Barbara J. Hamby

Busy Days

I’ve had my nose (make that fingers) to the keyboard and mouse for days trying to get saved emails filed in folders, so I can delete all the unwanted ones before transferring to my new computer.

I did take time out Sunday to go to Vancouver and attend a poetry reading where a few old friends were part of a group celebrating William Stafford’s birthday month. I read a poem of his and one of mine, something I haven’t done for quite a while. I also drove by our old house while I was there to confirm that it was undamaged by the tornado that visited Vancouver earlier in the week. The old chestnut tree that my son Kurt fought so hard to save when the county widened our street was also untouched.

This morning our monthly musical took place at Town Hall. The performers were a group called “Dr. Jazz and the Interns.” I haven’t seen the group together before, but had seen the drummer often jamming at Libby’s, a restaurant in Milwaukie, with John Bennett and other mature musicians. They had a cute sign that warned, “These Men are not real doctors. Do not remove your clothes, if asked.” The drummer also had a painting of Betty Boop sitting on a piano on his bass drum. They all wore white coats and shirts with black pants and red neckties. The band leader played a mean clarinet and the rest of the group performed equally well. The room was packed with an enthusiastic audience, mostly tapping feet or fingers or humming along.

So, my day got off to a good start, but went down hill after that. I had a mix-up over a prescription that took a while to straighten out—a long and boring story. Enough about that.