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Random Thoughts.... |
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Home Page |
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Journal |
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11/2005 I need to get to the city market & park! But with the freezing weather, it might have to wait! |
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03-11-04 - I love honey with my tea, lots of it. The last time I bought honey it was from a farmer who set up a tent along side the road. This long, narrow, gravel road. It was hot. I remember seeing him and turning the truck around to go back. Seeing him had reminded me I needed more honey, besides the best honey comes from farmers who set up tents along side the road right? I bought two big jars that day. He was lonely I could tell. He made a lot of small talk. An older gentlemen, widower. His family had made honey, since he was a small boy. He had a lot to say, I could tell. I wanted to stay and listen to him longer, not talk to him, but listen to him. But I was already running late for dinner plans with a friend. I remember the creases on his face, the creases the sun had made while he was in the fields and the dust from the gravel had made them clearer on days like today. The bandana he wore around his neck was so he could wipe the sweat from his brow, maybe the bandana was a gift, it looked as worn as he did. He told me a little about his son and his wife, his parents. It may sound like he told me a lot, but I guess you can say a lot while making change for a $20. In fact it was maybe 15 minutes worth of his story that's it. He had kind eyes, very blue. I could tell he had been a good husband. A kind man, but a very hard worker. I know he loved his wife, the way his face lit up when he talked about her, I wonder if she realized how much he loved her, with his long hours on the farm, I wonder if they had found time to share thier love, or if it was something that they talked about in passing conversations with others "I have a wonderful husband, I love him dearly" she might say while dining with friends or " I have a good wife, she's my whole world" he might say while buying supplies at the city market. Had only strangers heard these confessions, or had they made the time to tell one another? His long hours spent on the farm were also spent thinking about her, I could tell it was what kept him going. She is what kept him going. It's strange how we can love someone so much that they are the reason we wake up in the morning, yet sometimes that person thinks they are not number one, that they are being ignored even....Just because we dont' take the time to tell them what we are thinking or take the time to spend a few extras minutes with them now and then. I have not seen that man since. Although I am sure he is still smiling somewhere telling people who buy his honey, how much he misses his wife... |
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Feb. 19, 2004 - Thoughts during lunch in the park today....
Today for lunch I went to the park, it was almost 70 degrees outside today! I sat there and read my book, well I started to read it, when I saw a car pull up and a young couple get out, well a boy and girl, not sure if it was a couple or not. They were very hip and young looking. Anyway they get out and start walking the long path in the park in front of me. They walk to the first park bench and sit down. Never holding hands or touching. They sit side by side on the bench. It loooked like thy were making small talk. I imagined a few conversation topics that they could have been discussing. Wondering if they were breaking up, if they were truly just friends or maybe discussing taking thier friendship to the next level. I was dying to know what they were talking about! Anyway as they were talking the guy sort of moved around on the bench, and settles finally in an Indian style position facing the girl. He looked like he was really into her at that moment. I just gazed at them wishing I could hear them. As I watched, and they sit there he looked so completely comfortable at that point, with her, with himself, with life in general. And I thought...All I really want is someone to sit next to me, Indian style on a park bench. I want that freedom, that comfort, that "lazy day afternoon" attitude. I want to be able to follow through with it and not care, not have to rush back to work, or home, or anywhere. To just spend an afternoon sitting on a park bench with someone interested in what I'm saying and comforable with saying nothing at all. Someone who is so confident that they can change positions on the bench however many times they choose, and still keep eye contact with me, as if they were looking into my soul and reading my thoughts. To have a feeling that there is no one else in the world, whether it be for an hour or 8 hours, it's just us, the bench, and the trees swaying behind us. |
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I can't wait until the city market opens back up this year! I went a few times last year by myself, and had such a great time. I hope I see the young necklace maker again, I had him make me an ankle bracelet last year, he makes all of his stuff from hemp. He amazed me, so young, just carefree, sitting on a blanket in the middle of the market, with his string and beads. I watched him for what seemed like forever. Which did seem to bother him, he was very talented (again that observer in me was showing that day) I wanted to ask him a million questions, and I am sure he would have answered, but for one reason or another I didn't. I like to listen to others stories, and tell my own, I think that people seem to not pay enough attention to others any more, not wanting to know about them. Maybe thinking that they do not want to talk, but I think that is only because no one asks....When he was done with my necklace I gave him a few more dollars than he had quoted me. (whe he quoted me he said $5 and I was amazed at how cheap, and I paused and he said "or i'll take less if you don't have that") He struck me as someone that was very honest, maybe with blood shot eyes and dirty hair and a nose loop ring, even a lover of hemp in all it's forms, but still honest! There was another lady who bought a necklace from him, i watched him quote her a price and she gave him a $10, which was way too much, but she walked away as if giving him the rest for a tip, but he counted out her change and got up, walked over to her, and giave it back to her. I found that to be very honest. And him just being himself. |
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One person telling another about an event or experience. That is what keeps the world interesting and warm. I like telling stories about my grandmother...here's an example:
The day was humid and breezy, making the dried soil blow around you. Leaving it's mark on clothing, skin, and even lips and mouth. The cotton was sticky, the thorns cruel, and the baskets heavy especially to a young girls hands; hands that should have been holding a pencil and writing out arithmetic problems or picking wildflowers for pleasure, not picking cotton. But in the 1930's many children worked instead of focusing on education, it was just the way families worked. Seems almost unbelievable in today's world. My grandmother told me that her twin and herself would take turns; on day she would pick cotton and her twin would go to school, the other day they would switch. They did this without anyone knowing. I think she knew her twin liked school better than picking cotton. So the days of switching were not equal. But that was the person my grandmother was, very giving, kind, unselfish, and always smiling. I can just imagine her telling her sister to go ahead and go to school another day, just to see the smile her sister would show. Not even looking down at her cut fingers and stained hands. Never complaining about her back or sore muscles. The only thing she was feeling, was the joy of being able to help her sister do something she loved. I can relate to that! Both sides of that. My sister is very giving and in return I would do anything for her. My grandmother was a truly wonderful woman. And an amazing storyteller. I wish I could have heard more stories of hers. A story not shared is sort of like a wasted thought. If you don't share your stories or thoughts, then why have them? Take a chance! Tell someone you love them, tell someone that they annoy you, tell someone about your life, listen to thier responses...listen to their response. The world would be pretty dull if we all kept our feelings and stories to ourselves!!! |
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