The summer having passed with considerable incident, only in the past few days finding my toes in the normal puddle, tonight awakened me to a long dormant desire to write, to account in public for the happenstance of my life. Tonight two entirely incidental decisions aligned something - tapped into something, and my not being a terribly spiritual man, I am at something of a stubborn loss. Anyway, here they are.
This weekend is my first weekend off of school (as in a break from teaching) since traveling - it is my full return to my life. This weekend my brother celebrated his union with Lara, his Sufi spouse and mother of his impending daughter. This weekend landed in my life with emphasis and seemed to converge upon me from several angles, these finding their homes in me tonight.
Tonight I decided, after a lovely brunch with our now merged families, to take a stab at grading papers. I walked to Tracy's of all places as I knew I would not be distracted by acquaintances or tempted by Birchwood deserts (these being the fruits of my return home). Rather I ordered a burger and a Surly Cynic - pretty much exactly what I would have used three wishes for when traveling. I walked to Tracy's and noticed a bookstore (where 'Arise' used to be, off Franklin) and stopped in to pick up the book club book "Don't Sleep, There Are Snakes." One of the two people working asked after my reasons for buying that - I mentioned the book club, she sd that her book club "Former Fundamentalists" just read that. Well that lead to an interesting conversation. While they did not have the book, they did have volunteer opportunities (they are entirely volunteer run) to work the shop and deliver books by bicycle. Whell. That was up my alley so I signed up - I have been for some time hoping to find a position to work part time in addition to teaching - a sort of second career - working in a bookstore would not be a bad place to start.
So that settled, I sat myself down in Tracy's to my Cynic and burger and graded about 80 Sophomore papers. The burger was good (with tater tots) and the beer was spot on. As I was wrapping up, I noticed two people across the room get two tequila shots at their table (this generally does not escape notice) - one exclaimed that she had forgotten how much bigger shots were in the states. "In the states ..."
Bob and I had breakfast at the Highland Grill a week ago - he was in town with Adina and their lovely kids Kian and Iulia. I chatted with a fella sitting behind me who PAID FOR OUR BREAKFAST because I taught at CDH, where he had attended some years ago. This favor has sat somewhat elevated in my consciousness since then. I gathered my things and paid for their drinks along with my own and headed on my way.
On my way home, I decided to walk down 24th rather than 22nd as I usually do. At 22nd and 30th, I heard zydeco music, unmistakable. I turned the corner and listened as this group of musicians sang and played in the back porch of the host of this magical looking party. I watched for a while, a couple approached from the other direction and went in through the gate, a path I was tempted on myself but for my shyness, and I waited for their next song. I stood for a while listening; they were excellent musicians, and then I went on my way home. I had however become resolved (and not for the first time) to purchase a Clarinet and teach myself to play it. An adventure from my living room. A foray back into music. And besides, I told Ben Tierney I would pay for his sailboat if I failed to get one.
It has not been a neutral summer, nor a neutral past year, and my feelings and self have not gone unmolested by the trip or my return to Minnesota. I have wrestled with continuing to write in this blog. Until tonight I have not felt compelled to do so - and being compelled is a pretty solid reason to get back into it. I have struggled to explain what it has felt like, being back, or traveling itself, and I wonder if this is the way to process it. Every time I talk about it I bring myself a little closer to understanding it myself, and even out of the way questions such as 'what was it like' draw me out. Tonight I found myself with too much thought, memories too emotionally clear to not share them and I moved slowly away from my opportunities to do so; at my parent's house, at the bookstore, and Tracy's, from the party on 24th. I toyed momentarily with breaking off my shyness and asking for my entry into the party, but I remembered this forum, this venue for my overflown thoughts. I knew that if I went inside I would spend some of those thoughts and I would not have enough for this entry. Maybe it is C being once again out of my immediate reach; I am at a loss without her ear sometimes. I cannot speak to any regularity here, but I have heard often enough kind words about reading my entries to encourage me to overcome my anxiety of hubris and toss a few more entries on the wall. Let's see if it sticks. Thanks for reading.
This weekend is my first weekend off of school (as in a break from teaching) since traveling - it is my full return to my life. This weekend my brother celebrated his union with Lara, his Sufi spouse and mother of his impending daughter. This weekend landed in my life with emphasis and seemed to converge upon me from several angles, these finding their homes in me tonight.
Tonight I decided, after a lovely brunch with our now merged families, to take a stab at grading papers. I walked to Tracy's of all places as I knew I would not be distracted by acquaintances or tempted by Birchwood deserts (these being the fruits of my return home). Rather I ordered a burger and a Surly Cynic - pretty much exactly what I would have used three wishes for when traveling. I walked to Tracy's and noticed a bookstore (where 'Arise' used to be, off Franklin) and stopped in to pick up the book club book "Don't Sleep, There Are Snakes." One of the two people working asked after my reasons for buying that - I mentioned the book club, she sd that her book club "Former Fundamentalists" just read that. Well that lead to an interesting conversation. While they did not have the book, they did have volunteer opportunities (they are entirely volunteer run) to work the shop and deliver books by bicycle. Whell. That was up my alley so I signed up - I have been for some time hoping to find a position to work part time in addition to teaching - a sort of second career - working in a bookstore would not be a bad place to start.
So that settled, I sat myself down in Tracy's to my Cynic and burger and graded about 80 Sophomore papers. The burger was good (with tater tots) and the beer was spot on. As I was wrapping up, I noticed two people across the room get two tequila shots at their table (this generally does not escape notice) - one exclaimed that she had forgotten how much bigger shots were in the states. "In the states ..."
Bob and I had breakfast at the Highland Grill a week ago - he was in town with Adina and their lovely kids Kian and Iulia. I chatted with a fella sitting behind me who PAID FOR OUR BREAKFAST because I taught at CDH, where he had attended some years ago. This favor has sat somewhat elevated in my consciousness since then. I gathered my things and paid for their drinks along with my own and headed on my way.
On my way home, I decided to walk down 24th rather than 22nd as I usually do. At 22nd and 30th, I heard zydeco music, unmistakable. I turned the corner and listened as this group of musicians sang and played in the back porch of the host of this magical looking party. I watched for a while, a couple approached from the other direction and went in through the gate, a path I was tempted on myself but for my shyness, and I waited for their next song. I stood for a while listening; they were excellent musicians, and then I went on my way home. I had however become resolved (and not for the first time) to purchase a Clarinet and teach myself to play it. An adventure from my living room. A foray back into music. And besides, I told Ben Tierney I would pay for his sailboat if I failed to get one.
It has not been a neutral summer, nor a neutral past year, and my feelings and self have not gone unmolested by the trip or my return to Minnesota. I have wrestled with continuing to write in this blog. Until tonight I have not felt compelled to do so - and being compelled is a pretty solid reason to get back into it. I have struggled to explain what it has felt like, being back, or traveling itself, and I wonder if this is the way to process it. Every time I talk about it I bring myself a little closer to understanding it myself, and even out of the way questions such as 'what was it like' draw me out. Tonight I found myself with too much thought, memories too emotionally clear to not share them and I moved slowly away from my opportunities to do so; at my parent's house, at the bookstore, and Tracy's, from the party on 24th. I toyed momentarily with breaking off my shyness and asking for my entry into the party, but I remembered this forum, this venue for my overflown thoughts. I knew that if I went inside I would spend some of those thoughts and I would not have enough for this entry. Maybe it is C being once again out of my immediate reach; I am at a loss without her ear sometimes. I cannot speak to any regularity here, but I have heard often enough kind words about reading my entries to encourage me to overcome my anxiety of hubris and toss a few more entries on the wall. Let's see if it sticks. Thanks for reading.
Awesome entry, Kev. It's great to read your writing again!
ReplyDeleteCool post, welcome back. I've been excited for some processing. You know I'm excited about any conversation about how things happen to us for a reason, how tests come to us because we call them upon us and are ready for them. So keep the processing flowing. And big hug from us.
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