Not to be redundant, but I am pretty much spending every spare minute this summer sitting under the wisteria reading, including several newspapers online.

Ever so often, up pops an ad that has no relevance for me: “Relax with an affordable home loan.” Why would cyber snoops think I need a loan or am not relaxed. What I need is to read less and prune the rhododendrons more.

Seen on the river this week while paddling from Buena Vista to Independence, a rag-tag floating musical group floating from landing to landing. Gigging. Sadly, at the Independence take-out, they ran aground in a shallow spot out in the middle of the river. Actually, I think they were feeling no pain and failed to read the river as this could have been easy avoided. Eventually, they did make it too Salem where they played.

I don’t like the word “ladies.”  I see it as a bit diminishing and condescending. I like the strong word “women.” I want to be referred to as a woman.  Not a lady.  And god forbid, not as a gal.

However, for some incongruous reason, I like the word “gentleman,” in the real meaning of the word — kind, courteous, honest, helpful.

Long before he became Saint Ronald Reagan, Reagan was and always remained a gentleman. I had some problems with some of his policies when he was our governor and later when he was president.  But he never embarrassed me with unthinking, rude behavior and remarks.

Now, on the other hand, his wife was a piece of work. In Sacramento she refused to live in the governor’s mansion saying it was unsafe for her young son.  She may have been right about that.

During their time there, she promoted the building of an elaborate, modern governors’ house, far from the capitol.

It was not finished during their tenure, and they lived in a very fine house in a very up-scale neighborhood, leased to them by a friend.

When it was finished, Governor Jerry Brown, a bachelor with modest standards, declined to live in it and it sat there empty for many years.  Jerry, who had lived as a child in the mansion eschewed by Mrs. Reagan, chose instead to rent a small apartment near the capitol.

Sadly,  during Reagan’s second term, he was already showing signs of the dementia that eventually did him in.  By then, he was taking the advice of his wife who was taking advice of her spiritual  advisor.

But even then, he was drop-dead handsome on his horse.  And he was a gentleman.

I have to wonder what Saint Ronald might think of today’s occupant of the White House.

They say she’s fluent in five languages

or is it seven?

She may know a bit of a few

like English.

She’s not comfortable in that one.

Not understanding the nuance.

Be best.

Will she ever be comfortable again?

Hoping perhaps

to look mysterious but

looking like she’s about to sneeze.

How unhappy can she be?

Beautiful.  Rich.  

Married to the most powerful man in the world. 

Will she ever get to go back

where she came from?

Speak a language she knows?