A Blustery Day

It’s a blustery day, as Pooh would say. My mother never liked Pooh. She said he “wasn’t real,” although she didn’t have the same high standards for, say, Perry Mason. Anyway, it was OK that I grew up without Pooh. I still don’t really understand his philosophies, even though I shared them with you, Ray, when you were growing up.

One of my best friends from college had a Pooh nickname. Linda and her friends got them from being Girl Scout leaders. I can’t remember her name, but her friend’s was Eeyore. “Thanks for noticing me.”

Linda just retired from teaching high school, but it’s hard to think of her as anything but a crazy Greek college student. And by Greek, I mean real Greek, even though we were in a sorority together, too.

On this blustery day, Dad and I had fettuccini with pine nuts. It reminded me of long ago and a friend named Karla. Karla’s mom worked at KALL radio, which then was upstairs on Main Street – not unlike City Weekly now. After school, we’d sometimes walk down to KALL, and always picked up a bag of warm pine nuts that were being roasted in a front window on the ground-floor .

I wonder what memories you will carry with you of friends and maybe even nuts.