#throwbackthursday

Back when I didn't have 2 highschoolers.  (2022)

Sokkin inn í djúpa tøgn

Sunken into the deep silence.

Take Account of All You’ve Seen

Address to the Heart at the Lake's Edge:

Listen, Heart, O Time’s red furious clock,
Securely lodged within your cage of bone!
The waves beat frantic wings against the rock,
But do not fear, my Heart, we are alone.
You have betrayed me your three times and more
To send me kneeling sick upon the ground,
Crying my love out to the moon-bright shore,
Only to rise at length to face a pond
Whereon no star rests, no white plume is thrown
Across the stricken earth’s contorted ice.
Stay with me, Heart, until the flesh is blown
Into the dust’s sweet loss. Betray me trice,
Twenty times three, but when a bird wheels south,
Send me running wild with songs upon my mouth!

Willard Maas.

The Onoleo Scale

For some reason, Golsa deleted all her regular videos some time back, so all her account has is shorts, which is fine I guess, but some of my favorites are gone now, and shorts embed weird.  This one's nice, though.

PS - E Onoleo is a scale.

и дряхлый овеществленный круг дерев

Willow:

And I matured in peace born of command,

in the nursery of the infant century,

and the voice of man was never dear to me,

but the breeze’s voice—that I could understand.

The burdock and the nettle I preferred,

but best of all the silver willow tree.

Its weeping limbs fanned my unrest with dreams;

it lived here all my life, obligingly.

I have outlived it now, and with surprise.

There stands the stump; with foreign voices other

willows converse, beneath our, beneath those skies,

and I am hushed, as if I’d lost a brother.

Anna Akhmatova.

I've come to set a twisted thing straight

I've come to lighten this dark heart.

Χάρων

Charon’s Cosmology:

With only his dim lantern   

To tell him where he is

And every time a mountain   

Of fresh corpses to load up

Take them to the other side

Where there are plenty more

I’d say by now he must be confused   

As to which side is which

I’d say it doesn’t matter

No one complains he’s got

Their pockets to go through

In one a crust of bread in another a sausage

Once in a long while a mirror   

Or a book which he throws   

Overboard into the dark river   

Swift and cold and deep

Charles Simic. 

Shoegazing at the End of the World

Dreaming of the time you can escape.

Paréntesis

Parenthesis:

Nothing's in the nest. No needles. No newborn ravens.

Maybe something like night in the deep hollow,

an eggshell planet, cracked in the middle, an empty bowl of soup.

Nothing's in the nest. No thread. No webs of words.

Maybe something like my navel, the eclipse of a magnifying glass.

A slice, mute with regard to its empty depths.

In the nest, nothing. The web unwoven. Dismembered.

In the space, something, yes. A piece of cloth. Sounding like flags

taking wing, a worm in its beak and suddenly, eyes, my eyes

which, cutting across the empty air, direct themselves at something noiseless over there.

Valerie Mejer Caso.

I keep looking for distractions

Hope the feeling passes.

Erinaceinae

Hedgehog:

The snail moves like a

Hovercraft, held up by a

Rubber cushion of itself,

Sharing its secret

With the hedgehog. The hedgehog

Shares its secret with no one.

We say, Hedgehog, come out

Of yourself and we will love you.

We mean no harm. We want

Only to listen to what

You have to say. We want

Your answers to our questions.

The hedgehog gives nothing

Away, keeping itself to itself.

We wonder what a hedgehog

Has to hide, why it so distrusts.

We forget the god

Under this crown of thorns.

We forget that never again

Will a god trust in the world.

Paul Muldoon.

Memories, How They Fade (Not) So Fast

Sadie reminded me today that it is the official start of Birthday Month.  That's a tradition Ericka and I began when the kids started being aware of birthdays and holidays, mostly to forestall the incessant demands for gifts in the lead-up. 

So nobody is allowed to submit wish lists (now coming in the form of slide presentations, lol) until 30 days prior.  It's always been sorta like Advent, and to this day I still give the kids small gifts and extra coin along the way, up until the Big Day.

Sadie's birthday, though, has long filled me with anticipatory anxiety because a day not long afterward (July 26) is an anchor of grief.  For starters, in 2020 that was the last time the kids (or anybody in the family) ever saw their mother.

That was taken at their regular supervised visit on East Madison Street in Seattle.  Ericka had been staying with her parents down in Estacada, and would drive up on alternate Sundays to see her kids for a few hours, but after this one, she never went back.  

Instead, she decided to go on a little crime and mischief spree across the country, getting arrested a couple times in Newport, Oregon, and leaving bread crumbs in Florida, Puerto Rico, and Arizona.  Then...nothing, until she was found dead in Portland about 8 months ago.

In 2021, the date did not become happier.  I had to call the mobile vet, and say goodbye to Old Man Mexico.  My heart shattered further.  And 2024 really wasn't any better.  

I came home from working on the mainland, Bailey Bee was happy as usual to see me, and even had energy to take what would be her final walk.  She hadn't been able to do that much in her last few weeks, and now I get the sense it was a farewell tour of her favorite places to sniff and pee, leaving messages telling everybody that she'd not be returning.

By the evening of Saturday the 27th, it became clear that I'd have to make another heartbreaking phone call soon, so I had the kids say their goodbyes just in case Bailey took the decision out of my hands.  She did.

I do my best to stay present and focus on celebrating Sadie's nativity, but there's a nagging sadness that never leaves my side.  Really wish I could lose my memories at times...

<exits singing, Look back, there is no escape>

They Are a Breed Apart and Make No Sense

U.S. and Canadian history are more intertwined than people realize. A contingent of the Continental Army was briefly based in Montreal in 1775-76 in an effort to recruit Canadians to the revolutionary cause. Learned a lot about our shared history at the Château Ramezay Museum. pic.twitter.com/ITO3ntR6Wu

— Ambassador Pete Hoekstra (@USAmbCanada) June 18, 2026

From the people who told us that J6 was a day of love, here is what they call "an effort to recruit Canadians":

As he approached the Palace Gate on Quebec’s northern shoulder, Arnold swung into Dog Lane to follow the wall toward the Lower Town. The parapet overhead immediately erupted in muzzle flashes and ferocious musketry, raking the Americans with plunging fire from the Royal Navy Battalion. “We advanced as fast as we could … but was obliged to leave our field piece,” a gunner later told his journal. The sled and 6-pounder were abandoned in a snowdrift. Hunched men instinctively narrowed their shoulders and hurried forward, unable to see anything above the high gray wall except that fatal winking.
...

Captain Jonas Hubbard, who had survived Bunker Hill, would not survive Dog Lane. He too fell, mortally wounded. “March on,” he called, “march on.”

March on they did, for six hundred yards before the lane bent south into the dim labyrinth of the Lower Town. Ahead loomed the first barrier, a ten-foot wooden wall with musket loopholes. Arnold had no sooner ordered his men to prop ladders against the barricade than he crumpled to the ground: a bullet fragment had sliced through his left leg below the knee, lodging in the calf muscle above his heel. Bleeding badly and in excruciating pain, he shouted encouragement through gritted teeth while hobbling to the rear with help from two men, who carried him the final mile to Dr. Senter’s surgery table at the convent hospital.
...

The Holland House plan called for Arnold to rendezvous with Montgomery at this spot before advancing uphill. Not only had casualties reduced the column, but as many as two hundred men had lost their way in the snowstorm and were wandering around the docks, sheds, and riverine warehouses. Wet firelocks needed to be dried; prisoners required careful watching.

A strange tranquillity settled over the Lower Town as the order was passed to each company: wait here for General Montgomery and his men. “I was overruled by hard reasoning,” Morgan later said. “To these arguments, I sacrificed my own opinion and lost the town.”

Consistent with our anti-Catholic bigotry, at least.  Anyway, if you want more on our Recruiting Mission to Quebec, here's the Wikipedia article.

More importantly, though, I just noticed that I had the wrong link on a footnote in one of my old posts, which of course I can no longer edit since Typepad is deader than Captain Jonas Hubbard.  The exchange I had in mind in Last of the Mohicans, from which this post's title is derived:

Hawkeye: My father warned me about you...

Cora Munro: [interupting] Your Father?

Hawkeye: Chingachgook, he warned me about people like you.

Cora Munro: Oh, he did?

Hawkeye: He said "Do not try to understand them".

Cora Munro: What?

Hawkeye: Yes, and, "do not try to make them understand you. That is because they are a breed apart and make no sense".

Followed by:

Cora Munro: A breed apart, we make no sense?

Hawkeye: In your particular case, Miss, I'd make an allowance.

Cora Munro: Thank you so much.

Seems fitting in the context.

Selah.

The girl was never there

It's always the same.