one hundred and seven puzzles

in celebration of july 31, the anniversary of the day my husband and i got married, this week’s blog posts will be about the ways we mark the passage of time.


in the voice of a new character, john

i have one hundred and seven.

one hundred and seven that are complete.

i hang them on the walls of my shed out back.

but i might move them here to the house if i can convince janet.

i probably can't convince janet.

that's okay.

they look good in the shed.

they're all the same size, so they fit together real good on the walls.

i only do 5,000 piece puzzles.

40 by 60, not 42 by 62.

i like them all to be the same size.

i do one every month, you know.

mostly i work on them at night, after supper and before i watch the eleven o'clock news.

i have to stop at 10:47 because it takes me thirteen minutes to brush and floss my teeth before the news comes on.

i like to watch the news in bed, and i don't want to have to get up out of bed to do my teeth after the news is over.

sometimes it's hard to stop when i'm in a pivotal place in the puzzle, but i do.

i always stop at 10:47.

or earlier.

this one is from february, but i don't remember what year.

i know it's from february though because i was cold when i worked it.

that part there in the trees was really hard, and i remember i was wearing my orange gloves when i was trying to get it done.

it's hard to work a puzzle with gloves on.

but i needed to have them on anyway because it was really cold in the house because i forgot to pay the heat bill for a few months in a row and they cut the heat off.

i was kind of a mess then because janet had left me.

she left in november, and i didn't pay the bill for november, december, january, or february.

february is when they finally cut it off, when i was working this puzzle.

eventually, i paid it all and they cut the heat back on and janet came back in april when i was doing this puzzle over here with the tower of london on it.

that was a long time ago.

i'm running out of room out here in the shed.

maybe i'll try asking janet again about hanging my puzzles in the house.

i love

in celebration of july 31, the anniversary of the day my husband and i got married, this week’s blog posts will be about the ways we mark the passage of time.


installment eight || first ladies at the smithsonian

first ladies at the smithsonian, i love you

because you are an extraordinary example of conservation science, something of which i've only recently become aware.

because you mark time for us in a way we're used to in this country, by presidential administration, but you do it from a different perspective.

because you make me think that maybe grace coolidge was fun with her flapper dress and that it must have been very strange for jane findlay to come to washington to act as first lady, even though she wasn't married to william henry harrison.

because no one who does important things in the world does them without support, and the people in the support role deserve some recognition, too.

because you are fun.

because the last time i went to see you, you had welcomed a black woman into your ranks.

because someday when i take my daughter to see you, you will no longer be called the first ladies at the smithsonian, since a first gentleman will have joined you.

a place called farm

in celebration of july 31, the anniversary of the day my husband and i got married, this week’s blog posts will be about the ways we mark the passage of time.

a man is laying down on the wooden porch at the side of the house.
he is listening to the rain on the tin roof while his daughter sits cross-legged beside him
playing with a leaf.
the peas need the rain
and the man, the girl, the birds, the bugs,
they are all silent in their relief.
the tractor sits under the shed on the side of the barn
still warm
an old t-shirt tied over the crumbly cushion in the driver's seat.

the man laughs at his daughter's joke,
and his gaze wanders from her face to the old tractor
and for a moment he sees his own father standing there
in his yellow and blue plaid flannel shirt
with his head under the tractor hood
tinkering and swearing
trying to get it to start.

he sees his father stop suddenly
and look out over the field
the one where the corn is now
and his father sees his own father walking the rows
in his gray work pants, saggy at the butt,
inspecting the tassels and opening an ear here and there.

he sees his father stop suddenly
and look down the row
to the field across the dirt path
and his father sees his own father bent over
in his coveralls sweaty and sticky
pulling the tobacco leaves and stacking them up.

he sees his father stop suddenly
and look up at the house
to the porch with the rocking chair
and his father sees his own father sitting there
in his leather boots and shirt buttoned to the neck
watching the rain come down in silent relief.

and just for a moment
the man sitting on the porch
reaches out to the man laying on the porch
and they each know the other is there.
the sitting man's great-great-great-granddaughter smiles.
she can see that in this moment her father is content.

what are your befores and afters?

in celebration of july 31, the anniversary of the day my husband and i got married, this week’s blog posts will be about the ways we mark the passage of time.

lately, i am thinking about the eras in our lives, the ways we measure our "befores" and our "afters."

global standards dictate that the timeline of human history is measured in b.c. and a.d.--or sometimes b.c.e. and c.e.  but i'm more interested in how each of personally marks time.

my memories tend to get automatically passed through the "before daddy died" and  "after daddy died" filter.  i reckon that could sound morbid, but i'm guessing i'm not the only one who has discovered that one of those "before-and-after-death-of-loved-one" filters got installed in my brain without my realizing it.  

i also have the "before baby was born" and "after baby was born" measure, "when i was in chicago" marker, a "when i could still eat gluten" and "gluten-free era" label, and a "when i was in the green/blue/yellow bedroom" filter from the musical bedrooms me and my siblings played growing up.

when i'm writing or performing a character, i often try to identify a moment in which things change for that character.  now i'm curious to think about characters in terms of their "befores" and "afters," the filters through which they catalogue their lives, the ways in which they mark time.

so, you can help me write stronger characters.  let me know:  what are the "befores" and "afters" that mark time in your life?

two years ago today

in celebration of july 31, the anniversary of the day my husband and i got married, this week’s blog posts will be about the ways we mark the passage of time.

two years ago today
she got dressed in a barn that smelled like gasoline and fertilizer.
she pulled off her daddy's flannel shirt and pulled on her mother's wedding gown,
made new again.
she smiled without ceasing
and knew she was lucky
to have these people with her
at this place that is part of her chemistry her biology her physics.

two years ago today
she knew enough to know that she didn't know what the years would bring.
she knew enough to know that she couldn't predict
that she would take a new job in a few months
that he would grow an astonishing moustache
that they would argue over this thing or agree over that thing
that they would have a baby
girl
who stretches their hearts in every direction.

and today
she knows enough to know that she still doesn't know what the years will bring.
she knows enough to know that she can't predict
how much money they will have
who will be healthy and for how long
when it will be easy or when it will be hard
what they will create
as a family or as individuals.

but today
just like two years ago today
she knows enough to know that she wants to do all of this with this same person by her side
and these people (and more like them) in their circle
willing and ready to affirm the joyful times and the shitty times for each other
down by the pond
in a mid-summer butterbean rain.

a wobble-versary--OR--why i like marking the passage of time

in celebration of july 31, the anniversary of the day my husband and i got married, this week’s blog posts will be about the ways we mark the passage of time.

it seems that 2012 is a big deal for earth. apparently, the earth wobbles when it turns. it wobbles really very slowly, so one complete wobble takes somewhere around 26,000 years. it seems that 2012 marks the completion of one cycle of an earth wobble, which means we're now back in the same place wobble-wise we were 26,000 years ago, but slightly moved over. if i understand it correctly, this means we’re in essentially the same orientation, but things look a little different now. the stars are not quite in the same places they were 26,000 years ago.

three things about this wobble idea remind me why i like marking time:

one || time is so much bigger than me. 

we’re talking about the earth over 26,000 years. i can’t really grasp the huge-ness of that, given that i can’t even really get a handle on the huge-ness of 50 years of marriage, or 20 years without my father, or 80 years of a life. it’s good for me to be reminded that time is so much bigger than me.

two || even very small changes over a long period of time can result in big shifts. 

there’s a bunch of conversation about what the wobble-versary and the shifting stars mean astrologically and for our north star and for our civilization. anniversaries do this for us, too. they remind us that even very small changes over a long period of time can result in big shifts.

three || it's good to re-evaluate and celebrate where we were, where we are now, and all the stuff that happened in between.

and, of course the wobble-versary makes us want to know what was happening 26,000 years ago, when this wobble first began. it was about the time that the neanderthals met with extinction and people started making tools like harpoons, needles, and saws for the first time. anniversaries make the opportunity for us to re-evaluate and celebrate where we were, where we are now, and all the stuff that happened in between.

i’m curious: how do you feel about anniversaries (or wobble-versaries)?