Thoughts of Home

“Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”

Most people think the line is a joke, but Robert Frost meant it seriously as a line in his poem Death of the Hired Man. The poem takes place on a Vermont farm. Mary, the farmer’s wife, sits at the kitchen table musing on the lamp-flame, waiting for her husband Warren to tell him the news, “Silas is back.”

And discuss what to do?

Robert Frost is always worth reading. Always familiar, like an old shoe that fits comfortably each time you put it on. Always stirring a few thoughts, some original some not.

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It is true, women want what they can’t have – a home in the country, a three-car garage, 2.2 children, and a husband who takes out the garbage.

Home, I can’t define it but I know it when I see it.

Once you grow up and leave home, you learn the world is big and wide, and finding your way home is no easy thing.

The best part of traveling is losing yourself and then finding yourself.

Not all who wander are lost.

Home is not so much a place as a state of mind.

You can’t go home again, but you can visit.

Goreme Turkey
Goreme Turkey

You don’t need to know where you are going or where you are to be where you need to be.

There are challenges in life and crossroads, and when I come to them I have always followed Yogi Berra’s advice, when you see a fork in the road, take it.

There are two directions in life, home and away from home.

I am not from West Virginia, but every time I hear John Denver sing his song Country Roads, I want to be.

A chair is to most of us, home for most of the time, so why not make it Stressless.

Stressless around the world
Stressless around the world

Notes.

I have traveled a bit in my lifetime and I have never been so fond of home as when I am away from it.

Göreme, Turkey is home to 2,000 souls. It is a town that is famous for its rock formations in ancient Cappadocia, central Turkey and part of Anatolia. Settlements in Göreme go back 3,000 years to the era of the Hittites. During the conflict between the Persians and the Greeks, the inhabitants tunneled into the rock to escape the fighting.

It appears that there are not regular streets or addresses so how in the world does the postman deliver a letter? The image is from Pixabay.

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Slinningsbålet

If you are just reading this, then you already missed it.

In Norway, people celebrate the coming of summer with a celebration called Slinningsbålet. The celebration marks the time when the days grow short and the sun begins to retreat in the sky and in Norway they celebrate with the world’s largest bonfire. Norway’s largest celebration takes place on June the 24th in Ålesund in the county of Møre og Romsdal, on the western coastline of Norway. In 2010, the townsfolk built a massive tower of shipping crates, a record-setting 132.71 feet tall.

Though you missed it, you can connect via Facebook and relive the 2017 celebration.

Or, if you prefer Twitter.

Did I mention that Stressless recliners and office chairs are designed and made in Ikornnes, a village along the Sykkylvsfjorden, in Møre og Romsdal county. Though you missed this year’s Slinningsbålet, you can still relax in your favorite Stressless recliner and enjoy the summer weather.

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Stressless recliners are carried by many fine retailers including:

Homefurnishers where you can safely and securely shop online.

Here I sit

beach_sitHere I sit on a rock and broken-hearted, tried to rise but only started. Soon I heard a voice softly calling, saw a crab in the sand quickly crawling. Then I fell asleep and dreamed of a perfect place far away and quiet.

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Stressless recliners

Make your dreams come true at Homefurnishers

Let’s try it in French for fun

Ici, je m’assieds sur un rocher avec un cœur brisé,
puis je me essayé à lever, je ne peut pas a commencer.
bientôt, j’ai entendu une voix doucement,
j’ai vu un crabe dans le sable ramper rapidement.
puis je me suis endormi et
j’ai rêvé d’un endroit lointain et tranquille.

Ain’t got time for a fast train

airplane-crop

A Stressless short story

It was Saturday morning and the first day of spring. The weather was cloudy and cool.Because I thought it might rain, I was wearing a short light grey trench coat, the kind Audrey Hepburn wore in Charade. But maybe, I was just trying to be incognito.

I am not really kidding you am I? Incognito? I was as inconspicuous as Peter Sellers playing Inspector Clouseau minus the drop brim fedora and mustache.
Five minutes before, I had just arrived after an 8-hour, sleepless flight from Heathrow to Dulles. The Metro was due to arrive in two minutes. Then my baby called, saying she had missed her connection in Atlanta. Next flight noon.

metro

Stranger things have happened

There it was, a Stressless recliner in the middle of the plaza.
That is strange, but stranger still is the fact that it was empty. No one, not a soul, seemed to see it. And baby, it was calling my name.

metro-opal-crop

The ultimate comfort

I felt relieved as I sat down. I stretched out my arms and back, and felt the chair magically adjust. I closed my eyes and began to sing, “Ain’t got time to take a fast train…”

And soon I was asleep.

Aer-o-planes and fast trains

I dreamed of my baby comin’ home to me.

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Gimme a ticket for an aeroplane
Ain’t got time to take a fast train
Lonely days are gone, I’m a-goin’ home

Wayne Carson wrote and composed “The Letter” after his father suggested an opening line, “Give me a ticket for an aeroplane.” The track was recorded in Memphis with a local five-man group in a session produced by Dan Penn. The band members were Alex Chilton on vocals, Danny Smythe on drums, Russ Caccamisi on bass, John Evans on keyboards, and Richard Malone on guitar. The session took over 30 takes to get it right, with Penn suggesting to Chilton he pronounce the title “aer-o-plane”. After the session, Penn added the sound of an airplane take-off.
The song took off and reached #1 position for a total of four weeks, Billboard ranked the record as the No. 2 song for 1967.

Peace of mind and body

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In yoga, touching together the tips of index finger with that of the thumb gives peace of mind and wisdom. This mudra or hand gesture is said to boost enthusiasm and enhance curiosity. Sitting in a Stressless recliner gives peace of mind and body.

Like yoga, sitting in a Stressless recliner can be practiced anytime.

 

Work, play, rest

Work hard, play harder and rest when you can, is advice that would have made Ben Franklin healthy, wealthy, and wise.

opal-work

Maybe Ovid, the Roman poet, said it best, “Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop.” Einstein thought best while walking or playing the violin and Sherlock Holmes likewise liked to think and play his violin. Rip Van Winkle slept a bit too much. Sir Isaac Newton dozed and when an apple struck him on the head, he composed the three laws of physics. Hamlet, when perplexed sought to sleep, and perchance to dream. Leonardo da Vinci observed, “Every now and then go away, have a little relaxation, for when you come back to your work your judgment will be surer.”

Halloween night back then

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Back when I was young, there were no Halloween costumes for which to shop. No superstores, no online shopping.

Halloween was then, quite quaint.

We made our own costumes, or more truthfully, mom did. A ghoulie was dressed in tattered old clothes, with white flour caked on the face, a ghost was an old white sheet with holes cut out to see. A witch was a black dress and cape, a straggly wig, and a broom. A pirate was a pair of cut-off khaki pants, a torn plaid shirt, a bandana, and an eye patch.

Back then you’d find a cowboy or Indian, not now.

Houses were closer together back then. Mr. Levitt designed them like that, for convenience I imagine. There were rows of houses and scores of kids who poured outat dusk, when the shadows lengthened. Kids gathering in groups of six to ten, and swarming like a flock of swallows, or worse, like a biblical plague, lighting for a moment at one door then the next.

Your favorite candy was always a Hershey or a Mars bar and if you were lucky, you got the really big bar, not the pop-in-your-mouth kind they sell at stores by the bag full. Stories spread quickly of who had the best and likewise who had the worst. Steer clear of the penny candy and the mean guy who flicked his finger with a snap in the paper bag we carried, he pretending he was giving when really he wasn’t.

And who doesn’t remember the brown bag, loaded with loot, ripping and tearing, candy showering all over the lawn? The mad dash of dirty dogs to grab what they could.

Back then, Halloween lasted for days.

Back then, when I was young, we played pranks. No, not the overturned outhouse that our parents claimed they did. Our trick was the tiny brown bag with a fresh dog turd, lit on fire, left at the door step, set aflame, door bell rung, and, quick, flee into the dark. Did we really do this or was it all a big dream.

Back then, Halloween was just for kids. Parents stayed at home, tending the fire in the hearth, stirring the chili in the pot, and listening from a tune from Fantasia, no doubt Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain; praying and hoping their neighbor’s trees would be draped in toilet paper come All Saints Day morn.

Not their own.

And we kids, when we were done, took our loot to our rooms and our beds, separating our candy, gloating with brothers and sisters over who had the best and who had the worst. Tired as we were, we stayed up late in the night, until dad thundered, enough fun, lights out!

Under the covers, head on the pillow, before we slipped into slumber, we uttered one final prayer:

 

From ghoulies and ghosties
And long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!

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