Personal Notes: Pulling Threads

Image Source

The illustration above evokes a project I'm working on right now.  It is an illustration of an exercise to limber up the fingers for a pianist, but it speaks to what I'm working on in interesting ways.  Much in the same way a pianist must exercise in order to better their craft, I must "limber up" if I am to improve in my art as well.  My hands are an instrument of my art, dancing over the keyboard in an attempt at making music of another sort, and so I was drawn to this illustration.

I've been "pulling threads" over the last couple of days.  I've had an interesting email exchange with my aunt who dropped a picture on me that I wasn't prepared for.  It's called to the surface a set of questions, a mindfulness, I wasn't prepared for in terms of how I think about myself.  It is a simple picture, a picture of my grandfather, which lead me to exchange additional emails with my aunt, and then my father.  The picture opened a door to a subject I had never considered, like the muse dropping inspiration on the unwitting artist.

My grandfather and his first wife

This is the picture that started this process.  It led to other pictures and other questions.  I debated creating a blog post about the subject, but I'm realizing that the material this picture opened for me is more of a long form essay, something that needs to be developed in the longer, more formal rough draft, revision, new draft, revision process that is typical of the work I try to publish in literary magazines and other venues.

Sometimes the past feels like a closed book to us, chapters that are completed and spent.  Other times, the past comes alive for us, a place to be explored, a darkened room in which we stumble around and grope at the walls for a switch that will light the darkness.  This picture feels like the latter, or a doorway to the latter.

I'm excited to explore the subject in detail.  One never knows where inspiration is going to strike, but we must all remain open to it.

Promise-ary Note: Promise #5 Complete

This week the promise was about my mother, Vicki.  I committed myself to spending some quality time with her and I'm glad that I did.  It's easy for me to get wrapped up with the routines of work, family, personal projects, etc.  Because I have so much motivation in so many directions, I oftentimes sacrifice personal time with family and friends in order to accomplish things on my own agenda.  It's a "bad" habit in some ways, and that is why I made sure to include promises that brought me in touch with my family members.  You guys are coming soon, Kevin, Kerry, and Dad.

When I drew the promise, I knew I needed to schedule the time right away.  My mom can be busy with her volunteer work and things, so I wanted to make sure our schedules matched.  Low and behold, we found Monday day.  As the days passed, I wondered about what we should do with our time together.

What would my mom want to do?  How would she want to spend the day?

That's when it occurred to me that it didn't really matter as long as we could talk all day long and we just kept a little busy.   The perfect plan began to reveal itself to me.  The day would start with a walk.  My mom likes to keep moving and a walk along the logging road was perfect for us to simply catch up.

Photo courtesy of the City of Canby

 I got so caught up in the walk, I forgot to take pictures.  It wasn't that we necessarily talked about anything important, although we did talk about Shea, the family, and things that matter, but it was in a way that was casual, relaxed, without deadline or urgency.  We simply strolled.


After catching a bit of exercise, it was time for a bite to eat.  The Place To Be Cafe was calling our name.  Mom and I settled down to some hot coffee and an awesome piece of sausage quiche.  The conversation raged on as we ate.

With our bellies full, the time had come to head into Portland.  It's easy to hang in Canby and never really get out of town, so I wanted to take my mom somewhere fun, somewhere that was about her and her interests.  I decided on S.T.A.R.S. Antiques in the Sellwood neighborhood.  It wasn't about shopping, it was about browsing, and antiquing is a good way to simply wander around taking in the sights.  S.T.A.R.S. didn't disappoint.

These stores are eye candy.  If you need to find a writing prompt, go to an antique store, find an object and then write the story of the person who was the former owner.  Mission accomplished!  I had so much fun looking at old kid-sized cowboy boots, books, and knickknacks galore.  We didn't buy a thing, but we laughed, talked, and wiled away the afternoon.  My mom kept looking at her watch to make sure we were "on time" for my appointment that afternoon, but I told her to stop fussing.  She's always so concerned about us boys and not "being a burden" on our time, but the day was about her, her and time, her and one of her boys and time, time together, time together with one of her boys without anything else going on.  The moment even demanded a "selfie."

We wound in and out of all the booths in both S.T.A.R.S. locations and made our way down to Wallace Books, an independent bookseller in the neighborhood.  It's an eclectic place with floor to ceiling shelves of new and used books.  It's one of my favorite places to visit on that side of town, and I thought my mom would love it.

By the time we were done in the bookstore, it was time to call it a day.  We weren't but two steps out of the bookstore when I got a text that my daughter was sick.  Although her other grandmother was picking her up from school to bring her home, it was Noni and Dad to the rescue.  We hopped in the car and took off to check on the little one.

Although she didn't feel good, Shea wasn't too ill when we got to the house.  My mom and I got the chance to hang out with her for a while, cook up some Campbell's chicken noodle soup, and give her a quick cuddle before we were off.  I still had to make it to my appointment.

When I dropped mom off at home, I was sad to see the day end.  The whole day felt like a gift, a nice surprise I hadn't expected.  It reminded me of how close my mom and I really are.  She's always been the one I can talk to when I need her.  I know she doesn't have girls (she likes to remind me of this), but I like to think I'm the closest thing to a daughter she's got (another thing she likes to remind me of).  Hey, if it means I get to have all the benefits of having a mother and friend, then she can call me a girl any time.  I had a great day, Mom.  Thanks for hanging out. 

Promise-ary Note: Promise #5

Thursdays mean it is time to draw the week's new promise.  As with last week's original draw, this one has to do with making time for a family member.  I wasn't able to find time to spend with my brother, so I redrew and took myself to the movies alone.

This coming week promises to be a good one because I know how important it is for me to spend time with my mother, and I know she wants nothing more from her sons, nothing more than time.

So, here it is:

I'm looking forward to it, Mom!

The Power of Personal Change

Yesterday was my father's 66th birthday.  This fact got me thinking about him, his life, his relationship with me, and it brought me back to a lot of the things I've been going through lately.  I want to change.  I want it badly.  I want to live the life of my unexpressed potential, not the life that is comfortable and safe.

Well, my dad is an example for me.  In his later life, he made the choice to change.  This change resulted in a physical transformation, plus a mental and emotional one as well.  It was a phenomenal process to witness.

My dad and I are different dudes on the surface.  I don't think anyone would really argue with that, but what a lot of people don't know is that we are actually quite similar in a lot of other ways as well. 

Let's do a quick surface inventory.

My father is a fisherman, an outdoorsman, a Republican, a conservative, and an avid sports fan.

I am not a fisherman, somewhat of an outdoorsman, a professed independent who registered Democrat because I wanted to vote in a primary, a liberal, and a fan of the arts.

On the surface we don't mix well, but there are other things that have materialized in the last couple of years that have shown me that I am much more my father's son than I ever would have thought in my younger days.

We are both men who are dedicated to our family.  We are social yet more than comfortable going out and doing things on our own.  We like a good debate (especially if we can get the other person really squirming on the hook).  We are foodies who love to eat and talk about food, recipes, restaurants, etc. 

When I witnessed the struggle, and the subsequent display of endurance, my father experienced when he set out to change, I was moved.  Still am.  He's shown me that it is never too late to take control of one's own life.  Change happens on a day to day basis.  It is the expression of will in the face of temptation.  It is firm resolve and the commitment to stick to a goal.

He makes me proud to have him as a father and I'm working hard every day to make sure he can say the same thing about me.

Happy Birthday, Dad.  I love you and am proud of you.