Skip to main content

Fish Feathers

The other night, when I could not sleep, I stumbled on a copy of Stuart Little.

I picked it up and started to read.  I was instantly delighted by its sweetly spun absurdity.  Stuart Little is the story of a mature-for-his-age mouse in an otherwise human household and how he navigates the world with a jaunty self-possession, despite his small stature.  The story charmed me unrelentingly.

On a quest to find his little bird friend who had flown north (because she had been warned in writing by a pigeon that she might be in danger by nesting in a Boston Fern), he drove a mouse sized car (supplied by a dentist with a love of model boats and cars) and ends up becoming a substitute teacher on route.  I know, its ridiculous, but it all makes sense when E.B. White tells it.

He asks one of his temporary students if he can "tell us(the class) what is important."
Henry Rackmeyer responds that what is important is "A shaft of sunlight at the end of a dark afternoon, a note in music and the way the back of a baby's neck smells if its mother keeps it tidy."

Stuart goes on to ask the rest of the class, "What did Henry Rackmeyer forget?"
"He forgot ice cream with chocolate sauce on it." said Mary quickly.
"Exactly," said Stuart."Ice cream is important."
-1945 EB.White


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I entered August without you.

 I won't visit you this month.  You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you.   I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.

Keep telling yourself that.

We talk to ourselves everyday, all day (and night) for the whole of our lives. We started talking to ourselves before we knew we were a self, we forget what we said because we forget everything from before...when we were too young and busy developing our brain to remember those early years. There is still lingering residue of long forgotten conversations I have had with myself as a toddler sitting around in the crevices...sloughing off occasionally into words I tell myself still.   We talk non-stop, and not just with dialogue.  Our goosebumps communicate to us, our tingly feelings, our neurons, our peripheal vision.  They are all submitting data into our self and expecting us to react, respond or all to often, expecting what they are sending us will be ignored. After all that talking, you'd think we'd know what we think about most things, but occasionally we are stumped.  Unless we stop what we are doing and really concentrate sometimes that voice(s) ...

Fists full of lettuce

 It is a pot of a variety of lettuce plants. It was planted by my mom.  She has been living with Stage 4 bile duct cancer for at least 1.5 years (that we know of, probably a lot longer).  Standing and gardening are becoming harder as time goes on. She learned about gardening from her dad as a kid and kept on gardening every year of her adult life.  Sometimes the gardens were tiny or rudimentary, but with the help of my dad , they have become major and, at times elaborate, growing projects over the years.  Now it is a collection of raised beds and regular beds that hold a host of plants, vegetable and flowers. Something that was clear that first spring with Stage 4 cancer is that gardening would continue in a big way, cancer or no cancer.  It was important to order the seeds and start them inside and get them planted outside, no matter what. Spending time together in the summer with cancer now consistently involves gardening and following instructions. Plant...