In between lessons and just now catching up with a morning post.
Nine Mary Lincoln day lilies for this day which is already hot and humid. I feel for those marching and performing in the Centerville Americana parade.
Not much else to report. But, do make it a great day!
As the Kettering fireworks began, The Quartet was anxious so I grabbed a pillow and hit the floor in my study where four furry babies snuggled beside me, seemingly less stressed.
I finished my biography of Theodore Roosevelt and began a new audio book, THE THREE GRACES OF VAL-KILL by Emily Herring Wilson. Since I’ve been to Franklin Roosevelt’s Springwood mansion at Hyde Park and to Eleanor Roosevelt’s beloved Val-Kil, I’m quite enjoying this book.
I did fall asleep for a good 90 minutes. While I am awake, I am not wide awake. I do need to take some ibuprofen; the carpeted floor is hard on the body.
It’s 12:40 AM and the fireworks are still a constant. I’m all for celebrating; I’m not for being inconsiderate.
Oh, well. My lemonade glass is empty. It’s time to go inside.
It’s moving in on 8:30 PM and this July Fourth was like most Sundays but with some additional items on my docket.
Saturday night, I kept busy in my study, reorganizing and accomplishing more than I expected.
My Sunday included mowing the backyard, sweeping the first floor, taking a nap, cleaning the kitchen, and watering my newly placed ground cover around the deck. I listened to about 45-minutes of HAMILTON, half watched some of 1776, and listened to several Monticello Naturalization Ceremony speeches.
Now, I am listening to the reading of The Declaration of Independence as narrated by several celebrities and Morgan Freeman.
I had five of twelve lessons due to the holiday and impending fireworks throughout The Miami Valley.
The deck was pleasant but the neighborhood fireworks were stressing Erma and Chief even got up, stiffly, and came to lean against me. So, we are back inside. I am typing from my bed and they are encircled around me perch.
Tomorrow is business as usual with teaching.
It seemed only too appropriate that thirteen Mary Lincoln day lilies bloomed this morning on the eve of our national holiday celebrating the thirteen states who established independence from England.
I fed the dogs at 8:00 AM and returned to bed for another hour to give the legs an additional hour to wake up. That seemed to work. Now, I’m seated on the deck in delightful morning weather, sipping coffee and eating bagels with whipped strawberry cream cheese, topped with sliced fresh strawberries.
I have things to do but I am not going to stress whether I touch them, or not.
I finished my Henry Clay audio book and have now begun listening to LION IN THE WHITE HOUSE: A Life of Theodore Roosevelt by Aida D. Donald. It was refreshing to approach Henry Clay’s biography without feeling the need to research but to enjoy the art of learning. I’ve read far more on the life of Theodore Roosevelt than Senator Clay, but I am still enjoying the revisit to his story.
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” – Theodore Roosevelt
I’ve always found the above quote to be absolutely magnificent and powerful. It never fails to inspire me and I pray I will long remain in the arena for worthy causes.
Be strong. Be in command. And never cease to make each day a great day. Even if it falls short of being a great day, at least you know you have tried.
There are many depictions of the first reading of The Declaration of Independence, two-hundred forty-five years ago and through the years, I’ve liked a number of renderings. Here are several of my favorites.
Highly resolve to make it a great day!
In six minutes it will officially be The Fourth of July and I’m on the deck in the most beautiful comfortable weather, listening to folks setting off fireworks.
The Fourth of July. Lincoln’s birthday. Actually, any presidential birthday. Memorial Day. Inauguration Day, every four years. These are my big days. I guess I dig Labor Day simply because of Kettering’s Holiday At Home Festival.
Tomorrow will include watching the movie musical, 1776, and probably listening to Sam Waterston’s 2007 Naturalization Ceremony speech at Monticello, again.
Two hundred, forty-five years ago, The Declaration of Independence was announced. It would not officially be signed until August 2nd.
Two friends who would become the bitterest of political enemies, would die fifty years later. With their legendary friendship restored, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson would live until 1826, dying hours apart.
With the wind chimes clanging in the night’s breeze and the fireworks booming in the distance, I imagine what those early days of celebrating Independence Day must have been like.
Two hundred, forty-five years.
Thanks, Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson, and the rest of the gentlemen and ladies!
For many years, we would leave Dayton on July 3rd to arrive in Charlottesville, VA by evening so that we could tour Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello each July 4th morning and then celebrate the Naturalization Ceremony on the west lawn.
In 2007, we witnessed the ceremony with guest speaker, Sam Waterston, one of my favorite actors. It was an invigorating speech, a call to action that even stirred my teenagers.
Mr. Waterston’s speech:
TRANSCRIPT OF MR. WATERSTON’S REMARKS
It’s wonderful to be here and a privilege, indeed, to congratulate you, the heroes of the moment in the great work of making and sustaining a government that derives its authority from individual liberty.
My father came to this country from Scotland via England, and became a citizen. He knew beforehand that the ceremony was going to be a significant event. Even so, he wasn’t prepared for the emotional power it had for him. He became a citizen in a group like this, neither very large nor very small. The ceremony’s power multiplied with their numbers. Everyone in his batch of new citizens was moved for themselves, my father included, but they were all overwhelmed by each other, new members of a centuries old tide of migration here to the ’empire of liberty’. It lifted them out of what we mistakenly call ordinary life into the realization that properly understood, life is grand opera, as one is sometimes made aware by a wedding, or the birth of a child.
Something like that, momentous and every-day, is afoot here. Brand new Americans are being made, and I’m delighted to be here to celebrate my father’s becoming an American citizen through your becoming American citizens, and your becoming American citizens through celebrating him, and through all of you, the rest of us, who were lucky to be given what you reached for and took. It’s delightful. We are all lucky, the old citizens in what we got for free, and you, the ones, in knowing what it’s worth. We have a lot to tell one another. Congratulations. Bravo. Yay. The conversation begins now.
Monticello is a beautiful spot for this, full as it is of the spirit that animated this country’s foundation: boldness, vision, improvisation, practicality, inventiveness and imagination, the kind of cheekiness that only comes with free-thinking and faith in an individual’s ability to change the face of the world — it’s easy to imagine Jefferson saying to himself, “So what if I’ve never designed a building before? If I want to, I will.”) — to make something brand new out of the elements of an old culture, be it English Common Law or Palladian Architecture. With its slave quarters and history, it’s also a healthy reminder that our old country, your new country, for all its glory, has always had feet of clay, and work that needed doing.
So it’s good that you’ve come, fresh troops and reinforcement. We old citizens could use some help.
It’s a glorious day, making allowances for the heat. It’s the Fourth of July, the 181st Anniversary of the deaths of the second and third Presidents of the United States, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson, the individual who impertinently designed this house. It’s a double birthday, of the country, and of your citizenship. A great American Supreme Court Judge, Oliver Wendell Holmes, describing a similar day, said that it looked as if “God had just spit on his sleeve and polished up the universe till you could almost see your face reflected in it.”
We know all the beauty of this day wasn’t arranged exclusively for those of us gathered here, we’re reasonable people, but you who are about to become citizens here, are within your rights to look at it all and see your own faces reflected there, as Justice Holmes said, because it really is a place and time made for you. You’re joining a country already in motion that looks for your effect on it, so that it can better know what it needs to become, for tomorrow.
Welcome. We need you. There’s much to be done.
My talk is, effectively, your graduation address, and every good graduation address begins with a call to the graduates to help the world they are entering discover its future. Consider yourselves called. And if the sea that’s America looks large in comparison to the size of your ship, don’t be dismayed. Let Thomas Jefferson be our example:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal”. The words are so familiar, so potent, so important, so grand and fine, it’s hard to believe that a person, any single person, actually wrote them, picked up a pen, dipped it in ink, and, on a blank white sheet, made appear for the first time what had never before existed in the whole history of the world. By scratching away at the page, he called a country into being, knowing as he wrote that the country was no more than an idea, and the idea might, at any instant, be erased and destroyed, and the United States of America become just another sorry footnote in the history of suppressed rebellions against tyranny…. And went on writing. You can’t help but be impressed by all that that one person, and the small group of individuals around him, not much larger than your group of new citizens, won for so many.
I guess you can see where I’m headed.
Abraham Lincoln called ours “Government of the people, by the people, for the people.” I claim that the word ‘people’, as used there, stands for a great many individuals, rather than for a collective. It wasn’t a mob, but individuals acting in a group that made this country up out of whole cloth. These are just the sort of people the country needs now, individuals acting together for the common good.
How apt, how opportune, that you should come to join us just now.
Theodore Roosevelt said, “The foundation stone of national life is, and ever must be, the high individual character of the average citizen.” That understates the case: the United States — a participatory democracy is one way political scientists describe it — counts on its citizens turning out to be above average, like all the students in Lake Woebegone.
And that’s where you come in.
Thomas Jefferson’s fragile idea looks pretty solid now, with all the history and highways and airports, and webs of all kinds tying us together. But for all the building and bulldozing, the wealth, and the resources, the United States is still a contract among individuals around an idea. If the saying is, ‘contracts are made to be broken’, we want this one to hold, which requires all hands to be on deck.
That’s where you come in. You come in from Togo; Bosnia-Herzegovina; Canada and Peru; Afghanistan, India, and Mexico; China, the Netherlands, and the United Kingdom; Croatia, El Salvador, Ghana, the Philippines, and Vietnam; Argentina, Bangladesh, Belgium, Chile, Colombia, Congo, Guatemala, Iran, Italy, Jamaica, Poland, Romania, Singapore, South Korea, Spain, Sudan, Sweden, Taiwan, Tanzania, Thailand, and Turkey — The names themselves a poem about all the migrating peoples who come here. The United States may seem like a fixed star, but it isn’t. It is a relationship between citizens and an idea, and, like all relationships, it changes with the people in it. Its past is always up for reargument; its present is constantly unfolding, complex, a continuum of surprises; and the future is yet to be written. A country is alive, or it’s history. As long as this country endures, it will always be in search of how to understand itself and where to go from here.
That’s where you come in. That’s where we come in.
We all need to exercise our lungs in the discussion: what does our past mean, what are we to do now, and what will be our future? This is not a job just for the talking heads on TV and the politicians. Nor for moneyed interests, nor for single-issue movements. As the WWI recruiting poster said, “Uncle Sam needs you”, needs us.
You just heard John Charles recite the three cardinal rights that no one may take from us, to “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness”. As newly minted citizens, they were already familiar.
But my question is for the rest of us, the ones who are citizens already. In the midst of the interests and pressures of our own lives, don’t we leave a good deal of Life and Liberty to the Government to attend to, so we may concentrate full-time on the Pursuit of Happiness?
Don’t we too often think of our part as being to vote, occasionally, not in very great numbers, and only if there’s time and inclination, to keep up with the news, if it’s amusing and entertaining, but, like the man in the song who was hardly ever sick at see, never, never, well, hardly ever interfere, as individuals, with the work of the politicians?
But if this be so, or partly so, would that be a reason to be concerned? History shows that America is the all-time greatest self-correcting nation. It almost seems to be both a perpetual motion machine and a self-righting machine. Why would any sensible citizen and patriot want to throw a wrench in the works, or try to fix what isn’t broken?
I would like to suggest that if we think this way even a little, we have the wrong idea. We are greatly mistaken to think sharing our views with the television set and our husbands and wives, and voting a little, is enough. Don’t you who are new pick up these bad habits from us.
America has been marvelously able to correct its course in the past because the founding idea — of individual freedom expressed through direct representation — has stirred its citizens to participate, and interfere. Information from the people makes the government smarter. Insufficient information from us makes it dumber. Or, as Abraham Lincoln more elegantly expressed it, ” Why should there not be a patient confidence in the ultimate justice of the people? Is there any better or equal hope in the world?” Leaders, if they are wise, will be patient. But we mustn’t try their patience too much. For us, finding that ultimate justice means thinking and talking until we reach it, and continuing to speak until the politicians understand it.
We may not leave it to the three branches of government to sort things out, to bring us the right questions for decision, to make the right decisions themselves.
Never has that statement been truer than now. Our national politics have stalled over a quarter of a century over very large issues, including immigration, social security, health care, and especially, since it affects the countries you’ve left, the country you’re joining, and all the countries in between, the health of the planet. War has both parties running to extremes.
If you think the problems are not any more urgent, or the discord any worse, than normal, then, well, I disagree, but my point remains: in our country, things are ‘normal’ only when your voices are clearly heard. The old model of our citizenly relation to politics was of a group of people under a tree, taking turns on the stump all day, discussing the issues of the time. The old model was the town meeting where every citizen can have their say. Old citizens like me hope that between you and the Internet the old model will get a new lease on life.
Whether you work within the Democratic or Republican parties, or join in supporting a bi-partisan ticket for 2008 as I have, in an effort to drive the parties to work together and to show them how it’s done, do do something.
From your first breath as an American citizen, make it known what matters to you.
We can’t let ourselves become mere units of statistical analysis. It appears to be so, that if you ask any 1000 Americans their views on anything, you’ll have a pretty good idea what all Americans think. You might almost conclude that individuals didn’t matter at all anymore.
But then here you come in, and prove the opposite.
By individual choice and individual effort, you traveled the miles, and did the work required, to arrive here today to join the country whose whole monumental structure rests on personal freedom. Will you make yourselves content to become a mere grain of sand in a vast statistical ocean?
Don’t be discouraged by the odds. It isn’t all determinism and the tide of history. An individual can up-end what is determined, and speed or reverse the tide. The man on whose estate we stand, by pushing his pen across a blank page, proved that.
Besides, the science of statistics has another aspect. It appears that the most reliable way to know who will win the next election or whether the stock market will go up or down is to ask as many people as possible to make a bet about it. Their bets often tell more than all the opinions of the pundits and economists, politicos and market watchers. It turns out Lincoln was right about the ‘ultimate wisdom of the people’. But here’s the catch: if you don’t make yourself heard, your bet can’t be counted.
“Men may be trusted to govern themselves without a master,” as Jefferson predicted. But will we, by our silence, indifference, or inaction, give the trust away, cede it to the wealthy, present it to the entrenched, hand it off to the government, entrust it to any process or procedure that excludes our voices? It could happen.
“As a nation of freemen,” Abraham Lincoln said, “we must live through all time, or die by suicide.”
That’s where we all come in.
As graduating citizens, you will know how the government is set up: the justly familiar separation of powers, the well-known system of checks and balances, and the famous three branches of government: the executive branch, the judicial branch, and the legislative branch.
If these are the branches, what is the tree? Do not think it’s the government.
We are the tree from which the government springs and spreads into its three branches. Every citizen is part of the root system, part of the trunk, no mere twig or leaf. Help our government never to forget it.
We have to bring energy, action, participation, and money to the three branches, or they get no nourishment, and nothing will prevent them from becoming brittle and dry, and unfruitful.
I hope you don’t waste all the time I have in figuring out how a citizen should relate to his government. Talk to it. Tell it what you like. Tell it what you don’t like. Vote, of course. Think about what you want our future to look like. Let the government know. Roll up your sleeves, stick out your chin, sharpen your elbows, get in the middle of things, make them different.
You will be bound to get a lot of things wrong. That’s what we do. But the possibility of error is no excuse for being quiet, and I say this on the good authority of past Presidents:
“Man was never intended to become an oyster.”
That’s Theodore Roosevelt talking.
“Get action. Seize the moment,” he said, and he also said, “The credit belongs to the man…. who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who… spends himself for a worthy cause”
And President Thomas Jefferson wrote,
“The evils flowing from the duperies of the people [— that is, the ignorant errors of folks like you and me —] are less injurious than those from the egoism of their agents [ — that is, the arrogant errors of those who speak and act for us].”
So it turns out citizenship isn’t just a great privilege and opportunity, though it is all that, it’s also a job. I’m sorry to be the one to bring you this news, so late in the process. But don’t worry, it’s a great job. Everything that happens within this country politically, and everywhere in the world its influence is felt, falls within its province. It’s a job with a lot of scope. You’ll never be able to complain again about being bored at work. As we multiply our individual voices, we multiply the chances for our country’s success.
Which is where we all come in.
May your initiation here be a reminder to us all to put the participation back into ‘participatory democracy’.
May all our citizenship be individual, unflagging, and vocal, and may our old country, your new country, so prosper.
There’s lots to do. All hands on deck. Members of the class of 2007: Congratulations. God bless you. Let us hear from you.
Most would find the breeze-filled 63-degrees uncomfortable but to me, after counting a dozen Mary Lincoln day lilies, eyeing the gorgeous blue sky, and feeling the vibes of the energetic day, it’s a Shangri La.
Monday is our official July Fourth celebration and I am still deciding whether or not I should/need to attend the Americana Parade in Centerville. It may be up to the last minute before I decide.
My life is a parade.
Every time I rise to go to another room, I create a parade as the dogs fall in line behind me. Erma has a tendency to step up to the drum-major’s position which is often a battle because she doesn’t know where I am going and she often stops as I am moving forward.
My favorite parade is whenever I move to the deck. The dogs love Dad being on the deck and dance with excitement. It’s adorable. Chief no longer dances as he once did, but the old boy shares his enthusiasm with wiggles and smiles. Bailey and Harrigan, who will be eight years old this October, still dance like they’re eight weeks old.
Getting on or off the bus is a line that constitutes a parade in my mind. At the bus terminal, downtown, it’s a semi-organized parade of folks waiting to get on a bus but beneath the terminal, it’s a parade of chaos.
The downtown sidewalks are often parades of folks moving about. Our streets are parades charging in opposite directions and stores keep us in parade formation as we move up and down the aisles.
Yesterday, I added a response to a Facebook meme, “What would your occupation be if you had followed your childhood dreams?”
Mine had not changed since age three.
I read through a number other responses where folks wistfully described what they had hoped to do. Admittedly, some of the childhood dreams were near impractical, as so often is the case, but so many of their lamented dreams were still quite doable, quite possible.
For some reason, the Jerry Herman gem, “Before The Parade Passes By,” first belted by Carol Channing in 1964 as she introduced Dolly Levi to the world with HELLO, DOLLY, began belting in my mind.
I have always been of firm belief in grabbing hold of life, no matter what age we are, and doing what makes us happy and stronger. I love seeing folks in my age range, even older, doing things they’ve always wanted to do, or things to which they’ve just been introduced.
A number of friends discovered new worlds and talents during the pandemic. I loved seeing their new found enthusiasm in a world that was anything but enthusiastic. There were so many folks discovering previously undiscovered talents or skills and to me, it’s exciting.
Find your parade. Even if you have one, why not build another parade and get marching? Age has little to do marching in your parade.
March on, and make it a great day!
It’s Thursday evening, moving in on 7:00 PM and although I feel much better, I’ve accomplished precious little; I will take the feeling better…
Tuesday night, as the rain was moving into The Miami Valley, I was feeling this incredible aching running through my legs, feet, arms, and hands. I had remembered reading on an MS Facebook page, someone saying they always felt like a barometric target. Ahhh… after further reading, I realized why I was being attacked.
Wednesday was a washout. I did travel downtown to go to my favorite Chinese buffet, a complete dive, but I do like it. They’ve downsized their buffet offerings, a lot, and raised the price. It was disappointing but I get why they needed to make adjustments.
To start this morning, I umbrellaed myself to the front yard to count eight new Mary Lincoln day lilies.
Thursday began with coffee on the deck and intentions to check off a number of items on my to-do list, but as I readied my second cup, I felt the now familiar plunge grip my legs and arms. Back to bed. By Noon, I felt able to clean the kitchen and join fellow historian, Valerie Gugala, for our regular Thursday ZoomLunch.
Following lunch, I took advantage of another two hour nap as I felt the barometric effects subsiding. The perfect solution.
The dogs are fed. I grilled two hamburgers. I ate both hamburgers. They were both delicious hamburgers. Satisfied.
Now, I am seated on the deck beneath the table umbrella and the wider deck umbrella, hoping to stay dry with the impending rain. To the north, the sky is quite beautiful and clear which would have been a perfect RiverScape evening! THE ANDY GRIFFITH SHOW is playing and it’s the years filmed in color; not my favorite. The writers had changed, Don Knotts had left the show, and many storylines were recycled and deplorably dull.
The cardinals have been especially attentive. Last evening when I stepped off the bus, just a few hundred feet south of The Haasienda, the one male cardinal sat on one of the lines above the easement, calling out quite loudly. As I got beneath the wire, he flew to the tree above the deck as though he knew I would move directly to the deck until the rain arrived.
Today, the same cardinal and his lady cardinal spent a good deal of time around and even on the deck. I like their attention.
Off to enjoy the rest of the evening, relaxing, hopefully writing, and enjoying life.
The breezy deck is comfortable, even with a 90% bit of humidity, dark rolling clouds, and a chilly droplet, here and there, but the twelve new Mary Lincoln day lilies are loving life out front of The Haasienda.
A strong shower passed through last night but I had hit the pillow so hard I don’t know what happened after that. These past several nights I only had to attend to the bladder once through the night which, to me, is so amazing and, well, relieving. With each bathroom attendance through the night, I, like my Grandpa Leroy always did, find myself checking outside at most windows before returning to bed.
This morning was a bit of relief from yesterday’s barometric pressure’s arrival in The Miami Valley of Southwest Ohio. I was not aware how the barometer affected some MS patients. Oh, the things we learn about our bodies!
I set down my second cup of coffee and twin bagels on a low table next to my Adirondack chair. I turned to take a photo of the darkening western sky, only to return to my seat to find Chief munching on one of the bagels topped with cream cheese with sprinkled with a sugar and cinnamon mixture. I never need to yell at Chief or get on his case for much. This morning, he got a scolding. When I took his photo, he never moved to duck the lens. The old boy knew he’d done the wrong thing. I didn’t even really get on him like I tend to do with The Sisters, Bailey and Harrigan.
The rain began. I’m moved inside to my bedroom where I actually had to turn on lights because it had gotten so dark. The swishing of water from Shroyer Road’s traffic is now playing in the background along with the smacking raindrops against the windows.
I’m grateful for our brand of crummy weather at the moment as there are so many areas of the country, especially the Northwest in Oregon and Washington that are suffering miserably, unaccustomed to the hideous hand they’ve been dealt.
Whatever your circumstances, make it a great day!
This has been an incredible past few days with the loss of a number of family friends who’ve lost loved ones.
The Family of Ann Foley-Schoenwald: I went to Elwood schools and graduated with Annie’s older sister, Loris Foley, and knew their entire family.
The Savage Family of Elwood: this past weekend, Bill Savage lost his 10 year old grandson, Levi. The Savage family is distantly related to my family. With Levi’s parents, David & Jessica Nance Savage have families that extend to dear family friends in the Peel family and also the Nance family.
My Ball State University music department friend, Laurie Kenney Girardot, lost her husband, Mike, Monday night.
Musical theatre sweetheart, Tally Sessions, lost his beautiful mama Tuesday morning.
Susan Ogden-Hill, my saxophone buddy from 7th grade through high school graduation, lost her mother, Cathy Kilgore-Ogden, early this morning. Mrs. Ogden was one of my favorites and had gone to school with my parents.
Sending tons of love and air-hugs to each of you who’ve know loss these past several days…
Six Mary Lincoln day lilies are out front and Mama Kay’s hydrangeas and daisies are filling out the northern side of my “extended front yard” across the driveway.
It’s a fairly light day with students on vacations or at camps, so I am absorbing a bit more deck time this morning. Erma brought Chief one of her babies and she and Bailey greeted one another with kisses. Erma has paid me a dozen visits, already.
Last night, I began listening to a biography on Henry Clay. I’ve been to his Lexington, Kentucky estate, Ashland, a number of times but still knew only a smidge about the powerful statesman. What a force!
[Pause for a mandated Erma petting.]
The morning air is slightly heavy with 77% humidity which will continue to drop as the temperature rises to 88-degrees. Tomorrow morning, however, we’re expected to see the humidity at 98% and there’s no precipitation.
On to my day. Shower. Instacart delivery. Lessons begin at 10:00 AM. Whatever awaits your day, you must insist on making it a great day… don’t wait for it.
Condensed score:
8 Mary Lincoln day lilies.
It is supposed to get to 92-degrees. Be safe in Washington and Oregon with your enormous heat.
Barometric pressure is attaching the sinuses. Woo hoo.
On to next lesson!
Make it a great day even when you’ve overdone your morning routine trying to accomplish too much since it’s your longest day of teaching!
It’s been a damn fine day!
Some wonderful progress with students and a number of items crossed off my list.
It was a rather steamy day with the AC on in my study and the floor carpeted with The Quartet.
I ended the evening at The Cheesecake Factory to celebrate my bonus sister’s birthday which we did on Friday, too. One of my all time favorite guys, Mark Monroe, was our server and he made the event a bit more fun.
The deck is peaceful and since there are distant boomers, the canine crew is pretty much wedged around my chaise lounge.
Some friends lost their dog several months ago and the mother shared a photo of their newest member. I’m excited when others bring in new pooches.
Tomorrow is a long, long day. A friend and I are trying to work on some adventures for Wednesday and Friday. I’m enjoying these adventures; I was blessed with quite a few this past week.
I’ll enjoy some more deck time until the rain, should we have any, drives me inside. The air has a distinct smell of rain.
Again, three new Mary Lincoln day lilies were bouncing in the breeze as I scoured the front yard on this exceptionally beautiful morning.
My legs, upon wakening at 7:00 AM, and even two hours later during this writing, feel good, less tingly, and somewhat strong. I need to attend to the mowing of the entire yard before teaching and this is making me feel more confident in that awaiting task.
June is all but over. Despite this month always being a reminder of three significant family losses, Grandpa Leroy Barmes (June 3, 2004, Uncle Ron Barmes (June 8, 1987), and Grandma Donna Barmes (June 27, 1992), it is still my favorite month since it kicks off summer and tons of time on the deck. Mother liked this month least as she always commented, “I lost my original entire family all in the month of June.”
It’s off to the races for me as I attend to ordering my groceries, tidying up my study, cleaning the kitchen and feeding the dishwasher, the mowing, and teaching fourteen lessons from 4:00 PM until 11:00 PM.
This is the last month for eleven seniors who shall be moving on to college for musical theatre or music education. Each made the college of their choice and are eager to begin their new adventure. When July turns over, I shall have five new students putting the studio in the new balance for which I am aiming, capped at 42 students after the seniors have departed.
Make it a great day!
On a Saturday in June, 1992, our family gathered around the bed of Donna Mae Clary Barmes after she had been released from the life support technology.
It was, and still remains today, one of the most brutally agonizing moments I’ve experienced, perhaps because it was my first time to observe the transition of life. However, it was my beloved Grandma Donna.
Today marks the 29th anniversary of Grandma’s passing; she would have turned 97 years old on May 8th.
It’s funny how the details have been richly imprinted in my mind until we reached 2:15 PM when Grandma’s world, our world, stopped turning. Ironically, a clock she had purchased for me on my previous birthday, stopped at 2:15 PM.
Every year, if in a position to do so, I sit at the piano and play “Red River Valley,” Grandma’s favorite song.
While her fire was snuffed out, her spark within Mother and all the grandchildren has never been doused. Every time we laugh, smile, admire nature’s beauty, tell family stories, perform pranks, offer a hand of help or support, Grandma Donna’s legacy is present.
The fact I am still writing about missing her deeply on this 29th commemoration of her departure says plenty about my deep rooted affection to this tiny, great woman.
Continue to rest in pranks, Dear Girl, and know you are still deeply loved and terribly missed.
At 10:15 AM, Jenny Davis and I were heading south toward Lebanon to run an errand before entering the historic Golden Lamb restaurant.
From their website:
Since 1803, we’ve been a gathering place for our community and guests.
When Jonas Seaman traveled from New Jersey to Ohio and spent $4 for a license to operate a “house of Public Entertainment” on Broadway in the newly-founded village of Lebanon, he could never have imagined that more than 215 years later his establishment would still be offering food and lodging for travelers.
Seaman’s establishment got its name from the sign hung outside the business – an image of a golden lamb, used because many early travelers could not read.
Throughout its more than 215-year history, the Golden Lamb has hosted, entertained and provided lodging for many notable guests, including 12 U.S. presidents; political figures Barbara Bush, Mitt Romney, and Henry Clay; American legends Neil Armstrong and Annie Oakley; literary greats Charles Dickens, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Alex Haley, James Whitcomb Riley, Louis Bromfield and Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain); movie star Charles Laughton; and pop singer Kesha.
Today, the Golden Lamb — Ohio’s longest continually operating business — is a vibrant restaurant and boutique hotel infused with a spirit of hospitality and history. Our rich heritage is displayed throughout our building, as well as in our fourth-floor museum rooms, which showcase the history of our innkeepers and Shaker culture.
We invite you to make your history part of our history.
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After a delicious meal and delightful conversation, we ventured down the block to the antique mall.
Back at home, I was enthusiastically greeted by The Quartet. After feeding the pooches, I laid down to watch a documentary around 4:00 PM and woke a 5:30 PM. I discovered BEWITCHED is on Amazon Prime.
One thing I noted in the earlier episodes where The Stevens bought their Connecticut house, Los Angeles mountains could be seen behind The Kravitz home.
Supper. BEWITCHED. Loving dogs. Wonderful weather. Deck time.
Where the sun is not blocked by the front of the house, the yard is spotlighted in a glorious light and the light wind commands motion from the trees and anything that can sway and make noise like the wind chimes.
I’ve noticed a number of trees around the yard have some dying ends which I’ve included in the photos. Yesterday, Mama Kay noticed her one mum was beginning to bud and open up. We’ve also had quite a high number of birds dropping dead. I’ve discovered two in my driveway, one of which was flying across the front yard as I was mowing and simply dropped a few feet to the pavement, dead.
The dogs are all content and relaxing about the deck after having already completed their tour of duty (or, dooty) around the backyard.
Three Mary Lincoln day lilies are spending this day in the front of The Haasienda.
In about two hours, my other bonus sister, Jenny, will pick me up and we will aim toward Lebanon, Ohio to eat at The Golden Lamb. I loved going to Lebanon all the time to stroll the city blocks, taking in the architecture and overall Americana tastes of Turn of the Century towns. I loved stopping to chat with a group of men who often sat outside one business, chatting about the weather, the days gone by, and local news. For many years, I didn’t realize that one of the gentlemen was none other than Neil Armstrong, the first man to walk on the moon.
It’s 8:35 AM, and I will need to begin the process of getting ready. It does take a bit longer to physically move my body but I have the time so I am not bellyaching.
On to the day and I can guarantee it will be made into a great day!
This was quite a relaxing, fulfilling Friday Fun Day that lived up to the day’s title.
The entire day was cloudy and rain threatening, spitting a few drops, occasionally. I decided to skip going to lunch at one of my favorite haunts and stay on the home front where I managed to accomplish a few chores, here and there.
I joined Mama Kay, Kelley (Laura’s son) to celebrate Laura’s birthday at Doubledays restaurant at Cross Pointe Center. Delicious dinner and delightful family members made it the perfect day.
While we were waiting on our dinner to be delivered to our table I looked over and spied a former student from the mid-1990s, seated with his parents. I absolutely adored Brad Elliott as a student and have stayed in touch with him via social media. Tom and Dawn Elliott have always been such a lovely couple and with the elder two sons, I got to see Dawn frequently at the middle school where she worked. This was such a terrific bonus to an already fantastic day.
Now, I am home, enjoying the breezy weather with the four pooches on the deck. Erma has laid one of her babies next to me and pays her regular visits at shorter intervals. The Sisters are enjoying grand adventures around the perimeter of the yard in search of invaders. Chief is relaxing on his mat, surveying his own version of Pride Rock.
Tomorrow is my Lebanon Adventure and lunch at The Golden Lamb, a historic restaurant visited by a number of presidents.
The wind has picked up from the south but there is no rain in the forecast. I love feeling the wind blowing through the house. My hope is that it make pick up some of the dust and move it outside or at least to another location.
My cousin, Judy, posted this meme and it has been so true for the month of June. It seems that June arrived this year, not only busting out all over, but she took off running at a full sprint!
During quarantine, the months did seem to drag on for many folks. I was content with that as I felt as though I had more deck time. I am certain I did not but it did feel that way.
Grandma Donna always urged us, “don’t wish your life away” whenever any of us would claim we wanted to be an older, or ahead a grade or two in school. It never stopped me from thinking ahead – I was raised by Mother to be a planner, organized!
A week from this Monday is July Fourth, to be celebrated on Monday, July 5th. I am already trying to figure out if it is possible to make my annual pilgrimage to Centerville to take command of my old second floor studio of McCutcheon Music to take photographs of the parade. My brain says it’s all set to go but the body will dictate the end game plan.
It’s June 25th the birthday of my bonus sister, Laura Moore Parker, the daughter of Mama Kay (and Papa John). Both our mothers were so thoughtful to bear us three months (to the day) apart, raise us in two different states, only for us to come together these past 15+ years.
It’s nearing 10:00 AM. I’ve had a peaceful, relaxing morning. Three Mary Lincoln day lilies are dancing in this nice, strong breeze while the cloudy, overcast sky threatens and teases us with rain.
Make it a great day before June is over!
I had declined getting an Apple Watch for a number of years because of the enormous price and the impracticality of having a watch when I haven’t worn a watch since the early 1990s.
Josh and Dave convinced me not only of the practicality of having one but also for the responsibility of needing one in case of an emergency.
Today, I went into the Sprint/T-Mobile store before meeting a friend and her son for lunch. Everything was set up. I am the proud owner of an Apple Watch.
Thank you, Boys! I will get use to wearing a watch, again. This one is far more exciting than the ones I once wore.
Five Mary Lincoln day lilies greeted me in the front yard and they are as beautiful as ever.
Yesterday, I ventured to the DMV to get a new driver’s license, lunch at Skyline Chili, then bussed over to Target where I crossed to the Dayton Mall to go to Spectrum which is in a satellite building, then over to the library at the Miami Township branch to renew my library card, and then right next door to the south hub to grab No. 17 for home.
It mapped out perfectly and most of everything after the DMV was spontaneous. It was a lot of steps for a slow walking person and a year ago I could have accomplished all the walking in much less time. There were moments I’d convince myself to speed up my pace and I did; but within a few minutes I was back to a snail’s pace.
To get to the DMV I needed to take No. 14’s bus which picks up over on Far Hills Avenue which is generally an 8-10 minute walk from my house. Yesterday, it took me all of 25 minutes to get there. Fortunately, I had anticipated a longer walk which included a visit to Grieve Hardware for about ten minutes of nosing around and hobnobbing with the other wizards. In the end, I was grateful for the 25 minutes because I got to enjoy all the neighbor’s beautifully tended and colorful front yards.
I figured I would be blanketed in aches upon waking but I am quite comfortable this morning with nothing nagging that isn’t the ordinary.
This afternoon, I’ll lunch with a dear friend whose daughter, now long graduated and married, was a student. My friend’s son is contemplating doing something in the technical aspects of the performing arts so I am to be a sounding board and guide.
Tomorrow is my bonus sister’s 57th birthday and the official three-month start to counting down to my own 57th birthday in September.
Saturday, another friend and I are heading down to Lebanon to lunch at The Golden Lamb.
This next week is the kickoff to Independence Day celebrations. I am taking it all one step at a time, hoping to not miss the Americana Parade in Centerville; however, I need to be home in the evening to comfort the dogs when the neighborhood fireworks begin.
I am ten minutes behind my morning schedule. Whatever you do today, make it a great day!
A week, or so, ago, there were several articles about the owner of the Dayton Mall and Fairfield Commons Mall filing for bankruptcy.
I’ve not been to the Dayton Mall in two to three years. When I moved here in August 1990, I loved going to the Dayton Mall. The Salem Mall never felt comfortable, not safe, and it was further away.
Except for the preteen and early teen Mallstatutes crowding the pathways, the Dayton Mall was quite nice. Years later, the outer perimeters built new stores that created a wonderful shopping and dining complex. Elder Beerman, Macy’s, JCPenney, and Sears were the anchor stores.
JCPenney and Macy’s remain as anchors and the East and West stores are closed.
Today, I ventured through the building as I headed to Spectrum outside the mall proper. The mall was a ghost town. The emptiness was sad, even overwhelming as there were stores open but no customers.
The only business that seemed to be steady was the Bath & Body Works; however, I am not certain if I was simply overcome by the ghastly fruity smell that chloroformed me as I passed by. It’s the same reeking effect I find going through any county or state fair cow or hog barn. Too much.
At times it felt as though I was acting in a Rod Sterling hosted episode of TWILIGHT ZONE as the sole survivor of an interplanetary invasion.
It’s all interesting.
The waiting area in the lobby of the Centerville DMB is either the Disney World of haunted house of horrors or and the enjoyment of every fun ride in the park.
Today, mine was a full ride through the park.
I spent ten additional minutes outside assisting several older folks with the photo-scan for signing in. It’s a cumbersome process for those who are not familiar with the new way of services.
I found a seat after logging in and found myself ensconced between three lively individuals who were so delightful and witty describing their DMB war stories. A chipper lady in her mid-30s was super in making certain I checked with the front attendant who’d gone to the restroom. A 70 year old man, recently moved from Michigan, was a caricature of every sitcom funny man. And, a lovely lady who had just turned 87, claiming that she was so old she had no fingerprints and exhaled dust, was also a twin of every sitcom senior. Her buoyant humor and outlook made me appreciate her all the more.
My wait was not more than twenty minutes and I was soon ushered to Window 6 and hosted by the most adorable lady, the mother of three young energetic sons who keep her monthly grocery bill right at $600. Yikes! She was so helpful and genuinely friendly in guiding me through the process.
Upon taking my photo she said I had a great smile and that she liked when folks smiled for their license photograph. I explained that when I got my first driver’s license in 1980, I smiled. Mother asked why I smiled.
“Well, I was sitting in front of a camera and no one told me to not smile.”
“Hmm. I just never thought of smiling for the driver’s license picture.”
So, I am enjoying several chilitos and a garden salad from Skyline Chili while waiting for the bus line to the mall to deal with Spectrum’s less than quality cable service.
By the way, or BTW, as is hip to jot: the Centerville/OH48 Skyline Chili is EXCELLENT! Great service, clean, friendly folks, healthy portions, and delicious food. Kudos!
I strolled down Rockhill Avenue that Ts into Shroyer Road and thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the once seemingly quiet road that is now stretched out with energy and activity.
There were a moving van packing up a homes and on the next block, one unloading to settle in a new family. It seems a number of younger families are taking up residence in the neighborhood.
What I noticed most was all the attention to making the front yards look great. There were so many varieties and groupings of flowers, trees, and bushes that it kept me stopping to enjoy the efforts of my neighbors.
I always think of The Rockhill family who were neighbors with my Barmes grandparents. It occurred to me I’d not see any posts from Peggy Rockhill Smith who grew up with my mother. I checked her Facebook page and discovered Peggy had died this past February. A lovely lady whose family passed many loving laughs with my mother’s family.
I so enjoyed the walk along Rockhill.
The Haasienda on Shroyer... 