Our wild ride through downtown Boston.

We have just returned home after two weeks on the East Coast, and while riding on the train to Washington D.C. I wrote the following:

After a very pleasant day visiting a cousin in Ipswich, my husband drove us back to Boston where we were staying.  As we approached the city at dusk, the smooth freeway rose upward over the streets and curved to the right carrying us towards a spectacular view of a full moon hovering over tall skyscrapers.  Then we crossed a bridge with the moon shining before us like a beacon.  I kept trying to get a photo, but to no avail.  Bill was driving our little rental car very fast and the scenery kept changing.  Quickly we were on the city streets merging into an onslaught of rushing cars.  Bill had to navigate the streets and look for street signs to find our way back to the hotel while I was watching out the window with delight as the Boston streets whizzed by.  I had not been able to do any sightseeing during the previous three days, so this evening ride was my only glimpse of downtown Boston and the financial district. 

The moon continued to shine overhead darting between buildings as we sped down the streets, turning corners, crossing bridges and stopping at traffic lights.  I wanted to capture the moon in my camera but there were only fleeting moments before it disappeared.  The few photos I caught were only blurs, but I kept trying.  After we drove around the area for awhile, I noticed I was seeing the same scenery repeatedly.  We crossed the bridge over the river several times in both directions.  The Boston Commons went by my window more than once and names of streets kept reappearing.  Around and around we went, turning this way and that, flowing onto one-way streets, and following the other cars like a herd of cattle being driven by an unknown force.  At the same time, Bill's expletives became louder and more frantic and my glee dissipated.  I figured we were in trouble, lost in a maze with no direction or way out. 

Bill shoved the map at me, telling me to find the streets we were passing by, but I could hardly see the little print and could not find the street names.  I knew where we should have been heading, but I could not find our place on the map.  Several times I begged for us to stop so I could get my bearings and figure out where we were.  At last, we pulled into a dead-end street and I found our position, but I didn't know which direction we were facing.  Bill kept thinking we were driving in the wrong direction and I kept yelling "Where's the St. Charles river?"  The traffic slowed next to a park and I saw a young man strolling by with ear nubs in his ears, apparently listening to his I-pod.  I frantically called to him and waved out the open window.  After I waved three desperate times, he turned and looked at me.  "Where is the River?" I said.  "Do you want to go to the River?  he replied.  "No, I just want to know where it is," I yelled.  He pointed to my right, and with a sigh of relief, I said "Thanks."  We were going in the right direction towards the Hotel.  Bill then turned right around the Park onto a one-way street and thought he made another mistake, but I had the map and told him to turn left on the next street.  He turned left, then left again going in the opposite direction.  With map in hand, I found the street we needed and told my frustrated driver to turn right up ahead a couple of blocks.  This time he turned on the correct street and suddenly our maze unraveled--we were out.  We were on our way to the hotel--What a relief.  Next trip I'm bringing my GPS. 

The Garbage Snatchers

The other evening, I was quietly playing my piano, singing a little, and feeling quite harmonious, when from the street I could hear a rattling and banging noise.  I remembered it was garbage night, and thought to myself, "Not them again."  I ran to the front window and peaked around the curtain.  Sure enough, it was one of them.  A thin, older lady in black pants and loose jacket was leaning over the neighbor' recycling bin, carefully picking up items and examining them.  She threw some back in the can and when she found what she wanted put the item in her white plastic bag.  She had one cart loaded to the brim with bulging bags and a couple of other white bags which she carried.  I watched a while as she busily worked sorting through the discarded cans, bottles and other recyclables.  Then I had an idea--I ran and got my new camera.  I gingerly opened the front window and climbed onto the porch, positioning myself at a good angle to capture her image.  Then click and flash went my camera.  The lady stopped, looked around and spotted me on the porch.  I quickly smiled nicely and waved.  She looked frightened, hurriedly closed the lid of the can, got her belongings together and scampered off across the street, disappearing into the shadows of the darkening evening.  Then I wondered--was I being mean?  Silly?

For the past couple of years, I have been watching these "garbage snatchers" roaming the neighborhood looking for recyclables to cash in for money.  They must know the garbage routes for the neighborhood since they show up in the evening after most people put their cans out for the morning pick-up.  During the day I see these frail-looking elders pushing heavy, metal carts top heavy with their evening's haul heading for the grocery store where a recycling truck is parked outside.  I wonder how much money they make?

I also wonder if this is ethical.  Personally, I feel uncomfortable having someone rummage through my discards, even if it is garbage.  If I want to give something away, I'll just give it to one of the many agencies that also canvas our neighborhood for discards.  The recycling, I'm actually giving to the Sunset Scavengers, so in some way, these garbage snatchers are stealing from the Scavengers.  Is this okay?  It has never happened before around here, and I feel uneasy about it.  I know a few months ago, the city tried to make an ordinance to keep people from ransacking garbage cans, but it didn't pass--probably would cost too much and not worth the effort--in this time of budget cuts.

I asked other people what they thought of the these strange activities.  My brother was amused by it and said that the people came from another country where this activity is probably normal.  My son thought it was great that they were stealing from a large corporation.  Another person was just silent.  I think that it seems a bit degrading to have to dig through garbage, but on the other hand it is somewhat enterprising to figure out how to make extra cash.  I'm sure these people live with their children or other family members, since the rent in this city is quite exhorbitant, so whatever they make is probably their way of helping out.  I'm not sure if this garbage collecting is an actual problem, so I guess I have to maintain a sense of humor and just put my cans out later.  I'm sure by the next generation, these "Garbage Snatchers" will be part of the neighborhood history.

A memorable day

May 20, 2012 was an incredible day in "my fair city."  There was a confluence of several outstanding events which made the date a memorable one.  It was also a day of beautiful, sunny, warm weather and clear skies--a day to relish on any occasion where I live near the beach.  I wasn't able to attend all the activities, but I was aware of them.

First, was the annual party foot race, the Bay to Breakers.  Even though I am an avid walker, I really don't jog, and have never participated in this popular run.  It always does impact the residents out here, however.  The streets start closing down, starting with the  upper Great Highway.The day before I was able to take my walk on the highway with bicycles and runners passing instead of speeding cars, and when I got to Lincoln Way I could see the white tents at the beach.  All the cars were detoured to the lower Great Highway.  Also several other North/South streets are closed making it difficult to cross the city by any transportation.  On Sunday, all the extra parking spaces are filled, and there were hoards of strangely-attired people with numbers on there chests swarming the streets.   

Next was the 75th Anniversary of the Bridge.  That is a significant milestone for our beautiful Golden Gate Bridge, and there were several activities on the North side of the city.  All I was able to see was the photo and news articles in the paper.  I do plan to walk the bridge with my husband in the near future, even though I'm deathly afraid of the heights and looking over the bridge.  It feels like the water is pulling you in. 

The event I planned for was the annular eclipse of the sun by the moon, which could be seen here in Northern California.  In my city, it was a partial eclipse.  I wanted to see it because I was curious and because it's not often I have a chance to see such a phenomena.  I wanted to watch it safely, since I well know how the sun can ruin one's eye sight, so I picked the viewing at the Academy of Sciences.  The e-mail sent to me from the members newsletter said to be on the stairs of the Academy around 5:15 p.m., so my husband, son and I started out around 4:00 to find parking outside the park in this parking-challenged neighborhood.  My husband dropped us off at 9th and Judah so we could walk, while he found a space not far off.  We all met at the baseball diamond and continued on towards the bandstand area.  As we were walking, I could see the remnants of the Bay to Breakers crowd going in the opposite direction.  They were very noticeable in their green smurf costumes, toga outfits, ballet tutu's, and their high spirits.  One toga-clad young man yelled something at me in some unidentifiable language and walked on--I hope it was something nice. 

Soon we neared the Academy and I could see only a few people gathering around some men in orange coats setting up telescopes.  I half-expected to see thousands of spectators crowding around to catch a glimpse through the viewing equipment, so I was delighted that we were among the first to be there.  Soon more people started arriving, but the crowd was always manageable and very polite.  There were lots of families with young children, youngish adults, and grandmotherly people, like me.  We all stood in line to look through the telescopes which had filters on them.  We were also given special, filtered glasses, which we had to share.  Eventually people started putting the glasses over their cell phone cameras to take photos.  Other people had pinhole papers and were projecting the image of the sun onto the pavement.  Another young man sitting next to us on the cement wall had his camera set up with telephoto lens and was able to capture a very good picture of the eclipse on his screen, giving us a private viewing.  I shared my highly prized, special glasses with many people, and especially with children who were delighted.  One little boy was trying to look at the sun wearing sunglasses with his mother standing next to him.  I quickly told him not to look at the sun directly and shared my glasses with him.  The event  turned out to be a fun, friendly, community experience. 

The end of the day was completed with a dinner at a nearby Italian Restaurant.  It was a kind of an anticlimax to an otherwise beautiful day.  I'm not sure what was going on with my son and husband--maybe they were tired, anxious, overwhelmed, or just crabby, but after we sat down in the crampy booth seat, I tried to arrange the jackets and my purse so there was enough room.  My son handed me something over the table, accidentally knocking over a glass of water, which quickly spread over the glass top on the table.  I felt wetness in my lap, so I quickly scrambled to slide out of the seat.  My husband looked dismayed and my son went to get another table.  When we moved across to a new table, my husband joined us, and when he handed me my hat, bingo--another glass was knocked over, spilling water all over me.  The staff was very understanding and cleaned up the mess, but never said a word.  At the end of the very enjoyable meal, we were treated with a surprise--a slice of spumoni ice cream in a pie crust, which I relished despite the extra W.W. points.  Then as we were getting ready to leave, a waiter brought me a certificate for $20.00 towards another meal.  My dinner with klutzy companions had it's merits and put a finishing touch to a memorable day.

Reminiscing over the Mountain

Driving alone over the Sierra Nevada's put me in a pensive mood.  The craggy mountains covered with spring snow shown in the morning sunlight.  My quiet hybrid car seemed to float effortlessly up the steep grade and I was able to watch the scenery gliding by as I reflected on the previous hour.  That morning, two weeks ago, I had dropped my grandkids off at their school before heading for home.  I had arrived in time, before the bell rang, and the kids told me to just drop them off, so I pulled into the small parking lot next to the office and stopped by the gate, as the kids bounced out of the car with their backpacks.  The oldest one ran through the nearby gate, but the younger ran around the office to his side of the school.  I felt nervous just letting him go, so I followed with my car watching him go through the gate and then disappearing in the group of children waiting to go into the 2nd grade classroom.  I was fairly confident he  entered into his classroom safely, but still I felt anxious.  I wanted to hand-deliver him to his teacher.

This "getting to school" scene was quite a contrast from when my brother and I went to school.  I don't remember much about going to kindergarten or first grade; hopefully my mother accompanied me.  I do remember one of the first times I had walked home from school in the second grade.  We had just moved from 34th Avenue to a new home closer to the beach.  It must have been in September at the beginning of the school year when I was maybe 7, and I remember our classmates were just getting acquainted.   I talked to a girl whom I learned lived close to my block, so I walked home with her.  We chatted and walked for six or seven blocks and then I thought I needed to turn down to the next street where I thought I lived.  I walked the long city block to the corner and then realized nothing looked familiar and I felt lost.  I was scared and almost wanted to cry, but I looked up the street, and there was my house.  I'm not sure I told my mother.

Another time, I walked home from school to the same house, I heard a bunch of older boys running down the hill above my block.  They were singing and making a lot of noise, and when they saw me watching them, they must have made comments or something, because I became very frightened.  I ran into the basement side door and was so scared I left a puddle on the concrete.  Thank goodness the waterhose was nearby so I could clean up the evidence, because it would have been so embarrassing.

Walking to school and back was not always something scary.  It mostly became a routine part of the day.  We just found friends to walk with and chatted, making the time shorter.  It never would have entered my thinking to get a ride to school.  We walked in the wind, rain, fog, and occasionally in the sun.  I remember squinting to keep the sun out of my eyes--no sunglasses or hats.  In the rain, I remember having umbrellas that blew inside/out in the wind.  By the end of the school year, my shoes were worn out, and I would walk flapping the lose sole of my shoes on the pavement like a duck.  I didn't think I was poor because my soles were worn--it was just a phenomenem which happend in May or June.  Next year I'd get a new pair of shoes. 

When my own kids started school, I just very calmly thought that they should walk--it gave them discipline and exercise.  Of course, I accompanied them at first, but they usually wanted to walk with their friends.  But now I see a difference.  Most parents have to get to school and drop their children off early, maybe to before-school care.  Long lines of automobiles queue up to take turns delivering their offspring.  I do see groups of older kids walking after school in my neighborhood and an occasional bicycle rider.  Sometimes, the grandparents will walk the little ones to their classes, but mostly I see adults driving cars full of kids rushing to get to school on time.

Then my reverie ended.  I pulled over to take a few photos of the beautiful alpine scene, and when I started back on the road, my driving became more difficult.  There was an endless number of trailer trucks making their way down the other side of the mountain.  The highway was also filled with highway maintenance workers and equipment repairing the roads, making it necessary to drive slowly.  I had to concentrate on driving safely.

Our lives have become so busy and complicated, I thought, from the days when I was in grammar school.  We are so aware of keeping safe in an uncertain world.

Coffee Break

Studying for a language test can be very draining.  Since my husband took my car to drive down south to a family funeral, I figured I had all day to review all my notes and memorize words.  By 2:00 I had avoided doing much work and I was very tired and listless.  A nap seemed in order, but then I looked out the back window and discovered that the dreary morning gray overcast had turned into blue sky in our neighborhood.  The air was still and a light cloud bank hovered over the ocean on the horizon.  I knew a little fresh air and exercise would do me good.  Besides I was craving a fresh cup of coffee from the local bakery.

I grabbed my pedometer and a grocery bag and left the house, turning west at the corner toward the beach.   The air was warm and I didn't need the layers of clothing I had worn, but I kept walking to the promenade.  I decided to lengthen the walk to the grocery store by proceeding to the south and crossing at Pacheco St. to the beach side of the Great Hiway.  The ocean was very calm and a few surfers were riding the waves, but what intrigued me was a flock of birds near the incoming tide.  It looked as though a group of plovers were having a convention.  They were all quietly mingling together in a loose aray by the water's edge.  A man was sitting on a log a few feet away from the birds apparently observing them, and along came another man strolling down the beach.  As he drew closer to the flock, the birds started moving south, a few at a time and then more and more they picked up speed moving the entire flock down the beach a few feet.  Then as the man walked past the group, the birds started moving in the other direction returning to their original position.  It was a like a pack experience-one bird started migrating and the rest followed.

When I reached Noriega, I left the beach and headed up the block, still drooling for a cup of coffee.  As I approached the "Devil's Tooth", I discovered a pleasant surprise--the bakery had a new addition.  It was an outdoor seating arrangement located next to the sidewalk in the street area.  Apparently the city is helping small businesses put in some open-space seating.  Since I had some time before the bakery closed at 4:00 p.m. I decided to do my shopping first at the vegetable market.  The owner of the market was relaxing with family members in the open seating, so I said "hello" and went across the street to buy some green vegetables to go with my kasha vegetable pilaf for dinner.  When I returned to the bakery I ordered a scone and French-pressed coffee which they made fresh for me.  It was very uplifting to sit outdoors in the sun, sipping coffee and watching the school kids drawing with chalk on the sidewalk.  I'll have to do this more often. 

Well, I've procrastinated long enough.  I'd better return to my Lithuanian studies.  I still have a few hours of the day left before my husband returns. 

Charlotte the Spider Kitty

This past year has been a difficult one for me.  Since my mother died on May 4, 2012, it seems like death has appeared all around me and has been on my mind frequently. Friends' family members have died, some of my longest-lived plants succumbed during this damp winter, and then just as I was feeling a little better, my 15-year old kitty cat became ill. She had been losing weight, and then she stopped eating, and became a frightfully bony critter. The vet said it was stomach cancer, so I took her home and cared for her for a month.  The vet gave her some medication (prednisone) which gave her a little energy.  She started eating a lot and even venturing outdoors.  At times she would sit on the fence looking over her territory,  reminding me of the song "Memories" from "Cats."  It was as if she was trying to reconcile her life and knew she didn't have long to live.  Then, last Thursday, she became barely conscious and was having multiple seizures.   I was awake most of the night with her and in the morning, I gathered her frail body up in a towel and took her to the Veterinary Clinic around the corner.  The vet gave her a shot  and she was finally at peace, but it is so sad to lose a companion.

 Here is her story:  In August of 1997, when my son, Joseph, was living at our cabin, a little black and white "Tuxedo" cat came into this world. The mother, Goat, gave birth to five babies on my bed, and then she picked them all up and moved them to a hiding place. They grew rapidly and when the mother got tired of nursing them, it was time to find homes. Four of the kitties were grey striped like their mother, and they all found homes. Only one was black and white, and hadn't been chosen. One day Joseph drove with friends back to S.F. holding the kitten on his lap. When I saw it, I immediately said "for me?" I really wanted the cat. I had already had my eye on it when I saw it at the cabin since it was very independent and was constantly bouncing around nipping its siblings. It seemed very lively and full of energy. I named the 6-week old kitten, Spider, since it was black, fluffy, and climbed everywhere. When the vet told us that "He" was a "she, Bill thought she should be named "Charlotte" after the Disney story of the spider, but her official name stayed "Spider." We ended up calling her "Kitty" and then the name shortened to "Ki-Ki." Spider was a delight as a kitten. She ran all over the furniture and then was able to stand on her hind legs to play with dangly toys. We tried to keep her as an inside cat, but she quickly discovered the backyard and the great outdoors. It didn't take long for her to ask us to open the back door and to jump out the kitchen window to get outside. She became an indoor/outdoor cat--staying outside most of the day and sleeping on my bed at night. She loved to sit on the fence checking out the scene and watching for other cats. She became very competent at hunting, often leaving bird feathers strewn over the back yard, gopher parts left on the stairs, and often dropping her little mice prey on the floor next to my bed. I could hear her scurrying about and chasing something. Then, when her attention wandered, the baby mouse would run under the furniture. My husband became quite adept at catching mice also. I didn't like killing the mice, so one time I swept one out the door--of course, Spider just brought it back the next day. I also found one crawling in back of the kitchen counter, so after donning plastic gloves and holding a paper bag, I quickly picked up the mouse by the tail and deposited the package down the sewer. Even though the mice were a problem, I was proud that my kitty tried to keep our area free of rodents.

 There were many times when we had to go away. At first we tried to take her with us to the cabin, but it didn't work out. Cats are very territorial and she became frightened in different surroundings. When "Goat" was still living at the cabin, poor Spider didn't know who she was and hissed at her. She got scared once and ran up one of the tall pines surrounding the house. I called to her but she wouldn't come down. Even "Goat" climbed the tree to show her how to come down, but to no avail. I thought I would have to call the fire dept, but just in time, my daughter Colleen and Tony arrived and Tony climbed a ladder and rescued the cat. Another time, I brought Spider up there, and she wouldn't go outside. She stayed up in the loft where the temperature was over 100 degrees. When it was time for me to leave, I called to her but she appeared listless, laying on the floor. I touched her and she jumped 10 feet in the air out of fright. I gently picked her up and put her in the cat carrier, telling her she didn't have to come with us again. From then on, we left her at home or boarded her at the vet. She was quite content to stay by herself as long as someone fed her.

As she got older, I realized she wouldn't be around for much longer--kinda like when my mother died. She was actually about the same age as my mom, who was 4 months short of 105. Spider kitty was four months short of 105--15x7. She would have been 15 in August. I tried to pay more attention to her. When she jumped up on my lap when I was playing the piano, I stopped playing and petted her. When she sat on my papers or on my computer, I just left her there. When she jumped on my lap and snuggled up next to me when I slept, I relished her presence. She was a very calming influence. I will miss her, but she taught me many things: to accept people the way they are; to love unconditionally; to be patient; to ask for what you want and don't give up until you get it; if you don't like someone, stay away; if someone bothers you, let them know about it; keep active all your life and eat only when you are hungry. Stop and smell the flowers; Purr when you are happy. I told everyone she was a scardy cat, since she often ran away when strangers entered the house. She especially felt leery of children and dogs, but there were a few of our guests whom she warmed up to: She seemed to like Kevin and David and maybe Joe also. But she really took to Jake, Regina, and Nadia. And of course, she always followed me around. I will miss her.