Memory's Song
Seeking memory the second verse in the song
Partial lyrics painted across the valley an orchard
Of songs melodies implicit in the under
Standing beneath the waterfalling hours
Some young women in harmony one already
Lost to the cold river taking us away.
If life is loss and grief
(and it is, it is)
then memory is the coin
passing hands and a sudden
sight of you in the rearview
mirror is a true gift.
Daddy and Momma and Rosie and George Painter
This is ten years later but you are still bright in the dark
Sky I see when I lie down, determined not to join you
Just yet. Your words in my papers, your image on
A videotape from first night.
Seeking memory. I
Don’t wish to relive that time.
Only not to lose it.
Not to lose you.
Spaulding Gray found it out: this consciousness stuff
Isn’t worth a crap without a decent retrieval system.
Don’t forget that
NOTES: The first stanza is based on that song about "don't go chasing waterfalls ..." by a three girl group, one of whom is now dead. The members of the list are all people who passed in the same one year period nearly ten years ago now. Spaulding Gray, the monologuist, was in an accident in Ireland and lost some of his ability to recall his life. That was essentially the basis of what he did. Earlier this year he apparently jumped off a ferry in the harbor at NYC and drowned. They eventually recovered his body. I saw Spaulding Gray here in CU at Krannert several years ago. He did a monologue called "Slippery Slope" ostensibly about learning to ski. A great deal of the story revolved around his changing his life completely and having a child at the late age of 53. His story encouraged me to have my own late child. I am sorry for him that he had to leave, but I honor his choice. I am very sorry that Rosie and George Painter both had to leave; they were only 49 and both were fine writers and sweet, valuable human beings. My dad, I believe, left of his own volition. My mother fought until the end. I remember you all and keep your words in my files and read you when I can. I spent a good deal of yesterday reading through all the cards and notes I received from Jane Morrel in the fourteen years I knew her.
Partial lyrics painted across the valley an orchard
Of songs melodies implicit in the under
Standing beneath the waterfalling hours
Some young women in harmony one already
Lost to the cold river taking us away.
If life is loss and grief
(and it is, it is)
then memory is the coin
passing hands and a sudden
sight of you in the rearview
mirror is a true gift.
Daddy and Momma and Rosie and George Painter
This is ten years later but you are still bright in the dark
Sky I see when I lie down, determined not to join you
Just yet. Your words in my papers, your image on
A videotape from first night.
Seeking memory. I
Don’t wish to relive that time.
Only not to lose it.
Not to lose you.
Spaulding Gray found it out: this consciousness stuff
Isn’t worth a crap without a decent retrieval system.
Don’t forget that
NOTES: The first stanza is based on that song about "don't go chasing waterfalls ..." by a three girl group, one of whom is now dead. The members of the list are all people who passed in the same one year period nearly ten years ago now. Spaulding Gray, the monologuist, was in an accident in Ireland and lost some of his ability to recall his life. That was essentially the basis of what he did. Earlier this year he apparently jumped off a ferry in the harbor at NYC and drowned. They eventually recovered his body. I saw Spaulding Gray here in CU at Krannert several years ago. He did a monologue called "Slippery Slope" ostensibly about learning to ski. A great deal of the story revolved around his changing his life completely and having a child at the late age of 53. His story encouraged me to have my own late child. I am sorry for him that he had to leave, but I honor his choice. I am very sorry that Rosie and George Painter both had to leave; they were only 49 and both were fine writers and sweet, valuable human beings. My dad, I believe, left of his own volition. My mother fought until the end. I remember you all and keep your words in my files and read you when I can. I spent a good deal of yesterday reading through all the cards and notes I received from Jane Morrel in the fourteen years I knew her.
Labels: Don Osburn, George Painter, Margaret Osburn, Rosie Richmond, Spaulding Gray
posted by As Bjorn at 12:52 PM
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