My wandering wonders are less momentous and will not haunt for long. I won't remember them any longer than I can hold the memory of last evening's gorgeous misty ochre full moon rising. Still, for just this moment I am amazed by the Schoolcraft College culinary students in Livonia, Michigan, creating the wonders of the architectural world in gingerbread and icing:
"St. Basil’s Cathedral," created by Matthew Fisher of Dearborn Heights, Morgan Massucci of Westland and Sheri Frader of Plymouth, won first place. Second place honors went to "Sydney Opera House," created by Anna Darwactor of Macomb.
So I wonder as I wander how one gets the gingerbread out of the oven and drapes it over curved forms while it is still soft to make the forms for the Sydney Opera Gingerbread House. Then I have to ponder why the rats on NPR have so much more empathy than either my students or the members of Congress. Maybe the Nutcracker Rat King that always gave me the willies just needed more chocolate chips.
For reasons I can't fathom, my father has begun eating like a horse AND talking. Two weeks ago we took him off Aricept, a prescription for maximizing mental clarity. A visit with him is more of a wander than before.
I didn't get to see Dad until 6:30 last evening, so he'd already had supper. He was talkative, and asked me to change the t.v. channel. Yikes! Yes! It was a telethon about cleft palates.
Dad said he'd watched a program about taxes... federal taxes... "Nobody minds paying fair taxes, but everybody minds paying unfair taxes". Yup!
Dad hadn't slept well the night before. He was thinking about "the prices. Out in the country." Oh, he's worrying what the farmers will get for their crops in Pierce County circa 1938.
Then somehow Dad got sidetracked to the Plexiglas problem. "Half-inch-thick Plexiglas protecting.... Protecting all the furniture... 45-degree angle out from the wall to the corner of the bed's footboard". Dad says the Plexiglas moves for me when I walk around the bed. Can't I see it?
"Get me some paper", he says. He folds a little piece of paper down to a 2-inch square. He holds it in the Hail Mary pass position, but doesn't throw it. He holds it in different places in front of him, and waves it some. I tell him he is not in a protective bubble. He says he knows, but without his usual note of exasperation. I ask if he wants a ball to throw at the Plexiglas. This is starting to match up with the times he has thrown his wadded diaper or a carton of milk at the wall. He often acts like he is going to pass a football according to his aides. I hunt around, we agree on a ball made from a pair of socks. Dad holds the sock ball, but never actually throws it. His arm raised shows the skin just hanging from his bones. Finally he asked me to put it away. Quite an hour to wonder, ponder, mentally wander:
"Get me some paper", he says. He folds a little piece of paper down to a 2-inch square. He holds it in the Hail Mary pass position, but doesn't throw it. He holds it in different places in front of him, and waves it some. I tell him he is not in a protective bubble. He says he knows, but without his usual note of exasperation. I ask if he wants a ball to throw at the Plexiglas. This is starting to match up with the times he has thrown his wadded diaper or a carton of milk at the wall. He often acts like he is going to pass a football according to his aides. I hunt around, we agree on a ball made from a pair of socks. Dad holds the sock ball, but never actually throws it. His arm raised shows the skin just hanging from his bones. Finally he asked me to put it away. Quite an hour to wonder, ponder, mentally wander:
How Jesus the Saviour did come for to die
For poor on'ry people like you and like I;
I wonder as I wander out under the sky
When Mary birthed Jesus 'twas in a cow's stall
With wise men and farmers and shepherds and all
But high from God's heaven, a star's light did fall
And the promise of ages it then did recall.
If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing
A star in the sky or a bird on the wing
Or all of God's Angels in heaven to sing
He surely could have it, 'cause he was the King
I wonder as I wander out under the sky
How Jesus the Saviour did come for to die
For poor on'ry people like you and like I;
I wonder as I wander out under the sky
As I've said before, I'm not a religious person. This is my favorite prayer:
Let me be receptive. Restore to me my capacity to wonder.
© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder
3 comments:
I always enjoy your wanderings, which give me food for thought.
I like your dad's ideas about fair taxes. I wonder if the Plexiglass thing is a vision issue. (Maybe vision affected by the medications?)
Speaking of gingerbread, did you see this?
http://boingboing.net/2011/12/10/gingerbread-typewriter-is-enti.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+boingboing%2FiBag+%28Boing+Boing%29
I do like the gingerbread typewriter!
Yes, the Plexiglass is some sort of vision issue possibly related to his very low blood pressure and throwing his glasses on the floor fairly often. There's just a wee bit of dementia in there, too!
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