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Tuesday, May 29, 2012

SAVING MEMORIES


WORD DANCE

the words dance from the ends of my fingers
quiet but for the scratching of  pen on paper
silent forever if spoken aloud too soon
stopped between brain and hand
by a barrier of noise so loud the heart can’t hear
for the heart is where the words begin their dance
~FK~


I have shoe boxes full of old photos and a computer full of newer ones that have been waiting to be organized for years.  I also have bits and pieces of family stories in notebooks, on scraps of paper, and in my head. 

With mother's death, in December, it dawned on me that I am now the only one left that can identify most of the people in the photos or tell the old family stories.  It was finally the ...SOMEDAY...I was going to write it  all down for my children and grandchildren. 

I had already decided to take a year off from making and selling art because of a series of family events in 2012...a new baby, a retirement, two graduations and a wedding.  Getting family albums made and stories written seemed like a good way to keep my creative mind active while I took that break. However, I underestimated how much work it would be.  The year is already half over and I still have a long way to go.  

I know keeping photos on the computer or online is easier and less time consuming but to me there is something about holding a book in my hands that is so much more satisfying even though I understand, now, it will take more than a year to get them all finished.  And going through the pictures and writing down the stories is not only fun it has sparked many new ideas for art projects. 

AT THE END OF THE DAY... I know spending too much time being nostalgic is one sign of growing old...but I like having the memories someplace besides in my head where I can leaf through them once in a while...and when I'm gone so can my family.

Friday, May 18, 2012

WHERE WERE YOU

Sunday May 18, 1980...8:32AM







 
 We lived in Everett when Mount St. Helens erupted thirty two years ago.  A huge thundering boom woke us up that Sunday morning and we knew what it was as soon as we heard it.
We had been following the news about the mountain for weeks because Spirit Lake was one of our favorite camping places and when we lived in Napavine Dave’s favorite fishing spot on the Toutle river was close enough for him to drive down to fish early in the morning and be home by breakfast.
In fact, that is where he was supposed to be that Sunday.  He was going to drive down and stay with my parents, who still lived within sight of the mountain, fish all weekend then drive home Sunday afternoon.
Don’t you wonder sometimes about the twists and turns your life takes?  How you get from one place to another...and how you could be someplace else now...or nowhere at all...if only...?
He couldn’t reach them when he called so he stayed home.  We watched the devastation on TV all day...and worried...and called every couple of hours.  It was late in the week before we talked to them. 
Isn’t it always the simplest things?  By accident or design I wonder...who knows?  The countless ups and downs in life...the endless choices that get us from one day to the next... the fishing trip that didn’t happen because Mom cut a phone line while gardening.
AT THE END OF THE DAY...thirty two years later we are seventeen days away from retirement and sometimes I still wonder...don’t you?

 
ST HELENS
Where is the Mountain?
It’s falling all around you
Can’t you see it
drifting everywhere?

Where are the flowers
that were growing in the meadows?
On the graves of those who wouldn’t listen
The ones entombed forever beneath the Mountain.
~FK~