Stain-glass Eyes

Ice Skate Begins the tale.....  I posted a story earlier today. The beginning of the story came to me when I found an old Victorian-era ice skate while snorkeling yesterday.  I found it by a big rock in Lake Huron.  It was embedded in a few rocks and I had no idea what it was until it finally came loose. I'm a romantic, and I immediately began to imagine a story to go with the old thing.  I don't normally tell people what I'm conjuring up as stories, but I often make them up just the same. A few weeks ago my niece, Jenna and nephew, Brendan, went to the rocky shore with me.  They were up north from the city for a couple of weeks. We were looking down in the rocks and I found an old earring.  It was all rusted and bent.  I started a dramatic story with Jenna about how the girl who owned the earring died.  It started with the girl's boyfriend ripping her earring off and then killing her.   (That's why we only found one earring) As Jenna and I started finding o

She tried to fasten her thick leather straps for the fourth time. "I'm so tired of these things", she thought as she took her hands out of her muff and exposed her small hands to the windy, frigid air.  Again she slowly pulled out the buckle and tightened the strap around her brown boots, catching the strap on the boot's little hooks as she did.  She pulled the strap sideways as hard as she could. It wasn't easy to pull and keep from falling off the slippery rock she was leaning against. She forced the leather to stay still until she fastened the buckle.  "There", she groaned.  She quickly pushed her hands back into the soft rabbit fur before she adjusted the strap on her other ice skate. Heidi's father was postmaster in the small town of St. Ignace.  She had lived there her entire life. She had six brothers, she was the only daughter.  Her parents still treated her like a baby.  She was fourteen and had been skating since she was three.

Chess Room at Eyuboglu, Istanbul For years I have been privately singing the song, "Sealed With A Kiss" (Bobby Vinton), near the end of August.  I changed the words to say,                     "Now it's time to say goodbye to the summer,                      I know it's come to this, no matter if I try,                      I will long for the summer, sealed with a kiss".   I sang it to myself on the beaches of Lake Superior, Otsego Lake, Lake Huron, Lake Michigan and even my back porch.  I watched more and more bright orange, yellow and red leaves appearing in the green.  It was my way of taking time to shed a few tears for the changing of season and the inevitable Labor Day weekend, sealing the end of summer.  Not just the end of summer, but the end of time off from teaching.  Each time I grieved over the changes my family and I would have to make to adjust to another school calendar year. This season will be the second time since 1977 I won't h

One of Dad's Knot-Boards I am a member of a wealthy family.  We are rolling in riches.  We don't all have the equal ability to manage this wealth, but we all have this huge bank account available to us. We're very lucky to have such a wealth of family.  We're also fortunate to have such a wealth of memories to draw from that comes from family. (be it negative or positive)   The type of wealth we possess can never be stolen, repossessed or destroyed.  We can make a choice to destroy it, bury it, or hide it away in a locked safe, but that would be of our own doing. It it really hard to remain as neutral as I can with family and not take sides in issues families struggle with.  It is always difficult.  Family dynamics are complicated, but that's what makes them so wonderful.  I try to empathize with family members that have been hurt and alienated from past events. (because I have felt all of those emotions at one time or another myself in the past and it's

Purchased in Iceland, Translation, "Home Sweet Home" I've always hated buying water and soil.  Now I've added these to the list --- newspaper and boxes. I don't get a newspaper anymore. I had to buy "packing" paper.  I've been buying "packing" boxes, too.  I wanted them to be clean and uniform in size when I stack them.  I kept thinking, "Ew! Erwigs!!"  I didn't want to start out with boxes that have bugs in the crevices. So, I had to give in and put up the money for them. (There's no guarantee the boxes are "bug free" anyway, but it makes me feel better) I've spent hours and hours wrapping precious things of mine in bubble-wrap, tissue paper, Walmart packing paper, towels, sheets.  Whatever I need to protect that I've decided to come with me when I move.  Sounds tedious, but it isn't.  Every item I pick up I have to make a concentrated decision, "Take it or leave it." I'm going th

I'm poked with holes. They breathe and bleed simultaniously. Shaking and weeping, cringing and curling into a ball for sleep. My threshold of pain is not something I can predict.  A clay pot? Empty and ready? A heart? Warm and full? A brain connected to every nerve in the body? I could endure more if I was porous.  I might survive the intensity of pain. Each drip of blood able to move through the pulse. Or be strangled. When it's impossible to let go I could be a sponge. Each swirling crevice able to sustain the pregnancy of fat fantasies. Holding time at bay and still swelling to prevent reality from shattering me into tiny pieces. Lack of pain could be more painful.

Harry S. Madagame 1938-2009 I remember you. I'm spending today writing and thinking.  I got a call from Heidi this morning and it was total laughter to the point of tears. Her story of 2 bats in her bedroom and how she dealt with it was hilarious.  It was the message I was looking for today from Harry.  I should have known it would be the animation from Heidi that would make me feel Harry the most. I guess his "walking on" will never be complete.  It's a nice thought.

Brittany working alone on a busy Saturday. I'm sitting in Brother's in Gaylord.  The music---it's always good, like the coffee. Brittany is behind the counter cleaning things up.  They close at 4 p.m. on Sat. now.  It's 3:45. Wow, I will ever miss knowing this place is here.  It's an oasis.  I'm sipping on a huge yellow cup of chai.  The foam is still showing on the surface and I'm almost done. My favorite is the Mocha, but it's too late for the caffeine, I only slept a few hours last night.  The wifi here gives me a chance to check my e-mail and keep in touch. I ordered some roasted coffee beans to pick up tomorrow.  I told Heidi I would get her some before Brother's closes their door for good in about a week. A lot of hugs were given and received in this place over the years and they combined well with the hot coffee, scones, muffins, teas and the excellent staff working here.  I've always felt welcome and at home here.  It's