Fall is coming

August is a melancholy month.

Kids go back to school. Squirrels start hoarding nuts. Rains fall quietly.

When Carl and I were newlyweds, every August 22, our anniversary, was spent having an extragavant dinner at a lovely restaurant. I would always have a champagne cocktail to start the evening, in honor of the delicious one I had at the Ritz Carlton in Boston.

This year, I spent our anniversary driving home from Washington after visiting a friend. When I arrived home, Carl was out grocery shopping. I didn't have his gift ready, nor he mine. So we spent the evening on the patio under the big umbrella and the dogs joined us.

Love affairs change over time, and ours is no different. We are more comfortable and less passionate. The good thing is we are still together

Life and art

Art.

You know it when you see it. You could "do" it too, if all it meant was splashing paint on a canvas that you called "untitled number 12."

Hard to teach. In fact, not teachable. It's only possible to send the artists down a path, or suggest one to them.

Life, experience, practice, repetition, experience (again) define the rest.

So, now that I am in art school classes for Web Design, I am at the beginning of art with people who could be my grandchildren.

After a long day (of noncreative activity) at work, another three hours of crowded class, here is my definition of art.

Sitting on the front porch. Watching the trees, black silhouettes against a deep grey sky. Listening to the sounds of the night. Crickets. A wind bringing rain. Breathing in and remembering that I have the control and the power (both such wrong words) to make my day(s) more creative and less reactive.

The trick is to remember that it is you, not the job, that, who, has value.

What you want

Today's picture: Bags of basmati rice at Par Ganj market in New Delhi, taken on my last day in India this spring. Lots more food vendors here than in Chandni Chowk. Veggies spread out under tents, but so many flies, and hot. Vendors sitting among their mangoes and everything else. I like how they are sitting on what look like old tins of olive oil. That is so India. In making do, appearance becomes special. Basmati is a staple and it was good: light and a toothy texture. I haven't bought it yet here, but in the fall I'll try some Indian dishes to keep us warm.

Talked to my mother-in-law this evening, who related the slightly sad story of a very dear friend who is living in an assisted living community. Joanne, mom's friend, had not wanted to leave her home of 50 years, but clearly couldn't keep living there either.

Joanne had a stroke a few years ago, and, as you can imagine, her health didn't improve much. She's overweight, widowed and, after the stroke isolated. But she's hale enough not to need to be in a nursing home.

Joanne's story made me think of how passively some people lead their lives, always waiting for something to happen, for someone to help them. Joanne had my mother-in-law as a friend because they were neighbors who had babies at the same time. They stayed in touch after Mom moved (not far) and were part of a larger extended family of neighbors and friends. Yet Joanne still managed to be isolated after her husband's death. She seemed to have no skills for active socializing. Neighbors became friends, but that had nothing to do with any initial effort on her part.

When her husband was still alive and their kids were grown, their leisure activity was to go on cruises and eat a lot. A lot. Ray was tremendously overweight.

I'm sure they enjoyed the vacations, but I never remember hearing anything else from Mom about them except that they went on cruises.

Everyone ages differently. My mother-in-law still travels to family reunions, walks at the mall, has friends from church and from the old neighborhoods (like Joanne). She lives alone but close to my sister-in-law. Tends to mention people who have died a little more than I'd like to hear when we visit, but that happens when you get old. She does have her limits. At 79, she won't travel by plane anymore, though she talks about how she'd like to visit Europe again.

So between two women, you have different paths, though even Mom, I think, is of a generation whose members didn't push, because it was unseemly. You accepted whatever answer you were given and that was that. I'm generalizing, I'm sure, but I wonder if the Boomer generation, with its "Don't trust anyone over 30" mantra may have long ago been on to something. I don't entirely agree with the lack of respect for authority implied in that mantra, but I do believe more and more as I grow older that things that our elders would have taken on faith were set in stone don't necessarily have to be.

It's funny to be writing about what Mom had to say. This afternoon, Carl and I went to see "Julie & Julia." And Julia Child turns out to be just the kind of woman and wife who wouldn't settle for just being a wife, or just a woman without any passions. She didn't set out to be a great cook, but she wanted to do SOMETHING and in searching for what interested her, she fell in love with cooking. But she did the searching. She didn't wait for that passion to come to her.

After the movie, we stopped at Mitchell's Fish Market for drinks and appetizers. Carl wanted Oysters Rockefeller, recently taken off the menu (at a seafood restaurant? Why?!?) and was grousing.

"Why don't you just ask if they'll make them for you?" I told him. He did, and the chef did.

So how hard is it to go after what you want? You just have to know that you can.

Nights, quiet and otherwise

On Fridays, my husband and I have a standing date at a local bar, The Saloon. It's something to look forward to, and the bartender, a funny, very nice woman, has become a friend. 

Another delightful woman, whom we became acquainted with through dog walks in the park, comes over and take the girls for their evening stroll on Fridays, saving me from rushing home. Tonight, because of a mixup, she didn't show. Happy, frantic greyhounds greeted us when we got home and I took them for a much-needed short stroll.

One of the things I love about winter nights is the opportunity for stillness.  Tonight, the darkness was so crisp and quiet. A dog barked some way off, and up the street, because it was warm-ish,  kids were outside playing. A little bit of traffic noise on the other side of the park, but otherwise windless silence, cold and clear. We made our way around our little half-block walk and I glanced up at one point to see Orion the Hunter in the southwestern sky, the three stars  of his belt lined up in a shiny diagonal.

It is so nice to be able to be outside in the dark and feel safe. Just as nice is to look up in the night blackness and see an old friend, constant in structure, finding his new place in the evening sky.

As a contrast...

Noisy bar, hoops tournament games on TV ( I LOVE March Madness), heads bent towards each other, ears cupped, sentence fragments heard, then .... "what? I missed the first part of that."

It's been a good early hoops tourney season for Pittsburgh. Pitt, Robert Morris and Duquesne all are deep, if not winners of, their conference tournaments. That is awesome for the Dukes, who have been awful for so long. When Carl & I moved to Pittsburgh in the early 80s, he didn't have a full-time job so he did a lot of stringing for the wire services. Mostly Duquesne and the Penguins. Both were awful at the time. And, the game, in the broader sense, was a lot different then. Not so much money was involved. I went to some of the games with him and sat right behind the press table. Freezing! At least the basketball games were. Because the teams were playing on top of ICE! Eek.

It was fun, though. We were young and poor and what the hell, games for free!

Different now. Older. Comfy (sort of). More of a mind to watch on TV than attend. But with March Madness, who cares? Park in front of a screen and you are guaranteed four or five hours (not that I dot it) of fabulous college  basketball. And, best comparison between the 80s and now? Its men and women. They are all awesome. All this from someone who went to one (that I can remember) football game at Ohio State as a student. Funny how we all grow up.

Friday at the Saloon, the games were on, people were happy and talking. I decided to ask two women across the bar if I could take their picture. Both lovely ladies, they agreed and we chatted for a few minutes. Allyson gave me her card and an impromptu speech on doing something that you love for a living. She's right! Not all of us are blessed with a passion and a gift, but still, better to be trying for something you love (and I think that is the artistically challenged me) than to live in a drudgery that feeds only your body, not your soul.

Allyson and Barb were so gracious, they let me take their picture and it is included in this post. Allyson is on the left.