TEA TOAST AND BREAKFAST IN BED

It was a huge thing, stuck on top of my grandmother's secretary. Neither really belong in a bedroom but space in our story and a half being at a premium, and I the preservationist extraordinaire, leave little choice. It is a huge gray aluminum tray; tole-hand painted with lemon-yellow flowers, no particular genre. Bright with orangy-red centers. In my sisters and my growing up years, it came out of hiding, rather predictably at every recovery from flu or childhood diseases. Often it was the first sign that a doctor would be called to the house, and no, you wouldn't be going to school.
Wobbly, since it was circular and had no fold-out legs, it balanced precariously on top of the bedcovers, offering, as hot dishes conducted their heat through the metal, additional warmth to the recovering child.
Predictable as well were it's offerings. It began with tea, Lipton of course, it's orange tinged waters betraying the actual flavors, as no sugar would be offered. Tea, to see if you'd "keep it down". Then dry toast. so dark it looked like it would break before it reached your mouth.
The morning the tray held milque-toast you were assured that later, a simple toy or book might be brought and you'd be sitting up amonst a mound of pillows; that is if you ate the soggy crumb infested mixture, and "kept it down". By the time a baked potato, ginger ale and jello were served, your time to play amonst the blankets was numbered.
By then, it was a treat to move to the living room where you could recouperate on the davenport and watch a little TV.
Such were the days of recovery in the 1950's. I miss them. But I still have the tray.

Music Under the Stars

What a beautiful evening. My daughters and I ventured to the Marina at the end of town, fully intending to take the launch by river to the Zoo. We are so fortunate to have a zoo on the opposite side of the river. For whatever reason, the launch never appeared and we went by car.
I have such wonderful memories of being a small child and hearing the symphony orchestra at this very ampitheatre.A WPA project, the ampitheatre has been around for years and the free events are popular among young families and seniors alike. The sit among the trees and listen to the music, birds and ducks flying overhead, was like a vacation for us. It's the kind of thing you see on billboards advertising a wonderful summer evening in distant cities.

WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF

A weird night to say the least. I began rushing to class in a University. (My mother at 98, STILL dreamed of missing class.) The class was to begin at 9:40 and in my dream there were not two clocks that had the same time. Rushing to what should have been the second floor, a maintainance man stopped me and said the stairwells to the west wing had been closed because the floors were wet. Groups of students were herded to another stairwell and I herded along with them. A couple of them I seemed to know and tried to engage in conversation about the whereabouts of the class. To no avail.
I found myself in the most elaborate of lab schools, I guessed kindergarten by the areas designated for housekeeping, blocks and climbing. Security was very tight and I inadvertantly emerged through the curtains of a puppet stage. Someone kindly directed me back through the curtains and into the main hallway where I was certain by this time it would make more sense to go back home than to try to make that class.
I was startled to see my sister as directress of the lab school; primly dressed in a smart navy skirt and vest, and crisp white blouse. She was hurriedly giving directions to a secretary and her arms were loaded with books, binders and the all important clipboard. She waved to me and seemed less surprised to see me than I was to see her. After a cursory wave I meandered to a ladies room where I thought I should change clothes. Two girls whispering and pointing in my direction led me to stop and ask if I knew them.
It seemed they were upset that I had sold school sponsorships to people they had promised (you know, the ads students are always asked to sell) I assured them that I only sold to family and friends. That seemed to satisfy them and I went on my merry way. (Remember this is a DREAM, not an actual event.)
At home I sent to cleaning the kitchen floor, tackling with a vengeance a small corner where rice had spilled, buggy rice, no less, so I needed to sweep tiny bugs along with the rice. I remember thinking I wanted to get the house to it's pristine origins, whatever that might be.
Glancing up I saw my children (now young adults) at about 4 or 5 years old.They were dressed in those wonderful blanket sleepers of the 80's. I remember how wonderful it was to hug their little selves and as I did so, felt deeply sad that they really weren't that little any more. I asked my mother standing in the room if they looked little to her, and she assured me that they were really grown up. It bothered me, in my dream state, that only I could see them as little children.
The house looked like a family getting ready for Christmas and there was a large glass walk-in cabinet in the living room filled to the brim with rotating Christmas ornaments. It resembled a samll version of Frankenmuth. My daughter was reaching up to touch one of the whirling ornaments. As she turned to smile at me, I woke up feeling like I'd been somewhere "other-earthly."
The feelings of that dream have stayed with me most of the day.

Happy 4th of July

Was it a storm or are we in the middle of a war zone. For a while it was hard to tell as flashes of white light grazed the side of our house and the air rumbled. A bit of both as the evenings "neighborly celebrations" that blissfully ignored warnings about amateurs setting off fireworks merged with scattered thunderstorms. We glanced above our roof and wondered if the next flare would render us "roof-less." I can see celebrating our country's independence, I encourage it. Flags flying from porches, rising at the sound of our National Anthem, attending a service given by the vets. But the risk of life and limb (not to mention the trip to emergency) escapes me. So with my family, I huddled inside, escaped the mosquitos, and commemorated our country's independence with national celebrations on cable tv.