Saturday, October 17, 2015

The sun warmed my shoulders as I took slow deliberate steps down a blue stone walk.  My focus was complete as I thought about proper placement of my foot, heel to toe, shifting weight, perfect balance with each step.

"You are never going to burn any calories that way!!" yelled a very strident voice from somewhere behind me.

I stopped, shaded my eyes and turned to see who was calling out to me.

A woman my age strode toward me with purposeful, energetic strides.  Her permed blonde hair bushed out from the sides of her baseball cap which shaded her piercing brown eyes.

"I'm practicing my Tai Chi walk." I replied. "I'm taking a class at the "Y".

I could feel her appraising me; her penetrating gaze taking my measure.

"You're paying someone to teach you to walk?" she asked in amazement.

Her raised brows and incredulous tone made me laugh.  I went on to explain "It's good for balance and for feeling grounded."

"You want to feel grounded?.....forget about balance and just fall down; you can't get any more grounded than that!"

I burst out laughing at her quick wit but made a mental note to cross Tai Chi off a list of possible conversational topics.

"I'm Lorraine." she said with an outstretched hand.  "Nice to meet you."

We exchanged pleasantries for a bit and I came to learn that Lorraine had "More bad habits than you can count, and I'm keeping them all!"

We parted ways at the Japanese Tea House.  I told her I was going to sit and reflect a bit....... sitting and reflecting were not on Lorraine's agenda!

My walk continued down a wooded path past the entrance to the Wild Flower Walk.  A very small, very elderly woman was exiting the walk with her weathered, petite hand held to her head.  Her chin was down and I could see the top of her head as she shook it slowly, back and forth.

"Are you okay" I asked as I walked toward her.

"Son of a .....BITCH!" she yelled, "An acorn just fell and knocked me in the head."

The unexpected words caused some laughter to bubble up inside but I did my best to contain it.  I kept looking at her, so small, so old, so blunt.

She dropped her hand and looked right into my eyes.  "Have kids?".

I nodded in reply.

She took a deep breath and said "I have two.  Both girls.  One is very successful and beautiful.  The other one came out a bit funny."  She tapped her head with her index finger as as she described her second daughter as coming out "funny".

"She walked at nine months and became bow-legged.  Now she was funny in the head and bow-legged."

I just continued to look at her and nodded slowly wherever it seemed appropriate.

"Their father took off.  Good riddance."  Her hands traveled flat palmed to her chest as she said "I took care of them.  I made a plan and I worked with her. Every day I worked.  And you know what?"

"What?" I asked.

"She is perfect now."  Her lined face creased into joy as she smiled a sweetly loving motherly smile and finished with, "And I did that, me!"

I smiled back, no words needed between mothers.












Sunday, October 4, 2015

I once knew an elderly woman who would gather up left over bread crumbs from the fish she baked and save them "just in case".

She was a small round woman whose salt and pepper hair was always pulled back into a tight bun.  Her flowery house dresses fell in voluminous folds, almost reaching the tops of her sensible black shoes.

Once I looked out my window and saw her clothes line strung with tea bags.  One clothespin per bag. She would dry them in the sun for a couple of hours because "A teabag is good for three dunkings".

I am going back thirty years in time.  I was in my early thirties and she was pushing ninety.

Her husband was a slight man with a roguish white mustache.  He always wore "summer white" and a panama hat.

With their frugal ways one would think they were on a shoe string budget but they were as wealthy as Scrooge McDuck.

Their summer home in the Berkshires was nestled in rolling fields and bordered with untouched, pristine woods.  Fifteen rooms had been lovingly restored with meticulous care.  Mr. Santos' library was all burnished wood, oriental carpets, leather chairs and large windows that framed the sweeping hills.  It was my favorite room in their house.

I lived in their "servant's quarters" across the street with my husband and two children.  Our quarters had four bedrooms, two baths, a field stone fireplace and beautiful views that were available in each room through wide windows.  A pond dotted the back field with silver in the winter and blue every other season.

In exchange for a ridiculously low rent (100.00 per month) my husband at the time and I would tend to the lawns and open the house in the spring.

Why am I thinking of them today?

Aluminum foil.

I am out.  I have a casserole to cover and I am out.  Aluminum foil is one of those things I hate to buy; absolutely hate to buy.

I'll bet Mrs. Santos never ran out of aluminum foil.  I bet she had only one box her entire life.

I am incorporating a more frugal life style and I am now, before any purchase, I going to ask myself "wwmsd?" (What would Mrs. Santos do?)