PMed my dear friend, Aline, in Jersey, to ask when a convenient time for a phone call would be; we decided on 4:00 my time, 7:00 hers.
I walked to Rinco Restaurant on Ashwood Avenue to meet Vera for lunch. It's just under two miles, so a healthy distance and, since it was another lovely day, very enjoyable. . Vera got there and we had some good, insightful talk. She's having great difficulty with her son, who's 20 and lives in Oregon, and her daughter, who lives here. He has become a Trumpite, and a QAnon, it seems, and believes in all kinds of conspiracy theories. Her daughter is 18 and has had some serious physical and employment problems.
I like Vera so much. She's one of my younger friends, to whom I often relate more easily than I do to those my age. Vera is in her early forties and has decided to go back to college to get a degree in nutrition. I told her I didn't get my B.S. until I was 54, had a husband and four children, and worked full-time. It took me 22 years and it was one of the best things I ever did. She was thrilled to hear that.
Vera dropped me at The Market, where I got blueberries and mushrooms, as well as Fathers' Day cards for the sons, son-in-law, and Greg. After busing home, I addressed and mailed them. As I was walking back to my apartment, I ran into my neighbor, Olivia. Olivia has a germ phobia, which she freely admits, and we talked about her difficulties with that and depression for a half hour or so.
I called Aline at 4:00 and we had a wonderful chat. She was very much interested in Ganna, Jim, and his love of opera. Later, Suzanne stopped in to tell me about her three-day trip to her brother's in San Diego.
Started reading Ganna's Always Room At The Top, which is a book hard to describe. Her writing style is a kind of a juvenile, self-indulgent, third-grade level, roves all over the map, and is disjointed to say the least. Somehow, though, it's intriguing. At this point, Ganna has moved from Poland to America and meets her first husband, the doctor. A later one, the Russian prince, has already been introduced, but I'll have to wait to find out when it's his turn in the five--or is it six?--spouse derby.
I called Jim to tell him I was reading it and we had a good talk; also, he'll be over for lunch tomorrow. He told me his love for opera happened when he was in high school in San Francisco. Maria Callas had sung there, he saw her and, with others, went backstage to ask her to sign his program. She refused, but told the group to leave them with their names on them, then pick the up the next morning at the Fairmount Hotel, where she was staying. He went by himself the next day, asked at the desk, and yes, there was his program with her signature. As he was turning away with it, he saw Callas and her husband walking nearby. She saw him and, for an instant, seemed startled as if, maybe, she thought he was a stalker. But then she smiled and said hello. He was so awe-struck, he couldn't answer.
Jim said he wrote something about Callas and he'll try to find it and bring it tomorrow. He said it wasn't that her voice was that terrific--Joan Sutherland's and others were better--but that no matter what she said or sung, you believed every single word.
Note to myself: Finally, I was able to transfer dough from BOA to Vanguard; confirmed.
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