World thru Brown Eyes

Like all pet-lovers,  when our pussycat died we were heartbroken.  (See LUCY GRAY, Nov 10, 2013) We mourned Lucy for a week or two and when we couldn’t stand it any longer we headed for the ASPCA. There we saw so many wonderful cats,  we couldn’t decide. Then a little black and white tuxedo kitten scampered up my husband’s leg,  climbed onto his shoulder and started to purr. We named him for Jackie Robinson and took him home.  Wouldn’t you? Dana Susan Lehrman

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Our beloved Lucy Gray died in September at the age of 18.   For a pussycat that’s a good, long life I’m told. Lucy was not a cat that meowed very much,  and since she’d gotten older she wasn’t very frisky. The truth is what Lucy did most of the time was sleep.  Invariably we’d come home to find her sleeping on the bed or on the couch,  in the closet or on the rug,  in her wicker cat bed,  or curled up on a sunny windowsill. So now I wonder – as Lucy...

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When I retired friends asked what I would do with all my free time. “Oh,  just more of the good things.”   I said,   “Reading,  theatre,  tennis,  travel.” “Try something new,  try gardening,”  some suggested,  “it’s  great physical exercise and surprisingly spiritual.  Try planting veggies.” “Gardening’s not for me”.    I insisted,  “ I don’t have a green thumb.” But my son does,  in fact he’s worked on an organic farm.  “Take a...

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“Now you ‘re cooking with gas.”,  my grandmother used to say.  I thought of her after Hurricane Sandy hit New York on October 29,  2012. Although we live uptown,  our proximity to the East River puts our apartment building in the city’s infamous flood zone A.  When Sandy made landfall that day,  rain and river water surged down a ramp to our basement and the force ripped an oil tank from the wall.  It crashed on the cement floor and split,  and the toxic mix of...

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When our son was young he once asked us if we were at Woodstock.  We said no,  but we didn’t have an answer when he asked,  Why not? He was disappointed,  I’m sure we went down a notch or two in his esteem. He never asked if we rode the freedom bus,  or went to Washington to hear Dr. King,  or if we marched against the Vietnam War,  or burned a bra or a draft card.   Had he asked,  we would have had to say no. And I still don’t have an answer when I ask myself,  Why...

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