Missed Opportunities

It seems the internet has finally caught up with real life. It now knows what kind of clothes you like, your favorite style of music, and what your favorite literature genre is. And on almost  every website you go to, you see the ads that prove your computer knows you better than you know yourself. Buy this shirt, it seems to yell, because you bought one just like it last month, and from the same seller. Or, download this book because it's just like the last one you read. And, buy this lawn ornament because it's the same one you bought last year, and from the same retailer. Somehow, "they" know whatever it was you bought last year didn't make it to this year.

At first I thought this was a really nice feature of being on the internet. I didn't have to search too hard for stuff I liked. But the more I thought about it, the less I liked it. How would I ever know what else was out there if I didn't look? Maybe there was a shirt I would like better; or a different style of music that would be interesting and  fascinating. Or a different type of literature that I would enjoy.

But, no, how could there be? The internet always directed me to what I liked. I never had to look at opposing political views, or non-fiction books about Asia, or anything to do with economics. All I had to do was click on the ad in front of me. But then I thought, how can you learn anything new if you just stay with what you are used to?

Maybe I got tired of not hearing about new ideas, of not learning new things. Maybe joining a book club was my first act of rebellion against being stagnant. I hope there's more to come.

Mom's Banjo

Mom's banjo has been around as long as I can remember. When she moved into her condo, the banjo came home with me. Since then, it has floated between the living room wall, the attic, and the office, which used to be my son's bedroom.

All I know about the banjo is that it is a B&D Symphonie Silver Bell, and it is heavy. The B&D stands for Bacon & Day; and Symphonie is spelled that way right on the banjo. My grandfather was somehow able to get this beautiful banjo for mom in the 1930s, in the heart of the Great Depression. That she managed to hang onto it for all those years seems unlikely, but she did. Now it is mine.

Last Christmas, Adam and Beth gave me the gift of banjo lessons. I had been making noises for several years that mom's banjo needed to be played, so they thought I should learn. I took my first lesson about six weeks ago, and have now been through three hours of frustration, laughter, anxiety, and pain. Usually the frustration wins out. How long will I keep up with the lessons? I haven't the foggiest. I was ready to quit after the second lesson, but then I remembered why I wanted to take the lessons in the first place. This banjo needs to be played; and I need something that takes me out of my comfort zone.

I now know two chords, the C chord and the G7 chord. Actually, I know three because I peeked ahead in the lesson book at the F chord, but don't tell Andre.) I have not yet figured out where my fingers go on the frets or strings (the banjo is a four string tenor banjo), or how to slide them up and down the strings, or what frets equal what notes.
Until my next lesson, in two weeks, I will be practicing the chromatic scale on all the strings. So if you happen to be in my neighborhood and hear what could be an animal in distress, please don't get too upset. I will just be me, practicing.

Wish me luck.

Chaos in the Home

Chaos reigned at my house yesterday, and I loved it!

My granddaughter, Heather, and her two sons came over in the morning to make nisu. Nisu is the old name for the Finnish sweet biscuit now called pulla; and I have been making it once or twice a year, using my Mumma's recipe, since I was a teenager. While Heather and I were working, Den was hauling boxes of Christmas decorations down from the attic, and trying to keep an eye on Peyton, who had to make sure everything in the house was in exactly the same place as the last time he visited, which was about a week earlier.

Heather put on Christmas music while we worked; we needed to get in the Christmas spirit. Just as we finished kneading the dough and putting it to rise for the first time, my daughter-in-law Beth came in. She and Heather, with Peyton's sporadic help, decorated the tree and managed to make the house a bit more festive.

Heather and I then added the eggs to the nisu dough, more flour, and kneaded well; and put it to rise, once more, behind the wood burner. Next, Peyton, Landon, and I decided there was just time for a quick swim before the nisu needed to be braided and put in the pans. Actually, Peyton decided and I just went along to hold Landon. Soon Landon and I were done in the pool, so we dried off and got dressed. Peyton stayed in the pool a while longer, with Paappa on guard. 

Unfortunately, Peyton didn't stay in the pool long enough; he had to help with the nisu dough braiding, which took no time at all. After rising for the third time, the nisu was ready to bake. By now, son Adam had shown up, bearing takeout salad and sandwiches. Assorted drinks - coffee, milk, and water - were gotten, and butter taken out of the refrigerator. 

With Heather baking pan after pan of nisu, and the rest of us trying to find room in our small house for drinks, toys, dogs, plates, babies, and napkins, we were ready for fresh, hot biscuit. The girls had done a great job; it was delicious!

Somehow, we had managed to get everything done. The dogs were fed, Landon had a nice long nap, Peyton played and worked as hard as only a three-year-old can, the tree and house got decorated, everyone got fed, and there was nisu for everyone for Christmas. What a wonderful day! Thank you all.

Depressing Day

This is one of those days that are depressing and heavy. Please don't ask me why, I couldn't give you an answer. I thought I just wanted to go back to bed and sleep, but even that is too hard right now. Instead, I swept the floors, did some laundry, cleaned out the kitchen sink, did dishes, and now I am going to iron.

Yes, you saw that right—I am going to iron. I know several women who do not even own an iron, much less use one. But I iron. I iron shirts, slacks, shorts, blouses, tablecloths, napkins, and anything else that could possibly need to be ironed. My usual time to iron is Monday evening, after dinner, while listening to WCSB (a college radio station) play the blues. There is no way you can remain down in the dumps while listening to the blues. Most of the music has such an upbeat tempo that you just want to move your feet, and your body. Think John Hammond or John Lee Hooker. But that's neither here nor there right now.

Right now I am just going to iron and feel sorry for myself. I know the weather here (cold, rainy, gray, windy) has a lot to do with the mood I'm in, but it doesn't matter. I can't talk myself up, so I may just as well iron. At least I'll accomplish something.

Music

It is a beautiful, if breezy, day, about 70 degrees outside. I am listening to Elvis Presley at his "Romantic Best" as I try to get the house straightened and some chores done. Listening to these old songs, I can't help but think how lucky we were to have grown up when we did. Remember Teen Club? Every Wednesday we danced and socialized, flirted and just had a good time with our friends. I do believe that the music was simply the best.


At that time, I had never heard of the blues; now I know this was the basis for rock and roll (also jazz). What great music! Listening to it can't help but bring a smile to your face, or at least to mine. If you've never heard Roy Buchanen, John Lee Hooker, or John Hammond (wow!), I urge you to give them a listen. Eric Clapton, the Rolling Stones, and even the Beatles all had their roots in this early juke joint music. Cleveland's own Robert Jr. Lockwood (died last year at age 90+) was stepson to the great Robert Johnson of Crossroads fame. Lockwood sure knew how to play the 12-string guitar, taught by Robert Johnson. We were fortunate enough to hear him live several times, and even bought him a drink or two. So if you've never listened to this music, please give it a try. It can really play to and on your moods.

How did I get from being a teen and teen club to the blues? I'm not sure -- just followed my thoughts. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that, growing up, we sure did have some good music which created some good times even while we were trying to go from awkward teens to sophisticated adults.