In my spacious (and yet counter-space limited) kitchen I have my friend Martha's bike. Martha was killed in June of 2012. For almost six years I have had this bike in my possession. It has been ridden some but not enough. It's a good bike, not cheap, not top of the line, but a good, sturdy bike. (Martha would not have had a bike if it were not on the level 6 or 7 on a scale of 10 of "bikes to be enjoyed on weekends.")
When the fires happened and there were so many people who needed a good bike (there were so many postings for just that reason) I thought of donating it to the company who was collecting bikes, refreshing them and giving them to folks who lost their bikes in the fire. I thought about it but I did not do it.
Now this bike is in my kitchen. It's a presence in my everyday life, of course, because it's right here, next to my little kitchen table. It goes without saying that it is a daily reminder of my excellent friend Martha. Am I hanging on to it for that reason? Do I think Martha will be forgotten if I let the bike go? Should I ride it more and would that make Martha happier? Or will she be happier if I give it a better home?
Martha was one of my best friends. I talked to her the night before she was killed and we made plans for the weekend she was supposed to return. I still miss her. And I still have her bike.
.
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Friday, May 25, 2018
The Immortalists" by Chloe Benjamin
When was the last time you stopped in the middle of reading a book because it was too good? When you reached a saturation point because all you did was think about the story and the characters and you knew you needed a break?
That happened to me halfway through "The Immortalists." I had read blurbs about this novel and from the first it seemed too quirky or pretentious for me. But my friend Jani told me to read it and she does not recommend books lightly. Oddly, it came to me within a week of putting it on my library request list and once I started reading, well, it was difficult to stop. But I made myself take a three day break for many reasons. One, I didn't want to finish it because I loved it too much. Two, I didn't want to finish it because I loved the characters too much and I worried about them. Three, I didn't want to read more about life, death, love, the connection of those three, the mere idea that perhaps we mortals could be complicit about when we die and the terrifying concept of that simple statement.
The story is simple, we follow four siblings from about the ages of ten until whenever, all completely different (as siblings often are) but all four of them connected by one creepy moment when they are barely into their teenage years. A fortune teller they go see on a lark tells them when they are going to die. (This is not a spoiler, it tells you this in the first sentence of the inside flap of the book.) For me, it wasn't this "life sentence" that made the story real, it was what each kid thought of that deadline that got under my skin, that made me wonder "... what if...?"
There are so many insights in this book about life, siblings, death, fate, God, love and hate and the unknown. I have copied paragraphs and paragraphs to read again and if I ever see this book on a sale table I will buy it because I already want to re-read it.
About parenting: "She understands the loneliness of parenting, which is the loneliness of memory - to know that she connects a future unknowable to her parents with a past unknowable to her child."
And about living alone: "The cost of loneliness is high but the cost of loss is higher."
About God: "Daniel's belief went willingly, logically, the way the boogeyman disappeared once you looked under the bed. That was the problem God: he didn't hold up to a critical analysis. He wouldn't stand for it. He disappeared.
.... In inventing God we've developed the ability to consider our own straits - and we've equipped Him with the kind of handy loopholes that enable us to to believe we only have so much control The truth is that most people enjoy a certain level of impotence. But I think we do have control, so much that it scares us to death. As a species, God might be the greatest gift we've ever given ourselves. The gift of sanity."
I guess what I am trying to convey is that this novel was so thought provoking for me that I want everyone to read it and have those same thoughts enlivened for them. That won't happen, of course, literature is so personal that one person's Shakespeare is another's Doonesbury. But there is insight to be gained in each of those. This book by Chloe Benjamin has stayed with me for days. It has made me think about life and death and redemption and the meaning of all of it.
Put it on your library list and when it appears on the sale table, buy it.
And I thank Jani for her strong recommendation.
.
That happened to me halfway through "The Immortalists." I had read blurbs about this novel and from the first it seemed too quirky or pretentious for me. But my friend Jani told me to read it and she does not recommend books lightly. Oddly, it came to me within a week of putting it on my library request list and once I started reading, well, it was difficult to stop. But I made myself take a three day break for many reasons. One, I didn't want to finish it because I loved it too much. Two, I didn't want to finish it because I loved the characters too much and I worried about them. Three, I didn't want to read more about life, death, love, the connection of those three, the mere idea that perhaps we mortals could be complicit about when we die and the terrifying concept of that simple statement.
The story is simple, we follow four siblings from about the ages of ten until whenever, all completely different (as siblings often are) but all four of them connected by one creepy moment when they are barely into their teenage years. A fortune teller they go see on a lark tells them when they are going to die. (This is not a spoiler, it tells you this in the first sentence of the inside flap of the book.) For me, it wasn't this "life sentence" that made the story real, it was what each kid thought of that deadline that got under my skin, that made me wonder "... what if...?"
There are so many insights in this book about life, siblings, death, fate, God, love and hate and the unknown. I have copied paragraphs and paragraphs to read again and if I ever see this book on a sale table I will buy it because I already want to re-read it.
About parenting: "She understands the loneliness of parenting, which is the loneliness of memory - to know that she connects a future unknowable to her parents with a past unknowable to her child."
And about living alone: "The cost of loneliness is high but the cost of loss is higher."
About God: "Daniel's belief went willingly, logically, the way the boogeyman disappeared once you looked under the bed. That was the problem God: he didn't hold up to a critical analysis. He wouldn't stand for it. He disappeared.
.... In inventing God we've developed the ability to consider our own straits - and we've equipped Him with the kind of handy loopholes that enable us to to believe we only have so much control The truth is that most people enjoy a certain level of impotence. But I think we do have control, so much that it scares us to death. As a species, God might be the greatest gift we've ever given ourselves. The gift of sanity."
I guess what I am trying to convey is that this novel was so thought provoking for me that I want everyone to read it and have those same thoughts enlivened for them. That won't happen, of course, literature is so personal that one person's Shakespeare is another's Doonesbury. But there is insight to be gained in each of those. This book by Chloe Benjamin has stayed with me for days. It has made me think about life and death and redemption and the meaning of all of it.
Put it on your library list and when it appears on the sale table, buy it.
And I thank Jani for her strong recommendation.
.
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
We both know what memories can bring: they bring diamonds and rust.
Because she is on her last music tour and because I have been a huge fan since the late 60's, I have been listening to and thinking of Joan Baez a lot lately. It's easy to download her music but I am old school and so get CDs out of the library to listen in my car. As her friend John Wasserman said, she had, in the 1960-1980's, the voice of an angel. Her range was huge and when she hit those floating high notes, well, yes, the angels were envious.
And then there are the lyrics and the emotion she conveys in every song. Listen (on youtube) to "Love Song to a Stranger" and tell me that you don't want to go back to being thirty years younger and sleep on a twin bed with a stranger. "Don't tell me of love everlasting and other sad dreams, I don't want to hear. Just tell me of passionate strangers who rescue each other from a lifetime of cares."
For me it has been years and years of Joan Baez. Not only have I admired her dedication to humanitarian causes and issues but I admire her honesty and her bluntness about her life, what she has done, what she has chosen and what she has ignored. But mostly I simply love her voice and her songs. I have seen her perform a couple of times and will see her in Oakland in late November for what might be the final night of her final tour. Her voice now is lower and has less range but it is still wonderful. I am looking forward to seeing her then.
As a side note, Baez has a son named Gabriel. He was born in 1969 so would have been 8 years old when my Gabriel was born. In the early 1970's I was in Muir Woods to see the redwoods, when it was accessible and easy to do so. I heard a mother say "Gabriel, stop!" the way mothers do and I turned to see a small kid, about six years old with crazy curly hair, stop at his mother's command. Could it have been Gabriel Harris? Maybe. I wasn't cognizant enough to turn to see who the mother was, but from that moment I loved that name. Thus, I have my own Gabriel.
.
And then there are the lyrics and the emotion she conveys in every song. Listen (on youtube) to "Love Song to a Stranger" and tell me that you don't want to go back to being thirty years younger and sleep on a twin bed with a stranger. "Don't tell me of love everlasting and other sad dreams, I don't want to hear. Just tell me of passionate strangers who rescue each other from a lifetime of cares."
For me it has been years and years of Joan Baez. Not only have I admired her dedication to humanitarian causes and issues but I admire her honesty and her bluntness about her life, what she has done, what she has chosen and what she has ignored. But mostly I simply love her voice and her songs. I have seen her perform a couple of times and will see her in Oakland in late November for what might be the final night of her final tour. Her voice now is lower and has less range but it is still wonderful. I am looking forward to seeing her then.
As a side note, Baez has a son named Gabriel. He was born in 1969 so would have been 8 years old when my Gabriel was born. In the early 1970's I was in Muir Woods to see the redwoods, when it was accessible and easy to do so. I heard a mother say "Gabriel, stop!" the way mothers do and I turned to see a small kid, about six years old with crazy curly hair, stop at his mother's command. Could it have been Gabriel Harris? Maybe. I wasn't cognizant enough to turn to see who the mother was, but from that moment I loved that name. Thus, I have my own Gabriel.
.
Monday, May 21, 2018
Far too long
There are many thoughts and ideas rolling around my brain right now and I intend to write about them all. Soon, very soon. It appears that having what started as a part-time gig at Autocamp (autocamp.com, check it out) has temporarily morphed into a bigger part time job. Not 40 hours a week but more than 30. It's OK for now because there are new hires coming on and the money is helpful (well, duh) and I know it's not permanent. Plus it will boost my earnings and therefore translate into a little more Social Security for me in two years.
But all that is just a smoke screen as to why I have not been writing this blog. A sturdy smoke screen but smoke and mirrors just the same. I have things to say, things about books, food, music, sleeping and eating and drinking, everything that makes getting out of bed worth putting that foot on the floor.
I will write tomorrow. I would do it now but Holy Cow!!!! Look at the time!!! I hate staying up after 11:00 unless I am hanging out with friends, chatting and sipping something delicious, so off to bed I go. The only friend I have with me at this moment is asleep on the couch and does not share my enjoyment of drinking, chatting or hanging out with friends. (That's my Cooper, I love that guy but what a boring date!)
More to follow....... and thank you for your patience.
But all that is just a smoke screen as to why I have not been writing this blog. A sturdy smoke screen but smoke and mirrors just the same. I have things to say, things about books, food, music, sleeping and eating and drinking, everything that makes getting out of bed worth putting that foot on the floor.
I will write tomorrow. I would do it now but Holy Cow!!!! Look at the time!!! I hate staying up after 11:00 unless I am hanging out with friends, chatting and sipping something delicious, so off to bed I go. The only friend I have with me at this moment is asleep on the couch and does not share my enjoyment of drinking, chatting or hanging out with friends. (That's my Cooper, I love that guy but what a boring date!)
More to follow....... and thank you for your patience.
Wednesday, May 9, 2018
Thoughts of dogs
Because of a comment by my lovely daughter-in-law Annie, I have been considering the thoughts of dogs. We know (or we presume) that they don't have cogent thought like us mere humans, but we also know that they can be very smart. Dogs have been known to discriminate between toys, being able to go to a basket of toys and pick up the toy carrot or squirrel or book, depending on what their owner has asked for. They can make decisions based on some trained or innate knowledge, such as not to cross the street when they hear the noise of a car approaching. Service dogs can be trained in ways us simple mortals cannot imagine.
So that leads to the question: in their down time, what goes on in their minds? Do they think in images or sounds or smells? Do dogs ruminate on past experiences (i.e. do they remember stuff) or are their minds purely in the present tense, only harkening back to training when necessary or prompted?
In other words, what is going on in those pea-sized brains when they are not looking at us longingly or anxiously or happily? When they want a cookie, what do they see in their mind's eye or do they see anything other than a picture of a cookie? Is it any shape of a cookie or just one they are most familiar with? Do they imagine a chicken leg being handed to them or a fat, juicy steak and are they then disappointed when they get a tiny, dried morsel of pressed stuff called a dog biscuit? Do they long for a real biscuit with butter or chicken gravy? (Well, hell yes they do, I long for a real biscuit with chicken gravy almost every day!) When they appear to be staring at the wall are they perhaps rolling film of a past day, a former romp in the sun, and if so, does that make them happy or sad or am I reaching too far here and anthropomorphizing them too much? Quite possible, of course.
Obviously I need to do some internet research on this and find out what the experts say. I will do so and I will report back. If you are a dog owner, stay tuned. If you are a cat owner, I can't help you..... do your own research. Cats don't think about biscuits, and that is sad for them.
.
So that leads to the question: in their down time, what goes on in their minds? Do they think in images or sounds or smells? Do dogs ruminate on past experiences (i.e. do they remember stuff) or are their minds purely in the present tense, only harkening back to training when necessary or prompted?
In other words, what is going on in those pea-sized brains when they are not looking at us longingly or anxiously or happily? When they want a cookie, what do they see in their mind's eye or do they see anything other than a picture of a cookie? Is it any shape of a cookie or just one they are most familiar with? Do they imagine a chicken leg being handed to them or a fat, juicy steak and are they then disappointed when they get a tiny, dried morsel of pressed stuff called a dog biscuit? Do they long for a real biscuit with butter or chicken gravy? (Well, hell yes they do, I long for a real biscuit with chicken gravy almost every day!) When they appear to be staring at the wall are they perhaps rolling film of a past day, a former romp in the sun, and if so, does that make them happy or sad or am I reaching too far here and anthropomorphizing them too much? Quite possible, of course.
Obviously I need to do some internet research on this and find out what the experts say. I will do so and I will report back. If you are a dog owner, stay tuned. If you are a cat owner, I can't help you..... do your own research. Cats don't think about biscuits, and that is sad for them.
.
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