Island

I've spent a bit more time on the island lately than I probably should. Every time sit in the boat and push off from shore, I feel a little twinge of guilt. From somewhere low in my stomach, it spreads up through my chest and out my arms as I start to row. But soon the effort of powering the boat and holding course drives it away, and by the time I scrape bottom at the island, I'm only thinking about pulling the boat onto the beach and making my way to the hut. I'll want kindling, and a fire; fresh water and coffee from my stores, and a tin of something salty and food-like. I will eat, clean my dishes, and watch the fire until the stars come out. Then I 'll sing the three songs I know; the tragic one, the happy one, and the sad one. The flames will flicker down to coals, and I'll retire back into the hut and dream myself awake, and wonder when and where I left the island. And where did all these people come from?
     There are a lot of us, aren't there? Many individuals, yes, and small groups and large groups; clusters of belief and bastions of defense. I was watching the Canada geese on the neighbor's pond, and they seemed to be doing the same thing. There were posturing geese and conforming geese, geese with mostly family matters on their minds, and geese that seemed to be trying to drum up a following with load proclamations and preaching. Conflicts, of course, although nothing deadly as near as I could tell. I don't know what they were saying, because they're geese. But you could see ideas rippling among them like wind on the water. (That's a goose simile, which they don't use because it's very cliche. Obviously.) And predictably enough, most of their conversation would have to concern the fact that they were all, without exception, assembling there at the pond with the full intention of leaving and going South for the winter. Lucky geese.
      Today for the first time this season, the weather man has threatened us with "significant high elevation snowfall". I'm not happy about this. Only this morning I was reading in a gardening book about growing winter vegetables in an unheated greenhouse in a zone 5 climate. I was excited about this, and I looked out the window at the cold rain falling on the remains of this year's garden and suddenly I felt very, very tired. I don't want to garden now. I want to rest up for next year, whiling away the winter with the seed catalogs and watching the swirls of snow drifting over the barely discernible bumps of the raised  beds buried somewhere there below.
     And when I'm tired of that, I'll make myself a cup of coffee and retreat to one end of the couch. Some dog will jump up and curl into a warm, snoring doughnut shape against me. And I'll cradle the hot cup and close my eyes and push off from shore, dipping the oars into the water with just a twinge of guilt. Before long, I'll be well away. And soon enough, I'll be back on the island.

People

Hello there,

It’s been a while and dad’s done double duty in my absence. Many interesting and wonderful things have happened to me since I last posted. This piece though, is just a small thing.

I walked by a woman the other day on my way to class. She was sitting at a picnic table under one of those giant cloth umbrellas that may or may not be called giant cloth umbrellas, and she was smoking a cigarette and staring reflectively into the distance.

We had actually worked together, back in the days when I was a (somewhat reluctant it must be admitted*) worker in the college's catering business.  Only a couple times however, enough to justify comfortable eye contact and a smile, and at most some pleasant small talk. Today was no exception, I had decided she was too deep in thought to try an initiate contact, but just as I was about to continue on my merry** way she spoke up and said “gorgeous day isn’t it?” To which I made all pleasant and necessary responses until we’d thoroughly discussed the glories of the weather and made our farewells.

Of course it left me wondering what she was really thinking about while she was sitting there. It really could be anything. I remember when a friend of mine asked me what I was thinking because she said I was looking very intense and far away, or something along those lines. I replied, with some enjoyment, that I had been thinking about how much I like bagels.

So what had the smoking lady been thinking about before she decided to appreciate the weather with me? What she had for lunch? Her significant other? Her daughter? Pain in her left foot? The weather? Politics? The question of why anyone would make a smurf movie?

I haven’t the first notion what was going through her head. Or anyone else’s. Many people cause me to run along this thought pattern. Not the ones who obviously have some sort of agenda. Anyone with platinum blond highlights, high-heeled fancy boots, lots of large ugly jewelery, a giant handbag, perfectly straight hair, and  brand name clothing I generally*** am not as interested in. But people who have obviously seen something of life that changed them; parents, bag ladies, bus drivers, in short, anyone who hasn’t had an unusually easy life, intrigues me to an extreme. Sometimes, when I’m not totally wrapped up in my own small and wonderful**** life, I wish I could stop all those people and ask them questions, with no awkwardness or worries about time and social rules, and not just discuss the weather. And don’t even get me started about passengers I see on the bus*****…

*It was the uniforms that really got me, and I spend a significant amount of my time running around in a kilt…

**Approximately, I was probably on the way to documentary class, which I enjoy. I probably wasn’t whistling though, so on a scale of 1 to 10 for merriness I’m going to guess I was around a 4.5.

***I do form some opinions about people based on their clothing, I admit it, and on their bearing. In fact more on bearing I’d say. However I’m perfectly willing to change my opinion about someone if I get to actually know him/her well.

****Well, I think it's wonderful, but then, I'm biased. I'm also using the word "wonderful" a lot lately.

*****Many of them it probably wouldn't be a good idea to talk to. Some telepathy would be useful here, but not too much.