[MD] Fire and Rain

[John Carl]

thanks Mary, but don't be sorry.  DQ can be scarey, but it's also exciting.
I like your exercise with a pencil.  I walk around and do it in my head all
the time, but I can see making an ordered algorithm out of the process could
be helpful.

Now if only I could find a pencil in all this mess.  :-)

John

On Sun, Aug 29, 2010 at 9:52 AM, Mary <marysonthego at gmail.com> wrote:

> Hi John,
>
> I am sorry to hear this news.
>
> Do you have a clipboard?  Put a few sheets of regular-ruled notebook paper
> on it and sharpen a No.2 pencil that has a good eraser.  Walk outside into
> the woods with your clipboard and No.2 pencil and start writing a list of
> everything you value.  No particular order, just write everything you value
> as you happen to think of it.  Leave a little space in the left-hand margin
> of each one, because after you have written down everything you value, go
> back and prioritize each one.  What is number 1?  What do you need to do to
> support, nurture, protect, and defend it?  If it conflicts with value
> number
> 2 or number 487, that means one of two things.  Either it is not really
> number 1, or you do not really value number 2 or 487.  That is what the
> eraser is for.
>
> Wishing the best for you,
> Mary
>
> - The most important thing you will ever make is a realization.
>
> >
> > Suzanne the plans they made put an end to you
> > I woke up this morning, and I wrote down this song.
> > I just can't remember who to send it to.
> >
> > James Taylor; as learned by the author in miss Ann Roacha's 6th grade
> > guitar
> > class
> >
> > I've been thinking  about miss Ann Roacha, my teacher at Scott's Valley
> > Middle School,  who was the sweetest, prettiest, most hip and sexy,
> > slender
> > and miniskirted teacher I ever saw in my life.  Admittedly, most of my
> > previous experience was SDA parochial school, but even so I know she
> > was
> > something special.  Years later my Uncle Arnold, who lived in Scotts
> > Valley
> > many years, took guitar from her and still sorta just sighed over her,
> > the
> > way all men did.   She was the cherry on a perfect existence - Scott's
> > Valley, 1971.  Nestled in at the base of the Santa Cruz mounains.  Ann
> > taught health as well, so she was my instructress in Sex ed. Drugs and
> > Rock
> > and Roll.
> >
> > Sigh indeed.
> >
> > I've been thinking about her, and that guitar class, because of a story
> > I've
> > been working on.  A story I owe to a girl, a friend of my oldest
> > daughter
> > Em, who won it from me in a contest.  I'll probably share it when it's
> > done,
> > because the contest was name the people in the photo on my face book
> > page,
> > and the people were RMP and Chris, posed on the motorcycle.  The story
> > starts with Miss Anne Rocha's guitar class; my mom  interrupting me
> > learning
> > that song in our fourth week, with terrible news.
> >
> > Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone...
> >
> > But that's not ready yet.  Today you'll hear about the usual subject
> > this
> > time of year, with a few surprising juxtapositions.
> >
> > The usual subject this time of year, is fire -  our only nemesis in
> > this
> > here neck of the woods.  You might hear about the threats people in
> > California live under - floods, earthquakes, tsunami maybe.  But  the
> > foothills of the Sierras are impervious to earthquake, riding as we do
> > our
> > 400 mile long, 20 mile wide, solid slab of granite surfboard, into the
> > sunset.  Tsunamis and floods are problems for the valley people and
> > coast -
> > dwellers at the bottom of our 1800 feet in the air.  Tornadoes and
> > Hurricanes happen elsewhere, and our only real fear is fire and only
> > from
> > July to October.
> >
> > There's one started yesterday, pretty close to the same place I saw one
> > start last year.  In the woody inaccessible areas below the bullards
> > bar
> > reservior, right behind my house.  This year I'm not as worried about
> > it,
> > because the wind's wrong (nice! no smell of smoke) and it  did
> > something
> > real unusual for this time of year - it rained.  Just a bit, scattered
> > drops, no more,  but obviously we've got humidity in the air.  The dry
> > eastern wind which dessicated is gone for now.
> >
> >
> > Lu and I have agreed to separate.  That's a brand new development.  Not
> > with
> > any hostility, nor with much sadness.  We both think its a good idea,
> > each
> > of us for our own reasons, and many good ones we both share.  We've
> > discussed it in terms of our community situation and children.   We're
> > not
> > interested in dating other people (oh god - shudders.  As if any woman
> > in
> > the world could put up with me except Lu. And if they would, believe
> > me,
> > they ain't good enough for me.  Sorta one of those groucho marx
> > thingies.)
> > We're interested in changing some patterns.  And she's working at
> > Josh's
> > school all week, and our vehicle situation is dire, and it just makes
> > sense
> > for her to spend the night in town.  Meanwhile, all the piles and piles
> > of
> > things that our house so desperately needs, don't get done unless I'm
> > here
> > to do them.  And not even then.  So I guess while I say there's no
> > hostility, there's gonna be if I don't get this place in better shape.
> > And
> > I just don't seem to be much motivated when she's here all the time,
> > seeing
> > to the things that need to be done, being her sweet, loving self and
> > its
> > like, I'm perfectly happy so why make any effort?
> >
> > So anyway, that's that.  I've had Josh all weekend, just him and me.
> > We get
> > to  have the house to ourselves apart from feminine domination in   9
> > years
> > for him, 20 for me.
> >
> > So the longing for my wife, and and relief from disapprobation  are
> > opposing
> > forces in my heart.  Fire and rain.  It fits the mood of the moment.
> >
> > I've seen fire, and I've seen rain.
> > I've seen sunny days, that I thought would never end.
> > I've seen lonely times, when I could not find a friend.
> > But I know that I will see her, be with her again.
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