Has My Mind Been Blank Lately?

Comfort in Trees

Word came last night of the son of friends, dead at age 27. We could not take it in. We recalled the boy as an infant and a toddler, his first birthday, friends cheering as he crossed the room with lurching baby steps and a big grin. “If he falls down, will he cry?” I asked. Our friend, answered, “He never falls. We always catch him.” David speaks on the phone with his old friend. The parents are stunned, hardly yet comprehending. Will they ever? How can anyone?

At three a.m. I wake in the dark, the place where death and loss begin to take shape. I remember this from other times and know that what I feel is the palest reflection of the pain that stabs our friends. As they come out of numbness, their minds will begin to thrash about the cell of grief, seeking escape. 

Two things come to me--and this is only for me, not a recommendation: First, images of trees, both outdoors, in the snow, and on the pages of the drawing books I pored over before going to bed. Dead or alive, trees do not try to explain anything: they simply are. Ritual words and words of wisdom come, too, but not as explanation—only as formulae, to be chanted silently over and over.

 ...Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis.

The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao....

These phrases repeat themselves over and over in my head, a disjointed litany spoken against the branches of trees.

To Be an M&M or an Olive

I don’t mean to limit the choices to two. They are infinite, of course. What I’m getting at is knowing what you want to be, who you want to be, and then not expecting to reap the benefits of a life not chosen.

There are times when we all want to have it both (or multiple) ways: Remain free and make the commitment; try something new and remain where we’re comfortable; take the easy way out and stay with the challenge and hop on and off the ferris wheel while it’s still going around, etc., etc.

The olive business is something I heard many, many years ago. It was someone (maybe on the radio) describing himself or herself (I no longer remember which) that way. We’re talking about a green olive, the kind that puckers your mouth, an acquired taste, not for everyone.

The day may be fast approaching when being a bookseller will go in the same column with being a blacksmith. We are a vanishing breed, and (unlike the dinosaurs) we see our probable end drawing nigh. As for philosophers, they have always irritated nonphilosophers. There is nothing on which they will not weigh in with an opinion! Who asked them, anyway?

But I couldn’t be an M&M if I tried. I’m just grateful that there’s a place for green olives in my part of the world, a place where we are not only tolerated by even—but a few—appreciated! It is enough. I chose this path with my eyes open, and most days I look ahead with a happy smile.

The Mom and Pop Show

This would be a radio show originating in our living room. Pop would say, "Did you hear about that pepper spray incident?" Mom answers yes. Dad goes on, "I don't even know what an X-box is, do you?" Mom replies, "I have no idea." Pop observes that they are both "really out of it."

Is there an audience for this show?

Another Idea of Staggering Genius

How about strings of solar-powered holiday lights? The little 6-foot pine out at the edge of our acreage would look so pretty with lights on it in winter, but I can't see dragging extension cords through the fields. The lights wouldn't have to be bright-bright-bright. 'Glowing' would satisfy me.

Has anyone beat me to this idea and manufactured the product I want?

Multitasking That Works

I have discovered that I can, in fact, upload a very rich image via my slow home dial-up connection. It just takes a very, very, very, very long time. There is an upside to this. While the image is uploading, I can pick up a book and read. My eyes enjoy looking away from the lighted screen and resting on a printed page, and I am quite content to pass the time this way, rather than annoyed, irritated and impatient.

Best Thing I've Overheard All Year So Far

Might as well post this little story on my most neglected blog. Here goes:

The young man was standing on the sidewalk on Waukazoo Street, not far from my bookshop door. He was talking on his cell phone. As people do when talking on their cell phones, he was speaking loudly enough that his voice carried across the street (I had crossed on my way to Tom's Market), and I could hear every word he was saying:

"Get this! You won't believe it! Lake Michigan is so big you can't see the other side!"

This made me so very happy, a big grin broke out on my face, and I was still smiling in the aisles of the grocery store.