End of September

Rain cancelled tennis yet again this morning so I spent the time reading my Dad's letters home from 1973 when he was in Bangkok for a year. He wrote to my mother and me every week. And every week, Mother airmailed him the NY Times Sunday crossword puzzle in her letter. He wrote of the places he ate lunch, planning for my trip out there in July, money issues, etc. John, Ned, and I all received our master degrees in May, but he wasn't home for any of the ceremonies. Actually I don't remember any of the ceremonies so I guess I didn't go to any, even my own.

ML is returning home today from 2.5 weeks in Chicago setting up a new RH store, part of her new job at the home office which is in Marin Co.  Being away that long is hard, leaving R to handle Arlo's needs. I can't imagine being away for a year from your people. When I went to visit Dad, I realized how important those letters were for him. It was very lonely.  If anyone wants to see those letters, let me know.

Found some pics while clearing some books from the shelf. This is a quilt that ML and I made for John over 25 years ago.

After Labor Day

So here is the dense fog that welcomed me every morning on the first several weeks back to school when I was young. It seems so familiar even though I haven't seen it in many years. It kind of keeps you from looking too far ahead and focuses your attention on closer things like first class, sharpened pencils, and accessible homework. The fog probably occurs this time of year in river communities in the U.S. as the water joins the cooler air aloft. 

This Labor Day was interesting in that there are no more Union mines in KY.  How can that be?  So much blood was shed to get workers to stand up and be heard. It is good that the Federal Government has instituted many fair labor practices and created work safety standards for mines and other industries, thus negating the need for unions. But I hope things don't start to deteriorate without collective bargaining. 

Going to school in the mornings after our family moved back on the hill, was usually a tense situation as my father had no patience for bad drivers and slowed traffic.  It's really the only time I remember him cursing. His favorites were, "Goddamn!, Son-of-a-bitch!, and Bastard!" He did not hold with vulgar or lewd phrases so he never said "F**king Bastard!" or "Sh*thole". He had his standards. The worst that he would ever say in response to agregious driving behavior was to use all three of his phrases together, "Goddamn, son-of-a-bitchin' bastard!" It's probably the reason I don't much like to go anywhere in the car.

So fog in the morning means the advent of cooler weather, green tomatoes, and apples for applesauce. I'll have to check out the farmer's market tomorrow.  Also, chorus starts up tonight and Scottish Country Dancing next week. Time to get cracking!