As Santa arrived from the North Pole in Reading last Saturday, 27,000 runners from all over the world were arriving in Philadelphia for the annual marathon run the next day. I’m not a runner…not even a trotter…steady walker might be the best I can muster. But Margaret, our daughter-in-law, is a runner and this was her first time at the Philly 26+miler, and our first time to watch her. Perfect day for whatever one would choose to do outside, and the city looked autumnally festive. What “fun” these people have. All nationalities, all ages, speeds, sizes, and shapes. Some wore tutus, one ran as a Roman centurian in toga and sandals, one as Uncle Sam, many bearing flags, one as a can of Spam. They made it look so easy as they floated across the finish line. And yet I know from Margaret’s experiences that she trains dilligently year-round, at 4:30 AM, for this opportunity to improve on her previous times. And that is exactly the point. For only a few of those 27,000 is it about winning a race. For everyone else it is about giving their best effort and realizing what they can achieve. The other 100,000 of us (and hundreds of well-behaved dogs) there to watch, saluted that. Margaret improved her personal time by 7 minutes, finishing the course in 4 hours, 46 minutes, 23 seconds, and was euphoric. Congratulations all around.
And so it was such a jolt while driving home later in the day to learn that two of the marathoners died during the race. We know no more, but we can only hope that they, too, were having a wonderful day and were on the mark to achieve their best.

Thanksgiving, this American holiday, provides a grand opportunity to reflect. Thank you, Jane, for your thankful thoughts. Good health and good will to all mankind; a cornucopia to my lady-kind friends.

Ellen

Not that the world doesn’t have enough of them…new bacteria, viruses, and other nasties evolving and proliferating as we speak. But all the ones we have are just no fun. Well, they provide jobs for people who must combat them, and that is good, in these troubled economic times, but those of us who get them tend to be pretty miserable. I speak from experience since I’ve been sick for almost two weeks…had to cancel out on all the fun stuff and stay confined to the house, mostly to my room and bed. There are so many times that I would welcome some days with nothing to do but read and watch old movies, while drinking a cup-a-tea. But with this bug–bronchitis, so my doctor says, an aftermath of the snowstorm and being run down from lack of power, heat, water, good healthy food…and everyone, even my doctor, fell prey to it. I guess there’s comfort in being part of “everyone”, but not when you feel so miserable. No food, not even that cup-a-tea, tastes good. The proliferation of soggy tissues spilling out of my pockets and overflowing the waste baskets, and the constant hacking cough make me totally undesirable to be around. Even my loving husband tends to be in another room, away from the germs I’m spewing about, and I cannot blame him. My eyes burn, so I cannot read—and the old movies seem to get really old. I can’t nap–constant coughing prevents that. But the wonders of modern medicine should right this situation in three (count them) days. (Day two has not shown much progress yet!)
So I want to design an illness that does require those few days of bedrest, when food still tastes good (and someone serves it to you), you have a stack of good books to enjoy, you look good (with the aid of a little makeup), and people come to see you and you don’t talk about the miseries of illness but about happy things down the road. Napping is restorative, and so one day you get up feeling just dandy, renewed, reenergized, and well-read.
Come to think of it–I had one of those conditions once. It was then called “a difiicult pregnancy”. I was told to do absolutely nothing other than rest in bed and take some pills so that I would not lose that baby. I did, and it had a totally happy ending.
And the result of that pregnancy is coming for dinner tonight after having been out of town for two months…meaning I and my box of tissues had better get to the kitchen and start cooking. Think of the steam from the pots clearing the sinuses, easing the coughing… perhaps I feel better already.

Happy thoughts, Ellen

Voting…it’s our privilege and responsibility. I’m about to go out and perform this civic duty in a few minutes, something I’ve done “religiously” for 49 years. In what is an off-year election (no national or state executives or legislators on the ballot) there are nevertheless important choices to be made throughout Berks County, particularly in the city of Reading. Weather cannot be blamed for a poor turnout on a November day when the temps will get into the 60s and with no rain, sleet, hail–or snow–in the forecast. I encourage, no, entreat, all to do so. The only place an opinion COUNTS is on a ballot. And the only way a democracy can work is if the officials feel they are held accountable by their electorate.
My voting record has had reliability, although my choices have sometimes been untypical. I’ve voted for 8 of the 9 governors of Pennsylvania in the last 49 years, but only 4 of the 12 leaders of our nation. I voted for the Independent candidate John B. Anderson for president in 1980 and still wish that sensible, intelligent man were a voice in Washington. I, and 13 others, wrote in Al Boscov in ’84, believing our native son could have cut through much political, bureaucratic folderol and produced much-needed results for the nation. This time the workers at my polling place may not be delighted to see me coming. Last year I managed to gum up both voting machines in my attempt to write in the name of Arlen Specter, a man of independence whom I felt had served his constituents well, although neither party wanted him as their candidate. There was a frustrated line of voters waiting as they struggled to get the write-in boxes to work. The judge of elections suggested that I just choose one of the candidates on the ballot. Sorry, this was my day to have my say. Make today your day, too.

Learning how to make butter for better cookies, trading pet stories and peeves, comparing impressions of the mayor’s race in Reading, drooling over favorite eateries, getting to know four exuberant BC women–there was a lot to be said on a Saturday morning during an October nor’easter. More to come, much more!