In Our Time

  I was foraging for something different to discuss today and stumbled upon a letter written long ago by a now deceased friend of the family.  She was vibrant and mischievous to the last; an example I clearly desire to emulate.  In her exacting script she wrote:

  Remember, old folks are worth a fortune, with silver in their hair, gold in their teeth, stones in their kidneys, lead in their feet, and gas in their stomachs.  I have become a little older since I saw you last and a few changes have come into my life since then.  Frankly, I have become quite a frivolous old gal.  I am seeing five gentlemen every day!  As soon as I wake up Will Power helps me out of bed; then I go to see John.  Then Charlie Horse comes along and when he is here he takes a lot of my time and attention.  When he leaves, Arthur Ritis shows up and stays the rest of the day.  But, he doesn’t like to stay in one place very long, so he takes me from joint to joint.  After such a busy day I’m really tired and glad to go to bed with Ben Gay.  What a life!

P.S.

  The preacher came to call the other day.  He said at my age I should be thinking about the here-after.  I told  him, “ Oh, I do all the time.  No matter where I am, in the parlor, upstairs, in the kitchen, or down in the basement, I ask myself,  what am I here-after?”

We are a clever lot; over time we’ve designed and invented a lot of effort saving devices; along with amusing entertainments.  But I’ve come to appreciate this much, none of them can replace a keen wit and unbridled humor…none.

Independence Day and Entirely Happy

  This morning I watched the news broadcast on all of the preparations for the Peachtree Road Race, a fourth of July tradition here in Atlanta.  I’ve met plenty of people through the years in this town who take great pride in running it every year; even during inclimate weather. The event and those who partake remind me once more of the drive and pleasure that resides in being part of something bigger then oneself; something meaningful.  

  When we celebrate the founding day of this great nation, a little bit of me falls under the power of that gravity as well; just as my wife, a native of Catalonia, beams at telecasts of rallies with thousands of her countrymen gathering together in the struggle for independence.  We live in a great age; an age to make a difference.  Gone for most of most of my countrymen the struggle to meet our daily needs to survive. That is not to say there is no lack; for lack is a perception of thwarted desires.

  For all the negative news concerning this country, and the problems paraded across the media in order to generate interest, one thing that is hardly ever discussed to any great depth is its awesome potential.  For good or ill we are a nation that embraces self sufficiency as a cherished value; and who demands the freedom to try; to become a crucial part ~ of something wonderful.  I close with a quote from Willa Cather; a woman who captured the zeal in getting real.

The earth was warm under me, and warm as I crumbled it through my fingers...I kept as still as I could. Nothing happened. I did not expect anything to happen. I was something that lay under the sun and felt it, like the pumpkins, and I did not want to be anything more. I was entirely happy. Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become a part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge. At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep.”
― Willa Cather, My Ántonia

Where We Make Home

  I just returned from visiting my boyhood home; an area when my sisters and my remaining parent still live.  My previous post addressed the alien like experience, coupled with a dreamlike recollection of places I use to know so intimately but now are changed.  After taking care of family business, and spending time with my loved ones, it was time to trek back to my home, Atlanta Georgia; or Hotlanta to some; and Oz of the South for me.  As my wife picked me up at the curb of baggage claim, and Oscar howled his welcoming 

   “We missed you soooo much daddy” 

  I continued to feel disjointed with my surroundings. That persisted for the rest of the evening and part of today.  We’re back into our routines now, and things are all in their familiar places; but I must comment on a stutter in my usual reflex motions towards those items I had grown so familiar.  

  It’s like I’m not fully adjusted to being ‘here’ from ‘there’ in the same way I experienced the familiar-but-not when I was ‘there.’ Feeling as if I were ‘here’ and looking for the common features to be present, but were not, 'there'.  How’s that for being as clear as mud?

  It’s official, tho, my wife refuses to let me drive during these periods of readjustment.  That’s for more than just my personal safety; it’s all part of her public service and civil responsibility to keep me from being an obstacle to my fellow citizens.  But with that levity aside, I am in a mental disoriented state and I would like to let it be known, that may very well be how I’ve grown to identify ‘home.’  I was toying with the notion that home was about the people in a particular place; and that much is obviously true.  Yet, I’ve come to appreciate, if only for this Spartan march of hours, that home has a lot to do with the routines and rituals within those conditions I mentioned.  The familiar is the key part of home.  Now, where did I put my wallet?