Chadwick Boseman

 I was watching an old episode of CSI New York the other day, as I was crafting it was more listening to than watching, when a familiar voice caught my attention.  The show was from 2006, and the voice was that of Chadwick Boseman.

He was playing a minor character, a grifter on the street fleecing tourists with his shell game. A much younger version of the actor I had watched the night previously on Amazon Prime in the 2019 movie 21 Bridges.

I’m  a great one for watching the same movies over and over. It’s easier for me as I’m usually crafting and not giving it my full attention. I watched 21Bridges for the first time last summer, shortly before the actor’s sudden death in August. 

Only then did I learn that Chadwick Boseman was a famous and celebrated actor, known for his role as T’Challa, a Marvel superhero in the Black Panther movie. 

He had other memorable roles, playing the characters of Jackie Robinson, James Brown and civil rights lawyer Thurgood Marshall. I remember reading that he was heavy into preparation and research as an essential part of his actor’s process.

I’m not a movie goer, but tend to watch movies on television and now on line. So I am not up to date on what’s been filmed and by whom. And so I’m sorry to say that I never heard of Chadwick Boseman until his untimely demise. 

Everything I heard, and everything I read supported that this man was an incredible actor and an exceptional human being. 

He wanted to increase opportunities for black actors that took them out of the stereotypical role of African American thugs and gang members. He had delved into his own ancestry, back to Nigeria and was proud of his roots.

43 at the time of his death, his passing was a shock because he died of colon cancer, a disease he had been fighting for four years. While making these recent memorable movies he was undergoing cancer treatments unbeknownst to anyone.

I’m sorry I became a fan so late in his career, but will make up for lost time. He will live on in the characters he’s portrayed in film. His passing is truly a loss.

Ongoing Struggles

 For the past 10 months I have been getting my groceries delivered to my home. There was no cost for the first three months or so, and the delivery charge is reasonable for the service.

I ordered yesterday for a delivery today.  The order is placed over the phone so there can be the odd glitch in the process.

It may be quite rude of me but I don’t answer phone calls if I don’t recognize the name or number. I got such a call today and let it go to voice mail.  Then I listened to the message. The voice sounded old and frail, hesitant in speaking, confused.

Apparently my groceries were being delivered to the wrong unit number and the call was to verify.  This has happened before with other delivery services. But was this the driver calling? I called back and heard a sigh of relief. She lived in ‘A’ and I lived in ‘K’ so I can see how the mistake was made when I gave my address to the woman at the store. She had trouble hearing me, because I could hear all the store noise in the background.

I laughed to myself in my thinking that the delivery person was old and frail, but it has been students for the most part. 

Before the lockdown when we actually went into a store to shop, it was not out of the norm to find older people working. Especially in the coffee places, grocery stores or Walmart.

If a person wants to work for some extra money, to get out, to be with people, that’s great, more power to them. But if they’re working out of need, to makes ends meet then I sympathize with their situation.

Standing for hours on end, learning new skills and dealing with a public who may not be understanding or empathetic is a harsh reality for one’s later years. And I understand. 

I had been on disability for years, and when I reached retirement age my disability ended. I was going to have Old Age and CPP only. Plus some pension, but as I worked part time until my divorce there was only a twelve year span where I worked full time and earned pension benefits. I was very lucky to move into the complex where I still live where the rent is extremely reasonable.  

My heart goes out to those who struggle, and not just the older population. I had that same struggle as a single parent. 

During these tough times, with the threat of the pandemic, lockdowns and shutdowns, the struggle is real and ongoing with no relief in sight. Businesses have closed and kids are being home schooled. 

Stay strong everyone, stay safe.

Creature of Habit

 I’m a night owl, always have been. It’s an inherited thing that I got from my Mom that she passed on to my brother and I. It’s as if the peace and quiet of those late hours is our time, no phone calls, no unexpected visitors, family asleep. Creative time, I call it. 

That rationale may have worked years ago but has not applied for years. Living alone, my day is mine and I can do what I want, when I want. And I still live with wake time that is skewed from what others call normal.

I had a plumbing problem this morning and called the manager’s office to report it. The first thing she said  was “what are you doing up?”. My habits are well known. Out of consideration for the maintenance man’s busy schedule I wasn’t going to leave this job to late in the day. 

I can get up when I need to, if it’s important.

The sun was shining when I called the office, but now it’s just another dull winter day. That was my reward for getting up early.

That and the fact I can now go to the 🚽 bathroom. Another plus to my day.

Knit VS Crochet

 I was watching an old CSI New York the other day and was shocked, shocked I tell you, at the error I saw in their use of props. I worked in amateur theatre and know the importance of having the correct props in the setting and for items the actors hold.

I am an avid crocheter, as opposed to knitter, so the mistake I saw was so obvious I couldn’t believe someone on set didn’t notice the mistake.

The setting is a dog show, and one of the dog owners has been found murdered by a knitting needle. Now I understand why a knitting needle was used as a murder weapon, it’s long and has a pointed end on it. A crochet hook is shorter and has a blunt end. 

That is not what bothered me. The police are questioning the owner of the knitting needles and she explains that she knits her little dog show darling clothes and blankets and such. As she’s speaking she points to the blanket on her lap. ITS CROCHETED FROM GRANNY SQUARES!

I get that some knitting and crochet to the non needle worker might look similar. I have a daughter who constantly sends me posts from Pinterest with a “can you make this?” note attached.  I always respond that it’s knit and send her a post back of a ‘like’ item in crochet.

I guess I just thought that granny squares would be more recognizable.  I have an old afghan made by my great grandmother so knew the craft long before I ever tried it.

My brother worked in the film industry for decades. He told me once that there was a job that required that person to ensure continuity, especially necessary when scenes are not completed in one day or are filmed out of order.  This was more of a props problem and I am sorely disappointed that not one person saw the error.

Details, details, details.  Details are important.  I’ve said my piece and now my crocheter’s heart can rest easy. LOL

Amid the Chaos

 I was a nurse for many decades and often, after a rough day, someone would relieve the tension with some off colour or inappropriate comment that would make everyone laugh. It has been said laughter is the best medicine.

I’ve been watching the news, the ongoing coverage of the disturbing events that transpired in Washington on January 6th.  There was one interview with a Trump fan, others of that ilk in the background. The news  commentator described the hand signal one of the men was making, said it was meant to communicate, one white supremacist to another.  I thought it was just an OK sign. They quickly changed to a background to a picture of the White House.

Then I looked across the room to my bookcase where a 10 inch ceramic hand sits, a hand making the sign for OK. It was a gift from my brother, and I said it would remind me I was doing OK, as I was going through a rough patch at the time.

I texted him and our conversation went like this:

Me: Did you know you gave me a ceramic statue of the white supremes symbol?

Him: Who are the white supremes?

Me: Oops. Supremacists My phone doesn’t want me to say the word.

Him: Imagine perverting the OK sign like that.

Him: I ordered you a Confederate flag, should be there soon. Thought it would look nice in your window.

Me: I’ve missed your sense of humour.  That really made me laugh.

And a laugh was just what I needed to off set the frightening news from south of the border  

Weather Network

 Beside the fact we are currently in a COVID lockdown, I tend to be a homebody, especially in winter. Current conditions mean I get my groceries delivered and do a lot of ordering on line. 

In the olden days, pre pandemic, I would follow the Weather Network on line, to determine which days would be clear, as in no snow, no rain, presenting roads that are clean and dry before venturing out.

Now I have an early snowfall warning system that alerts me to any significant snowfall.  His name is Jim and he lives next door. We live in a small community made up of 4 and 8 unit buildings. Jim and I are on one side of our quad and share the same paved path from the road with the adjacent quad. 

During winter months I am frequently awakened by the noise of a shovel scraping against the pavement. From the cozy warmth of my bed I’m given notice that it’s snowed and feel free to burrow in, knowing I’m not going to be going anywhere. 

For years now, neighbour Jim has cleared the path and the area in front of all of our doors whenever the snow falls. He shovels early, and frequently throughout the day if necessary.  He is the rose to the thorns of his three, older female neighbours. A truly nice guy.

The property does have a manager who has a riding lawnmower type thing with a blade and he whips it through the complex cleaning pathways, the front patios plus parking areas. And the roads are cleared by a service so we are well taken care of. 

I’m just spoiled by Jim’s personal attention.