Squibs 224-233 [by Alan Ziegler]

224. After my mother died, my father liked to visit the geese at the local pond. One day, a goose was frantically scooting about, yipping plaintively like a dog. “Geese are monogamous,” I said. “I think he got separated from his mate.” My father grew as agitated as the goose, looking around to see if he could spot the mate. Finally, the geese found each other and entered the pond. My father wept.

225. If you want to capture the sea, hold your hands out, cupped, and imagine you are writing this.

226. My father on line at the Post Office takes a step backward onto a woman’s foot. “Ooooh pain,” she says sweetly. He loves telling the story.

227. I watched a master dance class taught by the choreographer Bella Lewitsky, during which she asked students to execute a series of steps from one end of the dance floor to the other. Whenever a student faltered and lapsed into a sheepish gait, Lewitsky would command, “Finish the line.”

228. My mother and I sip coffee as Richard Harris’s “MacArthur Park” comes on the radio. Some people find the song and performance sappy, but it always grabs my guts and I drift off into sweet pain and longing. My mother is quiet, too, and when the instrumental kicks in she says, “I can really relate to this song—losing the recipe for a cake.” From then on, I will be an even bigger sap for that song.

229. When you are on a collision course with a stranger on the street or store aisle, the two of you choreograph a little dance and move on. Lately, I have been having more than my share of dance partners, usually ending with bows and smiles. But not today: I reach a supermarket corner—a one-way aisle with two-way traffic—and encounter a suited man. One of us will have to do the back steps of a supermarket cha-cha. He barrels through, declaring “I don’t negotiate.” Later, I am about to enter a subway car just as a huge Bronze Age sculpture of a man is about to get out. Before we can dance, he declares: “You’d best get out of my way, sonny.” If they won’t dance, I can’t make them.

230. In the hospital elevator, with my father after the confirming diagnosis, down to the ground floor, door won’t open. “Al, do something,” he implores, his claustrophobia cutting off oxygen. I push buttons randomly and the door opens. I did something, we got out. There’s nothing I can do.

231. Julie London's "Cry Me a River." Coltrane's run of notes after the bass solo in “A Love Supreme.” The third movement of Tchaikovsky's Third String Quartet. Pete Seeger's spoken introduction to "Living in the Country" on his Bitter and the Sweet album.

232. Open your eyes to see. Close them to see again.

233. There was a tree in the middle of the road. I swerved to avoid it and went crashing into open space. I’ve never been the same.

Comments

[Grace Cavalieri]

Squibs is absolutely wonderful and beautiful and true

[Alan Ziegler]

Thanks so much, Grace. This means a lot to me!

[mitch sisskind]

Bella Lewitsky did choreography for great movie
"Prehistoric Women." Watch this movie -- but be
sure it's the 1950 version!

[Alan Ziegler]

Wow--what a fascinating movie! I wish I'd known to ask her about it. Thanks!