If I could play an instrument, it would be an accordion.

But I can’t so I just have to listen to accordion players. There should be a lot of accordion music around next week, because it’s July 14, Bastille Day.

Listen to Graham Wilson playing a typical French accordion tune.

35th Anniversary plans - cancelled

Northern California is on fire.

The Bay Area has been suffering from the smoke and ash from the wildfires in the Sacramento area.

This has been going on for days, but we cannot be suffering as much as those who live in the wildfire area.

Wildfires are attacking Big Sur. We planned to spend Monday there.

Staying indoors with the windows closed is advised.

35 years ago, we would be doing that already!

Floods, Fires and Pestilence!

Heat, Drought, Price of Petrol and ‘Going for the Rations.’ 2

We didn’t have a car. We walked to the local shops. On Fridays, the grocery boy delivered groceries on his bike. Milk was delivered daily by Jimmy the milkman and his horse, Peggy.

I said my first swear word when I repeated I heard what Jimmy called Peggy. She didn’t deserve it, but it was just the way he spoke!

Now with the price of petrol, I can say it again! “@$##%”

Richard and I take pleasure in saying we were ‘Immediate Post War Babies.’

We remember some food rationing that continued till 1954 when bananas were no longer rationed.

Mam always called grocery shopping, ‘going for the rations.’

Richard still has his ration coupon book. ‘Per ration per person per man, woman or child.’

We’re not THAT old, but how is it that our lives are quickly reverting to our childhood memories?

I think we’ll have a Victory Garden and keep chickens and a pig!

Do you dig it, Man?

Heat, Drought, Price of Petrol and ‘Going for the Rations.’ 1

Finally, after days of record temperatures, the air is cooling and we are more comfortable. The garden suffered a bit, and since we are under water restrictions, because of the drought, we didn’t water as often as we’d like.

We’re doing all we can to save water and we’re glad we installed low flow toilets and showers. But, we are diligent in cutting down our water use.

Should I start to live the way I did in Buckie, in a house with no bathroom, dishwasher, or washing machine?

We were a household of 4 adults, Mam, Dad, Granny, Granda and myself, the quinie.

The lavy (toilet) was in a wee cupboard in the shed where we cooked, kept the coal and did the laundry, by hand, in the 2 sinks, with the mangle between them.

I stripped washed daily, at the laundry sink, washed my hair once a week and had a full bath in a tub by the fire on Friday evenings.

Food was prepared simply, without the aid of food processors, chopping devices, or blenders. When I had to dispose of the contents of the house for sale, after Dad died, I had to toss the blunt knife that Mam had used to peel and chops all the vegetables she used in the Sunday broth. I am really sorry I never bought her decent chopping knives, but I left home before I knew anything about knives and I forgot about the blunt knife with the broken handle.

Where Do We Spend Our 35th Wedding Anniversary

We hadn’t given this much thought till last week. Richard travels a lot and I am very content to stay in my ain wee hoose.

We thought we’d walk at the Berkeley Marina, then come home and drink champagne, but OCH! We walk at the Berkeley Marina regularly. We love that walk, but a 35th Wedding Anniversary deserves something a wee bit extra.

We’d go away, but to whence?

I get stiff if I sit for too long so that ruled out a plane journey or long car trip.

I live very well in my ain wee hoose, where everything is set up to help me function at a high level. But leaving it might be a leap into the dangerous unknown.

After much positive argument, which to most others would be a shouting discussion, we remembered that, last year, on our way home from San Louis Obispo, we drove along Big Sur, past the Henry Miller Library and said, “We’ll come here next year!”

I Googled the accommodation at Big Sur.

There are campgrounds, one offering yurts. That wouldn’t suit, since I can’t get down on the ground.

There are also small hotels and motels, so I called a couple of them. I carefully explained my need for an accessible shower, with handrails and a seat. The receptionist at the first place had no idea if the showers were accessible, but she put me on hold while she asked.

The answer was that the shower is wheelchair accessible. There is a ramp into the shower, but no chair/stool or grab bars in the shower. I don’t know of anyone who uses a wheelchair who actually takes his or her wheelchair INTO the shower. I’m sure there are wheelchairs that are designed to be used in a shower, but they would not be a primary means of transportation. But this was no help to me at all and I called another motel. This time, I didn’t ask if the showers were accessible, but explained what I need. The answer was that they “In good faith, couldn’t help me.” There were no grab bars or seats in the showers.

Perhaps there are other accommodations at Big Sur that would suit, but, by this time, we had decided we’d stay at a hotel in Monterey. In the hotel we have chosen, all rooms have showers with grab bars and seats. We’ll have an ocean view, with balcony.

Making such accommodation for those of us, who need grab bars and seats in the shower, surely isn’t so difficult or expensive.

Someone said, ‘THE disabled don’t go on vacation anyway.’

Why don’t we? Not that I’m a “THE!”

Surely everyone would enjoy showering in the comfort of a shower with a seat and grab bars.

Buckie Paper Restored

Earlier this year, I said I’d not be renewing my subscription to the Buckie Paper, (Banffshire Advertiser) because of postage costs.

I’ve changed my mind and will be receiving my paper, soon.

But if postage costs increase much more, it might be cheaper for me to go Buckie and pick it up myself!

Maggie Adamson

Maggie Adamson is a fifteen-year old fiddler from the Shetlands. She has a wonderful gift and already plays the fiddle like a professional.

Enjoy Maggie and Brian Nicholson playing ‘The President,’ composed by J. Scott Skinner. Maggie was only thirteen when she performed this.

She maks the fiddle greet.

Thoughts on “The English American”, a novel by Alison Larkin

Alison expresses many wise thoughts on adoption in this book. I wanted to use a highlighter pen on all the points she made. But I dare not! Alison signed my book and I cannot scribble in it. Alison ends Chapter 14 with:

“There are a lot of people who don’t want me to tell the truth about any of this. There’s a lot at stake. But you can’t keep the truth from coming out, anymore than you can stop kin from finding kin.

There’s a natural law with secrets. It’s the same law that applies to kettles. If you block the ventilation hole, there will eventually an explosion.”

It sounded like a warning!

Who keeps the adoption secrets and why? In some adoption situations, it’s the adoption agency or the person who facilitated the adoption. Adoptive parents often withhold information because they are scared of losing their children to the biological family. Birth mothers often refuse to identify the birth father and we adoptees know very well that we are not the products of virgin births.

On my quest to find my biological family, I wrote to the doctor who had arranged my adoption, asking for information about my biological family. His response was wishy-washy and all I learned was that he thought I should be grateful to my adoptive parents. He did say my birth parents came from ‘decent’ backgrounds, but he said nothing about my cerebral palsy or the circumstances of my birth. Being grateful for being adopted certainly did not provide me with information about my medical inheritance.

When I did make contact with my birth mother she refused to tell me who my birth father was. She practically told me it was none of my business and that by asking, I was interfering with her private life! I am not really sure if she understood that, unfortunately, MY private life was connected to hers.

Eventually, she did tell me his name, but by that time, I’d already found out for myself.

Alison illustrates another aspect of the adoption secrecy in a situation to which I strongly relate. Walt, Pippa’s biological father, had been promising he’d tell his other 2 children, Edwin and Ashley about her, but he never does.

When Pippa is spending a weekend with Walt at his beach house, Edwin turns up unexpectedly.

“It’s your brother,” Walt says, “ Quick! Get down!”

“I’m sorry?” I looked at Walt to see if he’s joking. He isn’t.

“Get DOWN!”

Pippa kneels on the floor of Walt’s car until Edwin leaves. This is her reaction to the incident.

“I feel dirty. Insignificant. Unwanted. Second class. A secret that needs to be shut away. A problem that needs to be managed. For the first time since I arrived in America, I feel like an old-fashioned, bona fide bastard.”

I know all too well the feeling of being a skeleton in someone’s closet. It has evolved into my making my own closet to placate other people.

I’m done with closets. I’ve broken out of my one and I’m never going back!

Billy Connolly

On April 9, Richard and I went to see Billy Connolly perform at the Post Street Theatre in San Francisco.

What an outrageous, energetic performance from a 65 yr. old man who spoke and pranced about the stage for 2 hours with no pause.

I first saw Billy in the late 1960s at the George Square Theatre of Edinburgh University, when he appeared with Gerry Rafferty. They were the Humblebums and I bought their LP. Stupidly, I sold that LP. I was a poor student and how I regret selling it.

I have been a fan of Billy Connolly for 40 years and I am happy for his success.

His profanity doesn’t bother me. For some reason, it cheers me up!

The English American. A novel by Alison Larkin.

I met Alison on March 30, when she was performing her comedy routine and reading from her novel of the same name, ‘The English American.’ Alison was performing as part of a fund-raising for PACT.

‘The English American’ comes from Alison’s own experience of being born in USA, and adopted by British parents (English mother, Scottish father.)

As a Scot and an adoptee, I related to so many of the witty observations Alison made in the novel. I want everyone to buy this book, so I won’t give away the plot, but I have a few teasing comments to tempt you.

Pippa (the heroine) grew up with a father who enjoyed Scottish country dancing.

I loved the description of an evening of dancing in the local village hall. One character says, “I’ll tell you the secret to Scottish dancing.”—”You need to count, you see. I still count, even though I’m an expert.”

Yes! We Scots count the steps at the dancing. “ROUND for eight, BACK for eight! 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-TURN!”

But the book’s main purpose is to talk about the adoption experience, for all concerned. I need to talk about my feelings about this in another blog.

But, in the meantime, we’ll dance. Set to your partner, pas de basque and turn!

Alison uses ‘pas de basque,’ but I grew up with the spelling of the step ‘pas de bas.’ We pronounce it ‘paddyba!’ This is just more to talk about!