Greek Salad and Birthday Memorials - May 22

I made it to the last book of Thucydides this morning.  The Athenian defeat in Sicily is complete, the 40,000 man military force (army and navy) is routed -- dead, imprisoned in a rock quarry of unspeakable horror, sold into slavery, or escaped.  When they return to Athens, their countrymen refuse to believe the tragedy that has befallen them.  According to the notes included with the translation I'm reading, Book 8 of the History of the Peloponnesian War is in some manner disorganized and incomplete.  Thucydides can't be blamed too harshly -- his account extends more than twenty years, and this History stops short of the end of the war itself.  Either the old General expired of  natural causes, or his frustrated wife finally had it up to here with schlepping all his manuscript scrolls around Greece (General T. was in exile, after all) and did the old guy in.

More pleasant thoughts about Greece, or at least Greek cuisine, are on my mind as I ready for lunch with former colleague at Ferris State, John Duman, at a local restaurant.  My choice was a Greek salad with a good sprinkle of feta cheese.  I acquired a taste for feta when I spent three weeks with relatives in Bulgaria in the 1970's.  I accompanied cousins to the state-run markets where huge blocks of feta were chopped into manageable packages.  It was definitely a staple of their diet. 

Catching up with John and his doings was a mid-day high point.  He was a great fellow to work with and it's good to know he's okay.  By the time we finished the earlier rain showers had turned to a torrential downfall.  I passed on his offer to drop me at home and accompanied him onto campus in his truck (I was on foot, I haven't driven my car for over a week).  I could have chosen a better day for strolling around campus, but I was trying to remember exactly where that tree (whose seeds have not yet germinated) I spoke of earlier, is located.  Under an umbrella I found it just outside the Helen Ferris residence hall entrance.  Some of Ferris State's trees have sign plates indicating their species, but I didn't see one, and didn't spend too much time looking, since my shoes were getting soaked through.

Arriving home I finished off the dreaded Chronicle of Higher Education pick and purge, and readied a recycling load of newspapers and magazines that I've been working on for several days.  I couldn't get the boxes of magazines into the picture, but the point is made, the deed is done.

Toward the end of the afternoon I did something I haven't done in a long time -- touched the keys of our Roland digital piano/organ.  I learned to play the clarinet and trombone when I was in school, and several years ago when we bought the Roland I had every intention to play.  But without time and commitment...
So I ran some scales and played a couple of simple pieces -- tried to play a couple of simple pieces.  Here's another retirement aspiration that I'll be looking to satisfy!

 May 22nd represents a special occasion -- the birthdays of both my mother (1927-2012) and my paternal grandfather (1900-1959). 

My mother was raised by her maternal grandparents; her mother died the day after she was born and her father, a Bulgarian in the United States on a student visa, was unable to remain here.  In our family archives there are only a couple of photos of my mother and her father.  This was the last time she saw him in about 1931.

My grandfather, born in Logan County, Ohio, north and west of Columbus, was one of five sons; this is the "classic" family portrait of the fellows, with my grandfather the middle among the younger boys at the lower end of the photo.  The older two were half-brothers of my grandfather who moved to San Francisco before World War I and died there.  

Frank, Louis, Edwin (top), Harold and Guy Cochran

How different were the experiences of my paternal (Scots-Irish and German) and maternal (Bulgarian, Russian Polish and Ruthenian) ancestors, but in the blood of my veins, and the date on the calendar, they are united and related to each other in a unique way.