Loose Leaf Notes

I’ve eaten a good meal and now I’m digesting it.
We’re often so busy living our lives that we don’t fully absorb our experiences until after they’ve taken place. Apart from being in some withdrawal from my time at the ocean, I’m just now beginning to see how my recent sabbatical to my hometown in Massachusetts is re-shaping me. Below are a few scattered memorable tidbits and highlights from those weeks that have been, up until now, unmentioned.
~ A shocking pink silk scarf purchased at a tapestry shop in Rockport.
~ A cup of fresh squeezed lemonade at a castle in the heat of the day that my sister and I were delighted with. We kept adding bottled water to the icy mix to make it last longer. At one point I said to her husband (while waiting for the straw to come back to my lips), “See how easy we are to please.”
~ Learning that my brother Jim’s son – who was 19 years old when Jim died 4 years ago – can write and that he’s writing a book of stories about his father. His rap songs are pretty good too.
~ A big suntan oiled hug from my brother Jimmy’s daughter, Valerie (who I like to call Valley Girl or Val Gal for short), upon meeting her at the beach. When I mentioned spraining my ankle to explain my slight limp, she and her girlfriend, who both played basketball in high school and college, commenced to show me how their ankles pop out of their joints. (Not exactly a highlight, but I’m still thinking about it.)
~ Cooking fresh fish from the market for my parents, hearing a new WWII story from my dad, and listening to my mother talk about her childhood on the ride to New Hampshire to visit her aunt.
~ Swinging at night on a “bed and breakfast” porch swing in the White Mountains of New Hampshire with my sister Sherry who tried to convince me she was wearing a lounging outfit, but I knew it was really her pajamas.
~ At the Robin Hood Faire, a couple of minstrels sang “The Star of County Down,” an Irish song with my namesake in it that always gives me shivers, especially since my husband sang it to me recently on the stage at Oddfella’s Cantina. … Near Banbridge town in A-County Down one morning last July, from a pouring rain came a sweet Colleen and she smiled as she passed me by…
~ My sister-in-law Jeanne’s invocation given at my brother Jim’s 4th annual memorial picnic held at the Blue Hill Weather Observatory. When it was over, I told her with wet eyes, “If you make us cry, it means you did a good job.”
~ Watching my youngest nephew Patrick’s excitement when he presented me with the crazy caps he had been saving to show me because he knew I would appreciate them, and I did (see photo below).
~ Chasing him up the weather observatory stairwell while calling him “Hurricane Patrick,” and then giddily watching the sunset from the observatory tower with family members.
~ My sister and I singing our hearts out to Joni Mitchell songs all the way home from Rockport (just like we did back in 1970, my first and only other time there).
~ The first time I got a wireless connection and downloaded “Loose Leaf” in Sherry and Nelson’s kitchen.
~ And Nelson’s favorite memory: When he and Sherry completely surprised me with a visit to the state park I was camping at. I was on my bike. (It was surprising that they found me at all.) They pulled their car up slowly behind me. I was thinking they were either going to shoot me or ask for directions. It was the look of surprise on my face and the sound of my scream when I turned and saw it was them that I think he got a kick out of.
I’m already planning next year’s trip.
(Pink scarf photo by Nelson.)