This has really been a long week which has truly made me weary. When I set out for a walk this morning, I was glad to escape the house and the computer screen, albeit just for a little while – a chance to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. Fresh air indeed! The wind was whipping around out there at nearly 25 mph and I felt like a tumbleweed as I strolled along Fort Street … and a cold tumbleweed at that.
It seems I have yet to catch up with the one day I lost when there was no power. I had an agenda of my own inside the house for that Saturday, none of which was accomplished, and it seems I have been scrambling around to catch up ever since. I have been very busy at work and was trying to get time-sensitive documents done before the advent of yesterday’s predicted bad weather. Bad weather makes me nervous anyway, and needing to churn out work with a storm looming had me staying home hunched over the laptop and foregoing several walks. The storms never materialized because it was cloudy and rainy all day, but that’s okay with me. The various meteorologists started previewing dire weather conditions as early as Sunday, so when I went to the store, I was reluctant to get many groceries needing refrigeration since I lost everything in the fridge and freezer from Friday’s power outage. Gone were my collection of preserves, one of the indulgences I allow myself now that I no longer eat sweets. The other indulgence is the rustic bread I buy for Buddy and I to share, and that, too, was lost as that bread is baked with no preservatives and it thawed quickly in the freezer. So Buddy and I have lived on bagels the past five days. I wasn’t going to put any more in the fridge than necessary, so I had a bottle of marshmallow cream that I bought on a whim to slather on peanut butter with my toast. It stays in the cupboard since it doesn’t need refrigeration. So, I’ve eaten more sugar in five days than the past five years.
It is nice to get on a nostalgia kick every once in awhile. Back in the 60s, we kids used to eat Fluffernutter sandwiches all the time. I have always loved peanut butter, and it used to bug my mom when I’d have a hankering for some and I’d dip my spoon into the jar, draw it back out and enjoy a big mouthful. I guess that bad habit is akin to opening the fridge door and drinking from the milk carton. But, back to Fluffernutters … when I was growing up, it was a big treat to have a Fluffernutter sandwich. This was circa the mid-60s, long before people really watched their sugar intake. In fact the thought of all that gooey, sweet creamy marshmallow might either give you a sugar rush, or make you feel ill. But all of us kids ate them and they even had a commercial called “The Fluffernutter Song” … http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6gljDcLrvQ&feature=related
Well, that video might bring back a few memories, but enjoying that treat wasn’t as easy as portrayed in the commercial. I usually made my Fluffernutters on toast, not bread, and the marshmallow cream had to be taken out of the jar with a hot spoon. I’d soak my spoon in my mom’s coffee (or my own when I indulged after I was “grown up”) and then slip it into the marshmallow cream. Otherwise, you had to wrangle that spoon around in the marshmallow cream which was a real messy sort of treat. You took your hot toast, spread it generously with peanut butter then slapped on the ooey-gooey Fluff. Mmmmm.
Remembering youthful good times and treats is always memorable – even those fleeting memories, like the man who ran the pony rides at the nearby carnival who walked one of his ponies around Sandmere Place, our cul-de-sac in Oakville, on a sunny Saturday afternoon. He was quite the crafty carnie because he figured all the neighborhood kids would want a ride and all their parents would drag out their cameras and pay him to take pictures. Smart man.
It’s good to take a look back sometimes to get you grounded, even when you dredge up the sad events and memories. This morning and evening I listened to retrospectives which replayed some of the horrors that took place thirteen years ago today. I heard a reference to the young man in the red bandana and his significance on 9/11. I’d never heard the story of that hero who rescued a dozen people in the World Trade Center, yet lost his own life when the South Tower fell. I just watched a video of Welles Crowther’s life and his heroic efforts. Just a little boy who grew up emulating his father and living life to the fullest, with his trusty bandana always within reaching distance. Even at the end. In the video, I watched his father crying for the loss of his only son, whom he said was also his best friend, and it caused me to sniffle and mist up when I saw him unabashedly dabbing at his eyes to wipe away his tears. I’m sharing the story and video in case you, like me, never heard of this brave young man: http://www.boston.com/sports/colleges/2014/09/11/boston-college-honor-welles-crowther-the-man-the-red-bandana/lL30e6HJBhBmH9sgOzxYPJ/story.html
We can return to a simpler time in our minds and hearts, but admittedly, we are all just a little less carefree today than before that fateful day.