Thursday, March 7, 2013

it’s possible some outside observer could fashion a somewhat scattered and vague representation of my dad, from the pattern of my flinches… 
looking up at the night sky is out, obviously. he taught me my constellations. 
whole reams of music… everything from sloop john b to most of the beatles’ catalogue, miles davis, anyone who’s ever been on prairie home companion… the radio is a minefield.
woodwork, mechanics, the building and flying of planes and rockets. old front wheel drive saabs…
of course boats… canoes, sailboats… anything that floats, basically. these are all things i will not be discussing in any detail. 
picking up a kid from school today, i was pretending to be a normal whole person, rather than this collection of strange smells and stains and flinches in unwashed hair and yoga pants. anyway i was playing ‘idle chit chat’ and thought i could manage a brief exposition on making roman shades, and then i remembered my dad showing me how to sew…sailcloth of course. and then how to weave palm fronds together to make a roof on some spongey island deep in the neches logging cuts. some island he knew, along with maybe 15 other people on earth. an island that might as well be swallowed whole by the swamp, it is so unlikely i could ever find it again. 
i’ve spent no inconsiderable amount of time on google earth in the last year, hovering over the neches swamps. tracing the cuts, finding the pathways. my dad knew them so well, before a satellite ever thought to pay attention. 

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