February 16, Friday still writing

 If I were to write 365 essays in a year. Kind of an exciting prospect in some ways. Although the obsessive essayist in me says there is a lot of Love out there I am sure to find it everywhere. A regular title perhaps pales in the light of everyone else’s but I am going to write it anyway. As I pursue my interest in this tiny little bit of history.

First I still haven’t sent that letter of Release of Information but I have noticed in the process that my best friend from grade school has a lot of experience in pursuing the research in the area. I would say it is out of Love, for the past, for the present and the future. That friends across time and space matter and in unexpected ways can keep you alive and interested in stuff. Is there a more elegant way to explain that? I don’t know. 

I do know that I continue to attempt to write a story in 400 words or less that will last 2 minutes or less and will be somewhat  interesting.


PICTURES in CAPS 

Narrative in regular letters. 

He was 80 years old. My sister let me know he could do simple tasks, like painting. He didn’t recognize me, his other daughter, and looked at me as I explained the brush, the paint, the wood. I showed him what needed to be done.

PICTURE OF PAINT BRUSH, PAINT, and WOOD in rapid sequence.

When he looked at me I saw the sky blue eyes

PICTURE OF BLUE SKY

“Charley” was recognized, and appreciated by his colleagues and by the company he worked for for 50 years. His memory of all of that recognition was gone.

BLACK AND WHITE PHOTO OF HIM RECEIVING AN AWARD

I knew where he grew up, the Iron Range, where iron poor mines produced pellets of iron

PICTURE OF PELLETS

Where roads rusted from the iron

PICTURE OF ROAD RUSTED WITH IRON

Where the wood they used was as hard as iron, called “swamp wood” “ironwood” probably actually the tamarac.

Even the town he lived in

Picture of the sign MARBLE

Was hard

There must of been some wings flapping or maybe the sound of crows.

PICTURE OF A BLACK FEATHER

When he stopped painting.

“His name was Jimmy, I named him Jimmy”

His leg was broken, I fixed it.

PICTURE OF A CROW

“Jimmy The Crow”

“I kept him safe.”

PICTURE OF A PIECE OF PAINTED WOOD, brush and paint.

PICTURE OF IRONWOOD SPLINTED

One day he heard a shot

PICTURE OF THE SKY

He ran out

Back of man

Words “Nuisance”

BLACK FEATHERS ON THE GROUND

Sound of a family of crows cawing.

Mom ran after me: “shush, shush”

“don’t say anything, that’s your dad’s boss, he gives us the wood that heats the house, the stove for the food for your family, 4 other children, younger than you.”

PICTURE OF THE SKY

PICTURE OF SPLIT WOOD

His clear blue eyes looked at me, “Are you my supervisor?   I don’t think I’m qualified for this job.

SEPIA PICTURE

Written words: Charley sitting on his grandmother’s lap..


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