It began with a mixture of dread and closure borne by cold gusts.
My missive. My ritual act. The words with with I beseech secular demigods to shine their light on me have been cast unto the wind. After I uploaded them I burnt them and blessed the ashes.
Can't hurt.
This was the start of the Fall. No amount of sugar crusted bacon on a State Fair stick can stop that or divert the certain future, can it?
But I lean forward and smile just the same.
5 comments:
September. The earth has moved. The days are shorter. The winds are colder.
Am I alone in feeling this turn?
Some of it lodged in the coiled molecules in each cell, so I hope my family felt it too.
I understand why you won't speak, even in virtual electrons. Everything you hate, I aspire to become because in your minds I can be nothing else and I embrace that role because when you ignore me I can dismiss you with all the righteous disdain I can muster.
Now I am watching that ball of negativity burn like a nuclear sun. What are you doing?
This is my sketch of that burnt sun. I'll never be as emancipated as my Brother because I was never as much a part of that family. I was "emancipated" by the birth canal, because all the while our Mother was watching you implode.
It took years and maybe not quite enough but I have found numerous ways not to blame you for our parents. I have even found ways not to blame them. Such is my imprisonment and such is my liberty.
So, how you doin'?
I have definitely felt the turn. Facing the fleeting days of a summer that barely was, in temp and time.
I sit with eager anticipation as another season is upon me. A new chance to try things learned in the garden. A chance to see things I have never noticed before. My summer has been very similar to UD's in many aspects. The only real difference is that I am growing my CSA. Each blog post has been many of my same experiences. Trying new foods can be quite liberating. I have become less picky in the foods I eat and the way I eat them. The best way is from vine to mouth in nearly every case. Even eating the flowers of plants gives subtle clues to flavors one is in store for. Arugula is a new favorite of mine due to the spice of its little white flowers.
The learning has been nearly as fulfilling as the food. Google has become a constant reliance. It is back to the college days of reading with a pen. Hopefully the outcome of this endeavor will be more favorable.
UD are you planning on growing anything of your own? It seems like you could have quite the knack. With a little plant based scientific knowledge and a good plan it is possible to have a nice spread in a small area.
I am going to try and not say to much on the family stuff. I know what it feels like to be unable to communicate with a brother you just want to talk to, nothing serious just chat. My only hope is I can get it straightened out sooner than later. About parental blame. I am sure I could place blame on a certain sperm donor. All I know is that at some point my life became mine and I starting making decisions based on the path I wanted to follow not the one that had lead me to where I was at. I realize that if I want the cycle to be broken, as part of that cycle I must help. I know people dealt worse hands have ended up far ahead of where I am at.
Moving beyond harvests, beyond seasons, beyond the little petty disagreements we may have, one of ours is hurting. We need to rally to his side. Tom is in a very bad place, he needs our help.
Early this morning Mary and I received a phone call from Tom. I stayed on the phone with him for an hour or so. We talked about his addiction. He in his car, me in the comfort of my office, we talked and cried. Tom wants desperately to change his life. He needs to shed the shackles of addiction. He needs our support.
I realize that some of you have talked to Tom. No matter. Bart, I know we talked of this a while ago, I told you "He needs to hit his bottom". I think that time has come.
Talked to both Tom (first) and with his permission the talked to my sis, Mary Agnes. Tom seems better today. Mary is beside herself, blaming herself for what she perceives as "her" failure in raising Tom.
Both need our support. Mary can only support Tom if she believes in herself as a person and as a Mom.
Tom will only get through this with love and support.
No cajoling, no recriminations, just support.
He need to have his self image boosted. He needs to know that he is a worthwhile person.
Call him, tell him you're in his corner, you have his back. He needs to talk with people.
His cell number is, 616-449-1067.
Don't make a big deal of his addiction, just call to let him know you're there.
I comment on this here, cuz, I am no longer able to create a new post. I retired from being moderator about a year ago and removed myself from the boards. Another story, a lost time.
Greg
Sorry. We have been in Turkey for the last 12 days. Just got back a couple hours ago. In this interconnected new world, we managed to fall off the radar screen. We expected Gulin's cell to work - it has on the past- but it really didn't we were using her Mom's old phone. Barely checked e-mail and did not surf over here either.
Anyway. Maybe its me, but when I called Tom's cell all I got was an unintelligible out-going message apparently recorded by a small child. I tried again, but after two, three rings - dead air.
Don't really know the situation but particulars are not required for me to assure Tom and everyone else that we are here for him -late, but with all our thoughts, love and energy.
I can't speak about being a parent. That is something I only know by observation. What I can offer are the memories of a child, an adult, but a child nonetheless.
On a particular Holy Thursday in an unknown Catholic church somewhere in Royal Oak, MI a teen-aged boy sat next to his parents and then knelt. The bell tower had not rung out the midnight just passed and the altar had been stripped bare. It was probably 1977, maybe 8. The boy's mind was wandering as he sat there watching his parents pray in the 4th or 5th church that night. It could have been a dozen, he'd lost count and interest 15 minutes before they had left home.
Slowly his father rose from his place in a rear pew and walked reverently to the side altar where his chosen savior was been imprisoned in effigy. There he knelt again and began to pray. Seconds later he was weeping, quietly but profusely. The teen watched the tears fall from the kneeler to the marble step and begin to collect in a small pool that reflected the votives lit in hopes of some god's attention.
In that reflected flame the boy saw his own weakness; his own uncertainty. That was a moment that his father had not lived before, any more than he had - they were both stumbling forward through the time line they shared on this planet and in this universe.
That moment turned his life - perhaps a little, maybe alot - because he knew his mother was the same. And you too. We are fellow travelers not opposing forces.
Middleman: Yeah, I've grown my own. But most of our yard work is devoted to flowers and decorative plants. I have a few strawberry plants that the bunnies and I fight over every spring. They usually beat me to them, even though we both wait until they are vine ripe.
Besides, if I grow my own - who will buy the produce from the local farm? I really like the idea of having ready access to locally produced, organically grown fresh foods. Between the CSA and the Hmong farmers at the weekly market that sets up in the parking lot outside the VA, I can accomplish this. Because there are many folks around here that feel the same, we now have a local food network that can supply restaurants - and even the corner grocery store.
In a way, we grew our own sustainable local organic farms. Of course, not just Gulin and I - it takes a village, as they say. I know these food sources were not here 5 or 7 years ago, but little by little it has been growing.
Mostly its herbs I grow. This year, the CSA put that to shame. I respect their expertise, spirit and effort. I do the cooking and preserving part. Flavoring vinegars. The latest effort was fresh tomato powder and flakes. These will last all winter long and each time I dust some pasta with the stuff, every summer breeze will be felt once more.
Appreciate your insight as to taking responsibility for your own life. It is an insight. Blame has a down-side, even if it is accurate and deserved. The more successful one is at convincing themself that someone else is responsible for their strife, the more control over their life they cede.
I like to set fire to those negative feelings from time to time. Figuratively. Paragraph 4 of the original post is one such blaze.
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