we
the pursuits of man are hopeless
but for the connections forged between strangers.
would that we could recognize the energy between us
as more valuable than that which we throw forth
towards lonely gains,
we should never feel the sting of sorrow -
but forever revel in the delight
of mutual joy.
then the word ‘we’ becomes the most beautiful of all.
cloudy with showers
some days the sun could be shining like the fourth of july and i’d still see grey and rainy.
white dogwood
photo and parable courtesy of my friend Will.
An old and beautiful legend has it that, at the time of the crucifixion, the dogwood was comparable in size to the oak tree and other monarchs of the forest. Because of its firmness and strength it was selected as the timber for the cross, but to be put to such a cruel use greatly distressed the tree. Sensing this, they crucified Jesus in his gentle pity for the sorrow and suffering of all said to it: “Because of your sorrow and pity for My sufferings, never again will the dogwood tree grow large enough to be used as a gibbet. Henceforth it will be slender, bent and twisted and its blossoms will be in the form of a cross — two long and two short petals. In the center of the outer edge of each petal there will be nail prints — brown with rust and stained with red — and in the center of the flower will be a crown of thorns, and all who see this will remember.”
is it illegal to give me a bag with handles for my whiskey?
seriously. i’d like to know if you’ve ever received a handled bag at the liquor store. because carrying a bag full of glass and liquid is not easy. and i know there are handles out there strong enough to hold a couple bottles. they carry cantaloupes and milk, why not gin and bailey’s? i would gladly pay the 5 cents extra if that’s the problem. or, if it’s an attempt to limit how much liquor one purchases, why do they provide boxes for the real big spenders? whatever the logic, i say we band together and demand a better way to carry our liquor. otherwise, i’ll do like the ladies in linen pants at the co-op and bring my own canvas tote.
light signatures
i took this photo over the steering wheel on 94 at the hiawatha exit. (sorry, mom) i just pressed the button, my canon powershot a620 did the rest. i think it’s neat.
atrophy
lately i find myself considering, for the first time, the impermanence of my flesh and bones. perhaps because of my recent dental adventures, or the emergence of a burn scar on my hand, i am surprised to feel somewhat mournful of a newly flawed corpus.
certainly, at 26 years of age, there are those that would protest my two bit lament. however, to you i ask, do you not remember the fright of discovering your first real wrinkle? it is an unsettling passage. an eclipse of life stages. to be forced from the bliss of childhood invincibility into the inevitable downslope of age is a wholly unpleasant experience.
although i assure you i am not so vain as to suffer one wrinkle, one scar, for more than a moment, i do attest that it is a truth which, once discovered, cannot be unlearned. mortality. deterioration. atrophy. growing old.
sisters
i’m told these will survive cremation
when i was a kid, my orthodontist was my best friend’s dad, so i got it all - except headgear, god i’m glad for that. anyway, one of the many treats i endured was a rapid expander. for those of you who are blissfully unaware of this particular torture device, it’s a large spring that goes across the roof of the mouth, anchored on the first molars (second tooth in from the back, if you’ve had your wisdom teeth out). every week or so, you take a little silver pin, stick it in and crank it. the spring expands and the upper jaw is forced to comply. tons of fun.
so, there are some cells that live in our mouths, specifically designed to break down our baby teeth and make room for big girl teeth (or big boy teeth for you men-folk). for most of us, those cells, having served their one specific purpose, die away. but somehow, the trauma of restructuring my jaw was too much excitement to miss. apparently, those little cells woke right up and got back to work.
and ten or so years later, while dining at a burger king off i-90 in chamberlain, south dakota, i discovered that my tooth was hollow and, now, broken.
today was the terminus of a two and a half year, $5000 journey to repair the work of that cursed expander. it turned out that both upper first molars had been eaten away from the inside out. i learned that this process, called internal resorption, is actually somewhat of a dental roswell. some dentists don’t believe it’s real! several of the specialists i saw promised to talk about me at the next convention as the first case they had ever seen of double-internal resorption. i’m very proud.
i had the option of getting implants to replace the stumps i had removed, but decided the $20,000 would be a bit, ahem, hard to swallow. so i went with bridges. the picture above is my second and last. it now lives in my mouth and will never again see the light of day. and i’m told they will survive cremation.