Let the Dream Never Die

Why is it that I feel such a loss today? It is because those of us in the working class of America have lost a champion: Senator Edward M. Kennedy. It is because I’ve always felt an affinity to the Kennedy family, being born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts of Irish, Catholic stock. Maybe it is also because I grew up with his family. I have never known a world without the Kennedy brothers in it.

Now that the “Lion of the Senate” has passed on, who will be there for the rest of us…the disenfranchised: the elderly, minorities, women, children, the disabled, the mentally ill, the working poor? Who will fight the good fight for us in the senate? Who will be our knight in the war for equal rights and quality, affordable health care? Who will be thinking about the day to day cares of the working families of America, while walking the hallowed halls of Washington? Who will stand up for affordable housing and quality education for every American? Who will fight to be sure our troops have the equipment they need? Who will stand up for the common man and woman?

There are those who will choose to recall the dark chapters of his life. Some will mention the assassinations of his brothers, John and Bobby. Others will bring up Chappaquiddick, his failed first marriage or his other scandals and indiscretions, his human failings. Some will choose to remember these things.

But I remember this: He was raised in a rarified atmosphere of privilege and plenty. He could have lived a life of quiet comfort and opulence. Instead, he chose a life of service. He devoted himself to fighting for the rights of those less fortunate. For that, I will always be thankful.

Let the dream never die.

In a New York Minute...

...Everything can change!
I got a phone call yesterday from the President of my old company (the one that cut me adrift last December.) It seems he is suddenly in need of an executive assistant and he wondered if I would be interested in the job.
There is only enough funding available to pay me through December and after that, I may very well be cut adrift again, but he said if business continues to improve there may be something available for me elsewhere in the company.

I may have to change the name of my blog to reflect my new status, but I will still be here, writing and reading as often as I can.

I start tomorrow...full time, nine to five. Today is my last day of summer freedom so I'm off to squeeze as much into it as I can!

Let the new adventure begin!


FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Things I learned this summer

• If we all communicated like dogs, without speech, we’d be a whole lot happier.

• You can still love a family member, even while wondering where the hell they came from.

• There is a big Caladium plant that looks exactly like an elephant’s ear. They call it Elephant Ear.”

• Some people truly don’t want what’s good for them.

• Sometimes when you shave a dog, it becomes an entirely different color.

• You can love, care for and devote yourself to someone for years, and they can still show you disrespect on a regular basis.

• In our woods there is a yellow, pitcher shaped wildflower, of the Impatiens family that’s called “Touch me not”. When the flowers are peppered with orange spots, it’s called “Spotted jewel weed.”

• Some people will try to make you doubt your own five senses and your own good sense.

• In Florida, it seems like just about everyone owns a gun.

• In New England, it seems most people don’t.

• The forests of the Berkshires are filled with little, red amphibians that are called “efts”.

• Some people would rather believe anything than believe the truth.

• Cats don’t hold grudges.

• Even smart people can get duped.

• In a New York minute, everything can change.

Midsummer's Dreaming

High summer. Although I could do without the mosquitoes and high humidity, this is really my favorite time of year. On sunny days, dog-day cicadas hum in the trees from noon until dusk. On cloudy days, gray tree frogs take over the chorus. Usually by this time of the season, the grass has turned brown and crunches underfoot, but this year we have had more than our share of rain, leaving everything green and lush.

There is a certain smell in the air now, especially at night. The trees are long past the blossoming stage, their flowers withered and blown away, and a new fragrance wafts through the yards. It's the smell of skunk cabbage and cut grass, vegetable gardens and clean sheets hung on backyard clotheslines. It is the fragrance of ferns, mushrooms and muddy riverbanks. It's the warm smell of summer in the Northeast.

Birds and dragonflies dart in crazy trajectories through the airspace of Catbird Heaven, and cottontail bunnies graze in the late afternoon on the clover and dandelions, while tufts of lacey, white cloud drift lazily across a deep blue sky.

Often, if I have a few free hours, I go for a short drive to my parent's house and I float on my back for a while in their small, crystal-clear pool, staring up at the branches of the oak trees that surround it. I watch the birds play tag among the green leaves, which are gilded by the mid-afternoon sunlight, and I admire the dappled patterns of light that dance on the water.

Last night, the full "Sturgeon" moon glowed pink as it hung low in the hazy sky. Snow crickets trill in the gardens after dark, and Rigby washes her feet in the dew that soaks the lawn at night and lingers into the morning.

I'm trying to take a little time every day and drink my fill of this season; to breathe it in and let it become part of me, so it will never leave.
I know that in the cold, dark heart of January, it will be nothing but a sweet and distant memory.

Cats in Love

My Catboy is in love...with a piece of luggage. I caught him wooing the object of his affection this morning when he thought no one was around. I returned from a short trip to the Berkshires last night and left my Sportsac weekender, still packed, in the kitchen. This morning I found him embracing it with his entire body, both paws entwined in the shoulder strap, while ardently rubbing his face all over it and drooling.

My attention had disturbed him, though, and by the time I could get to my camera, the moment had passed.

I've seen him do this before to various other objects; usually a jacket, a pair of boots, or some other clothing item. Sometimes I suspect that he's marking my belongings with his facial glands to infer his ownership of me, but I'm not sure about this.

Occasionally, he stops suddenly and makes that funny grimace that tells me he is accessing the organ in the roof of his mouth that fine tunes his sense of smell. I've read that this response may be used when cats detect an odor that they interpret as sexual in nature.

If that's true, then something must have shifted after he was neutered as a kitten, because apparently, leather, flannel and ripstop nylon really turn him on!

Postcards from the Island

Before I end this chronicle of my recent trip to Block Island, I wanted to share a few picture postcards that I picked up there. These beautiful scenes really capture the feel of the place.

This first one below is the view of Old Harbor you would get as you entered on a boat heading for the docks. The big Victorian Hotel on the right is The National.


Photo by Olya Evanitsky
©KW Cards 2004

This is the Old Southeast Light that sits on Mohegan Bluffs, site of a long-ago indian massacre.

photo by K.C.Perry

And North light, which sits at the northern-most tip of the island, just across Narragansett Bay from the fishing village of Galilee on Point Judith. This lighthouse was recently restored and it overlooks a seagull rookery.


photo by K.C.Perry

A typical view from the shore, looking out to sea.



photo by K.C. Perry

This view is from a hill overlooking the Great Salt Pond, with Old Harbor and The National Hotel in the distance and the Atlantic Ocean beyond.


photo by Robert M. Downie

So its goodbye for now to Manisses, island of the little god. There are many more island stories to tell and I will journey back again in the future.

A Different Kind of Farm

This is the Hotel Manisses, a 19th century Victorian Hotel that is one of the more elegant places to stay on the Block. Although I prefer a much more casual lifestyle while staying on the island (so does my budget), the gardens are a lovely place to have cocktails after dark. Featuring sparkling fountains, white, wrought iron furniture, and subtle lighting, it's like relaxing in a private little world of elegance. Late afternoon tapas and wine on the front porch is a favorite and affordable time too.

My favorite part of the Manisses Hotel is Justin's animal farm. Here you will find exotic animals like Llamas, fainting goats, camels, giant tortoises, emus, zebus and red kangaroos, as well as the usual barnyard fowl. Above is a photo of MacDuff, taken from the hotel's webpage. He was inside on the morning I visited last week, so I didn't get a shot of him. An enormous, but serene bull of the Highland Cattle variety, MacDuff is the king of the pasture.


I never miss an opportunity to stroll though the farm and commune with all of its residents.









If I were to come back in another lifetime and get to choose my life and occupation, living on Block Island and running the animal farm would be right up there near the top of the list.

New Harbor, Old Harbor

There are two Harbors at Block Island. New Harbor on the Great Salt Pond is dominated by Champlin's Marina. Last Wednesday a thunder storm rolled through, late in the afternoon. The sky suddenly turned very dark and ominous.

Old Harbor is studded with Victorian-style hotels and gift shops of every description. On Saturday, July 4th, the Block Island parade lurched down Water Street to the delight of several thousand onlookers. Some highlights below. Some folks seemed to think they were at Mardi gras- It was a crazy scene on the streets. Check out the daredevil standing on the roof in the second picture. He was not a young kid and I had visions of him taking a dive. Glad to say, he eventually climbed down safely.

Next: The Manisses Farm

Life On The Beach

Of course, my favorite part of island life is the beach. Here are some photos from my time spent on Scotch Beach during my trip to Manisses. You can click to enlarge for a better look.










Next: the harbors.

Island Time

I've been in heaven for the past few days. I took the ferry twelve nautical miles across Narragansett Bay and landed on Manisses: island of the little god; better known these days as Block Island.

Back here on the mainland, dark clouds, rain and lightning have been the order of the day, weatherwise. But the Block exists in a micro-climate(only one of the many wonderful, magical things that define it)and from Thursday through Sunday, the sun bathed the powder-white beaches with heat and a sweet, glorious sea-breeze stirred the field grass in the green pastures that dot the island, surrounded by ancient cobblestone walls.

Although Independence Day weekend is certainly not the best time to go (I feared the village of Old Harbor might sink from the weight of humanity on Saturday, July 4th), opportunity knocked in the form of a generous invitation from my beloved sister and brother-in-law, and I never say no to island time. Luckily, the pretty home they had rented was a few, precious miles outside of town, in a much less populated area, away from the rowdy bars and the buzzing mopeds.

I'm preparing a photo collection and I will post it as soon as I catch up on my laundry and address some other real-life issues, now that I'm back here on earth. Stay tuned.