Tag Archive | South Main Vintage Market

Moonlight serenade

The July 12 super moon shot with our Nikon D70, normal lens, no tripod, at about 9:30.

The July 12 super moon shot with our Nikon D70, normal lens, no tripod, at about 9:30.

The first of the three-months-in-a-row super moons gave us quite a moonlight serenade the other night, the same night a PBS show we’d recorded gave me a big surprise earlier in the evening.

John and I had recorded “The Disappearance of Glenn Miller” on History Detectives recently and decided to watch it rather than rent a movie. Cathy and I grew up on Glenn Miller – Daddy was a trombonist and piano player and Glenn Miller was his idol.

Miller died over the English Channel on Dec. 15, 1944, a World War II casualty, when Daddy was 11 years old, but Miller’s music was Daddy’s favorite to play on the trombone, which he did in a dance band.

Daddy was also a huge WWII buff, so I was wistfully but calmly watching and thinking how much I wished he could see the episode – a fascinating story, even if you’re not a Glenn Miller Orchestra fan. (Miller was at the height of his fame and popularity – and drawing in some serious bucks for the day – when he enlisted in 1942.)

Calmly until I wasn’t.

The show cut to footage of a 1940s black telephone ringing on a desk, and, bam – “Pennsylvania 6-5000” started playing in my head (click on the link if you don’t know the song). And I was sobbing. Wailing. For an awful few seconds until I gained my composure.

My father died in 1982.

It gets better, but you never know when you’ll be waylaid by loss.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Oldest granddaughter gave me a surprise at lunch time the other day. She and her brother were sitting side by side at our bar eating lunch and I was between and behind them. Somehow the conversation turned to babies, and  THE question.

“How do babies get inside mommies’ tummies?”

OK, 3 years old, need-to-know basis – and I’ve done this before. I told her mommies have eggs inside them and when it’s time for a baby to come along, the eggs start growing into babies, until they’re ready to be born.

Sorry, guys, I left you out of this abbreviated version. That satisfied her. Except for one more question: “How do the eggs get in there?” I told her the mommies grow them. “Oh.”

Then we talked about how all living things start as eggs then turn into egg babies, then they “get born.” I explained that chickens actually hatch, which they found quite interesting, then the conversation drifted.

Later that afternoon, though, when baby bro woke up from his nap, the elder put it all together.

“Lukey was an eggbaby, then he turned into a baby, then he got born, then he was Lukey!”

Pretty much.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Speaking of grandkids, they’re one of the main reasons I was hellbent and determined to go to New York in September for the People’s Climate March. My cousin Karen and I bought our airline tickets this morning. We’re almost 10 years apart in age and separated by a couple of hours of driving but close in other ways – and both of us were so influenced by our loving, liberal-minded grandmother that it makes perfect sense for us to do this together.

For the kiddos. And for Mama.

Modern love

Cathy, Paul, John and I finally watched Her last weekend – for me a disturbing look at what passes for modern love in the fairly near future.

The movie is excellently crafted and acted. I loved the slightly odd men’s clothing – well, the quiet detail to show a difference, at least; the high-waisted men’s pants were rather hideous but the small button-down collars were just different enough to add to the futuristic feel.

But I found it depressing and sad overall, just as I do the concept of “singularity,” which John and our friend Rich find exciting and fascinating. Just as I did the 2001 movie, A.I. (which I rather despised, despite watching it more than once because it’s creepily, car-wreckish-can’t-look-away).

TLotHAnd a little scary, as I found the Inger Stevens’ episode of The Twilight Zone, “The Lateness of the Hour,” in which she discovered she was a robot. Gave me the creeps as a little girl – and probably nightmares.

The grandkids are all so technologically savvy – they seem to have been born knowing how to work a computer. Silas at 13 months is adept at FaceTime calling.

But I take heart in their appreciation of quiet time and the power of imaginative play and story-telling. Had Sylvia and I not spent a considerable chunk of time Saturday afternoon sitting on the floor quietly playing with a 1977, no frills Fisher Price doll house I bought recently, watching Her that night might have made me feel even ickier.

Humanity prevails, at least for now, and modern love, at least when it comes to grandkids, seems relatively unchanged.

The human touch is still strong in other ways. Sunday I popped into work for a moment (at Esse Purse Museum), and Morgan had gotten me a present and written a sweet note. What a nice surprise! And what a perfect gift.

I’m the queen of sticky notes, and she said when she saw this, she knew I had to have it.

Isn't this cute? Morgan said it had my name on it – and resembled the Anya Sushko bag in our store that I hope to own someday. Thoughtful girl, that Morgan Hill.

Isn’t this cute? Morgan said it had my name on it – and resembled the Anya Sushko bag in our store that I hope to own someday. Thoughtful girl, that Morgan Hill.

Yesterday, my coworker and South Main Vintage Market partner Sandy Griffith brought me a surprise gift, too!

Sandy made me this memory/photo album for mementos from our anniversary trip this year.

Sandy made me this memory/photo album for mementos from our anniversary trip this year. Beautiful, oui?

I’m a lucky gal to be surrounded by great folks at a fun job.

John and I also got a beautiful – in more ways than physical – gift this week, too. For years, John’s mother sent us an amaryllis at Christmas. Now she’s not really aware of holidays, but her gifts continue to make us feel her love.

Two bulbs from two Christmases long ago decided to bloom in tandem this week, reminding us that though life fades away, love goes on.

Two bulbs from two different Christmases long ago decided to bloom in tandem this week, reminding us that though life fades away, love goes on.