An unthemed blog of thoughts and mutterings. Join me for a few mutterings of your own.
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I remember the Honda I had in San Francisco in 1967--that's me on it--my husband Pietro borrowed it--totaled it--and his leg was crushed in the accident. He was told he would never walk again. I'd been intending to leave him, but felt obligated to stay and take care of him. When he started getting better, I told him I was going to leave and took a razor blade and cut his throat from ear to ear (careful not to cut too deep)--and I stayed again.
I remember my grandmother in her garden picking pole beans. Her soil was very black and had mica in it and sparkled. Her house was tiny, neat as a pin, pink and white on the outside. We sat on her porch warm summer evenings. the neighbors would come by and chat. I would take the soda bottles any beer bottles to the corner store and come back with an ice cream cone or a hot fudge sundae, if there were enough bottles. I slept in the same narrow bed with my grandmother, who was very fat.
I remember my father singing cowboy songs to us. He played cowboy movies on the old 8 mm movie projector. He made funny faces when he blew out his birthday candles.
I remember my father annoying us by telling us our beautiful baby girl had a square head. HE had a square head. Years later, his great grandson was born--with a square head. Now I get to be annoying in his place and say that.
I remember taking Scott Carter camping at Bear Swamp, bushwhacking in, finding a cool place by a creek for the tents, and bushwhacking back to the car and being surprised that he was surprised that I could find my way there and back.
I remember camping alone in the Mountains in Colorado, driving my little Ford Escort wagon up dirt jeep roads and waking on the day I had to leave to go home to find it had snowed and the roads were dangerously treacherous.
I remember sailing with Rebecca in her husband David's lovely sailboat from Victoria BC into US waters and back, stopping to hike on an island, and being both horrified and disappointed to hear she was having an affair--and shortly after I returned home from the visit, receiving word she had died of cancer--very suddenly. I didn't even know she was sick. And embarrassing myself by not remembering her youngest son, who wrote to tell me. :-(
Oh, my ten minutes are up, and my mind was full of images. This comes from a Natalie Goldberg exercise posted by Alex. I enjoyed her "I Remember" memoir story and several of the others I read. I LOVE Natalie Goldberg, but have not yet read that book. (For more info, go to Alex, link below).