Katie (my visiting Border Collie) is, I think, the smartest dog I’ve ever known. And, I’ve known a lot of dogs. Her vocabulary (English, of course) seems to increase each time I see her. You know that I believe most dogs are far more sentient than we humans think they are. And, she is a great example of that.
If you read the BLOG of last week, you will know that, just last night, I announced to the rock club folks that I would not be producing their annual dinner for vendors and volunteers, next February. After eight years of planning and producing the banquet to thank all of the people involved with the annual show and sale, I’ve decided that this eighth year will be my last.
A Short Era Ends
A Haibun
Once every year, the rock club I belong to holds a show and sale at a local Fairgrounds. This year, we celebrate sixty years of being an organization! For years – each year – a thank you dinner is held for the vendors who come to sell their wares. Included in the dinner, are the club volunteers who help to do the work of putting on the show and sale. The show and sale is held the last full weekend of February. In 2017, the club allowed me the pleasure of planning the dinner. This opportunity occurs once every year, usually on the last Friday of February. I remember the first years that I planned the dinner; it was held in the basement of the venue where the show and sale was held. What that meant is that food needed to be ordered and brought in from a caterer. A caterer that did not deliver. I remember picking up the meal from the local restaurant, transporting it in my Suburban to the fairgrounds, and getting it into the space we were going to use for the dinner – of course, with the help of club members. The restaurant food was great. Chicken, vegetables, rolls, and all of the things that go with those items. We also had drinks – coffee, water, etc. Without a liquor license, we had nothing with alcohol in it.
Once every year
Volunteer-vendor dinner
Once every year
Dessert was always a huge cake decorated with club logo, as well as the year defining the years that the club has been functioning. Table coverings were the club colors. Flameless candles, gems, ropes of blue, silver, and gold were spread over the tables. A change came requiring that we find another venue for the dinner. Wrigley’s Chicago Bar and Grill (owned by Paula) turned out to be the best location. The venue has a large banquet room, large enough for our gathering. And, there is no charge. So, the next years were all scheduled to be held at Wrigley’s. Again, the table decorations enlivened the room. The full-sheet cake was decorated for the occasion. Attendees enjoyed the activity; maybe, as much as I enjoyed the planning. Then came COVID. Full-sheet cakes were no longer allowed by the State’s health department, so cupcakes were substituted – individually decorated by the baker (Cakes by Karen).
What cake for this year?
What chocolates for the table?
What decorations?
It’s been eight years of pleasure planning the dinner. But, now I am old. It is time for someone younger to take the reins and plan the dinner. He or she will inherit all of the decorations. The flameless candles that must have the batteries loaded and, then, removed, each year. The small plates for chocolates – if the new planner decides to have chocolates. Leftover table coverings – of course, more may need to be purchased. All of the decorations. But, never – never glitter. Paula does not want to clean up glitter from the tables and floor.
Who will plan next year?
I hope someone steps up soon
To plan this event.
And, then, there is my car. I love my Chevy Tahoe. I love to drive but driving these days is only around town. And, only during the daylight hours. No more night-time driving for me. Of course, that means that I have to be very aware of time. If I am somewhere away from home and darkness falls, I’m in trouble. Also, no driving on long trips. Daughter #1 has kindly been the driver for any long trips. She also drives me around town as needed, as has my good friend, Rita. There are so many other critical machines in my home. But, I’ll leave them for another day. And, this is the day.
As I sat with my leg pump for an hour this evening, I thought about all of the machines that help me do my work and provide health care for me. The leg pump has a real name. It’s a leg and ankle compression massager. At least, that’s what I think it’s called, but I can’t find its paperwork.
Today, as I was doing my laundry, I started wondering about some things that happen. Do you wonder about what goes on in your world that doesn’t seem to have an explanation?
Every time we moved, Mom would take it in stride, pack up our belongings, and make sure the move happened. I think as kids, we never really understood what hardships she endured, every time this occurred.
It is said that we are a nation of immigrants. Except, of course, the indigence peoples. And, there is some question from some circles that the indigenous peoples came to this continent across the Bering Strait. We will never know for sure.
While at Marina del Ray, I completed painting the image in my sketch book and caught my flight back home. Months went by, and the check with which I’d paid for Henry’s paintings never cleared my bank. I called Mary who told me that it was not uncommon for Henry to forget to deposit checks. She took care of the matter in California, and I went about my business at home.
Henry Fukuhara was a gentleman, a watercolorist, a teacher, a resident of Manzanar, a mentor, a husband and father, and he was my friend. And I loved him. Yes, I loved him.