I recently saw a picture from the Library of Congress that reminded me of visits to my grandmother's house in Foxwells, Virginia.
Whenever the family would get together, we would gather around the kitchen table - that should be tables - for dinner. We'd slide every available table into the kitchen/dining room/living room of that old Victorian house and share a meal that was as fresh as you could get - vegetables from my grandfather's garden, plus fish, oysters, or crabs caught that morning from the Chesapeake Bay by my uncles, my Dad, and my grandfather.
If there were too many people, which meant more than 18 adults, the kids would be sent to the children's table to eat. My Mom's family was very close, so we'd see cousins from all 4 of her siblings families. If it was just family, we could have 12 adults plus 11 kids. There were always extras because friends and extended family would tag along. It was chaotic and wonderful. Everybody pitched in to cook, clean fish, peel potatoes, shell peas. Clean up was always done by the wives, and the men would go out to do something in the yard or clean up the fishing tackle from the morning's catch. It was a good life.
Those days are long gone, and the house has been sold. But somewhere, that tradition is being carried on by another generation, another family, who will leave lasting impressions of love and warmth for the next generation. We should never underestimate the power of family and simple pleasures.
This is part travelogue, part pensieve - a place to hold memories of places past. It is not meant to be anything resembling artistic or perfect. Like memories, these entries are laced with odd thoughts and bits of twine, and an occasional factoid. I hope that readers will forgive the inaccuracies of an aging mind.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Prayer of Peace...June 26, 2013
The elders have come to share the Cheyenne prayer of peace with
the people of the Little Bighorn. As
they sit down and prepare the pipe, a light mist starts to fall on the
ridge. Leather ties sealing the bag
become slick with raindrops; it takes a long time to open the bag and retrieve
the ceremonial pipe. The bowl must be
filled with the special tobacco, blended by hand then soaked in a broth to
stave off the dry throat that comes with too many ceremonies.
Each sacred leader has his own
pipe and his own bag. The leader of this
group has made one with sky blue beads and the Marine Corps emblem. It reflects his heritage as a Cheyenne and a
warrior – serving two nations, and one.
Softly they chant the prayer and speak the words to the heavens – this ceremony
started by Austin Two Moons. It continues
with this 4th generation of prayer warriors.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Minnows
Little things can evoke such vibrant memories.
One morning, I had to empty the ice bin into the sink. As the cubes melted, they reminded me of minnows... the small, silvery ones that we used to catch on the Chesapeake Bay when I was little.
We used to take stale bread down to my grandfather's dock and put it into a wire minnow net - basically 2 pieces of large bore screening sewn together. There we would slowly let the net into the water, watching the minnows swim up to the bread. When there were about 25 fish inside, we would pull up the net and watch the minows wiggle and jump around in the net. We did this time after time until we had enough minnows for Dad and Pappap to fish with.
All of those years ago - I never thought once about what happened to the minnows, or the fact that they were going to be bait. It was just part of the life cycle of a fishing community. You fish, you eat. There was no catch and release back then... we needed all of the food we could get to feed the large family that gathered at my granmother's table. Homemade veggies, pull-cakes, and the freshest fish you could ever hope for. Life was good.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Recession
I saw an old woman
With white helmet hair and skinny polyester slacks
Get out of a Buick at the local pawn shop
She looked pinched or sad or somehow helpless.
Across town,
hundreds of cars were parked at the mall
Recession? Ain’t no recessionNot as long as I got credit cards.
I can buy a puffy jacket and skinny jeans
Tease my hair up in some sort of helmet shape
Paint my face
To show that sort of
pinched or sad or somehow helpless look…
You know, like those models on TV.
~
DAY TWO
(For Susan)
Anger and depression
You screamed at the dishes
And cursed the grass
Just for growing.
It was exhausting.
On day two, reality sets in.
The house echoes with
Every loving word ever spoken-
With the last fight you had
The silence pounds at you
You get a headache
(the hangover doesn’t help}
You cry yourself to sleep again.
Day three, time for work
You can’t face it, so you go back to bed
with the latest designer drug and an extra blanket
This could be your life
Avoidance, pain, regret
It would be so easy – no responsibility
Maybe if he sees how sad
How pathetic
How lonely you are,
He’ll come back.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
~
It’s easier to start here
Day one was a blur of Anger and depression
You screamed at the dishes
And cursed the grass
Just for growing.
It was exhausting.
On day two, reality sets in.
The house echoes with
Every loving word ever spoken-
With the last fight you had
The silence pounds at you
You get a headache
(the hangover doesn’t help}
You cry yourself to sleep again.
Day three, time for work
You can’t face it, so you go back to bed
with the latest designer drug and an extra blanket
This could be your life
Avoidance, pain, regret
It would be so easy – no responsibility
Maybe if he sees how sad
How pathetic
How lonely you are,
He’ll come back.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
~
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