WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Well, unfortunately the groceries just don’t magically appear in my fridge and on my pantry shelves, so grocery shopping had to be factored into my Father’s Day agenda. I left early as I had many items and I was hoping to beat the heat and avoid the crowd of shoppers in case they were picking up last-minute treats or gifts for Dad.

Now, I could have gone to Meijer yesterday, but I weighed my options – more people would be shopping Saturday for the big BBQ and such.  Logic told me fewer people would be picking up parakeets, ferrets or guinea pigs for Dad at Petco – so I headed to Petco Saturday.

Evidently, everyone else followed the same logic … Meijer was super busy this morning. Some folks were holding onto small bouquets of flowers, or clutching greeting cards, while others were tossing ribs and brats into their shopping cart in the meat aisle.  The deli area was hopping with people waiting on cold salads and lunchmeat.

Then, there was the bakery – folks were queued up and Father’s Day cakes were flying out the door. They had cakes shaped like a burger, or even a box of popcorn, but most were the usual sheet cakes with “Happy Father’s Day” emblazoned across it with a Dad-type doodad.

Everyone seemed happy with the cake that was tailor made for their special Dad, unlike that lady at Kroger in Bloomfield Township recently. You’ll recall she ordered a Superman versus Batman cake and didn’t like the decorating job. I guess you could say that she was a little frosted off, so she decided to take matters into her own hands and went behind the counter to correct the problem.  After bakery department employees said  “no can do”, she grabbed the cake and threw it to the ground and stomped on it.  Well, if that don’t take the cake!

That little episode made me recall a cake we ordered for my grandmother’s 80^th birthday.  I went to the bakery to pick it up, and instead of the words “Happy Birthday Nanny”, it had “Happy Birthday Nancy” instead.  How do you fix that faux pas – it’s not easy to make the letter “c” into an “n”, so the result was an extra high mound of frosting and a rather smear-y looking “Nanny” but that worked and the cake was enjoyed by all.  Who would even notice with all the ice cream on it anyway?

Today, I managed to rack up an easy 3 ½ miles on the pedometer from running around the store and schlepping in groceries . So, I guess you could say that my trek was a cakewalk.

Hopefully you spent some quality time with your Dad personally, or maybe reflected on some special memories, or cherished a few hours with your own children – at any rate, I hope your day was special.

If you did all of the above, well that’s just the icing on the cake.

Happy Father’s Day!

[Image by Esudroff from Pixabay]

Some days are just “for the birds” … today was one of them.

I hustled out of the house earlier than usual and the walk through the neighborhoods was extraordinarily quiet today.

I’ve wanted to write about this little birdhouse, pictured above, for a while now. It seems to blend right into the leafy branches of the tree.  You could pass right by without noticing … that is, unless the baby birdies are up and at ‘em, making petite cheeps as they wait for Mama to feed them breakfast.

So, I’ve gotten into the habit of occasionally meandering by the birdhouse on the last leg of my walk, hoping for a photo op of one or more of its inhabitants peeking out the “pie hole” or sitting on the perch. No luck though.  I don’t think the parents are empty nesters yet as I still hear the faint cheeps and peeps coming from the young ‘uns.

After this morning’s four-mile walk, I headed in the car to Petco in Allen Park to get supplies for my own little birdie, Buddy. There was no traffic on Outer Drive, but, just as I neared Independence Marketplace, there was a cluster of cars stopped and blocking two of the three lanes.  Luckily, I was already in the right-hand lane for the mall, and, as I inched forward, I discovered the reason for the traffic snarl.  There were multiple families of Canada Geese being shepherded across the street from a grassy area over to the median by one huge goose.  “The Goose in Charge” was taking its time, waddling along, looking this way and that, without a care in the world.  A few more full-sized geese were behind him and a passel of youngsters tagged along obediently.  Those goslings are no longer the fuzzy-and-feathered darlings that we might have oohed and ahhed over just a few weeks ago.  Now they are tall, with slender bodies that look like boats and sporting extra-long legs and over-sized web feet.  I was happy to see that all the drivers were patient and not a horn was honked.  It sure was good for a giggle, but good thing the gaggle didn’t try this trick at 8:45 a.m. on a weekday.

At Petco, I passed by a display of baby parrots – conures to be precise. A huge sign said “come interact with us”, so I approached the enclosed area and rapped lightly on the glass with my knuckles.  One bright-green conure was sitting in a corner, staring at the back wall of the cage.  I swear all he needed was a dunce cap.  His counterpart, however, was named José, and he had a long tail that was the colors of the rainbow.  This playful parrot hopped along the perch and came right over to get up close and personal with me.  Next, he cocked his head and raised one foot high off the perch.  I took that as a “hello”, so I rapped my knuckles on the glass again.  He reciprocated by doing the head tilt once more, then abruptly turned his back on me.  I mused that, if he could lose the attitude, he might have been a great accessory and perfect partner to perch on someone’s shoulder during a mix-and-mingle with all of the other “Parrot Heads” at the Jimmy Buffett concert tonight.

So much for interacting with this feathered prima donna. Miffed that my looks were so perplexing to José, I told him “adios” and flew the coop.

I saw zero school busses on my journey this morning, so that led me to believe that school is officially out for Summer. I’ll bet all the kids had the same enthusiasm that singer Alice Cooper did when “School’s Out” was released back in ’72.  That song was so popular and I remember we all gave a collective cheer when the last school bell rang – yeah!

“No more pencils, no more books No more teacher’s dirty looks. Out for Summer, out till Fall We might not go back at all.”

Hmmmm – I wonder how long before those kids are bored?

Since I often stroll on Emmons Boulevard, I never fail to check out this one particular home which always gives me cause to pause. I’ve written about this house and family several times, notably about the tree house the father built.  The front of the house is full of flowers, a lot of creativity and down home “folksiness” of which I’ve got several images already tucked away and ready to use during the course of the Summer.

This vintage desk, pictured above, was on display in the side yard. It got me wondering just how young and small WE were to fit into such an uncomfortable-looking desk?   No wonder we squirmed around so much while we learned the three Rs; we had barely any space to rest one elbow and take notes.  It was hard and splintery where we sat our bum, while underneath that seat we stuck our gum.

It was nice to get back on track and walk again this morning. Technically, I guess I could have pounded the pavement a bit yesterday, but it was still damp and foggy and the sky was an ugly dark gray color.  But, all was right with the world this morning – a brilliant sun and lower humidity which was perfect for walking.  That is, if you don’t mind poplar tree fuzz flying all over the place.  Those cottony fibers were a’flyin’ this morning as I walked through Wyandotte.  There are so many poplar trees that the accumulated fibers often glom together and stick onto the grass.  At a glance they look like snow.  My hair was full of poplar fuzz by the time I got home.  That kind of white hair, I’m 100% okay with.

I’ve really enjoyed that cool and refreshing air the last few days … today I even wore a coat. I took a different route this morning and watched a young man blowing kisses to his daughter at the school bus stop just as that big ol’ yellow bus was drawing near.  She was blowing kisses back to him and waving goodbye.  That simple act made me wonder how many more days for that ritual?  I’m guessing this is probably the last week for school to be in session for everyone.

Last week was Lincoln Park High School’s graduation. I noticed it in the online paper or on Facebook, but I neither saw, nor heard, any graduates zipping around with decorated cars and horns blaring.  Maybe these days they just update their Facebook status or Tweet a picture in cap and gown, with the tassel appropriately flipped to the opposite side,  and call it done?

It was forty years ago this week since I graduated with my Associates degree from Henry Ford Community College, which has recently rebranded itself as simply “Henry Ford College” – the picture above was the night I graduated and our little celebration at home. Just like the night of my high school graduation, it was a sticky-hot evening and I was similarly wearing a royal blue gown and mortarboard, but it was a much smaller gathering … after all, we had 613 grads in our high school class.  The guest speaker at HFCC graduation was the Honorable Justin Ravitz, at that time, a controversial sitting judge from Detroit Recorders Court.  His spiel was pretty animated and he ticked off a few of the higher ups at the college, though I can’t for the life of me remember the controversial topic he spoke of.  I enjoyed my time at HFCC because high school had been very clique-y and one had to move in certain circles to write on the school newspaper, participate in student government, or be involved with fun extracurricular activities.  Attending HFCC gave me that opportunity to do those things.  I was on the staff of “The Ford Estate” newspaper and authored the student handbook.  I also was involved with student government and  part of a group of six students that spent a week in New York representing the country of Egypt at the National Model United Nations Conference.

Wow – forty years! Where did the time go?  It seems as if it rolled on by, yet sometimes it feels like just yesterday.  Seeing that little girl at the bus stop somehow made me feel old … that might have been me some 55 years ago.

Time is fleeting. It is Flag Day and about half of June is done already … every morning on the radio they say how many days are left in the year – 200 as of today.  I’m just shy of the 300-miles-walked marker due to the weather, some errands and being busy at work which caused me to miss a few forays … I hate that.  The upcoming stormy weather will similarly delete the next day or two from my walking agenda, yet I remain hopeful I’ll reach that long haul of 350 miles by the long holiday.  Is it doable?  Just stay tuned!

As I write this post, the A/C is going non-stop on this first 90 plus degree day. It was already 75 degrees this morning when I left on a walk, albeit a short one.

I was happy to see the severe weather didn’t materialize and burst the carbonated bubbles of everyone gathered down at the Detroit Historical Museum to break a record of the most people drinking pop at one time. It wasn’t just any old pop either, but Vernors, that gingery-tasting cream soda that celebrates its 150^th anniversary today.

Vernors was always the favorite ingredient for Boston Coolers, and when you left it out in a glass and it got “flat”, it was a cure for whatever ails you, especially a kid’s tummy ache. I never tasted Vernors ‘til we moved here in 1966.  Back in Canada we had Canada Dry Ginger Ale and it had the same “bite” to it, and the carbonated bubbles that went up your nose and turned the big blob of ice cream into a frothy cap that threatened to spill over the top of the glass.

I loved Boston Coolers and we’d have them on a hot Summer’s night or sometimes if we out on a Sunday drive in the car and stopped somewhere for a cold drink. I remember when I was a kid that  I’d be sucking noisily on my straw and manipulating around the dregs of that delicious drink, much like a mini Hoover vacuum, when my mom would look at me and sternly say “a lady doesn’t slurp her drink Linda” … I continued to do it, just very quietly, but heck – that was no fun.

I didn’t think about that “slurpfest” for many years until Mom and I were running around in the car doing errands on a hot Summer night maybe twenty year ago. We stopped at Wendy’s and got a Frosty drink and headed down to Bishop Park in Wyandotte to people watch and check out the long freighters and sleek pleasure boats.

To enjoy that creamy and cold ice cream Frosty, you really need to have about an hour to get it semi-defrosted and “slurpable” … we had large ones, and even the rolled-down car windows and hot evening didn’t seem to melt them much. It was getting dark so we headed for home.  Suddenly, there was no mistaking that sad sound of a mangled straw no longer able to suck up that creamy, half-frozen goodness from the bottom of the cup.  All of a sudden, there was a huge slurp and a gurgling sound – it was done.  I turned to Mom and remarked “a lady doesn’t slurp her drink Mom” and she peered at me over her glasses which had slipped down her nose from sweating and replied “touché”.

I’ll bet there was a whole lotta slurpin’ going as the crowd was milling about, mingling with the Vernors Gnome and toasting 150 years of ginger cream soda.

I’ve learned a lot about Muhammad Ali since his passing, and, I have found myself wondering, on more than one occasion, where I was during all the actual events in the audio clips and video snippets that have memorialized him these past few days. Was I busy with school, work, life – how did I miss the importance of this man, besides his boxing prowess?  I heard that he was the most-recognizable person in the world.  Wow!  I watched a moving video where Ali awkwardly lit the torch at the 1986 Olympics while his other hand, seemingly with a mind of its own, shook with tremors from Parkinson’s Disease.  That particular video spotlighted President Clinton watching the stage at that moment, face turned upward, just as spellbound as the multitude of athletes and onlookers in the crowd.  I now know that Ali was much more than just a boxer and I apologize for my faux pas and am happy social media supplemented what I DID know about “The Greatest”.  I had, of course, heard the quote that I used for the title of today’s blog many times before.

It was a little too cold this morning for seeing any butterflies or bees. Those beautiful butterflies disappear until they may alight, ever so delicately, to sun themselves.  When I had my butterfly garden, I learned a lot about these beautiful creatures and I used to cater to them to cajole them to visit my yard.  I made sand puddle dishes for them to drink and flat rocks where they might sit in the sun, plus I placed ornate butterfly houses where they could slide through the skinny slots to tuck themselves away until it was warm enough for them to float through the air to the butterfly bushes I planted for them.  As to the bees, I think they are still dormant as I’ve not seen any of them making a beeline to what flowers are already out and flourishing – the peonies are beautiful and I am surprised how many roses and clematis I have in the yard, but no bees busying themselves deep in the blooms.  These photos are from my backyard when butterflies and bees visited more often.

Today I saw a happy hummingbird hovering around one of the many feeders that Marge sets out for them. Its tiny wings were whirring at seemingly the speed of sound as it honed in closer and closer to sip that sweet nectar.  I watched, fascinated, then when it was done, in the blink of an eye, it blitzed over to the next feeder to sample that treat as well.

It sure was nippy this morning, and I’d have been happy to extend my journey longer … nothing like a cool and crisp trek the first week in June, but it was just a wee walk for me as I had the tech coming to do the air conditioning check. I was pretty sure that Flame would cancel the appointment, given the cold temps, but we hiked the furnace up pretty high, then switched to the A/C and dropped the temps to the 60s so he could check out the unit.  You could hang meat in here by the time he was done, and, all the while, Buddy, my canary, who was tucked away in his room snoozing under his big blankets, was alternately sweating and freezing, but he didn’t complain – at least I didn’t hear him grumbling anyway.

But, I’m lovin’ this cooler weather. I felt especially energized Tuesday morning.  I turned on the water at the outside spigot, after attaching the hose and hose reel to spray down the A/C from all the clingy, cottony poplar tree fibers.  The hose reel self-destructed before my very eyes.  The reel collapsed, and icy-cold water sprayed up like Old Faithful.  After getting soaking wet, that kind of killed the walk, especially since the temps were in the low 50s.  Brrrrrr.

Back to Summerlike temps next week – sigh.

I often long to live in an earlier time – an era of simplicity would suit me just fine.

Just today, the news reported that Elon Musk believes SpaceX might be able to land humans on the planet Mars nine years from now. I already feel like Earth moves too fast for me sometimes, so why would I want to go to Mars?

I am content to just escape for a brief respite … two or three or four miles away suits me fine. A little sun and blue sky makes me even happier; a few birdies tweeting and I’m ecstatic.

My friend Marge has a hummingbird feeder outside her living room window. She can perch in her comfy chair next to a  lamp that has lilacs on it and the hummingbirds, in honing in to sip the sweet nectar at the feeder, see the lilac lamp and keep circling around, trying to come in and check it out.  Marge has a window on the world with only a pane of glass separating her from nature.

Sometimes that’s all you need … a little nature infused into your day to break up the routine.

It’s surprising how quickly nature can banish the ever-present doom and gloom of the day, the endless kerfuffle of the presidential race and even life’s many little conundrums.

Computers are one such conundrum.

The frustrations of the computer are ever-increasing – Windows in particular. It makes me wish we all weren’t so dependent on computers, and, often I long to live in an era of the quill pen, a bottle of ink and parchment paper.

After all, just how many issues can there be with a quill pen, except maybe the nib breaks or the bottle of ink dries up?

When I was a child, I’d watch my mom carefully write out letters and Christmas cards in cursive, frequently blotting the nib of her fountain pen so no unsightly blobs were on the paper. Her slanted writing had no flourishes or squiggles, but she had mastered that task in navy ink on fine paper.

But, in today’s age, it is not so easy anymore and we depend on our computers way too much.

Take my work computer … no really, I mean take it with you because it is nothing but problems.

And internet – it’s up, it’s down. It’s fickle and often unreliable.

Then there’s Windows 10 – please don’t get me started on that topic. Foisting it upon me, free or otherwise, will not make me like it anymore.

So, I headed out this morning – fed up and needing to put some distance between the computer keyboard and screen and me. I needed a distraction from a machine, which at least has the ability to reboot itself to keep humming along.

I needed that reboot too.

So, I decided going down to the River was my way of rebooting myself.

I wended my way through Wyandotte, savoring the shady areas as it was a humid and warmish morning, picking my way across the railroad tracks, and stepping silently as I was sharing the pavement with mounds of maple seeds. Once I reached Biddle Avenue and saw the sparkling water of the Detroit River and the gulls gliding through the brilliant blue sky, suddenly everything was all right with the world once again.  It was a brief nirvana to get me motivated to take on the day.  Yup, those people floating along in their big cabin cruisers or sailboats had nothing on me today.

I stayed a spell, and took a few pictures, then started for home, albeit reluctantly.

I leave you with a thought on this Thursday, which feels like a Wednesday … “The sky is the daily bread of the eyes.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

[Image by Gellinger from Pixabay]

It was beautiful this morning when I set out – a tad cooler than the past few days. I set my sights on the Detroit River and marina area and I fulfilled that goal.  The marina was bustling with activity and the seagulls must have expert eyesight, as they were honing in on anyone that was carrying a fast food bag.  Maybe they also have a keen sense of smell?

I made that round trip, and halfway through my journey, I paused at the footbridge to take some pictures for a future blog post. My final pit stop was Memorial Park.  The pictures featured above are from an earlier foray to that park, and I wanted to share them with you today.

I added about 4 ½ miles to my tally on what turned out to be a gorgeous and very warm holiday weekend.

Today I stopped at Memorial Park to pause in the pavilion area to remember the many service personnel who have died defending our country. Even though I am not an American citizen, having lived here for nearly 50 years, I consider myself one of you.  The commemorative flags from last week’s parade were still in place and flapping in the breeze.  It is just a small, but fitting, tribute to those in our City who have died.  Missing, however, was the trio of wreaths which are usually laid at the memorial, each wreath signifying war dead from WW II, Korea and Vietnam.

This holiday, however, I wanted to acknowledge the last two veterans to be memorialized in the park’s pavilion area.

On Veteran’s Day 2013 I wrote about Sergeant Craig S. Frank, who is one of 31 service personnel in Michigan who have been honored with a Fallen Heroes Statue. Sgt. Frank was a member of the Army National Guard and lost his life on July 17, 2004 after a RPG struck him from behind during Operation Iraqi Freedom.   Here is the link to this prior post: https://lindaschaubblog.net/2013/11/11/remembering-and-honoring-our-vets/

You cannot help but notice the addition of Peter J. Buffa’s name to Lincoln Park’s Korean War Memorial. That update sticks out like a sore thumb on the tarnished brass plaque that has been in place for decades.  I’ve pondered over that addition long enough, then curiosity got the better of me, so  I researched and discovered a story from our City’s Historical Society that stated the Lincoln Park’s Korean War Memorial was re-dedicated in May of 2014 when soldier Peter J. Buffa, Jr.’s name was added to the monument.  Private First Class Peter J. Buffa, Jr. was listed as missing in action on July 7, 1953 during intense action on Pork Chop Hill, just days from a formal peace agreement.  The U.S. Army officially declared PFC Buffa dead a year later on July 8, 1954.  His name was not added to the Lincoln Park Korean War Memorial for 60 years thereafter.  He graduated from Lincoln Park High School in 1949 and played football during his tenure there.  He is memorialized at the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, ‘The Punchbowl’, at Honolulu.

I leave you with this thought on Memorial Day 2016…

“The debt we owe our fallen heroes is one we can never truly repay.  But our responsibility to remember is something we can live up to every day of the year.”  ~President Obama’s Weekly Address 05/28/16 “Remembering Our Fallen Heroes”

It was another scorcher this morning, even though I left early when it would supposedly be cool outside. I was already sweating not even a block from home, thanks to the 69 degree temperature and high humidity.  I decided to walk down to the river and try to get a few pictures at the marina.

As I stole through the sleepy neighborhoods, it was quiet, save for the occasional breeze which stirred wind chimes and made some melodic music, but, that breeze was not discernible enough to keep Old Glory from hanging limply on holders and flagpoles. Homes boasted their red-white-and-blue swag along fences and facades.

A sure sign that the warmer weather has arrived, is the increased sidewalk art. I studied the many cement panes with drawings and squiggles and decided I liked these “girlfriends” pictured above the best.

The closer I got to the river, the warmer it got, especially those lapses between the welcome shade from the big trees on the Boulevard. Something that was not welcome, however, was the smell of fish, as it wafted from the Detroit River as I wended my way through Wyandotte.  Well PU!  Remember we used that expression back when we were kids, whenever something smelled horrible?  It got worse as I neared the water, so I made an about face and headed for home.

I watched a woman pull into her driveway and she flipped open her car trunk lid and it had a cache of picnic goodies inside. Munchies galore peeked out over Meijer bags, as did bottles of Pepsi, packages of hamburger buns and disposable cups.  A bag of charcoal briquettes was propped up in the corner of the trunk as well.  There will be BBQ doin’s at that house over the weekend.  Maybe today for National Hamburger Day?  For many, it is the first time for grilling this year and it will be a smokin’ hot weekend to do so with friends and family.  I heard a piece on the radio that there is a resurgence in using charcoal briquettes instead of propane gas, as that method of cooking guarantees tastier grilled food.  Growing up we had a kettle grill in the backyard and a Hibachi to use at picnics.  It seemed to take forever for the food to get cooked and we’d nibble on cold salads and munchies until our dinner was ready to eat.  Now you fire up the propane grill in minutes and can even use a smartphone app to ensure grilling perfection.  I wonder who is the official grillmeister in the family these days – the man or the woman? Or do they share responsibilities for the outside cooking?  It used to be the dad’s domain – so you ladies – if you’re the grillmeister of the family, well … you go grill, er … girl.

I was happy to be home to cool off after my four-mile venture, and, yes you can call me a spoil sport, or maybe my moniker should be malcontent, but I am already looking forward to next week’s more moderate temps.