Scout Moves

This is me at age five in Mrs. Jeffrey's yard just a few months before the fateful snow storm. Could we not afford pants that actually fit me?

Today is the birthday of Thelonius Monk, Giuseppi Verdi, and Helen Hayes. So, whether you're a jazz fan, an opera fan, or a silent movie fan, today is a day for celebration. But more importantly, this is the birthday of Kitty Quigley . Kitty was my first friend, my neighbor who lived directly across the street--our driveways forked off of the same little half street. When I turned five and went to kindergarten, my mother went back to work as a bookkeeper for a hardware store. I spent the afternoons with baby sitters from church--Mrs. Lorenze who had a chihuahua that wore green rubber boots when it rained, and Mrs. Jeffrey who lived in the country and had a gray poodle. I was stranded with Mrs. Jeffrey and her poodle for three days during the big snow of 1967. I don't recall having friends at age five, but in 1968, Mrs. Quigley brought Kitty over to my house to introduce us, and we were best friends from that day on. When I started first grade, I waited at the Quigley's...

If you have followed my posts over the last several days you'll know that I have been pondering how I will be remembered in the future, IF I will be remembered, and considering the exercise of designing my own funeral and eulogy as mentioned by my brother-in-law . (It's no different sitting across the table from me--I go on a dozen unrelated tangents, but I always come around). Anyway,... The point of the eulogy exercise is to establish goals, to define the kind of person I want to become and then take steps to develop into that person--not because I want people to say nice things about me at my wake, but because it's the right thing to do. Because I'm not a soulless creature who only thinks about the next meal. Because I'm not a cat whose only goal is to chase the yarn ball. Because when Jesus meets me at The Gate, I don't want to be accused of squandering. But the fact is, a eulogy is a collection of nice things people might say about me at my wake, and for s...

He's a mile wide and a foot deep A description of someone who is shallow, someone who is full of all the right words but has no depth or sincerity to demonstrate their meaning He doesn't cast a shadow A description of someone who is just that much of a wall flower, so timid and withdrawn, so invisible, that he doesn't even cast a shadow. It puts me in mind of Mr. Cellophane Man.

It's quite a day for birthdays: June Allyson Desmond Tutu Vladimir Putin Oliver North Yo-Yo Ma Mary Badham : she played Scout in "To Kill A Mockingbird." When I was a kid, I believed I looked just like her. I tried to get people to call me Scout, but no one would. Scout on the left. Me in 3rd grade on the right. If nothing else, we both had bad haircuts.

I'm still mulling over the details of my own funeral and whether or not I want to define them here and now. While I'm thinking, here is a list of epitaphs for inspiration: "I don't want to talk about it now"--Bonnie Anderson "That's All Folks"--Mel Blanc "Called Back" --Emily Dickinson "Steel True, Blade Straight"--Sir Arthur Conan Doyle "...that nothing's so sacred as honor and nothing's so loyal as love"--Wyatt and Josephine Earp "Murdered by a traitor and a coward whose name is not worthy to appear here"--Jesse James "Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water"--John Keats "Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime "--Dean Martin "I'll see you in apple blossom time "--Tip O'Neill "Quoth the Raven nevermore"--Edgar Allan Poe "The Best is Yet to Come"--Frank Sinatra And to finish off the list, here is the epitaph from Russell Larson who is buried in Lo...

A new study seems to suggest that the main ingredient in pot can act as a barrier to Alzheimer's disease by keeping the neurotransmitters from misfiring. Noone is saying we should all start lighting up but that researchers can use this ingredient or something like it to create a new treatment. I'm all for a new Alzheimer's drug that actually works, unlike what's on the market now, so let's get going. And hurry it up--I'm not getting younger. Neither is my husband, and both of us lost our fathers to the miserable disease. I never did smoke the marijuana--or pot or weed or whatever the kids are calling it. I did see a joint once, though, when my art class buddy flashed one he was storing in his wallet. We were great friends, whatever his name was, until he ran away to Florida with his pregnant girl friend. I knew her from marching band, and I had to fill in her cymbal spot while she went missing. But still, I never smoked pot myself. When I think of how I towed t...

Thanks to Rich for the inspiration... Lizzie Borden was acquitted of the murders of her father and step-mother, but we love the little poem anyway, don't we? Lizzie Borden took an axe And gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done She gave her father forty-one. According to Wikipedia, "The anonymous rhyme was made up by a writer as an alluring little tune to sell newspapers even though in reality her stepmother suffered 9 blows, her father 11."

I'm stuck on the question of what would I want people to remember me for 200 years from now. (see Jonathan Edwards post below). The usual answers keep popping up, like a beauty queen contestant (I hope for world peace). I hope I'm remembered for being generous, kind, patient, kind of funny, a follower of Jesus. But those things don't get you remembered. Some kid in 2206 won't open his history book and find my biography-- Robyn Martins: she was a woman in Ohio who was really nice. She liked to knit hats, and she kept a blog. See section 46B for the definition and history of blogs. People who accomplish things that we hold in high or low regard are remembered. People who write good novels, are elected president, invent telephones, kill entire villages with an axe--those people make the books. So, I'm thinking the question should really be "do I expect to be remembered 200 years from now" or "do I even want to be remembered 200 years from now." Firs...

It's time for another family favorite. This one is from Gourmet Every Day . Perfect with a small scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, a little raspberry sauce, and a glass of port. Flourless Chocolate Cake Makes 1 (8-inch) cake 4 oz. good bittersweet chocolate 1 stick unsalted butter 3/4 c. sugar 3 large eggs 1/2 c. unsweetened cocoa powder •Preheat oven to 375F and butter an 8-inch round baking pan. Line bottom with a round of parchment paper, and butter the paper. •Melt chocolate and butter in a double boiler until smooth*. Remove top of double boiler and whisk in sugar. Whisk in eggs. Sift cocoa powder over chocolate mixture and whisk until jsut combined. Pour into prepared pan and bake for 25 minutes. •Cool in pan on a rack for 5 minutes, then invert onto a serving plate. Dust with cocoa powder or powdered sugar. *It's a little easier to melt the chocolate and butter in a large glass bowl in the microwave. Heat on full power for 45 seconds. Stir, then heat 15 seconds at a tim...

Happy birthday to Jonathan Edwards, a significant person in Christian history but most notable for his Sinners in the Hands of An Angry God sermon. I have sometimes wondered if he knew that particular sermon would mark him for all of history, would he have delivered it differently. Interesting question: if you know you'll be known for just one thing two hundred years from now, what would you want that one thing to be? Maybe just being known would be enough because I doubt I will be. Oh well.

...says my soul mate. You must all participate in the Dead Celebrity Soulmate Search from Biography. What does it say about me when my soulmate is Edgar Allan Poe, and he rejects me? I suppose I'm better off.

Today is Charlton Heston's birthday, but I'm not a fan. I never saw the appeal of his film characters. Could he have been any more overdone? When he became president of the NRA and started spouting stupid things from his microphone, I liked him even less. It's unsettling to be stopped at a red light and have to wait behind a beat up old truck with a bumper sticker that reads "My president is Charlton Heston." I'd rather wish a happy birthday to Joseph Francis Keaton. When he was a baby, Harry Houdini nicknamed him Buster.

Happy birthday to Emily Post and Al Sharpton. I'm trying to picture the two of them sitting together for tea and cake. I think there's a story there.

"... this is my life. It always will be. There's nothing else— just us and the cameras and those wonderful people out there in the dark..." Remember that sad and skin-shivering scene from "Sunset Boulevard" when Norma Desmond is being escorted down the grand staircase by the homicide detective, and she is completely delusional? Well, not all of us can be film stars, but maybe some of us can be film strip stars. This is me in fifth grade "starring" in a filmstrip about the moon, part of a series called The World of Media. Encyclopedia Britannica came to my school, Yo st E lementary, and they needed a boy and a girl to pose with a globe of the moon. I was Mr. Sh umway's f avorite student for some reason--I wasn't all that studious-so he chose me and Gary Pr ichard. Gary and I were excused from class to go to the library and pretend to be discussing the moon, with my finger pointing at the Sea of Tranquility. You can't see that in the picture...

This is quite a day for birthdays. Here are the most notable in no particular order, although I am tempted to put Groucho Marx at the top. I may have to watch Room Service just to celebrate. Bud Abbott Mohandas Gandhi Groucho Marx King Richard III Graham Greene Sting Don McLean Annie Leibovitz

When George Bailey was a kid and working for Mr. Gower, he strapped on his apron, scooped up some chocolate ice cream for Mary, and at hearing she didn't like coconut, was piqued. He pulled out the latest National Geographic to show her there was a wide world to explore, full of coconut--Tahiti, Fiji, the Coral Sea. Mary had never heard of this "new magazine." George: "Of course you never. Only us explorers can get it. I've been nominated for membership in the National Geographic Society." Society : a voluntary association of individuals for common ends. We certainly have formed a lot of those, haven't we? For all of our chest-beating about being independent, masters of our own destiny, we do seem to have a driving need to belong to a larger group. And if we can't find one that is just right, we make one up and call it a society. There's one for every possible profession--doctors, lawyers, bakers, chemists, teachers, nurses--they've all got s...

But I'm not bitter, really. You're not worth a plug nickel What my mother often said when waking me up if I had slept longer than she thought I should. You're burnin ' day light What my father often said when waking me up if I had slept longer than he thought I should. Why, you're just playin ' ' possom What my father often said when waking me up if I had slept longer than he thought I should, and he was convinced that I was really awake and faking sleep Why do you want to look like that when you could be pretty? What my mother often said when I walked out the front door in my scruffy clothes. I had a favorite pair of jeans with both knees ripped out, and I liked wearing them to school with my velour sweat shirt ( ahh , the 70s).

I picked up #2 from school this afternoon, and when she got in the car, she said that she swore the Tooth Fairy lives in her purse. Every time she goes out for lunch and realizes that she forgot to get money before school, she finds $4 in change in the bottom of her bag. I would like the Tooth Fairy to live in my purse.

I thought I had discovered a new art form when my friend Adair told me about altered books. I thought some scrapbooker had gotten bored with her calico paper and grommets and decided to hack up her old third grade reader. But then I found the International Society for Altered Book Artists ( ISABA ) . My husband pointed out that there is an international society for just about anything--I suppose that's true, but this one surprised me because I had no idea there were so many people out there massacring old dusty books for art. Where have I been? Here is how the ISABA describes their craft: the altered book-- It is any book, old or new that has been recycled by creative means into a work of art. They can be ... rebound, painted, cut, burned, folded, added to, collaged in, gold-leafed, rubber stamped, drilled or otherwise adorned ...and yes! it is legal! Well, of course, it's legal. This isn't currency you're plastering with decoupage, it's a book. It's a book ...