I have spent two hours thumbing through books, searching folded pages and underlines, Googling around on love, loss, marriage, life-- to find a proper "thought" for Sunday 9-11. It's challenging. There's so much grief in the stories we are hearing and telling again today, that I had to turn off the radio. I can't stand it. I can't find anything that fits the way I feel.
Chip rode 100 miles for his 60th birthday on Saturday. (As he said, 'What I'd really like for my birthday is for us to ride a 100 miles') I think I told you that already. Also, he won't be 60 until next week, but he didn't want to miss his opportunity, weather wise or time wise, since moose season opens on the 15th.
"As I grew older, I realized I only had questions. For a long time this made me feel vulnerable and afraid, and then suddenly, as though I'd reached a kind of emotional puberty, it made me feel vulnerable and comfortable." - Anna Quindlen
I should have said, "September already?" (Tonight I'm looking forward to September's First Friday from 5-7 downtown, I saw John Hagen hanging his photography exhibit at Joanie's gallery, and there are new art pieces in the Howser's windows, too.)
I am still trying to get back in the dance of normal days after weeks of being here and yon. And now I'm running for assembly, which may seem crazy, but my not so sub-conscious motive is that then I will have to be home and so can't say yes to events that take me away. Plus, I care about this place and the people who live in it, and think I can help do better for us.
Yes, I am home from Tenakee, and was woken up this morning by a black and white domestic bunny rabbit thumping on the back door. He hopped under the greenhouse when I opened it. And last night we went to a wedding, in the warm evening out at the fairgrounds, full-- just full-- of young people and little children and laughter and dancing and old friends and new, my beautiful daughters and beautiful granddaughters-- and I thought, well, all is very, very right with the world.
I'm on my way to Tenakee Springs, a tiny village on an island south of here, to see my friends Teresa and Larry, and meet with the Tenakee Springs book club. I have also packed flip-flops for the bath. That's the public bath house with a natural hot springs pool where, as I hear it, everyone bathes-- there are women's hours, men's hours, family hours-- and I bet some after hours...Anyway, Teresa said to bring flip flops, because that's all you wear.
Bruce Weber, a long time New York Times obituary writer, said goodbye in a retirement column today with this observation that rings true even for my work in the much smaller Chilkat Valley News:
From Rilke's Book of Hours, shared with you after hearing it read on the radio this morning...
I circle around God, around the primordial tower.
I've been circling for thousands of years
and I still don't know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?