Sing to me

Lawn chairs drawn closely together, knees touching, we lounge on the back porch sipping icy cold beer, laughing and talking while watching the huge harvest moon hug the horizon. A wash of moonlight illuminates the barn.  The moon slowly rises in the dimming night sky, diminishing in size as it ascends higher and higher against the perspective of the skyline. Moonbeams peep through leafy branches of the canopy of an ancient maple tree, and briefly disappear.

He sings “Angel from Montgomery” a capella, a favorite John Prine tune, the progression of G, C, D, F chords enchanting in my ear. He looks at me and grins on the high notes. This man can’t carry a tune, but no matter, I treasure this moment. I laugh but it catches in my throat as my heart swells in an intoxicating rush of breathlessness, joy, contentment, and soaring love. It is a perfect evening.

Speaking strictly for me, we both could have died than and there.*

(Words and Music by Joan Baez)

Well I'll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that's not unusual
It's just that the moon is full
And you happened to call
And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I'd known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall

As I remember your eyes
Were bluer than robin's eggs
My poetry was lousy you said
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the midwest
Ten years ago
I bought you some cufflinks
You brought me something
We both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust

Well you burst on the scene
Already a legend
The unwashed phenomenon
The original vagabond
You strayed into my arms
And there you stayed
Temporarily lost at sea
The Madonna was yours for free
Yes the girl on the half-shell
Would keep you unharmed

Now I see you standing
With brown leaves falling around
And snow in your hair
Now you're smiling out the window
Of that crummy hotel
Over Washington Square
Our breath comes out white clouds
Mingles and hangs in the air
*Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there

Now you're telling me
You're not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague
Because I need some of that vagueness now
It's all come back too clearly
Yes I loved you dearly
And if you're offering me diamonds and rust
I've already paid

"This is where I leave you" book review

This is where I leave you

Jonathon Tropper

I just finished this – dark humor at its best – about a family coping after the death of the father. I laughed uproarishly throughout, my dogs kept running to me to share in the fun. It’s sad too; I had to wipe away the occasional tear. I hadn’t heard of the author – but now I have and ordered two earlier books – hope they’re as good.

The author’s observations of sexual acts are detailed and snortingly humorous. Fun as sex is, it surely looks as ridiculous to the uninvolved as any barnyard coupling. Remember your astonishment upon learning about the birds and bees? Who among us didn’t see the ick factor and vowed “I’ll never do THAT.” Ah, we were wrong about so many things.

The protagonist’s portrayal of his childhood is bittersweet and his depictions of the siblings is wickedly brilliant. Interactions between the sibs and spouses have surprising and often uncomfortable results.

I was pleased with the ending – no spoiler here though.

And maybe a peak into the male psyche?

Tropper has a descriptive gift, no doubt about it.

It's hard to be a volunteer when you're real picky.

I’ve volunteered at a variety of organizations over the years. I loved hammering away at Habitat builds where I also served on the board of directors. I was the go-to person for mitered trim boards. I do love angles. My friend Tim commented on this photo “What, they ringing the dinner bell?” Wise guy.

I ushered at a community theater the second Wednesday of each play which meant I got to see all the plays. “Cat on a hot tin roof” in the round was magnificent! I sat mesmerized in the first row, arms length proximity to Brick, played by a marvelously formed male clad only in tighty-whities during the first act. My, oh my, but I enjoyed that play.

My winter working schedule is down to one day per week. I could be writing a book but for an elusive plot, so I decided to devote some of my free time volunteering. My particular workday floats, dependent on business needs so I need a drop-in volunteer position.

I met with the staff at the United Way office to discuss options. They aim to match volunteers to positions for maximum effectiveness and enjoyment, (probably promotes longevity.)

So Diane reads descriptions from the affiliate list:

“Blah, blah, blah agency, working with little kids?”

“Oh no.”

“Blah, blah, blah agency, working with teenagers?”

“No.”

“Red Cross?”

“Oh no. I can’t stand the sight of blood.”

She peers at me over the top of her glasses.

“Oh here. How about rocking babies?”

“Not a chance in hell. I hate babies.”*

This outburst followed by absolute silence. You could hear a pin drop. Then they all burst out laughing.

Some people are just better suited for data entry.

I’m a little concerned that my filtering system has vanished. I used to be tactful.


*To clarify: I’m not a baby person. They’re all right once they’re old enough to exhibit some personality. In small doses.

Bag of Bones

Bag of Bones
By Stephen King
Published 1998

I just finished this book and enjoyed its conversational style. I’ve read so few books by prolific author Stephen King. Why? Because I’m a big scaredy cat and reading spooky stuff is at my peril. I wasn’t allowed to see scary movies as a child, this mandate following my older brother’s watching “The Blob” and having horrendous nightmares for months. There were no such restrictions on scary books although I didn’t read many. I had enough weird dreams where I’d wake in terror and make a torturous dash down the hallway to jump into bed with my parents screaming “Mom!” all the way.

At age 18 I read some strange devil worship novel that scared me badly enough that I slept in my mother’s bed, my back to hers so I could watch for the boogey man coming to get me in the wee hours. I (barely) slept in her bed for two weeks. Scaredy, scaredy cat.

There were a few ghosty rumblings in the early chapters of “Bag of Bones” that gave me pause. I wondered if I was going to hear my old house settling and jump out of my skin, even though I’ve got the beasts to protect me and they have superior hearing. But I was fine so kept reading.

I enjoyed the 529 pages with few exceptions. The wrap-up had some loose threads in the plot unless it was just misdirection, but all in all, it was a good read.

The Marriage Plot

The Marriage Plot
By Jeffrey Eugenides

This is the second book I’ve read by Jeffrey Eugenides. The first was “Middlesex” which alas, I did not finish. Eugenides’ books require serious concentration for me to read. His use of language and extensive vocabulary intrigue me yet make me feel undereducated. Maybe it’s his Ivy League background and I’m a state college type…

“The Marriage Plot” set in college is a tale of a woman and two men immersed in a love triangle, told from the perspective of each.

One character, Mitchell, studies religious philosophy and provides Eugenides a format to delve into a broad spectrum of religious dogma. A Russian fable from “A Confession” by Tolstoy particularly captured my attention. I have to admit the only Tolstoy I’ve read to-date is “Anna Karenina” which I have not finished. Stuck on page 337 for oh, the last year or so, and just not that interested… Are you sensing a trend here?

To paraphrase the fable: A man chased by a monster jumps into a well. He sees a dragon at the bottom waiting to eat him. He spots a branch growing from the wall and grabs on for dear life, relieved momentarily, until he sees two mice gnawing at the branch. He considers his certain death. He notices a few drops of honey dripping from the end of the branch. He licks the honey. The human predicament, no getting around we’re not getting out of this alive, but we’re going to take pleasure in the taste of the honey in the meantime.

However disturbing this eventuality, I intend to lick whatever honey comes my way for as long as I’m on this planet.

“The Marriage Plot” has an unexpected and most satisfactory ending. It’s a thought provoking book and well worth the read.

Maybe I’ll give “Middlesex” another try.