LOST---Dreams

     As usual, in the old house. My mother was concerned, she told me. She didn't know where Dorothy was,  hadn't seen her in a while. Dorothy was not a child by then, but young, still living at home. We searched all over for her, outside, on the familiar streets of our neighborhood, to no avail. I finally discovered her in the upstairs spare bedroom, lying on the bed there, fully dressed. She was still sleepy, but I told her Ma had been looking for her. Our mother was relieved to hear she'd  been located.

    The scene shifted, within the dream. Dave and I had been on a trip, maybe to NYC or possibly a journey to some other city. We were headed home and in order to reach the train, we had to walk through a very long tunnel-like structure. There were a lot of people taking the  same route so we had to proceed single-file almost. I was ahead of Dave and lost track of him but proceeded along the tunnel of would-be passengers to the very end. He was not behind me. I looked for him in the large terminal or waiting room but did not see him amid the throng  of strangers. I waited for a while and then decided to go back to where we had entered. In order to do that, to return to where we had started out, I had to exit at the far end and walk along the outside of the entry tunnel. That return trip seemed really long, much longer than I'd  remembered and it had a lot of obstacles which interfered with my route to get back where we'd started. I finally reached the entry point again when...

  Suddenly I had a real-life memory, which seemed to coincide with the dream, hadn't not quite woke up yet:

    Dave and I and the three kids had gone to New York.  I don't remember the reason for this particular trip, but remember Danny was about 3 years old, so the others 6 or 8 years older. The five of us were walking back to the train station, me holding Danny's hand and keeping an eye on the other two. We were walking more or less in a group, and though the street was very crowded in the end of work day hours, it was true then that there were very few children in that part of the city, and almost all were men clad in trench coats, tan or gray or black, so it was easy to keep track of the kids. 

   In order to reach the train station, we had to make two crossings, first straight across the street we were on, and then cross the street again to the left. The kids and I made the first crossing, and waited for Dave, who'd been right alongside,  to join us. He wasn't there. We thought maybe he had made the other crossing first. He wasn't at that corner either. So we waited, the four of us on the corner, a colorful sight to behold in the stream of men in drab coats. No Dave. We waited until it was almost time for our train to leave on its evening departure from NYC.  Figuring that Dave might have gone on to the train station, and because it was nearing our departure time, we finally decided to go to the station. I remember we went to the correct track, into Rensselaer, but M. wanted to be sure and went up to the booth and asked the announcer. She needed reassurance. So we waited there. It must have been about 30 or 40 minutes since we'd lost sight of him.  Dave had all our tickets so we couldn't have proceeded without him. In my mind, I thought he might have suddenly fallen or been kidnapped or arrested, but I kept these thoughts to myself. It was a time before instant phone communication, so I was at a loss as to what to do. We just waited as time ran out. At least some of us were slumped on the floor  outside our designated track, just a minute or so before boarding time, when Dave showed up, of course in possession of our return tickets. We had to rush to board our train. The only explanation Dave ever gave, then or when I'd ask him later, was that he'd lost sight of us and waited on the corner. Some mysteries will never be solved.

Troy ...and bullets

    M. invited me to Rachmaninoff's All Night Vigil  performance at Troy Music Hall at 3:00 p.m. The day was sunny and beautiful, and on the drive to Troy, I remarked how some area people are fearful of going to Troy, since the recent instances of shootings, several deadly. We enjoyed the performance, recognizing Julie and Colin from Valley Falls. When we left, about 2 hours later, the day was still bright and sunny. M. drove around the block to pick up sandwiches she'd ordered from The Whistling Kettle. We saw a number of police cars blocking off, I think,

Third Street. We later heard there were shots fired there. Haven't heard anything more, so presumably nobody died. In broad daylight, blocks from the police stationed near the  theatre. Bulletproof vests may be a standard item of choice, and not just for the police.

Cabin Fever thoughts

 Television---that's my connection with the outside world. After the horrible news, I resort to the old and familiar.

   I have to say that the latest Jeopardy contestants seem to have been chosen for being boring and non-photogenic.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.

  I watch Wheel of Fortune so I will be tuned in to Jeopardy. Pat Sajak is  witty and skillful at hosting, but he's starting to look old. I heard him say he wants to leave before people start asking, "What happened to him?" Last year or so, he was out sick, so maybe that's a factor. Vanna still looks quite lovely, but she is thin, and her legs look like straight  and narrow sticks as she walks across the stage in her high heels. I may have to keep the sound on mute though. I can't stand to hear the contestants' pronunciations  when they ask for the letter N. 

And Drew and a rather annoying woman contestant got in an argument today. She chose something wrong and didn't win the car. What I heard was her saying to Drew, "You told me to pick that." He said, "No, I didn't." She countered with "Yes you did." He said "No, I  did not."   (She later won the final showcase, including another car. We all despaired. 

And not done yet, now that I was hand-delivered the  newspaper, I read also-annoying Jo Page's column and fired off an email to her. The title of her column was "Perhaps invasion will raise an awareness of other atrocities."  I didn't say what came to mind when some novice reporter asked Pres. Biden if he thought the economy would be an issue in the coming debate. Biden said he was a stupid sonovabitch. But Lutheran Minister Jo Page's article was worse, filled as it was with self-righteous virtue-signaling. 

 I'm stymied by a certain section of my 1040-SR form, so instead of pursuing that, which haunted my dreams last night, 

I completed Wordle, Daily Word Puzzle (very like wordle, Jumble, Cryptoquip, (my favorite) and 4 crossword puzzles, I abstain from Word Sleuth.

   P.S. Jo Page responded to my email right away. She misspelled "fervently."

Last Man Standing----Apart

 I watch "The Price Is Right."  I admit it, though mostly I just go to that channel to avoid any of the others. When Drew Carey began as host quite a few years ago, he seemed the most awkward and uncomfortable host ever, and over the years he hasn't changed much. When the masking and social distancing began, I think he must have been relieved; he never appeared that comfortable with human contact, at least not close-up encounters. 

    I have to say he appears to possess more COVID-fear than even medical offices. When the lucky contestant approaches him on stage, he seems to react in horror at the prospect of them approaching and hugging them. He's quick to point to the designated spot for them, saying, "Stand over there, on the dollar sign."  When they spin the wheel, there is a similar area  for them to stand in. But sometimes in their excitement of the spin,  they move several steps in his direction. And he never fails  to backpedal the same distance away from them.

    (I'm reminded  of the words spoken by a medical student friend of my daughter, "I like everything about being a doctor except the sick people."

   

Ashes to Ashes

 

Went with M. to St Paul's this evening for Ash Wednesday distribution. This is a picture of my forehead so It's obvious I don't need the reminder that ends in dust to dust. And Father George was present, though not officiating in any visible way, as far as I can see. He has been assigned there. 

       But Lent reminds me of my young and holy years. The morning Lenten service was early at Our Lady of Good Counsel, as the priest had other Masses scheduled. It  was 6:30 as I recall, or maybe even 6 a.m. I wasn't used to waking up that early then, just rising in time for school which was later than today's start time, maybe 8:30 or even 9. I was devoted to attending every day. I would come downstairs where my mother would be fixing breakfast for my father, whose ride picked him up at 6:30. I'd look out the kitchen window, past Sproat's barn, and see the lighted stained glass window of the church. It seemed to be reaching out to me. I'd leave by the back door, and run up the hill behind our house, climb over  the fence, cross through the first cow field, and then slip through the wide gate between the cowbarn and the field, which was loosely tied to its post.   (Thinking back, Patsy Frisino probably left it looped that way to lessen the stress of numerous kids climbing over it.)  Then run along  the path past the pond on the right and to the last gate, which was usually left open. Almost there, the church was just a short distance away. 

   There were never very many people in the church on those mornings:  men on their way to work, dressed in their work clothes, unusual to see in those days when everyone dressed up for church; women whose families were grown, and me, the holy youngster. Nobody noticed or spoke much. If you remember we were told then that the priest was not to be engaged in conversation while he was in possession of the host. The quietness of it all seemed to heighten the holiness. The Mass would be not very long; everybody had things to do later on. 

    I would run back home the same way I got there. My mother would be there of course, in the kitchen getting ready for the day. The other kids were still upstairs in bed; it was too early to get ready for school then. My mother never watched television during the day, but this was special. I would turn the TV on to watch Dave Garroway on the Today Show. He ended every show by reading from the poem, "The world stands out on either side, No wider than the heart is wide."  That seemed to fit right in with the church service and the spirit of Lent. Holiness  pervaded all.  

  Lent today is different. But I do follow the same "sacrifice" that I started when I  was 7 years old.  I do not eat candy during Lent, not even on Sundays!

No right way

  I read about the man who was the victim of a hit and run accident in Glens Falls.  A while ago, probably 10 or so years, I was on the job, driving  a woman to an office in Glens Falls, an area I was not that familiar with. Wanting reassurance that  we were heading in the right direction on entering the city, I stopped at a gas station to confirm my directions. The attendant said yes, just a short distance ahead, but he warned that the way the road had been constructed that there was no way to be in the correct lane when making the right turn to our destination. So do this, he said, and we did, and we got there safely. But the path was a labyrinth.

Don't tell. Don't ask.

    During my last career venture, I visited a family in one of the more remote settlements. The family's home was across the road from a very modestly equipped general store. One day, the police were at the store investigating the break-in which had occurred the night before. A quantity of beer was stolen. I asked the lady of the house if the police had asked her family if they had seen anything. Heck, no, was her answer. The owner of the store thinks we're the ones who broke in and stole his beer.