tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90660315554736653292024-03-20T02:08:15.795-07:00WISPSMy favorite clouds are those tiny wisps; they look like part of a larger cloud that ventured off. In my life on the city streets --- wisps come at me --- a child’s wonderful chortle, a dog’s worried face while waiting for its owner outside a shop, the white butterfly that greets me in the garden each time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-56302762029790113752015-05-25T14:13:00.000-07:002015-05-25T14:15:26.657-07:00MEMORIAL DAY, CARROLL PARK<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The old
traded their ‘dog tag numbers’ from the war.
Little children, far removed from that time, waved flags, tried to hold
them up, sometimes batted at each other with their flags, but gently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The weather
was so light, so shiny and blue-skied, the green of the trees so verdant. Our favorite politicians gave speeches. A tenor
sang <i>America the Beautiful</i> and we
tried to join in, some remembered words better than others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was the
biggest crowd I’ve seen for Memorial Day in all the years I’ve gone, seems many
families playing on the slides and swings on the other side of the park,
decided to come over and join. It was
all ages, all colors. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The firemen were
there to show their truck and talk to the kids and to walk with us over to
another monument in the park for a young firefighter from the neighborhood felled by his job several years
ago now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We honored
our dead, our veterans, our current military, the firemen and police assisting
us this day and the young fireman with the beautiful face who was killed, his
mother there with us this morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sometimes all
we can do is join together, to give thanks, to do the right thing, to be
congenial to one another, to pay our respects, to stand in attendance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">Mary Pat
Kane for <i>WISPS</i></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 107%;">Memorial
Day, 2015</span></span></h4>
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<i><span style="line-height: 22.8266677856445px;">with thanks to the D'Amico famil</span><span style="line-height: 22.8266677856445px;">y</span></i></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-72523628451040577042014-06-16T19:28:00.000-07:002014-06-16T19:28:03.426-07:00MY DAD AND THE NEWSPAPER<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Father’s Day, 2014<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My house has many newspapers in it, my dad worked for a
newspaper and loved it, you’d think he was the editor the way he talked about
that paper, excited at each of its successes; a thick paper at Thanksgiving time
could send him into swoons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My dad sold 'want ads', the little classified ads in the back
of the paper and he was real good at it.
He was a really good salesperson as he was a good listener –I’ve often
felt that you don’t talk to sell, you listen. He also used want ad shorthand all the time
--- my birthday card would say love “D” for dad, my mother’s, love “O” for
Ollie, he did not use <i>apt, rms</i>, etc.
with us. For many years though, I did real
exacting steno work but I had never taken a class in shorthand. I just always wrote in my own shorthand ---
like my father. I had never realized the
correlation until lately. Love “D”!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My father used to take me out of school, I don’t know how he
managed that with the nuns, but he’d take me out of 3<sup>rd</sup> or 4<sup>th</sup>
grade and we’d go on his ‘rounds’ together.
Rounds meant that he’d visit big companies who advertised with the paper. We’d drive into the countryside around
Rochester, New York and visit ‘dealerships’ --- it could be cars, trucks,
tractors. I loved the tractors
myself. I probably still had braids then
and I know I had a space between my front teeth and we’d enter these huge
showrooms and all these businessmen would stop what they were doing and come
running, hollering out as they rushed towards us, their hands extended to my
father --- “Ollie, where’ve you been?, boy is it good to see you!” and they’ be
all smiles. My father had made their day
-- just by walking in the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was a wonderful thing for a young girl to see ---her
father making everybody happy <i>just like
that</i> --- it’s stayed with me all my life.
Then, of course, there was always lunch and another important thing he
taught me --- an attribute that has stood the test of time --- is how to find
the best food. The thing was it wasn’t necessarily
in those places that ‘looked’ so nice.
It was often in some nondescript little hole in the wall and the food
would be superb and, again, the personnel would often seem to know my father
and welcome him back with great warmth.
Tablecloths were optional, usually missing!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was so lucky to have known this man, “Ollie Kane,” lucky
to have adopted some of his great instincts. I wish I didn’t have so many newspapers lying
around the house but to me a paper will never be on-line, or reading it on a screen. It will always be my father’s newspaper, soft
and accessible --- you can tuck it under your arm and read it at a lunch counter
with a great old heavy white cup splattering coffee into the saucer. And, later, besides recycling, you can pull
out the vinegar and a few sheets of newsprint and wash your windows. To this day, I have never figured how or why
that works ---but, it truly does.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had a great father, it was a joy and privilege to know him
--- and, fun too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Happy Father’s Day one and all. And, thanks Ollie Kane forever!!!</span><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-58247700252599777662013-05-23T09:41:00.002-07:002013-05-23T09:41:48.952-07:00SWIM BAG --- with hope and promise for what's to come soon, mary pat<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It’s all here, where it was stowed away ten months ago ---
the bronze padlock with its small silver key, the old plastic soap holder with
a slit of Yardley’s English lavender still in it, plus odds and ends of those
tiny motel shampoos and packets of free sample conditioners my friend’s husband
got us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There's a bright fuchsia bathing cap too, some places
require you to wear a cap though I hate to and broken goggles, which I found
somewhere but never wear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is an
empty soft pink container that will keep things ‘sort of’ chilled and a few plastic
bags tucked in to hold a wet bathing suit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Scents of suntan lotion and chlorine come out at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in a protective bag are Benadryl pills
(in case I get stung by a bee --- I hope not!).<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I thrill opening the zipper of the bright blue bag and
finding everything there --- <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">waiting</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I notice that the soap holder has a rubber
band around it --- it pops open without it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In some ways, I have never really liked the blue bag that holds it all
--- it bears the name of my old boyfriend’s company on its side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bag’s got a droopy shape to it but I
can’t quite part with it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe, I can’t
part with this remnant of him so I carry the blue bag back and forth to beaches
and pools, wherever I can find to swim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Today it will be our local Brooklyn pool in an adjoining
neighborhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’ll be my first swim of
the season.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It’s summer again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The pool finally opened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I often
wonder why someone who loves nature, plants, flowers and water so lives in a
climate where I only get to enjoy outdoors such a short part of the year?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Everything's packed up and ready to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bag waited up on a shelf in the middle room
all fall and winter and spring but now it’s time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And, but a few blocks around the corner, cool aquamarine
water awaits me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, the magic, the
silent thrill, of gliding through it.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
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<em>read at Pyramid Lake to a group of women who love water.</em></h3>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-19716487919807116892013-05-21T09:05:00.000-07:002013-05-21T09:05:00.146-07:00<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Mona, the little dog I walk and love so who eats carrots like crazy and sometimes</span></h4>
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<span style="color: purple;">takes them to bed with her. How she loves spring in our neighborhood and </span></h4>
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<span style="color: purple;">shows it to me.</span></h4>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-5658382405236511972013-05-21T08:58:00.000-07:002013-05-21T08:58:36.250-07:00Thought of the Day
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">If<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> my pencils are sharpened, I’m a
happy person.</span> </span></h3>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-41690776592174528522012-11-22T08:35:00.001-08:002012-11-22T08:35:19.272-08:00THANKSGIVING DAY, 1981<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">I take the Greyhound bus along the road you traveled to see me just a year ago.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was a long trip for such a sick man, the grandchild in the back seat with computer football game ‘beeping’ all the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You said --- “I thought he’d get tired of it but he never did!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The thermostat on my oven had broken and burned the beautiful fresh turkey but you didn’t care.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You had come to my house, as you would say later, knowing you would probably never come again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You loved my house which made me so happy; I did too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day after Thanksgiving, I found you in my kitchen with all my cupboards open wide --- just checking, making sure your daughter would never starve.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I think of your nervousness waiting for Jim and Casey to pick you up, your normal nervousness about the weather, would it snow on your way down? --- A long trip, 7-hours at best and you a nervous driver and worse passenger always.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, you worried whether you brought the right kind of wine (you had spent a long time asking opinions in the wine shop but, still, you worried).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are such worriers, both of us --- wanting so to please, wanting everybody to be happy, to make it all <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">work</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, wanting to make it work.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In the back of Jim’s station wagon, there were so many brown paper bags full of food that it looked like you thought they didn’t have food in Philadelphia, though you were not eating much by now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Pumpkins lie sunken and rotting in the fields and I wonder which farm houses you might have seen just a year ago today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I pray that you didn’t see the deer hanging in back yards, you who loved animals so, deer our special family bond.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The hills are golden beige at this time of year, a bit of snow dusts the leafless trees --- a barren but beautiful landscape.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Today I wanted to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">between</i> where I once lived with you, my only father, and where I now make my home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">between</i> all the turkey dinners and fun banter of jostling tables in both cities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to ride the route you took to my home for that one last brave time and to celebrate who you were ---<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Your generosity of spirit, your inestimable kindness and consideration, your shyness with affection --- the kind of kiss you gave me the last so many years of your life --- putting your two fingers to your lips, then, putting your fingers to my cheek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I give those fingertip kisses to my friends now and tell them why and where it came from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, I always add --- “My Dad didn’t go in for big displays of affection but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you always knew he loved you; </i>there was no doubt, no, no doubt.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Thank you, Ollie Kane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you so.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-10147995224350948782012-10-15T08:13:00.000-07:002012-10-15T08:13:05.156-07:00THE CHOIR DIRECTOR WORE PINK HIGH TOPS<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even on the bus that took forever, people were in a good mood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bus was detoured because of the Street Fair that most of us on the bus were trying to get to. It had been re-routed, then got caught in heavy traffic and, then, in a big rain storm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bus was jammed with people, whole families, lots of people without seats but no one seemed upset, maybe because we were missing the rain.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was going to my favorite street fair of all, the Atlantic Antics, a more organic event than some with not a lot of glitzy commercial concessions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s mostly a street fair of local restaurants and people who live near.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They simply come out of their homes with things from their attics and sell them on the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s lots of music, many good cooking smells and stalls and stalls of freshly baked cakes from the House of the Lord Church.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The rain had stopped, the bus had finally stopped swerving up different streets and let us out and the group surged towards the street fair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t get very far this year but right away veered to my favorite block where there are several small cafes --- Caribbean, Middle Eastern (with the best golden lentil soup on earth!),<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>an eastern orthodox church with people in costume selling homemade stuffed cabbages and the French spot with the great French fries accompanied by a light peppery mustard sauce. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hit that stand each year and this year was no different but I, somehow, found a seat behind the French concession.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I could sit and watch the whole world go by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun was inching out, people were smiling as if it had never rained, just a few drops still fell from the trees overhead.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">To my left, musical instruments were being warmed up at the House of the Lord Church and slowly and quietly a choir came out from inside the Church and assembled on the steps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, when they began singing and supplicating God, I knew I was in the right place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could I have gotten so lucky?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh, how those voices rang out..<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People walking by tried to keep on walking but couldn’t --- they were drawn in, pulled in, stopped in their busy tracks and, there, in front of the church steps on the flat of the sidewalk very near me romped and moved and gestured and elicited more and more music, a young woman choir director in black sleeveless dress with high top pink sneakers on her feet and, boy, did she use those sneakers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She moved and jumped and raised her arms and pulled out even more the joyous, ecstatic, rollicking, pleading music and it reverberated all over us --- over people alone, over couples, families with children, dogs on leashes, baby strollers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last Sunday I didn’t run around the Antics Fair and check everything out (always fearing I might <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">miss something</i>) --- that’s what I usually do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had found a wonderful place to stay still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was tucked back in and comfortable, there was a tiny bit of white wine left in my plastic glass and a few fries packed up for ‘the road.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Frenchmen plied their accents and charms at the table in front of me while next to me, to the side of the choir, a bent over woman in African head gear carefully made her way down the church steps carrying tall cakes to the waiting sales table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It made me laugh that she had this beautiful indigo headdress on and wore navy blue crocs to accompany it!<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I cried some as the ‘hallelujahs’ rang out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was my home; this is so where I belonged --- in a multi-cultural, multi-talented, multi-tasting world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had recently found out that I was being forced out of my apartment after almost 20 years and that was scary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not easy to find a clean, safe, affordable space and I would be leaving a garden, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i> own little church choir and shopkeepers who had become friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had been priced out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But, somehow last Sunday afternoon sitting next to the powerful choir, I knew that I’d find somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was my city, this was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">our</i> city. We all belonged here, not just the prosperous.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hallelujah, …”<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-68370084938899440392012-08-10T11:35:00.003-07:002012-08-10T11:35:48.389-07:00THE SUMMER OF THE HEAT<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even at Jones beach, it was so hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried saying “Oh, I feel the breeze” but the breeze was hot too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn’t been there in several years, a spot I have always so loved and there weren’t many people there last Friday; the beach looked vacant, like a giant desert, the outdoor cafes empty of patrons.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I especially like the old wooden walkways between the beaches and the majestic old buildings but I seemed to be the only one determined to walk that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boardwalks were vacant, the earth around parched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few people took shelter on benches that had awnings over them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I didn’t think I could make it along the huge expanse of beach to the water but I started out anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had never seen Jones Beach so vacant on a summer day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then, slowly, as I got over the sand towards the water, where the land dipped down and you could actually see white caps, there were people, lots of people and they were laughing and children were making wonderful castles in the sand and whole drawings of ‘Sponge Bob’ and ‘Pants Up’ (that was a new character to me) and they were so glad I studied their work and their parents waved proudly to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And, people were playing in the big waves and the water wasn’t icy but very cool and very strong and for a bit, there was this wonderful respite --- from the city, from the rest of the beach that looked like a vast wasteland, from the wonderful old wooden walkways today abandoned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, for a bit, for those of us who made it to the edge of the sea, there was relief and joy and bouncing children and the surf was so strong it pulled the ‘croc’ off my foot but a little girl got it for me from an incoming wave and we were all smiling and I will never see the sea the same again after that day last Friday outside New York City --- never.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was our loving mother, our strong father, embracing us, comforting us, telling us we’d be okay; that it would wash us and cool us and make us laugh out loud and smile at each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was ongoing and giving of itself and for the brief time I was there, I cannot get the beautiful picture of it out of my mind, nor would I ever want to.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">MP Kane, Monday, August 6, 2012<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-91055971313597526612012-04-09T11:33:00.000-07:002012-04-09T11:33:40.356-07:00CANAL STREET KITTY<div align="left" class="MsoTitle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;"><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><em>A story that takes place at Easter time and Passover both --- the story of a very sick cat whose curiosity and love of life sees him through</em></span></div><h3 class="MsoTitle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"></span></h3><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">Iris got sick just as it was becoming spring in the cats’ first year in Brooklyn, just as they were all getting excited about winter being over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were planning on having lots of fun this summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imogene was going to put Iris on a leash and they would go sit outside on the stoop with their neighbors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Star, his sister, would absolutely not allow a leash to be put on her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Star and Iris and Imogene had finally stopped moving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had lived in the same place for seven months now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed the bad times were over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They loved their house and they were “almost” settled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They even “almost” had curtains, or, at least, Imogene had the curtains “planned.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, everybody knew Imogene’s plans could take a long time to become reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">The three couldn’t believe their life and good luck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They, suddenly, out of nowhere Iris got sick and even he was worried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, Imogene was beside herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plans for the curtains, plans for everything, went out the very window the curtains might have gone on.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">At first, Imogene packed the boy cat up in a turquoise and yellow gaudy plastic carrier and took him to the doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They went on the bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iris did not like going to the doctor’s much but he had to admit, he truly loved being outside again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did not like being poked at and examined and having shots at the doctor’s and he especially hated when a Labrador retriever or some other overfriendly dog rushed up to his cage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were also these jumpy little kids always wanting to poke their fingers through the turquoise and yellow carrier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They too wanted to touch the little cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iris did not know which was worse --- a large slobbering dog or a giggly little girl with sticky fingers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">Being sick was scary for him though he loved the smells of outdoors, even from the cheap carrier (it was the cheapest one Imogene could find, and everybody knew Imogene was cheap, well, she didn’t have a lotta extra money).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She actually was very generous and would buy gifts for everyone when she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i> have money but the cats had not known Imogene during that all too brief period in her life. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">The air was beautiful to the little cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spring smells were just beginning, smells of brand new leaves and flowers ready to burst through the ground and even some Irises, the flower for whom Iris was named when everyone still thought he was a girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why humans worried about things like boys’ and girls’ names, Iris thought very strange.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Humans were such funny characters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iris only knew that he loved his name and liked even more hearing it called.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">And, outside, there were a lot more smells than budding trees and flowers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were smells of garbage cans and trash, smells of bugs and other animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, Iris loved those smells.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the best times he remembered with Imogene was when she sat him under her chair while she ate a burrito in a Mexican Cantina near the doctor’s office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, what smells delighted his quickly moving nose in that place --- beans and guacamole and beef and chicken and cheese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iris loved cheese, especially Parmesan --- but, hey, hold the peppers!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">But then he got sicker and sicker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imogene stayed home from work, which was not good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stayed with Iris in the front room where she could watch him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Star, came in the room with them sometimes but it was pretty boring for her because Iris was not up to chasing her around or batting her, or rolling over on his stomach trying to start a game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, when Iris and Imogene began going to the doctor’s, Star did not miss them much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She liked being alone in the apartment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loved the quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She slept peacefully knowing that no little cat would sneak up from behind her and bat her tail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, as Iris got more and more sick, Star got more and more scared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For though she did not always like him, though he could drive her crazy, she could not really imagine her life without the funny boy cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">Imogene even cried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the four years, the cats had lived with her; they had only seen her cry a few times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She always said, “I don’t cry anymore, I haven’t cried in years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to cry a lot, I was famous for my crying but if I cried every time something bad happened in my life, I’d be crying all day long.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">Iris was torn in his feelings about Imogene crying over him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was worried about her and touched that she cried so much because he knew it meant that she loved him a whole lot but he was upset because Imogene’s crying kept getting him ALL WET!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">So, a few times during the days when Imogene was crying so hard, Iris gave Imogene “that look.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a look humans love. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It isn’t easily described --- “that look” --- but all pets and their human companions know it well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a soft look of great emotion from the animal’s eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s often accompanied by sweet noises and, or, sighing. And, though it’s sincere, the look, it can also sometimes result in the pet getting a better grade of food, maybe even a taste of tuna fish in spring water!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Humans melted with “the look” but when Iris gave the look to Imogene when he was so sick, it did not work the way it usually did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of making her happy, instead of making her say “ohhh” and “ahhh” and, maybe heading to the store for some good food, it only made Imogene cry harder all over him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iris was getting wetter and colder by the minute. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">Then, one day, on Good Friday, two days before Easter Sunday, a serious sad day in some religions, Imogene packed Iris up once again in that god-forsaken ugly carrier and took him into Manhattan to a new doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, this time, instead of walking one block to wait for the bus, they walked five blocks towards the subway station with Imogene saying all the way --- “A-Train Kitty, A-Train Kitty.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, repeating over and over --- “Not many cats get to ride the “A” Train --- you’re so lucky, Iris.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imogene was trying to “psyche him up” as the old saying goes, to build up his enthusiasm for the subway because they were not a family who “did” cabs. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">Iris loved the “A” train.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, first of all he loved the subway station and all those horrible smells.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t like the noise of the subway; it scared him so terribly that he hid under a pale violet towel that Imogene had put in his carrier to make it feel softer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, when he sat up after the grinding and grating noises had ended, Imogene laughed and said ---“Oh, Iris you look like a nun with that towel over your head!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though, if truth be told, Imogene had never seen a nun with furry pointy ears sticking out of her habit and she’d seen a lot of nuns in her life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">Iris adored the subway and the subway station for all the reasons humans didn’t like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His little cat nose couldn’t get close enough to the holes in his carrier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was cold and clammy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wow --- he sniffed and snorted; he was all eyes and movement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One paw hung through a hole in the carrier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was already beginning to not look like a poor sick little cat anymore, and they hadn’t even gotten to the doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">He loved the dank, dark, scary filth of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loved the smell of the trash receptacles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He even thought he smelled a rat (probably) and that made his little cat heart sing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">On the subway itself, there were more glorious smells --- sticky smells from fallen food and spilled soft drinks and all he could see of people were their shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He and Star loved people’s shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anytime anyone visited them, they automatically ran towards the visitors’ shoes and sniffed all those fabulous street smells.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh --- where shoes took people --- it was a joy to think about.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">The movement of the subway scared Iris at first, but eventually its worst twists and turns ended and Imogene told Iris that after the first rough part, the “A” train gave a fast smooth ride into Manhattan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loved this subway she told him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although she admitted to loving the “Q” train more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Humans, as Iris always thought, had some very strange ideas.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">When they came up the subway steps near the new doctor’s office, the two were at Canal Street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had fifteen minutes before their appointment so they walked a bit on that Good Friday afternoon and then Imogene balanced Iris’ carrier on top of a newspaper box at Canal and West Broadway and there he watched the world go by.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">And, boy did the world go by!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Depending on your disposition and your sense of humor, a visit to Canal Street could either kill you or cure you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">You either loved it or hated it; it was probably not a place many felt ‘in-between’ about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imogene loved Canal Street and she and Iris often felt the same about things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They liked “different, unusual things.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, while many people in the world were already in Church for Good Friday or preparing to go to Synagogue for Friday evening services, Iris and Imogene watched in wonder as people streamed by, teemed by, rush or slowly ambled by ---- people of all kinds and colors and languages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Horns honked and hot dog and souvlaki stands sent up odors to delight Iris’ now wiggly nose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People talked and moved and laughed and gestured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt like they were in the middle of a riot, a nice riot, which, in some ways, they were.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">You could buy anything here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could buy an eel or a hubcap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could buy a roll of film and a bottle of perfume and a banana --- in the same place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was raucous, it was a ruckus and Iris heard different human languages from the one Imogene spoke, languages that made him remember the old city parking lot in south Philadelphia where he and Star had lived before Imogene took in the two cats.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">It was another spring for the two and this time they were not moving again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time they had an apartment and were getting “settled” and would have curtains --- well, someday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun was trying real hard to come through the big puffy clouds and warm them as they stood on that magic corner on that Good Friday and Passover weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boy cat pushed his nose as hard as he could against carrier to get closer to the world --- his eyes now alive with the excitement and wonder of it all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Imogene knew right then that Iris’ life force would pull him through this illness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, though the two were neither in a Church or Synagogue, they stood there side-by-side on that early spring afternoon and worshipped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">Imogene smiled and nodded and started breathing easier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Iris sniffed and moved his head from side to side to see better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He put his paw out through the carrier again --- the better to touch life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">Iris and Imogene were full of awe that sacred Friday afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">And, worshipped in their own way on that corner.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;">They worshipped by loving the life --- as it whirled and swept around them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 200%;"></span><em><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; line-height: 200%;">MPKane, </span><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; line-height: 200%;">for Easter, Passover, 2012</span></em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-24996429353693059912012-04-04T10:20:00.000-07:002012-08-10T11:41:15.426-07:00KATIE’S BIRTHDAY<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Katie Kane, a feline, turned six today, well I made up her birthday because we just knew her approximate age when she came --- 9 months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><strong>I put her birthday on March 19, St. Joseph’s Day as he was a gentle man, hard-working, humble, seemingly most kind and I always felt he got short shrift in the publicity department of the Catholic Church.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><strong>I can still see her the first night I took her in as a foster over the Christmas holiday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was so terrified when I took her out of her carrier, her beautiful face read ‘fear.’<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Then, the next I saw her, she was on a really cold window sill, again looking terrified but so beautiful (I had not really seen her at the foster agency, there were rows and rows of cats).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had tabby markings which I always love interlaced with orange, a white breast and golden eyes. Behind and below this gorgeous creature, were Christmas lights from the yards of my Brooklyn neighbors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never forget her that first evening with the glow of tree lights behind her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, afterwards she would hide for 11 days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We never did get a tree that year.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><strong>In late January, I wrote a letter that I would give the agency when I took her back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt that she needed someone around more, I was working out of the house a lot then; she, maybe. needed a family, not just one person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I never delivered either the letter or the cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead I went into Manhattan one late Sunday afternoon, paid a small fee and came home with a free bag IAMS cat food they awarded me upon her official adoption.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><strong>What a change over the years --- sometimes I wish she were less affectionate when I’m busy or want to sleep and she comes up beside me to get petted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, not really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She purrs now, she didn’t for the longest time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She lets you know what she wants; she’s playful and mischievous in her play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She pushes various balls around the floor and has lost two red clown noses that she adored over and over again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved my first clown nose and still have no idea how she got it off that shelf.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><strong>She is scrumptious, gorgeous, relaxed, sometimes a little too relaxed --- she lies on her back showing her whole snowy white stomach with her feet up in the air --- open and vulnerable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her paws have the palest of pink pads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Mostly, Katie loves her windows looking down over different parts of Brooklyn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She patrols the street in front and gets upset with the sweepers and scampers off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the very early morning, she is always at a side window looking east towards Prospect Park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looks out over yards full of plants and flowers while birds chirp up a storm. She is silent and meditative early morning and hardly notices me when I walk by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><strong>She seems totally in touch with the new day, with nature, the sunrise and the glorious quiet and as she turns towards me, she hands it over to me --- THE SACRED GIFT OF ANOTHER MORNING.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><strong><em>MPKane as read at Bodega Wine Bar, Sunday, April 01, 2012 to a brilliant and responsive audience.<o:p></o:p></em></strong></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span></i></b> </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">MPKane as read at Bodega Wine Bar, Sunday, April 01, 2012 to a brilliant and responsive audience.</span></span></i></b></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-41732562963470788572012-03-07T08:48:00.000-08:002012-03-07T08:48:23.126-08:00FRIDAY NIGHT AFTER THE SHOW<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">It was the way I always wanted New York to be, the way I always envisioned my life here.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Walking down a street after a performance, catching up with a group of dancers and their friends ambling along and being warmly greeted by them and told how much they liked my work.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">We continue walking side by side, a group of artists who have just performed different pieces in a group show.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Coming up on the other side of the dance group now are two women dancers from a more experimental group, carrying a huge plastic bag full of props.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first dance group hoots and hollers and howls like a dog showing the women that they remember their set.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone laughs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People walking by look at us with interest, the way I always do when I see groups of people laughing and talking together and it looks like so much fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At those times I wonder what their bond is, their history, and, sometimes, envy it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">This night was the way I had always wanted New York to be but it hadn’t happened often --- walking along after a show, greeting each other, encouraging and congratulating each other, then deciding in smaller groups where to go --- down the subway steps and home or out to eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two women from the dance group ask me to join them for margaritas but I say “no.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve worked all week at a day job, performed tonight and we have another gig tomorrow up in Harlem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later I’m real sorry that I didn’t go with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those opportunities don’t come along all the time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Still, it’s a warm late September evening on the lower east side of Manhattan, way down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The air is soft and lilting and I’m relaxed after my earlier horrid pre-show nerves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">It was one of those nights when New York was the way I always thought it could be, New York at its best --- people creating, the audience responding, a group of artists showing the many different versions of our art --- sharing our work, our walk, our city and the soft sweet night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><em>by Mary Pat Kane</em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><em>re-written, March, 2012</em></span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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</div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-52505745621227704712012-02-20T10:03:00.000-08:002012-02-20T16:08:36.009-08:00Farmer’s Market, Friday afternoon, February 17, 2012<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I fell in love with <u>all</u> the tulips, great colors, but chose only two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aren’t they exquisite?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, when I look at them, I see the lovely face of the woman who sold them to me, helped me pick them out --- she as gentle and kindly as the tulips themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is often so much more to a picture.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">MPKane, Monday, February 20, 1012</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-48196235862256549992012-01-24T10:12:00.000-08:002012-01-24T10:12:29.320-08:00DOWN BY THE WATER --- the price you pay for loving<img alt="Preview" class="previewImageDiv" id="USI_1n4cmjazltttr_picImg" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAJJ-feB3PjYzDCcHgVsm6iz8KXe4iC1YZVzNk5I3F8by7pQ7ibkooLDyIA8pRAJoMKHo4THRrzvjcOehsaH2iV1d_nd-ywDza2Y6YXNIGgLhcFmVJZMFqO_jPFr5IvBhmfkEyAfC2zKQ/s380/MaryPatKane_3.jpg" style="height: 197px; width: 300px;" /><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I did this photo one spring day, obviously in 2000 or 2001, as the Towers are yet there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love to go down to the water in DUMBO at all times of the year but in spring and summer it’s astounding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">On January 21, 2006, I went down to the water to do a service for the second anniversary of my cat Star’s dying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was actually a surprisingly warm Saturday for that time of year.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I sought out a bench off to the side, alone --- in case I cried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be sunset soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Star had died at 4:40 in the afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember the rosy-orange light bouncing off a window over on Court Street as we sat on the floor of our apartment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, here by the water, I would honor the anniversary of her death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t sure how but I would be quiet and remember her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">But, just at that time, a loud joyous wedding party arrived with two photographers jumping around and snapping away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best man carried a bottle of champagne and everyone was laughing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bride was exquisitely beautiful --- petite with tiny fluttery hands; soft white lace circled the tops of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had dark dark black hair and green eyes and perfect skin that actually glowed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a more beautiful version of the young Elizabeth Taylor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, when a raucous laugh came out of her, it made me smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought it a nice combination of traits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wedding party spoke quickly in Russian; they were buoyant and garrulous.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I apologized silently to my cat Star for the interruption of her memorial service though I knew she would have liked the scene, she who so enjoyed humans and, well, all cats love movement and action.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would have been all eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told her I was sorry for getting diverted by watching the wedding party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, right then, several families came streaming by where I sat, families with the cutest children and wonderful dogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A giant schnauzer let loose by a five year old thrust his head helplessly into my lap as I sat on the bench trying to conduct a memorial service!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laughed out loud looking into his begging brown eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">There was a lot going on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worried for the children by the water when the parents were engaged in conversation, so I watched over them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dogs kept getting tangled up with various kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was like a wonderful little noisy circus there in late January by the water.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh, Star, I’m so sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ll have your ceremony tonight, at home, just us, I promise.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">The winds started to whip up, the temperature quickly descended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I now started worrying about the wedding party catching cold as I got up to leave the water to walk back up through the streets of DUMBO and catch a bus home.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">In the growing darkness, a man was walking two large dogs on the cobble-stoned streets. One dog, a chow was dragging far behind the other, slowly padding on wide furry feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a dark auburn color, deeper than the usual orange I see in these dogs, the color of my Aunt Gena’s hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The chow looked up at me with deep-set knowing eyes and I had the feeling of being in the presence of a wise being.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I asked the man walking the dogs if I could pet the chow and he said “Sure.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked if she were old and he murmured, “”they both are.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dog’s fur felt like a great thick rug and was incredibly soft.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">The DUMBO area has a lot of private places, little alleyways and crevices where you can be alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope that does not get ruined with the planned building changes, the “progress.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I knew that large dogs didn’t live as long as small dogs, so that the man walking the dogs would probably lose his two in the not far off future.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I had lost my cats, Star and Iris, within two years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I slipped into a quiet alleyway and sobbed for the man who would lose his dogs, for the loss of my two beautiful cats and for the price you pay for the privilege of loving.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">MPKane, revised January 24, 2012</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-19990045114061053402012-01-24T09:45:00.000-08:002012-01-24T09:45:28.453-08:00IF I WERE AN ICE DANCER ---- remembering the good<h1 style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><u><span style="font-size: large;"></span></u></span></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;">If I were an ice dancer, I would not remember the falls, nor recall the time I only did the double salchow instead of the triple --- no I would not remember those things</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;">I would only remember how beautiful I looked in my skirts that flipped up and down around my perfectly carved legs or the beautiful color of the costume --- perhaps there would be sparkles on it</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;">I would remember all the cheers of fans, their good wishes, the flowers thrown on the ice, the exhilarating pounding them- music of my piece</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;">I would recall all the speed I had, the many twirls and how my partner held me up above his head and when I came back down we moved in perfect unison --- as if I had never left his side</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;">Oh, if I were an ice dancer, even in a large competition, I’d remember the thrill and beauty of it, how my movements made people gasp in awe; I would remember the smoothness of the ice under me and the glorious swishing sound my skates made</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;">For when it would be over, it could be like the other parts of my life --- and, the age-old question:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;">Why don't people remember the things I did well, why don't they talk to me about all the motions that clicked into place after years of practice? </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;">Why can't they recall the fine joyous moments --- my skirts flying, my smile? --- how I made so many people happy, how I did <u>almost all</u> the exercises to perfection?</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;">Why do they choose to talk about that one time I fell or the other competition when I did not land perfectly?</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 14pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">WHY DON'T PEOPLE REMEMBER THE GOOD?</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-29158224323235843722012-01-03T08:47:00.000-08:002012-01-03T08:47:59.676-08:00STRINGS<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I never liked New Year’s much or understood the desire for craziness at midnight but after coming to live in Philadelphia, I slowly got involved in the traditions of the Mummers and their amazing New Year’s parade.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I began watching way down on Broad Street when I lived deep in South Philly and graduated to Broad and Christian with my neighbors and their children when I moved to ‘northern South Philly’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I swore I would never watch a parade uptown.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But, in time, I began going to the popular bars around 13<sup>th</sup> and Pine Streets and I knew and enjoyed lot of people so one year I slowly gave in and watched from the corner of Broad and Pine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was tremendous fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our friend Billy would yearly climb the light pole and just as annually be hauled away by the police.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I had a very old blue duffle coat that looked like a blanket that I saved just for that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I carried a large plumber’s bag that Rose Fantasia had sewn my initials into.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was filled with extra socks, scarves and mittens to use and share with anybody who needed them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">My goal every year was to escape the street barriers and the police and dance in the middle of the street with a String Band Captain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was usually successful in this endeavor. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">We ‘liberated’ men’s rooms at the local pizza parlor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The men’s room lines were always so short compared to the women’s room ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sweetest, shyest friend Mary Ann helped me the first year. I was terrified, especially when I heard Mary Ann outside the men’s room door that I was behind, staving off, sweetly, a man wanting to come in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">After I moved to New York, I heard that the parade had fallen on hard times for a few years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last time I saw it, it was a straggly little group, marching along Market Street, not Broad, and it made me sad.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I hadn’t thought much about the Mummers in a long while but on the way down to Philadelphia for New Year’s Eve with friends, they came to mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Parade was revived and back on Broad Street again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wondered if any of my friends from ‘before’ would still come out?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would anyone I knew come by Dirty Frank’s Bar or would I just feel sorry that I had ventured to the area again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was scared; sometimes these ‘going-back’ things really don’t work.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I walked slowly past 13<sup>th</sup> and Pine seeing only lots of young mummer clowns with bright green faces hanging out the door of the old bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many times I’d had paint on my face from mummer kisses!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I carried on slowly towards Broad Street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pizza shop with the bathrooms was right across the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wondered if our tradition had been carried on?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In front of me walked a tall man with a gray ponytail under a wonderful hat set at a rakish angle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joe?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>--- Could it be Joe?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The artist, Joe Tiberino welcomed me royally, as did the people with him including Gail and his beautiful daughter, Ellen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, the parade itself was delightful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The audience, new and old, was as thrilled as I had always been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joe encouraged me to go back and enter the bar and push past the clowns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said I might see some old friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sweet familiar faces welcomed me, some looking very much the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was like a painting, a beautiful painting with different people popping in. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I didn’t stay long, just long enough to hug and remember; to collect some addresses and say that today I didn’t want to hear the long litany of who had died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the years I had heard but not today.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Today was a New Year and a day for memories, a time to make plans for moving forward and a day for honoring a past time of great fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My whole few days back in Philadelphia had felt soft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked the streets of my old neighborhood and sat on the stoop of my former building; I had good conversations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a time of wisps, soft clouds, touches; vows to be in touch more, a time of gratefulness for the past and hope for the future.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Happy New Year everybody. Mary Pat Kane</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-15602900573018514942011-11-22T17:54:00.000-08:002011-11-22T17:54:17.532-08:00THANKSGIVING DAY, 1981<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">THANKSGIVING DAY, 1981</span></u></b><u><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></u></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">by Mary Pat Kane</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I take the Greyhound bus along the road you traveled to see me just a year ago.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was a long trip for such a sick man, the grandchild in the back seat with computer football game ‘beeping’ all the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You said --- “I thought he’d get tired of it but he never did!”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The thermostat on my oven had broken and burned the beautiful fresh turkey but you didn’t care.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You had come to my house, as you would say later, knowing you would probably never come again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You loved my house which made me so happy; I did too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day after Thanksgiving, I found you in my kitchen with all my cupboards open wide --- just checking, making sure your daughter would never starve.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I think of your nervousness waiting for Jim and Casey to pick you up, your normal nervousness about the weather, would it snow on your way down? --- A long trip, 7-hours at best and you a nervous driver and worse passenger always.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, you worried whether you brought the right kind of wine (you had spent a long time asking opinions in the wine shop but, still, you worried).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are such worriers, both of us --- wanting so to please, wanting everybody to be happy, to make it all <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">work</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, wanting to make it work.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In the back of Jim’s station wagon, there were so many brown paper bags full of food that it looked like you thought they didn’t have food in Philadelphia, though you were not eating much by now.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Pumpkins lie sunken and rotting in the fields and I wonder which farm houses you might have seen just a year ago today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I pray that you didn’t see the deer hanging in back yards, you who loved animals so, deer our special family bond.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The hills are golden beige at this time of year, a bit of snow dusts the leafless trees --- a barren but beautiful landscape.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Today I wanted to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">between</i> where I once lived with you, my only father, and where I now make my home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">between</i> all the turkey dinners and fun banter of jostling tables in both cities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to ride the route you took to my home for that one last brave time and to celebrate who you were ---</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Your generosity of spirit, your inestimable kindness and consideration, your shyness with affection --- the kind of kiss you gave me the last so many years of your life --- putting your two fingers to your lips, then, putting your fingers to my cheek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I give those fingertip kisses to my friends now and tell them why and where it came from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, I always add --- “My Dad didn’t go in for big displays of affection but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you always knew he loved you; </i>there was no doubt, no, no doubt.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank you, Ollie Kane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you so.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mary Pat Kane</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As taken from the original, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thanksgiving Day, 1981</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tuesday, November 22, 2011</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Have a wonderful holiday, one and all.</span></span></i></div>mpk</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-77691978598090864492011-10-20T09:44:00.000-07:002011-10-20T09:44:54.875-07:00AN EVENING WITH HARRY BELAFONTE<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I went to a talk at the glorious public library on 42nd St. last Wednesday night where Harry Belafonte was the interviewee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His new book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My Song --- a Memoir,</i> came out last week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The room is beautiful and the Emcee, Paul Holdengraber is always good, though that night I saw him as superb and, besides for my artist friends, it’s a reasonably-priced ticket --- yey! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I arrived, wonderful music was pumping out across the room; I had forgotten the largeness of Harry Belafonte’s repertoire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think we tend to remember ‘Day O’ immediately but there’s a lot more.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When the music stopped and Mr. Belafonte was announced, I found myself jumping up immediately to applaud with most of the audience doing the same and when I did, I noticed I was shivering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a profound moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">He wore a softly-colored pale yellow sweater, his voice was a bit raspy but the stories that came out were phenomenal --- tough, touching, very funny at times and he so depicted the life of an artist --- you have nothing one second, something the next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A few things stand out --- like Harry Belafonte had a 9<sup>th</sup> grade education and enlisted in the Navy and was in a segregated unit where he was surprised there were so many different types of black people --- their colors, languages, accents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hung around with a more formally educated core of men and picked up many reading ideas from them and read and read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a touching library story, too long to include here --- you’ll have to buy the book!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I hadn’t known the extent of Harry Belafonte’s acting career, nor how he hung in the West Village evenings after classes at The New School and heard the great jazz people of his time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had long followed Count Basie, Ella, Miles, Thelonious Monk and Charlie Parker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, in the old “Royal Roost” near school, he heard many more jazz artists and, in time, they gave him a chance to sing (at first during intermission!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had to talk his way into college because he didn’t have a High School degree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of his finest theater teachers there were German Jews, recently escaped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the whole over-two-hour interview, Harry Belafonte came off as fully open to people, interested, and, as such, he received great riches from them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of his colleagues in theater class were Marlon Brando whom he loved, Rod Steiger and Bernie Schwartz who would later become Tony Curtis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were just young students in school together and, of course, Marlon mumbled.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I left before the talk was over, I had to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was overwhelmed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As an artist what I can tell you is that Harry managed a building and took out the trash (something I do!); <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he had a lot of things go wrong, and he had a lot of people out of nowhere (sound familiar???) support him and, mostly, he<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> heard </i>what they said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They proffered advice and he was open to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once someone helped him totally change the order of songs for a raucous and unresponsive audience and he did it and it worked.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What a great night at the New York Public Library and there are many more nights to come in this delightful series.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mary Pat Kane, October 20, 2011</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><u><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">http://www.nypl.org/events/live-nypl</span></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-4588761535307557172011-10-03T09:39:00.000-07:002011-10-20T11:53:19.664-07:00OF CLEANING --- what do the rich do when the demons attack?<span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span> <br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-size: small;"><em>I read this in a class last week and got a positive response, so I'm passing it on to you on this gloomy first day of the week, maybe it will make you smile. I hope so. Mary Pat</em> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I used to feel sorry for Jackie Onassis, no not for what you might think of --- like the tragic death of her husband or her brother- in- law, not that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to feel sorry for her because I wondered what she did when she was upset if she didn't have to clean her house?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I mean there are days I would give anything for help, HELP, help of any kind and especially household help, so much of my time is spent on nitty gritty housey things that I don't have time for much else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, when I get down, when I get blue, when I find myself alone on New Year's Eve and about to feel sorry for myself, I go to the greatest therapy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">One New Year's morning, I awoke with a clean oven, don't laugh, I really did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shower curtain was still soaking in its bath of various things and just had to be scrubbed a little more and rinsed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then it would be like new and to think I used to throw them out and buy new ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I hate to tell you how much I hate the color of this particular shower curtain and how many times I've wanted to throw it out but now it’s resplendent in its cleanliness, a little too resplendent for someone who doesn't favor an ‘orange crush’ color. But, I love knowing that once it was really really grody and now it’s wonderfully clean and beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although, again, it clashes with the red of the geraniums blooming on the windowsill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ouii.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Hmm --- yet, another thing to attack --- the plants ---<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>prune them, water them, soak them from underneath, rid them of ‘toxins’ for the grand new year, oh, there is so much scrubbing to do, so much therapy to be had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I only buy shower curtain liners at discount stores and they only cost a dollar or two but what a feeling of accomplishment on New Year's Eve to clean that baby up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">New Year's Day will be the floors, a huge closet, more of the insides of the stove etc., etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How did Jackie do it???<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How does anyone who doesn't clean get through those times when your stomach is sitting on top of your not very well-polished shoes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do women who have ‘help’ get through the blues?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess they go buy things or have time to jog around the Reservoir (that would help) or go to a really good play and eat at the 21 Club after. I guess there are other things that hold people together but cleaning is a tried and true one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Many ethnic cultures have long known that when the demons come crying --- work, work, work and scour, scour, then scour some more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I'm sure it's what happened on farms of yesteryear when people just fell into bed at the end of the day, too tired to be depressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Work, work, scrub, scrub, dust, dust, sweep, sweep --- oh, it will all come back again, that’s disappointing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, for the time being, the demons sit back down; they leave the pit of your stomach and stop burbling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until, of course, you get into bed and remember about them, until you have time to think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, while you move around swinging various implements, while you run the water and experiment with various forms of foams and sure-to-work cleansers, they’re quiet, quieted, quelled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-size: small;">MPKane</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-size: small;">Monday, October 3, 2011</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="left"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-52481841071215112942011-09-10T14:51:00.000-07:002011-12-15T20:57:34.055-08:00GOODNIGHT --- did I remember to look?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><em>(I wrote this about the night of 9/10/01 a few weeks later. I just remembered it as I was trying to sort my thoughts about what to do tonight and tomorrow, ten years later!!! There are so many feelings. I thought you might want to see this. I wonder where you were and what you were doing the evening 'before?' I'd love to hear. It all seemed so much simpler then, didn't it?; I was just getting emergency checks at the bank until my new checkbook arrived, stuff like that. MPK)</em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Did I look at them that last night, did I remember to look out the window, oh, I must have but I’m not sure, there was a time when I first moved here that I couldn’t get my bed close enough to the window, wanted to make sure I could see the view all night long, I don’t know how I thought I could see it while I was sleeping.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I loved that view; I spent hours looking across the river at it; in the beginning I photographed out my windows every morning.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">When company came, they were forced to look out and admire, if they stayed overnight, they had to look at the skyline in various lights, shades, mists, by day and night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the company wasn’t wildly enthusiastic about the view, they probably wouldn’t be asked back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Same as with my cats, a certain amount of attention must be given).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">But, over time, as with anything --- if you live on the ocean, if you live in the Alps, you stop noticing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, it isn’t that the view is any less fabulous but it is matter of fact to you now, sad but true, maybe if you are married to someone very handsome that happens --- “oh, him” you say when someone comments on his good looks, but I don’t know about that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Eventually, it seems, we take everything for granted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than that, we assume we will be able to see it or him tomorrow or the next day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ho, hum, oh, look at my beautiful view.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On Lake Como at the top of Italy across from the Alps, people that live there seem shocked at my obsession; my eyes can’t work hard enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, this is what they know, this is their view constantly; they went to grade school up on the hill above the lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is normal to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">So, did I look out at them, the tall lonely towers, that Monday night, or, that Tuesday morning before I went to vote? I hope so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I look out with wonder at the skyline of downtown Manhattan, right out there through the trees, past that one splendid church spire on my side, the Brooklyn side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved the shape of the skyline then, the jaggedness of it, the two tall pillars, setting off all the rest, the irregularity of it, in hindsight, was what made the view so powerful<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>--- now it is so similar, too neat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved it on bright days and more so on pale muted ones; I loved the way the skies changed, wound around, clouds rose and swooped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the rain, you couldn’t see at all and then the mists would slowly rise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, I loved the view in the dark, all twinkly and jewel-like, winking at me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">But, that last night, I was working on a story in the other room; I answered phone calls there too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was late; I was tired and daydreaming about my story, the way I do when I get into something.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Did I just fall into bed across from where they quietly stood or did I remember to look out and say ‘GOODNIGHT’?</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">by Mary Pat Kane, written somewhere after 9/11/01</span><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">posted on the evening of 9/10/11</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><strong><u><span style="font-size: large;">GOODNIGHT</span></u></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-49235957174394226152011-08-08T11:54:00.000-07:002011-08-15T08:37:32.645-07:00BEES<span style="font-family: Cambria;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; tab-stops: -.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; tab-stops: -.5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When we were little, we used to catch bees behind the house next-door, bees that sat on pears that had fallen from the tree and were rotting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; tab-stops: -.5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We would quickly sneak up on a bee, lower a glass jar over the whole pear and, if we were lucky, catch it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; tab-stops: -.5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We were only five or so, Jerry Baumann, my next-door neighbor and I.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; tab-stops: -.5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The bees would then rush and hit against the sides of the jar, they would try to get out the top, but in time they would crumple up and lay down at the bottom, their wings flapping ever so slightly, their breathing labored, the exuberance of their former flight --- no more to be seen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; tab-stops: -.5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Then, we'd quickly create schemes to <i>save the bees</i> --- punch holes in the top of the jar for starters --- that was always a good idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d put in bits of grass and flowers and dandelions, things <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we thought</i> they would like to eat that would make them move again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; tab-stops: -.5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But, invariably the bees would get weaker and weaker ---in spirit if not in strength, and we'd watch as the bright, yellow, fluffy things that had been flying around enchanting us, batted up against the walls of the jar a few more times, then dwindled there before us --- no matter what we did.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; tab-stops: -.5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Usually, we were lucky enough to let them out in time and, at first they'd be quizzical, but then they'd gain strength and slowly fly off --- to the sky, to the trees, to the flowers where they belonged.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; tab-stops: -.5in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 200%;">---</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I've been thinking lately about the catching of bees when I was five or so, thinking of the bees as an analogy to the people we say we love --- how we are attracted to them because they are yellow and fuzzy and free and because they FLY but, then, we try to put them in a glass jar, confine them to a small space, throwing in odds and ends of food and air <i>we</i> think they'll like; how we watch the very person we were attracted to just dwindle away and dry up, laying quietly on their side on top of a few tufts of grass</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><h1 style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif";"><span style="font-size: small;"><em><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Slowly losing the life and the flight that was theirs ---</em></span></span></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The life we said we loved them for.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Mary Pat Kane</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; tab-stops: -.5in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-50565133597685146352011-08-04T07:50:00.000-07:002011-08-15T08:38:28.025-07:00THE ONE MORE TIME KID --- ON LEAVING THE ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS AS A YOUNG GIRL<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">On the last day of a 2-week vacation every year in the Adirondack Mountains, a Sunday, we had to clean like crazy for the people coming in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was an old family camp and each part of the family had two weeks there.</span></span></span> <br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">My ritual as a young girl after cleaning was to go down the stairs to the lake and dive in and stay as long as I could with my mother constantly hollering down to me that I should get out and get dry or I’d "catch cold with my hair all wet" while we were driving home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I never got out of the lake early. I’d just dive 'one more time, one more time,' until I would finally <em>have</em> to get out, clamber up the hill behind the camp and get in the back seat of our car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Then, it was u</span>p and down the hills of the driveway, turn left onto the main road, through the small town of Eagle Bay, NY with me crying all the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The family story was that I would cry straight to Old Forge, a nine mile trip from Eagle Bay according to the road sign, then I’d stop.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">That was until the year<em> after</em> I had stopped crying on entering Old Forge, that there, just outside the town, stood a beautiful deer to the side of the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The glorious animal got me started crying again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know how long it lasted.</span><br />
<br />
Mary Pat Kane</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><stroke joinstyle="miter"></stroke><formulas><f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"></f><f eqn="sum @0 1 0"></f><f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"></f><f eqn="prod @2 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @0 0 1"></f><f eqn="prod @6 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"></f></formulas><path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"></path><lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"></lock></shapetype><shape alt="" id="_x0000_i1025" style="height: 93.75pt; width: 140.25pt;" type="#_x0000_t75"><imagedata o:href="file:///C:\82250007.jpg" src="file:///C:\Users\MARYPA~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"></imagedata></shape>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-72768495877841421872011-07-19T16:47:00.000-07:002011-08-15T08:39:30.175-07:00IT’S OKAY TO USE A GOOD BOWL FOR SUPPER<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><u><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span></span></u></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I think a lot of us do this, I can’t be the only one --- protect our ‘good’ things so they don’t get hurt or broken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was little and I’d get a new blouse or dress, I’d leave it hanging for weeks, maybe months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother couldn’t understand it; she’d have had it on immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I didn’t want to get it dirty, wrinkled, whatever.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But, years later, I’m still doing that --- holding off, not using things that are beautiful because they are beautiful and could be hurt, broken etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will only use my Writing Retreat mug on Sundays as I’m so afraid of breaking it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why Sunday should make me any less clumsy is anyone’s guess. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">How long is this going to last?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How long do we have to live? --- None of us know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve lost many friends younger than I am, so, what am I waiting for?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But, if I wear the pale pink tee shirt (instead of the dark gray), it could get stained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I use one of Tommy’s bowls (Tommy was a guy in my old neighborhood in Philadelphia who is long dead; he was in his late 80’s when I bought the two bowls from him), I could break it. Every time I see the bowls, I think of him and, though I love them --- the color, the strength, the weight, the age of them, I end up protecting them, for fear I could hurt them and, instead, use the thinner, bright white, no-magic-in-it-bowl left behind by my neighbor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has neither the beauty nor character of Tommy’s bowls.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Am I afraid if a bowl breaks that I will break Tommy, break his memory, and lose him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, what about the pink tee shirt?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure I’m frugal to a fault and don’t want to buy another one and don’t always do too well with stain removal techniques.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, there is no Tommy involved here, no memories of a sweet older man in his funny little shop, cluttered with treasures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who would I be hurting? --- The chain sneaker shop that sells the tees at 5 for $20?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Once, I threw away a pair of terribly grubby sneakers into a barrel on the West Side Highway as I neared work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were gross. But, I then walked back and pulled the sneaks out; it was my 2<sup>nd</sup> or 3<sup>rd</sup> year living in New York, ‘pounding the pavement’ as they say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stood on the West Side Highway during morning rush hour with tons of traffic whizzing by and held those sneaks and cried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look where they had taken me, look where I had come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had moved to this wonderful city, I had walked and walked to find my first apartment, and to quickly find another when that fell through a few days after I moved in. I walked to many a temp agency in these sneaks and explored it all --- Central Park, Prospect Park, Coney Island, Jones beach, Oyster Bay, Seacliff, Chelsea, Soho, the Lower East Side, Harlem, the Bronx, Queens and marvelous Brooklyn.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So, it wasn’t just sneaks I was throwing away that day on the West Side Highway, it was a legacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had carried me far, they had been my friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sneaks had helped introduce me to places and people and scenery I would never forget.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They weren’t just old grubby sneaks with not a speck of tread left, though they were definitely that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">an institution</i>, they were venerable, they should have been framed, covered with gold gilt like baby shoes and shown in a gallery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Mary Pat Kane</span><br />
<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-85800566994960471642011-07-12T08:10:00.001-07:002011-08-15T08:39:58.573-07:00a wisp ---THE OFFER<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last night I went to water my plot in the community garden and to help water the many other plots of people who were away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outside the fence, stood two men talking excitedly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should have invited them in; I don’t know what I was a thinking.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One of the men introduced himself to me through the fence as a resident of the brand new apartment building across the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked him how it was and he said ‘very nice’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had been reluctant to talk with anyone from the building as it had been the subject of a bitter community battle for a few years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The building was thought to be totally inappropriate to the lovely old architecture of the area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was huge and modern.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It blocked out the light from many, many people’s back yards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The building had taken away our subway entrance and exit for a few years and made it into a myriad of long corridors and many more long narrow stairs to navigate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, there was the mess of the actual building itself and getting around cranes and walking under scaffolding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a long few years but I don’t know why I thought it was the new residents’ fault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t build the building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, to be adversarial stayed with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I got real grubby working on my patch (I call it “TARA” but it’s only 3 feet by 3 feet) and I’d forgotten to bring a cloth to clean up with and was on my way out to a street party.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I showed this nice young man who had just moved into the big new modern-fought-against-by- the-community building my hands covered with mud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, he did something I wasn’t expecting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He offered to go get me a towel from his apartment!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I just live across the street,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wow, how often does that happen?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I answered that I’d be fine and could wash off with the garden hose which I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I remembered the friendly young man and his kind offer this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Narrow-mindedness, mine and anyone else’s, closes so many doors, cuts off so many opportunities.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">Mary Pat Kane</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><u><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">July 11, 2011</span></span></u></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-62349501056240829732011-07-08T11:54:00.000-07:002011-08-15T08:40:26.012-07:00THE TALL SHIPS STORY, from the summer of 1976<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Memories of another 4<sup>th</sup> of July</span></u></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; mso-line-height-alt: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 16pt; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I used to attract negative people and I definitely attracted negative advice --- “you can't move there, it's too expensive, they’ll eat you up and spit you out, they'll knife you in the back,” … --- real uplifting sorts of stuff and in the summer of 1976, I had my share of nay-sayers too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems to be easier to be negative than positive, to fantasize a catastrophe instead of a great joyous undertaking, or, even just a simple nice day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">In 1976, I still had a ‘normal job’ (i.e. I wasn’t a writer) and worked in an office where there were lots of people to talk to about weekend plans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was about to be The Bicentennial Weekend, July 4th, 200 years of our country and I lived in Philadelphia then, a real Bicentennial city if ever there was one. But, the newspapers kept mentioning the Tall Ships Parade in New York Harbor and it stuck in my mind as a most exciting idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would never leave Philadelphia <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">on </i>the 4th itself but I hatched a plot to take the train to New York the day <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">before</i> and see what I could see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not know New York City well then and had no idea how to get to the Harbor but figured there were subways and I would work it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am always scared enough of new things on my own, so I really didn’t need all the nay-sayers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, they were there, aplenty</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Some people at work told me it was a totally foolhardy idea; they told me I would never see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">anything</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They questioned me as to my knowledge of the subway system (not much).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They told me scary tales of New York.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They told me that terrorists were going to bomb the Tall Ships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They said that on the day before the 4th, and they were authorities, most negative people are very authoritarian in their pronouncements --- on the day before, there would be no ships to be seen at all so why was I wasting my time?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Well, to tell you the truth, maybe it was because of the negativity that I got over my fear of all new things and my general inertia and donned my blue and white striped shorts and my red tee shirt and got on a train to New York City early on Saturday morning, July 3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to stand up to the nay-sayers whatever I was about to see or not see in New York.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Once I arrived, I quickly found my way to a subway that went to the Battery Park where the Harbor was and I was on my way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The subways did not feel at all violent or unfriendly as had also been predicted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, everyone seemed in a buoyant and expectant mood. People were draped with cameras.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt like hope was in the air.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I had never been on the Staten Island Ferry but when I came upon the Ferry Building, it seemed like a good idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Ferry cost a quarter then, now it’s free --- once in a while life works for the average person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I figured I'd, at least, be on the water and see what I could see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a partially sunny day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whole families boarded the Ferry, most everybody smiling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the day before the 200th birthday of our country.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Within seconds of boarding the Ferry, a thin sad-seeming widower from Staten Island attached himself to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He told me the story of his life and all his troubles, so, though I had traveled to New York, it seemed like every day to me, anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We rode out across the water together on the left side of the Ferry where we could see huge military vessels anchored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The widower was pretty enthusiastic about the military ships so I tried to be polite but they were not very exciting to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, on our return trip, he wanted to stay on the same side of the Ferry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to see the military ships again and he was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">absolutely sure</i> we wouldn't see anything more interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">There I was, attracting negative people, again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man tried to convince me that we had <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no chance</i> of seeing a Tall Ship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I can be pretty stubborn too and, by that time, I would have been happy to see the Statue of Liberty and call it a day but we had to move to the other side of the Ferry to do so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn’t set out on this journey to see military boats.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">So, I said --- "Look, I've really enjoyed talking to you" (he still wore his gold wedding band) "and I’d like to continue our conversation but I’m going to the other side so if you want to keep talking, come along".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He quickly followed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">There, we found that the sky was growing dark and ominous and huge cumulus clouds were stacking up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed the clouds were rushing in from the outer sea into the Harbor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, just as our Ferry was nearing its docking point --- whooosh --- a ship with purple sails jumped into view --- whoosh --- a ship with red sails and we stood on that deck in shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, several more of the Tall Ships that were out at sea doing their trial runs for the next day’s event came racing into port to escape the impending storm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can't tell you how many, sometimes three and four came in at once and there was this clutter of Tall Ships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, what clutter it was!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our Ferry was stranded, stranded away from docking as we were forced to leave space for Tall Ship after Tall Ship to come rushing through the channel. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember one ship with 12 billowy white sails, like something out of a movie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">As a group we "ohhhed" and "ahhhed" and pointed; we jostled each other to look this way and that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were shouts of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>---"There's the Greek Ship” and “There's the Swedish Ship" --- many people knew the ships and I about cried for the joy and beauty and spectacle of it all, enhanced even more by the contrasting backdrop of fierce black clouds and now rough, white-capped waters. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our Ferry was 'stuck' for half an hour, half a glorious hour and I doubt there was anyone wanting the time to end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The photos I got from my little Instamatic camera show an eerie-looking like old world battle scene with Tall Ships bobbing against a threatening sky and turgid waters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Of course, I sent copies of my snapshots to the widower who wrote me a beautiful note.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He and I would send Christmas greetings for several years.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Eventually, he and I said our goodbyes and on my way back to get the subway, I spotted a group sitting at an open-air cafe on the side of the Ferry Building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I wish that place still existed, I'd move in!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat down, ordered a drink and found everyone in the place talking animatedly to each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People across the way bought me a second drink because I was from Philadelphia and it was, after all, the Bicentennial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I bought a huge bag of popcorn and gave it to everyone at the Bar from my city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A young man next to me was in awe that I had been on that Ferry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had come down to the Battery with the same idea of riding it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, when he arrived no boats were allowed out and Michael, a lovely and gentle person, looked out to see my Ferry ‘trapped’ out there on the water while the Tall Ships informally paraded by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">So much for the unsafe streets of New York and my warnings that I wouldn’t see anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the rain finally stopped, Michael escorted me back to the subway. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, before that, we walked through Battery Park together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had never seen the Battery before and found it so softly green and lovely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People were out walking again, clowns and other costumed people were entertaining children. Life went on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An old-fashioned ummpahh band swung into gear as we walked on the shiny rain-slicked sidewalks and I laughed out loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How perfect --- there were tubas, the whole thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun came peeking out and caused brilliant reflections in the puddles. The sky was slowly becoming blue again and I knew it would be a beautiful day for the 4th ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was returning to Philadelphia and friends, parties, fireworks and parades as well as people who told me how stupid I was to attempt this trip, how I would see nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing? How about 20 - 30 Tall Ships just yards away?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, what if I hadn’t seen any Tall Ships, what if I had seen nothing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would it have mattered? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Michael stopped at a street vendor and bought me an apple pin which he pinned to the neck of my tee shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to come across it from time to time in my top dresser drawer and I could never part with it, no matter how hard I was trying to get rid of things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Memories of the day before that Bicentennial Fourth of July came over me anew each time ---- memories of trains and found subways and helpful people; memories of the widower and the Ferry itself and all us Americans and those ships, those gorgeous God-given Tall Ships and the people in the bar. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can see their faces still --- all wishing each other well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; letter-spacing: -0.05pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Michael said he bought me the tiny apple pin so I would never forget my day in “The Big Apple”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, then, how could I?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Mary Pat Kane</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-hyphenate: none; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9066031555473665329.post-27089407740497697792011-07-08T11:51:00.000-07:002011-08-15T08:40:45.835-07:00WISPS<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>I live a floor higher up than most of my neighbors so I have lots of light and see the sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I lay flat down on my couch, I can watch clouds journey by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love that --- sometimes they muddle along, sometimes they speed or swirl.</em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>My favorite clouds are the little wisps; they look like a part of a larger cloud that has ventured off on its own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They make me laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re so small and determined though they appear fragile.</em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>In my life on the streets, wisps of human, animal, and plant interactions come at me and bring me great joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re mostly not huge life-changing events, they’re not about jobs or promotions or worldly success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re these precious little wisps of moments of interaction or, often, observation --- of a child, a dog’s sad face while waiting for his owner outside the greengrocer, flowers in my community garden, the white butterfly that greets me there and is totally unafraid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Those are the things I intend to write about here --- those beautiful wispy clouds that make my life rich.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(And, sometimes, as in this first piece, I’ll include longer stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t resist a 4<sup>th</sup> of July story this week!)</em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Thanks for stopping by and, please, come again.</em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>And, feel free to comment and to share your own ‘wisps’.</em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>All the best,</em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Mary Pat Kane</em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0