Robert (gurdonark) wrote,

Leonard on my Mind

We spent an hour this morning on the phone with my parents, getting caught up on Thanksgiving. Then my wife hopped in the car to do errands and detours, while I hopped in my car to get some exercise. I drove past Princeton, over the Lake Lavon bridge, to the Sister Grove Park. The wind blew so brisky I had to put on my winter coat, although the temperature was not cold.

I pulled out a huge kite, to celebrate the wind, and the blue/blue sky. But my huge kite lacked a tail, and after it went well aloft, it went well un-aloft, crashing down in a thorny deciduous holly. I rescued the kite, and began to walk the path. I saw damselflies, grasshoppers and a sprightly cardinal bird.

I drove into the town of Leonard, population around 1800. I had a notion to go to the little town history museum I have driven by on many a Sunday. In the museum, they had pictures of people standing by cotton bales, and pictures of graduating classes. The class of 1906 had 7 graduates. By 1931, they had 20something graduates. By the 50s, they were back in the teens again. I liked the little anteroom with pictures of all the town doctors, and a case of their medical bags. The curator was very kind, although all her stories seemed to involve her own relatives. I liked the patchwork quilts--I like quilts built of real patches and rags, rather than things from the "quilting crafters" store.

I drove to Lea's Restaurant, in Leonard, where I waited the longest I have ever waited to be served a rather bland plate of Tex/Mex food. I read a small town newspaper from Sulphur Springs I bought Friday, which had a feature on a quilter selected for the world quilt exhibition in Houston. She said she saw quilts as art, and so do I.

We went tonight to "Ray", the movie biopic about Ray Charles. We thought the movie quite good, and Jamie Foxx gave a very good performance. I thought the picture tried to do too much, and yet still skimmed over some key parts of Mr. Charles' life. Also, although "The Conformist" is one of my favorite movies, I traditionally dislike psychoanalytic "solutions" to the puzzles that make us who we are, tied up in a neat plot. But I still very much liked the film.

We stopped by Coffee Dreams, the neighborhood coffee place, where my wife had a Gingerbread Chai (which was heavenly) and I had a huge hot chocolate. A small musical group played songs in the corner. One pianist sang a song slightly off-key about how if he seemed he was not there, to go find him, while a duo accompanied by a single guitar sang a song about how a beloved reminded them of a familiar home in need of renovation. We're all HGTV projects, one way or another, I suppose.

I believe, on principle, that the Saturday after Thanksgiving should feature "Miracle on 34th Street" rather than a Godfather sequel. Thank goodness I own videos.

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