A GOOD READ

WELL, better than good, actually. The older I get, the dimmer the eyesight which is a startling turn of events for someone who has read voraciously since the age of 4. I find that most often I begin a book and a few chapters in, I put it aside due to tired eyes or could it possibly be a lack of interest? Horrors! The thoughr of losing interest is frightening to me when it comes to something that's been such a huge part of my life.

I do love memoirs and books about food and having heard about this book I requested it from our local public library, always feeling guilty about not using what the Manor library contains.....there is a wealth of books on our shelves and after all, I'm supposed to be a partial librarian here. It seems disloyal somehow to go elsewhere for my reading material.


There was a wait for my turn to check it out and life must have been busy for when the due date arrived to return it, I wasn't even half way through, so back it went to keep peace in the family (Mr. Bob does NOT tolerate overdue fines). 


But the title kept appearing in articles and food blogs I read, so I placed a request for it again. Waited. Started the book again from the beginning and was so struck with the quality of writing that I regretted the moments when I had to put it aside to rest my weary eyes. I managed to finish it on the morning of the due date and now realize that it was one of those books that spoils for a while anything else one tries to follow it with. 


It will come out in paperback toward the end of this month and I'm going to purchase a copy and donate it to the Manor library just so others can enjoy it and I may have another chance someday.


Google it, to get a better idea of the subject. And if you're intrigued and follow through by reading it let me know what you think.

“You know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend.”

Paul Sweeney

OWEN TAKES TEA

ON THEIR RECENT VISIT, I made reservations for us to have lunch at a nearby tearoom, a new experience for Owen. Frances thought that he recognized the special treatment.......the waitress pushed his chair closer to the table and tucked a napkin under his chin. His manners were impeccable (thank you, Father) and he was served ahead of the rest of us, finishing his egg salad sandwich before the rest of us began to eat. Out of a choice of lemonade, cocoa or tea, he selected hot chocolate. (At the Manor when offered ice cream for dessert, he had asked what flavors and when the waitress got to coffee after vanilla and chocolate, Owen said, "Oh, I don't drink coffee")

The owner of the T-Room practiced her craft in Russia before moving to the U.S. and no detail has been overlooked in making this place a highly attractive room.

After we finished our sandwiches, salads and scones, I asked Owen if he agreed that we were in a fancy place. Showing his maleness, Owen nodded and replied, "Too fancy". But I'm proud that the men in our family can weather a tea room lunch once in a while. Not all men would be that flexible.

Why our proclivity to exhibit silliness, I wonder? Chris couldn't resist the raised pinky long enough for a photo shot.

I digress, but on an earlier day, Chris had driven me to my chemotherapy treatment, after which we went to breakfast and the resulting photos showed an odd likeness in the handling of a coffee cup. Neither of us is using the handle which seems rather unusual and what are the chances of both of us exhibiting unusual behavior?

"Never trust a man who, when left alone in a room with a tea cozy, doesn't try it on."  
                                                 ~Billy Connolly

REWIND TO JANUARY 2

TRADITIONALLY, when January 1 falls on a Sunday the Rose Parade is scheduled for the following day.

This was a Monday year and Mr. Bob was determined to get a picture of the Stealth as it passed over us on the way to start the parade in Pasadena which is just over the hill.

SUCCESS!!!

Did you watch the parade from wherever you were? My very favorite float was sponsored by Trader Joe's, a specialty market chain where we do at least half of our shopping. They have attractive $1 greeting cards, plants, freshly squeezed tangerine juice, yummy scones, hard boiled eggs; it's silly for me to even try to describe the place. If you don't have a TJ where you live, visit here and weep. FEARLESS FLYER is the name of their advertising sheet and each time a new one comes out, we pore over it to see what's new and recommended.

I think, but I'm not sure, that it was built by store employees and I know for sure people were chosen from the ranks to ride on the float. Mind you, everything is made from flowers.

Last evening as we left the dining room after supper we passed the tea room and saw 2 tables laden with vases of posies. They were flowers from some of the Rose Parade floats, donated to retirement homes and we were welcome to take a container of them to our room. 

What a nice idea......don't you think?

REWIND TO DECEMBER 26

THERE WAS NO LET-DOWN feeling the day after Christmas, for that was the day our eldest and his family drove four hundred miles from Northern California to see us. Four year old Owen, always a charmer, has blossomed into full-blown boyhood, coming up with his own jokes and constantly building creations in his mind's eye. 

I asked his Dad if he thought Owen might grow up to be an inventor and Chris' response was, "Either that or terribly disappointed."

Because the two guestrooms here at the Manor had been booked previous to my request, our family needed to stay in our room which was perfectly fine with us, but let me explain our dormitory arrangement. Frances slept on our sofa. To minimize the footprint 

they leave behind, they come bearing their own sheets, pillows and towels. 

Owen sleeps in a sleeping bag atop a short-legged cot in the living room. At bedtime he snuggles down, amuses himself with his imagination before dropping off into slumber. Our kids never went to bed that mildly.


Christopher lays out his sleeping bag on the floor with his head to the mirrored closet doors and his feet in the kitchen. He's somewhere there in the red and black fabric.

One morning a soft knock sounded on the door at 5:30 a.m. No one had alerted us that anyone was coming to draw Mr. Bob's blood for a coumadin test, so we weren't expecting visitors. Chris untangled himself from his cocoon, got to the door on his knees, opened it and the nurse asked, "Mr. Humphrey?" which, after all, is indeed his name. Never mind that he looked too young to be living here. Luckily all health workers check a patient's birth date before starting any procedure.

Somehow she picked her way to the bedroom where the intended Mr. Humphrey withdrew his arm from the covers, offered it to her. Mission accomplished, she found her way to the front door and let herself out. 

Retirement home living is different in some ways and that was one of them. Friends express surprise that maintenance people and health workers have access to our rooms if we don't answer their knock. I, myself, am surprised that so many of the staff have found us in our nightclothes and various stages of undress.  These things matter less with age, I think.. My mother used to say, "If you see anything you haven't seen before, throw your old hat at it." So far no one's tossed a chapeau in our direction. 

REWIND TO CHRISTMAS EVE

FOR YEARS, Diane and Roger have hosted an intimate birthday party for Mr. Bob on Christmas Eve. They are the host and hostess with the mostest, realizing how important presentation is and you'd never, ever see a mustard jar on the table in contrast with the way I might do it. We're lucky to count them among our friends.

JANUARY 2

We get sack suppers on holidays. Before today's parade the Stealth flew right over the Manor patio on its way to Pasadena. Be still, my heart! Why it should be so thrilling, I don't know.

Virginia, a Marine, toasts the New Year.

It's a tradition for me to wear a Christmas tree star garland. Once I forgot to take it off at the shop and at midnight it had become twisted and tangled around my throat. I worked and worked to get it off before realizing that a $3.95 item could be clipped and retied.

MaryMil, our newest resident, called the day the newsletter was distributed to tell me she liked my column! 

Seen outside a doctor's office, this summed up a close to the holidays.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The editor of the Manor's monthly newsletter passed away recently and I was asked to be a guest editor. What follows is my first column.

It’s a privilege to be invited to stand in as “guest editor” in the place vacated by Doris Sisley. Bear with me as I feel my way along searching for subjects that may interest you. 

It’s been many years since my little, malaprop-prone daughter flounced her way into the kitchen one New Year’s Day morning, twirling in her constant-motion way and announcing “Well, has everybody made their revolutions?” 

I thought that decisions for 2012 might be a good subject for my first (oh, please don’t let it be my last) column. Resolutions. 

Here are some of the responses from residents..............

Leona responded with.....”Oh, no, my whole life is a resolution. I’m trying all the time.”

Evelyn Robison said she will take advantage of every opportunity she possibly can to have fun.

Mary Arnold has lots of resolutions, but none that she wants published. 

“To continue with my poetry”, said Anne Van Trigt.

“I wish the world health” from Victor.

Art Edwards and Mary Jane Lennert told me at dinner that they resolve not to make resolutions.

Our executive director, Mr. Michael, resolves to laugh more.

Midge Fuller, after reading from our Manor library, "Getting Rid of Clutter", is resolving to reduce her clutter by half.

Jeanne Guernsey said she never has made resolutions and doesn’t plan to start now.

I struck gold with retired Pastor Rudy Kronst who said,

“I’ll try to have more patience with my wife and more insight with the patients at  Huntington Hospital where I volunteer as a chaplain. With a congregation I came to know the people, at the hospital the people are ever new.”

Marian Deddo-Smith  and Ken Moore were leaving the dining room when I approached them with my question. At first they vowed that they don’t indulge in making resolutions, then Ken changed it to hoping to maintain his indepencence throughout 2012. Marion held firm. No resolutions.

Gladys and Bob Humphrey had nearly identical answers:

Gladys Harris:  “I don’t make resolutions; they’re too easy to break.”

Mr. Bob Humphrey:  “The futility of trying to keep resolutions in the past prevents my making new ones."

Lorraine Dolan: “What I’m going to do is be more active whether it hurts or not.”

Joan Brooks is determined to smile more.

Simone vows to lose 5 pounds;  2 in the front and 3 in the back or was it the other way around?

As for me, I’m vowing to eat less (in the hope of losing far more than 5 pounds), chew longer, start myself a Windsor Manor sketchbook and begin keeping a Gratitude Journal.

Our little Susan may have spoken words of wisdom after all. In a way, even if we don't indulge in making resolutions, we all make what could be termed "revolutions" as the year ends and we turn, figuratively, to start the ascent into the next year, climbing the ladder, month by month. A word of caution: often, falls occur when we oldsters turn without watching our feet. Cuidado, my friends and a Happy New Year to each and every one of you!