A Paddle in My Stream (of Consciousness)

 It has been a long time since I posted anything, I realize. Several reasons. One is that I have become addicted to an online game called ‘Magic Sort’. This is only the second time I have been so, I guess, silly as to play a game for many hours and multiple levels (about 2600 so far). The first time I became hooked was by a game called ‘Lemmings’ and I climbed every level to the very last one. At the time, I had bunged up a knee and was pretty well housebound; playing the game meant that I could forget about the knee throbbing for a while when I played. But really, it was stubbornness. I would solve a level and just have to see what was in the next one. This new addiction is probably even sillier (More silly? Hmm) because the levels are either really easy (solve in under a minute sometimes) or not easy at all and take multiple tries. I refuse to buy extras and so I have to sit through ads, over and over, to be allowed to get back to the start if I take more than one try. I practically have a couple of the ads memorized.

Anyway, it has been very quiet around here. We had a fine Thanksgiving dinner totally sourced and cooked by my wonderful daughters and the ED’s partner, who obsessed about the turkey but did a fine job. All I had to do was one pie ahead of time and it did not run over or burn or come out underdone, so I guess I scored. Oh, and I set the table. While all the chopping and mixing and timing was going on, I was relaxed in my fine new reclining chair, playing my game and having a couple of nice naps. I do love my family.

We were one short, however, as the grandkid is now in England, a few weeks into her Master’s program. She is getting out and about on hikes and runs, and tells her aunt, who was overseas and treated her to a weekend in London, that it is a bit puzzling that she is not having to work harder. My mother was the kind of student who had to have everything down perfectly in case she missed something. She did a second Master’s degree while I was a teenager and I vividly recall her obsessive (to me) revision and the worry that went with it. I think my daughter inherited the gene and she certainly passed it on to grandkid, who adds diligent work to a fine brain. It missed me, for sure.

In a strange sort of reversal, how well you did at formal schooling does not seem to matter, once you have graduated and are out of there. Your proud mother may remember that you won a medal, but the world does not care much, if at all, unlike competitive sports, where placement is everything. Second place should not be a loss of first place, but it frequently is. And if it is the Olympics or World Championships or the like, just getting to go ought to be a point of pride forever.

In the intervals of producing this deathless prose, I am checking the score of the Jays’ and Mariners’ seventh game. At present it is top of the ninth, Jays one run up. My parents would have been glued to the screen, or to the radio before we had a television set. They were both fanatic baseball fans – in their case, the Detroit Tigers since we lived in Windsor. They used to rent a television for a month in the fall and watch the playoffs, whether or not the Tigers made it. The first set we owned was only acquired in 1954 or 1955. I do not know why we didn’t have a set much earlier; we were affluent enough to afford one. But they listened to the games on the radio. I still remember my mother ironing with the radio babbling away. I also remember watching the last game of the Canada/Soviet hockey series on TV while trying to get the laundry done and ironing my hand at one crucial point. I kept the little girls home from school to watch that game, but they say they do not remember that.  It was 1972 (just checked that) and so they would have been six and five respectively.

By golly, the Jays did it. One of my daughter’s stepsons works for the Mariners and he is going to be some sad. By one run in the last game. Talk about squeaking by!

I used to write letters to my mother and father, once a week, regularly. Long, newsy screeds with reports of what their grandkids were doing, what I was doing, the weather, the political scene, the latest scandal, whatever. No spellcheck, a ballpoint pen and, mostly, plain white paper. Sometimes I typed, but I ‘thought’ better with the pen, as it was slower. Now I type everything and this post is not as carefully done as my letters were, but the content is somewhat the same. I do have a ‘review’ function, and so the spelling, at least will be American standard, zeds and all. And I do keep the text for a while and review it. For what that is worth.

And so, the other reason. Finally. This reason is that not much has been happening to write about. However, as you can tell if you have got this far, I do not need much to be happening. I can babble on, regardless. And I should stop this and do the review, already. Goodness. No mistakes.