I was at ShopRite this morning, and I was walking in from the parking lot behind an elderly man -- I'll say older man, in fact, because he wasn't frail -- who was wearing a jacket with lots of writing on the back. Across the shoulders it said USMC, and below that were listed the names of four battles. One was Saipan, the bottom one was Iwo Jima. Except for the white hair, this guy probably didn't look or walk very different 30 years ago, although he must be 80; he was in good shape. Anyway, when I see someone like this, an obvious WW II vet, I want to go up to him and say Thank you. I don't, because I'm too shy to speak to strangers like that, but that's the feeling I always get. So I was putting this together with my pretty strong sense that war is wrong and there is probably never a justification for war (unless someone has started a war against you, but even then, is it really a good idea, really?) and I just don't know. World War II is different for me, it doesn't fit into any other war category. No doubt this is connected to my father, because he is my connection to World War II, but still. One of those dichotomies of life that cannot be resolved. So, if you know anyone who served in World War II, say thank you for me. (And in fact, any other war. I don't think there should be war, but I'm extremely grateful to and proud of anyone who's served.)
I talked to my elderly -- there's that word again -- cousin this morning, the one who is really more like an aunt but technically a cousin; she was my mother's first cousin and my father's second. (Oh, read this; it explains it all.) She's still in excellent health, drives and all, and time -- she's 88 -- has not diminished her capacity to be judgemental of anyone and everyone. She's a character; the Sibs and I are always reminding ourselves that we never really cared for her before, but now that she's all that's left of that generation, it seems incumbent upon us to keep in touch. She's somehow the link to my parents (but of course, the Sibs and I are the real links, no?) and as long as she keeps going, I guess I'll keep calling. Her father lived to 92, and his mother to 96, so I guess she'll be with us for quite some time.
So I wished her a Happy Passover (it starts tonight) and talked over some good old Jewish foods with her. She seemed amazed that I like gefilte fish; she probably always thought of us as heathens. As we both remarked, laughing, my father was not just not into religious things, he was actively opposed to them. Not that we didn't have the occasional Passover at this woman's home; she was a great cook and liked to think of herself as the keeper of the family's Jewish flame. A little more sincerity on her part would have been nice, but no one expected to live to see that. She was always all show, but her show was very good.
Today is the first day of Spring Break, and let me tell you, if I retired tomorrow, I could be very happy. When I know I have this kind of time off, I can just meander around and gets loads of stuff done, but never feel pressured. Summers were not like this when my kids were little, but last summer was, and it was great. That's how today felt. Like I'm living according to my own timetable and there's no deadline to be someplace or do something. I love this.
So yesterday the Hubs went off on a business trip to Virginia with someone else from his office, and they were going to stay overnight. Now, he rarely goes anywhere, so although he's experienced overnights without me, I've experienced very few without him. My first thoughts? I can fall asleep with the TV on, and, ONE NIGHT WITH NO SNORING! Well, he called around 5:00 to say their work there was done for the day, and the guy he went with wasn't feeling very well, so they were probably going to drive home that night. And then R was going out to start at her second job, but it turns out she didn't have to be there until 9:30. So much for my night in the house alone! I fell asleep around 9:30, very tired, no pill, and woke up around 11:45 to hear a conversation in the hall outside the bedroom. They were both home. (Her job, it seems, is a two-hour gig, twice a week, but it's fun and the pay is good. She's running trivia contests in local bars, something she did in Wales, too.) By then, I was up, but they were both exhausted and went to sleep, so I was alone, but it was late! Finally I did go to bed, and yes, there was snoring. But I slept nice and late for me, almost 8:00, and when I woke up I couldn't figure out where everyone was. But the Hubs had gone into the office to catch up on yesterday's missed work, and R was already off to her regular job, where I stopped in later and said Hi and she made me a nice skim milk decaf latte.
I was just watching Anne of Green Gables for my class, and I was loving it, but then the kid stole something and lied about it and I couldn't watch anymore. I was flipping channels and came across Much Ado About Nothing, which I've seen before and once bought by mistake; I don't love it, but I enjoy all of Branagh's Shakespeares somewhat, so I'm keeping it on. I just added a few Shakespeares to my blockbuster queue: Love's Labour Lost, also Branagh, and a King Lear with Ian Holm and the Macbeth with Ian McKellen and Judi Dench. I think the last two were both directed by Trevor Nunn, who's supposed to be brilliant, but I may not have seen any of his work before. I've seen Lear and Macbeth before, but not these versions, and I want Ian McKellen to be my gay boyfriend. I heart him.
I was really looking for Twelfth Night, because I've never seen it or read it and I'd rather see it. The only film made is with Helena Bonham Carter, whom I cannot stand for some reason, but it isn't even available anywhere. I'll see if I can get an audiobook of it; there must be one someplace.
I'd also like to listen to Travels with Charley, but it's only out on cassette, and I can't do anything with that. It's the very first Steinbeck I read, I think when I was 12, before I even knew what I was doing or who he was. It would be great on audio; it's not a novel, but his account of a cross-country trip he took in a motorhome with Charley, his standard poodle. I also brought home some Steinbeck to read this week, Cannery Row, which I read in ... 1975, and Tortilla Flat and In Dubious Battle, which I've never read.
I sound so literary, don't I? Let's see how far I get. I'm still more likely to watch The Nanny on Lifetime every morning than I am to pick up Steinbeck. But I have hope, and ambition. It's what separates us from the beasts.
Enough, now, I think.
