So much rich and varied content in a economical style; well done, you.
I'll add my fascination and appreciation of maps to your other readers. When I was in high school in Washington, D.C. I pinned a Nat Geo map of Oregon, Idaho, and Washington (places I'd never been) on my wall. I studied that map. It probably helped me choose WSU over some other schools and begin a new life out west.
People caution: the map is not the territory. And they are right, but it can be an invitation to exploration and a reminder of important journeys. That power of connecting past, present, and future will keep me looking at maps.
Yes, Joseph, a map is like a wish. As for William Least Half-Moon knew, blue highways beckon, overlaying memories of past trips with anticipation of new ones. Trimet, when it was TriMet, used to print a poster-size map of all its routes. I went to buy a new one, and there was only a tiny map, folded into the same size as a map of a single route.
About moving west: I wasn’t crazy about moving to California from Sioux Falls, even though I was unhappy there. I thought California was all about shallowness and surfing. Hah! Tulare is in the Central Valley. Maybe they have crop surfing.
I love the letter to Robert from a solo journey.... beautiful... and something poignant about knowing the letter was written and to someone. This post brought a favorite song to mind, Eliza Gilkyson’s “Coast.” Thank you for sharing your stories and insights each week!
All these pieces sang for me. The stars ... I kept thinking of a couple of nights ago, middle of the Nevada desert, clouds finally parting to reveal Scorpio and ... was that long line of stars Draco. Solitude reminded me of how often I am alone but not thinking deeply, my brain scattering thoughts about like shreds of confetti. I need to count my breaths. And maps. I love maps. We still have the big gazettes to see how a ranch in the middle of Nevada fits into the larger scheme of things. What is it close to ... even remotely? Maps give perspective. I agree with you totally. Maps need to make a comeback. Thank you for these lovely pieces, Fran.
Thank you. I love the confetti image. Perhaps like me, you have a mind that doesn’t worry over and over about small irritations but instead is expansive and welcoming to whatever the Universe serves up.
Actually, Fran, I do obsess over little irritations and relationship hiccups that not only happened decades ago, but the participants are dead. I'm reaching for the Universe to give me perspective. Also, teehee, a lot of this stuff is fodder for stories and poems. Writing is a wonderful cathartic, don't you think?
So much rich and varied content in a economical style; well done, you.
I'll add my fascination and appreciation of maps to your other readers. When I was in high school in Washington, D.C. I pinned a Nat Geo map of Oregon, Idaho, and Washington (places I'd never been) on my wall. I studied that map. It probably helped me choose WSU over some other schools and begin a new life out west.
People caution: the map is not the territory. And they are right, but it can be an invitation to exploration and a reminder of important journeys. That power of connecting past, present, and future will keep me looking at maps.
BTW: nice to meet you this morning in Hillsdale.
Yes, Joseph, a map is like a wish. As for William Least Half-Moon knew, blue highways beckon, overlaying memories of past trips with anticipation of new ones. Trimet, when it was TriMet, used to print a poster-size map of all its routes. I went to buy a new one, and there was only a tiny map, folded into the same size as a map of a single route.
About moving west: I wasn’t crazy about moving to California from Sioux Falls, even though I was unhappy there. I thought California was all about shallowness and surfing. Hah! Tulare is in the Central Valley. Maybe they have crop surfing.
Good to meet you, too.
I love the letter to Robert from a solo journey.... beautiful... and something poignant about knowing the letter was written and to someone. This post brought a favorite song to mind, Eliza Gilkyson’s “Coast.” Thank you for sharing your stories and insights each week!
And thank you for commenting! I listened to the song: it’s a perfect match.
All these pieces sang for me. The stars ... I kept thinking of a couple of nights ago, middle of the Nevada desert, clouds finally parting to reveal Scorpio and ... was that long line of stars Draco. Solitude reminded me of how often I am alone but not thinking deeply, my brain scattering thoughts about like shreds of confetti. I need to count my breaths. And maps. I love maps. We still have the big gazettes to see how a ranch in the middle of Nevada fits into the larger scheme of things. What is it close to ... even remotely? Maps give perspective. I agree with you totally. Maps need to make a comeback. Thank you for these lovely pieces, Fran.
Thank you. I love the confetti image. Perhaps like me, you have a mind that doesn’t worry over and over about small irritations but instead is expansive and welcoming to whatever the Universe serves up.
Actually, Fran, I do obsess over little irritations and relationship hiccups that not only happened decades ago, but the participants are dead. I'm reaching for the Universe to give me perspective. Also, teehee, a lot of this stuff is fodder for stories and poems. Writing is a wonderful cathartic, don't you think?