Posts made in February, 2014

My Wobbly Bicycle, 63

Posted by on Feb 26, 2014 in Archive | 3 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 63

Here I am, stuck at home recovering from the dreaded shingles, while 14,000 of my dearest friends are having a party in Seattle. They’re wining and dining and schmoozing and lobbying and jockeying and laughing. And wining and dining, did I say that? I have learned to love AWP (the Association of Writers and Writing Programs) and their annual convention. Well, sort of love. I always leave home saying, “Why Oh Why Am I Going?” and I come home saying, “Let me tell you what happened on Thursday! And about this amazing reading! Guess who I had breakfast with? etc.” I used to go to meet...

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My Wobbly Bicycle, 62

Posted by on Feb 20, 2014 in Archive | 6 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 62

You look up. A small snowball loosens from the ledge above. Then another. Then an entire chunk of the ledge dislodges and pours downward. You move quickly across, but it’s as if the mountain itself is headed for your lap. All you can do now is what you were taught, duck under, try to maintain an air-hole to the surface. And wait.  People know where you are, so there’s reason not to despair. Ah, the drama. Jerry and I had returned from a lovely trip to the UP when I was diagnosed with cancer. First cancer, then eye surgery, twice, then Jerry’s back surgery, then the discovery that...

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My Wobbly Bicycle, 61

Posted by on Feb 12, 2014 in Archive | 3 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 61

We’re moving in May. To a condo. Yuk, condos, says my previous self. But this is not just any condo. I am so enamored that I’m devoting this post to it. And also to say some things about conservation and living and writing. We’re moving to a former insane asylum. Our bedroom and my study were patients’ rooms. The hallways are wide to accommodate rolling carts, nurses, wheelchairs, all manner of things. The Traverse City State Hospital, established in 1881 and variously known as the Northern Michigan Asylum and the Traverse City Regional Psychiatric Hospital, is listed on the...

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My Wobbly Bicycle, 60

Posted by on Feb 5, 2014 in Archive | 0 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 60

A friend who also has had serious cancer said she could get no writing done while she was in treatment. She organized her books. I, on the other hand, got a fair number of poems written last winter while I was in treatment. Now that I’m done, I’m unable—unwilling?—to write. I’m organizing. Everything. The Brown family saves everything. I’ve been organizing boxes and boxes of love letters from my mother to my father when he was overseas during WW II, and letters from my father to his brother Richmond, and hundreds of photos taken at the cottage, and in Columbia, MO, ancestors’...

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