Dispatch from the Home Front: Halloween 2001

like every other year I sit outside with a guitar
while kids roam in small packs
from lit door to lit door

the costumes tonight are not that frightening

angels and fairies and superheroes abound
a few bloodsuckers and ghouls
a sprinkling of skeletons
no terrorists

the adults pretend to be scared

jessie (the giraffe from across the street)
solemnly hands me M & Ms from her stash
when I put the Snickers in her pumpkin
“honey,” I tell her
“it’s not a trade – it‘s a gift”
and she solemnly takes them back

the young girl in the bathrobe and curlers
wearing the sign that says
I AM NOT A MORNING PERSON
says to me
“I want to hear you play your prettyful music”

so
I hand her candy
and I pick up my guitar
to play a song appropriate to the season
(a song by the Grateful Dead)
for this world’s recent ghosts

this world
where unimaginable ashes
sift down on children’s beds

in one part of this world
the very rocks and baseballs
smell of abrasives, jet fuel, burning rubber, corpses

in another part of this world
they are making the mail glow white
long enough to kill what lives on the words

in another part of this world
this guitar would be
illegal

in that country a shrouded woman
has been carefully picking food from a minefield
(food that was airdropped in my name)

she runs and lifts her child from the ground
raising his head high up onto her shoulder
vainly trying to keep the frightening blood from spilling too much

it will take her years to fall asleep again

when she does fall asleep
she will dream of picking up a yellow bomblet
wrapping it in swaddling clothes
suckling it until it blooms hot and bright

but she will not cry
as she holds him in that dream

we all dream that dream these days
we all hold our children closer
while holding back tears

a dream like that
is not a gift
it is a trade
we have all already given
more than enough in return for this one
and you do not let go of your tears
when tears are all you have left

Halloween night
I am pushing aside the veil between the worlds
a mourning person waiting for dawn
pretending to be scared to cover real fear
while I give sweets and prettyful music
to my neighbors’children

we are all a long way from home

if I knew the way
I would take you home

by Tony Brown 

National Cat Day!

Today is National Cat Day! I explained this to my cats and gave them lots of hugs. They appeared unimpressed.

Silent Sunday

Sonnet LXX

Maybe - though I do not bleed - I am wounded,
walking along one of the rays of your life.
In the middle of the jungle the water stops me,
the rain that falls with its sky.

Then I touch the heart that fell, raining:
there I know it was your eyes
that pierced me, into my grief's vast hinterlands.
And only a shadow's whisper appears,

Who is it? Who is it?, but it has no name,
the leaf of dark water that patters
in the middle of the jungle, deaf along the paths:

so, my love, I knew that I was wounded,
and no one spoke there except the shadows,
the wandering night, the kiss of the rain.

  Pablo Neruda

The cat's song

Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness.

My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says

the cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing

milk from his mother’s forgotten breasts.

Let us walk in the woods, says the cat.

I’ll teach you to read the tabloid of scents,

to fade into shadow, wait like a trap, to hunt.

Now I lay this plump warm mouse on your mat.

You feed me, I try to feed you, we are friends,

says the cat, although I am more equal than you.

Can you leap twenty times the height of your body?

Can you run up and down trees? Jump between roofs?

Let us rub our bodies together and talk of touch.

My emotions are pure as salt crystals and as hard.

My lusts glow like my eyes. I sing to you in the mornings

walking round and round your bed and into your face.

Come I will teach you to dance as naturally

as falling asleep and waking and stretching long, long.

I speak greed with my paws and fear with my whiskers.

Envy lashes my tail. Love speaks me entire, a word

of fur. I will teach you to be still as an egg

and to slip like the ghost of wind through the grass.

 

by Marge Piercy

Random Pictures

What The Living Do

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.
And the Drano won't work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven't called. This is the everyday we spoke of.
It's winter again: the sky's a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

the open living-room windows because the heat's on too high in here and I can't turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I've been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss--we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless:
I am living. I remember you.

   by Marie Howe

Silent Sunday

This is another of my favorite old family pictures. This is a picture of my mother's family. It was taken sometime in the 1920's. The man with the dog is my great-grandfather, the woman behind him, my great-grandmother and the little girl standing next to him is my grandmother. The other two children are her siblings and the other adults were neighbors I believe.

Family History Day

Today was Family History Day at the California State Archives! It was a day devoted to, as they sub-titled it, Discovering Ancestral Gold. There were numerous classes to choose from, archive tours and exhibits by many genealogy societies.

I started doing genealogical research years ago but haven't done anything for the last, probably 12-15 years. Today was a great re-introduction and reminded me that I had enjoyed doing this. I learned a lot about local resources, got lots of handouts and overall had a fun day!

I'm anxious now to get started. Fortunately in the years I wasn't doing anything other people were and I know that members of my family have found a lot of information. I'll tap into that as a starting point and then move forward.

I have a number of old family pictures that I really like. The first two pictured below are my great-great grandparents from my mother's side, Frances and Peleg Carson. As you can probably guess, he was in the Civil War and I have a copy of his military record that I obtained years ago when I started doing research.

The last picture is my great-grandparents on the father's side, Lila and Ray Cook. This is one of my very favorite pictures. It was taken in the late 1910's or early 20's and I always think of them as the flapper and the gambler. I don't know that they were but I think they look like it! 

The Thirty-Eighth Year

the thirty eigth year
of my life,
plain as bread
round as a cake
an ordinary woman.

an ordinary woman.

i had expected to be
smaller than this,
more beautiful,
wiser in Afrikan ways,
more confident,
i had expected
more than this.

i will be forty soon.
my mother once was forty.

my mother died at forty four,
a woman of sad countenance
leaving behind a girl
awkward as a stork.
my mother was thick,
her hair was a jungle and
she was very wise
and beautiful
and sad.

i have dreamed dreams
for you mama
more than once.
i have wrapped me
in your skin
and made you live again
more than once.
i have taken the bones you hardened
and built daughters
and they blossom and promise fruit
like afrikan trees.
i am a woman now.
an ordinary woman.

in the thirty eighth
year of my life,
surrounded by life,
a perfect picture of
blackness blessed,
i had not expected this
loneliness.

if it is western,
if it is the final
europe in my mind,
if in the middle of my life
i am turning the final turn
into the shining dark
let me come to it whole
and holy
not afraid
not lonely
out of mother’s life
into my own.
into my own.

i had expected more than this.
i had not expected to be
an ordinary woman.

 by Lucille Clifton

My Halloween Tree!

I finally got my tree out and put on the ornaments! I finished a new one last night and I'm working on another today. I also sent my daughter two to make. I think I have plenty of Halloween ornaments! I don't keep it on the patio - it was the only place I could get some good pictures. I'd better go bring it in before the cats decide to knock it over!

Silent Sunday

I Crawled!

I participated in the Sacramento Archives Crawl today! It's an event that happens every October (which is Archives Month). There were four hosting archives that had displays of some of their treasures. It was a lot of fun but my feet sure hurt! I wore sandals - next time I'll wear tennis shoes!

I started at the California State Archives. Their collection is mainly records from state agencies, courts, governor and state legislature. They also have genealogical materials and I'll be going back there next Saturday for an all-day Family History event! Here's a few pictures from the Archives. None of the pictures are great. Given the delicate nature of the display materials, they were mainly under glass or, for a lot of the maps, heavy plastic. 

Second stop was the California State Library. I liked this one best I think! They have California history resources, genealogy, and much more. You can also borrow books from them through your local library branch. They had an exhibit of posters, brochures, and other materials that were used to entice people to California. An ostrich farm, an alligator farm, and a monkey farm were some of the unusual ones! The first picture is of the California Swearing In Bible. It was first used in 1871 to swear Newton Booth in as the 11th Governor of California. I thought this was interesting because I live in the Newton Booth neighborhood!

Third on my journey was the Sacramento Room at the Central Library. They have a lot of research material on Sacramento County history. Books, maps, periodicals, photographs, etc. It's a lovely room also! Being unable to leave a library without a book, I made a short stop in the main part of the library and checked out a couple of books. I couldn't help myself.

The final stop was the Center for Sacramento History. I wish that I had started here because it was one place I wanted to see a lot of. By the time I got there I was very tired and didn't stay long. Although I would have felt that way about any of the archives I had left for last! Oh well. They are a research center for City and County historic collections. They also have things like household items, toys, and textiles which they loan to other organizations for display. Since this was my last stop I received my free commemorative coasters here! I also collected bookmarks, lots of brochures and a sticker. They even provided a bag that says Sacramento Archives Crawl to put all your loot in!

Time for another poem

A Ritual To Read To Each Other

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider—
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give—yes or no, or maybe—
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep. 

by William Stafford

A very cool mural!

I found this mural today on my walk. I've never noticed it before and I think I've walked past that building. I don't know if I'm unobservant or if it's a recent addition!

Halloween is coming!

On my walk this morning I found two houses decorated for Halloween! I guess it's time to get my Halloween tree out! Although it does feel like an odd thing to do when the temperature today is supposed to hit 100. . .

Paths

For awhile when I walked I looked for sidewalk art, much of which I've shared here. I've pretty much exhausted that theme until I start walking further! I've decided that my new theme will be paths. As you'll see from the pictures, I'm interpreting it liberally.
 
The dictionary defines path as:

1. A trodden track or way.
2. A road, way, or track made for a particular purpose
3. The route or course along which something travels or moves 
4. A way of life, conduct or thought

I figure this gives me plenty of room for interpretation! The last two pictures are very important paths. Next to last is the path to my front door. The last picture is the path to my bedroom window. It faces the street and Pippin (one of my cats) likes to sit in that window. When I leave I have to go to the window and wave goodbye to him. If I forget he is mad at me when I come home!