Jumping At the Woodside

I had intended to go off in a different direction at the end of my last blog but I started to do a little “Jumping At the Woodside” and I got distracted. I had intended to mention some of my odd summer distractions. You would think that here where I live was rural East Overshoe, New Hampshire instead of the southern sea coast. The other morning at day break there was a deer drinking out of my birdbath. This would have been all right, except he was doing his Gene Gene impersonation all over my Geraniums. After dispersing him, I went back into the house to finish my coffee. I glanced out the window to make sure he had not returned and much to my dismay there is a young woodchuck dining in my cucumber patch. So after a few days of skirmishes, I do believe he has taking up residence down the street in my neighbor’s yard and seems to be quite content. My neighbor however seems to have acquired a slight case of Saint Vitus Dance. A foot note to the ground hog saga. A noted woodchuck aficionado advised me to coexist with the little rodent by serving him a buffet a couple times a day. Needless to say, I filled that suggestion in the circular file.
Last but not the least, a family of Turkeys has taken up residence in the neighborhood. It was interesting to see the mother hen lead her little brood around the neighborhood. How ever as they grew they for their own safety had to find a place to roost at night. Much to my next door neighbors dismay they selected a tree in her back yard. So every evening about a half hour before dark they arrive from their day of foraging proceed to her front yard fly up on her roof and then up into the tree from there. Needless to say this has become a nightly attraction. I suggested that she should sell tickets to the spectacle. She suggested that I do something very difficult and painful to my posterior. So I filed that suggestion along side of the buffet suggestion.
It will be interesting to see where the turkeys move to when all the leaves have dropped. Some spruce thicket I imagine.

Semi Sentimental Journeys

I have not written a blog in awhile, but I promised my children that I would put my thoughts into print. The reason I have not done so lately is because when ever I get the urge to write something, I go back and read my last blog and decide that I have already made a big enough ass out of my self. Thus the gaps between blogs get longer and longer. I think when my kids first urged me to write a blog they were really interested in learning about the Lemp side of the family. As I have previously stated I was remiss in my obligation of enlightening them to their heritage. But I do feel that my blogs in their view point have become their own personal comedy hour. It seems my vocabulary, adages and slang from my youth is foreign to them. Especially when I am with my two youngest, they look at each other roll their eyes, grin and try there damnedest not to start giggling, it seems to tickle their fancy when I unwittingly go into my own personal unknown comic routine. (Here I digress for a bit to say that I first saw the unknown comic on TV, on the Gong show. In my opinion all the current talent shows pale in comparison. Not only was the list of guest judges lengthy it was a virtual who’s who of that era. Not only can I relate to the unknown comic, I also was always a comparable dancer to Gene Gene the dancing machine. It was with out a doubt the fastest half hour in television.) I will admit that my enunciation and or articulation is some times laughable at best. Thank god for the spell check icon. So for their amusement and much to my chagrin, I post a few more thoughts about the Lemp’s
This spring Diana, Lisa, Joe and I decided to take a trip to Arizona. I had mentioned to my son the previous autumn that I would really like to go out there and visit my brother David. So Joe and Diana decided that we would do it. I of course never would have gone on my own, as I am a thinker and ruer not a doer. To me this trip accomplished three goals. I got to visit with my brother and sister in law, who I had feared very much I would never see again. Lisa, Joe and Diana got to finally meet relatives on the Lemp side of the family. And we easterners got to tour the beautiful state of Arizona. All things considered it was a great trip. We actually interacted like a real family as the two half-sibling girls engaged in a few spirited sparing matches. So as this is a blog about the Lemp’s I take the liberty of blaming their minor grievances on their mothers.
This last week Joe took me to Cooperstown New York to visit the MLB hall of fame, take in a minor league baseball game in Troy and visit the Vale cemetery in Schenectady.
Vale cemetery is where my father, Grandmother Clara, Uncle James and his wife Marion are interred. I was always reluctant to make this pilgrimage because of my reluctance to except reality in general. But again my children have steered me in the right direction. Maybe I am starting to mellow out. But more than likely it’s the fact that at my age I am starting to ponder mortality.
Aunt Clara once waxed eloquently about Vale cemetery she described it as a blissful Eden where she and her brothers spent many enjoyable hours. It seems it was used as a park as well as a burial-ground. If you believe the old adage that a person would turn over in their grave if they saw how things are today, then we would have to refer to Clara as “pinwheel Clara” because Vale cemetery has fallen into total disrepair. The neighbor has deteriorated drastically and the cemetery and adjoining park are surrounded by what can only be described as a ghetto. The cemetery it self shows signs of negligible maintenance
vandalism and graffiti. The curator or caretaker assured us that there are corrective measures in the works. This is something I plan to monitor and maybe some where down the road the family might consider donations or some other action. This is a private cemetery and appears to have had mismanagement or poor funding.
Two days ago Diana and I went to visit the grave of our great-grandfather Dr. Hermann Lemp who is interred in Pine Grove cemetery in Lynn Massachusetts. The only similarity I can see between these two burial grounds is that Pine grove is what Clara’s Vale cemetery was in her youth. I have never seen a prettier or better groomed park anywhere. This is a huge beautiful place.
I suppose I should go to North Beverly and visit my mother and brother Noel and complete the circle.