Monday, June 06, 2011

future trips

I ask Ed – are you sure you don’t want to go to Poland with me next winter?
Why not?
(I’ll not provide his answer, lest you might think -- hey, that's not a fair response. I don’t want that.)


Something that sticks in my mind:
Two years ago, I say to an innkeeper on the Isle of Skye: I am so sorry that we are here for just this short stretch.
He tells me – it was good that we met. Fate may have it that you will return.
I have not returned. What does that say about fate?

night update, from the northern Midwest

I say to Ed: it’s hot upstairs. Must be nearly 100.
Did you open windows? -- he asks.
What’s the temp outside now? (Nearly 11 pm)
Ah. So less than 100. I’ll go open more windows.

wheels are churnin’

...on the hottest day thus far.

And you know what? I love it. A sun that heats the earth quickly and forces me to turn the hose onto newly planted stems -- it's okay, it's okay!

DSC07210 - Version 2

A few things to note on this day:

I decide to pay attention to Facebook. I had joined early on. Daughters -- they thought I should. But I basically ignored it. If someone “friended me” I mostly said OK, but I never posted, never logged in, never even noticed it – with the exception of those long evenings when I moonlighted at the little shop, and a minute of reading a social network felt less lonely, less like I was constantly trekking on some mill that was too fast, too distant from where I wanted to be.

So today I actually posted something. Not anything significant, in fact not anything an Ocean reader wouldn’t have already seen here, but still. Kind of cool to limit yourself to a sentence or two. A different style of writing – another challenge.

Then, too, it was hot.


I grade exams – I have to. This isn’t about self imposed deadlines anymore. Ed and I are taking off this Thursday. We have a lot to do before then.

And I look around me and I think – good, this is good. I have plans. I have a path to those plans. It’s good.

We pick up my older girl at the airport. She’d been away for the week-end and the blast of warm air catches her by surprise, I think.

And late at night, I listen to Beatles music. In Poland, when I was in my teens, I challenged myself to sing in exactly the right diction/intonation/breath intakes as on the Beatles records that I had from my years in the States. You should hear me do Fool on the Hill! I knew every pause, every upswing, every hesitation!

I’m 58. So many decades since a high school classmate would ask me -- sing Strawberry Fields! Sing your favorite Beatles song! Let me take you down...

Many people can trace their childhoods, their friends and family through Facebook. I cannot, really. There are very few people from my past who are on Facebook. My ignited interest in it is a nod to the future, not to my past.

But there will always be the Beatles. My bags are packed. I’ve said good bye to all my American friends. I turn on the old box that plays 33s for me. There are places I remember...