Local Lunch

Today was one of those days that made me feel like I never want to even consider leaving Brooklyn. It is the closest I have ever felt to my childhood fantasy of living on Sesame Street. (more about that someday...)

I took Murphy (my silly little dog who needs dog friends lest he start believing that he is one of the cats) to the dog run at a sort of near-by park.
On the way home, we stopped by the farmer's market and picked up some random goodies, and came home to make the most perfect meal... braeburn apples, strong cheese, hard-boiled egg, wheat bread and wildflower honey, all from farms within a short drive of NYC. (if it looks like it wasn't much of a feast it's because I gobbled up most of it before it occurred to me how beautiful and "photo worthy" it was.)
I feel so eco! (so much better than a Big Mac)
And for dinner I can fry up the purple potatoes and red onions... yum :)

Happy Birthday Dar

March 11 was Dar's birthday. I don't remember what the date was that she died... I know I was 14 and I remember that the sunset was extraordinary that day. My dad had picked me up from work and we decided to make a detour down PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) to watch it over the ocean. I still remember him pulling over and saying "it looks like the gates of heaven are opening". We just sat there and marveled as the sky grew darker and less colorful.
It reminded me of that Lifesavers commercial from the 80s where the little girl and the dad are watching the sun set behind a mountain... he's saying "going, going, gone." and she whispers "do it again, Daddy".
We drove home, went in the house and someone (I think it must have been my mom) said that they had just gotten a call, Dar died.
Really, she had been gone for a long time, a prisoner in her broken body. Personality and character lost to Alzheimer's. And I remember feeling relief that it was over for her, not my own relief but as if hers was so great that it spilled all over the earth and comforted us. She was free from the prison, and her Carl was welcoming her home after being apart for more than half a century.
She wore her wedding band until she died, and I wear it as my wedding band now. It's been through a lot in both of those marriages, and it's worn and nicked and scratched. I hope it lasts to be a reminder of love and devotion for another generation. The engraved date is still visible on the inner edge, actually it says "C.B.W. to G.E.T. March 25, 15". I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to find the date that G.E.T. went to C.B.T. (my sister knows every date and time and place, and what everyone was wearing...). But I'd rather just remember the date that she was sent to us. March 11, 1894.

The Isles of Shoals

This unlikely couple met at a little island hotel on one of the rocky islands divided along the border of New Hampshire and Maine. She was a waitress and he was a scholar and Shakespearian actor from a prominent family. Fortunately, opposites attract, because this pair are my great-grandparents (that's Dar on the right!).
My Grandmother told the best stories of their adventures together... she being the one to change a flat tire when the car broke down, and her mother-in-law scolding him because his wife preferred the company of "the help" in the kitchen to that of the high-society guests at a dinner party.
I have their wedding silverware, and I use it every day. The thought of her standing over a sudsy sink, laughing with the servants (she had such a servant's heart) makes me smile and makes washing my own dishes a little more pleasant.
Maybe this Spring I'll make it to this place that was so special to all of them... I've always wanted to go. It's not so far from Brooklyn...