To thine own self be true

A perfect 25ish Saturday afternoon in Radium, reading T.O papers on balcony at 8th (newest) unit, Bighorn Meadows Resort, sipping Bailey’s.

Edmonton

That’s my last Premier painted in the Leg
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece of work a blunder now: Her painter’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she sits.
Will’t please you stand and look at her? I said
“Her painter” by design, for never read
Yobs like you that sour countenance.
The depth and dudgeon of being queried,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such an angry eye came there; so not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir ’twas not
Her daughter’s presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Premier’s cheek: perhaps
An executive assistant chanced to say “Her solo flight’s
Confirmed” or “Public toilets–a hole in the ground”:
Such stuff was entitlement, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
No perspective–how shall I say?–no feeling for others,
Too easily arrogant; she liked where’er
She travelled, and her planes went everywhere.
Sir, ’twas all one! The pearls on her breast,
The revolts in caucus, the penthouse plan and butler pantry,
The deputy-premier she rode with round the terrace.
She thanked Thomas (and Dave)–good! but thanked
Somehow–I know not how–as if she ranked her office
As a suitable gift. Who’d stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt
Using public resources as her own, and exceeded the mark.
This grew, she gave commands. Then all trips
Stopped together. There she stands regally
Packed to go–renouncing her crown for a bike in Palm Springs.
Notice her mouth, though, still pursed as if to say,
How dare you question your consummate queen?

……………………

Another day, another premier’s portrait in AB–with apologies to Robert Browning.

In the interests of equal time, I tried to write a poem about Dave, but there was nothing to say. And, of course, Thomas is writing his own version of “My Last Duchess”. To be continued…

Maya.

Colville-influenced selfie–reflection in picture window, Bighorn Meadows Resort, Radium, B.C. Golf course, lake and mountains in background.

you are the waterfall of my life
a never-ending cascade

beneath the wide turner skies
the female voice that sings of canyon

the sage and brush of our topography
you are the stars wheeling high

above the joshua tree of my soul
the night sky ablaze in eternal dream

When you spend a fair bit on and spend a fair chunk of time buying, planting, and caring for flowers, you hate to see them ‘go’ early in September. And always, there is a choice. To preserve some natural beauty (and this can last till Halloween, making fall around the yard brighter as it cools off) requires covering with sheets. One can’t always trust the more fallible Environment Canada these daze either–they might predict +1, but you’re taking a chance if you don’t cover when it’s that close to freezing. Many’s the time I’ve seen that kind of prediction turn into a killing frost of -4, -5.

Covering is a choice necessitating moving more sensitive plants or those you want to preserve off the ground usually and onto a patio or into a garage. The first cover involves putting in stakes, usually thin round ones, to hold up the sheets above the flowers. The subsequent covers take about 10 mins. max. each–not too long to ensure the survival of your preferred natural beauty. Sheets can be left outside, especially if dry, though you have to watch for winter-nest-building squirrels who may come by to tear/bite off strips. Sheets can alternately be stored inside the house each night if not wet.

Sometimes you may cover up 3 or 4 days in a row. But sometimes one has to accept the inevitable like when it dips to -4, -5 one or more nights in a row–facing facts, letting Nature take its course. I have enjoyed having planters with flowers, especially yellow chrysanthemums in front of the house; it gives one a truly good feeling to come home when you have bright beauty to welcome you. Similarly, it is great to gaze out of a backyard window onto a yard and patio with colorful flowers that you’ve invested much time and effort in, watering each day all summer into October and sometimes–as I mentioned above–up to Halloween.

There are many lazy people and a lot of people who would not care this much about flowers, beauty, color, or the appearance of their yards. As I said, it’s a choice and one of preferred images and preferred atmosphere. We all live in contexts and we all decide what is worth whatever sacrifice. Covering has been a key one for me every year, every fall. I choose (Natural) Beauty over the ravages of Time and Death. I choose to cover for more continuing pleasure another day. It is thus I walk the talk–Beauty being one of the top 4 priorities in my life.

………………….

Nice time of year to travel. Mountains/Radium Hot Springs weekend: time for some lofty, exalted sublimeness, a quiet pinch of wildness, and a pre-winter core-temp boost. Should be in the 20s and sunny. Lucky again.

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means having three animal friends (a giraffe, a small ball-shaped panda, and a newly-acquired cat) you carry about, making them part of your life, even sleeping with them in your crib and telling them about your day. Innocence means having your own free, ongoing, confident spin on language with words like bee-nana, firty-one, and pootie (computer). Innocence means building endless lines with blocks of all sorts or having ever-changing interests like stickers or coloring with big crayons. Yes, Innocence is, most of all, about daily play–especially engaged, distracted, spontaneous play of the moment–and family adult playmates in a very safe, upbeat, fun world far, far from the bad, negative aspects of too many others, a fair chunk of life, and the ever-conflictful world of later adult experience.

1st editions. American Literature.

From the ’50s and ’60s. The most recent one is the second right from the right on the bottom row–the late Paul Newman’s excellently-directed 1987 movie production starring his wife Joanne Woodward, John Malkovich, Karen Allen, and James Naughton. This is easily the best-ever movie production of The Glass Menagerie, and so far/lately can only be seen on VHS if you’re lucky to own one. It’s one of many quality films that never made it to DVD.

Some of the more interesting paperback and 1st ed. dust-jacket-hardbounds. I also own an incredibly rare LP of him reading stories, a video bio, a lid from a box of Steinbeck Country Produce Iceberg Lettuce (shades of East of Eden), and a recipe book from Cannery Row.

These are the jackets for the 11 LPs (also available on CD–sample disc on lower right) that Thomas recorded for Caedmon. (He was their first performer who was invited to read by the two Caedmon women-founders.) All of the LPs and CDs are out-of-print. Thomas reads live and in the studio. He also reads from his favorite works by other writers.