Glimpses into Alleyways

Weren't we taught as children to stay out of alleys?  Alleyways could be sinister and we never knew who could be lurking in the shadows.  Although they often looked like a shortcut to someplace we needed to go, beware!  Don't even try it.  Don't even look. Walk the long way around.  Safety first. 

But I am drawn to alleyways.  One of my favorite glimpses down an alley was in Tallinn, Estonia.  A waitress in native dress was coming out of a restaurant whose doorway was in the alley.  I had to shoot quickly to get her in a photo.

                                                         






In Bratislava, Slovakia I got a shot of a man rolling a keg of beer down the alleyway.  There was quite a technique to it as he maneuvered it with his feet.

A walk around Stockholm's Old Town was a feast for the eyes.  After taking a picture of a bike next to a store window, I turned a bit and was struck by the light and shadow in the alleyway that intensfied the salmon and gold buildings.


 

 

Passau, Germany is a beautiful city on the Danube.  The center of the city is built on a hill and there are alleyways leading down to the river.  They are all a quick way to the water, nothing sinister about them at all.  The blue Danube beckons one to follow any of the alleyways.                                                     

 

Throughout my life I have been a follower of good advice I learned at my mother's knee.  I have been conditioned to take the long way around, the safe way.  But through the years I have glimpsed into places that have been fascinating and call me with their siren song.  Upon entering I have found there was no bogeyman waiting to grab me and take me to unspeakable places.  There is an excitement to the unknown, the forbidden.  But there is no one to forbid me anymore.  I am my own keeper.  I am so often rewarded with just a glimpse into alleys but if I see something fascinating further in, I will not hesitate to investigate.  I'm getting too old to walk the long way around.

 

Moon Dreams

Moon Dreams


If I experiment
with words
I can tell you
how my brother
returned one night
as the moon was rising

He came in full
strength of old
and not as I last
saw him
preparing to leave
this earth

We talked and
laughed as
siblings do
with memories
in common

Yet even in dreams
I knew he could
not stay as
I watched him move
through time
and space
with a joy at being alive

I awoke to see
the full moon
rising
and wished
my brother
safe travels
on the other side

                      -Joan Ramseyer

The Woman in the Side View Mirror

The first recollection of the woman looking back at me from the side view mirror of the car was when we were approaching the St. Louis Arch on a trip with my husband and children.  She seemed a bit strange to me all those years ago but at the time I was sure I should know her.

As the years have passed, her face looking back at me has changed dramatically until I really am not familiar and seem to have no connection with her.  I see the eyebrows of my father on her face and the Slovak nose that is part of my maternal heritage, but as for her, she is a stranger.

I wonder who the aged woman is who looks worn and tired.  Her neck sags a bit and her hair has lost its bounce even from the St. Louis days.  There are dark circles under her puffy eyes and she looks as if she knows this is only the beginning of a look that will get even more worn.

I am leery of this woman who looks back at me from the side view mirror.  I know she is not me because inside I am still 21, the age when I graduated from college and felt I had the whole world in front of me.  She can't be me because I do not feel as old as she looks.  Then I see her smile and the dimples that I have had since I was a little girl appear.  Can it be?

I long for her not to be me.  However deep down I know I must make peace with her.  But I am not quite ready to cross the divide between the passenger seat and the mirror.  Maybe tomorrow.....maybe next year I will join her and accept her presence.  In the meantime I will try not to stare and leave her alone to look back at me with her damn dimples. 

The Golden Day

Forty six years seems like a long time to be married.  Yet the years have flown by and I'm not sure if I would have changed much.  I was a young twenty year old bride, but the timing was right.  Except for one grouchy day while painting our first apartment in married housing at MSU, I never looked back.

I was finishing up my senior year at MSU and Hack was starting his teaching career in Lansing.  Our wedding was a simple one with the reception at the church and presents opened for everyone to see.  My mother made my dress with fabric of dotted swiss.  The bridesmaids wore sleeveless green dotted swiss dresses that were also handmade.

June 24, 1967

It rained on our wedding day and I had gone to Muskegon to get my hair done.  By the time I got home it was drooping so I combed it out and knew I would have been just as happy doing it myself.


We drove to the east coast on our honeymoon and that was the beginning of our years of traveling together.


Throughout our travels I have witnessed other brides.  It is always a delight to see a wedding in a foreign country.  This past year we saw a wedding party coming out of a church in Senica, Slovakia. 


There were several men pouring small glasses of vodka for guests and anyone standing outside the church.  People were coming off the street to get a shot.  I was tempted to take a drink, but everyone was drinking out of the same few glasses.


The wedding party walked through town with a three piece band and the guests followed behind.  Weddings, no matter where they are, have similar characteristics, but each culture brings out a different flavor.  There is a feeling of shared experience no matter what the country. 


Slovakian Bride

    




     Brides in Prague,

    Czech Republic

My Love Affair with Lake Michigan

When I was young and stayed overnight at my Aunt Ellen and Uncle Mart's cottage, my cousins and I all slept in a large upstairs bedroom that spanned the length of the house. At night when the lights were turned out and the windows were open I could hear the waves of Lake Michigan lapping at the shore.  It was such a soothing sound.  For me it was nature's lullaby before sleep.

I was probably about ten when I had an epiphany sitting on the beach in my bathing suit.  I scooped up a handful of sand and looked closely at the grains.  I realized that in the whole extent of the world, I was only as big as one grain of sand. It was a humbling thought.

We loved to go to that cottage on Lake Michigan and play in the waves. It was a happy place where other relatives came and we were able to spend time with cousins.  My aunt and uncle once hosted a family square dance in their big living room.

The big lake has always held wonderful memories for me.  I especially like the beach in the spring and fall when there is no one around except the seagulls and me. For those of us who grew up with the big lake in our back yard, it has often called us back from parts unknown.  I am content that my husband and I returned to live fairly close to Lake Michigan and I can visit its beaches whenever I please.

Now I watch our grandchildren have the same experience in the sand and water.  It will continue for generation after generation if those who follow us take care of our planet and keep our lakes clean.  I wish the same delight to continue that I had as a child and the beauty of the lake to forever remain a constant. 

The grandchildren enjoy a delightful day of sun and waves at Lake Michigan.

 

 

 

 

 

Naomi's Garden

Several years ago I stopped at a yard sale on a back road to Pentwater.  I was fascinated by the extensive flower and vegetable gardens surrounding the house and out buildings.  I asked the owner, Naomi, if I could come back at another time and take pictures of all the beauty. 

She was kind enough to let me come another day and even though I knew pictures could not do it justice, I snapped away to my heart's content.  Naomi let me have free reign.

I saw an Amish like quality to her clothes line and took a few pictures.  She told me she was glad she put her underwear in the middle lines so they didn't show up in the photograph.

I am not a gardener, but only an observer of other people's talents with the soil.  There is something special about those who can make things grow and enjoy the process.  My grandmother was such a person.

Naomi's garden was a work of art.  I have some of it captured with photographs, but most of it is just a memory in my mind. 






Beauty all around in Naomi's garden.  A lovely place to visit and enjoy the fruits of a sweet woman's labor. 

 

 

A Stranger's Act of Kindness

It was late and we had stopped at Meijer's after listening to the West Michigan Symphony play their last concert of the season.  I was tired and wanted to find a fast lane.  There were two carts ahead of me and the man just in front of me wasn't buying much.

As soon as I pulled my cart up behind him he looked at me and smiled and mentioned something about the weather.  It was raining.  I told him that we had gotten enough rain this spring, but it was better than the tornadoes they were getting in Oklahoma.

The woman checking out the person at the head of the line seemed to be particularly slow.  I noticed that she had trouble getting the bags apart and acted a little rattled.

The man ahead of me appeared patient and not in any kind of hurry.  As he was putting his groceries on the belt, he asked me if I had ever tried the particular kind of juice he was buying.  He said it was a great deal because it was buy one get one free.  He told me they were expensive, $3 a bottle, and the sale ended that night.  I could find them over by the vegetables if I was interested.

I noticed that he had all different kinds of flavors and at least 12 bottles.  I told him I had never had that juice before and maybe would pick some up next time I was in.  I had never heard of the brand name Bolthouse Farms, but there was no way I was getting out of that line to get some juice on a rainy night when I was tired and just wanted to go home. 

He chatted with the check out lady as she continued to have the same problem of getting bags apart.  I thought she was putting too few items in a bag thus using more bags than she needed.  Maybe it was her first day on the job.  The man helped her get more of his groceries in fewer bags.  He said something funny to her and I laughed at his joke.

Just as I thought he was walking away he stopped and took a bottle of strawberry banana juice out of his bag and set it by the credit card machine.  He said to the check out woman, "I'm giving this juice to her so don't charge her for it."

I was a little taken aback but thanked him profusely.  It was the kind of gift one doesn't refuse.  As he left I said to the check out woman, "That doesn't happen very often.  What a sweet man."

My husband was waiting with the car parked closed to the exit so I wouldn't get wet.  I said, "The most astonishing thing just happened."

He asked, "Did you win the lottery?"

I said, "No, something better."  The whole incident took less than a minute but it left me with a glow for miles down the road.  Such a little thing, but such a good feeling for I'm sure the giver and without a doubt for the receiver.