For You Music Fans

 

 After visiting Mt. Hope Cemetery (Rochester, NY) to clean my parent's headstone, we headed for Henderberg Park, bounded by Sycamore Street, Fountain Street and Avon Place.  Why? To pay homage to Cab Calloway and view his memorial plaque.  Cab was born at 14 Sycamore, in case you had forgotten.  So I rushed over to the first plaque I saw to find it wasn't for Cab but for his older sister, Blanche, along with a wire sculpture of her.

 

       

 

The memorial to Cab was a few feet away.

You might remember “Minnie the Moocher” or “Calloway Boogie” as feature tunes from his vast repertoire.

The house has been long gone from the neighborhood, but the memories of the good old days linger on.

    

After the photo stop, we headed for the corner of East Avenue and Westminster Road, the location of a memorial to Alexander Lafayette Chew Wilder, another familiar name from the music world.  You may remember him as Alec Wilder, the composer of “I’ll Be Around” or “It’s So Peaceful in the Country” or even “Jazz Waltz for a Friend’ written for Marian McPartland.  We found the park, we found the massive stone, but the metal plaque had disappeared.  Hopefully, it’s out for cleaning or restoration and not to result of vandalism.

We’ll keep watch for news of the plaque.  Time allowing, we will visit Mr. Wilder’s grave in Avon, NY.  If so, we’ll post a photo.

Wordling Along

 Sometime ago I found the New York Times game "Wordle" and have trying to beat the odds ever since.  The object is to find the five-letter word in six tries.  Twice I've hit it on the first guess, and 35 times on the second.  Mostly it takes 4 tries, but I've been skunked, too.   

My daughter in Henrietta and daughter-in-law in Florida share their results with me.  It's a struggle sometimes because the answer can be a word not in my everyday vocabulary.  To date my stats are: 1142 games played; 96% wins; current streak is 10; and best streak is 68.

Try it, you might become addicted, too.

The Journey: Shirley's Leaving

 

   In November 2022, Shirley was diagnosed with an inoperable squamous cancer on the back of her tongue, and so began her leaving.  With surgery not an option, she underwent chemotherapy and radiation treatment, both unable to stop the growth.  A chemo portal was surgically implanted in her right shoulder and a feeding tube was inserted into her stomach.  Because of the discomfort, the feeding tube was subsequently removed; we were never able to get it to function properly despite many attempts.

   She was able to drink liquids and the pulverized vitamin supplements she needed, even though it was becoming more difficult to swallow.  By the end of August, 2023, she decided the pain was too strong and she signed on to Hospice care.  By September 1^st, she was giving herself morphine by mouth with tranquilizers as needed for anxiety.  I woke up early on the 4^th to hear her breathing, but by 8 o’clock she had left us.

   She wanted no funeral service, just to be cremated.  An obituary in the Rochester, NY paper.  Her ashes to be placed in an urn along with the ashes of our two Corgis, which has been done.  The urn is with me and will contain my ashes at some future time.

This I believe

 

It is impossible to define “soul” as that is part of the unknowable mystery of life.  However, I believe that we receive our soul from our parents at birth and that parts of our soul are disbursed at death to family members, friends and acquaintances.  So our souls continue to grow and accept parts of the souls of others as we age.  That means that we are a part of everyone who has gone before us and we will be a part of everyone who comes after us.  So when you think of me, it’s my soul tapping you on the shoulder and saying “Hiya, how ya doin’?”  And when I think of you, it’s your soul tapping me on the shoulder.

My Apology for Not Writing

 I started reading my old blogs (there was a period when I didn't write anything) and was surprised to find so many positive comments others had made.  And it suddenly occurred to me that I might not have acknowledged them.  I was disappointed to see that I hadn't responded to a distant cousin living in Germany (the Carman line), along with my other followers.  Also the comments from my friends, Rick and Jilda, and I really miss the words from Rick, a gentleman's gentleman, gone too soon.  So from now on, I'll try to do a better job of acknowledging comments.

Living in Florida

    Shirley and I moved from Ontario, New York, to our new home in Scottsdale, Arizona, in mid-1990.  By August 2008, we were residents at Westminster Village, a Continuing Care Retirement Community.  In March 2024, after Shirley's death in September 2023, I moved to Palm Bay, Florida, to live with my son, Mark, and his wife, Karen.  We live on a quiet street with a canal in the back, which ultimately drains into the St. John's River.  Sitting in the screened-in lanai, we can watch Sandhill Cranes, Whistling Ducks, a variety of songbirds, Osprey and Hawks.  Occasionally we hear Owls in the evening from the woods across the canal.

   There's a different lifestyle here than any other place I've lived.  Right now, at the age of 93, I'm barefoot with my shirttails hanging out, unshaven but showered.  Never in my life would I have suspected that I'd be living in such a carefree condition.  And the atmosphere is different.  Instead of the low, low humidity of Arizona, there's a higher amount of humidity to get used to.  Scottsdale, with a temperature of 100° and humidity of 15% is a lot different from Palm Bay, with a temperature of 85° and humidity of 95%, believe me!  But it's all in getting used to, which takes a little time and patience.  Now, after a year of acclimation, I feel like a Floridian, and happy with it.