Last night was (supposedly) the very last night retired Coaches Morse and Capshaw opened and staffed the PHS pool for “family swim night.” Personally, I would be surprised if they don’t continue to help with this program in the future.
A couple of weeks ago, on the anniversary of D-Day, I posted this shot of Uncle George and mentioned that the heritage of handsome Miller men survives to this day.
Joannie snapped this picture of the youngest generation of Miller men at the pool last night, and you can see how handsome they are.
These fine young men all carry the traditional Miller family names of James, Steven, and William. (As a mother of daughters, I gave one of them the middle name “Miller.”)
And Coach Capshaw inherited some Miller genes too — that hard-work ethic. I’m not sure she knows how to do retirement and may need counseling in that regard. I’m here for her.
I love this mural. I get to see it all the time. It is painted on the back of our much-loved Elsinore Theatre, overlooking the Wells Fargo parking lot (where I use the ATM) and beside La Margarita (where I like to eat) and across the street from the Methodist (where I often attend concerts). It was first painted in 1985. It is now a bit faded and a fund-raising effort is being spear-headed by my dear friend Nancy Lindburg for its restoration and protection. There are much better products now available than in 1985. $20,000 is needed. $10,000 is already in hand. I sent my little check in today. Thank you, Nancy.
About twenty-five years ago, a woman published a book by that title that was very popular at the time. It contained her thoughts and suggestions for every day of the year. It is a bit dated now. Today, it would be a blog, and instead of listing phone numbers to call to order gardening books and such, the author would give websites, I’m sure. At the very end, she actually prints not her email address but her P.O. box number, soliciting your own thoughts and suggestions.
About fifteen years ago, a favorite aunt sent me a very special edition of this publication. It looks something like a prayer book with a lovely binding and ribbon page markers. I still like to open it every month or so to see what the author has to say on a particular day.
Rosie seems to want to take look.
Or perhaps she knows that my books all have some tasty crumbs left in their pages.
It is true that some of the entries may seem a bit lame. Today’s date reads, “Plant it with the green side up.” And sometimes they are very sad: From Sara Teasdale for June 29, “My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain.” Or trite: “All one really needs is a divinely attractive bed.” Nevermind that I am typing this on my lap from my own divinely attractive bed. So poignantly true here in Oregon is Shakespeare’s “Summer’s lease hath all too short a date,” the entry for the last day of June. We can’t waste a minute of summer here. (I am skipping my book group meeting on Thursday to kayak.) I love this quote from Colette: “What a wonderful life I’ve had. I only wish I’d realized it sooner.” Lucky for me, I did realize it in plenty of time. Actually, I’m pretty sure she said, “Quelle belle vie que j’ai eu. Je souhaite que j’avais réalisé plus tôt.” Pretty much everything just sounds better in French.
There is a page of suggestions at the end of each month. I remember reading there years ago the author’s suggestion to put red, white and blue flowers on your front porch on Memorial Day and keep them blooming until Labor Day. I have always done this don’t much appreciate her usurping my idea!
She mentions catching an old mayonnaise jar full of lightning bugs on a summer night and releasing them before they become too distressed. Sadly, we do not have lightning bugs in the Willamette Valley, but I surely remember catching them in Oklahoma where my aunt still lives. I also remember one summer when I was visiting a lake in upstate New York for a large family gathering of my in-laws, trying to get the children there interested in doing this. They just didn’t get it. (I never did fit into that family very well. They just didn’t get me.) I believe they called them fireflies there. One summer, I lived in southern Virginia. My neighbors there called them glow worms. The children in our Virginia neighborhood loved catching them with me.
In a propitious change of plans late yesterday, Roxanne and I (and Roxie) convened at the Shoemaker’s new place on Bolton Terrace with a bottle of festive sparkling wine to celebrate the sale of their present property on Fir Tree Drive, the selection of the paint samples for the walls of the new place, the lastest-possible sunset, and friendship. I loved this place for its amazing views when my friend Rosemarie lived there. I am so glad I can continue to visit it.
The after glow:
And, as darkness fell, there was the lantern and its reflection in the koi pond.
There seems to be some controversy as to whether it is today or tomorrow. Lucky West Texans can probably watch the sun rise and set on this longest day. Mauiians and Oaklandskis should be able to watch the sun set over the Pacific. I plan to kayak tomorrow and then walk to the top of my hill and watch the sun set behind the coastal range with a bottle of wine and a few neighbors.
Whatever the latitude or weather, it’s always fun to watch how this map changes through out the year:
These fine young men all carry the traditional Miller family names of James, Steven, and William. (As a mother of daughters, I gave one of them the middle name “Miller.”)
