Rowboat

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Rowboat

When I was young my grandmother ran a small hotel on a lake in the Catskills,  and I’ve written  before about the idyllic summers I spent there with my family.  (See My Heart Remembers My Grandmother’s Hotel,  My Game Mother, Hotel Kittens,  The Cat and the Forshpeiz,  Playing with Fire, and The Troubadour)

One happy memory of those childhood summers is rowing on the lake with my father,  and when I was old enough,  taking a rowboat out on my own.  

Since then I’ve certainly been on larger and more impressive boats –  but it’s the memory of that old rowboat I cherish most.   And in my mind’s eye I can still see that little girl out on the lake all alone.  And I still can hear the creak of her oarlocks,  and the croaking of the frogs as she rowed back to the dock and home.

– Dana Susan Lehrman 

Garage Sale

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It was stressful to have the sale as it reminded me of the pain of packing everything up and moving. But it is a pleasure to see people walk off with their new treasures.
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Many Happy Purchases And Some Returns

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Retrospect: Shoppers
By Kevin J. W. Driscoll (c) 2024

I’ve always been a bit of a consumer. Not in a hoarding sense, mind you. I’m not one of those people who fills their garage with boxes of expired cereal or their closet with clothes they’ve never worn. No, I’m more of a connoisseur of consumption. I appreciate the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of the score and of course saving money.

I remember one particularly epic shopping spree I had a few years back. It was the day after Christmas, and the stores were still absolutely packed. The air was thick with the scent of desperation and regret. People were shoving and elbowing their way through the aisles, their faces contorted in a mix of greed and terror.

I, on the other hand, was enjoying myself immensely. I wandered through the store with a leisurely pace, picking up items and putting them down, considering their merits with a thoughtful air. I even had the audacity to hum a little tune.

Eventually, I found myself in the electronics department. There, I spotted a brand new gaming console that had just been released. It was the latest and greatest – it was on sale and I knew I had to have it. I grabbed it off the shelf and headed to the checkout line.

As I waited in line, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. I had conquered the chaos of the post-Christmas shopping season, and I had emerged victorious with a prized possession.

But then, as I was handing over my credit card, I had a sudden pang of doubt. Had I really needed this new console? Was it worth the money I was about to spend?

I hesitated for a moment, but then I decided to go for it. After all, life’s too short to deprive yourself of the occasional indulgence.

As I walked out of the store, clutching my new console, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of buyer’s remorse. But then I thought about all the fun I was going to have playing games on it, and I quickly dismissed my doubts.

I guess that’s the thing about shopping. It’s a never-ending cycle of desire, acquisition, and regret. But somehow I keep going back for more.

–30–

 

A Cup of Tea in Ireland

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A Cup of Tea in Ireland

Twice I travelled to Dublin to study at the James Joyce Summer School.  There we students were housed in a novice nun’s residency while the young women themselves were on summer break,  and yes,  you guessed it,  my husband told everyone he’d sent me to a nunnery!   (See My Love Affair with James Joyce)

The Joyce course lasted two weeks,  and Monday through Friday we attended morning classes taught by university professors,  and afternoon lectures by visiting Joycean scholars.

But on weekends we were free to stroll through St Stephens Green park,  see a play at the Abbey Theater,  visit the Irish Writers Museum,  shop for sweaters and Irish linens on Grafton Street, or pub crawl in Temple Bar.

One weekend several of us decided to take a day-long bus tour out of the city.  We left in the morning and the bus’ tour guide regaled us with Irish history and song as we drove through the beautifully lush countryside.

We were promised a lovely lunch,  but when the bus pulled up to a simple,  rather inelegant-looking roadside cafe I was skeptical.  But the Irish stew and the traditional apple cake were delicious!

And – unlike a teabag in a styrofoam cup as might be expected at a roadside dinner back in the States – when I asked for tea the waitress brought me a small tray with a teapot,  cup and saucer,  tea strainer,  sugar bowl,  and two pitchers – for milk and hot water.

So if tea is your cup of tea,  I hope you get to drink it in Ireland!

– Dana Susan Lehrman