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Back To: The Tyranny of Materiality
I don't remember this photo . . . JA and his wife Brenda sent it to me . . . the time frame is circa living with JA . . . it's incredible to study the musculature of the left arm . . .
"when the moon is a counterfeit
better find the one that fits
better find the one that lights
The way for you"
Beck:
Mutations: "Nobody's Fault But My Own"
Hanging out in Cooperstown . . . Natalie and Gordon, Jerry F. [it's his boat] I have fond memories of the Lakefront . . . I used to crawl out of my bedroom window onto the roof, jump over to Auger's Bookstore's roof, then grab onto the fire escape on the backside of Dusty's Tavern to prowl around at night . . . I would spend time with Chris M. and Anthony (?) down on the Chief Uncas Tour Boat [Chris's father owned it or ran it, something] . . . ah, but as the cliché says: All good things must come to an end . . . one night four friends [Chris P., T.R., Gary, Ricky M.] and I decided to carouse. We broke a few beer bottles, pulled up a few flowers and screwed around . . . we were arrested on the front lawn of the library, the Police Station was in the basement . . . irony . . . I was charged with Criminal Mischief . . . I was fifteen . . . there is a Lake Front memory that I still wonder about: the day Steve C. felt the need to reach forward and pull my tube top down exposing my breasts . . . so, boys will be boys or violating my personal space?
Steve's yearbook commentary 1981:
" ... I’m sorry about pulling your top down last year in front of everyone maybe this year we can do it in print! ..."
Years later Steve fell off an embankment up at Chicken Farm [a party place] breaking his back though avoiding a Spinal Cord Injury and permanent injury in general . . .
This was our backyard when I lived with my mother . . . the old out-house still stood back then . . . my mother transformed it into a small barn before she built a larger goat barn . . . we had a rabbit named Tillie who had babies but they were dead in the out-house barn . . . we had plumbing, though only a central wood furnace with no other back-up heat . . . it would get terribly hot [or cold!] sometimes as you couldn't regulate the temperature . . . we'd have the front door wide open in the Winter . . . I remember Gordon and I piling wood with our friends JM and AM after our Dads dumped loads of logs in the back yard and cut and split the wood . . . wood has such a good smell for something that has been murdered . . .