We’re down to one week left at the lake. Jerry’s brothers and partner/spouses will be here, so I’m writing this early. I think this is the longest we’ve ever stayed at the lake. I think of my grandfather, who had to get back to teach. Now our children and grandchildren bring their computers and work from the lake if they need to. The cottages are used more now than ever before. This time of year the lake is blessedly quiet, mostly easy swimming. The water gets a little colder every day. You know the story of the frog, who would jump out of boiling water, but if you raise the temperature slowly, it’ll stay and get cooked. I wonder how long I could stand the cold, if we stayed longer. That’s me, not those folks addicted to cold water swimming.
There are benefits. Endorphins and so on. For me, it’s exhilaration. And look, I’m doing it, after my major back surgery last February! I’m doing it not as well or as long, but still. And walking most days, again, not as far or as well, but still.
Number 300! I’m still writing this blog! Actually, more than 300, because I only started numbering when I named it My Wobbly Bicycle, and you know what that was about. The cancer. My cancer. Look how much has happened since then! Including elections, which I don’t usually mention, because there’s already so much being said. Still, since this is a personal report, I acknowledge that I’m by turns elated and terrified. Terrified and elated.
At Number 300, I am assessing a little. Why do I keep writing this blog? What is it giving me and what is it giving you? I remember the great memoirs I’ve read and how they buoyed up my own life, gave me perspective and inspiration. They were opening a window to a rich personal life. Is this a memoir? Then what is it? Maybe you could write back and let me know what reading Wobbly gives you, and/or what you wish I’d talk about. That might be helpful to me.
Here’s the original post where My Wobbly Bicycle got its title, if you’re curious: https://fledabrown.squarespace.com/config/pages/5dcd60207d4a6f733ba9df48
Back in the spring I started writing a short poem a day, each dated. Just to keep the wheels turning, but now it’s probably moving toward being a book. Q: Why, when I already have two books coming out in 2025? A: Because I want to. (Why am I writing the Wobblies? Because I want to, I guess.) Here’s one of the little poems:
Sept 9
The roads commission’s putting new
signs to mark the sharp curve. The signs
are higher and more yellow, yellow even
on the posts. No one has died from lack
of them, I think, except our old mailbox
and a few small trees, yet the world
is full of danger and the grief can’t be
controlled. Prayer flags would be better.
They would flutter, a string of lovers
waving goodbye, but expecting you home
for dinner. You have not joined the army,
to put up with orders. Watch it here!
Turn coming up! As if you couldn’t see
that. All you’d like is a quiet drive, and
a few colorful flags to remind you of
the realm of the divine beyond the curve.
If you’re reading this, you’ve already missed the Zoom Conversation with Jimmy and Friends that happened on Monday. It isn’t Monday yet as I write this. I’m very interested in our topic of science and poetry, especially since my poem collection, The End of the Clockwork Universe is coming out next fall. That’s a long way off, but you know how press schedules are. I’ll take notes and next time I’ll report on our conversation, in case you missed it.
Don’t forget about my reading at Elk Rapids on Oct. 23rd and the workshop at Grass River Natural Area the next day. Here’s the poster. Notice that the first 25 people to register get a copy of the New and Selected poems—I picked that one because it has the most poems in it.
Sorry for the blatant advertising. I try to do that rarely. Do join me if you can.