Middle-Age Ambition

As I find my self progressing further into late middle-age, I find my ambitions diminishing. My sister and I were talking about things we'd like to do. We'd both had the fantasy of riding in a hot-air balloon. But now, she says, she's past that; it would create more anxiety than pleasure for her. I made the goal to launch a website about STUFF by my 66th birthday, but that date has come and gone, and it's really not much closer to happening. I think about all the new and fascinating digital technology and it how it would be exciting to use it. But I know I'll never take the trouble to learn about it.

I can identify at least three reasons for this decline. I have less physical energy. I have less time left in my life, and it's more important to set priorities; I don't have the time to launch off into a whimsical endeavor that may or may not succeed. And there are lots of left-over projects that I need to finish now or never.

It's dismaying to realize that I no longer want to do so much. But it's also a relief.

Old Airports

Nowadays, in most airports, you are sucked through the jet way from the lounge, into the passenger compartment. Unless you look for it, you never see the outside of the plane and you don't have the feeling of actually having entered a winged craft.

I frequently fly in and out of the old terminal at San Jose, California airport, and I love it because I get to board the plane by climbing a staircase that had been wheeled up to the door of the plane. A few years ago, when flying with my young grandson, I was delighted when he actually had the experience of climbing into an airplane.

Sure, it means you have to walk across the tarmac and climb a flight of stairs carrying baggage. It's often windy and it can be rainy. It's a nightmare for disabled people. But I guess I'm influenced by old images of famous people --- presidents and kings, celebrities and heroes --- pausing at the top of the stairs, waving to their admirerers below, the women wearing fur coats and carrying bouquets of flowers.

I don't know how long it will be until this old terminal is modernized. But until it is, I'll savor this last remnant of the romance of flying.

VARIETY: What we were reading

On the plane yesterday, the older gentleman on the aisle was reading a book about Jesus, the large man in the center seat was engrossed in a novel by John Grisham, and by the window, I was leafing though the latest edition of Wired magazine.

More Vegetables: Radishes

We drove through the little of village of McClure, Ohio, yesterday, and discovered it's the home of an annual Radish Festival. There's a big, red radish painted on the road at the entrance to the village park and inside the park, there's a building displaying a sign that lists past chairmen of the Radish Festival. It seems to be a big deal in this little town

It also seems like there are limited options with radishes: you can eat them raw, or slice them into salads. I once tasted cream of radish soup (chicken broth and cream spiked with shredded radishes) and we could imagine pickling them or making a relish to eat with roast beef or salmon. But none of these ideas would use very many of the peppery little roots.

Radishes are attractive to look at and they come in a variety of shapes ranging from long to globular, and a few colors --- red, white and black. Do they select a Radish Queen in McClure and crown her with a wreath of radishes? Is she required to wear a red dress? I know about the Garlic Festival in Watsonville, California, and there are Tomato Festivals and Pumpkin Festivals. But a Radish Festival?

When we got home I looked up the Radish Festival in McClure, and found there are more things to do with radishes than I'd imagined. Here's a report on the festival that took place in June, 2005.