I remember my great grandmother’s ear trumpet. It was a long instrument, flared at one end. She held the small end to her ear. I also remember a black box the size and shape of a thick brick …
Source: A New World to Hear
Category Archives: Perspective
The Peddler Woman, Childhood Days A Childhood Reminiscence
I was a young child during World War II. As I look back I realize this was a time of great change in American society. Not only were we fighting a large scale war in far away countries, but we were also changing the way things were done at home, especially if one lived in the country as opposed to the city. By living in the country I mean living where if you wanted to purchase anything that was not delivered to the door, you needed a car. Of course there were various catalogs, however for everyday shopping most of what we bought we purchased from the local stores. The internet did not of course exist.
Because like most people we had only one car my mother could not get out to shop all that often. My father worked as a salesman and he usually needed the car to get around. In addition, gas was rationed so no one used it thoughtlessly or took trips just for the fun of it. On Sundays, all the stores were closed. That pretty much left Saturdays and the occasional afternoon when my dad would work at home catching up on paperwork, for my mother to shop anywhere we could not walk to. Living where we did, that would mean a couple of miles trek, and with my short little legs that would have been unrealistic.
Milk was delivered, and ice for the icebox with the pan that accumulated water underneath that had to be emptied regularly. Eventually the milkman added bread to his supplies. In addition there was a woman who walked from town to town lugging a large suitcase with all sorts of small items for sale. She sold what might be termed “dry goods.” The dictionary definition for dry goods is “textiles, ready made clothing, and sundries.” She always stopped at our house. It was exciting for me when she did.
I can still see her coming into our living room and opening her big suitcase. In it were needles and thread, buttons, handkerchiefs and occasionally something rare in those days: nylons. They had seams, and were shear unlike the cotton stockings that were available. My mother would buy thread, pretty hair ribbons for me, and sometimes cotton socks. In the winter the peddler woman sold woolen gloves and hats. In the summer she might have carried the sun bonnets my mother insisted I wear to protect my fair skin.
How different the world is today. The end of WWII brought in a new era in so many ways. How little understanding children growing up today must have of what it is like to buy from a peddler woman, a strap over her shoulder, clutching the handle of her suitcase as she walked from town to town with her notions and dry goods. I don’t remember when she stopped coming and we went instead to the big stores in Beverly to shop. It could have been around the time we got an electric refrigerator to replace the zinc lined icebox by the kitchen door. When one is small, time dissolves into timelessness, and memory delivers images not dates.
Smelling the Lilies
Of all the flowers with delightful scents, there are three that are favorites of mine: Lilies, Roses, and Hyacinths. So it was that when I was shopping in Trader Joe’s last week and saw the Star Gazer Lilies for sale I could not resist buying a small bunch and bringing them home. As I had hoped they would they have filled our small apartment with their wonderful scent.
As I sit here writing my column I am breathing it in. As I do, these colorful lilies with their glorious perfume remind me over and over again how important it is to give to myself as well as to others. It has taken me more than a few years to recognize the importance of doing that. My dear mother called such thinking selfish. She was raised in a home where children came last, after guests, parents and other adults. To think of oneself first, if at all, was not encouraged.
There was no intentional cruelty involved in this attitude. It sprang from a different way of seeing the world and of acting on that viewpoint. There is a strong behavioral edict that sprang from traditional thinking that it is better to give than to receive. While it is good to give, there are psychological reasons that were not taken into account by this edict that need to be addressed. In addition there is the question of balance versus imbalance to be considered.
I was raised in much the same way. I remember once being surprised when a friend said that we must be home by four o’clock for her children’s TV program. That the wishes of children were something to consider was a new thought for me. As a young mother it never occurred to me that children’s choices were anything to be considered.
In the years since then I have done a lot of learning. A most important lesson of my lifetime has been that if I do not give to myself I will not have much to give others. My cup must have something in it before I can give from it freely. My giving must be in balance with my receiving. What I have discovered, sometimes the hard way is that if I give only to others and not to myself I develop unconscious resentment that can lead me to act unkindly, or be overly critical without meaning to. This can creep up on me and I need to make sure I notice it when it happens.
From the time I was small being kind has always been very important to me. Thus it has become vital that from time to time I assess my behavior to make sure I have been giving to myself enough to balance my graciousness to others. It is not always easy to remember to give to oneself. It often initially feels so good to give to others that it is easy to forget to include oneself. As I inhale the perfume of the wonderful lilies I am reminded again of how grateful I am for this gift I gave to myself, and of how glad I am that I bought them.
Text and Photo by Tasha Halpert
In An Orderly Fashion
In An Orderly Fashion
Remember fire drills? There are even some of my readers who might remember such a thing as a bomb drill. When the bell clanged we were always told to “proceed in an orderly fashion.” I suppose that meant lining up and staying in line so the teachers or whoever was shepherding us could keep track. In an orderly manner usually meant no talking, and certainly no fooling around.
I think about this phrase sometimes when I am dithering about my apartment working to get things done. Being a writer I spend most of my time at home and can make my own schedule. This has its positive and its negative points, because I do not have the same parameters necessitating order as someone working outside the home, however I do need to make my own order.
There is priority, there is the immediate demand, and then there is what I hope to get done. Each day presents its challenges. I can only do my best. For instance, take the insistent telephone. say I am about to begin a task when it rings. Stephen would tell me to ignore it, and my experience is that if I do it will only create another difficulty I haven’t anticipated. I answer the phone, conduct whatever necessary conversation and go back to what I was doing. Meanwhile, I may have lost the thread of the process and need to begin again.
It may be that I am called away while I am cooking. I ought to know better than to leave the stove unattended. However having had years of training as a mother to answer the immediate need of the moment, I have a tendency to rush over to do what seems to need doing. In the meantime, something boils over on the stove and that necessitates a huge cleanup.
When I plan ahead it seems to help. When I set out on a series of errands it works better if I think about the best arrangement for doing them. This works fine unless I forget my grocery list and either have to go back for it or try to remember what was on it. Stephen suggested I put the list in my purse and keep it there. I explained why I don’t: when I wish to add to it, I have to find it and write down the new item– if I don’t forget what it was in the meantime. It’s far easier to keep it on the counter.
I am all too easily distracted from my orderly progress. Sometimes this is simply my own fault. In the midst of doing what I intend to do I remember what I meant to do and didn’t, go do that, and meanwhile think of something else that needs doing. When I finally return to my original task it may have become more difficult or more complicated. The other day I realized that there is no such thing as an orderly fashion in my life, there is only keeping track as best I can and being content with that.
Text and Photo by Tasha Halpert
Unexpected Consequences: the New Tablecloth
Unexpected Consequences:
Driftwood Dragon
With the new year comes a desire for a new look. To that end we’ve been talking about changing some of the art on our walls for some that is presently in storage. Although the furniture in our apartment needs to stay as it is, we figured we could freshen up its appearance in other ways. Toward that end we were walking through one of our favorite home goods stores checking out the merchandise when we came upon a sale table. On it were several dark blue tablecloths.
“One of these could be a nice for our dining table,” Stephen said. “How about one of these for our home for the new year?” Searching through the pile he found a round one. Checking it out I read on the packaging that material would not allow liquids to penetrate and would easily wipe up with a damp cloth. Deciding that this was a win/win situation, we brought it home and put it on the table. It looked splendid. I was curious to see if it would live up to its promises.
It did. The first time a few drops spilled on the cloth they beaded up and were easily blotted away. I was duly impressed. Several days later I tried sponging off the occasional spots that had occurred since, and they too came away relatively easily, leaving the cloth looking as pristine as ever. However I discovered one drawback: Being dark blue it also revealed the presence of all crumbs, bits of herbs and other mealtime sprinkles. If it is not cleaned off after a meal that produces any sort of small debris, the table looks messy.
Thinking about this I realized that life can be like that. Promises are often fulfilled as they are spoken and things work out as indicated, yet other factors I haven’t planned for or thought of may complicate matters. I’m not complaining, I often find it humorous when I have to cope with the unexpected results of what appears to be an improvement or an upgrade. Fortunately, the small dust buster vacuum I had purchased along with its big sister does a fine job on the crumbs. So that situation is not a big deal, just something I didn’t anticipate.
The lesson I took from this experience is that it is important to be flexible, and to not be concerned when the unplanned for experience arises. What often happens for people is that they focus on lamenting the difficulty rather than seek a solution. This attitude can be a result of what is termed the “victim mentality” or the “Oh poor me” syndrome.
What needs to be realized is that complaining only postpones the discovery of a solution because the focus is not on the resolution of the difficulty but on the difficulty itself. This attitude is a blind alley that leads nowhere. When my focus is correctly directed, most often I find a solution without much trouble. In this case the crumbs are nicely swept up with little effort and quickly disposed of. As my dear son Robin used to say, flexibility is the answer to so many problems, and I would add: correct focus.
Words and Image by Tasha Halpert
Pujakins 