My Shadow

Oscar reminds me of this poem.

My Shadow
By Robert Louis Stevenson

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.


The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.




He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,

And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Ha, ha, ha, you make me laugh, to think you want my autograph

According to Wikipedia, autograph books were used to collect the autographs of others. Traditionally they were exchanged among friends, colleagues, and classmates to fill with poems, drawings, personal messages, small pieces of verse, and other mementos.

My first autograph book had a brown cover bearing the inscription "Autographs" and was filled with blank pastel pages of various colors. When I was in fifth grade in Sioux City, Iowa, all the girls had autograph books and we spent time at recess and after school passing them around. Most of us were inspired by a wonderful book called Yours Till Niagara Falls: A Book of Autograph Verses. Available through the school's Tab book program, this little gem was packed with autograph verses-- short poems that succinctly (and often hilariously) summed up thoughts about the person, yourself or the world in general.

Since I have a severely limited capacity to memorize poetry, autograph verses seemed inspired. I scoured Yours Till Niagara Falls, looking for the best verses.  Here are a few:

You love yourself

You think you're grand

You go to the movies and hold your hand

You put your arm around your waist

And when you get fresh

You slap your face!

Grandma has a habit

Of chewing in her sleep

She chews on Grandpa's whiskers

And thinks it's shredded wheat.

There was a girl from Havana

Who slipped on a peel of banana

She wanted to swear

But her mother was there

So she whistled The Star-Spangled Banner.

I defy you to say those aren't funny!

When our family moved to Creston, Iowa, that summer, I started a new autograph book and got kids in my class to sign it. Here are some pages from it:

 

 

Autograph books seem to have gone out of style now, with the advent of Twitter and Facebook. There doesn't seem to be a demand among teenage girls for this admittedly low-tech device. But I'm glad that we use them back in the 60s.

Welcome to the wheelchair brigade

There is woman in a wheelchair in the group that I have coffee with every week and when we both come into the shop at the same time I feel like a member of the wheelchair brigade.

There are some excellent benefits associated with being in this elite group including:

• Having complete strangers come up to you in the grocery store and offer to 1) get something off a high shelf 2) open a freezer case, and 3) just generally be nice to me.
• Riding around the subdivision in a power chair while my small dog gets hot and tired on his daily walk.
• Being able to carry a 12 pack of soda or Ron's extra camera lens on my lap for virtually ever.
• Always getting the reserved seating at church, even when we're late.
• Using handicapped parking at the mall, movie theater, grocery store, etc.
• Finding a sock that I was sure was lost in the lower regions of my wheelchair.

Sadly, there are a few downsides including:

• Getting the dog's leash hopelessly tangled in the wheel on my power chair and finally calling my in-laws to rescue me.
• Traveling below eye level of most adults and therefore being relegated to the category reserved for children, animals and other invisible entities.
• Being unable to access any building with a step at its entrance.
• Watching some very able-bodied people leap into their car parked in a handicapped spot and speed away.
• Entering an otherwise empty bathroom and finding that the only handicapped stall is occupied by an able-bodied person who is taking time from their busy schedule to relax and contemplate life.
• Backing away from a table at a restaurant only to run into the people behind me.

Thank heavens for the Americans with Disabilities Act! Signed into law in 1990, this landmark law

  prohibits discrimination and guarantees that people with disabilities have the same opportunities as everyone else.  Among other things, the ADA made it possible for people like me who use a power chair to go pretty much anywhere in the US knowing that the public buildings, stores and public transportation will be accessible. I really don't know what disabled people did before the passage of the ADA.  It has revolutionized the world for people like me. 

The joys and trials of dog ownership

Headquarters of Humane Society of Missouri

Last Saturday, Ron and I drove to St. Louis to check out a a dog we saw on the Humane Society of Missouri website. We  called ahead and the receptionist said that Saturday was their busiest day so we got up early and were there shortly after 10 a.m. when they opened.

The Humane Society of Missouri is huge!  We went to the St. Louis headquarters, but there are also centers in Chesterfield Valley and Maryland Heights. In addition, the Society's  Longmeadow Rescue Ranch houses horses, cows, goats, chickens, potbellied pigs and other farm animals that have been abused or neglected.


We got to see the dog we were interested in, a black Affenpinscher, right away. An Affenpinscher

Banana Joe

named Banana Joe won Best in Show at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show this year, beginning an unprecedented demand for the rare breed, and it was surprising to see one turn up in a shelter, especially a dog that appeared to be purebred. When the attendant brought him into the get-acquainted room, the one-year-old came right over to Ron and me and sniffed our hands. We took that as a good sign.

Hercules

In some ways, he resembled the Brussels Griffon we had when the girls were growing up. Named Hercules, the Brussels was a wonderful, if stubborn, little dog. Over the years, we got so attached to him that we included him in our family pictures.

Even though we saw a couple of other dogs -- a frightened Lhasa Apso from a puppy mill and a laid-back Pomeranian/Pekinese mix, we decided in the end that the Affenpinscher was the right dog for us. He had been brought in as a stray and seemed to have an even temper and good disposition. He sneezed in my face like Hercules used to do. He was perfect. I was smitten.

While we waited for the new dog to clear the shelter's veterinary hurdles, Ron picked up his free Black Dog Club T-shirt. We had unknowingly joined an elite group-- apparently it is difficult to get black dogs adopted, maybe because they tend to look like mounds of black fur in pictures. So we got a free t-shirt AND an adorable black dog.

Oscar the Grouch

After paying the adoption fee, and purchasing heartworm pills, flea protection, and doggie health insurance, we left, trailing our newest family addition, Oscar. We chose that name because I thought he looked like an Oscar and Ron thought he looked like Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street. All the way home to Springfield, he slept on our laps.

I love having a dog, but the getting-used-to period has not been without peril.  Yesterday I attempted to take Oscar on a walk and my wheelchair got so tangled in the leash that Ron's dad and sister had to dismantle it to get the leash out. Lesson learned, the hard way!

Having a dog made me realize that I am more disabled than I thought. There are many things I can't do for him.  One thing I can do -- love him. And I do! 

Oscar

Pinterest -- The Next Big Thing or a Colossal Time-Grab?

My Pinterest Page

I blame my daughter. Last year when she was planning her wedding she introduced me to Pinterest and before I knew it, I was hooked. I now consider myself an avid Pinterest devotee (note-- I did not say "addict").

If you are not familiar with Pinterest, the site (pinterest.com) is highly visual and set up like bulletin boards. As with any social media,
Pinterest is all about you and so your

Frank Lloyd Wright by Wes Duvall

boards reflect your interests.

Barbie case, the 60s

My boards include Birds, Dogs, Frank Lloyd Wright, the 60s, the 70s, and the Art Institute of Chicago, among others. My assumption that I have impeccable taste is supported by the fact that I have 122 followers.

I love Pinterest and spend an embarrassing amount of time looking at the pins of those people who I am following. I rationalize this time expenditure in a number of useful ways:

Bonding. I can choose to follow people who appear to have similar interests to mine.  It's kind of neat to find someone who doesn't even speak English but who likes the same art. As with everything on the Internet, Pinterest is global and this is fascinating.

Christmas Mojitos

Knife by Greg Lyn

Learning. One of my boards is called Yum! and features pictures of food that looks unbelievably good. If I click several times I will come to the source of the picture and a recipe for the dish. I have discovered a number of recipes this way. Now to find the time to make them...

Humor. There are some really cute pictures of dogs and birds out there and trust me, I have them on my Pinterest boards. What did I do for fun before the Internet?

Appreciation. It's heartening to know how many people appreciate the same things that I do. A set of silverware designed by Greg Lynn and currently at the Art Institute of Chicago was among my most repinned images.

Lela Rose top at Target

Because most of interests users are female, Pinterest.is a great place to market crafts and fashion (like Etsy and Target do).  I enjoy it the way I would enjoy reading a magazine: the pictures are lovely and Pinterest has the added benefit of being a way to interact with others across the globe. Check it out -- who knows you might like it!

Seasons change in the Midwest

I hate the Midwestern winter with its subzero temperatures and glassy slick pavement. But I adore the changing seasons and this fall has been particularly lovely (or maybe I just forget the mind-numbing beauty of the leaves from year to year). In an attempt to document this transient splendor, I took some photos this morning, some of which are here along with a poem that seemed to fit.

Autumn 

by Mary Hamrick

Autumn is like an old book:

Marred spines turn mean yellow,

staples rust red-orange.

Every stained page is stressed

by a splat of color. Rough-red,

like an old tavern,

we become hungry birds

and prepare for fall.

Shape and shadow are candied citron

as lanterns turn bitter yellow. Autumn

is a red fox, a goblet filled with dark wine,

a hot chilli pepper with smoky eyes.

Pressed leaves take in the colors

of seafood paella and saffron; these leaves

are like death, climaxing with a smile.

Autumn: Her dress is a net of mussels;

dark shelled, it covers up

summer’s weatherbeaten body.

So pull out your boots

and stand on an aged, wood floor

like an evergreen.

By the way, thanks everybody for the kind words and concern about my fall. The stitches came out Monday and my face is almost back to normal. It's amazing -- our human ability to heal!

A trip to Chicago and the aftermath

Obviously a mistake...

Last weekend we drove up to see Chelsea and Chris in Crystal Lake and attend a friend's daughter's wedding in Naperville on Sunday. It was a beautiful weekend and the further north we drove the more lovely the fall colors became.

After stopping for some much-needed refreshment at Chick-fil-A  (I don't know any other restaurant that offers carrot and raisin salad) we visited the newlywed's condo. They have fixed it up and it looks fantastic -- I guess that's what you get when you marry an architect. The only flaw was the sign next to the dumpster. No walkers, really?

Not Amy Grant...

We went to downtown Crystal Lake and walked around but it was really cold, something that didn't deter the Amy Grant fans who were beginning to assemble for a concert that she was going to put on later that evening. It was wonderful to see Chelsea looking so happy.

After attending the wedding on Sunday, we drove home. It wasn't until I was getting ready for bed that evening that things got interesting. I taken off my brace (my first mistake) and fell in the back bathroom, cutting myself on the shower. As I lay on the floor with blood flowing into my hair, I was thankful that a) I didn't appear to have broken anything and b) Ron was around. After a fruitless trip to an emergency department (we couldn't even get into a room), we came home to get a few hours of sleep.

If only George Clooney had been on staff

Next morning, somewhat refreshed, we  went to a different emergency department, hoping for a better experience (wouldn't be hard). The wound had re-opened and blood started gushing out at the check-in. This seemed to make a big difference -- I was whisked into a room immediately. An army of nurses and the doctor attended to me quickly. It was just like on TV!

The rest of the week was less dramatic -- I nursed my five stitches and watched my face turn different colors. The wound doesn't hurt, but I have a feeling that small children may cry and run away after seeing me. I'm going to venture out though -- this place is driving me bananas!

The Evolution of My Face

10-8-12

10-13-12

 

10-10-12

I get the stitches out Monday and should be less colorful this time next week. A nasty end to a great weekend!