Author: Paul

My brother, Fran, is a mason. He is the best around so he works all the time, most holidays but not Labor Day. He had a good bit of our family at his place for a picnic, Francis style. His back porch is covered in leftover culture stone. A stone barbecue takes centerstage in his backyard. It’s topped with big pieces of slate. A large worktable constructed with metal scaffolding and thick wooden planks sits off to the side.

Fran wears Home Depot work gloves as he mans the grill. He soaks the corn, husks on, in a giant plastic tub, something you’d see at a work site. He gets his car from a farm down the road. It has been picked only hours ago. It is so moist and sweet it would a crime to put anything on it. He told us when he works late he just calls the farm stand and asks them to put a few ears in their mailbox so he could pick it up on his way home. Fran makes better ribs than any of the Barbecue joints.

My sister, Amy, made raspberry tarts like the ones my mom used to make. While we had those with ice cream my siblings shared stories of disjointed but moving conversations they’ve had with the residents at our mom’s place, the newest members of our extended family. Each tale more delightful than the next.

Claire, our soccer buddy, texted Peggi today about Heather O’Reilly‘s retirement from the women’s national team. She told Peggi to let her know if she needed help talking me off the ledge when I heard the news. Let me just say, “I’m ok.” I kind of suspected this was coming when she was moved to an alternate position at this summer’s Rio Olympics. She is still my favorite US player. I loved watching her watch the ball and continually position herself in the open space while signaling for the ball. Wearing number 9 she would switch sides and run up and down the flanks on both defense and offense, leapfrogging the front line to cross from the corner. She was always in the right place and never let up. Best team player bar none.

We washed the windows on the outside of house today and when we got around back I noticed this big old plastic thermometer. It was mounted near the window so we could see it inside and it looked so old fashioned. I hadn’t noticed it in years but I do remember using it when we first moved in. Our thermostats inside display the outside temperature and our computers, tablets and phones. My watch even has the temperature on it. I got a screwdriver out and took it down, the one on the back of the house too. Now I have to find a place to recycle the mercury.

Last night’s Flash match with the Houston Dash was a fitting end to to the season’s home games. They have four more on the road and are in second place so the hope is they’ll get in the playoffs an we may have one of the championship games here. Last night’s score was two two. The match went back and forth and was played at a fairly fast clip with constant turnovers. Lynn Williams should have had the first goal. She went one on one with the goalie and delivered a shot directly into her arms. She redeemed herself with beautiful assists to both Flash goals. Peggi and I had fallen in love with the Brazilian team during the Olympics so it was a treat for us to watch two of their players (Andressa and Poliana) playing their club team match with Houston. I love how the Brizillians use only the first names of the players on the backs of their jerseys.

We spent the afternoon down at Durand Eastman Beach swimming and watching the party boat people anchored just off shore. A couple of snorkelers floated by and people standing up on boards with long paddles. A group of Asian kids were playing soccer in the sand next to us and all was right with th world.

I called B&B Automotive this morning to see if they could get our car in for its yearly NYS inspection. They told me to bring it on over but I would have to leave it with them. I put our bikes in the car and Peggi and I rode back from their shop on St. Paul. We took the back roads and stopped at a lemonade stand. There were five or six kids gathered around and one was holding an 8 1/2 x 11 piece of paper with the word “lemonade” written on it. I asked how much it was and she said 50 cents and she said we would get to pet the rabbit if we bought a glass.

There were no parents around and that is always a good thing when you want to engage little kids in a genuine conversation. Parents insist on answering for their kids or just making them feel uptight. I asked the girl with he pitcher who made the lemonade and she said she did. I envisioned some sort of mix from a packet. There was a hint of salt in there with the sugar. I asked how business was and she said she had only sold one “to him” and she pointed to one of the other kids. She said they don’t get too much traffic on their street. One of the other girls said she was selling her “American Girl” doll for two dollars. She had a sign too but I didn’t see the doll. A brown rabbit was in a cage on the front lawn with a blanket on the top of the cage to keep out the sun. It was ninety degrees and the rabbit looked listless. One of the girls opened the cage and we petted it. I asked what the rabbit’s name was she said, “Cinnamon.”

We stopped at Starbucks on the way home and had an iced latte. There was a hand-drawn chalkboard sign in the back of the shop that read “Hello Spring.” When our our lattes came up I asked the purple-haired barista who was in charge of the graphics and I nodded to the sign. He sad she’s only here in the morning and she’s real busy. He said, “It’ll be Fall before you know it” and I said, “Or Spring.”

We were only home for twenty minutes or so when the phone rang. Our car was ready so I rode back to the garage. I went down the street with the lemonade stand and it was gone.

I’m hoping this summer still has a few nights left warm enough to call for a midnight swim. The water temperature in the street pool is holding at 82 and it feels even warmer on a seventy degree night. We’ve had months of those this year and we’re spoiled. The neighborhood gets so quiet, the big dipper hangs overhead and the lights in the surrounding houses slowly dim while we sit in the pool under only the moonlight. The water is velvety soft, the traffic noise distant, the crickets just beyond the fence, the sound of the world in its place.

We have heard this guy before. He strums chords with ease, confidently and rhythmically right on. He does cheat sheet versions of the Great American Songbook, one classic after the next. We heard him last week at the Friendly Home entertaining the troops and this afternoon he was playing for my mom’s unit. He is a pro, showing up minutes before a gig and kicking it from the get go. He runs one song into the next, though, and that bugs me. He would sound so much better if he took just a short breather between tunes and let the chestnut settle in. He finished with beautiful version of “Over The Rainbow” and we gave him a hearty round of applause.

We were there for a picnic. Family were invited and for the first time we were welcome to eat with the residents. Of course the administrators were there too and they introduced themselves as if we had never met. The social worker even made an appearance. One of the members was trying to drink from the pepper shaker when we sat down and my mom was so tired I was was afraid we would not even make contact but she came around. I could not help but notice how much more interesting the residents were than the respective family members.

Our decision to ride bikes to Sea Breeze had nothing to do with the Pokemon stop there. Didn’t even think of it until we saw all the zombies milling about there. We watched two guys on SUPs paddle through the channel and this couple in their vintage speedboat cruise by. We walked out to the end of the pier and then over to Don’s for a chocolate almond frozen custard. We were celebrating Brazil’s gold medal victory over Germany in men’s soccer.

My mom had just gotten back from the beauty parlor when we arrived at the the Friendly Home. We told her her hair looked good and she asked what color it was. Peggi came up with a round about answer that included the word “grey.” My mom made a face and we told her we were going grey too. She said,”I want to go home with you.” I told her, that would be nice” and then held her hand and tried to change the subject. I said, “I like your ring. Is that your wedding ring?” she said someone gave it to her. I didn’t catch the name but it wasn’t my father. I asked if it was a long time ago and she said no.

We wheeled her down to the sun room and played catch with an inflated baseball. The ball was slighter bigger than a basketball. My mom is good at catch, she always was, and she is competitive too, mostly with herself. She would say, “I should have caught that when it was really my bad throw. We got her to stand up a few times because her seat was sore and then it was time for lunch so we wheeled down the hall into the dining room. Virginia, her regular table-mate had already begun eating her soup. She had a small pile of semi-chewed clams on the table. She pulled one out of her mouth and asked, “What is this?” I said, “That’s a clam” and she said, “Oh.” She added it to the pile.

We said hi to the other table-mates. Sandy never says hi back but Mary, at the end of the table, said hello. The staff served clam chowder to my mom along with a chocolate shake, probably an Ensure product. My mom pointed to the soup and said, “I don’t like that” but she tried a few spoonfuls anyway and when she seemed engrossed in her lunch we slipped away.