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Eighty years ago

JT Twissel 21 Comments

Allied forces launched an attack on the Germans occupying France. Few expected them to succeed.

Omaha Beach circa 2005

Above are the remnants of temporary ports known as Mulberry harbors. Some are on the beach; others are floating in the breakwater. They were used during the D-day invasion on June 6, 1944 but were badly damaged in a violent storm later in the month. When we visited Normandy in 2005 I wasn’t that interested in military history so they could have been “bombardons” or “phoenixes” which also provided landing ramps for troops and equipment. But they definitely weren’t “gooseberries” or “corncobs” – ships scuttled for use as breakwaters. (My husband, as you might have guessed, is a WWII buff)

The French have left these remnants on the beach as a reminder, knowing that it’s impossible to stand on this beach without feeling overwhelmed.

To the south of Omaha is Pointe du Hoc, a cliff that rises 90 feet straight out of the water, or so it seems. On this day, eighty years ago, Rudder’s Rangers used climbing equipment and, with heavy weapons on their backs, assaulted this cliff. We found a painting depicting this scene in the dining room of our hotel in Grandcamp Maisy (which isn’t a campground but a charming fishing village with views not only of Pointe du Hoc of but the Contentin Peninsula)

Dining room of our hotel in Grandcamp Maisy

I wished I’d had the good sense to ask the name of the artist but we had such a busy schedule that I never had the chance.

We tried visiting the remnants of the German bunkers on the top of Pointe du Hoc but it was raining like crazy and thus hard to get any good pictures. I can tell you, the craters left by the bombing on June 6, 1944 are still there.

Above is a place we visited on a cloudy day. It is the immaculately cared for American Cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer. Another place that will leave you breathless.

Eighty years ago. June 6, 1944.

No Peeking #ThursdayDoors

JT Twissel 15 Comments

Tomorrow night is the premiere of the The Orinda Starlight Player’s production of The Spider’s Web.

Guess what? They’ve decided to keep the final set design a surprise! Probably a good idea as it is a play about a murder mystery!

But I did find one uncovered door. Below is the “hidden door” that the murderer uses to access his victim. Per the synopsis, it is a play about hidden doors and secret drawers with a protagonist no one believes (she likes to tell wild tales).

Anyway, it is one of Agatha Christie’s longest running plays. But the final set design – well, we’ll have to wait until the Sunday matinee!

Check out other doors at Dan’s place!

Hello Stranger

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A friend of mine invited me to a “Postcard Party.” The purpose of the party was to write postcards to voters in battleground states urging them to vote. I’ve never gotten a personalized postcard from a stranger asking me to vote one way or another and so I was extremely curious. What does one say?

We had another visit from the raccoon. This time I could clearly see that she’s a lactating mama.

How about:

Dear Stranger:

I’m an old lady now; hell, even my kids are kicking middle age (all five of them). I know what it’s like to be a single mom with bills she can’t pay and, through my work with the Make-a-Wish foundation, I’ve seen how quickly a family’s world can fall apart because of a medical catastrophe. For those reasons, I urge you to vote with compassion in your heart.

Of course I might be writing to someone who feels it’s compassionate to shoot puppies you don’t like! Maybe I should appeal to their pocketbooks.

Dear Stranger:

I’ve been earning my own lunch money since I was eleven. At sixteen I got my first paycheck. The amount was not what I expected but what I could I do? I needed that steady paycheck. I remember thinking I wasn’t going to need social security or medicare because I was going to be filthy rich. Well guess what? It didn’t happen and now I’m horrified that some politicians have been talking about ending either program. Or cutting them.

But it turns out, I worried for nothing. The organizers had boilerplate text ready for us to just copy onto postcards. But not in cursive. It seems many younger people were not taught to read cursive. Anyway, it was a lovely day at the organizer’s lovely home with lovely people. It’s hard to believe that Amy Lauren will actually read my postcard and decide to request an absentee ballot. What do you think? Would getting a handwritten postcard from Jan the Volunteer get your attention or would it go right into the recycling?

Cowboy Willie’s Buckaroos

JT Twissel 21 Comments

When I first met Pete Crosby it was hard for me to imagine him ever biking from Ventura California to Refugio Beach (68 miles) with Cowboy Willie to spend the night in a cow pasture. Even as a fifteen year old, self-described poor boy. The Pete I met was a successful Southern California businessman, casually though elegantly dressed, holding court with other prominent Cal and Stanford alumni in the private backroom of a funky seafood restaurant in Berkeley. But once he and the Cowboy started recanting their childhood adventures and their heady days in high school as the “Big Six” – well, everyone buckled in and prepared to be amused.

Pete Crosby in high school probably in his dad’s pharmacy

That was at least twenty-five years ago but already they’d had a lifetime together. True, their paths diverged wildly. Pete blamed the hippie movement for the death of his only brother and Cowboy Willie protested with the Black Panthers. But Pete was the sort of guy to always keep the old gang together no matter what.

Cowboy Willie took his passing hard.

But, he took Buckaroo Wayne’s passing even harder. “I loved that guy,” he said. And then he said no more.

Wayne at an AIDS March probably 1994. He’s giving Cowboy Willie the old “you don’t say” look which probably proceeded a snarky retort. The two buckaroos spent a lot of time far from home trying to get computer systems up and running. And then they’d blow their expense accounts on wine and beer while debating things like “quarks.”

Nothing we can do. Old friends leave and we go on. But there should be a law: No more than one buckaroo should be allowed to pass every year.

Set Building #ThursdayDoors

JT Twissel 20 Comments

We’re having a few lovely spring days before winter returns. And so I took a stroll through our community park. The tennis courts were full as were the pickleball courts. Toddlers meandered through the play structures and rolled around the grass watched carefully by their attendants. It was picture perfect in every way.

Curious, I climbed up to the open air theater to see if the Starlight Village Players had begun to prepare for their upcoming season.

I was not disappointed. The fun thing about outdoor theater is that you can generally observe the “behind the scenes” preparations. I assume the arched door leads back stage but we shall see.

To the left of the arched door, a city skyline seems to be taking shape.

To the right, another city skyline. Is that the Tower of London and Big Ben?

There are two panels in front of the skyline also in process. Red foxes, blue owls, a full moon – and is that a bear approaching? We’ll have to wait and see.

The Starlight Village Players are putting on three plays this season (in alphabetical order):

  • As You Like It by William Shakespeare
  • Carmilla by LeFanu
  • The Spider’s Web by Agatha Christie

Which one do you think they’re working on now? Ah, let’s see. The skyline of London?

The Spider’s Web, of course. Given the synopsis of this play, I don’t know how a nocturnal, forest scene fits in. Well, as I said, we’ll have to wait and see.

I can’t wait until the end of September. That’s when the Players plan to present Carmilla which I wrote about back in 2021. Is my small town ready for a play about erotic, lesbian vampires? We shall see!

Check out other – probably more interesting doors – at Dan’s place.

How are you, other than falling apart?

JT Twissel 27 Comments

Last Friday I broke into the Jordan Almonds that I’d been saving for some special occasion. Generally I don’t keep such treats in the house because I can’t resist eating them all. But I saw them on sale just before Easter and thought the children who planned to visit us might like them (and if they didn’t, well I deserve a treat every now and then, don’t I?)

Old fashioned treats you don’t see everyday which means, of course, that they must be bought!

Upon arrival, said children announced their intention to become Buddhists and move to some smallish island off the coast of Japan. They ignored the Jordan Almonds. They ignored the Sees chocolate bunnies. They instead opted for oatmeal. I flirted with Buddhism in my youth and I don’t remember Jordan Almonds or chocolate bunnies ever being considered taboo items. I remember sitting on the floor and meditating with homemade prayer beads (which were actually lug nuts on a string). And then heading off to buy a Baskin Robbins ice cream cone. I guess we were Hedonistic Buddhists.

But times change … On with my story.

Upon first bite I concluded that the Jordan Almonds must have been on the shelf for decades and that’s why they were on sale. Upon first bite I also lost half of one of my molars.

Beware the Jordan Almonds!

“How are you other than falling apart?” The young dentist asked after examining my x-ray. “The filing in that tooth is so heavy that the tooth actually broke apart. What were you eating?”

“Jordan Almonds.”

“The good news is: the filling is still intact.”

“So I didn’t swallow the filling … I swallowed my tooth?”

“Lucky you! No mercury poisoning and, I think there’s enough left of the tooth that I can build a crown.”

Dentists on a Friday afternoon always seem so chipper, don’t they?

Min, my dentist’s new assistant, orders me to stay seated for “the insurance.” The Insurance comes with another bit of “good news.” A new crown will only me cost a thousand dollars! But I’d better get it done soon otherwise I could need a root canal and that’s a whole lot ‘nutter ballgame!

I have never had a root canal but I will take everyone’s word that it’s worse than death.

“So … we can do now?” Min asks cheerfully.

“Really?” How could I get so lucky. Someone must have cancelled.

Before I know it, my mouth is swabbed with the numbing gel and then comes the needle. Halfway thru the dentist’s drill hits a nerve as that old metal filling decides to put up a fight. “Good news! That pain means what’s left of the tooth is still alive!” More numbing gel applied. My face puffs up like a balloon. Pretty soon it will pop!

The Waning Gibbous knows how I feel!

After the temporary is made and set in place, Min appears with “The List” which must be followed or else: only soft food for two weeks (no Jordan Almonds), no floss on that side; gargle with Hydrogen Peroxide but “no swallow.” Take aspirin for pain, etc, etc.

I hate to break it to Min but there’s no way I’m gargling with Hydrogen Peroxide. Knowing me, I’d probably swallow it like I did half my tooth.

A Brief Peek

JT Twissel 19 Comments

We had a brief peek of Spring last week, two days with temperatures in the seventies and so I spent all day outside mostly scrubbing mold off outdoor furniture and the deck. Still outside.

But alas, a peek is all we got and then the fog bank moved in. And it became glum. And yesterday sirens blasted for a good half hour as helicopters circled the skies. Google maps reported that the nearby highway had been closed because of multi-car accidents. But the news stations were fixated on Trump farting or Trump nodding off or Trump having a temper tantrum. Frankly, my dear, I could give a s**t. I wonder if all that Trump news caused the drivers on Highway 24 to lose their minds and play bumper cars!

The blooms, so hungry for sun, weep to see its departure.

No painter could ever touch the artistry of nature. Although I am tempted to try. If only the sun would come back. Among my other faults, I can only paint in natural light.

The last time I posted was April 13th – 10 days ago. Besides scrubbing the mold off decks, I’ve been pulling together two stories that … after a lifetime, sigh … I’ve realized are the same story. Which necessitated ignoring Yee Olde Blogge. During the time I’ve been gone, these are the posts that someone (God knows who or why has been reading or at least viewing):

It’s always interesting to see which posts land in the “Top Posts” slot when I’ve been away for a while. It always makes me wonder. How about you?

It sure gets old

JT Twissel 34 Comments

I confess that I don’t often wear garden gloves while weeding, which means my fingernails are a fright and I have to be leery of plants whose sap, once on your skin, has to be removed with turpentine. But garden gloves get smelly and have to be washed and hung on the line where often I forget about them for days. Then the sun comes out and I forget about them again and they shrink.

Sometimes I’ll get a thorn in one of my fingers and I vow to remove all roses from the garden.

Except perhaps the climbing roses. They have no thorns.

The fox squirrel hears the door open and springs into action.

“You don’t really think you’re getting out the door without giving me a peanut!”

As I sit in my chair by the window contemplating the mundane on a soggy day, so far away bombs are falling. Who knows what it will lead to. If we’re lucky, some bluster-fluster saber rattling although … it sure gets old. It sure gets old.

A few days ago a woman who’d just graduated from law school wore a hijab to a party honoring her and others at the Dean’s house. There she whipped out a portable bullhorn and proceeded to lecture the attendees on the genocide the university is supporting in Gaza. The Dean and his wife are Jewish, as she well knew. Horror upon horror, they asked her to leave. Horror upon horror, they touched her sacred hijab on the holiest of Muslim holidays when she refused to leave. Now, of course, she’s suing. It sure gets old.