Walking Legacy

San Anselmo, June 24, 2003: Tonight it is so hot I am unable to fall asleep, and in the wee hours encounter a black mood. Before long the mood will pass, but I think about what we leave behind in this world.

My sometime nemesis, Emmett Chapman, in my opinion, hopes to be remembered for the musical instrument he designed, and for the two-handed tapping technique he pioneered. It might be so, for a while. For forty years, or a hundred, perhaps even longer as a paragraph or footnote in music books.

For most of us, our works do not stand much chance of enduring. Perhaps the sculptor of Mount Rushmore. His works endure, but who knows his name? Perhaps the Taj Mahal. The sultan's name can be found in history books, as can the name of the woman he so loved. But even history books will some day fade.

For most of us, we have no works likely to endure the long seasons. For a very few of us, we leave works which might last a few hundred years, maybe. The blink of an eye in our cosmos.

I have no children. Some day I will be a memory, slowly fading, and when that memory has faded, will be gone.

But I think of Adrienne who has grown daughters. I think of my brothers and sisters who have children grown and children yet growing. They leave a walking, talking legacy which might endure for a time.

Any guarantee of eternity? None whatever.

But they have a chance.

Where do Stories Come From?

Mount Shasta, April 8, 2004: Where do these stories come from? I mean, mostly they're true, except for a lie or two. But what makes this story or that story emerge into memory? What makes this memory or that memory form itself into a little story?

Sometimes something seen, or other people's stories, will trigger my own, though there seems little (conscious) connection between stories, not that I'm too proud to steal!

Will steal for food!

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Why I Like Dogs

Mount Shasta, May 9, 2003: "Because they have beauty, and they're friendly. And also," Adrienne told me this morning, "Because they have that ... that wildness in them."

I agree. I think that's why men generally like dogs. Dogs are friendly and, no matter how domestic, there is a wildness in them. And isn't that exactly how every man, including myself, wishes to be?

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The Secret to Good Teeth

Mount Shasta, in the kitchen, March 2003: "Why do good things happen to bad people?" Adrienne wails. She's trying to get my goat, as my grandfather used to say.

She's had trouble with her teeth all her life, whereas I have been blessed in that regard.

I have perfect teeth.

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