Hi everyone. It's Friday--almost Valentine's Day.
I put up the two photos of the World's Trade Center for sheer nostaglic purposes. I miss them. No, I don't live nearby. I live in the Midwest. But my family lives in Brooklyn and could see the trade center from their window. Alas. No longer. Yes, they still can see the Statute of Liberty. May she stand forever, great lady that she is. She's beautiful. She's awesome. And, she's amazing to look at standing on the Owl Park Pier jutting out in lower New York Harbor. I miss her, and I miss my mother.
I know this is a cliche, but we never know how much we'll miss someone, until they're actually gone. Permanently. I've had people come and go out of my life. Some I've missed. Some I haven't. My mother and I were separated by half a country. (I wonder if that's why my heroine travels half way across the country to get away from her ex-husband--but that's another story) We talked a lot. Mainly about philosophy and books. She was constantly reading. Never stopped. That was an amazing feat, considering she was blind.
Imagine losing something so precious as your eyesight when you were an artist, a poet and a pianist. She had a braille typewriter which worked well for a while until arthritis kicked in, and she no longer could type. Then, she lost her will to "find an alternative." She delved into the Library for the Blind. New York Times, Atlantic Monthly, novels of now and yesterday. I think I left her last summer while she was reading Sons and Lovers. For the umpeenth time.
We disagreed on many things. But not about Russian novels. They are depressing. So why do we read them? Hmmm. To say "I just finished reading Tolstoy or Doestoyovski? I probably creamed the spelling, but I just didn't feel like looking it up. So sue me.)
I don't think I've ever cried so hard as when I read Anna Karenina. Even though they were both ungodly stupid. But beautiful, as the movie versions would have us believe. The ultimate sacrifice for love. But then, I always root for the baritone would-be lovers who are spurned for the tenors. I always think the baritones are so much better looking.
So what does this have to do with the World Trade Center or my mother? Uh, well nothing. Just the process of train of thought. It's like this. World Trade Center=New York City=JBrooklyn=Condo and mother=overcoming disability and reading depressing Russian novels. See how my mind works?
Right now I'm not depressed at all. I'm ready Dorothy Braun's delightful Cat Who "the Cat Who Tailed a Thief." Delightful. Uncanny. I wish I had her brain and imagination. Well, maybe not. I have my own.
Maybe I'll get back to writing again tomorrow. What a good idea. It's about time.
Love to all from
The Cottage of Blog and
Pat and her ghost writers, Alex, Annie, Roxi and Zuri.
Woof.
posted by Unknown at 5:21 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home