March 7, 1965

3/7 x 4

March 7, 1965

We had a grass fire today. Our incinerator fell over and set fire to the field next to us. Dad yelled to me to call the fire department. I did and with a minute a volunteer fireman was here. The 3 of us had it almost out when the 2 fire trucks and 31 firemen came. We put it out with brooms. Wotta day!

March 7, 1997

Well, I don’t need a “comfort drawer”, Sarah, and I don’t feel comfortable with the materialism in your philosophy. Yes, I like chocolate and sweet smells and warm baths, but I don’t really need to assemble a cache of goodies in a drawer with scented liner paper, or buy a British decorating magazine. Really.

March 7, 2006

Yes, children, we had an incinerator in our back yard -- large metal barrel standing in its end and designed to burn trash and leaves. The wet garbage from the kitchen, and anything not flammable, went into the trash can to be picked up and taken to the dump. Everything else was burned, every few days or perhaps once a week. It was evidently dry, despite all the snow earlier that winter, so when the incinerator tipped over the grass caught on fire, spreading into the pasture next door.

March 7, 2023

Believe it or not, I am teaching today and tomorrow. And thinking about teaching some more. Today, I am giving a guest lecture on sustainable fashion in a friend’s “Everyday Science” class here in our retirement community. Tomorrow, I facilitate a session in a different class. While my hands have been knitting, my thoughts keep straying to how much fun it would be to teach a version of one of my last courses before I retired. The best part: no grading!

I loved teaching. It was the creative career I was craved, yet I avoided it for years, believing that “creative” work meant art, or music, or writing. Also: my comfort drawer has paper, pens, and other school supplies. The chocolate is stored elsewhere.