last days of summer
Older children and William at a friend’s birthday party
Photos by Billy
William is just gaining an appreciation for the passing of time.
What’s summer, Mama? he asks me.
Summer, I say, was the time before. The warm, bright time. The time that’s ending.
Look! William says, pointing to the window. In four frames, the sky is gray and a million bright leaves fall.
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Filed under family matters, motherhood, photographs | Comment (0)perfect outfit
computer drawing by me
Every since I was little, I’ve held the secret belief that the perfect outfit might act as a charm. That maybe if I lay the right fabric against some other right fabric, especially say, for the first day of the 5th grade, or for an important trip,then there will be some sort of magical outcome.
It’s like superstition.
Like clothes could be some sartorial harbinger.
Like, maybe beauty can seep from cotton into muscle and bone.
You should have seen: when Billy and I were planning our trip around the world together back in ’99, the complex plans I drew up of which lightweight and portable articles I might bring to India, Nepal, Brazil.
The thing is, rarely does it ever turn out right—these first day, first impression outfits, these compact attempts at outward perfection. Cuts fall all wrong. Fabrics Pull. Things that look fine in our dim bathroom light prove unflattering or plain ugly in the real world.
Still, here comes some new thing. Something where I might be new again. Better this time. A new year. A party. A try for good and true new friends. I want to wear something–not so much fancy or expensive–but that shows people the person I want to be. The person I think I am. The inside one.
Human as I am, I set out my clothes.
This with that.
Look at me.
Can you see how hard I try?
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Filed under drawings, the world we live in | Comments (6)billy hunt is #1 (in my heart)
Photo by Billy, computer drawing by me.
Billy’s beautiful photo-book, A Claw To Remember, received honorable mention in BLURB’s Photography.Book.Now Contest, out of several thousand submissions from 50 countries. Billy remains number one in my heart.
Per my earlier post on playing artist, here are a few more locals making things happen here Charlottesville: Sharon Shapiro, Russell U Richards,Stacy Evans, Allison Sommers, and Photographer John Phillip Sheridan ) who placed in the BLURB contest too.
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A CLAW to Remember, The Book. Smart design by Alloy, Text co-written by witty, talented Wistar
Speak up: Member readings at Writerhouse
Photos from Billy’s Office Party last Friday. To see a slide-show of selected pics, click here
Photos by Billy
I got up and read this story, Cheap Knock-Offs From China, at the Writerhouse Member Readings last month:
They keep showing up in our mail slot: dented packages, very padded, covered in slanted black writing and wide, foreign stamps.
What’s this? I think. Then Johnny comes in from doing his radio show, which he calls his job, even though it doesn’t pay anything.
-Cool, he says, taking the package from my hands. This has gotta be those tiger-shaped LED key chains I ordered. Right from China, he grins, running his pocketknife through slick, clear tape.
-Tiger shaped what? I say.
-Dollar ninety-nine a piece, Johnny says, Can you even believe it? You know, Christmas gifts for the the band.
-But it’s only September, I say.
-I ordered 10 extra. To throw out into the crowds.
-What? I say, again. I’m half deaf in one ear even though I’m only twenty-two and didn’t think I’d get ruined in this kind of way for several more decades at least.
***
The next week it’s a poo-shaped key chain (.99cents), a pair of pink piggy lighters that shock you (2.98 each), and a Wilderness Survival Fire Sparkle and Blade Cutter Tool (15.49).
-If I’m ever stranded in the forest, Johnny says, this could save my fucking life.
A month later, it’s a cell phone watch (29.99).
-You ordered this? Really? I say. But Johnny is not looking at me. He is jabbing at the buttons .This thing is awesome, Dani, don’t you think?
-We don’t even have cell phone plan, or whatever, I say.
-Awe-some, Johnny says again. He peers into the tiny screen. I could probably put a band photo right here, he says.
-We barely made rent last month, I say. But Johnny just strings the watch around his lanky wrist and admires its flat, digital face.
and I wonder what else he’s ordered; what else will come jammed through our mail slot.
***
Today, Johnny comes in, still sweaty from band practice. He brings in the mail, junk and bills and of course, there on top: a manila envelope, already torn opened and ruined from its travels.
For you, Johnny says, which catches me off guard.
I open it, slowly, cautiously. It’s a velvety case, like for jewelry, but inside I discover the strangest contraption: ugly as sin and the color of peach play-do. A hearing aid, (39.99.) Johnny is grinning like crazy, so I click in on. I hold it to my ear, strangely hopeful. But it feeds back, louder that Johnny’s amp. For a second, everything sounds awful and full of static. I click it off again. Worthless.
Later, I can’t sleep so I get up and open the fridge door, even though I’m not remotely hungry. By that glowing light, I spot it again: the cheap knock-off hearing aid from China, laying on the counter where I’d abandoned it. I slip it into my ear. It muffles everything, so the world goes eerily silent.
I turn it on, to level one, level two, and I can hear at once, in muffled amplitude, the refrigerator humming.
I listen at the wall, and I can hear Johnny’s light breathing in the other room.
Level three, level four, and I can hear all of Washington Street, right down to the light.
I turn it up to the last level, go down on one knee, and rest my ear right to our threadbare wood floors. I swear, I can hear earthworms and mice furrowing, and below that, if I listen closely, I can hear everything.
I can even hear China…waiting… silent as a cat.
*
I’ve always been fascinated by the shortest of shorts. What about you: Novels? Novellas? Blogs?
I took an excellent workshop at Writerhouse this summer with Kristen-Paige Madonia. So good. Here’s to folks who will read your writing, and not make fun of you. Too much.
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Filed under photographs, writing | Comment (0)extended family
Photos by Papa Johnson and Billy
William has had good times lately with our extended family: grandma, Papa, Unc, and Mimi. It’s been a wonder to watch him set off holding someone else’s hand. He knows instinctively that they are family too; that these gift-bearing adults, grinning from ear to ear, love him dearly and will also shelter him.
They too will show him how to be in the world.
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Filed under family matters, photographs | Comment (1)what is that smell?
Summer photos of folks in town who keep chickens for egg-laying, including some of William’s school mates. ‘Too Flappy,’ William complains.
Photos by Billy
The first morning of William’s Montessori school year. And we’re late, of course. And I’m strapping William hastily into his car seat.
What’s that smell?, I ask William. It does not smell good. I’m thinking my boy needs to go to the bathroom or change his underpants at the very least.
I dunno, WIlliam answers non-plussed. He is in no rush for this hurried back to school business. Plus he likes bad smells.
I sniff at him, but cannot quite locate the source of the stink. Maybe my car smells. Maybe something died beneath our porch. We pull out causing a spray of gravel.
It’s only when we get to the light, that I smell it again.
No, it smells really bad, I tell William, and for a moment he looks self conscience. Then I realize all at once, pull over by the side of the road, and inspect his shoe.
Yup: smeared in dog you-know-what.
We’re going to be late, but I slip off his shoe and scrap on the curb by the side of the road, in front of somebody’s house (Sorry). Other first day families sail by in station wagons and shiny SUV’s. I wipe the sole with a baby wipe, and dig in the treads with a toothpick. All of which is gross, I know, but these are the things parents do.
We pull in the the lot in front of the school with a few minutes to spare. We sit catching our breathe, trying to steady ourselves for this new beginning. Here we go again. Another school year.
Look! William says, pointing. There’s a girl, from his old class, hurrying toward the gate, with her mother. She is holding a basket of dried hydrangea, to bring to her new classroom. I imagine they smell very sweet.
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Filed under family matters, motherhood, photographs | Comment (0)