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.

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 recession
Not 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)

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.

~

Italian romance

Several years ago, I traveled to Italy - an artistic pilgrimage of sorts, to see Pisa, gaze at the mosaics of Ravenna and walk the streets of Florence.  As an art historian (in my other life) I  had always heard about Italian art and culture, so I felt obliged to go.  I even read all of the literature I could get my hands on - including travelogues by Frances Mayes, Henry James, etc.  

  

When I got there, what I discovered was something quite different from what I expected.  Certainly the "obligatory" art work was beautiful - but it was by no means representative of the collection at large.  I found extraordinary mosaics and sculptures and tapestries and architecture that were essentially ignored because they had no "name " attached to their provenance...and I found thousands of tourists clamoring to see all of the great and leaving the rest of the museums virtually unseen.  It was rather sad - that so much artistic angst and passion would go unnoticed.  I think my favorite was the statue of St. John in a palace museum near the river - the only one opened on a Monday. This casting of John was frail and entreating; not the robust neo-Hellenic or Renaissance representation of the saint as we tend to see him. 

I crossed the Ponte Vecchio, which still sports the 14th century merchant shops built after an enormous flood in 1333.  The entire bridge is covered with jewelry shops - ranging from the divine to the outlandish.  On the middle of the bridge there is a bunch of metal locks - hanging rather like grapes from the vine - each of them with the name of some couple who has visited and bridge and has "bound" their love together by attaching their lock to the cluster.  It is sweet and innocent and rather hopeful in a city which can sometimes seem a little jaded.  The best time to visit is early morning - without the tourists - or late at night, when the river mists over and the skies turn that lovely lavender and orange mix.   It was my favorite surprise in Florence, and there were many... 

 

Ravenna was beautiful.  A small town, loaded with history (prior capital of the Roman Empire rates some status I guess) and blessed with talent beyond anything I expected.  Whole churches were encrusted with azures and golds - the most illusory was the transfiguration of Christ at Sant Apollinaire de Classe - lots of imagery that I doubt the simple people of the 6th century would have understood.  I was also fascinated by the sheer effrontery of the mosaics of the emperor and empress in San Vitale - Justinian and Theodora - as they are depicted with popes and saints in the altar of the church.  It says a great deal about the separation of church and state for the period.  Most people just thought they were interesting, but did not consider the implications. 

My Italian journey made me want to return to college for my PhD in Art History so that I could teach my own art history curriculum:  "Art History for non-conformists" or Art History for the politically challenged."  Maybe in a few years you will see me as the guest lecturer at the National Gallery leading non-sheep through the halls and listening to them spout opinions about little known Renaissance artists. 

One final note about the place I stayed in Pisa - Santa Croce di Fossabanda ( an old convent )  - I stayed in one of the novices rooms - very Spartan, overlooking a courtyard.  It was just what the doctor ordered.  Quiet, charming, close to the river, and utterly disarming.  There was even an old and venerable rabbit who watched over the place - one which would perhaps have caught the eye of Albrecht Durer in his search for the perfect rabbit to draw.  Of course, all I could think of was Monty Python...."It's just a bunny...but it had HUGE teeth...."  The mind can produce the most perverse turn to even the most idyllic of moments.

The trip to Italy was challenging, enlightening, and a bit tiring.  I think it warrants a second visit - maybe a stay of two weeks or so - to soak up the culture and really understand why Tuscany is what it is.  Then perhaps I may never want to leave - between the sun and the passion for life which Italians seem to embrace, it would be intoxicating..... 

Stretching the mind

This week has been a whirlwind of guest lectures, new ideas, and mind-bending. Michael Stephens (www.tametheweb.com) helping to envision the library of tomorrow. Fenella France (www.loc.gov) using new cutting edge technologies to conserve yesterday's treasures at the Library of Congress. Possibilities...new frameworks... shifting paradigms.

We were warned when we began the journey toward that PhD that it would be life changing, but I never imagined that it could be life-giving. Despite the new challenges, the lack of sleep, and the constant second-guessing, I realize that I am becoming a new person. All of the years that I have spent being told that something was impossible, now I am being given the freedom to explore the unthinkable - and imagine it into fruition. It is like my own personal Enlightenment movement, and I love it!

Notes to my sister

My sister passed away October 2009 at the age of 58. She struggled with oral cancer for several years, so her death was a mixed blessing - no more suffering for her, but a tremendous loss for the rest of us. These are the notes I wrote to her in the months following her death.

October 27, 2009
Hello my seestor. I miss you so much it hurts. They say that will go away after a time, but it's too soon, I guess. So we get through day by day. It's Tuesday, and it is raining here on the pond; autumn is in full swing. You would have loved it here in the fall. The trees form a brilliant wreath around the edge of the pond and explode into abstractness when the wind ruffles the water. You should be here to see this. Wherever you are, I hope there is autumn...and scottie dogs... and red jeeps that climb high into the mountains on snowy days. Rest peacefully and know you will always be loved.

November 1, 2009
It's Sunday - my birthday today. I just saw that ridiculous bear that you sent last year - it's still sitting on the chair by the window. Every year for 50 years you were there to make birthdays more unusual, more delightful. I'll miss that. I miss you. But it's getting easier each day to deal. Each day is a new lesson in humility and humanity. That's perhaps the most important gift you have ever given, but with the highest price.

November 8, 2009
To her friend, Nicole... "it always feels a little weird writing here, but it has helped with the grieving - in some way I know she can read this and know what's in my heart. It's been a month, and it's a bit easier to get through the day without getting "verklempt." But it's still just under the surface. She and my Dad went at the same time, and I am inthe process of cleaning out his house - there are reminders of them both everywhere. :P"

November 30, 2009
Thanksgiving was not the same without you and Dad this year; we had turkey and roasted root veggies. Nothing traditional. It seems to be getting a little easier to get through the day without finding a million things that remind me of you. But today a trip to Barnes and Noble was particularly difficult - Irish music, Scottie dogs, Christmas elves, and calendars of Ireland. Every cup of DD coffee, Earl Gray tea, or Irish Whiskey brings you into my thoughts. Miss you today, my seestor.

December 9, 2009
Yesterday, I wondered if you knew just how important you were in this life. You gave life to so many people through your work; you brought strength to those who were suffering. You were the validation of my memory. You gave a wonderful legacy to your children. You taught your grandchildren to knit. :)
Each of us has such a special place in this life. I often wonder how often we realize how valuable we are to the people around us. Today, you are helping me remember how important it is to go forward and do good in this world. That each of us is important. I love you and miss you and appreciate your life.

December 13, 2009
It has been an emotional day - writing Christmas cards, telling everyone Merry Christmas, remembering that you and Dad won't be there to share it this year. Made me sad. But I remembered good Christmases past, and that there will be better years to come. All part of the cycle.By the way - I found out that I passed all of my classes... 2 As and a B. There were days this semester when I could barely get out of bed, but I knew that if I gave up you or Dad would haunt me forever. lol. So I made it - no incompletes, no bad grades, no nervous breakdowns. Life is pretty boring when you decide to suck it up and handle whatever life sends you... But I guess you already knew that, huh?

December 24, 2009
Tomorrow is our first Christmas without you around - I hope to find a copy of the Leroy Anderson Christmas album to play in your honor... Dashing through the snow... Merry Christmas, my seestor. We will miss your smile this year.

January 17, 2010
This will be my last post, I think. It has helped to have a place to air my thoughts - even though you haven't necessarily been able to read them, there were things which just needed to be said. In May you will have been 59 years old - just one year shy of the big 6-0. It would have been nice to celebrate another decade or two with you, but I guess that's out now. I'll have to find a way to party on by myself. :) So - Happy 2010, my seestor. Say hello to all of the ancestors for us. Rosie and Clarence, Senora and Granny, and all of the Reeley, Curry and Hudgins clan who have passed before. Love and honor to you all.

Dying from the cure

.
It has been said that fate forces us to revisit those situations that cause us the most difficulty. The theory is that by continuing to be exposed to this problem, we will eventually learn how to deal with it. So that obnoxious guy that you seem to have as a neighbor - no matter where you move? It is ordained by God that you live next to this jerk for the rest of your life, or until you learn to deal with his antics.

Personally, I have another theory. Being repeatedly exposed to these situations is a little like being stabbed over and over, hoping that you will somehow get used to it and miraculously heal. Right. In my humble opinion, that is not a good recipe for healing or growth. It's just painful and fatal.

My advice is to stay away from the idiot who lives next door. And try not to live near people with Bowie knives. If we avoid trouble, there's nothing to heal from. If you must face it head on, get it over with, then find a good shaman. :)

Just a thought.