Blog Manifesto

Blog Manifesto


This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

All alone am I.....

Alone:
(names changed to protect the innocent)

Boy, do I know something about this subject.
About 25 give or take years ago, I was asked to play on a co-ed softball team with my hubby, cousin Donna and her hubby Bill. I, along with hubby, were THE oldest ones on the team. We are called “The Saber Tooth Squirrels”.
We had at least 5 years on the other players. I don’t think I ever threw a softball much less hit one with the stick so there was a lot of preparation that had to be put into this one. Bill recruited a bunch of his young co-workers to be on the team. Day after day they worked with me. Throw harder…throw faster…keep your eye on the ball…hit the ball…catch the ball…run…run faster…Bill is the one who would do the line up and positioning of the players. You had to rotate girl, guy, girl, guy, etc… I was the absolute slowest person on the team…(hmmm I still am slow) and Bill would make sure Todd, a little speedy Gonzales was next in line…yup right after slow-poke Reese. If I was lucky enough to get on base, Todd would be next and he was such a show off. Todd would catch up to me, me running with all my might and him barely at a trot.  He was not allowed to pass me up but there were times we were running side by side.

We entered into a tournament one summer. It was a very hot day. We played the first game and had time some spare time before we had to play another so we got a quarter barrel and went to a park just down the road and talked and laughed and drank and drank and drank. Now it is time to go back to the ball park and challenge the next team. We were first at bat. It was my turn. Whoa…which ball do I swing at? I see more than just one. Hmmm… I take a swing at anything…pow…I hit the ball. I put one foot in front of the other and I was running-running-running…all of a sudden down down down I go. Not sure what happened. I’m guessing my upper body got ahead of my feet and down I went. Laying there…in the dirt…face down. Not a single team mate would come to see if I was ok. I lay there in embarrassment. Can’t someone just come and help me up? Let me hide my face.

There I lay….alone!
Down on my belly, in the dirt, arm bleeding…
and alone…

I hear the umpire holler YOU’RE OUT!

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