A Hometown Memory

A Hometown Memory

“Overblown optimism is annoying and frustrating.” The newscaster went on to say that “There should be no room for any optimism when things have gotten worse even after the vaccine had been released.” Jack got up and clicked the remote off and dropped it abruptly on the mahogany table. His wife, Eileen, came into the living room. “Why did you turn the TV off, Jack? Here’s your coffee - weren’t we going to watch the news before our walk?” 

“Leeni, you know how I’m always at you about being too sunshiny all the time? Well now I am sick and tired of hearing all the doom and gloom from that blasted noise box. Let’s take our coffee back to the kitchen before I do it some violence.” Jack took his coffee from his wife, who was smiling at her husband's annoyance. She was used to him talking back to newscasters and being an armchair quarterback to just about everyone on TV. 

“There are fresh muffins on the table ready for your regular taste test, dear. But let me change the subject back to optimism - or sunshiny as you call it. I’m o.k. with being upbeat about things, Jack. Too much?” Eileen sat down at the table. Picking up a muffin, she slowly peeled the paper away, a few crumbs dropping on the table cloth. “There does need to be a balance.” She passed a muffin to her husband, tilted her head and continued. “Certainly, there are times when I get my rose coloured glasses on and get a little too sunshiny. Then I remember a movie we saw together years ago. Do you remember our first date?”

“Of course I do, Leeni. It was the first time I’d asked any girl out and I didn’t even think you’d go out with me. I sure remember how pretty you looked but I don’t really remember the movie.” Jack almost blushed! “What was the movie? Did I like it?”

“The movie was the Bells of St.Mary’s and I think it was made in 1945, but it didn’t get to our little town until it was probably 10 years old. And no, you didn’t really like it. Nuns and a priest and singing, but it was the only movie in town and I wanted to see it.” Leeni patted her husband’s hand. He curled his fingers around hers. “And I’d still take you to it, Leeni. Even if Bing Crosby was in it. But what was it about that movie that has anything to do with optimism? That you met and married the most charming man in town?”

Eileen did blush, leaned forward and kissed her husband. “In fact, Bing Crosby was the singing priest, but that’s not what was important - except for the charming boy I was with. I don’t remember the whole movie just an older nun saying to a younger nun - ‘It’s important to have faith, as long as it’s not blind faith’ Probably not exactly right, but that’s the balance I was talking about. Then I get to take my rose coloured glasses off and put them away. Keep my optimism to myself - and keep the charming young man to myself.”

“Choose to be optimistic, it feels better.”

~ Dalai Lama XIV

Flight # 2021 ~ OPTIMISM ~ Theme for January, 2021

“Overblown optimism is annoying and frustrating.”

Potential for ……..

Trusting that………

Intuition, or more plainly, gut feelings…….

Morals and ethics…….

Integrity…….

Sunshine or cloud

Morning comes…..

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

~ Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s Fan

Sunset on 2020

A long road behind us,

rounding a bend

on our unasked for journey,

the sun edges to the horizon,

only time and distance ahead.

We will keep on walking and living.

“Time is the longest distance between two places.”

~ Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie

Chapter Two, Episode Fourteen - Tanya’s Career Path - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update:

These letters to the Storyteller, have given me an opportunity to write more character development for secondary characters like Tanya. 

The few revisions I made were minor wording changes. Otherwise it seemed a fairly easy read.

Tanya's Career Path

Seventeen year old Tanya Meadows had read her last book. Throughout the pandemic restrictions she had tried to get books from the library and was successful for the most part until winter set in. Winter on the Island was not like East coast winters where her cousins lived. Apparently, those winters were horrible; great mounds of wet snow, winds that whipped off the Atlantic Ocean that kept everyone indoors even before the pandemic. Here, it was just rain. There had been white Christmas’ most years, but they only lasted for a few days. She was not sure she cared for snow. Tanya had been in some good snow ball fights. One year when the snow lasted longer she had seen some beautiful snow sculptures in the park across from her school. Isolated from her friends, Tanya couldn’t even babysit because she was not in the right bubbles as recommended by Public Health. She especially missed the Richardson children, Ben and Abby. Mrs. Richardson worked from home most days. Her mother did the child care when she had to work at the school. Looking after the Richardson children was a favourite for Tanya. But stewing over it wasn’t making her feel any better.

She closed the cover of Mystery at the Blue Lagoon and sighed. What was she to do now? Her chores were all done. Her homework was all caught up. It was raining and cold. It was supposed to rain heavily all day. The library was closed through the Christmas holidays, so she couldn’t get any new books. She was going stir crazy. The letter. She had an email from Martha out at the Beaufort Estate asking if she would write something about her life for the Storyteller. She had almost deleted the email, not sure she had anything to contribute. That’s what she could do. Picking up her stack of books, she put them on her mother’s old credenza in the hallway. She ran lightly up the stairs to her room. Clearing off her desk except for one of her notebooks, she selected one of her favourite coloured pens - mauve. It always made her smile.

~~~~~

Hello, Miss Storyteller. We have never met but I’ve heard so much about you from Mrs. Haverstock-Digby. I understand that even her grandchildren Ben and Abby Richardson have written their little stories. They are my favourite children to babysit. (Don’t tell Ben I used the ‘baby’ word - he does get quite offended.) I think they are really my only connection to the Beaufort Estate. I think I’ve been the Richardson babysitter since Abby was born, so that would be about five years. Mrs. Richardson was on maternity leave for quite a while, so didn’t have to return to work right away. Mr. Richardson had not yet taken the job off island. About twice a week, Mrs.Richardson needed some help with housework so I would go out after school for two hours. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Richardson would have a date night every two weeks. They planned it for evenings when I was there anyway, so I would give the children their supper and get them to bed. Mr. Richardson gave me a ride home when they returned from their outing. Looking after them really has given me some ideas about what I want to do with my life. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, but didn’t know what grades I would like to teach. I couldn’t see myself teaching high school. Too close to my own age. But working with Ben, Abby and all the other children I had worked with suggested an elementary school grade. Oh, I just about forgot. I also looked after Mr. Thornton’s four boys occasionally. Mr. Thornton is the Beaufort chauffeur. Those children are a bit old but still in the elementary school ages. My experiences with them all has been so enlightening. Children are so creative and love to learn. Sometimes in very interesting ways. Like the sign that Ben and I made for Mrs. Richardson’s mother. At the time, Mrs. Richardson lived in the other side of the duplex that her mother owned. The sign was on the gate between the two yards. The children were running back and forth to visit with their grandmother without any warning or permission. In short, the sign was teaching about the need of privacy for their grandmother, as well good manners. Asking permission was the other part of the lesson. The children’s mother still lives there, but Mrs. Haverstock-Digby, has married Mr. Digby the butler. They moved to their own cottage. When the new person moved in, we had to modify the sign - lesson number two. I enjoy listening to the children, their suggestions and their solutions. I suppose that is how they have helped me to outline my career path. I do hope that doesn’t sound too odd. During the pandemic restrictions, I do miss the children. A whole classroom of children? I do hope I can manage that but that is my objective. To be honest, I really was searching for something interesting to fill some time. This turned out to be more interesting than I expected/

Thank you for this opportunity.

~~~~~

Tanya read over her essay. She wasn’t sure what kind of mark she’d get for it. She had never been very good at essay writing. “I’ll take this over to the Estate tomorrow - that’s if it stops raining - but at least I won't be tromping through snow.” She slipped the folded page into an envelope and propped it up against her bust of William Shakespeare. Just then her mother called out that supper was ready. “Be right there mom!”

“The discipline of writing something down 

is the first step toward making it happen.”

~ Lee Iacocca

Given their Due

Cattails ~ 

stately in green summer robes

with deep brown seed heads ~

their cigar-shapes puff out in fall

Cattails ~ 

in winter dry and ragged

seed heads untidy, unkempt

ravaged by winds and birds.

Cattails ~

Invasive yet 

shelter, food and sanctuary

for birds and water life.

“tattered cattail tufts

sway in a chilly breeze~

we fish for supper…”

~ Patricia Sawyer

Signs

How the wind in the trees

shapes branches and twigs

 

where snow rests

and blankets the frozen lake, 

nestles around trees and brush,

settles in notches and crevices;

tracks sliced in the snow 

by skiers, hikers and rabbits;

a lone city sign warns of 

danger beneath the lake's soft blanket  

a mitten atop the lone sign

warns of cold little fingers.

“Signs may be but the sympathies of nature with man.”

~ Charlotte Bronté,  Jane Eyre

A Winter Walk

In the crisp cold,

snow flaked in a light wind

lifting children’s laughter and shouts while they tobogganed 

down a gentle rise.

The whoosh whoosh of a skier striding and sliding 'round

a copse of leaf-barren trees and bush cut long chevrons in the snow. 

A quiet gentle day

filled with life.

Bundled against the cold,

I continued my walk home.

“Winter is a wonderland of snow and excitement.”

~ Anthony T. Hincks, quotes - Goodreads