Yellow eyebrows
May 20, 2010
“My sister was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease when she was in her early 40′s. By the time they figured out what she had, they gave her three months to live. She ended up living for three years, due in large part to her fervent love for her young daughters.
Her name is Kathy. She was technically my half sister, but was like a mother to me. I packed up all of my things and moved from Florida to California at her suggestion when I was in my early 20′s. It never occurred to me that anything ‘bad’ could happen to a young woman in a car alone on a three or four day trip across the country with all of her possessions in her car, including a large television more or less in plain view in the back seat; and nothing bad did happen.
She took me into the fold, made me part of her family. We would take long walks and she would listen to me rattle off incessantly about whoever I was dating at the time – she was patient with me as I painstakingly dissected every conversation and wrung my hands over every nuance of what was said.
She was home.
So I painted her. Tried to convey the strength of my love for her and the power of her courage with the color choices. Most of all I tried to capture the pain in her eyes. The resignation. The fear. And a glimmer of hope in her yellow eyebrows.
It occurred to me long after the painting was done that her eyes were green. Mine are blue.
I had painted my eyes into her face.”
-Art and story by Lisa Valle, 44, from Portland, Oregon
Quotes are silly
August 5, 2009
Sisters ... I'm on the right.
Quotes are wise. But pictures are the truth.
I could find a billion quotes from the most worldly women on this planet, but nothing compares to a simple photograph. This particular photo shows sisterhood beyond any written word whispered to me.
Aren’t we lucky that we can play with both words and images?
Mating call
July 28, 2009
His nose is loaded with lotion. My nose is hidden inside of a book.
I’ve been quiet.
The best feature of reading is re-reading. A favorite book of mine entered my realm post-College and pre-European Adventure. I needed a few “bus books” for the trip, and I stumbled across a good one: The Girl’s Guide To Hunting and Fishing by Melissa Bank.
The story follows Jane through her relationships with the most important men in her life: Father, Brother, First Love, Idealistic Love, Oodles of Lovers in Between, and the Real Love. The witty writing makes you light up, and the reality of truth, in the storyline, makes you dim down.
Bank reminds you of all that is “beautiful and funny and sad and true.”
Every time I re-read, I revel.
On the beach, Linda became her social-scientist self and said, “At the top of the social hierarchy is the blond man on the elevated white chair. The symbolic throne.”
“I believe the common term ‘lifeguard’ signifies his desire to copulate,” I said, “i.e., to guard the perpetuation of the species.”
“Note that he paints his nose white,” she said. “Not unlike the chiefs of many sub-Saharan tribes.”
The lifeguard stood up and blew his whistle.
I said, “Mating call.”
-The Girls’ Guide to Hunting and Fishing by Melissa Bank
Talk to the fellow next to you.
July 12, 2009
Fate. Is it real or fake?
Easy-breezy Sundays bring out my favorite fluid poetry. A lovely day desires a lovely poem. After reading the words below, you may decide to travel over unknown seas or you may gently tap the person’s shoulder sitting next to you on the train. Either way, Fate will take its course. Or you will.
Fate
Two shall be born, the whole wide world apart,
And speak in different tongues and have no thought
Each of the other’s being, and no heed;
And these, o’er unknown seas, to unknown lands
Shall cross, escaping wreck, defying death;
And all unconsciously shape every act
And bend each wandering step to this one end -
That one day out of darkness they shall meet
And read life’s meaning in each other’s eyes.And two shall walk some narrow way of life
So nearly side by side that, should one turn
Ever so little space to left or right,
They needs must stand acknowledged, face to face,
And yet, with wistful eyes that never meet,
And groping hands that never clasp, and lips
Calling in vain to ears that never hear,
They seek each other all their weary days
And die unsatisfied – and this is fate!-Susan Marr Spalding
Do you believe in it?
