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!

Saturday, March 24, 2012

I ran from the police.

My son breathlessly whispers into the phone.   "He was pointing at me to come over to the car and my friends ran and then I ran.   Can Dad come and pick me up?  I don't want to be messed with by the police. "

Ah gee, better go get him.  At least try to find out what is going on.  What in the world?

So I keep on tonking,  Dan goes to get him.  He gets home very quickly and is banging around.    Angry, throwing things.  the door comes off the hinges and hangs to an angle.  I"m losing at tonk.  Reese is asking me to remember something.  Things are toppling in his room.    There is a lot of shouting and fussing going on.  The police get cussed out a few times.

Finally there is calm.   He has fallen asleep.  

I end up in bed and sleep a fitful sleep.  We deal with stressful things in the morning when we are well rested, not late at night.  Breakfast is when I will hear the story.  Till then I will wonder and worry.

Dan starts.  " Son showed me the police man and what I saw was a van broken down and a service truck there helping to get the van going again.  The truck had a yellow light on the top of it.  "

Oh?

No police man?

None that I saw.


Son, what happened?  Did you have your glasses on??

"Alex told me it was an unmarked police car and he said the guy was pointing right at me to come over.  I didn't see any guy in the truck, but I thought I was mistaken and Alex was telling me the truth.  He said they were searching the van "

Alex told you...  This the same kid that told you about evil monkey?


"Mom! You don't know anything!  Evil Monkey is real!  He hides in the bushes and makes noises. "


Son, we don't run from the police, and you need to be more brave when it comes to believing yourself.

Don't believe what Alex tells you.
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