Underneath The Century House
"In this life there must be some kind of meaning, some reason for feeling this way."
A lyric I wrote a year or two ago which sums up something simple, yet crucial. So simple it's forgotten or ignored, so common it's not even mentioned - so vital and important we run from it every chance we get.
Maybe there's not a meaning, maybe there's not a reason. Maybe this life is really just a series of random storms blowing, ships passing, jokes being told among friends and about friends around campfires - random peices of driftwood arranged in curious shapes on a random beach. Random changes in life's direction, changing our shapes like that campfire's smoke which rises and curls into sickly oblivion on the wind.
So many moments, moods, memories.
Looking through a box of old pictures tonight. There is so much pathos, pain, joy, regret, pride, confusion, love, loss, fear, yearning, desire, hurt, empathy, anger, shame, hope. So much good and bad, so many in-betweens.
In the box I found evidence of things I'd forgotten.
Childhood pictures of my first time at a carnival - begging & crying to ride the ferris wheel, then begging to NOT have to once it came to it. My first haircut - a good old crew cut which I begged for then threw a fit to avoid. My first day of school in my 'fire engine red' shirt with the little zipper/ring thing at the collar. Swimming lessons one summer in Virginia.
My brothers and I building our treehouse, all smiles with our handsaws and hammers. Us sitting on a couch at our grandparents, each trying to sit the tallest in the picture - and wearing those horrible patterned pants & shirts that were popular in the day! Me in my school guard crossing badge, beaming with pride. Me and my little brother all dressed up, bookbags in hand. Where are those brothers now?
Pictures of my parents, whom I love and still make the effort to keep in touch with. I value them more and more as time goes on, and I realize the loss that will hit one day if I outlive them.
Pictures - my parents when they were together still. Their 25th anniversary, cutting a cake. My parents dancing. Dressed for a formal event one night and leaving us with a sitter. The memory of the day their relationship ended after 35 years. I was there as a mediator, a buffer - it was painful and horrific.
I remembered Dad climing a telephone pole with those spike hooks - I remember the time after a tornado when he had to climb a pole that was broken and held only by wires, so as to restore emergency communications. I held a flashlight for him and was afraid he was going to die like one of his coworkers had. Dad being angry at me, yelling and my being afraid he would have a heart attack and die. Dad jumping out of the car after seeing a mob of kids messing with me at a bus stop (I was the only white kid) - and all I could do was be embarrassed, rather than appreciate the feelings a dad has when he sees his child being hurt. Dad trying to help me change out the transmission on my first car, and the fight we had - he was the helper now on my project, not the other way around and it was an awkward arrangement.
Mom - helping me when I was 2 years old and had gotten my foot stung when accidentally stepping on a bumble bee. I still remember the moment that happened believe it or not; a robin on the ground, birds singing, bright sun, walking under the swing set and then the pain.
Mom, helping me run a backyard obstacle course and jump the hurdles so as to keep up with the bigger kids. "I can't do it, I can't do it", but she helped me do it anyway.
Pictures of girls I knew, bringing up so many memories and conflicting feelings.
That girl in High School with a cute smile and look in her eye that I wish I'd taken her up on; a beauty from Mexico that I danced with and wrote to; the girl that liked me when we were kids, and I didn't have the good grace to let it be (I had to spoil it with ugly words because it embarrassed me and I wanted to push her off).
My first kiss, with Sharon after we snuck onto private property in the middle of the night and laid on a dock at the lake - completely to ourselves that winter night all the way until sunrise: "on the river of ice the stars explode" as I wrote the next morning.
A girl I dated from Australia and that kiss the night before she went back, never to return. Sleeping in my car outside her parents' place that night because I couldn't bear to leave and not see her again. The letters we wrote afterward.
Another girl that liked me and let me know every way she could, but that I was too inexperienced (or dumb) to understand until years later. I didn't mean to hurt her, it's just that I didn't understand until it was too late.
The girl I proposed to when I was 22, and the way our marriage ended 6 1/2 years later. The joy of being newlyweds, the surety that it was forever. Our two cats. Her family get togethers in Louisiana. The fights, the making up. The agony of telling her it was over.
Ah, another set of pictures. A girl I spent hours crying with as I broke off our relationship, even though I still cared for her. It seemed to be a pattern.
Another girl I met and loved and started to part with, but whom I realized I couldn't leave and am still with and still love.
MORE pictures.
My old 67 Mustang and my 70 Mustang! I love those, my first two cars. A pic of that red acoustic guitar I had, and the old 1920's upright piano. The banjo I got, and the violin that my friend George Neal accidentally broke! My mom's old guitar that was given to me, and that I stupidly sold for 30 peices of silver. My Fender tube amp! The Les Paul that Paula got me a few years ago.
The pictures of my previous life when I was religiously inclined. All of those friends that deserted me when I left the religion. All those friends from my whole life to that point - lost. The confusion and guilt of leaving it all, and the vacuum that loss caused me to feel for years. The following journey through philosphies & religions: the Koran, the Talmud, Mahamudra, Bhagavad Gita, etc. What is there? Is there such a thing as redemption and am I worth redeeming?
What a muddled mish-mash of dreams.
Was this life real? If I can remember all of this from a box of pictures, how much have I forgotten in total?? This is all just from my perspective, my isolated little understanding. What did others see of those same times, events, relationships?
This life is so much more than we can ever see, understand, feel or be.
Thank you for letting me rant, remember and ramble.
Daniel
A lyric I wrote a year or two ago which sums up something simple, yet crucial. So simple it's forgotten or ignored, so common it's not even mentioned - so vital and important we run from it every chance we get.
Maybe there's not a meaning, maybe there's not a reason. Maybe this life is really just a series of random storms blowing, ships passing, jokes being told among friends and about friends around campfires - random peices of driftwood arranged in curious shapes on a random beach. Random changes in life's direction, changing our shapes like that campfire's smoke which rises and curls into sickly oblivion on the wind.
So many moments, moods, memories.
Looking through a box of old pictures tonight. There is so much pathos, pain, joy, regret, pride, confusion, love, loss, fear, yearning, desire, hurt, empathy, anger, shame, hope. So much good and bad, so many in-betweens.
In the box I found evidence of things I'd forgotten.
Childhood pictures of my first time at a carnival - begging & crying to ride the ferris wheel, then begging to NOT have to once it came to it. My first haircut - a good old crew cut which I begged for then threw a fit to avoid. My first day of school in my 'fire engine red' shirt with the little zipper/ring thing at the collar. Swimming lessons one summer in Virginia.
My brothers and I building our treehouse, all smiles with our handsaws and hammers. Us sitting on a couch at our grandparents, each trying to sit the tallest in the picture - and wearing those horrible patterned pants & shirts that were popular in the day! Me in my school guard crossing badge, beaming with pride. Me and my little brother all dressed up, bookbags in hand. Where are those brothers now?
Pictures of my parents, whom I love and still make the effort to keep in touch with. I value them more and more as time goes on, and I realize the loss that will hit one day if I outlive them.
Pictures - my parents when they were together still. Their 25th anniversary, cutting a cake. My parents dancing. Dressed for a formal event one night and leaving us with a sitter. The memory of the day their relationship ended after 35 years. I was there as a mediator, a buffer - it was painful and horrific.
I remembered Dad climing a telephone pole with those spike hooks - I remember the time after a tornado when he had to climb a pole that was broken and held only by wires, so as to restore emergency communications. I held a flashlight for him and was afraid he was going to die like one of his coworkers had. Dad being angry at me, yelling and my being afraid he would have a heart attack and die. Dad jumping out of the car after seeing a mob of kids messing with me at a bus stop (I was the only white kid) - and all I could do was be embarrassed, rather than appreciate the feelings a dad has when he sees his child being hurt. Dad trying to help me change out the transmission on my first car, and the fight we had - he was the helper now on my project, not the other way around and it was an awkward arrangement.
Mom - helping me when I was 2 years old and had gotten my foot stung when accidentally stepping on a bumble bee. I still remember the moment that happened believe it or not; a robin on the ground, birds singing, bright sun, walking under the swing set and then the pain.
Mom, helping me run a backyard obstacle course and jump the hurdles so as to keep up with the bigger kids. "I can't do it, I can't do it", but she helped me do it anyway.
Pictures of girls I knew, bringing up so many memories and conflicting feelings.
That girl in High School with a cute smile and look in her eye that I wish I'd taken her up on; a beauty from Mexico that I danced with and wrote to; the girl that liked me when we were kids, and I didn't have the good grace to let it be (I had to spoil it with ugly words because it embarrassed me and I wanted to push her off).
My first kiss, with Sharon after we snuck onto private property in the middle of the night and laid on a dock at the lake - completely to ourselves that winter night all the way until sunrise: "on the river of ice the stars explode" as I wrote the next morning.
A girl I dated from Australia and that kiss the night before she went back, never to return. Sleeping in my car outside her parents' place that night because I couldn't bear to leave and not see her again. The letters we wrote afterward.
Another girl that liked me and let me know every way she could, but that I was too inexperienced (or dumb) to understand until years later. I didn't mean to hurt her, it's just that I didn't understand until it was too late.
The girl I proposed to when I was 22, and the way our marriage ended 6 1/2 years later. The joy of being newlyweds, the surety that it was forever. Our two cats. Her family get togethers in Louisiana. The fights, the making up. The agony of telling her it was over.
Ah, another set of pictures. A girl I spent hours crying with as I broke off our relationship, even though I still cared for her. It seemed to be a pattern.
Another girl I met and loved and started to part with, but whom I realized I couldn't leave and am still with and still love.
MORE pictures.
My old 67 Mustang and my 70 Mustang! I love those, my first two cars. A pic of that red acoustic guitar I had, and the old 1920's upright piano. The banjo I got, and the violin that my friend George Neal accidentally broke! My mom's old guitar that was given to me, and that I stupidly sold for 30 peices of silver. My Fender tube amp! The Les Paul that Paula got me a few years ago.
The pictures of my previous life when I was religiously inclined. All of those friends that deserted me when I left the religion. All those friends from my whole life to that point - lost. The confusion and guilt of leaving it all, and the vacuum that loss caused me to feel for years. The following journey through philosphies & religions: the Koran, the Talmud, Mahamudra, Bhagavad Gita, etc. What is there? Is there such a thing as redemption and am I worth redeeming?
What a muddled mish-mash of dreams.
Was this life real? If I can remember all of this from a box of pictures, how much have I forgotten in total?? This is all just from my perspective, my isolated little understanding. What did others see of those same times, events, relationships?
This life is so much more than we can ever see, understand, feel or be.
Thank you for letting me rant, remember and ramble.
Daniel
posted by Centuryhouse at 10:00 PM
5 Comments:
Daniel - What an amazing, insightful, beautiful blog. You write so well - what an incredible array of emotions we feel when going through boxes of old pictures. I loved reading about the different moments in your life - they became so 'real' to me as I read them. And yes, I know I am always on some insane quest for meaning in life - I think it was Viktor Frankel (sp?) (Man's Search for Meaning) who said we must find and make our own meaning in life. And yet I sometimes fear we are all just random specks floating in a random universe with no real connection to anything at all. Wow - my existential self is popping up again! Don't want to go there again. Anyway, again, lovely blog...absolutely keep this up!
love,
denise :)
Wow that was amazing to hear such beautiful words written down about your memories. I do the same when looking back at pictures. I have never written them down. This post makes me want to though. I could just see all the things you went through as you described them. Like I was right there watching it like a movie. Keep the posts coming.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
(again)
Insightful, brutally honest and open read.
This line stung me:
Another girl that liked me and let me know every way she could, but that I was too inexperienced (or dumb) to understand until years later. I didn't mean to hurt her, it's just that I didn't understand until it was too late.
It stung me because it reminded me of how very NUMB, FOOLISH, and ridiculous I was in my choices early on. But you cannot rewind life.
We let a thousand futures die in the egg.
* looking forward to the next entry
Amazing what memories and feelings old pictures can bring up
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