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!

Friday, March 23, 2012

milo

my ma had a big brown van
and she would haul us everywhere in it
before the big brown van
she walked us all over town in the stroller..
me and my brother packed tight inside the stroller and my sister either walking beside ma, or sitting on the little ledge just under the handle, next to ma's purse.

she loved that van.

i remember she would pick up milo, whenever she saw him walking around town.. far from home.

milo.

just the name makes me smile.

we grew up just a few houses down from his sister.  and he was a daily fixture in our lives.
milo always wore a trench coat.  big guy.. aging.. slump-shouldered.. and limping a bit.  used to walk my sister to school.  kids would ask her.  'ewwwww.. did he offer you a moldy sandwich?'  'ewwwww.. aren't you scared of him?'
milo was harmless.  ask him the high school football scores from 1968, 1952, 1979.. on any given date..who was on the team.. who was on the opposing team.. and he could rattle off the statistics without hesitation.  amazing.   
i was sad to hear he passed a couple years ago.  they erected a facebook shrine for him.  the things people said about this man.. so heartwarming.  the best stories coming from my sister and others in our neighborhood who knew him best.

i can still hear his voice.  the way he said my ma's name..  every time she would offer him a ride. 

im trying to hear her voice.  i dont know why.. i cant.

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2 comments:

  1. reeseMarch 23, 2012 at 1:58 PM

    JC...
    You will! You may not hear everything you want to hear from your ma, but at certain times you will be hearing her...
    You wrote about milo...his voice is stronger right now.

    ReplyDelete
  2. EricaMarch 24, 2012 at 5:19 PM

    That was really heart warming, JC. I loved it.

    We had a big BLUE van.

    ReplyDelete

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