Just a little more than usual
I was going to say some unit of coinage– maybe a dime or a quarter– but then I remembered the day we were out looking for our younger brother, who had decided to run away over some perceived slight.
It turned out that he hadn’t gone very far, but while we were out scouring the neighborhood, we did find a dog who ended up following us home and staying for a few years. We called him Lucky.
I suppose if I took all day to think about it, I could come up with one thing. As it stands, no one thing stands out. I’ve been lucky that way– to have grown up in a caring, tight-knit family, to have had experiences throughout life with kind, considerate people.
It’s been more a collection of “small” things that add up.
I’m retired almost 5 years now, but maybe a tour guide, or park historian at Gettysburg NMP. We spent four years living close to where the battle started, on the campus of the Lutheran Seminary there, and the place took hold of me.
I haven’t been back for a visit since the summer of 2019, and there’s a regular yearning to return. It is a place that invokes strong feelings, there’s an aura of sadness and solemnity, but also a sense that something monumental and consequential happened there.
There was a time when I would have jumped at the opportunity to be part of the corps who tells its story.
I decided to pick up a small diamond art, or diamond painting kit at Hobby Lobby back around Christmas time, and I’ve since completed several projects. I’ve found that the bigger the piece, the more detail that can be achieved. I look for pieces that are actually based on paintings by the masters and have done large versions of The Starry Night by van Gogh, and Monet’s Water Lilies, and a smaller version of Monet’s Impression Sunrise.
I was contemplating tackling da Vinci’s The Last Supper, but the finished canvas is quite sizeable and would need a custom frame and mat, I think. Still, it may come to pass that this is one that occupies my time.
As I’m working on one of these, I sometimes think that it might be something many would find tedious– applying thousands of sparkly little “drills”, as they’re called, to a sticky surface. But besides being rewarded with a decent-looking finished product, I find it enjoyable and even a bit addicting. And it’s something to do, something with which to while away the hours.
There must be something, but it’s not coming to mind. Perusing seven decades for something relevant is hard sometimes.
The weirdest thing I can think of is running into friends from home at Niagara Falls.
Sorry– that really doesn’t rise to the level of weird, but it’s all I’ve got. If I think of anything more interesting, I’ll update or write another post.
War and Peace. I got about 800 pages into it and put it down, and haven’t read a page since. This was probably 15 or 20 years ago.
I downloaded a copy from Kindle a while back. Maybe I should just start over. And take notes.
I confess that I’m not familiar with many of the fictional worlds that populate TV and movies. I could be a huge bore and say I prefer reality, as much as that sucks sometimes. For the sake of this prompt, I’ll say Dinotopia, because it sounds like a cool place to visit.
Many of the rest are just settings for morality plays– power struggles, jealousy, dystopian angst. Reality on steroids, with batches of dire consequences and little margin for error. And way too much darkness.
Yikes. It’s a long list, but I think I’d like to be a fly on the wall in the days leading up to July 4, 1776, and to be an observer at the meetings that followed, as Madison and Franklin and the rest hammered out the framework for what is currently in the midst of a severe stress test.
At the other end of the spectrum, maybe have a seat in the Ed Sullivan Theater for The Beatles’ American debut in 1964.
Nope. Not happening. I would never agree to put a tattoo on my body. Not even a small one. I don’t and never will understand the practice. I would find different, less invasive ways to remember or commemorate or pontificate.
Body art sounds like a euphemism for something much less appealing. To each their own, though. It’s just not something I’d ever consider.
Through mutual friends, at church. Our first date was December 12, 1979. I think we might have gone to see a movie. Turns out her mom and my dad grew up in the same neighborhood in the Swedish part of town.
3 Cents' 