Life is a funny thing in These titles mean nothing.

It’s 4 am. Yeah, that’s a funny time. No idea why I’m up. Even less of an idea why I’m typing here. I almost called it writing but that’s too far. Not far enough?

Either way. It’s been hot and humid. Really hot and humid. I got the fans out of the closet - I thought I had three but there only seem to be two - and one if sort of broken. But now - today - at 4 am - the thermometer outside one north window says 60 F. and I finally got the sliding north window above the sink slid closed because - get this - a very cold wind is blowing in on me. I had to put on my woolly socks and my 150 year Allamakee County Fair anniversary hoodie, but now I’m relatively cozy.

I had one of those uncertain gender identification dealie with a character in a novel. The character was called The Duchess in a rather sweet novel called The Lincoln Highway by Amor Towles. The Duchess is one of the narrators and I just kind of assumed she was a somewhat butch female. But when I went back to read some more I saw that her pronouns were him and his and then I had to do some twisting around in my head about what I’d read and what I’d assumed and whether I wanted to go on with the story. And I thought how did I misunderstand it in the first place. And what does it matter anyway. And then I was mad at myself for caring.

I have also been going through a volume of letters between the Duke and Duchess (see!!!) of Windsor written in their early days together - from the time they met until they married - in the 1930s. I have this odd fascination with them - nothing I’m proud of either, and nothing I understand. They are just available to me and of a certain endless interest. I associate the current Duke and Duchess of Sussex with them too. Differences of course, but also similarities. Similar concerns about my own interest in people who have no affect on my own life.

Deb’s mother died a few weeks ago. Hers was the funeral I mentioned in a previous entry. I still have a bouquet of flowers from the church on my kitchen table. They need to be groomed - time to remove the shorter lived flowers from the longer lived ones. Tomorrow I will do that. I’ll take them out on the deck and cull out the droopy sunflowers and overripe cockscombs. That will leave the spotted yellow ones whose names I don’t know and the daisy/mums. I’ll give them fresh water and they will be happy.

Deb’s mother was a remarkable woman. She sang at her funeral - well they used her music - first “Roll Out the Barrel” following - ‘Come on up boys - I won’t bite”. And “Red River Valley”. I just stapled the program in this year’s spiral notebook. She was three years older than me and she spent the last four years of her life in a nursing home. I think she was generally happy to be there. Her house of course had to be sold to pay for her care. It was a small ranch house and it was refurbished by the buyer and resold this last year. All these are steps is life.

I talked to a special woman at the funeral. I was so grateful to my son John for telling me about her before the funeral… not that she would necessarily be there but that she and her husband have health problems - he said she was on oxygen. She came and sat by me in the church - said she would come and sit by Mary - and I was so grateful to know who she was. There is a serious and important history between her family and my son and I so grateful - just so grateful. She had driven a long ways by herself to come to remember Deb’s family and us too.

Jim went to Cedar Rapids yesterday. Planning & Zoning is working on a plan (ha ha ha) for dealing with solar energy farms and storage of solar power, and some of them went to see the big solar arrays near the former Palo nuclear power plant. My kids were born in Cedar Rapids and Jim started school in Palo. It’s a long way and we never really ever get back there. When I was going to Iowa City with my brother we went across the interstate in Cedar Rapids. We have a lot of memories, a lot of who we are and how we got here, all that kind of stuff.

They also stopped at Cedar Rock at Quasqueton. Cedar Rock is a lovely, in my opinion, the loveliest, Frank Lloyd Wright house open to the public. It’s small and simple and the setting is so perfect.

https://www.google.com/search?q=cedar+rock+quasqueton&rlz=1CAUNWU_enUS1113US1113&oq=cedar+rock+quasqueton&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUqBggAEEUYOzIGCAAQRRg70gEINTc2OGowajeoAgCwAgA&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

Last updated August 06, 2024