Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Making reminders of Blessed Memories



Friend Florie took this photo of me last week during out outdoor painting session at Camp Jorn.  Once in a while we get really nice weather on a Thursday morning.  Rare.  But possible.  I posted this sketch already (scroll back one).  

I am reminded this morning of how important visual reminders become over time.  Sketches or photographs both.

Did I mention I just finished reading Being Mortal by Atul Gawande recently.  I am sure I did. 

Garrison Keillor's blog posted a sweet/sad little poem that reminded me of this book again and of the visual reminders.

 The poem reminded me more of saying good bye to my own homes after I sold them...sometimes I take photos of the empty rooms.  They become reminders of "blessed memories" in those spots.  

On Closing the Apartment of my Grandparents 
of Blessed Memory 


And then I stood for the last time in that room.
The key was in my hand. I held my ground,
and listened to the quiet that was like a sound,
and saw how the long sun of winter afternoon
fell slantwise on the floorboards, making bloom
the grain in the blond wood. (All that they owned
was once contained here.) At the window moaned
a splinter of wind. I would be going soon.

I would be going soon; but first I stood,
hearing the years turn in that emptied place
whose fullness echoed. Whose familiar smell,
of a tranquil life, lived simply, clung like a mood
or a long-loved melody there. A lingering grace.
Then I locked up, and rang the janitor’s bell.







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