It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

There is a cool book at Scholastic called “The Word Collector,” about a young boy named Jerome. He is fascinated with words and collects them, writing them on slips of paper. So I talked to the kids about different kinds of collections today. Then I started thinking about my collections of yore.

Tea sets were a happening one years ago, along with teapots. Stamps – since the age of ten – and still going! Dictionaries. I love the old ones that weigh ten pounds and have great names. “Webster’s Imperial English Dictionary.” Who uses “imperial” in everyday speech anymore? Such a cool word. Santas – something my sister thought we needed to collect. Globes – I like the ones where the background is black. Pumpkins – seems to be an accidental collection right now – yet I am drawn to them, especially the ones which are different colors.

Collections are amusing if you enjoy them, and a nuisance if they become an obsession, which in turn can become a burden to your offspring. Therefore, I am endeavoring to collect only words, which take up a small amount of space on a paper, and experiences, which use the spaces surrounding me. (And maybe a cool pumpkin or dictionary if I find one.)

I kept opening the refrigerator, hoping the dill pickles looked more appealing each time. That’s about all that is left in there after the men in the family packed up their gear and the refrigerator and went camping for the weekend. They did leave me yogurt, so I opted for yogurt, if that’s even possible to opt for something when you really have no choice? I next went to prepare for the day.

I kept walking into the closet trying to choose something befitting the fickle fall weather upon us. I’m not sure which space saw more of me – the inside of the refrigerator or the closet? I just couldn’t make a decision, even with the latest weather forecast in my sphere of critical thinking.

The only clear decision I made was that I had to go the grocery store. Not a wise move on game day, which immediately dawned on me as I entered our fine grocery. I had a list, but I kept seeing what others were putting in their carts and I got sidetracked yet again.

The good news? We are going to have dinner tonight.

It takes a specially engineered name badge to assist in the warrior work of a Scholastic Book Fairs employee. That, and a boatload of patience when wrangling first graders! Today I got to suit up and head out to share my love of reading with young ones.

Every now and then I forget how little those kids are, but my back and knees remember. I find myself crawling on the floor helping children write the titles of books they like. I’m bending over to hear the quiet ones. Standing on the concrete floors starts to weary my legs. My memory is tested as I replace the misplaced books from our twenty minutes of glory with each class. At the end of the day, I stumble to the car and look forward to dinner and a sofa. And what do I think?

Thank you, teachers, past and present!

Which do you remember? I remember my tenth, because it was the first time I got to invite a friend to a party. My sister got to invite a friend, also. This tradition of sharing everything was inaugurated early on. When it was my birthday, my sister got the same gift. When it was hers three months later, I got the same gift! So having a party just for me obviously entailed a friend for her. And….I still felt special.

Where is this leading? Today is my Mom’s birthday, and I remember the day we celebrated her turning 30. I can place myself in my aunt and uncles’ home. I remember where I was in the kitchen singing, “Happy Birthday to you!” (By the oven.) I was happy that day. My mom was special. She was old. I was her daughter so that made me special, obviously! Almost fifty years later I have that vivid memory.

Thanks, Mom!

In an attempt to keep up our 15,000 steps-a-day program, we leashed the dog and walked down the driveway for a stroll. We made it twenty feet when the neighbor’s dogs ran into the street.

We really didn’t need two extra canines tagging along, so we walked back up the driveway and returned them, adding a full 257 steps to our tally. However, (remember, there usually is one!) we had a chance to reacquaint ourselves with the neighbors and now have a dinner date with them.

Following our taxing walk, I prepared to attend my Biblical School class after missing the first three of the year. To thank my friends who audiotaped the sessions, I gave them a prayer card from one of the 40-some churches visited in Rome. This particular card featured an eight-foot wooden crucifix which did not burn when the first church did. The crucifix is taken from the church and venerated at St. Peter’s Basilica during a Jubilee year. Guess what tonight’s lesson entailed? Jesus fulfilling the Old Testament Jubilee.

I think I was supposed to bring that prayer card 5,567 miles just to give it to my friends tonight. And we were supposed to walk 257 steps just to get together with our neighbors. Excellent outcomes.

You know you’ve missed some great news when the headlines are “Bear sought foreign help” and “Tabasco sales to be banned for those under 21”. What happened? Did we start terrorizing wildlife and did our Tabasco become too hot to handle?

Obviously, I’m a little bleary-eyed as I try to find the right voltage converter to adapt to life back in the quiet and spaciousness of Colorado. I’m not sure what I missed while away, other than family and friends, of course. And the dog. Of course.

I did not miss the squirrels, who are once again taunting me. (We have now attributed hail damage to them trying to chew their way into our house!) I really didn’t miss my closet. I managed to live with a sparseness that was refreshing. I did not miss hearing the national news. I didn’t miss driving, which I really enjoy. I didn’t even miss playing the piano at church – but rather relished the break from commitments.

What did I miss? My pillow! Who knew? That’s never mattered before. Apparently I missed a great party, to which my sticky floors will attest. That’s about it. It truly is the people and the time spent with them that matter the most. And a pillow.

Electrical conversion is just a matter of finding the right adaptor – or voltage converter for the new system you are navigating. I was thinking that we all go through that “adaptor thing” when we meet new people, finding the right way to communicate and understand each other. It’s really quite simple when you ask for help, laugh at your mistakes, and smile.

What a copacetic ending to a brilliant adventure.

It wouldn’t be true world traveling without missing one connection at least! We missed our train to Rome from Assisi by one minute today and had to wait another two hours. However, we cheerfully (!) made the best of our time by reading the material we had packed for the journey. I was reminded of another missed connection years ago.

My sister and I took a boat tour on the Bosporus Strait years ago while visiting Istanbul and Athens. My sister had a deaf ear, and why I let her tell me what the boat wrangler said is beyond me, but I did!

“Be back in 50 minutes,” she claimed he said as we were dropped off on the Asian side of the Strait. We wandered the quaint town, happy to have stepped on Asian soil, and returned to find we had truly “missed the boat.” It was 15 minutes, not 50! Perhaps that is exactly the tiny dock where the term originated? Our problem? No dock attendant or captain or anyone around to help us, except two young college students who spoke a minuscule amount of our language. They were able to find the ticket agent who told us to wait for the next public transport back to the city, pointing to the exact spot where we should plop. All of this communication was done via hand gestures, pointing, and cash.

We did the only plausible thing we could do after that. We went across the street and bought a beer to drink on the dock while we waited for our water carriage.

If everything had gone as planned, I probably wouldn’t even remember that day so fondly.

For as many people as there are running across traffic, and as many motorcycles weaving in and out of buses, trams, cars, police, bicycles and ambulances, we have thankfully only experienced three incidents.

The first was when we arrived. We got to see and hear the ambulance arriving to transport a woman from the Spanish Steps. She had climbed in the fountain in front, slipped and fell. She didn’t look so great. We got the message and didn’t climb in any fountains.

The second was only an aftermath witnessing. Our bus was stopped because of an accident on a side street. Lots of onlookers clogging the street kept us stalled. We didn’t join any crowds of onlookers either.

The third was the most interesting by far. A bus whacked the end of a car which was parked with its rear too far into the street. We saw it and heard it last night. No stopping by the bus, and nobody standing around thought too much of it. Clearly, the driver had been wrong to park so far from the curb, (about four feet) and you can’t stop transportation or the whole city will shut down! No one faulted the bus driver on that one.

We have learned to keep our rears clear of traffic.

The Road Less Traveled. With all due respect Mr. Frost, perhaps it was the road less traveled because it was a stupid way to go in the first place! There was probably a better and safer way to maneuver to the destination.

This comes to mind as we rest our tootsies tonight. Visiting the walled city of Orvieto today entailed a quaint funicular ride up the hill. It entailed the silly idea of walking back down the trail less traveled. Steep, traditional stone path, and greenery abounding. We were the only two who chose this method of transportation after a lovely day in the town, a delightful lunch with wine, and a little shopping.

Thankfully, we did not slip and fall, stumble over a rock, or get a hitchhiking tick. And we made it to our train on time and back to our ‘hood safely. Successo!