Sycamores along Armour Road, Hatboro, PALast nite I disciplined myself and shut off my laptop at 11 pm.
I'd finished my most recent article for Patch.com, which Gerry will probly post on Monday.
Goal was to go up to bed and READ. As in, read a book. I've gotten so addicted to online reading and esp. online watching of great videos, I crave these every nite.
You can do it, said Scott. I wanted to tell him the next morning, when I asked him to compost my shrimp fins, that I succeeded.
With no noise at all, last nite, just the sounds on the street - a few cars driving by - I adjusted my always-aching legs into one of my weird positions - and started Fordlandia, the selection for my book club. Excellent. With photos that enhance.
Oh, I'm running my Goals Group now. One of the members told me a fantastic story. "I'll put it in a poem," I said. So I did indeed do the first draft of the poem last nite.
Speaking of poems, read my friend
Iris's poem here. It's one of her best.
I must confess, however, that while I lay in bed reading - and there came a delightful downpour of rain and more rain - there seemed to be an electrical connection between me and my laptop downstairs
in the living room. Hard to resist, but do-able.
Next morning - today - my legs gave me a break, so I ran some errands in Hatboro.
I felt so good I decided to go for a scenic drive, one of my favorite things. I pulled out my camera just in case.
On S. Warminster Road, I saw gleaming on another street, a house of a most unusual color. I did a u-turn and snapped it.
Keep it short, Ruthie, keep it short.
Lemme visit my favorite street, I said to myself: Mill Road, with the famous Norman Fisher house. New Directions toured it several years back. Doris, the widow of Dr Norman, a family doc in Hatboro, gave us the tour of this
Louis Kahn house, subject of the movie My Architect.
The backyard is marvelous, with a little bridge going over Pennypack Creek.
Having lived in Village Green Apartments across the street from Mill Road, I used to go for walks on this b'ful street.
So I just drove slowly, no one was behind me, and I gazed at all the houses, remembering, remembering.
Ah, here was the house where Marjorie lived, an older woman with white hair pulled back in a bun. She taught me about poppies! B/c of Marjorie, I have poppies growing in my front yard.
A man and his dog n cat were out front. I knew Marjorie wouldn't be alive, but who could this fellow be? Chances are he had no idea who she was.
Meet Frank "Sunny" Suntheimer (silent 'th') the son of Marjorie.
He's lived in this house all his life.
His family owned Suntheimer Bakery - 1921-1967 - at the site of what is now the ever-so depressing Red Barn Mall on York Road.
But the bakery in its heyday was quite the place to go.
I told Sunny I wrote an article about Weinrich's Bakery in Willow Grove and he told me that Weinrich worked for him.
You mean, Edward? I asked. He's about 76 now.
Yes, Edward. I'm 75, said Sunny.
I told him I'd email the
link to him.
The Suntheimers hail from Austria (ah, Austrian pastries, et tu Freud? a couple shtrudel before your next neurotic patient?), just as the Weinrichs still have family in Germany.
What were your specialties? I asked Sunny.
Cakes! he said.
Cakes ordered by famous people w/ their likeness on top:
Claude Raines
Grace Kelly
President Eisenhower
Sunny, who is married to Sally, said the bakery was one of the last in the area. At one time they had 25 trucks which would go door-to-door, the way milk trucks used to do.
Have you ever heard of that? In Cleveland, where I grew up, we had a milkman and an egg-man. We had a cleaner who came 'round, and we got Sara Lee desserts cuz Betty Wolfe's brother worked for them. Our freezer was stocked with brownies, German chocolate cake, vanilla cake w/ choc frosting, and my Halloween candy, which I parceled out for several months cuz I didn't wanna get diarrhea from eating everything at once.
Confession: While doing my Hatboro errands this a.m., I passed Scoops, the ice cream store. I've gotta figure out how to work their Bassett's ice cream and fudge sauce into my diabetes-healthy diet.
Just have the ice cream for a whole meal? With some lettuce and tomatoes on the side?
This is actually what I'm eating right now, my chicken chowder. I offered to bring some over to Matt, the main character of my next Patch article but he never emailed me back that he wanted some.
Why do I have the urge to feed this man? Maybe cuz he let me hang out there for hours on end w/ my endless questions.
Matt's the owner of Authorized Camera Repair which you'll read about next Monday.
My loud radio was turned off while I drove down Mill Road. I needed to concentrate on the great beauty and individuality of each house. And the memories they invoked. I did a quick blog about Mill Road awhile back. Here's another view of the
Suntheimer yard.
This house has an amazing story. When I see the photo it'll remind me of The Iris Man, The Old Doors (I bought one and had it in my living room for many a year)and the last farm standing on Dillon Road.
Wouldn't you love a front porch like this?
Lots of land at Mill Road and S Warminster. The Suntheimers, business people that they are, once owned the entire parcel of land around their house, which, when they lived there was a dirt road, said Sunny.
I only take photos from the driver's side. Hey! I can turn my car around and.....
Yes, I went back to Village Green where we used to live. As I approached the building, I could smell it. Foul! Cigarettes and cooking grease.
Welcome to Village Green. Second floor, please. Up I trudge, paying no attention to leg pain. Operation scheduled for August 3. When I have a Q, Dr Guy Lee's office calls back the same day.
What adventures we had when we lived there. We'd walk along the crick across the street with the PA Turnpike up above. No wonder I wrote an article on the turnpike. It was part of my backyard.
And the ring-ring-ring of the tires we could hear when we'd fall asleep.
Here's where Winnie Bannigan and Dawn lived.
Most of the doors were unadorned, so I picked this one. People like to distinguish themselves from other people. Look at all the car decals. This person had their TV on - in the middle of the day!
Mail call! Ruth Z Deming, 503 S Warminster Road, Apt. H-6, Hatboro PA 19040. BUT we lived in Upper Moreland Township.
Upon arriving home on Cowbell, these sparrows were pecking away at something on the concrete shelf. Praps last nite's rain deposited some tasty seeds there.
It's been awhile, my dear, but perhaps next Sunday.
A HOUSE IS EVERY BIT AS BEAUTIFUL AS GRACE'S FACE
whisper it out loud
in english
howssss
it is one of the beautiful words:
like mother or whirligig
i myself live in a house
walk barefoot on the carpet
where i count out my pills
after transplant
feel the cool of the tiles
in the kitchen
through the window
the cardinals dash from one
tree to the other -
shake the electrical wire -
peek-a-boo! i love the way you soar
and that splash of brown across your wing -
may i have the pleasure of
mounting you?
life in a house leads to wider things
wonderful things:
bakeries of slowly cooling rye with seeds
car dealerships on the Fairway with
end-of-the-week blowout sales
and the sure knowledge that
the pink geraniums someone gave me
after transplant
will last the
whole summer through.
When I got there, the lil bookworm had her nose in a book.
Dan asked me to watch her while he did the dishes.
Carried her into the living room where she found my car keys. Yum, she said. This Cape May keychain is so smoooth. Satisfied she'd be okay for five seconds, I pulled out her toy piano and began banging away.
http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
