Showing posts sorted by date for query night music. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query night music. Sort by relevance Show all posts

Monday, June 22, 2026

Monday, Monday


 I probably shouldn't have rewatched CLOSE ENCOUNTERS the night before I saw this because it paled in comparison. It was certainly watchable but there were a lot of loose threads and so many references to his own work, it got annoying. Of course there are some great action scenes and great acting. And music!

Watching STAR CITY (very good) on APPLE. Finished WIDOW'S BAY (Apple) which was great and the first episode of the second season of SUGAR (Apple) .

Went to a concert with a harpist and cello player from the DSO. We do have a great Senior Center. 

Started THE IVY TREE by Mary Stewart (as recommended by Tracy). Seemed like a nice palate cleanser after THE GRIFTERS. 

Great weather mostly sunny and in the seventies. 

What's up with you 

Monday, March 23, 2026

Monday, Monday


 Although the temps were high, we had beautiful weather in Sarasota. We heard a lot of music at the Florida Studio Theater, the Van Wezel Auditorium and a play at a lovely theater. Our house was modest but adequate. We sampled various beaches and ate at many good restaurants. Some lovely gardens too. So much seafood. 

Sarasota is the vacation spot for a large group of Mennonites so the streets are filled with them on bicycles wearing their distinctive dress. I saw my brother and his wife, and went to a Tigers preseason game with visiting friends. Who could ask for anything more? Maybe a less hectic trip home. 

I enjoyed the movie TRAIN DREAMS but mostly we seemed to watch GRACE, which is on Britbox. I am not much for streaming night after night but my friends love to watch that way. Are you a streamer or do you prefer to stretch it out? I very much enjoyed reading THE CORRESPONDENT and one or two other novels. 

What about you? 

Monday, September 15, 2025

Monday, Monday

 

Just started THE DAY OF THE JACKAL (Peacock). I have never seen the movie so I am new to the story. Also watching the new Lynley on PBS, THE PAPER, on Peacock, which I liked moderately. And still making my way through the DOCTOR BLAKE MYSTERIES. I really like that each episode is complete in itself. Nothing to remember the next time. 

Went to a great chamber music concert Saturday night. The Zukerman Trio played piano trios by Mendelssohn and Dvorak. We can get very good seats for $30 at a lovely venue. I also spent a beautiful afternoon walking the riverfront in Detroit, which now extends for more than five miles. Windsor, Canada is on the other side and two bridges and a tunnel connect the two.

It is astounding to compare many areas of Detroit to the way they were twenty years ago. Of course, other areas are still in need of help.  

And what about you?  

Monday, June 10, 2024

Monday, Monday

 I will put an empty post up for next Monday so you can communicate while I am in NY.


Really liked THE GREAT LILLIAN HALL on Max. Jessica Lange was terrific and the story (based on Marion Seldes, who I bet Jeff has seen in plays) was sad but very well done.

Finished HACKS, which had a great last episode after a few middling ones. I would have written this season where she had already gotten the job hosting a Late Night show. Seems like they were treading water although Smart and the rest of the cast was great. Trying to watch WHITE COLLAR but boy, anything about finance, just shuts down my brain.


Saw a local production of SUNSET BOULEVARD. Is it me or does all of Andrew Lloyd Weber's music sound the same? Or else I saw this one before. This company did a great job with a not- so- hot screenplay. There is not very much plot in this tale. And I am not fond of singing the story. Write songs or write spoken dialogue. The actor who played Joe Gillis was an actor I saw last fall in THE MOUSETRAP at another theater. I spent the whole play trying to remember what I saw him in. Very cute guy and they had him parade around in a swim suit for a while.

Reading HORSE by Geraldine Brooks and PROVENCE, 1970 (Burr) Got TABLE FOR TWO (Towles) from library but it is too thick to take with me. 

Lots of rain here. Hoping it is not too hot in NY later this week. 

What about you?

Friday, May 31, 2024

FFB: A SON OF THE MIDDLE BORDER, Hamlin Garland (reviewed by Ron Scheer in 2014)

 

(what a great reviewer Ron was)

Hamlin Garland, A Son of the Middle Border (1917)

First edition
Being a Nebraska farm boy, I grew up on a middle border between Midwest and West many decades after Garland. Yet I found much that was familiar in his memoir of rural life during the period of Western expansion, 1865 – 1900. By the 1940s, not that much had changed. 

Farm work was more mechanized, and gas-powered tractors had taken the place of horses. Improved roads and automobiles had shortened distances. But farm work was still hard, often grueling labor at the mercy of the elements. There was dust, manure, and mud, and whether bumper years or drought and crop failures, farm life was isolated and lonely.

Realism. Garland’s realistic portrayal of it—the beauty as well as the ugliness—collided with two different streams of thought about rural America in the early 20th century. One was a pastoral, bucolic, and picturesque vision of simple, wholesome living far from the corruptive influence of the city. Another was the go-west boosterism that coaxed settlers from the East and abroad to snap up free land and get rich as agricultural producers. Garland saw in his own family’s example the empty promise at the heart of both visions.

The Garland family
He came to understand that a nation’s culture thrived in its major cities, where books were published, talented artists gathered, and there was intellectual stimulation for freedom of thought. Those with heart and mind for such pursuits were deprived of them in rural backwaters. For Garland, there was only one such city, Boston, while Chicago was no more than a huge commercial center, and New York had yet to emerge as more than a crowded port of entry.

The lure of the West, as Garland came to see it, was even more devastating in its effect. His pioneering father moved west a total of five times, with time off to serve as a Union soldier during the Civil War. As a boy, Garland went with his family from their farm near La Crosse, Wisconsin, to a homestead community near Osage, in northeast Iowa. At the age of 10 he was plowing virgin sod there with horses.

The next move was to the James River Valley near Aberdeen in Dakota, where his father eventually acquired 1000 acres of prairie, converted to wheat. But after 2 – 3 years of crop failure he was ready to move once again, this time to Montana, where there was irrigation for farming. By now able to supplement his father’s income, and seeing his mother’s failing health, Garland persuaded his parents to return to Wisconsin, where they could spend their last years with the friends and family who never left.

Farewell gathering
The cost of pioneering. The lesson for Garland is that his father’s pioneering spirit grew from faith in false promises about the frontier. For all the energy he poured into making a living from the soil, he won little in return and would have been better off remaining in the Wisconsin settlement he had once fled from. Particularly ruinous was the effect on Garland’s mother, who labored unrewarded from before sun up to after sundown, seven days a week, years on end, giving birth to four children and losing two daughters to illness.

In Dakota, Garland observes that “nearly all, even the young men, looked worn and weather-beaten and some appeared both silent and sad.” He sees “the tragic futility of their existence,” their lives “dull and eventless.” Influenced by the social-economic theory of Henry George, he blames the system of land ownership, which has pushed settlers from the East and Europe/Russia onto western lands, where with “unremitting toil” they labor to feed and clothe families while remaining impoverished and fugitive.

Seminary graduation
Social history. There are other threads in Garland’s book that offer a modern-day reader (and especially writers) a deep experience of day-to-day life on the frontier in the latter third of the 19th century. I have already written here about how family life was enriched by song and music (see “Family musicale c1870”). A young person’s schooling, from the local country schoolhouse to “seminary” in town is also well described.

Interesting for book lovers is Garland’s recollection of his McGuffey Readers and how he supplemented his formal education with other reading material: 100 (by his count) dime novels, Hawthorne, Scott, Cooper, Paradise Lost, Twain’s Roughing It, western poet Joaquin Miller, The Life of P.T. Barnum, Franklin’s Autobiography, and Edward Eggleston’s Hoosier Schoolmaster, “a milestone in my literary progress,” he notes, “as it is in the development of distinctive western fiction.” Plus magazines and weekly newspapers: Hearth and Home, New York Saturday Night, New York Ledger, and New York Weekly.

Yet another thread of the book is Garland’s struggle as a starving writer and lecturer in Boston where he ekes out a living, while befriending the likes of novelist and editor William Dean Howells and eventually wins the praise of Walt Whitman. He is also deeply affected by the performances of Shakespearean actor Edwin Booth, who taught “the dignity, the power and the music of the English tongue.”

Hamlin Garland, 1893, age 33
Wrapping up. As someone who grew up with “barn shoes,” went to a country school, learned of jazz concerts and Impressionist painters on trips to Chicago, and once worked in an office with a view of the Empire State Building, I found Garland’s story easy to identify with. I share his ambivalence about rural living, where the smell of new-cut hay and the song of meadow larks are among its pleasures, while shoveling cowshit from a milking parlor remains an indelible memory of my teen years.

Mostly I want to recommend this 467-page book as an excellent reference for any writer placing a story on the prairie frontier during the decades following the Civil War. It’s a valuable lesson in social history as it captures a period of rapid national transition, with a realism that is a corrective to the somewhat different view of Little House on the Prairie.

Monday, December 18, 2023

Monday, Monday

 No one told me the Lions were playing last night so I missed the game but instead enjoyed THE SHOP AROUND THE CORNER, which is probably one of the movies I have seen the most times.The chemistry between Steward and Sullivan lights up the screen. She had a rather tragic life, ending in suicide. So much better than YOU'VE GOT MAIL.

I also saw MAESTRO this week, which I liked except I wish they had used more music in it. And this thing of having characters talk overlapping each other is driving me crazy. But well acted and directed. 

On TV I am watching SLOW HORSES still. Such a great series. Also watching the last series of DOC MARTIN, which is long past its sell -by date but I have to finish it out. JULIA is charming and more meaty than it had to be. I started SCIENCE FAIR: THE SERIES on Hulu about various high school teams preparing to enter a Science Fair. These kids are scary smart.

Remarkable weather for December. 

Megan's book (BEWARE THE WOMAN) was recommended on PBS WORLD NEWS on Friday. All the texts I got about it were from people over 70. Does anyone under 70 watch the news anymore? 

I am reading but nothing you need a title for. A long time since I read a real knockout book. 

I will probably skip this next Monday since it is Christmas. Have a good one.

Wednesday, November 15, 2023

Short Story Wednesday: THE SUMMER BEFORE THE SUMMER OF LOVE

 

(from the archives)

This has been one of my favorite collections of stories since I came across it in the nineties. Marly Swick, now a retired English professor in Missouri (I think), seems to have written all of her stories and two novels in the nineties and early 2000s. Since that was the time I was writing mainstream short stories too, I bought a lot of collections. Swick's are very straightforward, easy to read stories. 

The title story is about the breakup of a marriage and much of it takes places during a trip to see the Beatles that the mother takes her daughters on. When she leaves the hotel room in the night and her slip is returned in a paperbag the next day, it drives the older daughter out of the house. It also changes the daughter's taste in music overnight from the Beatles to the edgier groups. 

The second story "Ghost Mother" is a favorite of mine. Two screenwriters are adopting a baby from a mid-western teen, who moves into their house for the end of the pregnancy. It is a very poignant yet not sad story and some of it is framed in how the writer might write it in a screenplay.The reader expects the surrogate mother to be exposed in some way and this never happens to our relief. 


Todd Mason

Kevin Tipple 

George Kelley 

Jerry House

Tuesday, October 10, 2023

Arthur Prysock

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YpPD5tLgnw

 

Anyone remember him? The character in the novel I am reading (VELVET WAS THE NIGHT) is listening to this album. Boy, that early fifties music was mellow.

Monday, July 24, 2023

Monday, Monday

 

OPPENHEIMER was very good although two things distracted me. First, trying to place the myriad of actors slightly altered to look their part. Of course, I recognized Matt Damon, Robert Downey, Jr and others, but I highly recommend if you intend on seeing it to look over the cast before going. Secondly, music played behind a lot of the dialog, and it was hard to hear. Or perhaps I am just overly used to using closed captions. But its greatness still shone through--even without seeing it on an IMAX screen. 

BARBIE today.

Watching a strange but likable show called PURE on Prime. Other than that, I drift. As I also have been doing with books. I got the book mentioned on THE BEAR, which is called THE REMARKABLE POWER OF GIVING PEOPLE MORE THAN THEY EXPECT (Will Guidara) This is advice on how to create a great restaurant, which Richie on The Bear has taken to heart. This could apply to any business though-making a customer feel valued, seen appreciated. At dinner last night, I felt like giving a copy to our waitress who kept trying to clear plates off the table before we were done. And there were plenty of empty tables at 5 pm.


Also reading TRAVELS WITH MY AUNT, Graham Greene. Maybe. So far I read a page and fall asleep. I bought the copy at Toadvine Books, a lovely little bookstore in Berkley, MI. They have a great collection of mysteries there. I hope people know about it.  Also great art books and children's books.

Wednesday night I went to the park concert where they played surf instrumental music for two hours. Perhaps a bit too much, but they were good.

My book group struggled with DAUGHTER OF TIME. Although strangely enough when I got my report from 23 and Me, an ancestry site, my oldest known ancestor was Richard III. Me along with millions of other people. I do know now that my birth father was a man named Jack Yarnall. Ralph Nase was a wonderful father and I am glad he never knew this. I wish I had never learned of it too.

What about you?

Monday, June 26, 2023

Monday, Monday

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThY-n1IxOww 

Every June the Detroit area hosts the Great Lake Chamber Music Festival where for two-three weeks, concert halls, churches, synagogues the DIA and other venues have gorgeous music. We saw the Emerson Quartet perform pieces by Brahms and Mendelsohn and the final piece above. This is their final tour after 40 years of performing. They played at Kirk of the Hills the night we saw them. 


Another friend and I saw ASTEROID CITY by Wes Anderson, which we both pretty much hated. Such warm colors for such a cold story-if you can even call it a story. It's more a concept than a plot. I have seen every Anderson movie and liked none of them. Yet I always expect to. 

Reading this and that. About to dig into DAUGHTER OF TIME for my book group. It was my suggestion. I hope they like it. 

Watching JOE PICKETT (Boy, I like his family and their story is the better part of it), THE BEAR, looks to be great again,  ENDEAVOR, love the characters and tolerate the plots. Tried SEX AND THE CITY, but boy, just a large group of people running around in their underwear. Wasn't it better than this thirty years ago.  

Why am I paying $15 a month for Netflix and finding nothing to watch on it. 

Waiting for Megan to arrive for a one-day visit on Wednesday to do a book talk in the Detroit area and then in Petoskey. 

How about you guys?

Monday, April 17, 2023

Monday, Monday

 


A quiet week with great weather. I wonder how many used bookstores like Charles Shaw in Grosse Pointe Park are still around. This huge collection of unusual books is normally only open on Saturday afternoons. We caught it on an April Friday and were so lucky to get inside. It doesn't have many mysteries or even that much fiction but instead has amazing collections of books about sea-faring, music, poetry, diaries, Michigan, Detroit, African-American books and on and on. I restrained myself but my friends who has extremely wide interests found a few books to take home. Saturday night another two friends and I went to hear folk music at the Unitarian Church. 

The greatest episode of SUCCESSION played last week. How can they top it? Trying to get into BEEF, but it's awfully unpleasant. Will stick it out for a while. Looking forward to BARRY tonight although another unpleasant show. I think I can take unlikable characters more in books than on TV.

Reading LONE WOMEN (Victor Lavalle), WALK THE BLUE FIELDS (Claire Keegan). Lots of podcasts. I like THE MARIS REVIEW, which interviews writers.

What about you?

Monday, March 27, 2023

Monday, Monday

 

Too much rain and too cold for almost April. 

Heard a very good concert at the DSO. The newish conductor (Jader Bignamini) conducts with no score on his podium, preferring instead to make eye contact with his orchestra members. We heard Rachmaninoff's Piano Concert No 2 (used so brilliantly in BRIEF ENCOUNTERS) with the pianist George Li, and a piece by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor and a Brahms Symphony. Lovely morning. 

And then went to MOCAD (Museum of Contemporary Art) and saw a terrific exhibit by Judy Bowman, who began her work after raising ten children.


Trying to settle into a book, Almost finished PARADISE NEWS by David Lodge, which I initially liked but now feel is bogged down by quirkiness. Listening to a Laurie King Mary Russell book on audio. 

A friend said she finished every book she started and I think I am at about 20%. Probably most readers take more care with what they start. I am very promiscuous, grabbing any book off the library shelf that seems promising. But I guess there is no harm in it.

Our book group is reading THE PROPHETS by Robert Jones. Marygrove College in Detroit is bringing the author in as part of their series on contemporary fiction.

PERRY MASON seems better than the first season. Trying the NIGHT AGENT (Netflix) but the reviews were right when they criticized it's by the numbers plotting (plucky woman, brave man). Looking forward to SUCCESSION tonight, which is never by the numbers. Also watching FAUDA. So odd that it's a 30 minute show.

And finally on Sunday afternoon, a friend and I saw Oakland University's production of A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC. One of the few good things that happened to me during the pandemic was the discovery of Stephen Sondheim. Yes, I had heard of him before and even seen several of his shows (A Little Night Music, Assassins, Into the Woods) but I didn't really get it. And although I still am not hearing his genius completely, I am beginning to. This was a wonderful production for college students. They really did themselves proud.

What about you?

Monday, September 26, 2022

Monday, Monday

 

If I had to choose my favorite author, it would be Elizabeth Strout. I have loved following Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton and the Burgess Boys for the last twenty years. However, LUCY BY THE SEA may be more than I can handle since it takes Lucy from the first days of the pandemic up until the book's publication. It painfully brings back our isolation, our impotence, our mistakes in handling a pandemic and how other issues erupted to make it even more critical. And yet I can't stop reading it even though I know it is not really a good idea to relive it. Her voice is so powerful.

Also reading THINGS WE LOST IN THE WATER, Eric Nguyen for my book group. Speaking of which, Naomi Hirahara zoomed with us last week talking about CLARK AND DIVISION and was a wonderful guest speaker. Can't wait to read EVERGREEN, which comes out next summer. 

No movies to report. If GOD'S COUNTRY comes your way, it's worth seeing.

Enjoying REBOOT, BAD SISTERS, THE HANDMAID'S TALE and trying to catch up with various VERAS I have missed over the years on TV.  I need a good British mystery now and then, and especially enjoy Ann Cleeves style of mystery. I see SHETLAND is back. I might have to join whichever Brit streamer it's om.

Saturday night, I went with friends to TRINITY HOUSE, a tiny live music venue in Livonia, MI where many local musicians played songs they had written during Covid. So nice to hear live music.




What's up with you?

Monday, December 13, 2021

Monday. Monday

Rochester Michigan at Christmas. It is lit up for blocks.


I lost my power again on Saturday and had to stay over night with a friend. This is the sixth time in the last nine months and further confirms that I need to move. So I will look in a few months. I will be farther away from some great friends, but hopefully I will make some new ones. Pragmatism must rule.

Listening to a lot of Johnny Greenway music since I heard his score for Power of the Dog, which is my pick for the best movie I saw this year. Although Passing was awfully close and there are quite a few I haven't seen. So weird that both of them were on Netflix. How things have changed.

Reading Heron Cry by Ann Cleeves, the second in a new series. Also essays by Ann Patchett. 

Tried the new Sex and the City show, which was pretty ridiculous. Still I cried when Big died. They've added a lot of characters that may be of darker skin but are still pretty homogeneous. Waiting to watch the last Succession tonight. What a piece there was in The New Yorker about Jeremy Strong. He is a bit bonkers. 

What about you?



Monday, November 29, 2021

Monday, Monday

 Imagine celebrating Thanksgiving in a week where you also saw two productions of your plays and then dying at age 91. (Maybe Jeff was at the same performance). What a blessing. 

Sondheim has always been a bit of a struggle. I think music in general is a weakness for me. So although I can admire his versatility with lyrics/words I still yearn (too much) for a tune to hum. I watched Sweeney Todd for the first time last night and was astonished at how dark it was. How Sweeney never got to redeem himself, right to the end. Is there a darker story? I downloaded a biography of him (by Meryle Secrest) and am determined to get him more. He actually lived in the same town as Phil for a while.


Reading ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE by Elizabeth Strout. Just can't seem to get enough of her. 


Watched KING RICHARD, which I liked more than I expected to. What a strange and interesting man.

Listening to DEAD EYES, a podcast about an actor who was fired from a Tom Hanks miniseries because Hanks claimed he had dead eyes. This is is exploration of that comment. I listen to podcasts a lot. Mostly ones about books, movies, TV. I have given up on all the political ones. 

A nice Thanksgiving, playing games and laughing although I ran out of steam. Apparently that surgery a week ago takes longer to recover from than I expected. 

What about you? Tired of turkey?

Wednesday, October 20, 2021

Short Story Wednesday: Stories from THE SUMMER BEFORE THE SUMMER OF LOVE, Marly Swick

 

This has been one of my favorite collections of stories since I came across it in the nineties. Marly Swick, now a retired English professor in Missouri (I think), seems to have written all of her stories and two novels in the nineties and early 2000s. Since that was the time I was writing mainstream short stories too, I bought a lot of collections. Swick's are very straightforward, easy to read stories. 

The title story is about the breakup of a marriage and much of it takes places during a trip to see the Beatles that the mother takes her daughters on. When she leaves the hotel room in the night and her slip is returned in a paperbag the next day, it drives the older daughter out of the house. It also changes the daughter's taste in music overnight from the Beatles to the edgier groups. 

The second story "Ghost Mother" is a favorite of mine. Two screenwriters are adopting a baby from a mid-western teen, who moves into their house for the end of the pregnancy. It is a very poignant yet not sad story and some of it is framed in how the writer might write it in a screenplay.The reader expects the surrogate mother to be exposed in some way and this never happens to our relief. 

Just noticed we have been doing this for more than a year. Don't feel obliged to keep it up if it's getting old. 

Kevin Tipple

TracyK 

George Kelley 

TomCat

Monday, June 21, 2021

Monday, Monday





Loved IN THE HEIGHTS. Maybe a bit dated and a bit predictable. But I also think it is unfair to criticize Miranda for not having a Black enough cast. It's his memory of the neighborhood he grew up in. And there are certainly prominent Black cast members. But the bulk are Hispanic, which reflects his experience. I found it vibrant, lively, joyous and a good movie to return to the movies with. It certainly would not be as much fun watching it on HBO Max.


Enjoyed watching the making of the cast album for COMPANY on Criterion. Elaine Stritch is a stitch in it. Watching the cast sing Sondheim's songs you really see how difficult the lyrics are. I've never seen COMPANY performed (it is a rarity, I guess). I have seen SUNDAYS IN THE PARK WITH GEORGE, ASSASSINS, A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC and INTO THE WOODS.

Also watched THE DRY on Amazon Prime. I think there is one too many twists in it and the makers didn't take enough time with the drought, but it was a solid crime movie IMHO.

I attended a concert in a tent as part of the Great Lakes Chamber Music Concert. Wonderful music by Mendelssohn and Brahms. Christina Goerke brought so much feeling and joy to her singing. 


Just finished THE PUSH, which was sort of like THE BAD SEED except it looks at three generations of women who eventually produce a murderous child. Or do they? Is it nature or nurture? A page-turner.


The Detroit Free Press ran an article on restaurants with decks on Lake St. Clair or the Detroit River. So a friend and I drove across town around 1:30 thinking we would sail in. The place was packed and it's a large place. We could only see the lake if we stood in the parking lot. But we had a nice lunch. We ordered a lobster roll and they told us lobsters wouldn't be available to mid-July. Maybe they have a chip in them too. 

Anyway, what's with you?

Monday, August 31, 2020

Still Here

 More gorgeous weather. So glad I can get a walk in every day. And out at 8 on a Sunday and the streets were filled with walker and runners. Everyone is getting into shape for the next round even though this one isn't over. Even the dogs look like they have muscled up. It is already fall here basically. The smell of it, the look of it, the temps. Early fall but fall.

Friends took me out to an outdoor restaurant this week and although it was a little iffy mask-wise, I really enjoyed it. First time since March I have been out to dinner. And other friends brought food in so it was a really good week. And then Josh and family brought takeout from Potbelly so boy, am I lucky. Of course, now I have used up all my friends' good will for a while.

Reading Easy Rider, Raging Bull about the changes in the movie business in the seventies, The Memory Police, which has a fascinating premise if she pulls it off, The Teagirl of Hummingbird Lane by Lisa See for my book group. The date is supposedly 1988-90 but it seems more like the 1500s. Is it invented
? I am not sure. 

Watching the old Morse's which seem better than most anything since. John Thaw is certainly a large part of it and certainly Dexter's writing but they allowed the story to unfold more gracefully, I think. They included art and music and architecture. Did Morse ever turn down a drink?


Watched a oldie-History is Made at Night with Jean Arthur and Charles Boyer. Very romantic but a really nasty villain that was bit over the top for the era. Tried The Vow on HBO but it is too dark for me. Watched Wild Bill (Brit Box) but there were only four episodes. That is too few. Maybe they got sidelined by the virus. Really enjoying The Last Dance about Michael Jordan. Don't know why it works for me so well. Well, yes I do. Because it tells stories. 

I am concerned about how seriously kids are going to treat school given the way it will be this year. Somehow they have to understand they just can't slide for eighteen months. Which is the attitude I am seeing. Like they are getting away with something instead of being deprived of something.

What about you?

Thursday, July 09, 2020

Ghosts of Bucks County

                                                        New Hope Towpath
                                                        Phil's grandfather's house after massive renovation. It is now a B and B    
                                                                Donkey Barges on the canal


                                                                            Train Station in New Hope

What experience do you have with ghosts outside of reading about them? I am reading a Peter Robinson book where a very specific experience with a ghost reminded me of one I may have had. It was so many years ago I am not sure I didn't talk myself into it. Or perhaps Phil did.
It was the summer I met Phil. He was 20, I was 17 and newly graduated from high school. He was living with his parents in his hometown where they ran a luncheonette and newspaper business. It was a summer job between his junior and senior year at AU in D.C.
I was waitressing in Philadelphia at Vic's Pizza Parlor, but on the weekends, I came up to New Hope to visit my friend, Lynda, and met Phil and began to date him.
New Hope was a special place; lots of writers and artists (Michener, Pearl Buck, Patricia Highsmith) lived there; there was a theater, many boutique shops, restaurants, etc. It was set between the Delaware River and a canal. In fact, Washington crossed the Delaware just down the road. It was a colonial town in many ways, some of those buildings still standing. It was the definition of picturesque.
Anyway, it was a cool place to hang out and the summer before this one (1965) I had lived there with Lynda and waitressed at the Crystal Palace. Lynda was still working there and didn't mind my staying overnight in her tiny apartment over a garage.
But mostly I hung out at Phil's house. His room was off by itself, up a flight of stairs from the rest of the house. We spent a lot of time up there, listening to Barbra Streisand, Judy Collins, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan and the Beatles and Stones. And, of course, fooling around.
At the bottom of the stairs leading up to that room, was a full length mirror. I am not sure why it was there except a bathroom was next to it. One day, we were late getting started for driving me home to Philly (an hour drive) and we went flying down the stairs. As we neared the bottom, I could just make out a woman in a shawl in the mirror. She has long curly hair and had some sort of silk cloth or bandana on her head. I saw her in profile so didn't have a very clear picture of her.
I, of course, asked Phil if he had seen it and he had not.
There was something about the lights too. Phil loved to light candles and the candlelight seemed to attract her because a few nights later, as we listened to COLOR ME BARBRA, the lights flickering on the walls and down the steps, I saw her again. And behind her in the mirror was a window that wasn't on the wall where the mirror was set. It was like looking through to another place and time, based on her clothes.
This happened several times during the summer. Only at night, only when there was candlelight and music. It was not alcohol or drug enhanced in case you are wondering.
And then it sort of got ruined. Phil told his brother Billy about our apparition and one night as we were gazing down the steps, waiting for our ghost to appear, Billy donned a shawl and sauntered in front of the mirror as if he was exiting it.
I screamed, of course, thinking my ghost was coming into the room. And then I felt foolish, wondering if I had ever really seen the colonial maid at all.
Lynda's mother wrote books about the ghosts of Bucks County and included our colonial miss in her next volume. Phil laughed about it later, dismissing it entirely, but I was never completely convinced it had just been too much imagination, music and candlelight as he told anyone who asked.



Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Beatnik Beach (from MURDER-A-GO-GO'S)


                                    This is posted here as the request of Holly West, who edited this anthology.
                                                                       
                                                                                               
                                              Beatnik Beach
                                                                      Patricia Abbott                                                                                   

Katherine watched from a picnic table as Ava seized control of the playground’s merry-go-round — or that’s what they called the thing in her childhood. And this was a playground from the eighties, she thought, eyeing the dented monkey bars, the finger-pinching swings. A thousand tiny feet pounding circles produced dirt as hard as stone.
Looking at Ava in the too-short dress she’d insisted on wearing, red-faced and panting as she ran faster and faster, Katherine was reminded of her mother's doggedness. Her daughter's stance when she huffed to a stop to let a toddler climb on was not a six-year old's. Even her feet splayed like her grandmother's. It was as if she too endured years of standing while she stamped metal in the Chrysler auto plant.
“Careful, Ava!" Ava's feet were lifting as the spinning disk's speed increased.
Katherine had visions of a child flying off, a limb getting mangled. She looked around, but the other adults seemed oblivious to the danger. Grateful, in fact, for a few minute’s peace, few of them even were watching the spectacle.
A woman sitting on Katherine’s right put her paperback down, saying, “She's a mama bird, isn't she? Your kid, right?"
"Still …” Katherine began, “she shouldn’t—"
 “Watch how she slows it down whenever anyone wants to get on or off,” the woman interrupted. “What is she anyway—seven, eight?”
“Six.”
“Six!” The woman shook her head in disbelief. “Now my kid….” The woman looked in the direction of a boy on his belly pushing a hot wheels car in figure 8s in the dust beneath the speeding apparatus. “Billy,” she shouted suddenly, “you’re gonna lose a hand doing that." She raced off to rescue Billy from certain amputation.
Ava was helpful—helpful to a fault. Like her grandmother, she was always the first to jump in. Why did it rub Katherine the wrong way? Why did the similarities between them annoy her? Maybe she needed a therapist to figure it out. Her mother seemed born to be a grandmother and perhaps Ava was too. Bunny never had the time to be the mother Katherine longed for.
“About ready to go?” Tom asked, sneaking up. His new longish hairstyle made him look fifteen. He slipped in beside her, bumping his knee on the table leg and wincing. Looking up, he caught his daughter helping a smaller child off the ride. “No one has to tell our kid to play nice.”
“Don’t you think it’s odd she never takes a turn herself?”
Tom laughed, his face crinkling. “So what if she gets a charge out of running the show! I mean how entertaining is whirling around on a rusty old plate?”
“She did the same thing on the swings! And after that, she planted herself at the bottom of the slide to be sure no one got hurt.”
“She’s just bored by this outdated playground.” Tom's face shone with pride.
Ava, catching sight of her father, waved. “Hiya, baby!” he called, his grin wide. “Look, no one’s bothered to put down a measly layer of mulch to break a fall. I thought the city checked out that kind of thing."
“Maybe not around here. We should have waited till we got closer to home before stopping. It looks like the sort of place child molesters frequent.” They both looked around warily.
Tom stood and began gathering up the last items of their impromptu picnic. “Are you going to finish your sub?” he asked, holding it up.
Katherine shook her head.
 “No, of course you're not. The calories might turn up on the scale tomorrow." Katherine looked at him quickly, but he was smiling. "Ready, kid,” Tom shouted to Ava.
“Can we stop for ice-cream?” Ava asked, dashing over and taking a hefty swig of a half-empty cup of lemonade. Avoiding her mother’s eyes, she added, “I’m gonna order a purple cow.” She squinted. “I like purple cows, don’t I?”
“Let me comb your hair first,” Katherine said, pulling a comb from her purse. Her daughter held still for a few seconds before tearing away. Katherine watched as she ran after Tom. She'd toss that dress in the Goodwill bin at church. Ava wouldn’t mind a younger child getting her outgrown clothing.
 “Nearly a quarter of my patients are overweight,” the pediatrician said as he helped Ava down from the examining table at her checkup last month. “When we were kids, it was less than ten percent. We’re stoking our kids instead of stroking them.”
 “Is anyone writing these pearls down?” she asked. Luckily, he was an old friend of Tom's and didn't take umbrage.  
“She takes after me,” Tom said when she told him about Ava’s checkup. “I was a chunkster. She’ll outgrow it.”
“No, no— she takes after my mother. And it’s not the kind of weight that goes away!” At 5’4” Bunny weighed in at 170, tending to be soft and squishy through the middle, though her limbs were muscular.
“I wish you’d check with me first,” Katherine said now as she hurried after him toward the parking lot. “She’s already eaten half a box of animal crackers.” Drop it, you idiot, she commanded herself. Don’t ruin a nice day. Be glad she has a father who adores her.
"Anything for you, Kit?" Tom asked her when they got to the ice cream stand. She wrinkled her nose in response, and he turned to order two Purple Cows. "You don't know what you're missing," he said, digging in. "I've never saw a purple cow."
"I never hope to see one," Ava chimed in.
"But I can tell you anyhow," Katherine added.
"I'd rather see then be one," Tom finished laughing.
She wished she'd had a Dad like Tom. Katherine’s father took off when she was four, and after that, it had been just Katherine and Bunny. Or Kitty and Bunny, in Bunny’s parlance. Bunny didn’t badmouth her former husband much despite his desertion. She never shared much about her childhood either. She had a sunny disposition that pointed her toward the assets in her life—namely her good health, her loyal friends, and firstly, Katherine. Katherine had no doubt Bunny would give up her life without a second's hesitation for her. Such devotion was sometimes smothering.
“I don’t know why you can’t see the resemblance,” Katherine whispered to Tom later that evening, watching Ava tote the watering can from the faucet to her own garden. Ava’s flowers, Katherine noticed, were doing better than hers; the sunflowers, in particular, were nearly a foot high and the second planting of lettuce ready to eat. Except it would never be eaten.  
“I like how it looks,” Ava had said when Katherine suggested harvesting the leaf lettuce. “Can’t you just buy lettuce at Krogers? " Wrinkling her nose, Ava pinched back her marigolds, her fingers already strong enough at six.
“I’ll have opportunity for a closer comparison next week,” Tom joked once Ava was tucked in, flipping the page of his Sports Illustrated. Bunny was coming along for their week at Cape Cod. She lived half a day away from them nowadays in Traverse City so it was hard to deny her an extended visit. But Katherine tried to for some reason.
 “You know you’ll end up babysitting most of the time!”
“That’s exactly what I want to do.” Bunny sniffed. “Of course, if you don’t want me tagging along….”
  “Ava would be crushed if you didn't come.” And that was true. Only later, she realized she should have included herself in that statement.
           
“Ava’s hired someone to water her garden,” Katherine informed Tom the next day, stifling a yawn. She was working too many hours at the design center but couldn't cut back. Not with the week at the Cape looming.
He put down the newspaper. “Who?”
“That kid who tags after her at school. Birdy something.”
“Berty. Berty Taggert." Tom was a school district social worker and knew all the kids. "How much is she paying him?”
“They have a sliding scale worked out—depending on whether it rains.” Katherine had heard the transaction from the next room, jumping in only when Ava was about to take the spare key out of the kitchen drawer.
“Why does he need to come inside the house while we're gone?” Katherine asked, sliding the drawer closed.
 “He’s gonna feed the Little Mermaid,” Ava explained. “We’re gonna be gone nine days, Mom!” Berty, underfoot to look the place over, stared at Katherine disdainfully, no doubt thinking she was one of those mothers who flushed inconvenient things down the toilet.
“We can put aquatic plants in the bowl for the Little Mermaid. Just like we did when Aunt Helen died and we had to go to Ohio."
Ava nodded agreeably after a moment, but Katherine put the key in another spot anyway. She’d been fooled by Ava’s apparent acquiescence more than once. In this regard, Ava took after her father.

At the beach at Truro a week later, Bunny was digging in the sand with Ava, wearing one of those matronly swim suits that came in two pieces. A good idea, but the top rolled up to exhibit her sizeable breasts every time she bent over, exposing her slack and sizable belly.             “Mom!” Katherine said, throwing her a spare tee shirt. Both Bunny and Ava looked up from their sandcastle. Bunny shrugged and pulled the shirt over her head, stretching Katherine’s size four to a sixteen in seconds. The crab on the tee shirt's front took on the proportions of something zapped by nuclear fallout in a disaster film.
Tom stood over them dripping. “Water’s great,” he panted. “Anybody wanna try the raft.” All three women looked toward the crashing waves, the necklaces of seaweed, the sharp stones and broken shells—and declined. 
“I told you we should find a bay beach,” Katherine reminded him. “Ava’s not used to such big waves.”
 “I don’t think Kitty saw the ocean till she was grown,” Bunny said to Tom, shielding her eyes. “Funny, since I grew up only thirty miles from the ocean in Maine.” She perked up. “But most years, my mom and me came down to the Cape to Dennisport to stay with my aunt and uncle and their kids. He ran a religious bookstore in town.” She wrinkled her nose. "He was a true believer. I guess everyone in my family was."
“I saw Dennisport on a sign we passed, Grandma,” Ava informed them, wetting the drying sand carefully with her pail of water. “I can read now, you know."
 “And I loved the story you read last night. The one about the duck.” Picking up someone’s discarded straw, Bunny stuck it on the highest tower of the castle. “There!”
“Where did you go for your vacations when you were a kid, Mom?” Ava asked. 
Katherine only remembered one—a weekend at Mackinaw Island in Michigan. She remembered eating enough pink fudge to make her sick and riding in a horse-drawn carriage with Bunny chattering away to the driver. The cost of a cottage for a week was too much on Bunny's salary. Vacations were for other people. But now she was one of those other people.
“We went to different places,” she answered evasively. “Daddy and I went to the Caribbean for our honeymoon. We spent every day on the beach.”
“When you weren’t busy elsewhere!” Bunny added, wiping her sandy hands off on her suit. Exchanging an amused look with Tom, she asked, “Want to go up for a clam roll?” She directed her question toward Ava. Then she glanced at Katherine and Tom, adding, “How ‘bout it, you guys?”
Katherine looked at her watch. “It’s not even noon, Mom. And we brought sandwiches along.” Bunny had actually helped prepare them, insisting on adding pickle relish to the tuna, lavishing mayo on the bread, throwing in the chips she had harpooned at the grocery store. “Remember?”
“How often do you get a chance to eat clamrolls, Kit? Why don’t you three go? Girls lunch out.” Tom nudged her and she acquiesced, standing up and jamming on her hat. Bunny and Ava were already half way up the beach, neither looking back.
“Can I bring you something?”
His eyes were half-shut. “I’ll eat the tuna. And relish it.”
“Very funny But you just…Oh, never mind.” She caught up with Bunny and Ava a few minutes later. Walking in dry sand was a chore and their progress slow since Ava stopped every few seconds to add another shell to her  pail.
 “Go wash your hands off, Ava,” she told her daughter as they approached the shanty, motioning toward an outdoor spigot. Both Bunny and Ava were covered in sand. She'd like to tell  her mother to do the same. How could a grown woman stand it? Plus they'd get it all over their booth. It was one thing for a child not to understand, another for a grown woman.
“The trouble with you …” Bunny said suddenly, surprisingly her. She pulled her sunhat off and blinked blindly as they walked inside.
“The trouble with me… is what?” Katherine asked.
 “Never mind.”
“No, go ahead.” Inside, they found an empty booth by the window. Katherine looked out and saw her daughter washing off every shell along with her hands.
“Okay then,” Bunny said, anticipating Ava’s seating preference and sliding over. “The trouble with you is—you don’t know how to have fun.”
“Oh, and having fun is spreading sand all over a restaurant, Mother.” The thought of adding that maybe she didn't learn to have fun at the right age flitted through her head.
Bunny rolled her eyes. Katherine grabbed a napkin from the holder and swept some sand off the table.
"It's all about the sand here, honey. You can't fight it." Bunny covered Katherine’s hands with her own to still them. “Maybe my idea of fun isn’t yours? Hey, did I ever tell you about the summer I became a beatnik?"
This was rarity. Her mother hardly ever talked about her past.
"You mean a hippie?"
"Nope, a beatnik." Bunny straightened up, preparing for a long reminiscence. "We were at some beach on the Cape--I don't even remember which one now. It was dusk and I was headed home from some activity--maybe just a walk, but probably eating ice cream. There was this great little dairy stand..." She sighed. "Anyway, I heard this strange music coming from the beach--music I'd never heard before--and I saw a bonfire lighting up a bunch of kids. Must have been ten or fifteen of them."
"Aren't you too young to be a beatnik?"
"Just listen to my story, Kitty. Hippie, Beatnik, who cares? Well, I walked out onto the beach and in that second, it was like there was some cosmic shift in the atmosphere. It was magic, pure magic. These kids were different from anyone I'd seen before. Dressed different, different hair, different music. I swear they even smelled different, but maybe that was the pot."
"What year was this?" Katherine was still focusing on the hippie/beatnik question.
"I was probably fourteen," Bunny said, after a few seconds. "So say '62."
"I guess it was beatniks then," Katherine acknowledged. "Hippies were more like 1968."
"So anyway, a couple of them had instruments. Guitars and some bongos. maybe that round thing with bells on it. I am drawing a blank on the name."
"A tambourine?"
 "Right. And castanets, I think. And this one girl--well, actually she was a woman more than a girl--was singing this song about the wind."
"Mariah," Katherine guessed.
"Maybe. Well, anyway, she had long blonde hair. People I knew didn't wear their hair like that yet. And she had a sort of Mumu on, an outfit I'd never seen before. The only thing I could think of was that guy on Dobie Gillis."
"Who's Dobie Gillis?" Katherine asked.
Bunny shook her head. "Never mind. Let's keep on with the story here."
"That's a funny name, Grandma," Ava said, rejoining them, hands clean and held out for inspection. "Dopey. Wasn't he one of the seven dwarves?"
"Dobie, honey, not dopey. You two can sure get a girl off track. Anyway, one of them wore a beret and another a porkpie hat. Now, never mind what that is, Ava. We can look it up later. Next, they were doing the limbo with a sand rake someone had found."
"What's the limbo?" Ava asked
Bunny rose, started to demonstrate, and then stopped. " I'll show you that later too. Or you might have to, Kitty. Limbo's a young person's game." She paused. "I forgot how different things were then. We had a president we loved, didn't know we were polluting the world, we all seemed to get along. Sorry, now I'm getting off the subject."
"And then what happened?"Ava asked.
"Well, actually, they did something bad next. They pulled out some grass and started passing it around."
"You mean like the grass on the lawn?" Ava asked, puzzled.
"Cigarettes," Bunny said, looking over her head at Katherine. "They were passing around a cigarette."
"I am never going to smoke," Ava said, crossing her heart.
"I certainly hope not," Bunny said.
"And I supposed you partook," Katherine said.
"It only seemed friendly."
"And you hung out with these beatniks the rest of the summer?"
"I did. When I could manage it. I was mesmerized. They treated me like their very own Gidget."
"That was Sally Fields?" Katherine asked.
 Bunny blinked her eyes. "Or Sandra Dee. Wow. I just remembered the end of my story. Which wasn't so much fun. Remember, I told you we always stayed with an aunt and uncle in Dennisport? The bible hawker."
"Right, go on." Finally Katherine was engaged in the story.
 "One Sunday night, my cousin and I were supposed to be attending a Luther League swimming party."
"What is Luther League anyway? It features heavily in your childhood reminisces.  It sounds like a Hitler Youth group."
"Nothing that incendiary. It was a church group for teenagers. The Brewsters were a real religious family as I said. That always put a damper on things when we stayed with them."
"So you didn't go, did you? To Luther League."
Ava laughed. "Ooh, were you a bad girl that time, Grandma. Smoking and then not going to Luther League."
Smiling down at Ava, Bunny said, "Nope, I didn't go. They were having a luau on the beach that night. Roasting a pig or something crazy. So I talked Peggy, that was my cousin, into going. I didn't usually invite her to come out with me because she was barely thirteen, but it wasn't too hard to get her to ditch church. We went to the luau and that's about it. We ate some barbecue. Listened to music. Tried to get the older guys to notice us. Nothing really happened. Not then, at least."
"Then when?" Ava asked.
"Anyway, when we got back to the cottage," Bunny continued, "my uncle was waiting outside on the street. It wasn't late but he was pacing. 'Guess who I just had a call from?'" he asked Peggy, but I knew he was really asking me," Bunny said.
"Cause Peggy wasn't a good listener, right?" Ava had made a face on the table out of spilled sugar and turned the smile into a frown. "My teacher tells me that sometimes."
Bunny sighed and patted Ava's head. "No, he knew I was the one who convinced Peggy to ditch church and go to a party. Peggy would've have never done it on her own. " She looked at Katherine. "She was a lot like you, Kitty. Virtuous."
"Ava, you need to wash your hands again. They are full of sugar and who knows what else." Katherine pulled her daughter to her feet.
"But, the story..."
"You can hear it another time."
Giving a big sigh, Ava went outside to the spigot.
"Did you hear this story before?" Bunny asked. "Is that why you sent her away?"
"I remembered it suddenly. You must have told it to me when I was that age. Anyway, he pulled off his belt and whipped Peggy across the backs of her legs, didn't  he?" Katherine looked white.
Bunny nodded. " I can still hear the sound of the slap of that belt on her legs now. And when I tried to leave, he stopped me, told me my punishment was having to watch. My mother wasn't there to stop him or she would have. She'd gone bowling with my aunt. And, of course, I stood there frozen. It seemed like it went on forever but it was probably only a minute."
"A minute's pretty long to have your legs switched. And you've always regretted not doing anything?"
"It's worse than that. That night, once Peggy fell asleep, I pulled the sheet down and looked at the back of her legs."
"And they were full of cuts?"
"Yeah, but beneath the marks from that day, there were lots of silvery scars. I was sure he beat her regularly. I thought about pulling the sheet up higher to see if her back was scarred too, but I didn't."
Katherine shook her head. "And this was your uncle?"
"Uh, huh. But it was his wife who was my mother's sister. We left the next day. I think that was the last time we stayed with them. Maybe the last time we saw them." She paused. "Peggy didn't cry out once, didn't try to get away, didn't even beg him to stop. I could never forgive myself for not saying something. For not telling my mom at least."
"Don't you think she figured it out and that's why you left?"
Bunny shrugged. "I never had the heart to ask."
"I wonder what happened to the beatniks?" Katherine said.
"Ha. I heard later they got caught robbing a house. I thought they were up to something because they never dressed the same way twice. And such food they brought to those bonfires. Fancy stuff." She took a sip of iced tea. "Not the kind of stuff kids buy. Of course at fourteen, what did I know?"
"Poor Peggy."
"I should've done something. Saved her somehow."
"Mom, you were a kid. You couldn't have saved her. Oh, here you are,” Katherine said as Ava slid in next to her grandmother. The waitress returned with their food a few minutes later. Bunny and Ava chattered on about making a tunnel from their castle while Katherine munched absentmindedly on her own clam roll. Ava was done soon and out the door.
"Day's been kind of exhausting, hasn't it? I forgot how tiring walking in the sand is. And the sun wears me out." Her mother rubbed a foot and stood up.
"And poor Ava getting the bum's rush."
Bunny looked sleepily toward the window."That spigot got a workout all right."
Katherine peeked out. "Hey, wait just a minute. Who's that going up the beach with Ava? It's certainly not Tom."
"Where?" Bunny said, on her feet at once.
But Katherine was already out the door, her flip-flops slapping the sand as she ran. "Ava!"
"Kitty, Kitty. It's okay," Bunny yelled. "It's the man we rented the cottage from. Ava's probably following him back to Tom. Kitty!"
But Katherine didn't hear her and before Bunny could catch up, Katherine had tackled the man from his waist and brought him to his knees.
"Just where do you think you are going with my kid?" she asked, her hand gripping his pony tail from behind. His head was pulled back far enough to make his mouth fall open.
Ava, dumbstruck from what she'd witnessed, stood frozen.
"Kitty, calm down," Bunny said, arriving at the scene."It's Jack Owens. The guy who rented us the cottage. Remember, he helped us carry in the bags. Guess being far-sighted came in handy for once." Bent over, hands on her knees, she struggled to catch her breath.
Slowly, Katherine climbed off the man's back, stood, and wiped the sand off her shins. "Sorry, Jack. Without my glasses, you looked like Jack the Ripper to me"
He rose, laughing. "Wrong Jack."
"You sure ran after us, Mom," Ava said, her speech returning. "You were like that old wind Mariah coming down the beach."
"My story put you in that kind of mood," Bunny said, "Seeing danger everywhere."
"I think I came to that myself," Katherine told her.

"You guys were gone a long time," Tom said, sleepily opening his eyes. "Were they out of clam rolls or something?"
"Daddy, you'll never guess what happened."
            "What happened?" he said sitting up. The two women looked at each other.
"Grandma met a bunch of beatniks on the beach near here. They sang songs, did the mambo, and wore funny hats that she's gonna show me later."
"Today?"
"It was a long time ago, Daddy," Ava said chuckling."When kids did olden things."
"But you got your clam rolls, right?"
The three of them nodded.
"Anyone up for some ice cream?" Tom asked.
"I sure am," Katherine said.
"Mommy, I've never seen you eat ice-cream," Ava shrieked. "What kind do you like?"
Katherine looked at her mother. "What kind do I like, Mom
Bunny paused. "Something green, I think. Maybe pistachio."
            "But if could be chocolate mint, right?" Ava smiled. "That's my third favorite flavor. I hope it's  that        flavor. You could take after me sometimes."