New High, New Low, Spiffying up the Manor - June 4

Unaccountably late rising this morning -- quarter to six; the felines were not as rowdy as usual, so I had a certain guilty pleasure sleeping later.  However, I did get right into the exercise routine and thanks to friend John, had new music to see me through the elliptical run.  Except I got so involved listening to the lyrics that I went on to 1,000 (calories) on the machine, a first.

Among the music tracks from John were songs by Gordon Lightfoot, a singer I've admired at least since high school, when I started accumulating his records (vinyl, of course, since I'm a dinosaur).  One of my favorite Lightfoot songs (not among John's picks) is "Saturday Clothes"

I feel a little blue 'cause I can't sew
There's still a lot of things that I should know
Anyone can guess
I don't know how to press
My Saturday clothes
Everyone's goin' home

I feel a little sad to watch them leave
But I'll be cool because I don't believe
The happy times are gone
I can still put on
My Saturday clothes
Every warm body knows

I've got to tell you
That was a swell time
So now I'll take the butts away
And put the glasses on the tray
I'll see you all next Saturday

I feel a little off because they're gone
And if my gal were here I'd still be on
But in a week or two
There's lots of things to do
In my Saturday clothes
Everyone's gone home

I've got to tell you
That was a swell time
So now I'll take the butts away
And put the glasses on the tray
I'll see you all next Saturday




I saw that G.L. was on a concert tour this spring--wished I could have seen him.  His voice and guitar have been in my head for a long, long time.

After cursing friend John a couple or three times for absorbing my attention with that music, I trotted off to weigh in -- the added time helped bring a new low -- 167.5!  I felt a little unsteady for a moment, but it passed and I sprinted on to the work ahead of me for the day.

I was looking forward to hosting a lunch the next day, so went into overdrive. Not much glory in getting ready for company, but repotting and trimming plants, tossing the detritus (how many phonebooks can one accumulate, anyway?!), and generally buffing things up all took time -- right up until 11 p.m., so I slept soundly, ready for a new day.

Dining nook in our kitchen

Repotted and trimmed houseplants on our sideboard

One difficulty I've had with the houseplants are "felines on the prowl."  They nibble, so I've been careful not to put out any plants (like dumb cane) that could harm them.  The tall skinny plant on the sideboard is the cactus I had with me at CMU which quadrupled its height while I was there.  It has plenty of spines and it didn't take long for the boy cats to learn their lesson when they went sniffing around it.  Come to think of it, I haven't noticed them bothering the other plants recently -- maybe they're making the association of spines with the rest of the crop of plants we have around. 

I interrupted work in the early evening to market for the next day's luncheon.  It's funny, I filled up the car driving home from CMU on May 13, and the fuel indicator is still at "full."  I drive a Pontiac G6, a sporty vehicle I bought last year after a car-deer collision did in my old Chevy Lumina.

It's just as well I keep the car in the garage -- gas prices jumped to over $4 a gallon in town this week -- and a G6 ain't a hybrid (although it does get pretty good mileage on the highway).  Still, I like getting around town on foot.  It's only when you have bags to carry that walking becomes an inconvenience.  There must be a happy medium there somewhere!

Monday, Busyday -- June 3

Mr. Frodo and Samwise, our stalwart felines, were spooked by something in the middle of the night and woke me at around 3:30 a.m.  Zombie-like, I tried to return to sleep, but gave up and settled in with book and coffee around 4.  The Paris Wife is fast reaching the climax when Hadley discovers what Ernest has been up to.  Thirty-odd pages till the end -- I'll be primed for meeting Paula McLain this Saturday when she visits Central Michigan University.

***

Dawn arrived, sunny and energizing, so much so that I sailed through the exercise routine and by a little after eight was at breakfast and shortly thereafter, at chores de jour.

***

First order of business was to scrape, sand and prime the ceiling of our front porch which had weathered a bit badly over the winter in spots.  The husband of a former colleague at Central Michigan University had a very unfortunate accident involving an injury to his eye -- a very good reason to wear googles, which I do, although it is the epitome of Geekdom, from afar.  

I next tackled some carpet shampooing which improved a heavy (human and cat) traffic area.  Mr. Frodo and Samwise kept a respectful distance, but later were seen to be sniffing around the carpet as it dried.

Finally, I organized my classic films DVD collection -- or as far as I could.  A while ago I created a computer inventory program, but that necessitates having the DVDs near a keyboard or vice versa, to add new entries.  So I put the titles in a rough alphabetical order, awaiting keyboard time.

I did get to the computer mid-afternoon and saw the announcement of the selection of Kathy Irwin to fill the position I vacated at Central Michigan University (Associate Dean of Libraries).  Kathy and I worked together at the Michigan Library Association.  (She and I have been presidents of that organization).  Three years ago, at an MLA annual conference we had an extended chat -- an hour maybe -- between sessions; little did I know she'd be following me to CMU!

 

Around 4 p.m. I splurged and took a rest on the second floor deck and got some sun on my limbs -- I don't tan very easily, so staging time in the sun is a must if I want to avoid a painful sunburn.

Friend John stopped by a little after 5 to drop by some music which I was looking forward to hear.   My early rising caught up with me after dinner and I retired early, boy cats happily crowding my legs and I drifted off to sleep.  

A good day!

 

Sunday, Not a Day of Rest! -- June 2

Good day began with a furious read of The Paris Wife, now 2/3 read.  The telltale signs of a relationship in trouble are beginning to show through Hadley's dialogue -- Ernest is getting restless. Unfortunate thing is Ernest's new interest is in Paulette Pfeiffer, a friend of both Hemingways.  The smash up is certain to be spectacular.  Ernest and bullfiighting -- McLain vividly depicts the running of the bulls in Pamplona and of the bullfights that Ernest was so fond of.  Me?  I think about my unfortunate great great grandfather, Carl Mach (1823-1893) who was gored by his "pet" bull and instantly killed.  I found a newspaper account in a Monroe, Michigan newspaper, but recently found that the story had also been picked up by the Clare (Michigan) Sentinel, which garbled his name "Christian Mott" for "Carl Mach" but the date and place (Waltz, Michigan) fit.

 His official death certificate only mentions that his death was accidental (cause of death shown on facing page of this main entry:

 The death of an old man by a charging animal elicits no romance or pageantry, but our family's long memory of the passing of a kind old man takes the thrill out of bullfighting for many of us.

***

Workout went very well -- up tempo and snappy.  Weigh in again at 169.5.

***

Spent the entire day and well into the early evening outside working on the lawn and grounds -- a cool day, but the grass keeps growing.  No great romance in that, either!  Turned in early!

Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit! -- June 1st

Things went a little slower this morning since I left it to my nature, and not an alarm clock to rouse me.  But I was up and about by 5:30 and sitting with coffee and book a quarter hour later.  The Paris Wife continues to be an interesting, absorbing read.  This day Hadley's pregnancy in Paris and ultimate return to North America, and birth in 1923, of the first of Ernest Hemingway's children, John Hadley Nicanor Hemingway, in Toronto, where Ernest landed a newspaper job.

 Paula McLain effectively foreshadows stormy weather between Ernest and Hadley (Ernest was later married to three other wives), and the initial reaction to his firstborn was not positive.  The Canadian sojourn was brief and the Hemingways returned to Paris and an increasingly wealthy and eccentric set of friends and associates.  McLain's canvas is filled with interesting details, irresistible to put down!  I wonder how many times son John had to explain that his third name was for a famous bullfighter!

***

I got through the exercise routine, but my "800" on the elliptical took the added push of the beat of the Beach Boys' hit song, Kokomo, on "endless repeat" -- slower than I usually go on the iron beast, but I was able to keep a steady pace, and if that's what it takes to get the job done, fine with me.  Besides, the carefree lyrics conjure up a more pleasant mental image than watching rivulets of sweat rolling down my torso!  Funny, when the Beach Boys first came out I didn't have much use for them. My best female friend (but not girlfriend), in high school, Pamela Miller, was ga ga about the Beach Boys and I guess it was her gentle influence that led me to be less harsh in my judgment about them.  

***

I was feeling a bit shaggy, so headed off to my barber (Larry) for a haircut after breakfast.  I donned my comfortable Wolverine boots for the walk over, not knowing whether the forecast rain would materialize (it didn't).  As I was walking I ran into one of the librarians I had hired at Ferris State.  She, her husband and I chatted for about fifteen minutes, but then I had to hurry on, as the barber shop closes early on Saturday.

Larry is a nice fellow, does a lot of fishing and hunting in season, works as a taxodermist when he's not attending to human skulls.  One article of abuse I'd never heap on Larry: "stuff it!"  Otherwise I might end up as an exemplar of his work that occasionally shows up in his shop. 

***

The title of this entry refers to a mantra learned at the feet of my 5th Grade teacher, Nancy (Welpton) Arter Faris.  I was a pupil of hers at Lincoln Elementary School (photos of that school appear in an earlier blog entry), in Prescott, Arizona.  Saying "rabbit" the first thing on the first day of the month was supposed to bring good luck.  She was a remarkably kind and intelligent woman. I'll never forget the citizens of Prescott she brought to class to talk to us -- Mary, the only blind person we ever knew, who made up our names in Braille; Gale Gardner, a true cowboy poet who graduated from Yale and was a frequent contributor of "cowboy verse" to Arizona Highways and other magazines; and Mary Martin, at least her on the soundtrack of the Broadway play, The Sound of Music.  Life with Nancy Arter was always an adventure.

 I had the privilege of introducing my older son, Ric, to her in the 1970's when we lived in South Bend, Indiana and she lived in Wilmette, Illinois, with her second husband.    Some years ago I  ran across this article by former Arizona Senator Barry Goldwater which celebrated Nancy's talent with children.

When Ric and I visited Nancy, we went on an expedition through bookstores in the north side of Chicago.  Knowing my interest in poetry, Nancy purchased and gave me an autographed copy of the complete poems of Carl Sandburg, a book I still treasure. Nancy eventually returned to Arizona and died there of cancer on November 5, 2000 -- a great loss to her hundreds of students who very likely still utter "rabbit" on the first of every month.

Goodbye to May - May 31

Another early morning, 4:30 a.m., far earlier than I wished to get up, but Samwise and Mr. Frodo were restless and impatient for their morning "treats" so I searched in the dark for my shorts and sweatpants, grabbed a pair of crew socks out of my bureau, dressed, and padded down the long hallway, down the back stairs ending in the dining room (the delighted felines a few steps ahead of me).  I made the boy cats wait a few moments longer as I switched on stove hood light and clicked on the coffee pot.  Then I reached for their cat treats, shaking the package to elicit an even throatier response from Samwise who is particularly fond of this once-a-day ritual.  Soon two furry heads were bobbing down toward the little saucer, crunching happily away in the dim light. 

Meanwhile I returned to the kitchen counter, opened the cabinet door where my vitamins are stashed, arranged and opened them on the counter top and spilled them into my cupped right hand.  Opening another cabinet door I surveyed the available equipment and fished out a blue fired earthenware mug, filling it with about an inch of water from the kitchen faucet.  Tossing the vitamins in my mouth with a quick motion I washed them down with a swallow of water.

By this time the coffeemaker had deposited about two cups of brewed coffee into the carafe, and since it was quarter to five, and I wanted to get my eyes focused in a hurry, I poured a cup of the "high test" liquid -- dark enough to be espresso -- and pivoted toward the refrigerator for the milk.  On occasion I microwave the swirled dark brew if it doesn't feel warm enough to keep for a few minutes.  But it seemed passably hot, so, mug in hand, I clicked off the stove hood light and headed through the dining room and into the living room in the dark.  Carefully setting the mug down on a sandstone coaster on a wing table near my favorite couch, I switched on a brass table lamp, settled upright on the couch, reached for The Paris Wife with my left hand and the blue mug with my right, and prepared to read. 

Thus began my last day of May, 2013; a routine that is very infrequently deviated from, day to day, week to week, month to month.

***

Well past the first third of the book, Paula McLain's narrative continues at a fast clip.  This morning's  dramatic turn of events occurred as Hadley packed up her husband's (Ernest Hemingway's) creative work at their Paris domicile, intending to take them to Lausanne, Switzerland, where Ernest is on a reportorial assignment.  Disaster strikes -- the valise in which Ernest's writings (every scrap and draft) are stored is stolen off the train.  Hadley knew what an unimaginable loss this was for a virtually unpublished writer, and it's no wonder that McLain has her sobbing uncontrolably when she meets Ernest at the Swiss station.

Engrossed in reading for a little over an hour, the grandfather clock struck six before I withdrew from my comfortable place on the couch, placing a bookmark in The Paris Wife to orient my next session.  Then I slipped onto the carpet, began my preliminary stretches for the exercise routine that took me to eight-thirty.  The additional situps and doubled activity on the elliptical are the chief culprits for keeping me more physically engaged than ever.

Finishing up I weighed in, again at 169.5, dutifully noted in the black notebook next to the scale, and headed for breakfast.

***

Rain was again forecast for the day, so as I dressed I also set aside a canvas bag with an umbrella and a windbreaker.  My noontime destination was lunch with friend John at restaurant Vivo, a little over a mile from home.  I left the house purposely early to go the long way around on the River Walk so I could spend a few minutes to watch the Muskegon River cascading southward out of town.

Got to the restaurant a few minutes early -- good thing, it was filling up quickly -- and surveyed the menu ahead of John.  Among many topics of conversation was my reading of The Paris Wife and my complaint about a couple apparent anachronisms of terminology that had distracted me.  I repeated my experience of being jarred from the 1920's dialogue into the modern era, much as Christopher Reeve had been thrust back to modern day in the movie Somewhere in Time when he found a modern day penny in his pocket.  To which friend John responded, it's one of his favorite movies, and that he and his brother had been extras when the film was shot in Mackinac Island.  John's scene was cut in the final version, but his brother is still to be seen.  How small the world is!

 The movie happens to be one of my favorites as well (after all, Christopher plays a guy named Richard), but only have it in a VHS version.

I've never been so carried away by a photograph as Christopher Reeve/Richard Collier was of Jane Seymour, but I've often thought I'd like to have met my great grandfather's only sister, Margaret Jane Cochran.  This photo of her was taken about the same time as the love object of the film:

Margaret Jane (Cochran) Robinson  (1875-1964)

After lunch I retraced my path, back along the River Walk, and there encountered a former colleague from Ferris State and enjoyed a brief conversation.  A few blocks from home I similarly encountered another, and caught up on the news of the day.

***

Poked around the basement and garage in the afternoon and attended to some small projects, ending an agreeable day and month. 

 

Dodging the Rain -- Joys of YouTube -- Back to the Paper Chase -- May 30

Another early morning (5:30) up and about.  Enjoyed returning to The Paris Wife.  For some odd reason I had the sensation of returning to the reading of fiction that I indulged in when I was in my early twenties.  And the "tales from the road" that McLain treats us to was vaguely like what I remember from some of Hermann Hesse -- but then he was also writing in the post-WWI era, too. Anyway I later on somewhat satisfied myself about spaghetti -- found a piece surveying the history of pasta at www.thenibble.com which suggested that "the Great Depression of the 1930s made inexpensive food like spaghetti a necessity."  So the jury is still out.  As far as "damned straight" and the other expressions that jarred me, well, I will have to do some library research on those!  Fortunately no others cropped up to distract me from the really excellent writing, so I made very good progress.  BTW, I found a nice photo of Ernest, Hadley, and their son on Wikipedia.  Much better than their passport photos!

***

And progress, once more at the exercise circle.  I looked through our big sliding glass doors into the backyard, filling with sunshine as the sun rose.  My energy level was back and I managed the 800 calorie burn easily.  Weighed in at 169.5 and felt like I had crossed some kind of Rubicon, heading for a destination where I want to be.

***

Completing breakfast I was out in the backyard, sans shirt in that wonderful warm sunlight, finishing off the backyard lawn.  It's remarkable how much rain we have received.  I puttered around with flower beds, attempting the near impossible feat of preventing an overgrowth of sweat peas which have been taking over our beds by the end of summer.  Lois Darrow, the owner (with her late husband, Dan) who resided here previously put in many beautiful perennials which we enjoy every Spring -- but I wish she hadn't planted sweat peas!  

I've been waiting to transplant some of our seedlings, and completed the fill up of all containers destined for our upstairs deck and got them moved indoors.  By 1 p.m. we were graced with another quite hearty downpour, and rain continued intermittently well into the evening.  It's bringing up our grass, alright, but mowing is required frequently just to keep up.

***

Apart from this blog, I have spent very little time on the Internet since I retired.  But this evening I did spend some time looking for music on YouTube.  I found several pieces I really like, but one fairly blew me away -- a Chet Atkins piece, Sunrise.  Very smooth and dreamy (not all of my sunrises are so glorious, because about that time I'm usually half-way through my situps!).  The piece brings to (my) mind a sense of freedom and carefree release from the burdens of everyday life (burdens that, trust me, a good many administrators feel keenly). 

For the past couple of years I've dipped into the free software offerings of giveawayoftheday.com, a site which offers legitimate, licensed software that can be registered and activated during one day only (once activated the software itself does not expire).  Occasionally they'll offer a selection a second time, but you have to watch for the "keepers!"  One program that I found on giveawayoftheday.com is called VideoGet -- it permits the capture of a YouTube video's audio track -- the sound files thus produced are not always the greatest quality fidelity, but passable.  Obviously one ought not make this a commercial venture (enough said!)

***

But, just so I couldn't be accused of playing around too much, I tackled filing away household bills and accounts.  A necessary evil.

Paris Enchants -- 75,000 and counting -- Former Colleagues -- May 29

So I'm getting into The Paris Wife.  The dialogue is sparkling and draws you in, with an interesting intimacy.  But then a shock to the system.  A word or phrase seeming somehow out of tune.  "Damned straight" and "fat chance" immediately come to mind.  Not unlike the shock of reading about a spaghetti dinner being prepared by Hadley Richardson (soon to be Mrs. Ernest Hemingway), in St. Louis.  The only way I can describe it is to refer to the movie, Somewhere in Time where Christopher Reeve manages to hypnotize himself into a turn-of-the-century setting, only to be brought back to the present when he finds a modern-day penny in his pocket, erasing the hypnotic effect of his time travel.  That's sort of the effect I perceive when the McLain's dialog seems to be polluted by more modern usage of words and terms.  I went so far as to consult my volume of Letters of T.S. Eliot (through 1922) just to see if the more colloquial use of language was evident.  It wasn't.  But then Thomas Stearns Eliot wasn't exactly all loose and unbuttoned about his writing, either!  I might be entirely wrong about the occasional term that seems anachronistic, it's just me.  Important thing is that I'm really glued to the book, which makes getting through a breeze!

My reading has taken Ernest and Hadley to Paris and their adventures in Europe.  I thought I'd see if I could locate their passport.  I have never seen a photo of Hadley (and the book doesn't contain one), and I knew that passports do contain photos. So here they are, from 1921:

The photos aren't that clear, unfortunately, but it is funny how you imagine characters to look, when told through the lens of a writer. 

 ***

Getting through the exercise routine wasn't such a breeze, however.  It was a trial and tribulation.  The weather was grey and I think I must get physically depressed when the weather turns.  I did everything I have been doing -- the 750 situps today totaled 75,000 for the year.  But for the three days of doubling up on the elliptical, I just quit at 600 (instead of 800 calories burned).  Not even the Rolling Stones energized me for that last lap!  

***

 In the afternoon Jen and I attended the retirement open house for former Ferris State colleague, Rick Christner, whom we get together with from time to time with friends in common.  The event was hosted in Wheeler Pavilion and was very attended.  I had the chance to catch up with quite a number of people I haven't seen for quite a while.  The honors for Rick are well-deserved and I'm glad we were able to share the afternoon with the Christner family.

***

Late afternoon, owing to the rain that's been pouring over us for the past several days, it was clear so I tackled the front and side lawns.  I've been nursing some bare spots with grass seed and most of it has come up nicely.  Ultimately means more grass to grow, but it's nice to have things looking sharp.

***