It rained, it seemed for nearly all of January. Finally, on Wedsnesday night the wind tugged the clouds apart revealing a slice of the moon and a star. I was listening to the radio, Tom and Britt were doing the folk show With Strings Attached, and talking away about Laurel Canyon in the 60s and Mama Cass and David Crosby, and the change in the weather. Tom had walked from his place on Front Street across the waterfront and up to the radio station in The Chilkat Center. He commented on how mild it was, and noted the moon and the planet next to it. “It’s Venus” he said. Britt (and I) were both impressed. It wasn’t a star. Tom confessed that he didn’t actually know for certain it was Venus, but when in doubt, that’s a good guess. I was curious, so I looked it up. Turns out that star next to the moon this time of year here is Jupiter.
Imagine that? Other planets, other worlds. The universe above us and all around us. Which only added to the joy from listening in on their conversation. (And I learned more than a few new things about astronomy and the lives of famous folk-rock stars.)
I went to bed humming a tune we always sing at the end of choir rehearsal, “I see the moon, the moon sees me, down through the leaves of the old birch tree. Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the ones I love.” (Nancy Nash is directing a new version of the choir in February and March, combining the Haines Women’s A’cappella Chorus and the Men of Note. Everyone is welcome– she says you don’t have to read music. Nancy can teach anyone to sing. It’s 5:15 PM at the Senior Center beginning this Thursday.)
All the wet icy weather made me extra grateful for the pool. It opens at 6 AM and you can swim laps ’til about 8:30 or a little longer if you don’t mind the Aqua Aerobics class. I look forward to greeting the ladies who come in for that. I appreciate everyday community contact much more following the Covid isolation years with my dad– I just couldn’t risk his health. He died anyway, but he never did get sick. I miss our conversations. Hearing about his funny dreams. The stories from his youth.
And I missed River Talk last Thursday Night in part because I’d had a mammogram at the clinic and a big poster on the door warned of the high transmission rate of Covid in town, and said masks were required– and in part because I was tired from rising early. I would have gone with Teresa to the story-telling show ( 7 people, 7 stories, 7 minutes long) but she called and said she had a friend who just hosted house guests and now those people all have Covid. Teresa is heading on vacation in a few days and really wants to enjoy it and does not want to be sick. “Oh crap,” she said. When will this be over? Better safe than sorry. Now she’ll have to watch All Creatures Great and Small instead. The only pets she has are plants.
I watched it too, with Trixie. She is glued to any moving image with animals in it. She’s very visual for a scent hound, and curious. Jeff joined us. ( I know right? I’m watching TV with 2 dogs instead of being at the “Chit Chat Cafe” hearing funny stories from my neighbors. It’s ridiculous. Next month. Maybe I’ll even tell one.)
And yet– in the way this big old goofy world turns– I did hear a brief, evocative string of words in the locker room at the pool Friday morning. Pool Talk instead of River Talk?
It was after my laps and Joanie’s water-walking and exercises (she’s 93 and doesn’t swim laps anymore). As we dressed in front of our lockers, I said something about how nice it is to swim with Chip, and how even if I’m really sleepy like today, it’s worth waking up for.
Then Joan started singing, “Here we are, out of cigarettes…two sleepy people.”
“What?”
“Don’t you know that song?”
I shook my head.
” It’s before your time,” Joanie said, and sang some more, “Two sleepy people, by dawn’s early light, too much in love to say goodnight...”
“Wait– what?”
“Here we are, something… something…— I don’t recall,” she said, and sang again, “– picking on a wishbone from the Frigidaire.” Her eyes twinkled.
“A wishbone? I love it!”
“Two sleepy people,” Joanie sang smiling. ” Two sleepy people with nothing to say, too much in love to break away.”
The sun was coming up when I got home. Thanks to Joanie, I already knew it would be a beautiful day.
