“Beam” for RDP Saturday

” Beaming”–The Boy in the Blue Feathered Mask

When I saw the prompt “Beam,” I immediately thought of this post from 2015, thinking of the face posted later in this post. Was the word “beam” used in the post? Indeed, it was, and so I’m posting it again, not because I’m lazy, even though that might be true, but because it is one of my favorite posts from those years when friends and I did the two-week long Camp Estrella for children in the town I live in, San Juan Cosala, Jalisco, Mexico. The girl featured in this post alongside the “beamer” is now not only married with children of her own, but she is my English student and friend.whose wedding I featured in a blog a while ago. Time flies, but thank goodness for both beams of memory and for these prompts which bring past wonderful memories back to our minds.

 I’m choosing an alternate prompt today–to talk about my most unconventional love affair.  I’m fairly sure I’ve written about this prompt before, but this time I’m talking about another unconventional love affair–my love affair with Mexico. Hopefully you’ll know why after you read it.

The Boy in the Blue Feathered Mask

I was so busy issuing art supplies, that when the masks were set out to dry, I had no idea whose was whose.  Other Camp Estrella counselors were helping at each table and requests for paint colors were coming fast and furious.  Who knew so many boys would want to be grey foxes?  A lot of white and black got mixed. A lot of red and pink to make a deeper rose.

IMG_1973Then, feathers flew and concrete became polka-dotted with sequins in every shape from polka dots to half moons and leaping reindeer.  Day after day, layers added until it was impossible to tell roosters from foxes from bears from falcons from rabbits.
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But when I saw the remarkable turquoise feathered mask with the jeweled beak, I tried to imagine which of the graceful young girls had conceived of it.  When I collected it from the tarp set in the sun and sat it under cover with the others for the night, I knew I wanted to be sure to capture her picture tomorrow before my day became consumed with other tasks.

The next day, the members of the camp surrounded the tables and piano where we had set the masks away from the night rain and winds of the rainy season.  Some asked for more sequins, feathers, beads, paint, glue, glitter gel.  Others wanted their headbands attached and wore the masks, as is, all day long–swooping between the fruit trees of the open courtyard and over the open spaces where the dance routines were practiced. They sat during language lessons and singing practice with beaks and ears and wattles  and plumes.

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And then I saw the boy in the turquoise feathered mask!

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IMG_1959He didn’t seem to mind that his friends behind him were getting a large charge out of his mask.
He wore it almost constantly, once I’d fastened the strap to it.  And then one morning, he caught me by the arm and asked me to take his picture.  With his other hand, he caught the hand of a girl who walked by. She was one of the taller girls, rather shy, as you can see from this photo snapped the first day of camp:

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“Take our picture!” he asked politely, and although at first she pulled away, she didn’t resist much, and neither did I.

IMG_1984Brave young man.  He not only ooks pleased.  He is actually beaming! Brave young woman. Looks placid and mature.  In the flamenco dance lessons, she alone looks almost as poised as her instructor.  She is the niece of my housekeeper, and although I’d never met her, her aunt pressed me to see that she was included and it was a special request of mine that she be added to the camp roster. Now, in the 4th day of camp, I am so glad I did.

There’s a reason why feather boy looks so pleased. She is talented in everything she does, graceful and kind, and I’m told by the other counselors that the other girls look up to her.  Although innocent, and in spite of a few flirty looks from girls toward boys, this is the only case of pairing up (short as it was) between the 11 through 14-year-olds in the camp.

When I mentioned the picture later on, he seemed puzzled, and then when I reminded him, he beamed again. In the two days since then, I’ve seen other boys watching her closely in the dance or at her table as she carefully pens thank you cards to camp sponsors. But no one else got his picture taken with her, and I noticed her shyness melt away rather quickly afterwards.

So many pleasures in this camp. Watching child after child mature and blossom was the greatest one.  More stories if you want to hear them.  Telling them assures me they won’t be forgotten.

See other Camp Estrella stories HERE and HERE.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/unconventional-love/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/the-perfect-game/

The RDP Saturday prompt is:Beam.

Empty Nest for FOWC

Empty Nest

I’ve been missing
that half-grown kissing
that lasts a minute
with chocolate in it.
Runny noses.
Heads of roses
picked off stems
like rarest gems
presented in
a tuna tin.
Priceless treasure
for my pleasure.

My life lacks
these loving smacks––
even a quickie,
albeit sticky
with peanut butter.
A parting stutter,
and then they’re gone
and off upon
contrivences new,
away from you,
taking their kisses
to other misses.

For Fandango’s FOWC the prompt is “Contrived.”

 

 

 

Spinning Top, for today’s Throwback Edition

Spinning Top

Is senility a resurrected prenatal state—
hearing the outer world
with limited stages of connection?
Or is it a journey backwards through a lifetime,
remembering details pushed into
the closets of the mind by daily tasks?

The hum of a life is deafening in this world.
Even with earbuds or headsets,
the noise of the world streams in,
wired direct into our consciousness,
quelling thoughts of our own,
wiping clean for the time being,
memories.

The whole world with us every minute
leads to no world of our own.
Barraged our entire lives,
more now than ever,
does senility offer a time before our death
to connect with our inner selves once more?

Relieved of the world,
do we spin like a top into that inner world,
remembering a lifetime lost to activity—
the resurrected adolescence of old age
evolving backwards into a dreaming time
wherein we joyfully wander ourselves again?

Some choose the rope, fearing a nightmare of senility,
yet some of us hope for a return to dreams of childhood,
relieved of all care, even for ourselves.
No one comes back to tell us which it is,
yet some of us?
We hope.
We hope.

( First published on July 4, 2018)

Famous Scribes, for Fibbing Friday

The Assignment for Fibbing Friday today is: Below are 10 titles and authors, all of which are fictitious.  This week I’m asking you to do a cover blurb in a few sentences or perhaps have an idea for a sequel.

1. The Missing Tent by Seymour Skye: An expose of why touring circuses are a thing of the past.

2. Making the Most of Bread by Roland Pickles: A misprint of the actual book Making the Host of Bread, which is a guide for the preparation of Protestant holy communion.

3. Living on a Budget by M T Wallit: The author’s name is a pseudonym. This is actually the title of a tongue-in-cheek book by Donald Trump.

4. Wake me at Dawn by Misty Mawning: A book ghost-written by someone pretending to be the corpse at a funeral Wake. 

5. Sing me a Lullaby by Muse Ickles:  Advice for a new mother, written as though reading the mind of a screaming baby at 3 A.M.

6. Caught in the Act by Robin Banks: Pseudonym for the real author, Donald Trump, who will as usual escape unprosecuted and unpunished.

7. The Pensioner Chronicles by Jerry Attrick: Biography of Leonardo da Vinci, so named because  Leonardo’s journals contain drawings with cross-sections of what appears to be a reservoir pen that works by both gravity and capillary action. 

8. The Scapegoat’s Revenge by Carrie deCan: Leon Trotsky’s pseudonym for his autobiography that revealed Stalin’s vile scheme to blame him for soviet economic failures and military disasters,

9. Fields of Destiny by Krystal Ball: Biography of popular twenty-first century  singing group “Destiny’s Child.”

10. The Long and the Short of It by Cyn Opsiss. Again, a pseudonym used for a sex guide written by Donald Trump. Only half fiction.

Rewind: This Day 10 Years Ago and Today

On this day ten years ago, I was at a family gathering in Cheyenne, Wyoming. We had a wonderful time and although it was just coincidental that it coincided with my birthday, it was a great combination of celebrations. 

Gathering Family (Reblog from 10 years ago today)

Tonight marked the end of our two day family reunion with my mother’s side of the family. The matriarch is Jane, 90 years old, and the youngest was Maddie the miracle baby, age 9 months. I am somewhere in the middle, but closer to Jane by one year as of midnight.  I unfortunately don’t see these lovely people often enough, but every time I am around them I’m appreciative of their closeness and acceptance of either others’ differences.

I had a wonderful time, as you might be able to gather from these photos. (You might want to click on them to enlarge them.)  The statue of Lincoln marks the highest point on the Lincoln Highway. We passed it this morning as we drove from Cheyenne, Wyoming to Laramie to visit Jane in her daughter Sara’s house. In college, the art class I was in came up on a cold blustery day to scrub him down with acid. Yesterday, we just stopped to admire him in his new spot next to the new wider interstate road.  He’s been raised up a good deal on a very high pedestal, so I wouldn’t relish giving him a scrub now.

The other photos were taken in three different locations as different events were held in three different homes. Representing my mother’s branch of the family were my niece Cindy, my sister Patti and I.  All of the rest were descendants of my mother’s sister Peggy and their spouses.  Lots of laughter, fun, memories, discoveries and great food.

Pretty Bottles All Lined Up for Word of the Day


Pretty Bottles All Lined Up

How we love to line up bottles on tabletops or shelves.
What we collect in bottles tells us something of ourselves.
Be it pills or perfume or lotions for our skin,
be it liquor bottles or old bottles of our kin.
Be they for forgetting or remembering or curing,
the fact that we see into them is somehow reassuring.

Each bottle opened is no doubt considered well worth keeping,
as applied  or guzzled down, its contents we are reaping.
Hopes or dreams are bottled there––courage, allure or balm.
Their stoppers keep in secrets, unstopped they exude calm.
Pretty bottles on a shelf deserve felicitation
as they meet our eye to please us, or our lips for satiation.

The Word of the Day prompt is “Bottle Opener.”

Fallen Memories for FOWC

The prompt for FOWC is “energetic.”

Fallen Memories

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The monsoon rains come like a blessing, relieving the hot humidity, building the lushness of the rice terraces. Green everywhere. Energetic monkeys in the sacred monkey forest grab my postcards from my hands, leave teethmarks that will delight your children more than anything  I might say in the postcards I send as recompense for the father I have taken off with me to another part of the world.
We grow into these long hot humid afternoons that are washed away for a mere hour or so by the seasonal rains. Shedding clothes like years, we live naked underneath sarongs wrapped tightly for security. You sit on the porch, your soon-to-be-old man’s furry pot belly proudly obscuring the tightly wound tuck of your sarong. Thirty years later, it is that sarong made into a jalaba that I now wear almost daily,  hiding my soon-to-be-old lady’s pot as well.
How I cope with growing old without you is to sift through these memories like playing cards or photos fallen from old albums that have lost their ability to secure. As gullible as upon our first meeting, I wipe away your inadequacies as I’m sure you would have forgotten mine if you had been the one left sorting the fallen memories in the bottom of the album box.
Monsoons, I have been told, blow both moist and dry, as we did over those fifteen years. But we endured and built each other, coping as all of those in marriages judged successful by their lasting power do. Today you are the photo fallen from the album to the floor.  Quickly, as you fell from my life, I tuck you back securely into your correct place, placing on top new albums with new memories built on the foundation of you and all those memories a life, in the end, is made of.  You slip into that middle place old loved ones eventually  are relegated to. Our way to cope. Our way to live life instead of merely remembering it. Because that is what life is. We keep trying. We keep on.

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scan079Bali, 1996, Judy & Bob   

 

Signs of the Times for “Cracking Open the Time Capsule”

My July 1 post from 10 years ago, for Signs of the Times:

Cee’s challenge this week was for storefront signs.  Here are a few I’ve been saving for a special occasion that seem to fit as well as some I’ve very recently taken. Lately I’ve been lucking out on the prompts.  It seems as soon as I take a number of photos of a certain topic, the prompt the next day fits it to a “T.”  Thanks for reading my mind this time, Cee. These will look better if you click on them to enlarge them. The guy in the big snowdrift is my dad after the big snow of ’53.

https://ceenphotography.com/2016/06/30/cees-black-white-photo-challenge-store-front-signs/

Liam: For Last on the Card, June 30, 2026

I am enjoying a visit from my stepson Jayson, his wife joy and son Liam, who has captured the heart of all of the dogs, especially Zoe. Then he set out to invent new pool toys and games…using a noodle, two racquets and plastic water lilies.  Who needs a partner to play badminton? Later on, he substituted a plastic ball for the water lily and ditched one of the raquets and involved Morrie in his game. In the process, Morrie totally ruined 5 of the plastic balls. No problem. We’d bought a bag of 15 of them. A good time was had by all.––those playing and those of us observing.

I am absolutely loving this family visit. They’ll be here for 2 weeks but I’m sending them to Guanajuato for 4 of those days. I would just slow them down as my back has gotten too bad to allow for much walking. We’re spending tons of time in the pool and hot tub, some time at the table eating and playing games. Today we went to Walmart and I used the motorized cart for the first time. Only ran into one display, spinning it around without causing any damage and only terrorized one little girl and her grandmother who were good sports. Liam ran a message service between his folks with a pushcart and me in my motorcart and a good time was had by all.

For Bushboy’s Last on the Card Prompt. Thanks, Brian!

For “Blast from the Blog” Some Little Bug Inside Me–a Reblog of a post from June 30 in 2018