August 12, Ypsilanti.
The heat and humidity are relentless, it doesn't even cool down at night, but we have nothing to complain about as it is hovering around a hundred and ten degrees Farenheit in Dallas, where Sheyla arrived this week for a short stop in her circus season.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Patrick Berta, 1963-1993.
August 11, Redford.
My brother Patrick died last night sixteen years ago on the tail of a shooting star.
He was 29 years young.
My brother Patrick died last night sixteen years ago on the tail of a shooting star.
He was 29 years young.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Hot and hazy.
August 10, Plymouth.
The day started out humid and hazy and grew worse from there.
Two years ago there were lines all the way into the parking lot in this town; this time around I doubt anyone will show up and I hope I'm wrong.
Department of road signs.
August 9, Wixom.
Leaving Stockbridge this morning, under the sign for the sign for the local park on the main square, a sign with an arrow pointing right after "HELL." Further on outside of town: Hooker Road.
Leaving Stockbridge this morning, under the sign for the sign for the local park on the main square, a sign with an arrow pointing right after "HELL." Further on outside of town: Hooker Road.
Monday, August 09, 2010
Sunday, August 08, 2010
Listening intently.
August 8, Stockbridge.
Looking forward now to Sunday morning drives, listening to Speaking of Faith, and the simply beautiful, lush Michigan landscape of summer completed the mood today (year after year on our circus road I grow fonder of Ohio; it is such a beautiful state, and so is Michigan, although much less diverse; and so the Midwest landscape keeps winning the heart of my eyes.)
Last week a conversation with Rachel Naomi Remen soothed my anxious soul, full of my children's woes and worries; this morning's conversation with environmentalist and writer Bill McKibben enlightened me, delighted me and scared me but left me a better person, again, as any true learning experience will.
Ms. Remen's magical final words on the show:
"The most important questions don't seem to have ready answers, but the questions themselves have healing power when they are shared. An answer is an invitation to stop thinking about something, to stop wondering. Life has no such stopping places. Life is a process whose every event is connected to the moment that just went by. An unanswered question is a fine traveling companion. It sharpens your eye for the road."
Looking forward now to Sunday morning drives, listening to Speaking of Faith, and the simply beautiful, lush Michigan landscape of summer completed the mood today (year after year on our circus road I grow fonder of Ohio; it is such a beautiful state, and so is Michigan, although much less diverse; and so the Midwest landscape keeps winning the heart of my eyes.)
Last week a conversation with Rachel Naomi Remen soothed my anxious soul, full of my children's woes and worries; this morning's conversation with environmentalist and writer Bill McKibben enlightened me, delighted me and scared me but left me a better person, again, as any true learning experience will.
Ms. Remen's magical final words on the show:
"The most important questions don't seem to have ready answers, but the questions themselves have healing power when they are shared. An answer is an invitation to stop thinking about something, to stop wondering. Life has no such stopping places. Life is a process whose every event is connected to the moment that just went by. An unanswered question is a fine traveling companion. It sharpens your eye for the road."
Sale.
August 7, Brooklyn.
If last year was the year of the garage sale traveler, this year is becoming the year of the library sale traveler.
There were all sorts of activities going on in this small town today (a new town for the Kelly Miller Circus,) a "Dog Days of August" dog parade, a carnival (shiny sleeper trailers roaring by,) and an outdoor fair, but it had to include, right there among the shops' displays on main street, across from the dog contest ("The dog is from Phoenix. Are you from Phoenix?") a two-dollar-a-bag library book sale.
What can I say, there is still some space in the rear left-hand corner of the truck.
If last year was the year of the garage sale traveler, this year is becoming the year of the library sale traveler.
There were all sorts of activities going on in this small town today (a new town for the Kelly Miller Circus,) a "Dog Days of August" dog parade, a carnival (shiny sleeper trailers roaring by,) and an outdoor fair, but it had to include, right there among the shops' displays on main street, across from the dog contest ("The dog is from Phoenix. Are you from Phoenix?") a two-dollar-a-bag library book sale.
What can I say, there is still some space in the rear left-hand corner of the truck.
Saturday, August 07, 2010
Friday, August 06, 2010
My son's eyes.
August 6, Sylvania.
Dylan decided to have my camera yesterday. He was in and out with it around his neck for the longest time and wouldn't put it down, being four years old; in the end he came back with fifty-three pictures.
Here are some of them.
He's out with the camera again right now.
I fear the best.
From top to bottom, Under the table, Trailer patio, Fridge art.
Same old.
August 6, Sylvania.
Same lot, same laundromat, same laundry.
Also, revisiting old garage sale streets, and finding some necessary stuff, for a change (hence late blog duties.)
Same lot, same laundromat, same laundry.
Also, revisiting old garage sale streets, and finding some necessary stuff, for a change (hence late blog duties.)
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