Life is just a bowl of cherries
Keep repeating, “It’s the berries.”The strongest stoke must fallThe best things in lifeTo you were just loanedSo how can you loseWhat you never owned?“Hard times call for furious dancing,” Alice Walker tells us. And, in my case, also Judy Garland. A revisit to the “Wizard of Oz” was in order. (And “A Star Is Born.” And “Cabaret.” It’s been a bit of a bender).Two years ago December I lost my friend Regnor and my beach property at the same time. Every ceramic plate I eat off, every salad bowl I use, every mug I bring to my lips, Regnor made, so he is present. But although I can vividly recall my property, the magnificence of my Alder trees, the smell of moss, the songs of frogs, the feeling of both frontier wide open-ness and privacy, the immense quiet, I cannot conjure it up.
When I first got my property, my first pictures looked like this, Celtic knots of sea kelp. Now my place is gone and the kelp endures.Would it not seem that everywhere is Washaway now? The bank on which our comfort sits, undercut. The concrete foundation is broken and jaggedly hanging over the bank, waiting to drop into the ocean. Of course, we’re veterans, old pros to Doom and Impermanence. When does this cease to be scary?
Wind. Rain spattering on the tarp, on my trailer that I still get to stay in. Consistent, repetitive outbursts from the rooster several blocks away. Dawn was several hours ago, but he’s at it all night long anyway. He may be blind.Crows. My humming of my little fridge from Home Depot. The two dogs that live on the neighbor’s deck (aka The Deck Dogs) who bark furiously anytime someone walks down the street to the beach, which is all day long. Hugo, my cat, snoring.A song, a song, high above the trees, with a voice as big as the sea.Oh, Christmas, stop, just stop it! My Mom loved Christmas, and I miss Mom, so every song is a dagger. Until now. As I sit here writing this, an all-tuba ensemble is performing in the Armory. The low vibrations, felt as much as heard, are helping.A frog has shown up to redirect my negative thinking. The call and response between frog and crows is percussive and charming. And the rooster, what time signature is he following? I’ve been in a corporate environment too long. I want that rooster to Do Less. He is working way too hard, making everyone else look bad.I want you to know how grateful I am for your wise counsel, readers. I lean on you to make sense of the senseless. At least we have each other. Season’s greetings in uncertain times. “Courage in the dark days ahead,” as my Dad used to say.Someday, I’ll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me.