New Years Eve, Aunt Marion, Heather

           The last day of 2013: A refrain I keep repeating is, “Where has the year gone?” Growing up I remember hearing “old people” lamenting how time would just get away from them. As a youngster I wrote it off as a “crock of s—t” the “out of generation” would revert to. Well, I now qualify as being in the “old people, out of it generation” and it is true how time seems to speed up as you age. The best analogy I’ve ever heard is comparing life to a roll of toilet paper. The closer you get to the end, the faster it runs out!

Having a daily routine can really have a stabilizing influence upon life. My morning routine is one example. Stumpy has changed his sleeping spots as cats often do. His first sleeping spot after chowing down his morning meal is now perched upon the kitchen stool. He barely fits on here, but it is where he wants to be. I learned a long time ago that “Stumpy knows best!”

Up until I moved to Bowling Green I never ate in the kitchen, instead taking my meals in the dining room. This tall kitchen table made the move to Kentucky and I purchased a tall stool at Lowes. This was my only eating space in the townhouse I lived in for that year. I got lazy moving home and have continued to eat in the kitchen unless company is over.

Perhaps the biggest upheaval to my routine was losing my “Little Dagney”. When she was alive the very first thing I had to do upon awakening was to get food to her. She was very vocal and demanding. There would be mornings where she would loudly meow non-stop until she had food in front of her. Stumpy needs his ½ pill twice a day for his thyroid. There is a ritual just for that. The pill is crushed and mixed in with his wet food. There is only a tiny bit of food on this plate this “first feeding” to make sure he eats his medication. Stumpy would get his food first and then Dagney would be served her usual portion. When Stumpy would finish his first installement I did not have much time to refill bowl before he would push Daggy away from her meal.. Stump was the alpha cat!

With Daggy gone Stumpy is content to have lots of leisurely love and attention before his meal. He is never in a rush to eat.  Manx cats are not vocal…Stumpy’s meows pale in comparison to his “little sister”.

In time he will move to the bed to sleep for the rest of the morning. Around noontime he will go outside to explore and stay out till it gets dark.

Stumpy joins me now at night to “watch” black and white “B” movies on the internet. He will settle in my lap for hours at a time. How I hate to disturb him under these circumstances. Last night we watched Ava Gabor in her first screen appearance from 1941; a film called “Emergency Landing”. She looked and sounded like a young Lisa Douglas from “Green Acres”. By todays standards this is a pretty lame movie, but watching this kind of film you have to take into account the time frame it was made. These “B” movies were the equivalent of televisions sitcoms, drama, and crime shows. Some are good, some are horrible. These films filled out the double features shown in the “second run” movie houses.

It looks to be another gray day. How I’m missing the bright sunshine. The “Y” closes at noon today, so soon as I finish and post this I’ll be headed to the Concept 2 waiting for me!

Mom told me how when she was growing up New Years Eve was of more importance to her Scottish family than Christmas.

She related to me how the families would get together and toast in the New Year in style. My great Aunt Marion was the nearest thing I had to a grandmother. How I loved her. She was one of five sisters who emigrated from the highlands of Scotland to America. Aunt Marion never married. Mom told me how after a few drinks Aunt Marion could do a mean “highland fling”. Aunt Marion could speak Galic, and she could really impress us children w

hen she would put her index fingers in her mouth and let out with a piercing whistle. That was how the sheep herding dogs were guided.

Aunt Marion and Me & train set in the late 1950’s.

Aunt Marion was still making the trip to Lockport for Christmas when I first started collecting old phonographs and records. I would play Harry Lauder for her. One of his signature songs, “The Wee Hoose Mang the Heather” would bring flowing tears  to Aunt Marion. I’m not aware that Aunt Marion ever returned to Scotland for a visit.

My first visit to Scotland in August of 1970 impressed upon me the rugged beauty of the Highlands. I gained some understanding how heartbreaking it must have been for my grandmother and great aunts to have left the country of their ancestors.

One afternoon that summer of 1970 I roamed in the fields picking quite an assortment of purple heather. I carefully packed that in the very bottom of my American Youth Hostels “carry around bag”.

Aunt Marion most likely had Alzheimer’s and was moved into a home in the late 1960’s. She died peacefully in October 1970. I had just started watchmaking school in Lancaster, PA at that time. I had splurged on a nice supper and called home from a *pay phone* to report I snagged a part time job and was set to start work in a supermarket. My sister answered the call and relayed the news that mom flew out that afternoon was in New York City at Aunt Frans to help arrange Aunt Marion’s funeral.

*In the world today is almost inconceivable to think as a society there was a time when we were not constantly connected. Having a phone was a luxury to a struggling student, and long distance was very expensive. For the time I was in school I wrote home at least every week and did a collect phone call once every two or three weeks. What a change from today.*

I ran back to the rooming house I was living at the time and checked the train schedules. I could be New York City bound at 10:17 p.m., transfer in Philadelphia and be in New York City in the 2:00 a.m. time frame. I was able to made the arrangements with my future job and school and was out the door in no time.

I called Aunt Frans in tears from the <span st

yle=”font-size: medium;”>Lancaster, PA train station and relayed I was on my way. I knew the subways well enough to navigate my way to her apartment in Queens.

I need to back track to August 1970 and the heather which was packed in my Youth Hostels bag. Upon landing at JFK I was told by my traveling companions to throw it away before customs, as it was plant material and was forbidden. Always one to take a chance and being pretty good at “playing stupid” I took the risk and kept it hidden away. The customs people were more concerned over the small disc music box I was carrying than digging up illicit heather! The heather survived the inspection into the USA!

Aunt Marion was laid out with her folded hands holding a bunch of this heather from her homeland. This was my first real encounter in dealing with the death of a loved one. I would not equate smuggling in some heather as an act of “civil disobedience” but knowing I helped ease the grief of the family in this fashion was a very cathartic and maturing experience.