TURNING BACK THE TIME? (AND BUY MY BOOKS.)

I just re-read my last blog entry – 28 days ago, and it looks like “time” is still uppermost in my thoughts. Today, though, it is a bit more tangible. As many of you know, I have a watch fetish. I love my collection of colors and styles – even a belt with four watches on it. Guess what I’ll be doing this evening? (In between trick-or-treaters.) I’ll bet I’ll forget some of them when I’m in my turning-back-an-hour frenzy. That’s OK until the day comes that I innocently choose to wear one that’s been overlooked and arrive late at my destination.

It’s not just time-pieces, though, that have my attention. It’s time itself. I had a birthday this week. As usual, I’ve displayed my cards on my mantel, but some of them are upside down. What an unbelievable number on the front of them! – a little upside-down, tangible denial, can’t be too bad a thing.

On October 9, I did get to my high school reunion in Bristol, Connecticut, with a dear friend I hadn’t seen since 1952 (or was it 1951?). At any rate, it was before he collected shrapnel, deafness in one ear, reaction to Agent Orange, and a host of other souvenirs of Korea and Vietnam, and other stops along the career path. Strange it is to converge at this point to share stories of individual careers and families, and to be back home in the Bristol area. (I even got a photo of my mother’s one-room schoolhouse in Southington – kept forgetting to do that while I was living in the area.)

There were 81 people in attendance, 61 one of whom were classmates out of a graduating class of 210. On each table there was a three-page list of those who had moved on to whatever is the next phase in the journey. The “survivors” were obviously a hardy lot –a good-looking bunch. Because they are all local, they see each other often, so recognition was easy. Not so for Martin and me. It was only after our names were identified after the meal that people knew who we were. That part was particular fun.

There’s more about this going back in time stuff. Gail Collins was interviewed recently on Minnesota Public Radio. The name of her book is “When Everything Changed: The Amazing Journey of American Women from 1960 to the Present.” I can hardly wait to read it, and to get to writing my own stories in “Riding in the Back Seat.” Remember when there were no women cops, or firefighters, or news anchors, or reporters? No? Just you wait for “Riding in the Back Seat,” or even to read Gail’s book.

It’s not going back that tends to keep me awake, though. It’s my fear that we won’t have health care for everyone this time around either. I’m enjoying T.R. Reid’s, “The Healing of America,” and wondering why we can’t just first accept the morality of health care for all, and then work out the methods by which we might reach the goal. I know. I’m an idealist. I guess if I haven’t lost it yet, I’ll probably keep that painful characteristic. But I wouldn’t part with it for anything.

Oh, one more point about this “time” thing. Recently I was asked to transmit some information via e-mail to surviving relatives on the Anderson (my mother’s) side and the Gustafson (my father’s side.) It went out to a total of seven addresses… a far cry from the big family Christmas parties. That’s what comes of being the youngest of the youngest, with cousins old enough to be my parents. Truly, I wouldn’t trade my spot with anyone, but maybe it will make for some fun reading when I get to my next project.

Finally, please remember that Mrs. Job and my forgiveness books are worth reading and selling. Try copying and pasting the following amazon.com link for the latest in my effort to get myself known “out there.”

http://www.amazon.com/Mona-Gustafson-Affinito/e/B002TXN8D2/ref=sr_tc_tag_2