traveling up and down the blind highway

Not all Christmases are joyous. In my life I had a sad holiday become a joy.
In November of 1990, I opened my front door to be given divorce papers served by a stranger. I closed the door and walked down the hall to knock on the spare room used as a shared office.
“Mick, what is this about?”
“Read it!”! Slamming the door in my face.
For the next month, I went to work, cleaned and cooked on automatic. A week before Christmas, Mick informed me that Gary, his older brother was coming to stay the week between Christmas and News Year’s’s. I knew that Gary drank and would become abusive when drunk. He had pushed on his ex-wife’s loose teeth, causing them to fall out. I didn’t want to be near the pair of them.
I called my brother Micheal, for advise.
“Get on a plane and fly here to stay over After Christmas until New Year’s.”
My brother Mike bought the round trip ticket. I packed for a week visit. I said goodbye as I walked out the front door.
I flew to Pittsburgh, then a small 12 passenger commuter to Bradford PA.
The plane circled the runway in a snow storm. The lights on the sides of the strip the only distinguishing marker where to land. Hitting the runway, a cloud of snow, rose, covering the plane.
My brother was waiting in the small terminal. We were the last flight scheduled to land that evening.
Mike grabbed my bag, after giving me a quick hug.
“I hope you’re hungry, Kathy has dinner cooking.”
After weeks of Mick be fed by his mother before I came home, It was a welcome change to be catered to.
My niece and three nephews danced around with excitement. Kathy’s Dad, was also visiting after the death of his wife two months before.
After dinner, Megan showed me her room.
“You can sleep in my bed”. ” I will bunk with my brothers.”
Too tired to unpack, I slipped under the down cover and was fast asleep in moments.
That week we played cards, cooked comfort food like chili and warm corn bread.
The house was on a hill. The back yard sloped downhill with the garage facing the street below. The yard was lighted with several gas lights making it easy to sled into the evening. A dozen saucer sleds were piled near the back door.
After dinner, we dressed in wool and down, to tackled the back hill. The yard sported several runs to try. The most used one was a quick straight run to the garage door. It had been used so much, The path was well worn and icy.
The Adults selected a side path, even working to form and smooth the new path.
We played as hard at the kids. When all were cold and wet, we exchanged our outdoor clothes in the basement and enjoyed a hot mug of chocolate with mini marshmallows melting on the top of the drink.
After the sadness of the month before, I felt renewed, hopeful and ready to tackle my future.
All too soon, the week was over. I left Pittsburgh with joy and hope for the future.
***. Poem
Begin Again
As weary as the old year, I gazed out the window at a cloudy future.
The dirty slush gave way to white cleansing snow.
It felt new.
I hurried with my saucer to race down the run.
Thoughts centered on keeping my seat on the sled.
As children cheered, years slipped away.
I was a child on my first sledding run of the day.
With a frosted nose and squinting eyes, I mastered the hill.
After a full day, I slept dreamless.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 12,15,25

Growing up the first week of December was devoted to helping my Mom write notes and preparing for Christmas Cards. After dinner dishes were washed and put away, Mom would open a box of Christmas cards, laying out pens, blank sheets of stationary, stamps and return address labels to work on cards. My job was to lick and stick the stamps and labels onto the envelopes. After a brief note was handwritten in a card, I would lick and seal the envelope closed. Self sealing stamps and envelopes were unheard of. Several flavors of adhesive could be tasted on my tongue, ranging from minty to glue. I had to get a drink of water to rid my month from the tastes. While I worked pasting the labels and stamps in place, my Mother would select a card for each family, with care. The Madonna and child for Catholics and a secular Santa or snowman for others. She would think for a minute to compose a note to sum up the year. She never used the same note twice. Each note was written with a careful script.
As a lefty, I was never able to master the calligraphy of Mom’s penmanship. I stayed the licker and sticker.
When a box of cards was completed, I would deposed the mail in the large carrier box located across the street. The box had a large hinged door to deposit groups of letters or small packages. The outside of the box had information for pick up time for that day’s mail. Initially, the mail was picked up twice a day. Later, the mail was retrieved on the carrier’s normal route.
Today, I have a large box at the curb, not like the letter size box on my childhood home. The carrier drives a postal vehicle . The Only time I see the carrier is if there is a package too large for the box.
The mail itself has changed. Cards with envelopes has been replaced by folded sheets of heavy weight paper. Postcards with a photo of a family dressed in Christmas garb are selected instead of ornamental greetings. A Christmas letter has replaced the handwritten Holiday note. Some have opted for a email , forgoing the mail altogether.
I still maintain a Christmas card list for the start of my mailing. I no longer write a note but have opted for a Christmas letter of family news from the past year.
I eagerly open each Christmas message and use my Meta A. I. glasses to have the card read to me and the picture described. Then, I hang each piece of Christmas mail on a length of ribbon as a part of the Christmas decor.
I await your Christmas mail, on this snowy winter day.

***. Poem
Candy cane an acrostic
C crooks
A all stripes
N nest in tree
D dangling
Y yummy treats

C children hurry seeking
A among the needles
N neatly hanging
E each child gathers their share
S sweet delights.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 12/8/25

After a festive Thanksgiving with brother Craig and his wife Karen, we are ready for the preparation activities for Christmas. On Friday, instead of shopping at the Black Friday sales, we ate some of the leftovers ,froze the rest and worked on the Christmas tree and the Manger scene. John hung the small multicolored lights around the four sides of the sunporch to outline the ceiling. Each ornament was unwrapped, examined for damage then a hook was attatched for the tree. I bought a new spruce that had shorter needles made from a rubbery material to help the hooks stay on the branches. The four foot tree had to be placed on a small table so I could reach the top branches.
Memory after memory was hung from the limbs. The glass green pickle with a red hat, the jeweled butterfly, a gift from John for our first Christmas and the clay greenery holder that Ruth made in kindergarten for a gift, all found a place on the tree.
The mantle with the figures that Aunt Joy painted and fired as a wedding gift were checked for damage the placed on on the fireplace mantle. This year, an eclectic mix of trees and animals were arranged to show many critters parading to see the baby Jesus. The number of animals reflect our outdoor display of two girl dolls feeding the lit deer with large ears of Indian corn. A bird feeder with two red cardinals that twinkle with a red glow graced the feeding tray. Three artificial trees form a backdrop for the outdoor scene. Each tree has garland and strings of beads to catch and reflect the lights.
When I was a child, This when Dad opened the mysterious opening in the hallway ceiling and wrestled the the large cardboard box down the ladder that contained the limbs for the aluminum tree. The limbs were packed in rows from the longest to the short toppers. Both Dad and Mom would place the pole and stand in the front picture window. Starting at the top each limb was inserted into the main stem with a hook end to keep it in place. Mom had a large number of silver and blue ornaments that she used to decorate the tree. Dad would check the large flood light with a rotating wheel of four colored panels. When turned on the panels of red, blue, yellow and green lit up the tree reflecting on the metal. No other lights could be used because the metal may cause a spark.
We were the only family to have such a modern tree. I suspect that my Grandpa Cliff had the tree at the family electric shop and couldn’t sell it. It became a part of our families Christmas decor.
A small manger was set on a side table with miniature figures. Brother Mike made the wooden building to hold the Holy Family. Next to the manger a white church that originally had a small light to highlight the stained glass church windows. The church had a music box that played , “O Come All Ye Faithful.”. I would to wind the church to hear the carol and sing along.
Dad attached an aluminum strip of lights to outline the front doorway. The large window was outlined with multi colored lights. The blue spruce and the front electrical light in the yard was outlined with lights.
A wreath on the door completed the decorating. Later, when the evergreen shrubs grew, they were festooned with multicolored lights as well.
With memories put aside, I will compose the Christmas letter to include in each Christmas card. The letter will include news from the past year with hopes for the new year. Keep that Holiday Spirit alive.
***. Poem
Bells
Bells, bells bells, can you hear the bells?
In the morn, they call to worship.
A fire bell rings at noon.
The tinkling of the wind chimes plays a wind tune.

Bells, bells bells, can you hear the bells?
The ringing of the school bell even on a break.
The back up warning on a car.
Without hearing them, we can not go far. Bells, bells, bells, listen for the bells. backup warning from a car.
Carolaspot@aol.com
copyright 12-1-25

This year, our Thanksgiving table will be short of people, but full of memories.
My first memory of a gathering was at my Mother’s family.With four sisters and two brothers, it was quite a gathering. It usually occurred on the Sunday before Thanksgiving. My family gathered at my Mother’s parents along with aunts, uncles and many cousins to share grace, passed dishes and carry on several conversations at one time. The laden table stretched from the china cabinet in the dining room through the doorway and spilling into the living room. Several sized tables were cobbled together to form a large eating area. We sat in family clusters with adults keeping tabs on toddlers and babies. Grandma Cathrine and Grandpa Al presided at the table’s ends. Grandma near the kitchen to bring and distribute warm entrees. Before the meal, each adult and child was expected to verbalize what they were grateful for. When it was my two year old brother’s turn, he stated he was grateful that the prayer was over. Card games, conversation and coffee completed the evening. Sleeping children were carried to cars for the trip home.
The Thanksgiving meal at my Dad’s parents was much smaller. It included two aunts and one uncle along with my family and Grandma Jenny and Grandpa Clifford. There I had my first taste of mince meat pie. My brother Craig, told me that the pie was made from mice, but I tried it anyways. I learned not to trust my brother when it came to food.
If the Detroit Lions were playing and the game was close, all the men and my brothers took their plates to the living room to watch the end of the game. Both families played a running background of parades and football games. Grandma Jenny, my aunts and myself cleared the table and started to wash the dishes. I was left to find my own entertainment. There was a box of toys in the front closet for us to play with. The box held tinker toys, Lincoln logs and a tin holder for marbles for Chinese checkers. We were expected to play quietly while the adults conversed.
One year, my Mother volunteered to host Thanksgiving. Aunt Pearl donated a goose that she had been given. I remember the goose was greasy and not flavorful. That was the first year we had had macaroni and cheese . It is still served in memory of that first and only goose meal.
This year most of the cousins are celebrating with their in laws or close friends. I have found that my brothers are babysitting dogs, hunting or making phone calls to family members. On Face call or videos, another layer of memories are added to the family foundation.
John and I wish you a Blessed Holiday filled with memories.
*** Poem Passings
It seems like yesterday,
I was sitting at the kids table.
Reaching for another large olive and slippery Jack pickle.
Dessert was whipped cream covered, usually a wedge of pie.
We drank sparkling juice or Vernors pop.
Bowls of salty nuts and mints offered treats before.the meal.
With heads bowed, grace was recited.
A loud amen signaled the great tuck in.
We all took a walk before coffee and dessert.
Now, we skip the big meal
Going straight for dessert and coffee.
Smiling, we remember and we are grateful for the memories.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted November 25, 2025

This week, while many are preparing for a large Thanksgiving gathering, John and I are climbing into the crawl space to pull out the Christmas decorations. We will inspect items for broken dolls, burnt out colored lights and age wear and tear on the artificial trees.
My next task is to think of a theme for the outdoor display. We have had a different theme for 29 years.
some of the displays have included bringing a tree on a sled, A 6 foot lighthouse with cross country skiers and an ice rink. Porch displays included the interior of a classroom, a Thanksgiving feast, cookie making and a visit to Santa with a working fireplace.
Many displays are tacky if seen up close, but seen from the road, they are enjoyed by neighbors and friends alike.
So my job, for now is to create a different scene for 2025. Any ideas?
Poem
Recycling Ideas
Year after year, items are pulled from boxes and tubs.
To be inspected, tested and placed in silent tableaus.
Dolls are dressed for church or bed.
Stars and twinkling lights are hung from rafters.
Plastic has grown white with light exposure.
Trees show needle loss,
I wonder how many themes I can make?
Maybe I will wait to see if there will be snow,
to add to the mix.
After all,
I have until after Thanksgiving…
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 11/17/25

The Great Lakes in general and Lake superior specifically, has spawned many mysteries and intrigue. The anniversary of the sinking of the largest iron ore freighter to work the Great Lakes shipping routes. It started it’s career on June 8th 1958 with many of the original crew on board at it’s demise in 1975.
The cause of the sudden quick loss of the large ship still is froth with mystery, but one theory after studying weather maps and satellite imaging from the time , date and location revealed two storm systems, one from the east coast and the other from Canada, converging in Lake Superior, near Whitefish Point as the Edmond Fitzgerald attempted to cross White Fish Bay, in sight of land. The crew and the ship were lost. Below is a fictitious account from the Ship’s cat, Jenny.
I am Jenny the ships cat and mascot of the Edmond Fitzgerald, the largest and fastest carrier on the Great Lakes. One of my duties, to keep the crew’s morale up while hunting for mice stowaways. Coming awake from my afternoon nap, I started my evening patrol. In the hull with a fat mouse in my teeth, I climbed the steps to the main living quarters, where my kittens were secure safe, behind the large cook stove. The two kittens, named biscuit and gravy, named for their coloring. One, sported several shades of browns. The other was a off white with specks of brown through out her fur. I fed and cleaned the kittens. Full of milk, they were soon asleep. Time for my shift.
First, I checked the bridge to find the captain busy reading charts and checking the radar. I rubbed against his ankle, he smiled as he scratched under my chin before returning to his work.
Other crew were taking readings of various pieces of equipment and were too busy for me.
I decided to go topside to assess the conditions. Snow and icy spray covered the deck. On the port side, the Whitefish Light house could be dimly seen through the gusting wind and pelting hail. I glanced to my left to see a large wave hurdling towards my ship.
Turning to retrieve my kittens, I was thrown to the starboard side. I noted with growing alarm, the groans and scraping of metal torn by the storm. The ship was breaking apart.
In the frothing waters, I could see an outline of a lifeboat. Though I feared water, I made a quick decision.
With all four claws open, I leaped from the sinking ship for the lifeboat and safety.

The Mighty Fitz

She was a grand lady.
Graceful, largest on the lake.
hatches, loosened in the storm cause water weight to form.
In less than ten minutes,
the Mighty Fitz was no more.
carolaspot@aol.com
Copyright 11/10/25

This is a list poem from the Carousel poetry group. It is an abecedarian poem. I started each line with a capital letter but no ending punctuation. Happy Fall.
Carol

Falling Leaves
by Carol Farnsworth
Aspen quake.
Birch blending
Cypress canopy,
Dangling dogwood.
Elderberries eaten.
Feverfew fronds
Gilded gourds
Hemlock rosy tips
Multi colored kale
Yellow linden foliage
Maple orange leaves
Nesting yellow nettles
Bronze oaks
Quaking lemon poplars
Rosie Sumac
Smokey tamarack
uveria vella coco seeds
Virginia creeper fiery
Willow holds leaves
Xylosma bus holly
Yucca creamy turns rose
Zinnias slow to be dormant
completing fall’s wardrobe.

carolaspot@aol.com

copyright 11-3-25

This week, I had a rude awakening with a visit to the Apple store. I thought we had sent up for a class on using my new I Pad. Showing up at the correct time, we were ushered to the training area to wait … and wait. We watched as customers came and left. Finally, John found an Apple clerk that was willing to help if I had any questions.
“How do you turn off the small touch screen on the keyboard?”
Because of the location of the screen, My index finger kept touching the screen changing where I was on the I Pad.
The Tech switched, tapped and scrolled through options
“Madam , I can make the screen need a tap instead of a touch but I can’t turn off the screen.”
“Really? I keep touching it. What do you suggest?”
“You could try to cover the screen with material”, the clerk suggested.
This was the only option offered, I thought aloud
“Get the manager.”
Thinking of my options, I whined,” What can I do to make this devise more user Friendly?”
The manager clicked and scrolled then used her phone to call another manager in the hierarchy of Apple’s store. I was given two numbers to call for Accessibility Support. I just wanted to disable a screen.
Now, I am discovering changes to the I Pad made during the help session at Apple. I wish I could go back to my old Non AI smart devise. Wish me luck!
*** Poem “I Get By With A Little Help From My Device”
I went to the experts, seeking advice.
“How do You disable this? Please advise.”
Swipe, tapping, scroll. What do they do?
“Cover the screen. That’s all you can do.”
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 10/27/25

In our small town, we have a centennial farm and market. We refer to it as Bos’s. There are 80 acres of crops and two green houses filled with plantings of vegetables and flowers from the farm’s abundance.
A trip to Bos’s must include a tour of the current offerings. In the center of the largest green house, you will find a golden feline named, Magnifacat. She reclines on the checkout counter, waiting to be stroked and admired. A warm shaft of sunlight encircles her body in a halo effect. She has held court six day a week, with Sundays off. After 20 years on patrol, She rests on her laurels. In those days, she was the mistress of her domain. For twenty years, she held court with customers and staff.
This spring, there was no graceful feline draped across the counter. Mr. Bos explained that Magnificat died in the winter. The green houses were not the same without her.
This fall, while visiting the market there was a new worker. A small juvenile milk chocolate cat examining my leg before continuing her patrol.
“Who is this”, I asked?
“This is Copycat.” was the answer.
The new cat was an offspring of Magnificat. Being younger and full of curiosity, Copycat roamed all the buildings, to meet and greet guest. In the evenings, She caught her share of mice that had taken up residence after Magnificat’s demise.
“But why the name Copycat?”
“We tried to find a name for her but nothing fit.”
One of the staff noticed the new cat patrolled the buildings like her mother before her. Except for the color, she was a clone down to her ability to catch mice. Hence, a copy of her mother’s behavior.

***. Poem
The Coronation
Magnifacat reigned for 20 years.
A much loved monarch, mice did fear.
A new generation will take her place.
Nimble feline, light on her paws.
Catching mice in her claws.
Like her Mother, she rose to take her place.
Long reign the Copycat.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyright 10/20/2025

On October 15, we will celebrate white cane day.   I have been a white cane user for many years. When I was first given a cane at the Rehab Center in Kalamazoo, if  I used it at all, it was as a walking cane. The cane was light weight and about 5 feet in length, solid. Unlike other schools, Western Michigan preferred the blind client to slide the cane’s metal tip across the sidewalk in front of the walker. The idea was a tapping cane could overlook a object on the sidewalk. A crack could catch the toe of an unobservant person. Since then, I have refined my cane use style and I use a folding cane.

   But those first trips  out with a cane found my cane folded and in my purse. One day, I was at a Mc’Donalds, I stood intending to use the restroom. Leaving my cane at the table, I felt my way to the wall and followed the wall to the restroom’s door. When I returned to retreave my purse and cane, I heard an employee remark.

   “Oh, I thought she was drunk.”

   After that, I had my white cane out and in my hand. It still took a long while to use the cane properly.

   When I was in Scotland, the sidewalks were narrow and raised from the road. Enthusiastically I swung the cane from left to right in a wide arch. People said nothing but jumped into doorways or into the road to avoid my cane antics.

   After my stroke, my cane was replaced with a heavy duty cane with a rolling ball. It helps with balance and not tripping on rough terrain.

   To this date, I own eight white canes. They can be found in the bike pack, hanging in the garage, folded by the front door and folded in my purse and knitting bag. I don’t leave home without one or more of them.

   This Halloween, the skeletons in my display will all have white canes as they travel the front yard to trick or treat. The adults will be kissing under an umbrella. a dog’s skeleton on a leash will be trailing behind the group. It is a great way to remind drivers that those goblins may be blind to cars as they collect treats.

*** Poem

Happy ghouls and goblins race.

holding bags with glow sticks encased.

Laughter echos down the street.

Loud shouts, “trick or treat”.

Orange carved pumpkins light the night.

Welcomes children, with candle fright.

Every porch light is lit.

Each offering a sugar fix.

Now midnight  is here.

Halloween is done for another year.

carolaspot@aol.com

copyrighted 10/13//25