Many of our visitors here in rural northern Californias actually complain of how quiet it is. I simply ask them to stop and listen to the cacophony of birds, insects, wind, trees and an occasional distant coyote. Or a motorcyclist with “loud pipes” to announce far and wide the disappointment in his pants. I cherish our aviary without walls; though thoroughly unappreciated, I never disagree with the biker, and I’m a biker myself.
Settling in with my coffee to enjoy a clever and snarky read, I was not prepared for this beautifully woven memory-story that made me cry. Just right for the pink dawn outside. I have a story of forgiveness, too, but it's not ready to tell. But I this gives me hope. Thank you Michael. ❤️
What a lovely thing to say, Allison. Thank you. I promise to bring more snark in the coming months. I like to do emotional pieces every once in a while, just to throw everyone off balance.
in college, some kooky friends started sending a (white castle) slider on a cross-country trip during summer semester. He was called "the bumstead". To recieve him and send a note continuing him on his journey was no small honor. I am imagining a raw spiced chicken thigh slowly cooking traveling coast-to-coast in this heat wave (perhaps vaccum-sealed)?
Thanks for this reminder of how precious our friends are and how short our lives are. The only math I ever grokked. I was at a funeral in my adopted home town of Chester today. The deceased was 96 and a real firecracker. Some of the mourners had spent years not talking to this or that person for reasons that were nothing but the highly polished carapace that held the original affront. I leapt up from the pew and hollered “no time no time! Get on with loving!” No I didn’t but I felt it in the dusty churchy air.
I love funerals. Lovely egg salad sandwiches, people talking about real things just having been reminded of the fragility of existence and no gift to bring.
When are you coming to Nova Scotia? Probably November right? I’ll take you everywhere. You won’t regret it except those occurrences that are meant to be regretted but only in a slightly humorous and sweetly jaded way.
I now need to find an excuse to use "highly polished carapace" in a sentence. Nova Scotia! Are there cloudberries? I'd need to come in cloudberry season.
Ah, this is such a lovely piece. With age, I become increasingly aware of those instances in my life where my response to being hurt by someone I cared about was disproportionate to the offense. The deferred regret I feel (for the avoidable loss of a friendship or for ending an unworkable one in an unnecessarily ugly fashion) shall henceforth be called tagine.
The moment I realized the outrage and victimhood I felt was taught (unintentionally) by my mother, I began to get a good grip on it. (Side note: she also got a lot better at it.)
I always learn from you and always good things. One day...I hesitate to say this but will be bold...one day I will actually make one of your delicious-reading recipes. Your directions are so clear. And somehow it feels ike, to fully absorb the lesson of the essay I need to make the recipe. Thank you, Michael.
What a lovely thing to write, Betsy. It makes me extra happy that you read the recipe. You certainly don't have to make anything that I write about, but I often think of a recipe as a continuation of a theme and am just delighted that people pay attention!
I walked with a friend to a coffee shop today. I told her of a very bad person from my past who died earlier this year. I felt no anger, no resentment, no fear (that silencer threat kept me quiet for a long time). His dying helped finish off the fear but the rest? I figured out the only one suffering was me; let it go. Sometimes it does take a while. I sense you've progressed. A lot.
Another insightful journey you've shared, I am grateful, the terrain part reminded me of a story my son told of "dune booming" in California and the contrast to the quietest quiet and the most spectacular star gazing.
That is a sound you never forget. And I loved how, at the very top of a high dune, the sunny side was very warm to the touch and the shaded side remarkably cold.
It’s a great piece. Relevant for me: forgiveness has often been too hard. Forgiving others and myself, not something that has ever come naturally to me!
Well written, well felt. I knew a version of the story from back in the day. Where you went with it was something.
This really moved me, Michael, beautifully done. (As an aside, if I was offered one more glass of mint tea while I was in Morocco, I was gonna scream. But, I do love it :)
I loved the mint tea! However, if one more person jokingly referred to it as "Berber whiskey" was would have throttled them, causing an unfortunate, international situation.
This was just lovely. Thank you for the reminder and what I'll call a mantra, or a philosophy of life.
Far too often, I forget that "I don't know your life."
I have to remind myself of this constantly.
Beautiful, Michael, inside and out. 💜
Many of our visitors here in rural northern Californias actually complain of how quiet it is. I simply ask them to stop and listen to the cacophony of birds, insects, wind, trees and an occasional distant coyote. Or a motorcyclist with “loud pipes” to announce far and wide the disappointment in his pants. I cherish our aviary without walls; though thoroughly unappreciated, I never disagree with the biker, and I’m a biker myself.
I may be wrong, but I have a pet theory that people who hate quiet are generally afraid of being alone with their own thoughts.
And thank you for the lovely comment.
Settling in with my coffee to enjoy a clever and snarky read, I was not prepared for this beautifully woven memory-story that made me cry. Just right for the pink dawn outside. I have a story of forgiveness, too, but it's not ready to tell. But I this gives me hope. Thank you Michael. ❤️
What a lovely thing to say, Allison. Thank you. I promise to bring more snark in the coming months. I like to do emotional pieces every once in a while, just to throw everyone off balance.
in college, some kooky friends started sending a (white castle) slider on a cross-country trip during summer semester. He was called "the bumstead". To recieve him and send a note continuing him on his journey was no small honor. I am imagining a raw spiced chicken thigh slowly cooking traveling coast-to-coast in this heat wave (perhaps vaccum-sealed)?
I say we put that vacuum-sealed chicken thigh on the back of a camel, give the camel a playful swat on the backside and then see what happens.
Thanks for this reminder of how precious our friends are and how short our lives are. The only math I ever grokked. I was at a funeral in my adopted home town of Chester today. The deceased was 96 and a real firecracker. Some of the mourners had spent years not talking to this or that person for reasons that were nothing but the highly polished carapace that held the original affront. I leapt up from the pew and hollered “no time no time! Get on with loving!” No I didn’t but I felt it in the dusty churchy air.
I love funerals. Lovely egg salad sandwiches, people talking about real things just having been reminded of the fragility of existence and no gift to bring.
When are you coming to Nova Scotia? Probably November right? I’ll take you everywhere. You won’t regret it except those occurrences that are meant to be regretted but only in a slightly humorous and sweetly jaded way.
I now need to find an excuse to use "highly polished carapace" in a sentence. Nova Scotia! Are there cloudberries? I'd need to come in cloudberry season.
Ah, this is such a lovely piece. With age, I become increasingly aware of those instances in my life where my response to being hurt by someone I cared about was disproportionate to the offense. The deferred regret I feel (for the avoidable loss of a friendship or for ending an unworkable one in an unnecessarily ugly fashion) shall henceforth be called tagine.
The moment I realized the outrage and victimhood I felt was taught (unintentionally) by my mother, I began to get a good grip on it. (Side note: she also got a lot better at it.)
Love this. You are such a beautiful writer.
(Thank you)
I know you are but what am I?
ha ha ha ha ha.... No really, this is lovely.
I always learn from you and always good things. One day...I hesitate to say this but will be bold...one day I will actually make one of your delicious-reading recipes. Your directions are so clear. And somehow it feels ike, to fully absorb the lesson of the essay I need to make the recipe. Thank you, Michael.
What a lovely thing to write, Betsy. It makes me extra happy that you read the recipe. You certainly don't have to make anything that I write about, but I often think of a recipe as a continuation of a theme and am just delighted that people pay attention!
Sweet. In a slap the face lightly way. Which is too often needed but not done. Forgiveness is one of the best gifts we give ourselves.
I should have been slapped harder and a lot sooner, but overall I very much agree.
I walked with a friend to a coffee shop today. I told her of a very bad person from my past who died earlier this year. I felt no anger, no resentment, no fear (that silencer threat kept me quiet for a long time). His dying helped finish off the fear but the rest? I figured out the only one suffering was me; let it go. Sometimes it does take a while. I sense you've progressed. A lot.
It was a very steep and costly learning curve, but very much worth it. We all go at our own pace.
Nice story. Sets an emotional mood.
Thank you.
Another insightful journey you've shared, I am grateful, the terrain part reminded me of a story my son told of "dune booming" in California and the contrast to the quietest quiet and the most spectacular star gazing.
https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/sing-with-the-sands
That is a sound you never forget. And I loved how, at the very top of a high dune, the sunny side was very warm to the touch and the shaded side remarkably cold.
And thank you.
It’s a great piece. Relevant for me: forgiveness has often been too hard. Forgiving others and myself, not something that has ever come naturally to me!
Well written, well felt. I knew a version of the story from back in the day. Where you went with it was something.
Thank you, my friend! The "forgiving myself" part often really trips me up, which is why I often think upon this experience.
This really moved me, Michael, beautifully done. (As an aside, if I was offered one more glass of mint tea while I was in Morocco, I was gonna scream. But, I do love it :)
I loved the mint tea! However, if one more person jokingly referred to it as "Berber whiskey" was would have throttled them, causing an unfortunate, international situation.