Of course, I had to grow, pluck my own and juice them. I even bit one on the vine like an animal -- I am an animal -- and sucked and chewed, thinking of another writer who acted on the same impulse before I was born, though with a different lure. Perhaps MFK Fisher transmitted that to me, a gastronomic Tesla. As I get older, and maybe as others do, I tend toward something I will call "jeweling" my past, surrounding habitual memories with Wordsworth halos. This happens more often now, under pressure to consider the present a permanent past. … [Read more...]
Three Tall Teachers
[contextly_auto_sidebar] When you're old, dreams become your memories. The mother raises her voice from another room while you're alone at the table. The father drives a Buick with you on the bench seat so close that your thighs touch -- or is that what you think should have happened? The brother who bites you is missing, and you're frantic. A phone call next afternoon finds him, and we share how it feels to be together in various times. The teachers, they come back too. I cannot focus their faces, in the way we use tricks to pretend … [Read more...]