Madeline finished driver's ed today. When I went to pick her up at
5:30 at the high school, there were all these disaffected looking
teens milling about, waiting to be picked up, holding green
half-sheets of paper, their tickets to freedom, the certificates
signifying that they could take the written exam.
Before you know it, you're dead.
Liam took out my trombone, brought it up from the basement, and opened
up the case in the middle of the kitchen floor. One of those arresting
3-D moments.
2/17/08
NYTimes picture of Egyptian newlyweds dancing on a bridge over the
Nile River. I like that phrase.
Yet another bit of time melancholia: Jacob Wetterling would be 30. His
disappearance has a direct impact on me today in my concerns about my
children.
Splendid Table as I stopped the car by the front door of my work this
Sunday morning. A "pancake" in Ames, Iowa makes me want to drive there
on 35.
As I walked in the door, one guard was pacing in the lobby, the other
sitting behind the desk, chin in hand, looked asleep, and Lynn Rosetta
Casper's voice filled the air.
She had just gotten done talking to someone about Pyrexes cheese--raw
sheep's milk, timeless ritual of herding sheep to and from the
mountains. Perhaps the pacing guard is waiting for those times to
return.
Six-word memoirs--Not Quite What I was Planning--Smith magazine.
Martha's on Friday to visit with Daba, an Amity from 2001-2002, who
lived half the year at Martha's house. Talking about what she knew and
what has happened since made for a melancholy sense of the passage of
time. A lot has happened.
Steve, the owner of the cafeteria at the Riverbank building where I
work, raised his prices this past week. That's probably the third time
in ten years.
A squib, a squab a day. That is what I am looking for.
--
David
www.schons.net
