The other day this guy Mike who went to grade school with Bill was in Oakmont for his father’s funeral. Bearing a humorous and heartwarming story about how his father died. That’s not an easy feat as most of you can imagine.
Anyway, Mike and his wife visited us eight years ago in our old house in the city but this was the first time we’d seen them since then.
His wife walked all around the new house asking where certain plates, bowls, and furniture pieces were. She remembered a collection of flow blue platters down to their shapes and number and arrangement.
Lest you think this might be uncomfortable for me, I can tell you I was surprised and more than pleased. Someone remembering the things I love to that detail–mentioning how warm she thought the house was and how she thought of it as she decorated hers made me feel as though I created something special.
Many people have been in our house. Most don’t say anything regarding the decorating. Others who are prompted by me will say they love particular things and dislike others. Rarely do people appreciate what I’ve done down to minute detail.
It made me think of writing.
They way people read it and how they react.
I have several trusted readers who will call me immediately after their eyes cross a line that makes them sad, happy, or reminds them of themselves. They remember every word I write and it means something to them about me and them.
Other readers say, “Yeah, I like it.” “It’s good.” But I think they’re afraid to say, “It’s not my thing.” Depending who it is, I press them. Just like with my house. My friend who admits my collection of landscapes don’t do anything for her. My friend who finds my writing not challenging enough for her taste.
So my friends, this is all I can muster for a post…the beginnings of an essay…very bad…obviously will work on it.
Maura will email me with this week’s post soon, but you guys are asking awesome questions and everyone seems to be learning from the interaction…keep the questions coming. Even when I ‘m late with a post…you can’t ask too many.
Oh yeah, the Travel section of OK! magazine crossed my path (I don’t know how I got it. It’s not like I read those things) and the clearest, bluest water I’ve ever seen is part of a profile of French Polynesia. The water in the picture beckons–alive in it’s tempting hues and calm waves that can’t be masked by still photography.
If you had a the ability to go somewhere next week, no cost, babysitting with your most trusted person on the planet, and no body image issues, where would you go, what would you do????
Right now, I’m thinking Beach. French Polynesia’s looking pretty freaking good.
Post on MJ Rose coming up…will be done revising in 9 days…