Slow Down for Decadence

I slowed down for the two-way stop at Railroad and Portland Street. There was a Mack Truck in front of me with a billboard size sign on the back exhorting me to Slow Down for Decadence along with the image of a butter cookie. It was not just any butter cookie. It had the image of a chocolate soldier. In our family, we call these cookies Delichose. It made me smile and then laugh. It made me think about my family and our silly rituals and favorite foods. I Googled the ad and was not able to find it. Is it possible that it only exists in my imagination? I watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty this weekend and perhaps, the idea of imagining adventures influenced this vision. It was a chocolate colored truck. I promise you, it was a delight. A Delichose delight.

On another note, I have been practicing Carina Barana. It was written by Carl Orff in the late 1930’s. He was inspired by Medieval poems which promote the gritty side of life. You know Game of Thrones style. Your basic nightmare involving sex, violence and annihilation. Clearly, the brown shirts of the 30’s in Germany had a profound influence on this musician.

I sit at our electric piano with my computer and sing along with the Los Angeles Philharmonic Symphony. It helps to pound out the notes in my second soprano part. It’s stirring music. Better not to think about the meaning of the lyrics.  I imagine the music accompanying the spring thaw that is coming soon to our area. Water will pool in deep mud grooves. The trees will green up. People and animals will emerge from their winter habitats. O Fortuna!

 

 

 

I Didn’t Know There Was a Dress Code

My mother’s new friend, age 85, was told by a fellow resident at the House “we don’t dress like that here.” Mom’s friend is a sharp dresser. She wears bright colors and form-fitting outfits. Her winter coat is a leopard print. In other words, when you reach a certain age you are not supposed to call attention to yourself. No laughing, no carousing, and please no conspicuous clothing.

When I turn 80, I plan to wear extremely bright and shiny clothing and hope to be laughing most of the time.  That will be my dress code. Believe it.

Getting Old is not for Wimps

I have become an observer of the aging process. You spend the first 60 years on an upward climb attaining milestones such as childhood, leaving one’s family, pursuing an education and career, looking for a lifetime partner, finding a place to live and set down roots, possibly having one’s own children, keeping it all together. Then there is a point where the incline levels off and starts to aim in a downward direction. Sixty happens to be my year and I have noticed a definite psychological shift. There are no more milestones. In fact there seems to be a process of shedding.  There are so many things that do not need my attention.  Because other people, things, events will work themselves out in their own time. I make this claim because worrying about everyone and everything was a former full-time occupation.  That brings me to my mother who is 87 years old and undergoing a sort of personal Renaissance. She is living in a Elder Home on Main Street. There are 39 apartments with mostly single folks. She is making friends and possibly enemies. It makes me wonder if the downward slide of shedding is not what it seems.