Monday, December 22, 2014

The Corner Store, Where the Cookies Came in Two Sizes...


 By Camincha  

The corner grocery store of Alba’s childhood -- she recalls being nine -- was very special. It took the role of today’s Community Service Centers: if you were not at home when a package was delivered, they would accept it, and hold it for you. They would take messages. They would let you know when that special brand you were waiting for came in. If you didn’t have a phone they would let you use theirs. Some charged una peseta, twenty cents, or if you were a regular they would just let you borrow it. Saying, “No. No charge for you,” they would slide back the peseta that you had placed on the counter, perhaps adding with a smile, “you are a preferred customer.”

Alba’s grocery store at the corner of Porta and San Martin in Miraflores, in the same block as her house, was owned, like most small grocery stores in the area, by Chinese. Two Chinese men. Both tall, good-looking. One was called Lin Lin. Alba never knew if that was his real name or not. She just accepted it, the way children often take some things for granted. Lin Lin was friendly and helpful to his clients. He smiled whenever he saw Alba. Often he saw her from his post, sitting behind the counter, before she saw him. As she approached, all of a sudden, his eyes would be visible, then his smile as he rose from his chair.

Lin Lin’s store was spacious, clean, with a large counter and a high ceiling. Its walls were lined with drawers. Little drawers. Large drawers. They went all the way up and down the walls. The drawers contained all kinds of merchandise. On one side, they held a well-organized rainbow of threads, ribbons, small pieces of yardage. Next needles, thimbles, measuring tapes. Another group held writing paper, pencils, erasers of all shapes, sizes and colors. An entire side had make-up, tiny perfume bottles and First Aid items. Other drawers held rice, all kinds of beans, noodles, wheat, coffee, tea. But the drawers Alba always zeroed in on were the ones that held the cookies.

In fact that was why this grocery store was so very special to her because of the cookies that were sold there: butter cookies. Flat. They were plain on one side and on the other, they had a clown’s face outlined in brown. They came in two sizes, one the size of una peseta, twenty cents, the others the size of a silver sol, un sol de plata. These cookies were so thin that she wondered how they held their shape. When she put them in her mouth they felt sturdy. Ah! but soon they cracked into tiny little pieces and their delicious flavor spread through out Alba’s slim, little body. 

And she did get a lot of cookies for one or two cents, since Lin Lin was most generous. He measured the sale with his hand. And to Alba’s delight  he had a large hand with long fingers.

Camincha is a California-based writer and a frequent contributor to MyStoryLives. To find a good recipe for sugar cookies, go to MyEdibleMemories.net
                                                  

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Meet the Red Birds!

Finally I got the cardinals on film. I had no sooner sat down to meditate this morning when the bright red male started strutting his stuffon the window sill. He hung around so long that I decided to pick up my camera -- the focus already set -- and shoot. A few minutes later, the female, a greenish yellow belly with pale red head and orange beak, appeared and I photographed her as well.

The last post and the one before that discuss the weird appearance of these birds. A friend contends that cardinals appear when there is something to celebrate (or grieve over.) So here we are now with photos, proof that they actually have been visiting.

Perhaps you can understand how distracting these birds can be.  As much as I love seeing the cardinals, it's getting more and more difficult to meditate.

Another little cardinal story happened yesterday. I was looking to buy a tray for underneath our toaster, as there are always crumbs pouring out onto the counter. My husband suggested that I look in a nice gift shop in Chatham, N.Y., the closest shopping district to Spencertown.

"They won't have a tray like that," I said to him. But I told him I would look anyway.
A young woman showed me several ceramic trays that were both too small and too much money. I turned those all down.

"We have one more tray in the back room," she said, and she produced a plastic tray that was the perfect size.

Guess what was pictured on the tray?

Yes, you got it. A pair of cardinals against a winter scene.

This has been a wild bird week. And I am still trying to piece together what exactly is going on here. Clearly there is no simple answer.

Monday, December 15, 2014

WHY ALL THIS CRAZY STUFF HAPPENING?


The cardinal was back this morning, and this time it was the red male batting at the window. I was busy  meditating.

What I want to know is why do these cardinals keep trying to pull my attention away from meditating? (They have been coming since I wrote the last post, last Wednesday.)  That day my head was swimming and I could hardly concentrate on writing.

Since then, I have talked to two writer friends about this situation. When I told my writer friend Peg --  who has read 1,000,000 pages of my writing, including the novel-by-blog Sister Mysteries -- she got confused. "You mean like cardinals in the church?" she asked.

HA, I responded, it never occurred to me that someone would s thinking I was talking about the
high priests of the Catholic church.

But then, Sister Mysteries -- which I finally finished the other day in Chapter 70 called "Finale" -- was all about the Catholic nun, Sister Renata, who back in 1883 was falsely accused of killing her cousin.

Renata, finally and officially, went free in that chapter, and so, reasonably enough -- I thought I was done writing Sister Mysteries. But oddly enough the book continues and maybe that is because the book that I am really writing is the story about me and how I discovered my faith in the divine. (More on that another time.)

Anyway, when Peg said that about Catholic cardinals, I had to explain to her I was talking about the birds and how a female cardinal came crashing into my window and batted her wings against the glass as I sat there with my mouth hanging open. And all the while I was trying to meditate. My therapist in New York City, who has been teaching meditation for 20 years, says that when you meditate you open yourself up to divine energies.)

My other writer friend -- a superb poet named NANCY DUNBAR -- says that cardinals appear "in times of grief and in times of celebration." In my case, I have been celebrating the OFFICIAL ENDING TO THE BLOG TOME I HAVE BEEN WRITING SINCE NOVEMBER 10, 2011. Actually, though, as Peg knows so well as she has read all the 1,000,000 pages I've written, this book has been brewing and steaming and overflowing for 20 years (I wrote the first chapter of the Renata story in Janury 1995). Understandably I have been more than frustrated with this novel. I have tried to write it so many times I can't count. And then I have tried NOT WRITING the novel just as many times and it refused to be put away!)

So the last few days I HAVE BEEN CELEBRATING! Like Renata, I am FINALLY FREE. I am no longer trapped in this novel and I am so happy I can hardly tell you.

I guess that is why the CARDINALS have been coming to my window. It makes me believe in miracles -- so maybe you want to visit my brand new blog called Mysteries and Miracles.  I hope you will read it.

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Miracle Morning!


Miracles are
happening to me
this morning
the first was just
moments ago the
most amazing bird story I have ever
seen
I saw it 
while in 
meditation.

I had been sitting for
about half an hour when
my husband brought the 
puppy downstairs so she could
go outside.

My husband came into
the living room and said a few things to me
I resumed meditation
and then
and then
the puppy came in and sat down
to the right of me  
I looked over my right shoulder

I SAW A COUPLE OF CARDINALS AT THE WINDOW ON THE BLACK BRANCHES
AGAINST THE WHITE SNOW IT WAS A CHRISTMAS CARD FRAMED BY MY
LIVING ROOM WINDOW I GASPED AND COULDN’T LOOK AWAY I WOULD SAY THEY WERE THERE FOR A HALF HOUR BUT ACTUALLY NOT  NEARLY THAT LONG
THE FEMALE DISAPPEARED BUT THE
MALE KEPT KEPT KEPT KEPT KEPT AT THE WINDOW BATTING 
HIS WINGS FLUTTERING MADLY TRYING DESPERATELY TO GET THROUGH THE GLASS AS I WATCHED MY MOUTH HANGING OPEN THE BUSH THE BIRD THE THOUGHT CAME TO ME THE BURNING BUSH AND MOSES SEEING IT AND

ME WATCHING A SMALL MIRACLE RIGHT
THERE
RIGHT HERE NOW NOW NOW AND 

HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY GO BACK TO MEDITATION WHEN
THE BIRDS HAVE TAKEN YOUR BREATH AWAY?

So I stopped 
to write this.
It's a mystery
I needed a camera but didn’t move.
Some miracles
you just can’t photograph
in words.

P.S.

OMG THE RED CARDINAL THE FEMALE JUST RETURNED
SHE IS SITTING OUTSIDE THE WINDOW IN THE ROSE OF SHARON 
HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT THESE BIRDS
I HAVE NEVER WITNESSED ANYTHING LIKE THIS NEVER
NOT EVER AT THE BIRD FEEDER I NEED TO GET MY CAMERA
I AM SITTING HERE I WILL TRY TO GET UP TO GET MY CAMERA
I AM CERTAIN SHE WILL FLY AWAY BUT WHAT THE HECK I MIGHT
AS WELL TRY...

AND I ONLY GOT THE WINDOW.



But now that we are on the subject of mysteries I might as well
tell you the candle story again
once again
today a candle won't stop
burning bush
won't stop
won't stop
the wax
the wick
I had a tricky candle once before in my Sister Mysteries blog


That time it wouldn't stop burning
It lasted and lasted and lasted
Way way past a candle should.
A long long long long
time after the wick
just kept burning
and burning and
burning bush.
I am now finished reporting on morning miracles.
(But the candle is still burning and I will time how long 
before it goes out.)

p.s.s. The candle burned for four and a half hours!





Wednesday, December 03, 2014

Dear Sylvia

By Nancy Dunlop

Dear Sylvia,
For years your poems
seeped through me
until I finally gave in and allowed myself to be yours
But now, after my own
life cracked down the middle
landing me in the hospital
I must part ways with you
I don't want your ringing anthems
about doll girls and nurses and coffin lids.
I mean, really!
you modelled your poems
to fit with your grisly prediction
yours was a poetics of quick death.


So, dear Sylvia, I divest myself of you
despite your tricky eloquence,
your beautiful horrors.
I am turning my compass,
hopping poem to poem
out of the darkness
to newly lit light.

Nancy Dunlop is a poet and a writer who lives in Delmar, N.Y. with her husband and two cats. It was published first in Miss Stein's Drawing Room.https://www.facebook.com/nancy.dunlop1?fref=nf