*****
6-6-15
Such is today, my heart is positively singing! Last night at dinner, Connie remarked we would not have to worry about cooking Saturday supper, as we had been invited to a graduation open house. She did concede we may need to fix breakfast, whereupon I mused on possibility of receiving invitation to breakfast. and don't you know - that is exactly what happened. As buddy Cecil regularly affirms, life is good. So today, all niggling aches, pains, and disappointments, though not totally forgotten, are at least pushed to bottom of the pile; which is where they definitely belong.
Reviewing old correspondence, electronic and paper - (some going back a quarter century!) - I see it has been a while since I last wrote. These trips down memory lane are delightful, sometimes poignant, excursions; reading messages written to and received by my much younger self. There are: letters from cousins who served in Vietnam; Christmas cards from people known from community theater days; cards and letters from family; and missives from foreign penpals. In this age of Facebook, several people have posted to my "Timeline," links about letter-writing.
There are a handful of us who still practice the art and it is one of my life goals to see the practice revived. I have been told it is making a resurgence and that makes me glad. Perhaps World War Two was the last great era of written correspondence, but I can assure you, there is a special bond between individuals who give themselves to this form of communication. Keeping old cards and letters has enabled me to reconnect with long lost acquaintances - such a delight in a culture that seems to withdraw from personal involvement. Last time I was at an airport, I remember talking to a child; my sister said, "You can't do that, Jo - people will think you're a predator." How sad.
Anyway, hope you are making the most of any opportunities presented. This isn't a long letter, but know that it is jam-packed with love.
The ocean could draw me away from Michigan; the Atlantic, more than the Pacific - though Oregon and Washington have their attractions. Still, the Carolinas speak my language. It is probably a nonsensical language, the type one speaks to imaginary friends: of chairs on porches, a cup of tea at sunrise, a gentle breeze that whispers in a soft Southern drawl.
Thinking about I will set up in my new apartment: writing desk with all my stamps, stationery and address book, room for teapot because, as a lady of leisure, I shall write letters and drink tea, or sip wine, while listening to chimes and watching birds and bees flit among flowers. I go through the backlog of my material, searching out *pearls of wisdom* with which to decorate my letters.
I have been invited to visit the South and explore a vocation of "loafering." This noble pastime is vastly misunderstood, denigrated by non-practitioners. One of our more lamentable traits is to demonize those things we do not understand. In a very short time, I have come to think of my new-found friend Eddie as a brother, a kindred spirit, and a 'cohort' - the latter in only the kindest of ways, like two kids who grow up as best friends, exploring the vast, wonder-filled world, inadvertently getting into harmless mischief.
Thinking about I will set up in my new apartment: writing desk with all my stamps, stationery and address book, room for teapot because, as a lady of leisure, I shall write letters and drink tea, or sip wine, while listening to chimes and watching birds and bees flit among flowers. I go through the backlog of my material, searching out *pearls of wisdom* with which to decorate my letters.
I have been invited to visit the South and explore a vocation of "loafering." This noble pastime is vastly misunderstood, denigrated by non-practitioners. One of our more lamentable traits is to demonize those things we do not understand. In a very short time, I have come to think of my new-found friend Eddie as a brother, a kindred spirit, and a 'cohort' - the latter in only the kindest of ways, like two kids who grow up as best friends, exploring the vast, wonder-filled world, inadvertently getting into harmless mischief.
Hey, didn't mean to sound like an ingrate, referring to Council of Government [in a previous missive] as "damned idiots;" it's just that it seems foolish to insist that we serve meals based on nutrition needs of a 51-yr-old male and then say that our program is geared to needs of "persons over 60." Also, the median age of our participants is probably about 83 and more than half are women. (Anyway, the main "ingredient", or "seasoning" these folks are looking for in a meal is the company.) The [alleged] nutritionist obviously used a "one from column A and two from column B" approach to her meal planning. (I already told you about the chili dog/sweet potato fiasco.) Many of the people who come to the Center can't eat as big a meal as we serve and there are also things we throw out a lot of when we do have it on the menu. Especially mixed greens - no amount of pepper sauce can change them into anything else. (I'm telling you, if Jesus came to dinner, your dad would probably ask if he would please change the greens into gravy and add that half the work was already done since they both begin with "gr.") Then there are those times when soup is on the menu: it's not a real problem on-site, but we are supposed to send the home-delivered meals in a 3-compartment aluminum tray! Who are they trying to kid? So, while I do appreciate the fact that without government subsidy we would be out of business, and I'd have to find another job, [not easy, over age 50], I also feel strongly that some additional thought could have gone into the planning. Perhaps it would be less harsh to refer to the Council as "well-intentioned, but seriously misguided idiots."
Very well - I'll get off my soapbox. Hope y'all have a good weekend.
JoAnn
Sweet!
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