Mockingbird Hill Cottage

A trip to the grocery story had an added benefit: more tulips. I bought two bunches because they were on sale. The other vase is in the living room on the stereo. Don has declared that we must always have flowers on the island. Happily, I always want to buy flowers, so now I don’t have to feel guilty.

We had dinner with Rick and Doug last night at a favorite restaurant. We haven’t been there in a long time. It’s a local German restaurant that is always packed. There isn’t a whole lot on a standard German restaurant menu that I can eat, as it’s usually meat, meat, and more meat. But this place is special; they always have at least two or three vegan/vegetarian options and those options are not boring. They’re like nothing I’ve ever eaten. So, so good! It’s a smart business decision because we’re near a college town, there are lots of young rock climbers that come up for the weekend throughout the year, and many of them are vegetarians. Last night we had Spaetzle Primavera: Homemade German egg noodles tossed with fresh vegetables, grana padano cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, basil pesto & cream. Oh my heavens, it was delicious! And I brought my leftovers back home and will have them for lunch today.

One interesting thing that happened when I was reading Year of the Monkey  by Patti Smith this morning. I read this passage, written when she was in Lisbon:

“On a twilight walk a strain of music drifts through the old city, evoking the low, sonorous voice of my father. Yes, Lisbon Antigua, a favorite of his. I recall as a child asking him what the title meant. He smiled and said it was a secret.”

I have my own father-memory of that song. Years ago, when I was visiting my parent in their first retirement home in Rogers City, MI (way up at the top of the Lower Peninsula, on Lake Huron) the three of us were playing a game at the kitchen table. We often did that in the evening. Mom always had the radio on, tuned into an Easy Listening station. (That accounts for my vast knowledge of singers and song titles from the 30s, 40s, and 50s. I grew up listening to that kind of music.) Anyway, a piece of music came on that I had heard before, many times. I didn’t know the title, so I asked my parents if they knew. Dad immediately responded: Lisbon Antigua. This particular, and most famous version of the popular Portuguese song, was by Nelson Riddle.

That has always been a strong sense memory for me; the room we were in which was a little nook off the kitchen, the sound of the radio, the fun we had together playing games, the happiness that my parents finally had living in a small town in Northern Michigan which had always been their dream, the luxury and, I realize now, great gift of being able to stay with them for a several weeks while I was off for the summer from my teaching duties at Boston University. I think about it often and have shared that memory with Don in the past. So coming upon this passage about Patti, her father, and Lisbon Antigua  was a marvelous sort of synchronicity. (Is that the right word for it?) Both Don and I have felt that synchronicity at times while reading her books.

It sort of made my day.

Happy Friday.