Monday, August 24, 2009

Another Revisiting Session

This evening I went and walked around the yard of the place I moved out of 17 years ago, with the owner not home. I didn't go in the barn, though, just peeked in. The owner as much as said I could come any time, but I was hoping he'd be home so I could go in the barn and maybe even the house.

I oohed and ahed over different trees that are slightly more rugged now but mostly the same... and a dip in the ground that I suspect is the remains of a garden I dug... because my idea of digging a garden was to jump on the shovel to cut out squares of sod, then pick up those squares of sod and stack them to the side. There also may be a nest of marbles in that spot.

Some part of me even imagines that somewhere in the house is still a little matchbox police car that plays a siren when you press the wheels. Because in our last few months there, I lost track of that car, which was by far the coolest matchbox car we had. And I latched onto the idea that, certainly when we moved, it would turn up because all the furniture would be pulled away from the walls, etc. But I wasn't home when the final move was made.

I would really really love to walk around inside the barn. I don't have to, though. By walking around the yard, and barely peeking in the barn door, I am assured that my memories of the barn are sound. They are so whole, that it's almost as good as if I actually did get to go in there.
It's just unbelievable to me that our minds can store such vivid realities into memory. The entire property could have been, say, burned to the ground. And there my memory would be, uncertain, but there. But it just so happens to be there, almost exactly like it used to be, and so my memory is verified.

I left a gushy note in the owner's mailbox thanking him for making the place beautiful again, briefly cataloging my walk around the yard. Because there are certain ideals I hold regarding community and human interaction, and one part of that embracing Narrative as a natural part of communication. The mother in me says "even if it weirds people out, there are less detectable, but more long-term, good effects."

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Portrait of a Marriage

by Pearl Buck.

I'm sitting here recovering.  I never weep for books.  For years I haven't even been reading much.  But I picked this up at a book sale a few weeks ago, and started it this morning on the way to work (my sister was driving).  I read it at break, and lunch, and break, and when I got home from work I didn't get past the first couch in the front door, but sat down and read the rest of the book for another three hours.  It's not a fairy tale, and yet it is.  It's a genuine fairy tale, in all its small tragedies and wonders of beauty.  Some folks were outside choosing a kitten to take off our hands.  My sisters asked if I was going to the coffee shop to play Dutch Blitz, and I said Maybe.  Mom called "supper" and I didn't come.  And as the last chapters wound up, I just sat there with tears running down my face, and they are still, and I'm not sure exactly why. 

But it feels so good to cry.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

non sequiter(z)


Sometimes it gives me deep satisfaction to sport a pen-ink tattoo on my arm.  A whole sleeve, even.  But I don't happen to want a permanent tattoo.  Actually, impermanence is what I love about such "tattoos".  And hair dye, too--eventually that goes away.  Things like that.  Today I have a long curly flame down my arm.

Random notes accumulate on that limb throughout the day; while I'm scanning I don't have time to write thoughts or to-do's in a proper place.  Besides, my arm stays with me.  It's always fun after work to decipher the symbols & abbreviations I used.  Like, what does "wb list" mean? I knew it wasn't Warner Bros, or water balloon... finally my sister said, "White board?" and I said Yes! I was reminding myself to buy or research the items I'd written on my white board.

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I have a pair of sturdy hiking sandals I bought spring of 2008.  I broke them in and wore them on the 150 miles (250 km) I hiked in Spain.  <--Unforgettable.  I still wear the sandals for walking; running not so much.  They stink terrible.  Just like nacho cheese doritos (I kid you not).


The route I walk here--a block on your basic county grid--may not be special because I've lived here most of my life, but there are some absolutely perfect views of Northern Indiana farmland, & a little lake.  I was joking with my sister today as we walked.  "If we were on a country road in England, we'd be oohing and ahing about that hilly pasture over there.  We'd say, "Look at that weird tree root!"  "Oooh, look at that farmhouse--we should move here!"  "Ooh, look at the cows!"  Yeah.  We pretty much would.  








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I own about seven movies.  They are all enjoyable in their own ways.

The Sheik (& The Son Of The Sheik)--ancient silent films!!! Starring Rudolph Valentino, long forgotten, once so adored.  He died very young.  A must see, as a curiosity, if you've never watched a full-length silent film.  There is so much culture (American entertainment in 1921; their romanticized views of Arabic culture, and what faces made movie stars.
Everything is Illuminated-- Apparently this movie is only the shell of the book, but I think it's better that way.  A poignant story.  The soundtrack includes great jewish/russian sounding music.  And hilarious quotes.
Lucky Break--Nobody's heard of this one... It's about a couple guys in jail for being dumb criminals, and their plot to escape, involving the jailbirds putting on a musical written by the prison warden...for the community... and the main character falls in love with the anger management teacher.
Nim's Island--got it cheap, enjoyed it.  Fun kid's movie.
The Flying Scotsman--got it cheap at the same time as above.  First movie besides Mansfield Park in which I've seen Johnny Lee Miller.  It's sort of a documentary about a guy breaking a biking record, but it's a story, and as such, endearing.
Benny & Joon--it's just one of those movies you've gotta see sometime.
Music Man--Bought it last Saturday at a book sale.  Haven't seen it since I was about 6.

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things I cannot fully be as long as I wish I could be all of them:

a painter
a history teacher
a concert pianist
an wilderness trip leader
a psychologist
an author
a computerized music composer
an actress
an apologist
a plant biologist
a landscaper
an accountant
with fluency in Spanish, German, Welsh, Scottish, Pidgin.

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stream of conscious poem written at an outdoor concert.

clouds sail in past
the taller buildings in town.
And the band in Freiman's Square
sings for all weather.
It's a smalltown city I can see
by the everyday folks gathered.
No freak show of individuality--
just ordinary folk gathered to
enjoy Sunday afternoon.
People find their way--
but I won't give credit
to evolution for that.
Hats.  They dazzle.  They awaken
the mind to a personality.
A child dances freely,
but abandons the dance to
splash in the fountain--carefree.

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If you are reading this, I hope you
have a fantastic day tomorow.
rest on God's amazing grace more every day.
thank somebody you love for being there.
Sleep well.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Garage sale of thought

Because I went to the bank this morning, and because "childhood home benefactor" did not return my call to see if today was a good time to stop by, I ended up in Pierceton Blue Lion for a couple hours eating my lunch of oreo cheesecake and chattering with my friend Esther.

Because the town was in the middle of "Pierceton Days" we walked over to a book sale in front of the library (a lovely little Carnegie that I remember from oh so little, and the smell and cool dimness)...  And I bought 23 books and a VHS of "Music Man" for $8.75.  Children's books.  McBroom (Sid Fleischman) and Dr. Seuss and many others that are just as lovely but less-known.

Then my redheaded Bex-sister turned up, which is funny because we do not live in that town.  But she had been helping some friends with a garage sale, I guess.  She led us back to that place (the residents thereof being my reason not to go to a Downhere concert next week!).  Mrs. said in a very entrepreneurial spirit, "We have what you are looking for!"  And I bought, for $19.25:  a desk to refinish (my arms are jello now from sanding); a length of brilliant red Donagal Tweed, as well as a brilliant red/black plaid of the same; a winsome little cloth box for letters or mementos; and 6 cds, 5 of which are certainly worth the $1, one I just have no idea, looking rather indie/synth oriented.

It began to sprinkle as we headed back to Main Street to watch the parade.  A parade is a parade.. but I have to say that the awesomest part of this parade was the old men from the Lion's club zipping around in gokarts in a big figure 8!  But the shriners horse people did pretty cool stuff.  Uniforms &c.
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I am 24 and this year is already different than the last.