiance and I are in, waiting to hear about applications to graduate school, and I told you of the wedding cake design I picked out, and the flowers for my bridal bouquet.
We spoke of gardening; you plan to do some tomatoes and roses this spring. You no longer have the time or energy to do your full gardens anymore. For a minute, I almost asked you if Ryan and I could plant our vegetable garden where your vegetable garden used to be, inside the ghost of the white-picket fence. But I hesitated. I think I'm afraid to show too much eagerness where your house and garden are concerned, to give away my longing to live in your house and maintain my memories of you.
We took our dinner things upstairs and I sliced the dessert while you got out ice cream. Back downstairs with our pretty blue china plates of apple oven pancake and ice cream, to go with our tea. You enjoyed the apple oven pancake.
After dessert, we sipped our tea and when you finished, you began reading your tea leaves. I watched as you taught me, turn the cup three times around upside down in its saucer, then lift it over your head in a counterclockwise circle. You looked a little silly to me while doing this, but I know it's something you do almost every night with your older daughter. The book on reading tea leaves has rested on my side of the table under the windowsill each time we've had dinner together. The first three times we met, you used teabags in the teapot, but now it was as if I had made it beyond the preliminary round and you felt comfortable enough to read your tea leaves in front of me. I played along, picking up the book and offering to read your "destiny" depending on what form your tea leaves took. You had a rainbow, which came with a touching fortune - the hardest part of your life is over, and things will be beautiful from now on. I don't believe in tea leaves, but I heartily wish for that to be true.
Then it was my turn. I played along, again, not wanting to offend. I twirled my upside-down cup around in its saucer three times, then lifted it counterclockwise around my head, feeling goofy, and then handed it sheepishly to you. You spotted two birds and a log. I flipped through the yellowed pages to read my fate. The birds meant that good message would come my way. The log meant that a large gift (such as a refrigerator, it said) would also be coming my way. I laughed about that and you did too, and said that reading tea leaves was a silly and "for fun" pastime that you learned from Grandma Tanner, your mother-in-law.
After reading our tea leaves we talked about some of the extensive genealogy work you had done in your younger years of retirement. You and Grandpa traveled all over the northeast, "running through graveyards," as you put it, and talking to town clerks, piecing together the family tree. You once read a Reader's Digest article about Tanners living in Connecticut, and you wrote a letter to the author, and she wrote back with the discovery that you were from a different branch of the same family tree.
Last night you were wearing a pale pink sweatshirt that said MAINE in large letters, and underneath, that said "The Way Life Should Be." I asked if you'd been to Maine. The sweatshirt, you said, was a gift from your daughter-in-law, but you had indeed been to Maine before. Grandpa used to take fishing trips every year, you said. One time he was leaving for a trip and your friend Charlotte, who had moved from our town to Maine, convinced you to come spend a week with her in Portland. You took the bus to a small airport and then took a series of "puddle jumper" commuter planes out East and up the coast. It was your first time flying, and you especially enjoyed banking out over the Atlantic Ocean before landing in Boston. You enjoyed three days with Charlotte on the Maine coast, taking pictures of seagulls and spending time with your good friend, before tragedy struck. Her mother died, and your trip was cut short as you rode with Charlotte back across New England to Orchard Park, NY, where the funeral was, and your oldest son came and brought you back home.
We went into your bedroom; you were talking of how you'd like to paint the walls. I'd like to help you paint them. I don't like the fake wood walls you have now. You want to redecorate the room a bit and display a few of your Oriental things in there. I noticed you had covered the funeral door in plastic wrap. You picked up and handed me your senior picture, and I was looking into your eyes, only eighteen years old, proud and confident, untouched by future heartache and disappointment, beautiful. You had flawless skin and brown hair, parted in the same place that my brown hair parts. You wore a navy blue and white dress which your English teacher had given you. I was mesmerized by your youthful face. You probably still had dreams of being a history teacher at that point. You and one other girl in your class were the only ones who had college entrance, but in an ironic twist of fate, you each had seven children (hers all girls) and never continued your formal educations.
You showed me Grandpa's great-great-grandfather's trunk, made of horsehide and containing the Tanner and Hadley family Bibles. There was also an old, cracked-binder leather photo album with many people who we don't know in it, but who are connected to the family somehow, or they wouldn't be in there.
As I got ready to leave, I told you of my disappointment when looking for a chair frame for you to cane, and of the man who might have a nice one I could buy. Get a pair, you said. I will do that. I'm glad you are offering to cane a pair of chairs for us. I will also get my first chair to cane, and learn by doing as I learn to cane from you. I can hardly wait for the arrival of spring.
I took the rest of the apple oven pancake home with me. You kissed me on the cheek and I kissed you on yours - your skin soft and leathery with fine wrinkles. We both enjoy our evenings together. Next Thursday we will meet again, probably have some kind of pork, I'll provide dessert, we'll drink more tea but I don't think I will read my tea leaves anymore. Maybe next time I will work up the courage and ask to say grace before the meal. I will try to remember to bring my art assignment to show you. I'm looking forward to it very much.
Last night I didn't have time to make the homestyle white bread I'd promised. Instead, I made an apple oven pancake, a fluffy treat with brown sugar and cinnamon, to go with our tea as dessert. I put the pancake on my mother's strawberry-painted plate and covered it with tin foil, and drove down the hill to your house while the plate was still warm.
I parked behind your car in the driveway and as I was going up the side steps, glanced out over the snow-covered backyard stretching out in winter darkness. I long for spring to come. I pictured the backyard and what it would look like if I lived in your house and continued gardening back there. In my mind, it brimmed with life and color.
You always greet me with a cheerful hello when I come in, before I see you. You were down the wide plank stairs in the Keeping Room, reading one of your library books. I put my things away, took off my shoes and told you of what I'd made for dessert. I think from now on I'll be coming through the door with dessert in hand, for my contribution to our meals together.
Tonight you announced we were having stuffed pork chops. Well, one stuffed pork chop, split in two and shared between us. I smiled to myself, because for some reason we've been having pork in some form every time we have dined together. One of the many blessings of these dinners is an education in the many ways pork can be prepared! You pulled the chop out of the oven and carefully divided it with a knife. I helped by microwaving the green beans and divvying the stemmed broccoli between us, and taking the teapot down. You cut up two slices of salt-rising bread and carried them down in a little basket.
The television was on; I had already danced through my ritual of placing the teapot on the table and turning the volume down. We sat down to eat under a new table lamp that seemed too large and bright for your small table under the window. I always feel a bit awkward at the start of our meal because I'm unused to beginning to eat without saying a blessing. I hesitated the first night to offer to say grace, and I don't want to offend you or turn you off in any way, so I err on the side of being so inoffensive that my faith doesn't show, which isn't good.
We dug in, I poured tea for us into our usual teacups of red dragon and blue flower, and everything was delicious. You ate fast; you said you must have been hungry from scrubbing your kitchen floor, which activity also leaves you temporarily lame. You snapped off the t.v., to my surprise and secret delight, when the CBS Evening News began. You said you don't like her - her being Katie Couric - because she seems down all the time. Probably a side-effect of a newer evening news anchor who wishes to show that she can be taken seriously to do her job well. No matter; I was glad you turned it off.
Dinner conversation was easy. You mentioned you'd finished the book, The Hounds and the Fury, and had enjoyed it very much. The author, you said, hunts foxes and so she isn't writing about things she doesn't know about. Duly noted. You asked about my first assignment for an art class I'm taking. I told you of this period of waiting my fiance and I are in, waiting to hear about applications to graduate school, and I told you of the wedding cake design I picked out, and the flowers for my bridal bouquet.
We spoke of gardening; you plan to do some tomatoes and roses this spring. You no longer have the time or energy to do your full gardens anymore. For a minute, I almost asked you if Ryan and I could plant our vegetable garden where your vegetable garden used to be, inside the ghost of the white-picket fence. But I hesitated. I think I'm afraid to show too much eagerness where your house and garden are concerned, to give away my longing to live in your house and maintain my memories of you.
We took our dinner things upstairs and I sliced the dessert while you got out ice cream. Back downstairs with our pretty blue china plates of apple oven pancake and ice cream, to go with our tea. You enjoyed the apple oven pancake.
After dessert, we sipped our tea and when you finished, you began reading your tea leaves. I watched as you taught me, turn the cup three times around upside down in its saucer, then lift it over your head in a counterclockwise circle. You looked a little silly to me while doing this, but I know it's something you do almost every night with your older daughter. The book on reading tea leaves has rested on my side of the table under the windowsill each time we've had dinner together. The first three times we met, you used teabags in the teapot, but now it was as if I had made it beyond the preliminary round and you felt comfortable enough to read your tea leaves in front of me. I played along, picking up the book and offering to read your "destiny" depending on what form your tea leaves took. You had a rainbow, which came with a touching fortune - the hardest part of your life is over, and things will be beautiful from now on. I don't believe in tea leaves, but I heartily wish for that to be true.
Then it was my turn. I played along, again, not wanting to offend. I twirled my upside-down cup around in its saucer three times, then lifted it counterclockwise around my head, feeling goofy, and then handed it sheepishly to you. You spotted two birds and a log. I flipped through the yellowed pages to read my fate. The birds meant that good message would come my way. The log meant that a large gift (such as a refrigerator, it said) would also be coming my way. I laughed about that and you did too, and said that reading tea leaves was a silly and "for fun" pastime that you learned from Grandma Tanner, your mother-in-law.
After reading our tea leaves we talked about some of the extensive genealogy work you had done in your younger years of retirement. You and Grandpa traveled all over the northeast, "running through graveyards," as you put it, and talking to town clerks, piecing together the family tree. You once read a Reader's Digest article about Tanners living in Connecticut, and you wrote a letter to the author, and she wrote back with the discovery that you were from a different branch of the same family tree.
Last night you were wearing a pale pink sweatshirt that said MAINE in large letters, and underneath, that said "The Way Life Should Be." I asked if you'd been to Maine. The sweatshirt, you said, was a gift from your daughter-in-law, but you had indeed been to Maine before. Grandpa used to take fishing trips every year, you said. One time he was leaving for a trip and your friend Charlotte, who had moved from our town to Maine, convinced you to come spend a week with her in Portland. You took the bus to a small airport and then took a series of "puddle jumper" commuter planes out East and up the coast. It was your first time flying, and you especially enjoyed banking out over the Atlantic Ocean before landing in Boston. You enjoyed three days with Charlotte on the Maine coast, taking pictures of seagulls and spending time with your good friend, before tragedy struck. Her mother died, and your trip was cut short as you rode with Charlotte back across New England to Orchard Park, NY, where the funeral was, and your oldest son came and brought you back home.
We went into your bedroom; you were talking of how you'd like to paint the walls. I'd like to help you paint them. I don't like the fake wood walls you have now. You want to redecorate the room a bit and display a few of your Oriental things in there. I noticed you had covered the funeral door in plastic wrap. You picked up and handed me your senior picture, and I was looking into your eyes, only eighteen years old, proud and confident, untouched by future heartache and disappointment, beautiful. You had flawless skin and brown hair, parted in the same place that my brown hair parts. You wore a navy blue and white dress which your English teacher had given you. I was mesmerized by your youthful face. You probably still had dreams of being a history teacher at that point. You and one other girl in your class were the only ones who had college entrance, but in an ironic twist of fate, you each had seven children (hers all girls) and never continued your formal educations.
You showed me Grandpa's great-great-grandfather's trunk, made of horsehide and containing the Tanner and Hadley family Bibles. There was also an old, cracked-binder leather photo album with many people who we don't know in it, but who are connected to the family somehow, or they wouldn't be in there.
As I got ready to leave, I told you of my disappointment when looking for a chair frame for you to cane, and of the man who might have a nice one I could buy. Get a pair, you said. I will do that. I'm glad you are offering to cane a pair of chairs for us. I will also get my first chair to cane, and learn by doing as I learn to cane from you. I can hardly wait for the arrival of spring.
I took the rest of the apple oven pancake home with me. You kissed me on the cheek and I kissed you on yours - your skin soft and leathery with fine wrinkles. We both enjoy our evenings together. Next Thursday we will meet again, probably have some kind of pork, I'll provide dessert, we'll drink more tea but I don't think I will read my tea leaves anymore. Maybe next time I will work up the courage and ask to say grace before the meal. I will try to remember to bring my art assignment to show you. I'm looking forward to it very much.
Grilled Pork Chops, Again (February 2007)
Dear Grandma,
Last night was grilled pork chops again, salad, corn, black tea without cream or sugar, roasted red potatoes, and we made ice cream sundaes for dessert. You forgot to run the dishwasher this time, so instead of our usual teacups and saucers - yours the white one with the red dragon on it from Ireland, and mine white with pretty blue flowers on it - we drank our tea from matching blue cups and saucers, which one of your daughters-in-law purchased for you from England. I asked if blue was your favorite color. You said you like all the colors, from brown on up through. The only color you don't really care for is orange. Too bright.
When I got there, smoke was hanging like a thin veil through the house because you had just added more logs to the woodstove. The smoke alarm went off and you took a woven placemat from the dining room table and waved it under the device a few times, and it stopped. "Be quiet," you said to it.
The television was on again in the Keeping Room, and I confess I now make a habit of turning the volume down when I'm taking dishes down to the little table. I watched you carry the blue cups and saucers down, stacked on top of each other and I thought for sure that they would fall from your grip and crash to the floor but they didn't. You had me bring the teapot down. Your teapot is silver with pretty etchings; your friend Bridget brought it to you from Ireland.
We sat down, you poured the tea, I helped myself to salad, we took turns with serving corn. The t.v. remained on, three feet away from us. The little table sits under a large window that looks on the back porch and out to the backyard, and I thought I heard voices nearby in the winter darkness out there. Your new neighbor's son was probably out snowmobiling, you said. The wood stove continued burning over in the far corner of the room, and I sat facing you and the wall of bookshelves behind you as we ate. I'm sitting where Grandpa used to sit.
I can't remember all that we talked about. We would comment on the news or a commercial, and we made some small talk. It seems like our conversations deepen after we've finished dinner and dessert. We usually sit for another hour with our tea, warming it up from the pot, and talk some more.
You asked if I'd read any good books this week, and indeed I had, Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods. I asked if you had read any good books this week. You had been to the library for the first time in a few weeks. They were all wondering where you'd been and how you were doing. You're a big part of their circulation, it seems. You pointed to two books stacked over on the oak table, a mystery, and a book by someone who writes books in which people and foxes are characters. This got me curious to know what your favorite book of all time is. I guess I like superlatives: favorite color, favorite season, favorite book. You didn't really have one, but you pointed out a few that you really liked, and I stood up on a chair to reach one down that you said that anyone who has anything to do with children should read. It was a slim hard cover with a red cover jacket. (Now I have three of your books, and I need to make sure I don't start a collection!) I don't think you've read too much classic literature, the stuff I studied in college such as Dante, Wharton, Shakespeare. I wondered what classic books, if any, you have read. I couldn't think of a good way to ask you, so I kept silent.
You talked about Grandpa, who was never much of a reader, and you knew that when you were dating him. He told you he would watch the movies for his book reports. You firmly believe, as I do, that the book is always better than the movie. Richer, more to it, more character development. You named The Horse Whisperer as an example. You had read that book and the movie was playing in theatres, so for once you told your daughters you wanted to go to the movies. You, your two daughters and your daughter-in-law went, and by the end all were crying, and the younger women, who hadn't read the book, were wanting to know why you didn't tell them they needed to bring Kleenex.
I asked you in a "speaking about books"-way if you've ever heard of an "owl garden." I thought that with your longtime interest in gardening and your shelf full of books on the subject, you may have, but you hadn't. This is something I read about recently in the book Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson. An owl garden, I explained, is a garden of fragrant, night-blooming white flowers. Wouldn't that be pretty? You said yes, you knew of two flowers that are white and nocturnal. I believe you called one a "moonflower" and said your neighbor used to grow them in pots and you enjoyed watching them unfurl as the evening drew on.
You asked if I had work tomorrow, which I didn't. I told you how nice it was to work one day, then rest the next, work the next, always with a day off inbetween. I had grown very tired of working full time, I confessed. It drains me, sitting and staring at a computer all day. I told you, I don't know if I am lazy or not a hard worker or what, but I just don't feel cut out for office work. You nodded your understanding and said the reason you enjoyed your job for the county so much was because you interacted with people. I explained that due to technological advances, it seemed that people who were across the room were e-mailing me instead of talking to me. I imagine that a few decades ago, offices were much livelier places, whereas mine is almost always as hushed as a library. About eight people and I sit quietly behind our cubicle partitions, clicking our mouses and quietly doing all communication over the Internet. You said that in the days before, you would have taken dictation or typed a letter.
You said thoughtfully to me, "You might like working in a bookshop." I had said earlier, "If only one could make a living reading books!" I heartily agreed, it has been a dream of mine to have a little bookstore, but with all the big box chains snow, to open an independent bookstore would be, like Garrison Keillor puts it, "charging a rhinoceros with a pink umbrella." I know I would enjoy working in a cozy bookshop. Or, you said kindly, you could take a library science degree. Yes, I've come close to doing that as well. About a year and a half ago I asked my supervisors for letters of recommendation because I had decided to apply for my MLIS. That didn't really get anywhere, my application packet was never completed, and I gave up the idea for a while. But I suppose I could always try again. "You may have to do it through night school," you said. We shall see.
You had been taking Christmas things upstairs, but you left your tree with the pictures and cards you received out on display, so you could look at it a little longer. You went over and got a picture postcard of an older couple for whom you'd caned fourteen chairs. You told me of how you'd met the wife's sister, and then a few months later the wife called you and asked you to cane their chairs for them. You started caning chairs a few years ago - learned it from a book - and you're quite good at it. You charged her a modest price - $35 - 40 for each chair, and you caned all fourteen. We went up to the dining room where you pulled out a handful of pictures of the chairs you've caned, which were all beautiful. You like to cane chairs in the spring, because you can sit on the back porch and do them. I suggested that maybe this spring, as I'm still coming over for Thursday dinners, we could retire to the back porch after supper and talk while I watch you cane your chairs. You liked that idea. I joked that I would be your apprentice. I really would like to learn this craft from you, to have you pass it down to me the way a cobbler or carpenter would pass down their trade to younger generations.
I asked if you would cane a chair for Ryan and me as a wedding present. You said you should have enough time by July.
I knew our evening was up when you started clearing the ice cream dishes off the table in a cheerful way. I think it's good for me to let the evening go on until you wrap things up for us, rather than me suggesting that I get going. It seems that our evenings are usually about two hours, from 6 to 8, on these short winter days. I'm sure that as the days lengthen and the spring comes and deepens, we will spend longer hours together, on the back porch, after dinner. As for tonight, it was so cold outside that I started my car and came back inside while it was warming up. You were putting away the dishes and getting ready to run the dishwasher, unplugging some appliances and plugging others in, careful not to upset the circuit balance. We said goodnight, and you said to me, "Be good." You kissed me on the cheek and I kissed you on yours, and then you waved your customary wave from the sink at the kitchen window as I drove off.
You had said to me as we were clearing the table that I could work with books as a librarian or in a bookshop, as I wrote my own book. "You really think I can?" I asked. "I know you can do it," was your confident response. I don't know if I will ever cease to be amazed and impressed by your belief in me as a writer. You make me believe that I just might do it.
Last night was grilled pork chops again, salad, corn, black tea without cream or sugar, roasted red potatoes, and we made ice cream sundaes for dessert. You forgot to run the dishwasher this time, so instead of our usual teacups and saucers - yours the white one with the red dragon on it from Ireland, and mine white with pretty blue flowers on it - we drank our tea from matching blue cups and saucers, which one of your daughters-in-law purchased for you from England. I asked if blue was your favorite color. You said you like all the colors, from brown on up through. The only color you don't really care for is orange. Too bright.
When I got there, smoke was hanging like a thin veil through the house because you had just added more logs to the woodstove. The smoke alarm went off and you took a woven placemat from the dining room table and waved it under the device a few times, and it stopped. "Be quiet," you said to it.
The television was on again in the Keeping Room, and I confess I now make a habit of turning the volume down when I'm taking dishes down to the little table. I watched you carry the blue cups and saucers down, stacked on top of each other and I thought for sure that they would fall from your grip and crash to the floor but they didn't. You had me bring the teapot down. Your teapot is silver with pretty etchings; your friend Bridget brought it to you from Ireland.
We sat down, you poured the tea, I helped myself to salad, we took turns with serving corn. The t.v. remained on, three feet away from us. The little table sits under a large window that looks on the back porch and out to the backyard, and I thought I heard voices nearby in the winter darkness out there. Your new neighbor's son was probably out snowmobiling, you said. The wood stove continued burning over in the far corner of the room, and I sat facing you and the wall of bookshelves behind you as we ate. I'm sitting where Grandpa used to sit.
I can't remember all that we talked about. We would comment on the news or a commercial, and we made some small talk. It seems like our conversations deepen after we've finished dinner and dessert. We usually sit for another hour with our tea, warming it up from the pot, and talk some more.
You asked if I'd read any good books this week, and indeed I had, Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods. I asked if you had read any good books this week. You had been to the library for the first time in a few weeks. They were all wondering where you'd been and how you were doing. You're a big part of their circulation, it seems. You pointed to two books stacked over on the oak table, a mystery, and a book by someone who writes books in which people and foxes are characters. This got me curious to know what your favorite book of all time is. I guess I like superlatives: favorite color, favorite season, favorite book. You didn't really have one, but you pointed out a few that you really liked, and I stood up on a chair to reach one down that you said that anyone who has anything to do with children should read. It was a slim hard cover with a red cover jacket. (Now I have three of your books, and I need to make sure I don't start a collection!) I don't think you've read too much classic literature, the stuff I studied in college such as Dante, Wharton, Shakespeare. I wondered what classic books, if any, you have read. I couldn't think of a good way to ask you, so I kept silent.
You talked about Grandpa, who was never much of a reader, and you knew that when you were dating him. He told you he would watch the movies for his book reports. You firmly believe, as I do, that the book is always better than the movie. Richer, more to it, more character development. You named The Horse Whisperer as an example. You had read that book and the movie was playing in theatres, so for once you told your daughters you wanted to go to the movies. You, your two daughters and your daughter-in-law went, and by the end all were crying, and the younger women, who hadn't read the book, were wanting to know why you didn't tell them they needed to bring Kleenex.
I asked you in a "speaking about books"-way if you've ever heard of an "owl garden." I thought that with your longtime interest in gardening and your shelf full of books on the subject, you may have, but you hadn't. This is something I read about recently in the book Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson. An owl garden, I explained, is a garden of fragrant, night-blooming white flowers. Wouldn't that be pretty? You said yes, you knew of two flowers that are white and nocturnal. I believe you called one a "moonflower" and said your neighbor used to grow them in pots and you enjoyed watching them unfurl as the evening drew on.
You asked if I had work tomorrow, which I didn't. I told you how nice it was to work one day, then rest the next, work the next, always with a day off inbetween. I had grown very tired of working full time, I confessed. It drains me, sitting and staring at a computer all day. I told you, I don't know if I am lazy or not a hard worker or what, but I just don't feel cut out for office work. You nodded your understanding and said the reason you enjoyed your job for the county so much was because you interacted with people. I explained that due to technological advances, it seemed that people who were across the room were e-mailing me instead of talking to me. I imagine that a few decades ago, offices were much livelier places, whereas mine is almost always as hushed as a library. About eight people and I sit quietly behind our cubicle partitions, clicking our mouses and quietly doing all communication over the Internet. You said that in the days before, you would have taken dictation or typed a letter.
You said thoughtfully to me, "You might like working in a bookshop." I had said earlier, "If only one could make a living reading books!" I heartily agreed, it has been a dream of mine to have a little bookstore, but with all the big box chains snow, to open an independent bookstore would be, like Garrison Keillor puts it, "charging a rhinoceros with a pink umbrella." I know I would enjoy working in a cozy bookshop. Or, you said kindly, you could take a library science degree. Yes, I've come close to doing that as well. About a year and a half ago I asked my supervisors for letters of recommendation because I had decided to apply for my MLIS. That didn't really get anywhere, my application packet was never completed, and I gave up the idea for a while. But I suppose I could always try again. "You may have to do it through night school," you said. We shall see.
You had been taking Christmas things upstairs, but you left your tree with the pictures and cards you received out on display, so you could look at it a little longer. You went over and got a picture postcard of an older couple for whom you'd caned fourteen chairs. You told me of how you'd met the wife's sister, and then a few months later the wife called you and asked you to cane their chairs for them. You started caning chairs a few years ago - learned it from a book - and you're quite good at it. You charged her a modest price - $35 - 40 for each chair, and you caned all fourteen. We went up to the dining room where you pulled out a handful of pictures of the chairs you've caned, which were all beautiful. You like to cane chairs in the spring, because you can sit on the back porch and do them. I suggested that maybe this spring, as I'm still coming over for Thursday dinners, we could retire to the back porch after supper and talk while I watch you cane your chairs. You liked that idea. I joked that I would be your apprentice. I really would like to learn this craft from you, to have you pass it down to me the way a cobbler or carpenter would pass down their trade to younger generations.
I asked if you would cane a chair for Ryan and me as a wedding present. You said you should have enough time by July.
I knew our evening was up when you started clearing the ice cream dishes off the table in a cheerful way. I think it's good for me to let the evening go on until you wrap things up for us, rather than me suggesting that I get going. It seems that our evenings are usually about two hours, from 6 to 8, on these short winter days. I'm sure that as the days lengthen and the spring comes and deepens, we will spend longer hours together, on the back porch, after dinner. As for tonight, it was so cold outside that I started my car and came back inside while it was warming up. You were putting away the dishes and getting ready to run the dishwasher, unplugging some appliances and plugging others in, careful not to upset the circuit balance. We said goodnight, and you said to me, "Be good." You kissed me on the cheek and I kissed you on yours, and then you waved your customary wave from the sink at the kitchen window as I drove off.
You had said to me as we were clearing the table that I could work with books as a librarian or in a bookshop, as I wrote my own book. "You really think I can?" I asked. "I know you can do it," was your confident response. I don't know if I will ever cease to be amazed and impressed by your belief in me as a writer. You make me believe that I just might do it.
Ham and Potato Salad
Dear Grandma,
Last night was our second dinner together. There was a Thursday inbetween when we did not meet; you had to travel with Grandpa to see a specialist and you thought it best if we didn't try to have dinner together. Yesterday, Mom let me know you were expecting me.
The first thing you said after we exchanged hellos was, "So, are you going to shoot pictures for the Times Herald?" I didn't know what you meant and thought someone had given you misinformation. I recently gave up being a college photographer for a living, and thought you had somehow heard that I'd be working for the local paper next. I tried to feel my way around this one. "Oh yeah? Working for them, huh?" You said something about them putting out a call for pictures, and I realized it was a photo contest. Well, a photo contest of sorts. You showed me the newspaper clipping from Wednesday's paper, which I have now with me. They are looking for local residents to contribute series of pictures for this "A Day In the Life" feature they will be printing. You thought I should do it. "Wouldn't that be nice." If I did do it, I would take pictures of you and me having our dinner together.
Dinner was delicious again. I helped you carry down pretty blue plates of ham and potato salad; there were fresh salads for each of us, mixed vegetables, black tea to drink. You even made two apple dumplings for dessert, from your own recipe, left over from the years when you made what you could by using what you had. It was the best apple dumpling I've ever tasted.
The television was on last night. I thought you would shut it off like last time, but it blared evening news stories and used car commercials not three feet away from us during the whole of our evening together. This made it difficult for me to concentrate and focus on conversation with you. We didn't talk as much as we did during our first dinner. I wondered if my questions, put to you last time about your life and your past, made you recall too much or wearied you, so that you left the television on this time. We chatted a bit, with long pauses for eating or watching something interesting on the t.v. But I was disappointed.
I asked you about gardening and how you took interest in it. You said you've always been ; you worked in the family garden as a child and so you were introduced to gardening early on. You had an aunt - the same aunt who taught in Japan - who had a lovely Dutch Colonial in Hamburg with beautiful gardens - in particular, a rose garden that was almost as big as the Keeping Room, with a pond stocked with koi. You remembered how your children, my aunts and uncles and father, used to love feeding the fish.
I asked about your gardens out back. You told me of your vegetable garden, and your "herb" garden, which isn't in a good spot, "too much shade." You used to have another flower garden in front of the white picket fence of your vegetable garden, until one day Grandpa decided he'd plant tulips and daffodills in that spot, and you lost your little garden.
We finished our dinners. The potato salad was a reminder that spring is coming, you said. I asked if that was your favorite season. You said you like them all except for winter. You don't like ice and snow.
Twice during dinner you asked me if I had work the next day, and twice I answered that I did not. Both times you said to me, "Oh, good." You asked me a third time at the end of the evening when we were clearing dishes, but caught yourself as you remembered you'd already asked me and what my answer was. I don't think you asked me so many times out of forgetfulness, but maybe that tendency we all have to sometimes make polite conversation, asking polite questions, and not listening to the answers, to let our minds be someplace else.
I mentioned that I'd been reading through your England journal, and enjoying it very much. We talked about bits and pieces of it, and you told me more of the story of the bus driver in York, how he pulled over and had the tourists look at a stained glass window with a rose in it, and while you were leaning over to view it, he kissed you on the cheek and said some saying about "whoever gets kissed under the rose window, that's love for life!" Everyone on the bus laughed at his cheekiness, and you said you were probably "beet red." You didn't write that part down in the journal which you shared with friends and family, but you shared it with me. I believe you wanted to share it when I remarked that it appeared so many people were kind to you during your travels there. This is something that stood out to me as I read your account of the trip, and I believe it may have something to do with the way you are. You draw people to yourself, although you never try to be the center of attention. You take a genuine interest in others, and you don't needlessly set up enemies for yourself. You are a kind and gentle person, the kind of person people want to do nice things for, such as that English lady in Ely inviting you to see her back garden when she noticed you admiring her front garden; the person who was closing up shop as you arrived and who unlocked the place and gave you assistance in your genealogy pursuits, and the bus driver, the very same one who planted a kiss on your cheek, and who invited you aboard his green ticket tour bus, even though you'd purchased blue line tickets, because it was too cold a day to stand and wait.
I asked you which day of that trip was your favorite. You liked them all, every one, but you liked Lavenham the best - you felt like you were home - this mystical feeling, a ghostly sense that you'd lived another life there, or something...
Last night was our second dinner together. There was a Thursday inbetween when we did not meet; you had to travel with Grandpa to see a specialist and you thought it best if we didn't try to have dinner together. Yesterday, Mom let me know you were expecting me.
The first thing you said after we exchanged hellos was, "So, are you going to shoot pictures for the Times Herald?" I didn't know what you meant and thought someone had given you misinformation. I recently gave up being a college photographer for a living, and thought you had somehow heard that I'd be working for the local paper next. I tried to feel my way around this one. "Oh yeah? Working for them, huh?" You said something about them putting out a call for pictures, and I realized it was a photo contest. Well, a photo contest of sorts. You showed me the newspaper clipping from Wednesday's paper, which I have now with me. They are looking for local residents to contribute series of pictures for this "A Day In the Life" feature they will be printing. You thought I should do it. "Wouldn't that be nice." If I did do it, I would take pictures of you and me having our dinner together.
Dinner was delicious again. I helped you carry down pretty blue plates of ham and potato salad; there were fresh salads for each of us, mixed vegetables, black tea to drink. You even made two apple dumplings for dessert, from your own recipe, left over from the years when you made what you could by using what you had. It was the best apple dumpling I've ever tasted.
The television was on last night. I thought you would shut it off like last time, but it blared evening news stories and used car commercials not three feet away from us during the whole of our evening together. This made it difficult for me to concentrate and focus on conversation with you. We didn't talk as much as we did during our first dinner. I wondered if my questions, put to you last time about your life and your past, made you recall too much or wearied you, so that you left the television on this time. We chatted a bit, with long pauses for eating or watching something interesting on the t.v. But I was disappointed.
I asked you about gardening and how you took interest in it. You said you've always been ; you worked in the family garden as a child and so you were introduced to gardening early on. You had an aunt - the same aunt who taught in Japan - who had a lovely Dutch Colonial in Hamburg with beautiful gardens - in particular, a rose garden that was almost as big as the Keeping Room, with a pond stocked with koi. You remembered how your children, my aunts and uncles and father, used to love feeding the fish.
I asked about your gardens out back. You told me of your vegetable garden, and your "herb" garden, which isn't in a good spot, "too much shade." You used to have another flower garden in front of the white picket fence of your vegetable garden, until one day Grandpa decided he'd plant tulips and daffodills in that spot, and you lost your little garden.
We finished our dinners. The potato salad was a reminder that spring is coming, you said. I asked if that was your favorite season. You said you like them all except for winter. You don't like ice and snow.
Twice during dinner you asked me if I had work the next day, and twice I answered that I did not. Both times you said to me, "Oh, good." You asked me a third time at the end of the evening when we were clearing dishes, but caught yourself as you remembered you'd already asked me and what my answer was. I don't think you asked me so many times out of forgetfulness, but maybe that tendency we all have to sometimes make polite conversation, asking polite questions, and not listening to the answers, to let our minds be someplace else.
I mentioned that I'd been reading through your England journal, and enjoying it very much. We talked about bits and pieces of it, and you told me more of the story of the bus driver in York, how he pulled over and had the tourists look at a stained glass window with a rose in it, and while you were leaning over to view it, he kissed you on the cheek and said some saying about "whoever gets kissed under the rose window, that's love for life!" Everyone on the bus laughed at his cheekiness, and you said you were probably "beet red." You didn't write that part down in the journal which you shared with friends and family, but you shared it with me. I believe you wanted to share it when I remarked that it appeared so many people were kind to you during your travels there. This is something that stood out to me as I read your account of the trip, and I believe it may have something to do with the way you are. You draw people to yourself, although you never try to be the center of attention. You take a genuine interest in others, and you don't needlessly set up enemies for yourself. You are a kind and gentle person, the kind of person people want to do nice things for, such as that English lady in Ely inviting you to see her back garden when she noticed you admiring her front garden; the person who was closing up shop as you arrived and who unlocked the place and gave you assistance in your genealogy pursuits, and the bus driver, the very same one who planted a kiss on your cheek, and who invited you aboard his green ticket tour bus, even though you'd purchased blue line tickets, because it was too cold a day to stand and wait.
I asked you which day of that trip was your favorite. You liked them all, every one, but you liked Lavenham the best - you felt like you were home - this mystical feeling, a ghostly sense that you'd lived another life there, or something...
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