THERE IS ALWAYS A LITTLE BOY IN THE OLD MAN GONE FISHING.

The title quote is from J. Calder Joseph.

I like Science Magazine and I recently read an article about children suffering from slower muscle development and coordination. It apparently has teachers and pediatricians worried enough that studies were conducted on 407,000 children from age five to ten. They blame over-cautious parenting, "Don't get dirty."  "Hold my hand when we take a walk." "Get off the sidewalk, it will ruin your dress."

Parents fearing predators, or accidents, or getting lost, is keeping kids inside, and not encouraging enough social play. The studies proved that play is educating and provides better development of the brain and muscles. When we came home from school, when we finished our chores, we had the whole neighborhood to ramble and get up a game.

I remember when my youngest daughter allowed her kids to bike around the block and a worried parent reported to her that she had seen her son on the other side of the block; what she considered risky behavior.

Stuart Brown, Psychiatrist says: "A lack of play should be treated like malnutrition: It's a risk to your body and mind."

This is a recent quote from 2017 and I don't know where Stuart practices. But I do recall my boys playing on the side-walk or the grass,  snapping those little rolly bugs around like marbles; or trying to catch lizards.  And my daughter coming home from the school playground (where she walked by herself,) with scraped knees and a torn dress.

Diane Furstenberg said: "My best creation is my children."

I love that quote because it is my view of motherhood as well.

"Men want to improve only the world, but mothers want to improve their whole family;  a much harder task." Harriet Freezer.

But the quotes I remember with humor, are those I grew up with. "Children Should Be Seen And Not Heard."  That uttered when my folks were playing a rousing game of Smear. We could watch as long as we didn't kitbitz.

"Little Pitchers Have Big Ears"  When the neighbor lady was visiting and the subject of pregnancy or other delicate matters would come up. Then it was, "Outside with you," or "Go play".  I don't know the origin of those homilies  but it brings me in mind of the clever Americana  art work of Norman Rockwell with the tousled headed boy, sporting a black eye and a huge grin, waiting outside of the principle's office.  Or the little girl hanging out the window of the car sticking out her tongue to the wind.

I think children had more fun growing up before computers and organized and automated everything.

WISDOM AND LISTENING.

At my age I tend to think I have a bit of collective wisdom. But what I like about quotes is they get right to the point with few words and often with humor

So, here goes:
Wisdom is the reward you get for a lifetime of listening when you'd have preferred to talk.    Doug Larson from United Features syndicate.

And:

Children have never been good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.   James Baldwin.

OUR FRIENDSHIP NEVER MISSED A BEAT.

Old friends from Fremont visited me two days ago. They were camped nearby and called. With a little background, Sandy and David Barron were the youngest members of our square dancing group, the Kuntry Kuzzins back in the early 1970’s. Square Dancing is one of those activities that you have to drag your husband too in the beginning, then once he realizes how much fun it is, he’ll go without you if you’re sick. So we enjoyed them, often teasing Sandy that she was the “baby” of the club even though she was a mother of two. We were excited when they bought a house.  Sandy was always a bit shy. David, out going, from a large extended family. A nice young couple, building  the American Dream.

We talked for several hours and I realized what an amazing couple they are.  They look the same.  Neither has aged much. David has less hair.  I didn’t know David was a disabled Marine from Viet Nam. It never came up.

We checked through their pictures on the phone and I got to see the grandson David helped raise. Their son Mathew’s two beautiful daughters. A great-grandson. Neither Sandy nor Dave have a college education, but their daughter, Jennifer, has several degrees and a fantastic job. She worked during college days beside her mother as a motel maid, making beds and cleaning rooms.  Sandy worked outside the home for 22 years. But, even more revealing to me, Sandy and Dave took in nine foster children. I had two foster children and love them and have contact to this day.  But I was stunned at nine. What a commitment over all of those years.

What a pleasure to sink back into a friendship, after a long gap. I guess you can tell I’m impressed. I enjoyed getting caught up with mutual friends from our club.  His sisters, brothers, step-father and some amazing tales. I didn’t know Sandy’s siblings.

They brought me flowers and I took pictures of the bouquet. This new computer is driving me nuts.  I could not get those pictures out of my camera. So, you’ll have to settle for a poem by David J. Irvine, called Ownership.

Man’s pet, the kitten, lives nine lives.
Man one: three score and ten.
Man claims the ownership of earth,
Of every glebe and glen.
What modest claim do kittens make?
The ownership of men.

It speaks to the bonds of love… for Sandy and David, those loving bonds are kids and grandkids and other people’s children.

MOTHER'S DAY IS MANY THINGS.

My mother is gone, but when I think of her, I remember how strong and resilient she was. She was at her mother's bedside through the birth of her 11 siblings. She comforted her at the death of two of those children, one at age 4, another at age 8. She lived through many tragedies but remained her grand children's darling gramma. And, great-grandchildren, too. She was religious, faithful, polite, patient,  always helping others but able to build her own dreams. She had a catering business late in life and made it a whopping success. She did it all with civility and grace. What an example she was to me.

I have many mother's in my life to celebrate, my daughters, my daughter-in-law. And each of them is a wonderful mother with dedication and the values we believe in and share. They too, raise their children and pursue their dreams. They are each unique with varying abilities. Women, as mothers, contribute so much to our culture, our comfort, our love, our greatness as a country, we  stop to salute them today and not forget them tomorrow.

It amuses me that at one time women were considered the weaker sex. I'm grateful my husband never considered me weak. He always recognized and acknowledged my own gifts and I have become the proud matriarch of my clan.  I'm proud to recognize their strengths and revel in my own.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL AND MAY YOU BE APPRECIATED  AS AN EQUAL PARTNER

BY THE MEN IN YOUR LIVES.

TAKSIM SQUARE, TURKISH BATH, FUNICULAR,TRAM

Our bus takes us to the Eastern part of Istanbul and from the window, I catch this picture of a Henna dyed sheep. It has some significance in weddings, and I can’t remember what. I thought it was a pet, but instead it is a tradition of some type.

At Taxsim Square stands the Statue of Independence. Behind is a green area where the city decided to cut down the trees and build a shopping complex and new apartments. The people of Istanbul have very little green area and people protested the idea of cutting down their park and people organized a protest in May. The City sent troops to pepper spray and teargas the crowds that reached 10,000 people. Four people were killed and the citizens are still aligned against the project. The anniversary of the protest was imminent, and the statue was taped off with yellow tape when we were there. The government is expecting trouble, but the trees remain. People hated the imperialistic manner in which it was done. The problem is still not resolved. Usla believes strongly in speaking up for what you believe or you will soon have everything taken from you. Thus he spoke loudly that folks around the square could hear him.

The square is an important cultural part of the city with an opera hall and a place to gather and hold huge outdoor events and meetings. The nearby park is treasured and the people do not want to give it up.
This section of the city is where a lot of the Kurdish people live. Renovated buildings show a layer of history built during the European Art Noveau movement and the area is central to transportation throughout  Istanbul.

Pigeons seem to define places like this all over the world.
We walked to the Tram Station then fanned out to pick a place to have lunch on our own.
Owen had chicken shish, the rest of us tried various dishes, pizza, and an eggplant salad for me.
They offered a special sticky rice type pudding with cinnamon that was quite good.

Usla warned us to line up for the tram ride to the funnicular or we wouldn’t get a seat. Our group practically filled the tram which is an old fashioned electric trolley similar to San Francisco’s famous cable cars.
A grandmother got on holding a heavy toddler and I offered to have him sit on my lap, which she gratefully accepted. He rode to our stop on my lap without any hesitation. Other’s of our group gave up their seats to others.
Joan Zucker, from our group, and Maria and Owen in front of the colorful street cars.

We walked and admired the art noveau buildings.
A little grafitti, no city escapes its taggers.

Beautiful wrought iron balconies.

Beautiful carved facades.

Though European influenced, a blend develops,  window grates with the Turkish tulip motif.

Traffic control is amazing. Lighted pillars electronically pop up or retreat with the press of  the engineer’s button.

We waited for the funicular.

Owen likes to challenge his balance. It was the longest tunnel I’ve ever ridden through.

Beautiful tiles in the station, with the tulip design that resembles the Moslem writing of the word Mohamed.
Beautiful tile mosaics of the street cars and other scenes around town decorate the station.

We got off next to the river where a tobacco salesman was hawking a device to make loose tobacco into a filtered cigarette, instantly.

It was very clever, but we Americans are so anti-smoking and we see most Turkish men smoke cigarettes or cigars.

At least the Turkish Government makes them label their tobacco products clearly.

Our intended destination is the fish market, which also has a smaller vegetable market with it.

There were many kinds of fish.
Right next to the river, they keep the fish freshened with buckets of water and ice.

Like Fishermen’s Wharf in San Francisco, you can pick what you want, someone will cook it for you and you can eat on the spot.
The only fish I recognized.

The gulls and this ibis aren’t choosy about the kind of fish they eat. Just bring it on.

We walked over this bridge to another section of town. This boy was picking up mussels.
Usla took us to a district where various members could buy walking sticks quite cheaply for hiking. They fold and fit into a suitcase. Then we went to what Usla pointed out is the only baklava restaurant in the world. They only serve baklava which is considered the best baklava anywhere.

This is the size baklava you order for a party or wedding.

A Flag motif.

Different types of baklava.

Some traditional, but for me, I find it too sweet for my taste.

I skipped but for a tiny bite of two pieces. Owen, of course, loved them, but even he couldn’t empty the plate shared between six of us.
Before leaving Istanbul, we told Usla we wanted to try the Turkish bath. Of course, you can’t bring a camera to the baths. But, this is a description. You are given a key to a locker room where you undress and leave all of your belongings except the key on a board. Then you are escorted to a sauna which is a huge marble, heated round dais where you place your towel and lie on it and people come and splash you with warm water. Faucets are around the dias and mother’s with their young children are seated, bathing them and getting them used to the public bathes as a treat.
The heat is intense. Five minutes was enough for me and I was up and splashing with cooler water.
In fifteen minutes we were led into the scrub room with our towel we lay upon a marble slab and the masseuse scrubs you with a sack filled with a foaming type of soap. Then they use a luffa to scrub you from head to toe to remove dead skin. You are rinsed and sent to the next room where you get a massage in olive oil. After that, wrapped in your towel, you relax and enjoy a rocking chair and some apple tea. Then you get dressed and pay and leave. Men are separated from women, of course, but you feel wonderful after leaving the bath.
Turkish people are very clean and they have ritual baths at time of wedding, funerals, circumcision, birthdays, engagement, graduation, for whatever reason. They are an important custom that formed from their own sense of cleanliness and a modification of the Roman baths. Wonderful. Owen resisted at first and then decided to go and was very pleased with the experience.  Me too.
More tomorrow.

IRISH DAYS IN MURPHYS.

When Main St. Murphys sports a shamrock and the yellow line turns green, (magically, doncha know), it is nearing St. Patrick’s Day.

Leprechauns dancing in the street with fairies, mind you. You’ve never seen anything like it.

In a heavy Irish brogue this tall fellow told me my picture wouldn’t turn out because you cannot photograph leprechauns. I think that was the old photo development style. He doesn’t know about digital. Aha! The joke is on him.

They come in all shapes and sizes and it is the only time of year you can catch a glimpse of the wiley creatures.

The street was jammed with thousands of people. Judging from the cars parked and the loaded shuttle buses that ferried people from Kautz Winery, where there is ample parking.  I’d guesstimate 15,000 people came to visit.

The bagpiper band marched and played their special kind of music.

I know of The Daughters of The American Revolution. I didn’t know there was a Sons Of the American Revolution. In each case, they are people who are direct descendants of men and women who served in the American Revolutionary War. They have to be able to give proof to join.

Kids love a parade.

And what would a parade be without them.

I’m not sure how dogs feel about a parade. But there were plenty of them and they don’t seem to mind. Many people bring their dogs with them when they travel. Years ago, dogs would snap and tangle and challenge. Now, they are so socialized, I didn’t hear a-one bark or snap or seem uncomfortable. The Humane Society has done a marvelous job of training people how to handle animals, and temporizing their more aggressive behaviors.

A group of skaters surprised me by executing dance steps and interesting moves in a community where sidewalks are not all that common.

Here you are more likely to see horses and they are nice to see close up for people who don’t often get the chance. The kids love them. This young lady won Rodeo queen, a position she holds for a year.

Of course, you don’t have to be queen of anything to enter yourself and your horse in the parade.

Miss Calaveras and her princesses hung out the windows of a fire truck, which was unique.

The food choices on the street grab you with their smells. Kettlecorn, and sausages get the juices rumbling but we ended up having corned beef sandwiches at the Native Sons of the Golden West, another great organization in town. It was so crowded I couldn’t get near the Irish Soda Bread from St. Patricks Catholic Church Ladies Guild. It is wonderful.

I always meet people I know at the Hall and I like to support them. The sandwiches were delicious, along with potato salad, a pickle and real horseradish to clear the sinuses.
I took a lot of pictures if you are interested, double click on the picture and you can view a slideshow. (And please ignore that I misspelled Irish and Murphys when I uploaded my file.)

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