Catching Up

I recently received a “Happy 11th Blogging Anniversary” message from “Wordpress.” It’s a yearly occurrence and it always causes me to reflect.

What has happened in the last year? What has changed in the past eleven years?

Quit smoking. Lost my dad. Moved half a dozen times. Embraced new friends. Explored exciting places. Mother-in-law passed away. Tried different hobbies. Accepted unique challenges. And so much more.

That’s sort of what I usually share each year with the folks who follow my blog. Of course, with a big thank you attached.

I had a lovely year. Wonderful Fall. Was looking forward to a lot of new things and celebrations in 2020.

This year’s 11th anniversary update was going to go something like this.

I was going to share that I started Weight Watchers the week before Christmas. Like who does that? Everyone knows that you wait until January 2nd! But I went with a friend.

That I completed my 2019 book challenge (100 books) on Goodreads. Like who does that? To be honest though, I was still reading the last pages on New Year’s Eve. But I did it. Won’t do it again.

I was going to share my attempt to sign up for a writing workshop this past Fall. The librarian said the class was full but took my name/email and said she would pass it along to the instructor for the Spring class. I then totally forgot about it. Apparently my request was buried deep in a pile somewhere until the workshop leader contacted me just before the new session began.

That I tried something for the very first time. Tamarind. I lived in Malaysia for five years and never tried it. Resided in India for a year and it never passed my lips. Just for the record- it’s delicious. Tastes like a date. Also supposed to be super good for you. I also tried Husk Cherries at a local outdoor Market. They look like cherry tomatoes in a husk but taste like pineapple. Amazing.

I was going to share that I started a Women’s Walking Group. Because I met a woman in the deli line who was new to Rhode Island. Knew nothing about the area. I asked if she liked to walk. She said, “Yes, but I don’t like to walk alone.” I told her that we would accompany her after the holidays. She wrote her contact information on a piece of paper. I finished my shopping and when I reached in my pocket for the paper it was gone! Back into the grocery I go. Retraced my steps. and spied the paper on the floor in aisle 5. A seed was germinating. So I contacted a handful of women I knew to gauge interest in a group walk. Everyone responded happily. But then something got in the way after only one walk.

That I did my first Alzheimer’s Walk with a group of friends. To raise funds for a cure. My friend has early onset Alzheimer’s and I pray that someday soon it will be eradicated.

I was going to share that I am making an effort to explore locally. Walking, shopping and supporting small local businesses. I’ve lived away for so long I am appreciating being close to home. I am enjoying the peacefulness of nature every day.

That I am trying a new aluminum free deodorant. Keep you posted on that one.

I was going to share that I am trying to be more focused on reducing packaging. We are great recyclers and compost kitchen scraps but there is just so much more to be done. Maybe I should buy more in bulk. Like toilet paper.

That I was on Grand Jury duty for six weeks beginning in October and I would do it again in a hot minute. Murder, madness and mayhem. I would have paid them.

I was going to share that I saved up my pennies and finally made an appointment to see if I was a candidate for Lasik. I was scared stiff (these are my eyes!) but had the procedure. I no longer have to wear glasses for distance. I did not like having to be so careful with them. I could never get over the cost of prescription eye glasses (or the horrible decision making process in choosing the perfect specs. Absolute hell for a Libra)and wondered why one Italian company basically owned all the glass companies in the entire world. I am now back to the cheap cheetah cheaters (or any print I want) for the fine print.

That I was thinking of starting a community day or project to assist folks that needed yard work or simple chores done. Something I had the pleasure of being involved with when my eldest was in university. Within a month of me thinking this my town (and the neighboring town) hosted an event called “A Day of Giving. Like it read my mind. Like Facebook and the government. lol.

I was going to share that I had a lovely Fall visit with my youngest in Burlington, Vermont. I happily attended two of her classes. One was taught by a professor who is also an author. Had coffee, a chat and got my book autographed. The title is <"Black Is The Body" by Emily Bernard. Visited a farm and hiked to the top of the hill to take in the glorious colors. Finally ambled out to the whale sculpture on the side of the highway. It’s called “Reverence” and symbolizes the frailty of the planet.

That I had a fabulous time visiting my eldest in Oakland, California in January. Saw a wonderful play (Becky Nurse of Salem) at Berkeley Rep. Ate fabulous Ethiopian and Indian food -how I missed it! Watched “Queen and Slim” at a cool neighborhood cinema. The movie is “edge of your seat” material. Went on a hike with views of San Francisco Bay. Attended two law school classes. Visited Oakland Museum and enjoyed everything. Their “Burning Man” exhibit was fascinating.

I was going to share that I had a business idea. Something fun and right up my alley.

That the youngest and I were going to Florida to visit my brother for Spring Break.

You’d be totally caught up with me.

Then everything changed. Went sideways very quickly.

We were beginning to hear about this virus. Cruise ships. Passengers stuck off the coast of Japan in quarantine. It still seemed so far away. Literally and figuratively. I start to think, “Is there anything good that actually comes out of a cruise?” Honeymooners throwing their new spouses over the side. Airborne illness again and again. People missing from the manifest. Then the big one. The
Corona Virus. But it’s not just the cruise lines.

My husband said, “Why go if you don’t have to?” Truth. Plans canceled.

The youngest, a junior at university and an RA, arrived home two days before Spring break was due to commence because she was ill. While at home her campus closed. On-line classes only.

The oldest, a law student in her final year and also a TA for undergraduates, had all campus courses canceled. Then the entire Bay area was directed to “Shelter in Place.” Graduation ceremony canceled. Even the Bar Exam pushed to the Fall. It’s unbelievable. Trying to figure what the best way (and when) to bring her back to Rhode Island.

Each and every day there is something new. We are glued to televisions, computers and phones. Looking at numbers, graphs and trends.

Schools, libraries, restaurants, businesses, cinemas, salons and more begin to close. Advised to stay close to home and stay far from others. If you are elderly do not leave home! Always ensure six feet between you and another person. Six feet apart or you’ll be six feet under! Practice social distancing. Wipe down packages. Wear masks.

It’s so, so, so surreal.

I received (and so did you) emails from every company I ever had contact with in the last two decades. Theaters, restaurants, utilities, schools, churches, cemeteries, genealogy sites, on-line shops, doctors, banks, car shops, etc. All letting me know the steps they are taking because of the Virus.

This week I had a look at some old blog postings from the Winter of 2018-2019 when I was listing/sharing ideas on ways to avoid the winter blues. I will update them, if necessary, and share them again for the days ahead. And any new ideas that pop into my head to combat the Virus blues.

You are now officially caught up.

We are all in the same boat. We are all in the house. We are all in this together. And we are all going to get through this.

We are all just walking each other home.

Stay safe and thank you for reading!

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Caughterized

Hope you all are doing your best to enjoy the new year. Wait, what? February almost a thing?

Hello, summer!

Speaking of sunny climes, my older brother is in Florida for a bit and loving it.

When I visited last March he showed me small holes in the lawn left by some varmint. There were no sightings of the animal. Just the piles of dirt each day.

He started off the new year buying a brandy new cage. I guess enough was enough.

On January 30th, he sends me (and my other brother) an email with the caption, “Finally caught him!”

This is the critter.

It’s an armadillo for those of you not familiar with the animal. I lived in Texas for a dozen years so had my fair share of them poking in my gardens.

Anyway, I was glad that all of my brother’s hard work paid off in the end. I know the battles that can be waged. Humans vs. nature.

My dad was forever on the losing end with the skunks and squirrels. He’d trap and release them at the nearby golf course. I felt like they played a quick round on the links and hightailed it right back home. He never made a dent in his backyard squirrel population.

I have also kept myself up, many a night, plotting revenge and planning strategic moves to stop squirrels from eating every single bit of the backyard bird food. My mind is like a game of freaking Stratego. Serious stuff.

Yes, I am not ashamed to admit that I have greased the pole (that holds the bird feeder) with oil so the squirrels couldn’t climb up it. They did anyway. Sure, they looked like little strippers in an adult club but they did it.

I sprayed a mixture of cayenne pepper and water on the food-supposedly it doesn’t bother birds but squirrels don’t like it. Didn’t work.

Bought special bird feed that was already treated with “hot” spices.

Also measured the space where the feeders were positioned-far enough from bushes and branches so they couldn’t catapult themselves. But they still managed to attend the early bird special. Munching away. They’ve chewed on the feeders and broken them.

I’m not gonna lie. I feel like I’m being mocked.

So I can appreciate the glee that comes with winning. I can’t wait for all of the juicy details. Tell me, brother, every step of the hunt.

After my initial “Wow!” I send another email.

Gonna lob an easy one at him-for starters.

“What did you use as bait?”

Eagerly anticipating the blow by blow. The hunter and its prey story.

I’m thinking maybe he put a slab of meat or peanut butter in the cage.

He sends me a response,”Didn’t even bait it. Took three weeks till he finally wandered in. Lol”

What???

I immediately text back, “I do not think THAT constitutes a “Finally caught him!” header on an email. While you’re floating around the pool in your lanai slurping on a Bud Lite doing absolutely nothing!” For three weeks. And then Dopey wanders into the cage.

Update: Today he sends me an email. “Caught another one. Could be the same one. LOL.”

Mocked and burned.

I hope everyone enjoys the rest of the weekend!

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Seeing Signs

My youngest daughter and I headed down to Florida two months ago. It was her Spring Break and she was looking forward to a respite from the Vermont weather. I was happy to be visiting with one of my brothers.

I like a day at the beach just as much as the next guy. But I also like to do a bit of exploring. So, on one of the days, I suggested visiting an orange grove. Because Florida has miles and miles of citrus farms. Plus I like orange juice.

There were no tours on this particular day so we scoped out the place and sampled some of the different fruit slices that were being offered. Bought some freshly squeezed juice to bring home.

Leaving the grove we began a version of what my daughter calls, “Moose Hunting.”

You might ask, “What on earth is that?”

Here’s the short version. Said Mary never.

There are many signs posted all over New England highways.

Bear Crossing-Stay Alert

Moose Crossing-Stay Alert

Deer Crossing-Stay Alert

Or the one I observed this past weekend in Vermont.

Wildlife Crossing-Stay Alert

It’s like they (the sign makers) just sighed, gave up and lumped all the animals together. Lazy scuts.

Back to my point. For all of these roadside warnings it is very rare to see a moose.

Deer? Yes.

Bear? Maybe.

Moose? Nah.

They exist, for sure, but no one actually ever sees one.

Enough with the warnings already.

So when my daughter and her college friends go exploring it’s called, “Moose Hunting.”

Sort of like rambling.

Whoever is in the passenger seat will give directions. Knowing they won’t see a moose but keeping hope alive.

“Go left.”

“Go Straight.”

“Go right.”

In the end they will arrive at some random town/destination. It’s just a fun way to get out and explore.

On this day in Florida, my daughter was in the passenger seat as we we left the citrus farm.

She said, “Take a right.”

And then another right.

My brother follows her directions. Drives a bit.

There is a cemetery on the left hand side. He slows the car.

He says to me, “Because I know how you like cemeteries and history.”

What he actually thought was probably more along these lines, “As good a place as any to stop for a smoke.” 🙂

Looked like a nicely maintained cemetery. We drive in and pull to the side. Lots of trees dripping with Spanish Moss.

We get out and stretch our legs. Have a look around the area.

There is a big tree with things on it. Signs that say “Truth” and “Respect.” Another one says something like, “Thief or SOB. Think before you steal from the dead.”

I’m not sure what all is going on with that tree.

To the right of this tree is another one. This also has something posted. Looks like a “Reward” sign is nailed to it. We get a little closer to see what exactly it is.

Oh my goodness. It is the unsolved murder of a young boy. His grave is behind the tree where the “Reward” notice hangs. His name was John Welles and he was killed in July of 2003.

This town appears to be very small. Seemed like a few surnames dominated the cemetery. Probably the founding families of the town. Welles was one of the names.

It is always sad when a young person is taken too soon. But horrific when it is an act of violence. This poor family never having the opportunity for any type of closure. No one ever being held accountable for taking the life of their child. Someone getting away with murder. Sixteen long years for his loved ones.

We looked around the rest of the cemetery on our way out of there. Confederate flags provided a pop of color on some of the older graves.

Took a last look and we were back on the road.

Now we were very curious to know more about what happened to poor John. Surely, there would be tons and tons of information on such a case. The killing of a young white boy from a small Southern town, descended from settlers, would most definitely be plastered all over the news. I imagined reading about on-going campaigns to reopen the case, reward offerings, articles, etc.

So, after dinner, we put Google to work. What we found was next to nothing. His obituary and one article from a “Most Wanted” type of site. Quoting his mom. That’s about it. Very, very strange.

His mother, after the murder, posted more than 350 notices on billboards in three counties asking people if they had tips to contact police. Apparently, it didn’t help at all.

John’s obituary here.

His mother’s plea here.

Seemed that John arrived home from Walmart that Sunday morning at 11:30am. Within five hours he was found dead in a creek near his house. It was originally thought to be a drowning but an autopsy showed that he was shot in the eye first and then put in the water.

How does something like this happen in a small town on a Sunday afternoon in the middle of summer? No one sees anything? No one knows anything? Why does there not appear to be any interest in solving the case?

So bizarre.

I did come across another article about a young man who was also found dead in the creek. About the same age as John. Found that to be a bit curious.

It is my sincere hope that one day John’s family will finally receive the answers and justice they truly deserve. That one day they can finally take down the sign.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Creepy

This past summer I was driving to my friend’s home in Rhode Island with my two daughters. It’s a lovely area near the beaches. Tree lined roads winding by horses grazing, babbling brooks and placid ponds. Gorgeous old, clapboard homes on green acres dot the landscape.

My eldest, who is twenty five, says, “This area is so beautiful. Not like the usual creepy New England towns.”

I exclaim, “What?? Creepy like how? A van with no windows is creepy. But not New England!”

Later on, while we are soaking up the sun on a fabulous beach, same daughter proceeds to tell my friend that ever since she was a little kid I’ve told her probably every single ghost story or mystery that took place in our part of New England.

Okay, when you put it like that. I sound like a monster.

It’s true. I might have pointed out a haunted house or two.

The Westport house where folks claimed a ghost resided.  One of the occupants fell asleep in a rocking chair and woke up with a haircut.

I probably mentioned the ghost of the red-headed hitchhiker on Interstate 195.

Most likely gave the background of the childhood rhyme about Lizzie Borden. I did take my youngest (seventeen at the time) to Lizzie’s house last year where the gruesome crimes took place.

I may have pointed out the lovely house that sits at the bottom of Metacomet golf course in my home town. Shared that murders were never a thing while I was growing up but a few years before I was born an elderly widow had been murdered in that very home during a robbery.

Could have mentioned the still unsolved mystery of the “New Bedford Highway Killer.” Eleven prostitutes went missing. Nine were found strangled and dumped in the woods. And that it was very possible a local attorney was the killer and actually indicted at one time. He moved to Florida in 1988 and there were no more murders on that stretch of highway since then.

Yes, I might have shared a story or two.

Dear Norah,

I’m very sorry and hope that you realize it’s not New England that’s creepy. Stuff happens everywhere.

It’s just your Mom who is creepy.

Hope I didn’t do too much damage. I’m just thankful that I spent a lot of quality, non-creepy time with you when you were young.

I absolutely loved cuddling up with you at bedtime every evening while reading you many, many wonderful fairy tales. As you peacefully drifted off to sleep.

Like Snow White and her killer stepmother. The orphaned Bambi who yearns for his murdered mother. Three little pigs trying to protect themselves from the wolf who wants to destroy their home. Hansel and Gretel’s great escape from the witch who attempted to burn them alive in an oven. And so many others.

I pray that, in some small way, it makes up for the ghost stories.

Love,

Mom

 

 

 

 

 

 

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