Once a friend of mine gave me a card with Snoopy on it, rewinding a VCR. When life is hard, the card said, don't you wish you could hit rewind? Tempting as the sentiment might seem, I don't. And neither would Snoopy -- where would he get his angst for his stories? He needs that fuel to keep charging against the endless rejections, the misery of the editing process, and the chorus of critics (particularly Lucy) that haunt his creative efforts. Today is made of yesterday, like a dye that bleeds and colors everything.
For the past few months, there's been an American flag trapped in the tree outside my home office. It has gotten increasingly ragged through the winter weather and it's too high in the tree for anyone to reach. I would have thought it would have fallen apart or got swept away by now, but it's still there, dirty and battered. One of my friends mentioned that it's a great metaphor for our country's troubles. That's a little too obvious for me. A lovely child I know says that bags caught in trees are actually men pretending to be bags. So the flag could be a man that nobody can reach that's losing little bits and pieces of himself every day. One day there won't be enough of him left to tell what he was, but I'll remember. I never saw him whole, but I didn't need to. Had he not been trapped in pretending he was a flag, I would not have been able to watch him all these months and know him, perhaps not how he was, but how he wanted to be.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"The more I write, the more the silence seems to be eating away at me." C.K. Williams
Drinking poetry collection suggestion: Love Poems Anne Sexton
Benedictions and Maledictions
Rest in peace, Johnny S. of the The Sopranos!