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 |   Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
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I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance? I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them. Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog. |
| It's Monday, my back to blogging day. It's also our trash collection day. Trash day is a day of great joy, a day when we are relieved of those things which we have discarded,those things we need to rid ourselves of so that we can travel on into a bright, clean future and those smelly half-eaten containers of food from the fridge that have grown fur. Such freedom. I also knew immediately upon seeing the calendar that it is George Washington's birthday (and not because the calendar told me so). I attribute my instant recognition of the date's significance to a very good primary education, wanting to thank especially my second grade teacher who instilled so much important information into so many tiny heads through the years. History, penmanship and long division, we got it all. It occurs to me that it is amazing to be remembered. Most of us only exist for as long as there are people alive who remember us. In most cases, we are forgotten within three generations. But command the army that wins a revolution and change history and you are never forgotten, even if no one really knows much about you other than your name. Mrs. Mahoney! That was the name of my second grade teacher... I think. It might have been Maloney. She is someone I would wish to thank for the incredible things she taught me, the solid foundation she laid. Many other teachers were great disappointments, but Mrs. Mahoney played the piano! Memory is a funny thing. Trash day - forget about some things and remember others day. Choose what to keep and what to discard day. Time to sift memories and let nostalgia bring back those that are warm to live in, throw out the memories of pain and disappointment. It's trash day, time to shake out the dust. |
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Not quite what I meant. "Pufts" was a sidelong reference to the famous dog show, Crufts