Seems like a contradiction in terms, I know, but I am grateful for Ohio
Sun still present at 8:55 pm, sky just turning its oranges and pinks. (New England? By the end of our ride Monday at 8:20 pm, sky almost pitch).
Sun is somehow higher in the sky and less harsh on the eyes as it goes down here. I wish the sky was this high and bright in the Pioneer Valley without the intense sundown/glare. It’s something I’ve never gotten used to in New England. Why is it different between the 2 places? Amherst is only slightly farther north but quite a bit farther east, does this explain it? Oh hell’s bells, why don’t I just google it? No, that yielded no fruit. Help me.
I know Ohio is farther west in the Eastern Standard Time zone, so I get the clock part. But the quality of the sun is also different. I can hardly wait ’til the morning when the sun comes up later than usual. Ironic, isn’t it?
Once at the racetrack in Cleveland, we met a boy named “Sundown.” I’m not kidding. I bet that was 27 years ago. I thought I might name a boy Sundown some day.
Talking to my great friend, Sheila, on the phone in the parking lot of the Stow Target.
Walking into Taco Tonto’s and seeing 2 people I know well enough to remember all sorts of little details about even though I haven’t seen or spoken with either of them in over 11 years. One is the son of a woman who was at Annie’s birth, almost 13 years ago, and who was also part of the “older kids” component in Violet’s first (and only) play group. Wow.
Kent, beautiful Kent
The blues in Kent, nothing like feeling blue in Kent. Nothing.
Kent, my home for 19 years
My old house on N. Willow St. I drove into town, straight from the airport in Cleveland and pulled right up to the house, got out of the car, walked up to the door and rang the bell. Nobody home. New sign above the garage, the garden beds not looking terribly spiffy (where has all the coreopsis gone?), and some of the brick-work patio all busted up. Still, that is the house where my babies were born and it always will be. Labored there in many ways (“Here I have worked, labored a while,” Christian’s Farewell, Sacred Harp #347).
I suspect this has something to do with ale, but maybe it’s their last name. Do they rent or own? I’ll be knocking on that door again later.
When I left the car rental at Cleveland-Hopkins, I completely ignored the GPS and with no map was able to navigate after 11 years (yes, I’ve been back and driven around, but not out that way and not much with me behind the wheel). God that felt good. I was excited just to recognize I-480 and to remember to go East.
I was thinking of posting about sex toys and air travel, but there’s really no need. Apparently, you can pack sex toys into your luggage without embarrassment. No alarms went off, nobody pulled anything out and waved it around in front of everyone. Like Lucinda Williams said when she was intro-ing The Way You Move, “Nobody got hurt.”
I think it’s funny that sex toys are called marital aids (hey, that’s what O’Brien calls them), but maybe this can help explain.
The name of the guy who drove me from the parking lot to the terminal at Windsor Locks? Pierce Pearce. I am not kidding. He looked like Prop Joe from The Wire. Maybe it was Pearce Pierce. I didn’t write it down. Dang.
Look what I looked up this morning. Interesting, hunh?
Susun Weed says the best cure for menopausal women who have low sex drive is 7 orgasms per week. That’s her prescription. She says you can have them all in one day or one a day. Is she just fucking with us on this?
Yes, I love Kent. But there has always been the residual clash between town and University. Literally and symbolically, this has been the fight between establishment and the counter-culture. May 4 was a culmination. The town still bears it. Jerry’s Diner has been razed, but also the entire lot behind it. Gone, nothing, nada. The hardware store, Gone. Unbelievable. That’s why you can get the blues so easily here. Heart and no heart. When a place has this much heart, for some reason, it’s also easy to rip parts of it out. Right, Chrissy? (Oh, hell, I have to apologize. Sometimes that link has an ad; sometimes not. See what the fuss is all about? They are taking over).
I have a poem at home by an old Kent poet, Jake Leed, and the line I remember is
I’ve chipped away a Clark’s gas station
I lent out the little book that poem was in and I never got it back. If anyone out there has it, send me a copy. I’ll pay shipping.
The Clark gas station is still there, on S. Water St. Unbelievable.
twinklysparkles 
thanks for the kent update, twinkly. i took the missus for a little tour a few years back. similar feelings though my roots aint as deep there as yours.
black squirrels?
what is steady brown holding down?
is that the color me and kamper painted on the house? certainly it has been painted since then….
i had one of the missus’s “marital aids” in my bathroom kit flying once. the security person gingerly removed it and briefly gave it a once over. she was wearing gloves, of course…..did she really not know what it was?
ptd
pt, I haven’t seen one black squirrel since I’ve been here. Except on glasses and mugs, which I will be buying tomorrow morning at McKay Bricker. Maybe if I dare to take a walk on campus I will see some.
I think steady brown is some sort of liquor or beer and one mustn’t throw it up.
This is NOT the color the house was painted long ago. You painted with Kamper? I don’t remember much, but now that you mention it, sort of….
A feminist blogger whose post I read on the very subject says that one way to educate the populace is by carrying sex toys in carry-ons and being honest when asked what they are. Me, I’m not sure, but try to be brave in the modern world.
pt, maybe Steady Brown holds down the proverbial fort and this is it–the house and everything.
I am remembering more about you painting the house. Like speckled paint clothes and boom boxes.
that steady brown sounds like a righteous dude or dudette. i’ve never heard of such a beverage, but i’m brewing beer these days and that sounds like a good name for a homebrew.
i was the kamper’s scrubby boy–how can you forget that? it trickled down to vi at some point, cause i do remember that being my moniker with her for a bit too. we were just about the least efficient house painters ever. i couldn’t really see the color on the house from the pic, but i figured it had been repainted. i mean, steady brown would not be so ghetto to let the homestead fall into disrepair.
ptd
Scrubby, a deep apology–but for what? The tricks of memory? Of course I remember, but the neurons that have not been used for a number of years get replaced by the fast and demanding highway of the present and newer memories (Mommy Brain lasts and lasts, too, living in a fog of babies and breast milk and sleeplessness). I guess my brain needs a little nudge now and then. Thank God for old friends.
Do go to campus and you’ll be sure to see some black squirrels, I did. They were all around the May 4th memorial grounds. I enjoyed seeing all that had changed, and all that is still the same. So many great memories in Kent. I wish you and I had been there at the same time, that would have been awesome. Did you get to Acorn Alley? There is a cool little shop there with essential oils, jewelry, and some Mt. Ida quartz crystals. My son Sam has his “stock” of crystals there with on consignment. I’m curious to know if she’s sold any yet. Let me know if you go there. Enjoy your Kent visit. Oh…. “holdin it down”…..maybe they are talking about their job?….keeping things going with the flow? the ability to maintain in this crazy world? Just a though.
Going to campus today, Connie. Will write later. Thanks for writing. I am not sure I can get to that store…..seeing my friend Sheila in just a few minutes.
Sharon Restifo’s mother died on Monday (or Tuesday, not clear) and I ended up seeing her yesterday at the wake. So sometimes it’s better not to get to see someone depending on the why of it.