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For going on three weeks now I have been under siege by some genre of Frankenbug, some gnarly microbe, 
 ...but that continues to morph on a daily basis, one day presenting as a killer sore throat with headache, another as an agent of 24-hour dry coughing fits, another as aching sinus congestion or a cruddy cough. Then my microbe takes a day off, leading me to think I'm finally on the road to recovery, only to return the following day in one of the old varieties or a new one,  ...all of which has left me feeling drained, under sort of a physical and mental malaise, some days too tired to do any but the most pressing tasks, like getting to work every day, Or canvassing for Hillary,
...which I did for three hours on Saturday and another three hours yesterday, coughing and blowing my nose and dragging all the way.  But I felt driven, seeing as Hillary's been under a malaise herself the past few days, and I'm starting to wonder if it's the recent election trends on I've been seeing on Fivethirtyeight, my election prognosticator of choice (see post from 10/10/2016),  ...that have been giving me a case of blues-tinged anxiety on top of my Frankenbug, my election anxiety mayhaps being the real reason I've been feeling so extra- grody for the past few days. Until today, that is. Today I felt happy in spite of my headache and sniffles and Hillary's poll numbers. Because today was Halloween. I love Halloween. I've always loved Halloween. I loved it when I was young enough to go trick-or-treating, and I even remember being excited when I was 13 and old enough to stay home and give out candy to the little kids. But I loved Halloween most of all when my own children were young.    Halloween was always my favorite holiday until my children were grown up and we all decided to stop giving each other Christmas presents, after which Christmas became my favorite holiday. Besides, once one's own children are grown Halloween does lose some of its essence. Though I still find Halloween delightful, and I still enjoy the decorations,  
  ...setting out the treats,  ...and, of course, handing out the treats. 
 ...or the not-so little ones,  ...strolling up and down the sidewalk and from house to house with their parents.   I love seeing all the neighbors out their porches, and everybody going over to each others' houses to chat a little as long as we're all outside.   
 ...for when is the neighborhood so full of life and fun and children and excitement? It occurred to me a few years ago that we should really do trick-or-treating on Christmas afternoon. Wouldn't it be fun to have the streets full of people and the neighbors out and children going from door to door on Christmas? And wouldn't it give everyone something to do for the rest of the day once the presents were opened and before dinner? I don't know, I think it would be nice. In any case, this was a nice Halloween. Tomorrow I can go back to feeling icky and anxious. But it was a short, sweet break, anyway. 
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Yesterday occurred the regular Wednesday morning meeting of the Panera Posse - my group of gal pals, there are eight of us altogether, though it's a rare week that we can all make it - who get together once a week to have our coffee or tea while we talk about all sorts of things, what we've been up to, our families, our grandkids, our pets, our life events,  ...the books we've read, the movies we've seen, a great new recipe or restaurant we've found, our happy news, our sad news, the local news, the national news, politics, basically whatever's on any of our minds. So yesterday one of the Posse members told us about a day trip she and her husband had taken with a retired colleagues' group to which they belong to Granville, a scenic little Ohio college town about 30 miles outside Columbus. After lunch in a nice restaurant my friend wanted to visit some of the cute little shops in the town. But when my friend and her husband entered the first store The Thing happened. The Thing that that still happens once in a while when my friend, who is white, and her husband, who is African American, enter a public place together. The sudden silence. The feel of eyes on them. My friend's desire to leave, just leave. It didn't happen in every store in the town, of course, and it doesn't happen all the time. But it did happen again that day. "Oh, I know what you mean," sympathized one of our other friends who just turned 70 and who spent most of her career working in Washington D.C. in the Office of Human Resources Management. "I still get followed around by the sales ladies in Macy's, right up behind me" she said. "I swear, one of these days I'm going to turn around quick and end up kissing one of them!"  "Oh, that happens to my daughter, too, when she goes shopping," said my first friend, whose daughter is biracial. Then she went on to tell us of a variation on the theme that happened a few days ago.
He daughter, an attorney in her early thirties, was shopping with a white friend at a local White House Black Market store. As they roamed the upscale boutique, each picking out clothes to try on, a white saleswoman approached the white woman and asked if she could open a dressing room for her. The salesperson did not return to my friend's daughter, who also had some items draped over her arm, to ask if she could open a dressing room for her, but stayed attentive to the white woman, returning and retrieving items to and from the racks for her while ignoring my friend's daughter. "At least it's not as bad as it used to be," sighed the friend who threatened to end up kissing a too-closely-following salesperson. "No, it is bad!" I jumped in, "When it happens to you, even if it only happens once in a while, or once a year, or once every few years, even if it only happens once, it's bad! It's wrong!" I ranted on, telling my friends that I was so sorry, that I felt so badly that they still had to put up with that kind of thing. My first friend smiled at me. "You've evolved," she said. When I asked her what she meant she reminded that when she first me me years ago and talked about the kind of treatment she and her husband sometimes received in public places I'd been incredulous. I just couldn't believe that that sort of subtle racism was still alive and well and thriving in and around Columbus, Ohio. "But now you believe it," my friend said. Yes, now, sadly, I believe it. Last Saturday my daughter Theresa and her wife, Callie,  ...drove up from Cincinnati to Columbus to celebrate Callie's birthday. This was to be a very special birthday for Callie, as this would be her first birthday as a woman, her true self, the person she's always been inside. Callie's transition process was completed over the summer and she came out as a transgender woman in July (see post from 7/5/2016). And so I wanted to make this a memorable celebration for Callie and asked her what she'd like: a party, a big shindig, maybe, with lots of people and tons of food? Or maybe something a little smaller, like a dinner party in a nice restaurant? Callie liked the idea of going out for dinner, but just a small family dinner. Theresa shared with me that Callie had been talking about getting her ears pierced, so we settled on the plan that Callie and Theresa would come to Columbus on Saturday, I'd take Callie on a shopping-and-ear-piercing expedition and, since Callie was craving Italian, we'd go out for her birthday dinner at The Spaghetti Warehouse, one of my Columbus favorite places,  ...also inviting Tommy, 
 But, alas, as I am wont to say, man proposes and God disposes, and, as I am also wont to say, the microbes rule, and when Saturday rolled around I was deeply ensconced in a cough-your-lungs-out cold, and couldn't drag myself up for a shopping/ear-piercing trip. So we put the shopping on hold and instead Callie fixed me some of her signature chicken soup, which she started with a slow-cooker broth,  ...and finished off over the stove.   I didn't dig into the soup until Sunday, but it proved to be quite curative, at least to my spirit. But thankfully, by Saturday night I was up for The Spaghetti Warehouse, where we had only a brief wait in the lobby, which is kind of a fun place, anyway,    ...as is the rest of the restaurant.    The food was, as always, molto yummy.
 ...while Randy had the Minestrone.  For our entrees we ordered among us:
 ...The Lasagna Platter, 
 ...and the Ravioli  After our great dinner we all headed back to the house for some Dairy Queen ice cream birthday cake. 
 ...Randy and Anusha cut the cake, 
 ...this memorable birthday.   ...Continued from yesterday: Early Saturday evening the shuttle arrived at the hotel to transport the guests to the venue of Vince and Kathleen's wedding, the beautiful Vista On Seward Hill.   At the entrance was a gazebo where we were greeted and handed our programs by sweet Addison, niece of the groom,  ...and directed to fill out a small slip of paper with a message to the newly-weds to be read by them on either their first, fifth, or tenth anniversary, then to roll the message up and slip it into the appropriate bottle.   I opted to give them a message to be read on their 10th anniversary (VINCE AND KATHLEEN: SPOILER ALERT IF YOU ARE READING THIS!), written with a little help from Rodgers and Hammerstein: If you are the same beautiful couple today that you were ten years ago, you'll pardon my saying, "I told you so!" Stepping onto the other side of the gazebo one had the impression of stepping out of Austin, Texas and into an enchanted Grecian garden, hung with lights,   
 ...statues, 
 
   ...and elegant stonework.    
 ...while a harp-viola duo played lovely prelude music, 
 When all the guests were seated began the arrival of the minister, the groom and his groomsmen, 
 ...the bridesmaids,   ...the flower girls, 
  It was a beautiful and moving ceremony, during which Vince and Kathleen held each others' hands while the minister reminded them that with these hands they would hold each other, comfort each other, and dry each others' tears, whether they be tears of sorrow or happiness, 
 ...for tasty hors d'oeuvres,  ...and to give our congratulations and good wishes to the parents of the the bride and groom. Birdie and Greg, parents of the groom.  When it was time for the guests to enter the dining room we found our table assignments from lists posted on the glass panes of a window.  The dining room    Each place was set with a sprig of rosemary, the herb of remembrance. 
 ...which included among the offerings chicken stuffed with spinach and cheese, fork-tender brisket in gravy, roasted potatoes and a wonderful salad with arugula and strawberries.    Though Kathleen and Vince had eaten their first dinner as a married couple at a sweetheart table outside on the veranda, they returned to the dining room to greet their guests, Kathleen having changed from her bridal gown into a lovely reception dress.  After dinner we proceeded to the dance hall, all the guests who wished joining in a processional dance known as The Wedding March, a Czech tradition, I was told, 
 Well, nobody seemed to know what the provenance of The Wedding March was, but it was fun,  ...and the garden looked magical.   So we danced our way into the beautiful dance hall,  
 Daniel and Roxanne, parents of the bride, watching Kathleen and Vince's first dance.  ....after which we all joined in.  In a side-room were set out yummy snacks for us to munch on all evening,  ...and instead of wedding cake there were wedding ice-cream sundaes, which I thought was a awesome idea, a much-welcomed cooling-off after dancing,  ...and greatly enjoyed by all,  ....as was the whole beautiful, enchanted evening.    ...Continued from yesterday: After we left the Bullock State History museum we wandered around the capital of the Longhorn State like a couple of clueless greenhorns - which, of course, we were - looking for some place where we could grab a little snack to hold us over until Vince and Kathleen's wedding that evening.
 We did enjoy the city scenes along the way.     Round about 6th Street we came to a neighborhood that reminded me a little bit of Portland, Oregon.
 Portland  ...where we came across what appeared to be a cute little restaurant, 
 ...which was equally cute on the inside. 
 And the food was really good.
 ...while I had a yummy veggie flatbread with awesome home-made chips. 
 ...and headed back to our hotel to get ready or the evening's festivities.
To be continued... …Continued from yesterday: As Vince and Kathleen’s wedding was not until 6 pm Saturday evening, we had a day to visit Austin. We really didn’t know much of anything about the city, except that it was home to the Bullock State History Museum, which we decided would be our day’s destination. So we drove from our hotel to downtown, and managed by good fortune to find a parking spot a few blocks from the museum in a pretty residential neighborhood of elegant houses.   First on the agenda, though, was breakfast. So we started walking away from the downtown area in hopes of finding some little off-the-beaten-track mom-and-pop restaurant,  ...which we never did find, though after walking about ten blocks we did come upon the University of Texas at Austin.   The street across from the campus was lively, festive, and filled with students and parents.   We found out the reason for all the activity was that there was a football game that evening, UTA Longhorns vs. Oklahoma.  We ended up grabbing a couple of bagels for breakfast at an Einstein Brothers, which does, in truth, make a nice bagel,  ...then we walked back to downtown, passing along the way a church with a nice message.   As we walked through town to the Texas history museum, we learned something about downtown Austin on game days: every square inch is either occupied by tailgaters or cordoned off as a "no tailgating" zone.         We arrived at The Bullock State History Museum,  ...a beautiful and modern museum offering a number of interesting exhibits on the State of Texas,   However I spent most of our visit poring over a traveling exhibit called "State of Denial" which studied the question of how Adolph Hitler enticed the German people to vote him into office.   I found the exhibit quite terrifying,     ...especially in view of our own upcoming election.   Chilling thoughts.
To be continued... ...Continued from yesterday: On Friday morning we returned to The Blanco Cafe several blocks up St. Mary's Street from our hotel (see post from 10/14/2016), 
  
 ...and Tom had an equally sizable and commendable bowl of oatmeal, which he doused with cinnamon, his spice of choice on oatmeal.  After breakfast we had couple of hours before we'd be leaving San Antonio for Austin for the wedding of Vince and Kathleen,  ...the son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law of our good friends Birdie and Greg.  ...so we decided to take a final stroll along the River Walk.       Then we left for Austin, an hour-and-a-half drive north of San Antonio. We stayed along with the other wedding guests at the lovely Austin Marriott South, just outside of downtown Austin.   
 Our bathroom.  The wedding festivities officially began with the rehearsal dinner at the Rockin Y Ranch in the ranch's party barn, beautiful, spacious,   ...and very Western.     The food was a fantastically delicious Tex-Mex buffet,   
   For dessert there were specialties of the two home states of the bride and groom,  ...Buckeyes, the chocolate-covered peanut butter delicacies - made by Birdie for the occasion - indigenous to Columbus, Ohio, the home town of the groom,  ...and key lime and chocolate pecan mini-pies, favorites of Kathleen's fellow Texans.   Then the guests spent the evening strolling the lovely grounds of the ranch,  ...which over-looked the lights of Austin, 
 ...or horse shoes,  ...or sitting around the fire pit,  ...or just enjoying the happy glow of the evening,     ...that emanated, of course, from the happy glow of two beautiful young people about to begin their lives together.   To be continued...
...Continued from yesterday: After we finished touring Market Square (see yesterday's post) we spent the rest of Thursday afternoon walking around downtown San Antonio, 
      We stopped in a really nice thrift store,   ...and for lunch at a barbecue place called Bill Miller's,  ...which, though it appeared to be quite a popular place, we weren't terrifically impressed with, since Tom's slice of brisket was equal parts meat and fat and, well, I guess I'm just not a big fan of barbecue anyway. After lunch we strolled along a pretty thoroughfare called Houston Street,     ...that brought us back around to the vicinity of the Alamo, which is located next to these buildings,  ...and across from this little touristy strip. 
 Then we walked around the block and took in the sights on our way back to our hotel,   
 That evening Tom and I met up for dinner with some friends from many years ago, Bob and Lenora.  Back when Tom was a young second lieutenant stationed in Babenhausen, Germany, Bob had been his commanding officer and Bob and Lenora's daughter - who now has grown children of her own - was one of the youngsters who used to come to the Youth Activities Center that I ran on the Babenhausen Kaserne (Army post) for the children of the military personnel. Bob and Lenora took us out to a wonderful local German restaurant called the Bavarian Restaurant.    The food was so delicious - and the portions huge - and brought back memories of the great local dishes we used to enjoy while stationed in Germany
 ...while Tom had the Cordon Bleu, a breaded pork cutlet stuffed with ham and Swiss cheese with a side of spaetzel, which are home-made mini-dumplings.   Tom and I shared each others' potatoes and dumplings. Alles schmeckte köstlich! (Which means "everything was delicious!" Before we left Bob and Lenora's house they brought out an old album of photos from those days when we were all in Babenhausen. Among them were this picture someone captured at some officers' event.  I'm sure I'd have had no idea who those two youngsters in the picture were. Except that for some reason that red dress still hangs in my closet.  To be continued...
...Continued from yesterday: The previous day while walking around downtown San Antonio we were intrigued by street signs here and there that pointed the way to Market Square. So Thursday morning we decided to follow the signs to this Market Square and hoped to come upon some breakfast place along the way, which we did, a cute little place we spotted down a side street called The Oasis,    ...where the price was right,  ,...and the pancakes we ordered were good. After breakfast we continued walking along the city streets, seeking out and following the signs,   ...until we arrived at Market Square, and felt as if we'd suddenly stepped into a charming Mexican plaza.  ...lined with shops,   ...and restaurants.   
 ...as were the stores,     ...which offered shelf after shelf filled with many sizes and varieties of calaveras, the Day of the dead skulls.     ...along with the many other interesting and colorful items available for purchase.    We were enchanted by the place.   To be continued...
...Continued from yesterday: There is much to love about the city of San Antonio,     …as attested to by the 31 million tourists who visit the city each year. But from among the attractions that Tom and I were able to take in - and enjoyed much -during our two days in San Antonio, it was a visit to the Alamo that left me feeling especially inspired. The Alamo was an old 18th Century Spanish mission that eventually became a Mexican army fortress which was seized in 1835 by the Texan army during the Texas Revolution, Texas's war of independence from Mexico. In 1836 the Mexican army led by Santa Ana, the President of Mexico, laid siege to The Alamo, wiped out the Texan forces and recaptured the fortress. But news of the battle of the Alamo spread across Texas and "Remember The Alamo!" became the battle cry of Texans and several months later Texas won its independence from Mexico, though another decade would pass before all military hostilities ceased between Texas and Mexico. But today, 150 later, the Alamo is no longer a site of war and hostility between people, but a lovely garden sanctuary,    ...in the midst of a vibrant, city,  ...a World Heritage site where people come from all over the world to visit, experience,  ...and learn,  ...a bit of history,  ..and to pay their respects to those who lost their lives in its making. And so today people, whether they are of Mexican, American, or of any other descent, arrive at the Alamo in great numbers not to engage in conflict as they did 150 years ago, but to enjoy a pleasant day,  ...in a lovely spot, 
 ...but as friendly fellow tourists.  And so this feeling, that the Alamo is serving a much happier purpose now than it did in the past, reminded me that I felt much the same about Pearl Harbor, when I visited there and walked among the other tourists, many Japanese, who were there for the same peaceful, enjoyable purpose as myself,  ...and I thought of the the verse from Isaiah, 2:4:
They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore. And I fantasized that a hundred or two years from now tourists might visit and pay respects to what were once the battle grounds of Iraq, Syria and other war-torn areas of the Middle East, now historical sites of struggles and suffering long past. How happy a future would that be? |
"Tropical Depression"
by Patti Liszkay Buy it on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BTPN7NYY Archives
June 2025
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