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Sunday, January 22, 2023

One Day to the Next

To go between the days,

I sleep,

invaded for long periods

by the ephemera of dreams

(always domesticated: no jungles,

tigers, rushing rivers)

that peek to the surface

for a matter of seconds

when I wake

and then evanesce.

If dreams are meant to teach us,

then mine will have to stick around

long enough to be examined,

categorized, or simply remembered.

Still, I can think of no better link

between my days

than my warm and snug haven from the real,

every night,

in a world that is not of my conscious making.

 

 

 
Copyright © 2023 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
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Sunday, January 8, 2023

Party Games

I've never been one for party games. Certainly not games at adult parties, those games of teams and self-aggrandizement and raucous shouts—games like charades. I'm not good at them and therefore I don't like them. Or vice versa.

 

Luckily, the people I associate with don't propose party games. Instead, we just eat and eat and drink wine and talk.

 

But children's parties? Again, many of the games are horrible, involving competition (musical chairs) or violence (pinatas). But there are two games I remember with great enthusiasm. The first is Chinese telephone, which goes by many names. A declarative sentence is secretly devised by an adult, who whispers it into the ear of one child, who whispers it to the next, and that one to the next, and so on around the circle until everyone has heard and repeated the sentence, which is then spoken aloud. To the shock of all, the sentence has changed radically. It's a good lesson (or it should be) about the unreliability of oral communication. The lesson doesn't usually sink in, however, as the cake and ice cream distract everyone from the moral lesson.

 

The other game I love is "Button, Button", a game of visual deception. The children sit in a circle. One child is given a button, and she goes from guest to guest, button concealed in her prayer-folded hands, and mimes passing the button to the others, who one by one hold out their prayerful hands. The button-holder inserts her joined hands between each child's hands in turn and drops or pretends to drop the button into the others' hands. Once she's visited the whole circle, the question is "Button, button, who's got the button?" And the guests guess, based on what they saw. Is there a noticeable difference between depositing a button and not depositing a button? That's indeed the question.

 

Once the receiver of the button is revealed (imagine the triumphant raising of a little hand), the button-holder becomes the new depositor and the game begins again. The game, sedate, nonviolent, uncompetitive, can go on all afternoon. Or it used to go on. It's probably too tame for today's generation. If you were a five-year-old and had your own i-Phone, would you sit still for such a game? Probably not.

 

Nonetheless, I can fantasize about those quiet days, that quiet game, so gentle compared to the present. Maybe I'll bring out a button after our next dinner for ten and suggest a game. First the wine tasting, then the dinner, and finally a rousing game of Button Button. The perfect evening.

 

 
 
Copyright © 2023 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor




 

Monday, December 26, 2022

A Light in the Darkness

The light I want to kindle in the darkness of our being is the light of laughter. I can blame this on (or attribute it to) my father and the atmosphere of humour that he created in our home.  Sometimes the humour was more biting than was healthy, but still, there was a lot of laughing.

 

I want the relief and lightness of laughter for all of us, and I must admit that I have an aversion to what is not light. This comes uncomfortably close to superficiality, doesn't it? I'm thinking here about forms of entertainment. When it comes to movies, for example, my husband is a fan of noir (sometimes literally noir, as in black-and-white, with most scenes set in impenetrable shadow). The movies I like—virtually the only ones I can watch—are the screwball comedies from the 1930s. I'll accept a few more recent films, such as "Some Like It Hot". I obviously prefer to steer clear of reality in my movie-watching, and I recognize that this is not necessarily a good thing.

 

At bottom, I counsel lightness and brightness. Wit and cleverness. And an openness to risibility in all things.

 

I wish this for everyone now and during the coming year.

 

 

[Apologies for the late delivery of this Scene. The combination of Christmas, birthday, and Sunday knocked all my routines into a cocked hat. Compliments of the season to you all, including but not limited to those who celebrated a birthday on December 25--particularly the Baby Jesus, my great-nephew Nate Johnson, our friend Richard N., and my own self.]

 

 
 
Copyright © 2022 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor