“Things happen and we do our best to keep in the saddle.”*
How was your weekend? Mine was relatively quiet and low-key. No socializing, no trips downtown, no eating out. Just a lot of puttering about in the house and garden. The weather was lovely–cool and sunny.
The OM and I attempted to go to the boy’s play-off game, but we went to the wrong school. We drove around the Priory campus wondering where everyone was. It never occurred to our befuddled minds that it was, indeed, a HOME game. We surrendered and went home. C’est la vie.
I contemplated staying in bed and reading on Sunday morning, but I went to church because I remembered that I had given the altar flowers in memory of my parents and my friend Irene. They were very nice.
One of the readers was a scion of what we used to call a “socially-prominent” flyover family–does anyone say that anymore?–who makes a practice of wearing old baggy blue jeans to church. Furthermore, he looks like he has been wearing the same pair all week while driving his tractor around the south forty. I suppose we should be happy he tucks his shirt in. He has the flowing locks and facial hair of someone who would have fit right in with Bedford Forrest at Shiloh. I don’t know why this always bothers me, but it does. I mean, c’mon.
Besides the regular sermon, there was a children’s sermon given by our choir director to a group of younguns who scampered up to the chancel to sit on the floor and listen attentively. At the end he led them in song and they were adorable and quite amusing. They cheered me up. There is one little girl who can answer every question posed and belts out every hymn like a mini Martha Raye. If this child doesn’t grow up to be something special, I’ll eat my hat.
In the afternoon I read outside–a most unusual and lovely pastime.
In conclusion I should note that seventy-nine years ago, at the age of 46, T.E. Lawrence, better known as “Lawrence of Arabia”, was fatally injured in an accident on his motorcycle in Dorset. Six days later (on May 19) he died.
He was buried in Dorset. There is a memorial in the very old Anglo-Saxon Church of St. Martin
He was a gallant soldier and a Christian gentleman and more than worthy of a toast to that effect tonight.
*T.E.L. I had this quote on my senior page. It could be my mantra.